#all gifs go to their respective owners

[maskofmilves]

My favorite detectives in film/shows:

The Silence of the Lambs - Clarice Starling played by Jodie Foster

The X-Files - Dana Scully played by Gillian Anderson/Fox Mulder played by David Duchovny

True Detective Night Country - Elizabeth Danvers played by Jodie Foster

Longlegs - Lee Harker played by Maika Monroe

[yandere-wishes]

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡Acolyte⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

𐙚Yandere! Qimir/The Master x Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: Your loneliness is suffocating, engulfing. Qimir is the only one who seems to subdue the pain. But every forbidden fruit has its price.

⁀➷Warnings: Yandere behavior, gore, angst (at the end), author having an anxiety attack over this fic  

🪐Note: Why is the longest thing I've ever written for a fandom that barely exists? Anyway, here's the long-awaited Qimir piece!

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ : Disturbia - Rihanna, Dark Vacay & Motion Picture Soundtrack - CAS

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆🍓⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Your master's anger is tangible. You harbour it stubbornly on your tongue. Relishing in the frustration. You aren't sure how many times you've cut out your soul to place at a master's feet. Gnawing on perfect lips to keep quiet during another scolding. Your new master's disappointment reverberates through the room. Thick and oozing like an infected wound.

You messed up again.

"We do not injure other padawans during training. We do not lash out and attack, especially when your training partner has fallen. How have you trained for so long without comprehending these basics?"

The rage that boils inside you is not Jedi in nature. It's something else, a bizarre second, something ancient, ghoulish. An all-consuming fire that burns inside your veins. It shouldn't feel so welcoming, so familiar.

You roll your eyes.

"With all due respect master. How is one to win, if they do not strick when given the opportunity? That too should be a basic notion, no?"

You see the anger snake across your master's face. A defeated, disgruntled, glance that you've become a bit too acquainted with. This is the look that all your previous masters give you. And yet none have yet to master its eeriness quite as well as your first master. Master Sol.

Your master sighs, a piercing noise, deflating every ounce of his willpower. You are exhausting to be around, his annoyance is becoming discernible. "Master Sol is coming by the temple to check your...progress. He's requested a few items to take back with him. Please go fetch them from the apothecary."

Progress is a gentle word and Jedi love using gentle words. It's easier to say than the full truth. Sugar-coated things always taste better.

But the sugar refuses to stick to you.

It burns away in your bitterness.

Coruscant is a distant memory, it was never your home to begin with. But the high bustling volume is something that is hard to forget. Here things are quiet, you slip through the bazaar undetected. Small basket clutched tightly. You wonder what's dragging your former master halfway across the galaxy. You wonder if it's really just to see you.

You gaze blankly at the holographic list. A few rare herbs and some medical roots. This planet grows them in abundance, and the local apothecary carries more than its fair share.

The apothecary is an old, disheveled thing. The older Jedi say that its presence is as old as the temple itself. Odd how some things have a will of iron. You gently rap at the worn metal door, waiting for an invitation to enter. The hinges cry as the door opens ever so slightly. You squeeze in, surveying the cluttered den. Careful to avoid the half-empty bottles and neon puddles scattered across the floor.

"Excuse me" your voice holds an urgent annoyance. Where is the pharmacist? What kind of store owner abandons their shop in the midday? You run your fingers across the strange bottles, letting your nails pick at the murky glass. The colors flash, begging to be freed, strange space pinks, and summer oranges all trapped inside square prisons. Baby poisons dying to taste the world, burning it if they must, but experiencing it nonetheless, tasting their own form of freedom. Funny, they almost remind you of yourself.

Trapped and fatal.

"Hello?", the voice behind you is languid, dozy. Mirroring a late afternoon nap. When the man next speaks you notice a lyrical lint "What brings you here little lady?". You turn to see it, the voice, or rather the man harboring the voice. He's loosely robed and shaggy in the way that only the most spirited vagabonds are. He smiles tenderly upon seeing your face, strange red fruit caught between his teeth. "I um...I" you click your tongue anxiously against the roof of your mouth. Feeling around for those pesky words, in the end, you just shove the hologram holder forward, hoping he'll understand.

"Oh, I see, out here doing some chores?" You nod, mind preoccupied with the otherwordly fruit. "what's that?" you ask, schoolgirl curiosity lacing your voice. "What, this?" he asks holding the freckled thing between his fingers, it's only in the mild light that you notice the shimmering gold scattered across its red skin. The stranger laughs, walking closer, he places the hologram base on the black table, clicking it on as he studies the list. "They're called strawberries. They're from the forest planets, not many grow here in the mid-rims." He's nimble as he packs the herbs and roots, fumbling with the straw ties. "care for a bite" he asks, handing you the bitten fruit.

Hesitantly you bite.

Letting the sweetness erupt on your tongue.

"Thank you" you mumble trying not to moan at the foreign taste. The stranger laughs, it's a cheery noise like birds chirping in first bloom tress. "you're a Jedi, aren't you?" he asks stepping around the table, eyebrows furrowed, caught in a dream he doesn't seem to understand. You choke on the rogue static as he steps closer, eyes half-lidded dreaming of nothing. "Here..."

"Wha-" your voice catches in your throat, it's getting harder to breathe.

"Your supplies" He hands you the brown paper bag, motion a little too phlegmatic to be right.

"Oh, right...thanks" You anxiously shove the bag into your basket and scurry out of the shop. Holding your breath.

"Come back soon." the voice chirps behind you.

Your old master arrives by spaceship, a newer, albeit worn model. The landing pad ejects to reveal a small escort.

Master,

Knight,

Padwan,

Apostate,

You stand still watching as they descend. Bits of envy bubble in your throat watching your former master and his band of little heroes. You wish you had their belonging. Forgoing the loneliness to find kinsmanship with your coterie. You swallow down the bitter thoughts as they finally approach you.

Master Sol's smile reaches his eyes. Gentle and wise. The true epidemy of a Jedi in every sense of the word. Funny how he now has two failures under his belt. None of which are capable of scratching his shining repute.

His hands are on your shoulders, bright smile. "My padawan, it's been too long." You try to bow, awkwardly and stiffly. "Mater Sol, I'm grateful you've come to asses my progress". If he hears your doubt he doesn't show it. Instead, he reintroduces you to Yord, Jacki, Osha.

You try to be polite. Gulp down the awkwardness

You imagine the taste of strawberries on your tongue.

Remember their stiff sweetness and prickly tasteless freckles.

You smile. Easier this time.

They'll stay here for some time. Hunting assassins and documenting progress in their free time. Jacki seems more invested in your training than you are, trying to teach you everything she knows. At least she doesn't mind the rough play, the violent strikes, and sloppy prideful defenses. She speaks in pointers and parries. She's the one to drag you along these assassin hunts. Welcoming you...or at least trying to.

But there is something else at play. Darker, broader, Sol and Jecki welcome you into the fray. Yet you still feel your old master's hesitance, he's still wary of you. Worried about your anger, your defiance.

The distance grows, some icy void.

Sol used to tell you fairytales. This was back when you'd been young and bright-eyed. Freshly welcomed into the order and still overflowing with artless hope for a colorful future.

But even back then, he had known there was something wrong with you.

Looking back it was evident.

Every story started and ended the same. Little princess against the big bad world. Holding out until her prince came along. Only problem was the morals never registered right in your little messed-up brain.

Why didn't the princess fall for the dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones? Why didn't she swoon and sigh over someone rousing, compelling? A paradox wrapped in black ember? Why settle for a sun-painted prince, with no complexities, no mysteries to unravel?

You would have married the dragon, or the wolf, or the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

Even back then, it was evident something was wrong.

The temple's roof isn't restricted per se.

It's rather abandoned as opposed to forbidden.

Maybe that's why you find solace here. The abandonment feels familiar, similar. The chipped cement kisses the soles of your feet, you imagine it's something like walking upon the rough terrain of a star.

You breathe in the night air deeply.

Expecting the fragile scents of moonshine and star glitter.

Instead, you choke on heavy mist and blood-drenched air.

The thing standing in front of you isn't human. It can't be human. It's created from the blackness, ebony in all the ways a living thing shouldn't be. For a second you think you're staring at a black hole. No doubt this creature crawled out of one.

What sheer willpower one must need to drag themselves out of endless nothingness?

"Little Jedi should not brave the night alone."

It speaks

"There are far too many monsters roaming in the dark"

Its face never moves, statue in all the ways the figures towering over the entrance aren't. This statue is something else, a lost page to some forgotten epic. Carved from gems born in darkness. Evil and rotten.

"What are you?" your voice susurrate, quivering in this surreal scene. The air is thicker now, overflowing with raw static.

Your fingers itch for your saber. Only when the cold metal kisses your palm do you regain some semblance of reality.

The hiss, the green light.

The figure chuckles.

Its voice bouncing from every direction. Everywhere all at once. When it speaks the air cackles, raining as if it were a frightened child.

"I am something akin to you, another child of the force" His voice comes out distorted, uneven in tone. "I am what's birthed when one learns of the true strength of the force."

Your body moves on its own, feet kicking the ground sprinting faster and faster before the final leap. You aim for the helmet, for the morbid toothy grin permanently etched within steel. In a flash the word stills, floating around you like fluorescent bubbles, the rain tumbles around you, curving and diving for the wet ground. It dares not land on something within his grasp.

You feel the slithering across your body. They start from the ground, summed from the unknown depths. Clinging firmly to your ankles before inching up your knees, your hips, your neck.

long, slipper tendrils curling around your body. The figure watches, bare arm outstretched. You should probably be focused on how the unseen things are inching closer to your mouth. Not on the toned muscles and limber fingers of the monster. Not on how, for a fraction of a heartbeat, his smile appears genuine, caring, aimed straight at you.

Only You

They finally reach your lips, prying your teeth ajar and flooding your mouth. Sinking deeper and deeper into your soul, your mind, you.

The smile grows.

In a blink you're suspended in the space between worlds, dark damning thing cradling your body.

"The dark side once belonged to the Jedi, yet they chose to discard it. Deeming it malignant, ungovernable."

Your weightlessness unnerves you. You're malleable in this void.

"Those few who embraced its calling were dubbed Sith." He says the word with such fervent pride. Devoted to it's weight and all it carries. You try to roll the word off your own tongue only for it to burn the roof of your mouth.

The stranger stalks closer, lethal and lithe.

The void vibrates, the darkness bends to his will.

He reaches down to cup your face. His fingers feel warm, welcoming. You nuzzle into his palm, fighting the urge to kiss each finger and suck on the dark force they emit. "You..." he starts, his voice shakes you to the core. Its horror amplifies with the proximity. You wonder if it'll cut through steel, armor, flesh.

your flesh.

"You aren't like the other temple dwellers. You have potential."

His thumb presses your lower lip, demanding entrancing. You comply, needing to feel something solid.

Something you've been denied your whole life.

"They keep you locked away. Trading you between craven masters. Seeing who can tame you first."

He nicks his thumb on your teeth,

Pressing bone into dentin.

His essence drips into you.

He tastes of power.

Of dark, dreadful things you can not name.

"They do not know how to train you. How to use your power..."

The world crumbles, ebony midnights giving way to reality. You feel yourself fall, plunging through the air like a comet bent on destruction.

"They only break you further"

Your knees collide with the harsh ground. Skin splintering in the aftermath giving way to bruises and bloodmarks.

The ground feels too solid beneath you.

A poly, a ruse.

You all but expect to melt through it. Slipping and falling into the vacuum, into him, once more.

He hovers above. Absolute in his strength. You're beginning to believe that blackholes birth divinity. Eyes shimmering with fanatic fidelity, staring up at the holy creature commanding the storm.

"Teach me..."

You've never begged for anything so terribly in your life.

But you need this.

this power

this control.

him.

Sol never told just how the princess met the villain.

He never said it wasn't love at first fright.

Sol insists that the local apothecary knows the truth behind the Jedi-killer. Definite that the unseemly man can tell you something important. He sends Osha inside to play Mea. To get the man to talk.

You crowd around the communicator urging back giggles. Yord's chin is placed upon your shoulder and Jecki's cheek rests against yours. Their touches come so early. And yet they are utterly alien.

"He will be so pleased." No sooner have the words chime from the corroded speakers that Sol is ushering you all towards the small metal hut.

Yord entwines his fingers with you as he runs.

Jacki wraps around your arm.

You feel at times they are trying to tame you.

Befriend the feral puppy they found in the backyard.

The apothecary's face is utterly stunned. He's stammering over his words fear glistening in his eyes as he stares at Sol. "Please, please don't wipe my memories. Or whatever it is you Jedi do." A rosy blush colors your cheeks, at his terror. It's terribly amusing seeing someone so carless, anxiously list off everything he knows. You almost feel bad for the poor scared man.

There isn't anything important here. But Sol decides that you will all return at midnight. The Jedi-killer will be back. Apparently, Qimir -that's his name, that the strawberry-eating, disheveled pharmacist's name- is holding something of value for her.

There's a tug on your wrist as you go to follow the others. Gentle and firm as he pulls you to his chest. "Come by tonight. I'll have some strawberries waiting for you." why does he feel too genuine? When you turn to look at him, he's painted in his usual sweet carefree smile that tugs at your heart.

He looks so innocent...

Starlight really brings out his eyes. He's laughing with a nervous smile,

School-boy crush on full display. You're licking strawberry juice from your hands as you listen to him talk. Backs pressed against the rusty wall and bodies half sprawled in the dirt. He's telling you about the first time the Hutts made him retrieve a plushie for their son from another solar system.

Qimir's voice feels like rose peddles melting into your skin. Sweet, jejeune, free. You offer him a berry from your pile. Watching tentatively as he submerges the red fruit into his mouth. Missing your fingers by an inch. He's laughing after the fact, head thrown back as if he's about to engulf the stars. You decide to laugh too.  

"Are you really that lonely," he says in a voice that's almost not his own. You're not expecting the invasive question, although you guess he means well. The words still cut deep. Piercing through the laughter, stunning you for a breath too long. "No...I'm a Jedi, we do not-"

"Form personal connection. I know...But you just look so lonely." He shuffles closer, the dirt particles almost look celestial in this light. Your fingers pitch a civil war. Pinching and clawing at each other. "No, yes. I don't really get along with the others." He rolls his eyes, bored and amused in the same breath. "Yeah, no wonder your money." He's picking at another strawberry, letting the crunch fill up the silence. You're beginning to think he just likes having something to chew on. Gulping down the anxiety with something toothsome.

He's a little closer now, fingers gingerly tucking back your hair. His fingerprints reverberate across the shell of your ear. Lips gliding against yours. You swallow as his lips fall across yours, pushing sweet stars past parted lips. He tastes of odd things, whimsy things. Everything you'll never come to understand. Xeno fruits and asteroid fields. His fingers glide up your arms, leaving moondust in their wake. He slowly parts, holding you softly with his soulful dark eyes

"You taste so sweet"

Strawberry, Starberry, You kiss him a little too deeply.

Maybe your new master is right.

Maybe there are other ways of being a Jedi.

The movie playing is doused in shades of rose and lilac. Gentle in all the ways. Everyway. The twi'lek girl is in love with the zabrak boy and their families do not approve. You think you remember Sol telling you a similar tale.  

The makeshift auditorium is cozy. Brown couch housing the three of you and your armada of blankets and popcorn buckets. Jacki's head is in your lap, you're playing with the end of her braid imagining the hair to be the lace of a Love-sick girl's ballgown. Yord's arm traverses the length of your arm, absentminded as he studies the motion picture, poking holes in the lose rose-tainted plot. Your head rests against his broad shoulder taking in his new cologne.

Maybe you really did miss them.

Jacki reaches for the popcorn, offering you some before shoving a handful into her mouth. You think the little symmetry-less kernels would taste better with a strawberry glaze. Qimir flashes across your mind, smiling sweetly as he tilts his head.

You think you're a little too similar to the star on screen.

Pinning after forbidden love,

Forbidden power.

Master Sol is growing acutely aware of your drastic improvements. He's noticed the betterment in your offense, your defense. To the way, you wield your saber, your techniques, and yourself. There is esteem in the way he smiles. In the words of praise, you've longed to hear. But you notice the lingering glances, the undertone of skepticism and worry when he asks about practice. He doesn't need to know of the black-glad creature that trains you in the unholy hours.

He doesn't need to know how beautifully your new master sculpts your rage into lessons. Teaching you how to wrangle the force and control it. How to use it to make the world bow.

These things will remain secret. For you fear Sol and the others will strip them of you. Strip them of the new master you've come to worship.

"Do you think people glow when they fall in love?" Jacki's voice is filled with sleep. Eyes closed as she murmurs remnants of movie memory. "No, I don't believe they do" you answer. "too...bad" There was a yawn there darling and vigorous like the rests of her. She looks so sweet like this, infantile in all the ways she can't be. Little girl dreaming of something impossible. You wonder if Sol's told her the fairytales too. You kiss the crown of her head, your baby sister you think. And big brother Yord, snoring with his head thrown back.

Maybe you should test her theory. rising softly from the couch you make your way to the door. Throwing one final glance at your sleeping siblings. Before going to find Qimir.

His lips ghost over yours, spilling star-clad secrets between each kiss. The apothecary has never been so dark, so secret, so secluded. Qimir's lips glided across your neck biting the flesh and licking the little diamond droplets of blood. Your nails rack across his spine, the wool of his throw-over itching the backs of your hands. "So precious" he mumbles, voice ridden with want, need. it's criminal how desperately he needs to feel you. You writhe under him, "Qimir, kiss." you whine. His lips feel like a lifeline, something keeping you sain. He pushes fireflies and lava pearls inside you, carving you open and enjoying you

He always enjoys you.

It's foggy outside when his tongue clashes against yours. A thick unsettling mist banging against the darkened window. "You're custom-made for me" Qimir mumbles against your lips. "Custome tailored" you boldly correct. "ummm, sure" his hands pinch at your hips, clawing mindlessly and leaving tails to your thighs. But the sensations are growing distant, you hear the heavy hum of saber activation. You psyche cracks

The world is dark,

He alone is absolute.

Your master's mask flashes dangerously across your mind. "Master Sol would be disappointed". You've heard that line a million times. Still, the words cut a little too deep coming from your demiurger. "Gullible" you don't understand, what have you done to earn his rage? He's gone, leaving you in the emptiness, you taste the charcoal from the landscape under your tongue.

Still, you long to call after him.

"Master"

The darkness subsides with the feeling of softness across your muscles. A breeze stirs you from the clutches of slumber. "Good morning" Qimir chirps, soft smile greeting you as you open your eyes. "Qimir, when did I?" he laughs, it's such a pretty sound this early in the morning. Sweet like caramel tea. He kisses your forehead. His quietude is commendable, he tries to calm you with feather-light kisses. You laugh pushing the covers away and still. Frozen.

What's this

The nightgown is lacy and short. It drapes expensively against your skin. Marring it with its tenderness. "Qimir, what's this!" he chuckles, "I couldn't let you sleep in those robes, they looked uncomfortable." You want to argue, to scream, and be angry. But the rage boils down slowly as you notice something dangling around your wrist. A bangle, and an anklet you notice later, black and gold entwined in patterns mirroring lighting stricks. "They're from Korriban, I had some relatives there." oh, why does that planet sound so familiar? "Thanks, but ask me next time before you go playing dress-up doll with my sleeping body" He pouts and can't help but trail a string of mouthy kisses across his neck. Qimir shuffles pulling you onto his lap. Pushing his nose under your chin. His eyes are honey-deo, adoring and scheming. "But you're mine." The possessive ness that flesh across his face is alarming. So is how tightly he grips your waist. It's only in this state of half-undressed that you begin to notice the taut muscles of his arms.

During your most recent lesson, your master gifts you a ripe juicy strawberry. He says it'll focus you, replenish your wither strength. You eat it a little too quickly, forgetting to savor the pink blush within. You believe too ferociously in everything your master says.

He can never be wrong.

You love the way your new master splatters blood across your sleeves. Be it yours or his enemies. He's started taking you out on his kills, having you watch as he hacks and mauls. His enemies must die, no one who doubts such marvels should be granted the privilege of life.

He's only ever spoken in half-riddles.

"Unfortunately legacy is a fickle thing. Tenacious, fervent, yet frail and erratic. No matter how hematological, we all read our bones differently."

The rain falls to your ragged heartbeat. Fast one minute and slow the next. You stick out your tongue desperate for a few drops. Your body is on fire, every muscle pushed to its limit. But the Force is screaming inside you, thumping dangerously between your fingers. You're ready for the next round. Saber ready and only half mesmerized as your master pulls out another blood-red saber. You charge, rage pumping deliciously through your body.

You forget to ask him where he got the berry from.

The next Jedi to die will be Kelnacca. That's why Sol is dragging all of you to the forest planet of Khofar. You think the name is utterly hilarious, the others don't understand the mirth.

Between briefings and Jacki and Yords packing quarrels. You sneak out to say goodbye to Qimir. Scribbling a half eligible not to leave for your master. But the apothecary is deserted upon your arrival, only a taped note on a half-full mortar.

'Gone to get more Strawberries.

Be back soon.'

You wonder if Khofar has strawberries.

Strawberry, Starberry, you're falling between the cracks of so many.

The Sun on Khofar is red, barely breaching the thick canopy. Maybe it's for the best. This scene is not one to remember, but how can you make yourself forget?

Death looms.

Permanent, Eternal

The fighting began in twilight.

The sky has grown two shades darker since.

He had floated in from the high reaches. You'd almost called out to him, 'master', the words die bitterly on your tongue. His saber ignites in the carnage, light growing redder after each kill. The bodies fall haphazardly stirring the quiet night.

Your saber falls onto the woodchip ground. No sound. He has followed you here. Yet it is not you, he seeks. Your master mask is haunting, in the dark the silver mouth glows bright white. Even against a massacre

the smile never relents.

He twirls the red saber with lethal accuracy, red arc severing another life. 'Take the right!' Jacki screams through the force, her eager voice bouncing inside your cranium. 'Don't' you scream but she's already attacked.

Saber sings saber.

Golden light flickers.

Forward. Backward. Lunge. Parry. Flunge.

Just like you practiced. Back in the quiet of the training room. Is it too late to return to the matted ground and wooden swords? Too late for safe comfort?

You won't take it for granted this time you swear.

Your master attacks with vicious zeal, cutting through the light. His black robes bleeding into the night. Jacki, scurries backward, trying to block with every ounce of strength. In one swift move, she spins freeing herself and assaulting his head with the metal of her weapon.

The mask clutters to the ground.

You scream.

He looks every bit the villain here. Blood drenched, water drenched. Smiling like the wolf in a child's picture book. Qimir's face stares back at you, hair matted to his forehead. He's panting, spent. You've never seen him toil. Dreaming him incapable of harm.

Yet he stands above the corpses. Wolf's teeth bared as he slices through the little girl.

It's been years since Master Sol tucked you into bed. Years since he's read you a story and listened to your baseless questions about romances.

You've finally gotten your answer. Painted in a shade of red indistinguishable from black.

Because the villain is too vile to be loved.

You run, catching the limp corpse before it joins the rest, you cradle her close. Tears landing on the orange of her face. There are no strawberry romances here. No sweet forbidden fruits. Just pain, hollow, empty, rotten. "Jacki" your voice muffles into her robes, rain-soaked, tear-soaked.

"Was that its name?" his voice doesn't sound right. No cheerful hellos or drowsy laughs. It's all menacing now, grating and hollow lilt. "Qimir" you wail, sob half caught in your throat. "It can't be you." He shakes his head, smile crooked and maniacal. "I'm afraid so, little one." The force pushed you up, pulling you to him. Qimirs head tilts, his fingers dancing around your throat. Squeezing squeezing squzing. Your glossy eyes take in his unruly appearance. Even now your master looks utterly perfect. Muscles relaxed as he steals your breath. "Master" you whine, your heart shouldn't be hammering like this, leaping through beats like something lovesick.

"(Y/n)" golden light fills the clearing. Yord runs, Prince Charming in every way you should have loved.

Qimir releases you, only to nestle your neck in the crook of his arm. "Don't worry darling. I'm almost done." He blocks the first attack.

Second, third. Yord scrambles to pull you away, missing each time. "Let her go" The urgency in his voice rattles you. He did love you.

Little sister, little princess.

Why is only starting to make sense now?

There's a crack, so loud it echoes across the woods.

"NO"

Yord's body joins the rest.

no no no

"Where were we?" Qimir is every bit the villain.

The dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

"You lied to me, you killed them. Why, why would you do this."

"Because the Jedi say I can not exist." Sith, right those things were supposed to be evil. Hailing from Koriiban, the evil Jedi forced to flee. And here you were having so readily given yourself to the enemy.

The blood flows free in the rain. Dozens of bodies drained.

There's a river of blood. You kneel by the holy thing, dipping your cupped hands into the crimson. You drink deeply from the massacre thinking it'll taste sweet. Qimir pulls you in holding your throat as he submerges you.

Baptized in blood

The world flashes red.

It feels so free here. Floating weightless, letting everything be. The rage can not find you in these depths. Free like an adrift astromech. Free to float amongst the stars.

When you emerge again. The world has grown brighter. You see the wide-eyed bodies, even Sol is among the dead, you swear you see disappointment in his lifeless orbs. You gulp, swallowing the euphoric faint. You see your new master before you. Swimming to him carefully, following the gentle tug of the force. Prey meets predator. Qimir chuckles, the water is shallow by the banks. He sits awaiting, on his makeshift throne.

There is no sympathy here you should know better

"You took adorable" Qimir rasps. Hot breath fanning your ear. "Master Qimir" you mumble shifting as he pulls you onto his lap. He laughs this is submission, a breath away from grasping his desire. He cups your cheeks, drifting his hands to your shoulders. Pulling you closer, bodies melting into one.

His kisses still taste like strawberries. Sweet and metallic. All possession and domination. Biting lips and tongue and flesh. Spilling fresh poison with each snip of your neck. He licks the blood from your fingers with feral pleasure. Swirling his tongue around each digit and pulling it further down his hungry mouth. You swallow the darkness from his tongue, letting him snuff out the little embers of light. The stars are burning away bit by bit. He pushes you under again.

Mornings on Khofar are dark, caught in a perpetual twilight. Qimir wraps his robes around you letting the midnight sink into your bones. "The ships a bit of a walk. But we should be there before noon." You paddle after him. Fingers lashing awkwardly at his hand. He turns and offers you that tilted smile once more, mask bouncing in his free hand.

"Master qimir" you confess, it feels so light on your tongue. Like clutching dying white-dwarf-stars behind your teeth. He chuckles, snapping a berry from a nearby bush. His smile sings of triumph, victory, earned in blood. He places the fruit amongst your teeth. You, his little war prize.

"My little acolyte"

ᯓ♡ : @feedmestraycats @moonlovefairy  @wicked0clouds @phoenixes-and-wizards @peridedarling @morax-on-my-mind @magikmaik @lov4gor3 @manchuria @bucksdonkey @embersofimagination @hauntedhedgehogs @peter-laufeyson @papitas-con-sal @f0odie @boredtone @bluechissbrain @yourfilthydevil @n0t-skywalker @xsister-serpent @gabriqllas @zionysuss @i-love-my-babygirls @pagingoswin @jxp1ter @faebirdie @deezhutts565 @thesithdiaries @pagingoswin @hauntingwolf @scentedbanditlampwobbler @uwingdispatch @mask-knife-is-buggys-girl @lunarsvertigo @scintilla-morningstar @carpinchootaku

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

oh, baby | Tyler Owens x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: You’re pregnant with Tyler Owens baby. Lots of fluff. 

A/N: My first Tyler Owens fic. I hope you all enjoy. Also, the lack of Tyler Owens gifs is very upsetting. 

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

This one moment was about to change your entire life. You were terrified. Would you be a good mom? Would you be able to make a good enough life for the little growing blimp inside you? Your thoughts were running a million times a minute. Wondering how this would affect the rest of your lives. How this one moment just changed the rest of your life. 

You slowly sat on the edge of the tub, in shock, the positive pregnancy test in your hand. Your mind drifted to Tyler. Oh god. His tornado wrangler YouTube channel had began to soar in popularity. He and the team making a name for themselves. He had millions of views and a huge fan club. What would this do to his career? 

“Hey hun-” Tyler knocks on the door, jolting you from your thoughts. His hand jiggles the door finding it locked. He furrows his eyebrows, you never locked the door. “you alright?” 

“Y-yeah!” You rummaged underneath the sink, hiding the test under some towels. “One sec.” 

You knew Tyler was getting ready to leave, a few storms brewing before this upcoming weekend. You exit the bathroom and met with Tyler’s hard chest, “You leaving?” 

He peeks behind you, concerned and curious, “Yeah, why’d you have the door locked? You never lock the door.” 

You shrug, playing it off. You could wait to tell him when he got back, “sometimes a girl needs her privacy.” 

He hums in response, not completely believing you. However, he didn’t want to press you. If there was something bothering you, you’d eventually tell him when you were ready. He could respect that. He slips his arms around you, tugging you close against his chest. He was a mix of sweat and that musky sandalwood. It was calming and heavenly. “I’ll be back in a couple days. You gonna be able to hold down the fort?” 

You nod against his chest, tightening your arms around him, “I can.” You lift your head to stare up at him, “You better come back in one piece.” 

He chuckles with a nod, “Yes ma’am.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then your lips. “I will call you when we get to the hotel.” 

You walk him out to bid him and the team goodbye. Shielding your eyes from the sun, you watch him drive down the driveway. He hangs his hand out the window, waving goodbye. You return the wave, saying a silent prayer for a safe return of him and the team as your hands find your new growing womb. “He’ll be back.” 

~

You’d spent the entire weekend trying to figure out how to tell him. You’d called one of your girlfriends in tears, wondering how to tell him. Worried you would be ruining his life. She reassured you, “Tyler isn’t that kind of guy, y/n. You know that. He’s going to support you and be excited for this next step.” 

You heard the slam of the screen door, “Tyler must be home.” 

“Call me later.” 

You throw the blanket off you, meeting him in the foyer as he’s taking off the boots. “You’re home early?” 

He smiles at the sight of you, but frowns when he notices you’ve been crying, “Had a feeling I needed to come home to my girl.” He crosses the foyer to you in only a few steps before gathering you in his arms. 

At the first feel of comfort, the flood gates open, sobbing into his chest. damn hormones. 

“Oh baby..” He squeezes you tighter, cradling your head against his chest, “Talk to me.” 

You take a few seconds to console yourself. His large thumb wipes your tears away, waiting patiently for you. 

You gather yourself, taking a deep breath before you meet his eyes, “I’m pregnant.” 

His large hands cup your cheeks, his eyes light up, full of hope, “Yeah? You’re pregnant?” 

You nod and hiccup a sob, beginning to rant, “I’m so sorry-you’ve just started your YouTube channel and you guys are so successful now-” 

“No no no- Shhh.” He pulls you in a comforting hug, “This is incredible. I couldn’t be any happier.” 

He holds you against his chest, slowly rocking back and forth as you calm down, “I knew something was bothering you. I just had a feeling.” He kisses your hair, and then makes you look at him, “We’re gonna be parents.” He's hesitant, but places a hand on your stomach, “you’re gonna be an amazing mom..” 

~ 

You waddled into the room to find Tyler painting the wall of the nursery. His hat on backwards, jeans and shirt stained with paint. 

“How’s it going in here?” You take a seat in the wooden rocking chair, sighing in relief. Those stairs were beginning to take a toll on you. Your growing baby leaving barely any room for your lungs to breathe. 

“Almost done.” He sets the paint brush down, hands on his hips he admires his work around the room. “all I got left is this wall.” 

You rub a hand over your bump, wincing as you adjust yourself in the chair. 

