#HISTORICAL ROMANCE

[triviareads]

Francesca Wanted Michael to Get Her Pregnant

can't believe I'm back at it but after reading this recently published Screen Rant article rank Bridgerton spouses and rank Michael/Michaela Stirling fifth because, and I quote from the article—

Michael Stirling even threatens to impregnate Francesca Bridgerton if she refuses to marry him, which is not a good perception of his best side.

Like.... no. That is not what happened at all. Full stop. After having CONSENSUAL sex for the first time with Michael, Francesca is conflicted about "betraying" John her late husband, and isn't sure about her feelings towards Michael, but she's also aware of the practicalities of having sex, and having sex out of wedlock as far as reputation goes, so this is what SHE tells Michael:

And then, without even looking at him, she said, “I will consider it.” He quirked a brow, waiting for her to elaborate. “Marrying you,” she clarified, still keeping her eyes on the fire. “But I won’t give you an answer now.” “You might be carrying my child,” he said softly. “I am very much aware of that.” She wrapped her arms around her bent knees and hugged. “I will give you an answer once I have that answer.” —When He Was Wicked by Julia Quinn, chapter 18

So she tells him to wait, has sex with him again, and at this point, Michael believes she wouldn't have sex with him twice if she didn't feel something for him, so he reiterates his marriage proposal:

“Will you marry me?” he repeated, and this time the words were hard, with more of an edge to them. “I don’t know,” she finally answered. “I need more time.” "Time for what?“ he snapped. ”For me to try a little harder to get you pregnant?“ She flinched as if struck. He advanced upon her. “Because I’ll do it,” he warned. “I’ll take you right now, and then again tonight, and then three times tomorrow if that’s what is required.” “Michael, stop…” she whispered. “I have lain with you,” he said, his words stark and yet strangely urgent. "Twice. You are no innocent. You know what that means.“ And it was because she was no innocent—and no one would ever expect her to be—that she was able to say, “I know. But that doesn’t matter. Not if I don’t conceive.” —When He Was Wicked by Julia Quinn, chapter 20

Is it the nicest of proposals? No, and Michael is pissy that she isn't capitulating just because there's a *chance* she might be pregnant. That being said, he's NOT forcing her to get pregnant, and Francesca is 100% fine with continuing to have sex with Michael on the off-chance she could get pregnant, and if she does, only then will she make a decision about marrying him because at this moment in time, she is still unsure of her feelings for Michael and still feels like she's betraying John. But Michael is neither coercing her to have sex with him, nor is he attempting to get her pregnant against her will. And shortly after this dialogue, he storms off because he thinks convincing her further is futile and he's feeling tragic and *used* by her lol.

And ultimately, Francesca is INTO the idea of getting pregnant, or hell, trying to get pregnant with him.... a breeding kink if you will. There's a VERY telling passage after she says she'll marry him despite not being pregnant but having had sex with him multiple times over three weeks:

He rose slowly to his feet. “There will be no backing out. No cold feet. No changed minds.” “No,” she said. “I promise.” And that was when he finally let himself believe her. Francesca did not give promises lightly. And she never broke her vows. He was across the room in an instant, his hands at her back, his arms around her, his mouth raining desperate kisses on her face. “You will be mine,” he said. “This is it. Do you understand?” She nodded, arching her neck as his lips slid down the long column to her shoulder. “If I want to tie you to the bed, and keep you there until you’re heavy with child, I’ll do it,” he vowed. “Yes,” she gasped. “And you won’t complain.” She shook her head. His fingers tugged at her gown. It fell to the floor with stunning speed. “And you’ll like it,” he growled. “Yes. Oh, yes.” —When He Was Wicked by Julia Quinn, chapter 21

Come on.... the "yes oh yes?" What do we think that is if not enthusiastic consent?

[bridgertonallday]

maybe season 3 was about Portia’s love story — the love she has for her daughters and how they all found love/men who adored them in spite of everything.

i swear, the Featherington ladies saved season 3 for me. if you’d told me i’d end up falling in love with them after watching season one, i would’ve said bullshit.

[source: X]

[ashen-crest]

my friend's book comes out today!!

[ID: a lavender book cover with two white women in Victorian gowns giving each other side glances and holding hands. The title reads "Don't Want You Like a Best Friend" and the author is "Emma R. Alban." end ID]

A swoon-worthy debut queer Victorian romance in which two debutantes distract themselves from having to seek husbands by setting up their widowed parents, and instead find their perfect match in each other—the lesbian Bridgerton/Parent Trap you never knew you needed!

I'm so proud of Emma!! If you like queer historical romance like The Queer Principles of Kit Webb, you should pick up this book.

[tjalexandernyc]

A sneak peek at my next book.

[babyrubysoho]

This is getting extremely self-indulgent, but screw it, I’ll never get tired of drawing him! XD

[audryt]

*mic drop (into cleavage)*

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

You’ve bewitched me, body and soul

Summary: A war lasting three years became heavy on the front lines. Many people died and lost their homes from the actions of one kingdom. But to end the war, both kingdoms agreed to seal an alliance through an arranged marriage. Caught in a loveless marriage with the crown prince, a whirlwind of emotions blasts through foreign land as you try to make your life in the enemy kingdom bearable.

Warnings: slow-burn. Leon is a piece of dick in the beginning. angst. eventual smut. SMUT. creampie. mentions of pregnancy. arranged marriage. reader is a princess and Leon is the crown prince. enemies to lovers (i think?). inaccurate historical information. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. also, reader has brown eyes (for story purposes, everything else doesn’t really matter lol.)

Word Count: 13,027

A/N: IM SO GLAD PEOPLE LIKE THIS🥹🥹 I love historical romance, I eat it up every time so I didn’t want to mess this up. Thank you all so much for your support!!! MWUAH MWUAH MWUAH

[pt.1][pt.3]

“He’s got so much in his heart, but he doesn’t know what to do” — John Wayne, Cigarettes After Sex

As training came to an end, Andrews bid Leon goodbye as he went with the other soldiers to the knight’s quarters. You were standing in front of a portrait, a woman, Leon’s mother.

Leon, tired and sweaty from training, was on his way back to his chambers when he noticed you standing in front of his mother's portrait.

He paused for a moment, his heart clenching. He hadn't expected to run into you here, but there you were, standing in front of the portrait of the woman he loved and lost. He took a deep breath, steeling himself before he approached you, standing beside you in front of the portrait.

You were too focused on the painting of his deceased mother, you’ve heard the servants say he lost his mother in the war. The same war against your kingdom.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed someone next to you. It was Leon. Your eyes widened slightly and then you turned to look at him but then you remembered the argument in the library and you turned to look back at the painting. You didn’t want to be a burden so I held your tongue.

Leon shifted awkwardly next to you, feeling the tension between the two of you. But Andrews' words echoed in his head, reminding him that he needed to start seeing you for who you are, not just the enemy princess.

He took a deep breath and spoke, his voice low and gruff, "Do you..." he started, his throat feeling dry.

You quickly turned your head to look at him as he started to speak, giving him your attention.

“Do I…” you repeated quietly, trying to understand what he was trying to say. There was something different about him right now, maybe it was because he just finished his training but something told you he was acting differently. Less hostile towards you.

Leon took another deep breath before continuing, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and memories.

He remembered the pain and anger he felt when his mother died, the way it fueled his desire for revenge against your kingdom.

But he also remembered Andrews' words, reminding him that you weren't responsible for any of it. That it wasn't your fault.

So he pushed down his anger and spoke again, his voice a bit gentler, "Do you... know who that is?" he nodded towards the portrait of his mother.

His soft voice took you by surprise, it was a nice change for once instead of him snapping at you and saying mean things to you.

You looked back at the portrait and then back at him, nodding your head, “Yes,” you replied softly, “This is the former queen, your mother.”

Leon felt a pang in his chest as you confirmed that you knew who his mother was. It was a memory that still stung and hurt, but hearing you speak about her with respect and not hostility made him feel… different.

He glanced at you, his gaze flickering over your expression before he shifted his focus back to the portrait.

"She was… a good woman," he said quietly, his voice laced with a hint of tenderness that was rarely present when he spoke to you.

You knew what your kingdom did and it made you feel so guilty. The war took the lives of many including his mother.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered and turned your head to look up at him. You were slowly starting to understand why he hated you. It was hatred by association. He got sent a bride from the kingdom that murdered his mom, he had every right to be angry. But you didn’t kill anyone with your own hands either.

You turned to look back at her portrait, not knowing what else to say. This whole situation was different than before. Leon's heart ached as you apologized, and he could tell that the guilt you felt was genuine.

He looked down at you, his mind torn between the anger and resentment he had held for so long and the understanding that none of this was your fault.

But old habits die hard.

"You don’t need to apologize," he said sharply, the harshness of his voice betraying the complex mix of emotions he was feeling, "You didn't do anything."

You looked back up at him, staring into his eyes and for once you saw him aside from his cold and harsh self. You saw a son grieving the loss of their mother and that made you feel really bad.

Your eyes drifted around his face, staring intently at every feature. The roundness of his eyes, the color of his irises, his lips that looked soft. But then you caught yourself staring and looked back at the portrait of his late mother. Leon’s eyes widened slightly as he noticed your gaze drifting across his face, taking in every feature. He could see the sympathy and guilt in your eyes and it made him feel… weirdly vulnerable.

“She’s beautiful,” you muttered under your breath. She truly was a gorgeous woman.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the feeling as you looked back at his mother’s portrait.

"Yes, she was,” he replied quietly, his voice low and hoarse, "A lot of people always said I have her eyes.”

A small chuckle escaped your lips as a small smile reached your lips. You stared at the painting intently, “I can see it,” you replied quietly.

Then you looked over at him, “You do have similar eyes,” you muttered under your breath in agreement. The moment was vulnerable, a contrast to what usually happens when you’re around each other.

Leon felt a small pang in his chest as you chuckled and agreed with him. It was a strange moment, a rare one where the hostility between the two of you was replaced by something else. Something more… gentle.

He couldn’t help but notice how calm you seemed, no longer tense and guarded like you usually were when he was around. He found himself taking a step closer to you, his body almost imperceptibly drawn towards you.

He cleared his throat, again, and looked back at his mother’s portrait, trying to force himself to keep his distance.

Andrews seemed to be right, for the first time ever since you came here, it only took him to put his anger aside to finally see you for you. It was a good thing for your relationship.

You nibbled on my bottom lip, shifting awkwardly before you spoke up in a nervous tone, even though you tried to hide it under a calm blanket, “I didn’t get any of my parent's eyes,” you mumbled with an awkward chuckle.

“My dad has blue eyes and my mom has green eyes but I came out with brown eyes,” you said as you glanced at him before looking back at the portrait.

Leon couldn’t help but notice the nervous yet earnest edge to your voice as you spoke.

He looked down at you, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Your comment about your eyes made him feel… oddly endeared. It was a mundane detail that was entirely meaningless in the grand scheme of things, yet it made him see you in a different light.

“Well,” he said, his tone softer than usual, “brown suits you.”

You felt your cheeks warm up a bit, did he just compliment you for the first time? You couldn’t hide the smile creeping up on your face, and then you looked at him, “Thanks…” you replied softly.

Leon’s heart skipped a beat as he heard your soft reply and the hint of a smile on your lips. He felt his own mouth twitch upwards at the corners in response, his heart beating a little faster than usual.

“I’d probably look weird with blue eyes,” you mumbled, trying to be nonchalant but secretly your heart was beating really fast, “Guess my eyes didn’t get the memo with my parents.”

He chuckled at your joke, the sound escaping him almost unintentionally. You chuckled nervously at your own joke, but as you stared at his mother’s portrait, you couldn’t help but say something in a soft mutter, “Blue suits you.”

He caught your comment about his eyes, and he felt his cheeks start to heat up, “Thanks,” he finally said, his voice almost a whisper. He glanced down at you again, feeling a strange fluttering in his stomach.

You felt his gaze on you and you turned to look up at him. For the first time, there was no hostility and hatred. It felt nice.

You opened my mouth to say something but you didn’t know what to say. Sure, you were married but it wasn’t like you did anything couples did. You felt a bit awkward but you also felt giddy?

“Are you…” you started quietly in a whisper, your heart beating fast as you looked up at him.

Leon’s gaze lingered on you as you looked up at him, his heart racing in his chest. He waited patiently as you spoke, his breath catching in his throat as he heard the question.

“Am I…?” he repeated, his voice low and soft, barely above a whisper. He was acutely aware of how close the two of you were standing, the air between you almost crackling with something he couldn’t quite identify.

“Are you…” you repeated nervously as you stared into his blue eyes, you then swallowed dryly and proceeded, “Are you going to bed?”

You were so nervous for some reason, your heart hammering inside your chest as you waited for his answer. You didn’t even know why you asked that. He just came out of his training and it was nighttime. He was covered in sweat and was probably tired.

You nibbled on your bottom lip just slightly, doing it almost subconsciously, a nervous habit.

He met your gaze head-on, and he couldn’t help but notice the way you nibbled on your bottom lip. He had to resist the sudden and strange urge to reach out and touch your face.

“I am,” he replied, his voice low and gruff. He wasn’t expecting the conversation to go in this direction and it was slightly throwing him off guard.

You nodded slowly, of course he was. His servants were probably waiting for him so he could take a bath and change into his night clothes.

“I, uh,” you stumbled upon your words as you shifted your weight between your legs, “I don’t know why I asked,” you muttered truthfully.

Leon couldn’t help the small, amused smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as you stumbled over your words. It was strangely endearing.

“Was training good?” You suddenly asked, not wanting the moment to end with him.

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his eyes never leaving yours, “Training was fine,” he replied quietly. He wasn’t sure why you asked that either, but somehow it didn’t matter. He found himself wanting the moment to last, just as you did.

“I should…” he started, motioning vaguely down the hallway towards his chambers.

You looked behind to see where he was pointing at, your shared chambers. You quickly looked back up at him and nodded, “Right, yeah, I shouldn’t take more of your time,” you muttered nervously.

“Your servants are probably wondering what’s taking so long,” you chuckled nervously and chewed on your bottom lip again out of nervousness.

You looked down at your feet, seeing your heels from under your dress before you looked back up at him, “I should probably go too,” you muttered but you made no effort to move.

He nodded in response, his eyes fixed on you. He noticed how you couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting, how you chewed on your bottom lip nervously. He didn’t want you to leave, but he didn’t know how to express it without sounding strange.

“Yeah…” he agreed, nodding slowly. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering down to your lips.

“I…” you muttered softly as you saw his eyes flick down to your lips and felt your breath hitch for a moment. Your eyes subsequently doing the same to his lips.

You quickly looked back up at him, “Goodnight then,” you whispered before you moved to the side and started to walk down the hall, opposite of him.

Your heels echoed through the air, you glanced behind your shoulder to look at him, your breath hitching once more and you subconsciously quickened your pace. Why were you feeling so nervous all of a sudden?

You didn’t go to your shared quarters, not yet at least, you actually walked towards the library and closed the door. The entire interaction seemed out of the ordinary.

You paced around the bookshelves as you thought to yourself what led to the sudden change in him. Why did he suddenly start to treat you different. It was nice but you couldn’t help but question it a bit.

Leon went through his nightly routine in a daze. His mind was racing with thoughts of you and the strange, new feeling in his chest.

