#if he didn’t lose the security blanket of having his big strong captain to back his play i think he’d happily keep throwing daggers around

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

I can't help but think about what if Buggy was raised in White Beard's ship rather than with the Rogers? In my heart of hearts I really do want to believe that Rogers cared and treasured Buggy like he did Shanks but afaik Shanks feels like a favorite; he's given the strawhat, and there's the Wano flashback of the Roger pirates about to face off the Whitebeards, and Shanks is wearing Roger's current captain hat on top of the straw hat while he's munching on some chocolate (😭) and idk, it makes me feel for the little clown

Whitebeard seems like he's a better father figure than Rogers considering his treasure is his family, so I wonder if he would have a better understanding of how Buggy feels, and how to raise a kid who doesn't take to battle as quickly as the other kids (let's say Marco bc he probably is the only other kid in the ship). Would Whitebeard celebrate and praise Buggy for his creative inventions and bombs? Would he encourage Buggy to be the flashiest boy of the Grand line, and to wear his red nose proud bc no matter what, he loves Buggy the way he is anyway? Idk I'm just thinking about what if Buggy wasn't broken and jaded :')

I'm still a Shuggy enjoyer so I want Shanks to be still a part of Buggy's childhood. What if Shanks is interested in Whitebeard's youngest bc he's also a kid too, and he's super eye catching. Shanks probably tries to fight Buggy but he gets overwhelmed by Buggy's bombs or whatever, or because Buggy's too good at dodging and/or running away (Whitebeard probably clues in that Buggy's not battle heavy, but he has immense potential when it comes to escapes and getting out of danger). Shanks just falls in love with this kid who he can't quite grasp and always looks forward to seeing again. Or maybe Shanks also gets adopted as a Whitebeard, but Whitebeard's parenting polishes Shanks and Buggy's strengths in a way where one doesn't feel inferior to the other and they're both happy kids. Lots of maybes...

Case and point, Buggy as a Whitebeard would maybe fix him 😭

buggy as a whitebeard pirate… i do think he ends up mentally healthier for it, but not necessarily because “roger’s a bad dad”—imo he’s not trying to be anyone’s dad, he’s buggy and shanks’ captain, it’s a different relationsh—*a long hook drags me offstage*

ahem. anyway.

potential upsides to being a whitebeard pirate:

if buggy’s in whitebeard’s crew, he is whitebeard’s family. there’s no room for doubt, he joined the crew this morning and has already been called ‘son’ three times.

lots of support, resources, etc. should he eat the chop-chop fruit. this is a crew with a lot of devil fruit experience, they know how to deal with the limitations that arise. if buggy mopes and complains about not being able to search for treasure underwater, i bet somebody comes up with a diving suit or a little submersible boat he can use; if he wants to swim, they find him a fresh water pool; etc.

there’s not just two kids around—he’ll get less focused attention, yeah, but the same is true for everyone. cap’n dad might play favorites, but i think that not being the favorite hurts more when there’s only two options. when there’s five, ten, dozens of other kids fighting for his attention… well, buggy might be bitter about not being the favorite, but he surely knew the odds weren’t in his favor. also, not being codependently reliant on one single peer/friend can do wonders for your mental health.

no childhood trauma over the crew breaking up and the captain dying!

potential downsides to being a whitebeard pirate:

he never gets to leave the nest. whitebeard pirates who want leadership roles can become division commanders; if they want an independent leadership role, i guess they can become captains of whitebeard subordinate crews? but it seems to me that they only leave if they die, retire, or turn traitor. i think buggy would find that stifling. whitebeard: the world’s most powerful helicopter parent?

there’s not just two kids around—if focused attention turns out to be something buggy really needs, that’s a shame, because he’s not gonna get it.

this is not a crew that cares about finding treasure or going on grand adventures. i don’t think buggy is gonna be too happy about whitebeard’s “the real treasure was the family we found along the way” ethos. though maybe he just ignores this, the way ace ignored whitebeard’s lack of interest in the pirate king title.

adulthood trauma over the captain dying and the crew falling apart/being destroyed by a traitor!

#asked and answered #one piece #buggy #whitebeard #i know there’s a number of noncombatants in wb’s crew but i don’t actually think buggy would want to be one of them… #i know we’re used to seeing him run from fights but as a kid buggy was plenty bloodthirsty! #if he didn’t lose the security blanket of having his big strong captain to back his play i think he’d happily keep throwing daggers around #as for shuggy… sorry but i need them to have their very specific shared history for the ship to appeal to me. i’m a buzzkill that way. #kids on rival ships with a rivalry-crush situation is fun but it’s not the same. (that’s shanks/marco to me tbh. unrequited tho 🥲) #even growing up together w/wb isn’t the same bc there’s other kids around in that situation! it’s not as claustrophic. not as codependent. #(also i don’t think shanks flourishes in quite the same way w/wb. he’s roger’s special little boy! the parallels are there for a reason!)

[nyd-needs-cuddles]

Emperor’s New Clothes

Finders keepers, losers weepers!

When Sanji is wed, the Strawhats are too little, too late.

They come upon bloody bodies stuck on tables and chairs, all looking similar to their beloved Cook sans a large man with the only defining feature of blonde hair. They’re all barely alive, clinging to air for how knows long. Chopper is immediately upon them, panicked but steady, shouting instructions over Pedro and Brook’s direction as Carrot tries not to puke with Nami helping her out.

Luffy stands in front of the altar, quiet but not for long.

“Nami,” he says, without looking away at the place where Sanji had been forcefully thrust upon some random girl. He knows he likes women—loves them, even. But this place is a cage hidden with sweets and food that Luffy would never glance at, and Luffy should know (he nearly lost a brother to a similar, golden cage—). “Where?”

Nami stops from where she’s rubbing circles on the Mink’s back, sees the steel line on Luffy’s—no, her Captain’s shoulders and feels a comforting weight settle on her like a protective blanket, and she understands. She may not have Zoro’s innate understanding, nor Robin’s intelligent observations, or Ussop’s easy camaraderie, but she’s his Navigator. She’s the one who guids his anger and let him loose.

It isn’t raining, and there is no Aqua Laguna to run away from, but a nakama is missing (taken away from their home—) and if she has to set the World Government Flag on fire, she will.

“Follow me,” she answers, and knows it’s true.

(They’d give up their lives for him, but knows it’s harder to come back after turning him away)

—

Sanji is found in a small cottage, asleep and with a girl—his bride, but she looked no older than Shirahoshi—who cries and attempts to kill them with a grin on her face.

Luffy bats her away, then breaks the pistol and knife on her grasp. Face devoid of any joy, he asks, “Are you going to hurt him?”

Speechless, she doesn’t speak. But Luffy’s eyes tell stories when he doesn’t have the patience to, and she tears up as she nods, “For as long as I live.”

Nodding, and deeming her sincere, Luffy walks up to his Cook’s slumbering form and sets his hat on his chest without a word.

Exiting the safe haven amidst a cake-frosted wonderland, Strawhat Luffy leaves for war.

—

Katakuri sees the man in front of him, thin but whipcord strength hidden underneath his fancy clothes, a fedora atop where a strawhat should be.

He sees, then, still only for a moment, but what he has yet to hear staggers him.

“Move, I have no reason to fight you.”

It takes him a few beats before he realizes that Luffy had spoken in the present, and he can’t help the confused, “What?” Even as he already knows his answer, which was more baffling than the first one.

“Pigtails would cry, and she likes Sanji so I won’t make her sad,” was his simple reply. It was dumbfounding. “So move. I don’t wanna fight you.”

“And why should I?” He finds himself asking, and feels the breath knocked out of him when he gets an answer.

“I have business with Big Mom.”

—

Jinbei sets down the red cup, no fear whatsoever, for he knows his Captain will be the Future Pirate King. A mere Emperor should not faze him.

Then he comes, decked in red and black, his signature item gone but Jinbei isn’t worried. Luffy-kun is calm, eerily so, and it reminds him starkly of his desperate run towards his brother.

But this is different. This time, Sanji-kun is somewhere safe with a protector by his side, and Luffy is not alone.

“Oi,” he says, unheeding the others’ murmurs and incredulous stares. “You’re the one who took my Cook, right?” His brows furrow. “And you made Fishman Island your territory. You’re doing a pretty sucky job at it.”

“Oh? Aren’t you that pesky rookie who claimed Fishman Island as your own?” Big Mom sneers, haughty and confident in her powers. Around them, her children stir in unease, but refuse to show weakness. “Come here to prostrate yourself? Hah! As if I’d let you live.”

Then, in a rare occurence of seriousness, Luffy-kun’s face is shadowed as he shoots back, “I should be the one saying that to you.” And then he’s a blur of rage.

Big Mom meets his haki-coated fist with one of her own, the collision an explosion of wills that sends majority of those present flying, and Jinbei watches in awe even as he struggles to stand.

This... is a fight between Conquerors.

He sees one of Big Mom’s children—a little girl, who looked severely displeased—try to hit Luffy-kun woth her weapon, and he sends a stream of caramel towards her. Shifting into his favored stance, Jinbei faces the children of the soon-to-be defeated Emperor and introduces himself, palm up, “I am Jinbei of the Strawhat Pirates, and I shall be your opponent! Let’s not bother them, yes?”

—

They’re still fighting.

Pedro knows what Strawhat is doing is risky, knows that they still need to get to Wano, but Strawhat is still fighting and he’s losing.

“Pedro!” Nami yells, secure with the fact that they’ve gotten a copy of the Red Poneglyph. “We need to go! We’ll just get caught up in the crossfire at this rate!”

“But your captain—“

“Luffy will be fine!” She interrupts, and smiles. It’s not without worry, but filled with faith. Not blind faith of someone who worships gods, but one that has seen happenings people would call miracles when it was merely a kind and brave act of a human soul. “He’s gonna be the nest Pirate King, remember?” She winks, and Pedro...

Pedro remembers watching the Pirate King’s execution, remembers the rain against his fur and his sword slipping out of his paws.

Then he remembers all that they had done—infiltrated Tottoland, stole a copy of a Red Poneglyph, allied with another Worst Generation Rookie, successfully retrieved their crewmate—and lets himself hope that the sun will shine again, and bring about a new dawn.

