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avastrasposts · 1 year ago

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Big Sky Country - ch. 1

Cowboy!Frankie x OFC

Hi!

I'm really excited to post the first chapter of my new fic after posting a little snippet of it almost a month ago! In it we meet a cowboy version of Frankie as he returns to New York to patch things up with his "maybe girlfriend", but he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar.

No age gap, OFC story, angsty as fuck in parts, some smut, and I'm putting poor Frankie through hell again (I love him, I swear...)

And a big shout out and thank you to @i-own-loki who made the beautiful banner!

Warnings can be found here - contains spoilers but please read if you know certain themes may be upsetting for you. This fic is dark in parts and I don't want to upset anyone.

Series Master List

Main Master list

Prologue

The Greyhound bus rumbled away down the pin straight highway, heading west, towards the darkening mountain range. The sun slowly sank behind the highest peaks, soon their shadows would touch her feet. Looking back, east, towards a past she’d left on a whim, she sighed and let her eyes drift up to the indigo sky. Big sky country indeed.

So alien to her eyes, so open to someone used to living their life surrounded by tall buildings, busy people, small trees in small parks.

Here, the open prairie gave speed to the cold wind that hurtled down from the mountain range, whipping dirt from the road, tugging at her loose hair. She briefly closed her eyes against the particles of dust, inhaled deeply, tasting it on her tongue, dry grass in the air, a hint of snow from the mountains. No way back now, the bus too far away to stop. Only her duffel bag and a phone number, hoping he’d pick up and let her in.

He pressed his thumb to the button with her name, the taxi behind him rolling away down the crowded street. The buzz from the intercom added another layer of noise to the assault on his ears.

He dropped his hand.

Waited.

Glanced down the street, letting the tall steel and glass buildings pull his gaze upwards, to the thin sliver of dirty gray sky visible above them. With a sigh he dropped his eyes down, towards the end of the long street, where the buildings seemed to merge into one solid wall. He knew he was looking west, could feel it in his bones, in the way his feet wanted to start walking towards it. Towards the tall mountain range behind his home.

He pressed his thumb against the button with her name on it again, the buzzer grated his skin. He had a way back, nothing stopping him from hailing a cab, climbing back on the Greyhound and heading west again.

But she was here. If he wanted to make this work, he needed to be here.

Chapter One

A wall of warm air hit Frankie as he pulled open the door to the bar, chatter spilling out onto the street. His shoulders pulled up to his ears, the environment uncomfortable to him and he stopped just inside the door, scanning the room for something familiar apart from the smell of stale beer in the air. This bar was the first one he saw that looked like it would maybe serve someone like him, a Texas boy, fresh off the bus from Montana. He’s pretty sure he still has horse dung stuck to the bottom of his cowboy boots, his old army duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

The door behind him opened again, cold air hitting the nape of his neck under the ball cap.

“You growing roots, old man?”

The line is followed by a man snorting and a hand on Frankie’s arm, pushing him to the side. He would snap, bite back with a threatening remark, or at the very least fix the man with his most intimidating soldier scowl. But he just took two steps to the side, his shoulders creeping closer to his ears as he tugged at his cap, the movement unintentional, a nervous habit. He knew he was out of place here, a stranger.

The young man, a yellow backpack slung over his shoulder and long hair pulled into a bun, shoved his way past Frankie, catching the eye of the woman behind the bar.

“Hey, dickwad! Behave yourself or I’ll have you barred,” she barked, her eyebrows furrowed as she jabbed her finger at the man and he raised his hands in a weak gesture of apology as he sauntered towards the bar.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he snarked, heading towards a loud crowd further in, walking away and ignoring the frown from the woman. She turned her attention to Frankie instead and looked him up and down, an appraising look, before meeting his eyes.

“You coming or going, cowboy?”

“Uuh..coming,” he managed to press out, picking up his feet and walking to the bar. He felt heat creep up his neck at being so easily pegged as a cowboy, an out of towner, swallowing down the urge to turn on his heel and bolt out the door. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and the woman behind it gave him a smile, setting down a coaster with a flick of her wrist.

“What can I get you? You look like you’ve traveled far.”

“Just a beer, thanks,” he said and she gave him a softer smile, pity flashing across her face.

“This is Brooklyn, cowboy, I’ve got twenty beers on tap and forty in bottles,” she said and he felt fatigue set in, can’t even order a normal fucking beer in this city. He sighed deeply, dropping his head between his shoulders. But the woman just chuckled in a low voice, tapping her hand on the bar just in front of him.

“Don’t despair, I’m a good bartender, I know what you’ll like.”

He picked up his head as she stepped away, grabbed a glass, and moved to a tap further down the bar. Shooting him a quick grin, she began to pull the pint, amber liquid filling the glass, topping off with a creamy white head. He watched her from under the bill of his cap, shouldn’t really appraise her, but he couldn't help it. The fitted jeans on her curves, and the faded bar uniform shirt tied at the waist instead of tucking it in, made his eyes drop down over her ass in a way a man trying to save his relationship with another woman should avoid. And she clocked him, checking her out when she turned towards him again, making him snap his eyes to his hands on the bar. Heat crept up his neck as he rubbed the small bullseye tattoo next to his thumb.

“Amber ale from a local brewery three blocks from here,” she said and placed the pint on the mat in front of him.

“Thanks,” he replied, watching the bubbles rise to the bottom of the head, “looks good.”

“One of my favorites, I’ve always had a soft spot for amber ale,” she nodded, picking up a cloth and returning to the never ending duty of cleaning glasses.

Frankie picked up the glass and took a long sip, humming as the ale slipped down his throat.

“Damn,” he said, “that’s good, that’s really good.”

“Told you,” the woman smiled at him and he gave her a quick smile in return before he took another sip.

She watched him from the corner of her eye as she moved around the bar, clean glasses getting wiped and stacked. Clearly a newcomer to the city, she’d called him ‘cowboy’ and he hadn’t protested, the boots and the duffel bag giving him away, even before she saw his uneasy eyes roam around the bar and his nervous shuffle. She’s used to assessing anyone who stepped in through the door, the loud ones, the quiet ones, the ones who are only coming to make trouble.

This man was one of the quiet ones, she doesn’t think he’s loud even when he’s in his own element, surrounded by friends.

As he took another long drink from his pint, she turned and picked up glass, catching his eyes on her. She smiled warmly at him, wanting to make him feel welcome, at least in this bar. The city outside is usually brutal to newcomers, and this one seemed to carry more of a burden than most.

“So you’re new to the city?” she asked him, moving back to his side of the bar, pushing long strands of ginger red hair back behind her ears before wiping another glass.

“Yeah, came in on the bus a few hours ago,” he replied and she nodded. He doesn’t look like he flew into the city, he’s got the tired face of someone who's spent too many hours leaning against a window, watching the Midwest slip past. But underneath the tired eyes there’s a warmth, a softness in the way he gives her a small crooked smile that makes a dimple appear on his right cheek.

“Spent two fucking days on it,” he sighed, rubbing a large hand over his face before he lifted his cap and swept his thick curls back. She was temporarily mesmerized by how they bounced back around his ears as he squashed the cap back down.

“Two days? Where did you come from, Texas?” she asked, her eyes widening at the thought of spending two whole days on a bus, but he shook his head.

“No, I think Texas is like three days, I came from Montana,” he took another long drag of his beer.

“I’m guessing this isn’t a weekend trip then”, she quipped, putting down the cloth, all the glasses done, and leaned back on the counter behind her. There’s more work to be done but the stranger chuckled softly at her joke and it pulled her in, making her smile in return.

“No, I’m here to stay with someone, my..ah-a friend, of sorts,” he said, “Gonna see if I can find some work around here, try a different type of life.”

“What do you do?” she asked, “Maybe I know someone who knows someone, that’s usually how it works here.”

“Back in Montana I work with horses, on a ranch,” he replied, rubbing his thumb over the condensation on the beer glass, “Before that, I was a mechanic, cars, helicopters, anything really, I can usually fix it.”

“That’s a pretty handy skill,” she replied, sounding impressed and he gave a little shrug, as if the ability to fix helicopters was something inconsequential, “I’m sure you’ll find work, especially if you can fix old cars, lots of those around here.”

She turned and grabbed a notepad from next to the till, “What’s your name and number? I’ll keep it on hand and ask around for you.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised as he sat up a bit straighter, “Uh yeah, I’m Frankie, Frankie Morales.”

“Nice to meet you, Frankie,” she smiled back at him and slid the notepad across the bar, “Write it down, and your number. I can’t promise anything, and I’m not recommending you to anyone, I’ll just let them know you’re looking for work.”

“Yeah, sure, of course, but anything helps,” he replied, grabbing the pen and jotting down his information.

“What’s your name?” he asked, as he passed the notepad back to her.

“Aisling,” she replied, slipping it in next to the till again.

“Do you own this place,” he asked, looking around the bar. When he looked back at her she was shaking her head.

“No, not at all, I’m just the bartender,” she said, “Give me a minute, I’m just gonna serve these guys.” She gave him a quick smile and headed down the bar to two men who had just sat down.

Frankie watched her as she took their orders, smiling and laughing easily as she pulled a beer for one of them. The men, her age, are both hanging on to her every word as she makes a joke, the blonde one clapping the other one on the shoulder with a loud howl. She winked at him and turned, reaching for a bottle on the top shelf to serve the other man. As she stood on her tiptoes, stretching to reach, her shirt rose up, a soft sliver of creamy skin exposed in the dim light of the bar. Frankie couldn’t help but stare at the glimpse black underwear peeking out above the edge of her jeans, a flash of lace, his mouth suddenly dry as his cock reacted. He dipped his head, but couldn't keep his eyes away, she swayed on her tiptoes, refusing to get the stepladder and her breasts pressed against the shirt as it rode up higher. Frankie had an image of her underneath him, all that soft flesh, warm and smooth under his rough palms, sweet smelling and whimpering.

She managed to slide the bottle off the shelf and grab a glass. Frankie peeled his eyes away, looking down at the now empty pint in his hands, pressed his thumb into the tattoo, forcing his thoughts in another direction. At the end of the bar, Aisling rang up the customers’ order and wiped down the bar before coming back towards him.

“Do you want another?” she asked, nodding towards the empty glass. Frankie considered it for a beat and then shook his head. He wanted a clear head when he went back to the apartment, he needed to say the right things to save the relationship with the woman who lived there. He already knew that not even in his head could he bring himself to call her ‘girlfriend’, he’s far from sure that’s what she is anymore, not with the way they left it.

“No, I can’t,” he said, “It was good though, what do I owe you?”

“Fourteen fifty,” Aisling replied and he tried not to cough at the price as he pulled his wallet from the back of his jeans.

She took his bills and he left her a tip on the bar that she deposited in the tip jar with a smile.

“Uhm…tell me,” Frankie said, absentmindedly tugging at his cap, “Do I really look that much like a cowboy?”

Aisling’s smile softened as she heard his nervous question, “Well…yeah, the cowboy boots are kinda a give away,” she replied, “It doesn’t exactly look like it’s a fashion choice, and the whole jeans, suede jacket, belt buckle look…” She motioned over his body as Frankie’s eyes dropped down to his jeans and belt, hidden from view by the counter.

“You’re good,” he said, a small chuckle escaping him, “You got all that just from when I came in?”

“Tricks of the trade,” she replied, “I need to know who steps into the bar and read them quickly.”

“So you assessed me as soon as I walked in? What else did you pick up on?” He was curious now and leaned forward on the counter as she laughed.

“Well, I’m cheating because we’ve been talking for a bit now. But you do look ‘new in town’ and I’d say ex-army maybe?”

“I guess the duffel bag gave it away?” Frankie smiled, glancing down at the old bag at his feet.

“No, they’re ten dollars at the army surplus stores,” Aisling replied, shaking her head, “But you sat down with your back against a corner, and I bet you can tell me exactly where the exits are and how many people are in here and which ones could give you trouble.”

Frankie raised his eyebrows in surprise at her and she shrugged.

“You’ve been scanning the room since you walked in.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” he replied, letting his eyes roam across the room again, it’s instinct at this point, inherited from years in the army, “I quit the army years ago but it’s a habit I can’t seem to drop.”

“What did you do? Mechanic?” Aisling asked and Frankie shook his head.

“Helicopter pilot, which means I had to be able to fix anything, but mainly I flew things, anything really.”

Aisling gave him a closer second look and the pieces fell into place, his quiet demeanor, the way he held himself, not exactly folded in on himself, but as if he was trying to stay unseen and not be noticed unless he wanted to be. A strong, solid body gone slightly soft with age, betrayed by the gray in his beard and hair, small white scars across his knuckles, evidence of old injuries.

“What?” he asked as he noticed her eyes scanning him.

“Just building the picture,” she said, a small crooked smile, “You know us bartenders, always trying to figure out the story of our patrons.”

“Not much of a story,” he said, tugging at his cap and hiding his eyes, “just new in town, looking for work.”

“Everyone has a story, Frankie Morales.”

He shrugged at that and fumbled for his phone as it began to ring. Aisling gave him a quick smile and stepped away to let him answer in private.

Frankie’s jaw ticked as he saw the name on the screen, Eva. He’s been expecting her to call since he left her front door. Their front door, maybe. The truth is, he doesn’t know where they stand anymore. They’d met in Florida, after a doomed mission to South America that left so much pain inside him, and a rift between old friends. She’d been a calming presence, someone who seemed to have his back when his mind spiraled out of control. But she hadn’t been enough, being in Florida became oppressive, and it wasn’t just the humid heat. The old haunts from the days he’d spent trying to numb his brain with white powder, bars and venues filled with memories of the friends he’d lost, both those who’d died and those who still lived, it all became claustrophobic.

When Herb, his sponsor at the NA, first invited him to the ranch in Montana he’d scoffed at the idea. He was a pilot, not a ranch hand. But after a close call, nearly falling back into the habit, he’d taken him up on the offer and gone out there for two weeks. Herb had convinced him by talking about the clear, cool air making it easy to breathe, the open sky making the mind feel less claustrophobic. And he’d been right. The first evening they’d sat on the porch, the mountains at their back, the open prairie in front, and Frankie had looked up at the endless sky and it was almost as if he was back in a cockpit, flying close to the stars. Nothing encroached on his mind, no buzz in his ears, nothing tugged at his memories, just the open sky and an endless horizon.

The two weeks of hard ranch work, aching muscles, blistered hands, sealed the deal. If he wanted to truly start over, he needed to leave Florida and come here.

Eva had been enthusiastic at first, pulled in by Frankie’s talk of the horses, a new foal that had just been born, the small cabin they’d live in. He’d shared the pictures he’d taken, all rustic beams, sturdy wood furniture and a hammock on the porch. It looked like a romantic western dream and that’s what they both really thought it would be. And for the first few months they were happy.

But when Frankie found peace and calm in the solitude of the isolated ranch, felt free and unrestricted, she began to feel claustrophobic and suffocated. The nearest town, a forty-five minute drive away, didn’t offer much of anything. She found work online and began to resent the life he’d trapped her in. That was the word she’d used, trapped. When the fights became a daily occurrence, Frankie felt the familiar itch of wanting to escape come back. Starting, as always, in his feet and crawling up his body until he spent more time out on the ranch than in the cabin. And for every hour he stayed away, Eva resented their life more, resented him more.

