jj sighed in relief when he closed the stall door, his hard on aching in his suit. Goddamnit, why did this have to happen right now? While he was eating with the most attractive girl he’s ever set his eyes on?

Oh well. He’d just have to jerk one. At least that’s what he thought. He had just began to take his suit off, but as soon as he started, he heard a knock on the stall door.

“It’s occupied, asshole, there’s like 2 other stalls!” JJ exclaimed.

“It’s me, you idiot.” You spoke with a giggle when he opened the bathroom stall, suit already halfway down.

He stuttered around, covering himself with his hands, trying to think of an excuse. You went into the stall with him, shutting the door behind you. He was taken aback, but did not complain when you kissed him, pulling him in by the back of his head. He moaned into your mouth, his hands falling and going to your face.

And that’s how you ended up pushed against the stall door, your moans and the sound of skin slapping being the only thing heard in the bathroom.

“Oh- oh, JJ!” You cried out, your nails digging into his back, deep enough to make him bleed. His hands went to move your mask from your face, and you moved his.

It had been about two weeks since you had gotten back from the Bahamas. That place had seemed like a dream and a second life. Now, everyone was back in the tower- or traveling between the tower and their countries they governed.

T'Challa and you were privately planning a quiet Wakandan ceremony to officially make you the Queen of Wakanda. Every time you talked about the conversation, you wanted to throw up. The idea of becoming a Queen of a country you didn't belong to was uncomfortable to you. You weren't even sure the people there would appreciate you.

Meanwhile, Thor was working his 'God of Fertility' magic, so that though you were having sex with everyone you were soulmated to, hopefully only T'Challa would take root so that he had an heir to the throne. Which, naturally, sped up T'Challa's want for the ceremony.

Shuri, Okoye, and Nakia were also helping plan this ceremony and you mostly took a backseat, really only inputting what you wanted if it came to a certain colour of the plates or flowers.

You weren't allowed to choose the style of your dress either, but you could at least choose the colour. You just told them to match you to T'Challa because you really didn't want to show up in a colour that would clash with his.

In the meantime, you were also trying out a lot of your traits like the archery and using the flexibility to train. Now that you had mechanical knowledge, Tony was even more excited when you came down to the lab because then you could help him with his projects. Not to mention your photographic memory from Stephen- although now you understood why he couldn't be around the Avengers for more than a few hours at the most.

Y/S/N and you hadn't really had a chance to talk yet between everything about your father's death.

Tony had arranged it so that it was a week after you guys had gotten home from the Bahamas. He had everything planned and neither of you had to lift a finger or push over a penny (although apparently now all of Tony's money was yours so-).

But between recovering a week, the funeral, and now planning for a Wakandan marriage ceremony, you had barely been able to even see her, much less talk to her.

Elizabeth had been sending you update texts. Pietro, who had never lived in the tower anyways, had moved down to Ohio along with Hogun. The two of them shared an apartment that was near Elizabeth's house so that they could continue to court her as she finished up her last year of High School. Pietro however, did come back every weekend so that he could spend time with Jessie and Katherine too.

Vision and Wanda were preparing to go down and see her as well, but both of them were unsure of whether they would stay like the other two or not.

Oh! And Heimdall was down there as well- though only for a few weeks- as he was courting Katerina from gymnastics as well. Apparently they met at the wedding and they found out they were soulmates. Neither of them had any other soulmates so that was kind've cute.

After another week, everything was set. You and T'Challa were the first to arrive in Wakanda. You had gaped, looking out the window, seeing everything that they had built. Everything just looked so intricate, advanced, and beautiful.

"I think you'd like to see where Bucky lived after the Avengers disassembled for a little bit." T'Challa's voice was soft next to your ear.

You nodded and then said, "This place is beautiful T."

T'Challa kissed the back of your ear. "Are you nervous my Nkosazana?"

"A little bit. I don't think your people will like me very much." You admitted. "I mean, from what I know, you have very ancient customs and I. . . I'm not." You gave a laugh. "I mean, you're marrying an outsider."

"We can't help where our soulmates live." T'Challa said simply. "And I wouldn't trade you for any of 'em."

You blushed, turning away from the window so that you could snuggle into T'Challa's side until the quinjet landed.

Shuri, Okoye, and T'Challa's mother, Queen Ramonda, was waiting for us along with another set of the dora milaje were waiting on either side.