Perhaps, after this, he’ll see his home bright and happy (truly happy) once this is done.

—

Luffy unlocks Snakeman, but it’s not enough.

He knows he’s not strong yet, knows there’s a reason Torao became his friend before going after Kaido, but Sanji was hurt and his family nearly got killes and Sanji—his kind, sweet Cook with a bleeding heart and kicks as hard as steel—would forever blame himself if he didn’t do anything about it.

Sanji is strong, but not as strong as he is. And Luffy is the Captain, so it’s his turn to help him.

Once more concentrating on his haki, he stores up all the helplessness at Sanji being taken away (yet another failure, what kind of captain is he?), the fury (how dare they steal Sanji’s freedom!?), the sorrow (oh, he’ll be sad. He’’ll cry. Luffy can’t let that happen), the glee (he’s safe he’s here he’s whole he won’t die like Ace—) and glares down at Big Mom, huffing and puffing and the flames on her hair dying. The cloud was taken by Nami, so he won’t have to worry about that. He’s rubber, anyway.

He recalls Katakuri’s resigned admittance, the way he’d said, “I can’t leave my family.”

It sounded like—(“Leave them. If I come back with you, leave them.”)

It doesn’t matter now. He’ll beat up Big Mom, make Crybaby-Hoshi’s home safe, and take back the Mochi-bastard with them to Wano. He’ll like the donuts Sanji’ll make.

Decision made, he jumps and meets Big Mom head-on and, this time, it’ll be the last time.

—

When it happened, nobody knew except those in Tottoland had any idea what was going on (not even those who watched it with their own eyes could dream to describe it).

It starts like a thunderclap, but silent. An abrupt hush all over the world, enveloping everything within, and left all wondering but largely unafraid.

Only one can put it into words, but that was only because he’d lived through it before.

Rayleigh looked up not at the sky, but the sea in the horizon, and mused, “Took you long enough,” as he drank a glass of whiskey.

Roger’s had been more like a roar, a threat and a promise all wrapped in one.

“Let’s turn the world upside-down,” he said. And he did. Oh, how well he did.

But Luffy’s was different. A declaration of war, a simple fact with no room for arguement:

“Mine.”

And Rayleigh can’t help but laugh, for the boy who only wanted freedom and adventure, will be the one who conquered all.

—

He couldn’t believe it. Mama, Mama was—

Dynasty decapitated—

Oven looked at where Mama’s body had flown, sinking into the depths of the sea she loved so. Strawhat Luffy was barely standing, but the sight that he was, that Mama was the one who wasn’t—

“I told you, didn’t I?” He heard, and saw the other Strawhats emerge from where they were hiding on their ship. The busty gingerhead was smiling smugly at a jaw-dropped Pedro, Zeus (coward traitor that he was) cowering behind her shoulder.

—you just might see a ghost tonight.

“Luffy!” The racoon(?) yelled, worry in his features and pale, “You’re injured—heck, you’re worse than any physical dismemberment I’ve seen in my life! And let me tell, you, Doctorine made sure of that!”

“Luffy-san!” The skeleton yohohoho’ed, but the grip he had on his guitar was, well, bone-white. “Come, let us come home! Our nakama is waiting for us!”

Groggily, Strawhat lifts his head up, gaze blurry and almost catatonic. If he moves now, he could—

“Don’t,” Oven gaped at his triplet, and barely has a second to understand what he meant before Strawhta speaks up, voice shaky but with a command that said, Listen.

“You...” he whispers, coarsely. “This place... and Fish...’n Island...”

Oven knew what he was about to say, but nothing prepared for him to be pinned down by a stare heavier than gravity itself,

“They’re mine now.”

Then Katakuri flinches, seeing something with his advanced sight as he chokes out a, What!? And then he realizes Strawhat wasn’t done. Not yet.

Finger pointed solely on his big brother—their Katakuri, Luffy announces, “Him too.”

There’s a stillness, like the whole world was holding in its breath. And then—

“I can’t,” Katakuri answers, and he looks so sad and small that Oven can’t believe he’ve never seen this. Never seen the longing and sheer want that Katakuri’s gaze held as he watched Strawhat fight and breathe like he was God’s Word come to life. “I—“

“I...” he pants, but his eyes are determined—the same determination that brought Mama down with his fists and pure spite. “...are you happy?”

Katakuri doesn’t answer. It was enough.

“Go,” Oven murmurs, and Katakuri looks so shocked that his heart clenched. Had they really been so blind to their brother’s woes? “Join him. Call us sometimes.”

Daifuku claps his shoulder, and Smoothie nods. Amande takes out her cigar, and Annana is too young but smiles supportively nevertheless. Katakuri watches his family wait for him, and feels tears pool his eyes.

Brulee pushes him, only able to move him because he was idle, and she tears up as she says, “Be free, brother.”

You’ve done so much for us, let us return your love.

“It’s not goodbye,” Daifuku says. “It never is.”

Throughout it all, Strawhat is patient, and the rest of his crew don’t move. Though the racoon seemed to be a second away from sprinting on land and dragging Katakuri back himself.

Swallowing, Katakuri approaches Straw—no, his Captain, and kneels. Not in deference, but to meet him eye to eye.

Slowly, he unravels his scarf, and despite the horrified intakes of breaths, all the Charlotte Siblings had eyes on were Luffy.

And he doesn’t disappoint (not like Mama—Big Mom)

“Huh, cool teeth...” he grins, tired but so full of warmth even Oven feels safe looking at it. What more to Katakuri who’s been accepted without a second thought? “Like... Barto’s... you guys should... meet...”

“Of course,” Katakuri says, and it sounds like a vow, like I’ll follow you beyond death.

Oven doesn’t blame him.

“From now henceforth,” Smoothie suddenly breaks the atmosphere. All look, expect for Luffy who is carried by Katakuri as if it was the most natural thing to do in the world. Maybe it was, maybe it is. “The Big Mom Pirates are now underneath the Strawhats’ Flag. Any opposition?”

None, save for Luffy’s dismayed groan of, There is no Strawhat Grand Fleet!

Scattered laughter erupts, and Katakuri looks more relaxed than Oven has ever seen him just by being with Luffy, and feels more glad of his decision.

And so Katakuri carries Luffy back home to their ship, with Jinbei and the Sun Pirates following, and Oven feels content.

—

Sanji can’t face him, doesn’t even dare to look at his—at Luffy, the strawhat a heavy reminder of what he left behind, of what he’d done.

“I can’t be the Pirate King without you!”

“Sanji,” Luffy starts, and Sanji can’t hold back his sobs. How could he, when the floor he’s looking at is the welcome sight of Sunny’s wonderful kitchen, when he’s away from that hellhole (and his blood family was alive, by the gods—), when standing before him was a Messiah that refused to be known as anythinh other than simply Luffy.

But he lifts his head up still, meets unfathomable dark eyes, and as they soften with a knowing look, Sanji—

Sanji breaks.

It’s messy, a loud keen tearing from his abused throat. His wrists are free and he still has his hands, his Captain is kissing them like they’re pure gold itself, and he’s wrapped in an embrace like nothing can touch him and he knows it’s true. Knows that, for him—useless, unwanted failure of Germa 66. Simple East Blue cook with a debt never (could never be) repaid and skirt-chaser. Vinsmoke Sanji. Blackleg Sanji. Strawhat Sanji—Luffy would break heaven and raise unimaginable hell. For anyone he considers as nakama—

For anyone he loves and Sanji can’t—

“I’m sorry,” it’s weak, nothing compared to the feeling of his Captain’s face smashed against his shoe, and he wants to cut his legs off—“I—I wanna go home.” I wanna go home with you.

I wanna go to the sea with you.

I—

“Silly Sanji,” he shishishi’s, and it sounds like forgiveness he doesn’t deserve. Curved crescents and a blinding grin. “You’re already home. We’re in the Sunny, remember?”

Welcome home.

Sanji laughs, hysterical and so full of relief. And then Luffy’s—his Captain, by god—dragging him out to the deck to meet “Mochi-bastard, he loves donuts!”, and it doesn’t matter that Nami had slapped him when she’s hugging him so tearfully like he’d slip through her fingers, doesn’t matter that he lied to Chopper when he’s clinging on his leg with insults spewing out, doesn’t matter that Brook was a skeleton when he shakes and rattles as he holds him close—

Because Sanji... Sanji’s finally home.

I wanna give All Blue to you, my Captain.

—

Torao looks at the way Blackleg-ya had a piece of Mugiwara-ya’s yukata on his hand, like a child that could get lost in a crowd. He looks at the unmistakeable forms of the Former Warlord Jinbei-ya’s “First Son of the Sea”, and Charlotte Katakuri “Dogtooth” having brunch with a three-eyed woman. He looks at Roronoa-ya’s unsurprised and exasperatedly fond look and just. Throws his hands up in the air and walks away.

He’s not paid enough to deal with this shit.

—

Shanks takes one look at the newspaper the News Coo gave him and spits out his drink.

“Capt’n?” Yassop asked, early-riser that he is. “What’s—“ he stops, and Shanks feels his shoulders shake.

There, bold in and huge, were the words printed for the world to know, “Big Mom, Defeated! Strawhat Luffy Is Crowned Emperor of the Seas!” And “Fishman Island and Tottoland, Flies the Strawhats’ Flags!”

Shanks finally guffaws, loud and like his old Captain’s, and he yells to the bastards he called nakama, “See this? Anchor’s an Emperor now! Just like your Captain! DAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“What,” is Benn’s first words in the morning. Yassop is still looking at the newspaper as if it could answer the questions of the universe. “He just brought down Joker, can’t that brat take a rest for us old folk?”

“Nope!” Lucky Roux beams, drumstick at hand. “It’s how we met him, remember?” And Shanks does. He really, truly does. Just like how he ran up on the dock of his West Blue island home and yelled at Roger to take him in.

Feeling for the phantom of a strawhat loved and dear, Shanks faces the sea and hollers, “All hands on deck! Set a course, my fellow bastards!”

“Where to, Captain?” Benn asks, but his grey eyes already know.

