Part Seventeen of The Fixers is up and running, and it’s probably one of my favourite chapters to date 🤓
Just This Once. Sam/Bucky, Explicit. 15,732 words.
Bucky has enough to deal with given his feelings for Sam and his latent masochistic streak, so if everyone could stop treating him like some sort of murder sexbot, that would be great.
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Optimist - s.r.
↳ This moodboard was made by the lovely @mickey-henry, 💗 she makes the best moodboards and playlists (and has lovely fics as well) so check her out!!
Summary: all the reasons (you) why steve rogers is an optimist
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader
TW: fluff all the way, maybe some illusions to angst but not a lot
A/N: finals are finally over! I really wanted to write a short sweet thing for steve, hope you enjoy it! (my first time writing for steve, too, lemme know what you think about it!!) p.s. pick up your trash & be kind! :)
Steve Rogers had always been an optimist. How could he not?
The world in front of him was so beautiful. Every morning when the sun rose, it was an opportunity to do better, to be better.
Every day he was out trying to save the world - some days, he’d pick up trash he’d find on his early runs, other days he’d fight until his knuckles were raw and he was close to dropping down from pure exhaustion.
Saving the world was like second nature to him, it always had been. From when he was a little boy, helping his mum in the kitchen when she dropped something on the ground. From enlisting as a soldier - because sometimes war was the only way the world could be saved. Taking the serum even, was all a means to an end to save the world. It made it possible for him to be his best self and gave him the resources to handle it on a physical level as well.
Being an optimist meant seeing what needed to be done. It meant trying your best to see the light, when there was only darkness. It meant that even when he was beaten up and bloody, he could still count his lucky stars that he was alive and breathing. Being an optimist, was seeing the good in people, even when they themselves didn’t.
Being an optimist doesn’t mean it is easy.
Some days, the endless picking up of trash on his runs was a real chore. It was difficult for him to wrap his mind around the fact that people willingly trashed this beautiful green planet he called home.
On mission days, it baffled him how people wanted to destroy the world, their bombs and guns blasting holes in the ground where once luscious trees populated the world, now blood flowing over the once green acres.
It was difficult to understand that people could so easily kill one another, refusing to talk to the other side when conflicts could be solved without any physical harm.
When he saw what the war had done to all the families - families without fathers or mothers, it was difficult to remain an optimist. Kids would come up to him, ask them if their daddy had been brave or if their mother had succeeded in her mission and the only thing Steve could do is nod and choke on the words he wanted to say, instead words like they did it for the country stumbled out.
Being an optimist was hard.
But when he came home after an early morning run to see you lying in his bed, the light filtering through the curtains on your bare skin everything felt like it would be alright.
Steve would be sweaty, his hair sticking to his skin, but you’d still stretch your arms out to get a kiss, your fingers scratching his scalp as he breathed in your soft scent, his body slating over yours in a delicious comfort that could only be described as home.
Steve felt safe and happy, everything in the world was fine and your heart was beating to the drum of love that was present all throughout his life.
Everywhere he’d go, traces of you could be found. On his runs in the park, he’d spot blue irises and he’d pluck a few, just to see your bright smile when he put the vase next to the bed. Your hands would pull him in the bed, kisses pressed against every inch of his face and soft giggles filling the room and filling the small hole in his heart.
Or when he was on a mission, the picture of you he kept inside a small pocket inside his suit, right above his heart reminded him why exactly he needed to see the bright side of life. Seeing the bright side of life meant seeing and loving you. It meant seeing in the full spectrum of colours instead of muted grey scales.
When he returned home after being out of the country for three weeks, you would be right there waiting for him. Your hand would slip from his upper arm down to his wrist and hand, slowly intertwining your digits with his, noses touching when you rejoiced in being together again. The soft touches made him ache in ways he never knew he could, his heart wrenching in delicious twists as he squeezed your hand and kissed your temple. He knew you’d always be there, be his home even when he couldn’t always be yours.
Steve loved the way a little rim of foam would sit on your upper lip after you took a sip from your latte. His hand would reach out, thumb swiping across to get the little bit of foam off and every time a bubbly giggle would escape your throat as you scrunched your eyes in embarrassment. Steve would bite his lower lip as he lovingly gazed at you, before pressing a lingering kiss to your temple as he pulled you even closer to him on the seat in the little cafe around the corner.
The cafe could be filled to the brim, chatter all around you, but the bubble you and Steve created would be filled with hushed whispers and giggly laughter, thighs touching as you looked outside and tried to spot dogs in funny outfits.
The days where you and Steve would be rolling around under the sheets were his favourites though. Steve felt like he was glowing in those moments, your soft hands roaming over the expanse of his shoulders as he pressed a string of kisses against your neck.
Just as you would pick him up when he was down, pat him on the shoulder and show him that he is a good man, he’d do the same to you. On your bad days he would be there, a cup of coffee in his hands as he watched you drag yourself out of bed. Those days he would be the anchor in your life to ground you, make sure you wouldn't get lost along the way. His goal was to get you back from the awful place your mind was in. He wanted to get you back under the soft beams of the sun that would make your skin glow, a small smile gracing your face once again.
Those moments made him realize how much he needed to see the good in the world, to be the good.
So yeah, he could stay an optimist for you.
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Regrets Only | part four
summary: divorced parents rekindling an old flame?
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four
word count: 3.6k+
warnings: a few swear words. Most of it is fluffy
a/n: whoops kind of went a lil’ sicko mode with the word count, but I hope you like it. I hadn’t read this in a while and I’m actually fairly pleased with how it came out. Part five?
click here for other writings :)
You had worn a path in the carpet in your bedroom going back and forth between the closet, dresser, and full length mirror next to the bathroom. You had emptied out all the drawers and now your clothes were splayed haphazardly all over her room as you tried to find an “acceptable” outfit to wear for your non-date tonight. You had made Tom promise over and over not tell anybody about your non-date.
“Not Harrison, not Harry, not Sam, not Paddy, not Tuwaine, not your mom, not your da-“
“(y/n), I get it.” he cut you off with a chuckle.
You held up a nice, blue dress to your body -- the one Tom had bought you for Christmas and then complimented you on -- before tossing it aside on your already piled up bed.
“Too formal,” you muttered, and began sifting through another pile on the floor. You glanced over at your phone sitting on the bedside table. Your finger had hovered several times over the call button before forcing yourself to turn it off. Tom had refused to tell you where you two would be going for your non-date.
“It’s a surprise, (y/n).” He was trying to sound subdued and nonchalant but you could hear some excitement coming through the cracks. Honestly, you were surprised he had kept this secret so under-wraps, being as notoriously bad at keeping secrets as he was.
“Nothing ridiculously over the top, right Tom?”
“Nothing ridiculously over the top,” he repeated. “I promise.”
To you, calling Tom and asking him what you should wear this evening would make your non-date seem like a date. It’s not a date. Not a date, you repeated over and over in your head.
“Ready for our non-date?” Tom greeted you, leaning against the doorframe with a casual, self-confident grin. You wanted to pinch his cheeks to wipe the smile off his face. You were still in a pair jeans and a bra when the doorbell rang, causing you to hastily scramble and throw on the t-shirt closest to you. Looking down at your outfit now, your eyes went wide as you realized that the top you had pulled on had a spaghetti stain running running down the side. Yikes, don’t you look nice, you internally cooed.
“Are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?” you asked, walking out to his car and sliding in the passenger seat.
“If I did, that would ruin the fun of our non-date.”
“Wow we made it a whole... hundred meters before getting stuck in traffic. That’s progress for London.” Tom switched of the engine and leaned back. You were stuck in a sea of cars that appeared to have no end, (and you could see for eight blocks). You let your head fall against the window with a loud thunk, giving a soft sigh and staring out the window and making awkward eye contact with the driver in the next car.
“Do you remember where we first met?” he asked you, staring off into traffic.
“Of course I do, Tom. It’s kind of hard to forget the first place you met your future spouse.” you lightly retorted.
You had met at a wedding. You were hired by a couple named Jodi and Todd to play the piano during their reception. Tom was one of the guests.
“We want you to play stuff that’s classy yet fun. Something that people will energetically dance to yet something you would also hear at a very fancy and elegant lounge in New York.” Jodi had rattled off to you the first time you met. Right, because there are so many songs that classify under specifically that category that perfectly encompass what you want, Jodi, you thought snarkily. You had actually been dreading this gig. Since the five times you had interacted with Jodi, she had come across as a total control freak, critiquing everything you did, from the way you played the songs to the way you sat at the piano, and Todd had made several passes at you, leaning in a bit too close for your comfort.
At the end of the reception, as you and a few other musicians Jodi and Todd had hired, were helping you move the baby grand piano onto a roller cart, Tom approached you.
“Do you remember the first thing I said to you?” he turned to you, smiling.
“You said, and I quote, ‘bet you wish you’d learned to play the flute.’”
“Ha ha! Classic!”
“Oh god, Tom. It was so cheesy!” you wrinkled your nose in mock distaste.
“Well it clearly worked, because a year and a half later, we were married.” he chuckled.
When you first got engaged, you had both joked that you should invite Jodi and Todd to your wedding since they had both unknowingly played matchmaker, although, ironically, Jodi and Todd had divorced. (Big surprise there, you thought). The line of cars moved up a few centimeters.
“Give me a break, I was trying all night to come up with a witty, yet sophisticated one liner to say to you after the party. It wasn’t that bad.” Tom defended. You laughed and nodded.
“No, it wasn’t that bad.” You actually thought it was the cleverest thing anybody had said to you, and after you got back home from the reception, the most idiotic grin had been plastered to your face whenever you thought back to his “witty one liner.”
“You were the prettiest person I had ever seen.” Tom glanced at you and you gave a light snort, unsure how to appropriately respond to a comment like that. “Okay, do you remember the song that played during our first dance at our wedding?” he questioned. You turned to him and narrowed your eyes.
“Is this some weird marriage quiz you’re making me take for some weird scheme you have going on?”
“No, I’m just curious as to how much you remember about our marriage.” he said innocently.
“Sea of Love, by Cat Power.” you said after a moment of silence. You had been particularly proud of discovering that song after rejecting everybody else’s input for first dance songs that were rather terrible in your opinion. “When I was trying to choose a first dance song, I actually at first wanted it to be the Time Of My Life song from Dirty Dancing. And you and I would learn how to do the actual dance like they did in the movie and we would impress everybody, but then I thought that was too dorky.” you added after another bit of silence.
“You never told me that. That would have been really funny actually.” Tom moved the car up another few centimeters.
“No, it would have been a disaster. I’m such a dorky dancer.” you shook your head.
“I know, and it’s really cute.” he laughed. You could feel your cheeks heat up at the comment. “What other songs were you considering?” Tom asked, turning towards you.
“Well, I also thought the song Angel Baby was really romantic and nice.”
“How does that go?” He prompted.
“Uhh... it starts like: ‘it’s just like heaven. Being here with you. You’re like an angel. Too good to be true. But after all. I love you, I do. Angel baby. My angel baby.’” you sang, giving a small ta-da smile at the end.
“Aww, that’s pretty.” Tom beamed at you. You shrugged.
“It was how I felt about you.”
“Do you still feel that about me?” He quirked an eye brow at you.
“Do you still think I’m the prettiest person you’ve ever seen?” you jokingly quipped back, mirroring his facial expression.
“Yes, of course.” Tom said it without hesitation and you stiffened. You cleared your throat.
“Tom, traffic’s moving again.” You both stared at each other before the car horns started blaring behind you.
Tom set his ice cream cup down and rested his arm along the back of the bench. You were at Kane’s Park. Sitting on the bench by Lookout Point. There were no streetlights near here, yet the light coming from the buildings across the lookout coated everything in a soft glow. This was where you and Tom had your first date, where you told him you were pregnant with Polly, where you would all spend an afternoon with their checkered blanket spread out, having a lovely and delicious picnic.
“This is where we had our first kiss.” Tom said, breaking the silence.
“Yup, I remember.” you nodded your head. It was a good first kiss, the thought instantly cropped up in your mind and you shoved it away.
“I was so stressed that day. I was almost in hysterics. I had to call my mum to calm me down.” He glanced and you and grinned.
“Yeah, I could tell. You were so jumpy the whole night and when you kissed me and put your hand on my face, it was really clammy.” you giggled. Tom pretended to look offended. “But I thought it was really cute.” you quickly added.
Poor, nervous Tommy, you had thought after kissing him, which sent you into a fit of giggles—the idea that you could make someone as amazing as Tom nervous made everything seem ridiculous—and caused Tom to freak out.
“What? What’s so funny? Was that bad?” he rambled on and looked so concerned which made you laugh even harder. You shook your head and shut him up with another kiss.
“Let’s play a game.” Tom said, abruptly changing the subject and turning to you with an eager look on his face.
“Like in the movie, Saw?” You frowned. Tom had forced you to watch that movie, claiming it was one of the “classics,” making you think that Tom needed to redefine his definition of what a “classic” really was. Although, you couldn’t even remember three quarters of the film, since you had had your head buried in his chest during the scary parts.
“Truth or dare?” he asked, giving you a mischievous grin. Oh boy.
“Are you serious?” you asked.
“Just humor me and go with it. I promise I’ll play nice.” He smirked. You sighed and crossed your arms, sitting up straighter.
“Fine, truth.” you said.
“What was your honest first impression of me when we first met?” The question caught you off guard.
“Why do you want to know that?” you asked incredulously.