Tyler noticing your discomfort, immediately is at your side, full of worry, “It’s not time yet-” 

“No no,” You laugh, “Just some discomfort. I’m fine.” 

He visibly relaxes, “He can’t come early. There’s way too much to do around here.” 

You roll your eyes, “It also could be a she.” You and him agreed to wait until the birth to find out the sex. He was convinced it’s a boy. 

“Daddy instincts.” He gets on his knees in front of you, hands on your stomach, “It’s a boy. I know it.” He flashes his pearly white smile at you. “a baby boy tornado wrangler.” 

“I think it’s gonna be a girl.” You shrug, “mommy instincts.” 

“We’re gonna prove your mommy wrong,” He says to your belly, “Right off the bat, you and I. I’ll finally be right on something.” 

Of course, the baby kicks at the sound of Tyler’s voice. Tyler grins, “See, he agrees.” 

~ 

“You’re screwed.” You whisper softly to Tyler. After hours of labor, you and Tyler finally welcomed your baby into the world. He’s seated in the rocking chair next to your bed, his bundle of joy wrapped softly in a blanket. --- a pink blanket. 

“There’s two of us now. You’ll never stand a chance.” You reach over and caress his arm. 

He looks at you with tear-filled eyes, “She’s only a couple hours old and she’s already got me wrapped around her finger. She could ask me for anything and I’m going to give it to her.”

“Like I said,” you say with a smile, “you’re screwed.” 

~

Comments, likes and reblogs are always welcomed and greatly appreciated. :)

[beeing1alive]

tokyo rev characters with s/o who sleep talks

Note: thank you so much for the fantastic idea :)

Would be shocked the first time because you suddenly started talking nonsense in the middle of the night. Will speak to you in the morning like: Beby…Why did you talk to me in the middle of the night tonight?? You'll have to explain to him that you're talking in your sleep and he's just sitting there slowly understanding what you mean. It doesn't bother him now that he knows everything is fine with you and he doesn't have to worry.

Souya, Hakkai, Takemichi, Takuya, Chifuyu

Listens to you all night, even though he knows you only talk in your sleep. He just fell for your voice, he doesn't care if you're asleep or not. He also doesn't care what incoherent shit you say, he's super happy. He'll probably fall asleep at some point in the morning, relaxed and satisfied by your voice. Will still point it out to you in the morning, just out of respect, but will say straight away that he really enjoyed it. Now looks forward to hearing your beautiful voice every day, even at night when he falls asleep.

Draken, Mitsuya, Inupi, Kakucho, Rindou, Koko, Baji, Taiju, Naoto

Stays up all night talking to you. He knows that you won't remember the conversation in the morning, but he doesn't care. He just finds it too exciting and relaxing at the same time. Sometimes you even answer when he asks you questions, for some reason it's strangely relaxing for him to hear from your deep subconscious that you love him.

Izana, Mikey, Ran, Kazutora, Nahoya

I also wrote other scenarios for them and other characters, so here is my masterlist if you want to check it out <3

My request are open, so if you want to request something, just feel free to leave a comment or send me an request, love you all, have a nice day/night :3

Attention: The characters and the gif do not belong to me. All credits go to the actual owners. If you want anything to be changed or removed, please write to me.

[ackermans-angel]

BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND!GOJO SATORU | FIC RECS

A/N: Been obsessed with the Brother's Best Friend trope recently, specifically regarding Satoru, and I really wanted to share my favorite fics created by the amazing writers listed below. ALSO I wanted to do this because I haven't made one of these recommendation lists in awhile, and I love to do them number one to help promote the writers I love, and number two because when I find a trope I love with a character I wish I had a list like this to just find fics instantly LMAOOO. PLEASE feel free to recommend me your favorite brother's best friend fics if you know anymore and FEEL FREE to send me an ask at anytime if you're searching for fics of a certain trope I'd be happy to make more lists. Now enough of my yapping, I got ahead of myself and I'm posting this now but I'll update as I find more fics.

WARNING: I WON’T BE MORE CLEAR ON THIS! If you proceed to these accounts make sure to look at the rules and warnings. please respect the account owner, as most of them don’t want people under 18 on them. ALWAYS READ WARNINGS ON FICS TO INSURE YOU ARE RESPECTING THE WRITERS GUIDELINES!!!

One more thing! IF YOU LIKE A FIC PLEASE REBLOG NO MATTER THE ACCOUNT! The easiest way to show a creator you care and that their work is being appreciated is to reblog reblog reblog! They spend hours of their time creating work FOR US. The least we can do is REBLOG!

accounts under the cut. (last updated January 4th, 2024.)

IF IT’S ONLY A TOUCH…AITA? by @tteokdoroki This one is so good and the most recent one I read. It's the perfect amount of angst and smut. It does have some descriptions of the reader having braids, darker skin, and brown eyes so if you don't like when it's not vague about how the reader looks then this is probably not for you. However, those descriptions do not match me at all and I didn't have a problem while reading at all. I think you should definitely give it a read if you like the brother best friend trope!

BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND by @cptnleviackerman This one was so good for it only having so few notes. definitely go hype this one up because it deserves it. Read the tags before you continue on though because some of the themes could be triggering! Other then that this one was super good.

HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO FUCK YOUR BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND? (FOUR WHOLE DAYS) by @saetoru SOOO GOOD. I love this fic so please go check this one out!

CRYBABY. by @ieirism AHHHH I FORGOT ABOUT THIS ONE. This one was soooooo goood. It is really fluffy and has so much sweet satoru. love love love.

TELL ME YOU DON'T WANT ME by @awearywritersworld I completely forgot about this one but from what I can remember it was really sweet. All angst and fluff and omg their dynamic after sugurus death is just so sweet.

YOUNGER BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND GOJO by @satocidal this is just a little drabble but the smut>>>>> that's all I have to say. go read!!

[sserpente]

Paid Pleasure (Kinktober #4)

Excerpt: Sylus huffed. His crimson eyes locked with yours for a moment before darting back to Yuze. “Make me a better offer.”

“Forty percent. You slap your name on the paperwork and I have your back if you need me. You’ll have free access to all of my facilities and…” – he pointed at you – “…all of my girls. In return, I have your financial support to keep this baby running. Perhaps…you’d like to sample what this partnership could offer you?”

There was more to this. More to him offering you to Sylus for free now. As disgusted as you were, that was beside the point. You were very well aware that the infamous leader of Onychinus owned armouries all over the world. Supporting this brothel was only scratching at the very tip of the iceberg.

Forcing yourself to a flirty smile, you leaned in to whisper in his ear. “What do you say, Mr. Sylus? Would you like to join me upstairs?”

A/N: Oh, I love these pleasure slave scenarios so much… *sigh* I’m going to hell, who’s with me?

Words: 4160 Warnings: smut, prostitute!reader, super slight dub-con

The N109 zone was one of the most dangerous places on Earth. You knew that better than anyone. To live simply meant to survive—only a few people had the luxury of enjoying their time and spending their money on useless things like designer watches or caviar, and you were most certainly not one of them.

When Yuze, the owner of the ‘humble’ establishment you now worked at found you, you’d had two options. Either go with him and submit to his greed and cruelty or die at the hands of vicious Wanderers eager to rip your throat out.

Back then, the choice was easy. Today, however,…today, you were second-guessing yourself. Yuze had provided you with a bedroom with an ensuite bathroom and yet, you had never felt dirtier than you did now. The dancing was bearable enough. Losing yourself in the waves of the music, your worries and sorrows ebbing away as you drifted off and simply moved, was easy enough.

But almost no night ended without you leading one of Yuze’s customers upstairs after they shoved a bundle of credits into his hands only to spread your legs for them in your bed.

The profession of a prostitute was a respectable one—but only if it was done voluntarily. You on the other hand wanted to scream and run and vomit and rip your own hair out every evening the brothel opened and the nightmare began anew.

Yuze had no mercy. In fact, he was crude and abusive. He did not hesitate to use physical punishment if the nightly quota wasn’t met, and did not shy away from withholding meals from you, especially not when the next lucrative deal was just around the corner.

Like tonight.

You had heard of him, of course. Sylus, leader of Onychinus and the most dangerous man known across Linkon City. He would visit tonight to discuss a potential partnership with Yuze. You didn’t know the details and you didn’t need to.

Your job was to make Sylus receptive and docile. To charm him and eventually, of course, to pull some extra credits out of his pocket for a night with you.

To say you’re nervous would have been an understatement. You’d never seen Sylus in action but if rumours were to be believed, his Evol was one of a kind. The man was invincible and invulnerable. You were scared. Even more so because if you failed, you did not want to face the consequences Yuze had in store for you.

The evening started innocently enough. You danced, ignored the lustful looks of your potential clients for the night, and prayed that your shift would be over fast.

Sylus arrived at midnight. He was accompanied by two men in masks, and he strutted in as if he owned the place. He soon would, partially, if the deal went well. You swallowed thickly, keeping an eye on Yuze as he ushered him to the VIP area and had a drink prepared for him, silently waiting for your cue as you kept on dancing around the pole.

The subtle movement of Yuze’s hand would have been unnoticeable to anyone else. You picked up on it quickly and hurried over to them both. At this time of the night, you had already lost your top. Your breasts were on full display as you offered Sylus a coy smile, ignoring the pounding of your heart as you straddled his lap and began to dance.

The leader of Onychinus did not say a word, though there appeared to be some sort of amusement washing over his chiselled face. God, he was handsome. Younger than you’d imagined him, mysterious, brooding, and…dangerous. It would be easier to try and seduce him compared to those disgusting old men who didn’t know that you were supposed to wash your ass crack under the shower.

“As I was saying, Mr. Sylus… sixty percent is…hefty. You must understand that in doing so you would legally own my establishment.”

He chuckled. You kept on dancing, attempting your best to distract him and draw his attention to you. Sylus, however, seemed almost completely unbothered by your antics. You bit your lower lip and rocked your hips, grinding against him.

“That is the plan, Yuze. You would still run it, of course. But on paper, this place will belong to me. I don’t accept deals where I don’t come out on the winning side. Something you should have known.”

“I cannot do that!”

“You were the one who approached me about a partnership. This is my offer. If you won’t accept my terms, I see no reason for us to continue this conversation.”

His voice was calm and smooth, like silk. Sylus took a sip of his whiskey and then placed the glass on the window sill behind him. Shit. This wasn’t going according to plan, was it? Sylus was supposed to accept Yuze’s deal, not dismiss him and leave early. Shit, shit, shit.

A mere glance from the corner of your eye was enough to see that your boss was fuming. His jaw was clenched and you could practically feel that he was ready to blame you for how this evening was about to end.

You had to up your game fast if you wanted to avoid bruises tonight.

Boldly, you snatched Sylus’ hand as he moved it back and brought it to your left breast, pressing his palm against your mount. You were still dancing, doing your best to mesmerise him enough for him to be interested in sharing the bed with you.

Sylus huffed. His crimson eyes locked with yours for a moment before darting back to Yuze. “Make me a better offer.”

Phew.

“Forty percent. You slap your name on the paperwork and I have your back if you need me. You’ll have free access to all of my facilities and…” – he pointed at you – “…all of my girls. In return, I have your financial support to keep this baby running. Perhaps…you’d like to sample what this partnership could offer you?”

There was more to this. More to him offering you to Sylus for free now. As disgusted as you were, that was beside the point. You were very well aware that the infamous leader of Onychinus owned armouries all over the world. Supporting this brothel was only scratching at the very tip of the iceberg.

Forcing yourself to a flirty smile, you leaned in to whisper in his ear. “What do you say, Mr. Sylus? Would you like to join me upstairs?”

He smiled. It was a cold and calculated smile—one that indicated that he saw right through your strategy. “I’m not the type to pay for pleasure.”

“Consider it a gift, a sign of good faith into this partnership. Hmm, Mr. Sylus?” Yuze said, tilting his head.

“You seem tense…being the head of Onychinus must be so exhausting… I give very good massages,” you mumbled against his cheek. “And I make sure to pamper…every…single…body part…” With every word, your free hand travelled lower and lower and lower until…

Sylus snatched your wrist before you could cup him. “I’d rather have a Wanderer trample on my back, sweetie.”

Your lips parted. Ouch. Why…why did that hurt? He was just another guy. They all thought with their dicks one way or another. You should be relieved he didn’t want you. Instead…his rejection stung. It was a strange emotion even stronger than the fear of what would happen to you as soon as Sylus walked out that door.

“D-Don’t be like that. I could be yours. You can do to me whatever you like,” you choked out. Saying these things...every fibre of your being was resisting the words. It wasn’t the first time you resorted to this and it certainly also wasn’t the first time you acted on it. You could only hope that Sylus was not an evil sadist who would leave you in bed half-dead after he was done with you.

But Sylus…frowned. He frowned as if he was displeased with what you’d just said. With a start, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. His voice was so quiet only you could hear him. “Is he forcing you to say things like that, sweetie?”

“W-What?” Your eyes widened. Fuck. You were so dead. “N-no! Of course not. This is my job,” you lied, “I just want to make you feel good. Will you let me?”

You didn’t dare look at Yuze. Instead, you kept your eyes locked on Sylus, hoping that he would let you convince him. He stared at you for a long moment. Long enough for you to grow dizzy. It was almost like…his right eye began to…glow and draw you in and…

Your lips parted. You have to succeed, you heard your own voice whisper in your head. You have to seduce him. You need to survive. You have to! You can’t go without food again. Yuze will punish you if you don’t charm him. You have to make Sylus like you, he has to accept the deal…it will be your fault if he doesn’t. Seduce him…seduce him…seduce him!

Sylus blinked and you snapped yourself out of it, wondering what the hell had just happened. You were breathing heavily and had stopped dancing.

“Very well. Then how about you show me upstairs…kitten?”

Phew. You nodded—perhaps a bit too enthusiastically than intended—and climbed off of him to lead the way. You made a point to sway your hips as you walked in front of him. Anything to rile him up. It was, after all, in your best interest to do so.

Sylus was the one who locked the door once you’d shown him to your bedroom and scanned his surroundings as if to check for any imminent dangers. That was probably normal for him. In the meantime, you hooked your index finger under the hem of your knickers to pull them off. No time to waste. Let’s get this over with. He looks good, remember? It won’t be as bad as it was with the others.

“Don’t. Keep them on. And get dressed. It’s cold in here,” he said all of a sudden.

“Oh. Hmm, yeah… Yuze doesn’t like wasting too much money on heating. Sorry about that. I’ll make sure you get warm in no time. Don’t worry about me, I’m used to it.” Although you were curious as to why he even cared…

Sylus’ eyebrows furrowed—once again as if he was displeased by your answer. He moved over to the lush armchair next to your wardrobe, sat down and manspread as if he owned the place. Knowing him, he probably soon would.

You bit your lower lip as you approached him, heat flushing your veins while you pictured him as your new boss. You wouldn’t mind giving him freebies every now and then… God, what was wrong with you?

Sylus snatched your wrists before you could place your palms on his chest as you straddled him yet again. “Is he treating you well? You and the other girls?”

“W-what?”

“Yuze. How much does he pay you for your…services?”

“Uh…a-are…are you interrogating me? I…I don’t think I should be talking about these things, I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Sylus’ expression remained unreadable. His grip around your wrists tightened. “How much?”

Fuck. “T-this room. Warm meals,” you choked out.

“He’s not paying you?”

You shook your head. “He’s paying none of the girls. Yuze took me in when I was on the brink of death. A Wanderer was about to tear my head off…that was about three years ago.”

His nostrils flared. “He wanted you to make me docile, didn’t he? To seduce me so I will agree to his pathetic whims?”

“I…I didn’t have a say in the matter,” you admitted. “But…yes. That was his plan. I’m…I’m sorry.”

Sylus chuckled. “It almost worked. Two of my people, Luke and Kieran, are raiding the place as we speak.” As if on cue, commotion grew louder downstairs. People were screaming and shouting, gunshots were fired. You gasped for air.

“What…what is happening?”

“Don’t worry. The girls will be safe. I had little reason to agree to a deal with Yuze. Hardly anyone is to be trusted in the N109 zone but there was something slimy about him in particular. You changed my mind about this place, kitten. You are all the proof that I needed to take him down. Thank you.”

“But…but I thought you…”

“What?” He smirked. “That I am a merciless and evil criminal who couldn’t care less about what happens to Yuze’s ‘employees’ once I have my cut? You wound me, sweetie.”

“I…I didn’t know. Everyone’s afraid of you here. You’re…you’re a legend.”

His smirk grew a little wider. “Yeah. I am quite the legend, aren’t I?” he teased.

You swallowed thickly.

“Now put on some clothes and don’t come downstairs until I say so. This shouldn’t take long.”

Sylus never asked to sleep with you before he left. You could only imagine the horrors he’d inflicted on Yuze and his friends and allies. Dead bodies, blood…and some of his men had simply…disappeared.

Half an hour had felt like half an eternity before you were allowed back downstairs, clad in one of the few pullovers you owned. Either Luke or Kieran—you couldn’t keep them apart—shoved a hot mug of cocoa into your hands and led you to the other girls sitting in the corner, all of them as shaken and terrified as you.

Next thing you knew, Sylus appeared from behind the counter of the bar wiping his hands clean with a kitchen towel, staining it red. Fuck…

“Things are going to change around here. This establishment is now mine. I will have someone new installed as manager. Anyone who doesn’t wish to continue working as a prostitute is free to leave or will be offered either a different position along with a salary bonus equal to the years you have worked here.”

Your eyes widened. Excitement rippled through the small crowd, along with incredulous whispers. But…what did that mean for you? With all the money Sylus offered, you could start a new life somewhere else. You could…leave the N109 zone. But then what?

One by one, the girls got up and stepped forward. Most of them wanted to leave. Two asked to work here as waiters instead, one wanted to work in the kitchen and learn how to bake the desserts served in the brothel.

Eventually, there was no one left but you. Sylus’ crimson eyes locked with yours. “What about you, kitten?”

You took a deep breath. “I…I’m going to stay. I have nowhere else to go. Plus, I don’t have any talents to be working as anything else anyway.” You hated talking about yourself like that. But all those years living under Yuze’s roof had ruined your confidence. It was a fact you didn’t have any qualifications. Even waiters were doing incredible work and the other two girls had gained experience with that before they came here. You’d probably drop all your drinks on the first night and end up with an expensive cleaning bill for a customer’s shirt.

“Are you sure, kitten? What if I told you that I know that that’s not what you truly desire?” He paused. “How about you come and work for me instead?”

He stepped closer, leaned down, and ruffled your hair a bit. You blinked.

“F-For you? I…of course. I’d…rather have just one client instead of—”

“No. That is not what I meant,” he interrupted. “You say there is nothing else you know how to do but I think that’s not true. We’ll just have to find your talents, sweetie. I will hire you as a maid. You can help clean around the house and be of assistance when I need you. How does that sound?”

You should be relieved. Happy. Grateful. And you were, in a way. So why was the first thought coursing through your mind… Am I really that undesirable that he doesn’t want to sleep with me?

“I…y-yes.” You nodded. “Thank you.”

A new start. A new life. With…with the leader of Onychinus himself. God, that all sounded like a dream. Not like a nightmare…but a dream. If Sylus was truly as kind as he was today…then there was nothing to be worried about…right?

Sylus’ car was impressive. Buttery leather seats, enough space to do a workout inside, and…it was so damn clean. The drive back to his home did not take long. Perhaps that was also because of how vehemently he ignored the speed limits.

His house was…massive. Scratch that, it was a mansion. No wonder he wanted help with cleaning it. You were Luke’s and Kieran’s responsibility for now, and let them lead you to your new room. Sylus had insisted you were equipped with a new wardrobe and promised to send someone to buy you piles of clothes as soon as possible.

Your new room was practically a suite. Vast, neatly decorated, expensive. You liked his taste. It was dark, mysterious. And yet…too much had happened for you to fall asleep. You tossed and turned in your new king-size bed underneath silken sheets until you couldn’t take it anymore and threw back the covers to find Sylus.

Luckily, Luke and Kieran were still awake too.

“C-Can you tell me where Sylus is?”

“In his office. Third door on the right,” Luke said.

“He doesn’t like being disturbed so be extra nice,” Kieran added.

You almost chuckled. “I will.”

Following their instructions, you soon found yourself knocking on his door.

“Come in.”

Sylus looked up from his desk when you entered, a hint of surprise washing over his chiselled face. “Is everything alright, kitten?”

“Yeah, I just…I can’t sleep. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

He put down his pen and stood, walking around his massive mahogany desk before leaning against the edge.

“Earlier tonight…something strange happened,” you began.

Sylus raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“When…when you were looking at me…it…it seemed like one of your eyes just started…to glow. And…and when it did I suddenly heard a voice. My voice. It was like it was whispering to me. Whispering...what I would have never dared say out loud. You…you heard it too, didn’t you? That’s why you said you knew that staying in that brothel wasn’t what I really wanted. How…how did you do that?”

“That, kitten, is complicated. It has something to do with the Aethercore I carry inside of me.”

“You…carry an Aethercore inside of you?”

Sylus nodded. “But that is a story for another time. Was there anything else? It’s getting late. You should go back to bed.”

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” you ask, nodding at his desk. The table lamp was switched on, illuminating the pile of paperwork waiting to be sorted through.

“I don’t sleep during the night.”

You frowned. “I see…”

Sylus tilted his head. It was almost irksome how well he could read you. He knew exactly that there was something else on your mind.

“I also… I just… I wanted to say thank you. I was terrified when I learned you’d be visiting and that I was supposed to…well.” You took a step closer to him. Both determination and arousal rippled through you when his scent hit you. Metal, some expensive perfume, and…something else you could not place.

You hooked your fingers into his belt. “L-Let me thank you properly.”

“Properly?” He crossed his arms before his chest, his red eyes darting down to your busy fingers.

“Yes. I mean, if…if you even find me attractive,” you murmured. “I…I want to make you feel good. I wasn’t lying about that when…you know. And this…this is the only thing I can offer in return. P-please…”

You tugged at the hem of his trousers. Sylus sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Are you sure you can handle that, kitten?”

Your pussy clenched at his nickname for you. Shit, what was going on with you? You’d never been attracted to any of your clients! But…but then again, Sylus wasn’t just a regular client anymore, now was he? He’d somehow saved your life. Saved it from the horror it had become all because you hadn’t wanted to be torn apart alive by a group of Wanderers. For the first time since you had unwillingly become a prostitute…you wanted to pleasure someone. You wanted to pleasure him. There was no denying that you were attracted to him and that felt…strange. You could hardly believe that after all the disgust you were still capable of such attraction. But here you were now.

“Is this truly what you want?”

You nodded. “Let me do this for you.”

He uncrossed his arms by way of letting you undo the buttons of his trousers. He sucked in a deep breath when you knelt down before him to pull them down along with his underwear.

Your jaw almost dropped. He was…bigger than the men you’d been with. Not crazy porn star big, of course…but his length was impressive even in its semi-hard state.

“What…on Earth…made you think I do not find you attractive, kitten?”

“I…I just…you seemed almost disgusted while I was dancing. So I figured…”

“You should not define your worth over whether a man thinks you’re beautiful or not. You…” He paused and hissed when you brushed your fingertips over his velvety shaft, making him twitch.

“For so long that was all I had. Making customers want me ensured that I had something to eat and a roof over my head…” you trailed off and leaned forward, closing your lips around his tip.

Sylus suppressed a moan. You took him deeper into your mouth, covering what you couldn’t with your throat with your hand. You sucked him gently, enjoying him like a popsicle. He tasted so clean and the saltiness of his precum against the roof of your mouth made you wetter than you would have expected. Shit…was that normal?

You felt Sylus grow harder and larger in your mouth. Bopping your head back and forth, you began to pleasure him as if your life depended on it. Fuck…never before had you enjoyed yourself while doing this. When he reached out and grabbed a fistful of your hair, you did not feel fear of being choked…you felt excitement.

You could tell he was holding back, trying to restrain himself. And somehow…somehow that was so fucking hot you became a little too eager. Taking him in even deeper, you gagged.

Sylus pulled you away immediately. “Easy, kitten. Breathe. Do you wanna keep going?”

A frantic nod was all you managed. A barely visible thread of saliva still connected your lips to his cock.

“Fuck…I…shouldn’t be…allowing this…” He was panting, his crimson eyes glued on you as you licked over his length, savouring the taste. You tapped the tip of his dick against your stretched-out tongue a few times before closing your mouth around him yet again, determined to finish him off and make him feel good as you���d promised.

“Kitten…” It was a warning. One to pull away now if you didn’t want to swallow. God, you weren’t even thinking about it. You wanted to taste him.

Locking your eyes with him, you pressed one of your hands against his thigh, with the other you cupped his balls to massage him to push him over the edge.

Sylus let out a carnal groan and threw his head back, his cock pulsing and twitching against the roof of your mouth. He rocked his hips forward to thrust, his warm seed shooting down your throat. You moaned, swallowing every last drop hungrily as if your life depended on it.

Once he was spent and breathing heavily, his steel grip in your hair loosening, you released him with a soft plopping noise and smiled up at him. You knew how to read men during those moments, even Sylus. His red eyes were full of desire and lust for more, and his cheeks were flushed.

“Did…you like that?” you asked—quite redundantly so.

Sylus huffed a laugh. “I am tempted to ask you to do this every night, kitten,” he purred.

“I don’t mind.”

“No. This isn’t why I had you brought here.”

“Then why? Do you really want me to be your maid?”

“I want you to figure out what you want. And…maybe I do have a soft spot for you. I don’t accept deals where I don’t come out on the winning side, remember?”

Your smile grew a little wider. “What if this is what I want?”

You got up from your knees, watching him tuck himself back in. Sylus studied you for a moment, contemplating. “Then I suggest we get you a pretty dress to wear and I take you out tomorrow night. Properly.”

Oh my god. “O-Okay.”

“Now go back to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night…Sylus.”

“Good night…kitten.”

[imtryingbuck]

Told you I’ll always come back

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: 4 years ago Y/n was Bucky’s fiancé and the team thought she betrayed them

Word count: 7,772

Warnings: angst. reader can teleport ~sorta~. reader also rolls her eyes like a trillion times. major character death. swearing. pregnancy. small mention of child birth. mention of cheating. tiny mention of sexual assault. mention of Sharon (I really need to get off the sharon-hate train) guns. gunshot wounds. sad all around

Translation: голубица - dove (if wrong please let me know)

Masterlist

When Fury rang her begging asking for her to come back for one final mission, she agreed with a condition, she’d bring her old team with her. Fury accepted.

That had been two weeks ago.

Landing back in New York brought back many memories, some good - some bad and some she wish she couldn’t remember.

“Hi can you take me to Avengers Tower please?” Getting into the cab she tried desperately to calm down her nerves.

The sky was a visual of her emotions.

Dull.

Standing outside the huge impressive building she felt like she was going to be sick. It’s been four years since she was last here.

“Hi I have an appointment with Director Fury at 12” 

“That’s fine, take a seat and I’ll let him know you’ve arrived”

“Thank you” She didn’t listen to Haley the receptionist, choosing to stand instead.

Fury came down not three minutes later with a small smile on his face. “I’ve missed you - no touching I know”

“Let’s get this over with Nick. Sooner the better”

The man knew not to try and annoy her anymore so he lead her to the elevators, going up.

Her stomach squeezed tight at the sight of her former team huddled on one side of the table, with their back to her.

“Take a seat” Fury whispered in her ear.

The moment that they saw her they were already shouting out their protests, she ignored them and listened to Fury by taking a seat to sit in.

“Calm down everyone. Now!” Fury slams his hand on the table causing everyone to fall silent. “Now, Y/n has agreed to help us with a missi-“

“We won’t work with her Fury.” Steve interrupts.

“You have no other option. No one else will or can help other then Y/n”

“We’ll just do it ourselves” Tony shrugs.

“No. This is happening, if none of you can play nice then you’ll be sacked.”

“You can’t sack us” Steve says with a scoff.

“I can and I will. Now Y/n I sent you over the details of what we’re up against, did you read it?”

“Yes”

“Your team, have you briefed them on everything?”

“Yes Fury, and yes they’re happy to help”. She rolls her eyes at Tony who mocks what she had just said.

“You said in the email that you’ve already paired people up from both teams, do you want to share it?” Like her Fury completely ignores Tony’s childish behaviour.

Sliding over a piece of paper towards her former boss and friend she continues to talk “When you see them in training and you don’t agree with my decision feel free to change it-”

“Oh we will do sweetheart”

Once again ignoring Tony “You said that my team will be allowed to stay here, in the tower?”

“Yeah Peppers done your rooms up herself, you should be grateful”

Turning her head towards the man she saw as a father figure not that long ago “When I see her I’ll give her my thanks.” Sighing she addressed the rest “You have a problem with me, so you will take it out on me. Not my team, but me. Do not think for one second that just because of our history together you can treat my guys like shit. They’re good, hardworking fighters. Fury we have two weeks to train for this mission and if I find out my team isn’t being respected or treated fairly I will not hesitate to pull them and myself out, is that understood?”

Fury’s eyebrow raise as he nods “I completely understand Y/n, welcome home”.

“My team will be here tomorrow at 12, I’ll see you then”.

“Don’t you want to know what room you’re going to be in?” Fury asked.

“No, I’m not staying here.”

“Where?”

“Not here. See you tomorrow Fury”.

Making a beeline for the elevator she takes her leave, it’s once she’s outside of the building she gasps for air.

After her shower and nighttime routine she climbs into bed, her head was throbbing but all she was hoping for was a good night sleep.

It didn’t happen.

“Tony splash me with water one more time you’ll regret it!” She laughs.

“What are you going to do huh?”

“I’ll-I’ll smash up all your vinyl albums”

“Okay okay I’ll stop”

•••

“Steve wait up I’ve only got little legs”

“Sorry.”

“Can’t you just carry me?”

“Nope, come on we’re nearly there.”

•••

“Y/n will you marry me?”

“Yes, Bucky I’ll marry you”

•••

“Natty get your bum out of bed”

“Don’t want too”

“Okay, I’ll come and cuddle with you”

“Yess!”

•••

“Y/n it’s an emergency come quick”

“Sam what’s happening?”

“Come!”

She walked in on Tony fast asleep on Bucky’s shoulder.

•••

“Wand I love you, I’m gonna marry you instead of Bucky”

“Y/n/n your drunk”

“I know”

“Why you sad for?”

“I don’t know”

•••

“Bruce turn into Hulk so I can beat him up”

“Why do you want to beat him up?”

“Because… leave me alone”

•••

“Thor guess what?”

“What?”

“Your so beautiful and I hope you so much happiness”

“La-Lady Y/n,give me a hug”

•••

Opening the door, her heart broke at the sight of-

Gasping for breath, she sat up in bed. It’s been almost two years since she last had a dream turned nightmare about her former team.

The red numbers on the clock stated it was 4:33 in the morning, laying back down she grabbed the remote and turned on the telly, there was no way she was getting any more sleep now.

Getting to the Tower a little bit earlier, she sat in her car waiting for her team to arrive. An hour later a text message popped up from her colleague and confidant stating they had arrived she got out of her car.

Greeting them all and introducing them to Fury who said to her.

“You could of come inside you know”

“I didn’t want to” Leaving him to sigh in response.

Introductions between both teams were done and it was straight onto business.

“So what powers do you lot have then?” Tony asks.

“None. We’re all human, Marley’s a witch though” Douglas your closest friend replied.

“Oh. So why are you here if you don’t have abilities?”

“We follow Y/n wherever she goes”

“Why? She’s a tra-“

“Tony enough” Fury interrupted. “Now on to business, the organisation going by The Lords have been on our radar for quite some time now, recently they’ve been getting more cocky” Fury turns around to face the screen, image after image of buildings up in flames, innocent people covered in blood, dead bodies littering the streets were shown to them. 