Gleefully, he screams an announcement of his own:

I’m taking back the crown! I’m all dressed up and naked!

“Wano! I wanna see Anchor plummet Kaido to the ground!”

I see what’s mine and take it!

“Make way for the King.”

#one shot #one piece one shot #nyd writes #bday gift from me to me #one piece #monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy #au #whole cake island #whole cake island arc #katakuri and pudding joins the strawhats #good charlotte siblings #except for flamoe #fuck her

[holylulusworld]

Steam – Just Steam

Summary: You and Steve are at each other’s throat since you joined the Avengers. One day you need to release some steam and things get dirty.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark

Warnings: angst, language, angry sex, smut, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), sex on a desk, semi-public sex, Captain kink, arguments, fluff, violence against a wall and a camera

Steam Masterlist

“Gosh, can you stop talking about this stupid comment Natasha made?” Annoyed you walk past Steve to enter the ‘escape room’ Tony prepared for you to test it.

“You agreed, Y/N. She said our sex life must be boring, Tony started to cackle and mumbled I’m too stiff and prude to get kinky and you agreed.” Steve follows you into the room, slamming the door shut.

“Steve, did you expect me to tell him we tried almost anything in the bedroom? Did you want me to tell him I call you Captain as it gets you going?” Spatting the words, you poke your finger into Steve’s chest, not caring about the angry look he gives you.

“You agreed I’m stiff and prude…” Steve deadpans as you give him a dirty grin. 

“Oh, Cappy we both know you are stiff…hmmm…” Patting his cock you lick your lips. “But that’s only for me to know. Also…” Now you squeeze his length. “…we both know you are not a prude at all. The things you did with your tongue and fingers last week. I bet we go straight to hell for this kind of activity in the bedroom.”

Steve smirks, remembering the way you screamed his name as he slid his finger into your ass while his tongue fucked your other hole. “You loved it, Y/N. Can still hear you screaming my name as you came harder than ever before.” Proudly puffing his chest Steve finally looks around the room. 

“Stop turning me on, Steven Grant Rogers. We have forty-five minutes to beat Bruce and Natasha. They are the champions in escaping this room. Find the first clue and we can start.” Muttering you poke your finger into Steve’s chest, making him growl.

“You know…” Smirking Steve grabs your waist to pick you up as you squeal surprised. “It’s only you and me in a locked room. No chance for you to escape…hmmm…”

“Oh, no…no, Steve. I want to win this pr…” Silenced by Steve’s lips you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. “Fuck it…give it to me good Rogers…”

“I’m on it, ma’am. I think you broke two or three laws last week with all the noises you made and the things you let me do to you…” Humming against your lips Steve holds your body with one strong arm as he fumbles his pants open.

“Steve, you make me weak for sure. Fuck I want to feel you right now. Forget this stupid contest.” Nipping along his jaw you moan as he frees his cock, letting it smack against your stomach.

“Gonna shove these panties aside and take you like the dirty girl you are for me, Y/N. Your Captain will teach you how to address your commanding officer right.”

Shivering in anticipation as Steve wants to play ‘that game’ you nod eagerly letting him fumble your panties aside as you slip one hand between your bodies to line his cock up with your slit.

“Do it, Cappy…fuck me like the dirty girl I am. I had all these naughty thoughts last night, Stevie. Wanted to crawl under the blanket, get your cock out…” Steve gasps as you nip at his lips. “…and wanted to take you in my mouth, suck you off while you were sleeping…” Now he growls against you as his length slides deeper into you.

“Baby, that wasn’t just a fantasy…” Steve walks toward the desk to lie you down, sliding into you completely the moment your back is pressed against the cool wood. 

“I woke up with your lips wrapped around me and had to fuck your throat raw as you were such a naughty girl.” Groaning Steve starts to thrust hard, going as deep as possible.

Spread out on the table you watch Steve work his cock into you in a frenzy. You don’t know he counts to make sure you still will win the game.

“Punish me, Steve, need to feel you for days…” It’s a challenge and you know Steve will participate with pleasure. 

His hands grab you roughly as he pulls back out to bend you over the desk, there is this moment of silence before he fills you again, taking you the way, you want him to, making you scream.

“Taking me so well every time, fuck.” Cursing Steve watches his dick entering your body. He’ll never not enjoy the sight of your body taking him so well, so deep he can feel your cervix kiss the wide head.

“Steve, right there, Baby…” 

“I know, just relax and cum for your Captain.” Steve is rocking his hips faster, grabbing your skirt to use the fabric to drag you onto his cock with every powerful thrust of his shaft.

“I can’t…I won’t last long, Steve…come with me…please…” Whimpering you feel the dam break and you know you will lose the game, but you don’t care. All you want to hear is your lover calling your name as he fills you to the brim.

“Lord, help me this woman…” Steve’s movement becomes erratic and you know he’s close. To watch him fall apart you look over your shoulder to see the golden boy contort his handsome features as he shoots his cum into you, silently cursing your name.

“You look pretty when you cum, Cappy.” Chucking you let Steve pull out to clean the mess he made with his shirt. 

“Damn, don’t take your shirt off, Steve…” Whining you lick your lips, trying to ignore the sight of his sweaty chest on full display or the way a few droplets roll down his abs.

“Get up, doll. We’ve got a game to win.” Steve states as you try to straighten your clothing on wobbling legs.

“Where to, Cap?” Looking around the room you see you only got twenty minutes left to beat Natasha and Bruce, so you want to sit onto the chair but Steve smirks before he grabs his shield to run toward the wall.

“Steve…what the fu…!” Mouth agape you watch Steve break through the wall. He’s poking his head back into the room, grinning at you before he holds out his hand to help you get out too.

----

“That’s how you win a game, Tony.” Steve shrugs as Tony’s eyes dart between Steve, the hole in the wall and your ‘I just got fucked by Captain America’ appearance.

“You just…” Pointing at the wall Tony gulps hard. “Captain, you can’t just break through the wall, that’s against the rules.”

“No,” Steve smirks, slinging his left arm around your waist as he tilts his head to glance at the hole in the wall. 

“No, Steven? You can’t…” Pacing in front of the room Tony mutters silently as Steve ignores his outburst.

“Tony, you said we shall escape the room. You never specified how we shall do it. No rules were telling me I can’t just break through a wall to save my girl.” Smug grin on his lips Steve squeezes your ass before he leads you away from a cursing Tony.

“Uh, sorry to tell you but he’s right, Tony.” Sam chuckles watching Steve picking you up to throw you over his shoulder. “You never said we cannot burst through the door or wall. Next time…clarify the rules.” Patting Tony’s back Sam laughs before he leaves too, not wanting to become the target of Tony’s wrath.

“Well, Tony…we lost, I guess.” Natasha sighs glancing at Bruce. “Next time, turn green and smash the door, Bruce.”

“I…Holy hell no! This was a competition for your mind and abilities to find clues, not raw violence against my tower…” Tony is checking onto the hole, shaking his head. “I will never tease Steve about his sex life again or he starts destroying more than a wall.”

----

“Uh…Steve…shit…” Poking his head out of the bathroom Steve cocks a brow.

“Something wrong, Baby?”

“Tony he taped the activities in the escape room. I think we should take care of the footage or he will see you and me going at it, Cappy.” Pale Steve drops his razor to rush toward the door, only wearing a towel while his face is still covered in shaving cream.

“Steve! Wait, Baby. You can’t…” Running after Steve in only your panties and a shirt you stole from your boyfriend you try to stop named man, but he’s determined to destroy the footage.

Angrily clenching his jaw he breaks through Tony’s door, ready to destroy his computer. 

“Steve…what?” Looking at Steve covered in shaving cream and only wearing a towel Tony wants to say something but the towel loosens and Tony prefers looking at the ceiling as you run into the room to pick the towel up, trying to cover Steve.

While you fight with the towel and the urge to just grab Steve’s cock Sam and Natasha walk into the scene.

“Holy!” Covering his mouth with his palm Sam tries not to scream, Natasha is less subtle.

“Why didn’t you tell us you are a swinger? I’d like to have a piece of Y/N for sure, Steve’s ass ain’t that bad either.” The redhead chuckles, tilting her head to get a glimpse of you on your knees in front of Steve.

“Stop this nonsense! Delete the footage of the room and we can go back to our rooms and forget we saw and heard anything.” Steve orders as Tony still dares not to take his eyes off the ceiling.

“Footage? OH! The escape…wait…you… Rogers! You two perverts did it in the room?” Tony chokes on air as he tries to get the image of Steve’s naked body out of his mind.

“Delete it.” Steve is gritting his teeth, glaring at Tony as you try to secure the towel around your boyfriend’s waistline.

“Fine…” Tony opens the folder to delete it, a dirty grin on his lips. “If I would’ve known…”

“Tony…last warning.” Steve is launching forward, only for the towel to loosen again.

“Fuck, Steve. Stop moving or I can’t guarantee no one will see big Steve…”

Sam curses before he almost runs out of the room, Natasha is leaning against the door frame, smirking as you hold the towel in place to cover Steve’s modesty.

“Delete it!” Steve is ready to jump over the desk as Tony sighs, telling J.A.R.V.I.S. to delete the footage.

“Done, Steve. If you don’t want anyone to see you are not that prude, stop doing it in public rooms. Jesus, I almost had to watch you crushing the poor girl.” Shuddering Tony walks out of the room as Natasha gives you a wink.

“Later, Y/N. Maybe you can tell me about Steve’s moves…” Steve smirks as you still hold the towel.

“You know, as you are already down there…” Now you let the towel drop to the floor, licking your lips. “With pleasure, Captain.” Your lips are wrapped around his dick not seconds later.

While Steve is cursing your name and you moan around his length J.A.R.V.I.S. tries to tell you there is a camera in Tony’s office too, but Steve cuts the AI off, too busy to fist your hair to slide his dick down your throat while you slip one hand between your legs, toying with your clit.

“Look at you on your knees for me.” Thrusting harder Steve throws his head back, shooting his cum down your throat.

He loves the look in your doe eyes, loves the way you lick your lips after he came on your tongue. “Such a sight…”

“Fuck, if we keep on doing it like that we won’t make it through the week without being sore as hell.” Smirking you take Steve’s offered hand to get back up. His tongue slips into your mouth and one large hand into your panties.

