#roger c. cross | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lokisgoodgirl · 7 months

Text

Be Mine [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: A morning meeting has an unexpected twist. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Language. Smutty. Avenger!Loki x Female Reader. Questionable flirting techniques. (w/c 2.8k)

The muscle at the side of Loki’s jaw flexed. He swallowed; an achingly glacial bob of his Adam’s apple making you want to claw your eyes out.

For some inexplicable reason he had opted to wear full leathers to today’s briefing.

It was seven nineteen in the AM. Thor was sporting a muscle vest boasting not one but three stains of varying complexity and a pair of shorts which left little to the imagination. Scott was wearing his dressing gown.

The rest of the team hung off chairs and flopped on the table in various states of undress. Steve stood at the head of the room as usual; prim and fresh in a crisp button-down and perfectly creased chinos.

“So what we’re seeing here,” Steve said, turning to the group from the Powerpoint, “is an up-tick in biological experiments-”

His eyes narrowed while they roamed over the doodling, distracted and hungover band sprawled around the table. “Lang.” he snapped. “Close your legs; there are ladies present.’

Scott shuffled up his seat, drawing the dressing gown down over his knees while mumbling apologies. A low rumble of mirth circled the room, but Loki’s gaze never left the Captain’s.

The curve of his dark lashes swept upward, features set in performative rapture. Loki's facial expression hadn’t changed as the scene unfolded, but for a miniscule twitch of his lip. Usually the two of you would exchange a few eye rolls; a few knowing smiles during a particularly turgid monologue about shoe storage post-mission...but not today. Today he hadn't even looked at you.

Steve sighed. He extended a finger and pushed his retractable pointer down to a stub. Pacing to the table, he dropped his head, laying his palms flat. When he looked up, disappointed-dad energy was thick in his eyes. “Folks, this just won’t do.” he said.

Natasha’s sunglasses slid down her nose. Scott crossed his legs making the swivel chair knock into Wilson and waking him up. The Falcon’s arms flew wide on instinct, whacking Tony in the chest. “Jesus Christmas-” Tony snorted, blinking wildly. “It was a party.” Natasha drawled, pushing the sunglasses back in place with disdain. “Maybe if you’d stayed after the cake you’d have those tight panties of yours in less of a spick, Rogers.”

“That’s Captain Rogers.” he snapped. “We’re on the clock.” “Calm down, Rogers.” Tony said, cresting his fingers. He was remarkably chipper for a man with whipped cream crusted in his hairline. “You’re all sitting on my clock. Remember that.”

Steve flushed scarlet. His eyes narrowed as Tony’s smirk grew.

“All I’m saying is it’s a sorry day when Laufeyson is the star pupil. Look at him!” Steve said, gesturing incredulously at Loki who remained in position; back straight, chin up. But now, one eyebrow arched. “All of you lot in your skivvies and Laufeyson’s in full dress?” Steve shook his head. “I fail to see the humour, Rogers.” Loki said. “Why is it so surprising that I come to our daily summons dressed thus? Certainly I have never presented myself in a tragic towelling monstrosity like Lang here.” “There was that one time with the silk nightie.” Sam whispered to Scott. Scott covered his mouth.

“A silk robe.” Loki snapped.

“Usually you only bring out the Asgardian shit when you’re brown-nosing. Or when you’ve done something shifty.” Natasha said, propping her chin up with a fist. You bet her eyes are closed. Wanda nodded behind her Starbucks.

“Or trying to impress someone,” the witch said. Natasha waved a finger in agreement. “Sexually.” Wanda added.

Loki released a scandalised snort. “How dare you.” he said. Leather creaked against his biceps as he folded his arms.

Beneath the table, your thighs squeezed together. The only thing hotter than Loki in leather, was an indignant Loki in leather. You suddenly became very aware of your quickened breaths making the buttons of your blouse strain. The god’s eyes darted to the side, meeting yours. “What?” he snarled. “Nothing.” you squeaked, swallowing. An awkward silence hung in the room. The scent of stale vodka suddenly seemed very strong. Steve sighed.

“Let’s call it for this morning-” he said, immediately met with muted hisses of celebration around the table. He patted down the air. “Rescheduled for this afternoon. Thirteen-hundred sharp. Wear clothes.” Approval turned to whines and hushed curses as chairs were swivelled and aching bodies shifted. “Unbelievable.” Loki snarled under his breath.

You watched out the corner of your eye as he stood; the flat of his iron stomach inches from your face. The scent of rich leather filled your nostrils while Loki’s fingers nipped beneath the hem of his tunic, tugging it down. He flipped the length of his cape with a sniff. You saw it swirl around his boots briefly as he stepped towards the window, clasping his hands behind his back.

Taking your time, you picked up each piece of carefully laid stationary at your seat. One by one, the rest of the team left the room. Steve was last, his hand hovering on the door handle while he shot you a wary look. As a parting gift, he opened the door wider. “You didn’t stay late?” Loki’s voice was a thick hum in the growing silence. His tone, inscrutable. “Huh?” “At the party.” he said. “You didn’t stay late.”

This time it wasn’t a question. “I usually head off when Thor starts making passes at everyone. I didn’t see you. Were you there?” “He did that?” Loki bristled. “To you?” There was a pause. “To everyone.” you repeated quietly. Loki’s shoulders stiffened. His fingers twitched, thumb digging into one exposed palm behind his back. He was still staring out the window.

“I’ll see you later.” you said, nerves fluttering in your belly. The god’s hair shortened as his chin dipped. You wondered how it would feel to wind those dark strands through your fingers as you rode him. Wondered how the grunts and signs and pretty curses from his lips would sound wet in your ear.

“No.” Loki said. “Excuse me?” “No,” he repeated.

You steadied against the table-top with the pads of your fingertips. Small stars began to burst in your field of vision. “I think the leather looks goo-good,” you stammered. And you didn’t know why.

The thought of him barring the exit of enemies in far flung realms using only that voice barged through the doors of your imagination with the force of a horny caveman. If that was the last sarcastic quip they heard, by god, you imagined they may just have died happy. And hard.

“It looks good.” you repeated, no more than a whisper. Loki turned his head. The sharp profile came into view at a glacial pace. First the peaked tip of his chin, then the slant of his regal nose, then the harsh peak of his cheekbone, then his eyes. Your ass met the table-top with a stumble. There was a small crease between his eyebrows. “Bold of you to make another jest without your compatriots around you, Agent.” he said. Across the short distance between you, venom dripped from his tongue; his hackles raised. “I wasn’t joking,” you said quietly as his gaze fell to your feet with a sneer. The quick breaths that made your buttons strain were back. Loki’s rising stare lingered on your breasts, a small smile tweaking at the corner of his mouth. Words tripped from your lips, forcing their way from behind your teeth. “I like it.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. He turned fully with a ceremonial flourish, the hands clasped behind his back moving to the front and rippling his leather and silken cloak. It fluttered.

“Is that so?” he purred darkly. He didn’t believe you.

You imagined how this is how a rabbit felt in the eyeline of a fox. To look away was to admit weakness, vulnerability. It meant death. And yet – it was the only chance to escape. But did you want to escape? Not really. You wanted to feel the sharp of his teeth fasten to your neck as he sucked and bit and made violent love to every inch of you.

You nodded, not breaking eye-contact. Loki inhaled sharply, chin tilting up as he did so.

His eyes wandered over grim foam tiles as though an enemy lurked beyond the suspended ceiling. They narrowed, darting back and forth. With a thundering heart, you noted one of his heavy boots rise from the floor. He paced forwards slowly, ceremonially, stopping inches from you. Your fingers curled tight around the table’s edge, the messy in your panties beneath the skirt becoming intolerable. Loki cleared his throat. “Am I to understand, contrary to common rhetoric, that you find my Asgardian leathers enticing; Agent?” “I think ‘enticing’ is a little grandiose, is it not?” you laughed, cringing at the way you so easily mirrored his speech. Loki noticed it too. He tilted his head. “I am nothing if not grandiose, Agent.” Loki said. “Am I not impressive? Am I not imposing?”

He trailed a long finger down your bicep, his touch light as a feather. “So often, you mortals use such words as insult.” he mused.

“It is merely a reflection on your own feelings of inferiority. This morning is a perfect example. An attempt at ridicule to deflect from their own pathetic presentation. Each one more bedraggled and an abject embarrassment to their purpose than the last.” Heat began to rise in your cheeks as his finger drifted along your collarbone. There was a pause, his eyes dropping to your lips before the finger brushed the skin at the hollow of your neck. It graced upwards, tracing the curve and stopping beneath the tip of your chin. “But not you.” he said.

The god’s eyes snapped to yours. His cheekbones hollowed under fluorescent lights, mischief glowing from the depths of his irises and painted in every light wrinkle on his brow.

“What else do you like, Agent?” he goaded softly. “Do you like the idea of what lies beneath these leathers?” You swallowed thickly. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Loki-” you said, glancing towards the open door. He followed your eyes, rolling his own. With a flick of his hand the door slammed shut. “I want you,” he breathed, leaning closer so that the heat of his cheek warmed your own, “to tell me what else you like.”

You bit your lip, watching his beautiful face come back into view. With a prang, the thought occurred that perhaps you were not the rabbit after all. Perhaps you were the fox. Loki’s gaze lingered on your face, searching it.

Emboldened, you found the words. “Why should I?”

His brows peaked softly. He released a muted sigh, pursing his lips. “As much as I am loathe to admit it, Romanoff was right.” he said. The hand tilting your chin upwards returned to its mate, clasped against the leather tunic. “I was trying to impress someone, but not that insufferable Rogers.”

He raised his eyebrows.

Excitement blossomed deep in your belly; rising like shaken soda and fizzing around your chest. Loki bit his bottom lip.

“You see, Agent, I like you very much. And I’m afraid that now it has reached the juncture where I must know if you like anything about me...beyond my exquisite taste in battle armour.”

The change in his demeanour was so dramatic that you could only gape. But when it came to Loki, could you expect anything less? Without thinking you reached forward and grasped the belt slung over his chest, pulling him forward.

Loki’s mouth clashed with yours, the heat of his lips giving way to the thrust of his tongue. Your hands slid over his metal epaulettes, tangling in ebony waves that cascaded around his shoulders. He tasted like heaven, the scent of him deep and dangerously delicious in a way you’d never known. A scent a girl could lose herself in forever; gladly.

In seconds your back was flat against the table, its cool wood harsh against the heat of your skin through the blouse. Loki’s ravenous kiss consumed you, licking and dancing inside your mouth like a man possessed. His shallow moans ricocheted between slurps of his lips, wetness coating them.

“Tell me, you infuriating woman,” he panted as a thick forearm landed on the wood beside your head. The metal vambrace clanged against cheap wood. Saliva hung between your mouths as he stared deep into your soul; blue eyes darkening. “Tell me what you like.”

“About you?” you panted. Loki didn’t nod, only lowered his chin.

His nose nudged at your lips, dragging upwards, tongue tracing around the bottom one. He had begun to smile. One of his legs nudged your thighs wider. The god straightened and you felt a thrill run from your scalp to the tips of your dangling toes. He towered above like a monolith, leather tight to his rectangular body. Hair fell around his jaw, perfectly imperfectly wolfish curls flirting against his skin. His cape brushed against your bare calves as he shifted his stance, palms sliding up your thighs and pushing your skirt higher. “Yes; I like the idea of what’s beneath all this,” you whined as you pawed at his leather-clad stomach. It was so hard. Loki smirked, watching beneath half-lidded eyes. “I think about fucking you in the showers after training,” you whispered bashfully as your hips thrust up against your will. Loki raised an eyebrow. “More...” he rumbled. “I think about you all the time. All the awful things I want to do to you, y-you do to me- Loki, uhh-”

His hands crept higher as you spoke, fingers hooking around the hips of your panties. “If I pull these down, darling” he said with an air of reprimand, “will they be wet?” You let out a gasping moan, back arching against the table.

“Excellent.” Loki snickered, pulling the panties down the length of your legs before stepping back between them.

A hand flew to your mouth as you watched one long finger dip between your thighs, running lightly between your folds. He brought it to his lips, sucking gently. His cheekbones hollowed, finger slipping out. He swallowed with a groan of appreciation.

Loki settled himself between your legs, pushing them wider. The height of the table pressed your dripping centre against his crotch. You thought you might explode. His palms slid up your waist, exploring the curves of your body while your legs wrapped around his hips. The god’s cock pressed eagerly against the leather, strong and thick up the centre. His forearms came down at either side of your head, metal wrist-guards clinking.

“I will show you what it is to be mine,” he murmured in your ear.

Loki’s cock settled against your sex, rubbing in perfect gyration. “Oh...god,” you gasped as the weight of his body pressed against your own.

Fingers combed up from the base of his neck, tangling in his hair. The next moment, they grasped around his back, pulling him closer, catching in the folds of his cloak which draped across your bodies. The god grunted filthy praises in your ear as his bound manhood sent electric currents of pleasure deeper than you’d ever known. His searching lips found their way to your neck, your jaw. Every utterance from his throat more disgustingly sensual than the last. Hot leather filled your nostrils, the scent of him strong and intoxicating. Mounting orgasm bubbled in waves, a dream-like trance broken only with whispered groans of pleasure from your throats. Loki Laufeyson was about to make you cum. The thought was unbelievable. And yet, your pussy being tugged and massaged and owned by his leather-bound cock into the throes of heaven knew it to be true. Dry-humped like a teenager in the back of a pick-up.

“Be mine...” Loki mumbled breathlessly, a strangled choke gasping from deep in his chest. He immediately dove for a perishing kiss, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and releasing it with a wet suck. He smouldered down.

Against the bright lights, his dark halo shone; tendrils curling against your cheek and brushing with every calculated roll of his hips. Every muscle in your body tensed. Your legs tightened against his hips.

“Be mine,” he echoed. His face was twisted, and you suddenly wondered how close he was to cumming in those beautiful leather pants. “Loki-” you gasped, clutching at his cape. Back arching, the last thing you heard as climax stormed your brain were the matching pants of the god. The last thing you saw were his peaked brows above dilated pupils so deep you could drown in them.

In the afterglow, all you could manage were garbled phrases as your forearm draped over your eyes. “That was...unexpected.” you panted when the god’s weight lifted from your chest. “Perhaps for you.” Loki winked. “It was very carefully calculated on my part,” You watched in dazed disbelief as Loki sank to his knees, leather creaking, and hoisted your hips higher. He lapped at your soaking pussy, muffled moans seeping from his throat as he buried himself in your fresh pleasure. The flat of his tongue licked a thick stripe from the base to your swollen clit, placing a gentle suck on the tip. His eyes flickered up, meeting yours.

“Immaculate, as expected.” he breathed. His chin glistened.

You groaned as he withdrew; grasping at the air as he went. That small caress of him against your sex was everything you could ever have dreamed. Loki let you reluctantly arrange yourself before offering his hand for the short hop off the table. “Not exactly how I imagined our first time,” you said with a sheepish smile. Loki scanned your face.

“Agent don’t be insulting. That was merely a sample,” he scoffed. “It barely counts.” He stepped forward, pulling you flush against him with a flat palm at the base of your spine. “We must ensure you have eaten something before more intimate activities are indulged in; lest you faint. Or worse.” “Or worse?” “You are only mortal, after all.” Loki smiled slyly. “And this,” he gestured to his cock; hard and straining against the leather, “can be rather a handful. As well can his Master.” You slapped him on the shoulder. Loki smirked. Remembering the unexpected schedule change, you frowned. “You think we have time before the meeting later?”

Loki snorted. “We’re not attending. The two of us fulfilled our obligations, unlike the more cretinous members of our party.” You raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to get me in trouble, I can tell.” Loki’s fingers danced up your back, a light thrust of his hips making your body keen. His dirty exhale flooded your ear, the warm scent of him overloading your senses.

“Oh Agent,” he purred against the skin; his eyes darting covertly to the pair of panties discarded on the floor. “As if you expected anything less.”

Taglist (continued in comments)

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @buttercupcookies-blog

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #lokismut #loki oneshot #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader #loki imagine #loki x yn #loki x female reader smut #loki gifs #loki marvel

1K notes · View notes

heytheredelulu · 5 months

Note

I was wondering if you could do maybe a like feral Bucky? Like maybe they trigger the soldat and instead of him fallowing their orders he goes after the shy curvy little intern of Tony’s? They’ve both been too shy to make a move. I’m cool with whatever spin you put on it, I LOVE your writing.

(Love all your normal kinks so feel free to add those too as you see fit! )

Thank you lovely 🥰 Can’t wait to drool over more of your writing lol

I took this and RAN with it.

It ended up becoming much longer than I had anticipated so this one will be broken up into two parts.

I struggled with trying to incorporate Bucky being triggered after the reader already being somewhat aquatinted with him, pining after him, etc. so I went the route I did and I hope it fulfills your request!

Part one will be mostly just plot building with a spicy cliff hanger leading us into a part two of pure smut.

Ready to Comply - Part One - Anon Request

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

Word Count: 2.5k

C/W: Language, discussion/implications of violence and murder, choking, blood (Bucky is strugglin’ and bites his own hand), a lil sexual tension in prep for part two, he sniffs her coochie, okay?

“Okay, stop. Stop that.” Tony whispered out of the corner of his mouth. You shot him a glance and tugged at your skirt one more time for good measure. He lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes. “You look fine, Rookie. Very professional. Is that what you needed to hear?”

You scoff and shake your head. “That’s no- I’m not fishing for compliments, I genuinely hate dressing like a fucking secretary.” You grumble, drawing a laugh out of Tony. “And don’t call me ‘Rookie.’” You add with a prod to his chest. He brushes the front of his suit jacket sarcastically in response to your poke and raises his hands defensively, a soft chuckle rising from his throat.

“A fucking secretary? Really? It’s business professional. Did you think I could let you stand next to me in a press conference wearing an old t-shirt and some torn up jeans? We need to create a semblance of professionalism.” He gestures to his own attire with a grin and there’s a teasing glint in his eye as he continues.

“And what’s wrong with ‘Rookie’? You’re my little protégé.” He jests, reaching like he’s going to pinch your cheek as if you were some adorable little toddler. You frown, swatting his hand away and brings it to his chest, clutching it dramatically. “Wow, you’re going to assault your friend, mentor and extremely rich and handsome boss?” He jokes, feigning offense.

“The only accurate adjective in that sentence is ‘boss’, Sir.” You reply dryly, crossing your arms. The corners of his lips twitch into a sly smile and he nudges you with his elbow. “I’ll accept if you don’t agree with friend and mentor.” He starts, pressing his lips into a pout. “But I might actually get a little offended if you refuse to acknowledge how devastatingly handsome I am.”