You quickly hooked your arm around T'Challa's around the two of you walked down the Quinjet ramp to meet them. Shuri was waiting there in a T-shirt, a pair of long pants, a belt wrapped around the both at the same time. Her hair was tied up in space buns, a choker around her neck.

"Y/N!" She squealed, darting forward to throw her arms around you. You could feel yourself relaxing and smiling as you hugged her back.

Queen Ramonda smiled. She was absolutely stunning, wearing some formal white dress and headdress that you wished you knew the name to.

It was also the first time you had seen Okoye in her full red and silver uniform, her spear in hand. She looked on stoically as though you didn't know each other. But she also looked at T'Challa like that, so it was probably just a thing.

"Welcome to Wakanda Princess Y/N." Queen Ramonda said, setting forward to take your hand.

"Thank you Queen Ramonda." You said awkwardly, hoping beyond hope that you were actually allowed to call her that.

T'Challa smiled, hugging his mother. "Come, let us go inside."

He took you inside, Shuri, and his mother following- which didn't feel right. Then you remembered that she wouldn't even be the Queen anymore since you were married to T'Challa. After the ceremony you would be the Queen of Wakanda.

You nearly threw up right then and there.

T'Challa sensed your nerves, moving his arm from yours, to hook it around your waist, pulling you close to his side, kissing the top of your head, "It's going to be fine, even fun, you'll see my Nkosazana."

You nodded. His voice was alluring and you were sure that everything was going to be alright. There was just a small nagging feeling that you couldn't shake. Although you weren't sure what that nagging thing was.

T'Challa showed you around the entire palace, including Shuri's lab. He showed you the specially designed cryo tank that Bucky had been in until Shuri had managed to fix him, getting rid of his trigger words.

After that, T'Challa led you up to the main wing where Dora Milaje lined the hallways and also where the royal bedrooms were.

He opened up the door, letting the both of you into his room.

You looked around in interest. On your left where you entered, there were several tribal decorations as the wall curved. When the wall flattened out to be straight, there were two bookcases in the wall on either side of the two doors, one of which led to the closet and one that led to the bathroom, before the wall curved again and there were more tribal decorations there as well.

The bed was directly across from the room, white sheets and two pillows propped up against the headboard. It was square shaped and lower to the floor than you would have expected.

In the middle of the room, there was some sort of funnel there where four seats sat underneath it.

"It's the hologram table." T'Challa said, noticing you peering at it curiously. He gave a little laugh, "Because even in sleep a King is never not working."

You nodded, looking at the doors that led out onto a large balcony that overlooked the all of Wakanda. They weren't glass or had any curtains to pull out over them. Instead, they seemed to be woven of metal, small slots between them so that when they were pulled closed, decorative patterns would break out on the floor.

Yellow lights hung everywhere, circular in shape, hanging by metal wire of the same colour.

"I like it." You said, turning to T'Challa with a grin. "It's different and it's very you."

T'Challa checked the one and only clock in the room, "Hmm, we have time before dinner." He picked you up in his arms, bridal style, carrying you over the threshold. "You'll have to let Captain Rogers know about that one."

You giggled at T'Challa's playfulness as he brought you over to the bed, laying you down on it carefully before crawling over you. You kissed him excitedly. "Are we trying out the bed my King?"

He chuckled under his breath, making shivers go down your spine. "Indeed we are Nkosazana." He captured your lips in his again, as his hands slipped down to the hem of the dress you had decided to wear to meet his mother and sister in.

He pulled it upwards, letting you sit up a moment so that you could toss the dress over the side of the bed.

T'Challa pinned your hands lightly above your head with one hand, slowly and sensually kissing up your body. You could feel every spot that his lips lingered. You closed your eyes, lips parted slightly as you felt him press another low kiss right above your belly button.

You flickered your eyes open again as you felt his fingers undo the clasp of your bra, pulling it from your body to join the dress on the floor.

You let out a tiny mewl as his lips wrapped around your nipple. You rubbed your thighs together, wishing that you could get some sort of friction from him. But you also knew that T'Challa was not one to tease either.

"Patience Nkosazana," He murmured, teeth grazing over your now erect nipple, moving over to the other.

Your chest heaved as he finished with your breasts, before moving up to kiss you again. You smiled up at him as he pulled back. He grinned down at you before he pulled your knickers down your legs, tossing them behind him.

He hooked your legs over his shoulders, releasing the hold on your hands as he buried himself in your weeping pussy.