“Gotta make it up to you, doll. On the desk, spread these sexy legs for your Captain. I think I need to take you hard again, just in case you forgot how my cock feels.” Lips parted, pupils blown you hop onto Tony’s desk, spreading your legs wide enough to let Steve see your soaked panties.

He’s locking the office before falling to his knees. Steve loves to nuzzle his face into your panties, licking you through the fabric. “Sweet as always. Now take these off and let me make you feel good.”

Steve is lazily stroking his dick, smirking as you play hard to get. “I don’t know, Captain. We are in Tony’s office and you are my commanding officer. Isn’t that inappropriate, Sir?”

Sir, the word goes straight to Steve’s cock and he’s ripping your panties off to grab thighs,caressing the skin with his thumbs as you stroke his length a dirty grin on your lips.

“I think you earned a reward, Y/N, now let your Captain make you cum on his cock, later I’ll scrub your back.” Before Steve can slide into you J.A.R.V.I.S. warns him once again and Steve throws a shoe at the camera, destroying it.

“Steve!” Shoving his cock into you your boyfriend shrugs, not caring he destroyed the camera. All he has on his mind is to rock his hips. 

“Hush, Baby. Look how deeply you take me.” All your protests fall on deaf ears as Steve cages you with his arms, leaning over you to capture your lips in a soft kiss, a harsh contrast to the way he pounds into you.

Your hands claw at his shoulders as you try to meet his hard thrusts, cursing his name alone with Captain the whole time.

Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, your fingertips dig into his muscles when he tilts his hips to hit the spot only he finds every time.

“Oh…god…Steve…” Creaming all over his dick you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him fiercely before the AI protests once again. “For the love of God, let me fuck my girl…” Steve yells, too close to his release to stop.

Your voice hoarse, pussy sore you fall onto the desk, letting Steve fill you up with his seed, not caring he made a mess between your legs.

“I think my pussy needs a break, Rogers…” Laughing you close your eyes, hissing as Steve pulls out to inspect you.

“Hmm…looks pretty as always but I think we should have a break, Y/N,” Steve smirks as he looks up at you from between your legs. 

“J.A.R.V.I.S., please delete the footage and take my apologies for the destroyed camera.” Panting you let Steve pick you up to carry you out of Tony’s office, smirking as the desk is a mess.

Hours later Tony will find your panties, storming toward Steve’s room only to find him between your legs, doing unspeakable things to you.

Tony learned two things that day. Never enter Steve Rogers's room without knocking, and the golden boy is far from being prude…

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#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel masterlist #marvel tag #steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve x y/n #steve x reader smut #steve rogers x y/n #tony stark #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #captain america #captain america fanfic #captain america x reader #smut

[jarienn972]

A Simple Spell - Chapter Eight

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

I’m a tiny bit late getting this latest chapter of my @cssns story posted this evening but I'm going to try my best to get back on track with posting updates every other Monday as long as the real world doesn't get too crazy.

The last chapter had Emma reacting to learning she was related to the Mills sisters, angrily lashing out at Regina about keeping such a huge secret from her before getting drunk and having a heartfelt talk about it with Killian. As she settled in to sleep off too much rum, Killian was rendered unconscious by an invisible attacker. This chapter picks up the next morning and by the end of this installment, you'll have a good idea who the real villain of this tale is and an inkling of what Emma has gotten herself into.

As always, I want to thank the event organizers for all of their hard work.  Definitely looking forward to the completion of all of this year’s stories and for the newly announced 2020 event!  I also want to extend huge thank yous again to @lassluna for all of her help as a beta reader and to @cocohook38 for the incredible art work featured in the header.

Catch up from the beginning on AO3, FF.net or here on Tumblr:  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven

The morning sunlight filtering through the break room mini blinds was every bit as unpleasant as Emma had expected when it hit that perfect angle to land directly on her face. Her head throbbed from her over-indulgence in rum last night, but she had no one to blame but herself. Tossing the blanket unceremoniously over the back of the sofa, she pushed herself up to a sitting position just as a somewhat bewildered Graham strolled in to brew his morning coffee.

"Emma? What are you doing here?" he asked, face scrunched in confusion. "Did you sleep here?"

"Yeah," she replied groggily as she stretched and forced her feet to the floor. She stood up to find the room only spinning slightly but increasing her nausea. "Had a little familial disagreement so after a few drinks with a friend, I came here to sleep it off."

"Must have been one rough night…"

"You don't even want to know…" she insisted as she made her way into the locker room in search of a change of clothing. She'd learned a long time ago to always keep a clean shirt and a pair of jeans on hand for emergencies. This way, she knew she had something available to make herself feel a little more human and look at tad more presentable before she embarked on her quest to confront those who'd kept her mother's real identity a secret from her. "Are you making coffee?" she called out to Graham as she changed from yesterday's attire.

"Just starting it now."

"Think you can make it extra strong?"

"I think I can manage that," Graham replied as he fished two mugs out of the cabinet mounted above the break room sink. He placed the mugs on the counter, knowing better than to ask anything else about her night. He'd slept off his own drunken benders in some unusual places too, so before switching on the coffee pot, he removed the bottle of aspirin that they kept in the cabinet and placed it next to her mug. He knew she'd appreciate it.

Emma emerged a few minutes later sporting a clean, rust colored tee shirt and blue jeans, eagerly inhaling the enticing aroma of the fresh brew. Graham was no longer in the break room but she immediately smiled when she saw the aspirin bottle atop the counter. Coffee and a few pain relievers were just what she needed right now before she set off down the street to have a chat with a squirrely pawn shop owner.

**********

Fueled by caffeine and a reinvigorated desire to get some answers about her mother's mysterious past, Emma stormed her way across and then down half a block of Main Street with Gold's potion booked clutched tightly in her left hand. Since the aspirin hadn't yet had time to kick in, her head was still pounding which was leaving her in no mood to take any crap from the pawn shop's owner.

Gold had opened up the shop for business at exactly 8AM, mere minutes before Emma shoved open the entrance door and stomped her way to the counter where the proprietor stood. She dropped the book onto the display case in front of him, almost hoping that the glass would break. Unfazed by her action, Gold glanced down at the potion book resting on the countertop then back up at the deputy's irate face.

"Good morning, Deputy Swan," he greeted her with little emotion in his voice and showing a considerable lack of interest in the very item that he'd requested her to retrieve for him.

"I found your book," she informed him very matter-of-factly, patting it with her fingertips to ensure she had his attention. "Found the little surprise inside of it too…"

"Surprise? Whatever are you talking about, Ms. Swan?" She wasn't the least bit surprised that he'd feign ignorance of the photograph and letter and she wasn't buying it.

She flipped open the book's cover to reveal the photo of her mother as a child and the faded, handwritten letter from her grandfather. "I suppose you're going to deny that you knew these were inside the book?"

Gold shrugged nonchalantly as he carefully lifted the aging photograph to examine it. "I loaned this book to Cora a very long time ago. I certainly can't speak for what she might have stuck inside it's covers."

"But you knew…"

"Knew what, Dearie?" he rudely interrupted her statement.

"You knew that Cora and my mother were sisters," she stated, undaunted by his apparent disinterest. "Why is it that everyone in this town thinks that it's such a horrible thing for me to know who I'm actually related to around here?"

"I would suppose it is because they weren't certain how you might react to learning the truth about your mother."

"And I suppose that it should have been left up to me, not them!" she countered, raising her voice angrily. "I've had it with all of the secrets! I want those items that belonged to my mother as I kept my end of the deal and I want you to spill what you know about my history!"

"Do you think you can handle the truth about your lineage?"

"I'll let you know. Now, why don't you start telling me what the big secrets are?"

"Fine," he relented as he made his way over to the ornate cabinet where he'd stored the items belonging to Ava Nolan. "You fulfilled your end of our deal by returning my book so your mother's items now belong to you." He tugged open the cabinet door and removed the small box and books he'd shown Emma the previous day and then placed them atop the counter. "I will answer some of your questions as a courtesy to your mother as well, but not out here. How about we go have a seat in my office where it will be more private for you to interrogate me?"

"Lead the way…"

Gold held the heavy beaded curtain aside as he gestured for Emma to pass through the doorway to his office and storeroom that lay beyond the sales floor. The decor of this not-for-public-eyes area was even more eclectic and disturbing than the shop itself but since she wasn't here to debate his decorating choices, she withheld commentary. She was only here this morning to learn about her mother, not discuss interior decorating.

"Have a seat, Ms. Swan," he said, directing her to a fancy upholstered chair that was probably as old as the town itself. Emma sat down on the offered chair, but she didn't allow herself to get too comfortable. She wasn't planning this to be a long, social visit. "I don't have all of the answers you seek, but what would you like to know?" he asked as he took a seat to her right on a burgundy divan.

"I guess we'll start with the same one I've been asking since last night - why was my mother's identity and place in this town such a secret?"

"That was a choice made by your family, I'm afraid. As you know, Storybrooke is a town with an unusual pedigree that they sought to protect. How much of the history of this town do you know?"

"I know a little. I know it was founded by the Blanchard family after the Civil War, in the late 1800's."

"That is correct - your great-grandparents founded the town in 1872, selecting this remote area of Maine to create a safe haven for those who wished to practice the magical arts, both dark and light. They welcomed fellow witches and warlocks and opened a portal across the bay to connect to other magical realms. However, the magic that Storybrooke was founded upon came with a price. To secure the magic that supports the town's infrastructure, your great-grandparents formed a pact with a very powerful warlock from a distant realm. That warlock agreed to share his extensive powers with the town of Storybrooke in exchange for an agreement that he could return whenever he chose and demand a duel for the powers of any practitioner he chose. Should his chosen competitor lose, he would gain their powers, Should the opponent win, the warlock would consider the debt paid and leave forever."

"That seems like an awfully big price to pay just to have magic in this town, but I don't get what that has to do with my mother…"

"I'm getting to that," he assured her, frowning at the young woman's impatience. "The warlock has returned to Storybrooke twice since the town's inception and has won the challenge both times. Your mother was his unfortunate second victim."