You groan in annoyance and roll your eyes, preparing a witty comeback when Pepper Potts rounds the corner with a tablet cradled in her arm, a phone nestled between her ear and shoulder and an expression of concern written across her face.

“Everything alright?” Tony asks, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me.. another offer for People’s ‘sexiest man alive’? I keep telling them, I can’t be on the cover every ye-“ Tony stops mid sentence as Pepper’s manicured forefinger lands on his lips, effectively silencing him.

“Yes. Okay. Understood. Thank you.” She says curtly into the phone before disconnecting the call. “That was Fury. We have an issue. A Barnes issue.”

Your brows furrow at this. “What’s happened with Bucky?” You ask, a sense of dread creeping up your spine. He’d been all but isolated since he’d moved into the Avenger’s tower alongside his best friend Steve Rogers and you couldn’t imagine him being the source of an issue with how reserved this man was. You weren’t at all oblivious to his past- it had been global wide news after all, but in the months since his de-conditioning in Wakanda he had been making great strides towards recovery, working to make amends.

Though your interactions with the ex-assassin had been few, he’d always been polite and kind towards you. You’d felt so out of place among the Avengers, being Tony’s intern. You weren’t on the team, hell, a few of them didn’t even know your name despite you having been trailing behind Tony for the last year. Maybe it was your own fault, considering you hadn’t really made an effort to talk to any of them but aside from the fact that they were all extremely intimidating, you were naturally a shy and quiet person.

You quickly push the self deprecating thoughts from your head. You didn’t care about any of that. You shouldn’t. It wasn’t as if you wanted to be on the team, or were there to make friends, you were here as an engineer, to learn from who was arguably the most intelligent man on the planet. Perhaps that’s why Bucky had always been cordial to you more than some of the others living here. Maybe he gravitated towards you, as someone who constantly felt so out of place, because he felt that way here as well.

Or maybe he thought you were cute.

Oh fuck, if only.

You couldn’t deny your attraction to the man or that you’d been quietly crushing on him practically since you’d started your internship. Every small interaction with Bucky left a blush on your cheeks and a kaleidoscope of butterflies flitting about your belly.

The thought of someone as absurdly good looking as Bucky fucking Barnes finding you attractive was enough to spark a surge of heat straight to your abdomen.

No, get it together. Now’s not the time.

You mentally scold your vagina for having the nerve to throb at the mere mention of Bucky Barnes regardless of the context and turn your attention back to Pepper and Tony as they argued in hushed whispers.

“What’s happened with Bucky?” You repeat, knowing they likely won’t clue you in if it’s related to Avenger’s business.

Tony offers a nervous smile and exchanges a quick glance with his wife before he checks his watch. “Terminator? He’s fine. I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably holed up with security for setting off the metal detector.” He pauses and then snaps his fingers. “Or maybe he walked past the junkyard on fifth and got snatched up by the hydraulic magnet.” He says, lifting a hand and miming a crane.

Pepper lets out a soft sigh and your gaze flicks to her. “Yeah, a big magnet or something.” She mumbles, turning her attention back to her tablet. “I don’t think that’s-“ Your cut off by Tony’s hand on the small of your back, urging you forward. “Enough about Robocop. We’re on, Rookie.” He says, his nervous expression falling away and quickly being replaced with a mask of professionalism. “Let’s go unveil our project to the press.” Pepper moves to open the door for you both and before you can open your mouth to tell Tony that if he calls you ‘rookie’ one more time you were going to strangle him with his overpriced tie, your senses are overwhelmed with an onslaught of overlapping voices and camera shutters.

You toss your blazer over the desk in your quaint office and slump over into the chair, trying not to let your mind run wild with anxious thoughts about the press conference. Despite your best efforts you couldn’t help but worry that you probably looked like a deer in headlights up at the podium alongside Tony.

You huff and rest your chin on the back of your hand, glancing over at the computer screens. Your attention is immediately drawn to security footage from one of the conference rooms when you see movement on the monitor. You lean in with your brows furrowed. It’s late and no one should be in the conference room. You expand the image and can clearly make out Tony and Steve moving about the room with tense body language.

You hover over the footage with your mouse and hesitate. You know that you absolutely should not eavesdrop on the two men but once Tony’s hands begin angrily gesturing around you give in to temptation and turn on the audio.

“What the hell do you mean, ‘back up?’” Tony shouts, beginning to pace the room.

Steve leans forward with his palms on the table and his head bowed slightly. “It’s exactly what I said, Tony.” He replies, his biceps flexing as he grips the table. “HYDRA had a fail safe. They’d planted a back up activation incase he would ever manage to be deprogrammed.” He looks up at Tony with a solemn expression. “They got to him. I should’ve been there, I should’ve-“

Tony holds out a hand, his other resting against his temple as he tries to comprehend what Steve is telling him. “Well you weren’t and they did so know we have to figure out how the fuck we navigate this.” He says firmly, shaking his head. “Do we have eyes on him? Is he in the building?”

Steve sighed and stood upright from the table. “No. He’s in the wind. We lost contact with him a few hours ago.” He admits, running a hand through his hair. “But there’s something you need to know.” He adds, looking at Tony with concern as he begins to pace again.

“Well spit it out, Rogers!” Tony yells, stopping and turning back to Steve.

“Nat received some intel. The hit HYDRA ordered is on you and your intern.” He says so quietly you can barely pick it up on the audio. Fear crawls up your spine and your hand trembles as you increase the volume on the security feed, while your heartbeat in your ears becomes near deafening.

Tony stiffens, slowly approaching Steve. “You wanna tell me why?” He asks, his voice low and dangerous. Steve nods. “The new tech you unveiled today.“ He explains.

Tony sighs, understanding why one of their enemies would be threatened by what the two of you had been working on and reaches to loosen his tie. “I’ll take Pepper and move her to the safe house before I meet you at a rendezvous point. Send someone to get my Rookie and get her off the grid. I don’t want her alone for a single second.” He says in an exasperated tone, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out his cell phone as he stalks towards the door.

“And Rogers?” He asks, turning around one last time, his hand curled tight around the doorknob. Steve’s head snaps up and he looks at Tony with guilt ridden eyes. “Yeah?”

“Find Barnes.”

Find Barnes.

The statement echoes in your ears, sending your thoughts spinning as if a category five hurricane were waging inside your head.

No. No, no, no.

There’s a hit out on you?

To be carried out by the fucking Winter Soldier.

Oh you were so fucked.

You scoot your chair back, bracing your hands on the desk to stand with wobbly knees.

Bile rises in your throat as you take a slow step backwards, bumping the chair in your state of panic and knocking your jacket off the workbench. You jump at the sound of it slipping to the floor and clutch your chest as a result of inducing your own jumpscare and take slow breaths to steel your nerves before you bend down to pick it up. As you rise back upright, your gaze connects with a pair of vacant, icy blue eyes in the shadows across the room and your entire body seizes in terror.

He’s not in the wind.

He’s been in here with you this entire goddamned time.

“B-Bucky?” You stutter, bringing your jacket to your chest and grasping it until your knuckles turn white. Maybe Steve and Tony were wrong. Maybe Nat’s intel was wrong. Maybe this was all a huge misunderstanding and you weren’t about to die at the hands of the ex-assassin you’ve been pining over for nearly a year.

He takes a step forward from the shadows, his face expressionless and his eyes unblinking without a single trace of emotion behind them.

Okay, yeah. You’re fucked.

“Sergeant Barnes?” You whisper, almost a plea to the man you knew, locked away somewhere in the brain of the cold and calculated killer standing in front of you.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t register your words, as he crosses the lab in a few quick strides and catches your throat in his cybernetic hand.

Oh god.

The air leaves your lungs, his grip tightening around your windpipe as his face remains blank.

You’re going to die.

So why are you so fucking turned on?

Heat pools low in your abdomen, your core flooding with arousal, coupled with fear and unbridled lust.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as you gasp and thrash in his grip, your thick thighs rubbing together with every kick and flail, doing nothing to alleviate the throbbing ache in your cunt.

God this is so wrong.

His brows furrow, the first hint of emotion since he stepped out of the shadows. His head tilts inquisitively and his grip slackens around your throat as he leans in, tracing his nose across your jaw line and inhaling deeply. You still, your face contorting in confusion as you swallow hard against his palm, leaning your body into his hold.

His eyes narrow as he pulls away from you and you take the opportunity to suck in a breath, massaging your neck gently while your gaze drops to observe his hands clenching and unclenching into fists at his sides.

“Bucky?” You ask, wondering what’s caused the sudden shift in his demeanor, wondering if maybe he’s somehow snapped out of the trance he’d been in. He’s still and silent for a long moment, his head bowed as his chest rises and falls heavily with every breath.

“Sergeant Barnes, are yo-“

His head snaps up, effectively silencing you.

Your mouth remains agape, stuck on your last word and as he watches you with predatory eyes, taking menacing steps toward you, you can’t seem to find your voice any longer. You stumble backwards, losing your balance and falling back against the desk, unable to regain your footing before his hands grip the flesh of your bare thighs.

He tilts you backwards, your back colliding hard with the surface of the desk, stealing the breath out of your chest. He drops to his knees, splaying his palms against your thighs, the hem of your dress rising up to expose your panties as he spreads your legs wide before him and drags his nose across the fabric.

He groans.

He fucking groans.

“You’re my mission.” He breathes out, eyes wild and fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as if he were fighting to physically restrain himself.

“I know.” You whimper, lifting your head to look down at him over the soft curve of your stomach.

“I’ve been ordered to kill you.” He chokes out, pressing his forehead against your inner thigh and drawing in a deep and shuddering breath.

“Then why haven’t you?” You ask in a broken whisper.

He turns his head and mumbles something incoherently, his breath ghosting against the damp fabric of your underwear and sending a wave of arousal crashing through your core. He stiffens, curling his flesh hand into a fist and bringing it to his mouth, biting down on his knuckles as he swallows back a moan.

He shakes his head, his teeth pressing into his skin hard enough to draw blood and you move to sit up, leaning on your palms as you look down at him where he’s slotted between your legs, visibly trembling.

He rises quickly to his feet, his left hand shooting out to curl around your neck again and he drops his bloodied flesh hand to his side.

“Because..” He says through clenched teeth, inhaling sharply as the cool metal of his thumb strokes the column of your throat.

“I can’t fucking focus when all I can smell-“

His free hand roughly cups your pussy over your panties, his voice trailing off as he kneads his palm against the thin, wet fabric.

He growls, tightening his grip around your throat and jerking you up to him, forcing you to meet his threatening gaze.

His expression grows pained and he whimpers, dipping his head to meet your forehead with his own, his breath fanning across your face with every heave of his chest.

“All I can smell is how wet you are.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@suz7days @blackbirdwitch22 @truthfulliarr @lilacka

Part two

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #winter soldier x plus size reader #avengers fanfiction

898 notes · View notes

jamneuromain · 1 year

Note

Divorce with either Steve/Andy I'm feeling angsty.

Whether happy/sad ending is up to you :)

Hi bestie <3 I'm sorry it has taken more time than I thought but my drabble turns into a one-shot before I can even realize skjksjskjskjksj

hope you'll enjoy this <3

Lie, Lie, Lie

Steve Rogers x You (Mutant!Reader)

Warning: Swearing, Angst, Divorce, (also asshole-ish Avengers?)

W/C: 5.4 K

Summary: A small leak will sink a great ship. -- Benjamin Franklin

A/N: My first entry to the bingo challenge hosted by @the-slumberparty.

It starts with a minor, insignificant detail.

Just some static in the phone, really.

A snippet of sound that common people would interpret as bad signals, considering that Steve is phoning you from thousands of miles away, while you are using the landline.

For holy Mary’s sake, who the hell still uses landlines today?

Apparently, the academic conferences you attend do.

Steve notices the small static buzzing the call you are having, after which you grumble in frustration, “Stupid signals, can’t even function properly.”

He smiles, knowing that you can’t see the expression on his face. You are cute even when you are complaining.

You sigh deeply on the other end of the phone, your voice slightly distorted from the electronic, or wireless, transmission, “I miss you, Stevie. Can’t wait to come home.”

“It’ll only be two more days,” Steve reassures you with his soothing timbre, “I’ll be waiting for you at the airport, alright? First thing you’ll see after getting off that plane.”

“Okay.” You know he can hear you pouting, but you pout anyway, “Gotta have some sleep now. I’m going to the keynote tomorrow morning.”

“Take care of yourself.” Steve holding on to his phone, wincing again as the static buzzes again, but it appears only on his end, as you seem unaffected by it, “Take care of my favorite scientist and my favorite girl for me, okay?”

“I am your favorite girl. And you know I have my powers.” You try your best to stifle a large yawn, but Steve senses your tiredness right away.

“Sleep tight, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Steve blows a kiss, hoping that it would travel across oceans and lands via the phone, and reach your forehead.

“Night, Steve.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

You are about to hang up when the static tortures his ear again.

You hang up.

Static isn’t a problem for most people, who, unlike Steve, don’t have super hearing and super memory.

Steve could think that the static is a minor interference, however, static that appears during phone calls are hardly inconsistent. And if he has learned a thing or two during the time that landlines are still fairly popular – 40s, by the way – is that static doesn’t go on and off, nor does it blur on different pronunciations since static should naturally have a pattern.

Since Stark phones issued by the friendly billionaire is certainly off the question, he suspects that someone might be tapping into your landline.

Something is off. His intuition is telling him. So, he called Tony and asked for a favor.

After some analysis that Steve couldn’t fully understand, Tony presses his index finger to his lips tightly, humming to himself.

“Anything?” Steve watched as Tony chugged down the fifth cup of coffee ten minutes ago, and now Tony has been unusually quiet.

Tony spins his chair around, looking thoughtful. He waves his fountain pen in midair, pointing at his screen in general, “This isn’t some sort of prank Bruce asked you to play, is it?”

“Prank? Tony, this is my wife we’re talking about.” Steve is about to lose his patience. He crosses his arm, dead serious, “What is … this? Am I being paranoid or …”

He wouldn’t dare to think about you in actual danger and he’s sitting cozily in Avengers Compound. He could’ve been risking your precious rescue time. Or warn you, somehow.

Even knowing that you have your special powers.

Your mutant powers.

Still, there are hundreds of ways for you to be defenseless.

A collar could suppress all your powers. A shot of the new dose of Mutant Serum could make you lose your X-gene once and for all. And all those terrible things that could happen to you.

Tony scratches his goatee, his expression is puzzled, to say the least, “this static that you provided, looks like the interface Bruce and I were cooking up for a Friday-upgrade.”

“English, please, Tony.”

Tony magnifies the example of static extracted from the recording that is automatically stored on Stark servers, and pulls out a random MRI brain scan from Steve’s health exam last year, “See what I mean?”

Steve watches the two waves on the screen closely, almost stuttering from what he is summarizing, “They look … similar.”

“Exactly.” Tony throws the MRI scan off the screen and points to the static, “This? This isn’t sound. This is human thinking. Hell, thinking, I’m not even sure it’s human. And it has a purpose. The reason you are hearing the ‘static’ – I’ll name that thing later, is that it serves as a relay, that patches you through its – thinking, whatever, and directs your call to Y/N.”

“It isn’t Friday?” Steve blurts out the only AI he could think of.

“If it is Friday, the Nobel committee is handing me the award right this moment.” Tony snorts, but he turns serious as soon as he notices Steve’s worrying look, “but with this fragment, I can locate Y/N,” and with a few taps on the keyboard, a global map appears in front of them.

Tony mutters to himself, “Can’t track the relay itself, but I can … ”

Another few keystrokes and a red dot blip.

“… in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.” Tony isn’t even sure about what the blipping dot shows, “Now this can’t be right-” Tony looks back at Steve, whose eyebrows are tying up like knots, “Where did you say she’s having this academic conference?”

“Leipzig, Germany.” Steve answers without a second thought, “Quantum 2023.”

Tony looks awe-struck.

“I’m sending a team to get her.” Steve stands up from his seat abruptly, heading to the doorway, but Tony’s words make him stop.

“Quantum 2023 is next week, Steve. And it isn’t held in Leipzig.”

“But that’s impossible,” Steve turns on his heels, glaring at Tony, “She told me that she came into contact with some Professor, who invited her to this conference because she was doing so well with her panel back in January.”

“And what’s that panel?”

“CPS Quantum Computer-”

“CPSQ was never held this year.” Tony shakes his head, “The conference was cancelled because a main member of the CPSQ committee passed away last December. What else has she told you?”

“I can’t tell you.” You dare not read his face. Your gaze lands on the marble counter that you and Steve agreed on two years ago, instead of him. You lied. And you know you lied. And the fact that you know that you can tell him nothing, makes you even more scared and frightened, as you are well aware the last things Steve would tolerate are betrayal and infidelity.

Your shared home, once a sanctuary for you and the love of your life, now withering and shaken, cold and gloomy. It no longer is a safe haven for you.

“Did anyone blackmail you with anything?” Steve asks calmly.

He’s prepared for the worst things to come.

He spent the whole night with Tony trying to figure out the so-called “academic conferences” you were supposed to be a part of, and there were eight of them during the last three years.

Some calls were too old to trace, but Tony has figured out it with the recent three conferences, you weren’t doing Keynotes or presenting your results to academia, but in the same spot in the Pacific doing God knows what.

It was undocumented waters. Tony could only gather so much info that the islands in the vicinity were bought by a mysterious wealthy man who paid through his Kaymen Island account.

And you were visiting it almost every four months. Like clockwork.

There were a few heat signatures on the island, but with no visible vehicle, neither ferry nor helicopter in sight, Tony would have to guess that you would need someone who can transport you from where you were to the island.

“No.” You have no excuse. No reasons. No idea what you should say.

But you weren’t blackmailed. You went there voluntarily.

His gaze feels heavy on your shoulders. From the corner of your eyes, you can see he’s looking at you intensely. Trying to figure out whether you are still lying to him.

“Are you cheating?”

The other possible explanation he has thought of. Frightening, if an answer of certainty comes out of your mouth, but it would explain your lies. Steve curls his hand into a fist, the veins on his hand popping briefly onto his skin.

The hands that caressed your hair and your jaw, cradling your face when he leaned in to kiss you. All the gentle moves. Treating you as a soft and delicate being. Now a hard fist on the table.

He didn’t touch you on your way back to your home. Nor did he accept your hugs and kisses at the airport.

He was very disappointed.

“No.” You answer, with your head low.