Until eventually, one late evening when he came back after five days on the trails with a group of guests from a neighboring ranch, she’d left. Only a note saying she’d accepted a position in New York with the company she worked for. A line about needing a different type of life, no invitation to come with her, to follow her, just signed /E and that was it.

He’d called her, spent hours on the phone when she eventually picked up, begged her to come back. Offered to move to a ranch closer to a bigger town, find a compromise where he could still have the peace of the ranch life, but let her live her life too. But she loved New York, after the silent cabin, she craved the noise and the tempo of the city.

Eventually he agreed to come to New York, to see her new life and maybe find a place in it. But the city was an assault on his senses after so long on the ranch. The peace that his spiraling mind had finally found evaporated as he navigated the city, the metro, her friends, the bars. His feet itched, the skin around his nails was picked raw and he felt on edge, even in the apartment, his mind never getting a chance to be quiet.

Eva called it his need for control, to always have a plan of escape, a way out. He knew it was the years in the army that had shredded his sense of safety, left his nerves ragged and too exposed to the mundane background noise of a city. Maybe he’d be able to deal with it some day, but now, he needed the silence.

After two months in Brooklyn, he left. A loose promise from both of them to maybe try to patch things up, to try the long distance thing. But when he sent a text, saying he’d returned safely to the ranch, and she didn’t reply for two days, he knew it was over. And he didn’t miss her. He had loved her at some point, he thinks. But their lives didn’t match, their needs too different. And he saw that he should maybe not be with anyone while he laid down the foundations of a new life in a new place. He needed to find a way to live with himself, in silence, before he considered sharing his darkest sides with someone else.

And then Eva called. Six weeks after he’d left Brooklyn. He could hear the heavy traffic behind her as she walked down a street somewhere, leaving a clinic that had confirmed what she’d suspected.

“I’m pregnant, Frankie, and it’s yours.”

The words floored him, sent a sharp jolt of dread through his system, his feet tingling, then his scalp. A baby. In New York. But his baby, their child. And the dread was replaced by nerves, how would they do this? Would she want to raise the baby in New York or come back to Montana? He had space for a child here, a guest bedroom with a view of the mountains. It would be a perfect nursery, he could paint it, build a crib with Herb’s help, the nearby town was a good place to raise a family when the child was old enough to begin school. Without even stopping to think, he built a new life around the unborn child.

Or hell, even New York, he’d make himself put up with New York if that was what she wanted. The apartment only had one bedroom but maybe they could move further out, get a bigger place. He could renovate pretty much anything, he was sure of it. Maybe they could find a quiet neighborhood with trees, where his mind could find peace even in the city. Without even stopping, he built another new life around his, their, unborn child.

“I don’t know if I’m keeping it, but I wanted to tell you.”

Eva’s voice had been hard, letting him know that she was doing him a favor by telling him, letting him be part of it.

“I’ll come to New York, I’ll get a bus today,” Frankie pleaded, “Let’s talk this through, a few more days won’t make a difference.”

She’d conceded, and he’d thrown stuff into the old duffel bag, left a message with Herb, and driven to the crossroads where the Greyhound stopped.

Now he was here, in a Brooklyn bar, looking down at her name on his phone as he pressed the green button to answer.

Chapter 2

A/N: And we're off! I'm so nervous, I really hope you all will love this and follow along as I explore this new version of Frankie! I hope to post a new chapter every Sunday so fingers crossed life doesn't get in the way too much!

❤

Tagging the ususal suspects: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain @casa-boiardi

#frankie morales #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #frankie morales fanfic #triple frontier

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metalomagnetic · 6 months ago

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Hi! Do you have any characters that you find slightly similar to Loki or Voldemort/Tom Riddle in terms of personality or backstory or just vibes?

For example, as huge fan of frostiron I LOVE Loki. And after reading fics about him for years I can’t help but notice small similarities between him and Sirius. They’re NOT the same, not at all. But I personally see a lot of stuff that they have in common. Both characters are very prideful, strong magicians, black sheep of their family, have a dark side but ultimately end up doing more good than bad. And that’s if we include both canon and fanon. It’s okay if you disagree, that’s just my personal perception)

For Voldemort I was unable to find any sort of counterpart🤷‍♀️

Soo, my question remains. I am very curious as to what you have in mind;)

I assume you mean Loki from the movies; I am unfortunately unfamiliar with him. The only Loki I know is the one from Norse mythology, and I don't remember very much about him, either. I do remember he was a shapeshifter, like many gods, so I suppose he has that in common with Sirius! I can't speak further of similarities, that's practically all I remember.

As for Voldemort...I don't know. The Evil Queen from Snow White? 😂 They both hear a prophecy warning of their downfall and they act on it and start beef with kids. And the kids end up surviving and winning with the power of love.

If we just take canon V at face value, then he's similar to all fairytale villains. Or to Palpatine, I suppose.

If we look at Voldemort as a more human character, not just Evil TM, then I could see some similarities with Magneto from X-men(at least from one or two universes of that big world): the hate for the muggles/people without mutations that steams from their childhood, their lives were impacted by ww2, both ridiculously powerful, both claiming they fight for wizards/mutants. Also they both have a badass lady as a second in command.

But, ofc, Magneto is allowed to be human, when Voldemort is doomed by the narative and his position as villain in children story. While Magneto is clearly a villain and loves genocide, he at least thinks he's doing the right thing for his kind; Voldemort is just there to be bad.

For Sirius, you can make a case about Aragorn, I suppose? Both come from ancient, noble, rich lineage, but they shy away from the burden of it, they're both good (but rough) men, they are protectors for their respective protagonists, they would die for Harry/Frodo, and they're both fighting this supreme evil that is threatening the world. They both obey basically God on Earth (Albus and Gandalf).

I think it's easier to find Sirius similarities, I can think of some in A song of Ice and Fire, but it's harder for Voldemort because he barely has any 'meat' to his character in canon. He's just there as a lesson for kids, as an obstacle for Harry to overcome.

There is that saying that a story is only as good as it's villain, and it's true. If Harry Potter was anything other than a children's book, than it would be a very bad story, because the villain is just a prop. However, since it's for children, the rules are obviously different. Ironically, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is considered the best book in the series because it had a great villain- Sirius. That book is so beloved because for most of it we believed Sirius to be a villain, and he was real in a way Voldemort never is, he is human, and he is scary.

So it falls on us, the fandom, to give Voldemort something real, to turn him into a person, and we all go in slightly different directions, hence why it's so hard to find a counterpart for him in established literature/cinema.

#voldemort #Harry Potter

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little-wicked10 · 7 months ago

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Smut Ideas🔞

These are some still in my mind ideas and ideas that are sitting in the drafts unfinished that I wanted to see if anyone was interested in. Let me know if you’re interested in any of these ideas! Thank you to @shirley-girly for encouraging me to post this lol

‼️in the works — ❓still an idea

Fantasize - Billy Butcher (The Boys)‼️

Kimiko takes matters into her own hands and gives her friend a little nudge in Butcher’s direction (inspired by Fantasize by Ariana Grande).

Billy Butcher x maybepregnant!ofc (The Boys)❓

Butcher and her have been casually hooking up for some time. It seems like when it’s about to get kinda serious, Butcher pulls away and starts ignoring her. Certain signs lead her to taking a pregnancy test, which leads to confronting Butcher. In front of everyone.

Billy Butcher x ofc x Soldier Boy (The Boys)❓

Solider Boy’s supe powers make it easy to read people and their physical reactions. What’s the supe to do when he catches on to her physical reactions to himself and Butcher?

Short N’ Sweet Smut series❓/‼️

Series of smut stories based on Sabrina Carpenter songs from her ✨Short N’ Sweet🍪 album

Worst!Wolverine x Siren!reader (Deadpool and Wolverine)‼️

Wade and his bestie/new roommate convince Logan to join their smoke session.

Fulfulling - Crown Prince!Loki (Marvel)‼️

Fulfilling one’s duty shouldn’t feel as good (or as sinful) as it does with Loki.

Alfie Solomons (Peaky Blinders)‼️

Darkness has a funny way of consuming your every being. It creeps into your veins and makes one crave the pleasures and pains it has to give. It gripped tight to whatever it had latched on to and spread. It could take over its host in a singular moment and never let go and make one feel alive in a sinful way. What did it say about a person that not only ran into the darkness, but preferred it to the light?

Count Dracula (Van Helsing 2004)‼️

A single virginal beauty in exchange for the lives of an entire village. Instead of being devoured, she finds herself as his “guest” in his frozen fortress. She knows the stories of Count Dracula, but she can’t help but be affected by his dark magnetism.

#smut #fanfiction #Loki #billy butcher #soldier boy #the boys #logan wolverine #logan howlett #deadpool and wolverine #alfie solomons #van helsing #Dracula #sabrina carpenter #writing ideas #ideas #drafts #marvel

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nekoannie-chan · 2 months ago

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Week 16 Reblog Masterlist 2025

Welcome to Week 16 2025, or Week 276. As always, the fics will be listed in the order I read them.

I hope you enjoy it!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

♥ You can check my reading guidelines here.

♥ You can check my masterlist here.

♥ You can check my main reblog masterlist 2025 here.

♥ You can check my April reblog masterlist 2025 here.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

𝙺𝚎𝚢𝚜: 💛 ᵒʳᶤᵍᶤᶰᵃˡ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ

💜 ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ

🖤 ᵈᵃʳᵏ

❤️ ˢᵐᵘᵗ

💚 ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ

💙 ᵃᶰᵍˢᵗ

🧡 ᶜᵒᵐᵉᵈʸ

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

This is the list of the fics I read and recommend in Week 16 2025:

I can do this all day (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @time-for-a-lullaby 💚💙

Get home safe (Brock Rumlow X Reader) by @e-dubbc11 💚❤️

Lost them (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @alejandrafrausto 💙

Beg (Brock Rumlow X Reader) by @saiyanprincessswanie ❤️

Fic (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @mintyys-blog 💚

Fic (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @darsynia 💚

Is that what you think we are? (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @levanswrites 💙

The ultimate risk part 2 (Bucky Barnes X Reader) by @saiyanprincessswanie ❤️

Fic (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @mintyys-blog 💚

Jigsaw puzzles (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @multiversefanfics 💚

I Should’ve Kissed You Longer 3 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @corawithfanfiction 💙

The ultimate risk part 3 (Bucky Barnes X Reader) by @saiyanprincessswanie ❤️

I Should’ve Kissed You Longer 4 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @corawithfanfiction 💙

Yours, always part 10 (Stucky X Reader) by @the-winter-spider 💚💙

Beg for forgiveness (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @saiyanprincessswanie ❤️

Fic (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @gremlin-girly ❤️

I Should’ve Kissed You Longer 5 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @corawithfanfiction 💙

Yours, always part 11 (Stucky X Reader) by @the-winter-spider 💚💙

Little Minx (Stucky X Reader) by @saiyanprincessswanie ❤️

Bad girls watch (Steve Rogers X Reader X Loki) by @jadekillian ❤️

I Should’ve Kissed You Longer 6 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @corawithfanfiction 💙

Yours, always part 12 (Stucky X Reader) by @the-winter-spider 💚💙

You will love me (Dark!Steve Rogers X Reader) by @saiyanprincessswanie ❤️

Fic (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @buckets-and-trees 💚

I Should’ve Kissed You Longer 7 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @corawithfanfiction 💙

Yours, always part 13 (Stucky X Reader) by @the-winter-spider 💚💙

Our dream, your nightmare part 1 (Stucky X OFC) by @saiyanprincessswanie ❤️

#Annie recommends #Week 16 Reblog Masterlist 2025 #Week 16 Reblog Masterlist

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cherlawa-panna · 3 months ago

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What’s your favorite crackship with Barney? Ones that I like but am too lazy to write a fic about are Barney x Bucky (which would have the ship name barnbarn ofc) or Barney x Thor (for the potential of them snitching on each others brothers to each other, given that Barney is villaining in the same general vicinity as Loki like in a team or smth).

I only realized after I wrote out this ask how much it aligns with my username lmao

MY TIME HAS CAME!!!!

I had ships with Barney in my heart, but I can't force myself to write 😭 and omg I never thought about Barney/Bucky or Barney/Thor. You need to tell me more about your vision because it sounds soooo good omg. Especially about BARNBARN. GET INTO MY DMS RIGHT NOW!!!! Also I love how it fits so well with your url lmao.

Okay, okay. Let's go with my fave crack ships I made of with this asshole. I'm not mentioning Simone and Barney, since they seems to be canon in All-New Hawkeye and we're talking about crack ship (but I love them dearly).

Barney Barton x John Walker

HEAR ME OUT. They were in the same team together during Dark Avenegrs 2012, SO IT COULD BE POSSIBLE. They weren't friends or anything, they didn't even like each other but I think it could be a beautiful crackship.

But the best POTENTIAL would be in MCU au. Every time I imagine Barney in the MCU, I see him as a veteran who served with John Walker and Lemar Hoskins in the army. If I had more energy, I’d probably write a whole ass fic about Barney in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I bet he wouldn’t even know that John became Captain America because I can see him not watching the news at all And he would be so bewildered if someone told him like"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE GUY I BULLIED IN THE ARMY IS THE NEW CAPTAIN AMERICA???"

In this fic, Barney and John had at least one hookup during their service, but Bernard wouldn't even treat it seriously. Like, do you know about this stereotype of a boomer dad who’s unknowingly bisexual and says things like, "Oh yeah, Timmy’s my best friend, and if he were a woman, I’d marry him," or "I hooked up with my best friend in college because we didn’t have any luck with girls and were too horny. Just two friends helping each other out." Yeah, that's Barney. He's not ashamed of it; tbh he is blunt and SHAMELESS about his experiences with men and be like "Every guy at least thought once what it’d be like to be with another man. It's normal stfu" and Clint’s having a full-on aneurysm "NO???? IT"S NOT???"

"Oh, we were just two pent-up guys in the army, lol." And Barney casually dropping that info at the most random moment, like it’s no big deal.

Honestly, this would be hilarious in a Barney/Bucky fic. Imagine Bucky just finding out Barney had a thing with John, and his reaction goes through the phases:

"Oh my god, this guy's not straight—THANK GOD I have a chance" Then, it turns into "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HOOKED UP WITH THIS FAKE ASS CAPTAIN AMERICA??" And then "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT INTERESTED IN MEN? YOU LITERALLY FUCKED—"

Anyway. I see ship John and Barney only being used as a "something that happened in the past and it's not a big deal" trope with Clint dying inside. They wouldn't be a good couple anyway.

Barney Barton x Marcella Carson

Marcella is Carson's daughter and the new owner of the circus after her parents retired (I say parents because in All-New Hawkeye, Carson is called Mrs. and everywhere else Mr. So unless Carson is genderfluid or trans, I'm gonna accept that both of her parents were owners). She was showed ONLY ONCE and it was in Avengers #223 (1982) when she asked Clint to get rid of Jacques who stole the carnival and become the new boss.