The servants washed him, dried him, and dressed him in his night clothes, but he barely registered their presence. He was too preoccupied with thinking about the conversation he had just had with you. Finishing, the servants bowed respectfully and left silently, leaving Leon alone in his chambers. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his mind still occupied with thoughts of you.

Maybe Andrews was right, all he needed to do was put his anger aside and treat you differently. Andrews really was too smart for his own good. Sure, it wasn’t easy and it’s a bit confusing to suddenly act different to the person from the enemy kingdom, but you were his wife now. And Andrews seemed to have noticed how unfair and terrible he had treated you before.

Your maids also bathed you and helped you change into your night dress. The dress being white and reaching the floor, the silky material dragging as padded to your shared quarters.

Leon looked up as you entered the room, his heart skipping a beat again. He observed the way the silky fabric of your night dress hugged your figure and it made his stomach flip once more.

He quickly looked away, trying to control the unwanted reaction he was having to your presence. He hadn't slept in the same bed as you ever since you arrived here and he was having a hard time understanding why that suddenly bothered him.

"You're here," he stated quietly, his voice low and gruff.

“My lord,” you quickly curtsied and nodded, “Yeah,” you muttered breathlessly, feeling your voice get stuck in your throat, “I’m here.”

Usually, he slept on the couch near the fireplace and a part of you still remembered all his mean words.

But this was unexpected and new. You slowly walked over to the couch, thinking he wanted to sleep on the bed instead. A strange feeling washed over him as he saw you approach the couch, assuming he wanted to sleep on the bed.

"No," he said suddenly, stopping you in your tracks.

His voice was soft, but there was a hint of command in it. He patted the bed next to him, signaling for you to come closer.

You looked over at him and saw him patting the side next to him on the bed. Your heart was beating fast, he wants to sleep on the same bed? You stared at him in shock for a few seconds before you nodded and made your way towards the bed.

You’ve only been married for three months but this would be the first night you’ve ever shared the same bed, somehow, it felt like the first day of your marriage.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, fixing your hair and dress nervously before you laid down on your back next to him. You both stared at the ceiling with your shoulders close to each other.

For a few moments, the two of you were silent, both staring at the ceiling. Leon couldn't help but steal small glances at you, his eyes flickering over your features.

Your hands were down at your sides. Since you were laying next to each other, your hands were so close to his. You could practically feel his body heat radiate from him. You moved your pinky, your finger gently grazing his hand. Leon felt the gentle graze of your pinky against his hand and it sent a small shiver down his spine. He couldn't deny the fact that he wanted to hold your hand, to feel the soft warmth of your skin against his own.

He glanced over at you again, his eyes flickering over your features. Your body was so close to his own, and he could feel the heat radiating between you.

Suddenly, he reached out and took your hand in his own. His grip was gentle but firm, his fingers intertwining with your own.

A quiet gasp escaped your lips when you felt him take your hand and intertwine his fingers with your own. Blood rushed to your cheeks and you u looked down at your joined hands.

His hand was bigger than yours and felt rougher with callouses, presumably from his sword training. Your hand was smaller and dainty, soft and smooth as it signified your royal status as princess.

You turned your head to the side to look at him. Your eyes roaming his features, taking him in and committing him to memory. Then, you held his hand back just as firm, giving it a little squeeze.

Leon felt a strange warmth spread through his chest as you squeezed his hand in return. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of rightness about this moment, holding your hand as you laid next to each other in the bed. His thumb began to brush over your knuckles, the callouses on his skin creating a pleasant friction against your softness.

He turned to look at you, his eyes meeting yours as you took in his features. His breathing became slightly uneven.

A small but closed-lipped smile appeared on your face when you felt his thumb brush over your knuckles. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your breathing also becoming uneven.

You eyes stared deeply into his eyes before they accidentally dropped down to his lips. You forced your eyes back to look at his blue eyes, feeling absolutely nervous.

Leon noticed the way your eyes lingered on his lips for a moment before quickly darting back up to his eyes. He felt a strange flutter in his chest as he realized you were as nervous as he was. He squeezed your hand gently as he leaned slightly closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

You didn’t move away as he leaned slightly closer to you, you swallowed dryly and parted your lips slightly as you maintained eye contact with him.

You unknowingly squeezed his hand out of nervousness, holding it firmly in yours as you felt yourself grow to be a ball of nerves. Which led you to do your nervous habit, nibble on your bottom lip and wondered how his lips would feel on yours.

The atmosphere was tense but not in the way it used to be. There was no hatred and no malice, instead there was something else that you didn’t quite know.

He felt his own heart racing in his chest as he imagined how your lips would feel against his own. The tense atmosphere wasn't like it used to be, there was something else there. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced before.

Without thinking, he brought his hand up to gently grip your chin, tilting your face slightly closer to his. You quickly stopped nibbling on your bottom lip as you felt his gentle grip on your chin, his fingers held you gently as he tilted your face up and closer to his.

You parted your lips once again, your faces slowly losing distance until you could feel his warm breath on your face. You looked down at his lips before you looked up at his blue eyes.

And then you closed my eyes, waiting for him to kiss you as your other hand rested on his chest very faintly, as if not to hurt him.

Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between you and pressed his lips against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. Youwere both hesitant, scared of rejection when you were both married. It was almost funny. But then again, it was an arranged marriage to end the war.

His lips felt soft against yours and you found myself melting next to him. Your grip on his hand tightened a bit but then it relaxed as you mustered the courage to kiss him back.

The kiss was soft and tender, almost too gentle as if to say ‘I don’t want to hurt you’ or ‘I don’t want to scare you.’

Leon couldn't believe how good it felt to finally kiss you, to feel your soft lips against his own. He could feel your grip on his hand tighten for a moment before relaxing as you mustered the courage to kiss him back.

He couldn't ignore the way his heart fluttered in his chest as the kiss continued. He couldn't deny the fact that he wanted more, but part of him was afraid to take the next step.

He pulled away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, his breath ragged as he tried to slow down his racing heart.

You opened your eyes and stared at him as he leaned his forehead against yours. Your breathing was hard as you tried to catch your breath.

Your cheeks were flushed but you were…happy. Genuinely happy and you couldn’t help my smile. You let out a nervous laugh and moved to hide your face on his chest.

Leon felt a pang of guilt as he thought about the way he had treated you earlier that day. He had been harsh and cold, using sharp words that he knew would hurt you. But then he remembered his conversation with Andrews, how the man had convinced him to try and make things better. And now, here you were, lying together in bed, with Leon's forehead rested against your own.

As you let out a nervous laugh and hid your face on his chest, he couldn't help but feel a strange flutter in his heart. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. For three months you didn’t do anything a married couple should do, he slept on the couch while you slept on the bed. Since your first day, he ignored you and made sure to never speak to you or touch you. And the few times he did talk to you, he’d be mean to you and you’d only argue.

But here he was, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. You wrapped your arms around his waist, not wanting to let go anytime soon.

Leon could feel guilt tugging at his heart as he held you close in his arms. He knew he had been unkind and distant towards you for far too long. He had pushed you away, treating you like an enemy instead of a wife.

He rested his chin on the top of your head, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if to hold you close forever. He couldn’t deny the fact that he was grateful to Andrews for making him see reason.

He understood now that this arrangement had affected you just as much as it had affected him. He knew that he had been blinded by anger and grief.

For the rest of the night, you slept in each other’s embrace. You may not have taken it further but you were content with the slow pace of change. In your opinion, you wanted to know him for who he is instead of just jumping straight to the action.

In hindsight, you could see yourself actually being happy with this marriage. All he needed was a wake up call and a clarity check from his friend.

When morning rolled up, his servants and your maids entered the room to wake you both up but they halted as they saw you two sleeping together on the bed. Their eyes bulging out as they stood speechless.

His eyes opened as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the bed. He didn’t move, not wanting to disturb you, but he felt a pang of irritation at the interruption. He slowly untangled himself from your arms and sat up in bed, his eyes scanning the servants as they stood frozen in place.

You remained lying on the bed, oblivious to everything as sleep asleep. The servants and maids bowed at Leon, “Good morning, my lord,” they all said in a hushed tone as to not wake you up.

Which was great because you didn’t even stir in your sleep. The servants and the maids tried to continue with their routine as normal. Your maids going to the bathroom to set up your morning bath as his servants started to help him get ready behind the room divider for privacy.

The servants didn’t dare say anything to Leon about the way they found you and Leon sleeping. At the sound of water running, you groggily woke up, realizing it was morning. You sat up and rubbed your eyes before they landed on Leon behind the dressing screen. Your heart beat a little faster but you were soon taken out of your thoughts as a maid helped you to the bathroom for your bath.

Once you were taken to the bathroom by your maids, Leon’s thoughts lingered on the fact that he’d woken up next to you that morning. Nothing else happened except for the kiss, which was your first kiss, but you still enjoyed sleeping in his arms for some reason.

After your bath, your maids helped you get dressed. This time, you were wearing a light blue dress with jewels. It was perfect for summer as the straps hung down your arms. The length reached the floor, just like any other gown.

But as your maids helped with your hair, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Leon from the reflection of your mirror.

Leon was deep in thought as his servants helped him get dressed, his mind filled with thoughts about the previous night. He couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for how long he had been treating you badly, but at the same time, he was grateful for the change that had begun.

His eyes darted to the mirror that was placed in front of him as he caught sight of you in the reflection. He couldn't help but stare at you for a moment, admiring your beauty.

“My lord,” one of his servants said as he pulled him out of his thoughts, “today you have a meeting with the kings. It’s about the war that ended,” he whispered so you wouldn’t hear.

After the war ended between your kingdom and his kingdom, nothing was over by just having you two marry for an alliance. There were other things to discuss such as reparations and how to avoid future conflicts.

Your maids finished helping you get ready and you stood up from your vanity stool, “Come, my lady,” the head maid said, “breakfast will be served shortly,” then she started to guide you out of the room, not before you spared Leon one last glance, giving him a small smile before you disappeared into the hall.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard the maid urging you to leave the room. He saw you give him one last smile before disappearing into the hallway.

He couldn’t help but return the smile, though he knew he had a lot on his plate for the day. He made a mental note to make time to talk to you later in the evening.

As you made it to the dining hall, you sat on the table where you were served warm breakfast. As you were about to take a bite, you noticed a few stares and saw your maids staring at you with curiosity.

“Yes?” You asked them as you took a small bite out of your breakfast. One of the maids stepped up, “My lady,” she spoke nervously, “did you and the lord…” she trailed but you knew what she meant. Your face turned red and you almost choked on your food. You quickly shook your head no, “No, no, no, it wasn’t like that. We just kissed and hugged.”

But at the revelation, their shoulders slumped in disappointment. You furrowed your brows confused but then spoke up softly, “But maybe in the future,” you muttered to which they heard and seemed to be happy? You were still getting used to this kingdom.

Back with Leon, his servant was telling him of his schedule: meeting with the kings, oversee taxation history of the town, sword training, and evaluate the final preparations for the upcoming festival.

Leon listened intently as his servant listed off his schedule for the day. It was going to be a busy one, he knew that much.

The mention of the upcoming festival tugged at his heartstrings, as he remembered how he used to attend with his mother. But now she was gone, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness.

He pushed the thought aside as his servant continued to brief him on the other tasks he would need to attend to, including meeting with the other lords.

The servant guided him towards one of the many rooms of the castle, but this one was where the meeting was taking place. Upon Leon’s arrival, the older men stood up and bowed at Leon.

“Good morning, my lord,” they said before they sat down. There was the king, Leon’s father, sitting next to my father, the king of the kingdom they fought against in war. It seemed as if it were just the three of them.

“Ah, there’s my son,” the king said as Leon entered. Then he looked at my father, “Told you he’s been faring well.”

He nodded in acknowledgment as they resumed their seats. Leon’s eyes darted to his father and your father sitting next to each other, and he was surprised to find them being civil towards each other. He made his way to the empty seat at the table and sat down, his eyes flickering between his father and yours.

It was kind of surprising to see them civil, given that your father was the reason the whole war started in the first place. The whole reason why Leon’s mother died.

Your father stood up and formally addressed Leon and the king, “I’d like to start us off with the topic reparations,” he said before his snapped his fingers, signaling for his servant to bring something in.

A servant came in with a box, putting it in front of Leon and the king, “This is for the construction damages,” your father began, watching as the servant opened the box to reveal gold coins and bars.

Leon's expression remained neutral as your father addressed him and the king, but a wave of anger and resentment washed over him as he mentioned reparations.

His eyes darted to the box that was placed in front of him and his father as the servant opened it, revealing gold coins and bars. Leon couldn't help but feel a pang of anger at the thought that the war was the reason behind his mother's death.

He clenched his jaw but said nothing, his gaze flickering towards his father to gauge his reaction.

“Go on,” the king said as he looked at the contents of the box before he looked back at your father, a suspicious glint in his eyes.

Your father cleared his throat and proceeded, “No amount of wealth will bring people back from the dead. We’ve both lost incredible amounts of people,” he stated, “innocent lives were taken during the war and I stem accountability for starting it.”

Leon's expression remained stoic as he listened to your father's words. He could sense his father's skepticism as the king looked at the contents of the box before shifting his gaze back to your father.

“Hence why I propose we seal the alliance. We know that by marrying my daughter to Crown Prince Leon,” he gestured to Leon, “it was the start of the process of the peaceful era. Well, here gentlemen,” he said as he took out a rolled parchment before handing it to the king. It was a contract.

“That has my legal stamp, declaring my unwavering loyalty to our alliance and friendship. I will provide support and aid whenever you request just as how I expect you to do the same,” he stated as he bowed his head in respect.

As your father went on to propose sealing the alliance, Leon's mind raced with thoughts. He had mixed feelings about it all. On one hand, he knew that the marriage was a part of the process to bring peace and stability.

But on the other hand, he still harbored feelings of anger and resentment towards your father for starting the war and causing his mother's death.

The king hummed before he gave Leon the contract to let him have a read, obviously trusting Leon to also make a decision since he was the heir to the throne.

“What’s the catch?” The king suddenly asked your father. Your father shook his head and clasped his hand behind his back, “The catch, is not really a catch,” he said.

“It’s too simple Sylus,” the king said as he stood up and stared at your father, “Yes we agreed to have our children marry but it takes more than that to end a war.”

Leon took the contract and began to read through it, his eyes flitting across the page as he absorbed the contents of the agreement.

Sylus, your father, sighed, “Ever the observant, Your Highness,” he said before he stared at the king.

“The catch is,” he started nervously, “well, you see, in my family, the women usually have fertility issues,” he said as he gave Leon a brief glance before he focused back on the king, “I do not know if my daughter can even be with child and I do not want her to face the consequences for something she can’t control.”

Leon's eyebrows furrowed as he listened to your father explain about the fertility issues within your family. His heart suddenly felt heavy as he realized the implications of those words.

The thought of you not being able to bear children was a difficult one, but Leon knew he couldn’t change the situation. He was an heir who needed to create future heirs for the throne.

He looked up at his father, who seemed a bit surprised by your father's confession, and Leon couldn't help but feel the pressure weighing down on him.

“Are you certain, Sylus?” The king asked your father in a firm tone, “there needs to be an heir once my son becomes king and if your daughter can’t give him one then why did you send your daughter for marriage?”