How could he doubt your relationship? How could he doubt your love for him? Waiting for him to return after every battle, taking care of his wounds, having-

How could he think all of those were lies too?

“Then what are you hiding?”

Steve maintains his best manners not to crush the table under his fist into bits and pieces. He wants you to answer. Something. Tell him why he has been kept in the dark.

Anything.

You open your mouth, but no word comes out.

“I can’t tell you.” You whisper, your resolve of keeping the secret faltering under his piercing gaze. But you can’t tell him.

There’s turmoil in your stomach, wreaking havoc in your guts. You want to throw up when thinking about the truth, but cannot say it. Not with your teeth and tongue. Not with pen and paper. You cannot. You physically cannot.

Nothing remorseful or any expression similar appears on your face, as Steve observes your reaction closely.

“Please, Steve. I promise I’ll tell you, but now is not the time. It was – is an important … deed, to do.”

Steve stands up from his chair slowly.

Not even looking at you anymore, he sounds emotionless. Cold.

“I thought for a moment you were kidnapped. Tortured. Lured into a trap.”

“Steve-”

“I was this close,” he pinches his index finger and thumb together, “sending a full-blown rescue tactical team, to get you out.”

“Steve, please, just listen-”

“And are you talking, Y/N? Are you telling me what I need to hear?” He stands with his back to you, shaking with uncontrollable anger. “The truth, that’s all I want.”

“I can’t-”

“I can’t, either.” He interrupts you. For the entire time you can remember, from his cute and sweet attempts to ask you out on a date, from his chivalry of taking you out and asking you to be his wife, from the start of your happy marriage, he hasn’t once interrupted you when you were talking.

Tears roll down your eyes as you are tongue-tied, unable to utter a sound.

But Steve didn’t see those tears. If he did, he would have some idea that you are truly sorry for what you have done.

Steve stands with his back to you.

“I’ll save us the trouble and ask Tony to wipe our marriage from the system.”

Almost a shriek, your hands and feet are placed in the bottom of the ice pit, “You can’t-! I- You can’t!”

Your sobbing fills the room that was occupied by a dreadful silence. From your husband.

You would never imagine that a lie would go this far.

“Watch me.”

He can’t, not when you are-

Not when you are working on-

Not when you are trying to-

He can’t.

Realization dawns on you that even if you did tell him one thing that you can say to make him stay, he would consider it a lie.

Or an effort you make, trying to be bound to him.

That your trust is broken forever.

With that realization hitting you, he leaves the room.

Five years later, somewhere near Hawaii.

“This is really nice, what you got over here,” Tony comments in honesty, taking a step back to observe the rippling portal gate, “How long has it been put into use?”

Jean, the woman with flaming red hair and a scarf around her shoulders, has an impeccable smile on her face, leading the way as Natasha and Steve boarded the small vehicle up ahead, “Four. We used to transport to and from all over the world with the help of mutants who can create a portal. But as larger machines and construction materials were needed on Krakoa, the very land that you are standing on, our top scientists decided to benefit us all by inventing an instant portal device- Devices, should I say.”

As there are three large portals, each the size of a house, standing next to each other on the founding stones.

“Why are we even here?” Steve murmurs to Natasha, sounding confused, “I thought bargaining was Tony’s specialty…?”

“Smile, Rogers.” Natasha murmurs back, her eyes scanning the tropical island for any anomaly, “It’s a diplomatic event, not a business one.”

“Like a photo Op?”

“Like a peace offering.” Nat lowers her voice as she notices a mutant with bright green hair start the engine of their car, and take the position as their driver, “Krakoa now has the most efficient cancer eradication solution, and if we all behave and act like adults, the world would accept the possibility of the first mutant country. The UN is considering whether to add Krakoa as a new member country as we speak.”

“And if we blew it, WW3?”

“Worse. We will be hanged before we could say ‘assemble’.” Natasha sits straighter when Tony and Jean, the woman with red hair approaches the vehicle, and asks with a louder voice, “Would you mind telling us about the three-day trip planned on Krakoa?”

“Certainly.” With a look from Jean, the green-hair starts the car and drives away from the beach, heading towards a road that leads to the Krakoa city center. “We don’t have anything planned for this evening, so Lorna – our temporary driver - and I will show you around this place in general and escort you to your residence, where you will have dinner with our high council tonight. Tomorrow you’ll visit our university facilities and our most advanced laboratory, with our head scientist Hank. If you would like to visit any place else, feel free to tell us and we’ll try our best to satisfy your demands…”

Their residence is a small building near the city square. After a brief tour of the area, Jean tells them that normally they wouldn’t expect many visitors, so the building, though more well-equipped than most hotels, only resides the three of them, plus Jean for now.

Natasha strides across the room as Tony takes voice notes on his phone.

“… Their technology is at least two decades, if not three, more advanced than our top scientist.” With that as a summary, Tony stuffs his phone in his pocket.

And the room is filled with deafening silence.

“Do you think they cleared this place out when they are expecting us?” Steve sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at Tony and Natasha.

“They are afraid of us, as we are afraid of them.” Natasha says slowly. Not really answering Steve’s question, but hinting at the opinion that she has in mind. Her striding comes to a halt, “The looks we had on our way here? Not all friendly.”

“Too bad we don’t have a mutant as a middleman.” Tony clicks his tongue, moving around his jaw like he has a toothache.

“Tony-” Starts Natasha warningly.

They all know one mutant who helped around in the Avengers a few years ago. They know one mutant was exceptionally close to Steve. Hell, they were even there to witness the wedding of-

“I’m gonna go get some air.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a long exhale, before walking out of the room.

Of Steve and you.

You were not a powerful mutant. But you would be helpful, under a circumstance like this.

But Steve divorced you a few years back.

No one knows why. No one knows any information regarding the terrible divorce that made Steve leave you, leave the States for months.

Except that you were “missing” from time to time.

Natasha sits on the other armchair in the room, looking closely at Tony, and his greying beard. She chooses her words very carefully, “Was she…” Were you cheating back then? On Steve?

Tony shakes his head, “He never told me.”

“But is it possible that…”

“I wanted to believe the other way.” Tony nibbling at his bottom lip. In the end, he looks back at Natasha, the former Russian spy, “But the incident right after she left…”

A breach that erased all of your data, along with the data of three staff within the Avengers Compound, happened a few months after you left the Compound and disappeared. Not only the records of your information, but also calls and texts, almost every trace of your presence was erased completely from both Avengers Compound and the government system as well.

The three staff later identified as mutants. They fled from the compound on the same day of the incident.

No one knew where you were. No CCTV or surveillance camera has recorded your prescence ever since.

It's a shame to admit, but no one bothered to look either.

After all, there were no demands or ransoms asked. And they were too busy saving the world to care for such trivia.

Nothing else was missing.

A few printed photos that Steve kept in his office survived. Printed photos of you and him together. That he had kept in the bottom of his drawer ever since your divorce.

A week later, Krakoa was established, announcing itself as a country and providing shelters for all mutants.

Steve suspected that the two events might be connected somehow, but Krakoa banned anyone who isn’t a mutant from entering the territory and has been moving on the map ever since, refusing any prying eyes.

Steve wanders into the patch of green a few hundred inches away from the hotel, heading towards the beach.

He was painfully reminded of you.

Of your happy times together.

And the determination you showed when you refused to tell him about your affair.

Yes, your affair. Even though you denied it. Steve believes that you were lying to him. About your location, about your everything.

About your lover.

“… come on down little monkey!” A familiar voice ghosting his ears.

A little girl screams at the top of her lungs, before giggling and sitting at the far end of a branch on a tree a few meters away, “But it’s out of power-Hi, Uncle Hank!”

The girl has blonde curly hair, bouncing as she jumps on the thin branch that could snap at any second. Steve is about to sprint to rescue when he hears you.

Your familiar voice.

“Come on, Mommy will catch you.” You clap your hand, your back facing Steve, who is hiding in the bushes. Your arms stretched wide open, urging the little girl to come down.

Urging your daughter to come down from the tree? From a branch seven feet in the air? How are you even encouraging the little girl while she could break her neck is unfathomable to Steve. This is stupid. Reckless. Irresponsible. A total -

“Come on, little monkey.” You clap your hand again, “It won’t be half as fun if I have to come up and get you.”

“Sorry, Y/N, I didn’t know that the rocket boots will die so soon,” begins a man on your side, apologizing. A thin man with glasses in his 40s. “The battery is supposed to last five hours when I put them on- Oh.”

“Yes.” Steve hears your grumpiness, “Batteries. Hank. My expertise.”

Steve knows your expertise.

Although you studied quantum physics and its application, your interest in Physics derived from your ability to absorb power and power transformation. However, you were not particularly interested in fighting bad guys, that’s why you weren’t on missions as often as he thought you would.

Batteries. You would absorb electricity from it in an instant, even when you are not intentionally doing so.

“Exhibiting her abilities so soon?” Hank gasps in disbelief, raising his head to look at your daughter jumping on that twig, “Normally it would be until their teen years.”

You chuckle, “Missing out on the latest Bio lab, aren’t you? They just published a paper about how mutant parents would cause a higher rate of mutant children, and as a result, their abilities tend to show earlier. Even so,” you kick the sand under your feet, your voice less exciting, “Hers is showing earlier than I did.”

“You showed your ability when you were five, right?”

“Two months till five. But yeah, pretty early. She made the light in our room flick on and off, starting from a month ago.” You make one last attempt at your daughter, who is having her fun with those thick rocket boots on her feet, “Be a sweetheart and come down, alright? Mommy is getting tired and we haven’t had dinner yet.” You plead softly.

“Alright, Mommy.” The little girl answers.

As Steve watches from afar, worrying sick that your daughter would fall from the tree, she spreads her arms and falls from the tree. But like a piece of paper, descending slowly into your arms.

Absorbing gravity to cancel it out. One of your typical moves too. Steve thinks bitterly. No doubt the little girl is your daughter.

Hank offers something as you three walk further from Steve and the bush he’s hiding. Steve didn’t quite catch what he said, but he hears you reply with a certain “Yes”.

Your voice trails away, “But it’ll be fine. Won’t we, little monkey?”

The little girl giggles again.

“Do you want Daddy back, Mommy?” Your daughter Maddie asks abruptly as you take out the storybook before bed.

“I-” It would be a lie, to say that you do not want Steve. But years have gone by and you’ve built your life around Maddie and Krakoa. While you were desperate, wanting him back when you found yourself pregnant with Maddie, the night when he left your house, you knew that the only reason Steve would stick around, which is knowing that you are pregnant. Despite the responsibility he would be burdened with, he would also doubt whether he’s raising some other people’s child, since he already suspects that you were cheating, and your life would be miserable with his indifference.

You remember your panicking and fearing his leave.

Thinking that he can’t leave you, not when you are pregnant, not when you are working on a home and a shelter for your future children, trying to create a safe haven for you and your family.

But he left.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” You tuck a strand of her blonde curls behind her ears, gazing into her beautiful cerulean eyes, “I hurt your father really bad when I made the big mistake that we talked about. And he hurt me too. Not that he wanted to, but he left me alone in this world.” You kiss her short chubby hand, placing her hand on your cheek, “We won’t be happy ever again. Because I lied to him. And he will always remember it.”

“Oh.” Maddie sounds disappointed, scrunching her little face together, “But Daddy knows you are doing the right thing, right? Building Kra-Kra-Krakoa and our home?”

She tried a few times to pronounce the word “Krakoa”, making you smile.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” You explain to her with more patience than you can ever imagine, “I have never seen your father ever since.”

“He should!” Your daughter curls herself up into a ball in your arms, nuzzling your soft pyjamas, “He should be proud of you. And what you did. You help build the island, Mommy. Daddy should know. And he will forget your lying.”

Kids. Always thinking everything in the world is so simple. A small grin creeps up your lips.

But in your heart, the bitterness swirls into a dark pit.

Everyone else understood. Other mutants who had a family, who told their partners they will be gone for a while, who lied to their partners that they were needed for a job.

Their partners did. Their partners understood the cruelty of separation and the pain that those mutants cannot utter a word about their whereabouts, or the details of the job. The worst you’ve heard of, aside from yourself as an example, was a huge fight between Lorna and her boyfriend, but in the end, she forgave him after a week, having enough trust for both of them to continue their relationship and got married two years ago.

But no. Not Steve.

Steve, who quickly jumped to the conclusion that there was no need to continue this marriage.

Steve, after leaving word of divorcing you, left. To some shit-eating place in South Africa, for two whole months.

Two months. Two months of prying eyes and prodding questions from the Avengers, which you knew they were being kind and helpful, but you couldn’t stay there. Not when it brought pain and scars to your chest every time you’d see some possession that belonged to him, and cry your eyes out, nearly losing Maddie as a result. Not when they were also suspecting that you cheated on Steve and scolding you lightly, telling you to “speak to Steve and ask for his forgiveness”.

They were his family. Not really yours.

Yours is here.

You kiss her forehead, tucking her in, “I sure hope so. Good night, sweetheart.”

Your smile fades as your mind drifts to the human delegation that is alleged to arrive today.

You asked to be kept out of the loop and out of the trails that the delegation is visiting. You even confirmed with Hank today that you would take these three days off from the lab.

You blocked all relevant information regarding those visitors.

You were raised by this mutant family, by mutants such as Jean and Hank and befriended them, and you had your heart broken in the human world. You don’t want anywhere near humans ever again.

“These are some state-of-the-art devices. I have to say, I’m very impressed.” Tony tilts his head to the side, reading the metrics recorded on the screen in the up-state Bio lab, “This is not quite my expertise though, the project you are operating here.”

Hank magnifies the part Tony is observing onto the huge screen behind them, “We are trying to incorporate human thoughts into robots, but in a wireless form. With a thought-” Hank, the man in glasses, places two stickers onto his head, and a robotic arm on the far end of the lab begins writing “Welcome”, stopping dead when it comes to “O”. Hank shrugs, not even bothered by the failure of the demonstration, “We have a talented specialist that helps with coding, but there are always some interferences with the transmission.”

Natasha clears her throat to gain their attention, “I’m also very impressed with the construction of the island as a whole. A construction this large should take … what, five years and a couple hundred workers?”

“Two and a half, to be precise.” Hank gestures for them to move forward onto the Physics lab, peeling the stickers off his temple, “About three dozen mutants involved. It would be sooner if it weren’t…” As if he suddenly was reminded of something, Hank let out a short “Ah”, and a brief pause, “if it weren’t some … unintentional held-up with one of our finest mutants.” His eyes land on sulking Steve, only for a few seconds.

Hank said it with a proud smile on his face. It didn’t take Steve forever to recognize the man from the beach last night, who gave your daughter, very irresponsibly, Steve might add, rocket boots.

Your daughter’s father is very irresponsible too. Not even showing up when your daughter is in danger. He thinks, clenching his jaw, praying for strength that he would punch that guy in the face if he ever meets him.

Natasha and Tony exchange a glance behind Hank, failing to notice Steve and his stern expressions.

“But it must have been a huge effort, even with three dozen, to keep them silent?” Natasha jokes light-heartedly, “There’s hardly any secret in the Avengers Compound without the full staff knowing it in three days.”

Hank nods politely, holding the door for them to come through, “Well, yes. But as you are well aware, a few of our best mutants are telepathic, meaning they could plant a gag order in our heads,” Hank taps his temple with his knuckle, “We couldn’t speak to anyone else about Krakoa for three years until it’s established. Our mind forbade us to speak of it because of the gag order.”

“Masochists, and they are proud of it,” Natasha whispers to Tony in a rush.

“It is troubling. Misunderstandings and arguments have aroused based on the gag order and its implementation.” Hank walks them through the long hallway from one building to another, “But we agreed it’s for the best at that moment.”

Tony makes a face that isn’t as obvious, but Steve and Natasha could tell that’s his disapproving face.

As Hank opens another door for them, the first thing they see is a little girl playing with her toy car on a tall chair. She slides the car down from a colorful track, and the track would deliver the toy car back to her hands.

“Maddison!” Hank rushes to her side, looking up and down to see whether the girl got hurt, “What are you doing here?”

“Mommy needs to pick up something.” Maddie points at you, cheering, “Look! Mommy Mommy!” She drops her toy car to the ground, and jumps off the tall chair, running to you and hugging your thigh.

Steve stops breathing. Seeing you, well and alive in front of him, with your daughter, in a rosy-pink dress that you bought while dating him a few years back.

You look … the same.

“Get behind me, Maddie.” You tug the little girl on her arm, to have her shielded fully behind your legs. An undetectable shakiness in your voice.

Maddie peeks from behind you. She doesn’t understand where this tension is coming from, but she understands one thing: “Mommy, is that Daddy?” She raises her head and asks.

You hate to lie to your daughter. But you are not going to let her be exposed to Natasha and Tony, and most importantly, Steve.

“Christ. It’s Y/N.” Tony mutters.

“Mommy, he looks exactly like the photo you showed me.” Maddie asks in confusion, pointing towards Steve, “He looks exactly like Daddy?”

“Maddison, not now.” It takes all your willpower not to push them all out of the lab at once, “Hank, would you mind?” You glance icily at Hank, urging him to solve the problem at hand.

“Yes, of course.” Hank starts to head the other way, “I’m sorry, but we’re behind schedule. If you would come with me-”

“No one is coming anywhere until we deal with this,” Tony announces, one hand already on his wristwatch, which you know contains a small plasma canon if he activates it.

“Is she…?” Steve knows the answer to his question before he asks. The hair and the eyes are similar to his, and the nose and lips resemble yours-

“Boys,” Natasha raises her voice, “Let’s be civil, shall we?”

“How old is she?” Steve feels a lump down his throat, “is she-”

“Civil?” You let out a dry laugh, the exact opposite of amused, “Tony Fucking Stark is ready to attack when he pulls out that wristwatch. And Natasha, long time no see, the same goes for your widow bites too. Yeah, I saw the glowing blue under your sleeves. You are trying to take my child away from me in a heartbeat and call yourself civil?”

“Tony, Nat.” Steve speaks.

Two words that bring the two of them away from their weapons.

You pick Maddie up from the ground, having your back to the Avengers, protecting your daughter from their grasp, “Let’s go, Maddie. I am apparently not welcomed here.”

“Y/N!” Steve calls to your back, “Y/N, please!”

Natasha is tempted to step forward and ask you to stay and talk this out, being blocked by Hank.

“I assume it is best that you stay right where you are,” Hank says politely, though his thin body has no intention of moving.

Maddie hugs your neck, laying her head on your shoulders. Her blue eyes focusing on Steve while you walk away.