“Because, I know how I felt when I first met you, and I’ve told the story many times, but I don’t think you’ve ever told me how you felt when we first met.” Tom said, shrugging.
“I thought you were cheesy but charming.” you replied without hesitation. “Okay, my turn.” you said, quickly changing the subject. “Truth or dare?”
“What did you do with your wedding ring after we got divorced?” This question had gnawed at you more than you cared to admit, although you couldn’t really explain why it bothered you.
“I think it’s because you know that now women will see Tom without his wedding ring on and they’ll assume he’s single and they can flirt with him and that bothers you deep down inside, whether you want to admit it or not.” Natalie had explained to you after you had obsessed over it in excruciating detail over drinks with Natalie.
“No that’s not it at all!” you had defiantly exclaimed. “It just bothers me. Like when you meet someone and you automatically don’t like them and you’re not sure why because they’re a perfectly wonderful person but you just don’t like them. It’s like that.” you rambled on, although Natalie was more right than you wanted to admit.
“I put it on top of my dresser.” Tom said, shrugging.
“That’s it?” you were rather surprised by this.
“What did you want me to do with it?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Nothing. I’m just surprised you didn’t sell it or throw it in a bonfire or chuck it into the Thames.” you said.
“Why would I chuck it into the Thames?” Tom laughed.
“I don’t know, I kind of thought that’s what all men did after they got divorced. You know, celebrating being free from the ol’ ball and chain. Or am I being unfairly stereotypical?” you cocked your head towards Tom and gave a sarcastic smile.
“I would never throw my wedding ring into the Thames. First of all, that’s littering and I would get fined. Second of all, that’s just the most idiotic thing to ever do.” Tom grinned. “My turn. Truth or dare?” he asked.
“Choosing truth isn’t very exciting.” Tom pouted and you rolled her eyes.
“What’s your question, Tom?”
“What did you do with your wedding and engagement ring?” he asked.
“It’s in my jewelry box.” you said simply. You had actually bought a second jewelry box specifically reserved for all the jewelry Tom had given you over the years. They were too sentimental and too pretty and too expensive to just donate, and selling them felt weirdly like a betrayal to Tom. You kept the second box in the back of your closet on the top shelf. On rare occasions, you would sift through the jewelry. Sometimes putting a few items on but never wearing them outside her bedroom doors. It was your little secret that you liked to indulge in.
“You didn’t chuck it into the Thames?” Tom mock-gasped. Both your engagement ring and wedding ring were from Tiffany’s. Both sterling silver. Both super beautiful and dazzling. Both with rather sizable diamonds in it.
“I would never ever ever throw those rings in the Thames.” The thought alone horrified you. “They’re too beautiful and, you know, they hold a lot of sentimental value.” You felt your face flare with heat again, saying the last part.
“I do have good taste.” Tom smirked.
“Moving on,” you quickly said. “Tom, truth or dare?” You raised her eyebrows.
“Truth.” you paused, trying to formulate a juicy question in your head.
“You know Polly’s friend from preschool, oh what’s her name...” you snapped your fingers trying to recall it. “Alice! Anyways, did her mom, Laura, ever hit on you after we got divorced?...” you trailed off.
“There was...” Tom cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, something he did when he was uncomfortable. “Yeah she did a-“
“I fucking knew it! That bitch!” you blurted out, interrupting Tom. “When did she do it?” You did what you thought was your best effort to sound neutral about it, although Tom could tell you were aggravated by this news.
“Well, there was one time when Laura was dropping off Alice for a play date over at my house and she made a few comments. I can’t really remember what they were.” he added in before you could interrupt him again. “And she did that high pitched giggle-flirt noise that some women do and yeah...” he trailed off.
“Oh. Wait, what do you mean, ‘one time’?” you turned to face Tom. Your eyes were comically wide, which only happened when you were annoyed. Tom found it extremely cute and he always had to resist the urge to giggle at your face.
“I don’t know, there may have been a few other times. I can’t really remember, I just vaguely recall another time or two.” Your eyes widened another few centimeters and Tom snorted. “Does the thought of me flirting with Laura make you jealous, (y/n)?” he teased, running his tongue over his bottom lip.
“No. No, it does not make me ‘jealous.’” you sputtered. “It’s just that it was always obvious she had a crush on you, I mean, all the moms did, or they do have a crush on you, and she was always kind of snappy and cold towards me and it was obvious from the start that she wasn’t particularly fond of me. I’m not jealous.” you said defiantly. From day one, walking into the preschool together, it was apparent that all the moms had the hots for Tom. Batting their eyelashes and gushing, they had swarmed over to him immediately. Entering the classroom the next day, it looked like Tom and (y/n) had walked onto a Desperate Housewives set. Low cut, figure complementing clothes matched with ridiculously high heels for all the moms there. You almost burst out laughing. Desperate Housewives indeed.
“I must have slipped in the phrase: ‘my wife, (y/n)’ fifty or sixty times while I was talking to them.” Tom chuckled.
“You’re just too damn sexy, Holland.” You patted his chest.
“Is that part of your answer to the truth?” he asked. You gave him a coy smile.
“I had fun. Best non-date I’ve ever been on.” Tom smirked, pulling up in front of your house.
“Yeah, as far as non-dates go, it wasn’t bad.” you agreed, nodding your head.
“So, when am I getting my ten pounds?” He winked and you snorted.
“Who said you’re getting your ten pounds?” you poked his chest. A silence enveloped you as you sat there, unmoving. I don’t want to get out of the car, you thought in all honesty.
“Goodnight, (y/n).” Tom leaned in and kissed your cheek, surprising you. Not a totally bad surprise.
“Goodnight, Tom.” you smiled and slid out of the car.
“What the fuck? You guys went on a date?” Natalie exclaimed, slamming her drink down.
“Shh! Will you keep your voice down. And no, it wasn’t a date, it was a ‘non-date.’” you leaned in, lowering your voice.
“What the fuck is a ‘non-date’?” Natalie questioned, digging in her glass for an ice cube.
“A ‘non-date’ is not a date.” you shrugged.
“Okay, so what did you guys do on your ‘non-date.’” Natalie looked bewildered, like you were revealing that you had been living a double life as a spy.
“We just got ice cream and then went to Kane’s Park and talked for a little bit and then he dropped me off back at my place.” you said nonchalantly. You chose to omit the part where you two played truth or dare.
“Sounds like a date to me.” Natalie muttered, taking a sip of her drink as you scowled. “Did you guys fuck?” Natalie blurted out.
“Shh! And no, we didn’t.” You looked around, embarrassed even though the only other people in the restaurant were an old couple who didn’t even speak English.
“Did you kiss?” Natalie’s eyes were now wide with excitement.
“No. Well, he kissed me on the cheek before I got out of his car but that doesn’t really count.” you said.
“Oh my god!” Natalie squealed and clapped her hands together. “Was I right? Or was I right? About you two having unresolved feelings?” Natalie wiggled her eyebrows at you.
“Spending a few hours at a park and peck on the cheek hardly means ‘unresolved feelings.’” you retorted.
“Fine, Party Pooper.” Natalie stuck her tongue out. “I thought you said that whenever you two tried to talk about your marriage or your divorce or regrets, you two always ended up in an argument? So what made you change your mind to go on a ‘non-date’ that was actually so clearly a date because you two still have feelings for each other?” Natalie asked. You chose to ignore the last part of her question.
“It was a bet. He bet me ten pounds-“
“A bet, wow! You two live in a goddamn rom-com!” Natalie interjected and let out a loud guffaw.
“That I wouldn’t have a fun on our non-date. And he kind of baited me into taking the bet because you know how competitive I am.” you continued on, shooting Natalie a please-let-me-finish look.
“And...? What do you think about all of it?” Natalie reached in for another ice cube.
“I think I owe him ten pounds.”
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Not to brag but the playlist I made for my story "Love in the suburbs" is pretty good 😍 but maybe I'm biased 😂
If you want to check it out, go to my Ig carrot.writes 💜
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“Show me how much you really love it.”
Relationship: Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, bondage, fingerings, dirty talk - 18+, minors DNI
Drabble Summary: Natasha learns just how much you enjoy a little bondage
“Comfortable, sweetheart?” Natasha asked as she tightened the ropes holding your wrists together. You were kneeling on the bed, legs spread, wrists bound behind your back, practically on display.
You nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Natasha let out a borderline dangerous laugh at your tone.
“You sound so innocent,” she sighed. “But that’s not the case, is it? No innocent little girl would be this worked up just from a little rope.”
Then, without any warning, Natasha ran a finger through your folds, collecting some of the wetness that was growing quickly, and brushed over your clit. Your gasp turned into a pleased moan.
“Hmm,” Natasha began, “You are really enjoying it.” She slowly began rubbing small circles on your clit.
You didn’t know what to do besides nod. You couldn’t register much other than the feeling of her fingers and that burning orgasm building. Yes, you loved this so much. You loved being at her mercy, unable to do anything but just take whatever she decides. It didn't have to be anything intricate, just being lazily spread out on display for her without freewill made your whole body hot. The entire situation was already too much as your eyes began fluttering shut.
Natasha wasn’t allowing that, though. She gave a hard yank on the rope binding you, forcing your eyes to open. She was kneeling over one of your thighs now, still keeping up the rhythm on your clit. She was looking down at you as she held your wrist’s rope tightly. The material was scratching and burning your skin, sending a whole new sensation to your core. Pain and pleasure.
“Keep your eyes open, baby,” she gritted. “I wanna see your eyes as you get off to the fact you’re under my control. You’re bound for me and you absolutely love it.”
Her hand suddenly switched its pace. She inserted two fingers in you, keeping her palm pressed hard on your clit. Between the rubbing and pumping… you were about to lose it.
“Yes, yes,” you cried out. “I love it so much. I love being at your mercy.” She picked up the pace, now hitting that spot that made you just gush. You let out a loud shriek.
“Yeah, you love it?” Natasha asked. You nodded weakly, staring into her lust-filled eyes. “Then cum for me. Show me how much you really love it.”
Next thing you know you were yelling nonsensical words as Natasha worked you through the orgasm filling your body. You squirmed at her touch but she held you in place, close to her and really at her mercy. You bucked your hips a few times then felt as the sensation began fizzling. Natasha gave a couple extra pumps of her fingers before pulling away, satisfied.
“You okay, honey?” She asked, watching you slowly try to recover.
You gave her a weak smile. “Yes,” you sighed, happily. “Thank you.”
“Anything for my baby,” Natasha smiled then placed a sweet kiss on your lips.
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For Juneteenth I want 500 dollars.
Venmo: @ Natalene-Rehan
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until you came along. [ b.b ]
a dad!bucky barnes x fem!reader wherein bucky finally gets to meet his little one.
WARNING: bucky hinting about his past but aside from that nothing else! maybe this fic giving you baby fever idrk, time is set somewhere after the events of tfatws, and lowercase intended!
A/N: hi my baby fever is torture and im dragging you along with me. dad!bucky has been stuck in my head for so long now and i’ve been feeling guilty abt not sharing that with you. please reblog the post, it really means a lot!
if someone was to tell bucky from a few years back he would be an expecting father, he would probably chuckle bitterly as he turned down the idea; but here he was now, rushing in the middle of the car-filled streets of new york, to finally meet his new born baby.
he cursed under his breath as the cab he was in turned into another corner that had cars barely moving, fingers drumming against the sides of his thighs as he tried to calm himself down, his right arm pulling out his phone to see multiple messages from your mother, asking where was he as you were already in active labor一 that was several hours ago.
he and sam were on a mission, taking down some mafia gang that wanted to smuggle in illegal goods in trade for stolen a truck filled with stolen vibranium; his mind replaying how he didnt want to leave the hospital and stay by your side, but you pushed him to go, not expecting that the infant would arrive later that day.
as soon as he saw the tall building of the hospital you were at, he paid the driver and got out of the car, sprinting all the way to the entrance where his father-in-law was waiting, “i’m so sorry i couldn’t come sooner一” were the words that left bucky’s mouth until he was cut off, “it’s alright, you should head up, your little one’s waiting upstairs.” your father said, patting him on the back as he motioned with his other hand to go.
weaving his way inside, he quickly found your room and composed himself, standing up straight as he caught his breath, smoothing the invisible wrinkles on his clothes before slowly opening the door, peeking his head through its crack to see your sleeping figure on the bed, your mother sitting right by your side.
“bucky!” your mother quietly greeted, standing up to give him a hug. her smile was wide as she stared at his almost organized look, his hair still in a disarray from the rush he was in moments prior. “both of your angel’s are sleeping as of the moment, you should get some rest too, son. me and f/n will go home and set everything up for the baby” she calmly said, motioning the seat that she was previously in.
a small smile formed on his lips as he nodded, wanting to actually take a seat and be with you. “thank you for looking after her, ma.” he answered, hugging the woman tightly before letting go, waving his had as she left the room.
he quietly walked over and took a seat, observing the small sleeping figure inside the clear bassinet next to your bed, tears forming up in his eyes to see such a peaceful little face. gently raising a single digit over the crib, he gently caressed the baby’s hand which held onto his finger, “hey there, little one. I’m your dad.”
you stirred awake, body feeling extra sore still from giving birth, you were about to open your eyes when you heard bucky’s voice, “... and i was probably more scared than your momma could ever be at that moment, my little angel.” you opened your eyes a little to see bucky carrying the infant in his arms, sat down, slightly facing the window.
the warm rays of the early sun peeked through the blinds of the window, illuminating the peacefulness displayed on his face, “when your momma said that she had a suspicion you were in her belly, she was scared that i would leave ‘er, since we weren’t even into a year of dating一 little did she know that i feared what would become of us.”
your heart broke silently as you tuned into his confession to the baby, “i’m way older than your grandma and grandpa, i’m afraid that i could never see you grow up, i’m afraid that your momma would leave me for someone younger, that could be better a dad than old me.” his voice was soft, fragile almost as cradled your son.