"She lost her powers?" Emma asked, partially for clarification, although she'd understood Gold's explanation of the warlock's competition, so she already knew the answer.

"She did. Her challenge caused her to be tricked into making an ill-advised choice, but that's really all I know of it. After losing her magic, she attempted to stay here in town and live a normal life. She married widower Robert Nolan, had you, but then one day, something changed and she took you and disappeared."

"When I was growing up, she never once mentioned that she'd had powers of any kind," Emma stated as she attempted to process all of this new information. "I always thought that she'd run from something bad, maybe something abusive, but after meeting David and learning about our dad, that didn't make sense anymore and now it makes even less sense… What caused her to run away from her home and family?"

"I'm afraid that you'll need to ask those questions of your family. I can't tell you what pushed her away or why they kept her identity a secret from you, but now, if you don't mind, I should be getting back to work."

"I understand. One last question though," she began as she stood up. "Do you have any idea what ill-advised choice she had to make?"

"Afraid not, dearie. All I know is that the warlock came into town and weaseled his way into her life, leading her to that decision. She chose poorly."

"What the hell did she have to choose?" Emma repeated the question to herself while exhaling a deep sigh.

Gold shook his head and shrugged as he ushered her out of his office. "I don't remember much from that time, but from what I do recall of your mother, it likely involved a man."

"What?" she exclaimed as she crossed the threshold back into the main shop. "What do you mean by that?"

"Growing up, your mother had very bad luck with the men in her life. Your grandfather died when she was still rather young and she had a string of boyfriends but few serious relationships. Perhaps your brother or your cousins will remember more?"

"Well, this just keeps getting better and better…," she muttered under her breath as the old man disappeared behind the curtain without another word. Befuddled, she gathered up the few belongings her mother had left with Gold, collected the photograph of her mother and aunt along with her grandfather's letter and wandered out to the sidewalk completely lost in thought. She now had the knowledge that her mother had once possessed magical powers but lost them after being on the losing end of some sort of challenge from an evil warlock - a challenge that had involved some sort of choice - but what? By Gold's description, this challenge had taken place a few years before her mother had run away to Boston so it didn't seem as though the loss of her magic had been the catalyst that caused her to bolt. So, what had it been? What choice had the warlock forced her to make? Had it actually involved a man like Gold had suggested or was there more to it?

She was anxious to see what was inside the mysterious box Gold had held onto for all of these years and to learn more about the books that accompanied the box. First though, she had to take a break and feed her grumbling stomach. The coffee had been a good way to start the morning, but she needed to fuel her growling belly and Granny's was tantalizingly close… Three or four more cups of industrial strength coffee couldn't hurt either.

She took a step into the street, barely noticing the car parked curbside in front of the pawn shop and too distracted by her own thoughts to realize that there was another person in her path. She walked straight into that unseen pedestrian, the collision sending them both tumbling to the asphalt. Emma managed to hold on to her mother's box, but the books fell from her grasp.

"I'm so sorry…,' she began to apologize profusely to the man she'd collided with. "I wasn't looking where I was going…" She pushed herself to her knees and began to gather her belongings, almost afraid to look to see who she had so awkwardly run into. "Are you alright? I hope I didn't knock you over too hard…"

"It's alright, Emma…," the familiar voice said with a chuckle. "This isn't exactly how I planned to run into you, but I'm not going to complain." Recognizing the voice, she flushed with embarrassment. It may have only been Walsh, but she would rather he not see her this flustered.

"Walsh, I guess we literally ran into each other," she said with a shy, awkward grin. "I'm really sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"No worries. I wasn't really paying attention either. I was just heading over to visit Mr. Gold and see if there were any updates on my incoming shipment. What about you? I thought you were off today but that intensity in your gaze says otherwise."

"Oh, I was just returning a book to Gold in exchange for this old stuff that used to belong to my mother. Now I'm heading over to Granny's to get some breakfast and take a look at this stuff. Wanna join me? I'll buy to make up for getting your suit all dirty…"

"I just might take you up on that offer," he said as he brushed some invisible dust off of his dark, coffee bean brown suit. Yeah, she had coffee cravings on her brain again… "Let me finish up my business here but I'll stop over when I'm all done."

"Sounds good," she replied with a hopeful smile. "I'll take my time. After last night, I'll probably need to go through a couple of pots of coffee…"

"Last night? What happened last night?"

"Let's just call it an interesting night that ended in a few too many drinks after having way too much unloaded on me too quickly…"

"Ah… I have heard that the full moon can lead to some overwhelming revelations around here…"

"Oh, just a few revelations… But I'd better let you get back to business. I'll save you a seat if you decide to take me up on the breakfast offer."

"Sounds great, Emma. I'll try to keep things short," he offered, not exactly promising that he'd make it but leaving her hopeful that she might gain some company for breakfast. She had so much to process and she hadn't even gotten to the relatives yet. Maybe it was best to have someone to share the discoveries with her instead of sitting in the diner alone?

Walsh held the smile on his face until as Emma continued (cautiously this time) across the quiet street towards her intended destination of Granny's diner. Once her back was fully to him and he was no longer in her purview, he straightened his sport coat and reset his composure. Projecting a decidedly more business-like demeanor, he entered the pawn shop to seek out its owner.

Alerted by the jingle of the bell attached to the door handle, Gold knew that someone had come into the store, but believing it to be the deputy returning with more inquiries, he responded before poking his head around the curtain.

"If you're back for more, there's not much else I can tell you," Gold said as he stepped around the room divider to see that the person awaiting him in the lobby wasn't Emma Swan, awkwardly finding the face of Walsh Gibbons instead.

"More about what?" a confused and curious Walsh asked as he noted Gold's reaction.

"Mr. Gibbons. My apologies. I thought Ms. Swan was returning with some additional questions about the items she just obtained from me." Gold did his best to conceal his embarrassment over his faux pas of making the statement before confirming his audience.

"Ah, yes, she mentioned that she'd traded for some old items of her mother's."

"A few small things," Gold said, not intending to go into further detail. "So, how can I help you today, Mr. Gibbons? As you're aware, the ship carrying the items you desire isn't due into port until Monday. The captain expects to be in the harbor around noon should fair winds prevail."

"Yes, I'm aware of that delay. I'm actually here for something else, specifically some assistance with a particular potion…," Walsh informed him as he reached into the right hand pocket of his sport coat, withdrawing a folded slip of paper that he slid across the glass countertop to Gold. "Think you can put that together for me?"

The pawn shop owner picked up the paper warily, slowly unfolding it to see what was being requested of him. "I believe I have all of the ingredients for this but whatever do you need it for?"

"That is my business," Walsh replied with haughty tone. "Your business is to make it for me, right?" Gold found himself reminded of his conversation earlier that week when he'd assured Emma that his dealings with Walsh were strictly business. Clearly word had reached Gibbons who was now throwing it back at him. "How long will it take?" Walsh asked to snap Gold back to the present.

"If I have everything required, I can have it to you in about an hour. Let me take a quick gander at my storeroom."

"Please do. I'll wait."

Gold vanished behind the heavy fabric divider while Walsh waited impatiently to learn if the potion could be completed in a timely manner. The shopkeeper was out of sight for less than two minutes when he returned with his response. "I do have all of the necessary ingredients. The potion will be ready for you in an hour."

"Perfect. I guess I'll go take Emma up on her breakfast offer while I wait," Walsh grinned. "See you in an hour."

Gold stood silently behind the counter as Walsh exited his shop. He'd made many potions for Gibbons over the years they'd been doing business together, but this latest request had him puzzled. It was unusual, even for Gibbons, but business was business.

**********

Elsewhere in Storybrooke, (at least he hoped he was still in Storybrooke) Killian Jones had awakened in near total darkness. His last recollection was of walking a very tipsy Emma to the Sheriff's station then returning to the Jolly Roger - but how long ago had that been? There was no way to know if it was day or night or whether minutes or hours had passed. He vaguely recalled a choking sensation that he might have dismissed as a dream were it not for the lingering ache in his neck.

He knew he was no longer aboard his ship as there was nothing familiar to any of his senses - no gentle rocking and swaying on the bobbing waves nor any scent of marine air or teakwood. No, wherever he was, it was dank and dark. There was no light filtering in through any crack in the stone or cement walls of this chamber and there was a musty, earthy odor to his surroundings.

Where the hell was he?

Using the nearest wall both for support and to gain his bearings, Killian pushed himself upright, immediately realizing that he was missing something - his hook. He knew he'd been wearing it when he'd left Emma but now its familiar weight wasn't there. He still wore the brace that secured it yet the prosthetic implement itself had been removed.

A renewed vulnerability washed over him as he inched his way along the wall in the inky blackness yet he was determined to take stock of this prison. His hand felt for any recess or crack that might signify a possible exit as he made his way to the chamber's first corner. He continued moving to his right along the second wall discovering that it was little more than an arm-span distance between the corners. Whatever this awful hole was, it was narrow.

The third wall proved to be only slightly longer than the second which provided him a rough estimate of the room's dimensions - approximately six or seven feet wide and perhaps nine or ten feet wide. It would be about the size of a small storage room or closet - or even an actual prison cell.

But at least there was some hope. As he reached the next bend, his hand came in contact with wood. A door frame. A doorway. At least if the room had a way in, there was a chance he could find a way out, although that might prove a tad more difficult without his hook. His hand surveyed the frame and door in search of a key hole or some type of locking mechanism but he found neither. Whatever purpose this chamber served, it was secured from outside which left him with the chilling realization that it just might be a prison cell and he was its unfortunate occupant.

Questions flooded his brain as his psyche tried to make sense of his situation. Where the hell was he and how the bloody hell did he get here? He didn't remember leaving the Jolly Roger, at least not willingly. He'd sensed no one else on deck with him and a skirmish would certainly have drawn the attention of his crew.

Someone had brought him here and locked him away in this miserable, lonely pit, but who? He'd barely been in this port for a week but had he unexpectedly crossed someone unwittingly? There was so much he needed to know…

"Hello?" he shouted in the direction of the sealed door, unsure if anyone would even be listening. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

Hearing nothing except the echo of his own voice and the pounding of his heart, Killian slumped against the nearest wall. He knew he needed to think this through and to conserve his energy. There was no indication of any water or provisions left here for him so either his captor planned to bring him sustenance or he was intended to slowly starve to death - the latter being an option he wasn't prepared to consider.

