#also not really interested in finding out

[yuvany]

COUNTING SHEEP

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 when you feel exhausted

OT7 enhypen x fem!reader . . . CONTENT / WARNING(S) : fluff + skinship + kisses + petnames + est relationship . . WORD COUNT : 848 . CHECK BOX !!

福 > LIKED THIS ? — " ENHYPEN BEING TIRED "

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

You were so tired that you didn't even want to wait until you reached somewhere more comfortable to sleep rather than the cool floor. You didn't mind, but Heeseung did. He walks into the corridor and saw you curled up on the floor with your legs tucked to your chest. He has a questioned look on his face and hunches down. Heeseung figures that you won't wake up, and lifts you into his arms to carry you to the bedroom to get a proper sleep. You wake up mid-way and Heeseung asks, "Is my princess finally awake?" You don't respond, but only rubs your eyes. "I must say that you did look comfortable." He chuckles and you kiss him on the cheek.

( rest of the members under the cut ! )

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Nothing worries Jay more than seeing you knocked out from exhaustion. He had seen you step foot into the house and taken a seat on the couch not too long ago, and now, you were out like a light. Jay figured that he could help you out and runs over to your room to grab your blanket and returns quickly to throw it over your limp body, being extremely careful not to wake you up on accident. Then he walks into the kitchen and prepares tea leaves while the water is boiling. After a while, he returns with a hot cup of tea and places it on the coffee table for when you wake up. He leans over and whispers, "Sweet dreams, my love."

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

Sees your head hovering over your desk with papers scattered everywhere. Jake curiously peeks from the bed and sees that you aren't writing anything and just exhales loudly. "Babe, what's up?" Jake asks, his voice seeming to smooth everything for a second. You groan and stretch your back. "I've been reading this over and over, but I can't seem to comprehend what it's saying." You complain. Jake jumps out of bed and rests his head on yoru shoulder as he looks at the paper. "How about we do it together, so you can sleep faster?" You nod at his idea and in return he kisses you on the cheek.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

Raises an eyebrow at the sight of your tired state, you notice this and raise your own. "What happened to you, sweetie?" He asks, opening his arms for you to walk into. "Wow, thank you." You reply sarcastically. Not accepting his hug. "You know I didn't mean it like that. Talk to me, pretty girl." Sunghoon says, lightly wrapping his arms around your shoudlers. You hug him and sigh into his chest. "Been a rough day at work, love." You say, feeling his palm run up and down your spine. "Let's get you changed and you can tell me all about it." Sunghoon slowly guides you to the bathroom.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Sunoo woke up in the middle of the night, wanting to go get himself a glass of water, but when he stumbles into the kitchen he sees you sitting there in front of your open laptop. "Sweetheart? What are you doing up so late?" He asks, his voice sounding huskier than you recognise. "I just remembered I needed to finish this." You say and show him what's on your laptop screen. "It's late though, can't you do this tomorrow?" He asks, his fingers finding your scalp to massage. "But I really need to." You say, but he suts you off and says, "You also need sleep, and I'm in need of cuddles anyway." He pulls you out of your seat and you give in with a sigh.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

"I'm so tired, won.." you mumble into his chest, the movie not being in your interest any more. Jungwon draws circles on your shoulder and kisses your temples. "Then we can go to sleep, angel." You hum stubbornly and shake your head. "No need, I can go to bed while you finish this movie." You explain, rubbing your eyes. Jungwon in turn shakes his head too. "It's either both of us, or none, babe." You sigh, feeling bad for him in this situation since you knew how much he wanted to see this film. "I'm not that tired any more," you lied, and he senses this, so he pulls the blanket over the two of you, and snuggles close to you with a smile. "Now it's sorted!"

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

You sat beside him while he was playing a video game, and throughout the time you spent together, your head would bump against his shoulder a couple of times due to the long day you already had and the dark setting illuminated by the soft lights of the television screen. Having your boyfriend beside you didn't change much of the fact either. At one point, you dozed off, and Riki hadn't realised it until you started to softly snore. He turned his head and was ready to say something until he saw your tired figure. He smiles to himself and helps you into a more comfortable position before turning off the game and cuddling close to you.

─── ꒰ 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗬𝗨𝗩𝗔𝗡𝗬 ꒱

[ consider reblogging and liking this post if you enjoyed it !! I hope you liked this just as much as I did ^3^ ]

[flawseer]

Your thoughts on the wof characters have been really interesting and I'd love to hear your take on Starflight (your assignment of him being the 'designated sufferer' of arc one is both hilarious and tragically accurate). I've always liked him, cowardly though he is he still acts when he really needs to and the dynamic between him and Tsunami is super fun (the whole outwardly combative but inwardly just wishing to be as strong/as smart as the other).

I like Starflight and I relate to him a lot, as a fellow chronic worrier who annoys his friends with constant blathering about stuff only I find interesting, and often finding myself paralyzed in the face of decisions.

It’s funny how the story puts forward a black dragon, which in media are usually portrayed as mysterious, ambiguously malevolent harbingers of doom, and makes him into this adorable dork.

He’s also the plot’s chew toy, which I am at times less enthusiastic about. Especially when jokes are made at the expense of his misfortune.

Wings of Night and Sea

Starflight’s and Tsunami’s friendship is very engaging because, in a sense, both of them complete each other. For each, emulating the other serves as their last resort when faced with a personal crisis. Whenever Tsunami encounters a situation she cannot overcome with her usual blunt and direct approach, she asks herself how Starflight would resolve the situation. When Starflight becomes overwhelmed and too scared to move, his mind conjures an image of the strongest, bravest, most unstoppable thing he knows, which is Tsunami. Though either would be reluctant to openly admit it to each other, they both rely on each other’s strengths to cover their own weaknesses.