We don't know SHIT about her - she was just a pretty damsel in distress. But I have so many headcanons for her (if someone is interested, I can post them). And I sometimes picture her as Barney's ex girlfriend or situationship. Clint called her a "tomboy" who prefers doing tough jobs like cleaning up after animals rather than "girly things," so she probably worked with Barney. I imagine her having a bad temperament and anger issues, so you can bet that she and Barney had the loudest fights that everyone in the city could heard lol. And in my mind, she left his ass for someone else and that's why they broke up. They were ✨✨toxic✨✨

Since it was revealed in Blindspot that Barney taught Clint about talking to girls, then he was literally like:

I don't see Marcy getting back with Barney after he left the circus. In fact, they didn't stay in contact at all. Maybe she visited him once when he was in jail, but that's it.

I just ship them because I fixated on Marcella once because she seems to be a fun character. She has interesting desing and she's THE DAUGHTER OF CARSON,,, ANR SHE LITERALLY WROTE A LETTER TO CLINT AND WAS LIKE "hey, I know that circus traumatized your ass and you hate us because of that, but can you get the rid of this pest that stole my job?? thx"

Barney Barton x Allan Scofield

This is the guy who wrote in Hawkeye 2002 to Clint after Barney's funeral.

AND HE NEVER APPEARED EVER AGAIN. But don't worry, I still have a lot of headcanons about him and somewhere on pc his desing I made years ago.

I’ve actually got a WIP fic for this ship called "I had all the evidence that you were here". It focuses on Allan’s grief over Barney—mainly dealing with Barney's "deaths" and the person he became after turning into Trickshot. It's all about Allan coming to terms with the changes in Barney and trying to navigate the emotional wreckage left in the wake of everything that’s happened. Maybe I'll post it one day.

I mostly see them as friends, since I headcanon Allan as having a wife and kids, but I can't help but maybe in different time and under different circumstances, they would have been together. It's just one of those tragic "what if" things.

But Allan is totally "I'M NOT GAY!!!! I CAN'T BE GAY NOOOOOOOOOO!!!" and Barney "Homies being homies".

Barney Barton x Bruce Banner

I don't have too much to say about it. I just think it would be fun dynamic because I read some Bruce's comics last year. I can picture Barney sitting in Bruce's lab, doing crosswords or sudoku while Bruce is busy with his science stuff. Bruce would ramble on about random topics, and Barney, who doesn't know anything about science, would just sit there, barely understanding a word but still listening.

I had more ships but I don't remember right now lmao. And these three are my faves.

It was fun. Thanks for ask bestie ♥

#barney barton #marvel #comics #my posts #hawkeye #marvel 616 #marcella carson #allan scofield #bruce banner #john walker #ask

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loki-cees-all · 1 year ago

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Chapter 6 - The Eyes Ease Open, and it's Dark Again {TLTGYA - Post!TVA Loki x OFC Longfic}

Previous Chapter / TLTGYA Masterlist / A03 Link / Next Chapter

Pairing : Post-TVA!Loki x Oliviette (OFC)

Chapter Summary : Oliviette is being taken back to her cell, and she finds out a bit more about the dungeon guards while they bicker with each other. After they’ve gone, Loki and Oliviette do a little bickering of their own.

Chapter W/c : 3.7k words

Chapter Tags / Content : Mentions of blood/injuries, and as always - the angst of it all. And we're finally starting to dive into the mysterious dungeon guards and Oliviette's backstory! Happy reading!

18+ Only - Minors DNI

✦ ─── ⊹ ─── • ° • ─ ☽ ─ • ° • ─── ⊹ ─── ✦

Hues of white and yellow flashed on the inside of Oliviette’s eyelids, barely conscious as she was dragged slowly across the stone. Every muscle tensed in anticipation of further injury, every rough surface scratched the bare skin on her arms, every vessel and artery throbbed as blood rushed to her wounds. Her body hung limp as she was pulled along, and her mind reeled as it tried to cling to consciousness.

“This is a mistake. We should be taking her to the Apotheosis and be done with her - not back to her cell where she’ll just escape again!”

“You heard what Caden said. He wants to present this one to Anathema when she finally arrives…”

That name was like a shock to Oliviette’s senses, instantly waking her up, turning her stomach and sending chills down her spine. She swallowed back a groan as her heavy eyelids heavily struggled to remain open; but even the faltering lantern light of the dungeon too much, and her weary pupils struggled to properly dilate.

Oliviette closed her eyes again, and she focused her efforts on listening instead. The heels of her boots scraped along the stone. The voices above her were callous and inconsiderate, as cold as the draft creeping into the dungeon and pricking maliciously at her skin. The collar of her tunic scrunched under the hands of her captors as they dragged her along; mercifully, they hadn’t noticed her waking up, allowing Oliviette to hear them speaking freely for the very first time.

“Rüzdæts. Anathema’s not coming,” the female voice snapped, her tone heavy with disdain and mockery. “Caden’s been promising that for weeks now, and what do we have to show for it?”

The male voice chuckled, the sound almost a sneer as it left his lips. “Mind your tone, Maxine. You’re already on thin ice with Caden; best not let him hear you defaming our Queen…”

Oliviette’s blood ran cold; they clearly weren’t referring to the beautiful and benevolent Gloustanian Queen - she had died twenty-five years earlier, and had never been officially replaced. This group, whomever they were, had installed their own nefarious one to follow.

“Our Queen…” Maxine scoffed as the pair lazily turned the corner, sending Oliviette’s damaged shoulder colliding with the wall. Tears stung her eyes, and pain radiated across her nerves in a searing crawl. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out, drawing blood and stifled gasps instead.

“We don’t even know if Anathema is real! No one’s ever seen her! She could just be a story - a chǐsh!”

Without warning, Oliviette was dropped to the ground just before the sounds of a scuffle rustled overhead. She imagined the male guard grabbing Maxine and pushing her violently against the wall and Maxine struggling to free herself; apparently the group that stole her was plagued by profound infighting.

“Our Queen, Anathema, has bestowed her blessing upon Caden - and by extension, all of us,” the male guard hissed. “I suggest you temper your hostility towards Caden, before you find yourself at the mercy of the Apotheosis.”

“Remove your grimy hands from me, Nulan, or I promise I’ll remove them for you!” Maxine growled, her words dripping with a violence she was desperate to inflict.

A tense silence descended upon the corridor, and Olivette lay unmoving and blind on the floor, waiting to hear if a fight would break out between the pair. The news of the group’s splintered aspirations was like music to her ears - if only Oliviette wasn’t weakened even more than ever now, she might have been able to do something useful with it.

But as it was, she didn’t even know if she had the energy to crawl away if the guards did begin to fight, let alone try to find her way out of the dungeon a second time.

“Unlock the cell,” Nulan finally ordered, releasing Maxine with another push into the wall. “And if you cannot temper it, then channel that hostility into searching her for any more weapons…instead of into this petty - ”

“Oh, do not say fitmǐ!” the woman hissed as the jangling of keys echoed against the stone. Oliviette simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief and tensed in fear - reluctant to return to the cell again, but grateful she wasn’t being taken someplace even worse.

“ - insecure, childish and useless jealousy…simply because you cannot compare to our Queen…” Nulan continued, almost gleefully.

“This is not fitmǐ! I am not - ” Maxine groaned as she unlocked the cell and then crouched down to search Oliviette, rolling her back and forth without a single morsel of tenderness or respect to her injuries, pulling on each layer and rifling through her pockets.

“Did you search her body after she was knocked unconscious?”

Oliviette struggled to remain quiet during every push and pull of her weakened form. She wondered if Loki was still in their cell - hiding in the dark, watching this scene unfold, letting it happen to her. How imprudent she was to think she could ever trust him.

“You know I couldn’t - ” she answered through gritted teeth, rolling Oliviette on to her back and tearing the belt from her waist.

Loki could probably see it better from his vantage point in the shadows, and if he wasn’t willing to stop it, then ideally he’d at least describe it to her later.

“And why is that?”

Oliviette didn’t know much about Loki, but she did know that he more than likely wouldn’t even be that considerate.

“Because she - ” Maxine yanked the leather boots from Oliviette’s feet, her cold fingers indelicately clawing at her socks and ankles.

Oliviette stifled a whimper, and moments later, two thuds echoed off in the distance, presumably from Maxine tossing her boots away - and most likely not into the cell. “ - because she knocked me out first!”

“Oh, that’s right,” Nulan chuckled cruelly while a hand grabbed the back of Oliviette’s collar again. “Because you let your guard down while you were…what were you doing anyway? Lurking outside Caden’s chambers again, perhaps?”

Maxine growled as she began to drag Oliviette behind her again, even less considerately than before, and all but tossed her into the middle of the cell. Oliviette landed on her side, choking back coughs and groans as she tried not to squirm on the floor. The familiar stench of musk and rusted metal invaded her senses, leading to new tears rolling down her cheeks.

“This is her last chance, Nulan. If she breaks out of here again…” Maxine hissed as she stormed out of the cell.

The barred door slammed shut behind her with a violent crash. “Then I’ll kill her before Anathema even sets foot in this dungeon…”

Nulan didn’t skip a beat, honing in on her perceived weakness like a wolf stalking its prey. “And what exactly are you going to do from on your knees in Caden’s chambers, hmm?”

“I can do two things at once, unlike the rest of you…” Maxine snapped as she rammed the bolt back into its lock, the sound ringing out like an omen of doom.

Oliviette’s eyelids slowly fluttered open, and she struggled to focus on the blurred forms of the guards as they turned to leave. The walls started to close in, and sheer panic lurched in her chest. She was trapped again.

“And you should probably make at least one of those things - ”

“Oh, would you just shut up?!”

“Wait - please…” Oliviette hadn’t meant to say it; it was just an uncontrollable machination of her own desperation. She almost didn’t even recognize the sound of her voice, so small and so frightened, and so unsure of what was to become of her.

The atmosphere of the dungeon instantly changed, shifting from ebullient chaos to refined malevolence. Oliviette’s heart stopped in her chest as the pair simultaneously stopped bickering and went absolutely silent - the kind of quiet that always gave way to something catastrophic.

There wasn’t much she could make out, and her mind splashed in her skull as she tried to push herself upright. But Maxine and Nulan appeared to be standing at attention, one wearing a mask of turquoise and the other wearing one of ruby, both of them turning their gaze upon Oliviette and eyeing her viscously from the other side of the steel bars.

“Please…just let me go. I promise I won’t make trouble…” Oliviette begged through shaky exhales. She knew it wouldn’t matter, but what other option did she have?

The guards merely tilted their heads in unison, as if to make a silent mockery of her plea. They moved in sync, matching in every single way except for the masks that concealed their faces, their feet facing forward arms hanging loosely by their sides. Oliviette had no idea which was which, and she began to question the severity of their earlier bickering; apparently petty squabbles no longer mattered when there was a prisoner to terrify.

A chill slithered down Oliviette’s spine, turning down and coating each and every possible nerve ending in damnation. And without speaking, the guards stepped backwards down the hall together, maintaining their sinister eye contact until they turned the corner and finally disappeared from view.

Oliviette let out a shuddering whimper after they were gone, and her head hung so low. It was exhausting, trying to exist like this, and Oliviette didn’t know if she should even continue trying. Every inch of her burned and ached, and her body felt so heavy with despair as she tried to crawl away from the center of the cell. She didn’t even have the energy to hold back the tears that fell as her back finally found the wall again.

The wall of this specific dungeon cell - the one Tereth kept bringing her back to.

Oliviette brought her knees closer, once again cradling her damaged arm between her thighs and her chest, curling into herself in an attempt to keep warm. Most of her protective clothing was now either missing or severely damaged - she couldn’t tell if her boots had landed in the cell or not after being tossed carelessly by Maxine.

Her wool socks, dampened by the dungeon floor, just made the cold air that much worse, but she didn’t have the strength to take them off. Her cloak had been left behind where they’d found her upstairs, and no doubt one of the other guards had already stolen it for themselves.

She never found her staff, and now she didn’t even have her dagger. All she’d accomplished in the past few hours was to make everything worse for herself. If this were a story she was reading, she’d truly be impressed by the severity of these failures.

“So you are alive.”

Loki’s voice was low and flat, but it startled her all the same. The anxiety that flooded her system soon gave way to anger; he’d been there that entire time after all - and he’d done nothing to help her.

"No thanks to you," Oliviette snapped without lifting her head. She knew there was nothing to see, that he preferred to deliver his sarcasm from the shadows.

He didn’t respond, and she found that even more infuriating. But the walls of stone and steel were doing an excellent job of numbing her emotions, standing tall and strong and unyielding against the will of someone far too weak to do anything about it.

None of this was fair or justified. She’d wanted to be on her own for the first time, yes, but not like this.

“Did you even notice the door?” Oliviette felt like a child asking that question, so small and so scared, but she desperately didn’t want to descend back into silence.

“What about it?”

Oliviette sighed and lifted her head, searching for Loki in the dark. “I left it unlocked for you. So you could leave, if you wanted to…but you didn’t even look at the door, did you?”

Loki didn’t answer her, because of course he didn’t; dread and hopelessness were the only things Oliviette had to keep her company anymore. It probably never even occurred to him that escape could be an option - and if the guards ever ordered him to get out, even then he still probably wouldn’t leave.

Olivette turned away from him and pulled the charm on her necklace between her fingers, tracing over the sapphire crystal wrapped in gold wire and becoming lost in her thoughts and regrets. Only Tereth knew why she kept getting pulled back into this dungeon cell, and perhaps she wouldn’t be allowed to escape until she figured out the reason.

But was she being punished for simply leaving the castle? Was she being punished for her father’s lack of faith? What exactly was she expected to learn from all of this?

Oliviette’s people had never considered the God of Knowing to be a malicious god. None of their gods were - a people of peace have no need for a deity who thrived on vengeance and anger. No, Tereth was born alongside the Aethalium, at the beginning of time and in a fantastical wave of ocean-blue light and illuminating power. Those two were among the first things to ever exist, and they would be the last ones to ever die.

Tereth provided guidance, not malfeasance. Tereth knew what you needed before you did, and the Aethalium had the wisdom to either bring it to you, or you to it. Together, they knew everything, while Oliviette knew nothing, and that was the point of the faith - the trusting in the not-knowing was what would give you everything.

But Oliviette was terrified that she was going to die here without ever knowing why she had been kidnapped, or why Tereth wouldn’t let her escape. She was going to die locked up in this dungeon, and no one back home was ever going to know what happened to her.

Not a single soul was going to know, other than Loki - but he seemed content to stay like this. How could that be? Had he forgotten what it was like to not be here?

“Hey…” Oliviette’s voice cracked painfully as she spoke. And she knew she wasn’t going to get any information out of him, but she had nothing better to do than try.

A lingering silence hung heavy in the cell before Loki finally gave a curt response. "What?"

"How long have you been here anyway?" Oliviette asked, looking in the direction of his voice from the dark. She couldn’t see him at all, and wondered if he was even bothering to look back at her.