#cssns #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff #cs au ff #cs ff au #witch emma #a simple spell #and that spell will come back into play in the next chapter #but for now the mystery deepens #well - for emma at least

[toloveawarlord]

Sweet Sacrifice (Ch.2)

You can find all my other works here!

              The only sounds were the chirping of the crickets and our breathing. Even though the girl had gone, we still waited. With his body up against mine, it became increasingly harder to focus. “Okay, Bryon, we can head back now. I’m sure Albert is pacing holes in the ground.” Actually, he might be out looking for us at this point.

              Nodding, Bryon stepped back. “You did well not killing them,” he said, taking my hand. The alarm registered on my face, making him laugh. “You aren’t a good navigator in the woods. I’d hate to lose you.”

              “I can find my way back to camp,” I argued.

              Byron shrugged his shoulders, pulling me in front of him. “Lead the way, Starlight.” The darkness hid the expression on his face.

              Thankfully, it hid the blush on my own. It had been some time since he’d called me by that nickname… since I’d become his guard over three years ago. Sighing, I tried to shake my hand loose. “I need my hand back.” This was a test.

              “Fine, I’ll allow you to have it back temporarily.”

              When he released me, I set off back in the direction from which I’d come. In the dark, my eyesight didn’t work as well. Byron remained silent, simply following behind me. It didn’t take this much time to find him, did it? Not giving in, the next step I took was the wrong one. The ground under my foot disappeared.

              Byron hooked an arm around my waist, hauling my back. Both of us hit the ground. The only sound for a few moments was the hard soil falling down the drop off and splashing into the wide creek. “Still want to lead the way?” The teasing his left his voice.

              Swallowing my pride, I shook my head. That drop was a long way down. One of us could have been seriously injured. The walk back to the camp via Bryon’s directions had taken a fraction of the time my route had taken. Albert met us at the tree line, expressing his concern at how long it had taken us to return.

              Escaping their conversation, I retreated to the fire until the two disappeared in Bryon’s tent, and then I moved to sit down by the lake in the distance. It all seemed so calm out here. The hour grew later, and only a few knights were keeping guard. To clear my mind, I decided to go for a swim. No one could really see me.

              Stripping out of my clothes, the chilly water made me shiver. It took a few minutes for my body to adjust to the cool temperature. My mind kept wandering back to the woods. Why did he let me do that? It could have turned out so much worse. Frustrated, I slipped under the water, letting out a scream. Once. Twice. I only surfaced for air.

              The moonlight reflected on the surface. Floating on my back, I stared up at the night sky. The stars twinkled. Tomorrow we meet this Princess who might be future Queen of Stein. It all made me angry. Returning to the shore, I took some deep breaths. Handle tomorrow like a professional. Protecting Byron. That’s my job.

              Returning to the camp sight, I started to sit by the fire to warm myself, but a lantern illuminating Bryon’s tent caught my attention. Sighing, I went to chastise him for still being awake. “It’s late, shouldn’t you be asleep?” I asked, entering the tent.

              Glancing up from the papers he was reading for only a moment, he said, “You went swimming in the lake?” His eyes moved over the pages. “Come here.”

              Crossing over to where he sat on his bed, I dropped down on the ground beside it. With no argument from him, I started to apologize. “I’m sorry for what I did in—”

              “I don’t want your apology,” Byron cut me off sharply, silencing me. Nothing was said for a long time, and I started to count the seconds as they passed. Sighing loudly, Byron dropped the papers into my lap. “Stop looking so pitiful. It doesn’t suit you.”

              If he won’t let me apologize, then I’m not talking to him. Sifting through the papers, it took a moment for me to understand what I was looking at. Protea is having another crisis and is thinking about going to war with us. Guess you kill one assassin at dinner and they lose their minds. It’s not like I wanted to make a big scene. The last page caught my eye. A marriage proposal. For me. “He wants to… marry me?”

              “Seems that way. He wants to tame you. He also wrote in there that a woman shouldn’t be doing such grotesque work like killing assassins, but it amazed him how skilled you were. He wants you for himself,” Byron answered.

              I shuffled the papers around, not really looking at them anymore. “If it’ll stop the war, and it’s what you want, then I’ll do it,” I said softly. He has no real need for me. There’s an entire army out there to watch out for him. Not that he really needs them. He’s an excellent fighter.

              Byron smacked me on the head. “You’re an idiot, Rory.”

              “Ouch! That hurt!”

              He leaned down to grab my wrist, jerking me up to my knees. With his face inches from mine, he stared into my eyes. “You are under my protection. I granted you the right to live after what you did, and I will not toss you away to Protea just to appease an old king. Don’t ever make the assumption that you are useless, Rory.”

              I blinked, taken aback by his words. “Don’t do that. Don’t make it sound like I’m important to you.” Twisting my wrist out of his grip, I stood to my feet. “I’m going to help keep watch. You should get some rest before our last day of travel to Wysteria. Goodnight.” Taking my leave before he could say anything else stupid, I held back the tears.

              Keeping watch is a good way to get your mind off things. A few of the guards told me stories about their families, and the times when they fought in a real battle. It made me forget about the feeling deep inside that had bubbled up again. By the time the sun peeped over the horizon, my resolve had been strengthened and the day ahead of me would be easier to face.

              Locked inside the carriage with Bryon, however, made me nervous. Not having to ride a horse had become routine. If anyone where to attempt to attack him here, they’d have to go through me. My head bobbed as sleep tried to take over. “You should rest before we reach Wysteria. I need you at 100 percent for this mission,” Byron said offhandedly, reading through more documents.

              As much as I didn’t want to, I allowed myself a short rest. He was right. If I wasn’t at my best, then I was no use to him. While my fighting skills were strong, tiredness could cause me to make a costly mistake, especially with his “no kill” order. The thought annoyed me even as I drifted off to sleep.

              The carriage jolted as it stopped, almost knocking me off the seat. Rubbing my eyes, I followed Byron out, yawning loudly. “Is this it?” The castle looked magnificent, but it wasn’t Stein. I’d come to love the way Bryon’s castle looked. A quick pat down of my body told me that all my weapons were securely in place and ready to be used if necessary.

              “Behave yourself, Rory,” Albert chastised quietly.

              Giles met us at the front gate, cutting off our conversation. He showed us inside, giving Byron a quick tour on the way to the room that he would be staying in. “I didn’t realize that a lady would be accompanying you today. I’ll prepare a room for her right away.”

              “No need. She’s more like a pet dog. Odds of her leaving my side at all, is slim. She’ll use the couch over there,” Bryon said.

              Giles looked between us silently before he nodded his head. “I will arrange for some extra blankets and pillow be delivered here.” He bowed slightly and left me and Byron alone.

              Searching the room quickly, I collapsed on the couch knowing that it was safe in this room. “You’re going to give people the wrong idea,” I said, sighing. Not that I really care what others think of me. It’s his image I’m worried about.

              Byron laughed, moving to look out the window at the garden view. “Would you have rather been moved to another room? I can have that arranged.”

              “No! Of course not.”

              “Then quit complaining and get ready for the evening’s event,” Byron said as someone knocked on the door. Albert entered, silently signaling for me to search the grounds but giving Byron an update on the schedule for the evening.

              The castle layout was fairly simple to memorize. More guests began to arrive for the princess’s speech, which made plenty of openings for our enemies to slip inside. Checking every corridor that we’d take to get to the ballroom drew attention. A man grabbed my arm, dressed in a Wysteria guard’s uniform. “You arrived with King Byron, didn’t you? Are you lost?”

              “Just making sure that it’s safe,” I replied.

              “That’s our job. It is our castle.” He looks offended by my words.

              I shrugged my shoulders. “And it’s my job to ensure that no harm comes to King Byron. So, if I feel like patrolling the grounds for a while, then I will. I don’t trust you, at all.” Too many times had pride gotten in a guard’s way because they wanted to outdo me. No part of me cared what they thought.

              The man sighed, but nodded his head. “I understand.”

              What?

              We stared at each other for a solid 30 seconds. Both of us seemed confused by the other. Snapping back to reality, I tried to tug my arm loose. “Could you let go now?” I asked. It’s already so late. Byron would definitely leave me behind if I wasn’t back soon.

              Surprised, the man let go. “Yes, I apologize.”

              He’s… weird. I believe that insignia on his armor means he’s the captain of the royal guard. Albert has a similar marking. “You’re the captain of the Wysteria guard, aren’t you?”

              “Yes, Alyn Crawford. And you are from Stein?” He asked.

              I nodded. “Rory.”

              Alyn extended his hand to me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rory.” What’s with the pleasantries all of a sudden?

              I can’t be rude. If Byron heard about it, he’d complain to me about it for weeks. Placing my hand in his, I pointed back the way I came. “Well… I should get back to my king.”

              “Of course. I’ll see you around.”

              Unavoidable. He’s going to go out of his way to speak to me now. I don’t have the luxury of making friends.

Making my way back to Byron’s chamber, a figure outside the window caught my eye, causing me to stop. Night had set in, and from up here, it was hard to make out the person. Their movements were purposeful, cautious. My body tensed at the sight. Danger.

              “Rory.” Bryon’s voice pulled me out of my state. “Is something the matter?”

              By the time I returned my attention to the courtyard below, the figure had disappeared. Shaking my head, I ran my hands through my hair in attempt to look presentable. “Nope.”

              Again, Byron held my gaze with a disapproving stare. “Let’s go.” At least he didn’t push the issue.

              With me on his right and Albert on his left, it should have been impossible to get anywhere near him. The ballroom was crowded. The figure in the courtyard plagued my thoughts, setting me on edge. My eyes darted around the room, looking for anyone who matched the silhouette. Too many variables. Too many people who could possibly fit in. Resting my hand on one of my blades hidden under my jacket, my heart pounded in anticipation. Who could it be? Which one of them is the enemy?