Through this you get the sense that, while their opposite personalities annoy each other to no end—if you locked both of them in a room for three hours, they’d be strangling each other when you open the door again—at their core they have only the deepest respect for each other. It becomes especially apparent when you realize that both of their stories in their respective books have them compare themselves to the other unfavorably.

If these two ever did a DBZ-style fusion dance, the result would likely be one of the most capable and balanced characters in their series.

Starflight's misfortune

CW: Discussion of blindness

One thing I have noticed (and have alluded to a lot in previous posts) is that the plot really likes to kick Starflight in the teeth. His own story arc puts him through the wringer, but he is not even safe in the two arcs past that, where he is largely out of focus. Most of the things that happen to him in arc 1 seem to occur for the sake of the story, but past that... it sometimes feels to me like the world has it in for this guy.

I started writing a list of every bad thing that happens to Starflight over all three arcs, but it got way too long, so now I’m just going to talk about a few select things instead.

One thing that stands out to me is that every other protagonist in arc 1 gets a specific moment. That kind of scene where they enter their tribe’s biome for the first time or connect with a particular part of their culture/physiology, and are overcome with a sudden burst of euphoria or deep resonance with their own nature. Clay gets it when he submerges himself in mud for the first time and then later again when he finds his siblings, Tsunami when she sees and smells the ocean, Glory when she’s in the rainforest and feels the sun, and Sunny when they go through the magic tunnel and end up in the desert. Starflight is the only arc 1 protagonist who doesn’t get a moment like this; when he enters his tribe’s home for the first time it’s a giant craphole that makes him feel upset. It only gets worse from there.

Then there is the big one; the misfortune that happens to him at the end of his book. I struggle to talk about this because... uh... How do I put this?

I opened this post by saying I relate to Starflight on a personal level. I wouldn’t consider myself as studious or well-read as him, so it’s not a direct comparison, but I do like to draw, write and dabble in visual artistry. This is a major part of my life; how I define myself as a person and what I think makes me “me”. The thing about this though is that all of this is tied up into one thing: my sense of sight.

It follows then that what ends up happening to Starflight is the realization of the one thing I fear the most. Thinking about the possibility of losing ones sight is deeply, personally horrifying to me. It messes me up internally just to consider it happening to me.

This, the subject of becoming blind, is a very difficult topic for any story to properly engage with. There are many pitfalls you can fall into and come off as insensitive, or ignorant. The way Wings of Fire deals with this subject is to... well... it doesn’t really. Starflight is blinded and then the story skips over most of his reaction to it because the next POV character gets separated from the group while they sort it out.

In a way, this is a good thing. I don’t know how this series—which often rushes through these really uncomfortable, harrowing events—would be able to show a realistic reaction to this development. Like, losing ones sight would be a horrifying prospect for anyone, but for Starflight especially this completely uproots not only his entire life, but his sense of identity. Everything he likes doing, everything he is and wants to be in life is rendered virtually impossible by this.

Consider who Starflight is. He is a thinker, and a worrier who is always inside his own head. He dreads and fears, he seeks out worst case scenarios, I daresay he is inclined towards pessimism. Whenever his neuroticism gets him too stressed, or emotional, or worried, he has one immediate response: bury his nose in a scroll. When he arrives in a new place, he usually asks where the scrolls are at. When he is under threat of being abducted or attacked, his first instinct is to go grab his scrolls to keep them safe. Like with me and drawing, reading is how he unwinds, how he balances himself. It is what keeps him sane and functional through dealing with adversity (and he's Starflight, so he deals with a lot of adversity).

Then this happens to him, and suddenly the one thing that makes this poor, battered boy happy, the one thing that never hurts him, is taken away forever. If I was in his place, if I learned I was suddenly blind, I would fall apart. I would cry, then scream, then cry AND scream and probably flail around in a panic. Clay would have to hold me down and restrain me so I don’t end up falling off the platform in a frenzied fit. Or worse.

So yeah, I get why the plot had to look away. Seeing this happen to Starflight—him going through this kind of anguish and then sinking into quiet despair as his world crumbles around him—would have been heartbreaking. In the end, we go on Sunny’s solo adventure and when she returns Starflight is already conveniently past the screaming fit phase and has adjusted to his new life circumstances—enough to talk and joke as if nothing happened. He then goes on to dedicate himself to bringing the wonders of literature to other blind dragons, which is a noble goal and good trajectory for his character—even if it’s a bit abrupt and I would have liked to SEE him do that instead of just being told.

Anyway.

This next one isn’t as notable because it doesn’t happen TO him, but I want to point it out to back up my claim that Starflight Ls can and will happen even in story arcs that have very little to do with him. In book 6 Moonwatcher and Darkstalker have a conversation where they discuss the concept of Nightwing powers and how they relate to the moons. The story very pointedly draws attention to the fact that Starflight nearly was born under three full moons and would have become the most powerful Nightwing of his generation if his inept caretakers had not decided to hatch him underground. While I don’t think getting these powers would have been good for Starflight in the long run, it is a bit sad considering he spent most of his childhood thinking he was born wrong because he didn’t have powers, and then Morrowseer further gaslit him about it throughout the arc.

And then we don't talk about what happens in arc 3. I am not the right person to discuss it.

My take on Starflight

I was asked to give my take on the character, so...