"I'm not sure. Why?"

Oliviette sighed again, somehow surprised that he gave yet another non-answer. "Just wondering how much time I have to think about all my mistakes before the end…”

Loki said nothing again, his silence hurting more than the blows delivered by the guards earlier. Oliviette’s fingers drifted absentmindedly through her red hair, and she winced as they made contact with the concoction of ripped skin and sticky blood.

Oliviette pulled her fingers away to examine them, tilting her hand and trying to catch the crimson in the dim light of the dungeon. She wondered if she’d be able to even see it if she had a mirror, or if all of the blood was now permanently synonymous with the color of her hair.

“How far did you manage to get?”

His voice startled her again, and she hated it. But that was twice now he’d started a conversation first; Oliviette didn’t know why he was so interested all of a sudden, and she didn’t want to ruin it or push him away again, as silly as that was.

“Not far. I was looking for my staff…” she answered quietly, shivering as she thought about losing her cloak. “I figured I’d need it to fight, but they caught me before I could find it…”

What a stupid, foolish girl she was. And so much for all that "training" Deacon had given her while she was growing up; apparently it was all useless in a real fight. Another tear rolled down her cheek as she recalled having to beg for that training as a child, and how hard her father resisted. How angry he was upon discovering that Deacon was giving them to her in secret…

“I should have just ran instead…” Oliviette continued, whether Loki was still listening or not; talking was much more preferable to the silence. “And the dungeon is like a maze, it just keeps going and going…”

To her surprise, Loki actually responded to that. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never actually left this cell.”

Oliviette’s brow furrowed in confusion, and she looked in his direction again. “Then how did you get in here?”

She could hear shifting in the shadows, as if he was uncomfortable with the question even though he’d been the one to bring it up. A part of her inexplicably hoped that the shifting was actually him leaving the shadows to move closer to her, and not just because she felt ridiculous talking to a ghost.

But when he didn’t answer, or even emerge from the shadows, Oliviette’s anger began to boil over. “So you won’t say how you got in here, how long you’ve been here, why you’re hiding here. Is there anything you will tell me?” she scoffed.

“I’ll tell you that it’s none of your business.”

“Oh, I think it is, actually. Because if we worked together, we both could get out of here,” Oliviette snapped through angry tears. “But you’d rather be here - and therefore I’m stuck too.”

“I didn’t bring you down here,” Loki answered simply, as if that absolved him of anything.

Oliviette couldn’t believe what she was hearing, that she ever held hope in this man assisting in an escape. “Maybe not, but you’ve trapped me here all the same with your wallowing, and your - ”

“You’re a stranger, and I don’t owe you anything!” Loki interrupted, his own anger becoming more obvious even in the shadows.

“And what could you have possibly done to justify all this? What was it - did you murder a bunch of children? Burn down a village?” Oliviette’s veins swelled with blood as she became angrier, and her head started to throb even more. “Did you get greedy and rob a temple, and that’s why I have to die in a dungeon?”

Loki sighed - a deep, heavy sigh that originated in his bones and seized the air around her. Oliviette almost stopped, but he wasn’t giving her any valid justification as to why it had to be like this, and she was desperate to feel anything other than her own impending doom.

“No, it couldn’t have been so bad, or we would have heard of you before. So what was it? What did you do?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you!”

“But you would if you were considerate!”

Oliviette stared unflinching in his direction, feeling a little bit insane for arguing with a shadow. A new fear lodged itself in her throat, that maybe she was just imagining him. Maybe he was just a hallucination - a reaper, meant to escort her to the afterworld. Maybe he was working with the guards, and that this was just the first step of torturous devices awaiting her.

Loki was quiet again, but it was different this time, like a thousand versions of the truth were spilling out of him all at once and he didn’t know which version to choose. But how could any one man be that complicated? And why did it have to be like this?

Oliviette swallowed hard and shook her head when he didn’t answer. Again, her mind sloshed in her skull, and it was pure agony even trying to exist anymore. All she wanted was to sleep, or to wake up and realize this was just a horrible nightmare. But she knew that was never going to happen.

She curled into herself again, huddled against the wall and too cold to care about anything else. Her eyes closed, and she didn’t even have the energy to hope that there was a greater purpose to this - because Loki wasn’t going to answer her, she was never going to get out of here, and this was going to be the method of her demise.

“This is me being considerate…” Loki’s voice wasn’t cruel or mocking, it was simply a matter of fact. Oliviette’s brow furrowed, and she cautiously opened her eyes to peer into the darkness.

“Me hiding away down here, rotting in despair - is me being considerate,” he continued, his self-loathing oozing out of every word - but she could tell that he believed everything he was saying.“You’re just…the latest of my many collateral damages.”

“Is that why you just sat there while the guards dragged me back here?” Oliviette asked quietly, unable to stop herself. She felt dizzy and nauseous and completely sick to her stomach. “Was that you being considerate, or was it because I’m just collateral damage to you?”

“Neither. I was listening to them. They were talking while you were unconscious…”

Oliviette’s eyes widened, amazed that he had actually put in the effort to pay attention. “Wait - you were listening to them?”

“The only other time I’ve heard them say anything was when you were dragged in here for the first time,” Loki answered, almost reluctantly, and her heart started pumping just a little bit faster. “But if I had revealed myself, they would have stopped talking, the way they did earlier when they realized you’d awoken…”

Her breath shuddered, and her limbs tingled with nervous energy. “Just the…mere fact that the guards are even talking now is significant to you?”

“That, and…” Loki cleared his throat before continuing. “The fact that they’re feeding you. So I’ll ask again…”

His tone shifted, from full on reluctance to conservative curiosity, like he couldn’t believe he was asking the question again but he also couldn’t ignore it any longer. Oliviette could feel his eyes boring into her for the first time, and she already knew what he was going to ask next.

“Who are you? And who is this Anathema?”

✦ ─── ⊹ ─── • ° • ─ ☽ ─ • ° • ─── ⊹ ─── ✦

Previous Chapter / TLTGYA Masterlist / A03 Link / Next Chapter

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meowmeow-motherfucker · 1 year ago

Text

Covenant- Chapter 12

Summary: With the five year anniversary of the attack on New York approaching, Odin and Fury come to the agreement that an arranged marriage between Asgard and Earth would show good faith toward all future interactions. When Odin refuses Jane’s candidacy, Agent Coulson is tasked with finding a suitable wife for the prince of Asgard.

Pairing: Loki x OFC Claire Fisher

Word count: 9.4k (prepare drinks and snackies as always)

Chapter warnings: misunderstandings, mutual pining, Claire and Loki both being stubborn idiots in love, angst, hurt w/o comfort

Taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @gigglingtiggerv2 @icytrickster17 @mysteriouslyfriedjellyfish @lokislilkitten @justjoanne242 @amlocked @ddmariegirl @mags-04-blog @sharris8 @meepycheep @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @the-fantasy-loving-angel @jaidenhawke @smolvenger @ladymischief11

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! Thanks for coming along on this journey with me!

Read it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51197938/chapters/129363727

The sitting room was silent apart from the faint sound of brush strokes on canvas.

Two weeks had passed since they’d returned from their honeymoon, two weeks since they’d spoken. This was the first time they’d even been in the same room. News of her ousting had spread through the court, and Claire had spent her time hiding in her chambers because she was too embarrassed to show her face. It was like middle school all over again. How was this her life?

A wave of emotions rose in her, making her tense in her seat. She clenched her fist in her lap, tamping it down as best she could. The painter had already chastised her twice to ‘soften’ her face, whatever the fuck that meant.

How was she supposed to look meek and mild-mannered when she wanted to stab the owner of the hand on her shoulder? It wouldn’t be hard, just a flick of her wrist to pull her knife and just over a foot’s reach to stab his hand- accounting for the inches he’d pull back, it should only take 2.3 seconds.

Maybe stabbing her husband through the hand wasn’t the smartest idea, but what was a girl to do when he’d treated her like he did? She was embarrassed, hurt, furious…

Somehow, some way, she’d done something to piss Loki off. Instead of settling into post-honeymoon bliss as expected, he’d kicked her out on her ass. Despite turning over every possibility in her mind, Claire couldn’t figure out why. The workaholic in her demanded she update her file with Loki's latest BS, but of course the damn thing was missing.

Of course, they’d had to explain everything to Odin and Frigga (separately, of course), which was just...mortifying. Claire would have preferred to type up an incident report, instead of dealing with the weighty, disapproving gazes of her in-laws. It’s not like she wanted Loki to lose his shit. She was as much in the dark as they were! Half the things he’d said didn’t make any sense.

If he was so immature he couldn’t talk to her like an adult, that shouldn’t bother her. After all, their marriage had started as a political alliance, not some grand love affair, so was it really expected for them to have some whirlwind romance? They’d burned bright and fast and now the flame was reduced to smoking embers because he decided to be an enigmatic twat.

Men were stupid. Feelings were stupid and she shouldn’t be surprised. Yet she was, and that infuriated her. She’d thought he was different. She’d let her walls down, left her heart unguarded and waved it off happily as Loki stole it right from under her nose.

Then he gets drunk, throws half-cocked accusations in her face and kicks her out?

So yes, he deserved to be stabbed for humiliating her. Claire hated that he could see her but she couldn’t see him. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Relax,” Loki had the nerve to tell her, his hand on her shoulder annoying and heavy. “I can feel you tensing up.”

“Oh, he speaks,” Claire sneered, eyes burning into the artist’s canvas in front of them. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“You wouldn’t want to ruin our wedding portrait, would you?”

“Like you care,” Claire snarled, pulling out from under his grasp as she turned her angry stare at him at last. “Fuck this. And fuck you.”

“Fuck me?” Loki laughed smugly. “I had no idea you were still amenable-”

“Don’t be cute, you know what I mean,” Claire grabbed handfuls of the annoying puffy skirt she’d been forced into, readying to dart off into the proverbial night. “You show up here and your first words to me after two weeks of nothing are ‘relax’?” she elongated the word with a sneer. “Get bent. I’m Audi.”

“Get back here!” Loki shouted at her retreating form.

“You’re not the boss of me!” Claire sang over her shoulder, the tension bleeding out of her body as she exited the room and left him and the dumb portrait behind.

~~~~

“Dear girl,” Frigga sighed over tea later that afternoon. Claire had learned that when Frigga started a sentence with ‘dear girl’, she’d done something royally stupid. “One is meant to sit for the duration of their wedding portrait.” Claire groaned internally. Of course she knew. Picking at the obnoxious flowery design on her teacup with her thumbnail, Claire sighed and lifted the flawless porcelain to her mouth.

“Everything was fine until Loki opened his fat mouth,” she grumbled behind her tea cup. It hadn’t been, but Frigga didn’t need to know about Claire’s desire to stab her son. The first pow-wow had been bad enough. “He was a jerk.”

“Be that as it may…” Frigga paused, her wise eyes looking aside as she reconsidered her next words. “It is imperative that outward appearances are kept. Despite your...living arrangement, it is best if you and Loki appear united.”

“You want us to pretend.”

“Seeing as your marriage is the primary vehicle for the alliance between this realm and Midgard, it would be unwise for your relationship to seem tumultuous. It might give others the idea that by extension, the alliance itself is unsteady.”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Claire balked. “I’m not the one who threw a tantrum. I was blindsided-”

“I realize this, but-”

“Do you?” Claire asked frankly, slamming her teacup into its matching saucer. “Because I’m not sure why it’s my job to suck up to the asshole who pulled a Brad Pitt.” Frigga pulled a face, clearly uncertain of what she meant. Instead of explaining the reference, Claire stopped short.

He had, hadn’t he? He’d spent their honeymoon being cute and adorable and domestic with Claire, then decided he didn’t want her, and dumped her back at home to chase Angelina Jolie.

Yrsa’s name joined Loki’s on the ‘to-be-stabbed’ list.

Frigga, realizing that Claire was clearly going through something, put a lemon cake on her daughter-in-law’s plate.

“Shall we discuss the latest palace gossip?” she asked as she straightened the napkin on her lap. Grateful for the change in topic, Claire shoved thoughts of Loki and Yrsa aside.

“Yes, spill the tea!” Claire rubbed her hands together gleefully as she scooted to the edge of her seat. She would absolutely love to hear about someone else’s problems.

“Pardon?” Frigga looked so confused Claire had to laugh.

“It means to tell me everything.”

“Ah,” Frigga chuckled. “I will of course share, but keep in mind darling that tea stains, so one ought to be careful where they spill it.”

~~~~

The next day

“Finally gracing us with your presence again, Your Majesty?” Yrsa’s voice popped Claire’s anti-social bubble. The sound of her voice grated against Claire’s very soul, like ten thousand nails on a chalkboard or a children’s choir. Claire had hoped her re-entry would slip by uneventfully in the bustle of the afternoon tea, but thank Odin Yrsa was there to point her out. She’d just wanted a break from the hundreds of thank you notes she was slogging through. All hopes for a quick snack and a hasty exit were dashed as she turned to face her frenemy.

“Yes, I thought I’d try for some decent company today,” she replied airily, as though she didn’t want to stab Yrsa in her beady eyes. “Have you seen any?” Their bickering had gained the attention of one of the other young ladies, whose name escaped Claire’s memory.

“Perhaps your husband can keep you entertained,” Yrsa suggested, plastering on a false smile. “That is, if he isn’t bored to death of you already.”

“I can’t speak to his boredom, but I do know he prefers my company to yours. That is saying something, don’t you think?” Claire mimicked Yrsa’s smile before plucking a delectable looking pastry from the annoying woman’s plate. She considered the pastry, her warm fingers seeping into the colorful sticky glaze.

“I can fetch you a plate if you desire, Your Highness.” the other young lady offered, as Claire pinched off a morsel. It was quite delicious- apple and cinnamon and sugar warring for dominance on her tongue.

“That’s very kind, but I’ve lost my appetite. Here, Yrsa, why don’t you finish this instead, since you’re so hungry for my sloppy seconds.”