“We need to have them stopped. In just over two weeks they’ve planned to attack a government base, but we’re going to be taking the fight to them.”

“How?” Colleen - the woman who saved Y/n’s life ten years ago - asks.

“We’ve got their location-“

“Why don’t you just get them” Douglas nods his head to the team on the other side of the table “just to drop a bomb on the bad guys?”

“We need them alive so we can question them”

“Okay… but why all this man power?” Marco says.

“What is it with you lot always asking questions” Nat says with an eye roll.

Y/n sighed, looked at Fury “Marco has a point but I already know the answer, so I’ll be the one that fills him in. We should probably start the training, everyone knows what this missio-sorry I need to take this”. Getting up she answers her phone “Hi baby-“

Bucky hasn’t been able to take his eyes off of her from the moment she sat down. Her hair is so much shorter than it used to be, it suits her. A long jagged scar went across her cheek was new, he wondered how it happened. Seeing her sit there hands placed in her lap, her shoulders tensed up and a blank expression on her face makes him conflicted on his emotions towards the woman he was planning on spending the rest of his life with.

His heart tinged with sadness when he saw the small incrusted diamond ring with two small love hearts sitting on her finger, the finger his ring for her use to take up residence.

He wishes he could take her hand in his so he could rub his thumb over her knuckles, just like he use to whenever she was in that position as he knew it meant she was uncomfortable.

But he knew she didn’t have the right to his affection anymore not after she betr-

His thoughts are cut off as she stands, bringing her phone to her ear, greeting the person on the other end of the line with “Hi baby”.

A scowl made its way onto his face. Not that he had any right to do so.

“How are you? And don’t say you’re okay because I know better love” Douglas’s rough Scottish accent comes from next to her.

“I’m… I’ll be fine Doug, the sooner we’re done with this the sooner everything will be okay”

“Yo-you don’t have to do this, me and the team will tak-“

“Don’t. Everything will be fine after I’ve done this Dougie, you and the guys will be fine.”

They sit in silence. Doug didn’t like the plan she was going through with but he’s known her for years and knows she isn’t going to change her mind.

After training with the Avengers Y/n left, despite Fury telling her to stay and have dinner with them. Douglas left straight after the awkwardness of dinner was done, and being the only person who knew where she was staying, he headed straight there.

She brought this house for her and Bucky to live in after they retired, which they both agreed would be just before they married.

The home was beautiful, four bedrooms with two bathrooms, a large living room, kitchen with a pantry off the side of it, dinning room, an office that she had already planned to turn into a man cave for him. Two car garage, backyard was huge with a beautiful willow tree - as soon as she saw it she knew she had to have the house.

Bucky never knew about the house, she wanted to surprise him. It never happened obviously, and with a heavy heart she rented the house out.

The previous renters contract was up a month before she got the phone call from Fury, and there was no way she was going to stay in the tower. So she went to the place she wanted to call home.

“Have you spoke to them?” Doug asked breaking the silence.

“Yeah, driving Fran up the wall”. She laughs causing him to join in.

“She loves them though” He chuckles.

Nodding with a soft smile, “You should get back it’s getting late, I’ll see you tomorrow”

“You’re right” Standing up he pulls her into a hug, kissing her forehead he whispers “Don’t push me away love, not now”

That night she had the same dream as the night before, waking up at the exact same time again.

A week had been and gone, training was going good for both teams; apart for her. None of the Avengers held back, her body throbbed and ached after each session.

Today was the only day where Fury had to step in, seeing Y/n struggle against Wanda’s powers, he had to stop it.

Wanda had Y/n pinned against the wall and slowly dragging her up it, the whole room went quiet. The Avengers moved closer to the redhead whilst Y/n’s team moved closer to her.

“Mar-Marley don’t!” Y/n managed to rasp out to her friend. 

Marley though small was deadly, her powers being similar to that of Wanda’s “She’s crushing your chest!” She shot back.

“I-it’s ok-okay”

“Wanda put her down!” Fury demanded.

“No. She’s a traitor, she betrayed all of us”

“Wanda!” Fury started to get nervous for the woman being pinned to the wall.

When Wanda’s eyes shot towards Marley, Y/n grew scared. She didn’t want either one of them hurting each other. “Marl-Marley stop! T-that’s an or-order!”

“She’s hurting you. And she’s lying!”

“No she isn’t. She’s a traitor” Tony shouted.

“Admit it and I’ll let you go голубица” Wanda smiles.

Even with the pain of her chest being crushed it didn’t hurt nearly as much as the pet name slipping from her former best friends lips.

“Admit. It. Y/n.” Everyone aside from Wanda flinched at the sound of Y/n’s ribs breaking.

Y/n bit the inside of her cheek, hard enough to draw blood. She wasn’t going to give Wanda the satisfaction of seeing or hearing the pain she was going through. She held Wanda gaze, both women refusing to backdown.

“D-Doug…ge-get Marley out of h-here”.

She sees in the corner of her eye Douglas struggling to pull Marley with him. “If the little girl wants to play, let’s do it” Wanda says breaking eye contact with Y/n to look towards Marley.

“No! N-no don’t!”

“Admit it then Y/n, admit to your team that you’re nothing but a liar and a traitor” Wanda screams.

“It wasn’t her!” Fury shouted, taking in a shuddering breath afterwards.

“What?” Steve’s eyes bounce from Y/n to Fury.

“She wasn’t the one who betrayed us.”

“Liar!” Wanda screams again just as she brings Y/n’s body away from the wall, throwing her back into it.

“I’m not lying Maximoff! Now let her go!” Fury shouted.

“Sh-she betrayed u-us!” Y/n’s heart broke at the sight of the tears filling up in Wanda’s eyes.

“She didn’t lass.” Douglas says as he still struggles to gain somewhat of control over Marley. 

The hold on Y/n was released as she drops to the floor gasping for air. Her team run straight over to her as well as Fury who looks over at the other team with disappointment in his eyes.

“I-I’m okay” Y/n mumbles before succumbing to the darkness. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dr Cho asks when she sees Y/n trying to get out of the bed.

“I need to le-leave”

“You’ve just had your breast bone fractured and several ribs broken Y/n. You need to rest”

“I’m leavi-“

“No you’re not love, you need to stay” Douglas speaks from the doorway.

“I-I need to speak to them, it’s six”

“You need rest soldier, come on I’ll even stay with you, it’ll be like old times ay?” He smiled softly at the woman he respected more than anyone.

“Bu-“

“No buts my sweet girl, back in bed now” He gives Helen a nod before climbing into the bed with Y/n. “Get some rest love, I’ve got you”.

The next day Y/n wakes up in an empty hospital bed. Removing the wires from her, she stands up and carefully puts her clothes back on.

She crept out of the room and down the corridor, knowing exactly where she needed to go.

Hearing the raised voices coming from the briefing room, she took in a deep breath before slowly exhaling.

“-your concern Scottie”

“It is when the witch tries to kill my friend”.

“Friend” Bucky scoffs.

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“I see the way you look at her”

“Don’t be stu-“

“Doug stop.” Y/n says as she walks in.

“What are you doing here? Your meant to be resting”

“I’m fine”.

Marco pulls out a chair for her, gesturing for her to sit smiling at the woman who saved his life time after time.

“I’m going to say what I have to say then I’m leaving, don’t worry Nick my team will still help”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be there, can’t exactly back out of a deal now can I?” Fury’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion and Bucky noticed Douglas tensing at her words.

Sighing deeply, she closes her eyes “Sit or stand I don’t care but here’s the truth- I was the one that did betray you. I’m not sorry either”

“Y/n stop lying!” Fury says.

“…fine. It was Sharon.”

“That’s a lie!” Steve shouts.

“No it’s not. You see Steve, she was fucking you but she wanted your best friend. She wanted me out of the way, I didn’t even know that you lot were branding me as a traitor until Hydra found me several months later. Oh and I also killed Sharon”.

The Avengers sit there searching their memories from four years ago, and sure enough everything they were told was by Sharon.

“Wait what do you mean you killed her?” Steve asks.

“I put a round of bullets into her head, she was there with Hydra when they came knocking” She shrugged.

“But th-then that means you didn’t betray us?” Tony wheezes out.

“I’m many things but I’m loyal to a fault”

“I’m so-“

“Don’t. I don’t want to hear any apologies. Not from any of you. Fury I’m gonna go now, I’ll see you on the day of the mission.”

Leaving the room before anyone can say anything she heads back to the house.

*Four years ago.*

The nausea was driving her insane, she was on her way back from a mission with a handful of SHIELD agents who could hear her gagging in the back of the quinjet. Nothing was happening for her though.

“Talk to Cho and see if it’s something you ate or something” Lucas said to her as she came and sat down.

“Yeah I might”

And she did just that, getting off the jet she headed straight to medical bay. Telling Helen all her symptoms the nurse tells her to undo her suit and lay on the bed.

“What the hell is that noise?”

Chuckling “That’s a heartbeat, wait no there’s two. Look-“

“What? How?…What?” She always wanted to be a mum but Bucky thought he couldn’t have children because of what Hydra did to him.

“Two strong hearts, you’re having twins Y/n congratulations darling” Helen beams.

It’s only as she was zipping her suit back up she noticed the small prodding bump. Smiling she walks through the corridors subtly touching her stomach as she goes, reaching the common room she sees her friends - her family.

“Hey, where’s Bucky?” She’s asks.

“He’s in your twos room” Steve says with a smile.

“Okay thanks” Reaching the door to hers and Bucky’s room she didn’t realise that the team had followed her, with a smirk on their faces.

Opening the door, her heart broke at the sight of Bucky’s bottom half covered by the quilt moving back and forth and Natasha underneath him with her arms around his neck.

Natasha was the first one to see her, with a smirk playing on her lips she taps Bucky’s shoulder making him look at the doorway. His face completely void of showing any resemblance of emotion.

The team honestly expected Y/n to say anything, something, but not a single word comes from her mouth.

Instead she vanishes into thin air. The only sound for them to hear was her engagement ring clinking off the floor.

*Seven months after.*

Y/n did the most cliche of things, by moving to the middle of nowhere. She had a three bed cottage with acres of land.

It became her sanctuary. The one place she felt at peace, at home.

Most nights she didn’t sleep and if she did she was plagued by the images of Bucky in bed with Natasha. Tossing and turning throughout the night with silent tears streaming down her cheeks, the only thing that she had left in this world was her unborn babies and Roxy the fox that would come to see her every night.

At 8 months pregnant with the twins she was huge. She didn’t know what she was having, nor did she have a scan, which did sadden her. Luckily for her though the pregnancy was going smoothly. 

It was turning ten o’clock at night on a Thursday, she knew something was wrong when Roxy hadn’t showed up. The hairs on her arms stood to attention, Y/n could feel the air changing - becoming toxic.

“Little pig little pig I know you’re in there” A loud rough voice came from outside.

“Whatever you’re selling I’m not buying” She shouted back.

“Not selling anything sweetheart, you’ve got something that belongs to us.” The voice says again causing her to roll her eyes.

Creeping as much as she possibly could with an 8 month pregnancy bump towards the window leaving her to mutter out a quiet ‘fuck’ as she sees the two dozen men outside, armed and ready for a fight. Rolling her eyes once again at the symbol embroidered on their chest of the suits they wore.

Hydra.

She hated that she just couldn’t snap into thin air, more than ever right now. She had tried it a few times - like the time she ventured out in public to go to the store, and she was standing there in the middle of isle three when she had an accident. The most humiliating thing she ever endured. Trying so hard to disappear even as she tried to helped the young woman who worked there clean up her mess.

Even after she left the store without her things she walked as fast as she could to the beat up jeep she had, trying desperately to get it to work, nothing happened.

For weeks after that event she kept trying but always failed. It had only happened once and that was many years ago now, it was when she was shot in the leg. Her emotions were all over the place, she was only fourteen. It hit her that it was because of the twins she couldn-

“Come on Y/n you’ve got no where to run, you’ve got no one to help you, just co-come out”. A new, familiar voice was now heard.

Y/n squinted her eyes thinking of a way to not only protect her babies but the woman who had been her friend for years, the woman who she thought and believed had been abducted by Hydra and was being used to get her.

“Sharon? What are you doing here? Long time no see huh”

“Y/n they promised that they won’t hurt us, just come out”.

‘Think. Think. Oi don’t kick me right now. Come on and think’ repeating softly to herself as she looked around the room. Of course her home was littered with all sorts of weapons and ammunition but she didn’t want to be the first one to shoot just incase Sharon got caught in the crossfire.

“You’ve got five seconds to come out willingly before we start shooting. We don’t need you alive little pig just need that special little thing you stole from Hyd-“

Sharon’s safety wasn’t a priority anymore, not now that Hydra thinks her babies belonged to them. He gets cut off with a bullet in between his eyes.

“Let’s go boys” She shouts as bullets zoomed through the air one straight after the other.

Bullets tore their way all throughout her home, destroying everything she had built for herself and her babies. Holes littering one side of the home.

“No no no not that vas- goddamnit!” She mutters as her favourite vase smashes into tiny little pieces. “Now it’s personal”.

One by one the sound of heavy gunfire became more quieter, until there was only two guns firing.

She grimaces as a bullet skimmed her cheek, she readied herself to shoot again when a bullet was fired.

“Y-Y/n are you hit?” Sharon shouts.

“No, it took you long enough to help out Shaz”

“I’m coming in okay”

Y/n moved away from her position, moving towards the fireplace mantle to pick up a photo of her parents that had been hit when the door came open.

“How did they get you? Are you hurt?” Y/n says with her back to Sharon. “I’ve missed yo-“.

A gun clicking from behind her stopped her words from coming out. Sighing with an eye roll she continues her task of trying to get the glass out of the picture frame. “What are you doing Sharon?”

“What’s so important about you? Why does everyone always want you huh?”

“Hell if I know, nothing special about little ol’ me it’s quite annoying really”.

“What was Simon talking about?” Sharon questions.

“Who the hell is Simon?”

“The leader, the first one you killed”

“Oh him, I’m not sure. Didn’t he tell you when he abducted you?” Y/n could see a glimpse of her friend through the broken glass, gun ever so slightly shaking as her arm starts to tremble.

“They didn’t abduct me, I’ve been working with Hydra for over a three years now.”

It took her by surprise hearing that “Fair enough” is all she says.

“Yep, I told the Avengers that you turned rat and was betraying them and they all believed it”

“Silly twats, aren’t they?” Y/n chuckles.

“Turn around. Slowly and put your hands in the air” Sharon demanded.

“And wave them around like you just don’t care” Y/n sings, as she slowly turned around and raised her hands.

Sharon audibly gasped and stumbled backwards “Yo-you’re pregnant…”

“No shit Sherlock”

“Whose is it?”

“Bucky’s but don’t tell him it’s a secret” She winks.

“You bitch!” The blonde screams “you’ve taken my life!” She starts to pace back and forth, eyes bouncing from the gun to Y/n’s stomach.

“Not yet I haven’t…” Y/n whispers.

“I love him you know! But no he wanted you, you had him and I had to settle for Steve. And now, now you’re having the love of my life’s baby!”

Despite the situation she was in Y/n couldn’t stop the sharp tang in her heart at the sight of the tears gathering in her friends eyes. But just to be a bitch she corrected the blonde “Babies, plural”

“Y-you’re having twins?”

“Yep”

Her throat tightened as she sees Sharon’s finger squeezing on the trigger, both sets of eyes shot straight to the gun as it jams.

It all happened so fast, Y/n grabbed the gun and using the handle to smack Sharon in the face, causing the woman to fall on the floor screaming in pain. Y/n walked past her to leave her home when Sharon’s hand wrapped itself around her ankle and pulled her to the ground. Sharon was up first out of the pair and was straddling Y/n back, gripping her hair in a tight vice she raised Y/n’s head before smacking it down. Again and again and again.

Sharon finally gets up kicking Y/n’s side in the process. “I’m going to do the thing I should of done years ago, you ruined my life-“

The blonde gets cut off when Y/n kicks her legs out from underneath her, causing her to fall back down.

“You’re fucking crazy you know that Sharon, Jesus”. Ever so slowly she manages to get up, her hands going to her belly “All this for a man? You’ve really lost your bloody marbles Shaz!”

“It’s Bucky! I love him” Sharon screams.

“Yeah well so did I until I caught him fucking my best friend!” She screamed back.

The pain and confusion flashed over Sharon’s face “No, your lying”

“I’m not. God I wish I was, but nope caught him fucking Natasha”

“He wouldn’t do that to me!”

“You? He was engaged to me, you absolute weirdo. Sharon just stop alright, it’s over I’m done. You want him so badly have at him! I don’t, I don’t want to fight you anymore, so please get up off my floor, stop crying and leave.”

She watches as Sharon picks herself off the ground, who then stops as they both hear that one sound Y/n had been dreading.

Her waters splashing onto the floor.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me” She whispers to herself as she looks down at the sight.

With Y/n distracted she didn’t see Sharon standing fully or her running towards her.

The punch to her stomach caused her to stumble backwards, the punch to her cheek that had been sliced open by the bullet from earlier caused her to flinch. The pain in her abdomen intensified as she sees Sharon bending down to grab the gun.

“Told you I was going to end th-“ Sharon says just before she’s cut off with a bullet in between her eyes.

Whether it was because of the pain to her aching body or at the fact she was just made to kill someone she thought was a good friend, her finger wouldn’t stop pulling on the trigger.

Even after the gun kept clicking.

“Stupid bitch you could have just left but no you had to be a cunt” Y/n shouts at the dead body laying in her living room.

Dropping the gun, her hand went in between her thighs, bringing her hand back up her heart dropped at the sight of blood.

Slowly walking to find her phone she dialled the number of the one person she trusted more than anyone in this world.

“Hi love, we’ll b-“

“Doug I-I need you. Babies are comi-“ She cuts herself off when a scream tears its way out.

“We’re on our way!”

“H-hurry.” She says just as she drops the phone as she slides down to the floor.

Doug and Fran arrived as fast as they humanly could. Both of their hearts dropped to the pit of their stomachs when they saw all the bodies lying in her front yard.

Running inside they see the body of a blonde and Y/n, legs open as she births her baby.

“Love we’re here, Doug get towels quickly” Fran’s frantic yet soft voice says.

“I-it’s the second one” and that’s when the ringing of adrenaline fades and was replaced by a cry, when they look to the side they see the tiny body of baby number one.

Neither Fran or Doug moved as they watched their friend deliver her second baby. Neither one of them could wrap their heads around the strength Y/n showed time and time again.

It shouldn’t have surprised them really.

“T-this one’s a girl, what about the other one” Y/n asked, voiced laced with tiredness.

“A boy, he’s a beautiful baby boy” Fran smiles as she picks the still crying baby up, handing him over to his momma.

“Logan-Douglas and Harlow-Francesca” Y/n’s eyes move from her babies to the couple in front of her.

“R-really love? You want to name them after us?” Doug asks with tears in his eyes.

“Of course, you’re their godparents after all”

*two months before Fury rings her*

Y/n makes her way through the busy streets with her head down. She can’t stop the eye roll when she notices the two agents following her.

Slowing her pace she waited for the inevitable to happen.

As the agents got behind her a black van comes skidding past, the sliding door comes open, a sack is placed over her head and she’s pushed in.

“Do you guys want me to act scared or what?”

“Shut up”.

“Feisty”

After a while the van comes to a stop and she’s all but dragged out of it.

When the sack was removed her eyes dart around, rolling her eyes for the hundredth time, she’s in an abandoned warehouse.

“Ah Ross, so good to see you. You know if you wanted to see me so badly you could have just called” She smiles at the man.

“Wanted to surprise you Y/n”

“Oh yeah no I noticed, I was so surprised I didn’t see it coming…notice the sarcasm?”. Her head tilts to the side at the sound of footsteps “Hi Fury”

The man gives her a curt nod “Y/n”

“Wanna tell me why I’m here?”

“We have proof that you weren’t the rat, you can come back to SHIE-“

“Absolutely not. I’m fine in doing what I’m doing now thanks, can I go?”

“Y/n you’re a mercenary-“

“It pays the bills” She shrugs.

Fury shakes his head at Ross when he tries to continue, “You didn’t seem so surprised when he mentioned a rat, why?”

“Bit slow aren’t you? Let me guess the one that betrayed you was…Sharon? Yep I knew, um three years ago? Yeah something like that”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Didn’t think you lot deserved the truth so, can I now go?”

“We need to tell the Aveng-“ 

“No. Don’t, look let’s just keep everyone thinking I turned rat okay? It’s the best for everyone.”

Both men look to each other before slowly nodding. “It’s so great to see you Y/n” Fury says as he tries to pull her into a hug.

Stepping back she puts her hands up “I don’t like being touched nowadays, so no touching but it’s great to see you too Nicky”

“I told you not to call me that. See you” He chuckles and making his exit.

“We need to talk Y/n” Ross sighs once the pair are alone.

“About?”

“Your old team” 

Her heart stops.

“W-what about them?” She knows exactly what it’s about.

Rubbing his hand over his face, he looks at her with sympathetic eyes. “The officials want you all to pay for what happened that night”.

“We was set up Ross! Right from the get go, it was all a fucking set up!”

“I know, Y/n I know. I tried telling them but they won’t listen to me” He speaks earnestly.

“Why aren’t they going after John?”

John Cooper, a name she hasn’t heard or spoke of or thought of for over ten years now. He was Y/n’s handler for a year, he made her go out and find people who was at the top of their game. She didn’t know why but she did as she was told to do, finding the best of the best.

Douglas - best snipper in the army. Helped that he could fight like a beast.

Marco - best hacker she had ever seen, fighter, built like a brick wall (secretly a cuddle bear).

Colleen - she saved Y/n’s life when she had been cornered in a dark alleyway neither her or her attacker saw the knife coming. No brainer.

Marley - a young girl at the time was an experiment Y/n stumbled on, she didn’t have the heart to leave her and when she saw what she was capable of doing, she brought her on board too.

Then there was Hank - the biggest mistake she ever made. He was ruthless and conniving, she thought it would work well in her favour until they all heard screaming and they saw him pinning a seventeen year old Marley to the wall and was trying to shove his hand into the girls trousers. Y/n didn’t hesitate to put a bullet into his skull, catching Marley as she fell.

John said they needed another person but she refused. There was no way she was going to bring another person in, not after what had happened.

Their mission was for them to break into a government base and download all the information off the computers, when they got there, there was dead bodies of workers.

Pulling back Y/n ordered them to leave, the moment they stepped back outside they were surrounded by the military, FBI and even SHIELD. 

That was the night she met both Ross and Fury.

“Y/n he’s dead, died in a Mexican prison seven years ago.”

“Oh…”

“I need you to tell me the locations of all four of them”

Chuckling softly, “that’s not going to happen Ross and you know it.”

“No I know-“

“If I give them me, confess to murdering all those people, tell them l was the only person that did it, will they leave them alone?” She asks desperately.

“But that’s not tr-“

“It doesn’t matter what’s true or not Ross. Will they yes or no?”

Closing his eyes he whispers “yes”.

“Let me make one phone call and I’ll come with you, right here right now”.

“That doesn’t need to happen. I’ll need your help soon, you help and I’ll make sure you get a fair trial”

“My old team walks. Free and clear, no one comes after them and I want it in writing Ross.”

“Deal.”

Shaking hands she walks back over to the van, hopping in “take me back from where you kidnapped me from”.

*Back to the present*

The first thing she did when she got into her car was FaceTime Fran who answered after a few rings.

“Hey”

“Hi, Doug told me what happened you’re supposed to be resting Y/n/n”.

“I’m fine,honestly. Where’s my little terrors?”

Laughing Fran calls for the twins, Y/n couldn’t stop smiling when she heard their feet’s pounding on the floor shouting for her.

“Here, talk to momma - I’ll talk to you after okay missy”.

“Of course. Hi babies”

“Momma” they replied in unison. To see them brought a smile to her lips, her heart ached with the need to hold them in her arms.

“Guess what bubbas!”

“What” Logan asked.

“Momma loves you both, so so much!”

“I wuv you mama” Harlow screams down the phone, making her and Fran laugh.

“Logie aren’t you going to tell me the same?”

“I wuv you momma so so so so so so much” His little face beams.

They were truly the perfect mixture of Y/n and Bucky. Logan had Y/n’s eyes whilst Harlow had Bucky’s, Harlow had her fathers smile and Logan had his mommas. The mannerisms of the pair were the exact same as their parents.

She spoke with them for close to an hour, them telling her all about their fun filled day. Saying goodbye to them pained her, she hated saying them words to her babies. Speaking with Fran for a bit she ended the call and went back to the house.

In dire need of sleep.

The rest of the week passed, Douglas visiting her most days and telling her that the team of superheroes wanted to see her to apologise, nothing was ever said back to him, leaving him hoping that things were different. 

It was the day of the mission, she rang Fran so she could speak to her babies one last time. She left the house and headed back to the tower.

“It’s important that everyone knows exactly what the plan is. Nothing can go wrong”. Fury speaks from the head of the table. “Anyone want to saying anything?”

“Yeah, Y/n I’m so so-“ Wanda tries to say.

“It’s fine. Let’s just get this over and done with, my guys- are you ready?”

“Yes boss” All answer.

“Well, good luck everyone”.

On the quinjet ten minutes later, awkwardness filled the air as both teams sit on opposite sides. No words are spoken other than the pilot saying they were taking off.

Exactly three hours twenty-five minutes and 13 seconds - she timed it - was how long it took for Tony to say something, to be honest she was shocked it took him that long.

“Y/n can we talk?”

“If it’s an apology I don’t want it, it mean’s absolutely nothing to me. If it’s about the mission, then yes we can talk.”

“We need to apologise Y/n/n”

The nickname coming from Sam’s lips make her flinch. “I don’t want it nor need it.”

The quinjet fell silent once again.

That was until Bucky broke it. “I never cheated on you”

Everyone noticed the flash of pain in her eyes, “what?”

“I never slept with Nat, we pretended in order to hurt you, ba-Y/n we believed that you betrayed us”

“Believed Sharon don’t you mean.”

“We-I didn-“

“Awesome.”

“What?”

“I think it’s funny that instead of asking me and oh I don’t know believing me, instead you all believed a desperate blonde who had to settle for the man who still pines after her dead aunt, it’s quite absurd to me really.”

“We didn’t know what to believe Y/n. You’re the one that killed Sharon s-“ Steve speaks and ultimately gets cut off.

“I only killed her because I had no other choice!”

“There’s always a choice” He spat back.

“You’re right. But that night I didn’t have one, I wish it wasn’t but she left me no choice!”

“Why did you do it?”

“Pilot how long do we have long left?” They all look baffled by her change of the subject.

“We’re nearly here Miss”.

“Thanks” turning to look Bucky directly in the eyes “when this is all over Doug can explain it to you, end of discussion.”

The quinjet lowers to the ground and everyone takes their leave, just as Y/n walked past Douglas she slides two things into his pocket before gripping his hand and smiling towards him, he squeezes her hand and leans over to place a kiss to her temple.

Bullets fly freely, smoke fill their lungs, grunts and screams are heard. Pushing forwards they all work as one.

They had only been there for less than an hour before the remaining members of The Lords surrender.

After all the intel was gathered, the prisoners on board, they hear the sound of another jet.

“What the hell?” Tony asks.

The Avengers watch as Y/n gives each of her team a lingering hug - who all apart from Douglas looked confused.

As she gets to Doug hugging him too, she whispers something into his ear that even the two super soldiers couldn’t hear, pulling back they stand to attention and salute one another.

She says nothing as she passes them and up the soldiers who put handcuffs on her.

“What the hell just happen-“ Bucky stumbles out but is cut off when the jet carrying the woman who he was still very much in love with inside exploded.

Marley screams and the sound breaks Douglas’s heart, he grabs the woman who he’s always seen as his daughter in his arms as well as Colleen who falls to her knees. Marco stands there with his dark brown eyes not moving away from the still falling parts of the jet.

The Avengers, they all have silent tears streaming down their cheeks, none of them know what to say or do. They’ve just witnessed the person who at one point they trusted more than anything, the person they all betrayed just die.

Douglas walks past them all with both women in his arms and walks straight up the ramp with Marco following behind.

When everyone’s on board the quinjet they see him sitting in the seat Y/n was occupying.

“The day she walked in on you fucking her best friend she found out she was pregnant. The night she killed Sharon, Hydra had showed up at her home wanting the babies, that scar she has-had on her cheek was from a bullet graze, Sharon tried to kill Y/n - caused her to go into early labour. Y/n killed Sharon because she had no other choice, hell she even gave the blonde bitch an out. When me and my wife got there she was in the middle of delivering her second baby.” He shakes his head sadly “the reason my best friend is dead is because of us” pointing to himself and the other three “she made a decision to leave her babies behind just so we didn’t get given the death penalty”.

Douglas pulls out the items Y/n had put into his pocket, her ring - the one with two love hearts that represented her twins, and her dog tags that also had two smaller tags with the twins names, date of birth engraved on them.

“James, she made me and my wife adopt the twins. She knew exactly what she was going to do when Ross talked to her about their deal, she said it was okay for us to let you see them. But please don’t think for one second that you’ll be able to take them away from us, because pal even if you are a super solider I’ll still kill you.”

Bucky sits there with tears in his eyes, “what’s their names?”

“Logan-Douglas and Harlow-Francesca” Doug tells him with a smile.

“Ca-if it’s okay with you and your wife, can I meet them?”

“You won’t try anything stupid?”

“No, god no of course not!”

“Then yeah that can be arranged.”

For two years Bucky sees the children he didn’t know existed until two years ago.

His heart dropped to his stomach when Douglas took him to the house that Y/n had brought for them to live in after they retired. It became the warm loving home for Douglas, Fran and the kids.

Bucky did retire, the day after he lost the love of his life and met his children for the first time, and not only that but he also brought the house next door.

He formed a great bond with the couple who let him see the kids whenever he wanted - which was now every day since he moved next door.

The bond he had with his children was now unbreakable. Everyday he was reminded of what he lost and lost out of just by looking at their adorable little faces. He loved them so deeply, loving them at its purest form. He wishes more than anything that he could go back in time and redo everything all over again, but since he can’t he continues to make up for lost time.

He’s sat in the living room with the kids, Doug and Fran when a knock comes from the front door, he watches as Doug goes to answer and truly didn’t think anything of it.

“Hi babies” A warm voice says.

“Momma!” The twins scream in unison.

Shooting up from were he was laying on the floor building with the Lego set Steve brought Logan, he watches his kids jump up and run over to Y/n who instantly picks them up.

She’s alive. She’s standing right in front of him. His chest tightens. She’s really here.

“H-how?” He whispers but she hears it.

“You’ve been doing so great with them, I’ve been watching” she smiles.

He walks slowly over to her as she puts the kids down and he doesn’t hesitate or think about it before he smashes his lips to hers.

“I still love you Y/n/n”

“I still love you Bucky”

The kids squeal and jump in circles around their parents as Doug and Fran hold on to each other. 

Y/n pulls away from the man she still loves after everything and picks up her big babies.

“I told you I’ll always come back”

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Have you had enough?

Targaryen reader x Aemond Targaryen x Aegon Targaryen.

Your husband and brother, Aemond, have been taking everything that belonged to Aegon. You're tired of it, the drop that spilled the glass was Aegon's incident. Your brother, the one who you actually love, badly injured, that was the end of your patience.

Warning ⚠️: Credits of this images goes to whoever they belong to, I took them from the Tumblr blogs: bbygirl-aemond / Winterswake/ tarth. Grammatical and spelling errors, I haven't watched this chapter of HOTD yet, I just needed to take the idea out of my mind so I can continue with a new chapter of the story (By fire and heart).