I already went into how I think he’s very introspective and prone to worrying. I see him as an introvert, which is something he has in common with Glory, and contrast him with Sunny, Clay, and especially Tsunami. He enjoys reading but also other activities where he gets to use his brain. He likes puzzles; I imagine he got very excited when they had to figure out the murder plot in book 2, or when he caught Blister in a lie. If he had a computer it would be full of adventure and puzzle games, and he’d hog the resident DS to play the Professor Layton series all the time.

When they found the academy, it is implied he teaches a literacy course and gives out writing assignments. That is right up his alley, but I’ve always felt he also has strong math/natural science teacher vibes. There should logically be a numbers class at that school and I can’t imagine any other character who would be more suited to teach it.

If I were asked where I would make changes to his story, I guess I would nix the part where he and Fatespeaker hook up in book 5. I have nothing against their relationship, it’s actually grown a lot on me over time. But I never liked how it started. Starflight gets rejected by Sunny and then immediately hooks up with Fatespeaker. This is really undignified for her because it takes their potentially intriguing romantic relationship and turns her into Starflight’s “rebound chick”. You really need to give yourself some time to move on from your previous attraction; rushing like this creates doomed relationships.

The original story implies that about half a year passes between the end of arc 1 and the start of arc 2. I like to pretend this gap is actually a bit longer, by like 2 or 3 years. It gives the old protagonists a bit more time to settle into the roles they’ll occupy during the next arc, and makes it more plausible to me that they could build and outfit an entire school, write the curriculum, designate roles, etc..

In that time, with things being more calm now, Starflight has opportunity to get lost in his own thoughts again. It turns out, now that the dangers of the war are no longer distracting him, he finds it difficult to cope with his blindness and sinks into a depression.

While this happens, Fatespeaker is there with him. She sees his condition worsening by the day, but refuses to give up on him. She reads to him; they talk, and they bond. Though serious self-searching and hard work, together they manage to pull out of the darkness eventually. This is how their relationship starts, and it’s also how Starflight gets the idea to invent the dragon-equivalent of braille.

Somewhere during that time, I also imagine Glory has Tamarin escorted to Jade Mountain so she can help Starflight adjust to his new situation and learn how to navigate his life without needing to rely on others. Perhaps this is what motivates Tamarin to attend the academy later.

What else is there to say? Hmm...

I think Starflight is really fond of hard candy. Jawbreakers are his favorite especially. Though given how prone to misfortune he is in the story, I’m hesitant to put him in proximity of anything with a name like that.

[togglesbloggle]

You Aren't Supposed to Win

There's a species of post on Tumblr that's not uncommon: explainers about neurotypical social interactions for the benefit of the neurodivergent. Others, in an adjacent genre, are vent-posts or bewildered people expressing exasperation and impatience with neurotypical social rituals. And these are usually fine as far as they go, but there's a sort of deficit or hole in them that I think tends to go un-addressed.

Basically, a lot of these explainers are very reasonably helping readers to navigate a system for some desired outcome (getting a job, finding a date, or other such things), but with the understanding that a failure to get the desired outcome is a failure of the system. And that's... only kind of true.

Neurotypical social interactions can be a very complex mix of collaborative and competitive enterprises. The ratio between those things can shift on a dime, it can be really hard to figure out where on the spectrum you are at any given moment, and this is the system working as intended. Or at least, as the players in the game intend, which isn't always quite the same thing.

I don't want to overstate this too much; standard social interactions aren't a fight to the death or anything. Typical examples are more like a preponderance of cooperation, but with some jockeying for a larger share of the rewards that follow from a shared project. Or, perhaps, attempts to spend the least effort in a group project, while receiving a full share of the reward.

The thing about this is, the presence of an antagonistic element within these interactions means that perfect legibility is opposed to most participants' goals for the interaction. There is a degree of confusion and uncertainty that is quite deliberate and instrumentally useful. If a particular partnership is going to pivot to 'pvp mode', it is absolutely in each participants' interest to be the first one to defect, and to mask that defection for as long as possible; perfect transparency prevents them from being able to do so, and they can and will interpret requests for perfect transparency as being hostile acts.

At the same time, admitting any of this is also a loss of strategic advantage during adversarial interactions, so it's one of the hardest things to get people to admit. It's even hard for people to notice that they're doing it, because evolution favors mentalities that keep as much of this as possible subconscious; it's easier to defect without warning if you never consciously think of yourself as defecting at all. So explicit discussions of this are quite rare. (There is, however, an entire genre of party games designed to bring them to the fore and let people show off their capacity for adversarial play among shifting alliances and uncertainty, so it's more 'open secret' than 'forbidden lore'.)

The upshot of all of this is, the desire for an explicit, legible system of social interactions that can be exploited for reliable outcomes- can often be a desire for power over others, in a way that I don't think the proponents fully realize. The fantasy of people just doing what you want is a powerful one for everybody, neurodivergent and neurotypical alike. And this isn't an unreasonable fantasy! it's really not fun to be surrounded by people pursuing their own interests at the expense of yours!

But it's important to realize that a lot of the hard work of aligning those values and making a system of interactions 'purely collaborative', such that everybody will be doing their best to help you succeed regardless of skill level or quirks of neurotype, is a really hard problem that nobody has yet been able to solve. And until we get there, a system in which you reliably get everything you want, and which you navigate with perfect confidence, is one that subordinates the people around you.