The joke was most likely lost on the sheltered ladies of Asgard, but it pleased Claire to make it, so she considered it a win. She pilfered a pastry from the ornate table display and trudged back to her room to finish writing the thank you notes.

~~~~

Just over an hour (and a severe hand cramp) later, Claire ventured out again to deliver the box of completed thank you notes to Frigga’s salon.

“Claire!” Frigga actually sounded happy to see her, which was a welcome change. “How do you fare today?”

“I’m fine, just recovering from a headache. Here are all the thank you notes,” Claire tilted the box to show the stuffed envelopes. “Where would you like them?”

“Anywhere is fine dear, come, have a seat,” Frigga patted the open space beside her. “Would you like some tea?”

Claire was about to answer when the double doors were opened to reveal Loki.

“And what do you know, my headache is back,” Claire shot to her feet as Loki stepped inside. “I’d love to stay, but I don’t want to.”

“You don’t have to leave on my account.”

“Oh no, I’m not doing it to be nice, I’m doing it because I don’t want to be in the same room as you,” Claire said sweetly. “Sorry if that’s confusing, but I don’t have the time or the crayons to spell it out for you.”

“Can you be more of a child?”

“Can you be a bigger twat?”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“I’m not exactly in a forgiving mood today. Do you think you could muster up enough of your precious time to sign your name on these?” she shoved the box into his chest, delighting in the slight ‘oof!’ it caused. Loki’s eyes scanned the stuffed envelopes with distrust.

“What are these?”

“They’re thank you notes to our wedding guests,” Claire said. “Remember, that thing we did just a little while ago? With the parade and the hundreds of people-”

“Yes, thank you, I recall.” Loki hissed, pulling the box from her hands forcefully.

“Great! I did literally everything else, so all you have to do is scribble your name. Okay? I’m out.”

“You could stay for tea!” Frigga called after her.

“No thanks!” Loki set the box aside, taking a heavy seat across from his mother.

“I can feel your judgment from here,” he sighed. “Say it.”

“No judgment,” Frigga replied breezily as she poured him a cup of tea. “Though I did feel a sudden chill in the air.” Loki sagged against the seat.

“Mother please-”

“I am simply confused as to what happened between you,” Frigga chided. “You were so enamored with each other, from all accounts your honeymoon was-”

“Mother-”

“Eventful,” Frigga sipped at her tea primly. “Yet now you can barely stand to be in a room together! What has happened?”

“Nothing.” Loki hissed.

“You are not the only one who can sense lies, dear boy. And do mind your tone, you may be grown but I am still your mother,” Frigga said sternly, setting her cup down with a heavy clink. “The poor girl is isolated. She barely leaves her chambers, and she does not mingle with the other ladies of court. People are talking.”

“That is what they do-”

“Something happened. I have minded my business and given you time to address it, but clearly you cannot or will not. Whatever the case may be, it cannot continue. The alliance is far too important. Am I understood?”

Loki sighed heavily, resignation already weighing on his shoulders.

“Yes, Mother.”

~~~~

Not to be outdone, Frigga forced them to act like a normal, loving couple by planning outings for them to see and be seen. Their social calendars ripened like spring fruit trees overnight, full to bursting with events.

Under the guise of introducing Claire to the more banal aspects of their way of life, Loki and Claire toured the city together, exploring production warehouses and workshops of various industries, granaries, farms and even slaughterhouses. They attended plays, cut ribbons for new buildings, visited academic workshops; any and every event Frigga could find for them to attend.

Though both of them were guarded and polite, it was nice to spend time together again. Not that either of them would admit it. Claire still refused to eat meals in the great hall or socialize with anyone apart from Ragna, Sif and Frigga.

They’d been at it for weeks, and the constant pretending was taking a toll on both of them.

Claire’s only respite was during the mornings while Loki was in meetings, and though she longed to work out her anger on the training field, she was conveniently accosted by the dress maker, or Frigga, or someone else.

Claire was half-tempted to light the bat signal and get the fuck out of dodge, but she was convinced any plea for help she sent out would be intercepted before it left the palace.

Their destination for the day was the boat docks, where the harbor master had docked some of his finest boats for Claire to view.

They passed through the busy marketplace, Claire’s attention laser focused on the path ahead. Instead of stopping to gander at the wares as she had during previous visits, Claire seemed dedicated to remaining out of his reach, and therefore out of range to speak to him.

“We are meant to appear-”

“I heard your mom. Doesn’t mean I want to walk next to you.”

“Be that as it may-” Claire wheeled around, glare already in place.

“Are you displeased with my performance, Your Highness?” she asked heatedly. “Are my acting skills not up to your standard?”

“I said nothing of the sort.”

“Great! Then let me continue my angry walk in peace. I promise to be on my best behavior when we get there.” Before he could say another word, she’d whirled around and stomped off, leaving him just as angry as he was a moment ago.

True to her word, Claire was all charm and smiles when they met the harbor master. She was polite and asked engaging questions as they toured an older fishing vessel and newer models with updated engines.

The last vessel was one meant for battle. Designed for warfare on both water and in the air, it was smaller and more sleek in body.

“This particular vessel has just been docked for repairs,” the harbor master was explaining as Loki joined them on deck. The engine lay scattered in pieces, the bulkhead exposed to the salty air. “The pilot reported he believes there is a connection issue of some kind between the battery and the engine. It will start, but the engine stalls when we try to pilot it.”

“So it turns on but dies when you put it in gear?” Claire asked.

“Exactly, Your Highness. Do you have experience with sailing?”

“No, not at all,” Claire shook her head. “But I do know a few things about jet engine repair. Do you mind if I take a closer look?” Claire asked, stepping closer to Loki to reach for a socket wrench.

“I would be honored, Your Highness.”

Loki half expected her to swing at him with the wrench, but she surprised him by climbing below the manifest to get a closer view of the engine. It was an interesting image, her lithe form folded in half, her full skirts billowing out from beneath the grimy manifest.

“Is there a light?”

“Of course,” the harbor master offered a lantern, holding it aloft to allow her to see better. “Did you work on engines often on Midgard?” he asked politely.

“Not extremely often, but I was required to learn how to complete small repairs,” Claire replied. “This looks like it belongs in a plane.”

“This vessel works in the water as well as the air, Your Highness,” the harbor master said with pride. “She is a war vessel.”

“Wait, it sails and flies?”

“Yes, of course.”

“That’s so cool. I’d love to see it in action,” Claire smiled, the first genuine smile Loki had seen on her face since their honeymoon. The sight warmed him, making him long for simpler days. “I have an idea what the issue could be.”

“How?” Loki asked before he could stop himself.

“An engine is an engine,” Claire replied. “Cutting out when you shift it into gear makes me think there’s a corroded cable. It’s only when switching into gear, right?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“How could that possibly tell you it’s a cable?” Loki asked skeptically.

“If it’s like the engines I’ve seen, there’s a switch lever that should only activate when you take the engine out of gear, and it should only take maybe a fraction of a second. But if the engine cuts out going into gear, there’s something stopping that lever from doing what it’s supposed to. The engine is connected to the transom via cables, so I bet if we open it up to the transom we’ll see the problem.” The harbor master opened a hidden panel in the deck, exposing a tangle of wires.

Amid the seemingly endless tangle of wires, one stood out.

“Called it!” Claire cried. “Corroded,” she said to Loki, pointing at the eroded bulkheads holding the wire in place. “Super corroded. Just needs replaced and you’ll be flying-er...sailing...again in no time.”

“Well done, Your Highness!” the harbor master praised. “Perhaps you’d consider joining the fleet?”

“Sure, why not?” Claire laughed as the harbor master helped her to her feet. “I’m sure you could have fixed the problem without me.”

“All the same, I am truly grateful for the help! We’re very fortunate to have you here in Asgard.”

“I’m glad someone feels that way,” Claire shook the mans hand. “Thank you again for the excellent tour, and the chance to get my hands dirty.”

“It was my honor! Feel free to come back at any time.” the harbor master saw them to the entrance to the marina, offering them both a warm farewell.

“I feel a little bad about getting my dress dirty, but this was fun,” Claire said, her face falling as she met Loki’s gaze. “Sort of. See you around.”

“Let me escort you back at least,” Loki offered his arm, his mood souring even further when she didn’t accept the gesture. “For appearances sake.”

“Fine.”

They walked in silence for the entire way back to the palace. Each time he spied her drawn expression, all of Loki’s attempts to form any praise weighed on his tongue like lead.

The next day

Loki’s morning was consumed by meetings, but the afternoon found him and Claire in a menagerie, surrounded by exotic creatures from various realms. Claire’s sour attitude melted away into pure fascination as she gawked at hulking howler monkey-like animals with fur such a dark ruby red it looked like congealed blood.

Birds like peacocks with terrifying, razor-sharp beaks drew her attention from the plush, fuzzy sheep with wool that cast sparks when they bleated.

“That’s a capybara!” Claire squealed with childlike delight, giggling when the familiar looking creature looked at her. She knelt by the enclosure eagerly. “How in the hell is there a capybara here?”

“The first female of this creature was brought to Asgard by Prince Thor in 1162 AD,” a nearby attendant stated. “The first male arrived shortly after- they are pack animals, you see. The creature you see today is a product of their offspring.”

“Wicked.” Claire cooed, wiggling her fingers at the capybara as she stood upright. She wandered from the group, ending up inside a cool, shaded building at a display of extravagantly colored fish in small, glass bowls. Fiery reds, iridescent greens and blues and purples...each more beautiful than the last. Claire was awestruck by the beauty of the small fish, content to simply stand and stare as the light played off the colorful scales with each flick of a fish fin.

As Claire watched, a small child raced over to the display, shrieking with glee as it tapped on several of the bowls in quick succession, clearly disturbing the fish but not caring a bit.

“Don’t do that,” she scolded the child. “You’re scaring them.”

“I want to see the colors!” the child whined, stomping his foot impatiently.

“You will, just be-” the child hit the glass bowl in front of him harder, knocking it into another and setting off a cascade of glass hitting glass, bowl hitting bowl. A kaleidoscope of fish fell to the floor, their exquisite fins useless in the piles of pulverized glass and puddles of water. “Patient,” Claire said in horror. “Shit!”

“Fear not, Your Majesty,” the closest attendant was at her elbow in an instant, dismissing her concern. “We have other fish.” The attendant snapped her fingers twice, gesturing for someone to come clean the mess.

“But-” Claire watched the beautiful fish writhe in the air, their short lives coming to a swift and sad end as the child screamed and cried and stomped his feet. The injustice of it burned her- the fish, in their miserable little bowls, condemned to die for a spoiled child’s entertainment. And when the people left, and there was no one around to see them, the fish became nothing but a distant memory to be revisited when it was convenient.

She was just like the fish. Trapped in her own little bubble, just waiting to be trotted out for the entertainment of others. Even the harbor master, who’d been so grateful for her help just the day before, likely would not spare a thought to what her life was like when she was not around.

“Claire?” Loki’s touch at her elbow made her flinch, and she turned to hide the horrified look on her face.

“I need to leave.” she croaked, shoving past him to flee the building. Her surroundings blurred as she fought back tears, desperate to make her escape. Outside, Claire was assaulted by the loud noises of the people around her and turned down a narrow path alongside the building. Her frantic steps brought her to a hidden area by the back entrance, likely a place for workers to hide from the demands of their job. She sank onto a bench near the closed door, grateful for a place to cry without being seen.

Claire buried her face in her trembling hands and let her tears fall. Hot tears brought little relief to the burning in her face or the ache behind her ribs.

Movement to her right made her stiffen. It could only be one person.

“God, why are you here?!” she cried angrily. Loki looked infuriatingly calm as he sat on the bench beside her.

“You are upset.”

“Yeah no shit, Sherlock.” Claire sniffled.

“Why?”

“Why do you care?”

“Why are you upset?” Loki repeated, ignoring her question.

“Because apparently, I have more in common with zoo animals than I’m comfortable realizing,” Claire spat. “All the people we met on these outings were only nice to me because I’m Asgard’s first princess in an age. I’m a point of fascination! I’m an abstract concept! I don’t matter to these people! They only appreciate me when they can see me, or-or tap on the glass of my enclosure to make me do tricks!”

“It is a hard lesson to learn.”

“How do you deal with this?”

“Practice,” Loki replied gently. “Come, we should go.”

“I’m not going back in there.” Claire pulled away from his reach.

“We’re not,” Loki replied. “We’re going to get you something to eat.”

“Can you stop?” Claire pleaded. “For one second, just stop acting like you give a shit about me! Please.”

“As you wish.” Loki said quietly. He waited as Claire pulled herself together enough to leave the secluded bench.

Claire felt hollow inside. She walked on autopilot, letting Loki lead her to a restaurant. Someone else ordered her meal, someone else tasted the fried sausage and potatoes on her plate. The meal passed in silence.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she announced as they were about to leave the table. “I’m done pretending.”

“Fine,” Loki thankfully agreed. They weren’t accomplishing anything with the outings anyway, except to make each other more miserable. “My mother was right about you appearing withdrawn. You must at least make an effort.”

“Fine.” She’d find something to occupy the rest of her very long life.

~~~~

The crowds parted easily as Loki made his way to the fighting arenas. Tucked away in a seedy part of the town, the open-air fighting arenas were a popular form of entertainment for the lower class as well as the nobles. Brawlers and gamblers ran amok there, running a dark underground where down-of-their-luck folks could either enrich their lives or ruin them. It was no place for a princess.

Unfortunately, it was precisely where the princess of Asgard was.

Loki had heard the rumors of his wife spending her days drinking, cheering on the brawlers, and betting money from his coffers. He was on his way there now to catch her in the act. He could already hear the roar of the crowds cheering for the day’s fighters. Loki pushed his way through the throngs of people, forcing his way toward the wooden stands. The arenas were simple grass fields with wooden seating built up around them for the nobles to use. The lower class viewers crowded into the spaces they could- in between the seating, in front of it; some enterprising people climbed to the top of the seating and sat upon it. Vendors trawled through the crowds, flogging their respective wares.

It was loud, crowded, and hot, as the fields lay in direct sun. Loki finally reached the stands, scanning the crowd for his wife. He spotted Volstagg and Thor in the seats, sitting side by side and red-faced from the heat and the beer they’d already consumed in the early morning.

Another bout began and the crowd erupted into loud cheers. Loki finally spotted Claire, a few rows in front of Thor and Volstagg at the front of their stand. The Midgardian woman held a tankard in her hand and was cheering on the fighters as they circled each other in the ring.

He made his way over to her, rage building as he walked through the crowd. People made way for him as best they could, but it was so crowded he was unable to make a clear path. At last he reached her, cheering obnoxiously for the brawlers inside the arena.

“What in Hel's name are you doing here?”

“I was having fun.” Claire said bitterly.

“You’re drunk.” Loki’s fingers wrapped around her bicep as he pulled her toward him.

“And you’re annoying,” Claire hissed, ripping her arm from his grasp. “Is there a reason for your visit?” Loki said nothing, merely clenching his jaw in anger. “Fine,” Claire seethed. “You have your business, and I have mine. It’s bad enough I have to deal with Yrsa and her smug fucking face or the gossip that you’re already bored of me and only want me around long enough to knock me up. You promised me it wouldn’t be like this,” Bitter tears stung her eyes and she looked away angrily. “Yet here we are. Ever since we got back from our honeymoon, you’ve pulled a one-eighty. You couldn’t keep your hands off me and now you barely even look at me. But now all of a sudden you care what I'm up to?” she scoffed. “This is what I’m up to. When I’m not trussed up to be gawked at, I while my days away drinking and gambling. Hold on, I can’t pass this opportunity up-” she turned back to the fight, fists beating on the ramparts as she cheered. “KICK HIM IN THE BALLS!” She shouted, cheering when her chosen favorite knocked his opponent to the ground.

“Charming.”

“Eat me,” Claire hissed. “You told me to make an effort so here I am. This is my best effort.”

“If this is your best effort...” Loki said with a forced smile as the members of the crowd closest to them began to stare. “This is hardly an appropriate venue.”

“This is the fight you wanna have? Okay fine- Thor's here. Oh look, so is Volstagg. Why is it okay for them but not for me?”

“I am not having this conversation with you.”

“Okay great! Now go away and stop bothering me.” Claire turned away from him. Loki couldn't decide if he was appalled or amused by her outlandish behavior. His new wife was vivacious and animated, that much was clear as she shouted encouragements and pounded on the ramparts with her fists. Yet it was obvious a deep sadness resided in her as well. The tears that sparkled on her eyelashes were not the tears of someone who’d sought to use him. She was genuinely distraught that he’d forsaken her. Loki watched as she cheered the victor, wine sloshing from her goblet as she celebrated, and decided he had perhaps reacted too harshly. But he was not quick to forgive- whatever the reason, she had chosen to keep the folder secret from him. Leaving her to her drunken distraction, Loki slipped into the crowd and disappeared.