“Your Highness, with all due respect, it’s not *all* the women,” he said nervously, “in my kingdom, fertility is blessed based on good health and my daughter has always been a strong one. She’s never once had chicken pox!” He chuckled nervously.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s not guaranteed,” the king argued back, he sighed and looked at Leon, “Have you tried?”

Leon felt the weight of the king's gaze upon him, and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably as the topic shifted to his private affairs with you.

"We... have not," Leon replied, his voice firm but his eyes avoiding his father's. He knew what he was really hinting at. Leon didn't want to admit it, but the idea of producing heirs hadn’t crossed his mind. He was a man with an obligation and he knew he would eventually have to perform his duties. But that was before he started to be nice to you, now he understood what his duties were aside from politics.

The king stared at Leon blankly, “Son…” he muttered, “It’s been *three* months since you’ve met her, how have you not—“

“Hey don’t rush them,” your father quickly interjected, “She’s young, she’s at the ripe age of childbirth…right?” He asked his servant who nodded at your father. He then looked back at the king with a shaky smile.

It was true that you were young, it gave the advantage of trying as many times as possible to conceive as it was your duties as future king and queen. Leon clenched his jaw, feeling frustrated by the conversation.

"We will try," Leon said, his voice firmer this time. He didn't want to be pressured into something. He could take care of things on his own. But deep down inside, he felt a hint of guilt. He felt bad that you were being used for his political ambitions.

His father gave Leon a firm nod, “You better,” then he looked over at your father. As a woman, it seemed as your only role was to have children, along with minor duties around the castle such as tending to the kitchen and garden.

“And you won’t have to worry about my daughter,” your father kept trying to lessen the king’s anger, “she’s good with children. Did I tell you about that time when she volunteered at a children’s church?” He chuckled nervously.

The king sighed, “Sylus, if your daughter can’t produce an heir then what use do I have for her?” Your father visibly wilted at his words, “She’s got many talents. She speaks five languages, she paints, she sings, she plays piano, she reads maps and knows geography. Believe me, she can be very useful when she wants.”

Leon's heart panged with sympathy as he listened to your father defend you, listing off your many talents and skills. He knew that you were not just a tool for producing heirs, but a person in your own right with your own abilities. And he felt guilty for realizing it after three months.

His father, however, seemed less impressed. He simply grunted in response to your father's words, not convinced by his defense. Your father sighed, “Give her a chance. She’s young, she’s at the right age for bearing kids,” he basically pleaded, “all she needs is time. You’ll have an heir before you know it.”

“Very well,” the king said before he took the contract, “I will sign it but until she is with child,” he then looked at Leon, “You better get to it.”

Leon clenched his jaw as his father gave his ultimatum. It was clear that the king saw your value only in your ability to bear children. Leon knew that he had a duty to produce heirs, but he struggled with the idea of treating you like nothing more than a vessel for bearing his children.

He nodded at his father, signaling his understanding of the king's condition, "I will," Leon said firmly, but his tone betrayed his internal conflict.

“Very well,” the king said before he stood up, taking the contract with him, “you’re all dismissed,” the king said before he started to walk out of the room. Once he was out, your father let out a sigh as he slumped on the chair.

“What am I going to do…” he muttered to himself as he rubbed his forehead, clearly this was affecting him as well. A father who only wanted to protect his daughter.

As Leon watched his father leave, he felt a sense of dread wash over him. He knew that he had to start fulfilling his duty as soon as possible.

He turned to your father and saw the tired, worried look on his face. He knew that the pressure was weighing heavy on him too.

"Don't worry," Leon said, his voice firm, "I'll do my duty. I'll make sure you don't regret giving your daughter to me."

Your father looked up at Leon, “I don’t,” he answered, “I don’t regret giving her to you, my lord.”

“My poor little girl,” he whispered to himself before he focused back on Leon, “She’s a great girl. She’s smart, she’s kind…” it was evident that your father was going through a whirlwind of stress and emotions.

Your father then stood up, giving Leon a deep bow in respect before he also walked out of the room to go back to his kingdom.

As your father left the room, Leon was left alone with his thoughts. He couldn't help but feel the weight of the king's words and expectations weighing down on him. He took a deep breath and pushed himself to stand up from his seat. He had a duty to fulfill and a promise to keep.

You were wandering the halls, yet again, oblivious to their meeting. You knew Leon was busy as the lord of the house, so you weren’t aware if they might be discussing.

“My lord,” the servant came over to Leon, “your next duty on the agenda is to foresee the taxes. The treasury just wants to hear your opinion, he says,” the servant said.

Leon had a promise and duty to fulfill, just as you did. The rest of his morning was full of tasks he had to do. It wasn’t until evening that his schedule was finally free. Leon spent the entire day attending to his responsibilities, from overseeing taxes to attending to other matters related to the house. Despite the busy schedule, his mind kept returning to the agreement and the king's condition.

As the sun began to set and the sky turned a hue of orange and purple, Leon finally had a moment of peace. He took a deep breath and looked out the window. The house suddenly felt so quiet and empty. Leon realized that he hadn't seen you all day. A pang of guilt gnawed at his heart.

You were in your shared quarters, talking to your maids. Your voices echoing around the walls of the room as the sound of clothes rustling was heard since the door was slightly ajar opened.

Right, today you had your new dresses delivered to you, “This one is gorgeous!” One of your maids said as she picked up a red ball gown.

“No, this is the one that beats all dresses in the kingdom,” another maid said she held a white gown. They were both beautiful and you could only laughed.

Leon stood outside the ajar open door, listening to the conversation between you and your maids. He heard your light laughter and the chatter about the dresses. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he heard your laughter. He didn't realize how much he had missed you until now.

He cleared his throat and knocked softly on the door, signaling his presence. Your maids quickly stood up straight up and tidied the room, the few boxes of dresses on the floor but upon seeing him, you smiled.

“My lord,” your maids greeted and curtsied as you stared at Leon before you remembered you had to do the same too. You were too caught up staring at him!

Leon was handsome, no doubt about that, but you still felt a bit embarrassed for forgetting to greet him formally. A hint of amusement flickered across his face as he took a step into the room, looking around at the boxes of dresses on the floor.

"No need for formalities," he assured your maids, his eyes shifting to you, "I merely came to check on my future Queen."

Your maids hurriedly tidied the place, they worked fast, right before they went over to the door, “We will leave you two alone.”

You nodded at them and watched as they left and closed the door, leaving you alone with Leon in your room. Your smile widened a bit, “Your future Queen?” You muttered softly as you stood in front of him.

“How was your meeting?” You asked as you stared up at him, “I heard my father visited. I wished I could’ve said hi but I was busy in the library,” since you weren’t in the meeting, you didn’t know what they talked about.

Leon chuckled softly, "Yes, my future Queen," he reiterated, his eyes never leaving yours as he looked down at you.

A hint of tension hung in the air as he remembered the real reason he was checking on you, but Leon quickly pushed those thoughts aside and focused his attention on you. He gently reached down and brushed a strand of hair from your face, "The meeting went fine," he said casually, not wanting to reveal the true topic of conversation.

You smiled softly at him, letting him brush your hair away from your face, his touch soft, “Not too stressful I hope,” you teased lightly.

“I hope my father didn’t give you and the king a hard time,” you said to him, “I know he can get a bit…well, he’s just very notably himself.”

Leon's gaze softened as he listened to your words, his mind briefly flitting back to the meeting and the king's ultimatum.

"Your father didn't give us a hard time," he replied with a slight smirk, "He can be... expressive, but that's what makes him unique. I can handle him."

He took a small step closer to you, his eyes searching your face, "But enough about the meeting. I wanted to spend some time with you."

A warm smile reached your lips, he wanted to spend time with you? You could feel your heart beat fast in the best way possible.

“You do?” You whispered teasingly as you couldn’t hide your smile, “Did the crown prince miss me already?” You chuckled softly.

You took a small step closer, hesitating for a moment before you rested your hands on his shoulders, “You better say you did,” you muttered in a fake threatening tone. Leon chuckled at your teasing, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He couldn't deny that he did miss you, but he would never admit it outright. He raised an eyebrow at your hands on his shoulders, but he made no move to remove them. Instead, he reached up and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him until there was barely any space between you.

"Is that so?" he teased back, "Are you threatening me, my future Queen?"

"Perhaps I do miss you," he said, his voice lowering, "Just a little."

You chuckled and stared at him with fondness in your eyes, for a moment, memories of the meeting were gone from his mind. Right now, it was just you two.

“I missed you too,” you muttered, “just a little,” you repeated his words with a grin. But you did miss him. The whole day you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Leon's heart skipped a beat at your admission that you missed him.

“So, what else happened in the meeting?” You asked quietly, not knowing what else to say, “Did the king say anything about…heirs?”

He looked down at you and his eyes darkened slightly, but he quickly schooled his expression and kept his voice casual.

"Heirs?" he repeated with feigned nonchalance, "Yes, the king mentioned heirs. He expects us to produce them... sooner rather than later."

Your face started to grow red. You understood that as a married couple, your duty was to produce an heir since you’ll be the new rulers of the kingdom. But at the same time, didn’t it seem like things were progressing too fast in your relationship? But maybe he was just being pressured by the king so you thought that deep down he probably only wants to fulfill his duty.

“Soon?” I repeated quietly, “very well,” I whispered and nodded, “When do you want to start?”

His hands on your hips tightened slightly in response to your question, his voice low and huskier than before, "Tonight," he answered, his eyes meeting yours, "I want to start tonight."

You nodded again as you looked up at him, “Alright, we’ll start tonight,” you whispered softly, “I’ll let my maids know so I can prepare.”

Part of you was a bit scared, you were pure and you didn’t know how it would feel to be intimate with someone. But you knew Leon wouldn’t hurt me voluntarily. So you trusted him, which surprised you.

“I should go prepare,” you whispered to him as you let go of his shoulders. He let go of your hips when you did, and he watched you closely, his heart racing in his chest.

"I'll see you in our quarters," he said softly, his tone both authoritative and tender, "Be ready for me when I get there."

You nodded and gave him a small smile, “I will,” you replied softly before you left the room. There was much to do and you wanted to look your best for him for tonight. You walked along the castle halls until you found your maids, letting them know about tonight and what needs to be done.

Leon watched you leave the room, his mind swirling with thoughts of what was to come. Guilt and desire warred within him, but he pushed them aside and focused on the task at hand.

As the hours ticked by slowly, Leon found himself pacing the corridors, waiting anxiously for the moment when he could finally return to his quarters and see you. The king's order echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of what was expected from him.

As the sun began to set and the hall grew dark, he finally made his way back towards your shared quarters.

The rest of the day was very busy for you. Your maids put all sorts of herbs and creams on your body to ensure your skin was soft as milk. They also did the same to your hair so it would shine and be as soft as silk. You stood in front of the mirror, watching as your maids dressed you in the appropriate dress for tonight. Candles were lit for the ambiance that made the room all more intimate. You were wearing a white night dress robe with lace around the edges, the material being thin and almost see through. You were wearing nothing under your dress as you knew what tonight meant. Your hair was down, all in its natural glory. Under the moonlight you looked like a goddess.

He stepped closer to the door, his hand reaching out to knock on the door before he hesitated. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Leon's breath hitched the moment he saw you. You looked like a vision, soft as silk and as beautiful as the night sky. Heat pooled in his gut as he fully saw the see-through dress you were wearing.

You heard the knock and turned around to find Leon. You were a bit nervous, did you look good? Desirable? You curtsied to him and smiled softly, “My lord.”

“You’re here,” you muttered softly. Leon's eyes roamed over you from head to toe, taking in your figure and the thin night dress. He swallowed hard, his pulse racing and his body responding to your mere presence.

He could see the hint of nervousness in your eyes, but there was also a mixture of desire and anticipation. He stepped closer to you, his hands aching to touch you, but he held back for the moment.

"I am," he replied in a soft, gruff voice, "And you look..." he trailed off, lost for words for a moment as he drank in your beauty. Your smile widened when he was at a loss for words, did you really look that good? You twirled around for him, your dress spinning with me. The candle lit room caused the warm flames to dance along on your skin, the shine from the creams encapsulating the richness and softness of your skin.

“Good?” You asked softly, not sure if you actually looked beautiful.

"Good doesn't even begin to cover it," he murmured huskily, his eyes locked on your figure, "You look divine."

He took a step closer to you, his hands twitching at his sides as he ached to touch you.

Your heart skipped a beat, he thought you looked divine. That was the best compliment he’s ever given you. You smiled before you turned around and walked over to your bed, getting on it and laying in the middle of the mattress as you looked over at him, waiting for him to come closer and start touching you. Your hair pooled around the pillows as your dress rode up to your ankles, revealing your supple skin.

The room was covered in candles, a sweet aroma that added to the sensuality of the moment. Leon watched you lie down on the bed, his heart thudding in his chest at the sight of you on the soft mattress, looking like a goddess waiting to be worshipped.

His eyes drank in the sight of your bare skin, his gaze roaming up from your ankles, up to your dress, and then to your face. He swallowed hard, his control starting to slip as he slowly approached the bed. Each step was deliberate, his eyes darkened with a mixture of heat and need. As he reached the edge of the bed, he placed one knee on the mattress, towering above you.

Leon could see the mixture of nervousness and desire in your eyes, and he understood the trust you had in him. He took a moment to collect himself, his own emotions and desire threatening to overtake him.

His eyes roaming your body, taking in the sight of you laid out on the bed like a tempting offering. He swallowed hard, the need to touch you and claim you was almost overwhelming.

Slowly, he reached out and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his fingers tracing a path down to your exposed skin, "You're beautiful," he whispered coarsely.

“Thank you, my lord,” you whispered softly and almost breathlessly. He’s never touched you like this. You’ve only ever held hands and kissed and that was yesterday. You hesitantly brought a hand over to him, your fingers ghostly hovering over his clothed chest as your eyes wandered on his chest. His shirt made it so that his muscles were a bit noticeable.

Your eyes then looked back up at his before they flicked down to his lips. You looked back at his blue eyes, noticing the dilated pupils almost obscuring the blue around it. Leon's breathing grew heavier as he felt your hand hovering over his chest, your touch like a ghost against his skin. He watched as your eyes darted down to his lips, and he couldn’t help but lick his lips in response.

“You can touch me,” he said gruffly, his voice low and hoarse, “I won't break.”

He reached down and gently grasped your wrist, guiding your hand onto his chest so you could feel the warmth and firmness of his muscles. He watched your expression closely, his own eyes darkened with need.

Your breath hitched for many reasons; his hand on your wrist, your palm against his warm chest, his reassurance—it all made you a bit breathless.

You pressed your hand on his chest, feeling the muscles through his shirt. Your eyes drifted down to his hand on your wrist, he made your wrist look so small with his big hand. It made your heart flutter.

You looked back up at him, your lips slightly parted as you touched him. Even if it was just his chest. Leon's heart raced as he felt your hand on his chest, pressing and feeling the muscles below his shirt. It was the softest touch, but it sent jolts of pleasure down his spine.

He tightened his grip on your wrist, the feeling of your slender, soft skin under his rough, calloused hand made his blood boil. He had to fight the urge to just tear the dress off of you and take you right there and then. Instead, he watched as you took in the feel of him, your touch lingering, and he clenched his jaw in an attempt to maintain control.

You brought my other hand to his cheek, your hand trailing down his neck before you also let it rest on his chest. Right as he held your wrist gently.