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Everybody running and walking from one room to another, you didn't understand at first why all the scandal until you saw a group of guards carrying your brother.

Aegon and you were close, spending much time together which your mother clearly didn't see with good eyes, you loved him in the way you couldn't love your husband.

Aemond took you as a wife and treated you with respect but not love, he never loved you, he simply took you because both were single and your little brother was far away from home to save you from that terrible unhappy marriage, it was only you and him, when he heard about your little secret romance with Aegon, he made you his wife before you could dishonor yourself that was his argument, but the truth was he did it for the simple fact to not give Aegon the satisfaction to also be the owner of you, or your body, silly Aemond never thought what actually mattered it was your heart, Aegon was deep inside your heart. A thousand men could be between your legs but only one could have your heart, loyalty and devotion.

You walked behind the guards questioning what happened. None of them could answer you, once they're in the king's chambers, one of the masters asks you to not interfere and wait out of the room.

- My princess, please you have to wait and let us work. In your conditions the least you need is stress.

You're going to respond when you see Aemond walking inside, he doesn't even stop to see you, you're sure he didn't listen to what the master told you, he walks directly to Aegon's bed. You walk and stay behind him, your tears falling as soon as you see your beloved brother, his precious face now half burned as much as the rest of his body, you're sure Aemond was behind all that, you left the room looking for Ser Criston, you found him on the way to your mother's chambers.

- What happened?

- My princess, I don't know, everything was fast, I just saw the king and his dragon falling.

- Don't dare to lie to me. Did my husband have something to do with this?

He doesn't talk but silently nod at you. Your body is burning with rage, you're furious you would love to burn your husband alive. His thirst for... power? Revenge for the traumas of childhood? Whatever it was, has taken it too far. Your nephews death and now your brother fighting for his life, Rhaenyra claiming the throne, dealing with a war and the pain of her newborn and Lucerys deaths, the poor Helaena trying to accept her son's death too and now carrying with a husband who probably will end as your father ended, in that bed looking the days and nights go until the gods have mercy and let him die.

You've been avoiding Aemond since they arrived, you spent much of your time with Aegon, Helaena doesn't complain, she's okay with it, she always knew your feelings for her husband, she's glad you're taking care of him and occasionally visit the king's chambers to help you or at least to talk with you. Even your mother visited Aegon, but there were no signs of Aemond.

Until one evening, you were holding Aegon's hand, whispering something close enough to him hoping he somehow could listen to what you were sharing with him, when the doors of his room opened, you did not see him but you were sure it was Aemond for the sound of his boots on the floor, you know his way to walk by heart.

- Ao spend olvie jēda kesīr (you spend much time here)

- Se ao spend olvie jēda sitting va zȳhon dēmalion (And you spend much time sitting on his throne)

You don't Even look at him, you're still holding Aegon's hand, contemplating what once was his face.

- Perhaps my wife could support me as much as she's supporting our brother. Your devotion to him is admirable, but it's what I'm expecting you to give me, not to him.

- Why would I support you? All the atrocities you've been causing and you expect me to congratulate you, to love you?

- Are you accusing me of something, wife?

His jaw tensed, his eye looks at you full of anger.

- Don't pretend you're innocent, I know you. You always wanted to take Aegon's place. You always take what is not yours, tell me husband, have you had enough? What else do you want?

Before he can argue again, Aegon opens his eyes, with the few strength he still has, he squeezes your hand.

Aemond notices it and pushes you aside, he starts to talk with Aegon, asking him what he remembers, he insists it wasn't his dragon who attacked him. Aegon simply says he doesn't remember anything, but you know he's lying, Aegon always has been good to keep himself safe, his facility to preserve his own survival and right now his only chance to survive it was to pretend he did not remember what happened.

Aemond was not going to leave the discussion in the air. He left but you're sure he will be back to try to make you regret your accusations.

Just as you predicted, At the hour of the owl, he appeared in your chambers, you were awake, looking through your window, you know how much he hates your indifference against him.

- So, what else will you take from our brother this time?

You say without any worry. Aemond walks until he's right behind you, you can feel his jaw against your head.

- What he expected to claim too. You.

He whispered while placing his hands around your waist, you couldn't contain your laughing, Aemond confusion made it harder to keep. You laughed loudly on his face, you are now face to face with your husband, he has never seen that look, your eyes darkened and your smile was full of evil, giving him a small kiss on the lips, murmuring almost whispering.

- Oh Aemond, do you seriously think I was still a pure untouched little princess?

He stepped back, his face doesn't show any emotion but you can feel his blood boiling.

- I am pregnant.

- Liar. I made everything to be sure he would not put a finger on you.

- Ask the master, I'm waiting for my first child.

Seeing his body tensed and full of anger brings you a new kind of feeling, it's an addictive pleasure you didn't know could exist.

-You know what makes it funnier? Even if one day I have your child, he will be just like you.

- What do you mean?

- A Second son who will not inherit anything. Or even better you will never have a child with me because I will prefer to be burned alive before giving birth to your children.

He quickly takes you by the neck and slams you against the wall, pressing his body against yours, even with the lack of air in your lungs, the pleasure of seeing him frustrated makes you feel alive, excited. He released you and left the room without saying more.

Once you take some air, you smile to yourself, your husband and his poor try to keep you away from Aegon, expecting to have you all for himself, but not even your body belongs to Aemond, he never thought he would be so frustrated about such a little thing like that, not having your love or your respect was the last thing he thought he would care about, the last thing he would desire to have more than anything else.

[holybibly]

❣ 𝔚𝔢𝔦𝔯𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔡 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔴𝔞 ❣ Weirdo nerd Seonghwa has had a fondness for you for a long time, perhaps too much to be normal. So when he sees you on a crowded subway carriage, he takes the opportunity to pay his respects to you. ❣ 𝔜𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔯𝔬𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔢 ❣ Your sweet, slightly feminine roommate turns out to be a hardcore yandere dominant obsessed with you. ❣ 𝔈𝔵𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔡 𝔒𝔪𝔢𝔤𝔞 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔴𝔞 ❣ The gorgeous and experienced Omega Hwa seduces the innocent and tender newcomer Omega next door. ❣ 𝔗𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔥𝔶 ℌ𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℌ𝔴𝔞 ❣ Seonghwa as a trophy househusband who is neglected both sexually and in terms of love and who is perhaps overly attracted to the best friend of his wife's daughter. ❣ 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔨 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔰 ❣ The Park twins were definitely something very special. ❣ 𝔒𝔪𝔢𝔤𝔞 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔴𝔞 ❣ Gorgeous Omega Seonghwa, lovingly caring for the little innocent Omega who doesn't even know that Hwa is just waiting to wrap her up in his silky sheets. ❣ 𝔖𝔦𝔯𝔢𝔫 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔴𝔞 ❣ (will be rewritten) A siren's love is as endless and eternal as time itself, and as dangerous as the unknown depths of the ocean.

❣ ℑ𝔡𝔬𝔩 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔴𝔞 ❣ "I'm going to teach you some respect, kitten. When I'm done with you, you'll know better than to ignore your mommy." ❣ 𝔖𝔫𝔞𝔨𝔢 ℌ𝔶𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔡 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔴𝔞/𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔶 ℌ𝔶𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔡 ℌ𝔴𝔞 ❣ You adopt hybrids that are the complete opposite of each other - needy bunny Hwa with the biggest, almost starry eyes, a problem with being overly tactile and a constant need for attention and affection, and sexy, mesmerising and calm snake hybrid Seonghwa who wants nothing more than to hold you all the time.

❣ 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔶 ℌ𝔶𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔡 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔴𝔞 ❣ All Seonghwa ever dreamed of was to be loved and to belong to his owner. But all he could do was watch as the hybrids left the adoption centre one by one, leaving him to be alone with his loneliness.

❣ 𝔙𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 𝔉𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔩 ❣ 𝔐𝔞𝔣𝔦𝔞!𝔞𝔲 ​​𝔄𝔩𝔭𝔥𝔞 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔴𝔞 𝔵 𝔒𝔪𝔢𝔤𝔞 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 Teaser for the upcoming full-length story. ❣ 𝔏𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 ℌ𝔞𝔷𝔢 ❣ ℑ𝔫𝔠𝔲𝔟𝔲𝔰 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔴𝔞 х 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 Teaser for the upcoming full-length story. ❣ ℜ𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔠𝔨 ❣ ℑ𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔡 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔴𝔞 х 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 Teaser for the upcoming full-length story.

[zorobff]

little by little. (opla!sanji x fem!reader)

synopsis: a series of events that transpire throughout your time mentoring sanji into a proper waiter, per zeff’s request.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: cursing, smoking, some direct dialogue from opla, zoro wants u but he can’t have uuu, a pitiful attempt at enemies to lovers, this is the plate technique i was referencing btw

the slicing, stirring, and sizzling of the kitchen fades into background noise compared to the two thick accents bickering back and forth. to no one’s surprise, a disagreement between sanji and zeff’s has escalated into another one of their infamous arguments. it was such a common occurrence that almost everyone working at the baratie knew to brace themselves for a yelling match at least once day.

you’re no different as you return to the kitchen from waiting tables and walk right past the pair without so much as a glance their way. instead, you make a beeline for patty’s cooking station. unamused, you ask, “they’re back at it again?”

patty slings a towel over his shoulder as he hands you table 7’s orders. “i told sanji not to put that original dish of his on the menu. he called it a true bluefin whatever the hell.”

“sounds promising,” you joke, collecting the plates from him.

“tell that to zeff,” he replies flatly. “he might even make it tomorrow’s special.”

“dammit zeff!” sanji exclaims, interrupting you and patty’s conversation. “if i gotta sling one more prime rib medium-well, i’m going to drop dead of boredom, you old shitbag!”

“it’s what we serve,” retaliates the older chef.

“it’s an insult to the meat!”

“oh, you don’t like cooking our menu? fine. ‘cause i’ll be more than delighted to give you some other work elsewhere. in fact, you are off the line. you’re going to get out there and wait tables!”

sanji’s jaw clenches at having been demoted but he removes his chef apron regardless. as often as the two of them bickered, he could never refuse such direct orders from zeff. he was the owner and founder of baratie — that was something to be respected.

all of a sudden, zeff calls your name, causing you to abruptly set down the dishes in your hands. what did you have to do with any of this? the older chef beckons you closer with a curled finger and it seems as if every pair of eyes in the kitchen shifts to you. except for sanji’s, who is too busy staring up at the ceiling as if he’s begging a higher power for self-restraint.

it’s ironic how after putting so much effort into being the best waitress possible, you end up in the middle of confrontation – something you went out of your way to avoid. still, your body reacts faster than your brain and you comply, scurrying over to where zeff and sanji stand.

“from here on out, you keep a close eye on him for me.” zeff clasps a large hand on sanji’s shoulder with such force that it sends the younger jolting forward. “i don’t wanna catch him slithering his way back into the kitchen unless it’s to grab orders, ya got it?”

you blink. “yes, chef.”

your response earns you a tight-lipped smile, a rarely seen gesture from zeff. as suddenly as it appeared, it’s gone, replaced by a hardened gaze as he turns back to sanji. “if we’re lucky enough, some of your obedience might rub off on this little eggplant.”

the comment earns him an eye roll from the waiter in question, who seems less than thrilled with this new arrangement. “this is such bullshit, old man. you really think she can teach me anything?”

you go to defend yourself, slightly offended by his offhand comment. “hey, i—”

before you can get another word out, sanji interjects, offering you a glance. “no offense, i’m sure you’re lovely—” the moment he takes a good look at you, he trails off. it’s almost comical how quickly his demeanor changes, that signature smirk of his creeping onto his lips. “with an even lovelier face to match.”

you narrow your eyes at him, not charmed by the sudden switch in attitude. “you’re shameless.”

he smiles. “so i’ve been told.”

“we’ll need to work on that.”

his grin widens, if that was even possible. “i look forward to it.”

his smile is a little too mischievous for your liking; you sigh. “can’t say the same.”

ignoring your remark, he muses, “you know, it’s a shame that working under you is supposed to be a punishment. a pretty face like yours is more of a reward, if you ask me.”

“who said anything about a punishment?”

“well, what else would you call this?” he chuckles dryly. “instead of cooking, i’m expected to wait on idiots who can’t tell a rosé prosecco from a cheval blanc. and now i’m being treated like i need a babysitter.”

you fold your arms. “that’s because you do need a babysitter. besides, zeff calls the shots so there’s no use complaining.”

“of course you’d say that.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

he smirks. “i can already tell you’re a professional rule follower. a lap dog, if you will.”

“if you were too, we wouldn’t even be here.” you decide to take it even further, returning his bluntness. “maybe it’d be easier if that ego of yours wasn’t so inflated.”

“damn.” he places a hand over his heart as if you’ve wounded him. “if we’re talking about flaws, though, this might be a good time to mention the stick up your ass.”

“what? i don’t–” you take a deep breath. “listen, zeff is counting on me to turn you into a functional waiter. that means we have to tolerate each other for the time being. the sooner we do that, the sooner we go our separate ways. got it?”

he flashes you his teeth. “yes, ma’am.”

“great. to start, you’re going to wait tables with me.” with that, you walk back to patty’s station.

sanji scampers behind you, smile fading. “you’re joking.”

you shrug, opting to let your silence answer for you.

he continues, “you’re not even going to let me suffer through this alone? i’ve gotta be glued to your hip as well?”

“what’s the matter? i thought i was lovely,” you tease him, feigning sorrow. your faux pout contradicts the way you harshly shove two steaming plates his way.

“not when you’re bossing me around.” he hesitantly takes the dishes you hand him. “i mean, can’t you just let me off the hook? i’ll hide in the supply closet ‘til our shift’s over.”

“good one.”

WEEK ONE.

“welcome to baratie, i’ll be your waitress this afternoon. what can i get started for you?” you ask, ready to jot down the table’s orders on your notepad. “i recommend today’s special—”

an arm digging into your ribs cuts you off. the action is forceful enough to jolt you but light enough not to hurt. you glare at the culprit, who tilts his head expectantly as if to ask, aren’t you forgetting something?

“oh, how unprofessional of me,” you deadpan. “this is sanji, he’ll be accompanying me. we’re training new hires.”

the smile on his face disappears, clearly insulted at being compared to an inexperienced beginner.

you continue, “as i was saying, today’s special is a beef filet with rice and seaweed soup. it was chosen by chef zeff himself.”

that seems to pique the customers’ interests. who didn’t want to eat a meal that had the chef zeff’s stamp of approval? they enthusiastically agree to add it to their order.

sanji scoffs. “that’s not sayin’ much. zeff wouldn’t know a good meal if it kicked him in the peg leg.”

you find yourself cringing as the patrons’ faces contort into shock at the blatant insult. well, there goes your tip.

chuckling nervously, you attempt to redirect the conversation. “can i, um, get you anything to drink?”

dismissing sanji’s outburst, they opt to look over the various wines the menu has to offer. you allow yourself to tune out their indecisive murmuring for the time being. however, sanji soon breaks the peaceful silence.

“you know what, how about i whip up a dish of my own for you two? ’s called a true bluefin sauté, somethin’ that’ll put today’s special to shame. free of charge, of course—”

“okay, that’s enough,” you intervene in between yet another forced laugh. “could you please excuse us for a moment?”

the guests’ irritated expressions fill you with shame — you were used to smiles and hefty tips but never this. you pull sanji aside, ignoring his complaints about the excessive force you use to do so.

“you need to get it together,” you seethe.

“i’m trying my best,” he replies, though there’s a smug undertone to it. “like you said, i am just a new hire.”

you suppress a sigh. “no new hire would badmouth the owner to customers like that. or offer to make dishes that aren’t—and never will be—on the menu.”

“ouch, that was personal—”

“just let patty know we need two specials. and tell him to make it top priority, we don’t want to piss these people off even more. can you do that, please?”

it was clear you were stressed by the mess he’d created, if your pleading tone was anything to go by. sanji decides to take pity on you. he wordlessly retreats to the kitchen to do what you had asked. no quips, no teasing.

for the first time, he follows your instructions.

WEEK TWO.

it seemed as if everyone in the east blue was set on having their breakfast at the baratie.

the kitchen was bustling, cooks slaving over the stove and waiters twisting past each other to grab orders. among them was you, sweaty and thoroughly overwhelmed. despite the task at hand, you can’t help but question the whereabouts of a certain blonde.

“where’s sanji?” you demand while grabbing more steaming plates.

carne, the chef who’d cooked the meals, answers you. “haven’t seen him all morning.”

you groan, using your sleeve to wipe off the beads of perspiration that form at your hairline before grabbing a bowl of oatmeal and plate of fluffy belgian waffles. you knew sanji still wasn’t happy about being a waiter (and he took every chance to show it) but that didn’t matter; it was all hands on deck this morning.

you continue expertly stacking the dishes into your arms and hands. it was a technique you’d learned over the years and now it felt like second nature. soon enough, you’re balancing plates up to your forearms. you’re just about to head back out to the dining hall when you hear a familiar accent behind you.

“we doin’ party tricks now or what?”

startled, you turn around so fast it causes the dishware in your hold to teeter ever so slightly. there stands sanji, clearly finding amusement in how you’re up to your elbows in breakfast foods.

“maybe don’t sneak up on me when i’m holding six plates?” you chastise him.

he chuckles. “sorry, sorry. what did i miss?”

“only the worst breakfast rush i’ve ever seen. where have you been?”

“i was takin’ a smoke outside.”

“productive.” your tone drips with sarcasm. “we’ll talk about punctuality later, for now just take the rest of those plates for me.”

sanji reluctantly obeys, grabbing two plates from the multitude of options and steps back, ready to follow you. you look at him in what could only be described as utter disbelief. he returns the stare and furrows his eyebrows as if he really can’t understand what he’s doing wrong.

“you’re seriously only taking two?” you ask.

“yeah? what, were you expecting me to join your balancing act?”

“it would help!”

“trust me, i’d only make a bigger mess.”

“sanji.”

“fine! show me.”

you squint your eyes at him in irritation. “my hands are a little full right now.”

he purses his lips. “then just tell me how.”

you comply. “get your first plate, put it between your thumb and the edge of your pointer finger. make sure to rotate it away from your body.”

sanji follows your directions, attentively. he glances up at you once he completes the first couple steps, scanning your face for any disapproval. you give him a nod.

“so far so good. next, put your second plate under the first. use your remaining fingers to support it– yeah, just like that. and let the edge of the plate rest on the bottom of the first.”

as sanji carefully carries out your instructions, you notice the determination written on his face. you’d never seen him put so much effort in a task, much less one you’d given him. you could tell it was challenging, judging by the way his hands wobble with uncertainty as he stacks the plates, but not once does he stop. it’s admirable. you feel a smile form on your face.

“okay, what n— what’re you laughin’ at?”

“i’m not laughing,” you defend. “it’s just– you’re really trying. it’s nice. i like this sanji.”

he opens his mouth as if to respond but decides not to at the last moment. there’s a brief silence before he raises his eyebrows to signal he was ready for the next step.

“right. um, the third plate uses your arm and the edge of the second plate as balance points so you’re gonna wanna put it– yeah, right there.”

you take in the sight of all three plates successfully resting on sanji’s arm as one of his trademark grins appears on his lips. clearly he’s proud of himself but as his wide eyes meet yours, you can’t help but feel as if he’s seeking your approval too. you notice that when he glances up at you, there’s an eager look in his eyes as if he’s hanging on to your every breath. you figure it’s normal for someone to want their mentor’s praise, right?

you willingly deliver the encouragement. “you’re a natural. better than me.”

his reply comes so quickly it almost seems as if he’s said it without thinking. “well, that’s not possible, is it?”

his tone sounds warm; sincere. not to mention, this is the first time sanji has complimented your skills as a waitress. you’d received countless praises for your work ethic but somehow, something so simple from someone like sanji makes this different. special, in a way.

“let’s get to the table, food’s gonna get cold,” you say so that you don’t spend too much time replaying his words in your mind.

the journey to said table proves to be more arduous than you’d think. you offer quiet ‘excuse me’s that can hardly be heard over the commotion of the kitchen as your coworkers try their best to make way for you and sanji. some of their eyes linger on the plates that masterfully balance on both your arms but truthfully, the sight of sanji exerting so much effort into waiting tables is more impressive to them. it’s distracting enough to send one of them to colliding straight into you.

your first instinct is to try and salvage as many dishes as possible but it’s useless when the impact is so strong that it sends you stumbling backwards. the only reason you don’t fall over is the firm chest that presses against your back and the two pairs of strong arms that find their way around your waist. the ear-splitting sound of yours and sanji’s plates shattering against the floor is unpleasant and yet all you can think about is how sanji literally dropped everything to catch you.

the waiter you’d crashed into groans, looking down at the mess of broken dishware and food gone to waste. “god, look where you’re going if you’re gonna carry all those plates.”

“i’m sorry,” you instantly apologize, flustered by the rare mistake. “i was just trying to get ahead of the rush–”

“instead, you set us back further.” his eyes flit down to his shirt and then yours. “and ruined both our uniforms.”

the abruptness of your mishap (and your skinship with sanji) had robbed all your attention, causing you to overlook the various creams and sauces that now bleed into your shirt.

“watch it,” sanji warns him, finding the man’s aggressive tone intolerable. “if you worked half as hard as she is then maybe there wouldn’t be such a need to catch up on orders.”

your coworker fixes sanji with a glare for intervening. “i’m not talking to you, pal.”

“well, i’m talking to you. and i’m thinkin’ of taking this discussion outside if you don’t apologize for being a jackass.”

that earns him an irritated sigh. however, he complies. “i’m sorry. can i get back to work now?”

sanji remains unimpressed. “don’t apologize to me. apologize to her.”

he doesn’t even try to hide his eye roll before he gives you a lackadaisical apology. “i’m sorry, alright? tell your boyfriend to back off.”

he stomps away, leaving you even more rattled up by his last comment. slowly, you turn around to sanji, unsure of what to say. you take in the stains that litter his suit, though he seems unbothered by it. his stare is heated as he watches the man leave. however, when he notices you staring, his gaze softens.

“what was his problem?” he asks you with a chuckle that sounds out of place in a moment like this.

in any other situation you’d poke fun at sanji for also having gotten worked up but you choose not to. him getting so angry on your behalf felt… strange. not unwelcome, though.

your reply is simple. “y-yeah. real asshole.”

he lifts a brow. “you okay?”

you nod a little too hard. “i’m just not used to situations like that. thanks for stepping in. and, you know, catching me.”

sanji glances away when your look of pure gratitude becomes too much for him to handle. “i couldn’t have you eat shit and be out of commission, zeff just might decide to mentor me himself. and no one wants that, right?”

you can’t help but laugh at the dismissive demeanor he was putting on when he’d literally just threatened a man for you. “right.”

he clears his throat. “let’s go get cleaned up then.”

“sorry,” you blurt. “about your suit, i mean. it’s all dirty now.”

he shakes his head. “wasn’t your fault. if anything, i should go force an apology out of that jerk.”

“well, while you do that i’m gonna clean this mess up.”

“no need.” he shoots you a sly wink. “i’ll make him do that too.”

WEEK THREE.

you find yourself clearing off an empty table on a somewhat slow thursday afternoon when the baratie’s newest guests catch your eye. they look nothing like the stuffy moneybags that frequented the establishment – far from it. in fact, you find yourself having to do a double take when you notice that one of them is wearing overalls. it’s refreshing, you think, occasionally glancing up at them as they settle in.

when you head back to the kitchen to grab menus, you bump into sanji, who’d arrived from his break.

you glance at the clock on the wall. “was that actually only ten minutes? i’m impressed.”

sanji exhales as he does every time he feels sheepish about following the rules. “don’t get used to it.”

you disregard his comment and instead hand him a couple menus. “come on, we’ve got a table.”

he frowns. “i just got back.”

“you’ll live. i think it’ll be a interesting one.”

that was an understatement.

“welcome to baratie. my name is sanji. what can i get for you?”

sanji’s customer service voice never fails to amuse you. it sounds too forced, too sharp; as if he’s just dying to spew a one-liner or two. you have to admit, though, he’d done pretty well ever since you started letting him take the lead. there was a clear improvement from when you’d first started, a little over two weeks ago.

“one of everything!” the one with the straw hat enthusiastically exclaims.

another, more feminine, voice joins the conversation. “maybe save that for after we find the one piece.”

there’s a brief pause before sanji speaks again, this time in a tone you know all too well. “didn’t see you there, madam. would you care for an aperitif to start? we have several rare micqueot vintages in stock. or perhaps you’d like a glass of umeshu? you know, something sweet for someone sweet.” he ends with a wink.

she cringes. “is there something wrong with your eye?”

you can hear sanji’s smile in his reply. “just blinded by your beauty.”

out of all of sanji’s antics, this somehow feels like the worst one yet. you’re not entirely sure why him blatantly flirting with the woman feels so unbearable but you decide to chalk it up to your professionalism. if any of your fellow waiters flirted with a customer you’d be just as upset… right?

“zeff told me he doesn’t like you terrorizing the female patrons with your flirting so why don’t you knock it off?” you tell sanji, your words carrying an unusual edge to them. “you’re one shitty pick-up line away from a restraining order.”

although you mumble the last part, both sanji and the table seem to pick up on it. your bitterness earns you a surprised tilt of the head from the blonde; it wasn’t like you to have such outbursts, especially not in front of guests.

“relax,” he says, still taken aback. “it’s called working the table. you should try it sometime ‘cause that attitude isn’t gonna get you anywhere.”

a monotonous voice cuts through the tension. “so about those drinks...”

you and sanji pause your discussion to get a look at the face behind the remark. lidded eyes that appear to be permanently hazy return your stare, through lashes so long you can’t help but admire them. the man who they belong to is comfortably splayed out on his side of the booth, calmly observing the two of you. though, it seems like you’ve caught his attention more than anything else. though his gaze seems uninterested, he still effectively studies every inch of you.

sanji seems to pick up the stranger’s staring problem too. he sharply inquires, “is there something on her face?”

the man turns to him once he’s finished sizing you up. “i’m just an observant guy.”

“observe the menu instead, hm?” suddenly, sanji’s tone sounds a lot like yours; irritated and displeased.

“no need.” the green-haired swordsman turns to you. “a beer, please.”

you hold the male’s gaze for a second before nodding. apparently, the eye contact is too prolonged for sanji’s taste because he cuts in, attempting to move things along.

“what about you, madam? anything i can get for you?” you notice he’s using that voice again.

her answer is plain. “water.”

somehow, he manages to complicate it. “still, sparkling, mineral? with ice or without? cubed or crushed?”

“regular water in a regular glass. thanks.”

he beams. “right away.”

“and what about the rest of you?” you ask to impede sanji from asking the woman any more questions.

“two beers,” the one with dark skin says. “i usually have three but–”

“and a milk!” the straw hat adds.

“got it. anything else before we go get those drinks for you?”

a raspy voice speaks up. “do waiters usually come in pairs here?”

you shake your head. “this is a temporary arrangement. he just needed some extra training.”

“that depends on who you ask,” sanji clarifies before narrowing his eyes at the man on the left of the booth. “why do you care anyway, mosshead?”

before you can scold sanji for giving customers rude nicknames, the customer in question swiftly corrects him. “the name’s zoro. i was just curious as to why such a good waiter would be partnered with someone so… incompetent.”

“curious?” scoffs the woman to his left. “since when are you ever curious? about anything other than alcohol, that is.”

“certain things catch my attention once in a while, nami,” he replies, nonchalantly. though he mentions his colleague by name, it’s clear he’s really speaking to you. “it’s just not often that my standards can be met. but when they are, i’m left with no choice but to show a little interest.”

your head tilts at the double meaning his comment carried. though you admire zoro’s ability to be a smooth-talker, you find that that’s where his appeal ends for you.

“high standards, hm? then you’re dining at the wrong place,” spits sanji in an attempt to get zoro’s attention off of you. “only thing that isn’t shitty is the drinks which we’ll be getting for you now, if you’ll excuse us.”

sanji hooks an arm around your shoulder before he spins on his heel and leads you both back to the kitchen. you look over your shoulder, offering the table one of your customer service smiles as an apology for your abrupt exit. sanji’s strides are long and purposeful; he’s angry, you realize. although, you can’t blame him for having such a sour attitude when you yourself aren’t too thrilled either.

you don’t speak to each other for the rest of the shift.

“you smiled at him.”

you sigh, setting your book face down to glare at sanji who stands in the doorway of the quaint breakroom. “i’m on my break, sanji.”

“so am i,” he retaliates, pulling a stick out of the worn-down cigarette box in his pocket as if to prove it to you.

“so it’s not enough that i’m stuck babysitting you when we’re on the clock? you’re gonna start seeking me out in our free time too?”

he purses his lips. “pretty much.”

his stubbornness is unsurprising but you just aren’t in the mood to tolerate it today, not when he’d worked your nerves earlier with his flirtatious behavior. deep down, you know you only have yourself to blame for getting so unreasonably angered by that. maybe that’s what upsets you most.

you sigh. “just tell me what you want.”

“i want to know why you smiled at that asshole.”

“asshole?” you repeat, laughing. “i know you have a potty mouth but god, take it easy.”

he licks his lips. “see, now you’re defending him. what for? do you know him or something?”

“do i have to?”

“no, but... it would be nice if you did. it would help me understand why he was talkin’ to you like that. all flirty but secretive at the same time. it was like you two had some sort of inside joke.”

“so a man being interested in me is so unfathomable to you that i have to know him or else it’s a joke?” you ask, tone heated.

“no, that’s not–” he groans. “i didn’t mean it like that.”

“what about you and that girl? nami, was it?” you sneer. “if zoro’s considered flirty then i don’t think there’s a word for what you are.”

“you’re mad at me for trying to earn a tip?” he asks, squinting his eyes at you. “you told me to be nicer to customers. i was being nice.”

“you were really selling it,” you scoff.

“don’t believe me?” sanji challenges you. “have you ever seen me flirt with a girl that’s not a customer? a girl that’s not you?”

the words tumble out of his mouth haphazardly, as if they’d been weighing heavy on his mind for a while now. as an attempt to recover — an attempt to make it seem like that admission didn’t mean something, he calmly lights the end of his cigarette. he then brings it to his chapped lips and takes a long drag.

you take the moment to really think about what he’d said. sanji was charming by nature and, of course, he knew that. not only that, but he used it to his advantage. people tended to tip better when he was laying it on thick, that much was true.

however, his second question takes a lot more thought. now that you really think about it, you realize he’s right. you’d never seen sanji flirt with another waiter or member of the staff. you were the only waitress he spoke to that way. the realization makes you feel warm in the face.

“i don’t just flirt with you, you know. i do so much more. remember that plate trick you taught me? i practiced for nights on end ‘til i could do it with my eyes closed. and i don’t tell customers how brainless they sound half the time because i know you don’t like it.”

you only watch as he paces back and forth, rattling off these thoughts that have clearly been plaguing him.

“you still never flirt back, though,” he continues, quietly. “lately i’ve been starting to think that you don’t actually like me at all. that’s the only reason i was being like that at the table. i knew i was only kiddin’ myself but still, i wanted to see if there was a small chance you cared.”

“i…” it’s all you can say. seeing this raw, insecure side of him has left you truly speechless.

he fiddles his cig between his fingers. “listen, i wouldn’t blame you if—”

you finally find your voice. “i like you.”

his voice trails off, engrossed in every word you speak. it’s a simple three words and yet he’s attentive as he waits for more to be said.

you begin to ramble, “i like your passion for the things you care about. i like how you always say what you think. i like that you always have my back. sanji, i… really do like you.”

he gives you a weak smile. “that’s nice, sweetheart, but i don’t think you like me the way i like you.”