~~~~

Claire sighed, taking another sip of wine as she stared up at the stars. The Asgardians were having yet another feast but she was in no mood to party. She’d eaten her fill and excused herself to the courtyard, resigning herself to wandering outside until enough time had passed she could make an exit unnoticed.

Potted palm trees had been brought in for decoration, lining the open air hallways between the columns and lending a sense of privacy to the courtyard within. Whoever was inside the courtyard was clearly drunk, their chatter and laughter far too loud to suggest sobriety.

“Brother, you must control your wife,” she heard Thor say playfully. “The nobles are starting to complain she is stealing all their money at the fighting pits.” He guffawed. Inside the courtyard, Loki rolled his eyes.

“Controlling Claire would be as easy as putting a leading rein on a bilgeshnipe,” Claire heard him reply. “I have no desire to do either. Besides, she isn’t harming anyone-”

“No but she is odd, and people think she does not respect our ways.” Volstagg shrugged.

“Definitely odd.” Hogun agreed.

“Personally I think she’s quite lovely,” Volstagg added. “Very bold, that one.”

“Being unorthodox is not a crime,” Loki replied shortly. “I like her that way.” Thor gasped loudly.

“Did Loki just admit to liking his wife?!” He asked theatrically. “Loki! I'm so proud of you!”

“Shut up, you great oaf,” Loki pushed his brothers hands away. “She'll hear you and I shall never live it down.”

“Too late,” Claire finally announced her presence and joined the group on the terrace. “Hi honey.” She cast a wink in Loki's direction.

“Hello.” Loki had the good sense to look flustered by her arrival.

“So who's complaining about me?” she asked as she sat beside Loki on one of the stone benches in their circle.

“No one of import,” Loki replied. “Do not worry on it.” Thor and his friends were drinking and carrying on, and paid her little mind while she and Loki sat in stony silence.

“How does married life suit you, sister? Are you and Loki getting along?” Thor suddenly cackled, thinking his joke clever. Everyone in the palace knew they were not. They’d not spoken in days, not since their argument amid the crowd at the fighting pits.

“That would require him to spend more than five seconds with me.” Claire said sourly, sipping her wine as she glared at Loki.

“Lasting longer than usual, brother?” Thor teased, slapping Loki on the shoulder as he laughed uproariously. Claire rolled her eyes as Loki sighed angrily.

“Our marriage bed is none of your concern, Thor,” the dark prince said heatedly. “Must you be so crass?”

“Tis only a jest-”

“A disgusting one. Apologize at once.” Loki demanded. Thor held up his hands in apology, beer spilling from his tankard onto the stones underfoot.

“Apologies, sister, I was out of line.” Claire sighed, her happy mood soured.

“It’s whatever, man,” she replied, letting her glass thunk on the bench loudly before getting to her feet. “I’m out.”

“Whatever you’ve done brother, you should fix it.” Thor tried to be quiet, but he was far too drunk to be inconspicuous.

“There’s nothing to fix, Thor,” Claire corrected him. “Loki wants nothing to do with me, and the feeling is mutual. Unless something has changed in the last 24 hours?” her blue eyes pierced Loki as she looked directly at him. “Yeah, didn’t think so. Good night.” she got up to leave, and Loki’s stomach sank.

“Claire-” Loki caught her by the wrist.

“I said good night!” She snapped at him, pulling away from him roughly. Dejected, Loki let her stomp away from the courtyard.

~~~~

Loki spent the next day searching for her, but she eluded him. Either everyone in the castle deigned to keep her concealed from him or she was more clever than he gave her credit for. She failed to make an appearance at all three of the daily meals, yet her chambers were empty each time he sought her out there. He returned to his study, furiously cutting through the mountain of work on his desk. He emerged hours later, near midnight, for a snack and made his way to the kitchens.

“What is this?” Loki asked loudly as he discovered Hogun, Volstagg and Fandral in a far corner of the great hall. Claire was hopping from chair to chair, table to table, giggling madly as she went. Fandral was passed out (or dead- which seemed better in Loki’s mind), his head upon the table and his arm hanging loose, his tankard barely touching the floor as it hung from his loose grip. Hogun and Volstagg looked on, both laughing bawdily as Claire floundered for balance.

“Another!” Claire yelled as she finished her drink, throwing her tankard to the floor in true Asgardian style.

“No-DO NOT give her another!” Loki yelled at the nearest servant before turning his ire on the drunken warriors. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing she didn’t do to herself,” Volstagg assured the prince. “She asked to try it.”

“Try what?” Loki hissed as Claire noticed him. She waved cheerfully from her table before hopping to another, landing precariously near the edge and laughing as she regained her balance.

“Asgardian mead…” Volstagg admitted nervously, wilting under Loki’s murderous gaze.

“WHAT?!” he thundered. “Are you mad?! She’s mortal!”

“Loki!” Claire chirped, making her way toward him with a beaming smile on her face. “Hi!” she giggled loudly as she tried to keep her balance amidst the various sized dishes she was stepping around.

“Hello,” Loki replied gently, lunging forward to catch her when she tripped and fell. Somehow Claire managed to land on her back between stacks of dishes with her head hanging over the edge of the table. “Are you alright?” he asked over Claire’s laughter.

“How are you alive right now?!” she giggled exuberantly, summarily disregarding both his question and concern, as well as the fact that she was now upside down.

“What?” Loki looked to Hogun and Volstagg for help, who both shrugged.

“The floor is lava, apparently.” Hogun supplied stoically.

“She wanted to play a game, and when we asked her what she wanted to play she just jumped up there and started yelling about it.” Volstagg laughed.

“She’s drunk! Complete and utter idiots, the both of you! Giving a mortal Asgardian mead,” Loki scoffed. “Let’s get you to bed.” He said to Claire, setting her upright so she could stand.

“No I can’t, I’ll melt!” she objected, shaking her head as she bent her knees to keep her legs from touching the floor.

“I’ll carry you then, come on.” Loki urged, scooping her into his arms bridal style.

“But it’s not safe for you either. Lava is really hot and melts everything, especially Frost Giants! I don’t want you to melt.” Claire warned him, her eyes earnest and unfocused in her inebriated state.

“I’ll be careful,” Loki assuaged her. “How much did you give her?!” he growled at Volstagg.

“Not much, just…um…” Volstagg stuttered.

“Three pints.” Hogun replied sheepishly.

“Oh, no wonder she’s raving like a lunatic!” Loki cried, hefting Claire higher in his arms.

“Loki. Loki!” the small woman tugged on his shirt, trying to get his attention.

“What?” Loki asked, trying to keep his patience with her.

“You’re standing in lava.”

“Oh for-!” Loki gave a long-suffering sigh, stepping onto a different color of stone to appease her. “Better?”

“Yes!” Claire smiled happily. “That color is safe.”

“Fine, I shall stay on that color,” Loki promised. “Anything else I should know?” he asked as Claire snuggled into his shoulder.

“Hhmhh.” She mumbled, her eyes falling closed as Loki carried her from the hall.

~~~~

“Claire. Claire wake up, just for a minute.” Loki urged his sleeping wife after he’d placed her on their bed.

“Don’t wanna.” She replied obstinately, her eyes squinted angrily.

“You need to get changed. You can’t sleep in that,” Loki rummaged through his armoire for something suitable for her to sleep in, only to find that she’d fallen back asleep when he turned around. “This is ridiculous,” he groaned. What could possibly have possessed her to drink so much? And Asgardian mead, no less. She’d be lucky to be functioning again by next week. But his wife-turned-toddler was incapable of caring for herself at the present, thus leaving him to do the work. Sighing, he decided just to take her clothes off himself and let the little fool sleep.

He gingerly peeled her dress and slip from her form, carefully setting them aside to be laundered. He was able to partially turn down the sheets for her, so that her legs rested on top of the quilt while the rest of her lay on the mattress. He’d just begun to wrangle her lower half into a pair of pajama bottoms when she started to wriggle and make nonsensical words. “Figures you wake up now,” He sighed. “Get under the blankets if you’re cold.” He suggested as she tossed and turned.

“Not cold, hoooot,” she replied, pushing away the proffered clothing and curling up into a ball. “Loki?” she raised her head to look at him as he started pulling off his own clothing; any thought of dressing her for bed abandoned.

“Hmm?”

“Do you have any chocolaaaate?” Claire asked with a laugh. Loki rolled his eyes and turned away from her to fetch his own night clothes. “I wanna play the chocolate game.” Claire giggled flirtatiously.

“The chocolate game?” Loki wanted nothing more than to lose himself in delectable debauchery, but Claire was in no state for such fun and he still didn’t trust her. “Claire, we’re not playing the chocolate game right now.”

“Why not?” Claire pouted. “Don’t you want to play the chocolate game with me?”

“Claire, you’re drunk. We’re not playing the chocolate game. Maybe once you’ve had some sleep.”

“You’re no fun. Come on, just once!”

“I’m quite fun, thank you very much,” Loki replied. Claire scoffed, and Loki rolled his eyes. “Fine, one round of the chocolate game. But if you get sick I won’t feel sorry for you.”

“Yes you will.” Claire giggled as he summoned a brick of chocolate he’d stored in his pocket dimension. She was still flushed, and feeling oppressed by the heat. She sat up (and instantly regretted it) and clumsily pulled her bra over her head and tossed it at her husband. He gave a soft grunt of surprise as it struck the back of his head, and Claire giggled madly, flopping back down onto her pillow.

“Claire…” Loki sighed as he walked to his side of the bed, trying not to stare at her as she lay there with only her panties on. Her full breasts were staring him right in the face and Norns, were they lovely. “Come on, let’s get you tucked in.” his chivalrous side took over before he let himself get distracted and he was somehow able to reach over her and pull the blankets fully up to her chin without so much as peeking at her pert, pierced nipples. He laid down himself, the cool sheets soothing him instantly. Loki was reminded that drunk or not, Claire was surprisingly fast (and strong) for a mortal. He had barely settled in when she pounced on him, tangling her fingers in his hair and claiming his mouth with hers. His body responded before his brain did- his arms wound themselves around her; his long fingers tracing down her spine to the scrap of material she wore around her hips. She was so small compared to him, so unlike the other women he’d known. Here, in his bed and in his grasp, she seemed almost…delicate. His hand slid down her body easily; her skin was so soft. Gods, the feel of her! Claire nibbled his lower lip, drawing a growl from him and she moaned into his mouth.

“Loki…”

“Gods, I wish I could have you.” Loki sighed as Claire hitched her leg over his hip, his hands flexing unconsciously with want when she ground herself against him. He gave a choked noise of surprise at the pleasure of it; his brain scrambling to reconcile this wanton woman with the unruly one who shouted and threw things at him.

“Why can’t you?” said woman asked breathlessly, nipping at his jaw as he began to extract himself from her grip. Her hips ground against him, pulling a groan from his lips. She was making Loki forget himself and it frightened him. “I want you.”

“For one, you’re drunk,” he reached for her hands, meaning to pull them from his hair. “Claire, stop,” he said calmly when she whined in protest. “Go to sleep.” His unease leapt to the forefront of his mind, taking command of his actions as he cast a sleeping spell; desperate for a chance to calm himself.

“I like playing the chocolate game with you.” Claire muttered dreamily as she rolled away, leaving Loki frustrated and wide awake. He wasn’t sure what troubled him more: the fact that his wife was a lustful drunk or his response to her attentions. He was supposed to be avoiding exactly this type of situation, not playing into them. With a huff, Loki turned away from his wife and stared dejectedly at the wall until sleep claimed him. On the bedside table, the bar of chocolate lay forgotten.

~~~~

Claire woke up in the middle of the night, groaning as her head swam. It was stifling in the room and the heavy blanket wasn’t helping. She kicked off the blanket and sighed. It was still too hot. She looked to the side, barely able to discern Loki’s sleeping form from the darkness. She rolled onto her side and took deep breaths as her stomach lurched. Loki lay unmoving still, unperturbed by her movements. His back was to her, his ebony hair splayed out on the pillow. She reached out to touch his bare skin, finding it cool to the touch. A soft sigh of relief escaped her; he could cool her down! She inched closer to him, trying to avoid waking him. Within a few movements she was close enough to press her chest against his back. She draped an arm over him and pulled his coolness closer.

“Can I help you?” his velvety voice startled her.

“I’m really hot Loki. Touch me please.” Claire pleaded, pressing herself against him more firmly. Loki’s eyes shot open in surprise. Not again. He groaned internally. She’s going to drive me mad.

“You’re already touching me. Why is my involvement required?”

“Because you can use magic and make it colder…” Claire mumbled, pressing her scorching cheek to his shoulder blade. She groaned as his cool marble skin took the edge off. She nuzzled into him farther, flattening her palm against his chest and sighing contentedly as she closed her eyes.

“Did it occur to you that I am sleeping and therefore unwilling to cast a spell for your pleasure?”

“If you were sleeping you wouldn’t be talking to me.” Claire mumbled into his back.

“People talk in their sleep.” Loki argued, straining his neck to try to see her.

“Not coherently,” One of her slim fingers poked him gingerly in the chest, pointing out his flawed argument. “Pleeeease Loki, I’m burning up.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have thrown you into that lava.” Loki grouched.

“Not funny,” Claire grunted. “Make with the coldness hubby.” She commanded sleepily.

“I am not your manservant, woman. You’ll have to find comfort elsewhere.” He pulled away from her, settling onto his stomach.

“But you’re cold and I’m not,” Claire hummed petulantly, following his body with her own. She offered a sleepy grin when he turned and glared at her before she could lay herself over him. “Please Loki?”

“No,” Loki said sharply. “Go to sleep.”

“What if…I gave you the rest of the chocolate?” Claire had no idea what to use as a bargaining chip with him, but she had to try. She was positive she’d burst into flame if he didn’t help her.

“I thankfully do not suffer the same dependency on chocolate that you do,” Loki shot her down. “You have nothing that I want.” He mumbled into his pillow.

“Well you do, so…what’s your price?” Claire asked groggily. Loki chuckled.

“You really are desperate aren’t you?” he asked.

“Sure am. I’m sweating like a whore in church over here.” Loki let out a sharp laugh at Claire’s response.

“I’m not familiar with that phrase, but I assume you’re trying to convince me to help you.” He said.

“Bingo. Is it working?” Claire peeped an eye open at his impassive face. Loki sighed wearily, pushing his hair back from his face before settling onto his back.

“Until you fall asleep; no longer.” He held an arm out in invitation, growling as Claire clumsily situated her drunken self beside him.

“You love me and you know it,” Claire sassed him as she settled against him with a yawn. “You just won’t admit it.” Her hair tickled his neck as she fidgeted, her breath breezing over his nipple as her head came to rest on his chest. Her arm folded lackadaisically atop his torso and her leg hooked over his. Loki said nothing, her words settling deep into his brain. He didn’t love her…did he? She was clingy and annoying, always wanting to be around him. A nuisance, to be sure, but was it really a bad thing that she truly wanted to spend time in his presence? He was trying so hard to keep distance between them, but he couldn’t deny he still felt the same intense pull toward her. He would do this one thing for her, just so she would go back to sleep and leave him alone. He carefully redacted his glamour, allowing his natural coldness to seep through his Asgardian visage just enough to cool her off but not enough to cause her harm. Odin would probably make certain he’d never see daylight again if any harm should come to his precious new daughter. Claire sighed contentedly and squeezed him against herself, her hand drifting lazily up and down his chest.

“Happy?” he asked pointedly as he wrapped his cold arm around her bare back. Claire hummed happily in response, kneading his skin gently like a cat. The repeated motion of her hand on his chest relaxed Loki, making his eyelids droop sleepily. He kept jerking awake, stubbornly trying to fight against his fatigue and her soothing movements.