              The princess gave her speech, but my head heard none of it. The room around me filled with claps and cheers. The perfect moment for someone to slip through unheard. The man, Giles, from earlier approached us with the Princess… the girl from the woods last night. I spent too long staring at her. My attention had been captured for only a few seconds by this girl, before someone behind her raised a metal object up.

              That’s… a dagger!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#midnight cinderella #midcin #byron wagner #albert burckhardt #alyn crawford #giles christophe #rory kinder

[rhetoricalrogue]

Inktober for Writers - 3. Warmth

Day 3′s Inktober for Writer’s prompt done!  Yeah, I’ve pretty much decided that this month is going to be focusing on the OTP of 2017.  I’m still super rusty, but I love these two so much.  The lovely Roz belongs to @alittlestarling.

9:29 Dragon

The last thing hat Vincent could clearly remember of the afternoon was tutoring a young mage on how to properly cast an ice wall.  He’d spent days teaching the academics: the intent of the spell, the proper gestures, how to will the magic within you to do what you wanted.  Everything was going so well that Vincent had decided to move to the practical side a little earlier than usual.

It was an ice wall.  Ice walls didn't need barriers.  Sure, his student had cast the spell a little too close to them, but he had figured that they would work on depth perception later.  The wall hadn't been very tall either, so Vincent had to kneel to inspect the work.  

He should have known better.  The slight crackle sound of ice was familiar, but he should have put up a barrier once the musical tinkling turned into ominous cracking.  He'd barely had enough time to push his pupil away before the entire thing blew up in his face.

White-hot searing pain had lanced up his right side.  He'd cried out as the explosion had blown him backwards, the back of his head smacking against the stone floor, and then everything had gone dark.

The first thing Vincent registered when he came to was that the hard floor had been replaced with a soft bed.  The second thing he registered were the fingers cupped loosely around his left hand.  Even without looking, he knew who they belonged to.

“Roz?”  He cleared his throat, wondering why his mouth felt so dry.

The hand in his tightened.  “Shh,” she said.  There was a bit of shuffling before Vincent felt cool fingers on his cheek.  “You should be resting.”

“Patrick, is he…” it had been a minor accident, more Vincent's fault for being careless than a twelve-year-old’s, surely the Knight-Captain wouldn't…

“He's fine,” Roz assured him, her voice low and soothing.  “A little shaken up and scared, but otherwise alright.  How are you feeling?”

He breathed a sigh of relief.  “Achy.  Why can't I see?”  He reached up to touch the right side of his face where it hurt the most.

Roz reached over his body and pulled his hand down.  “Don’t.  It…” he heard her lick her lips.  “That side is where the worst of it is.”

“How bad was I hurt?”

“Ice shrapnel directly to the face.”  She got up and rounded the bed, the mattress dipping as she sat down on the edge.  “You have some cuts to the left side, but it looks as if you had turned away at the last second, or else it would have been worse.”  Her fingers were warm as they carefully undid the bandages over his forehead.  “It could have been worse.  The healers stopped the bleeding, but they said that you’ll still have scars.”

Vincent blinked as his left eye was uncovered.  “I can't open my right one.”

There was a familiar tingle of magic down his spine as Roz heated the water inside a nearby basin.  “It's swollen shut.”  She wrung out a washcloth and gently patted at his cheek.  The scent of elfroot was strong in the air and the warmth of the water was soothing, but not as soothing as the feel of Roz’s magic wrapping around his body as she silently laid down a healing spell.  “A piece slashed you from cheekbone to eyebrow.  You were very lucky that you didn't lose your eye.  You may still - we won't know the full damage until we can get the swelling down to look.”

Vincent stared at her face and took in the slight trembling of her bottom lip.  “Hey, it's going to be okay.”  Reaching up, he cupped her cheek.  “I'm going to heal up and you'll just have a slightly uglier best friend than you had before, just you wait.”

Roz laughed, even as she slapped at his chest.  “You've never been ugly, you idiot.  All this is going to do is make you look like some sort of battle-weary hero Janice reads about in those books she somehow managed to get the merchant to bring in.”

“Perish the thought.  I don't know if my ego could inflate to such standards of rugged handsomeness.”  He gently tugged at her until their foreheads were pressed lightly together.  “It’s going to be okay.  Can I see the damage?”

“I don't know where you keep a mirror.”

“Top drawer of that dresser, next to my shaving kit.”

She sat by him again, the round mirror shifting from hand to hand.  “Just don't be surprised,” she cautioned.  “It looks worse than it is because of all the swelling, but…”

“Rosalind.  Just give me the mirror, please.”

Roz wordlessly handed the mirror to him.  Taking a breath, Vincent brought it up to his face.

“Oh.”  The right side of his face was bright red, which he assumed had been from exposure to ice.  There was a long, jagged cut bisecting his eyebrow and going down his cheek, parts of it splintering off from the main injury, almost as if he had a lightning pattern on his cheekbone. There was a deep gouge along his cheek and a similarly deep looking cut on his chin and rounding upwards to his left jawline.

“I told you it was bad.”

He fought the urge to touch the worst injury.  “Well, I won't be winning any beauty contests, that's for certain.”  He tilted his head so he could inspect his eye.  Like Roz said, it looked pretty bad.  “How long until things calm down so we can see the total damage?”

“I don't know, but let me put a poultice on some of these ice burns.  It'll help with the pain and some of the swelling.”

“You really think that'll work?”

“Please.  I grew these herbs myself.  You of all people should know that my little pep talks to the plants makes them grow up big and strong.  And unlike some people stuck in bed, not naming names, I happened to pay attention in horticulture classes.”

“I paid attention,” he grumbled, sighing as Roz applied the poultices to his cheek and secured them with a clean bandage.  “Maybe not as much as you, but…” He broke off to yawn, wincing as his face protested.

“You really ought to get some sleep,” she said.  “That's probably the best thing you can do right now.”

As if to prove her right, Vincent had to stifle another yawn.  “How long was I out anyway?”

“A full day and a half.  It took three Templars to haul your butt up the stairs and into your room.”

He snorted.  “Probably wishing they could have just stuck me in the mage dormitory instead of having to go up to the Enchanter floor.”  Vincent watched as Roz put away everything into a neat little kit, his good eye spying the shadows under her eyes.  “You should get some rest too.”

“I'm fine, Vincent, really.”

“Roz.”

She shrugged.  “I took naps.”

“In that uncomfortable chair with your neck at a funny angle, I bet.”  He patted the mattress.  “Come on, there's plenty of room and I don't bite.  Not unless you ask nicely.”

That earned him a roll of the eyes, but Roz did crawl back into bed with him, kicking off her shoes as she snuggled up against his left side.  “It's good to know you still have your sense of humor.”

“Always.”  Vincent lifted his arm so he could wrap it around her shoulder.  “Thank you, by the way.  For being here with me, and for helping me heal.”

“As if you wouldn't have done the same if our spots were reversed.”  Roz curled up closer, her leg tangling up with his.  “It's what best friends do.”

“I know.”  He was grateful that his left cheek didn't hurt as he rested the side of his face against the crown of her head.  “I love you, Roz.”

“And I love you back, you big lug.  Now shush, and go to sleep.”

Vincent closed his eye and began to relax.  Just as he was drifting off, he was hit with a sudden thought.  “I really should write Mother, so she doesn't go into fits when she sees me next.”

“I already wrote a letter explaining what happened.  And you give Marta too little credit, she's made of sterner stuff than that.”

“Can I read it before you send it out?”

“Vincent.  Sleep.”

Vincent began to open his mouth to say something, but never got further than the first syllable.  The last thing he felt before passing out was the sensation of Roz's sleep spell covering him like a warm blanket.

#inktober for writers #vincent trevelyan #rosalind trevelyan #alittlestarling #otp: sometimes home has a heartbeat

[spyvstailor]

Hiii, can you write another ? Maybe something along the lines of Walter waking only Daniels up at some point while the rest of the crew is still asleep ?

Hey Nonny, Nonny, Hey! Since you didn’t specify smut, and since my mind runs pretty clean (somedays), I decided to make this one sweet and cute. We cool with that? Cool. Here it is! (sorry, it took me forever to write this, work, ya know?)

“Walter,” Mother cooed to him. “There is a malfunction in one of the pods. Life support is failing.”

Looking up from watching the stars drag by the window on the bridge, Walter asked, “whose?”

“Daniels Branson.”

Running from the bridge. Walter made a sharp left into the hall that led to the room where Daniels pod rested. He knew the room well, it had become one of his favourite on his tour around the Covenant.

Kneeling by the side of the pod, he frowned at the inferior design of it. Weyland-Yutani were his makers, he could see no wrong in their company or all it stood for, but he also knew a design flaw when he saw one.

Someone was going to die in the pods one of these days.

But not today. Daniels was too important to the mission to lose.

Pressing in his override protocols, he safely began the sequence to wake Daniels up. If he had been any later she would have run out of oxygen, as it was he moved across the floor to prepare a mask for her to breathe into.

As the lid was finally retracted from the pod, Daniels burst upright, coughing and vomiting. Walter waited for her to heave out a healthy amount of stomach bile and watery liquid from the feeding apparatus, before offering her the oxygen.

She inhaled deeply, before turning her face away and vomiting again.

“We will get you situated in a new pod soon enough,” Walter said, hoping to ease her concern.

Her dark eyes just gazed at him, before she blinked and said weakly, “Walter, I just got pulled out of–” she broke off to vomit. “I just got pulled out of one of these things,” she murmured, wiping puke from her mouth, “I’m not getting back in one for at least a lifetime.”

He was quiet. There was nothing he could add to improve the situation. Daniels would have to get back into the pod, but he also understood her concern. They were flawed.

Patting his shoulder as she hopped down from the pod, she swayed a little on her feet, unsteady from lack of use.

Walter steadied her with his arm, her hands clutching at his forearm.

“Water?” She asked.

He waited until she was strong on her own feet, before moving across the room towards the cooler where water was kept, clean and fresh.

“How long have i been out?” She asked.

“Nine months,” he said.

“I’m a pretty big baby,” she teased half heartedly.

Walter returned with her water, offering her one of his rare grins.

She snorted into her water. “Is that really how you smile or are you mocking me?”

His smile died.

“It’s just, you look like you’re gonna eat me while smelling something nasty.”