“but i set those fears aside when i saw you sleeping in that crib of yours, lookin’ so angelic as you slept. i could have only wished to start a family before since i… i was considered to be someone so dangerous; i’ve always thought i would never find love but momma came along and proved me wrong, and now you’re here with me.” bucky continued, raising the small babe up to place a gentle kiss on his forehead.
“i’ve seen so much on this earth that i thought i’ve seen everything it has to offer. your dad’s cool since he got to fight such a big alien and so many bad guys before but i never really realized how much of life i missed until i saw you open your eyes and look at me. i’ve never deemed my life so… worthy until i you and momma came along.” bucky finished, bringing up his flesh hand to wipe the tear that had managed to escape, sighing softly.
you also brought a hand up, wiping the tears that you didn’t even notice away before quietly calling out your husband’s name, making him look back at you with a big surprise, quick to get on his feet and sat by your bed, his flesh hand holding onto yours as he leaned down to place a kiss on your lips. “how long have you been up, darling?”
you smiled tiredly, “just enough time to hear you ramble on to your son.” your tone light and teasing, making the latter chuckle in embarrassment that you had caught him being so soft, “who knew mr. bucky barnes could be such a softy.”
“for someone who just gave birth, you sure are in a teasing mood, baby.” he groaned, shaking his head at your antics. “i’m sorry i couldn’t be here for you when this little troublemaker arrived, y/n.” bucky apologized, looking at you with a small yet disappointed smile. “i knew i should have never taken up that mission.”
you squeezed his hand, shaking your head firmly. “no, james, don’t ever blame yourself for that.” you started off, “i said that you should go一 besides, you’re here now, with me and our little prince and that’s what matters.” you reassure him, bringing his hand up to your lips to place a gentle kiss on his already healing, bruised up knuckles.
bucky sighed softly, knowing better than to argue with you about that, “i know better than to argue with you about that, y/n.” he retorted softly, heart filled with love as his vision bounced from your featured to the sleeping one in his arms, gently exclaiming, “my god, i love you both so much.”
you laughed softly, warmth spreading throughout your body at the sight of the, now two, men in your life, “and we love you too, bucky. we love you too.”
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Loki's Love Languages: Quality Time
Pairing: Loki x any!Reader
A/N: The third in my love languages with Loki series. A lot of people in my life have this as their main love language, so I loved reading up on examples of it. Hope you like! My commissions and requests are open.
1: Imagine Loki listening to you as you show him your baby photos. He stops you when you show him a family camping trip, and ask what you’re eating. Little you is covered in s'mores and grinning, and you tell him what they are. He just nods and you continue, having forgotten the whole thing, when the next day he comes up to you with a bag of marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate, and leads you out to a small vampire he made in the backyard. You both spend the whole night making s'mores and talking with each other, and after that he keeps buying more and more s'more ingredients so you can both keep having campfire nights.
2: You’re listening to the radio one night on the oldies channel. You just hadn’t bothered to switch it yet as you were reading, but Loki comes up behind you and starts humming along. You look over at him and he smiles, coming in front of you and reaching a hand out. You gladly take it and put down your book as he pulls you into a dance, one arm around your waist and holding you close. You both start to sway to the music, dancing along to it until you both get tired.
3: Loki finds out about make-your-own-pottery stores. You both go together, and while you look through all the different choices, Loki quickly grabs a piggy bank. A heart. He paints it green and gives it to you after it’s fired.
4: Loki is stressed today. Something about his father; he’s been sitting at his desk and talking with people and writing things for ages. You aren’t sure why he’s leaving to deal with his issues, but you aren’t going to ask. You spend the day laying on the couch by him, alternating from looking at your phone to reading. At the end of the day, he comes up to you and kisses you on the forehead. When you ask what that was for, all he says is “for being here.”
5: Loki shakes you awake one night, and after your grumbling he apologizes and tells you that the stars are clear and bright tonight. You bring yourself out of bed and he quickly gives you some shoes to wear and grabs a blanket, and you both walk out onto the Tower lawn. You both lay on the blanket and look up at the stars, and he talks about his constellations he sees on Asgard and which ones he doesn’t. Your hand creeps into his as he talks, and the smile that comes onto his face is unmissable. You’re so thankful that he woke you up after all.
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Master of his Domain
Warnings: nonconsent and rape; fingering, oral, some violent behaviour, intimidation.
This is dark!Frank Castle and a side of dark!Billy Russo and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You’re a new maid in the household of Lord Castle and find yourself trapped between your new employer and his guest, Lord Russo.
Note: You’re asking me, why? Why write Frank in a medieval au and I must redirect you to the classic philosophical question of why does Roo write anything? There is no logic here, only a deep need. Enjoy ;)
Thank you. Love you guys!
Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3
A jarring crash made you jump as a shrill cry sliced through the kitchens. Mildred fell to her knees as Alan rushed to catch her elbow. Her hand shook as the shock of red flesh bubbled and blistered and the sizzling oil spilled around her skirt, a pan overturned on the stone floor. You placed the plate in your hand on the stack of drying dishes and watched the horrid scene.
You’d seen skulls split by horse hooves, the broken bones of boys who’d fallen climbing trees, and the slash of an axe in a foot, but the sight of the burnt skin made you want to gag. You stared in sickened shock as you wiped your shaky, damp hands on the front of your apron.
“Girl,” John yanked on your arm roughly and shook you from your trance, “don’t just stare.”
He dragged you by your elbow to the long wooden table, “she can’t carry a tray now.”
“You might look stupid but those arms work,” he snapped and let you go, “the lord is at his practice in the yard. He requests some luncheon.”
You blinked and grasped the sides of the large tray. You brought it up to rest on your shoulder as the other maids did and balanced the goblet, pitcher, and covered dishes carefully. John sighed and turned back to holler, as he always did.
“Get her out. She’s no good blubbering on the floor,” he said without compassion.
You angled around the table with small, plotted steps and out the door into the corridor. The thick heat of the kitchens lessened as you got further from them and you realised you had no idea where you were going. You’d been in the castle for less than a month and only worked at scrubbing dishes and mopping up spills.
You smiled sheepishly as you neared the washer with a basket of linens, “pardon, I, um, I am to take this to the yard? The lord of the castle is awaiting me but I do not know where--”
She nodded over your shoulder and scowled, “turn around, left at the next corner and carry on past the cellars. There is a door, you will go along the eastern wall and find the lords there.”
“Thank y--” she sidled past you before you could thank her and you frowned.
The castle had a grim air. Strict and suffocating. The servants did their duty and nothing more. It was if all they had in their heads was to toil. It was only in their whispers that you discovered the reason.
The earl, one Franklin Castle, was said to be an unyielding master. You had yet to even look upon him and you dreaded the prospect.
You followed the laundress’ directions and found yourself by the stables. You went along the eastern façade and the noise of grunts and clacking. You came out into the open sunshine and saw two dark-haired men dueling with wooden practice swords. They were fast and focused on their battle as you neared.
You set down the tray on the round table between two wooden chairs and caught a goblet just before it could fall over. It clinked the other and drew the eye of the more slender man and he batted away a strike before sidestepping another and raising his hand.
“Castle,” he called off his opponent, “well, I’ve been waiting for this.”
He dropped the tip of his wooden blade and dragged it through the dirt as he neared the table.
“Wine?” he gestured to the pitcher.
You winced and filled both goblets. You replaced the pitcher and bent your head, “my lords.”
“Your apron is stained,” the other lord, Castle, you knew by his companion’s address, approached and took a goblet.
“My lord, my apologies,” you eked out.
“Go,” he dismissed, “fetch a clean one and return to your work.”
“Wait,” the other man wiped the glisten from his lips, “Castle, do not be so harsh. It is hardly noticeable. Besides, who will poor our wine.”
“You can lift a sword, you can lift a pitcher, Billy,” Castle grumbled, “don’t be absurd.”
“Her apron is stained because she works hard for you, Master Castle,” the man, Billy, said mockingly, “so let her stay and enjoy the show.”
The earl rolled his eyes at his dueling partner and took a gulp of wine. He spun his fingers in the air lazily and leaned his sword against the chair.
“Stay then,” he shrugged and removed his sweaty shirt to reveal a thickly-muscled back. He stretched his arms and took his sword again. He marched forward and turned to face his opponent, several dark bruises around his ribs. “Let’s get back to it.”
“It is merely his character,” Billy assured you as he lifted his own shirt. He had as many bruises and scrapes across him, if not more. He spun back and propped his sword against his shoulder, “ready to eat dust, old friend.”
“We’ll see,” Castle scoffed, “pretty sure it wasn’t me on my ass just a moment ago.”
The men walked a circle and raised their blades. Their eyes met and in an instant, Billy charged the earl. The latter dodge and flicked away a second strike. They faced each other again, their feet moving so swiftly, their swords in perfect tandem as they clashed.
You were hypnotised by the scene, unlike those boys you watched fight with sticks as a child. Castle bent under a lunge and brought his sword around to slam against the back of Billy’s knees. The other man fell and the earl stood straight to plant his foot on his opponent’s puffing chest.
“You done showing off for the maid?” he poked Billy’s chin mockingly with the blunt end of the blade.
“Are you?” Billy shoved his foot away and sat up, “you need more wine. You are much to dour when you’re sober.”
“And you are obnoxious when you drink,” Castle rebuffed, “get up. Watch your left, that’s your blind spot.”
“That’s your blind spot,” Billy mocked as he stood and winked at you as he glanced over, “I might only be distracted.”
Castle sighed and jabbed Billy’s shoulder roughly.
“Perhaps if I had tits, I might more easily have you on your back,” Castle taunted, “though it can hardly be any easier than it already is.”
You lowered your chin and folded your hands, embarrassed by his words. You wanted to leave but you didn’t dare disobey an order, even if given under duress. You knew of the Lord Russo and his wandering eye, all the staff were warned, but you weren’t forewarned of his presence.
You felt his gaze again and squirmed. The wood knocked together once more and you looked up beneath your lashes. The men went at each other without restraint, trading blows to arms and ribs, each muffled with smothered grunts. The men were fearsome opponents and likely more dangerous allies.
You gathered up the empty goblets and the scraps of cheese and bread on the tray and balanced the pitcher at the center. You lifted the heavy metal tray onto your shoulder as the men snatched up their disposed shirts. Russo was unbearingly close as you turned carefully towards the castle wall.
“You have this little thing carrying all this,” he mused.
“Leave her be. She has work to do,” Castle growled, “did you not bring your plaything?”
“I only wish. She has gone into her seclusion,” Billy harrumphed, “where she will remain once the bastard is born.”
“You make trouble you do not need,” Castle pulled on his shirt and took up both swords and you glanced back over your shoulder. He waved you off and you set off across the yard.
“She would not be trouble,” he remarked with a snicker, “sweet little thing… quiet.”
“There are whores in town,” you barely heard the last reproach as you went around the stables.
You let out a heavy breath and found the wooden door you’d come from. You got turned around several times before you got to the kitchen again and as you set down the tray, John was on you like a hawk. He snatched the large pitcher as it wobbled.
“Back to your work,” he demanded, “you were gone far too long.”
“The lord bid it,” you argued as you gathered the dishes and took them to the stack of dirtied wood and metal plates.
“And I bid you finish these,” he dumped the dregs of wine in a bucket and thrust the pitcher towards you, “Mildred will not return for some time. Make certain you avail yourself to take up her work.”
“But…” you looked at the dishes helplessly.
“Better to be fastidious,” he clapped his hands impatiently, “the visiting lord does expect a fine feast.”
You held in a huff and turned away from the blustery cook. You rolled up your sleeves and put the large kettle to boil to heat the now lukewarm water. That you were the unfortunate soul to be allotted Mildred’s duty was suited to your luck. You could only be comforted that you had not been victim to the boiling oil. Truly, you should be thankful.
You followed Walter up the winding steps with another heavy tray against your shoulder. You were grateful that you would not be alone as you still felt disoriented in the maze-like halls. When you reached the upper floors, he guided you to a pair of double doors where a guard stood and lazily leaned against the wall.
You were let into the rooms upon a welcome from the other side and you mirrored Walter as you laid out the dishes for the two nobles at the table. Russo eagerly scooped up a goblet and held it out for you to fill. He smirked as you did though his eyes were not upon your face.
“You like me, don’t you?” he teased, “you’ve come all this way to serve me my supper… and you’ve got a clean apron.”
“Billy,” Castle sneered, “have you no shame?”
“Just a little fun,” he reached around you and pinched your ass.
“Stop,” Castle ordered, “don’t make me tell you again.”
“Hmmm,” Russo sat back and crossed his arms as he lifted his chin, “it’s harmless, Frank. Look at her. She must be alight to have the attentions of an earl--”
“Billy, she doesn’t need your hands up her skirt as she’s pouring wine,” Castle rebuked, “she might need wine with your hands up her skirt, however.”
“If the wine does let me beneath them I should share it willingly,” Russo grinned.
“You may go,” Castle directed you then pointed at Walter, “I’m certain you might manage on your own.”