[flemingology]

would you do a blurb of Leah just being a bit weird at times, she’s got odd interests at times that leaves you a bit confused, but you also kinda find it adorable

Tree Talk | Leah Williamson x Reader

WC: 431

A/N: thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy it :)

Divider: @cafekitsune

"Just me," you shouted through the apartment. You had just arrived home from an agonizingly slow day at work and couldn't wait to get the weekend going with your blonde lover. You shrugged off your coat and draped it over one of the bar stools in the kitchen before making your way over to the living room.

Leah was sprawled out on the couch, her head peeking around the corner upon hearing your footsteps come closer. Her lips curled up into a bright smile when she noticed you, sitting up straight and holding her arms open for you to fall in to.

You didn't waste a second to do so, exhaling deeply into her chest as you felt her arms circle around your waist, now lounging on the couch together.

"Long day?", Leah questioned, her words accentuated with a sweet kiss against your ear. "Long week," you quipped back, digging your face deeper into the crook of her neck. Her hand started affectionately rubbing your back, whispering sweet nothings into your skin and pressing kiss after kiss against your forehead while letting you wind down from your work week.

It wasn't until a couple minutes later when you noticed her movements stilled, that you slowly disentangled yourself from Leah and slowly sat up. You were about to get up to go change into something more comfortable when you noticed what was playing on the tv.

"Le, baby, why in the world are you watching a video about trees," you questioned. You gestured towards the flatscreen that was hung up the wall when you saw a look of confusion cross her face. "Oh that! Yeah, I was watching that before you came home – it's really interesting honestly."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I swear! Did you know trees are the longest living organisms on earth?"

You had to bite back a smile at how genuinely excited Leah sounded while talking about trees. "I did not know that, actually," you responded, your girlfriend now looking proudly up at you from her position underneath you on the couch.

"I also just learnt that they can predict climate change and that some even have been-", you cut her off by placing a hand over her mouth. "Leah, baby, as much as I'm sure trees are amazing. This is not the kind of conversations I wanna be having on a Friday night."

Leah grumbled but stopped nonetheless, licking your hand before you pulled away and rubbed it off on your trousers.

"You're disgusting, really." "You love me." "Hmm, maybe. Now, what should I order for dinner?"

[yurunivo]

Hello! I really love you self aware idea! Can you please make another part? This time Can you focuse more on Mavuika and the Creator!Reader (Gender Neutral),please? (Also om how the other archons and Neuvillete would be trying to search for the reader and maybe using other organizations to help the search) if not please feel free to ignore this. Have a wonderful day!

This is my first time getting a request! Hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: hanging out with Mavuika! (And the other nations' planning to reach you) part 1

TW: Mavuika and reader's relationship is implied romantic but can be read as platonic, OOC, yandere, SAGAU imposter au, bad writing, bad grammar, english is not my first language, not beta read

Characters: Mavuika x gn!creator!reader (again can be seen as romantic or platonic), yandere Archons + Neuvillette x reader

Cleaning at bars was a tedious job. It was easy, sure, but it got boring at times. Customers always made the day fun with their gossip, so you leaned into that. It could've been something simple, like how their boyfriend cheated on them, but it was still more entertaining than mopping the floor.

However, there was always one customer every night that you were looking forward to meeting.

Always clad in a mysterious cloak that made them look like a runaway, blazing bright eyes and red hair.

It was Mavuika.

She came a bit later than usual. You decided not to worry, Archon duties are a lot after all. Yet, she came anyway, dressed the same as before. The cloak was a bit messily put on, so her hair was still visible. You sighed as you left the place you were cleaning and went up in front of her.

"You didn't have to come y'know," you fixed her cloak to hide her hair, yet she only smiled at you.

"I insist," she only replied back. You rubbed your temples at the stubborn woman. Seriously, shouldn't she be busy with work or something?

She seemed to be eager to tell you something, considering how she was holding your hand. You raised an eyebrow at her as you gestured her to speak.

"Well, want to combat practice with me later, (fake name)?" Oh no. You didn't know how to fight! Sure, you did fight against the abyss, but you barely managed to survive!

But you only nodded. Declining now would only make her suspicious, even though the fact that you were being chased around without fighting back was suspicious enough. But, you'll find out a reason later, for now, all you had to do was agree.

"Sure, but only at my day off. Maybe the day after tomorrow?" You were trying to find a lie to tell her then, but for now, you hid your feelings with a smile. She nodded, looking content with your answer.

"The day after tomorrow it is."

Your hands were uncomfortably sweaty.

The day after tomorrow being right now, you had to tell Mavuika as quick as you could to not gain suspicion. Telling her you got isekai'd from another world was obviously not an option, but you had already prepared something in your head. It was similar to the isekai idea, but it's much more believable. The execution was the only problem.

You were at the outskirts of the Scions of Canopy, where Kinich lived. She came 5 minutes later and greeted you with much courtesy.

"Hope I didn't make you wait for long (fake name)," she told with a bit embarrassment. You shrugged her off.

"It's fine Mavuika, and you can just call me (name)," you replied back. You mustered up the courage to tell her your reason not to fight. But before that, you had to ask her just this one thing.

"How did you know that I was the creator? I don't think there was any part of me that stood out," you were interested to know, after all you thought that you hid yourself very well.

She all but smiled as she pointed out the grass behind you.

"The creator is connected to Teyvat, so everything would bloom in their wake. Since you were in the nation of Pyro, where I'll know everything that's going on, it was quite easy to find out." You looked behind to see beautiful flowers right behind you. You were shocked to see this many flowers in one trail. Wait, then why did the other Archons not realize that you were the creator? Eh that doesn't really matter, what matters was that you were here with Mavuika, safe and sound. But, you took this revelation to gift her something.