~~~~

Loki was startled awake when the sun’s hellishly bright rays hit his face. He blearily opened his eyes to see Astrid, pulling open the curtains of his bedroom windows.

“Norns Astrid, what are you doing?” he grunted in sleepy frustration. “What time is it?”

“Opening the curtains, Your Highness. It’s approaching midday and Prince Thor sent me to fetch you,” Astrid replied dryly, taking in Loki and Claire’s sleeping arrangement with a bemused look. “Should I inform him you are otherwise occupied?”

“Not funny, Astrid,” Loki snapped, trying to escape from beneath Claire without waking her. In her drunken state, she’d latched onto him like an octopus. “Tell Thor I will join him shortly, but I require a bath first.”

“Yes Your Highness.” Astrid gave a curtsy and disappeared from the room to start his bath. Loki sighed, knowing the gossip that would surely come from this.

Slowly, he managed to wiggle out from under Claire, replacing his body with his pillow as he went. He hoped that would mollify her, and that she would sleep until he was gone. When she woke, it would be to a massive hangover and Loki was in no mood to deal with it. Then again, he knew she would not be easy to deal with if she was nursing said hangover.

Astrid called him to the bath just as he whispered the spell to take away Claire’s hangover and he quickly pulled away from his wife to get cleaned up.

His plan to flee before she woke up was foiled when Claire opened the bathroom door, disheveled and furious and breathtakingly beautiful in his clothes.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked as she leaned against the doorway.

“You were drunk.” Loki supplied pathetically.

“I would have been fine in my own room. Severely hungover, but fine. So again, why am I here and not hungover in the slightest?”

“You were acting like a lunatic and I thought it best to keep an eye on you.” Loki shrugged.

“Uh huh,” Claire huffed. “You always make out with people you’re babysitting?”

“You took me by surprise.” Loki argued. Claire laughed harshly.

“And here I thought you were a god. Far superior and smarter than little ol’ me,” she scoffed. “You’re so full of shit.”

“You ask too much of me.” Loki scowled.

“I ask too much?! I wasn’t asking you to profess your undying love; all I wanted was some kind of confirmation that you don’t hate me, and that was too much for you?”

“You ask for far more than that and we both know it,” Loki said curtly. “Just as we both know I am incapable of giving you what you want.”

“That’s a lie-”

“If you don’t like what I have to say, then don’t be around to hear it!” Loki thundered. “Stop asking for what I cannot give.” Claire huffed angrily, straightening to her full height.

“Can’t? Or won’t?” She challenged, daring him to lie to her face again. She didn’t recognize this Loki. This was not the Loki she’d fallen for.

“Get out!” Loki slapped the surface of the water with his palms, punctuating his angry shout with a spray of water. Resolved green met burning blue as the room fell silent. Astrid observed the scene from her place in the middle, from the trembling of the prince's hands to the unshed tears in the princesses eyes.

“Fine,” Claire spat. “I’ll have Ragna collect my things.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!” Claire slammed the bathroom door shut, drowning out Loki’s echoing shout. Loki sank down into the water, rage simmering as he created a wave that flooded the bathroom. He sat below the water, replaying the conversation over and over in his mind. Why could they never get things right? He stayed underwater for so long his lungs began to burn, and Astrid begged him to come up. He resurfaced as clumsily as a newborn calf, startling when Astrid put a hand on his shoulder.

“Forgive me, Prince Loki. Are you alright?”

“No.” Loki said as he spat the water out of his mouth like an uncouth child. He wiped the water rushing down his face out of his eyes angrily.

“Would you like me to leave?”