Find my The Slumber Party Present Bingo Challenge here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america angst #writing challenge #the slumber party writing challenge

706 notes · View notes

kittenofdoomage · 11 months

Text

In case you missed it...

I'm currently posting a fic a day over on Ao3 for my Tropetober A-Z event on Patreon last year. It's a different character every day from different fandoms, mostly smutty (you know me). All red underlined links lead to AO3, please read the warnings on individual stories 😘

The fics:

A: Alpha/Beta/Omega - Winter Nights

(Geralt Of Rivia x fem!reader) You’re an Omega who lives at Kaer Morhen, unmated but belonging, almost like a pack Omega to the Alpha Witchers; Geralt, Coen, Lambert and Vesemir, though the elder Witcher is long past any need for you. Geralt is close to rut when he returns, and seeks you out.

B: Bodyswap - Worth The Wait

(John Winchester x fem!reader) Some supernatural beings don’t want to hurt anyone, they just want to prove a point.

C: Character Death - The One Good Thing

(Negan x fem!reader) You waited so long to have him back, and he’s waited so long to get back to you, now you can be happy again… right?

D: Dark fic - On Our Terms

(Geralt Of Rivia x fem!reader) A sorcerer out for revenge leaves you in a dangerous position, and you’re not sure you’re going to make it out of this one.

E: Enemies To Lovers - Trapped

(Bucky Barnes x fem!reader) An incident on a mission leaves you and Bucky trapped in a vault. Being sealed in a relatively small space is a problem on its own, but you’re faced with another dilemma; you absolutely hate Bucky Barnes.

F: Fake Dating - Keeping Up Appearances

(John Winchester x fem!reader) You haven’t heard from John in three months, after he abandoned you, but now he needs your help on a case. Are you willing to ignore your feelings to help him?

G: Glad To Be Alive - All Is Not Lost

(Negan x fem!reader) A sequel to "The One Good Thing" which was letter C of Tropetober.

H: High School Sweethearts - Bittersweet

(Steve Rogers x fem!reader) In any time or place, she'd love him.

I: I Don't Want To Ruin Our Friendship - Mistakes

(Bucky Barnes x fem!reader) She took a chance and it broke her heart - can Bucky fix the mistake he made?

J: Just Friends - Nightcap

(John Winchester x fem!reader) She’s sick of correcting everyone, and alcohol loosens the tongue.

K: Kiss Of Life - Near Miss

(Geralt Of Rivia x fem!reader) Geralt saves your life, then reminds you to never nearly die again.

L: Love Potion - A Wee Favor

(Dean Winchester x fem!reader x Sam Winchester) Dreams can come true.

M: Mates - Crossed Paths

(Alpha!Geralt Of Rivia x Omega!fem!reader) Destiny put them in each other's way for a reason.

N: New Old Flame - Always Yes

(John Winchester x fem!reader) They came so close to something special, only to have it torn away; is there any hope left for them now?

O: One True Love - Backseat Lover

(Dean Winchester x fem!reader) He's been keeping a secret from her, and when they're stranded alone for hours, he finally has to come clean.

P: Please Don't Leave Me - Vigil

(Bucky Barnes x fem!reader) He's halfway through a mission when something he can't fight happens.

Q: Queen Size Bed - Never Have I Ever

(John Winchester x fem!reader x Dean Winchester) Drinking can lead to all sorts of decisions, luckily, these are good ones.

R: Roommates - Sleepless

(Bucky Barnes x fem!reader) Turns out, the solution to the problem was there all along.

S: Soulmates - Runaway

(Geralt Of Rivia x fem!reader) You run away from the life your parents want for you, and finally find your soulmate in the most unlikely of places.

T: Time Travel - Time Breaks All Things

(John Winchester x fem!reader) - A misstep on a case puts them somewhere they didn't expect to be, and they're not sure if there's a way home again.

U: Unresolved Sexual Tension - Seize The Sam

(Sam Winchester x fem!reader) Dean "Matchmaker" Winchester strikes again.

V: Virgin - Life Lessons

(Geralt Of Rivia x fem!reader) The night that Geralt learned his most valuable life lessons…

W: Werewolf - The Wolf Moon

(Henry Cavill x fem!reader) A night of camping leads her right into the arms of fate.

X: Xenafication - Rough

(Geralt Of Rivia x fem!reader) Something changes you, and Geralt isn't sure it's a good thing.

Y: You Can't Fight Fate - Ships In The Night

(Dean Winchester x fem!reader) She keeps running to avoid heartbreak but she's breaking all the same.

Z: Zombies - Full

(Negan Smith x fem!reader) She knows she shouldn't, but the problem is, she wants to, real bad.

If you do check any of the fics out, please let me know what you think 😊

#tropetober #fanfiction #ao3 links

186 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

Text

Silver Lining 12

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

Part of the Silverfox AU

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

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

You leave your things in the guestroom, feeling less than homey in the unexpectedly cozy space. You stop at the top of the stairs and listen below. You hear a door and feel cold air seep in. Bucky grunts and you hear a loud clack as he mutters.

As you descend, the noise comes clearer. You approach the wide doorway to the front room and peer inside. He kneels in front of the fireplace, setting split logs inside as he bends forward, reaching back to rub his lower back.

He takes a flyer from the pile by his knee and shreds it into strips, stuffing it under the tent of wood as kindling. He takes the long barbeque lighter and lights and end of the newsprint and leans forward to blow the flame to life.

You observe him, rapt by his diligent work. You're not very good at those things. Not much of a camper or anything like that.

Finally, the wood begins to crackle and he sits back on his heel. He stacks the leftover wood against the wall and gathers up the newspaper. He places it on top and tilts his head up to stretch his neck.

He groans as he turns, starting as he sees you standing in the door. You clear your throat and sidle through.

"Sorry, I... d-didn't w-want to get i-in the way," you murmur.

"So, how do you feel about sandwiches?" He asks without a beat, "about the only thing I got that doesn't need the stove."

"Y-yeah, that's fine," you shrug and head back to the window, finding comfort in the peaceful fall of snow.

"Ham or turkey?" He asks.

"T-turkey, sure," you say over your shoulder, "I c-can help."

You turn to peek over your shoulder. He shakes his head, "I think I can handle it." He hesitates, "you don't think I'm tryna poison ya, do you?"

You blink and give a look. You know he's joking but it's a bit dark. You try to laugh but it's more a croak.

"Kidding," he says tenuously.

"I kn-know," you reply, "sor-ry, just... still a l-little antsy."

"Ah," he nods, "I'll... be right back."

You face the window again as he strides into the kitchen. Well, this is awkward. You rub your neck as you stare out at the night, bright with the pure snow. The noise of cutlery and plates fills the silence.

You close your eyes, trying to clear your mind. At least in this weather, you know his friend won't be coming back. Mr. Rogers... the last person you ever wanted to see again. You can barely even think about him.

You'll have to tell Lisa. She'll help you figure this out. She doesn't know everything but she knows he's dangerous.

You shudder and hug yourself. You don't feel good about it, even if he is gone. He knows you know Bucky, you could run into him again. You really don't think this is going to work out. He's ruined another job for you.

"Here ya go," Bucky interrupts your spiralling dread.

You flinch and turn to him as he crosses the room. You accept the plate and look at the tall can in his other hand. He offers it along with the sandwich.

"It's craft," he explains, "I got a bunch and it's just me so... I figured after today, you could use it."

"Oh, uh, th-thanks," you take the tall can as well, "I'll t-try it."

You sit down in the armchair and place the plate on the low coffee table. You take one of the coasters and lay it down. You pop the tab of the beer and sip as Bucky disappears back into the kitchen.

When he returns, you're setting down the can. It's alright, not really your favourite. You don't really drink and when you do, you don't go for beer.

"Th-thanks," you say as he sits one the couch, a can of his own in hand as he balances his plate in his lap.

"Yeah, don't sweat it. Bit of an unexpected twist to the night but better than getting lost out there in the snow," he comments.

"I g-guess," you say before nibbling on the crust.

"So... why'd you run off so quickly?"

"I..." you shake your head and swallow. You don't know what to say. He must think you're dramatic.

"You didn't like my friend," he says, "you're shy or something?"

You keep your eyes down and take another bite. You don't want to think about it anymore. It's as if you can feel Mr. Rogers, his hand on the back of your neck, his desk under your cheek--

"Sorry, I ov-ov-over-re-re-acted," you sputter, "I w-wa-was-wasn't expect-ting h-him."

"Me either."

You focus on eating. Letting him linger in silence. You reach for the beer and slurp.

"You're worked up again."

"S-st-stop," you say quietly, "I-I-I'm f-fine."

"Don't sound fine."

"I h-h-have a st-stutter," you exclaim, "y-you don't n-need to ke-ke-keep remin-ding me."

"I wasn't meaning..." he huffs and juts his jaw out, "I'm trying to ask you if you're okay?"

"I s-said so," you snap. You close your eyes and hang your head.

"Sorry," he apologises, again. Somehow, it doesn't help. "And I'm sorry you have to put up with an asshole like me."

"I d-d-didn't say th-that," you open your eyes and put what's left of the sandwich on the plate.

"I must be if you're trying so hard to get away from me," he sniffs, "I'm used to it. I know I can be blunt but... I thought we were working well together.”

You frown and entwine your fingers in your lap. Your heart is hammering. You could tell him right then who his friend is. Why you wanted to run. You could do it but you're embarrassed and scared and after all, you never did tell him no. You let it happen.

Your eyes tinge and your nostrils flair. You gulp thickly, "I--I-- I'm wh-what you s-s-said. A dis-dis-disappointment to ev-everyone."

"That isn't..."

"D-don't ask me w-w-why," you turn your face away as your eyes gleam, "ask him."

"Him? What?"

You cover your mouth. Why did you say that? Stop talking.

"N-nothing."

"You know him?" He asks.

"N-n-no," you grab the plate and bring it into your lap, "n-no. I--I'll h-help w-with the re-re-recording, o-okay?"

"How...?"

"Stop!" You squeeze the bread until you mush out a glop of mayo. You look down at the plate and drop the sandwich. "I s-s-said I'd do i-it. O-okay?! J-just--"

--like you told him. Just like did whatever he told you to. Just like he did whatever he wanted to you.

"Fine, alright," he raises his hands defensively, "god, you know, I'm trying to be nice and you just can't accept it."

Your lip trembles. You can't do it. You're fighting so hard and he just can't stop. You said you'd do the stupid show. You just want to change the subject.

"I... what did I do?" He's quiet.

You look at him as a tear slips out, "i-it's me," you say creakily, "I'm u-u-useless."

You stand and put the plate down next to the beer. You don't wait for an answer. He calls your name as you rush away, eyes bleary as you stagger to the stairs and grip the railing as you barrel up them. You shut yourself in the guestroom and sit against the inside of the door.

You're so stupid. Get over it! It's over so why don't you just grow up like everyone keeps telling you?

#Bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #drabble #series #au #avengers #mcu #marvel #captain america #winter soldier #silver lining #silverfox au

98 notes · View notes

whencyclopedia · 18 days

Photo

Chepstow Castle

Chepstow Castle, located in Monmouthshire, South Wales, was first built c. 1067 by William FitzOsbern and then significantly improved c. 1190 CE by Sir William Marshal (c. 1146-1219 CE), one of England's greatest ever knights who served four kings and acted as regent for Henry III of England (r. 1216-1272 CE). Chepstow Castle then became the home of a succession of rich and powerful medieval and Tudor nobles. Despite its innovative design, and the expense of its formidable defensive features - or perhaps because of them, the castle was never attacked in the medieval period. Chepstow is today a fine example of 11-13th-century CE castle architecture and boasts the oldest castle doors in Europe.

Early History

Chepstow Castle was first built from around 1067 CE by Earl William FitzOsbern, an ally of William the Conqueror (r. 1066-1087 CE). As with any medieval castle, the location was an important consideration for the castle's future defence and its strategic value. Accordingly, Chepstow Castle was built at one of the gateways to Wales on a limestone cliff overlooking the River Wye. The dramatic curve here in that river gave the castle its Welsh name - Striguil, meaning 'the bend'. Domesday Book (1086-7 CE) records Chepstow Castle as an asset (one of only two castles to be so categorised) because its owner could outweigh the heavy costs of its upkeep by charging a toll on crossing river traffic.

The Norman castle was one of the first to be built in stone, and it is also unusual for not being located near an urban centre. The solid rock base made the castle impregnable to undermining, and its high walls and towers made any attack by siege engines next to impossible. It is perhaps no surprise then that the castle was never attacked in the Middle Ages but it was largely intended as a fortified base from which to attack southern Wales rather than a point of defensive retreat.

The first version of the main rectangular stone castle keep (donjon) was built c. 1072 CE, one of the earliest to be built in England and Wales. The tower cleverly saved costs by having a thinner wall on the river side, and it had the main entrance on the first floor, a typical defensive feature of the period. Another cost-saving device was to reuse locally-found old Roman bricks and tiles in the lower courses, a reminder that the border region between England and Wales had a long history of conflict. Either side of the tower two enclosed courtyards or baileys (aka wards) were built. After FitzOsbern's son Roger de Breteuil participated in a rebellion against William the Conqueror, the Crown took possession of the castle. Sometime before 1119 CE Henry I of England (r. 1100-1135 CE) then gave Chepstow to a loyal follower, one Walter de Clare. Walter's nephew Gilbert Fitz Gilbert de Clare so impressed King Stephen of England (r. 1135-1154 CE) with his martial qualities that he was made, in 1138 CE, the Earl of Pembroke and the castle became thereafter attached to that title.

#History #1189-1199CE #13thcenturyCE #Britain #WHE #[#]

34 notes · View notes

agent-cupcake · 8 months

Text

Flashbang

Chapter 2 - Le premier bonheur du jour

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: What happened while you were blackout drunk? What is your actual job on the crew? Why is there a lion on this pirate ship? These questions and more are left unanswered as you stumble your way through your first day on Captain Buggy's crew.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse

Word Count: 6.8k

“The first delight of the day Is a ribbon of sunlight It's the fresh breath of the sea And it’s the beach that awaits The first sorrow of the day Is the door that closes shut But soon after you come back And my life resumes its course."

Waking up, all you knew was that you were cold. Freezing, really, shivering so hard that you felt your bones tremble. It was because you weren’t dressed properly. You never slept in your underwear. You forced your bleary eye open and looked off the side of the bed, spotting your bag haphazardly abandoned alongside your boots and bandana. Bracing yourself for the chilly air, you pulled the blanket along like a cape to grab your bag, quickly retreating. Even that small movement left your head spinning painfully, a headache pounding twice into your skull, once at the base and again at the left temple. At least all of your clothes were clean, even if they had been mushed into a wrinkled ball. Moving as fast as possible you put on leggings and a sweater, tugging your fingers through your hair before pulling the bandana over your eye. After that, you huddled back under the blanket, staring at nothing and waiting for the shivers to stop.

Between the headache and the cold, the only thing you wanted was to go back to sleep. That was the best way to deal with pain, or chills, or hunger, or whatever else you felt. If you were asleep, those things became automatic, you didn’t have to deal with them.

You were halfway under when somebody knocked.

At first, you hoped it was in your head. A dream. They knocked again, louder, calling your name. That was the thing to wake up the part of your mind that had been sleeping so soundly, that made you realize how wrong the situation was.

Slowly, you sat up, looking around. You had slept in a bed that did not belong to you, wearing nothing except your underwear, in a room you had never seen before. The bed itself was set into the wall and hung with thick, velvety curtains. Windows lined the far wall, but they were covered enough to let in only the barest amount of light with more curtains and a familiar Jolly Roger, one with a red clown nose. After you recognized that, everything else fit into place. The desk littered with shiny clutter, the red and white theming, the odd mixture of grunge and opulence. You were on a ship.

The person knocked again. Growing nervous, you threw off the blankets and pulled on your boots, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You had to cross through an anteroom to get to the door. It exchanged a desk and bed for couches, but was fundamentally the same. The air was cold. You opened enough so you could peer through the crack. Crina stood there, looking impatient.

“So you are alive,” she said, giving you a once over with smokey dark eyes. “Barely.”

You opened the door a little further, blinking against the light. “What time is it?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

“Nearly noon. Some ships were spotted so we had to leave earlier than expected, I’m surprised you slept through it all.”

You blinked, trying to make sense of what she was saying. Everything was blurry, bleary, a puzzle with a picture so worn you couldn’t make sense of it.

“Did you have fun last night?” Crina asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I… I guess…” you said, confused. You remembered the drinking, and talking, and laughing, but the specifics were lost in a blurry whirl. “What time is it?”

Crina rolled her eyes. “Okay, come on. You shouldn’t be in there.” She didn’t wait to see if you complied before turning around. You followed, stumbling a bit before getting your balance and shutting the door behind you. “Those were the captain’s quarters, and these are the officer’s rooms,” she said as you passed a few more doors.

“That was Captain Buggy’s room?” you asked, your brain chugging to play catch up. The headache was awful.

She shot you a frown over her shoulder. “You don’t remember?”

“No.”

She shook her head, although you couldn’t see her expression. “We’re going down to the officer’s mess. Careful on the ladder.”

She turned from the narrow hall to an equally narrow drop of steps, easily descending. Dizzy and a little sick, you didn’t match her grace, but you managed to avoid falling.

With your recollection of the ships you had been on when you were young, you expected the officer’s mess to be fitted with elegant yet utilitarian finishings. Modest, but not so much that it forgot civilization. And, in another life, perhaps it had been. Now it was a pirate vessel, and they did what pirates always did. Various props lined the walls, batons and boxes and fabric and wheels and all kinds of other things. Red and white striped banners hung across support beams as if to mimic a big top tent. Signs of age and destruction were everywhere, indication of the tumultuous seizure, but it had once been a fine vessel. Crina didn’t pause to let you gawk, indifferent to the decor as she led you to another narrow hall and turned. You got an odd sense of deja vu there, pausing.

“Are we going to the infirmary?” you asked, steadying yourself against the wall.

“Yes,” Crina said as she unlocked the door. “You’ve sailed before?”

“When I was young,” you said. “My dad was-” You cut yourself off there, realizing that the end of that statement wasn’t something you should reveal. Marines were the enemies of pirates. It wouldn’t look very good if you suddenly revealed that you were the daughter of a Marine Captain, retired or not. “That was a long time ago.”

“I see,” she responded impassively, opening the door for you.

The smell hit you hard, like a brick to the face. Scent formed a sort of endless memory, one so ingrained into your mind that you didn’t know exactly where it came from, that you couldn’t remember independently but never forgot. Your body locked up, arrested by the familiarity. Perhaps it was what every ship infirmary smelled of, even masked with the sweet aroma of incense and smoke.