You took a flower from the trail. Mavuika was interested to see what you were doing, but you hid it from her. Using the flowers and leaves, you created a flower crown for her and put it a top her head. You smiled, she did too.

"Thank you (name)," she laughed softly. But now you had to explain the fighting part. You sighed as you contemplated.

"Err, Mavuika, I actually don't know how to fight.." You mumbled and cursed your self for it. She looked surprised.

"Why not?" She asked again. You felt embarrassed for having to say the reason. You took a deep breath and prepares to say why.

"I'm.. Not the creator. Like the original one. I'm a reincarnation of them, I have no idea how to fight not do I know anything about the past," you breathed out, cringing at what you just said. However all she did was look at you with understanding, after all, she knows the pain of reincarnation.

"It's fine! But do you know anything about the previous creator then?" She asked curiously, to which you shook your head. She hummed. She got an idea to improvise, it seems like.

"How about I teach you then?" Huh?! This wasn't going as planned! You didn't want to fight at all.

"T-that's not needed, I'll j-just waste your time," you tried convincing her, but she didn't budge. Eventually though, you reluctantly agreed. She smiled and thanked you for allowing her to help.

"Just try to imagine yourself using Pyro abilities, you'll get the hang of it later." You were really trying. The amount of stress that you had to not burn yourself to death was enough to actually kill you. Still, you trusted Mavuika and her abilities, so you tried anyway. You tried and tried and tried, but nothing really came. You were visibly disappointed, but Mavuika tried to encourage you.

"How about this, you imagine something you don't like, and try to use your emotions to drag your Pyro ability out," she suggested. You seemed to find this useful, so you tried it.

Closing your eyes, you thought of something terrible happening, and instead of seeing the imposter hunt that you very despised, you instead saw Mavuika.

You were being hunted down, sure, but what was most important was that she was getting punished by the Archons for not giving up the imposter. Her face was battered and bruised, and she was slowly slipping into unconsciousness. You watched in horror, and tears started to well up in your eyes. This couldn't be! Unfortunately, you were crying in real life too, and Mavuika realized immediately.

"Okay, uhh, you don't need to think about it now," she tried comforting you, bringing you in an embrace to calm you down. Once you came back to reality, your eyes were puffy, and your face was red.

"... Sorry, can we do this another time?" You sniffled, still holding her. She was warm, and you found your self drifting to sleep. She sighed as she picked you up.

"Of course, just don't overdo anything, kay?" She smiled warmly, brushing the tears from your eyes. She wrapped you in a cloak, getting ready to start camp.

Neuvillette contorted his face in disgust. The waters tasted disgustingly sweet. The creator's happiness with another person, likely an Archon. But the waters then tasted bitter, from the creator's sadness.

If only he could just drag you out of that place and keep you for himself, but no. He'll need the help of the other nations to do so, so he sucked it up and left the Palais Mermonia. He visited Furina, just checking in on her before leaving. He'd leave some of the work for Clorinde to do, he trusted her enough to do that anyway.

Reaching the imposter's throne room, there was a long sitting area where the rulers of the nations were there. Only the Cryo, Pyro and Anemo Archons weren't there, but the acting grandmaster came for Anemo, and the director of the Fatui Harbingers came for Cryo. The Geo Archon returned to his status as the God of Contracts, and the Electro and Dendro archon were sitting in their own seats. The imposter was on the creator's throne. They were dead, blood seeping out of their head. Their expression was one of shock, as he could vividly remember the day the Geo Archon killed the imposter.

A seat was vacant. He clenched his teeth at the mere thought of the Pyro Archon. He'd get you back from her, no matter what it took.

"We all know that the creator is in the nation of war, Natlan. However, since the neither of us know its weaknesses besides the Pyro Archon being a human, we need to create a plan to ambush the nation," Jean spoke up. Everyone in the room nodded along with her, too obsessed to notice their wrong doings. However, there was one who objected to this clause.

Nahida raised her hand to interrupt Jean, turning all eyes on her.

"You all chased down the creator like a rabid dog, and now you're trying to kidnap them to do a job that they don't want? What kind of leaders are you? The creator was in Natlan for a few months by now, and since they're not leaving, they are probably enjoying a better life there than your own selfish desires," she objected.

Neuvillette all but admired the young Archon. Despite being small and weaker than the others, she still had the bravery to stand against everyone. However, this was one thing that he didn't agree with. He just stayed quiet though, waiting for someone to object the small Archon.

Raiden did. The God of Eternity looked at Nahida with disdain, preparing to answer the deity.

"And how are you so sure that the creator is having a better life in Natlan Buer? For all we could know, they could actually be running around the vast nation. And, you are one of the younger Archons after all, what use does your words have?" She asked coldly. When she was about to respond back, she got interrupted.

"It is settled, we shall find the creator in Natlan, no questions," the God of Contracts added in. Nahida couldn't speak now. After all, what power does she have to a much more experienced God?

Neuvillete glared at the Archons.

"Whoever shall get the creator first will be the one to solely have the creator in their nation," Neuvillete furrowed his brows at the Archons. They did the same, but still agreed to the conditions, not really thinking of what you want.

Now, all the leaders were going back to their nation, telling their line of military to get prepared. They had to have you all for yourself, and they will do anything for it.

Done! Hope you enjoy!

[tpwk-formula1]

Hiii, could i order a Thin Crust with Red Sauce with Pepperoni, Green Peppers, Gouda Cheese, Parmesan Cheese and to drink an Boba, Coke, Mt. Dew (sub) and Root Beer with desert served by Lewis and Max <3

Pleasee thanks!!