“just because i don’t flirt much doesn’t mean i can’t have feelings for you, idiot.”

his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, processing your words. “you— feelings?” there’s a pause. “good ones, right?”

you can’t help but giggle. “yes, good ones. sure as hell not the ones from three weeks ago.”

he joins you with a laugh of his own, which sounds wobblier than usual. he pulls out a chair next to you, as if this moment has left him so shaken up that he needs to sit down. “who would’ve thought? god, i… i can’t believe it.”

“i’ve never heard you stutter so much,” you tell him, tucking a thin strand of blonde hair behind his ear. when your fingers graze against the skin, it’s warm to the touch. cute, you think.

“i just never expected you to give me a chance.”

“a chance? to do what, exactly?” you prod.

he straightens up. “to make you mine.”

your breath hitches in your throat. “sanji—”

“i’m not going to ask anything of you just yet. i think we should take our time. i want to show you that i can be exclusively devoted to you before we go any further. it’s only fair.”

your heart thumps wildly in your chest at the sincerity behind his words. “you’re willing to wait just to prove yourself to me?”

he nods, taking one of your hands and squeezing it. his dedication required no words.

“so that means no more flirting with the female patrons? even when i’m not there beside you?”

he shrugs as if it’s common sense. “if there’s no pretty waitress i want to make jealous then i don’t see a need to flirt.”

you nudge his shoulder. “and what about your tips?”

“small price to pay.”

satisfied with his answers, you lean in and give him a quick kiss on the cheek; it feels giddy and spontaneous. sanji’s palm instinctively comes up to rest on the spot where your lips had been. he grins before attempting to speak—

a thick, husky accent shakes the walls. what makes it more terrifying is that it’s calling both yours and sanji’s names.

“break time’s over! get your asses back out there and wait some tables, now!”

[brunchable]

Winter King, Part Three : Cruel Summer. . .

Pairings: King AU Bucky Barnes x Out of place Queen Reader Words: 17.4K Themes: Royaltycore AU, love and power, Arranged Marriage, georgian/regency era misogyny, profanity, Eventual Smut. Summary: Y/N finds herself struggling to prove that she’s more than just a pawn in this dangerous game of power. But when Winnifred demands answers, it’s not just Y/N’s loyalty to the king being tested—it’s her resolve to carve out a place for herself in a world determined to see her fail. A/N: Inspired by Queen Charlotte. I must say I love the chase scene between Steve and Y/N here HEHEHE. Let me know what's your fave scene? I'm actually curious about what ya'll want to see next ;) credits to the gif owners, it ain't mine.

Your fingers played nervously along the rim of your teacup, your gaze flicking to the tall windows that overlooked the estate gardens. It should have been a peaceful view. Instead, it only reminded you of how small you felt within the grand expanse of this new life.

Opposite you, the Dowager Queen, Winnifred Barnes, was the very picture of feminine authority. Even in the soft light, she seemed to carry the shadows of experience with her, the weight of a crown long set aside but never truly removed. Her eyes, a steely blue that seemed to pierce through all pretenses, were trained on you with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” you murmured politely, dipping your head in a respectful nod as she took her seat.

“Y/N,” she acknowledged with a curt nod, her gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. She motioned to the staff, who swiftly poured the tea and set delicate plates of pastries before you both. The clinking of porcelain was the only sound in the room until the servants exited, leaving you alone in silence.

Winnifred took a slow sip of her tea, her eyes never leaving your face. “I thought it best we have breakfast today,” she began, her tone measured but holding an edge that made your heart quicken. “After all, there’s much to discuss following last night’s... eventful proceedings.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but the knot in your stomach tightened. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

She set her cup down, her gaze on you sharpening. “How did you find your first night as a married woman?”

It was a simple question, and yet difficult to answer. You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. The truth of it all was still a bitter pill to swallow—that you’d spent your wedding night alone, while Bucky had left for his estate in Annecy. A flash of disappointment coursed through you, but you tamped it down, forcing a polite smile.

“It was... different,” you said cautiously, choosing each word with care. “We still have much to learn about one another.”

Winnifred’s brow arched ever so slightly, a glimmer of disapproval, or perhaps curiosity—lighting in her gaze. 

“Different, is it?” She leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering to a deceptively soft tone. “You mean to say that he left.”

Your breath caught, but you nodded, refusing to drop your gaze. “Yes, Your Majesty. He thought it best, given the circumstances.”

For a moment, the Dowager Queen was silent, her eyes studying you. Then, slowly, she tilted her head, the corners of her lips curving into something that might have been a smile—if it weren’t so sharp. 

“And you... let him go?” she asked, each word pronounced with a chilling clarity that made your chest tighten.

You blinked, taken aback. “I—”

“You didn’t make him stay?” she pressed, her tone holding a note of challenge. “You are his wife now, Y/N. The Queen of this realm. It is your duty to keep him by your side.”

The words struck like a lash, the implications behind them sinking deep. You opened your mouth, struggling for a response that wouldn’t sound weak or defensive. 

“I... I didn’t think it was my place to—”

“Your place?” Winnifred interrupted, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. “Your place is precisely what you make of it. Do not expect him—or anyone else—to show you the respect you deserve unless you demand it.”

Her gaze bore into you, and you felt yourself shrinking. There was no malice in her words, no cruelty—only a harsh kind of truth that left you reeling.

“I didn’t want to—” You paused, taking a steadying breath. “I didn’t want to force him. We... barely know each other, Your Majesty. I thought it best to give him space.”

Winnifred leaned back slightly, her eyes never leaving your face. “Space?” she echoed, her voice low. “You have given him space, Y/N. Now watch how quickly it turns into distance.”

She was right, of course. Bucky’s absence already felt like a chasm between you, one that you weren’t sure how to bridge.

“You are a queen now,” Winnifred continued softly, the steel in her gaze tempered by something gentler—something almost like understanding. “But more importantly, you are his wife. And being a wife means more than simply standing by his side in public. It means holding your ground in private. Pushing him when he needs to be pushed. Because if you don’t...” 

She trailed off, her eyes searching yours. “If you don’t, then others will step in to fill that space you so graciously allowed.”

The implication hung in the air like a warning, and you swallowed hard, the reality of her words washing over you. This was about more than just Bucky leaving for the night. It was about control, power, and the dynamics that would shape your marriage—and the kingdom.

You straightened your spine, meeting her gaze with as much resolve as you could muster. “I understand, Your Majesty. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

Winnifred’s lips curved into a faint smile—one that was both approving and calculating. “Good,” she murmured. “Because while my son may be king, it is the queen who sets the tone of the court.”

She lifted her teacup once more, taking a measured sip. “Now, tell me what else happened last night. Did he say anything that would suggest his intentions regarding your marriage?”

You hesitated, recalling the heated exchange with Bucky, and a message passed on to you shortly after he left. “He... spoke about needing time,” you said quietly. “Time to adjust. But he assured me that I am the only one he’s loyal to.”

“Did he now?” Winnifred’s gaze darkened, but there was a glimmer of something like pride in her eyes. “That is a start, at least. But loyalty is not the same as affection.”

You nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond.

“Listen to me, Y/N,” Winnifred continued, her tone soft but unyielding. “He may keep his distance now, but do not let it remain that way. You must find a way to close that gap. The sooner you do, the sooner the court will fall in line. Show them that you are a force to be reckoned with—both as a queen and as his wife.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Winnifred’s gaze softened just a fraction, and she set her teacup down gently, fingers tracing the delicate handle as if recalling a distant memory. 

“There was a time,” she began, her voice quieter now, “when I, too, thought loyalty was enough. When I believed that if I simply did as expected—kept quiet, remained the dutiful wife—things would naturally fall into place.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in her tone. Winnifred rarely spoke of herself, of her past. It was as if every part of her life before the crown was locked away, buried beneath layers of duty and decorum.

“But I learned,” she continued, her eyes taking on a distant, almost wistful look, “that being quiet, being passive, only serves to diminish your place in the marriage. To let others dictate your worth.”

She leaned forward slightly, her gaze locking onto yours with a newfound intensity. “So, I stopped being passive. I took control—not just for myself, but for the kingdom. And for him.” Her expression softened, but there was a sadness there, too. “Because even kings can falter. Even kings need someone to remind them of their place. Their worth. Their responsibilities.”

You stared at her, feeling as though you were seeing the Dowager Queen in a new light—a woman who had fought for her own place in a world determined to silence her.

“What I’m saying, Y/N,” she murmured softly, “is that you cannot let James dictate the course of your marriage. You must stand firm, push him if need be, and make him see you. Truly see you. If you don’t, you will always be the girl who stood in the shadows, watching others take your place.”

You swallowed hard, the force of her words settling deep within you. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I won’t forget that.”

Winnifred nodded, a small, approving smile playing on her lips. “See that you don’t. Because once you have his attention—once he realizes the strength you hold—he will never let you go.”

She straightened, the softness in her gaze receding, replaced once more by the composed authority of a queen. “Now, eat, my dear. You’ll need your strength for whatever comes next.”

And as you reached for your fork, her advice settled over you like an invisible crown—one you’d have to wear with as much grace and power as you could muster. Because from now on, this marriage would be yours to shape, yours to control.

× × × ×

High ceilings of the grand council chamber stretched above, adorned with elaborate chandeliers that cast glittering reflections onto the polished marble floors. The long, gleaming table in the center of the room was flanked by dark wooden chairs, each occupied by men whose expressions were masks of restrained curiosity and barely concealed tension.

The Dowager Queen, stood at the head of the table, her regal posture unyielding as she faced the most powerful men in the kingdom of Montelune. Prime Minister Nick Fury, with his one good eye keenly observing every subtle shift in the room, sat closest to her, his fingers steepled thoughtfully. Around him were the Duke of Hanover, Lord Pierce, and Lord Rumlow—all high-ranking noblemen with a vested interest in the stability and future of the crown.

The men exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes occasionally flickering toward the dowager as if uncertain how to broach the subject that loomed over them like a dark cloud.

Finally, it was Fury who cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Your Majesty, I trust you are well-rested?” His voice was smooth, but the weight of unspoken questions hung heavy in the air.

Winnifred’s gaze was cool as she regarded him, one eyebrow arching ever so slightly. “Rested enough,” she replied crisply. “Thank you, Prime Minister.”

Another awkward silence settled over the room, and the noblemen shifted uncomfortably in their seats. There was something almost comical about seeing men of such power and influence falter in the presence of a single woman, but Winnifred knew the source of their unease. It wasn’t just her title or her presence that made them wary—it was the nature of the matter at hand.

Lord Pierce leaned forward, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally managed to speak. “Your Majesty, we... we thought it prudent to gather today to, ah... discuss certain affairs.”

The Dowager Queen’s lips twitched in a faint semblance of a smile. “Affairs?” she repeated softly, her tone laced with just enough amusement to make him squirm.

“Yes, well,” Pierce continued, his face reddening slightly, “it is... as you might understand, a rather delicate matter. One that pertains to... er, ensuring the continuation of the royal line.”

Winnifred’s eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head, considering him with a look that could cut glass. “Are you inquiring whether the consummation of the marriage has taken place, Lord Pierce?” she asked bluntly.

The man’s flush deepened, and he coughed awkwardly. “Well, not in so many words, Your Majesty, but—”

“Say what you mean, Pierce,” Fury interjected dryly, his gaze unwavering as he looked between the dowager and the other noblemen. “We all know why we’re here. There’s no need to dance around it.”

“Indeed,” the Dowager Queen agreed, a steely edge creeping into her voice. “And let us dispense with the niceties, shall we? The answer is no. Nothing happened last night.”

Her words fell like a stone into a still pond, sending ripples of shock and discomfort through the room. The men exchanged uneasy looks, clearly taken aback by her directness.

Fury’s gaze remained steady, though his jaw tightened. “That is... concerning, Your Majesty. Considering the importance of securing the royal line—”

“Considering the importance of the king’s reputation,” Lord Rumlow cut in, his voice low and gruff. “If word gets out that he didn’t—”

“That he didn’t perform his marital duties?” Winnifred finished for him, her voice cold. “Yes, I am aware of the implications, Lord Rumlow.”

The silence that followed was almost suffocating. The men seemed at a loss, unsure how to proceed with such a delicate subject in the presence of a lady—no matter that the lady in question was the Dowager Queen herself.

Lord Pierce cleared his throat again, clearly floundering. “Perhaps, Your Majesty, there are... reasons for the delay. A need for time, perhaps, to... adjust?”

Winnifred’s gaze turned icy. “Time is not a luxury we have, Lord Pierce. Nor is it a cure for whatever holds my son back.”

Fury leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “Your Majesty, with all due respect, if His Majesty is reluctant... might there be another way to ensure that the matter is handled discreetly? Some form of... encouragement?”

“Encouragement?” The Dowager Queen’s voice was deceptively calm, but there was a dangerous glint in her eyes that made the noblemen stiffen.

“What exactly are you suggesting, Prime Minister?”

Fury held her gaze, unfazed. “I’m suggesting that perhaps His Majesty needs to be reminded of his responsibilities. He must be made to understand that this is not merely about him and his bride—it is about the future of Montelune. The stability of the crown.”

Winnifred’s expression did not soften, but she gave a single, sharp nod. “I am well aware of that, Prime Minister. But James—” She paused, catching herself, and then continued more firmly. “The King has always been... stubborn.”

“Then perhaps he needs a push,” Lord Rumlow muttered under his breath.

Winnifred’s gaze snapped to him, and he immediately looked away, his bravado fading under her scrutiny.

“A push?” she echoed icily. “Do you honestly believe pushing the King of Montelune will achieve anything other than further resistance?”

The men fell silent, and Fury’s shoulders tensed, his expression tight with frustration. “What would you have us do, Your Majesty? If the King refuses to—”

“The King does not refuse,” Winnifred interrupted, her voice ringing with authority. “He hesitates. There is a difference.” She paused, drawing herself up to her full height, her gaze cutting across the room like a blade. “But as I told you, this matter has already been addressed. The Queen will handle it.”

There was a collective pause as her words sank in. The Queen? Their glances darted back and forth, disbelief and confusion clear on their faces. It was Lord Pierce who finally voiced what they were all thinking.

“Your Majesty, the Queen is... well, she’s rather—”

“Inexperienced,” Rumlow supplied curtly, a hint of disdain lacing his tone.

“Meek,” Pierce added, though he looked apologetic.

The Dowager Queen’s gaze hardened. “You underestimate her.”

The Prime Minister’s lips pressed into a thin line. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, the Queen is still unproven. This court is filled with those who would tear her down the moment they sense weakness. To place this matter in her hands—”

“Is exactly what needs to be done,” Winnifred interrupted, her voice like steel. “She is not a child. She is a queen. And she must learn to wield her power—now, not later.”

The noblemen exchanged uneasy glances, clearly unconvinced. The silence that followed was thick with skepticism, and it was all too clear that they did not share the Dowager Queen’s confidence in Y/N.

But Winnifred stood her ground, unflinching. “Mark my words, gentlemen,” she said softly, a dangerous edge to her voice. “You may doubt her now, but she will prove you wrong. She will make you see her strength.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Lord Pierce asked quietly.

“She will,” Winnifred replied, the certainty in her voice absolute. “Because I have seen it. I know what she’s capable of.”

Another tense silence fell over the room, the men still wary but unwilling to argue further.

“Very well, Your Majesty,” Fury said at last, his tone resigned but respectful. “We will... defer to your judgment. For now.”

“Good.” Winnifred’s gaze swept over the room once more, as if daring anyone to question her again. “Now, unless there are other matters to attend to, I suggest we all turn our focus back to ensuring the stability and prosperity of Montelune. The rest... will be handled in due time.”

With that, she rose gracefully from her chair, the noblemen following suit. And as she left the room, her back straight and her gaze unflinching, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the Dowager Queen was a force to be reckoned with—one who would see this matter resolved, no matter what it took.

Once the door closed behind her, the men shared a look of relief mixed with lingering anxiety.

Lord Pierce let out a shaky breath. “I don’t envy the queen one bit,” he muttered.

Fury nodded slowly, his gaze still fixed on the door. “No, I don’t imagine many would,” he murmured. “Because if there’s one person who can push her to act, it’s the Dowager Queen herself.”

× × × ×

It had been five long days since you’d last seen Bucky, and the estate that was meant to be your new home felt more like a gilded cage with each passing moment. Every day unfolded like clockwork, precise and unchanging, as if someone had wound up a porcelain doll and set it down to perform its routine.

You would rise from your cold, empty bed, get dressed in yet another resplendent gown chosen by the maids, and eat breakfast alone in the grand dining room. Lunch, the same—only the time of day changed, the vast silence swallowing every bite of food, every clink of porcelain against silver. Dinner was no different, the emptiness of the long table a stark reminder that you were isolated, adrift in a sea of marble and gold with no anchor in sight.

Even your attempts to fill the hours felt hollow. Books, once a source of comfort, blurred into meaningless words on a page. The piano keys beneath your fingers, no matter how delicately or forcefully you played, only echoed through the cavernous halls, sounding less like music and more like a lament. You’d tried wandering the estate, but at every turn, there was a servant or guard with polite words and unyielding eyes.

“You mustn’t go out, Your Grace. It’s for your safety.”

Your safety. The words grated against you like sandpaper, their false concern suffocating. Safety from what? From whom? No one would say. No one ever did. And every day, you could feel your sanity slipping, unraveling thread by thread, as the confines of the estate closed in around you.

And now, standing at one of the grand windows overlooking the manicured gardens, you turned abruptly, spotting Scott lingering nearby as always. The man had become a constant presence, a shadow, his careful attention both protective and irritating. You narrowed your eyes at him, frustration bubbling up like a storm.

“Scott, I want to invite Lady Natasha, Lady Wanda, and Lady Pepper for tea tomorrow morning,” you stated, your tone clipped and firm, already expecting resistance. “Make the arrangements.”

Scott’s expression shifted, a mixture of unease and hesitation. He lowered his gaze briefly before speaking, his voice quiet but unwavering. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Your Majesty.”

Your brow furrowed. “And why not?”

“My Queen… you’re still within the period of your honeymoon.” He chose his words carefully, as if speaking too freely might shatter the fragile peace that lingered between you. “It’s traditional for the queen to remain in seclusion during this time.”

“Traditional?” The word tasted bitter on your tongue, like bile. You let out a derisive laugh, shaking your head incredulously. “What, precisely, is there to seclude myself for? The king is nowhere to be found, and I—” You broke off, swallowing the sharp edge of your anger. “I am not permitted to invite anyone into my own home?”

Scott straightened slightly, his discomfort plain as day. “It’s not a matter of permission, Your Majesty. It’s simply how things are done. You are to stay within the estate until the period of seclusion ends.”

“Customary.” You echoed the word again, as if tasting its bitterness for the first time. You let out a short, sharp laugh that was entirely devoid of humor. “The king can do whatever he pleases while I am expected to sit idly and await his return. Is that what you mean?”

Scott’s mouth opened, but no words came. He simply stared at you, his gaze flicking nervously to the maids who were also watching, wide-eyed and tense.

You took a step closer, your voice softening into a dangerous whisper. “Tell me, Scott—how long is this period of seclusion supposed to last?”

“Until the tenth day after the wedding, Your Highness,” he murmured, lowering his gaze respectfully. “It is meant to provide you time to acclimate to your new role and… to reflect upon the responsibilities that come with it.”

“Reflect,” you repeated bitterly. “All I’ve done is reflect, Scott. Reflect on how little control I have over my own life. Reflect on how I have been shuttled around like a prized possession instead of a human being. Reflect on the fact that I have no voice, no say—no freedom.”

Silence fell over the room, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a dense fog. Scott shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting to the floor.

“Your Majesty,” he said quietly, “these traditions are not meant to confine you, but to protect you. To ensure your position as queen is established and—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, your tone ice-cold. “If you’re going to say one more thing about traditions or customs or protection, I would rather you not speak at all.”

Scott’s mouth snapped shut, and he gave a small, stiff nod. “As you wish, my queen.”

“Good,” you murmured, turning back to the window, your gaze hard and unyielding. “Leave me.”

You didn’t look back as Scott and the maids slowly withdrew from the room, the door closing softly behind them. The silence that followed was almost suffocating, and you stood there, staring out at the gardens that were just as closed off to you as the rest of the world.

No freedom. No voice. No choices.

× × × ×

Later in the evening, as you sat restlessly by the fireplace, staring at the flames that offered no warmth, the door to the drawing room opened, and Captain Steve Rogers stepped inside. His tall frame seemed to fill the space, and for a moment, you allowed yourself a flicker of hope. Perhaps he’d brought news, or perhaps—just perhaps—he’d come to take you away from this unending monotony.

“My Queen,” he greeted formally, bowing his head slightly.

“Captain,” you acknowledged, trying to keep the edge of desperation from your voice. “It’s good to see a familiar face.”

He offered a small, sympathetic smile as he approached. “I apologize for not visiting sooner, Your Majesty. Things have been... busy.”

Busy. The word sent a fresh wave of bitterness through you. Busy for everyone but you, it seemed. You forced a smile, gesturing for him to sit. “No need to apologize, Captain. But tell me—where is the King? I haven’t heard from him since I arrived.”

Steve’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, his gaze flickering toward the floor before meeting yours again. “He’s still in Annecy, My Queen.”

“I see.” you said softly, the name foreign on your tongue. “How exactly is Annecy?”

“It’s about a quarter of a day’s ride south, through the forest and along the main road,” Steve explained, his voice careful, measured. “It’s a secluded place, one he visits often when he needs to... reflect.”

The way he spoke made something inside you snap, your control fraying at the edges. 

“Reflect,” you murmured, the word a bitter taste in your mouth. All this time, he had been in Annecy, brooding and reflecting, while you languished here, alone and forgotten. The distance between you felt more like an abyss.

“How would one get there, exactly?” you asked, feigning nonchalance. “Just in case I wanted to... send a letter, perhaps?”

Steve’s brows furrowed slightly, suspicion flickering in his blue eyes. “It’s not safe for you to travel alone, my queen. The roads can be treacherous.”

“I’m not asking for permission to travel, Captain. Merely inquiring out of curiosity,” you replied, your tone light but your heart pounding in your chest. “If I were to send a messenger, I would need to know the way.”

He hesitated, but then sighed, relenting. “It’s a straight path through the eastern gates of the estate, then along the main road until you reach the first fork. You’d take the left path, following it through the forest until you cross the river at the stone bridge. From there, it’s just another few hours until you reach the edge of Annecy.”

You nodded thoughtfully, your gaze dropping to the floor, committing his words to memory. “Thank you, Captain. That’s... very helpful.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched you. “My Queen, if you’re considering—”

“I’m not considering anything,” you interrupted smoothly, your lips curving into a placating smile. “I’m merely... curious.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded nonetheless. “Very well. If you have any other questions—”

“Actually,” you cut in, your voice suddenly brighter, almost too casual, “I was wondering if I might step outside for a moment. The fresh air might do me good.”

“My Queen, it’s already quite late,” Steve said carefully, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. “Perhaps it would be best to wait until morning.”

A flicker of frustration flared within you, but you forced yourself to remain calm, nodding graciously. “Of course. . .of course. You’re right, Captain.”

Steve’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but his gaze remained watchful as he bowed his head. “Goodnight, Your Majesty.”

You offered him a demure smile, waiting until he turned to leave before your expression hardened, determination flaring to life in your chest. You watched him leave, each step of his boots echoing down the hall, the sound growing fainter until you were sure he was gone.

And then, moving swiftly, you slipped into your chambers and changed into a riding outfit, the dark fabric molding to your form like a second skin. Your heart pounded in your ears as you quietly made your way through the estate, avoiding the servants and guards as you made your way to the stables.

It was time to take matters into your own hands.

The stables were dimly lit, the smell of hay and leather filling the air. You slipped inside, your footsteps quiet as you glanced around—and then you saw it: Steve’s horse, a powerful white spotted stallion, already saddled and prepared for his return journey. He must have left it ready to go, just in case he needed to leave in haste.

A thrill shot through you as you crept closer, your fingers trembling with both fear and excitement. This was your chance. You stroked the stallion’s neck gently, murmuring soft words of reassurance before swinging up into the saddle. Steve’s horse shifted beneath you, but you steadied him, your resolve hardening.

You turned the stallion toward the eastern gate, your heart hammering with a mix of exhilaration and dread. The estate was still and silent as you urged the horse forward, guiding him through the gates and onto the open road.

Just as you reached the edge of the estate grounds, you heard a shout—Captain Rogers, his voice laced with both alarm and disbelief. 

“Your Majesty! What are you doing?”

But before he could reach you, you dug your heels into the stallion’s sides, sending him into a gallop. The wind whipped past your face, the thrill of freedom and fear mingling as you urged him faster, faster—

“Damn it!” Steve’s curse echoed behind you, and you risked a glance over your shoulder to see him sprinting to the stables.

Within moments, he’d mounted another horse, spurring it forward with a sharp command. “Your Majesty, stop! You can’t just—”

But his words were lost to the wind as you rode, your stallion’s hooves pounding against the dirt road. For the first time in days, you felt alive, the adrenaline coursing through you like fire.

Steve was gaining on you, his horse closing the distance quickly. You could hear him shouting your name, the words muddled and frantic, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

Not until you reached Annecy.

Not until you reached him.

× × × ×

The night was alive with the sound of hoofbeats thundering down the narrow, moonlit road. The crisp air bit at your cheeks as you leaned low over the stallion’s neck, the wind whipping past your ears in a deafening roar. The exhilaration coursing through you was intoxicating—a reckless thrill that washed away the numbness of the past days.

You were free, if only for a fleeting moment.

But behind you, not far off, you heard the determined pursuit of another horse—a powerful, steady rhythm that only a seasoned rider could command.

“Your Majesty!” Steve’s voice rang out over the pounding of hooves, a mix of frustration and exasperation lacing his words. “Stop, damn it! You’ll get yourself hurt!”

You clenched your jaw, pushing the stallion faster, your heart racing with equal parts fear and defiance. Let him chase me, you thought stubbornly. You weren’t turning back now. Not when you were this close to escaping.

The darkened forest loomed ahead, the path winding and treacherous beneath the canopy of towering trees. Shadows stretched and twisted, the moonlight barely penetrating the thick branches. But you didn’t falter. You knew how to handle a horse, knew how to navigate even the trickiest of trails. You just had to stay ahead.

A glance over your shoulder revealed Steve, his broad form hunched low over his mount, his expression tight with concentration. His horse was closing the distance, its powerful strides gaining on you inch by inch. A thrill of panic shot through you, and you urged your stallion forward, digging your heels in as you veered off the main road and plunged into the woods.

Branches clawed at your sleeves and hair, the underbrush thick and uneven beneath the horse’s hooves. But you pressed on, darting through the narrow gaps between the trees, your breath qyickening. You could hear Steve’s curses behind you, the snapping of twigs and the rustle of leaves marking his relentless pursuit.

“Your Majesty, this is madness!” he shouted, his voice closer now. “Stop now, before you hurt yourself!”

“Go back, Captain!” you called over your shoulder, the thrill of the chase making your blood sing. “I’m not turning around!”

“Damn it, woman!” Steve growled, unable to hide his frustration with you. “You’re going to regret this!”

The path ahead narrowed even further, the trees pressing in on all sides. Your horse stumbled slightly, its hooves slipping on the loose soil, but you quickly regained control, urging it onward. You could feel Steve’s presence like a shadow at your back, his horse matching yours stride for stride, the sound of their breathing harsh and heavy in the cool night air.

And then, with a burst of speed, Steve’s horse surged forward, drawing up beside yours. You stole a glance at him, your eyes meeting his briefly in the dim light. His gaze was fierce, determined—and utterly unyielding.

“Pull up, My Queen,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. “Now.”

You shook your head, setting your jaw stubbornly. “No. Not until I see him.”

Steve cursed under his breath, his hand darting out to grasp at your reins. “I’m not letting you—”

You yanked the reins sharply, steering the stallion to the right and away from his grasp. The horse whinnied in protest, but you held firm, pushing it onward. Steve swerved to avoid colliding with you, his horse skidding on the loose gravel before regaining its balance.

“Damn it!” he shouted again, his voice raw with a mix of anger and concern. “This isn’t a game!”

“No, it’s not!” you shot back, your voice rising with the intensity of the chase. “It’s my life, Steve!”

Something flickered in his eyes—something that looked almost like pity—but he didn’t relent. He tightened his grip on the reins and urged his horse forward, drawing up alongside you once more.

“I’m not letting you go,” he ground out, his jaw clenched. “Even if I have to drag you back myself.”

“Try it,” you dared, the words slipping out before you could think better of it. “Just try.”

His eyes flashed, and for a moment, you thought he might actually do it—might tackle you right off your horse and force you back. But instead, he gritted his teeth, his knuckles white where they gripped the reins.

“Fine,” he bit out. “You want to do this the hard way? We’ll do it the hard way.”

And with that, he urged his horse even closer, the two animals almost neck and neck now. He reached out again, his hand brushing against your arm, and you tensed, your heart hammering wildly.

But instead of pulling you back, he yanked sharply on the reins of your stallion, forcing the horse to slow and swerve, breaking your pace. You let out a cry of protest, your grip tightening on the reins as you fought to keep control. Steve’s horse blocked your path, cutting off any chance of escape.

“Let me go!” you shouted, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and desperation.

“Not happening,” Steve growled, his eyes blazing as he leaned in closer. “You think I’m going to let you ride off into the night alone, to God knows where, just because you’re stubborn?”

“You don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly,” he interrupted, his tone harsh. “I understand that you’re hurting. That you feel trapped. But this—” he gestured to the dark woods around you, his voice rising with exasperation—“this isn’t the way to fix it.”

You glared at him, your breath coming in short, furious gasps. “And what would you know about it, Captain?”

“Enough to know that if you keep pushing like this, you’re going to get yourself hurt,” he shot back, his voice cracking slightly. “And then what? Do you think that’s what he’d want? For you to risk everything like this?”

You stared at him, your chest heaving, and for a moment, the fight drained out of you, leaving you hollow and aching. He was right. You knew he was right. But the thought of going back—of returning to that empty, suffocating house—was unbearable.

“I just... I need to see him, Steve,” you replied, your voice breaking on the words. “I need to understand.”

His expression softened, his grip on the reins loosening slightly. “I know,” he murmured. “But not like this. Not alone.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy with unspoken words. And then, slowly, hesitantly, you nodded, the fire inside you dimming to a flicker.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

Steve released a breath he seemed to have been holding, his shoulders relaxing. “Good,” he said quietly, his voice rough with relief. “Let’s head back.”

But as he turned his horse, you saw your opportunity—a split-second chance—and before he could react, you kicked Steve’s horse into a gallop, the sudden burst of speed propelling you forward, back onto the path.

“Princess—Queen—Y/N!” Steve roared, the sound of his curses following you as you tore through the woods, the wind whipping past you.

This time, you didn’t look back. You couldn’t afford to. You had to reach Bucky. You had to know why he’d left you there—alone and abandoned.

Steve’s shouts echoed through the night as he raced after you, his horse’s hooves pounding against the ground like thunder.

“Stop, damn it!” he bellowed, his voice raw and desperate.

“Enough!” you shouted back, your voice cracking with the force of it. “Stop telling me what I should and shouldn’t do!”

Steve’s horse pulled up beside yours again, his face tight with worry and anger. “This isn’t safe, Y/N!”

“Don’t you dare!” you snapped, your eyes blazing as you looked at him. “Don’t you dare tell me what’s safe. You can’t keep me locked up like a caged bird just because it’s easier for you to watch over me!”

Steve’s mouth opened as if to argue, but you cut him off, your voice trembling with fury. “I’m not turning back, Steve. Not this time. So either let me go... or help me.”

He stared at you, the conflict clear in his eyes. For a moment, it seemed like he might refuse, might force you to return despite everything.