“What are you doing?” Crina asked.

You shook your head quickly, holding your breath as you hurried in. It wasn’t like it was actually the same. The room looked far more like a place of mysticism than medicine, with a rainbow of glass bottles lining the far wall, herbs hanging to dry, and scarfs draped to hide the stark wall. It wasn’t even slightly the same. Slowly, you released your held breath. It was fine.

“Sit,” Crina told you, shutting the door and immediately busying herself at the sideboard. You sat down on the table-like bed set into the wall, your shoulders and head immediately drooping. The surface was hard, meant for surgery rather than sleeping, but you didn’t care. With the weight of your head, you would have happily drooped down onto the floor. “Have you ever been drunk before last night?”

“No.”

“How do you feel?”

“Tired,” you answered. “My head really hurts.”

“Of course it does, you’re dehydrated,” she said, pouring water into a tin cup. The sound alone perked you up, made your parched tongue that much more dry. She added a spoon of powder before turning and offering it to you.

“Thank you,” you said, taking the cup. You intended to take it slow, but the second you got a taste of water, you couldn’t stop until it was gone.

“That’s two times,” Crina said when you were done and wiping your lips. “Two times that I could have poisoned you.”

You frowned, looking down at the cup and back up at her. “That was medicine, wasn’t it? Like before.”

“It’s already in your body, it doesn’t matter if you know what it was.”

You averted your gaze, flushing. “I’m sorry.”

Crina didn’t respond to that, approaching you instead. “How’s the bump on your head?”

“It’s fine,” you said reflexively. It hurt, of course. It would hurt for a while.

“May I check?” Crina asked. You hesitated, but eventually nodded, turning to give her access. The second she prodded the sore spot, you yelped, tears springing into your eye. “Ice will help with the pain and swelling.” She paused, smoothing your hair back into place. “Did you and Buggy have sex last night?”

“What?” you asked, whirling around. The quick movement did not help your sore head, sending little sparks of pain down your spine, your left temple thumping in protest.

“You slept in his bed after a night alone on the ship, it’s not an unreasonable question. Everybody will assume, but I’m asking you. Did you and Buggy have sex.”

“No!” you said, blushing furiously. “No. Captain Buggy wouldn’t… I can’t… There’s no way.”

“Earlier, you didn’t even know it was his bed. Could something have happened and you don’t remember?” Crina asked, her tone softening. You stared at her, stricken, your heart racing with sheer panic. “I’ll ask you another question—Is there any chance that you could get pregnant?”

“No,” you said, rubbing your face to hide the blush, feeling a little sick. Surely you would remember if something happened between the two of you. You didn’t even remember how you got into his bed. What you remembered was the warmth, and the saccharine sweet desire, and… Nothing. “He wouldn’t… do that. I wouldn’t.”

“I’m not here to judge you,” Crina said. “And I don’t want to embarass you. Do you remember when I warned you about consequences? This is one. Sex is fine, but if you get pregnant, you either get rid of it, or he gets rid of you. It’s better to avoid pregnancy in the first place—safer too. I can help you with that.”

She let that hang in the small room, waiting for your response. You had none, unable to so much as look at her. The thought of having sex was enough to make you wish the world itself would open up and swallow you whole. More than that, it was absurd to think that any man, let alone Captain Buggy, would bother with a one-eyed midget. It was disgusting to even entertain the notion. You were disgusting.

Eventually, Crina sighed. “When you need contraception, tell me. You have to look after yourself, god knows that no man will. But that’s all I’ll say on the subject. Do you want more water?”

You opened your eye. She held out the jug like it was a peace offering, which you accepted after a moment. There was no added powder this time. You wouldn’t have cared anyway, you emptied nearly half the cup before your sloshing stomach uneasily warned you to stop.

“Those bruises on your wrists are impressive,” Crina said. “May I take a look at them?”

You winced, fixing your sleeve to cover the discoloring and wrapping your hands around the cup to keep them from shaking. “They’re fine.”

“They look painful,” Crina said, leaning against the sideboard with her arms crossed, fixing you with a stare you didn’t like. It hadn’t been a question, but her silence made you want to answer.

“I’m fine,” you insisted. She still said nothing, just looking at you. It made you squirm uncomfortably, the table creaking. “I was sick a lot when I was little,” you explained. “I’m better now, but I still bruise easily and… It’s fine, my dad says it’s normal.” He said it was expected for a child, especially a girl, to be a little more breakable. You were weak. Frail. That was why you got hurt so often, got hurt by things that shouldn’t have hurt you.

“He says that it’s normal for you to have bruises? Did he tell you that broken bones and fat lips are normal too?”

“No… No, that was all my fault,” you said. “Because I’m not careful, I don’t ever think about how weak I am—because I was sick.”

“What kind of sickness was it?” Crina asked.

You shook your head quickly. “I-I don’t know.”

“What were your symptoms?”

“I was… sick.”

“Dizziness, headaches, fatigue, chills, anything like that?”

“I don't… Maybe. Some of those are because of the accident too.” You touched your bandana, tugging it down to ensure it was covering as much of the scar as possible.

“So you still have symptoms?”

“That’s not what I meant,” you told her, flustered by the relentless questions. “I’m fine.”

“Why did that man, Randall, claim you were mentally unwell?”

“I’m not,” you said, shaking your head, searching for the right answer, the one that she wanted. “He only thinks that because my dad… My dad worries about me. After everything that happened, he worries a lot.”

“Is that why you ran away?”

You shook your head, staring down at your lap. Crying now was embarrassing, you focused your entire self on fighting the sting of tears in your eye. Trying to cover it up, you adjusted the bandana again, desperately forcing your thoughts onto something, anything else.

“If it were up to me, I would not have medically cleared you to be here,” Crina said. “Asking you to perform any physical labor is out of the question, and you’re frail. It is more than likely that you’ll suffer severe injury by the end of the year.”

“I’m not weak anymore,” you said through clenched teeth, soft enough that she couldn’t hear that you were crying. “I’m okay, really. I’ll get stronger.”

“You can’t fix stunted development,” Crina told you. “But it’s not up to me. I’ll do what I can to help you as long as the captain insists upon keeping you around.”

Your shoulders heaved with a dry, pathetic sob.

“Finish that water and we’ll go to the galley to see about getting something to eat,” Crina told you. “Cry now, if you need to. After that, you’re going to have to be someone else’s problem for a while.”

Crina’s medicine and some food had helped you feel better. The headache remained, a stinging, painful reminder of the past night, but you ignored that as you emerged onto the main deck. Sunlight blinded you and the wind whipped your hair into an unruly mess, the oppressively humid salty ocean air staggeringly familiar. Not all memories were bad. Really, some were good. Since your dad was a surgeon, he was allowed to bring you along to help. Fetching things, bringing meals, cleaning up, running messages, helping tend to the wounded. Back then, you were his sweet little girl.

You shook your head clear of those thoughts, squinting through the sunlight to look around. You were looking for Cabaji, Captain Buggy’s Chief of Staff. A man with green striped dark hair and a blue checkered scarf and, according to her, a sour expression. From the description, you would have thought he’d stand out, but it seemed like Buggy’s entire crew could be described with equally colorful traits. Most of them were busy with some task or another. Those who noticed you watched with expressions ranging from unimpressed to hostile. To your great relief, you didn’t see the blunt-featured Ivo anywhere.

Assuming you would find the man by the quarter deck, you headed in that direction, trying very hard to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Strangely, your unassuming sweater and leggings made you the odd one out instead of helping you blend in. Eyes made your skin crawl as you passed. Did they all think you had slept with the captain? Crina’s words bothered you. They bothered you a lot. But if the two of you had done something, there would be evidence. More than just a missing dress.

Hesitating at the steps, knowing it wouldn’t be appropriate to approach the quarter deck without invitation, you stalled out. People were still looking at you, likely wondering what you were doing. You didn’t know either. There, caught in a cycle of anxious uncertainty, someone passed right by you. At first, it didn’t register, but then you blinked and turned. Dark hair, checkered scarf.

You rushed to follow him, relieved.

“Excuse me,” you called. Nothing, although the deck was terribly noisy. You had to rush to keep up. “Excuse me, sir?”

Nothing. He was walking so fast too, with a grace and balance you couldn’t hope to match.

“Excuse me!” you called, reaching out to touch his arm. Your hand missed the first time, catching air. The second attempt connected, and that finally got a reaction, albeit a slightly violent one. You pulled back, narrowly avoiding his elbow. He turned around, searching at eye level before looking down at you. “You’re Cabaji?” you asked.

“I am,” he said.

“Um… I’m-”

“I know who you are,” he said, cutting you off. “We met last night when you were boarding the ship.”

“Really?” you asked, taken aback. The entire previous day was blurry. Except where it wasn’t, but you couldn’t think about that. “I’m sorry I don’t… remember.”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you need?”

“I was hoping to talk to you. If you’re not busy, sir.”

“I am,” he said, clearly irritated.

“Oh. Right. Is there anything I can help you with, sir?” you asked. “I’m not busy.”

Cabaji looked at you critically. “Do you know where the kitchen is?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go down and pick up Captain Buggy’s lunch then wait for me on the bridge. I have to take care of something first. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded, eager to have something to do. “I’ll be quick.”

“Just don’t mess it up.”

With that, he turned and stalked away.

Having a task reinvigorated you. You probably drew just as many eyes, but now it didn’t matter as much. How many times had you been tasked to serve meals when you sailed with your dad? Countless. It was something you could do, a way you could contribute.

Descending back down into the dark belly of the beast, you had to be careful. Last time you were on a ship, you had both eyes. Although you had gotten used to it in so many ways, you had even been able to scale the southside buildings, the sea required a different type of balance.

“Back for more?” The cook asked when he saw you, his round cheeks ruddy from working in such a small, hot space. “I haven’t got any scraps, you’ll have to beg somewhere else.”

“Cabaji asked me to pick up Captain Buggy’s lunch,” you told him, unsure if you should be offended by the comment.

He looked you up and down, his mouth twisting. It was the same look Cabaji had given you, even similar to the way Buggy had sized you up. Nobody lingered on your bandana like the people in town, far more concerned with your size. “If you drop it,” he told you, grabbing a silver tray to put into your hands, “I’ll be frying up your skinny rump instead.”

“I won’t, I promise,” you said.

“When the captain’s done, you bring that back to me. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Better hurry then.”

With a final awkward nod, you made your way back up, extra careful with the tray. It was already getting easier to find your balance. You didn’t care if anybody was watching you as you crossed the main deck, all of your attention on not dropping the tray. If you messed up your first task as a part of Buggy’s crew, you’d be better off tossing yourself into the water.

Unfortunately, Cabaji wasn’t on the quarter deck. The door into what you assumed would be the navigation and office was closed, but that was probably where Buggy would be dining.

Standing there quickly became awkward, the sun piercingly bright and the tray getting heavier and heavier. You looked around for Cabaji a final time before going into the map room. It was empty, but on the other side of the sliding doors, you heard voices. Cautiously, you circled the large center table, intending to knock. The map, however, drew your attention. You knew it. You had seen it before. Your town was a burgeoning center of trade traffic, and so new routes needed to be mapped for merchant vessels to facilitate that growth. As a retired Marine, dad was always willing to help out with that sort of thing. He was well connected. Respected.

One of the pirates had stolen the map right out of your own home.

Before you could figure out how to feel about that, the door into the captain’s office slid open. You jumped, nearly dropping the tray as you turned around. A man with a white fur vest stopped at the threshold, his eyes immediately narrowing.

“Who are you?” he asked, his tone unnervingly accusatory.

“I… Um…”

“Well, well, would you look at that,” Buggy called. You looked around the man to see Captain Buggy at the other side of the office, sitting behind a big desk with his feet up on its top. “She’s standing and everything, I’m impressed. After how wasted you got last night, I thought you’d be out for the whole day.”

“I brought your lunch, sir,” you said faintly, not knowing what else to say.

“It’s about time,” Buggy said. “I’m starving. Bring that over here.” You entered his office, nervously skirting around the man who was still glaring at you.

Just as you set the tray on Buggy’s desk, avoiding meeting his eye, the other door opened. You looked over your shoulder to see a very displeased Cabaji come in.

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy,” Cabaji said as he crossed the map room. “I told her to wait for me out there.”

“Don’t worry about it, I was meaning to get you two in here anyway. Mohji, Cabaji, this is my new cabin boy—er, girl. Woman?” Buggy looked at you inquisitively. “How old are you?” He shrugged it off just as quickly, taking the top off of the tray. “Whatever. I had one, but that didn’t work out. An artist of my caliber doesn’t need a spineless yes-man to run my errands, I need a protégé that I can mold into something really special. I knew you were just the girl from the minute I saw you… Wait, no… No, I knew it from the moment you said that you would happily serve me for the rest of your life.” He grinned, cutting off a chunk of meat. “Yeah, that was it.”

You shuffled awkwardly, trying very hard to avoid looking at any of the men. It was true, but when he said it like that, it took on a far different tone. They had to be drawing the worst conclusions.

“So, you two,” Buggy continued, talking at Cabaji and Mohji through a mouthful of food, “make it clear to everyone that she’s a part of the crew. I don’t want to hear shit about special treatment or whatever. Except for, you know, if anybody messes with her I’ll feed ‘em to the lion. Maybe that’ll perk him up, eh Mohji?”

“Yes, sir,” Mohji said.

“Great,” Buggy said. “Cabaji, you can take the afternoon to show her the ropes. Make sure she’s up to snuff.”

“What about crew inspection?” Cabaji asked.

“I’ll be here to help Captain Buggy with that. Your presence isn’t necessary,” Mohji said, looking at Cabaji with what you thought was a hint of animosity.

“I don’t need either of you to judge talent, that’s my business,” Buggy said irritably.

Neither man responded to that, but Buggy’s annoyance dissipated quickly.

“One last thing. Be careful with her,” Buggy said with a wink, his mood shifting yet again. “Don’t get fooled by the whole one-eyed innocent thing, she’s a real freak.”

“Understood,” Cabaji said, deadpan.

“Great. Now get out of here. She starts tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” Cabaji said, grabbing your elbow and pushing you in front of him so he could basically herd you out of the room, past the uncomfortably familiar map, and back into the sunlight.

He shut the door and pulled you to the side, shooting it a wary glance before looking back at you. “Next time,” he said, “do what I tell you. I don’t care about whatever relationship you think you have with Captain Buggy, you will follow the orders that are given to you.” The implied or else was obvious from his intense stare. Part of you wondered what the or else would be, although the other part didn’t want to know.

“I understand,” you said, bowing your head. “I’m sorry, sir. And I don’t… Captain Buggy and I don’t have any kind of relationship. Last night, we didn’t do… Didn’t do anything. I swear.”

“That’s not my business,” Cabaji said.

“I really mean it,” you muttered, although you could tell he didn’t believe you, and you thought about what Crina said, and waking up in your underwear, and you felt sick in a way that had nothing to do with a hangover.

“We should get started,” Cabaji said, ignoring your weak objection. You swallowed hard and nodded. You had a job now, you needed to focus on that.

The first thing you learned about being a pirate was that you had next to no idea what you were doing. There were hundreds of things you needed to learn simply about living on the ship before you could begin learning your job, whatever that entailed. The biggest problem was how quickly you wore out. Cabaji was accustomed to being on a ship and athletic, you were neither. Having such a bad headache didn’t help. As the afternoon passed, Crina’s medicine wore off. If it were only the one hammering your temple, you could handle it, but the lump on the back of your head pulsed with every heartbeat, sending fresh sparks of pain down your spine every time you moved your head.

Like a wind-up doll slowly running down, you fell behind. It was only a matter of time before you collapsed, his voice fading out and the world blackening on the edges. You didn’t do something as dramatic as fall, but you distantly felt your legs fold beneath you, too rubbery to support you anymore.

“What are you doing?” Cabaji asked, stopping.

“‘m fine,” you said automatically, your voice faint. “Sorry. I’m fine. I just need a second.”

“Are you sick?”

“No, jus’ dizzy,” you said, trying to get your bearings.

Cabaji knelt in front of you, tilting your head up with a hand beneath your chin. Your eye spun, his face blurring.

“Let’s take a break,” he said, dropping your chin and standing up.

You might have protested, but the truth was that you very badly needed a break. It was embarrassing, but it would be worse to pass out. So you accepted Cabaji’s help getting your feet, the world blackening on the edges. Fortunately, the officer’s mess wasn’t a long walk, and you gratefully dropped into one of the chairs. Cabaji sat opposite you, his dark gaze unwavering. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, but his stoic intensity made you squirm.

“I’m really sorry, sir,” you said. “This won’t happen again, I promise.”

“It’s alright,” Cabaji told you. “There are things we should discuss. About your role on this ship, and about your duty to the captain.”

That made you bristle, but you forced yourself to relax. He was your senior officer, this conversation was necessary. “Okay.”

“Captain Buggy is a very unique man. He demands a lot of his crew, especially those who serve him directly. As his Chief of Staff, it is my responsibility to ensure you’re able to meet those demands. Your failure would reflect very poorly on me.”

“I won’t fail,” you told him sincerely, if a little defensively. “I promise. I-I know what a cabin boy does. I’ve sailed before, sir.”

Cabaji leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his dark eyes narrowing at you like you were stupid. “Were you listening to what he said? Captain Buggy didn’t hire you to be his gopher or attendant. He gave you an official job to acknowledge you as a member of the crew so the others don’t mess with you, that’s it.”

“Oh, um,” you said slowly, frowning, “maybe I misunderstood. I’m sorry, sir.”

“We all know why you’re actually here,” Cabaji told you. “I’ll teach you how to perform basic duties, but your only concern is serving Captain Buggy. You will provide him with whatever he wants—will do anything he asks of you. You do not tell him no, or question his judgment.”

There was an implication bubbling beneath his directions that made you skin crawl, thinking again of what Crina said before, but you forced yourself to ignore it. Cabaji said earlier that it wasn’t his business, and it wasn’t.

“I understand, sir,” you told him instead. “I really do.”

Cabaji’s demeanor softened slightly, his head tilting to the side. “No, you don’t. I’ve known people like you. Children who grew up on the streets, or malnourished ship slaves. Small. Frail. Weak.” He spoke bluntly, though without malice. “Add in your lack of skill and experience, and you’ve got no idea what you’re in for.” He sighed, leaning back. “I’ll do what I can to help you. As I said, your failure would inevitably become mine as well.”