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

thin crust brother's best friend red sauce rough sex pepperoni "Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want" green peppers "I'm gonna have that ass glowing red by the time I'm done with you" gouda “Slow down? You just told me to speed up, make up your mind silly girl” parmesan "Awe... did that hurt? Tuff luck I'm gonna do it again" boba anal coke spanking mt dew dom/sub root beer daddy kink dessert yes served by Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton

Max x Lewis x Norris! Reader

TW - fighting, slight daddy kink, rough, spanking, multiple orgasms, anal, double penetration, creampie, and anal creampie (is there another name for an anal creampie?)

WC 2500+

Y/N POV

"Max please leave me alone about it," I snap at one of my boyfriends after he had been complaining about the same thing for the past hour.

"I love you to death but you're complaining about my brother. I will not pick sides between you guys," I add on softly when Max just looked at my with a raised brow.

"I understand that and I'm not even upset with your brother he had a great race I'm mad about the car I've been fucking given," Max tells me back making me nod my head.

"I understand that, but you have to see it from my perspective. I love you both and I want both of you to do well and I'm sorry your car is actually shit but I don't like that you make me feel guilty for being happy for my brother," I explain back knowing this has been needing to be a conversation for awhile. Max, Lewis, and I have all been together for the past year and a half, this year specifically Max and I have been at each other's throats because being Lando Norris's twin sister has made it really interesting when he's doing really good but I also have to be supportive of my boyfriends who were starting to struggle a bit this season.

"Are you fucking kidding me? I make you feel guilty for being happy for Lando? You make me feel like shit everytime I talk about having a bad race and I can see it on your face it's like you don't even care because you brother did good," Max snaps back making me look at him with a dead stare.

"Max, I'm really sorry if I made you feel like that. It was never once my intention," I tell him softly wanting him to know I value his feelings even if I don't feel like he's even think about mine in this moment.

"It's whatever, I knew you would always have more loyalty to Lando anyways," Max says completely disregarding it like it was nothing.

"I think we just need to be seperated until Lewis gets home," I tells him softly while getting up from the couch and making my way into our shared room where I find Sassy and Rosco cuddling on the bed.

I climbed into the bed with them and fall asleep into a short nap wanting to forget this whole afternoon.

"I heard you and Max got into a fight," I hear Lewis say softly while rubbing my back to wake me up.

"He's been making me feel bad for being happy for my brother, and I've been making him feel bad because I'm happy for my brother. It's a lose lose and I want this whole season to just be over. Hope he gets the fucking Driver Championship and I never have to talk about this season again," I mumble making Lewis chuckle softly.

"I think you guys need to talk it out," Lewis tells me making me nod my head in agreeance.

"I'll go get him," Lewis tells me softly while leaving the room to get Max who was in the sim room passing time.

When they got back into the room I could see the frustration still lingering in Max's eye making me sit up a bit more ready for a serious conversation.

"Okay, let me just start with I think both of you have a right to feel the way you feel. Max you make her feel bad about being happy for Lando. She is allowed to be excited to see him win and support him in his fight for his first title. Just because she is extremely happy for her brother doesn't mean she wants you to lose either. She's in a tough spot. However, Y/N Max has every right to feel slightly hurt watching you go into the Mclaren garage after your brother had a good race while he struggled. It's selfish yes but he's allowed to wish his girlfriend was in his room comforting him," Lewis states making me grow frustrated.

"See, you said it yourself. It's fucking selfish is what Max is. I try to be there for him but everytime I am he's always shit talking my brother, and I get it, it's post race frustration coming out however I won't stand for that. Back in Baku when Lando finished 4th and you 5th I didn't even want to be in the same room as you when I heard you telling Lewis that being overtaken by Lando who started P15 was one of the most embarrassing moments in your career," I rant clearly getting frustrated with everything.

"Oh boo fucking hoo, grow up Y/N. You knew getting into this relationship it would be like this. I'm not gonna apologize for the things I say in the heat of the moment. I'm allowed to be mad and upset," Max says making me throw my hands up in defeat.

"Maybe I should go stay somewhere else for the night," I say softly while climbing out of bed to prepare a bag.

"That won't be necessary love, we can work this out," Lewis says softly following me into the closet.

"He's impossible right now, he's hurt I don't get to only be a fan of him. He has to share me with you and my brother. I get it, I would be frustrated too but I will not apologize for being happy for him," I tell Lewis softly making him pull me in for a hug.

"It'll work itself out," Lewis tells me softly.

"Go get back in bed," Lewis continues making me groan but slowly go back into our shared room and into bed next to Max who had Jimmy in his lap.

"Both of you need to fuck it out or fight it out, but neither one are leaving until you guys can come to an understanding. I don't give a fuck what it is but I will not let either of you leave until something is resolved. You guys have been fighting nonstop since before summer break and it's time to set aside differences," Lewis tells us while softly picking Jimmy up and placing him outside the room while making sure the other pets where out of the room as well.

"I'll start," I say softly making Max scoff and roll his eyes.

"You always fucking start," Max says clearly annoyed with everything.

"Cut the shit out Max or I'm gonna have that ass glowing red by the time I'm done with you," Lewis says clearly getting frustrated with Max.

"You can start," I tell him making him sit in silence for a few minutes.

"I don't know, I think Lewis is right, I am selfish and a part of me wishes that you can be a fan of me and only a fan of me. I don't even like seeing you walk around in Mercedes merch let alone fucking McLaren stuff. There's days where I wish you could just be a fan of me," Max explains softly making me smile lightly. It was the most mature conversation we had been able to have about this.