You bowed your head and back away, embarrassed. You left with a heat down your spine and when you were without, you cringed at yourself and the lingering tingle where the lord groped you. It would be remiss to confront him and you were thankful at least the earl had the consideration to.
Though, the Lord Castle in himself made you shudder. There was something about his dark eyes and his brusque tone that frightened you. He spoke like a man who was rarely refused and his companion acted as much. Together, they were a treacherous pair.
The next day, you were back to your usual duties. You dragged a large tub of dirty dish water from the kitchen, the handles digging into your fingers painfully. You sloshed yourself with the grey water and grimaced as you backed out into the pale noon sunlight.
You came out to runoff from the laundries and grunted as you dropped the tub. You bent and curled your fingers under the bottom as you strained to tip it over. The water splashed out into the muddy patch but you lost your grip on it as a swift slap flashed across your ass.
You stood in surprise as the metal tub wobbled and an inch of water remained. You turned as Lord Russo caught your arm and kept you from backing away. You looked at him in confusion as he turned you and cornered you against the wall. Your hands balled as you cowered before him.
“My lord,” you uttered thinly.
“Darling, three times in less than a day,” he smirked, “I am beginning to think you’ve devised this.”
You blinked and peered around. What was he doing there? The servant’s entrance was hardly the locale for earls.
“I only…” you looked at the tub, “I must finish my work, my lord.”
“I was only strolling the yards,” he assured, “but chance did bring me to you.”
His hand fell to your hip and you grasped his arm. His brow arched and he quickly snatched your hand away from the brocade of his sleeve. He pushed your hand above your head and squeezed your hip. He leaned in so that his breath glossed over your face.
“Mmm, it has been long since a woman shook for me like you,” he hummed, “are you afraid?”
“My lord, I--”
“I was unaware you needed assistance to take a piss,” Lord Castle’s voice had Russo’s eyelashes flicking and his face tensed as he pushed away from you and spun slowly on his heel.
“Were you so concerned you needed to look in on me?” Russo exhaled.
“You lingered so I thought perhaps it was your bowels, though I do see you are full of shit,” Castle scowled.
He came forward and grabbed the metal tub and dumped the last of the water. He shouldered past Russo and handed you the tub. He took your arm and peeled you away from the wall as he nudged Russo away from you.
“Go on,” he snarled.
You gulped and passed through the rear door. You flinched as his voice cut through the air as the wood snapped into the frame.
“Goddamnit, Billy, I didn’t invite you here to terrorize my staff,” he growled, “I would as soon send you away.”
“You always ruin the fun,” Russo replied as you paused to listen.
“This is my home, not your fairground,” Castle grumbled.
There was a silence then a low chuckle.
“Hmm, curious,” Russo commented.
“Curious?” Castle challenged.
“You didn’t care about the scullery, or that chambermaid who now bears my bastard,” Russo intoned, “you let them both go without a thought and this one--”
“I tire of hiring new staff,” Castle barked.
“Oh, sure,” Russo scoffed, “it must be a task… one reserved for your steward.”
“Go,” the earl hissed, “I tire of your mischief.”
You listened to their footsteps and continued down the corridor. You should not have listened that long. The guilt mingled with the shadow of the lord’s hand on your hip. You returned to the kitchen and set the tub down on the table. Alan stirred the broth and looked over as you took the kettle.
“You would do to be quicker,” he warned.
You nodded and hung the kettle in another fireplace. You bent to feed the flame and wiped the ash from your hands on your apron. You stared at the crackling fire and chewed your lip. You would be best to stay in the kitchens as much as you could.
You straightened your skirts as you climbed the subtle dip in the castle grounds that led to the servants' latrines at the border of the castle grounds. You laid sleepless until you relented to the pressure in your bladder and made the eerie nighttime trek across the lawns.
You came up to the rear entrance you left slightly ajar and pulled on the hooped handle. As the hinges creaked, a shadow shifted along the dark corridors and you blinked into the grey. You could hardly make out the figure as it approached and leaned against the wall with arms crossed.
“You do like to wander,” Lord Castle’s features were caught by the moonlight at your back, “I did think you would not return.”
“My lord, I only…” your voice died as you were too embarrassed to explain yourself. You realised by his words, he must’ve seen you go.
“I almost thought you were upon a rendezvous with my guest,” he continued, “but he remains in his chambers. I did make sure of that.”
The door fell shut behind you and made you flinch as you were shrouded in darkness with the earl. You swallowed loudly and quivered as you blinked through the black. The air was still as all you could hear was your own heartbeat.
“Do you want to fuck him?” the crass question made you gasp and you felt along the wall and pressed your body to the stone.
“My lord, I--”
He caught your arm and you squeaked as you struggled to see him. He grabbed your other and held you to the wall.
“Tell me,” he demanded.
“N-no,” you stuttered, “my lord, I only… I should return to my bed--”
“Shhh,” he hushed you and pulled you away from the wall. You collided with him, your hands on his chest as you caught yourself, “you should be honest with your lord.”
“No, my lord, please, I do not want… that,” you uttered.
His large hands fell from your arms and pressed against yours as you braced his chest through the linen of his shirt. You tried to pull away but he kept you closed as his fingers hooked around yours. He guided your hands up and pressed your palms to his cheeks, his chiseled jaw firm against them.
“Then you will be mindful to stay away from him,” he rasped and tore your hands away, “if I catch you near him again, I will make certain the order is heeded.”
“I have never bided impertinence,” he backed away, “do learn to hold your tongue as you do when his hands are upon you.”
You were silent as you heard his thin soles on the stone and held your breath until you were certain he was gone. You could hardly see a foot in front of you as you dragged your hand over the wall and let your touch lead you. By the time you got to the servants’ quarters, your eyes were wet and your throat tight.
That the earl blamed you was harsh enough, but worse, you couldn’t help but feel culpable. You would not fault him should he dismiss you for the matter. A servant was of little use if they could not fade into the stonework.
You rolled the cask clumsily over to the cart and leveraged it on with the edge. It rolled slightly and you caught it with your foot and pushed the heavy barrel all the way up. It clunked against the other and you leaned on it to catch your breath. The sweat gathered under the hem of your plain cap and you exhaled deeply.
“You are much stronger than you appear, darling,” Lord Russo’s voice had you stalk straight.
You bowed your head and issued a pathetic, ‘my lord’ as you rounded the cart and took the handle. You turned the cart and steered it towards him. He did not move from the doorway as he tilted his head and ran his fingertips over his lip. He planted his foot on the cart and stopped you.
“I came to search out a southern red,” he said, “but I’m afraid I am lost among so many. Might you point me in the right direction?”
You took a breath and turned. You pointed to the bottles along the left corner.
“There, along the top row,” you said and spun back to take the handle again, but you were stopped as he caught your hand, “my lord?”
You took a step back as you recalled your nocturnal meeting with the other earl not three nights before. Lord Russo was due to leave in the morning and you truly thought you might avoid him until his departure. He kept hold of your hand and chuckled as he urged you backward until your back met the shelves and the corks poked at you.
“How miserable it must be to work down here, yet not get to indulge,” he reached above you and took a bottle down. He uncorked it with his teeth and spit out the cork. He took a gulp and tipped the neck towards you, “have a taste, darling?”
“My lord, I must work--”
“You are much too wound,” he slithered, “go on.”
He pressed the bottle to your lips until it leaked down the corners of your mouth and you were forced to swallowed it down. He drew it away as you coughed and he took another deep swig. He angled it to you again and you shook your head.
“Please,” you begged, “I am not thirsty.”
“It’ll make this easier,” he rubbed the rim along your lips, “but I don’t mind the hard way.
You turned your head away and swiped the bottle with your free hand. The wine splashed across his face and dripped down his jacket. He let you go as he backed up and looked down at the mess and you quickly scurried past him. You tripped around the cart and into the hallway.
Your soles hit the floor loudly as you ran without direction. What were you doing? Would the earl not be as mad at you soaking his friend in wine? You couldn’t care as you heard him behind you.
“You little bitch,” he snarled as you crashed through a doorway and hit the wall.
You grabbed your skirts and barreled up the stairs, each step harder than the last as your muscles strained at your ascent. You were knocked forward into the bricks and fell against the stairs. Russo rolled you over and you flailed out at him blindly. He tugged at your skirts as he bent over you.
“Please, no, get off of me, please!” you cried out, “please!”
He forced your legs apart as he got to his knees, your body sprawled over the steps as he pulled your skirts up. You beat on his shoulder and kicked helplessly around him. As he grabbed your shift, he was wrenched back and wheezed as his back slammed against the wall.
“God’s sakes, Frank!” he whined as he planted his feet.
The earl stood on the curve of the stairs and scowled at him before he turned to you. His glare made you wince as you pushed your skirts down and sat up. He spread his hand over Billy’s chest and kept him against the wall.
“Go,” he said quietly.
“Come on, she’s just--” he stopped and snickered. He tapped Castle’s hand and slowly drew it away, “oh, I see. Well, you could’ve told me before you wanted her for yourself.”
Frank lifted his hand and pointed it in Russo’s face as he spun on him. “I needn’t explain myself to you and I am tired of repeating myself. This is my estate, Billy.”
“Alright,” he said defensively, “Christ.”
“You want a cunt, go fetch the scullery maid you had last time,” he growled.
“She’s still here?” he grinned.
Castle grabbed his shoulder and nudged him back down the stairs, “you better be gone before I wake tomorrow.”
“Oh, I will miss you, old pal,” Russo lilted, “fondly so.”
He tramped down and his footsteps echoed around you. You whimpered as Castle turned and latched onto your elbow. He thrust you up to your feet and turned you to ascend the stairs. You stumbled upward as he dragged you up and fear bubbled in your chest.
“I didn’t-- I ran from him, I did not--”
“I told you to stay away from him,” he snarled as he brought you onto even ground, “you should ignore him and be away but you only draw him in--”
“Do not prattle at me,” he urged you on and you recognized the doors of his chambers from when you served his supper, “I am exhausted of it.”
His guard barely looked at you as the earl tore open the door and shoved you inside, He slammed the wood into the frame behind him and gripped the back of your neck as he followed closely.
He marched you across the receiving chamber and through the broad doorway of the bedchamber. You dug in your heels and tripped over the carpet. He let you fall onto your knees and you grunted as the floor sent a jolt through your body.
“I don’t understand,” you breathed, “I didn’t--”
“You serve me. I am the master of this household. You do not pander to other lords,” he snarled as he paced.
You blinked in confusion and sat back on your heels to touch your hot cheek. You watched him unbutton his overcoat and peered around the room. You had done only what you were bid, you couldn’t figure how it was your fault.
He neared and before you could react, he had his looped belt over your head. He tightened it around your neck until the buckle bit into your flesh. You croaked as he tugged on it until you stood. He pulled you around like a horse with a bit. You grabbed the leather and he slapped your hand away.
Your eyes filled with tears and he led you to the straight backed chair by the finely carved desk. You were forced to climb up on your knees and he knotted the tail of the belt around the top of the chair. You gripped the arms of the chair as you were bent awkwardly atop the seat.
He pulled your hands back behind you and held them in one hand as his other untangled the knot of your apron. He tugged it from around you and bound your hands just above your ass. You wiggled helplessly as he backed away and you listened to his measured steps.
“Hardly a month, yes?” he said as he moved behind you, only his shadow visible to you.
“My lord, I--”
“A month,” he repeated, “I ordered you kept in the kitchens. My staff is small and I arrange them in a particular manner. I knew you would be trouble.”
You shook your head and it only caught the buckle to press more firmly to your throat. Your tears bobbled and trickled down your cheeks. You sniffled and uncurled your fingers as your hands throbbed.
“I saw how you looked at him,” he sneered, “as if you’d never seen a man without a shirt.”
You grimaced as your muscles ached from how you knelt on the chair.
“I know how you commoners are, as much as Billy. He never had servant with a cunt he didn’t fuck,” he came around the back of the chair and you closed your eyes at the sight of his naked body, “you’re just another maid with a cunt, eh.”
You squeezed your eyes shut as he grabbed your jaw. You wheezed as his thumb pressed just below your ear.
“Look at me,” he snarled.
You opened your eyes and looked up at him. He gripped your jaw tighter and pressed the head of his cock to your lips. You clamped your mouth shut as the blur of his tip bobbed in the edge of your vision.
“Open your mouth or I’ll break it,” he growled, “I might have misspoke… a cunt and a mouth.”
You parted your lips and he pushed inside swiftly. The belt tightened around your throat as he forced himself past the resistance and you gagged. You kicked your feet against the seat as he reached his limit.
He slid in and out of your throat, never fully leaving your mouth. The chair rocked beneath you and you feared you would fall over. You gulped and gagged around him as your tears made it even harder to breathe. The pain and humiliation burned in your stomach as he gripped your hand and fucked your face without relent.
When at last, he slipped out of your mouth, he let your head hang as you coughed through your ragged throat. You groaned and tried to flick away the tears with your lashes but more streamed down in their place. You sucked in air as he gathered your skirts and pushed them up to your waist.
He reached around you and lifted you to stand on your knees atop the seat. He smacked your ass and you yelped. He kneaded the flesh and did it again. You whimpered as he shoved his hand down between your legs and slid his thick fingers along your folds.
An unexpected wetness spread on his fingers as he poked around. As he pushed a finger into you, you exclaimed and quivered as your thighs pressed against his hand. He retracted his hand and grasped the back of the chair as he bent over you.