But then he let out a harsh breath, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Damn it, Y/N... fine.”

“What?” you breathed, barely daring to believe it.

“If you’re going to do this, then I’m coming with you,” he ground out, his jaw clenched. “Because I’m not letting you ride off into the night alone.”

You swallowed hard, the fight draining out of you as his words sank in. Slowly, you nodded, a shaky breath escaping your lips.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the horses’ hooves.

Steve’s gaze softened, and he gave a terse nod. “Just... try not to get us both killed, all right?”

A faint, breathless laugh escaped you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a small flicker of hope.

With one last glance at each other, you turned your horses toward the open road, the path to Annecy stretching out before you.

× × × × 

The cold night air nipped at your cheeks as you and Steve rode side by side, the rhythmic gallop of the horses’ hooves creating a steady, almost soothing cadence in the darkness. The road ahead was long, the path winding through the forest illuminated only by the pale light of the moon, casting everything in a muted, silvery glow.

Despite the tension simmering between you, there was something almost... peaceful about it. The silence that stretched between you and the captain wasn’t oppressive like before.

Steve’s gaze slid sideways, lingering on your determined profile. He wasn’t sure what he expected when he’d first seen you at the palace, but it certainly wasn’t this. A princess—no, a queen—in every sense of the word, but also something else entirely. Impulsive, stubborn, unrelenting in your resolve to push forward no matter what stood in your way. Every action you took seemed to defy the expectations of your station.

And yet, here you were, riding through the wilderness in the dead of night, your chin lifted high as if daring the stars themselves to challenge your resolve.

The corner of his mouth twitched in grudging admiration. “You ride well,” he offered, breaking the silence.

You turned to him, arching a brow. “Are you surprised?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Maybe a little. I didn’t expect a queen to handle a horse like that.”

Your lips curved into a small, almost wry smile. “My father made sure I knew how to ride from a young age. I learned when I was six.”

Steve blinked, his gaze sharpening with curiosity. “Six? That’s... early.”

You shrugged, your expression turning thoughtful. “I suppose it is. But in my country, it wasn’t unusual. There was a lot to navigate, and horses were a necessity for both travel and safety.”

Something in your tone—a flicker of something distant, a shadow—caught his attention, and he studied you with newfound appreciation. He’d thought you reckless before—impulsive, driven by raw emotion. But perhaps he’d underestimated you. There was more to you than he’d thought, more beneath that composed surface you kept so carefully guarded.

“You’re more capable than most people give you credit for,” he murmured, his voice almost contemplative.

You glanced at him, your gaze sharp and discerning. “They don’t see what they don’t want to see, Captain. I can read, too, you know.” A dry chuckle escaped you. “I can speak three languages, play music, excel in archery. I know more about strategy and history than some of the advisors who sit in the council chamber.”

Steve’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he quickly schooled his features, nodding slowly. “That’s impressive.”

“Is it?” you asked softly, a hint of bitterness creeping into your tone. “It’s not impressive if no one cares to know.” You shook your head, letting out a sigh. “No one’s ever bothered to ask. Not even James.”

His chest tightened at the way you said it, the quiet hurt that laced your words. He looked down at the reins in his hands, feeling a pang of guilt. You were right. No one had asked. Steve certainly hadn’t. He’d only ever seen you through the lens of a title, a role. He hadn’t seen you—not until now.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, the words sounding inadequate even to his own ears. “I should have... I didn’t realize—”

“It’s not your fault, Captain,” you interrupted gently, your voice carrying a tired acceptance. “I’ve had to learn to hide things. If I didn’t, I’d be seen as a threat—or worse, a failure. Women aren’t supposed to read, to know things beyond sewing and dancing.” Your lips twisted wryly. “But I never liked being told what I could and couldn’t do.”

Steve couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “I can see that.”

You rolled your eyes, though the gesture was light. “I’m serious, Captain. No one sees me for who I am, only for what they want me to be. And if they did see the real me... I wonder if they’d be disappointed.”

The raw honesty in your voice cut through him like a blade, and he swallowed, a knot forming in his throat. He couldn’t imagine anyone being disappointed by the fierce, unyielding woman riding beside him. If anything, he was completely, utterly astounded by you. Your strength, your determination—it was unlike anything he’d ever encountered.

And yet, you spoke as if it were something to be ashamed of.

“I doubt that very much,” he said quietly, his gaze steady and sincere. “If they could see what I see, they’d realize just how wrong they’ve been.”

You blinked, surprise flashing in your eyes before you looked away, your lips pressing together. “Thank you,” you murmured, the words barely audible over the sound of the horses’ hooves.

He nodded, his chest tightening again. “You deserve to be seen, My Queen. All of you.”

Silence fell between you again, but this time it was different—softer, gentler. The tension that had wound itself around you began to ease, loosening its grip ever so slightly. You stared ahead, your mind still spinning, but something in his words soothed the ache inside you, if only for a moment.

“Just... try not to run off on me again, all right?” Steve added after a moment, his tone lightening. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up at his exasperation. “No promises, Captain.”

He shook his head, a reluctant smile on his lips. “Of course not. You’d never make it that easy for me, would you?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you teased, and for the first time since you’d left the estate, the tension in your chest began to loosen, the weight of it lifting just a little.

Steve glanced at you, his gaze warm and admiring. “You really are something else, my Queen.” He paused, his expression turning thoughtful as he murmured, “Bucky has met his match, it seems.”

Your smile softened, a faint flush rising to your cheeks. “And you, Captain Rogers, are far too kind.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I’m just speaking the truth.”

× × × ×

The flickering glow of torches cast the estate’s front steps in a soft, golden hue, and a figure stepped forward from the shadows. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his eyes, narrowed and assessing, were locked on you as if you were an intruder. The guards flanking the entrance straightened, their hands subtly tightening on the hilts of their swords.

“Who are you?” the man asked, his voice carrying an edge of command.

You instinctively straightened in your saddle, your gaze meeting his. “I am the queen.”

His brows rose ever so slightly, a flicker of something—surprise, perhaps—passing through his expression. But he didn’t step aside. Instead, he squared his shoulders and planted himself more firmly in your path, his jaw set.

“And why is Her Majesty arriving at such an hour without an escort?” His tone was polite, but there was an undercurrent of steel that made your pulse quicken.

Before you could respond, Steve cleared his throat, guiding his horse a step forward, his gaze fixed on the man with an unflinching intensity. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Sam.”

Sam glanced at Steve, recognition sparking in his eyes, but he didn’t move. “Captain Rogers,” he said evenly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Didn’t expect to see you standing in the way of the queen,” Steve shot back, his tone calm but firm. “I suggest you step aside.”

The man—Sam—hesitated, his gaze sliding back to you, lingering with a mixture of wariness and something else... respect? Curiosity? You couldn’t quite tell.

“Your Majesty,” Sam said slowly, his voice measured, “I’m under strict orders to keep the estate secure.”

You squared your shoulders, lifting your chin as you met his gaze head-on. “I have come to see my husband. I am certain his orders do not extend to preventing me from entering.”

Sam’s lips twitched, as if he were fighting back a smile. For a heartbeat, you thought he might refuse again. But then he stepped aside with a graceful nod, sweeping his arm toward the entrance.

“Welcome, Your Majesty. Forgive me for the delay.” His eyes shifted to Steve, a knowing look passing between them before he turned back to you. “Shall I announce your arrival?”

You hesitated, glancing at Steve, who merely shook his head. “No,” you said softly, feeling a strange surge of determination. “I’ll find him myself.”

With a nod, Sam stepped back, gesturing for the guards to lower their weapons. As you dismounted, handing the reins to a stable boy who had appeared from the shadows, you felt Steve’s steady presence beside you—a silent pillar of support.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he murmured under his breath, his voice barely audible over the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

You nodded, squaring your shoulders. “I didn’t ride all this way to be turned back now, Captain.”

He gave you a small, tight smile, his eyes flicking briefly to Sam before returning to you. “Then let’s go find him.”

The grand entrance of the estate opened before you like the maw of some great beast, its stone walls and towering pillars casting deep, ominous shadows. As you stepped inside, the air seemed to change—thicker, almost suffocating, like a place that held too many secrets. The floors gleamed under the flickering light of candles set in wall sconces, the polished surfaces reflecting the nervous tension tightening in your chest.

Steve followed closely behind, his hand hovering near his sword, his gaze scanning the dimly lit corridors with the sharp, alert intensity of a soldier on high alert.

“He’s this way,” he murmured, gesturing with a tilt of his head.

You nodded, your heart pounding louder with each step. The estate was grander than you had expected, the hallways long and winding. For a moment, you felt disoriented, as if you’d stumbled into a labyrinth. But you forced yourself to focus. You were here for a reason—to speak to James. To confront him, to demand answers.

After what felt like an eternity, you reached a heavy wooden door, slightly ajar, warm light spilling through the crack. Steve slowed, his hand coming up as if to stop you, but you shook your head. You needed to do this alone.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open gently, stepping inside.

The heavy door creaked shut behind you as you stepped fully into the observatory. Your gaze swept over the large telescope set up at the far end, its towering structure silhouetted against the backdrop of the star-strewn sky. 

You saw him—standing beside it, a shadowed figure against the soft glow of the evening, the faint town lights far below barely piercing the darkness up here. His fingers traced the metal frame of the instrument, the careful precision of his movements almost reverent. It was unexpected—seeing him like this. Vulnerable, focused, his usual air of authority and distance replaced by something quieter, more human.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice clipped and cold. The question sounded more like an accusation, his grip tightening on the edge of the telescope.

“I think you know why,” you replied, your words as sharp as the air between you. “You can’t just keep sending me away like I’m some piece of unwanted baggage.”

He exhaled harshly, his shoulders shifting, but he still didn’t turn to face you. “You’re supposed to be at the estate. This is not—”

“Not what?” you cut in, your own frustration spilling over. “Not where I’m supposed to be? I’m your wife, James. Is it not my right to stand beside you, wherever you may be?”

Finally, he turned, his jaw set, eyes hardened as he stared at you across the room. “You’re making everything more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Complicated?” The word tasted bitter, and you threw it back at him like a weapon. “Complicated is this entire charade of a marriage you’ve thrown me into. You can’t even be in the same room as me, can’t look at me without acting like I’m some burden you’re forced to carry.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze never wavering. “You knew what was expected from the very beginning. I never misled you.”

“Never?” you shot back, stepping closer, heat rising beneath your skin. “What about everything you said that morning in the garden? You made me believe—” You stopped yourself, anger tightening in your throat. “You led me to believe there was more. You looked me in the eye and made promises without saying a word.”

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head sharply. “You’re twisting things, Y/N.”

“Am I?” Your voice rose, matching his, the words bursting out like they’d been waiting for this fight. “You led me on, made me think there could be something real between us. Did you really mean it? All those sweet words? Or am I just another woman you can disregard?”

His expression didn’t soften, didn’t waver. He took a step forward, eyes burning into yours. “You’re not just another woman. You’re my wife. And that’s exactly why I’m telling you to go back where it’s safe.”

You laughed, a cold, hollow sound that felt like it echoed through the observatory. “Safe. You keep saying that. But you know what’s unsafe, James? Being married to someone who treats me like a ghost. Like I’m here but not really here. Like I’m nothing more than a title to you.”

“You don’t understand,” he snapped, his voice dangerously low. “You think this is about you? It’s not. It’s about—”

“Don’t you dare tell me what this is about!” you interrupted, your anger roaring back to life. “You’ve been pushing me away since the day we married. You send me to that estate like I’m some delicate flower who can’t handle the truth. You won’t even give me the courtesy of honesty.”

“I am being honest,” he growled, his voice vibrating with suppressed rage. “You just refuse to accept it.”

“Then tell me why you shut me out!” you demanded, taking another step closer, refusing to back down. “Tell me why you can’t even bear to look at me!”

“Because it’s easier that way!” he exploded, the words crashing between you like a thunderclap. “Because every moment I spend with you, every look, every touch—it makes it harder to keep my distance. And I need that distance, Y/N. I need it.”

“Why?” The single word felt like a challenge, a dare, as you stood your ground. “Why do you need to keep your distance?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wild with something you couldn’t quite decipher. “Because if I don’t, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” you pressed, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “You’ll feel something? You’ll actually let yourself care?”

“Damn it, stop twisting my words!” he snapped, his voice echoing off the walls. He pointed toward the door, his hand trembling slightly. “This conversation is over. Go home.”

But you didn’t move. Instead, you square your shoulders, staring him down with a determination that only seemed to make his fury burn hotter. “You’re just a coward, James.”

“What did you say?” His eyes darkened, the heat in his gaze scorching.

“I said you’re a coward,” you repeated, your voice unyielding. “It’s not about protecting me, is it? It’s about protecting yourself. You can’t handle feeling anything real, so you shove me away and pretend it’s for my sake—”

“Enough!” he roared, slamming his fist down on a workbench. The sound reverberated through the room, you flinched, but didn’t back away. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his voice a raw growl when he spoke again. “I’m commanding you to go home, Y/N. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“And what if I don’t?” you shot back, your heart hammering in your chest. “What if I stay here and make you face me?”

He took a step forward, the distance between you closing until he was towering over you.

“You want me to be honest? Fine. I’m being honest now.” He leaned in, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Go. Home. Because if you stay, I can’t promise I won’t hurt you.”

The threat hung in the air, his gaze blazing with a warning you knew he meant. But even then, you didn’t move. You held his stare, refusing to look away, refusing to give in.

But then something shifted in his eyes—something dark and final.

“Leave,” he bit out, each word a sharp command. “Go back to the estate. This is not up for debate.”

“James—”

“Go.” His voice cut through the room like a blade, and for the first time, you felt the full force of his resolve, the cold, impenetrable wall he had built around himself.

Slowly, you stepped back, your eyes still locked on his, the ache in your chest spreading like a poison.

“You really think you’re protecting me?” Your voice wavered, the frustration and pain that had been building over the past five days bubbling to the surface, spilling out like a torrent you could no longer contain. “But all you’re doing is pushing me away. You think that sending me back to that estate, is what’s best for me? Locking me up like some prisoner while you hide away here?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his expression an unreadable mask of ice.

“Every morning I wake up in that empty bed, wondering if today will be the day you finally show up. If maybe, for once, you’ll decide that I’m worth more than a few fleeting words, worth more than some shadow you keep at arm’s length.” Your voice shook, but you pressed on, refusing to let the lump in your throat silence you. 

“I eat alone. I read alone. I play music for walls that don’t listen. I’m trapped in that place, surrounded by people who refuse to let me leave, because you’ve ordered it. ‘For my safety,’” you scoffed, the bitterness heavy in your tone. “But safety from what, James? From whom?”

He flinched, just barely, but you caught it. You saw the way his fingers twitched at his sides, the way his gaze flickered with something—regret, maybe—before he buried it beneath that cold, stony facade.

“Your silence is worse than anything else. Worse than the gossip, the rumors,” you continued, each word sharp, slicing through the air. “I didn’t marry a title, James. I married you—or at least, I thought I did. But the man I met in the garden… the man who promised me something more… that’s not who I see now.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze unyielding, his stance unrelenting.

“Fine. If you want to let this crumble to dust, then fine. But don’t you dare think that you’re doing it for me,” you spat, turning on your heel and heading for the door. “You want me to leave? I’ll leave.”

With that, you stormed out, slamming the door behind you, the echo of it reverberating through the silence he left behind.

And in that silence, Bucky stood alone, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes fixed on the door you’d just walked through, the words he didn’t say choking him from the inside out.

× × × × 

You stormed down the spiral staircase until you arrived at the hallway, each step punctuated by the echo of your boots against the stone floor. You barely registered the curious glances of the servants or the soft rustling of skirts as maids darted out of your path. Everything was a blur of color and sound, your heart pounding in your ears like a war drum.

You reached the grand foyer, your breath coming in ragged, furious gasps. You hadn’t meant to let him get to you—hadn’t meant to let his coldness, his indifference, chip away at the fragile hope you’d nurtured.

But he had.

And now the hope was gone, replaced by a searing anger that burned hot and unforgiving in your chest.

“My Queen!” Steve’s voice called out urgently somewhere behind you. You didn’t stop, didn’t even glance back. “What happened? Did he—”

“I do not wish to talk about it, Steve,” you snapped, not breaking stride as you pushed through the front entrance. The cold night air hit you like a slap, the sharpness of it biting into your skin, but it was a welcome relief—anything to douse the fire raging inside you.

“Y/N, wait—”

But you ignored him, striding toward the stables where your horse was already saddled and waiting. A stable boy jumped at your sudden arrival, his eyes wide with uncertainty as you approached.

“Bring my things. I’m leaving,” you ordered, your voice taut with barely contained fury.

“But—Your Majesty—” the boy stammered, glancing nervously between you and Steve, who had followed you out.

“Do as she says,” Steve murmured, his tone resigned, though there was a hard edge to his gaze as he watched you mount the horse.

“Y/N—” Steve tried again, his hand lifting as if he might reach for you, stop you. But you jerked the reins sharply, cutting him off.

“Are you coming?”

He fell silent, his shoulders slumping slightly as he watched you, the conflict clear in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something else, wanted to protest—but then his gaze flicked back toward the darkened silhouette of the estate, and he let out a low, frustrated sigh.

“Yes,” he muttered, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. “I’ll escort you back to Byron—but allow me to have a word with the King.”

“Do whatever you want,” you bit out, the bitterness in your tone making his jaw clench. 

Steve approaches your horse, looking up at you with a hardened look, “Do not leave without me.”

“I won’t.”

× × × × 

Bucky stood in the center of the room, the soft, amber glow of candlelight casting deep shadows across his features. His breathing was labored, each inhale and exhale scraping through his lungs like broken glass. He stared at the closed door, his hand still clenched around the edge of the workbench, his knuckle white with the force of his grip.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, his voice a harsh, broken sound in the empty room.

The door creaked open suddenly, and Bucky’s gaze snapped up, his eyes blazing with a dangerous mix of anger and fear.

Steve stepped inside, his expression tight, his shoulders squared. For a moment, the two men simply stared at each other, the air crackling with unspoken tension.

“What the hell was that?” Steve demanded, his voice low and fierce, like the growl of an animal poised to attack. He took a step forward, his gaze never leaving Bucky’s. “What the hell did you say to her?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he turned away, his shoulders stiff. “That is no concern of yours.”

“Like hell it’s not,” Steve shot back, his voice rising with barely contained fury. He took another step forward, his eyes blazing. “She came here for you. She rode all the way from Byron—alone, at night—just to see you. And you turn her away like she’s nothing?”

“Watch it, Rogers,” Bucky warned, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “This is between me and her.”

“Bullshit,” Steve spat, his fists clenching at his sides. “She is my queen. You may be her husband, but you are not acting as such. You are simply pushing her away—”

“Watch how you speak to me, Captain,” Bucky warned further, his voice low and simmering with barely controlled rage. He turned back to face Steve, his eyes flashing with a dangerous, unyielding intensity. “I am your King before I am your friend. Don't you ever forget that.”

But then Steve’s expression hardened, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he took a deliberate step closer, refusing to be cowed.

“You may be my King,” Steve ground out, his voice tight and edged with anger. “But that does not mean I will stand by and watch you destroy yourself. I know why you’re doing this. And it’s tearing her apart.”

“I’m doing what I have to,” Bucky interrupted sharply. He stepped forward, his hard gaze latching onto Steve’s. “Do not presume to know what is best for her, Steve.”

“And you do?” Steve challenged, his voice dripping with contempt. “Because from where I stand, it seems you are doing everything in your power to hurt her.”

Bucky’s expression twisted, a dark, bitter smile tugging at his lips. “You think I wish to cause her pain?”

“I think you’re terrified,” Steve replied quietly, his voice calm and unflinching. “You’re scared of what you feel for her, afraid of getting close—because losing her would destroy you. But this… pushing her away, pretending you don’t care… that’s just cowardice.”

Bucky’s eyes flared, his hand darting out to grab the front of Steve’s coat, yanking him forward until their faces were inches apart. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then explain it to me,” Steve demanded, his voice low and unrelenting. “You are sabotaging yourself and tearing her down in the process—I am done watching you destroy the one good thing you possess.”

For a moment, they stood there, locked in a silent, seething battle of wills. Then, slowly, Bucky released his grip on Steve’s coat, his shoulders slumping as if the fight had drained out of him.

“You should leave, Steve,” Bucky muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion and defeat. He turned away, his gaze falling to the floor. “Go take her back to Byron. Make sure she’s safe.”

“Bucky—”

“Just go,” Bucky bit out, his voice rough and ragged. He didn’t look back, didn’t give Steve a chance to argue.

Steve’s gaze lingered on him for a long, tense moment, a dozen words hovering on the tip of his tongue. But then he turned sharply on his heel, his boots echoing through the silent observatory as he left, the door slamming shut behind him.

And then, slowly, he sank down onto the nearest chair, his head dropping into his hands, his shoulders shaking with the force of emotions he couldn’t quite suppress.

But no tears fell. He’d learned long ago how to bury them deep, how to lock them away where they couldn’t hurt him—or anyone else.

Because this was the price of keeping you safe. The price of keeping his distance.

Even if it destroyed him in the process.

× × × × 

The maids moved quietly, arranging fresh flowers and setting a delicate porcelain tea set on a polished table. Queen Winifred sat gracefully in her high-backed chair, sipping her morning tea, her posture as rigid and refined as ever.

She barely looked up as her lady-in-waiting, Lady Harriet, approached hesitantly. There was a slight shift in the atmosphere—something unspoken crackling between them. Harriet glanced around, making sure no one else was within earshot, before leaning in closer.

“Your Majesty, I thought you should be informed… the Queen…” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “Last night, she left the estate. Captain Rogers accompanied her.”

The Queen Dowager’s hand stilled, the delicate teacup hovering just inches from her lips. “She did what?” she asked, her voice even but laced with incredulity.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Lady Harriet continued, her voice dropping lower as if speaking the words any louder would make them more scandalous. “She rode all the way to the King’s estate in Annecy. It caused quite a stir among the staff, even with Captain Rogers by her side.”

For a moment, a thick silence settled in the room. The Queen Dowager’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though considering the implications of such an audacious act. But then… something unexpected happened.

The corner of her lips twitched.

Lady Harriet blinked, surprised, as a soft chuckle slipped past the Queen Dowager’s lips—a sound so rare, it seemed to startle even her own maids. Winifred set the teacup down gently, a wry smile spreading across her face as she tilted her head in quiet amusement.

“She rode to Annecy,” she repeated, a hint of disbelief mingling with a spark of admiration in her eyes. “With Captain Rogers…” She shook her head slightly, as if she could scarcely believe it herself. “That girl…”

Her chuckle grew a little louder, a quiet, knowing sound. Lady Harriet exchanged a glance with one of the other maids, clearly perplexed by the Queen Dowager’s reaction. This wasn’t the disapproving reprimand they’d expected.

The Queen Dowager leaned back in her chair, her gaze turning distant as she stared out the window. 

“So, she did listen after all…” she murmured to herself, almost as if speaking the thought aloud would make it more real.

Lady Harriet hesitated, unsure whether to continue or to remain silent. “Your Majesty?”

The Queen Dowager waved a hand dismissively, still smiling to herself. “It’s nothing, Harriet.” 

She took another sip of her tea, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “The Queen may have more steel in her spine than I initially thought.”

“Should we… take any action regarding her behavior, Your Majesty?” Harriet asked tentatively, still clearly baffled.

Winifred’s smile widened, a gleam of something almost like pride flashing in her eyes. “No, Harriet. Leave her be.”

She glanced down at her teacup, swirling the liquid gently. “Let her make her bold moves. Let her surprise them all.” She lifted her gaze, the hint of a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. “It’s about time someone shook things up around here.”

Lady Harriet shifted, still looking uncertain. “But Your Majesty, if Captain Rogers was with her, it might imply—”

“Captain Rogers may be a steadfast soldier, but he does not dictate the queen’s actions. She made her choice.” Winnifred paused, her smile deepening. “And if I’m not mistaken, that girl has enough fire to make any man, king or captain, follow her lead.”

And with that, she returned to her tea as if nothing had happened, the faintest smile lingering on her lips—a smile that spoke of a plan unfolding, of something more significant simmering beneath the surface.

Yes, the queen was proving to be quite a force, indeed.

× × × ×

You sit perched on a thick branch of the grand oak tree, high above the garden path. The cool breeze plays with the hem of your skirts and rustles the leaves around you. A delicate porcelain teacup is balanced carefully on a knot beside you, the matching saucer nestled securely on a branch above, where a glimmer of sunlight catches the floral patterns. 

Below, the world feels distant—removed. From this height, you can watch the maids flit about like little insects, pretending to ignore you while stealing glances up at your odd choice of seating.

Your book lies open in your lap, but you haven’t turned a page in a while. The words blur together as your gaze drifts away from the text, caught instead by the blue expanse of sky peeking through the foliage, your thoughts miles away.

It has been two days since you rode to Annecy in the dead of night. Two days since you confronted your husband, demanding answers he seemed unwilling—or unable—to give. And now, silence. Not a single word from him. Not even a letter. The ache of that silence lingers in your chest, tightening every time you think of him.

With a sigh, you look back at the pages, willing yourself to focus. But even now, the ache of anticipation tugs at you. A soft crunch of boots against gravel draws your attention. From your elevated position, you glance down and find Captain Rogers standing beneath the oak, his brow furrowed in a curious frown as he peers up at you.

“Your Majesty?” His voice carries a note of genuine confusion and surprise. “How did you get up there?”

You blink, taken aback, before a smile tugs at your lips. “I climbed, Captain Rogers.”

His eyes widen slightly, and then he glances at the tree trunk, scanning the branches as if trying to piece together the puzzle of how a queen—of all people—managed to scale a tree like a child escaping her governess.

“Climbed,” he repeats, disbelief tinged with admiration. “And no one stopped you?”

“No one saw me until I was already here,” you reply, a faint note of mischief coloring your tone. “And by then, what could they do? Order their queen to come down?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a reluctant smile as he steps closer, his gaze still on you. “Well, I can’t say I expected to find you up a tree, but… may I join you?”

You raise an eyebrow, looking down at him as he places one hand on the trunk, testing his grip. “Do you think you can get up here, Captain?”

“Only one way to find out,” he murmurs.

You watch, surprised and a little amused, as he hoists himself up, his powerful arms making easy work of the climb. He’s not quite as graceful as you’d been, but soon enough, he’s straddling the branch in front of you, facing you, his legs on either side of the limb to keep himself balanced. The limb dips ever so slightly under his weight. The closeness between you makes the air seem charged, a tension simmering beneath the surface.

“Impressive,” you say softly, tilting your head to regard him. “For a soldier, you climb trees like a schoolboy.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.” He shifts his position slightly, leaning forward, his hands braced on either side of the branch, bringing him closer, his gaze holding yours with unsettling intensity. “But what are you doing up here? Escaping the palace? Or just trying to find some peace?”

“Perhaps both,” you reply with a small sigh. “The view is nice up here. It gives me a different perspective.”

“Perspective,” he repeats thoughtfully. “Or maybe it’s a place to hide.”

Your gaze snaps to his, a flash of irritation rising at his too-accurate guess. “And if it is?”

“Then I understand.” His voice is soft, devoid of the teasing lilt he’d used earlier. “But sometimes… sometimes what we’re running from follows us, no matter how high we climb.”

His words strike something deep within you, and you avert your gaze, looking out at the horizon instead of meeting his eyes. “What do you want, Captain? Surely you didn’t climb this tree just to talk about running away.”

He shifts closer, his knee brushing against yours, the rough bark digging into your skirts as he leans forward slightly. His proximity is dizzying, his eyes searching yours with a kind of determination that makes your pulse quicken. “I thought… perhaps some company would be welcome. It’s a lovely day, and you seem… alone.”

“Alone, but not lonely,” you lied, the words almost a whisper. “Still, I appreciate the thought.”

“But you shouldn’t have to handle things alone,” he counters gently, his gaze softening as he watches you. “Sometimes, it helps to share the burden. Or at least… know there’s someone willing to share it.”

You glance down at the garden below, where the maids are casting furtive glances up at the two of you, their curiosity barely concealed. A murmur rises among them, speculation sparking like dry kindling. You can practically hear the gossip spreading like wildfire.

“Is this... concern for my well-being or more... personal interest, Captain?” you ask, your voice laced with challenge.

He holds your gaze, his expression softening in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Perhaps a bit of both,” he replies quietly.

A murmur rises among the maids, their eyes widening as they exchange knowing looks. Your gaze shifts briefly to them before returning to Steve’s, suspicion and confusion swirling in your chest.

“Captain Rogers, I—” You begin to speak but falter, unsure how to respond to this unexpected display of interest. 

He leans back slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “It’s just... Your Majesty, you deserve someone who sees you. Not just the crown, not just the queen, but you.”

The maids’ murmurs grow louder, and you force yourself to smile, though it feels brittle on your lips.

“That’s very kind of you to say, Captain,” you reply, your voice steady despite the confusion roiling inside you. “But perhaps you should keep such thoughts to yourself. I would hate for anyone to misunderstand your intentions.”

“Misunderstand?” he echoes, his smile widening just enough to be noticed. “I’m not sure there’s any misunderstanding when a man speaks his mind.”

Your eyes narrow, a flash of irritation sparking behind them. What game is he playing? Before you can press further, one of the maids drops a basket of flowers, the sudden clatter drawing both your attention. The young woman quickly bends to pick them up, her cheeks flushed, but not before she casts another furtive glance at you and Steve.

“Let them talk, Your Majesty. Sometimes, a little attention is exactly what’s needed.”

“Attention for whom?” you ask, your voice dropping to a whisper, your suspicion growing. “For me? Or for... someone else?”

His gaze doesn’t waver. “For whoever needs it,” he murmurs softly, the words thick with unspoken meaning.

You inhale deeply, holding his gaze as you speak. “I think it’s best if we don’t continue this conversation.”

With a quiet sigh, you carefully swing your legs over the branch and drop down, landing gracefully on the grass below. Steve follows suit, descending with a thud beside you, his presence lingering too close for comfort.

“Thank you for your... company, Captain,” you say quietly, smoothing down your skirts.

He dips his head in a respectful bow. “Of course, Your Majesty. I apologize if I overstepped.”

Without another word, you turn on your heel and make your way back to the estate, leaving him and his cryptic words behind among the watchful eyes and eager whispers of the maids.

The afternoon sun cast dappled shadows across the marble floors of the corridor as you made your way back to your chambers. Each step you took felt heavier, weighted down by the encounter in the garden, by Captain Rogers’ unexpected behavior, and the murmurs that had buzzed around you like a swarm of bees.

As you turned a corner, you caught sight of Scott—your valet—hovering a few paces behind. His presence was a familiar one, but something about it now felt... different. Obtrusive. You slowed your pace until you came to a halt, turning abruptly to face him.

“Scott,” you called softly, your tone edged with irritation and confusion. “Why are you following me?”

Scott, ever the stoic presence, dipped his head in a respectful bow. “Your Majesty, it’s my duty to attend to you.”

Your eyes narrowed as you took in the determined set of his shoulders, the way his gaze remained fixed just over your shoulder, never meeting your eyes. He’d been like this ever since you returned from Annecy—hovering in the shadows, always lingering close by.

“Yes, I know that, Scott,” you said slowly, studying him with a scrutinizing gaze. “But lately, you’ve been… hovering more than usual.”

His lips twitched, a fleeting sign of discomfort. “I apologize, Your Majesty. I merely wish to ensure your safety.”

“Ensure my safety?” you echoed, suspicion prickling at the back of your mind. You glanced around the empty corridor, a sense of unease settling in your chest. “Who ordered you to follow me around like this?”