"I can understand that. I wouldn't like seeing you repping another team if I was a driver, however I wish you could see it how I do. I love you more than just about anyone in this world but that doesn't mean I don't love my brother and want to support him too. I think I have an idea," I explain to Max before thinking of a plan.

"What if when we come back next month in Austin I spent the whole weekend only wearing Max or Redbull things. I will of course still visit my brother and Lewis in their respective garage but I will only wear stuff for you the whole weekend, and then maybe next season we pick a day of the race schedule that I only wear Redbull things," I tell Max softly making his face light up at the thought of only wearing Redbull for a weekend.

"I would like that," Max says after a moment of thought.

"Can we please stop fighting about this? Whatever happens at the end of this season win or lose you and Lewis will still be my number 1s," I tell Max making him nod his head softly.

"Yes, and if we have further issues we talk it out with each other and not put Lewis in the middle of things," Max agrees and further comes up with a plan making me smile and nod my head.

"I love you Max Emillian," I say softly making Max groan at the use of his middle name.

"I love you too Y/N YM/N," Max replies back making me smile softly. I lean over to Max and pull him in for a kiss that quickly turns heated as he pulls me into his lap and lets me start grinding against him.

"I've missed you," I tell Max softly knowing that this season we have been so at odds that we haven't been nearly as close with each other as previous years.

"I've missed this," Max says with a groan leaving his voice when I start grinding down harder into him.

"You horny boy," I joke making both Max and Lewis laugh softly reminding me that Lewis was still in the room with us.

I turn my gaze to him to show him that I want him to join. When Lewis quickly climbs into bed with us my lips are on his within moments before he moves his lips down to Max's pulling him in for a heated makeout.

I start grinding into Max's lap a bit harder while begging for more.

"Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want," Lewis groans against Max's lips before pulling me in for another kiss.

Lewis drags me off of Max's lap and strips me down to nothing before pushing me onto all fours where he starts laying harsh slaps on my ass.

"Daddy, Why," I whine out when I feel the spanks become progressively harder, leaving me to become a whimpering mess.

"You know that you're not allowed to leave in a fight. We agreed we would talk everything out. I'm gonna give you 10 more and I want you to count them out," Lewis said making me whine in retaliation.

"1" I call out softly when the first one lands on my right cheek.

""5" I gasp out after Lewis lands 4 hard spanks on my left cheek all landing in the same spot."

"It hurts," I cry out trying to shift my hips away only making Lewis grip onto them tighter to keep me in place.

"Awe... did that hurt? Tuff luck I'm gonna do it again," Lewis teased before landing another spank.

"6" I cry out when I feel another really hard one in the same spot. I'm only 6 in and I'm already a sobbing mess under Lewis.

"10" I gasp out after Lewis landed another 4 all in the same spot on my right ass cheek.

"Why did I punish you?" Lewis questions while pulling me up to his chest while he softly rubs my ass to soothe it.

"Because I got up and started packing a bag even though we agreed that I can't leave in the middle of a fight," I hiccup out into Lewis's chest still slightly crying from the pain my ass had endured.

The no leaving in a fight became a rule after our first fight when I just left the apartment mid-fight because I didn't know how to express myself properly and I became anxious when we fought. When I finally came back Max had tears streaming down his face and was fighting Lewis to report me as a missing person. After that, we had a long tough conversation about how we would be moving forward.

Max pulls me back up into his lap already stripped into nothing before easily sliding into me making me whimper. Lewis climbed behind me teasing my ass with a bit of cold lube before sinking 2 fingers into my ass to make sure I was stretched enough to take his cock.

"Fuck, Daddy," I whimper when Lewis pull his fingers out before shoving the tip of his cock into my ass making me scream out at the stretch of having 2 cocks filling me up.

"Oh my god," I moan out when Lewis starts pushing his thick cock into my tight ass.

Once Lewis was all the way into my ass both of the boys gave me a few seconds to adjust to the stretch but started thrusting into me when I started grinding my hips showing them that I was ready for more stimulation.

"Faster, please," I beg before leaning down and capturing Max's lips with mine while both boys instantly sped up throwing me over the edge and into a loud shakey orgasm.

Even once I had come down from my massive orgasm neither one of the boys slowed down leaving me to become a mess in their laps. I was shaking me moaning trying to get away which only made Lewis's grip on my hips tighten.

"Slower please," I gasp when I finally find my voice.

“Slow down? You just told me to speed up, make up your mind silly girl,” Max scoffs showing no clear signs of slowing down.

"Fuck," I moan when I feel myself starting to build to another orgasm.

"Look so pretty when you cry," Max says with a smirk making me whine slightly.

"God, she's gonna cum for us again," Lewis gasps when he feels my ass clenching around him in preparation for another orgasm.

"Cum for us," Max groans before pulling me down for another kiss making me scream into his mouth when I start cumming all over their cocks.

I could tell Max was cumming from the way his grunts turned into higher-pitched whines while his hips faltered slightly while filling me up.

Lewis wasn't too far behind sending one final harsh thrust before he was filling my ass up with his hot cum.

Once the three of us have come down from our highs the boys slowly slip out of my abused holes letting their cum leak and start to pool on the bedspread.

Lewis was the first to get out of bed grabbing a towel and some cooling lotion. He cleaned both Max and I up first before softly rubbing the lotion on my ass to help it cool down after the brutal assault Lewis gave me with his heavy hand.