You looked up at him again, your doe eyes looking at him so innocently, “My lord…” you whispered quietly before your eyes fell back in his lips. Your nightdress sleeves slipped down your shoulders, exposing your collarbone as well as the top of your breasts but not entirely.

Your touch was both innocent and sensual, igniting a fire in Leon's core that he was struggling to control. He swallowed hard as he watched your sleeves slip down, revealing more of your creamy, supple skin, and his eyes darkened with growing desire.

"I'm no lord here, not to you," he responded gruffly, his voice hoarse with need, "Say my name."

Your stomach flipped when you heard his words and his tone. He sounded so needy and just for you. But what made you more flustered was that he wanted you to say his name.

No title at all. For the three months that you’ve been married, you’ve always called him by his title out of respect as he was initially rude to you. But now that things have changed, maybe you should start calling him by his first name.

“Leon,” you whispered softly, the name rolling off your tongue with ease. As if it felt right to say his name.

The sound of you whispering his name sent a shiver down Leon’s spine. It was a soft, shy whisper but to him, it sounded like music to his ears. He brought his other hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing over your soft skin, "Again," he murmured, his voice thick with need, "Say it again."

You leaned into his hand as you looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, “Leon,” you repeated his name again.

Leon couldn’t stop the low groan that escaped him when you said his name again, his grip on your wrist unconsciously tightening at the sound. You spread your legs a bit so he could settle between your legs, causing your dress to slip up your knees to expose your calves. His grip on your wrist was firm but gentle and you moved your free hand to your night dress.

Your fingers undid the knot of your robe before you put your hand back on his chest, your dress opening to reveal your naked body to him. Your breasts looked soft and shiny from the candle lights. The skin looking so supple and creamy, almost like milk. His eyes darkened with hunger as he looked at your now exposed body, his breath hitching in his throat. You looked so soft, so creamy, so perfect, and the heat that pooled in his groin was almost unbearable. He let go of your wrist and brought his hand down to the opening of your robe, pushing it further down to reveal more of you to him. Laid out like a meal just for him to devour. Leon's breathing grew more ragged as he took in the sight of your bare body, his eyes slowly roaming over every inch of you as if he was trying to memorize each curve and detail.

He ached to touch you, to feel your soft, warm skin beneath his hands, but he held himself back, just taking in the sight for a moment.

“Gods, you are exquisite," he murmured hoarsely, his eyes darkened with desire and lust. He couldn't look away even if he tried, you looked like a vision in the candlelight.

You looked up at him. Your hesitant hands slowly rested back on his chest, your fingers resting along the strings that hung loose from his shirt. Leon's heart thundered in his chest as your hands moved back to his chest, your fingers gently playing with the strings of his shirt. The feeling of your touch sent sparks of heat through his body, and he had to remind himself to stay calm.

He reached up a hand and gently took a hold of yours, bringing it up to his lips and gently kissing each finger.

You watched attentively with parted lips as he brought your hand to his lips and kissed each finger, your breathing quickened and you felt myself grow hot. Such a sincere and innocent gesture made you want him more.

There was glint of something in my eyes, something you’ve never felt until now. Was it respect? Kindness? Affection? You didn’t know but you did know that you were starting to feel something heavier than want. Something that could only ever be read in books.

Leon's eyes met yours as you cup his face with your other hand, your gentle touch sending a jolt of electricity through his body. The look in your eyes was new to him, but it stirred something within him. Something more profound than mere want.

He continued to kiss your fingers, his lips ghosting over your knuckles, your palm, the inside of your wrist. He gently placed your palm against his cheek and leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as he basked in the feel of your skin against him.

"You're so gentle," he murmured softly, his voice hoarse with an unnamed emotion.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered back to his words. Leon's heart ached at your words, hearing the sincerity and affection in your voice. The way you held his face in your hands, so gently and softly, made something inside him stir.

He opened his eyes, looking back at you with an unreadable expression, his gaze intense and almost vulnerable.

"You won't hurt me," he assured you, his voice low, "And even if you do... I don't care," he reached up and gently placed his hand over one of yours, "I don't care as long as I'm with you like this."

Your heart swelled at his words, what you were eeling frightened you a bit. You didn’t know anything about what you were feeling right now.

You gently pulled his face down towards yours, your eyes glancing at his lips before you looked back at his eyes. Leon's breath hitched as you pulled his face down towards yours, and when he felt your soft, warm lips on his, something inside of him snapped. He gently but firmly brought his hands around your waist, pulling you close to him as he deepened the kiss.

He had intended to take things slow, but the feeling of your lips on his, the heat of your body against him, it was too much to resist.

He moved one hand up to cup the back of your neck, angling your head to kiss you more deeply, his tongue gently seeking entrance into your mouth. You gasped and opened your mouth, feeling his tongue dance with yours. Your hands fell from his face to his chest, resting there for a moment as you relished in the feeling of his lips and tongue. Savoring him, you didn’t care if he tasted like his dinner, you were tasting him and you felt him close. That was all that mattered to you.

You kissed him back, pushing your tongue inside his mouth. He was the oasis and you were a thirsty wanderer, you needed him and you didn’t realize how much until this moment.

He couldn't get enough of you. You were like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, and he wanted more. He groaned against your lips as you kissed him back, his hand moving further up your neck and tangling into your hair as he pulled you even closer to him, his body growing needy and greedy for you. Your hands gripped his shirt tightly, fisting the material as you held on to him. You didn’t want to let go. Your body was responding to him in a way you’ve never felt before.

Your hands were quick to lift his shirt up, breaking the kiss momentarily as you undressed him with gentleness. Leon's eyes darkened with desire as you lifted his shirt, exposing his toned, muscled chest to your gaze. He watched your eyes as they roamed over his scars, his breath catching in his throat as your fingers gently traced over them.

He could see the way you looked at him, with a mixture of awe and admiration, and it only made him want you more. He leaned down, his lips hovering above yours as he spoke in a deep, husky voice, "Touch me, touch me as if I am your only."

Your eyes drifted back up to look at his, his words stirring something deep in your gut, “You are,” you whispered back in a breathless voice. Your hands roamed around his torso, feeling each contour and dip from his muscles and scars.

Leon's heart quickened at your words, his body responding to your touch, your tenderness, your love. Every caress of your hands, every gentle touch, made him feel alive. He didn't know what to make of the feelings that were bubbling up inside him. He had married you out of obligation, but now, with your hands on him, it felt like so much more.

He took one of your hands in his and brought it up to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles before pressing it against his chest, over his heart, "Feel that?" he whispered.

Your hand was pressed against his chest, over his heart and you could feel how fast it was beating, a reflection of your own heart as well. You looked back up at him and nodded.

“I do,” you whispered back, his heart was beating fast, almost uncontrollably. It caused my breath to hitch and your words to cut short.

"It means you have mine," he said gruffly, his voice thick with emotion. "My heart. My soul. Everything that I am, it's yours."

He brought his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin, "Only yours," he breathed, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your heart beat faster and you could feel yourself turn to mush. Your heart ached and your stomach flipped inside you at his words. He was yours, everything about him.

“Leon,” you whispered, staring at his eyes to try and look for signs of deceit but you could only find honesty. Leon could see the look in your eyes, the mix of surprise, disbelief, and awe, and it only served to make his own heart beat faster. He wasn't sure what had come over him, but the words had slipped out on their own. He looked at you for a moment, his eyes roaming over your face as if trying to commit every detail to memory.

"Say it back," he breathed, his voice hoarse and almost desperate, "Say you're mine," he needed to hear it, to know that he wasn't alone in his feelings.

“I’m yours,” you whispered as you looked at him, “My entire being,” uou continued, suddenly feeling the words spill out of you with no control.

“Let me have you for myself and myself only,” you whispered in an almost pleading tone, “let me be the only woman in your life.”

Your eyes were basically begging him to have you as his sole woman. You didn’t want him to have concubines, you wanted to be his only lady. Leon's heart clenched at your words, his breath catching in his throat. The desperation, the plea in your voice, it hit him hard. He knew he had been with other women before, it was expected from him, but the thought of having anyone else but you after tonight felt wrong, felt foreign.

"You are," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion as his hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head, "You are the only woman in my life. From this day forth, and every day after."

Your heart swelled and you could feel your eyes glaze over with nothing but love. That’s right. What you were feeling was love and it was overwhelming.

You crashed your lips against his, gripping his arms as you pulled his body down against yours until you were pressed together like mush. You kissed him deeply and passionately, pouring all your emotions into the kiss.

Leon groaned deeply as you pulled him down on top of you, feeling the heat of your body against his, the softness of your lips on his, it was all too much. He moved his hands down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he ground against you, his body responding to yours with a primal need. You gasped against his lips as you felt him ground against you, feeling his bulge through his trouser press against your bare core making me feel some type of way.

He kissed you back with equal fervor, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you and claiming you as his own. He wanted to feel all of you, to be inside you, to make you his. The thought of claiming you, of making you his completely, of filling you with his seed and making you carry his child, sent a shiver down his spine.

He ground against you again, his hips moving on their own, seeking friction and relief from the ache that was building up inside him.

"You want that," he breathed, his voice low and rough, "You want me to take you, make you mine?"

“I’m already yours,” you whispered breathlessly, feeling him ground against you again, your heat and wetness obviously showing how much you wanted him to take you.

You moved against him, grinding your hips against his bulge as you also felt a tight feeling that sought relief. It was an ache that was unfamiliar to you. The sound of your words and the feel of you moving against him made Leon's body ache for you. He growled as you ground your hips against him, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he returned your movements, pushing against you and causing a wave of pleasure to wash over him.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed, his eyes roaming over your naked body as he continued to move against you, "I never want to stop touching you."

You let out a quiet moan, feeling pleasure coursing through my veins like electricity, “Don’t stop,” you whispered. You closed your eyes and savored the feeling even if he was still wearing his trousers.

Leon let out a guttural moan, his breathing growing ragged as he continued to move against you, his body aching to be inside you, to be one with you. Your words were like a command and he knew he had to obey, he didn't want to stop, he didn't want to hold back. He never had, but now, the consequences would be different.

But he didn't care.

"I don't want to stop," he groaned, his hands moving to the waistband of his trousers, "I don't know if I can even if I tried."

Your eyes trailed down to his hand on the waistband of his trousers, watching as he started to fully undress himself and show you his bare form. He was like a drug you grew addicted to, you also don’t think you could stop even if you tried. Now, all you wanted was to be with him. To be his lady forever as you ruled over the kingdom as King and Queen.

“Me neither,” you whispered as you looked back up into his blue eyes. Leon was barely holding on to the last bit of control he had. Your words, your breathless voice, it was driving him to a frenzy.

He lowered himself down, his body resting against yours, his hardened length pressed against your wet core, the tip barely grazing your entrance. He groaned deeply at the feeling, his hips instinctively moving against you. You whimpered as he started to push his hard cock inside you, filling you when he hasn’t even started.

"You don't know what you do to me," he breathed, his face buried in your shoulder, "What you make me feel."

You let out a shaky breath as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, your nails gently clawing at his back. Leon groaned as he entered you, the tightness and warmth of your body was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was ecstasy and heaven all in one. He lifted his face from your shoulder and looked down at you, his eyes full of love and desire.

"You feel so good," he breathed, his voice hoarse, "So tight, so perfect."

He began to move slowly, his hips rocking against yours, his hands caressing your body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses on your neck and chest.

As he started to move inside you, slowly thrusting into you, you rolled your head back against the pillows and closed your eyes as you relished in the waves of pleasure crashing over you. His hips rocked slowly but you could feel so well, you had finally become one.

You could only moan softly in his ear, savoring him and holding him close to you. Leon continued to move inside you, his pace steady and slow, wanting to make this moment last as long as possible. He could feel his heart slamming against his chest, his breathing coming out in ragged gasps. He needed more, he needed all of you.

He lifted himself up, resting on his forearms, and looked down at you, "Look at me," he breathed, "I want to see your face."

You opened your eyes and looked up at him as he moved deep inside you, your lips parted and your cheeks flushed as you moaned and gasped breathlessly. As he lifted himself up, your hands fell down from his back and laid on either side of your head.

The tempo was slow but sensual, wanting to make this moment last longer. The sounds we made echoed through the room. You arched your back as he started to move faster, slowly starting to feel his hips slam against your, the sound of skin clapping echoing in your mind. Leon continued his pace as he watched you unravel beneath him. The sounds of your moans and gasps, the way your body trembled and clenched around him, it was all too much.

Your moans became short and breathy, an indication of how much he was taking you to the edge as well. You rolled your eyes back and gasped quietly, you couldn’t hold much longer. The faster and harder he went, the harder it was to hold back. He could feel himself on the edge of release, his body taut and his muscles coiled, ready to explode.

You looked up at him, making sure he was seeing your face as you were so close to coming. Your body started to tremble slowly at each thrust. You panted heavily as your hands gripped the bedsheets under you and before you knew it, you looked at him, eyes full of bliss and pleasure as you let go and felt yourself spasm and clench around him, finally coming on him.

As he watched you come undone, he felt himself falling over the edge as well. His hips moved frantically, his body taking over as he chased his own release.

You let out whimpers as he started to move frantically, thrusting against you like an animal in heat and desperate for release. He let out a guttural moan as he found his own pleasure, his body tensing and shuddering as he found release inside you.

He snapped his hips against you before he spilled his seed deep inside you, coating your walls white with his cum. You were left panting and sweaty, your body suddenly feeling tired from the intimate activities so you closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath. Leon breathed heavily as he collapsed on top of you, his body damp with sweat and his heart racing. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, letting your familiar fragrance fill his senses. He knew what he had just done, the thought of seeing you grow round and heavy with his child filled him with a sense of joy and possessiveness.

Your breathing has settled down and you slowly started to succumb to sleep, feeling your body grow exhausted and limp. As he remained on top of you, your head moved to the side, seemingly asleep as your body was so tired.

Never once would you have thought that you’d share a night like this. Previously, he was cold, harsh, and rude to you. You almost believed he’d never even hold your hand. And yet something in him changed and here you are.

He knew he had been harsh and cold with you in the beginning, but he had to be. It was to maintain a certain image, a facade. But as time passed, he realized that he was falling for you.

He gently pulled himself off of you, careful not to wake you, and then laid down beside you. He pulled the covers over the both of you and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he, too, allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Wary Sailor Pt. 2 | Matthew Joy x fem!reader

summary: Second Mate Matthew Joy goes out on a whale hunt and even after a successful chase, he can't seem to feel satisfied. Something's weighing heavily on his mind. While alone in the harpoon boat, trouble comes to call.

warnings: Aiming a gun at someone, talk of violence, smut, oral (F receiving), penetration, dubious consent (weird circumstances), unprotected sex, Matthew's abandonment issues lol.

word count: 2763k+

Tucumcari- Goodnight, Texas 🎶

Lady May- Tyler Childers 🎵

Note: The lyrics that I included are from the old whaling song Maid of Amsterdam.

*Pt. 3 (and maybe 4???) coming soon!

The men were deployed into the smaller whaling boats, each boat armed with a harpoon and dense cord. Matthew stood at the back of his boat to steer it away from the ship, navigating the aggravated water. He forced himself to think about the whales, keeping his mind inside the boat… but the girl’s eyes appeared like stars in the corner of his vision at all times. 