Scott hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor before he glanced back up, his voice low. “It was the order of the king, Your Majesty.”

Your breath caught. Bucky? You frowned, confusion and frustration warring within you. Why would he do that? He hadn’t even bothered to see you, to speak to you since the night you confronted him. And yet, now he saw fit to have you followed?

“And… What of Captain Rogers?” you asked, your voice quieter now, a strange apprehension curling around your words. “Why does it seem like he’s been lingering around more often? Was that also at the king’s order?”

Scott shifted slightly, his expression remaining neutral, though there was a faint trace of something—sympathy, perhaps?—in his eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty. The king… he wanted to ensure you were… properly attended to.”

“Properly attended to?” You scoffed softly, shaking your head. The absurdity of it all threatened to choke you. “So, let me get this straight: His Majesty won’t speak to me, but he’ll send his best men to guard me as if I’m some helpless child in need of constant supervision?”

Scott stiffened slightly, but he didn’t respond, his silence speaking louder than any words could.

A bitter laugh escaped you, the sound harsh and brittle. “And here I thought I was being foolish for imagining things.” You looked back at Scott, your gaze piercing. “So, this—this is the king’s way of keeping me under lock and key?”

“It’s for your safety, Your Majesty,” Scott replied softly, his voice almost apologetic. “He wants to ensure nothing happens to you.”

“Nothing happens to me?” You shook your head, disbelief and anger simmering beneath your calm facade. “Nothing is happening to me. What does he think will happen to me? I’m not the one who’s running off and avoiding our marriage.”

Scott’s gaze dropped to the floor again, his silence confirming what you already knew. This wasn’t about your safety—at least not entirely. It was about control. About Bucky’s way of maintaining a grip on something he couldn’t seem to confront directly.

“Well,” you muttered, turning away sharply and continuing down the hall, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ll be sure to thank him for his... consideration.”

Scott fell into step a few paces behind you, his presence a shadow that only deepened your frustration. With each step you took, the realization settled deeper into your bones.

Bucky might have ordered this, but he was still keeping his distance. Still choosing to watch from afar, rather than face you. And that, more than anything, was what made your heart ache.

You stopped abruptly, your irritation bubbling to the surface as you turned back around to face Scott, a sudden thought lighting up your eyes. 

“You know what?” you murmured, voice edged with determination as a small, dangerous smile curled your lips. “I think I’d like to shoot some arrows.”

Scott’s eyes widened, a look of surprise flickering across his face. He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting away before he cleared his throat. 

“Your Majesty, I—” he started, hesitation written in every line of his posture.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head as if considering his reaction. “Is there a problem, Scott?” Your voice remained calm, but there was a sharpness beneath it, the kind that could cut through any excuse he might offer.

Scott’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, struggling to keep his composure. “I, uh, I don’t believe it’s wise, Your Majesty,” he murmured carefully, his voice almost too soft, too placating. “Perhaps… a walk in the gardens or a relaxing moment in the music room instead? Or I could—”

“Scott,” you interrupted sharply, crossing your arms over your chest as you leveled him with a pointed look. “Are you refusing your queen?”

The tension between you hung heavy in the air as his shoulders tightened, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the right words to say.

“Of course not, Your Majesty,” he managed finally, though his voice trembled ever so slightly. “It’s just… your safety—”

“My safety,” you echoed dryly, the irritation you had been holding back spilling out now. “Tell me, Scott, how exactly do arrows pose a threat to my safety? Unless I plan on aiming at myself, I believe I’ll be fine.”

His mouth twitched, struggling between his duty to follow orders and the fear of displeasing you. “It’s not the arrows, Your Majesty,” he murmured, choosing his words carefully. “It’s just… we were instructed to keep you... away from—”

“Instructed?” you cut in, incredulity and frustration sharpening your tone. “Instructed to keep me away from what? Activities that make me feel like I have a shred of control over my own life? I can’t even invite Lady, Romanoff, Potts and Maximoff.”

Scott shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the floor as if it held all the answers. “No, Your Majesty, of course not. It’s just—”

“Just what, Scott?” Your gaze was unrelenting, your patience wearing thin. “If you’re so worried about my safety, then be a good valet and stand by as I shoot. Ensure that nothing happens to me, since that is your duty, after all.”

He blinked, clearly caught between his loyalty to the king and his loyalty to you. The silence stretched long, taut and crackling with unspoken defiance. Finally, he exhaled softly, shoulders slumping just a little in reluctant acceptance.

“Very well, Your Majesty,” he said quietly, though his eyes remained wary. “I shall arrange for the equipment to be brought to the archery range. But… might I suggest a different method for alleviating your frustrations?”

You raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a faint smirk as you glanced at him. “Such as?”

“Perhaps a ride through the woods?” he offered quickly, hope lighting up his eyes. “Or I could arrange for a music instructor, or even some time in the library. Anything that would allow you to... relax.”

You let out a soft, humorless laugh. “You think a music lesson or a book will do the trick, do you?”

Scott hesitated but nodded, his voice gentle. “You’ve had a trying few days, Your Majesty. It’s natural to feel… frustrated. But there are ways to—”

“Enough,” you interrupted, your voice firm but not unkind. “I appreciate your concern, but I know what I need. Fetch the equipment. I won’t be persuaded otherwise.”

He sighed softly, bowing his head in reluctant submission. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

You turned away sharply, your gaze fixed on the distant view through the windows. The truth was, this wasn’t just about shooting arrows. It was about the tightness in your chest, the simmering anger beneath your skin, the need to do something other than sit around like a caged bird. Bucky had placed you under watch, yet he refused to see you.

If no one else would let you be free, then you would take what freedom you could. Even if it was just the satisfaction of a well-aimed arrow hitting its mark.

× × × ×

You stood at the archery range, your fingers gently tracing the fletching of an arrow. You could feel every set of eyes on you—Scott’s gaze wary and apprehensive, the handmaids’ murmuring softly amongst themselves, the guards standing at attention with blank faces. But most notable was Captain Rogers, his presence a solid, quiet reassurance, yet even he stood back, watching you like a hawk.

Taking a deep breath, you nocked the arrow, the smooth wood and feather a comforting weight in your hands. You narrowed your gaze, focusing on the target ahead. The world around you blurred, leaving only the taut string and the distant bullseye. And then, with a practiced release, you let it fly.

The arrow sailed through the air with a sharp hiss, striking the target with a satisfying thud. A few inches off-center, but still well within the mark. 

“Not bad,” Steve commented, a hint of admiration in his voice. “For a first shot.”

You turned to him with a raised brow, a glint of amusement in your eyes. “First shot of the day, you mean.” Then, without breaking eye contact, you nocked another arrow, your movements smooth, effortless.

Steve’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. He crossed his arms, stepping closer, though he kept a respectful distance. “Of course. I stand corrected, Your Majesty.”

Scott cleared his throat softly, stepping forward as if to remind everyone of the gravity of the situation. “Your Majesty,” he said, his voice laced with concern, “perhaps it would be best to—”

“To what?” you interrupted, the arrow poised and ready. “Put down the bow and take up knitting? Perhaps have a nice cup of tea and read a dull novel while I bide my time?”

Scott blinked, his lips pressing into a thin line, but he said nothing. Instead, his gaze shifted to Captain Rogers, almost as if hoping for support.

“Let her be, Scott,” Steve murmured, his tone gentle but firm. “If she wants to practice, let her practice.”

With that, you turned your attention back to the target, drawing the string taut. This time, the arrow flew with a deadly precision, landing just shy of the bullseye. A small ripple of approval murmured through the handmaidens, but Scott merely sighed.

You tilted your head, a sly smile curving your lips as you glanced at him. 

“Scott,” you began casually, as if speaking of the weather, “do we keep any paintings of His Majesty around the manor? Perhaps one in full regalia?” Your tone was innocent enough, but the implication hung heavy in the air.

The handmaidens exchanged startled glances, a few stifling giggles behind their hands. Steve’s gaze shifted sharply to you, his lips twitching, but he said nothing, watching the scene unfold with a barely hidden glimmer of amusement.

Scott, however, did not find it amusing in the slightest. His eyes widened slightly, and he straightened, his voice dropping into a low, chiding tone. “Your Majesty, that is not a funny joke.”

“Isn’t it?” You tilted your head, feigning a look of mock surprise. “I find it quite humorous.”

A muscle in Scott’s jaw twitched, but he composed himself quickly, his gaze flickering to Captain Rogers as if asking for assistance.

But Steve merely shrugged, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. “The queen does have a unique sense of humor,” he said lightly, his gaze still on you. “One might even say it’s… refreshing.”

You shot him a grateful glance before nocking yet another arrow, this time releasing it with a force that sent it whistling through the air. The arrow struck the outer ring of the target, and you clicked your tongue, feigning disappointment.

“Perhaps I need more inspiration,” you mused aloud, not bothering to hide the bitterness in your voice. “A better target. Or maybe something a bit more… personal.”

“Your Majesty,” Scott said warningly, stepping forward as if he might dare to take the bow from your hands. “This—”

You turned on him sharply, your expression hardening. “What?” you demanded softly. “This is my one small act of freedom. This range. These arrows. This target. Would you deny me even this?”

Silence fell over the group, thick and uncomfortable. The guards shifted uneasily, glancing at one another, unsure of how to proceed. The handmaidens fidgeted, casting worried looks in your direction. But Steve held his ground, his gaze never leaving you.

Scott swallowed, his eyes darting between you and Steve, then back again. “No, Your Majesty,” he said quietly, his shoulders slumping just slightly. “I would never deny you.”

“Good,” you murmured, lifting the bow again and taking aim, your gaze focused, unyielding. “Then let me have my small comforts, if nothing else.”

And with that, you released the arrow, the force of it reverberating through your arms. It struck the very edge of the target, just shy of missing altogether. You lowered the bow slowly, your heart hammering in your chest as you stared at the arrow, frustration coiling tightly within you.

“Perhaps next time,” you said softly, almost to yourself. “I’ll find a better target.”

Scott said nothing, his silence louder than any reprimand. But as you turned away, your gaze met Steve’s once more, and the warmth in his eyes—unspoken understanding, quiet admiration—was enough to dull the edge of your anger.

× × × ×

“Have you heard?” Lady Leah’s voice, soft but carrying the weight of scandal, broke through the hushed quiet of the drawing room. She leaned forward, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. “They still haven’t consummated.”

Lady Ravonna’s teacup paused halfway to her lips, a delicate brow arching. “The king and queen?” she murmured, as if the very notion were inconceivable. “How do you know?”

Leah’s lips curved into a smug smile. “People talk,” she said simply, glancing sideways at Sharon, who sat rigid, her fingers drumming against the arm of her chair. “And apparently, they talk quite a bit.”

“Seven days,” Lady Maya added softly, her gaze flitting between the women. “A week, and still… nothing?”

A delicate scoff escaped from Sharon’s lips, though her eyes were cold, calculating. “I’m not surprised. Our queen,” she sneered, the title dripping with disdain, “is too busy batting her lashes at Captain Rogers to notice she has a husband.”

The other women exchanged startled glances, shock and intrigue flaring to life in their eyes. Ravonna set her teacup down with deliberate care, her gaze narrowing slightly. “You’re saying there’s something between them?”

“I’m saying there’s enough for people to start talking,” Sharon replied coolly, her voice a low, dangerous purr. “You know how these things start—one whispered word, one lingering glance… and suddenly, there’s a story worth telling.”

Maya’s brow furrowed slightly, a hint of concern crossing her face. “But… the queen and the captain? It seems—”

“Impossible?” Sharon cut in sharply, “Hardly. The way he hovers around her, like she’s some delicate flower in need of protection… the way she looks at him, like he’s the answer to all her problems. It’s disgusting.”

The other women exchanged wary glances, sensing the venom simmering beneath Sharon’s words.

“Sharon, you should be careful,” Leah murmured softly, her gaze darting nervously to the door. “If people hear you speak like this—”

“Like what?” Sharon snapped, her voice laced with bitterness. “Like the queen is nothing more than a conniving bitch?” Her lips curled into a cruel smile, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Because that’s exactly what she is. A lying, manipulative whore who thinks she can just—”

“Sharon!” Maya hissed, glancing around the room frantically. “You can’t say that!”

But Sharon continued, undeterred, her voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “She’s a whore,” she repeated, the word dripping with venom. “Parading herself around like some saint, when she’s got Captain Rogers hanging on her every word. And for what? To make a fool of the king?”

Ravonna shifted uncomfortably, leaning forward to place a calming hand on Sharon’s arm. 

“Sharon, enough,” she murmured firmly, her tone gentle but insistent. “You need to calm down. Words like that will only bring trouble.”

Sharon’s gaze snapped to Ravonna’s, her eyes blazing. “No. Words like that will bring the truth to light. The truth about what she really is.”

“But you don’t know that for sure,” Maya whispered urgently. “It’s all just… whispers. Hearsay.”

Sharon let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Whispers are all we need. Whispers will turn into rumors, and rumors will turn into truths, whether they’re real or not.” She straightened, her gaze steely. “I’ll make sure of it.”

The other ladies exchanged uneasy looks, their faces pale. But it was Leah who spoke up, her voice trembling slightly. “And what if this all backfires? What if the king doesn’t believe it?”

“Then we make sure he does,” Sharon said coldly, “We make sure everyone believes it. Because if she thinks she can just waltz in here and steal everything I’ve worked for… she’s got another thing coming.”

“What exactly are you saying, Sharon? What do you intend to do?” Ravonna frowned, her gaze skeptical.

Sharon’s smile was slow, almost sinister.

“Nothing. For now.” She leaned back in her seat, the picture of composed fury. “The court will tear her apart on its own, once they realize she’s unfaithful. Once they see her for what she truly is.”

“But… how?” Leah asked hesitantly, her brow furrowing. “There’s no proof. No evidence.”

“There doesn’t need to be,” Sharon said dismissively. “People love a scandal. And the more outlandish it seems, the more they’ll believe it.”

“But Sharon,” Ravonna murmured, her voice tight with unease. “You’re playing with fire. If the king finds out—”

“Let him,” Sharon snapped, cutting her off. “Let him see what his perfect queen is really like. A disloyal wife. A disgrace. He’ll thank me in the end.”

They exchanged uneasy glances, none daring to speak, none daring to question further.

Finally, it was Maya who broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “But… what if it backfires?”

“Then it backfires,” Sharon said coolly, shrugging as if it were of no consequence. “But it won’t. Because I’ll make sure it doesn’t.” Her gaze hardened, her expression fierce. “No matter what it takes.”

× × × ×

The grand council chamber in the main palace was abuzz with tension, the air thick with barely restrained impatience and worry. High-ranking noblemen lined the long table, each one glancing nervously at the Dowager Queen as she entered the room with her head held high, her presence alone commanding silence.

Queen Winifred took her seat at the head of the table, her gaze sweeping over the gathered men. Prime Minister Fury, seated directly to her left, leaned forward, his brows knitted in frustration.

“It’s been seven days,” he began, his voice carrying a distinct edge of impatience. “Seven days, Your Majesty, and they still haven’t consummated their marriage.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, voices low but urgent.

Lord Haynesworth, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, spoke up next, his tone carefully measured but no less troubled. “Your Majesty, the lack of consummation is… troubling, to say the least. The kingdom needs stability, and without a legitimate heir, we risk giving dissenters an opening to question the monarchy’s strength.”

“Indeed,” Duke Townsend of Lancaster agreed, his fingers drumming restlessly against the polished wood of the table. “There are already whispers. Rival factions are looking for any sign of weakness, and this... delay is giving them all the ammunition they need. We cannot afford to let them think the crown is vulnerable.”

Queen Winifred’s gaze narrowed slightly as she listened to their concerns, her face a mask of calm composure. She had expected this—expected the panic, the finger-pointing, the thinly veiled attempts to shift blame.

“And without an heir,” Lord Pierce added, his voice rising, “we’re risking more than just whispers. We’re risking civil unrest. There are already reports of some nobles openly questioning whether the king is... able to fulfill his duties.”

Another wave of murmured agreement swept through the chamber, the words laced with anxiety and fear. But Queen Winifred remained impassive, her fingers resting lightly on the arm of her chair.

“Gentlemen,” she said, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade, “you are all acting as if I do not understand why there needs to be an heir.” She leaned forward slightly, her gaze sharp and unyielding.

“You forget that I am the one who secured the throne for my son after the turmoil of his father’s reign. I am well aware of the consequences should there be no successor.”

A strained silence fell over the room as the noblemen shifted uncomfortably in their seats, chided by her words. But it didn’t last long.

“Then what is being done, Your Majesty?” Lord Haynesworth pressed, his voice lower now, but no less insistent. “The queen has failed to... inspire confidence in the king. If this continues, we may have to consider alternate measures.”

A tense murmur followed, the suggestion hanging ominously in the air. Queen Winifred’s gaze turned icy, her eyes boring into the man who dared to voice such a thought.

“Are you suggesting,” she said softly, dangerously, “that we undermine the queen’s position? That we destabilize her standing at court?”

Lord Haynesworth cleared his throat, looking away, but Prime Minister Fury leaned in, his voice grim.

“Your Majesty, we’re suggesting that you take action—swiftly and decisively. It’s clear that Queen Y/N is not—”

“Careful, Fury,” Queen Winifred interrupted, her voice low and lethal. “Choose your next words very carefully.”

The Prime Minister paused, visibly reining in his frustration. “Your Majesty, the queen’s actions have been... questionable. If she cannot perform her duties as a wife, how can we expect her to perform her duties as a queen?”

Another murmur of agreement rose from the table, the men nodding, emboldened by the Prime Minister’s words. But Queen Winifred’s gaze remained cold, calculating.

“There are still three days left before the period of seclusion ends,” she said firmly, cutting through their mutterings. “We will not resort to drastic measures based on impatience and rumors. The queen is more than capable of fulfilling her role, and I will not have her judged prematurely.”

“But Your Majesty—” Duke Townsend began, only to be silenced by a sharp glare from the Dowager Queen.

“Need I remind you all,” she continued icily, “that this entire situation was precipitated by the king’s absence and neglect? My son bears just as much responsibility for this situation, if not more. Do not lay the blame solely at the queen’s feet.”

“Of course not, Your Majesty.” A smooth, honeyed voice cut through the murmur of agreement, drawing all eyes to Lord Carter, seated near the middle of the table. He inclined his head slightly, his expression the picture of respectful deference. “We know the queen is… new to this role. As you said, she has shown great patience. But we must ensure she understands the gravity of her position.”

Queen Winifred’s gaze shifted to him, her expression cooling a fraction. “Are you implying that she does not?”

Lord Carter smiled gently, his fingers tapping lightly on the table in a rhythm that seemed almost contemplative. “Not at all, Your Majesty. I merely suggest that perhaps the queen might benefit from… additional guidance. From those more experienced in navigating the complexities of the court and the expectations that come with the crown.”

His tone was mild, even reasonable, but beneath the surface, there was an undercurrent of something dangerous, something quietly undermining. A subtle criticism wrapped in a layer of politeness, creating ripples of doubt with each carefully chosen word.

“And what sort of guidance would you suggest, Lord Carter?” Winifred asked, her voice deceptively soft.

He spread his hands, a faint smile touching his lips. “Nothing drastic, Your Majesty. Just… an assurance that she understands the full extent of what is at stake. We would not want any misunderstandings to arise, after all.”

Queen Winifred’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded once, her gaze never leaving his. “I see. Well, rest assured, Lord Carter, I will make certain that the queen is fully aware of her responsibilities. And I will remind all of you once again—there are three days left. We will revisit this matter then.”

The subtle warning in her tone was not lost on the gathered men. They shifted uncomfortably, casting uneasy glances at one another.

“Three more days,” she repeated, her gaze sweeping over each of them, daring them to argue. “Until then, I expect every one of you to refrain from spreading further discontent and to let me handle this matter. Is that understood?”

A chorus of reluctant nods and mumbled affirmations followed, but none dared to protest further.

“Good,” Queen Winifred murmured, rising to her feet with regal grace. “Because should any of you take matters into your own hands before the honeymoon period ends, you will find yourselves facing more than just my displeasure.”

With that, she turned on her heel and swept out of the room, leaving the noblemen in stunned silence. As the heavy doors closed behind her, the men exchanged wary looks, unease settling like a shroud over the council chamber.

“She’s defending the queen,” Lord Trenton muttered, disbelief etched into his features. “I never thought...”

Lord Carter, his gaze lingering thoughtfully on the closed doors, smiled faintly, his expression carefully neutral. “Three days,” he repeated softly, his voice carrying a measured tone. “We shall see if the queen can prove herself worthy of that defense.”

“Three days,” Duke Townsend muttered, shaking his head. “She expects us to wait three more days while the court fills with rumors and discontent. This cannot end well.”

“Waiting is no longer a luxury we can afford,” Lord Pierce interjected quietly, his gaze darting toward Lord Carter. “We’re already seeing signs of division among the lower houses. If this continues…”

Prime Minister Fury leaned forward, his voice a low, harsh whisper. “It’s not just the lower houses we need to worry about. Every day without an heir gives the rivals more time to gather support. We need stability now.”

“Then perhaps,” Lord Carter said softly, his tone calm amidst the brewing storm, “it is not the queen we should be questioning.” His words drew curious, cautious glances, and he smiled faintly. “There are two parties in a marriage, after all. If an heir is what we need, perhaps we should be focusing our efforts elsewhere.”

A silence settled over the group, heavy and charged with unspoken meaning.

“You mean the king,” Duke Townsend murmured, a slight frown pulling at his features. “But His Majesty—”

“—Is just as responsible,” Lord Carter finished smoothly, his gaze steady. “We’ve already seen how his absence affects the queen’s standing. Perhaps it is time we remind him of the consequences if he continues to... neglect his duties.”

“Careful, Carter,” Prime Minister Fury warned, his voice laced with tension. “Tread lightly. The queen dowager may have left, but her influence hasn’t. One wrong move, and you’ll have more than the crown’s displeasure to contend with.”

Lord Carter’s smile never wavered, but his eyes held a dangerous glint. “I assure you, Prime Minister, I am well aware of where the true power lies. But if the queen dowager wishes to protect the queen, she must remember that protection does not extend to inaction.”

The men exchanged wary looks, the conversation shifting into murmured agreement. The line had been drawn, the challenge subtly issued. And even as they debated, the weight of Lord Carter’s words lingered in the air, thick with intent and unspoken plans.

Three days. Three days to see if the queen would succeed… or if the cracks in the crown would deepen beyond repair.

tags: @theendofthematerialgworl @httpb3a @spiidergirlsworld @sebastians-love @stevesbbgorl

@targaryenhues @almosttoopizza @scott-loki-barnes @brckenmemories @vicmc624

@classicrebound @nommingonfood @greatenthusiasttidalwave @railmesebstan @annawilk

@landoslutmeout @winterslove1917 @missvelvetsstuff @s0kovianwitch

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 3 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Related Ask (1) + (2)

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 (here) — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9  — Part 10 — Part 11 — Part 12 — Part 13

On the appointed day, you dressed your best and made sure everything was right. Then you sat at the balcony that overlooked the entrance of the hotel, enjoying your drink with a hum. You were pleasantly surprised when Alastor joined you with a plate of traditional breakfast platter, just as you like it but never spend the time to make

The two of you enjoyed a peaceful morning together, until a little argument got too heated between a hotel guest and an outsider. Alastor swiftly got up and bowed to excuse himself, working as the host of the hotel, he needed to handle the issue since Charlie was a bit of a pushover and not quite convincing when it came to breaking off fights

It led you to wonder if you should give Charlie some pointers like you did to her parents, but then you recalled how Vaggie, Charlie’s girlfriend, was by her side. You’ll admit that they have quite the unique dynamic in their relationship and not in the bad way. So you decided against it and let things go as they please

With a miniture earthquake and some screaming, the argument seemed to be handled well. Not long after that thought, Alastor had returned to your side. Both of you enjoyed your time together again, before you decided it would be fun to drop in on Camilla, not that she’d be preparing when it’s this late

Alastor offered you his hand with a bow, you rose from your seat and gave him your hand. A portal opened beneath you two and the both of you emerged on the other side in the blink of an eye

“Who dares to enter—! My Liege!” Carmilla caught herself half way when she looked over to see you and Alastor arrive earlier than expected, “Welcome to my humble abored. I hope this is satisfactory.”

“I sprung this onto you, so it’s okay.” You turned your head to her, removing your hand from Alastor’s while a small but soft smile played on your face. With your closed eyes, it gave you such a look of elegance that Carmilla strived to be.

“You’re too kind.” Carmilla bowed to you in greeting. 

“How are your daughters? I heard you’ve survived quite the ordeal last last extermination.” You inquired, your smile widening just a smidge. 

Carmilla flinched, though it wasn’t the fact that you knew since she did tell you about killing an angel and what to do if it got out. It was more on the sense that you were showing care to lesser individuals, as much as she hated to admit. “They are fine. Would you like to see them?”

You hummed, “Of course.”

Not even a second later, Carmilla’s daughter duo came out from whatever hiding spot they were at. Odette and Clara both gave you a bow of their own style, though still respectful. “Collector! It’s good to see you again!”

You raised their heads by the chin, then rubbing their heads with a chuckle, “Look at you two, still fun sized. You’re as beautiful as your mother, you know?”

Carmilla blushed while Alastor gave her a teasing grin. Meanwhile, Odette and Clara chuckled along with you. “Thanks!”

You turned to the Overlord, “Now, we have time, why not chat a bit? Tell me about your business.”

Carmilla Carmine was your first female and second Overlord that you came into contract with. She was by far one of the more successful souls that you favour and support from the shadows. Her initial deal was the right to make business ventures to other Rings of Hell in exchange for your ownership of her soul

It later changed when she knew angelic weapons can be wielded. For additional protection that would extend to lesser demons, namely her two daughters, she gave you a range of modified angelic weapons and crafted your Cages with angelic steel. Of course, with Carmilla’s successful, you later continued to support her and protect her daughters from danger

Passing along a card to Odette and Clara that holds the power to summon you in times of need no matter the case. Good acts are rewards, Carmilla learned, you weren’t at all evil to the core or cruel to abuse your owned souls like other would, that’s what she admired about you

Before your absence, you would hang out with her and her daughters on days to discuss about business opportunities and how business was going in the other Rings since it was hard for Carmilla to receive feedback like that

In fact, that day, they were trying to find you, only to end up being cornered by exterminators. While Odette and Clara wanted to summon you to their aid, Carmilla made them hold off. She was present, she can protect them and show you they weren’t weak. So she did what you had suggested before, to actually test out her weapons on the intented targets

You were overjoyed when you first heard the news. An Overlord had actually managed to kill angels and it was done while protecting others. You truly didn’t waste your time and energy on Carmilla, that’s for sure

Yet you wonder why Carmilla was still insecure about her position as one of the Elites that you’d never give up. She can’t be threatened when she has such success in her domain; the best Weapons’ Dealer of Hell

“I desire I wasn’t late to greeteth thee, mine own Liege. (I hope I wasn’t late to greet you, My Liege.)” Zestial greeted with a bow. 

You waved your hand, by now you have returned to the meeting room with Alastor stationed behind you by your left side. “No, no. I was early. Wanted to catch up with Carmilla, you see.”

Zestial took the seat to your right and next to Carmilla who had already left his seat empty, “T hath felt as though t hast been ages since we lasteth did talk. (It felt as though it has been ages since we last talked.)”

Zestial was your first and oldest Overlord by far. He maintained his spot at the top of your collection with ease. With his fearful reputation before your support, he was one to be reckoned with

It seems that his knowledge of Hell and wisdom served him well, as he was the one to seek you out when you were first on the hunt for potential Overlords to crown and give your support to. He offered himself to you wholeheartedly and obediently, something you didn’t expect someone of his caliber to do so. Yet it proves that he was knowledgable not to cross you

His humble nature earned your good graces. You offered him support and protection to which he agreed without much thought. Funny how he never asked for more as he was someone deserving of more. So you gave him a fearsome authority that makes sinners and demons alike trumble in fear in his presence

During your time of weeding out the weaker Overlords, it was with his knowledge that you overturned the system the sinners so ignorantly constructed without power or authority. To this day, you didn’t think your ‘Overlord rank’ planning would be this smooth if not thanks to Zestial

Needless to say, he was also another soul you won’t let go

“Oh, My lovely darling Liege! It’s been so long! Where have you been?! Oh, you’re always so mysterious!” Rosie greeted with a bow and a half curtsy to you, she came to your left side, setting her umbrella on the second empty seat as the first was for Alastor should he be told to sit. Then she opened a box and showed it to you, “A gift from Cannibal Town~! Prepared it myself, your favourites.”

“Thank you, Rosie. You know my taste well.” You smile, picking up the demon parts before nibbling on it, savouring the taste. “It’s wonderful. Tell me, how’s your town after the battle with Heaven?”

“Everyone had their fill, Alastor did me no wrong.” Rosie winked in Alastor’s direction who smiled back. “We’re all happy to be able to help out.”

Rosie was your third Overlord to form a contract with. Her record was quite perfect and ideal too, the leader of the Cannibals. At the time, she was a ringleader, sure. But she lacked the territory to provide for the other Cannibals, so you provided and supported. The moment the deal was signed, a town was constructed to be named as her domain

You’ll say, they were quite the nice ones, save for the devouring other demons. Rosie’s territory had to be one of the more respectful and disciplined ones that you love. You lament on the fact that Rosie wasn’t the violent type, though it’s a relief as well perhaps

“My Sovereign!” Zeezi bursted in, immediately bowing, “Sorry, I would have been here earlier but some pucks was trying to get in and I have to teach them a lesson!”

“It’s all well, the meeting has yet to start.” You eased Zeezi’s rushed thoughts.

Zeezi bowed her head as a nod, taking her seat next to Rosie. “Right.”

Zeezi was the largest within your Overlord Collection and the most physical one. Whenever it was a more violent and brutal ordeal you needed taken clear of, she was the Overlord you call upon. Unlike those that came before her, she was more free spirited and you let her keep that element of hers

At first, she was hestitant to submit to your service, but you’ve showed her there was now to power than violence and brute force that she displays and revolves around. She pride herself as the strongest Overlord with great physical strength. Maybe she’ll win against another Overlord, but not you. As easily as squashing a bug, you had her pinned

In return for her soul, you offer her strength and authority, as well as your support in her rise and maintance as an Overlord. She was smart to take the deal without a need for a beatdown, while you’re delighted to provide, you didn’t want to damage your soul

“The Witching Hour is almost upon us.” You spoke. It was an indirect question to ask who was still not in attendance. 

Everyone turned to the opposite side of the table from where you sat, the three empty seats for the only grouped Overlords. Alastor suggested, “Perhaps they don’t want to attend.”

“Or their representative is running late.” Carmilla hissed, an obvious scowl on her face. 

The doors suddenly bursted open, though even more force as opposed to Zeezi’s entrance. However, they appear to be still in their little world.

“I told you it’s this way but you didn’t even listen!” Velvette shouted.

“How was I supposed to know? It’s all the same!” Valentino exclaimed back.

Alastor cleared his throat rather loudly, bringing the Vees’ attention to the room they’ve entered. “Quite brazen of you to not greet our Liege.”

Vox flinched, immediately passing by the other Overlords and stood to your side, he bowed repeated as he apologized, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just trying to make sure you’re safe! It’s nothing like stalking! Really! Trust me! I’d never—!”

“Damnit! Stop apologizing so much!” Velvette came over to slap Vox in the back of his screen head, making her partner glitch and malfunction. Velvette pulled back Vox till they were next to Valentino, she silently whispered but everyone could hear as clear as day, “One, two, three…”

“We greet our Master.” The Vees all bowed, finally greeting you.