“I won’t fail,” you muttered softly, staring at your knees, your headache hammering at the back of your skull, down your spine.

He shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

When you thought about being on a ship, it was with the experience you had on Marine vessels. Strict order, stricter schedules, and militant discipline. What you didn’t think about was exiting the hatch from the lower deck to see a circle of pirates loosely gathered around a nearly empty spot in the middle of the deck. Nearly empty, except for a lone man beneath a makeshift spotlight. Music crackled out of a speaker, providing him a beat to follow for his routine. It looked like a dance, although not one you had ever seen.

“What’s going on?” you asked Cabaji as he came up behind you.

“Crew inspection,” he told you. “These are the new recruits.”

You watched the man for a moment before your eyes strayed past the spotlight. Captain Buggy wasn’t hard to find. He leaned against the railing with crossed arms, his dark silhouette cutting through the sunset. Although his scowl was only barely visible, tense displeasure underscored every aspect of his posture.

Following the flourishing swell in the music, the pirate ran from one corner of the emptied area, using his momentum to do a flip. To you, it was one of the most impressive things you had ever seen, but he landed wrong. A sharp intake of breath rippled over the gathered crew as he stumbled, unable to save it and falling down onto one knee.

“Stop,” Buggy said, pushing away from the railing, waving his hand to stop the music. “Just stop. I’ve seen more than enough.”

The pirate got to his feet, his head bowed in deference as Buggy approached him.

“Was that a joke?” Buggy asked. The man didn’t respond. Without the music, a very loud hush had settled over the entire deck, even the flapping sails and creaking wood quieting down in the face of Buggy’s temper. “You’re all in on it, right? Because if you performed like this in front of an audience, the only thing they would do is laugh.”

The pirate muttered something you couldn’t hear. Buggy leaned in with wide eyes to listen.

“You’re hungry?” he repeated. The man spoke again and Buggy nodded sympathetically, his anger suddenly gone. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I had no idea that you were hungry.” He grabbed the man by the shoulder, smiling. “You shoulda said something sooner.”

Without any warning, he struck the man in the stomach, using the grip on his shoulder to push him to the side.

“How about some food for thought,” Buggy said, raising his voice as he strolled into the center of the impromptu stage. “I hired you, all of you, because I need talent worthy of my show. That’s what you signed up for. So where is that talent? All I’ve seen today is shit so bad it’s stinking up the deck. I oughta let every single one of you good for nothing nobodies starve until you can give me something—anything—that I can work with.”

Everybody in the circle shuffled uncomfortably, most of them bowing their heads rather than meet Buggy’s eyes as he looked at each one in turn.

“We’re done here, go get some grub,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “We’ll try this again after you’ve had time to reflect on your failure.” With that, Buggy stalked out of the circle towards the quarter deck.

“Go get the captain’s supper,” Cabaji told you. “Bring it to his office.”

“Oh, um. Yes, sir,” you said, nodding.

Cabaji left to follow the captain, and you joined the flow of people going down. It was a solemn group, full of stormy expressions and whispered dissent. You felt a bit of that yourself. Captain Buggy seemed amused by your lack of talent last night, but would that hold? You didn’t have any unique skills, and especially not anything even approaching as impressive as the acrobat from earlier. The only answer that came to mind was Crina and Cabaji’s sickening assumptions. But if that was true, Buggy would have said something.

It had to be more simple than any of that. He wanted somebody who would be loyal, obedient, and could perform the boring quality of life tasks that captains were too busy for. You just had to prove that you really were the best person for that role.

Food was already being served to crew members who were not among the new recruits, taken from the kitchen to the mess by other younger pirates. Nobody paid you any mind while you nervously hovered, unsure if you were meant to wait in line or not. You didn’t want to keep Buggy waiting, but you didn’t want to cut in front of anybody and draw attention to yourself. Your indecision was ended by the ruddy-faced cook recognizing you from earlier, giving you the captain’s tray without any further comment. Your skin crawled with the weight of the eyes that tracked you, watching you quickly take the tray and hurry out of the kitchen.

Working against the flow of people was more difficult than following it, and you had to stop twice to catch your breath, the dizziness from earlier returning.

The main deck had returned to something like normalcy when you returned. The spotlight had been exchanged for lanterns and crew members had returned to their duties. By now the sun had fallen very low, casting the ship in a smoky haze of near dark. You crossed the deck with your head down, watching your feet to make sure you didn’t trip on anything.

There were no lights in the map room, just an illuminated line between the doors into Buggy’s office. As you got closer, you could hear Cabaji’s low, calm voice. You had taken too long, and you were a little winded, and Buggy was already unhappy, and part of you wanted to stay in the dark until you could calm your breathing and think of a good reason for making him wait. Instead, you knocked.

“Come in,” Buggy called, and you opened the door, blinking as you entered his well-lit office. “Took you long enough.”

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy,” you said, hurrying to his desk to set down the tray.

You half expected him to berate you, but he only rolled his eyes, looking back to Cabaji. “You were saying?”

“Once we seize another ship, we can remain in that area. Those waters are thick with smaller supply vessels and that-”

“Boring,” Buggy said, cutting him off with a loud enough voice to make you wince as you pulled the lid off the tray. “All of this. It’s all completely uninspired. I’m not gonna drum up any buzz by doing the same tired act as everybody else. People don’t give a shit about small fry supply vessels and shithole villages in the middle of nowhere. You know what makes people pay attention? Giving them something they’ve never seen before. Artistic vision—does anybody else on the ship understand that?”

Cabaji didn’t say anything. What was there to say? You knew the flint-like look in Buggy’s eyes, in the tone of his raised voice. Any response could be the steel to start a fire. You didn’t dare draw any attention to yourself, trying to remain as small as possible in the tense silence. A silence that was broken by the door opening loudly. Mohji walked in without knocking, a leatherbound book under his arm. He seemed to realize that he was interrupting something too late, nervously looking from Cabaji to Buggy.

“I’m sorry to-”

“Did you get what I asked?” Buggy cut in brusquely, his mood shifting yet again to business.

“Of course, Captain Buggy,” Mohji said. You took that as your cue to leave, passing Mohji with your head down to catch the door from fully closing.

When you raised your eye to watch where you were going in the dark map room, a pair of eyes reflected back at you. It took a second for your brain to process that what you were seeing was real, but then you yelped in fear, stumbling back into the office and landing hard on your butt.

“What was that?” Buggy asked from the other side of the room, amused.

“There’s… something in there,” you said, scrambling to get to your feet. “An animal.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Buggy said, nonplussed. “Why’d you let him in there? Everything’s gonna smell like wet dog.”

“Richie doesn’t stink,” Mohji said. Realizing how his clipped tone might come across, he lowered his head respectfully. “Captain.”

“That was a dog?” you asked.

“A lion,” Mohji corrected.

“A lion?” you repeated, your voice thin.

“He won’t hurt you,” Mohji said dismissively.

You nodded as though you understood. Even Cabaji looked more exasperated than concerned. They made it seem like it was no big deal, like lions weren’t terrifying wild animals that you would never want to meet without a set of bars between you. Even if circuses generally had animal acts, allowing one of them to wander around freely couldn’t have been safe.

“Don’t look so scared,” Buggy said. “Not even Richie would bother trying to eat you. Not nearly enough meat.”

That was obviously your prompt to leave. Between the embarrassment of staying out of fear and getting eaten by a lion, you decided that the second was at least more dignified. Still, you could feel the cold sweat on the back of your neck when you slipped out of his office and into the dark room. Hidden in shadow, the only thing you could really make out about the creature was its size. How could it even live on the ship?

Slowly, you circled the table opposite where Richie laid, keeping your eye on him to ensure he didn’t move. You were nearly to the door when you heard the lion growl. Jumping in fear, you stumbled the last few steps to wrench the door open with shaking hands, practically slamming it shut out of terror that the beast would follow.

Several seconds of silence from within convinced you that you were safe, scurrying away with only a few backwards glances to ensure you weren’t being followed.

When you reached the bottom of the steps on the main deck, you stopped to breathe. Maybe from wearing yourself out physically, and definitely from being afraid, your head ached with an agonizing pulse, as if the pain were generating a heartbeat of its own. All at once, an overwhelming sense of alienation froze you inside. You were surrounded by strangers, stuck on an unfamiliar ship, there was a lion on the loose, and your only tether to a life you weren’t physically cut out for was a man you barely knew. And the day wasn’t even over.

The wave of exhaustion that rolled over you at the thought of all you had left to do was almost enough to knock you over.

Squeezing your eye shut and rubbing your temple, you forced all of those thoughts away. It didn’t matter if nothing made sense, or if you were making a mistake, or that you were afraid, or that you were in pain. Those things never mattered, not when you had things to do. During all those dark months after the accident, that’s what dad said. Submitting yourself to service was the best way to deal with unwanted feelings, to express your grief in a way that could benefit others, and therefore be a salve to your wounded heart.

All that mattered now was proving your own worth to Captain Buggy through service. You could do that.

#opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #opla x reader #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #my writing #flashbang

94 notes · View notes

trashytoastboi · 5 months

Text

☠️Shanks Masterlist☠️

☠️ Headcanons: Shanks, Ace, Katakuri x Royal! Reader – Working as their bodyguard

☠️ Headcanons: Shanks, Mihawk x S/O Who cannot fight or handle weapons

☠️ Fluff Alphabet: Ace, Shanks – C, F, N

☠️ Fluff Alphabet: Shanks – O, Y, Z

☠️ Headcanons: Zoro, Ace, Law, Shanks - Reacting to their S/O baking a cake for them

☠️ Headcanons: Shanks, Benn x F! S/O who is easily drained around the crew

☠️ Headcanons: Shanks, Benn, Mihawk x S/O Who tends to isolate themselves when they feel they’re becoming a burden

☠️ Headcanons: Luffy, Robin, Shanks x S/O - Discovering their S/O is a sea dragon

☠️ Scenario: Pre-Yonkou! Shanks falling in love with F! Singer

☠️ Scenario: Soul Mate AU! Shanks accidentally discovering his soul mate

☠️ Headcanons: Modern AU! Shanks, Benn, Mihawk

☠️ Headcanons: Bodyguard AU! Ace, Law, Shanks

☠️ Headcanons – Stripper AU! Doflamingo, Shanks, Katakuri with F! Reader

☠️ Scenario: Roommate AU! Shanks x F! Roommate

☠️ Scenario: ABO AU! x Soul Mate AU! Alpha! Shanks with F! Omega Soul Mate.

☠️ Headcanons: Shanks trying to win over his F! Crewmate

☠️ Headcanons: Shanks and Yassop friendship - Benn and S/O reactions

☠️ Headcanons: Yandere! Shanks with F! Reader.

☠️ Headcanons: Shanks, Rayleigh, Whitebeard, Kid – Falling in love at first sight with F! Admiral and how they try for her attention

☠️ Short scenario: Shanks, Smoker - reacting to their Male! S/O putting his face between their pecs

☠️ Headcanons: Jealous! Shanks, Smoker, Killer, Whitebeard x F! Admiral

☠️ Scenario: Shanks and Mihawk with F! Crewmate – Competing for her attention

☠️ Short scenarios: Shanks #5. Can I hold your hand? ; Whitebeard #11. Making the other laugh; Katakuri #13. You are my love

☠️ Scenario: Shanks x S/O - #2. You’re comfy

☠️ Scenarios: Buggy, Kid, Shanks – Meeting the girl of their dreams, but she is a marine

☠️ Headcanons: Law, Whitebeard, Gol D. Roger, Crocodile, Shanks – Crossing paths with an extremely strong girl and them falling in love

☠️ Headcanons: Law, Whitebeard, Gol D. Roger, Crocodile, Shanks with F! S/O who is very curious and ends up in dangerous situations

☠️ Short Scenario: Shanks #8. Jealousy

☠️ Headcanons: Shanks, Zoro, Kid x Shy! Curious! S/O

☠️ Scenario: Shanks x Male! Straw-Hat! Reader – A Flirtatious Encounter

☠️ Short Scenarios: Sanji, Shanks, Whitebeard – Trying to get {Name’s} attention in the middle of a fight in a flirtatious way.

☠️ Headcanons: Sanji, Sabo, Shanks reacting to Crush! Reader who is super wary about sleeping around other people, but is fine around them.

☠️ NSFW Scenario: ABO AU! Alpha! Shanks x F! Omega! – #13. Knotting

☠️ Headcanons: Whitebeard, Shanks, Oden x Marine! S/O - Leaving the marines to be with them

☠️ Headcanons: Kid, Law, Shanks, Luffy x S/O - Walking in on their partner “confessing” to their vice captain

☠️ Headcanons: Shanks x F! S/O – Being an analyst of Geopolitics for the Revolutionary Army

☠️ Headcanons: S/O smacks Shanks, Ace and Kid’s butt.

☠️ NSFW Headcanons: Kid, Crocodile, Sanji, Shanks x S/O using their safeword.

☠️ Headcanons: Platonic fluff: Shanks x Younger! Reader who sees him as a father figure.

#trashytoastboi #shanks #character masterlist #masterlist #one piece shanks #fluff #one piece #sfw #one piece imagines #one piece headcanons #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns #one piece headcanon #female reader #male reader #unholy toast #akagami no shanks #red hair shanks

90 notes · View notes

aimbutmiss · 7 months

Text

another snippet from the shuggy fic I'm writing:

“You’re doing great, Buggy.”

Rayleigh nodded proudly with a smile and crossed arms as he watched the detached hand fly back to its owner, seamlessly reconnecting to Buggy’s wrist.

“It still feels weird.”

“That’s only natural. There’s nothing normal about it.”

Neither Rayleigh nor Roger had devil fruit powers, so even if they helped with his training, neither could help Buggy to a full extent.

“It’s in your own hands to figure this out and get through it. It’s scary, I know. But if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

That’s what Roger had said, but Buggy wasn’t so sure. He didn’t feel like he had what it takes to figure this mess out on his own.

His breathing still got jagged whenever he detached any part of his body, his mind recreating the pain that should have been there but wasn’t. It worked similarly to phantom limb ache; your eyes see your hand get ripped clean off and it fills in the gap. It’s not like Buggy was actually in pain, but it felt very uncomfortable. It was getting better though, the more he used his powers. His mind was starting to catch up to his body. But that didn’t make him feel better. His own body felt alien to him. Nothing felt like it used to. He was sweating a lot more, and while Roger joked it was puberty, they both knew that was not the case. His overall body temperature felt much higher than usual. Crocus did checkups on him regularly, which showed that while he was indeed warmer, it was not to a dangerous extent. But he was still under the doctor’s careful watch, just in case.

Buggy didn’t let any of that stop his training. He put on a brave face because he didn’t want to look weak, to disappoint Roger and Rayleigh. He couldn’t let a minor inconvenience break him, not when Shanks was still training, getting stronger every day. Buggy might not have conqueror’s haki, but he could still be strong like his friend. At least he got the other boy beat in the smarts department.

Buggy could get through this.

He started sneaking out at night, when most of the crew was asleep, to find a quiet corner and practice. And while Shanks usually slept like a rock, he was weirdly susceptive to Buggy’s absence. It didn’t take long for him to realize what his friend was up to.

“Rayleigh would be angry if he caught you. You’re cutting up on your precious sleep time.”

Buggy rolled his eyes. “Sleeping one hour less is not gonna kill me. And Rayleigh can shove the worried father act up his ass.”

Shanks chuckled at the foul words. “Don’t let him hear that.”

The red head settled down on the wooden floor of the ship, making himself comfortable as if he was going to watch a show.

Buggy turned to Shanks with furrowed brows. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Watching you.”

“Why? Just leave.”

“Nope.”

Buggy felt like punching his friend to the other side of the Grand Line but managed to keep calm. He couldn’t let the boy waste his precious training time any longer. “Ugh. Fine, whatever.”

He started by detaching his fingers first, quickly pulling them back. Then he worked his way up, doing the same with his hand, his forearm, and eventually his whole arm. Then he detached them all at once. That still felt the worse. He could handle doing it one at a time, but cutting himself up too much made him nauseous. He went on to do the same with his legs, the foot first and working his way upward… Shanks, who had been weirdly silent up until then, finally spoke up:

“Have you tried detaching both feet at once?”

Buggy looked at him with wide eyes, shutting the idea down quickly. “Of course not! I’d just smack to the ground.”

Shanks rubbed his chin with curiosity. “Hm, maybe. But you can make your parts fly, can’t you?”

“…” Buggy stared at his feet in apprehension. He hated to admit it, but Red’s logic was sound. If he could make his limbs float, he could technically do the same with his whole body, right?

Shanks walked closer, holding his arms out like a safety net around him. “How about this? I’ll catch you if it doesn’t work.”

“… You better.”

“I’d never let anything happen to you.”

Buggy’s ears got red at the blunt confession. It confused him, how easy honesty came to the other. It was as if he could never feel ashamed of how he felt. Buggy would have felt envious if embarrassment didn’t overwhelm his other emotions.

“… Shut up.” He simply deflected because he didn’t know what to say. He turned his attention back to his feet and reluctantly raised one, detaching it from his foot. He stayed like that for a few seconds, not knowing how to go about this. It’s not like he’d be hurt badly, but losing your footing was not a pleasant thought. Everything in his brain screamed “Don’t do it!” but it all quieted down as Shanks’ hand sneaked its way into his, squeezing in reassurance. Buggy didn’t even realize it, but his other foot slowly detached from the ankle, skipping away from his body. He opened his squeezed-shut eyes one after the other, looking down at his lack of feet. But he wasn’t touching the ground.

He was floating.

He panicked at the sight and fell on his butt, or at least he should have but he just gently landed on it. He looked back at Shanks, who had held him from his arms to slow his fall, with grateful eyes. His feet skipped back over to him, reattaching themselves. He took the hand Shanks was offering and the boy pulled him up to his feet once again.

Shanks looked at him with wide eyes and an even wider smile, the picture of pure amazement. “Buggy, that was amazing!”

He looked away in embarrassment, unsure of how to feel of his accomplishment. “More like creepy.”

“But you can fly now! Imagine getting the hang of that… This is so cool!”

Buggy was still apprehensive about the absurdity of his powers, but he had to admit that this was pretty exciting news. He was still mourning the loss of his ability to swim, but he could fly now... sort of. Maybe it was true that you win some, and you lose some.

Still, floating felt terrifying, even when he was only a few inches off the ground. He was certain that nothing could ever fill the void the comfort of the sea had left behind.

“I think we should go back to sleep.”

“Yeah, probably. You did great today.”