“Joy!” One of the rowers was yelling at him, snapping him out of his trance. “Joy, focus! Don’t go soft on us all of a sudden, eh?” 

Matthew grimaced as the grisly sailor chuckled. He steered them out to open water, following the Captain's boat as per his orders. While he couldn’t see their bodies in the water, Matthew could hear the loud vibrations of sound the Sperm whales made as they spoke to one another. He could also hear Owen yelling out commands to his men. The harpoonist prepared his weapon. Matthew directed his man to do the same. 

“Steady now!” He advised his men as they waited for movement below the surface. Striking the whale was simple compared to the rest of the exhausting process. Matthew just planned on keeping his men alive but whale oil was also a necessity that he was willing to sacrifice for. He wasn’t a greedy man by any means, he’d lived in poverty all his life. His life was whaling and he didn’t spend much time off the ocean, the stillness made him restless. 

“There she blows!” A man yelled and Matthew peered over the edge as the side of his boat rose out of the water, stuck on the back of an adolescent whale. As he looked over, the distinct silhouette of a woman wavered beneath the surface. Choosing to ignore it, Matthew swung the boat over to allow the harpooner to cast his weapon. 

“Go, go, go!” He barked, spit flying from his mouth as he waved the man on. The harpoon sailed through the sky, landed in the water like a seabird, and missed. The whale diverted away from Matthew’s boat and found itself trapped beside Owen’s. The mother whale broke the surface nearby, distracting the men to the real prize. Matthew steered his boat away as the other men helped reel in the harpoon’s cord. The harpooner aimed and threw. 

…

It was evening when the whale was secured by chains to the deck of the ship. The whale was so large she had to rest in two different places, one on the ship’s deck and the other in Matthew’s boat. The men aboard wrapped rags around their noses to cover the smell. Matthew just grimaced and rubbed the sockets of his eyes. The darkening landscape helped relieve some of his headache. The other men were already aboard the Essex, only he was left to watch over the end of the whale, saving it from sharks and other predators. He could hear the men singing as they did their work, scraping the fat from the inside of a giant. He hummed along to the song they were singing together.

A roving, a roving

Since roving's been my ru-i-in

I'll go no more a roving

With you fair maid! 

Movement in the water drew his mind away from the song. Ripples expanded across the surface where something had just been. Matthew drew his rifle from the floorboards and checked the chamber for bullets. He watched the surface carefully for the distinct fins of sharks. 

I put my hand upon her thigh

Mark well what I do say!

I put my hand upon her thigh

She said young man ‘That’s rather high’

I'll go no more a roving with you fair maid!

Matthew cocked the gun and aimed it at the dark water around his boat. The men’s singing seemed to dissipate with the seriousness of his situation. Sharks could be both dangerous and damaging. The scent of whale blood always drew them in, sending them into a frenzy where they could throw themselves against the side of the boat, risking damage. They were a nuisance to Matthew and he didn’t mind shooting them when necessary. The boat rocked in the waves and he steadied himself. 

“Are you going to use that on me, Matthew Joy?” The voice behind him startled a gasp from his lips. He swung the rifle around, aiming it at the same face he’d seen hours before. 

“You…” he whispered, keeping his rifle trained on her throat. Her eyes were the same green as before, only this time he could see them more clearly. The sun had fully set but colors remained in the sky above her head, bloody purples and such. He couldn’t see her body below the water but he saw that her shoulders were bare save the scattered pearls stuck to her skin like freckles. 

“Are you going to shoot me?” She whispered back, her face inches from the barrel of the rifle. He licked his lips before speaking.

“Where… where did you go? You disappeared…” he muttered darkly, flicking his eyes up to the deck where his crewmates continued to work. He was alone with the girl. 

“I had to see what you were like,” she offered a small smile. Matthew adjusted the way he held the gun, still aimed at her. 

“You asked me if I believed in Sirens…” Matthew remembered warily, his eyes trailing over the pearls across her chest. Her dark hair rested behind her shoulders, down her back. 

“Do you?” She asked and reached up her hands slowly, holding the edge of the small boat. He stared at her, his breath clouding the metal scope on his gun. 

“Is that what you are?” He asked finally and the girl smiled once again. 

“Is it quite shocking?” She teased and bit her lip timidly. 

“Well… yes,” Matthew exhaled and raised his eyebrow, “I thought they were only in stories. They weren’t real… Why didn’t you sing?”

The girl cocked her head to the side. The air felt heavy between them as he waited for her response. His body was confused and frightened, something he’d rarely felt before. His instinct and desire clashed, strengthening the opposing forces within him.  

“I don’t want to kill you,” she answered honestly, “we sing to kill.” 

Matthew lowered his gun and nodded, breathless. 

“You had legs. You didn’t look… ” He ran a shaky hand through his hair and ran his hand over his mouth. He could see the top of her fin break through the water. It was a beautiful silver color and her scales were shiny and iridescent. 

“I wanted to see how you would treat me. I disguised myself as a human girl and you treated me gently.”

“What do you want from me? You had to keep me alive for some reason,” Matthew sat down on a plank of seating and rubbed the waterducts of his eyes. 

“Nothing more than just to know you. I’ve watched your crew from the sea for weeks. You are a good, kind man.” 

Matthew looked up from between his fingers and exhaled slowly, lowering his guard only slightly. 

“Then what does this mean? How do you want to… know me?” He furrowed his brow and sat back once again on the plank of wood. Her hands tipped the boat slightly so that she could come a little closer to the sailor. 

“Come closer, please…” she whispered and rose onto her elbows, her face a few inches from Matthew’s. Matthew stared at her lips, rosey pink and plump. She smelled like sea salt and clean things. Ever so slowly, Matthew closed the distance between them, his eyes staying on her lips. 

“Y/N…” He tried to restrain himself as he whispered but eventually, as she stared up at him with her beautiful curtained eyes, he kissed her. It had been years since he’d actually kissed a woman. Kissing was so different than fucking. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed it, the softness of it. Her hands inched up his blouse, beneath his overcoat, grabbing at his lapels. His hands found the sharp edges of her jaw, meeting her mouth with a more fervent kiss. She tasted lightly of salt, like seaspray against rocks. He devoured her flavor as though it were precious, forbidden. He twisted his fingers into her hair that felt dry despite being in the water, moaning against her lips. 

“In what other ways do you want to know me?” He muttered against her lips, his eyes closed. Her fingers ran over his neck, down to the dip between his collarbones. 

“I want to know every part of you,” she smiled and moved away, allowing the light from the deck to illuminate her figure below him in the water. Matthew hid a choked sigh as his eyes trailed over her body below the waves. Her body was decorated with pearls and scraps of white cloth. Instead of a tail, she now had two legs that beat the water to keep her afloat. 

“Will you take me into your boat?” She asked softly and Matthew nearly forgot to respond, caught in a state of disbelief. He cleared his throat and scooped his hands beneath her arms, pulling her into the boat in one movement. Standing above him on two legs, she looked even more beautiful than she had hours earlier. He could see the buds of her nipples through the white fabric, surrounded by pearls and strands of seaweed. Her cunt was hidden behind a swath of wet fabric but he could still see the dark shape of pubic hair. He looked back up at her face, his lips having fallen apart in amazement. The Siren laughed softly and carded her fingers through his hair, pulling his head back slightly as she did. 

“Lay me down,” she requested and smiled when he immediately wrapped his hands around her waist and flipped her over where she could lie flat on the bottom of the harpoon boat. The planks were far enough away to give him space to kneel above her. He supported himself above her, studying the contours of her body, plump and full. She twisted her fingers through his hair again and pulled him close so she could whisper in his ear. 

“Now make love to me, Matthew Joy.” 

…

He was already hard when she cupped her hand against his pants. It had been a while since he’d slept with a woman after months at sea. His body ached as badly as if he were a teenage boy again, not an aging man. He was throbbing as he moved the fabric on her cunt aside and lowered his head between her thighs. Looking up at her, he ran his tongue against her, tasting her. She hummed and shook with nerves. 

A roving, a roving

Since roving's been my ru-i-in

I'll go no more a roving

With you fair maid!

Feeling emboldened by her reaction, Matthew licked her again and rubbed his nose against her clit. She was wet against his tongue and he licked his lips greedily. His cock started to throb as she whimpered and moaned beneath his mouth. Her hand pulled tightly at his hair but he loved the pain and worked his mouth harder into her cunt. 

“Now, please now!” She begged him as she started to shake with pleasure. Taking the hint, Matthew undid his trousers and pushed them down to his knees. His face was still wet with her precum as he pulled out his cock and inserted himself quickly. She spasmed around him, her hands moving to grip the sides of the boat for leverage. His thighs clenched as he thrusted into her, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his head. He leaned closer to her chest and rocked into her neck as he fucked her. 

“Oh you don’t know how long it’s been, love,” he sighed against her neck. “Is it ok?”

She nodded emphatically and pulled him closer by the back of his jacket, moving him deeper inside her. They both gasped out. He pulled his face away to watch her, still fucking her. 

“Beautiful. Pretty pretty creature you are,” he praised her as he trailed a finger down her cheek. Her thighs bounced against his as he pulled her legs around his waist. The boat shook around them. He slipped his tongue around the mound of her breast beneath the cloth, making more moans escape the girl’s mouth. He slipped the fabric aside with one finger and looking up to watch her face, he pressed his mouth around a nipple and sucked. Immediately, her body pulled into his, her back arching off the curved bottom. 

I'll go no more a roving

With you fair maid!

“Matthew…” she gasped as her muscles tightened and her bare feet flexed. He rolled his tongue around her nipple while his hand moved to hold her neck lightly, supporting her head. She cried out silently, her eyes screwed shut as if she were in pain. He dragged his tongue along her sternum to her neck and sucked at the flesh there. Her breathing evened out and she pulled his face to hers once again. 

“Do what you want with me. Get what you need from me,” the seriousness of her command sent a spasm of pleasure into his cock, still inside her. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes. I want you to use me,” she whispered and spread her legs farther. Matthew looked at her for a second before smiling. 

“Fuck, love. I think I’ll fall in love with you,” he chuckled softly and brushed his hand across her cheek. 

“And so what if you do, sailor? Hasn’t everyone else done the same at some point?” 

Matthew raised an eyebrow and kissed her, dragging her hands out above her head. Pressing her hands down into the boat, he began to thrust slowly into her, his hips still rebounding off of her pelvis. 

“You’re going to stay right here, Y/N. I don’t want to lose you again.” 

The girl smiled and broke into a moan as he shortened his thrusts, keeping himself as far inside her as he could. He went slowly so he could feel the orgasm clearly as it came over him, making his cock feel swollen with seed. Her hips shook wildly as she began to lose control over her orgasms. He watched her orgasm and released a wave of contractions around him. Smiling, he finally began to speed up as she whimpered beneath him.

“Fuck, yes… fuck… yes!” He muttered breathlessly as he felt his cock start to twitch before his orgasm. She tightened around him, pulling him deeper and drawing a guttural groan from his throat. His shoulders shook with effort as he allowed his orgasm to explode, cumming inside the girl and sending waves of relief through his system. He pulled out slowly and kissed down her stomach, savoring the heat of her skin against his lips. She caught her breath as he lapped at her swollen cunt. She was still shaking from her orgasms and whined when his tongue overstimulated her. He cleaned her out and nibbled at the skin on the inside of her thighs. 

“It’s time for me to go.” 

Matthew looked up at her and furrowed his brow, “so soon?” 

The girl nodded and sat up to face him. 

“I’ll be back, I promise.” She smiled shyly and rubbed her nose against his. 

“Where do you go… I mean where do you go while we’re aboard?” He stumbled over his words, still catching his breath. 

“Here,” she offered no further clarification as Matthew gave her a questioning look. She pressed her hand against his cheek and laughed. 

“Don’t worry about where I go, sailor. The sea is my home.”

Matthew kissed her hastily as he redid his pants and pulled his suspender straps back over his shoulders. She stood and kissed him once more before she stepped over the edge and dropped into the water. In seconds she was resurfacing with her silver tail. 

“Let me ask you one thing,” Matthew stopped her before he could leave, “are you real? Was that real?” He gestured to the bottom of the boat and the girl laughed brightly. 

“Be wary, sailor. You might just lose your mind."

Matthew nodded and watched as she backed away and dove into the dark water beyond the reflection of light from the deck. Moments later, a whistle sounded and he was called to return to the ship. Forcing himself to look away from the place where the girl disappeared, he felt the familiar material of his old coat that he had wrapped around the girl earlier on the plank beside him, folded and damp.

...

End of Pt. 2!

[forsythiaproductions]

Ending Soon! 😱💖

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[yellow-yellow-jacket]

avid historical fashion enthusiast here to remind you that corsets and stays were not created as ancient methods of torture.

sure, i am not going to deny that some women did tightlace their corsets — however, not everyone was struggling to breathe and fainting everywhere like fucking goats. part of a corset’s purpose was aesthetic and fashion, but it was also for support. most women still lived their lives, they weren’t just lying around being damsels in distress with itty bitty waists and zero lung capacity.

i just think it’s scary how hollywood has popularized the misconception that corsets are made to be tightlaced — for example, if someone who isn't well educated about historical fashions buys a corset for a costume, they might think it’s normal if they can’t breathe, and that’s dangerous. i cannot emphasize that enough.

when i was performing in a production of beauty and the beast earlier this year, some of the girls — my friends — were tightening their corsets to seriously dangerous extents, and that fucking scared me. i felt like a broken record telling them to loosen their corsets, but all they knew was pirates of the caribbean (that one scene pisses me off sO BAD) and bridgerton (i am NOT gonna start on the corset tightening scene in bridgerton s1, i do not need to get on that soap box).

if you read nothing else in this little rant of mine, read this:

if you cannot breathe while you are wearing a corset, something is wrong.

[triviareads]

The good, bad, beautiful, and problematic: romance novel cover art painted by John Ennis. He spent decades painting cover art for various publishing houses and recently retired, and I had a lot of fun attending this exhibition!

[bridgertonallday]

I love her!

[via X]

[tjalexandernyc]

He's got a cover! May I please introduce A Gentleman's Gentleman, out March 11, 2025 from Vintage Books.

You can help support my m/m trans historical romance right now, though! Please consider preordering from your bookshop of choice, adding it to your to-read list on GoodReads or Storygraph, or requesting your local library procure a copy (that's ISBN 9780593686201 in the US, 9780008716332 in the UK).

Note to UK folks: your version will be titled The Earl Meets His Match and will have a different cover (TBD).

Synopsis:

From the acclaimed author of Chef's Kiss, a groundbreaking trans Regency romance that's both delightfully witty and refreshingly iconoclastic. The notoriously eccentric Lord Christopher Eden is a “man of unusual make” and even more unusual habits: he prefers to live far from the prying eyes and ears of the ton, and would rather have the comfortable company of his childhood cook and his aged butler than the swarm of servants and hangers-on befitting a man of his station. But Christopher’s pleasant, if occasionally lonely life is upended when he receives word from his lawyers that, according to his late father’s will, he must find a wife by the end of the Season if he intends to keep his family’s fortune and the Eden estate. Christopher cannot imagine a worse fate: as he isn’t attracted to women, his chances of making a wife happy are slim. Furthermore, if his quest to marry has any hope of succeeding, he must move to London posthaste and acquire some more suitable staff. Enter James Harding, Christopher’s new, distractingly handsome—if rigidly traditional—valet. After a rocky start, the two strike up a fragile friendship amid the throes of the London Season . . . a friendship that threatens to shatter under the looming shadow of Christopher’s impending nuptials—and the secrets both men are keeping. With its heady combination of dry wit, slow-burn romance, and a nuanced portrait of trans identity, A Gentleman’s Gentleman stands to transform the historical romance genre as we know it.