You felt the smooth, wet tip of his cock against you. He slipped down your ass and rubbed along your entrance. You squirmed and he pushed until you stretched around him painfully.
He grabbed your hips and lifted you from the chair so that your legs dangled. He buried himself inside of you with a single thrust and you shrieked. It hurt so bad. The pain welled in your core and rippled from head to toe.
He bucked his hips and a weight settled in your limbs as the agony flowed through your veins. His flesh clapped against yours as he kept a steady and pointed pace. Each tilt of his hip was followed by a lingering, almost taunting pause. His nails dug into the fabric of your dress as your skirts crumpled against his pelvis.
Your feet arched and cramped as you tried to reach the floor but he kept you hanging just above the stone. He rutted with snarling growls, each time harder than the last.
“Pl-pl-l--” you couldn’t speak through your sobs as they barely rose past the taut leather at your throat.
He snaked his arm around you and pressed himself to your back as he reached to fumble with the knotted belt. He untangled it from the chair and pulled you back as he impaled you even deeper than before. He wrapped the end of the belt around his hand as he kept his arm across your stomach and hooked his fingers around your side.
He lifted you up and down his length, his heady grunts softening to groans as you grasped at his thick arm and the leather. You leaned your head back as your body was at his mercy. He bent his arm and kept you flush to him as he cupped you tit and pounded into you from below.
You whined as the beating against your cervix became unbearable and he turned you suddenly. He fell atop you and crushed you against the mattress, your legs over the edge beneath his as he snapped his hips against you over and over. He pushed his shoulders up and planted his hands on either side of you, the slapping of skin filled your head and the chamber.
A warmth seeped into you and squelched out around his cock as he slowed. He dropped himself onto you and panted as he hit the mattress with his hand. He muttered and his hot breath tickled your scalp.
He shoved himself up and out of you. He stood and sighed, tugging the apron string until it fell loose. “Fuck,” he swore as he turned away and ran his hand over his face.
He huffed and stomped back to the bed and ripped your skirts down over your legs. He grabbed the back of your dress and pulled you to your feet. He loosened the belt and wrenched it over your head. He nudged you away from him and turned his back to you.
“Go back to the kitchens,” he hissed as you heard his weight slump onto the bed.
You limped to the door and wiped your face with your sleeve. You felt his cum trickling down your leg and pooling in your shoe. You continued on through the receiving chamber and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You stopped to fix your cap and quickly turned away.
You were sworn to serve the lord the castle however he wished. So you would do what you must and not think on it after. Yet, as you came out into the corridor, it was all that came to mind.
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Toy For Their Pet, One Shot
Summary: Hela and Agatha have a pet Jotun!Loki. But they needed to find him a toy to keep him satisfied. Poor mortal Cora is kidnapped and thrown in to the wild beast to appease him.
WARNINGS: Rape/Non-con, knotting, rimming.
‘I know I said to bring her here without causing a scene, but I didn’t mean to knock the poor thing out.’ Agatha said.
‘It’s fine, she’s fine. Look, she’s starting to come round already.’ Hela said in defence.
Cora heard the two female voices as she started to wake. When she opened her eyes, she struggled to focus and keep them open. Her body felt heavy, especially her head. Like she had been drugged or hit.
She tried to sit up, but then the room started spinning and she couldn’t focus on the two women there.
‘Oh no, easy, sweetheart. Don’t move too fast.’ Agatha said as she rushed over to Cora and sat next to her, helping her to sit up a bit as she put her arm around her.
Hela rolled her eyes and walked closer, hands on her hips. ‘We don’t have long before he will be awake. I don’t want to have to punish him again just for being horny.’
Cora was too confused to properly take in the conversation. One minute she was minding her own business in her home, the next she was swiftly knocked out. Now she woke up… wherever the hell she was.
‘Wh… what… what’s going on? Where am I?’ She asked groggily as she put her hand up to her head.
‘Relax, honey. We’re not going to hurt you, as long as you’re a good girl and do as you’re told. Ok?’ Agatha said softly, tucking Cora’s hair behind her ear.
Cora’s eyes widened as she was finally able to focus more. Agatha’s words chilled her to the core.
She looked at the woman next to her and the one standing on front of her… and realised she recognised them. It was hard not to realise who they were, from seeing them on the news.
The fact they weren’t exactly hiding themselves made it blaringly obvious they weren’t just two ordinary women. Hela was wearing Asgardian type light armour, her long black hair encased her face with her bold and intimidating make-up.
Agatha looked exactly like you’d expect a real witch to look. Slightly crazy long hair and she wore elegant dark bluey-purple robes.
They were both extremely intimidating in every sense of the manner. Both of them, Hela more so, were very tall. Making Cora feel even more frightened and small.
When she started shaking, Agatha slid her hand round to her back and started rubbing in circles to try and soothe her. But Cora was too scared, she tried to make a run for it but when she stood and took a few steps, she stumbled as she had stood up far too quickly, then she found herself captured in Hela’s arms.
‘You’re not going anywhere, pet.’ She said as Cora started struggling in her grasp.
‘Please… please don’t hurt me. What do you want with me?’ Cora sobbed.
Hela kept an arm clamped around her middle as she gripped her chin to force her to look at her.
‘As my dearest Agatha said, we aren’t going to hurt you… But he might.’ She grinned and motioned to the right with her head.
Cora looked over and she could barely contain a scream. There was a large glass wall that showed through into another room. But right at the front, at the glass… was Loki. A frost giant. She knew of him too from the news, he had been attacking people at random in London. Unable to change back into his Asgardian form, until he suddenly just vanished. Now, Cora knew where he had vanished to...
He was standing right at the glass, hands flat on it as he stared intently over at her. His red eyes blazing at her hungrily, he looked terrifying. And he was naked, his blue skin was really striking with his Jotun markings all over him. But what she also noticed was that he was extremely aroused.
‘Wh… what… no… please.’ Cora sobbed and panicked all over again, struggling against Hela but to the God she was just like a kitten squirming in her arms.
Agatha stood up quickly and walked over next to Cora, looking at Loki too. Hela still had a firm hold of Cora, but Agatha slid her hand up to the back of Cora’s neck and stroked on her skin softly. But it did nothing to ease Cora’s fear.
‘He won’t hurt you… If you just submit to him, let him do what he wants with you. He is just rather… insatiable.’ Agatha said calmly.
Hela looked over at her, raising an eyebrow. Agatha shrugged and mouthed ‘Don’t scare her off before we even get her in there!’
‘Wh… why me? Please, I can’t… I’m scared.’ Cora begged, hoping the women would take pity on her.
Hela lifted her up with ease and started carrying her over towards the door that led through to where Loki was. He was pacing back and fore now behind the glass, eyes blazing hungrily as he kept locked on to Cora.
‘NO! PLEASE!’ Cora tried kicking out but she was getting nowhere.
‘Don’t tire yourself out, dear. You are going to need all the strength you can get.’ Hela purred and unlocked the door with a flick of her finger and a glimmer of magic.
She looked over at Agatha, who followed and nodded at Hela. When Hela opened the door, Agatha went in first, using her magic to put up a powerful shield to keep Loki back.
He tried to get over, but was kept back by Agatha’s magic as she entered, with Hela and Cora close behind her. Loki was snarling and growling at them, salivating at the mouth and desperate to get to the mortal girl.
He was massive in every sense of the word. A frost giant to the core. Cora thought she was going to pass out again.
Hela suddenly threw Cora onto Loki’s bed, she went sprawling across it. Agatha and Hela backed out of the room.
Cora tried to make a mad rush for the door as it closed and she heard it locking. But she had barely taken a few steps away from the bed when Loki slammed into her.
She screamed, but wasn’t sure what scared her the most. Being trapped with such a wild being, or the fact he was ice cold to touch. His body was over her instantly on the bed, trapping her beneath him.
Loki shoved his face into her neck and in-haled her scent, growling as he did so. She froze while he studied her, terrified to move in-case she angered him. He began sniffing down her body and with his long nails started tearing at her clothes.
Agatha and Hela stood by the glass, watching intently. Hela leaned on Agatha, her elbow resting on her shoulder. ‘You know, love… I think we might have finally found the right pet for our pet.’ Hela said as she watched Loki tearing at Cora’s clothes and then he began sniffing her all over.
Agatha tapped her lower lip and nodded slowly. ‘I think we have. At least he hasn’t torn into her like the last one.’
Hela sighed softly. ‘She was a stunning woman. Such a mess to clean up, though.’
‘She was... But Cora is a pretty little thing. I think she is more suited for our Loki.’ Agatha slipped her arm around Hela.
They continued watching, pleased that Loki had taken to Cora. Finally, finding the right mate for him. He had already started bonding with her and marking her, licking her skin. He started with her stomach, running his tongue all over her.
Cora was crying quietly, too scared to move or argue with him. She knew there would be no chance of escape, anyway. The best thing she could do, was just let him do what he wanted and get out of there alive.
The way his tongue was lapping over her skin had her almost squirming, she was a little ticklish and his cold licks were light. But she kept still, bunching her hands into fists at her sides.
Loki licked up her body, around her breasts and over her nipples, making her squeak slightly. She was a bit weirded out, wondering what on earth he was doing exactly and why. As she was practically covered all over in his saliva by the time he was finished with her. Arms, legs, thighs, stomach, sides. When he was at her neck, he also bit her a few times that made her cry out in pain. But he didn’t react to her noises.
The final place he hadn’t yet claimed was between her thighs. When he moved down there and pushed her thighs further open, she tried to snap them shut but he growled deeply and bit her thigh really hard, making her bleed.
She screamed in agony and then started thrashing around, Loki bit her again on the opposite thigh.
‘You better keep still, honey. Or else you will end up with more bite marks all over you.’ Came Agatha’s voice. It sounded like she was in the room, but Cora knew she wasn’t, she was safe behind the glass.
Cora wept quietly and did her best to just lie there and let Loki do what he was going to do.
Loki hummed in approval when she stopped moving around. He clamped his large hands around her thighs, keeping her spread open for him with terrifying ease with his strength. She couldn’t look down at the monster between her legs, so she opted to look up at the ceiling instead.
When Loki’s cold tongue started lapping at her cunt, she grabbed the bed sheets underneath her. At first, she was repulsed that he was doing this to her. But as his tongue pushed through her folds, gently lapping at her, she found her body falling under his control more and more.
When Loki licked her clit, her body started reacting to it. Little whines came from her and her body jerked each time. Loki smirked against her as he concentrated on that spot for a while, happy with her reactions, the tip of his tongue circling her clit in firm but slow movements.
She was about there, her body being forced into the pleasure. She could feel her impending orgasm… But it was ruined when Loki sucked on her clit and nibbled, sending pain and discomfort through her instead.
‘Ohh poor pet. So close, yet so far.’ Hela said smugly.
‘Mmm, we haven’t had such good entertainment in so long.’ Agatha said, biting her lower lip.
‘Why don’t we make our own entertainment while we watch?’ Hela suggested and with a flick of her wrist, their bed appeared right next to the glass for them to watch and have fun of their own.
Loki flipped Cora over onto her stomach, he treated the back of her to the same treatment. Licking all over, not missing an inch of skin. Her body was cold not only because of his cold nature, but because her skin was cooling fast in the light air around her with his saliva drying on her.
But she panicked when he spread her ass cheeks apart and started licking around her asshole.
‘NO!’ She screamed and tried pulling herself away from him.
Loki snarled angrily, bit her left butt cheek hard and smacked her right cheek with his large palm. Making her scream even louder. She kept still after that, just letting the tears roll down her cheeks. Pleasing Loki for being still, he went back to rimming her. Leaving nothing untouched.
Cora was so relieved when he finally stopped giving her attention there. She really hoped he wouldn’t go back there at any point. She just wanted this nightmare to be over.
But it was far from over.
Loki grabbed her hips and positioned her up on her hands and knees. She so wanted to try crawling forward, away from him, but she knew better now. And the firm grip he had on her was warning enough not to try anything.
She shivered as his cold breath danced against the back of her neck. Suddenly in one smooth motion he mounted her, an arm snaked around her middle while his other hand wrapped around the front of her neck, at the same time his large cock pushed against her wet cunt, seeking entrance. Even that was cold.
Cora was losing her breath, partly from the sheer coldness of it all, having a frost giant pressed against her back and pushing his cock into her was very numbing, mentally and physically. She made a slight movement that Loki thought was her trying to escape him again, so he bit the back of her neck hard, forcing her to submit to him.
Loki ignored her cries and was able to thrust into her fully, forcing her body to yield to him. His ridged and highly alien-like cock was hitting all the right spots inside her. Her mind was at battle with her body.
‘MINE!’ Loki snarled as he held himself deep within her.
It was the first word that Cora had heard from him and it shocked her. His voice was growly and deep.
He became very possessive as he started rutting into her, his balls were slapping against her skin in a loudly lewd manner.
‘Wow, he’s really hammering into her, isn’t he?’ Agatha said. She and Hela had been fondling one another on the bed, but the action between Loki and Cora was too exciting to look away from.
‘Hopefully he doesn’t end up breaking her.’ Hela drawled.
‘Not after taking his time to mark her, I think he’s finally got a toy he’s happy with. He won’t hurt what belongs to him, and she most certainly belongs to him now.’ Agatha said with a big grin as she licked her lips.
The two continued to watch while Loki completed his mating ritual. He started to swell at the base of his cock, he was able to push it into Cora’s cunt when she had an orgasm forcefully, causing her to howl in pain and surprise pleasure as his knot then swelled, locking them together as it throbbed on her g spot.