Buggy smiled brightly at him. “Thanks to you.”

Shanks looked away, rubbing his nape as his face grew red. “W-well it’s what friends are for…”

Buggy slept like a baby for the first time in a long time, but Shanks kept staring at the ceiling till the first rays of sunlight filled the room.

#I was feeling generous today #eat up people #I love baby shuggy #they're like 12 here #how many posts have I made about buggy and the complicated relationship he has with his devil fruit???#a lot #because I think about it all the time #one piece #buggy the clown #shuggy #red haired shanks #buggy x shanks #shanks x buggy #buggy one piece #shanks #silvers rayleigh #my writing

113 notes · View notes

reineyday · 9 months

Text

i posted these mishanks figure skater/hockey player au doodles and @giurochedadomani and i got to talking about mihawk wearing shanks's jersey during an olympic skate and then i typed this up lol i am extremely sleep-deprived rn but im not gonna clean it up unless i write the rest of it so. we'll see. ;P uhh and i'll tag @ellii0tt too since your post started this whole thing haha. ✨️

shanks loves to look at mihawk, and while the ice dancer's face when he skated was what first drew shanks to him, it wouldnt be inaccurate to say mihawk's oft-displayed chest might have also been a large contributing factor.

it's what he's expecting to see when mihawk skates out for this gala exhibition routine: the centre of mihawk's chest surrounded by glittering sparkles or ruffled lace or gauzy stretched tight fabric, the cross he loves prominently centred where shanks used to like to bury his face at night. he was expecting the opportunity to ogle--the invitation, really, as all mihawk's solo outfits usually were invitations to look and be captured by the way his body moves on the ice.

when mihawk steps up to the rink's gate to remove his skate guards--before shanks lets himself ogle--he takes a customary look at mihawk's expression, only distantly noting for now that mihawk is clad in a more vibrant red than the figure skater generally enjoys sporting. it'a just that shanks always likes to gauge mihawk's mood right before he goes out for a routine, so he can guess at his frame of mind for after his performance. today, mihawk seems more nervous than usual, like there's a lot riding on the line. it's strange because he looks more anxious before this exhibition skate--something just for fun that the figure skaters do for the audience, totally optional--than he does when he's about to do a routine that could net him an olympic medal.

shanks doesn't really take in exactly how familiar the red is until his eyes finally trail down to do some ogling and he finds himself confronted with his own hockey team's jolly roger logo. his mouth drops open as he registers that mihawk is wearing shanks's jersey--and it is shanks's, mihawk hasn't shown his back yet but the 39 on the sleeve is prominent enough--and he's wearing it on the olympic exhibition skate night on international television, and about to do a routine in it.

shanks would ask what it means, but he already knows. there's gasping and chattering as mihawk finally skates out and does a turn to reveal the large AKAGAMI 39 on the back of the jersey. shanks covers his mouth with his hand, already feeling his eyes start to burn with tears.

goddamn mihawk and his stupid goddamn--everything! shanks was fooling himself for ever thinking he could get over him.

mihawk makes a few more circles around the rink, gratuitous for him since he usually likes to just start right away. it's like he's showing off the jersey, making sure all the cameras get a good view of the back. all that extra time to look does actually make shanks realize it's a jersey from way before, so old it doesn't have his captain's C on it, because it was from before his captaincy. shanks huffs out a laugh as he suddenly remembers a laundry day early in their relationship where he accussd mihawk of stealing his jersey and mihawk told him point-blank that it was just lost. this asshole liar. shanks still loves him so much.

mihawk finally makes his way to the centre of the rink and poses in a starting position, raising his arms and drawing attention to the way the sleeves are folded back once to reveal his lithe wrists.

the music starts.

#rei writes #rei rambles #mishanks #one piece #akataka #dracule mihawk #akagami no shanks #shanks #red haired shanks

73 notes · View notes

lokisgoodgirl · 1 year

Text

Stiff | [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: You have an unexpected pupil in the yoga studio. And he's wearing very tight pants. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smuttish. Language. (w/c 2.4k)

Bend your leg in front of your body, extending the other behind, and lean forward- You complied with the voice in your ear, fingertips crawling forwards up the soft pile beyond your yoga mat. Despite best efforts, your mind was wandering to baser things. To a certain dark-haired daydream in leather with an ass that wouldn't quit. Feel the stretch in your hips, through your glutes. Reach further. Breathe in- The shutters of your mind rolled down to the tone of the voice. And out.

And then, for no particular reason, you lifted your forehead from the mat.

“Hello, Agent” Loki mouthed silently from the doorway. He was leaning against the frame, cocky. You could tell he had emphasised the second part of his opening gambit. The Australian accented man in your ears continued to tell you to breathe. Helpful, thank you; you thought, seeing Loki’s eyes narrow. He tilted his head, curious; one shoulder resting jauntily with his arms crossed. Despite his expectant closed-lipped grin, the god looked worn. Dark curls had been smoothed back in a hurry, his leather battle-coat hanging around crossed ankles. It was dirty. With a nod of acknowledgement, you lowered your head again, pressing the skin further into the foam. Shit. You looked like shit. The big guns never came to the supplementary activities parts of the gym, away from the weights and machines – everyone knew that. Occasionally Bruce, who never made it past the first round of barre. But Loki? Never. Noting the fact your heart was pounding like you’d done twenty on the treadmill, you unfurled your spine. Out the corner of your eye, you saw him straighten. You brought the extended limb behind you back in front, crossing your legs in a basket in a move you hoped looked graceful. If Wanda could see you now, she’d wet herself with laughter. Removing one of your earphones, you rolled your shoulders. “Can I help you, Laufeyson?” Loki chuckled, clasping his hands ceremonially behind his back. “Yes, actually. Rogers said I might find you tucked away in here.” “Well...here I am” you said, the slight tremor in your voice making you wince. A quick switch of the legs bought you a few moments of feigned concentration. You focused straight ahead, preparing to lower. All you could see from the corner of your eye was the thick leather of Loki’s boots beneath his stoic form, the skin glinting. Silence was deafening. You turned your head slightly, seeing his beautiful lips parted, ready to release.

“I was hoping I could join you in this,” he gestured whimsically in your direction, “venture.”

“I didn’t think yoga was your thing,” you laughed incredulously, flinching as your hip flexors objected. He curled an errant strand behind his ear, looking down with a puff of mirth. “It’s not, truth be told,” Loki said with a wisp of darkness. He looked up with a targeted smoulder. “But Agent," he purred, "you would not believe how stiff I am beneath these leathers.”

You blinked. Is he for fucking real right now? You let your eyes track over Loki’s earnest face, waiting for the sly smirk of mockery that always accompanied his innuendos. “The mission,” he said bluntly, raising his eyebrows. All you could muster was a slow nod, pursing your lips against the shameful desire building in your yoga pants. If this is actually happening, you thought as you mapped the fan of Loki’s lashes while he inspected his nails, I will never ask for anything from god ever again. Suddenly, you frowned. “You’ll have to change. Even you would struggle to pull off these moves in leather.” “I assure you, there is nothing I can do naked that I cannot do in leather, pet” he purred with a wink. The familiar smirk began to tug at the corner of his mouth. And there it is. You rolled your eyes while Loki paced over the cream carpet, leaving huge muddy boot-prints in his wake. “But be that as it may,” he said, glancing back at the trail with mild interest, “these battle garments are rather filthy. And I know how Roger feels about filth in his gym.”

Against your better judgement, you let your eyes linger as green flames began to lick at Loki’s leather soles. It rolled upwards with aching precision, perfectly formed bare toes revealed like a portal beneath the boots.

Tight, luxurious fabric appeared above muscled knees, and then his thighs; soaring upwards. The fabric was painted to him. Every inch of seidr revealed more of Loki Laufeyson than you had ever seen before, and by god – you didn’t hate it. A simple tank top covered his chest, sleeves cutting to expose his arms. Firm. Biteable. With a self-satisfied flex of his shoulders, the magic’s edges met above his head, melting into itself while it breezed newly glossed curls. “Much better,” he smirked, while you stared mutely. The god stood as if waiting for appraisal, the pair of simple cropped yoga pants snug and low on his hips. And tight. He stretched up, bending theatrically from side to side.

Deep valleys of muscle strained at the edges of the waistband, sitting shamelessly low above his pelvis. Cum gutters, you thought intrusively, before shaking it from your mind. With growing horror, you realised that you were now irrevocably slick beneath your gym gear. Hot, and sticky. The trousers Loki wore held a silky sheen, tight to his bulging thighs that shifted like water as he stepped closer. You might have been less flustered if he’d been naked.

Don’t look at his cock, you begged. Fabric stretched and strained over the ripple of his femurs, clinging to his chiselled body in mouth-watering detail. Don’t look at his cock. He stopped several feet away, rocking on his heels while long fingers pressed the deep carving of muscle –cum gutters- leading down to his- “So tell me, Agent, where do you want me?” “Anywhere” you choked, immediately cursing yourself as you swallowed your spit. Loki chuckled, a second yoga mat unfurling on the floor beside your own from thin air. “Wonderful,” he said quietly. Taking several deep breaths, you closed your eyes. Re-centre. Act like he’s just a normal- You glanced to the side. He was staring expectantly, like you were an idiot. His proud brow, furrowed. “I require tutelage. I thought that was plain.”

Loki sat on his knees, palms resting gently on those enormous thighs concealed beneath exotic fabric. The creases of his abdominal muscles heaved gently with every tight breath beneath the vest. “Oh,” you said incredulously, brain catching up with your ears. “You’re serious.” Loki scoffed, brushing his hair back. A plain hairband appeared, holding it away from his face. “Agent, really. When have you ever known me not to be serious.” You felt the sides of your mouth twitch, mirroring his own. “Okay, this next one can be tough if you’re a beginner...and especially if you’re stiff-” Loki smirked, as you continued. “-you need to put your elbows on the floor, like this. And then widen your hips like...like this,” It may have been your imagination, but you were sure that Loki’s lingering stare weighed heavy on your ass as you spread wide. But, after a pause, your student did as he was asked. Shamefully, all you could think of as his thick forearms hit the mat was how they would look on either side of your head as he fucked you into the floor. How the veins would harden and strain, just like they were now. You swallowed, tracking the trail of his knees as he easily slid his legs apart. Down went his hips, sinking deeper. The dents of his ass clung to the sweatpants like a second skin, every ripple of solid flesh making it crease maddeningly as he shifted into position. His calf was centimetres from your own, fine hairs ghosting your skin. “Very good,” you chirped unconvincingly. “I feel a tightness, a fire...a...uhhh - Norns, it smarts,” Loki groaned, clenching and unclenching his fists against the mat. The knuckles whitened while his hips rocked back and forth. You bit your lip to halt a whine as he cursed under his breath in some unknown tongue, crotch edging closer to the floor.

“Don’t overdo it,” you heard yourself chide. “You wouldn’t want to pull anything down there.”

While he stared at the floor, you saw one side of his dimples flash. But he said nothing. There was a low sound, gentle thuds thwapping in time with his movements. His cock, you realised; eyes widening while you tried to hold it together. His cock hitting the mat. Was he not wearing underwear? He couldn’t be. Not in those pants, you smirked. “What next, in this ludicrous display of mortal contortion?” Loki huffed, the clench of his abs visible through the deep loop of a vest armhole. You needed to stop staring or you’d put your neck out. “You’re the one moaning,” you quipped, sinking lower. The mess in your panties seemed to grow hotter as your thighs widened, aching with a need to be filled. As Loki’s eyes peered over his shoulder, your lower belly collapsed in on itself like a black hole. He squinted. A warning. Careful, it said. “Bring your toes together behind you, like a frog” you said cheerfully, hoping he couldn’t smell the desperation. “Like a what?” Loki scoffed, drawing his feet together to make a triangle. It was your turn to let out a snort. “You know what a frog is, I know you do. Thor’s told that story a thousand times.” Loki was silent, but you could tell he was smiling. A wave of regret rose in your belly, suddenly realising what came next.

“Now push your hips forward in a, um, a rolling motion.” “Demonstration, teacher.” Loki commanded it, every syllable enunciated. Soldiers standing to attention. Balanced one forearm, the god tilted his chin towards you. The luxe material of his vest draped perfectly against his broad chest, dripping against the muscles. Your stomach flipped. Slowly, whoreishly, you began to push your hips forwards. And then back. And then forwards. It had never occurred to you before, how suggestive this pose was. Or perhaps it was the company. The corner of Loki’s lip curled. “Ah,” he hummed darkly, “now that, I can do.” Your eyes locked, the depths of his swirling irises disappearing behind pools of black. His cheekbones seemed sharper, every line on his face smoothed as his chest heaved. Suddenly, you pushed yourself back to sit on your heels. “You know what, let’s move on.” Loki frowned. “Just when I was about to shine, how typical.”

Feeling heat blossoming in a slow crawl up your neck, you leant back with your calves still tucked beneath you. Your forearms rested on the floor, lowering your back flat. “Try this one,” you panted, waiting for him to join.

From this angle, there was no hiding the majesty of his appearance. The angle of his jaw, sharp with taut skin pulled against that ridiculous bone structure. The curve of his shoulder muscles, the way they squeezed together beneath the shirt as he lowered on those forearms. Every ridge and pocket of his body was ferocious masculinity, wrapped in luminous skin and those damn yoga pants. “What are those made of?” you nodded casually towards the pants unfit for human consumption as he lay flat on the ground beside you. Mirthril, probably; you thought. The timing was impeccable, just as the considerable bulge of his legendary cock pressed up against the fabric. You swallowed, swearing it twitched. “The finest Asgardian workmanship, I assure you” he winked, noting the place your stare rested. You rolled your eyes. “The pants,” you said, feeling the burn in your face. Loki chuckled. “Bamboo, I think.”

Bamboo. “Okay, raise your arms above your head, and hold on to your elbows,” you muttered, taking a deep breath as the stretch consumed you. You suddenly wondered if your arousal had soaked through your gusset. Loki moaned in pleasure, naturally thrusting up into the pose. “Good,” you breathed, watching in awe as the bamboo clung against the tense bulge of his thighs. As the perfect mound of his manhood appeared in perfect clarity. The waistband pinched his hips, shirt riding up. Veins at the crease of his pelvis wound up to his obliques. Thrusting upwards, you let out a grunt, immediately pressing your lips together. You glanced to the side. Loki’s chin was tilted to the ceiling, teeth gritted. The line of his cheekbone was a dagger, hollowed down to lips parted in concentration. His eyes were shut, a slight slant of his brows making you feel light headed. You thrust upwards again. “And, lower,” you gasped. Loki’s ass hit the yoga mat with a firm thump that shook the floorboards. Instinctually, your arms raised above your head, serotonin finding its way to every synapse of your brain. The sound of Loki’s shallow breaths filled the air. Like we’ve fucked, you smiled as your fingers wandered against the carpet. Suddenly, your skin met another's. You turned your face, meeting the god’s piercing stare. He didn’t look relaxed. He looked- -horny. Wordlessly your fingertips brushed together. Just enough to tingle. The scent of warm musk from Loki’s exposed armpit filled your nostrils. Dark and deep and moreish like summer rain on last autumn's leaves. His lashes fluttered down, before he bit his lip. You smiled. And that was all he needed. In a flash, you found yourself caged beneath one arm on the mat. His fingers spread by your shoulder, the warmth of his breath shrouding you in every daydream you had ever entertained about the allusive god of mischief.

“Oh, Agent” Loki purred, nuzzling against your cheek, “you think I have not noticed you?” You opened your mouth before silently closing it again. Loki’s eyes searched yours, “I have noticed you,” he murmured. He placed a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, before his tongue slipped past parted lips.

"Longed for you," he moaned quietly into your open mouth.

Your fingers slid into the base of his neck, winding in his hair; pulling him closer with a groan of relief. Messy curls fell around your face, trapped in fingers and lips and teeth. The heat from his bare skin, the weight of him pressing down, even a little, was heaven. After what felt like aeons, he broke from you; panting. A line of saliva strung from his bottom lip, landing on your chin. “Rogers doesn’t allow filth in his gym, remember-r?” you giggled nervously, cut off by a loud gasp as Loki’s palm pressed up against your clit. You could feel the slick between your thighs seep against his fingers. The fat, rigid meat of his cock pressing into your hip. Thrusting gently. Like he couldn't help himself. “Oh, Agent” Loki chuckled, taking his time with a lingering crawl of his eyes down your strewn body and back again. “I’m not sure you and Rogers are talking about the same kind of filth.” He wet his lips.

The walls of the yoga studio pulsed in a bright green flame, before fading. “But be that as it may,” the god smouldered, as you realised with a thrill that the room had been silenced, “what Rogers doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”

Tags (cont in comments)

@meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @lotsoflokilove23 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @presidentlokis-hornyhelmet @glitchquake

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki smut #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x yn #lokismut #loki x yn smut #loki x reader smut #loki marvel #loki laufeyson smut #loki odinson x reader #loki odinson #loki x you smut #loki x you #loki laufesyon x reader

1K notes · View notes

invye · 24 days

Text

How They Met [2/3] - CoraHawk

[CoraMiShanks Fix It AU]

I think it's time I write up my thoughts about how exactly Mihawk, Shanks and Rosinante met and outline the start of what will become their relationship. And since I am pathologically incapable of writing short posts, I'll cut it into three, so I can take my time.

Mihawk & Shanks [link]

Mihawk & Rosinante/Corazón [this post]

Rosinante & Shanks [link]

- Mihawk & Rosinante/Corazón -

Technically, Mihawk meets Rosinante before he meets Corazón. It just takes until meeting Corazón for him to realise that he did indeed cross paths with then Marine Ensign Rosinante a couple years back.

For that he can 'thank' Vice Admiral Garp. The Warlord system was created about a year into the aftermath of Rogers' execution; and with nothing better to do, Garp apparently decided that Mihawk would make an excellent addition. They spent another year playing catch across the Grand Line, with way too many cannonballs lobbed at Hitsugibune way too close for comfort, until Mihawk gave in.

Really it was less giving in and more getting bored. He had fought his way through the new and coming pirates, had found himself the old and established swordsmen and beat them all. Two years and the only interesting challenge left for him was Shanks, and the Dark King Rayleigh, whenever he deigned to resurface again. It wouldn't be long until the title is his, some people already considering him the Strongest Swordsman, and with the amount of Marines he has killed along the way, he's gained quite a lot of attention. A fact that becomes annoying as the Marines sent after him are more of an insult than a threat.

So Mihawk accepts Garp's invitation to join the Warlords. His acceptance was met by Garp laughing, clapping him on the back and then turning to a blond Ensign and saying: "See Rosinante, I told your old man I'd get him!"