"T!" You gasped, moaning at the feeling of his cool tongue against your hot core, licking you, tasting you. "Oh fuck!"

You could feel his smile, his cheeks growing a little as his smile widened. His hands were firm around your thighs to hold you still. Your hands were gripping the pillow by your head as your orgasm started to build up inside of you. "T I'm gonna-"

"Go ahead my Nkosazana." T'Challa murmured against your lower lips, vibrations pushing you over the cliff, the waterfall dripping down, T'Challa licking up every drop you gave him.

He slowly lowered your legs from his shoulders as you came down from the slight high. He stroked himself a few times before he moved his tip through your wet folds, collecting your slick, before pushing in.

You both moaned at the lovely feeling. Your arms came up, sliding your hands behind the back of his head, pulling him into a kiss as he started to move through you. His hands came down, fingers sliding smoothly down your shoulders as he caressed you tenderly.

Your breaths came out in quick pants as he sped up a little, both of your foreheads together sweetly as he made love to you. "T. . ." You whimpered as the next orgasm came upon you. He sighed in content, "Y/N."

After you both collapsed on the bed, he pulled out of you before heading off to the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth, taking care of you.

"Now then." He said, once you both dressed in fresh, new clothes. "I think we should go downstairs and grace the citizens with our presence, shall we?"

The Woman Behind the Curtain

Nobody's Saint, Just a Man Righting His Wrongs

A Soldier Lost to Time

Your Friendly Neighborhood Firefighter

A Ledger Wiped Clean

Vent Crawler

Stronger Than You Give Her Credit For

Frequent Flyer

It's Not How You Got It, It's What You Do With It

Not a Hero, Just Somebody Posing as One

Bonus Round! (if you want to see one that is not included above, please shoot me an ask and i'll include it here!)

A Parasite? No- I Mean, Yes but... He Doesn't Like to be Called That

Freak Accident

Loki actually starts to get interested in Alex when he caught her grinning at an insult he said to Tony in Asgardian (she didn't list being fluent in Asgardian, maybe she's not confident in it?) He "subtly" tests her over the rest of the night, finding no other signs of her understanding the language. This is what catches his attention.

Alex keeps her civilian life completely separate from her sugar/escort life. Realizing that Loki might've noticed her react to Asgardian made her over correct so hard that it only made him more suspicious. This is the event that triggers a whole pseudo-rivarly thing they got going on.

The pseudo-rivarly is Loki attempting to find the "real" Alex, or to him, Cherry, after he asked her to "drop the escort act." She didn't drop the escort act. He's watched her with other clients, notice's how she changes her reactions and attitudes to fit them, and he sees it as a challenge.

For a little bit, their escort/client relationship is thriving. Alex actually enjoys Loki as a client (even if she wished his attempts at prying were less frequent) and especially loved the gifts he sent her. Out of all of her sugar daddies, Loki either had the same tastes as her or paid enough attention to notice her tastes. Either way, it meant she was always excited to see what he'd picked out for her.

But that couldn't last.

Around the time of @wolveria 's fic, (which takes place after Loki and Alex have a working relationship but before my fic of them) Loki is, well he's falling apart. With his escorts he's demanding, harsh, and rude. With everyone else he's angry and rash. He's having a crisis. His dad was diagnosed with Osteosarcoma.

Thor is off being Thor, the country's golden boy despite all the partying and lack of responsibility, Hela has been all but cut off from the family, and Loki is just trying to please his dad.

At some event, after Loki is a bigger ass than usual, Alex has a real conversation with Loki. She's not working, she was invited as a guest by the host. Without the escort/client relationship in the way, Loki finally gets to see the real Alex.

They have a bit of a moment. Two people seeing each other for the first time. And Alex even surprises him by ending the conversation with an Asgardian idiom.

But a single moment cannot heal a lifetime of pain.

Loki ends up blacklisted from Alex's client list. Until she ends up owing him a favor, which looks a lot like a long term escort contract with exclusivity clauses.

When you were a child, your mother would take you to the seaside during the summer.

Ergona's shore is an angry one. Dark waves crash against the stone barriers of the cliffs in an endless battle, retreating in grey-white foam only to strike again, violent and persistent. Swimming was strictly forbidden, but she'd encourage you to run barefoot in the shell-covered sand, dipping your tiny toes in the freezing water. It chilled you to the bone, shivers sprouting from your legs to the roots of your hair but you loved it.