As Loki started cumming inside his new mate, he locked onto her shoulder with his teeth, drawing more blood from her. No matter how hard she squirmed and tried to move, he wouldn’t let go. He pulsated within her, spilling his cool cum deep into her. She could feel every single drop filling her, it felt like her stomach was going to explode.
Loki collapsed down fully on top of her, almost crushing her. But the mewling from Cora had him quickly rolling them both over so they were on their sides, he kept her close to him though.
She couldn’t stop shivering… a mix of cold, fear and confusion.
Loki nuzzled into her hair, grumbling and making light noises as he stroked over her stomach. He was still knotted inside her, and when he moved a bit, she whimpered as he tugged on her.
He softly kissed her shoulder and the hand on her stomach slid downwards, he lightly touched her clit and when she started moaning, he traced patterns over her until she came on his cock again, her walls fluttered around him as he groaned in pleasure.
‘I’ve never seen him be gentle like that before.’ Hela said as she cocked her head to the side.
‘He’s like you, love. Has his sweet and tender moments, it just takes time to show and the right lover.’ Agatha laughed wickedly at the glare Hela gave her. But she was right.
After Loki ravished poor Cora for hours upon end, she finally passed out in pure exhaustion. Loki’s knot took a while to go down enough for him to slip out of her, a big mess of cum came pooling out.
He wasn’t happy when Agatha and Hela went in to retrieve the mortal. But Hela and Agatha’s powers together was too strong for him. They promised it was just for a short time to let her recover. But Loki’s anger was enough of a sign for them that he was most certainly not happy about her being taken away.
When Cora came round, she wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or not to find herself in Agatha’s arms, on her lap.
‘Hey, honey. Are you alright?’ Agatha smiled sweetly at her.
Cora froze, not sure whether to try escaping or not. Though when she looked around, she saw Hela was sitting right next to them. She knew she wouldn’t have a chance against one of them, never mind two.
Hela reached out towards Cora’s lips with a strawberry in hand. ‘Come on, eat. You must be famished, and you need your strength.’
Cora looked at the offered strawberry like it had insulted her. But her stomach was grumbling, she really was so hungry. She parted her lips and Hela slipped the fruit into her mouth.
‘That’s a good girl.’ Hela praised and hand fed her some more. They were really juicy, so flavoursome. Like from another world.
‘Loki really likes you, which is simply wonderful.’ Agatha beamed happily.
Cora tensed on her lap. ‘I’m so sore.’ She whispered, tears brimming in her eyes.
‘Shhh, shhh. It’s alright, you’ll get used to it.’ Agatha said softly and began stroking her hair.
‘Please… Please, don’t send me back in there with him.’ Cora sobbed and panicked, she clung to Agatha and buried her face in against her.
Agatha pulled a sad face as she gently rubbed Cora’s back. ‘Oh, sweetie.’ She looked up at Hela, smirking and she winked. ‘Unfortunately for you, Loki has mated with you. You’re bonded now, and for a Jotun that means for life. It would hurt him physically and mentally if we kept you apart... And we just can’t do that to him.’
Hela pursed her lips together at Agatha.
‘Agatha is right, my dear. But don’t worry, we will look after you and make sure you’re well fed and watered. Loki isn’t a complete beast all the time, he will want you to be cared for too. And he will be gentler with you now his initial frenzy has calmed.’ Hela said.
Cora wasn’t so sure about that, she was so sore and was sure her insides were bruised. The thought of having to go back in with him was utterly petrifying.
But she knew she had no choice. Up against a powerful Witch and the Goddess of death? The poor mortal girl had no chance, and she knew it.
She belonged to Hela and Agatha’s pet Jotun now. Nothing more than a toy for their pet.
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A Little Respite. Helmut Zemo x Reader. Smut, handcuffs, oral (m receiving), biting, face slapping, bruising. He likes the handcuffs. Just a little bit of me fucking around.
He grunts but it’s not like he minds it. On the contrary, he flows like silk under your hand, and only when he’s secured to the wall does he rattle and jerk. You’re pretty when you struggle. It’s a conceit, because he’s slippery and smart, wily with a capacity for no-holds-barred destruction, and yet he’s here.
Zemo is here because he wants to be, because he craves the bite of cuffs around his wrists. And he craves it from you, despite (or perhaps because of) the soft-and-gentle approach you take in all things. More flies with honey you tell him, before you slap him right across the cheek. It’s a sharp crack and a red mark left behind, but more importantly it’s a soft and needy unh that slips out from between his lips and curls into your ear. So fucking pretty when you’ve got my mark.
And oh that’s something that grips him right between the legs; when he’s dressed down and barefoot like this you can see the way he strains against his fly. You could nearly count his heartbeats by the pulsing of his cock. He’s strong and fierce and broken; he burns with need and anger, with anguish, with long and lonely nights and the bare brush of starlight across your naked shoulders. Why here?
No reason. Nostalgia, perhaps. He’s evading again, slippery like he always is; if you got a straight answer out of him it would be a miracle, and if he shared an honest emotion you might drop dead from shock. But he can’t quite hide the little shards of truth that glitter in him; he brokenly reflects all the fear and hate and loss and
oh my god. It’s a pin on a map, a glittering star so far away it’s nearly beyond thought. It’s Zemo laid bare despite his efforts, and when he knows you know it cuts him like a knife. You—
I wish. By rights you should just leave me here.
Fuck that. No. Listen. None of this is gonna fix it, but you know I’m with you all the way. So let me at least distract you. We can think about it tomorrow. He’s flagging but it’s such a little thing to bring him back; all it takes is the press and grind of your palm and he’s straining against his cuffs again. Soon his belly heaves with the thick harsh breaths of a man in need; he doesn’t ask because he never does, but you give him what he wants anyway.
You drop to your knees and open his fly, a little rough and careless but he likes it that way. For all his smooth talking slick demeanor he still carries that roughness, that primal take it all that served him in the years between the Fall and the Dissoluton. In that gap between eras he was radiant in his hate, seeking his vengeance with the two-edged blade of animal rage and cold calculation.
Never should have worked.
And yet, indeed. Don’t get distracted. He tastes of soap and salt and musk, and when you swallow hard around him the ripple of your throat has him writhing. He sinks into the pleasure because he cannot hide from it; he comes unspooled and how it hurts him, this vulnerable state. He’s almost grateful for the hissing pain of too much sensation when you continue to suck him after, twitching his hips but not hard enough to move you. No. It hurts him but he needs it. This is his gasping breath after months underwater; this is the smell of oak and water that clings to him beneath the remnants of prison soap.
Much as I enjoy this, we should move. He’s retreating, putting back those walls, but he leaves a window cracked for you. After all, you’re gonna get inside him anyway.
Just one more thing. The last thing is your mark upon his thigh, a thick dark bruise blooming around your bite. Tomorrow there will be a pale circle where your teeth clenched around his flesh; he will feel the ache of it with every step and remember you belong to me.
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The Mahaigner - Chapter Six
Aaaand this is where things really start cooking. And by that I mean there are so many characters and unresolved plot points to pick up from the films, and characters I decided to create and add in for some more flavor, because otherwise this would be too easy, and--
Madeline woke with a deep ache resonating throughout her bones, throbbing wrists, and a rhythmic pounding in her head. She had blacked out—she knew that much—but her memory failed to inform her why. It was probably a miracle she had even woken up at all.
She pried open her eyes, trying to blink away the blurriness. She was lying on her side, against something cold and hard and probably metal. She tried to move her hand to push the hair away from her face, but the motion was cut short with a clink. Surprised, she looked down to her wrists. Handcuffs. Protruding blue veins were stark against alabaster skin. These must be the power draining cuffs Stark had threatened her with.
She finally lifted her head, trying to blink away the blurriness, when a familiar voice jolted her from her stupor. “Cozy, isn’t it?”
“Perfect, actually,” she groaned, forcing herself up into a sitting position. The bench was unforgiving and indeed made of metal, as was the rest of the room. Loki sat across from her, the picture of indifference. They were moving. She was in an armored truck. She looked around, panic creeping in when she realized that, for the first time in years, Astrid wasn’t with her. “What happened? Where’s Astrid?”
“I believe they took her as well.” He sounded sympathetic. “Are you alright?”
Madeline’s first instinct was to respond sarcastically, but after the conversation she had overheard between the two brothers, she couldn’t bring herself to. Loki was trying, and her guilt begged that she give him the benefit of the doubt. So instead, she nodded, somewhat numbly. “I’m not dead yet. But never mind that—” she winced, “—how long have we been in here?”
“Several hours. After the incident, one of the officers called the General. The Vision tried to stall for time, but even with his help Stark couldn’t hide hundreds of Asgardians and the Hulk. Or the quinjet that crashed through the hangar roof.”
“He took everyone?” she asked, confused and disbelieving. “Even Strange?”
Where could the General possibly hide all of them? Did he have some sort of massive, secret bunker just to stash arrested super powered people?
“I don’t know where the other Asgardians were taken. Banner is in government custody, and you and I the same, as war criminals. Stark argued for Thor’s immunity. When we were arrested, the doctor was still unconscious.”
She nodded, numb. How had everything spiraled out of control so quickly? She had learned to deal with the guilt after the last incident, but this was different. She could have killed someone—she might have even killed Strange. That was why the cuffs were on her wrists. But at least she was alive. At least someone hadn’t put a bullet in her head.
She buried her head in her hands. “So, I’m a war criminal now?” She doubted her years as a law-abiding American citizen mattered at all to General Ross. Not after what had transpired. Not when he didn’t even extend grace to the Avengers.
“You don’t seem like one.” Unsurprisingly, Loki was rather calm. Probably because he had been in this sort of situation before. She could always hope he could provide some plan, some assurance that they would be fine. But that didn’t seem likely at the moment.
Unsure of how to respond, she settled for, “thank you.”
Angry voices and thumps pierced the wall separating the drivers’ compartment from the security unit. She started, turning towards the wall as if that would somehow provide an answer. Had she imagined it?
Her confirmation came seconds later. “Did you hear that?” Loki asked, and she nodded. As she leaned forward, trying to hear if anything was being said in the driver’s cabin, there was another shout. The truck swerved sharply, braked too hard, and Madeline lost her balance, flying forwards out of her seat. Loki caught her by the shoulders easily, the cool metal of his restraints skimming her arms. He was so close to her face that she could see that his eyes were green. Then she cleared her throat, wondering why that was the first thing her brain had noticed.
She barely had time to apologize before the doors to the truck swung open, and light flooded in, the shadows of a woman and a man cast before them. She recognized both almost instantly, despite their altered appearances.
Ivanoff’s eyebrows furrowed. “This isn’t what I was expecting to find.”
Loki released his grip on her arms, the shocked expression on his betraying that he recognized the rescuers. But somehow, he didn’t seem that enthused with their appearance. She could understand why it was awkward, given the circumstances of their last meeting. And now they were rescuing him from being imprisoned again. A bit ironic, actually.
On a normal day, Madeline would have laughed at the sheer absurdity of the situation. How could she have ever imagined she would be a war criminal, locked in the back of an armored vehicle with a demi-god, and rescued by two superheroes? But she was speechless, largely because Ivanoff was supposed to be dead.
“Are you two getting out?” Ivanoff pressed, raising an eyebrow. “We’re on the clock here.”
“Right.” Madeline turned to the open doors, legs wobbling. There was no real way of knowing how the power cuffs were affecting her body, but they had definitely weakened her. She hopped down and would have pitched forward into the dirt had Ivanoff not steadied her. “How did you find us?” Madeline asked, scanning her surroundings. They were in a desert—one like you see in movies, with cacti, towering red rocks, and the obligatory tumbleweed. There was no way Ivanoff and Captain America had stumbled upon them by accident.
It made sense. If Ross had been sending them to a secure government facility, there was definitely one hidden in some desert somewhere.
“We used a tracker,” Ivanoff answered vaguely. Her eyes flickered to Madeline’s cuffed wrists and she grimaced. “We have to get these off. I know the feeling. The suppressant will last for a few hours but after it wears off your powers should come back.”
Madeline winced as Ivanoff’s hands hovered over the cuffs. She didn’t know what she was doing, but it hurt. “That could be a bad thing.”
Ivanoff raised an eyebrow. “Well, at least you’ll feel better,” she murmured. She was concentrating on the cuffs, the palms of her hands glowing a faint purple. “These shouldn’t be hard to get off, but I don’t want to fry your wrists.” Then suddenly the purple glow grew in magnitude and brightness. There was a snap and a clang as the handcuffs fell to the road.
More shouts sounded from the front of the armored truck, and it was only then that Madeline noticed Captain Rogers had disappeared. “Are you sure you’ve got this under control, Miss Ivanoff?” Loki ventured, making a point to jingle the chains of his cuffs together when she looked up.
“Don’t piss me off,” Ivanoff warned, “Thor sent us here to rescueyou; he never said I had to set you free.” She jerked her hand towards Madeline and hooked the cuffs onto her belt. “I’m sure we have room but I will gladly make up an excuse to give your spot to her.”
“Thor sent you?” Madeline recoiled in surprise. Suddenly it all made sense. That’s why they were here. Except, she didn’t know how Thor had managed to contact the ex-Avengers while under lock and key at the Compound. “How?”