“I’ve been working with Mother to improve my smile,” Walter said. “She informed me that the first grin programmed into my core functions was too ‘sharky’. This smile only flashes the top teeth, less predatorial.”

“You have put a lot of thought into your smile,” she mused, walking across the room to where Jake was hanging, still in his cryotube.

Walter watched her walk with protective eyes, worried she may yet collapse onto the hard floor.

“Wow, this place is creepy with everyone out,” she mumbled.

Walter quietly followed her, walking in her footsteps until he stood just behind her.

Sipping her water, she turned to him and asked, “so,what do you do for fun?”

He blinked.

“I know!” She beamed. “Chair races down the halls? Only, I guess with just you, it’s Walter trying to beat his record?”

“Forty-three seconds from bridge to cargo hold,” he stated.

Daniels laughed. “So, you have tried it!”

Walter was quiet.

“You are the Space Cowboy,” she teased, heading for the door.

He wanted to remind her that they needed to return her to her pod, but he also wanted to see what she was up to, she mystified him sometimes. So he followed her, walking just behind again as she wandered the halls and corridors.

“Do you know who the Space Cowboy was, Walter?” She asked, calling over her shoulder as she moved freely around the Covenant.

“Steve Miller Band, The Joker, 1973,” he explained. “Some people call me the–”

“You don’t need,” she interrupted him quickly, “to do that.”

They moved into the bridge and she just climbed into the Captain seat. Not only boldly climbed there, but tucked her bare feet up under her.

Figuring with bare feet that she may be cold, he moved to a nearby emergency closet and pulled out a blanket kept there for shock victims. He would wash and replace it later.

Draping it over her and around her, Walter wrapped her up.

“You don’t nee to do that, Walter,” she said.

He was quiet, standing beside her.

“Wow, we must be the only living things awake for light years,” she mused, eyes on the endless stars.

Wanting to object to her error of calling him ‘living’, he opened his mouth, but closed it again.

“It’s kind of scary, isn’t it?” She asked. “How do you do it?”

“Do it?”

“How do you handle the loneliness while we’re in hypersleep?”

This was a curious question which Walter didn’t quite know how to answer. “It’s my job,” he said, hoping it answered her question.

“But don’t you get lonesome?”

“I have Mother and tasks to keep me busy.”

“Do you peek into our dreams?” She teased.

The synthetic feeling of shame came to him, it was more like the opening of a program within him, one that made him still in fear, while drawing his mouth closed more securely. He supposed to Daniels, it would look like he was pressing his lips between his teeth.

Her dark eyes turned up towards him as she took another sip of her water. “What do I dream about? I can’t remember having any.”

“Snow,” he said. “You always dream of snow.”

“What do you think Jung would say about that?”

He was quiet.

“You do know Jung, don’t you?”

“Yes.“

“If you could dream, what would you dream about, Walter?”

He didn’t know, when even attempting to access that query internally, he came up blank. Nothing came to his mind. But with a burst of colour, he saw plants. Rows and rows of flowering plants and sunshine.

“Flowers,” he said.

“Flowers?”

“I believe I would dream of flowers.”

She smiled gently. “Why flowers?”

“Flowers are simple, they need only simple things to thrive.”

“Not because of the colour or the scent?”

He was quiet.

“Well,” Daniels sighed, setting her water aside, “maybe when we get to Origae-6 you can open up a greenhouse or something.”

There would be no greenhouse for Walter, he didn’t have the chance to tell her that he was to be decommissioned once they arrived at their destination. Or perhaps he had the chance, but he didn’t have the words.

In order to protect the humans of the Covenant, he wasn’t meant to subject them to such troubling thoughts. Being decommissioned was like death, it was a final act. Humans found it disturbing to think about.

He wouldn’t worry her needlessly.

“So?” She asked playfully. “Chair race then back to sleep?”

Her slanted, wicked grin was returned by his own.

“We’ll work on that grin when we get home,” she teased, pushing to her feet. “Because it looks painful.”

#Anonymous #sorry this was so late #walter x daniels

[roobierubyroobieruby]

Scarred, but not Broken (Part 8)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1,224

Warnings: depression, anxiety, self-harm, bad thoughts…

Summary: You and Nat are best friends, and one night you are struggling with your anxiety and depression. She brings you to the Avengers compound for a quiet girl’s night that gets crashed by some of the team. Feeling overwhelmed, you slip away unnoticed – or so you think.

(Y/NN) – Your Nick Name

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7]

Previously: He hated the monstrosity that was his metal arm, the abhorrent things it had done under HYDRA’s control, but here, it was keeping you safe and for that he couldn’t loathe it. Around you, it became something he could use to protect you, keep you safe, and he’d never be more thankful for having it now that you were here to give it a worthy use.

Allowing himself to lay a small kiss on the crown of your head, he felt his body relax against you, his own exhaustion winning out over his fear of you being so close, but he wouldn’t push you away, not when you needed him most.

**Natasha’s POV**

 When Natasha had walked into your house that night, seeing your things dropped on the floor, she had instinctively known that something wasn’t right. You’re never messy, never unkempt, and you certainly never forget when you two have plans. Even though she was expecting something wrong, she never thought to walk in and see what she saw. 

She could see you’d been crying, even as you tried to play it off as exhaustion, and the fact that you weren’t jumping for joy at seeing her meant something was seriously amiss. As soon as she noticed the new angry, red lines on your thigh, she was filled with overwhelming panic and fear – her first instinct being to yell at you because you could’ve seriously injured yourself. But she knew that isn’t what was right, you didn’t need to be lectured or yelled at or made to feel ashamed of what you were going through, of how you were feeling.

 As much as instinct told her to yell at you out of fear of losing you, she knew that just being there for you would get across the message you needed – that she was always going to be there for you. That’s what you needed, and that’s what she was going to give you, because this wasn’t about her. But you needed to be taken out of this environment, even just for a night, and so to the compound was the best option.

 While watching Doctor Who, Nat had noticed you visibly begin to relax, almost seeming to feel more like yourself and forget the events that had transpired earlier. When she heard Steve’s voice echo down the hall, her first instinct was to you, to make sure that you were ok. The team wasn’t meant to be back until tomorrow at the earliest which is the only reason you had agreed to come. Now, you were trapped here and Natasha knew this could possibly send your anxieties soaring, which could begin pushing you back over that edge where you retreat into yourself and get caught up in your head. She knew the team wouldn’t judge you or pity you like she knew you thought, but it didn’t mean that they had to have their own front row seats to the war you fought inside your head. Thinking quickly, she knew if they sat down for a movie that they’d be lost in it within the hour, she just had to buffer between you and them in the meantime.

 Natasha knew that she was only half successful when you’d hugged Steve, but not long after had left for the bathroom. She had seen on your face that if you were going to the bathroom, it was for space, so she didn’t want to follow you. But after twenty minutes, waiting for you to return, she knew she had to find you and be prepared for whatever state she may find you in, whether it be numb or crying your eyes out. She was ready for any situation, but not the one she found when she quietly slipped out the rooftop doors as per FRIDAY’s mention that both you and Bucky had gone out but never come back in.

 The sight before her was almost unbelievable. And it was only almost unbelievable because here she was, looking right at it. You, curled up into Bucky, clutching at his shirt as if he’s the only thing holding you to this Earth, and Bucky wrapped around you like your own personal shield. And you were both sound asleep – no restlessness, no nightmares, no tears, no sign of any distress, just sleep.

 While Natasha thought about what to do – leave you both here to sleep and grab you both another blanket and some pillows, or wake you up and take you to bed – she heard the doors open behind her. The only person who would be curious enough to follow would be Steve, and so it came as no surprise when he stood next to her, taking a moment to comprehend what he was seeing.

 “You know, I always thought she’d be good for him. The nightmares keep him up more nights than what he sleeps, and he’s always so withdrawn out of fear of being a danger to anyone.” Steve was whispering, careful not to disturb the first restful sleep Bucky has probably had in weeks since he arrived back at the compound.

“I don’t actually know how I feel about this. She’s so strong, most of the time, but when she isn’t, she needs someone who can make her feel safe and secure when her whole world feels like it’s falling apart. She needs someone who can be her rock when she feels like she’s in quicksand. Can he do that for her when he’s constantly scared he’ll hurt her? Can he be stable and secure for her?”

 She heard Steve exhale slowly, contemplating her question, finally putting his hand on her shoulder, “maybe it’s what he needs to realise he isn’t the monster he thinks he is. Maybe he needs someone to ground and keep safe to see that she grounds him the same. Maybe he needs her – she might be what he needs to realise he isn’t a monster, that he’s just a man.”

 Steve turned away, slipping back through the doors in a silent goodnight, leaving Natasha alone to ponder his resounding comment – she might be what he needs to realise he isn’t a monster. Maybe he’s what she needs too.

 With a sigh, sick of the Captain being right and moral and just most of the time, Natasha found some big pillows and blankets and carefully laid them out around the couch before finally putting a blanket over Bucky, the closest she’s ever gotten get to him. It wasn’t lost on her that the only reason she was able to get this close is because of you. It didn’t mean she was on board with the idea of you finding comfort in an ex-HYDRA super soldier assassin, but if he could protect you and make you feel safe, then she would adjust for you. Maybe you would bring out the Sergeant James Barnes that Steve rages on about, the guy from Brooklyn that always helped the little guy.

 When she’d laid the last pillow down, you stirred quietly in your sleep, snuggling your face closer into his chest. It almost looked like you smiled, which uncoiled some of the fear in her stomach that had been stuck there this whole night – fear over whether she was able to help you or whether she hadn’t done enough. Upon sensing your movement, Bucky’s arms tightened against you, as if he were scared to let you go, lest he lose you. Or himself. Natasha couldn’t be sure who was helping who more, but she wasn’t about to get in the middle of something that could help you where she felt she couldn’t.

 With having made up her mind, she quietly slipped back through the doors into the compound, asking FRIDAY to ensure no one went onto the rooftop balcony tonight or at all until either you and/or Bucky had come back inside. Slipping into bed, Natasha felt sure in her decision to leave you be with Bucky, because if he hurt you then she would ruin him.

[Part 9!]

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