Cover design by Mark Abrams

Photography by Alun Callender

Modeling by Zack Pinsent of Pinsent Tailoring

[babyrubysoho]

That shirt took half my life to draw, but I love this ‘feed your teeny twink bf’ moment so was totally worth it!

[yazthebookish]

“Every time I see you,” he murmured, “I think you couldn’t possibly become any more beautiful—and you always prove me wrong.”

Annabelle and Simon from Secrets of a Summer Night (Wallflowers #1) by Lisa Kleypas

Commissioned with margana_mgn (link here)

[late-to-the-party-81]

The King's Last Concubine

AN: Welcome, welcome to the short one-shot that spiralled a little out of control. I’m sure none of you will complain. If you like cheesy historical romance and Bucky then you’ve come to the right place. In all honesty I could have made this story much, much longer, but unfortunately I don’t have the time, so it’s wrapped up a little fast and without as many misunderstandings as the usual Harlequin/Mills and Boon normally contains. I hope you like it anyway.

Beta’d by the lovely @seriouslydex - thank you for your assistance in wrangling this into coherence.

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Bingo Fills - @buckybarnesbingo Square U1 - Kink: Concubine

Master list | BBB Master list

Summary: When Bucky takes over the throne after his Father’s death, he has better things to deal with than the group of concubines he’s inherited. He thinks the tradition is abhorrent and vows he wants no part of it. When he meets the newest member of the harem he finds his moral stance tested. How can he want the woman who was bought to please his father?

Relationship: King James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x Female Concubine Reader

Chapter word count: 10.2k

CW: Historical AU, Flowery historical language, Angst, Servitude, Lust, Male masturbation, Fluff, Miscommunication, Self-loathing, Jealousy, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Attempted Sexual Assault, Explicit Sexual Content, Declaration of feelings.

A quiet tension filled the air as you wandered your way around the gardens and corridors of the place you’d called home for the last six months. That’s when you’d been purchased - a gift for the elderly and ailing king, meant to boost his spirits and reignite his youthful zeal. However, all the youth and beauty in the world could not turn back the sands of time.

For the last few weeks the king had been getting weaker, not leaving his private rooms or entertaining any guests apart from his long faithful Queen, his heir, Prince James and his daughter, Princess Rebecca. It was a waiting game now, for the Royal Family, the country, and for you and the other members of the Harem.

Entering the solar, where all of you could spend your days in conversation, needlework, painting and reading, you could see Merith, the King’s favourite in an agitated conversation with Katya, the next concubine down in the pecking order. They had the most to lose when the inevitable happened, because it would be very unlikely that the Prince would wish to keep them around. Not only were they older than him, they had both also borne the King numerous children - it would be very strange for a new King to keep the mothers of his half siblings as concubines for himself. At best, the two women might hope to be housed somewhere pleasant in their retirement, maybe with a semi-wealthy husband. At worst they could be turfed out of the palace along with any of their children that the King hadn’t yet made provisions for.

As for your fate, that was also completely unknown. However, due to your age and the fact that you had only been here a short time, with very few interactions with the King, there was a chance that the Prince would want to keep you. You’d never seen him in the flesh, but you knew he was handsome from the glimpses you’d had of his portrait when you’d been led to and from the King’s chambers on those few occasions he had requested your company. However, despite what you had been purchased for, you had never actually lain with the King. He had tried and, as it was in your best interest, so had you, but the King was old and tired. 

Instead you’d provided him with company as best you could, rubbing his back, stroking his hair and reading him stories until he fell asleep and you could call the guards to escort you back to the Little Palace.

Of course, no-one knew what had occurred within the privacy of the King’s chambers, and if other concubines had had similar experiences they didn’t talk of it openly - it wouldn’t do to discuss the failing manhood of the person who held your life in their hands. However, what this meant was that you were still untouched by a man, with no experience other than what you had gifted yourself.

With a sigh, you crossed to the far side of the room, taking your place amongst the other younger and newer members of your unconventional community, picking up the sampler you’d been working on. There was no music being played and all conversations were kept to a minimum and spoken in whispers, out of a combination of respect and anxiety. The limbo dragged on.

Suddenly, the doors to the solar crashed open, and the King’s Equerry walked in, flanked by several guards.

“The King has died,” he announced. “Long live the King.”

The ladies fell into disarray.

“I really have to deal with that now?” Bucky asked of Coulson, his father’s, and now his, Equerry.

“I’m afraid so, your Majesty. It’s been two weeks since the late king passed away and decisions need to be made about those whose services you do not wish to retain. There may be some obvious candidates, but with others you may not know how you feel until you meet them.”

Bucky, now King James, sighed. It hadn’t come as a surprise when his father, King George, had passed away. His various ailments had worsened over the last few months and Bucky had actually felt relief for him at the end. The funeral had been last week and since then he’d been stuck in back to back meetings with the men who were now officially his advisors, sorting out matters of state. Admittedly, the fate of those who resided in the Little Palace hadn’t really occurred to him as important. It was an archaic tradition as far as he was concerned. Servants were one thing, but owning women just so you have a choice about who to fuck without any repercussions, just struck him as something that belonged firmly in the past. He still couldn’t get his head around how his mother had never once complained or commented about the practice - had never flinched when another Royal bastard was presented to the court so his father could make provision for them as he saw fit.

There was no question that any of the women who had provided his father with children - he wasn’t going to call them siblings - would have to be looked after in some way. He wasn’t a monster. The problem would be the others. There were about twenty or so of them, his father collecting them like fine artwork over his years on the throne and a few - and this thought turned Bucky’s stomach a little - were as young as his sister Rebecca. He didn’t feel as though he could just turn them out, however he didn’t want to keep them either. Without some kind of royal approval the women could be ostracised from normal society if their past were to become known, but could he really justify supporting all of them from the Royal purse for the rest of their days? Although, undoubtedly, there would be some noblemen more than happy to have his father’s cast offs as wives, especially as there had been no lack of suitors for their daughters. Those that had offered for them had obviously been hoping it would grant them a modicum more influence at court. Little did they know that wouldn’t be the case with him.

It also didn’t help that while Coulson could understand wanting to remove certain members of the Little Palance, he didn’t understand why the new King didn’t want to ‘get to know’ the rest of them. According to the Equerry, they were all very beautiful, demure, and accomplished, any one of them a suitable companion for lonely evenings. Apparently telling the dour man that if he was that taken with them he should feel free to fornicate with one himself, was not the done thing, but Bucky thought the look on Coulson’s face had been worth it. He’d then tried arguing that the ladies of the Little Palace deserved better than what they currently had, but his personal advisor had brushed the comment aside.

“These women want for nothing, Your Majesty. They sleep in the finest sheets, wear the finest fabrics, and eat the finest foods. Some would say they have a charmed life and what they gave up for it is very little in comparison to what they gain.”

“Fine,” he said with a defeated sigh. “I will at least deal with Merith, Katya and the other few that my dearly departed father put babies into, and maybe speak to the others. Let’s get this over and done with.”

Coulson smiled, obviously thinking that he’d won this round, and Bucky decided not to disabuse him. You have to pick your battles, as his mother was fond of telling him.

This time when the Equerry appeared, a fortnight after the death of King George, he sent nearly all of you out to the gardens, only keeping Merith, Katya and a few other of the ladies inside. It was clear that the women who were mothers to the late King’s bastards were about to find out their fate.

You walked slowly between the roses with your friend, Lila, the concubine who’d been obtained just a few months before you, swapping inconsequential small talk, neither wanting to verbalise what was actually on your minds - to say it out loud would be to court disaster. When the Royal Guards suddenly came outside you all stopped what you were doing, wondering if Master Coulson was going to deliver news to you all as well, but when a different, unexpected man appeared, you all lowered your gazes and dropped into deep curtsies. The King - the new King - was here. 

Anxiety rode through you, and all you could hear was the pounding of your heart. You were vaguely aware, from your peripheral vision, that Master Coulson was introducing the King to each member of his harem. You caught snatches of conversation, when the King asked each woman in turn their name and how long they had lived here. When they got to Lila next to you, you heard your friend giggle when the King asked her the same questions and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You liked her, but she was always a little silly. Maybe she thought to flirt her way into the King’s affections?

When the two sets of feet stopped in front of you, you waited for Coulson’s say so before coming out of your curtsey and raising your head.

“And here, Your Majesty, is our newest young lady. You may greet the King, my dear.”

You stood, glad to get out of the deeply uncomfortable pose, and prepared to finally see him in the flesh for the first time.

“Your Highness,” you said, your voice a little more breathy than anticipated, but that was because it had been knocked from your lungs at the vision that greeted you. 

King James was tall and broad in the shoulders. It was clear that the painting you had seen had been created when he was still a young man, only just into his adulthood. The man who stood before you now was no stripling. He was fully grown and oozed confidence and authority. His eyes, a cross between pale blue and grey, which had not been adequately portrayed by the Royal artist. His cheekbones were high and pronounced, and his jaw exquisitely chiselled, even if it was partially obscured by his facial hair. The hair on his head was short at the sides, but fluffy and slightly untamed on top, just tempting you to run your fingers through it. Now you knew why Lila had giggled. 

He took your hand in his, and you marvelled at how large and strong it looked in comparison to your own. You could clearly see the resemblance to his father, but this was a man in the prime of his life and the thought that he would have none of the problems in the bedroom that had beset the late King flashed across your mind, unbidden.

When he asked your name in his deep but clear voice, you had to swallow before you answered so you didn’t stutter like a schoolgirl.

“Master Coulson said you were new. How long have you lived here?”

“Just over six months, Your Majesty.”

“And you like living in the Little Palace?”

You hesitated for a moment, working out the best way to answer. The other’s hadn’t been asked this question. “It’s very pleasant. Thank you for asking Your Majesty.”

His lips, full and pink, twitched, picking up on the diplomacy of your answer. “Only pleasant? Oh dear. Well maybe we can improve upon that in the near future.”

He skillfully removed his hand from yours and turned back to his Equerry, and you returned your gaze to the floor. As he walked away you realised your heart was still beating fast within your chest. However, it was no longer anxiety that made it do so, but rather the newly unfurled bloom of desire.

As soon as Bucky returned to the Palace proper, he dismissed Coulson and headed directly for his private chambers. His time in the Little Palace had mostly gone as well as expected, Meredith and her cohorts fawning over him dramatically in thanks for his generosity and then meeting what seemed like a legion of beautiful, yet dull as dishwater, young women, who his father had acquired to make himself feel young. What he hadn’t been expecting though was that last young lady - he didn’t even want to think about the word concubine and all of the linked meanings it held. He’d never seen someone so beautiful, and it had been clear from the short exchange of pleasantries that you had intelligence and humour to match.

He felt the rolling heat of lust raise its head and desperately tried to push it aside. As unique in his experience as you may be, he shouldn’t - couldn’t - think about you in this way. Not when he knew you’d spent time with his father. It was more than he could bear. But he couldn’t get the image of you from his mind. The curves of your body that deserved to be traced and explored with reverence. Your large, expressive eyes that tempted him to drown in their depths. Your lips that called him to kiss you over and over until you couldn’t speak or even breathe due to how much you wanted him.

Entering his room he shut the door harshly, but he didn’t care. He was unbearably hard within his trousers, and while not a new sensation by any means, it wasn’t one he’d felt in some time. As the Crown Prince he’d had to be circumspect in his affairs,but there was no-one he’d been actively courting. Now he was King the pressure would be on for him to find a suitable wife and start producing heirs. However, he didn’t intend to be like his father. Once he was married he would be faithful and treat his wife with respect. The devil on his shoulder reminded him that he wasn’t married yet and was free to do what he desired, but he tried to push it aside.

Bucky threw himself down on his bed but every time he closed his eyes you were there, hovering behind his eyelids. He palmed himself over his trousers, trying to get some relief from his state of arousal, but it was no good. Almost unconsciously he undid the fastenings, letting out a small sigh as the pressure was lessened, but then it was just too easy to take himself in hand. A few small strokes, just to take the edge off, became harder and longer, and the vision of you behind his closed eyes smiled at him coyly, tempting him to ruin her. 

He imagined kissing you and touching you. Tracing every peak and valley with his lips and tongue. He imagined you doing the same to him, taking him in your mouth, lips stretched wide and tears in your perfect eyes. He imagined driving into you, again and again, while you gripped his shoulders and tangled your legs around his waist. Marking you - claiming you - as you called out his name over and over and trembled around him.

Bucky came with a cry, his spend spilling over his hand and stomach, and leaving him with an aching, hollow feeling of disgust with himself. He needed to release you and the rest of the ladies of the Little Palace and there-by banish you from his thoughts.

The next day he put his plan into action. He set Coulson the task of going through the remaining residents, from oldest serving to newest and finding them a new situation. Respectable marriages were the first preference - the Crown could provide a dowry - but failing that independence and a stipend until they became financially solvent on their own. If this plan had the effect that you would be the last to leave, that was just an unfortunate by-product of the most logical way of sorting the whole thing out, wasn’t it?

The edict by the King that the Little Palace was being disbanded was met at first with some trepidation. The women were all of a flutter, wondering what it would mean for them, but when Marie, the most senior of the concubines now that Merith and the others who had children had retired, was informed that, should she approve him, a husband had been found for her, any anxiety morphed into jubilation. Over the coming weeks, the number of you dwindled and you couldn’t help but feel a little lost amongst all the celebration. You were a strange sisterhood, that was certain, and you hadn’t gotten along with everyone, but you wished them well with a smile, and mulled over your sense of unease in private.

You weren’t sure what it was that was making you worried. It wasn’t as though you’d be forced into anything you didn’t want. Letitia had rejected three potential husbands before settling on a fourth, much to Master Coulson’s despair, and Tiffany had outright declared she wanted no husband at all, her and Dana wishing to set up house together and start a school. This came as no surprise to any of you.

It also wasn’t because you were so entrenched in this life that the thought of anything else was scary - you’d had more life outside these walls than in it - however you had found a camaraderie here, a sense of belonging, as strange as that may seem, that you hadn’t had before. And despite the fact that the idea of being intimate with the old King had been stomach churning, once he realised each time that it wasn’t going to happen, you’d found you’d enjoyed providing him comfort and some sort of friendship. Maybe being here had spoiled you? You’d admit it wasn’t a hardship to live somewhere where all your meals and clothes were provided and all you had to do was entertain yourself unless your services were required, although you did wish for more sometimes - a cage was still a cage, no matter how gilded and glittered.

Maybe having a husband wouldn’t be so bad. Hopefully he’d let you have some freedom - have some hobby or interest to keep you occupied, other than keeping house and popping out babies. You couldn’t help but be nervous though, especially as the numbers of you lessened until it was just you and Lila left. 