“It was through this.” Ivanoff held up her wrist and showed them a simple metal bracelet, engraved with strange symbols. Probably Asgardian. Madeline followed as she and the Captain stepped off the road and into the barren desert. “I’m sure Loki recognizes it. It gives off a strong distress signal at any point where its match is activated. Thor gave it to me a few years ago before he left. Said if he ever needed us, he would let me know. Of course, his timing was perfect. I was halfway through a stack of blueberry pancakes when it lit up. But we figured it was important, so we followed it.”
Loki looked down at his arms, as if realizing something important, and sighed heavily. “He must have slipped the other beacon onto me when he hugged me.”
“Sounds like Thor’s getting better at being sneaky,” Ivanoff remarked. “You ready, Sam?”
Madeline heard a faint crackling, but nothing else. She cast a quizzical glance towards Loki; based off the knowing look in his eyes, he had some idea of what was happening. She took a few steps further but was stopped when a chain adorned arm reached out to stop her. Before she could ask just what he was doing, he nodded in the direction that she had been going. His lips twitched upwards, like he was withholding a grin. “Might I suggest looking up before you walk?”
Bemused, she did look up. Then, tilting her head to the side in amazement, she watched as a jet silently materialized out of thin air. “Where are you taking us?” she asked, following their rescuers up the jet ramp.
“Not back to New York, if that’s what you were wondering,” Ivanoff answered. She was right, Madeline had been wondering. With good reason.
“Somewhere safe,” Captain Rogers assured. “You’ll be granted asylum there for as long as you need.”
“Are you sure you want me coming too?” Loki asked, almost sounding bored. “Last time I was on Midgard I got the impression you would kill me if I dared to come back.”
“That can be arranged,” Ivanoff offered.
“Tori.” Steve’s voice carried a strain of warning, and a tiredness that only occurs in someone who has been doing this for years. “Thor wants him alive, I’m sure.”
“Fine, I’ll try to play Switzerland. But I don’t have to be friendly.”
“Where are the others?” Rogers asked, ending the argument. “Are they still at the Compound?”
“No. General Ross arrested everybody, including Banner.”
“Bruce? Why?” Ivanoff asked, alarmed.
“Possibly because he’s still the Hulk.”
His answer seemed to take the three former-Avengers by surprise. That, or they were still trying to figure out if Loki was lying or not.
“Still the Hulk?” Rogers’ brows furrowed in confusion.
Wilson turned in his chair to glance back towards the assembled group, disbelief evident on his face. “Hold up, I thought the Hulk always turned back into Bruce once he—you know—de-stressed?”
“Did Tony even argue to keep Bruce from being incarcerated?” Ivanoff asked, sounding frustrated.
“Not to my knowledge,” Loki said drily. “I was busy being arrested.”
That seemed to be enough of a confirmation for Ivanoff. She sighed and rubbed her temples. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised,” Sam cut in, an edge of disbelief to his voice. “That’s exactly what happened to us.”
“Is it a cop out to say that I’m more disappointed than anything?” she returned with a huff.
“Was there anyone else who Ross could have arrested?” Rogers questioned, shooting a look to his companions that clearly meant drop it.
“My dog.” Madeline faltered, guilt flooding into her stomach. “And Dr. Strange.” If he woke up and was healthy enough to pose a threat, of course Ross would arrest him as well. After all, he had helped her.
“Stephen Strange. He helped me while I was at the compound.”
“Stephen Strange?” Rogers echoed, glancing towards Ivanoff. “We’ve heard that name before.”
“From Sitwell,” Ivanoff confirmed. “Is he working with the Avengers now?”
Madeline pursed her lips in contemplation. “It was more of an ‘out of necessity’ partnership.”
“Then he’s already in too deep,” Wilson said, not turning from his position in the pilot’s seat.
“Never mind that. Personally, I’d worry about your dog,” Ivanoff replied.
Rogers turned his gaze on Ivanoff. “Seriously?”
She shrugged defensively. “It’s a valid concern.”
Madeline cleared her throat and tried to steer the discussion elsewhere. “If we’re not going back to New York, then where are we going?”
The conversation stopped abruptly, like they had flown into a brick wall. “The only place any one of us can be safe,” Ivanoff said, “Wakanda.”
“You’re joking, right? They’d offer us—” she gestured between herself and Loki “—sanctuary?”
“They did for us,” Rogers replied, “and their king said they would for you too. As long as you cooperate.”
“Define cooperate,” Loki joined in, sounding bored.
“Just don’t talk, and you probably won’t have an issue,” Ivanoff told him frostily, and then turned to Madeline calmly. “I think you should get comfortable. We won’t land for a few more hours and your powers might make an appearance before then.”
Madeline nodded her thanks, scanning the room and choosing a seat furthest away from the group. She craved her own personal peace; a few moments in which she didn’t have to worry about being arrested or dying or accidentally killing somebody.
She tucked her legs onto the seat and closed her eyes, thinking about everything that had happened in the last day or so. Where she was going, who she was with. It was like a fever dream.
As she dozed off, she wondered how she had never realized how much safer it felt to have Astrid curled up by her side.
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Smut scene from my story Love in the Suburbs
the corner of his mouth turned up "I want you here", my face turned red as I giggled. I leaned in brushing his lips with mine, as he leaned in I moved my head back, teasing him, he smirked and cupped the back of my neck and crashed his lips in mine, biting on them, making me gasp as I move my hands to his hair, playfully tugging it, his hands moved from my hips to my voluptuous ass, he carried me in one swift movement "I'm not too heavy?" I asked breathlessly breaking the kiss, he shakes his head annoyed as he kisses me again, lust in those icy blue eyes making my breath falter, he pushes me against the wall as I wrap my legs around him "we're not doing this here are we?" I moaned as he placed wet kisses down my neck, I tried to focus and make him stop but suddenly I felt his bulge on my very core, all bets were off, he desperately shoves down my biker shorts, and pulled my panties aside his cold metal hand circling my clit, with one hand I held on to him as my other hand pulled down his sweat pants, his hardened limb resting on my stomach, he ripped of my sports bra, exposing my bouncing breasts, his mouth sucking on my nipple, groaning as I guided his red tip into my entrance, my walls stretching out adjusting to him "you feel fucking good" he moaned as he thrusted making me gasp, my hands holding on to him, his hips moving against yours on a steady pace, our lips meet again, hungry and desperate, moaning into them, the sound of our sweaty bodies clasping together, he moves to the perfect angle, hitting that spongy spot "f-fuck Bucky" I whine in his ear, hearing me say his name like that, takes him over the edge "let loose for me doll" he pants as his movements go faster, I clamp around his cock, digging my nails into his back, releasing white hot pleasure, him following after, pulling out of me and gently letting my legs drop, now holding me by the waist, soft lazy kiss on my lips, "you owe me a sports bra" I chuckled while pulling his up his shirt and putting it on me.
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The Mahaigner - Chapter Five
A/N: *POV switching mid chapter* Wtf, is that allowed? Wtf?
I'm bored so I may start putting up notes. Like yelling into the void. Right?
After spending most of the early morning thinking about Loki’s apparent personality transplant, Madeline woke to sunlight peeking through the blinds, and Astrid curled next to her. If she squeezed her eyes shut and tried hard enough, she could almost imagine she was at home.
Needless to say, it didn’t work.
She donned her clothing from the previous day, made up the bed—she hoped, a little belatedly, that they were okay with dogs sleeping on the beds—and left the room. It was mid-morning, and all the other rooms in her hallway were empty. Maybe everyone was getting breakfast. The thought was somehow more amusing than it should be—she had thought they were under house arrest, not staying at an Airbnb.
When she made it to the lounge, she could see that was exactly the case. Madeline never thought she would see the Avengers in lounge clothing, or Thor drinking coffee, or the Vision making crepes, an apron tied around his waist. Even Dr. Strange and Loki were dressed normally; though while Strange seemed to have clothing that fitted him, Loki’s sweatshirt hung loosely around his shoulders. Madeline could sympathize.
“Good morning!” Parker greeted.
“Good morning,” she returned, somewhat quietly. “Do you do this every day or is this just for guests?”
“Well, not every day,” Vision replied, hurrying to flip the thin crepe before it burned. “There’s some fresh ones on that plate if you’re hungry.”
Surprisingly, she was hungry; her late-night pizza raid hadn’t ruined her appetite. “Thanks,” she said, sliding a crepe onto a plate. She took a seat at the island and reached for the cream cheese, noticing the cups resting in front of almost everyone as she did so. “You made coffee too?”
“Yes, I can get some, if you’d like?”
“That sounds good, thank you.”
Vision handed her a mug of steaming black coffee, setting two different kinds of creamer in front of her. Shaking her head in amusement, he chose the French vanilla creamer and stirred it into her coffee until it shifted into a light shade of brown. She wrapped her hands around the mug and savored its warmth since her mouth couldn’t yet. Not without burning her tongue, at least. Crepes and French vanilla creamer. Did they know she had been born in France? She doubted it.
Breakfast was a quiet affair. Madeline waited for Stark or Rhodes to show up, but neither of them did. Nobody talked about where the rest of the Asgardians or the Hulk had gone, but Thor seemed assured that they were in good hands. The compound probably had dozens of well placed and hidden out buildings where they could be staying. The spaceship had probably been stashed away somewhere too, seeing as it was no longer sprawled on the front lawn.
It was awkward, at first, sitting next to Thor and Loki, when she knew she had overheard a private conversation the night before. What had sleep deprived, pizza fueled, 3 a.m. Madeline been thinking? Eavesdropping hadn’t been worth the discomfort she felt now.
By the time she had finished eating, Parker, Thor, and Loki had already left. Strange beckoned her down the staircase and into the entryway. “I figured you would enjoy being outside,” he explained. “Make you feel less like a prisoner.”
“This is a pretty upscale prison,” Madeline said, even though she did agree with him. She had almost managed to forget that she needed a chaperone to go anywhere. “But thanks, I appreciate it.”
They made their way out of the compound’s main doors and onto the yard. The blue sky was sunny, and the weather must have reinvigorated Strange’s curiosity, because he once again began to question her. Mostly about things that she was sure they had already gone discussed the day before.
His words passed between her ears. There was a throb, stronger than the headache from the day before, pressing everything else in her brain out. She tried to focus on something else, but it was impossible to tune the ache out. It was almost like there was something probing her mind. Something that would not go away until it was addressed. But when she turned her attention to it, the pain just grew. She winced, taking a few involuntary steps back.
Strange stopped, looking to her in concern. “Something wrong?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she forced out, jaw clenched. That didn’t make it go away, though. “There’s—there’s something in my head.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t really explain it, it’s just—” She stepped back once more and stumbled, falling back to the ground. She pressed her palms to the side of her head as Astrid shoved a cold nose close to her face and sniffed frantically. “It won’t stop.”
“Is this what happened last time?”
“No,” she hissed, “This is worse.”
The doctor’s attention was stolen as shouting rose from across the compound yard. It seemed like it was coming from the hangar. The next second, a jet crashed through the roof of the building—but it wasn’t coming down, it was going up. Straight up, by the looks of it.
The cloak covered him reflexively, even though the glass from the roof didn’t land near them anyways. “What’s going on?” Strange called, as Stark raced past.
“One of the jets just took off.”
Strange’s eyebrows furrowed. That much was obvious. “Unauthorized take-off? Is it one of the Asgardians?”
“Nobody’s in it.”
“Oh.” Strange glanced back to Madeline, who appeared to have blocked out the rest of the world and lain back against the grass. Astrid hovered around her person, nudging her with increasing vigor, but to no avail. “I think I have an idea what may have caused it.”
Stark, catching the tone of his voice, stopped and followed Strange’s gaze. “What’s wrong with her?”
“This must be another episode,” he said, tone grim. He kneeled next to her on the grass and checked her pulse. “Call an ambulance.”
Stark stared at him incredulously. “You’re a doctor!”
“Yeah. Erratic pulse, she feels like ice,” Strange shot back. “There’s something wrong and I can’t help from here.”
“Strange,” Stark said, sounding worried, “you look a little grey.”
“What?” He looked down to his hand—it had turned ashy. “Madeline, what’re you doing?”
She didn’t answer. Eyes moving beneath closed lids, shaking, she was almost in a sort of trance. Strange released his grip on her arm, but it was too late. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed on the grass beside her.
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The Mahaigner - Chapter Four
She woke up, like her body was on autopilot. She groaned softly and flung off the covers of the bed, reaching for her phone on the nightstand. Maybe it would have been the right time to wake up, if she had been in London. But she wasn’t in London, and it wasn’t almost eight in the morning—rather, she was in New York, and the clock on her phone read 2:50 a.m.
Carefully, she set her feet on the floor on the floor, blinking sleep from her eyes. She didn’t feel like turning on the main lights, or the lamp, in case she managed to convince herself to go back to sleep, but her stomach was grumbling, demanding satiation. Maybe she should have stuck around earlier and eaten some pizza. With any luck, there might be some leftover. Assuming they saved leftovers. Nobody would dare throw away pizza.
She threw on her jeans and left the room, tiptoeing down the dark hallway in search of the lounge, using the flashlight on her phone as guidance. Now if only she could remember how Vision had brought them back to their rooms—
Eventually, she crossed the lounge—grateful for the flashlight when she nearly tripped over the coffee table—and entered the kitchen, feet tapping against the cold tile floor. Madeline immediately went to the refrigerator, finding herself blinking yet again at the light streaming from inside the fridge. Lo and behold lay the pizza box, second shelf from the bottom. There wasn’t much else inside, though, save for some hot sauce, bottled water, and a jug of orange juice on the door. “Do they even eat around here?” she muttered to herself, removing the whole box from the fridge.