You hummed, head tilted a bit, “Arriving the last and creating a scene, you three almost amuse me so.” Your eyes peeked open a bit, “Not in a good way.” A chill ran down the three’s back while Alastor had a smug smile directed to them, especially at Vox, and the other Overlords remained quiet but were internally grinning. “Now sit down.”

“Yes…”

And then there were the Vees, the last to add to your collection and the most disappointing souls by far. They are strong in their own rights, yet they require the other two to boost their power. You were already able to do so, why would they prefer each other more? It was in a way insulting. However, you’d rather they be under your thumb than them running amok in the Pride Ring

It’s times like these where you wonder if Husk would make a better Overlord than them if he learnt his lesson

With Vox, he was trying to please you while also trying to appear better than Alastor. In your opinion, if he had focused more on himself and his strength, he could go places. Yet he opted to working with the other two

With Velvette, she was a strong lady, no doubt. Similar to Zeezi, but more chaotic and destructive. She doesn’t take criticism well, more focused on her own perspective and views. Nothing wrong in that sense, but it limits her capacity for more. She could have been so much more

With Valentino, oh, you don’t even know where to start. You honestly believe he’s a total lost cause. While believing so, your fear tactic worked to perfection. Your dissatifaction and anger was the first thing he avoids. Usually, he’s very very outspoken, but when you were around, he was more careful. Though that doesn’t account for his actions and behaviours when you were out of sight

You clapped your hands together, your eyes closing once more. All your Elites were here and accounted for, all three levels seated as you’d like. All the souls that you own have gathered before you once again. “Let’s begin the reunion of an afterlife time.”

Note: Still not the exact meeting yet, but the drama is gonna happen next one! I think this one might be a bit boring cause I'm laying out the relationship. Oh well~

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @plutobots @ray-rook @thealienartist @serenity-songbird @galaxydreamer468 @raynerrold @wen01203 @hikari-michiko @colecreo @myromanempiree @xsamkuro

[paperultra]

the liminal space.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 1,575 words Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol use [A/N: written with the cooper!reader from mise en rose in mind. i don't know where in the timeline this occurs, though. lol.]

cingulomania (noun): a strong desire to hold a person in your arms

Living in close quarters can really change how you see a person.

Roronoa Zoro, for instance, had always struck you as rather aloof, having traveled alone for some time before you joined him, and unused to physical affection. He never gave any indication that he was one to enjoy it, and he never sought it out from anyone. That certainly wasn’t odd. You respected his tendency towards personal space, subsequently believing that it extended to his sleeping habits as well.

So when you wake up, hardly able to breathe underneath the hulking mass of a snoring swordsman, you are more surprised than anything.

“Zoro,” you wheeze, patting his back with the hand that isn’t crushed between his chest and yours. Nothing happens, so you swat harder. “Zoro. You’re crushing me.”

His arms squeeze around you as he stirs, inhaling sharply next to your ear. You stop moving as he lifts his head and opens his eyes just wide enough to register you beneath him.

He pauses.

Good morning, sunshine is what you want to say in a cheeky tone. You want to prove that you’re unaffected by the warmth of his body pressing yours into the mattress, the sensation of his breath across your cheekbone and the way his gaze transitions from something bleary into something sharp.

The greeting refuses to leave your mouth. All you can do is blink.

The next thing you know, Zoro’s rolling off of you and out of bed with nary an apology, mumbling something about going to the bathroom.

You hum distantly in response and stare up at the ceiling as he shuffles to the door. Once he closes it behind him, you reach up and fold your hands over your eyes, cheeks hot.

Great.

—

It all started because you and Zoro could only afford a single bed at the inn.

(You use the term “afford” loosely here. The truth of the matter is that you grossly underestimated how much a room would cost, and the owner of the one place willing to lend you a room for half the usual rate demanded physical labor to make up for the rest. Given that Zoro would be spending most of his time hunting down a bounty, the majority of the unpaid labor fell on your shoulders.)

(But you digress.)

The room is small and bare, which is fine, because you and Zoro don’t have much between the two of you anyway. The only problem is that there is only one bed. Zoro had expressed no qualms about sharing so long as you didn’t disturb his sleep, and you had readily agreed, not wanting either of you to sleep on the floor.

After the first morning, you’re not sure if that was a lapse of judgement on your part or not.

Zoro doesn’t mention it at all before he leaves for the day, and you don’t, either. However, when he comes back in the middle of the night and you’re already in bed, squinting and shielding yourself from the bright hallway light as he takes his slippers off and walks in, he sits on the carpet just a few feet away from your side.

“What are you doing?” you ask as he proceeds to lay down.

“Sleeping.”

He closes his eyes and folds his arms behind his head. You frown.

“Why aren’t you sleeping up here?” No answer. You lift your head from your pillow, indignant. “Hey, don’t ignore me! I know you’re still awake.”

“I’ve had a long day,” he grumbles, “so I’d like some quiet so I can sleep. Thanks.”

You huff.

The thought that Zoro might actually be just as embarrassed flits briefly through your mind, but you extinguish it just as quickly. He’s never seemed like the kind of guy to be self-conscious about those kinds of things. A more likely reason is that he’s decided that he wants his own separate space after all and can’t be bothered to kick you off the bed.

So, you kick yourself off instead.

“What are you doing?” The phrase now comes from Zoro as you throw the covers off and grab your pillow, kneeling on the ground beside him. His eyes open and his brow furrows.

“Take the bed. I feel guilty.”

“I don’t want the bed.”

“Everybody wants the bed.” You lie down on the carpet and cross your arms over your chest, stubborn. “I’ve already slept in it. Now it’s your turn.”

“You’re an idiot,” Zoro says.

Neither of you budge.

The next morning, you decide that the first morning was in fact not a fluke, as you awake with your face smushed against his chest and the smell of steel in your nose once again. He’s not on top of you, at least, but the way he clutches you while you’re lying on your side, one ankle hooked over yours, is somehow ten times more mortifying. You wake him up in the midst of untangling yourself and pretend like nothing happened.

Who’s the idiot now? (The answer is both of you. Both of you are idiots.)

—

The third night, you and Zoro flop onto the hard mattress with twin groans, heads spinning and feeling overall miserable.

“That was the shittiest booze I’ve ever had,” Zoro slurs next to you, face down in his pillow.

“But you got a lead, right?” you mumble.

“Yeah …”

You had been there in the bar when he’d gotten that lead, but you can’t remember what it was for the life of you. Another inn? Another bar? Ugh, you’re never drinking there again.

“I’m cold.”

There are blankets on the bed. Unfortunately, getting underneath them would require a lot of moving, and you are physically incapable of exerting yourself that much right now.

You shiver and turn onto your side to curl up. You’ll fall asleep at some point, anyway.

Zoro murmurs your name.

“Hm,” you groan, eyes screwed shut.

He doesn’t say anything in reply. But you hear the mattress squeak, the bedsheets rustle as he shifts closer, and your breath catches when the small distance between you closes. He does not wrap his arms around you, no, but your knees touch, and the heat from his skin melds into yours. You hear his breathing slow to a crawl.

Through your drunken haze breaks through a sudden need to draw him into you, to tuck your face into his neck and keep it there forever. You want – you want. But you’re exhausted, and your head aches, so you find yourself slipping into a deep slumber instead.

He’s already gone when you wake up.

—

A suspiciously lumpy gunnysack in the corner of the room catches your eye once you enter, hand over your mouth to stifle a yawn.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Eight million beri,” Zoro says from his seat on the bed. Cleaning supplies for his swords are strewn around him, and he sheathes the Wado Ichimonji as you close the door. “I ran into another bounty on the way back.”

“Eight mill –” You clear your throat. “Wow. That was pretty lucky.” Eight million beri. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll ever get used to how much bounty hunters can make. (God, that would’ve been more than enough to pay for the room.) “We’re heading out to a marine base tomorrow morning, then?”

“That’s the plan.”

He puts away his supplies, setting them and his swords against the wall near his pillow before standing up to pull down the sheets on his side. You turn off the bedside lamp and do the same, crawling in with a sigh.

The two of you simply lie side-by-side until you decide to break the silence with your big mouth again.

“Am I a burden to you?” you ask.

“No.” The plainness of Zoro’s tone is a small comfort, you suppose. “Why are you asking?”

“Well …” You already regret bringing this topic up as you trail off, biting your bottom lip. “I feel like I haven’t really done much. I mean, I help with navigating and searching crowds and stuff, and I’ve been getting better at fighting, but I can’t help you, you know?” You fiddle with your fingers. “You don’t actually need me.”

There’s a gap between you and Zoro that you’ll likely never be able to close. You had always known that, and so had Zoro; in fact, he had told you at the start that going with him was a bad idea, given your inexperience in bounty hunting and traveling in general. And although you’d like to think that your ability to read a map and fix things convinced him of your usefulness, there are times when you think Zoro regrets bringing you along. Like now.

Zoro grunts, turning to lay on his back. His shoulder nearly lands on your hands, and you draw them to yourself as you wait for his answer.

It is brief and straightforward.

“I’m not forcing you to go with me,” he says. “And if you were a burden, I would’ve told you a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

It is brief and straightforward, and yet, there’s a strange lump in your throat. You swallow it and nod, even though he cannot see you do so.

Nothing more is said. However, as the night goes on, you reach out, and you find him, and Zoro finds you, and the space between your arms fills up with warmth and an unspoken promise. And you sleep very well.

[uchispeach]

Sycamore Tree (Ch. 4)

Dark! Rafe Cameron x Fem! Reader

Warnings: mentioned violence, implied stalking, verbal fights, obsessive behavior, suggestive language, sexual content…

This fic will contain dark content: such as dub-con/ non-con and violence. You have been warned.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Your sister whispered heavily as the sight of an old wooden house invaded your sight. “Who?” You naively posed the question at the brunette, who completely ignored your words while slamming the door’s car.

“Kiara!” You saw her stomping her way into The Château. Your confusion was short lived; the cause of the girl’s grumpiness was elegantly placed a few meters away: Sarah’s shiny SUV.

“John B, she’s gotta go. Now!” The Pogues barely looked your way as you crossed the entrance, too focused on the altercation going on at the blond’s living room.

The Kook girl rolled her eyes in response, unbothered as she sat on John B’s lap. “I’m not going anywhere, Kie.” The mentioned girl groaned in exasperation. “John, I’m being damn serious. If she isn’t out in the next five minutes I’ll be the one leaving.” The blond boy frowned, clearly conflicted.

“Then you should start heading back.” The Cameron girl snapped back, raising an eyebrow with defiance. “Oh, you’re so over, bitch!” Your sister was ready to jump over the couple as you grabbed her from behind. “Kie” You whispered softly as she wriggled violently on your arms.

“You’re the one acting like a bitch!” Sarah abruptly stood up, followed by the blond. “Stop it!” The owner of the house finally spoke, putting himself in the middle of the rising fight. “Kiara, you’re my best friend and Sarah…” He stopped, his eyes immediately losing themselves on the blonde’s face. “Say it” The Kook girl encouraged him with an arrogant smile on her lips. “Sarah, you’re my girlfriend…and I don’t want to choose between the two most important women in my life.”

The brunette let out a humorless chuckle while the rest of you were left astonished. “Unbelievable” You were pushed aside as your sister tried to pull herself as far away from the newfound couple. “Are you okay with this?” JJ was now the one under attack.

The rebel boy seemed to struggle finding the right words, which made the girl in front of him grow angrier. “Fuck this.” She barked her last words out before storming out of the house and into the huge yard.

You could only sigh as your legs made the best attempt to follow Kiara’s path. “Let her be.” A tanned bicep covered your sight as the peaceful voice’s owner grabbed you by the upper arm. “She’s gotta calm down by herself…maybe accompanied by her boyfriend too.” Pope expressed when seeing JJ run after his lover.

“I guess you’re right.” Your words were followed by a heartfelt sigh. The taller boy gave you a reassuring smile, caressing your skin to try to pacify the worry he sensed exuding from your body.

(…)

“You know…when I called you that day to tell you I missed you and wanted to see you...” Pope’s tanned thigh and arm went in contact with your own ones, creating a warm friction between your bodies. “…I was kinda hoping to just be the two of us.”

You were both left alone sitting at the old couch while waiting for the rest of the group to come back from their respective hideouts. “Don’t do that.” You breathed into his cheekbones, trying to gain his attention. “Do what?” His tone carried a certain shyness and shame to it.

“I can see you feeling embarrassed at expressing your own feelings; and you’re so right…I’m the one who has been a bit distant.” Your features morphed into an apologetic look. Your fingertips laid softly on Pope’s shoulder.

“You’re so important to me…You all are.” You offered a small smile and Pope returned the gesture, making you both move on with the subject.

You made the hours feel like soothing minutes as you shared words after words. The constant laughing resonating in the four walls and reminding you of the nice bond you shared with the so called Pogue.

Once the giggles and chuckles finally washed down, you found your distance to be weirdly close. With your shorter legs thrown over his lap, your chin resting in his clavicle and your hands playing with his own rough knuckles.

“Y/N” He called out for you in a honeyed voice. You hummed in response, limbs relaxed and soft breathing as you enjoyed the pacific moment. “There’s been something on my head…and I think it’s time for me to let it out.”

He sounded weirdly serious about it and that immediately alarmed you. “Yes?” You lifted up your head from where it was resting, holding Pope’s gaze on a worried look. “…I think-” The boy quietly pronounced those words before stopping at the creaking of a nearby door.

“Guys!” You jumped out of your current position, limbs immediately tensing as you saw the two couples emerging from the same entrance.

Kiara was the first to enter the room, looking less frenetic as her boyfriend wore a tired look. The mood of the next pair looked quite similar as they each took a seat on the dusty furniture. “Sarah has loosened up…” The mentioned girl threw a nasty look at his blond companion. “Don’t say it like I was the problem.” She was quick to cross her arms in disagreement.

The brunette rolled her eyes, copying Sarah’s childish position. “Kie, let’s just talk this one out.” Even though JJ was considered the wild one, he was trying to be really civilized. “Let’s just leave.” It was whispered into your ear.

Without giving it much thought, your friend took you out of the room. You couldn’t help but look back at all times, even as he tried to convince you to get on his dad’s boat. “It’s not that I don’t wanna go with you…but, I don’t know.” Your lower lip suffered as your teeth buried in the plump skin.

“Chill. They won’t annihilate each other…the boys will take care of that.” He gave you a playful smile, poking you on the side to try to nudge you. “Alright” Your arms raised in defeat, slow steps making their way to the dock.

“What did you say we have to do?” You questioned as he helped you hop in the boat, tanned and sweaty hands wrapping around your waist to lift you off the ground. “Gotta deliver some stuff at the country club.” He started the engine; the old metal making alarming noises.

“Wait!” You jumped at a certain reminder. “I didn’t tell Kie where I left the car keys.” Pope laughed as he saw you struggling to ground your foot on the dock’s old wood. “Just send her a text…I’m sure she’ll prefer that.” He frowned and you took it as a sign to just sit back down. “Yeah, you’re right.” You sighed while pulling your phone from your shorts’ pocket.

As soon as you finished typing, the device started shaking on your fingers.

Four letters appeared on the screen, accompanied by the insistent vibrations; just as obstinate as the owner of the call. You knew Rafe wouldn’t take a whole day without hearing from you. His unyielding interest for you still fascinated you.

“Aren’t you gonna answer that?” You were quick to make the screen face down. Your companion pressed his eyebrows together, but you didn’t falter as the lasting ringtone was replaced by short pings. Notification after notification, you decided to ignore them all as you looked at the moving water.

Meanwhile, a newfound sourness leaked its way into Pope’s mood. “I don’t know how my father does it.” Confusion was written all over your face and he didn’t take long before explaining his own words: “Dealing with them idiotic Kooks…knowing they believe to be so much better than all of us.” Suddenly, the boat’s floor offered a very interesting view. And as he continued to complain, you felt a tight knot forming on your throat. “It’s truly disgusting…how they think they can take anything from anyone.”

You didn’t dare to pronounce a single syllable on the whole trip.

(…)

The plastic bag handles left a red mark on your wrists, still, you couldn’t care less as you beamed around the club with Pope by your side. “We already dropped the food and tools.” Your friend spoke as you both rested against a palm tree.

“I hope that coconut falls off.” Your eyes burned from looking up. The Heyward boy only laughed softly as he continued to examine the deliveries list. “Just the alcohol is left.” He wiggled the boxes of beer in his strong arms. “My dad told me there used to be a mangrove ecosystem right here.” You pointed at the vast territory covered by artificial grass.

“Then a shallow Kook decided to destroy it all and transform it into a golf court…Can you believe that?” Disgust leaked into his humorless laugh. “Yeah, that’s dumb.” You were quick to agree, looking directly into the Pogue’s eyes on a warming stare.

Pope’s lips stretched into a lighthearted smile, and you returned the gesture almost immediately. Your relaxation was cut short by a loud thud; a sound that seemed to come from a metallic material knocking over more metallic stuff -it was obnoxiously loud.

Your chin was held up high in an attempt of finding the source the disturbance; despite being attentive for a few second, you found nothing weird -at least not in sight-.

Your skin crawled in a strange way, followed by the hair on your nape standing up at an alarming rate. No one was around, but you felt watched as you leaned into Pope’s side.

“Whatever, the wine needs to get north…to the reception-” “I’ll take it!” You didn’t think twice before grabbing the bottles from where they rested on the sand. “I’ll deliver them and then I’ll just head home.” Your tongue moved too fast, demonstrating a certain anxiousness.

“You wanna leave now?” Your companion sounded disappointed by your sudden departure. Nevertheless, the want of getting out of there started feeling more like a need as the seconds passed by. “I’m sorry P, but I think the summer sun is starting to affect me.” You were afraid of looking ridiculously paranoid, so you just resorted to lying.

“I can get you some water or-or I-“ He stumbled upon his own suggestions. Your arm wrapped around his shoulders on a side hug. “Don’t stress about it.” You spoke near his ear while squeezing your hold.

His answer was expressed by a full hug, grasping your free arm and wrapping it around his waist. “Take care.” His tone was breathy, and you stayed in his hold for quite a while before pulling away.

(…)

It was not until you reached the street’s corner that you remembered Pope’s interrupted confession. Before feeling too much guilt, you decided to simply make a mental note on calling him later.

The house was empty, making it a perfect time to do the remaining chores in absolute peace. And that was exactly what you felt while separating your clothes into small piles.

You loaded up a basket, gently going through your week’s outfits as you murmured the lyrics of a pop song you’ve been recently obsessed with. That’s when you saw it: the same pink skirt you had worn a few days before.

Jennifer had disappeared with Kelce hours ago, leaving a sleepy Topper and a nonchalant Rafe resting next to the huge pool. You scurried away as soon as you heard the younger boy snoring, weirdly serenaded by the loud rap music playing on the Cameron boy’s expensive speakers.

Your hands wiped the kitchen’s marble island effusively when he decided to sneak up on you. Your muscles immediately tensed up when his body heat invaded your space.

Expensive cologne reaching your nostrils when a pair of toned arms wrapped around your waist, shamelessly squeezing you against his hard rock chest. Your movements stopped, leaving you frozen while sensing his strong muscles press against your smaller frame

The ticklish sensation of his warm breath on your neck’s side was enough to send goosebumps down your spine. Rafe stayed there, his rough fingers digging themselves on your meaty hips as he crushed you further into his embrace.

Just as your felt your brain getting cloudy from his overwhelming presence, he took it a step deeper by burying his nose on your clavicle; causing you to gasp in the process. He inhaled your scent like his life depended on it, groaning while taking the last big dose.

“Rafe” Your voice was reduced to a whiny whisper, making the blond smirk in a wolfish manner while lightly delving his canines into your sensitive skin. A particular painful sensation had you squirming on his arms, causing your lower back to mold against his growing bulge.

You felt your face heating up when he grinded against your ass, making you feel every single inch of his hardened manhood. “You drive me insane.” He sounded groggy, his tone deeper than usual.

His hot tongue took you by surprise, and you instinctively exposed more of yourself to him when he started licking thoroughly -wetting the space between your chest and your ear-.

He found pleasure in making you tremble as he took your earlobe in his mouth and gave it a few strokes with his soaked muscle. “All fucking mine.” He traveled down your throat again, making sure to leave a trail of small kisses. Then, he got rough; sucking with fervor with the intention of marking you up.

You shook your head, taking yourself back to reality as you heard a ‘crack’. Your phone shook violently on the floor, its position indicating it had fallen from the flimsy table’s corner you had placed it on.

A frustrated exhalation was all you could express as you saw the big fracture decorating the device. But your exasperation had quickly turned into curiosity when the now broken screen lightened up again with a compilation of confusing messages: ‘Tell mom and dad I’m spending the night at Jen’s’ followed by a ‘or make up some excuse’ But it was all tied in as the last text came through. ‘We had to take Pope to the hospital.’

Terror made its way into your heart, causing your muscles to paralyze as you stared at the same words again and again.

.

.

.

A/N: I’m still trying to work out the whole taglist thingy (I’m just trying to find an efficient way, so I can actually keep up with it).

[beeing1alive]

Tokyo Revengers boys have to sleep on the sofa after an argument

f.t.: Mikey(Manjirō Sanō); Darken(Ken Ryūgūji); Mitsuya(Takashi Mitsuya)

Mikey:

he argued with you and you both got loud

after an hour he couldn't take it anymore and left to ride his motorbike through the city to clear his head. motorbike through the city to clear his head

when he came back, his bedding wasn't in his bed as usual, but on the sofa instead

asked you what that was about and you told him that you needed a bit of distance from him and that he needed to sleep on the sofa

became very quiet and went to sleep on the sofa without another word

but he couldn't sleep because he missed you

so after a few sleepless hours, he came over to you and meekly explained that he couldn't fall asleep without you and that he missed you

he also apologised to you

and because he was so sweet, you forgave him and said that you wanted to cuddle

he doesn't need to be told twice and goes straight to bed with you to cuddle you

you stayed like that for the rest of the night and he fell asleep after just a few minutes

Draken:

the argument started with the normal question of where he had been

but he was irritated and then just snapped at you that you didn't have to care

he got a bit too loud and rude

you left and left him alone in that room

this room was full of angry energy and it sounded like everything he had just thrown at you echoed off the walls

fell into a chair and slumped down, thumb and forefinger pressed to the bridge of his nose

he regrets it, so so so so much

wanted to tell you the same thing and jumped up to run out of the room, still reeking of aggression, into the living room

you were nowhere to be found, only his bedding had been thrown on the sofa

had actually intended to tell you that he couldn't sleep without you and neither could you without him, but realised that you probably wanted some peace and quiet and left you alone

so lies down without you on the otherwise warm and cosy sofa, which seems much colder and more uncomfortable to him at the moment, and tries to sleep

as expected, it didn't work

at some point, early in the morning, he couldn't take it any longer and came to you in the bedroom to ask if he could lie down with you

You didn't answer him, you just threw back the covers next to you back as a symbol that he could lie down with you

mumbled a thousand apologies into your hair as you lay there wrapped up in his arms and the blanket like a borito

Mitsuya

was stressed and, honestly, I hope we can all agree that he doesn't usually take things like that out on the people he loves, especially not you

but even he makes mistakes from time to time and sometimes his brain circuits go haywire

so he grumbled at you and used words that you had heard coming out of his mouth

you just stared at him at first, because that's not his way of just not driving you

that's why you were shocked and the last word you said was that you needed time to think, alone

screwed up in pain at the thought of all the things he had just accused you on

but he respects your decision and will leave you alone until you're ready to talk

is still surprised when he sees his bedding lying on the sofa in the living room and knows straight away that he certainly couldn't go to sleep without you

doesn't even try to sleep and prefers to continue working on one of his works for you instead

at some point he got so tired that he decided to ask you if he could sleep with you after all

asked you as politely as possible and assured you that something like that would never, ever happen again

you allowed him to, of course, how could you have ruled otherwise when he was standing there in the doorway like an abandoned kitten and unintentionally at that -thanks you and apologises to you until you effectively shut him up with a brief kiss of reconciliation and he then simply drifts off to sleep with you in his arms

Attention: The characters and the gif do not belong to me. All credits go to the actual owners. If you want anything to be changed or removed, please write to me.

[dyns33]

Family protection

I missed Alfie during Flufftober, I'm not going to lie, even if it was fun

Thomas Shelby was preoccupied.

No, if he was honest, Thomas was just as terrified and furious at that moment, hurt inside, ready to devastate everything in his path, like every time he was told that a member of his family had been targeted.

It had perhaps been a mistake on his part to believe that it was not necessary to monitor Y/N after her marriage. Solomons' men took care of that.

So, when John had called him in a panic, saying that there were rumors about the kidnapping, or even the murder of their sister, he had at first remained frozen at his desk.

Since Polly had brought her back, this little girl from another mother, also abandoned by their fucking so called father, he had loved her. Maybe even more than the others.

The child was adorable. Shy at first, then smiling, with a crystal-clear laugh, asking for cuddles from her brothers, playing with dolls with her sister, and always wanting to be with them.

Normally, boys didn't accept the presence of girls. Poor Ada knew something about that. But strangely, with Y/N, it was different. Neither he, nor John, nor Arthur, could refuse her anything.

She came with them in the streets, in the countryside, in the trees. There were some limits of course, but he had shown her how to climb, jump, run. How to defend herself, if one strange day they weren't there.

Thomas confided things to her and her only when they were alone. The times he slept in the fields, she came to join him. That was often what pushed him to come home, because he didn't want her to catch her death. She stayed there, glued to him without saying anything, respecting his silence like no other member of his family, and for that, he ended up talking to her.

It was a false secret, that Y/N was his favorite. A secret that didn't bother anyone, since she was everyone's favorite.

So Thomas Shelby was preoccupied, because it was said that something had happened to his little sister, without anyone being able to clearly say what.

"She was in a bookstore." Arthur mumbled. "She goes there several times a month, to get books and read to the kids. They like it, she has a beautiful voice. After the session, she often has tea upstairs with the old owner. Men came in, beat up the employees and customers, before going upstairs. Then there was a fire. We don't know anything else."

"And Mr. Solomons ?"

"Haven't managed to reach him. His little assistant says he's… busy."

You'd think the same guys had come to Camden Town to destroy the King's Bakery. Because everything was in a pathetic state, and it was the doing of one man, who shouted orders from his office when he wasn't breaking anything that came his way.

If Thomas was preoccupied, Alfie had lost his mind.

During an important meeting with the Irish, he had let Ollie handle the business, and since the men had to be watched, it was a new kid who answered the phone.

He learned only two hours after his return that a woman had called. Not just any woman, his wife. Who was worried, because there were men in front of the bookstore, whom she didn't know.

She was smart, his wife. His tender Y/N, well raised by the Shelbys. Even if she was normally safe, she remained wary, thinking of looking behind or through the window, knowing all of her husband's employees.

The incompetents who followed her that day had been found with their throats slit in an alley.

Even though his patient was at his limit, Thomas let Alfie finish his tantrum, noting that he had left only the phone and the record player intact, which was playing opera to try to calm him down.

Y/N had disappeared for four hours now. He wouldn't calm down.

"They would have called, huh ? To give their fucking instructions. Or maybe they're scared, they know that my men, the most competent this time, and yours, are all over town, and that as soon as we know who did this, they'll be dead. But… If they don't have her… Tommy, if they don't have her, if she's in that still smoking pile of ashes… I'll burn everything."

"Arthur and John are going to find her."

"Yeah, huh ? You can sense it with your gypsy powers ? Your witch aunt read the cards and saw that my Y/N was healthy ?"

"Not now, Alfie."

Solomons growled, turning his office chair in anger and slamming it against the floor until it was all crumbs. It was only because it was his wife's family that he was acceptinf Thomas' presence.

And for his part, even though he wanted to blow his head off for not protecting his sister properly, Tommy sat there smoking his cigarette, remembering how it had felt to hold Grace in his arms.

When the phone rang, he stared at it for a moment, before looking at Alfie, frozen in the middle of the room, staring at the wall. He wondered if he hadn't heard, before realizing that the wandering Jew was afraid to answer.

It might have been the famous ransom demand, which would teach them that a lot of harm had been done to Y/N, and much more would come if they didn't do what the kidnappers wanted.

It might also have been the coroner, who had finished putting names on the bodies following the fire.

Slowly, Thomas put down his cigarette, before answering.

"… Tommy ?"

"… Y/N ?"

"Give me that !" ordered Alfie who immediately came back to life, snatching the phone from him before finding a softer voice. "Treacle ? Love ? Are you okay ? Where are you ?"

It turned out that despite the lack of practice, taking young Y/N into the woods to teach her how to climb, jump, play tightrope walkers and hide, had been a good thing.

Realizing that something was happening and since her husband was not reachable, she had climbed through the upstairs window on the courtyard side, hoisting herself up onto the roof, until she found a secluded spot to climb down.

Then, not knowing who to trust, she had stayed hidden until nightfall, to go to the closest and safest place from her position, which was her sister's house.

"Faster, Ismael !"

Thomas could have muttered that it would be better to get to Ada's alive, but he only clung to the door handle while the driver obeyed Mr. Solomons without worrying about pedestrians or other cars.

It was also useless to stop Alfie from jumping onto the sidewalk, forgetting his cane in the car to go and bang on the door like a madman until someone opened it.

Calm only returned when he laid eyes on Y/N, settled in the living room and already surrounded by all the other Shelbys who had been called after them.

"Treacle. Forgive me." he sobbed as he threw himself at her knees, his arms around her and his head against her stomach. "I was so worried, love, I thought I was going to die."

"Oh, Alfie. I'm sorry, I wanted to call you before but I didn't have access to a phone."

"I'm the worst husband. I didn't protect you. If my men weren't dead, I'd slit their throats myself."

"Let's try to talk about something happier." Thomas coughed as he approached, placing a hand on his sister's shoulder who smiled at him. "Did you hurt yourself jumping off the roof ?"

"No, I'm fine. Just a little tired."

"Strange clothes."

"Yes, love. You weren't wearing that this morning."

"Oh, I…" Y/N said, visibly embarrassed. "I may have "borrowed" a disguise. And money. And a car."

"She's our lil sis !" Arthur declared proudly, oblivious to the dark looks from his aunt, sister, brothers, and brother-in-law.

Maybe they had also shown young Y/N how to steal, but only once or twice, for fun, telling her that it was wrong, and that she would never need to do that because they would take care of her.

Alfie mumbled in Hebrew, which made her laugh. Probably insults without malice. He only let go of her to allow the others to kiss her before he took her back to their home, returning worse than a leech at the first opportunity.

When he proposed to add some of his men to Solomons' for her next outings, the king of Candem was at first outraged. He didn't bark only because his wife had already experienced a lot of emotions, but he would not let Thomas humiliate him.

However, in the middle of the night, certainly when Y/N was sleeping, Solomons contacted him.

"How many men, and what price ?"

"I'm the one who feels insulted now, Alfie. She's my sister, that will be the necessary number and for nothing at all."

"Hmm… You know, they all have something to say about you, your siblings. All of them, while you take care of them. I know it, I see it, but they are never happy. But not Y/N. No, my treacle has nothing but compliments for her big brothers, and you the first. Tommy this, Tommy that. She adores you."

"I adore her too."

"Hmm. Not as much as me, and so there will be fewer men than mine, but… I accept the offer."

"Glad we almost agree on something, Mr. Solomons."

He did not sleep that night, because Thomas Shelby was a preoccupied man by nature. By business, by his family, by the future and the past.

But as for his favorite little sister, he could have slept peacefully, knowing that her husband was there to ensure her happiness and protection as he had sworn during their marriage.

And if something were to happen, they would join forces, then Thomas would probably kill Alfie to punish him, if the madman didn't kill himself first to join Y/N whom he loved at least as much as her brother loved her.