“What would be the point, Astrid? You would simply have to come back,” Loki said resignedly, slumping down into the water again. He threw up his hands in defeat, making more water splash outside the tub. “My work will not wait. Do what you must.”

~~~~

Claire made her way down the halls, a gloomy cloud trailing behind her. Loki made her so angry she could spit fire. Maybe one day she’d burn him to death and make s’mores. She couldn’t make sense of him- first they fucked like rabbits on their honeymoon, then he kicked her out the second they got back, so she avoided him (like she thought he wanted), but then he took her back to his room and put her to bed! What followed next was a little fuzzy, but she had faint impressions of needy kisses, desperate touches and soft cuddles. She remembered waking up with a raging beast of a hangover, and falling asleep in his arms. Claire had a sneaking suspicion that Loki had done some kind of voodoo to get rid of her hangover. Apart from her bruised feelings, she felt right as rain. Claire rubbed at her lips as she lingered on the memory of Loki’s fervent kisses, Loki’s voice floating back to her:

“Gods, I wish I could have you.”

That fucking liar. He totally wanted a piece of Claire pie! Why else would he take such good care of her and kiss her so sweetly? Claire’s toes curled as she remembered those kisses. Those were definitely not the kind of kisses you gave someone you didn’t care about. So why would he lie?

She was too hurt and angry to care at the moment. It felt like everyone she passed knew she was unwanted and unwelcome in her husband’s rooms. Hell, if the servants had overheard, they probably did know.

She kept it together long enough to make it to her apartment. Ragna was tidying up as she was let in, looking up from her work to greet Claire. Her cheery face fell when she saw the tears gathering in Claire’s eyes.

“Are you alright, Your Highness?” she asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Claire managed, her chin quivering as tears finally began to fall. Ragna dropped her work and embraced her, letting the princess fall apart. “Why is he such a di-i-i-i-ck?” Claire sobbed, embarrassment and heartache oozing from every pore of her body.

“Who?”

“‘Who’,” Claire parroted, angrily wiping tears and snot from her face with her sleeve. “The snow miser, the-not-so-jolly-blue-giant, Jackass Frost.” she added bitterly. Ragna looked conflicted about whether she should answer.

“The prince?” she guessed quietly. Eyes closed against more tears, Claire shot unenthusiastic finger guns in Ragna’s direction.

“Bingo,” she confirmed, cringing when she hiccupped. “I hate crying.”

“Can I do anything for you?” Ragna asked, thankfully following Claire’s you-only-get-one-’Your-Highness-per-private-conversation rule.

“I um...I stole Loki’s clothes...I left my dress in his room so if you could grab the rest of my things at some point, that would be great,” Claire said. “Do you have any tissues?” Ragna produced a hanky from her dress, sitting in companionable silence as Claire cried and hiccupped and snotted all over the square of fabric.

“Can I do anything else?” Ragna asked. “Maybe bring you some water?”

“I don’t suppose there’s ice cream in the kitchens?” Claire asked hopefully. Ragna shook her head apologetically, and Claire sighed. “Oh well. I’ll just…go to bed I guess.”

“I’ll bring you a tray of desserts,” Ragna said, getting to her feet. “And water.”

“You’re amazing!” Claire called after Ragna’s retreating figure, schlepping her way to the bedroom to collapse on the empty bed. Being married was awesome.

Claire woke some time later, still sprawled over the top of the bedding. Her back screamed in protest as she got up, spotting the silver tray and cloche Ragna had left on the corner table. Surrounded by fluffy pillows, soft blankets, and crushing loneliness, Claire ate until she felt sick.

#meowmeow writes #covenant #loki fic #loki x ofc

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danwhobrowses · 8 months ago

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One Piece Chapter 1130 - Initial Thoughts

And we're back once again

Chapter came out at a time between the end of my work hours so I had to wait a bit longer but now I'm ready

we're out of the block land, but what lies on the other side? Let's find out

Spoilers for the chapter, support the official release too

Yamato's cover story involves theft, Yamato, Shinobu and Tama all caught lacking as Yasu's sword is stolen

We start with the post-Alabasta crewmates, who tell Dorry and Brogy to stop searching for Luffy

They have faith in the crew, and they have expended all their search options and their food, so the giants agree to continue to Elbaf

The Alabasta crew (sans Vivi ofc) escape the building to a massive castle snowscape

The castle is quite detached from everything, surrounded by woodland on a pedestal and a long rope bridge

Giants are coming across the bridge, so the crew hide, but it's actually some friendlies

Gerd and Goldberg from Hajrudin's crew have come down about intruders

Seems Road - now Rodo - is a bit of a black sheep among Hajrudin's crew, Gerd calling him a crackpot, seems Hajrudin only has him on the crew because of his navigation skill

Oh, Prince Loki is called the 'Shame of Elbaf'

Gerd's pet owl (How Athenian) is called Piper and it spotted Muginn carrying the Sunny

Oh and Elder Jarul is still alive, from Big Mom's flashback

Luffy spots the giants and sees them as friendly, but Nami stops him because they're looking for intruders

Sanji meanwhile is simping on Gerd, while Usopp is elated to confirm that we're in Elbaf

Nami's stoppage didn't snuff out all noise, but when the giants look they do the classic video game enemy ism of 'must've been the wind'

Giant Rope Bridge though means giant gaps between steps, which some of the crew aren't used to, with giant ravenous wolves below

Usopp assures this is just a trial of courage, as he hugs the edges for dear life

Meanwhile Luffy's just on the ropes looking badass

Zoro senses that Luffy's focused on something, and it seems Luffy has sensed something

Sanji quickly asserts not to go anywhere, also grabbing Zoro as to not run off

Luffy however had no such restraint, and thus dives down anyway

Back with the Post-Alabasta Crew and the news fallout from Egghead is happening

Dorry and Brogy have been pinned for destroying Egghead, and their bounties have gone up to 1.8 Billion each

As we assumed anyway, the 100 million bounty they had back at Little Garden was a product of inflation, confirmed by Robin here

Luffy's also blamed for killing Vegapunk, Franky's annoyed (I mean he is his idol) but Lilith teases him about it

Luffy's pic has the X in it though?

Also true how do they get these photos? Apoo wasn't there, does someone cave like a camera devil fruit like that My Hero Academia filler guy?

Ah Robin is also curious about the X

Detective Robin notes that Luffy's arm is blurry save for the X, like it's separate

OH! Did Vivi embellish it on the photo like a coded message? Wouldn't it be a shame if all the crewmates who'd recognize this symbol were elsewhere???

Dorry and Brogy ask about Luffy's standing, now that he's an emperor like Shanks, and Hajrudin works under him

Oooh Hajrudin lore, he's the son of the King of Elbaf!

Hajrudin wanted to pick up Luffy but Dorry and Brogy have seniority...and he probably would've fared worse

Prince Loki lore now, seems Loki is Hajrudin's brother

He allegedly 'devoted himself to darkness' and was a few years back - so post-Lola - sentenced to crucifixion

It took all the Warriors of Elbaf to capture him

Jinbe was on Big Mom's crew so he'd know it's Loki

Oh but there's more, the royal family passes down a legendary devil fruit, Prince Loki killed his own father - King Harold - in order to acquire it

Right, don't let Loki free gotcha

And here's Luffy, clearly not about to let Prince Loki free XD

Hell of a panel though, got Oars energy here

Prince Loki looks to have a cool design, but he's been chained to the World Tree and his eyes covered, he has the Doflamingo-ism of grinning wide and sticking his tongue out

Also Norse myth connection! Loki was chained to a rock until Ragnarok, the chains were technically the intestines of one of his sons and a venomous snake would drip poison over his head (his wife would shield it with a bowl, but when the bowl was filled there'd be a brief window of pain as she emptied it, which would cause earthquakes). Upon Ragnarok he will break from his chains, his son Fenrir will eat Odin, his son Jormungandr will kill Thor, and he will kill Heimdall, but like the World Serpent at the cost of his life

He asks Luffy's name and Luffy answers the way he does

He mulls about Luffy's declaration to be a king, but answers Luffy in kind about the setting

This is War Land, the kingdom of Elbaf: the Birthplace of War

We have our big Elbaf spread, and the castle they were in for context right near the bottom

It's a giant tree with 2 tiers, the middle tier seems to be the most bustling area; Giant cannons and swords are seen in the middle level, along with waterfalls and another grand castle to the left

Loki introduces himself as the Sun God who will bring about the end of the world

Oh a 2 week break? Oda must be skipping Halloween XD between this and the anime hiatus that's a shame, but 2 weeks is doable

Another strong chapter from Elbaf, which we can now confirm to be in.

Prince Loki's design is another winner, I am slightly concerned he may end up too much like Doflamingo (killed his dad, the happy tongue thing, being chained up a lot) but we'll see, Luffy's very clearly gonna open Pandora's box here it seems. There's also the curiosity of what his DF will be.

If he's Hajrudin's brother it seems we might be getting a little Shakespearean here, Hajrudin is waiting for Luffy so he has to play a role, but does it become a civil war? In a place called War Land that wouldn't be too surprising (I doubt though it's the birthplace of war, more that it's the birthplace of Elbaf, the Giants' God of War). Or maybe Oda goes another direction, is this truly our villain or perhaps Luffy's kindness towards him begets a redemption?

My Vivi theory has latched onto my brain too, but while I like how we divided things I do hope we don't just ignore the Post-Alabasta crew, just delay them a short while - there's still Lilith, Kuma and Bonney stuff to deal with there too.

But we'll just have to stew on it for the new two weeks, the more we get answers the more we get mystery.

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andydrysdalerogers · 2 years ago

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Yours Submissively ~ Experimentation

Steve Rogers X OFC Isabella Davis

Summary: Five Years after the events of Civil War, Steve Rogers has moved on from avenging and has started his own business, Grant Inc. He has a secret that would turn his world upside down. And he's good at keep that secret. Until he meets the woman with violet eyes that could bring him to his knees. Now his mission is to make her, his. But she is the key that could bring the world into balance... or chaos.

And she has no idea.

Series Warnings: slow burn at the beginning, smut, angst, sexual themes of BDSM, dom/sub dynamics, kidnapping, loss of virginity, (and a bunch of others that will come up)

A/N: the taglist is open!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: Solitude

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

The rest of the day was awkward for Belle. She couldn’t avoid Tony, but she kept her interaction with him short. She was fuming; he had no right, no say in her life. He wasn’t her father. At 3PM, Maria Hill called in all of the exiting interns for a glass of champagne and a toast. After, she had an exit interview with Pepper. At 355, she packed up her small personal items. “Belle?”

She looked up to see Tony standing there. “Anything else before I go Mr. Stark?”

“No, I just wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean that Steve isn’t a good guy just that I wanted you to be smart and safe.”

Tony was feeling the guilt more today. But Belle didn’t need to know that. She didn’t need to know that he had known her father. Not really friends, but close. He thought back to day…

“Phil!” Pepper stood up to greet the SHIELD agent.

“Uh, his first name is Agent.”

Tony couldn’t believe the man had breached his security and tried to deflect him. Pepper had convinced him to read over the incident with the tesseract. He would be meeting with others including Captain Steven Rogers, the man who worked with his father on Project Rebirth. As Pepper made her way out with Agent Coulson, he overheard their conversations.

“I want to hear all about that cellist.”

“She moved back to Portland. Belle is pretty upset about it…”

Fast forward to Tony arriving to the helicarrier and Tony’s offer to fly him to Portland. “Just pick a day, keep love alive.”

“I can’t, have to get back to my daughter.”

“Daughter?”

“Yeah, Belle.” He showed a photo of a sweet looking girl with dark hair and blue eyes. “She’s off radar so if you…”

“Yeah, sure no problem.” Tony had arrived to the conference room…

Captain Rogers and Tony stood in the cell area, looking at the blood-stained wall where Phil Coulson had died.

“Was he married?”

“No, there was…” Tony hesitated. She’s off radar… “there was a cellist.” Tony kept his secret until he could talk to Fury.

It was a couple of days after New York. “What is going to happen to her?”

Fury looked at him. “A couple of agents picked her up when Loki became a problem and took her to New Jersey. She’s being placed there for her safety.”

“I’d like to sponsor her until she’s done with school. The least I could do for Coulson.”

“I’ll make arrangements for her to receive it as a scholarship if you’d like.”

“Thanks. Let’s just keep that between us for now. The rest of the team doesn’t have to know.”

“Tony, there is something you need to know before we move forward…”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. I do have to go.” She picked up her bag.

“I’ll walk you out.” They made their way to the elevators in silence. Tony cleared his throat. “So, training in a month?”

“Yeah, this will be weird. Teaching.”

“You’ll be great. Your graduation is next Friday?”

“Yeah at 6 PM.”

They reached the bottom floor and Tony guided her out, hand on her back. Outside, Bucky was waiting next to the SUV. When he saw Belle, he opened the door and took her bag. “Afternoon Belle, Stark.”

“Hi Bucky. Thank you.” She turned to Tony and stuck out her hand. “Thank you for everything Mr. Stark.”

“The pleasure was mine Belle. Good luck… with everything.” He let go. “Barnes, take care of her.”

Bucky merely nodded and closed Belle’s door. He climbed in and started to make his way to Jersey. “So last day? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine Bucky. Just tired.”

“What was Stark’s problem? You looked really uncomfortable around him.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Belle, sweetheart, you know you can talk to me. I can be a friend in the world of supers.” Bucky gave her a look in the mirror.

“Can I sit up front with you?”

Bucky pulled over and Belle climbed up to the front. “So, talk.”

“Tony decided to comment on my life.”

“How do you mean?”

“He figured out that Steve and I are dating. Well, I told him that Steve was my boyfriend and he flipped. Said that Steve wasn’t good enough for me.”

“What the… ok Belle, listen. Tony was out of line.”

“Would Steve really hurt me?”

“Sweetheart, no. Steve would do anything to protect you. Stark is just talking out of his ass.”

“I assume you know about Steve’s… ah preferences?”

Bucky looked straight ahead. “I do.”

“As my friend,” Belle chewed her lip. “Should I be worried?”

“Belle you can always say no. Steve wouldn’t ignore you if something makes you uncomfortable. Truly, he cares about you sweetheart. I’ve never seen him like this before. I mean…” he stops. “No one else ever came close.”

“Does Tony know about his lifestyle?”

‘No,” Bucky looked at her. “I make sure no one does. Just like no one will know about you if you decide to leave. But I want you to stay. If only for the French toast.” He smirked at her and she blushed.

Making it to Jersey was quick and Bucky spoke with Lila while Belle got her stuff together. She got ready for dinner and made her way out. She stopped when she saw Bucky kissing Lila. She cleared her throat and turned around, not wanting embarrass them more. “I’m ready Bucky.”

“I’ll see you later Li?” He kissed her softly and Belle looked away.

Lila giggled and nodded. She hugged Belle. “Are you going to be ok?”

“Yeah. Just the weekend with Steve. I’ll be back on Sunday night. Big week ahead.”

“I know Miss Valedictorian. You have speech to write.”

Belle flushed. She hadn’t mentioned to anyone else of the honor she received. “Bye Li.” She and Bucky exited the apartment.

“So…”

“Please don’t. No one knows.”

“Why? That’s a huge honor.”

“Everyone expects my family to be there for the stuff before. The luncheon and stuff. I don’t have one so what’s the point.”

“Belle, c’mon. You have us, Steve, Lila, me. We can be your family.”

Belle fell silent and just looked out the window. They made it back into Manhattan with 20 minutes to spare. Bucky drove around, trying to coax her back out. “Belle, please. Steve is going to kill me if I am sending you to him upset.”

“I’m fine Bucky. Just ready for graduation to be over.”

Bucky pulled up to the restaurant and opened her door. “Tell Steve. I promise he’ll be proud and supportive. And mention anything else you’re worried about.” He alluded to her concerns about being hurt.

“Thank you, Buck.” Belle walked into the restaurant and the maitre’d looked at her. “Miss Davis?”

“Yes.”

“Follow me.” He guided her to a private room where Steve was waiting.

“Isabella, you look beautiful.” He kissed her cheek and helped her into her chair.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“I took the liberty of having the chef give us a tasting menu. I hope that’s ok.”

“It’s fine. Best way to taste everything,” she said with a forced smile.

Steve studied her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It was a long day.”

“Don’t lie to me. Please baby, don’t.”

Belle waited as the waiter poured the selected wine for them. Once he was out of the room, she took a deep breath. “I’m nervous for this weekend. Steve, are you going to hurt me? I don’t want you to hurt me.” Her mind comes up with the images she had searched. Of her being bound and gagged while a whip would crack over the back. She hitched her breath in remembrance.

“Why would you assume that I want to hurt you?”

“I did my research.”

Steve chuckled. She was such a good girl for him. “Belle, will it hurt? A little. But only to provide you pleasure. I want you to enjoy it. The moment its not enjoyable, we stop. That’s why we decided on this weekend. To gage what you do and do not like.”

“I don’t want to be whipped. I don’t want you to mark me when you hit me.”

“Ok, that’s good. This is what I want us to do. You tell me what the limits are. Communications is the only way this will work.” He stopped at the first course was brought out.

“I did see something intriguing. It’s like a whip but soft.”

“A flogger? We can try it. It may bite but not as hard as you think.” Steve smiled at her. “I have an idea if you trust me.”

“I trust you.” She didn’t hesitate in her response.

They made it through dinner and Belle took a moment. “Steve?”

“Yes, sweet pea?”

“Sweet pea?”

“You like sweets, you’re sweet. You are my sweet pea. What did you need?”

“I have an event to go to on Wednesday and I was wondering if you would go with me.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“It’s a luncheon with the alumni association. For the valedictorian.”

“Valedictorian? Isabella are you…”

Belle lowered her eyes, a blush forming. Steve used his fingers to lift her face. “That is an honor. Congratulations. Yes, of course. I’ll clear my schedule.” He leaned and kissed her gently. “I am so proud of you sweet pea.”

She blushed and kissed him back.

They finished up and Bucky picked them up and took them back to the apartment. He dropped them off and said, “I’m headed to Lila’s. See you in the morning for breakfast.” He winked at Belle.

“Goodnight, Buck,” Steve said. He took Belle up to the apartment. They went straight to the playroom. Steve could feel Belle’s heart pounding. “Breathe princess. I promise, you tell me to stop, and I will.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Turn and face the bed.” She turned and Steve grasped the zipper and pulled it down slowly, running a finger down her spine. Belle’s breath hitched with the sensation. The dress dropped and pooled around her heels. “Turn back around,” he ordered. She spun again. “You are beautiful princess.” He cupped her face and kissed her. She moaned into it and Steve smiled. He lowered his hands and reached to remove her bra. He stepped back and took her in, just panties and heels.

He licked his lips and led her to the bed. He kneeled in front of her and pulled down her panties, sliding them slowly down her legs. Belle’s breath was ragged, every touch setting her aflame. “Step, princess.” She complied immediately. “Lay down on the bed.” Each order sent a wave of arousal to her core. She climbed to the center of the bed, still in her heels. The sheets were silky smooth but stark white.

“Raise your arms above your head.” Belle moved her arms. She looked to see where Steve was. He came into view with a royal blue silk rope. He took the length and wrapped her wrist gently. “Don’t pull,” he said as he tied it to the bed. He checked for the tightness. “What is your safe word?”

“Red sir.”

“And your go signal?”

“Blue sir.”

“Good girl. Spread your legs.” She hesitated. “Princess,” he warned. She moved her legs. He took additional rope and tied an ankle to each post. He took in, spread out and waiting. He could see she was wet and needy. “I don’t think I want you to see anymore.” He took off his tie and wrapped it to cover her eyes. He placed a kiss on her and leaned up to keep it going.

“My greedy girl. Patience.” Steve took off the rest of his clothes and placed a condom onto the bedside table. He went to his toy wall and took out the red flogger and an egg vibrator. He made his way back to Belle. She was squirming, needing him. He got in-between her legs and ran a finger through her folds. She mewled at the sudden touch and tried to close her legs. “So wet for me princess. Do you like being at my mercy?”

“Yes.” He slapped her clit and she cried out. “I’m sorry. Yes, sir,” she corrected.

“Good girl. My princess is a good girl,” Steve coo’d at her. He kissed her clit in comfort and then licked to taste the nectar coming from her. “You taste so good princess.” He reached up and put the vibrator on her mouth. “Suck,” he ordered. She opened her mouth and felt the heavy object on her tongue. He pulled it out of her mouth and went back to her pussy. He fingered her slightly and then pushed the vibrator in. She gasped. “Its ok Belle, it’s a vibrator.”

“Steve…”

“No.”

“I’m sorry sir.” She trembled.

“I promise, you will enjoy it.” Steve reached up to kiss her. “If its too much just let me know.” He got off the bed and reached for the flogger. He set the vibrator to low, watching as Belle squirmed at the sensation. He smiled and took a stance and flicked his wrist, letting the flogger fly and slap Belle’s skin on her belly. She jumped and moaned. “Are you ok? Color?”

“Blue sir. I’m ok.”

“Did that hurt?”

“No sir.”

“Good. See, it’s in your mind,” he reassured her. “I’m going to go a little harder. Tell me to stop if it hurts, ok?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl.” He flicked his wrist harder, allowing the flogger to strike her breasts. She pulled on the restraints and cried out. “Don’t pull princess, I don’t want you to hurt.” He tried again over her legs, and she continued to moan in response. He let go harder and harder, increasing the vibrator with each strike until she cried on the eighth strike over her abdomen.

“No, stop!” She cried.

“Ok, ok,” he dropped the flogger. He took some lotion and rubbed her belly. She moaned at his gentleness, and he increased the vibrator, causing her to scream.

“Steve, please!” She could feel herself close to the edge. He reached and pulled the vibrator out, listening her to groan and he climbed between her legs. He rolled onto the condom and thrusted inside. She screamed again, feeling her clench around him. He thrusted quickly in and out.

“C’mon princess. You know you want to.”

“Please,” she pleaded. He wrapped his mouth around her nipple and sucked hard. She wanted to have him close but her legs were still tied. She had to just take what he gave her. Steve reached up to release her hands and she brought them down on his back and gripped.

“Let go Isabella,” Steve pleaded, feeling himself reaching his peak. He thrusted harder and she detonated, pulsing and sucking him in. He pushed in and released, filling the condom, moaning her name. He slowed his pace, kissing Belle gently as he did. He pulled out slowly, not wanting to hurt her. He released the ropes and went to the bathroom to get a warm towel. She pulled her legs close, flexing them to get feeling back into them. He came back and cleaned her gently. Then he rubbed her ankles and arms.

Steve went and grabbed two robes. He placed the blue one on himself and sat Belle up. He wrapped the white robe around her and carried her to his room. He grabbed a shirt and put it on her and lifted her to bed. He wanted her close tonight, not feeling comfortable leaving her alone after her first experience in his playroom. He cleaned himself up and put on pajama bottoms. He climbed into the bed and pulled Isabella close.

He felt her settle and he smiled. And he stopped. Because he knew what he was doing was dangerous.

Because falling in love with her would put her in danger.

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ofasgardandalfheim · 1 year ago

Text

Loki & The Siren; Chapter Eleven

A meeting in the forest.

Fic Synopsis:

This is the story about how you met and fell in love with Loki, hundreds of years before the events in Avengers, while his family was visiting Alfheim, where you were a siren.

It is a companion piece to Lightning Over the Sea-Redux to give more insight into your past and relationship with Loki.

The anticipation of your next meeting consumes you in the days that follow. Every time you pass Thor in the palace, your eyes meet, igniting the spark between you and fueling the fire of your desire. You can hardly focus on anything else, your thoughts constantly returning to him and the secret rendezvous you've planned.

You feel your heart race as you sneak out of the palace, the anticipation of the upcoming meeting coursing through your veins. The towering trees loom overhead, their branches intertwining to create a canopy that obscures the sky. The rustling leaves and the sound of your footsteps echo through the forest.

As you navigate the winding path, you can't help but wonder what awaits you. Your mind is filled with questions, hopes, and fears. The cool breeze against your skin is a welcome distraction, but it doesn't ease the knot in your stomach. You push forward, driven by the desire to see him again.

Finally, you arrive at the clearing where you had arranged to meet. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you scan the area, searching for any sign of him. The silence is deafening, and every second feels like an eternity. Then, you hear the rustling of leaves behind you, and you turn around to see him emerging from the shadows.

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time stands still. The tension between you is electric. You're not sure who moves first, but soon you're standing face-to-face, his warm breath brushing against your skin, the heat emanating from him enveloping you in a cocoon of desire.

Without saying a word, you reach out and take his hand, intertwining your fingers. The touch sends shivers down your spine, and you're acutely aware of every inch of your body. You lean in closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The air crackles with anticipation as you stand there, lost in each other's eyes.

Despite the passion that burns between you, there's an undercurrent of uncertainty and fear. You know that this meeting could have consequences, but you find yourself surrendering to the moment nonetheless. As you stand there, locked in each other's gaze, you realize that this is just the beginning of a journey that promises to be filled with love, lust, and danger. It is intoxicating.