Each time one of the ladies was preparing to leave, the King would come and thank her for her service. How any of you managed to keep a straight face when he said that was beyond you, but it did give you the chance to watch him unobserved. He really was handsome, and seemed so kind and earnest in his thanks. A true King and diplomat. But that wasn’t all he was. Every so often he would catch your eye and you would feel… something. And you couldn’t explain what it was, other than that you felt like a moth captivated by a flame, longing to get nearer and nearer, even if it would mean your doom. It wasn’t just physical, either - although you couldn’t deny that you’d had thoughts about that. You wanted to get to know him. The real him. His hopes and dreams. What motivated him.

You got your chance when you were sitting in the solar, enjoying the sun that streamed through the windows as you read your book. Lila was outside in the garden, taking a walk with her potential fiancee, a man named Lang who was apparently some minor aristocracy. Guards trailed them at a discrete distance, but you didn’t think there was anything to worry about. From the glimpses you’d caught of them, Master Lang appeared to be a convivial and respectful fellow. He walked with his hands behind his back, not trying to touch or grab at your friend, but he leant in close to talk intimately.  He also appeared to be letting Lila hold an equal part of the conversation and you watched as she giggled behind her hand at a number of points in response to what you guessed were jokes.

“They appear to be getting on well.”

A voice from behind you, made you jump and turn in your chair. At the realisation that King James was standing there, you leapt up and then immediately leant forward into a deep curtsey. 

“Your Majesty.”

How had you not noticed him enter? Why was he here?

“Please stand. There’s only the two of us here. I wanted to see for myself how Master Lang was comporting himself and this seemed like the best place to watch unobserved.”

He walked closer to the window and you continued to stand, your hands clasping each other, as you watched him from under your lowered lashes. Despite the number of times you’d seen him recently you were no less dazed by his beauty than you had been the first time. You allowed your gaze to travel over his body, admiring the way his clothes were cut to show off his defined figure. Silver threads were woven through the black fabric of his coat and they shimmered in the sunlight. You itched to smooth the cloth over the broadness of his shoulders.

As if sensing you watching him, the King turned back to you.

“Please don’t let me disturb you from whatever you were doing. Pretend that I’m not here.”

Your lips twitched. “That would be difficult, Your Majesty. You do stand out.” You gestured to the walls of the solar, a pale pink colour, and then at his attire. He looked down at himself and you were taken aback by the flush that made its way to his cheeks.

“Aah, yes. I see what you mean.” He moved away from the window then, and toward the chair opposite the one you’d been occupying when he’d surprised you. “Maybe then we could sit and talk for a while? What have you been doing with your days these last weeks?”

You gave him a small nod and took your seat. “Very little, Your Majesty, other than helping the others pack up their belongings as they leave. Some reading, some needlework. I have been practising my languages too. What have you been doing? Important affairs of state I would imagine.”

“It is not nearly as glamorous as people think. Lots of meetings that seem to stretch on forever, but that is nothing to the never-ending paperwork. I swear everyone in the country will have my signature soon. Lots of time to relax and do what you will, seems wonderful to me. I admit to being a little envious.” He smiled as he spoke, his face lighting up in boyish amusement.

“I assure you,” you stated, “that after a while even relaxing becomes as dull as any paperwork.”

The King chuckled at that. “Does it now? I’ll have to take your word for it. Now, tell me, what languages do you speak?”

“French and Spanish. A little Portuguese. And I’m trying to improve my Greek.” You lifted up your book to show him the writing on the front. He smiled at you and your heart beat faster.

“Impressive, my lady. My Greek is somewhat rusty, although my Russian is still good. Come, read for me and we shall see if I can follow you.”

Feeling shy, you lifted your book and began, haltingly at first, to read out loud, your tongue trying to wrap around the unfamiliar syllables. It had been a while since you had spoken out loud, normally preferring just to read, but as you became more confident the words flowed easier and you managed to glance up at him now and again.

The King was sitting, relaxed in his chair, legs outstretched with his ankles crossed. His eyes were closed as he rested his head on the chair back, arms settled on his chest with his fingers steepled. For a moment you could almost pretend this was a domestic scene of a wife reading to her husband after a long day. However, you were not his wife and he was not destined to be your husband. That would be someone else.

When you reached the end of your chapter, you gently closed your book, placing it on the side table, and the King opened his eyes and sat up again.

“You have a wonderful reading voice and you navigated the words very well - better than I’d have done, I’m sure. I’ve always thought learning languages a worthwhile endeavour and it is my deepest regret that I do not know more. I’ll take note to ensure that my Equerry looks to place you in a situation where your skills will be appreciated. I have a feeling,” he said with a glance back towards the window where his friend was still busy gently wooing yours, “that you will soon be the only one here.

You felt heat rushing to your cheeks at the compliment. “That would be greatly appreciated, Your Majesty. I know that not all men wish for an intelligent wife, but it would be nice to not have to appear vapid just to gain favour with my spouse.”

King James snorted. “I’ll admit that I do not understand those who only wish for a doll for a wife. If you’re going to spend the rest of your days together, would it not be better to have someone to converse with. Someone to challenge you mentally. It would be rather dull otherwise.”

“I suppose,” you ventured, “that those men are probably the type to find other ways - other people - to keep them occupied.” A small smile crept across his lips at your statement.

“And I suppose you are correct, my lady. But if that is the case then those men have chosen poorly. I cannot imagine marrying someone, only to then spend all my free time avoiding them. Somewhat defeats the point of it all, in my opinion.”

“Well, I had guessed some of that about you, Your Majesty. What with you getting rid of this age-old tradition.” You gestured once again to the room around you but when you turned back to him, it was to see that the King’s eyes had narrowed slightly, studying you.

“And how do you feel about that?”

You sensed his words were a test and you licked your lips nervously before you answered.

“I have no real opinion, Sire. I live to serve and am happy to do what my King commands of me.”

There was a strange look on his face. He was no longer smiling and while he didn’t appear angry with you, his demeanor was now far more chilly than it had been a moment ago.

“And were you happy to carry out the commands of my late father?”

You hesitated before answering. “His Royal Highness was most kind to me. I was happy to serve him.”

You barely heard him mutter “I bet you were” under his breath before he suddenly stood, and you scrambled to your feet after him. 

“This has been an illuminating chat, my lady, and I thank you for your company. Soon you will be free of this place and can put this part of your life behind you.”

He nodded his head and once again you dropped into a deep curtsey, your eyes locked to the floor. You stayed that way as his footsteps retreated across the marble floor and you wondered what it was you had said that had turned him so cold.

Once again, Bucky found himself stalking into the sanctuary of his private chambers. Damn you, damn his father, and damn this ridiculous fascination of his. Whilst he’d tried to tell himself that the only reason he went to the Little Palace was to get a feeling for whether his friend was getting along with his potential betrothed, he also couldn’t deny the fact that he’d known you would be there as well, all alone.

He’d been enjoying your conversation until he’d been reminded why you were even there in the first place and sabotaged himself by bringing up his father. Then you’d all but admitted that you’d enjoyed doing what you did. Bucky felt sick at the thought. 

Images of you tortured him day and night, and spending time with you today had obviously been ill-advised because now he had more memories to draw on. The way you spoke so passionately and knowledgeably about the ways of the world. The way that you smiled and joked when you were relaxed.

Bucky’s fingers longed to pick up a charcoal and try to capture the way the sunlight had slid over the planes of your face, giving you an ethereal, other-worldly look, like some fae creature sent to enrapture him. Instead he tugged on the bell-pull, asking the page who appeared to go and fetch Coulson. He then paced up and down the room, chewing on his thumb nail for the few minutes it took the Equerry to appear.

“How can I serve you, Your Majesty?” Coulson asked with a low bow.

“I want the matters with Lang organised as soon as possible and the remaining occupant of the Little Palace resituated with all speed. It’s high-time this issue was finished, once and for all.

It had been a week since Lila left. A week in which you’d spent nearly every waking moment alone, other than when the servants were helping you dress and bringing you food. Although you mustn’t forget the omni-present guards stationed outside various doors. Which meant it was two weeks since the conversation with the King that had left you feeling more confused than ever.

Lila had returned from her sojourn around the garden gushing about Master Lang and his attributes. About how handsome and kind and funny he was, and how certain she was that they would suit. You plastered a smile to your face and said all the right things, but you couldn’t seem to concentrate on your friend’s happiness, your thoughts consumed by the memory of how the King’s face had looked at the end of your exchange.

He’d been so happy and relaxed, then suddenly so cold and closed. It was obviously no secret that he didn’t like the fact that his father had had concubines, but it had happened and to deny why you were living there would be foolish. Which is why you’d answered so diplomatically - he didn’t need to know what did or didn’t happen in the privacy of the late King’s chambers, and he probably didn’t want to know. What son would want those details? But he had asked a question and you’d answered the best way you knew how.

It hurt because you’d actually been enjoying yourself, and thought that maybe he’d been enjoying himself as well. There’d been a strange warmth inside you as the pair of you had talked and teased and joked, and over the last few days you found yourself wishing you could feel it again.

However, now you had something else to occupy your mind. Almost as soon as Lila had left to get married - and you were sad you couldn’t be with her on her big day - Master Coulson had come to tell you that arrangements were being made at pace for your own future. It was only mildly surprising then, when he’d come to you this morning to tell you that a potential husband had been found and you should prepare yourself to have dinner this evening. He passed you over some papers, giving you details of the man you were to meet.

Apparently he was a Baron, a widower, and a few years older than King James. His seat was on the other side of the country and apparently quite large, with the main house boasting stables, a library, and a formal rose garden. As you read through the information you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. It all looked good on paper, but you needed to be sure. You didn’t want to swap one cage for another - you had to at least like Baron Zemo, and him you. It seemed as though he spoke numerous languages, so at least you had one thing in common with him. Hopefully all would go well, and you could consign this place and thoughts of the King to the past.

A few hours later and you were putting the finishing touches to your toilette. You dabbed some rosewater behind your ears and smoothed your hands down the front of your gown. It was one of your favourites and you’d worn it every time you’d been to visit the late King. He’d always complimented it, saying that the colour of the silk brought out your eyes. You hoped the Baron would like it as well. With a gentle knock on the door, one of the servants let you know that your guest had arrived and was waiting for you in the solar. You took a deep breath and walked down the hall.

As you entered, you saw a man, dressed in deep purple, looking out of the window, with his back to you. 

“Baron Zemo, you are most welcome,” you said as you dropped into a curtsey. You heard him turn and then a be-ringed hand appeared in front of your eyes, offering to help you back to your feet.

“Thank you for having me here, my lady,” he replied as you stood. “I have been intrigued to meet you ever since the King wrote to me about your situation.”

You took in his features as he smiled gently at you. He had warm hazel eyes, straight, mid-brown hair that lay across his brow, and was clean shaven. He was slightly taller than you, but not by much and you pushed away the rogue thought about how King James virtually towered over you.

“Shall we sit and dine, and hopefully get to know one another better, sir?” you suggested.

“You’ve read my mind, my dear. There is nothing like good food, good wine, and good conversation, is there?” The Baron walked you over to the small dining table that had been set up and assisted you into your seat, and you felt like a grand lady.

The next two hours passed by amenably. The Baron was eloquent and charming, and when he found out that you spoke other languages he insisted on conversing with you in them, gently correcting your pronunciation and helping you when a particular word or phrase was outside your knowledge. At the end of the meal you were full, warm and a little tipsy from the wine - it wasn’t in your nature to imbibe often.

“Maybe,” Zemo suggested, “we should take a turn about the gardens? A walk in the cool night air would probably help aid digestion. What do you think, my lady?”

“I think that would be delightful.” You allowed him to help you with your chair once more and when you stumbled he linked your arm into his and walked you outside, away from the guards and servants who’d been present in the solar with you. 

The garden was illuminated with lanterns in addition to the lights from the solar, and the pair of you walked companionably along the pathways. So far he’d done nothing to worry you, and hadn’t been at all standoffish. You would have to give serious thought into accepting his suit, especially as you were unlikely to receive better. The problem with being the last to be situated was that it also meant that your options for a suitable marriage were narrower.

“You’re awfully quiet, my dear. What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?” You ducked your head at the compliment and couldn’t help but smile.

“In all honesty, my lord? I was thinking about how lovely this evening has been. I will admit to some trepidation, which I’m sure you can forgive me for. Things like this are all too new for me.”

“No forgiveness needed,” he said with a smile, one much wider than those he’d displayed earlier and you felt your heart pick up in your chest, although you couldn’t immediately say why. “It’s completely understandable. But can I say that you have vastly surpassed my expectations. The information given to me about you greatly downplayed your beauty and intelligence. And, if I may be so bold, I find myself captivated.”

You felt your cheeks warm, but you also felt a little uncomfortable, at his zealousness. Or maybe it was the wine? “That is kind of you to say, sir. However, I’m finding myself getting a little chilled. Maybe we should return inside?”

With a swiftness that startled you, the Baron took hold of your shoulders and steered you backwards until you came into contact with the wall. You gasped in shock at both the impact and his change in demeanour.

“Maybe I can find a way to warm you up?” He quipped before his lips came down onto yours, his tongue thrusting into your mouth and one hand falling to your leg, inching your skirts upwards. You tore your mouth from his and turned your head, but his lips just zeroed in on your throat instead, sucking and nipping.

“Sir! Get off me!” You tried to push him, but his bulk had you pinned. His questing hand breached the hem of your skirts and he started to grope at your thigh, and his lips trailed further down to the neckline of your dress. “I said get off!”

The Baron raised his head and stilled his hand, but didn’t move away. “Surely you must miss this? The touch of a man. And think how much better it will be with someone who is younger and knows how to please a woman.”

“I miss it less than you think,” you ground out between clenched teeth. “And I did not ask you for this. Let me go.”

He smiled predatorily and slid his hand up to cup your mound over your underwear. “Did you really think I would offer for you without seeing if you had all the necessary attributes I’m looking for. I need an heir, and intelligence and beauty can’t provide that. And let’s face it, it’s not as though you’re a missish virgin keeping herself pure for her wedding night.”

His hand started to tug at your underthings and you closed your eyes tight as fear started to take over. However, just as you felt the first touch of his fingers on your intimate flesh his weight was suddenly gone.

“I believe the lady said no, Baron Zemo.”

Your eyes shot open, and there was King James, standing between you and the Baron, who was now sprawled on the ground. The dim light of the lanterns partially lit his face and that, combined with his expression, made him look like an avenging angel. Then he turned towards you and his expression softened.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

Without the Baron’s hands on you, your skirts fell back to your ankles and you pushed yourself away from the wall to stand. 

You nodded and gave a little cough to clear your throat. “I’m fine, Your Majesty.”

The Baron scrambled to his feet and brushed the dust and gravel from his coat.

“Just a little misunderstanding between my fianceé and myself, Your Majesty. No harm done,” he said, his voice smooth and oily.

You took a step forward, your body trembling with anger. “I don’t believe that I’ve accepted your suit, sir. And after that display of ungentlemanly conduct I am now fully disinclined to do so.”

The Baron’s eyes snapped to yours, narrowing and he let his facade fully drop away. “Be quiet, whore. Who else would have you? You’re used goods, even if the one who did the using was the former King. You should be grateful I’m even considering you.”

You shifted, intending to step forward again and slap him, but the King held out his hand stopping you.

“You are out of line, Baron. No matter her history, the lady is still just that. A lady. And how you treat her is tells me that, despite your title, you are no gentleman.” His voice was steady, but you could pick up the undercurrent of rage - could see it in the way he was holding himself and the tick in his jaw.