Mihawk didn't make a habit of remembering Marine Ensigns, but when five years later that very same Marine turns up at the Warlord meeting as a silent shadow to Doflamingo? Colour him intrigued. He knew it was worth attending the meetings for the wine and the drama alone.

Corazón is not having a good time. Two months in deep cover and he couldn't convince Doffy not to drag him everywhere and loudly announce his long lost brother returned. So now he's standing in the corner of a room with six of the Seven Warlords assembled and has to pretend he doesn't know Sengoku sitting at the other end of the table. To make matters worse Doffy is making a scene as usual and the (former? please say former--) Marine Hunter has been unblinkingly staring at him ever since they walked in.

To make it even worse, Knight of the Sea Jinbe, leans over to Mihawk, says something, receives a response and then proceeds to give Rosinante Corazón an extended quizzical look of his own. The cherry on top comes at the end of the meeting, in form of Dracule Mihawk, Marine Hunter, walking by Corazón on his way out and quietly, just for them to hear, saying: "Good luck on your assignment, Donquixote Rosinante. You will need it."

Corazón falls over his own feet with how quickly he rushes after him.

Turns out the Marine Hunter / Strongest Swordsman / (Hawkeyes?) / Dracule Mihawk a) is not at all intimidated by Rosinante's silence ability, b) remembers Rosinante from his Ensign days on Uncle Garp's ship, c) dislikes Doffy with an unexpected fervour and d) thinks Rosinante is the worst possible choice for the job. Great.

Oh and also his Observation Haki is so strong that even despite the Silence blocking out all sound, he knows Doffy is about to walk in on them having a conversation. With words. That he isn't supposed to be able to speak.

Corazón swears he has been given extensive undercover training before all this. He swears. The deep cover preparation was a whole big thing across an entire year. But how is he, an alleged mute, supposed to explain away an extended interaction with another Warlord during which he didn't write a single note??

So here he is. Kissing the Marine Hunter and praying that Hawkeyes won't kill him for it. Or blow his cover.

And for some insane reason Rosinante will never forget to thank his luck for, Hawkeyes goes with it. Kisses him back (okay, first off, wow), gives Doffy the coldest side eye that has even his insane brother take a step back, says something about Rosinante better being safe in the upcoming storm, and manages to slip him his contact information under the guise of pulling out Rosinante's sunglasses which he proceeds to put on his face for him.

Rosinante Corazón is floored.

Doffy is delighted that his brother brings a connection this powerful to the table.

The message going along with Hawkeyes' number reads: "For when you inevitably require competent assistance" in perfect cursive that Mihawk must have written before all this.

#garp recruiting mihawk to the warlords is just too funny not to use #and the perfect opportunity for mihawk's passive perception to pick up on rosinante #another entry for the greatest romantic and intimate gesture of all #kissing? nah. putting on their glasses for them? yesssssss!!#this starts the fake dating plotline of the au. it will not stay fake dating for obvious reasons xD #coramishanks fix it au #corahawk #dracule mihawk #rosinante corazon #donquixote rosinante #one piece

18 notes · View notes

xxinkys-ocsxx · 6 months

Text

First post on Tumbler! ^^

Hiya! I'm Inky! This is my introduction post, and at the time of posting, this is my first post on tumblr! but definitely not my first time on tumbler lol (I have a alt acc on my laptop)

(just a random reminder that this blog will include oc x cannon, if you don't like that stuff please be respectful ignore my blog and proshipers, ped0s, homophobes, racist, zoophiles etc, dni with me or my blog.)

I'm probably going to be posting art and POSSIBLY writing some oc x cannon/x reader fics on here because yass👏👏Anyway here's just a summary of me but as one of my ocs profiles loll

Name: Inky

Nickname: Inks

Gender: Cis female

pronouns:she/her

Species: Little sona gal

Nationality: England☕

Fandoms I'm in:

Arcane

Animal crossing

Bluey!

BEASTARS

Beetlejuice

Bendy and the ink machine

Black butler

Circus of wishes

Cuphead

casino cups

Charlie the union

Chicken nugget

Demon slayer

Deadpoll

Dark deception

Dhmis

ENA

epithet erased

EYES ARG

Fanf

Ferngully

Far fetched

F.r.i.e.n.d.s

Glitter force

Garten of ban ban

Generation loss

GURBY

Guardians of the Galaxy

Gacha

Gravity falls

Hazbin hotel

Helluva boss

Heart of Titans

Heathers

Hamilton

Heart stopper

Hotel transylvania

Harry Potter

Hilda

Indgo park

J:- none yet-

Komi can't communicate

Lackadaisy

Lamas in hats

Little nightmares

Little misfortune

Murder drones

Metal family

Mean girls

My little powny

My friendly neighbourhood

Mario

Monkey wrench

N:- none yet-

One piece

Obay me!

popee the performer

Perfect husbands

Poppy playtime

Portals

Purcy Jackson

Q: - none yet-

Royal high

Ramshackle

rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

Rise of the guardians

SpyXfamily

Spooky month

Sam and max

Sad ghost club

Skylanders

The amazing digital circus

Tokyo ghoul

Toilet bound Haiko-kun

U: - none yet-

Vampire series

Villainous

Welcome home

Who framed Roger rabbit?

Wimpy witch

X: - none yet-

Y: - none yet-

Zipped up

There are probably SOOOO meny more I just can't think of rn :/

But yeah! That's me! Expect to see lots of art, mostly oc x cannon

I'm excited to start posting, until then bye!!

40 notes · View notes

soufcakmistress · 1 year

Text

Unveil

Part IV

A/N: I know yall wanna fight me LOL I couldn’t figure this next part out to save my life. But my brain is working a little better now, and I wanted to get this out. Not me posting two fics two days in a row! Don’t get comfortable because this is out of the norm LOL stay tuned boos!

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black Reader

Snoring peacefully in the king bed of the guest house with an open window, the loud buzz of a lawnmower startled you almost to death. Erik’s baritone carried over to the guesthouse, guiding the landscaper while giving him notes. Rolling your eyes internally at the thought of Erik, you gather up the courage to roll over and pick up the burner Erik gave you. It was time to let your best friend know what’s up. Knowing her cell number by heart, your fingers tremble as you input the digits. It only rings once.

“Y/N???? Y/N? Sis is that you??” Denitra sounded like she had been waiting by the phone the whole time for a call from a number she wouldn’t even recognize. You immediately burst into tears. Everything from the past is flooding back. You and Nitra busting ass for midterms. You supporting her when she crossed and wrangling all the balloons at her probate. Y’all squealing over the gigantic engagement ring Eddie proposed to you with. The last embrace you guys ever had before you left behind all that you ever knew.

“Hi baby. I’m sorry. It’s just so good to hear your voice. I’m okay! I’m okay.”

Denitra shut her office door closed, and paced back and forth nervously. “Where are you, Y/N? Are you alone??? Do you still have money? Has he tried to still—“

You give a good belly laugh with your face still wet with tears because that’s how your best friend is. Making sure A and B equal C. “Nitra, take a breath sis. I promise I’m okay. I’m not gonna tell you where I am, so do not ask. Just know that I’m being taken care of properly.”

Nitra looked at her phone like it had three heads. “Bitch, who is taking care of you???” More belly laughs from you. Y’all chat it up for the next 30 minutes. You’re very careful about revealing any info to your best friend. If there’s anything you know about your ex fiancé, it’s that he will stop at nothing for information. Giving her plausible deniability could save Nitra from his wrath. Or push him further into mania. You had to believe in your heart of hearts she would be safe if she didn’t know anything, for your own sanity.

“Miss Y/N, I have prepared breakfast for the house in the dining room. I would love for you to join us!” Leah, Erik’s middle aged housekeeper, spoke over the intercom to make you aware. Maybe you and her could spend some time alone today.

“Yes ma’am, I’ll be there!” You finish up with your best friend, shower and cross the pool to the house. The house smells absolutely amazing— a spread was made of scrambled eggs with cheese, turkey sausage, and homemade biscuits. “Leah, this is awesome! Thank you so much!!”

Leah was definitely one of those Black women who could throw down in the kitchen and cherished when people enjoyed her food. She leaned back on the island and sipped her coffee with pride. It was only you and Leah downstairs, but you did happen to peep some luggage by the front door. Who’s leaving? Black Barbie? Or Black Ken?

Holding no qualms about your outer appearance, you dug in. You were starving, and Leah put a hurting on them biscuits. Light steps are heard coming from the upper floor and Monica appeared looking completely ethereal. “Good morning everyone!!”

It was still a bit early for her to be elongating her vowels but you greeted her accordingly. Leah didn’t speak, just peeping over her coffee mug. “I unfortunately have a day trip to Cali—Christopher John Rogers’ publicist has been incessant about me modeling their new spring collection. I’ll be back tomorrow evening though! You ladies have a splendid time!!” Monica split a biscuit in half, gave you an unexpected bear hug, and traipsed out the door.

“Thank God. I’ll at least have one person to talk to with more than half a brain cell.” Leah washed out her mug, and you snickered when she said that. It was petty. But, oh well. Leah winked at you, when Erik decided to show up.

“Ladies. Good morning.” He typed away at his phone while he made himself some coffee. Leah responded. But not you. What could you say to him now that you seen what that dick was hitting for? It’s evident he caught you looking last night and he wanted you to look….right? Not stopping to sit down at the table with you, he picked up a biscuit and headed back upstairs. From the bannister on the upper floor, Erik could look into the kitchen from above. You lost the fight not to gaze at him. Looking up, he was already staring at you before going into his office and shutting the door. Why is this man so intense…

Leah began clearing the table since you were done eating and cut her eyes at you. Something was up between you two, but she didn’t push. Erik told her everything about your situation and how you both came to meet. Leah was trustworthy and lived a lot of life before working full time with Erik. She empathized with you wholly, seeing that you were lost in the world. She was proud of Erik for doing the right thing—the boy was certain he was damned to hell. This was proof he wasn’t.

“I’ll wash if you dry.” You offered. Leah accepted happily, nice to have someone who didn’t act like she was a personal maid. You noticed that Leah didn’t say much. She was always watching though.

“Leah, what do you have planned for today?” Putting your hand on your hip, you turn to her with a smirk on your lips.

“Well, I do need to coordinate with the pool boy, wash a couple loads, vacuum the guest rooms, start on lunch—“

“Ehhhh, that can wait. Let’s go shopping. I gotta get off this property or I’m gonna go postal. Erik’s a big boy, he’ll be all right for a few hours. I’ll go tell Caleb to start the car.” You leave to let the driver know, not even allowing her to respond. Fun was majorly needed.

Meeting Leah at the front door, you pile in the expedition to head to the nearest mall. Scratching your veve tattoo on your side, your thumb scrolls through the mall directory when you get an iMessage from an unknown number.

“Going somewhere?”

Who else would it be but him? It was purposeful to leave without telling him. Erik had you twisted all the way up inside…….it wasn’t totally smart but this gave you some semblance of control back into the dynamic. Being a helpless damsel in distress wasn’t a good look on you and you didn’t want it to start now….even if you really did need all the support you could get. You weren’t gonna pass this moment of brief freedom up. “Yes I need things. And I need some fresh air.”

“This ain’t no damn vacation. Get what you need, and have Caleb return you ladies back to the property.”

Oh? He is feeling very jazzy this afternoon. You leave him on read, and hop out with Leah. She’s very patient and a very good listener. She can sense the wheels turning in your head, sorting what to do and what’s already been done.

The two of you scoured through Old Navy, Five Below, Rainbow, Bath and Body Works, Aldo, and left a whirlwind in Macy’s. Caleb fought his frustration watching you traipse from store to store. Retail therapy was a balm to your open wounds. The cares of your world fell away trying on different jeans and comfortable jumpsuits while you reconciled everything. A blessing also came in the form of companionship with Leah.

Widowed at 45, the Nashville native was blessed to have two pensions and an empty nest. She let you in on how her and Erik met and how he was like a son to her now more than anything. The two of you conversed over piping hot Japanese teriyaki in the food court surrounded by department store bags. “He reminded me of my son Travis. His father died when he was so young, and it was an uphill battle to wrangle him back from the dark side. Erik has his demons and yet he still has a code. I could never deny that boy.”

You listened intently and soaked it in. Demons huh? You figured he had access and resources being an alleged government contractor but it appears his baggage is a bit more nuanced. What had Erik seen and done? Why go out of his way to help a stranger? You had more questions than answers but were still somehow pleased with the new info.

Caleb had been staring a hole in your head for the last half hour. You put him out of his misery and he comes to gather your bags. Leah squeezed your arm and y’all headed to the car. The mean grinch awaits you both and had lashings for you for sure.

“Split up. Go. Ven allá!” Eddie directed his goons to search the town square in the sleepy little town of Randolph, Vermont. Two guys took the north end, while three guys took the south end. They questioned jewelers, shoe repairmen, butchers, ski shop owners, hotel clerks, etc. Nothing revealed any inkling of you. Eddie himself called every single roach motel in the surrounding area and nobody by the name of Y/N Nazario. He even asked if you went by your maiden name, and still nothing. “Something’s not right.”

Him and his goons reconvened at a late night diner. They couldn’t look more out of place—Cuban and Haitian American men with no sense of humor being served by lily white folks whose most lively occurrence were a cat getting stuck in a tree. “Boss, could she have been tipped off?”

Eddie ran through the scenario again and again in his mind. There should have been no time that you would have known he was coming. “Are you guys sure that she didn’t see Arturo at the train station? If she saw his fuckin face, she would have been spooked.”

Eddie’s lieutenant, Carmen insisted personally that he didn’t. Arturo wouldn’t be able to eat without a feeding tube for a while to make sure of that. “Let’s go. We need to pay a visit.”

Back at the ranch, you and Leah have situated all of your new purchases in the closet and bathroom in the guest house. No more living out of a purse. To end the night, you guys head back to the main house while Leah popped the cork on a Merlot that was to die for while some smooth jazz played on Erik’s surround sound.

He comes from his garage after playing around with a transmission for an old school Chevelle he’s been restoring, to see you two cozied up. At least you found someone to confide in. “Thelma and Louise have returned I see.” You both cackle and pour him a glass.

“Better watch your wallet!” You bust out laughing, clearly tipsy.

“Wel I’m glad you had fun but can you please let me know that you’ve left the house before you just duck off like that? We’re trying to keep you safe remember? I can’t do that if I don’t know where you are.” Erik gives the warning tenderly but with some steel as well. Leah says nothing and sips more of her wine, secretly amused at his overprotective nature. She knows he means well.

You drain your glass and go to pour another one. “Yes Dad. I’ll always check in before curfew.” Red wine always does this to you.

“Well kids, I’m going to lay down for the night. I’ll see you both bright and early for breakfast.” Leah rinsed her glass out and placed it in the sink and kissed Erik on his cheek. “Good night, son.”

“Good night, Leah.” His dimples make another appearance and your stomach does a hurdle. She squeezes your shoulder and heads upstairs. You take your glass and the whole bottle to the couch, and you feel his eyes on your back the whole time. How was this going to work?

The wine fills your mouth adding to your buzz and your eyes close as you bob your head to the jazz. You feel the couch dip as Erik sits right next to you. “I see someone ran it up today.”

“I deserve it, don’t I? With all things considered..”

His eyebrow raised and he inhaled more of the Merlot. “No complaints from me, Y/N. Just pointing out the obvious. I see you and Leah have gotten close. She’s an outstanding woman.”

“Yes she really is. So sweet and so wise. I enjoy her company. Reminds me of my mom..” Damn. How long has it been since you’ve spoken with her?

“Have you used the burner phone yet? I hope you have, I told you it can’t be traced.”

“Yes, I reached out to my best friend. She’s sworn to secrecy. Not my parents though. One word from me and Eddie would absolutely know something right away, they can’t hold water.”

Erik drained his Merlot and poured the rest of the bottle into his glass. “Well at least you know who to trust with certain information. Can I ask you a question?”

Your heart fell in your butt when he said that. Oh God. You weren’t ready to reveal that you been daydreaming about his bare body all day. “Shoot.”

“Your tattoo. It’s a Haitian veve with a Kongo cosmogram around it. Does it mean something?” Erik was fishing for info for sure. How could someone so sweet and tender as you get caught up in such an evil force as Mr. Nazario?

“We’re gonna need more wine, if we’re going to get into that.” Erik immediately got up and got another bottle of Merlot and a corkscrew and poured generously for the both of you.

Words start pouring out of you. The whirlwind of you and Eddie’s romance and how intense and handsome he was had you under a spell. It didn’t take much for him to convince you to become his queen of his empire. Erik listened intently and engaged with you. It’s no wonder why Monica is head over heels. He’s fine as fuck, incredibly sharp and got bank. But he’s holding something back.

Him and Eddie weren’t that different in that regard you found. Erik revealed very little about himself yet was able to extract information from you with ease. Too easily, for that matter. Eventually, you were all talked out, and fell asleep on the couch. Erik was comfortable himself and didn’t want to move. He pulled the throw blanket over the both of you, whispered “sweet dreams” in your ear, and dozed off himself.

TAGS:

@l-auteuse

@eclecticblkgirl

@thadelightfulone

@nickidub718

@theogbadbitch

@loveeeeandaffection

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade

@amirra88

@sheabuttahwrites

@janelledarling

@raysunshine78

@stariamrry

@fd-writes

@dessianna1

@thehomierobbstark

@thickemadame

@honeytoffee

@uzumaki-rebellion

@xo-goldengirl

@blackmissfrizzle

@killmonger-fics

@rbhp

@sheisexcellent1

@viewsfromthesips

@ljstraightnochaser

@spicynoodlezzz

@dashhoney25

@wassuduoo

@msreshel

@miyuhpapayuh

@dameshaemonique

@tchallasbabymama

@naysianaee

@alookintohersoul

@blackburnbook

@cecereads209

@themeirajay

@just-peachee

@melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx

@woahitslucyylu

@richonne4life

@xsweetdellzx

@blackpinup22

@eyeknowmywrites

@childishgambinaax

@abcdestinyyyy

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@elaindeereads

@brattyfics

@why-wait-4-eventually

@girlsneedlovingfanfics

@pipsqueak-98

@ladymac82

@ghostfacekill-monger

@id-rather-be-an-outsider

@merranerra

@kokokonako

@sourbabynaee

@4bambiray

#soufcakmistress #erik killmonger #erik killmonger smut #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #erik stevens #killmonger x reader #black panther #wakanda forever

158 notes · View notes