It was liberating.

The seagulls and the roar of the tide drowned out your squeals of delight, yet, even so, your mother smiled at the way your lips stretched and the wind mussed your careful updo. Under her watchful gaze, you were weightless, no crown or kingdom to hold you back - only childhood glory.

If only those days could last forever.

By the time you were nine years old you weren't so light anymore. Duty began to lurk in the corners of your world and even your mother's loving shelter couldn't stop the flood of laws, customs and obligations that washed away the last of your youth. On your last summer in Geotach, an entourage of tutors followed you and your mother to the coast, occupying your once lively afternoons on lessons in queenship.

You'd fight more often. The lure of power beguiled your innocent mind, and as much as your mother tried to hold you back, the possibilities of your future were too enticing.  

"You don't understand!" you seethed. "I'll be the queen, the first of my name. Not a consort like you and not a whore like my father's mistresses. I have to be the best!"

"I want you to be the best, Y/N" she pleaded. "But at what cost?"

Cost was a funny thing - it was always more expensive than you originally thought. At nine years old - nothing more than a child - you believed the price of power would be the loss of fun and games that'd defined your privileged upbringing so far. Nothing can prepare kings and queens for the doubt, the anxiety and the fear that comes with bearing a crown and how pride - dripping from your shallow tongue as you'd talk back to the one person who could actively help you - is a trap.

It was your pride that lead the way as you snuck out of the manor, smirking wider as you passed each oblivious guard, down the stone steps to the sand. It was a siren's voice, whispering in the howling wind, tempting you to dive deeper in the dark ocean because even the sea should bend to the queen's will.

Only you were not the queen yet, you were just a girl.

You were underwater for hours, or maybe seconds. Time was irrelevant and trying to tame it was as useless as your struggle to swim to surface. Your lungs burned, but the water drowned out it’s fire and your helpless screams.  And was cold, so cold…

"Y/N?"

Wanda's voice startled you, rousing you from sleep.

"Did you have a bad dream?" she asked kindly.

You frowned.

"It was a memory."

There was a breakfast tray on the coffee table. Twisting your neck, you saw a sliver of daylight sneaking through a narrow crack in the curtains. The fire was out, engulfing the room in frigidity just like that of your nightmare and your joints screamed from the way you slept slumped in the armchair, still in your ball gown.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Wanda coaxed, stoking the embers. Black dust stained the tips of her dainty fingers.

Rubbing your hands for warmth, you said:

"Did I ever tell you about the night my mother died?"

Wanda frowned, taking a seat on the chair to your left.

"Yes, Your Grace. Your mother..."

"Was stabbed to death" you completed after sensing her hesitation. "Just like Uncle Tony."

"Lord Stark is alive, Your Grace. Dr. Banner has assured he'll recover" she stated.

"Yes, but it may take weeks for him to wake up! Meanwhile, Aunt Virginia is without her husband and Morgan is without her father" your closed fist banged on the wooden armrest, but the pain was meaningless. "And it's my fault."

"Your Grace… Y/N. Please don't say that" Wanda pleaded. "There's nothing you could've done."

You rubbed your temples furiously, while your eyes stinged with unshed tears. They choked you, stealing the air from your lungs - just like the furious sea.

"The night my mother died, I had escaped from the manor in Geotach" you recalled. "It was the middle of the night and I wanted to swim in the ocean, despite her always warning me to never do that because the water was too unpredictable. I wanted to prove her that I could do anything I wanted because, in my stupid, reckless mind, that's what queens did."

"She was right about the water, of course. It pulled me under so fast and I barely remember being dragged out. My mother had noticed my absence and warned the guards, so naturally they came for me, leaving her at the house unprotected."

"When we returned we found her body - stabbed over ten times by my math tutor, Mr. Jasper Sitwell. He'd killed her then slit his own throat with a silver dagger, just like Zemo last night. Next to him was a note, with two words: Hail Hydra."

Wanda cursed. The flames from the fireplaces made her auburn hair look almost scarlet.

"You can't blame yourself for this, Your Grace" she whispered.

"Can't I?” you muttered, self-hatred muffling Wanda’s consolation.

"What is Hydra, Your Grace?"

"Legend says it's a secret society of dragon hunters" you explained what little you'd gathered from years and years of research. "I guess one could believe that as much as they can believe in dragons."

"The dragon is the symbol of your house. It is said your ancestors built this fortress themselves using dragon fire" she said.