Baron Zemo let out a bark of laughter, apparently oblivious to the danger he was in. “My dear James, I cannot believe how much you are defending one of your fathers handmaidens. She was obtained by him for one purpose, but you think it’s unreasonable for me to see if she lives up to that purpose before I marry her.” He peered at the King, then his eyes widened as though he’d made a startling revelation. “Do I sense some jealousy raising its head here?” He laughed again. “I should have realised there was a reason you kept her until last. Of course - she’s your whore as…”

He didn’t get to finish his vile words, because King James’ arm snapped out and he punched the Baron right on the jaw, then watched impassively as the man crumpled back to the ground. Then, just as suddenly, he turned towards you fully and without a word scooped you up into his arms. You squeaked and threw your arms around his neck as he walked briskly back towards the solar. As he made his way inside, the guards stood to attention but didn’t turn to look at you, however, you still hid your face in his neck from embarrassment.

“There’s some filth in the garden to be sent packing.” The King’s voice rumbled in your ear as he spoke to the guards, and then he was turning with you in his arms and striding down the corridor that led to the private chambers. 

“Which one?” he asked gruffly, and you uncurled from his chest slightly so you could point. He shouldered your door open and then kicked it shut before letting you down, your body sliding over his as he did so.

You looked up at him, eyes wide and heart racing, not even noticing that your hands still rested on the slope of his chest and that his hands were still on your waist.

“You’re sure you're alright?” he queried again, looking down at you with concern.

“Absolutely. You stopped him. You…” You started to shake then as you realised how close you’d come to real harm. Without a word, the king steered you over to the edge of your bed and you both sat down, your small hands held in his larger ones, one of his thumbs rubbing over the delicate skin near your knuckles.

“Just breathe, my lady. You’ve had a shock. I’m glad I was there…” he stopped mid-sentence and freed one of his hands to turn your head and bare your neck to him. You swore you heard him growl. “He marked you. I’m going to kill him.”

You took hold of his wrist and pulled it down so you could turn back to face him. “It’s nothing. Really. It will fade and in a few days it’ll be a memory. Then we can try again.”

He peered at you, confused.

“Try and find me a husband,” you clarified and then smiled in an effort to lighten the atmosphere in the room.

“No.” King James pulled himself away sharply and stood, his back to you.

Now you were the one who was confused. “What do you mean,’No’? ‘No’ to a few days or ‘No’ to a husband? I don’t understand.”

“Either. Both,” he snapped, still not turning around.

“Alright,” you replied. “We’ll find me somewhere to live, then. Discuss a suitable stipend amount like Master Coulson did with some of the others who refused a husband.”

“Not that, either.” He ground the words out and you felt your patience waning, frustration overtaking your confusion. You stood up and stepped closer.

“So no husband and no stipend. What are you suggesting? That I just leave?” You couldn’t keep the hysterical note from your voice.

He spun on his heel and moved into your personal space, just as the Baron had done only a few minutes ago. However you didn’t feel anxious or uncomfortable, and the warm feeling inside you was back, despite your anger at how contrary he was being.

“Not at all,” he said quietly, his eyes trained on you. 

On your face. 

On your lips.

“I thought you wanted me out of here. You don’t want any concubines, remember?” You arched your eyebrow, challenging him.

He leant forwards and your breath caught in your throat, his stormy eyes now all you could see.

“I still don’t,” he murmured and then pressed his lips to yours.

This kiss was entirely different to the Baron’s assault. It was soft and gentle. Coaxing, not claiming. The King’s hands came up to cup your face and you curled your own into the front of his jacket. The heat within you rose in intensity and you kissed him back, opening your mouth and letting him in. He moaned when you did, one hand sliding to your hair and the other to the small of your back, pulling you close to him. You could feel the evidence of his arousal, but it didn’t scare you. In fact it thrilled you. It was all the deepest thoughts you’d kept to yourself come to life, and they took you over. 

Your nimble fingers worked the buttons of his jacket and as they came undone the King let go of you to shuck it off. That was followed quickly by his cravat and waistcoat, thrown without care across your room, and then he pulled his shirt free of his trousers and toed off his shoes. He took you back in his embrace then, kissing you with more passion and your hands found their way under his shirt, stroking across the hard planes of his chest. He nipped at your lower lip in retaliation and you gasped as the brief stinging shot to your core.

“Tell me you want this,” he breathed into your mouth.

“I do,” you whispered back. You’d never been as sure of anything as you were now - consequences be damned. They were a problem for tomorrow.

Part of Bucky couldn’t believe what he was doing, because he really shouldn’t be doing it. He was a King and should be the better person. But, oh, how he wanted to be selfish for once and slake this longing he had for you. 

He hadn’t been able to stop himself from coming to see how you and the Baron were getting on, partially to assuage his guilt and partially to torture himself. When he’d found you both absent from the solar, one of the guards had told him you’d gone for a walk together. As he’d stepped outside and neither of you had been in the closer part of the garden a sense of unease had washed over him. Then he’d heard you shout and raced around a corner to see you pushing at the Baron as he held you against the wall, trying to violate you.

He’d barely been able to restrain himself when he saw that, only daring to separate you and check that you were alright. But then the Baron had started to spew his hurtful, cruel words and his resolve had crumbled. He’d had to make sure you were safe. He’d needed it like air.

Upon getting you inside, he’d told himself that he would just double check that you were alright and then leave, but then he’d seen the bruise on your neck and you’d tried to placate him with talk of trying to find a new suitor and he’d lost any sense of decorum. 

There would be no other husband, no grand house and pension, because you were his. You were his oxygen - his sunlight. His joy and his misery and his desire all rolled into one. So he’d kissed you, almost no better than the Baron, but then you’d kissed him back. Clung to him. You’d made it plain that you wanted him too, first with your actions and then your words.

Mentally calling himself a fool, Bucky spun you around and tugged at the closure of your dress, the multitude of tiny buttons that held it together flying across the room. He didn’t care, though. He could buy you a new dress. A thousand new dresses. He eased the open neckline over your shoulders and pushed the multiple layers of silk down your frame. Taking your hand, he helped you step out of the froth of fabric and you kicked off your slippers at the same time with a giggle that shot through him like a bolt of lightning. 

Bucky pulled you back to him with a groan and walked you towards the bed, laughing with you when you both tumbled onto it with a bounce. Your hands, so small and delicate, found his chest again, and he lent up and pulled his shirt over his head, watching you as your eyes darkened with desire as you took in what you saw. You traced your fingers over the definition of his abdominals and pectorals and Bucky shivered. 

“I want you, Your Majesty.” Your voice was low and breathy, and fuck did he just want to bury himself in you. Feast on you.

“Bucky,” he rasped. “Call me Bucky. There is no King here tonight.”

You came back together, kissing and touching and through it you both messily and awkwardly helped each other remove the rest of the clothes that separated you. As soon as your breasts were bared to him, Bucky couldn’t hold back, latching onto your puckered nipples, one after the other, drawing squeaks and moans from you, more intoxicating than any sounds he’d imagined in his private imaginings. 

His right hand skirted down your body, finding its way between your legs and you opened for him. He moaned around breast as he found your wetness and began to toy with you. Bucky teased your clit and stroked your folds, captivated by how more arousal spilled from you. When he slid a testing finger into you, you gripped his hair and arched into his hand, your soft mewl turning to a strangled gasp and he felt undeniably powerful, a small part of him, one he didn’t want to really acknowledge, feeling as though he was competing with the memory of his father. He was determined to erase it. After tonight there would only be him.

When Bucky added a second finger into your warm channel and circled his thumb on your clit, you whimpered his name. Not ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Sire’, but ‘Bucky’ as he’d asked you. He lifted his head and rose back up your body, capturing your lips and swallowing your cries as he drove you higher and higher. Your hands now clutched his shoulders, your short, manicured nails digging into him, using him as an anchor, lest you float away into the ether. He felt your body quiver beneath him as you neared the precipice of your pleasure and then the next second you were tumbling over it, your body spasming around his fingers, your mouth drawing all the oxygen from his lungs into your own.

Bucky kissed you through it, slowing his hand before pulling it away slowly. He shifted on the bed, kneeling between your limp legs, and as you watched him with hooded, lust filled eyes, he brought his fingers to his mouth and tasted your essence. He groaned as he did so, promising himself that he would drink directly from your source soon, but he couldn’t hold back his desire to fully claim you any longer. 

As his hand dropped to his cock, your eyes followed it, and you took your first real look at him. He couldn’t help but smile as your eyes widened and you tentatively raised your own hand towards his erection. He took hold of it and wrapped it around his length, marvelling at how your fingers didn’t meet. Your gaze flicked between his face and his cock, unsure which you wanted to watch. However, after a few minutes it was too torturous, and he repositioned himself to kiss you again and run his cock between your wet folds. Your hips rolled beneath him as you let out small whimpers of need and desire and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Bucky reached between you, lined himself up and sank into your warmth.

The cry of ecstasy you let out caught him by surprise and he looked down into your eyes. The truth shone out of them as you pulled in breath after ragged breath, your body struggling to adjust to his size, despite what he’d done to you only minutes before. He couldn’t really process it, but an animalistic part of him howled in pleasure at the realisation that you’d been untouched and consumed any remaining restraint.

Bucky snapped his hips, watching in awe as your eyes rolled in your head and the breath was pushed from your lungs. It was an addictive sight and he thrust into you again and again, unable to stop, needing to see your reaction. You clutched his biceps as he braced himself, your head thrown back and he never wanted to see you any other way - debauched and ruined on his cock. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Can you touch yourself for me, sweetheart?”

You mumbled incoherently but did as he’d asked, your hand moving between you, and Bucky knew when you’d found your centre from the way you clenched around him. He groaned at the sensation and let it spur him on. He dipped his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts and when you let out a wail he knew he’d found the right spot.

“That’s it, beautiful. Come apart for me. Come on my cock.” 

You screamed and spasmed around him and his rational brain knew he should pull out and spill himself over the sheets, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t not have this. He cried out, throwing back his own head, and surrendered to the inevitable.

It took you a while to come back to yourself, because what you’d just experience was so different from what you’d been told about. The King - Bucky - was cuddled up behind you, his arms holding you close and his nose pressed into your hair, dozing. You turned in his embrace and his long, dark eyelashes fluttered open.

“Hi,” you breathed cautiously, unsure of how you should be acting. However, when he softly smiled at you, you felt your heart leap inside your chest.

“Hello, yourself.” He dropped a gentle kiss to your lips and you smiled in return and relaxed. He was obviously content to stay in your private, intimate bubble for at least a short time more and you were more than happy to indulge him. You didn’t want to think about how you’d feel when this ended, it would hurt too much.

Pushing yourself up onto one elbow you looked down at him and idly traced invisible designs across his chest with your finger tip.

“So, Bucky, huh? Where does that come from?” 

He chuckled at your teasing tone. “From my sister, Princess Rebecca. Or as I call her, Becca-Boo or Sprout. My second name is Buchanan, and when she was learning to talk she couldn’t say it. Whenever she said ‘Bucky’ it would make me laugh, so she kept doing it and then refused to call me anything else. Then my mother picked it up, because if she called me James, Becca would stamp her foot and tell her off. And I liked it. It helped me separate the two parts of myself - Bucky, the normal man with normal wants, desires and hobbies etcetera, and James, heir to the throne, with duties and responsibilities who has to keep himself apart from those around him.”

There was a melancholy tone to his words, and you couldn’t help but bend down and press a light kiss to his lips. “Well I like Bucky.”

He brought his hand up to the nape of your neck, returning the kiss, and you wished that reality could just stay firmly outside for the rest of time.

When Bucky broke the kiss, he looked up at you with searching eyes.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked quietly and you immediately knew what he was talking about. You shrugged one shoulder.

“Does it matter? Would it have changed what just happened between us? Would you have thought differently of me?”

“No, it wouldn’t have changed what just happened, but I won’t lie and say I wouldn’t have treated you differently. I thought harshly of you, driven by jealousy. How could I allow myself to like you, desire you, when you had lain with my father? I was jealous of a ghost for having claimed you first, and I hated myself for feeling that way. That was why I acted coldly to you when we conversed in the solar. What you said. You made it sound as if you’d enjoyed being with him and ugly thoughts filled my head.” Bucky’s brow furrowed as he spoke and you itched to smooth out the lines that formed there.

“Well, it isn’t really the done thing to speak out loud about the King’s impotence,” you pointed out. “Especially with his own son. I was trying to answer truthfully, but without going into detail. And I suppose I did enjoy spending time with him. He may not have been the type of father you wished, or the husband your mother wanted, but he was still a man. We’d talk, mostly. I like to think that I gave him some comfort and companionship. I can’t say that I’m unhappy about the way things turned out.” You looked at him coyly from under your lashes and he laughed.

“You liked being claimed by me? You wanton wretch,” he teased.

“It was definitely different, and much better, than what I’d been led to believe.” He growled playfully, and in one deft move rose up and pushed you back to the mattress, caging you in with his arms. You brought your hand up and brushed the back of it over his cheek. “If I’m going to be a concubine, I’m glad that I’m yours.”

At your words, Bucky reared back, as if you’d slapped him and you immediately started to apologise. “I’m sorry, Sire. I shouldn’t have presumed…” Shame and guilt washed over you at how far you’d sunk into your daydream, and you fought your way out of the sheets. Rising from the bed, you found your shift in the heap of clothing on the floor and pulled it over your head. “I will leave you to your dressing and wait for instructions from Master Coulson later.” You bobbed a curtsey and turned toward the door, your hand reaching for the handle, eager to put space between you.

“Stop!” His command made you freeze mid step, your arm lowering back to your side. In a moment he was behind you, his hands firmly gripping your upper arms.

“You are not my concubine. I never wanted one, and I won’t start now.” He spun you, and when you didn’t raise your head, staring instead at a freckle near his collarbone, he tucked a finger under your chin and made you look at him. “You deserve more than that, my darling.” His tone softened. “You will be my wife. That is, if you will have me?”

You looked at him in shock. “What? How can I be your wife? You are the King and I am, well, just me.”

“And as the King, I can do what I want. And for anyone who gets pedantic about your previous status, there is precedent. Concubines have been turned into Queens before.”

You pulled yourself from his hold, raising your arms up in confusion. “You do not need to speak of marriage, just because you have bedded me and do not want a concubine.”

“This is not solely because we have lain together, sweet fool. I love you.”

His words made you stop and you wondered if you’d misheard, but he continued. 

“I fear I have done since I first laid eyes on you. And I just hope that maybe you can learn to love me too. Bucky, that is. Not just James, your King.” He reached out imploringly toward you. You looked back at him and then at his hand, before accepting it as you stepped forward, a broad smile making its way across your face.

“Learn to love you? That implies that I don’t already. How could I not, even if you were being grumpy and contrary.”

He wrapped you up in his embrace and looked down at you, eyes full of mischief. “Contrary? Is that anyway to speak to your King?”

“It is how a Queen speaks to her husband,” you joked back.

“Is that so? Then I must make you my Queen as soon as possible.” He closed the remaining distance between you, kissing you with vigour before lifting you and returning you both to the bed.

“However, nothing can be done until tomorrow. Whatever shall we do until then?” he drawled with mock innocence.

“I have a few ideas, Your Majesty,” you replied, mimicking his tone.

He shook his head. “Bucky, remember?”

“Bucky,” you agreed.

The End

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