She grabbed a slice and shut the box, leaving it out just in case she wanted a second piece later. Madeline crossed the lounge again, planning on going back to her room, but stopped in her tracks when she noticed a faint glow coming from another off-shooting hallway. Changing course, she crept down the hallway and peeked into the room where the light was coming from. It was lit by the soft glow of a rather large, pale blue computer screen, with a design of some sort rotating across the monitor. They looked like a set of armored gloves, and she could barely make out the title of the file—something along the lines of “energy gauntlets, power transferring containment cuffs for Rosie”.
Madeline couldn’t restrain a small, albeit somewhat begrudging smile at the site before her. Beneath the glowing screen, Tony Stark lay with his face flat on the desk in front of him, leaned forwards in his chair far too much for it to be comfortable. It was evident he was stressed, and probably didn’t get much sleep if he spent most of his nights tinkering on stuff like this. Still, he looked oddly peaceful, much different than when she had seen him earlier, so she slipped away down the hall, unwilling to risk waking him from a restful slumber.
Her curiosity satisfied, and her hunger dissipating as she munched away at the pizza—it was pretty good—but she was far from tired now. With nothing else to do, she decided to explore a bit more, seeing as the whole compound was sleep and nobody was around to shadow or stop her.
She had been meandering for about a half of a minute, all the while wondering how long the hallway was,when she heard voices murmuring close by. There was a room just ahead, door half open and leaking moonlight onto the floor. Stopping, she was suddenly aware of just how loud she was probably being. But the voices continued talking, so they obviously didn’t know she was there.
By all accounts, she should have turned around and went back to her room. And normally, she probably would have; but the logic in the decision-making part of her brain seemed to have shut off anyways, no matter how awake she was.
As she kept listening, she realized the two voices belonged to Thor and Loki. Apparently, the whole compound wasn’t asleep, as she had presumed. They must have been having problems settling in as well. How long had they been out here?
“They’re tolerating you, which is better than I had initially hoped for.” Thor’s voice.
“Give it time, their welcome wagon will roll away eventually.” Loki. Was she imagining it, or did he sound just a little bitter?
“Midgardian slang?” Madeline could practically hear the eyebrow raise through Thor’s voice. “You continue to surprise me, brother.”
There was a mirror on the wall to her left, somehow reflecting part of the room’s interior. She could see the window, where the light was coming from—and where Loki was resting in the alcove, back to the wall, legs extended—but that was all. She watched as he tried and failed to suppress a tiny chuckle. “I surprise myself, too.” There was a beat before he said, “I’m sorry about your friend. Out of all of them she seemed most… reasonable.”
“I’m afraid you’ve been fooled by the small interactions the two of you had,” Thor responded, snorting. His tone turned regretful once again. “But I could use her help right now. She understood people. If she were here, she probably wouldn’t like you, but she would understand our position.”
“If she were here, she would be yelling at Stark.”
Thor laughed, like he was remembering something. “You’re probably right.” Then his voice turned sober. “I think I may have been too harsh on him. He feels guilty enough already. Anyone can see that much.”
“And now he tries to make up for his mistake by granting grace to other people he puts under arrest,” Loki mused. She had to agree—from what she had gathered, Stark was fueled by guilt.
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“I’m familiar with the concept,” he returned, “but I wouldn’t have pegged him for the type.”
“Guilt makes you do strange things,” Thor agreed, and by the tone of his voice Madeline got the impression he was studying his brother. “The way Vision explained it, it seems that was the reason Stark signed the Accords in the first place. I don’t see why he would, otherwise.”
“Not if he valued his team as much as you say.”
There was a long pause. “What would you have done?” Thor posed, curious.
Loki looked down, hands fidgeting. “No one should be controlled by another person. Or fear for their life because they’re different.”
Madeline was jolted by the feeling that she was listening to a conversation that had drifted into private waters. She had eavesdropped before, yes, but this instance felt particularly intrusive. Turning to leave, she managed to hear Thor’s teasing response, “See? We’ll make a hero of you yet.”
Embarrassed, she darted back to the kitchen, passing a still sleeping Stark. She snagged another slice of pizza, put the box back in the fridge, and returned to her temporary bedroom. Tried to act like she hadn’t just glimpsed a conversation between two brothers discussing something that clearly wasn’t just about Stark. A conversation that, quite honestly, left her unsure of how to perceive either of them.
Bucky Barnes x Female!Addict!Reader: Tastes a Little like Freedom, a Little like Fear [Ch. 13]
Summary: [Name] has finally got her life on track. She’s been clean a year, has a full time job, and recently moved into an apartment that is actually fit to live in. To prove something to herself, she visits the Smithsonian exhibit on Captain America…only to run into someone a little familiar. Adopting a fellow addict is one thing. Accidentally adopting a recovering brainwashed Nazi super soldier is another. [Name]’s life is about to run off track worse than ever before, but there could be a reward at the end if she can just hang on for the bumpy ride.
Challenge: “100 Drabbles Adventure” challenge by SubtleQuirk on Lunaescence Archives.
Ratings/Warnings: M (foul language, sexual references, references to previous drug addiction and continued struggles with drug addiction, torture, mind control, dehumanization, threatening behavior of a man towards a woman)
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
Tag List: @chipilerendi, @noiralei, @mycosmicparadise, @aya-fay
Tastes a Little like Freedom, a Little like Fear Master List
Chapter 13: Pride
“Shit!” he swore, just as he tried to rise from his seat.
This was a bad idea. His damn legs nearly gave out on him. Before he fell, he managed to scrabble at the nearest hard surface, catching himself right before hitting the floor. He tasted blood; his lips had split open from the violence of his swearing, and he could see his breath crystallizing in the air in front of him. Shivers wracked his body, and he was cold, so cold.
A hard blink dispelled this vision. The tear in his lip disappeared, though his mouth now felt like cotton, like the frost had got stuck in there, unwilling to enter the warm, stuffy kitchen. But the trembling had not stopped. He shivered and shuddered, fingers slipping against the slick wood of the table as he attempted to keep himself upright.
So they could pull him back that easily.
He let out a long, uneven breath. Shit. No. No. He was a person. Bled just like the rest of them. Froze just like the rest of them. God, why was he so cold? His breath was stuck in his chest. They couldn’t have him back. He would not go back.
Thin arms snaked around his torso. He felt his chest seize underneath them. Unthinkingly, he released his slipshod grip on the table. For one glorious moment, the results were exactly as he’d planned: The arms did not have the strength to hold him up on their own. Heave as they might, they simply couldn’t keep him there. Then he went crashing onto the tile floor, right on top of his flesh arm.
“Are you okay?”
He looked up, slightly startled to hear a familiar voice. Of course. Of course he wasn't on the side of some mountain. He was still stuck in the crappy apartment. Where else was he supposed to go? They were everywhere looking for him, waiting for him. But when she knelt next to him, worry plain in her eyes, he wondered if it might have been worth it to be on his own if he just didn’t have to see that expression on that face ever again.
Her fingers fluttered so close as to nearly brush his shoulder. If this was on purpose, she realized the folly of such action just in time, stopping herself a mere millimetre short.
“I’m so–I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” she asked.
“Do I look alright to you?” he snarled.
God, she’d almost touched him, or rather the hunk of metal grafted to his shoulder. Surely it felt as cold to the touch as the rest of him ought to have been. She’d feel it; she’d know. He’d already screwed up enough to make her suspicious. Maybe she was stupid, but no one was that stupid. Then again, if she did manage to piece everything together, he could just snap her neck before she had the chance to call anyone. It would probably take a few days for her little friends to come hunting for her. He could be out of the country and hidden by then.
“Hey…” she began.
“Leave me alone!" he snapped. "Can’t you see I want to be alone?”
This was not strictly true. It wasn’t like he’d had to follow her home. No memories and no company made for lonely living, it had found. He had found.
The chill was in his very bones. He curled ludicrously in on himself, as though that would somehow crack the ice in his veins. A high whine filled his ears. Now that he was conscious, it was becoming more painfully obvious by the second what effect the past three days had had on him. His chest and side felt a little better, somehow, but the rest of him felt fit to explode. No sleeping, no moving, no bathroom breaks. Really? She didn’t have enough brain cells to rub together to suggest he take a piss? Not that he wanted to spend the short remainder of his life following “suggestions,” but in this case…
“What are you doing?” Her panicked voice cracked above the whine. “Is this a seizure? Should I call Kat? Stop! Please stop. Oh–just–where’s my phone?”
Her frantic step didn’t get her very far. His metal hand clamped around her ankle.
“Don’t. Call. Anyone,” he growled, and as he did, the droning stopped. Oh. That had been coming out of him? No time to consider that. He tightened his grip and yanked, causing her to stumble in his direction. “Don’t call.”
She tried to get her foot back. When that failed, she shot him her fiercest look, the kind she seemed to normally save for insults to her scrambled eggs. “You’re sick!” she said.
“I’m not!” he insisted. He kept his voice down, though. No reason to get the neighbors riled up. She'd said it herself.
“You’re shaking on my floor and whimpering like a kicked dog,” she shot back, still trying to squirm out of his grasp. “I saw your injuries. It’s a miracle you’re even alive.”
Maybe not so much a miracle. Not when compared to everything else he’d been through. When your insides and outsides were twisted as badly as his were, an aircraft carrier crashing on top of you was nothing. He’d take that over going back in the damn chair any day. No, he would not be distracted. She was still twisting around.
Kick. Kick. Kick. She was free. Panting, but free. “I’m calling an ambulance.”
He was too out of breath to protest. Every inch of him trembled with the effort of keeping himself together. The pain in his bladder and head was tremendous, and his sudden terror wasn’t helping. No. Dammit, no. He had not come this far only to be retrieved by whichever one of them was playing EMT today. If he set one foot inside a hospital, he knew that would be the end of it. No more playing hooky. And as nice as this woman was–sometimes, maybe, if unintentionally–he was not going to give up his freedom in exchange for hers. It had come down to it: She would have to die.
But he did not want to kill her. Every second took her further away from him and closer to the phone, wherever she had put that. He could barely hear his own thoughts above his speeding breath. It did not seem possible that he could have both. How could she live and he not die? How could he survive and let her continue existing?
“N-No. Stop. P-please. Please.”
God, he hated to hear the words coming out of his mouth, almost as much as that mortifying cry from earlier. He didn’t beg. He had begged enough. How many years of his existence had been spent on his knees by now? There was nothing that he owed this lady that should have required him to beg. If they got him back, though, he’d be doing a lot worse than begging. That was for sure.
“What was that?” Her head popped back into his sight.
Relief flooded through him so swiftly than he tried to scramble to his feet. This, unfortunately, did not work particularly well, and at her frown, he thought he had lost everything just then. She hadn’t moved yet, though. There was still time.
“P-please,” he said again. Still on his knees. This was enough for them, sometimes, so surely it would enough for her. She wasn’t like them. She’d fed him and let him sleep on her couch. She’d even worried about him after he had threatened to hurt her. He knew more about her than she expected, too. The journal underneath the stack of book underneath the coffee table. He knew what she wanted. He could be that something. “I need help.”
“I know you need help. That’s why I’m calling the hospital.” Her back turned to him again.
He tried to follow after her, but his body just wouldn’t cooperate. Even crawling was too difficult. He got maybe three paces before collapsing once more.
“I–can’t–please.” Tears rolled down his face, again. He couldn’t let this happen, though. Whatever it took. “I can’t leave yet. Not right now. Please.”
Her fear had become replaced with suspicion. He hated that, hated even more that her fear had been for him, not of him.
“What do you mean you can’t leave right now?” Some of the color left her face, leaving her paler than before. “Are you in trouble?”
“Yes!” She understood, thank god. “Yes, but–but I don’t want to be. I promise. They’re after me. I just want to leave. I–” This clearly wasn’t convincing her. Her eyes were only getting bigger and bigger as he went on. She thought, he recalled, that he was on drugs. “I’ll go,” he said, trying to sound less crazy, knowing all the while that he wasn't going to manage. “I’ll go myself. Just give me time.”
There was a very, very long pause. He could feel each excruciating beat of his heart. Could she see right through him? She wasn’t going to say yes, was she? She was going to wipe her hands clean of him. Maybe they’d even come by, give her a nice reward for the return of their favorite plaything. Only one thing left, then.
“Look in my bag,” he whispered urgently. She hesitated. The next please on his lips didn’t have to come out. Seeing it, she sighed and walked over to where said bag still sat on the carpet next to the couch. She threw him a look, which he answered only with, “the big pocket on the right. Unzip it.”
Another pause, but then she did as she was told. He held his breath until he saw her eyes nearly bug out of her face. Safe, then. He had to be. If that didn’t convince her, nothing probably would.
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...Just seeing himself in the suit has him visualizing himself deteriorating before his eyes...
Based off my own fic The Persistence of Pain
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A Loki thought that brought me PAIN:
Mobius: "Loki why do you act like this?"
Loki: "Like what?"
Mobius: "Like you don't care, you clearly do, you clearly want to be good but you won't"
Loki: "...because death still comes no matter how good or bad you are, everyone already sees me as bad, so what's the point in changing?"
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I have 3/4ths of a outline of a crossover fic of osmp and marvel cinematic universe(mcu). It's 2/3ths fluff 1/3 angst and borderline crack but I love it. If anyone wants to know more i can post a bullet point list on here.
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