"There is no evidence dragons ever existed, Wanda" you declared. "Besides, even if they did once, there's nothing left to my family other than skeletons in our closets. I think whatever or whoever Hydra is, they're just trying to destroy me."

Wanda leaned over to whisper something, but a knock on the door interrupted her. You were about to say you didn't want any visitors when she claimed:

"It must be Natasha with Dr. Banner."

That confused you.

"Dr. Banner? Shouldn't he be tending to my uncle?"

"Lord Stark is out of danger, Your Grace. Now we must check if you are."

Of course - your baby. Your hands instinctively went to your stomach as Natasha and Dr. Banner crossed the room. The doctor's kind face was weary and tired from aiding your uncle all night, but still he directed you an encouraging smile:

"Your Grace, I hope I can bring you some good news."

You sighed.

"So do I, Dr. Banner. So do I."

Peter Parker was scared.

Pacing outside the royal chambers, twisting his hands in anxiety, Tony Stark's young squire fought the urge to flee or throw up.

"Keep it together, Peter" he scolded himself.

It was hard to believe that less than twenty-four hours ago his biggest concern was fixing the knot on his cravat - the damn thing kept loosening! - so that he looked perfect to attend his first ball. It was Lord Stark that managed to straighten it, with an amused smirk and a pat to the boy's shoulder. Now his mentor was in a coma while his body struggled to recover from the wounds Peter couldn't prevent.

He was the worst squire in the history of Ergona, but there was one last thing he had to do before scurrying back home

He straightened himself when the doors to your chambers opened and you walked out, followed by your handmaiden, Dr. Bruce Banner and Lady Natasha Romanoff. Peter always thought you looked majestic, the strongest woman he's ever seen, but today you were defeated, with bags under your eyes and a hunch in your pace, as if the weight of the world had finally caught up to you.

Once Dr. Banner bid you his farewells, you turned to Peter, your ladies by your side.

"Mr. Parker" you greeted "What can I do for you?"

The boy cleared his throat and curtsied.

“Your Grace” he said. “Forgive my boldness, but may I speak with you in private?”

You raised one eyebrow, tired gaze softening at the sight of the squire. At the cusp of manhood, Peter Parker was all smooth edges and golden dreams, crushed under the gleam of a silver knife. You uncle had taken him under his wing not less than a year ago,

“Walk with us, Peter” you said, motioning him to step in beside you, Wanda and Natasha close behind.

Your handmaiden claimed that the Keep had been forged from dragon fire, but how could she believe that after spending six winters inside these walls was beyond you. The wind seemed to penetrate the stone, howling through the hallways and halls in an eerie song. The noise drowned out your voice when you said:

“You’re May Parker’s nephew, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Your Grace” he nodded. “She raised me as her own after my parents passed away.”

“She is a very good woman and a skilled seamstress. I have much admiration for her.”

Peter cracked a small smile.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I’ll be sure to pass your compliments along when I return home.”

“You’re planning on going home?” you asked.

“Well, I just assumed I would be stripped from my title, Your Grace” he stuttered. “Considering my failure to prevent the attack on Lord Stark.”

“Lord Stark named you his squire, Peter. Only him can remove your title, not me. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. What happened last night was not your fault.”

You stopped in front of a closed window, but the iron knob was too stiff from lack of use.

“Help me get this open, please” you grunted.

Together, you and Peter cracked the window open, baring your faces to the freezing wind. Through the fog, you could briefly make out the snow covered hills of Albeon.

“The walls of this Keep have ears, Peter” you stated and the boy had to perk his ears to hear you. “I’m sorry about the wind, but it’s noise will drown out what you have to say.”

Peter briefly noticed that Lady Natasha and Mrs. Wanda had stepped back and were now each facing one end of the hallway. No one would dare pass by them.

“Your Grace” he started. “After your engagement, Lord Stark gave me a mission: He commanded me to spy on the King’s father and some other nobles from West Ergona.”

“He was suspicious of the Duke of Arvenia, for reasons he never made clear, but, as his squire, it wasn’t my place to ask anyway. So, during Lord Roger’s stay in Albeon, I traced his movements and reported back to Lord Stark.”

“That man that stabbed your uncle, Baron Zemo. He said something before he killed himself: Hail Hydra. I’ve heard these words before, Your Grace. I’ve heard them from the mouth of Joseph Rogers, the Duke of Arvenia and King Steven’s father.”