Once the room was picked up a bit and Max and I were clothed and comfortably in each other's arms Lewis opened the door letting all three of our fur babies into the room. Sassy and Jimmy instantly crawled onto Max's lap while Sassy nudged my hand with her head clearly wanting some attention before Rosco and Lewis followed and comfortably got into bed with us. Rosco had found his way to me before he made himself comfortable on top of me making Lewis laugh and shake his head.

"The guy loves you more than he had ever loved me," Lewis jokes before petting his head and placing a soft kiss on my head.

[brunchable]

Winter King, Part Two : I Wish You Would. . .

Pairings: King AU Bucky Barnes x Out of place Queen Reader Words: 18K Themes: Royaltycore AU, love and power, Arranged Marriage, georgian/regency era misogyny, Eventual Smut. Summary: The Kingdom's court is treacherous, and enemies lurk in the shadows, waiting to exploit any sign of weakness. Althought Y/N is determined to be a worthy queen of the crown, she find out that The King is as elusive as he is captivating. A/N: Inspired by Queen Charlotte. Also, if you like Sharon Carter, I'm sorry, someone needs to be an antagonist lmao. I hope I tagged everyone.

Tags: @theendofthematerialgworl @httpb3a @spiidergirlsworld @sebastians-love @stevesbbgorl

@targaryenhues @almosttoopizza @scott-loki-barnes @brckenmemories @vicmc624

The clinking of delicate china sounded in the sunroom, but the undercurrent of hostility was unmistakable. Sharon and Leah exchanged a glance, their eyes gleaming with something far more sinister than polite conversation. The warmth of the sun couldn’t reach you through the tension coiling around the table.

Sharon’s voice sliced through the moment, sweet but sharp, as though testing the blade before delivering the cut. “You know, Princess, there’s a rather fascinating story about His Majesty. It surprises me that no one has mentioned it to you yet.”

Your grip tightened on the teacup, but you kept a calm facade. Their words were like needles, pricking at your composure, but you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you uneasy.

“Oh?” you replied, your tone light, “Do enlighten me.”

Leah leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as though sharing a secret meant only for your ears. “Well, it’s said that he was quite... entangled with Lady Maria for some time. You know how close they were? Practically inseparable.” She shot you a look that made your stomach tighten. “Of course, that was before you.”

The name Lady Maria was familiar to you, but the way they spoke it—like a weapon—made it clear they intended to lodge it in your heart, to make you doubt.

“Oh, I see,” you said, carefully placing the teacup down, though you could feel the prickle of unease beneath your skin. “Is this the same Lady Maris who now resides in the countryside?” You smiled, a sharp edge to your words. “Quite the distance from the palace, wouldn’t you say?”

Leah’s smile faltered ever so slightly, but Sharon’s eyes glittered with cruel amusement as she picked up the thread of the conversation. “Distance means little when it comes to passion. And His Majesty isn’t the type to forget such things... so easily.”

The insinuation in her words cut deeper than you wanted to admit. You could feel your composure slipping, the words sinking into your chest like stones. 

You met Sharon’s gaze squarely, keeping your tone even. “I find that real passion leaves no room for doubt,” you said smoothly, “nor for ghosts of the past.”

Sharon’s lips curved into a smile, “Of course, but the past has a way of... lingering, doesn’t it? Men like His Majesty—they tend to crave excitement. And I imagine keeping his interest will be... challenging.”

The implication hit its mark, a knot of jealousy tightening in your chest. They wanted you to believe you couldn’t hold Jame’s attention—that you were nothing more than a placeholder for someone more exciting, someone like Lady Maria.

Your breath caught, but you forced yourself to smile, lifting your teacup as if you hadn’t just been struck by their words. “I find that security comes from understanding,” you said, “And I’m more interested in the present than the past.”

Leah chuckled softly, leaning in closer. “Oh, but the present can be just as... tricky. After all, there are so many... distractions in the palace. You haven’t known him for very long, have you? So much is still hidden.”

Her words felt like poison, seeping into your mind, whispering the doubts you had been trying so hard to push away. Do you really know him? Can you trust him?

But you refused to let them see you falter. You couldn’t. Not when they were so clearly enjoying the game.

“Everyone has their secrets,” you replied calmly, though the weight of those secrets pressed down on you. “But I’ve learned not to rely on gossip to understand someone.”

Sharon’s eyes gleamed, her smile growing. “But don’t you wonder? All those nights he slipped away. Who knows where he went? Or who he was meeting under the moonlight?”

Your heart clenched, the insinuation sharp as a dagger. You could feel the cold tendrils of doubt creeping into your mind, wrapping around your thoughts. Was James still slipping away at night? Was there more he wasn’t telling you?

But you couldn’t let them see that doubt. You had come too far to let their words unravel you.

“I’m sure there are many stories about Prince James,” you said, your voice remained calm, though each word felt heavier now. “But I trust what I know, not what others choose to speculate about.”

Leah’s smile was thin, but her eyes sparkled with triumph, as though she sensed she had struck a nerve. “We’ll see soon enough, won’t we? After all, the wedding is tomorrow. Then we’ll all know whether you can... keep up.”

The words lingered, a challenge woven into every syllable. They were waiting for you to fail, to prove that you weren’t strong enough for this world, for him.

Your pulse raced, the pressure of their words settling like a weight on your chest, but you refused to let it break you. Slowly, you set your teacup down with a soft clink, meeting Sharon’s gaze one last time.

“I’ve faced many tests in my life,” you said, your voice low, but firm. “And I’m still here. I think that says enough.”

The tension hung thick in the air, you rose from your seat, the finality in your movement punctuating the moment. You had given them no ground, no cracks to exploit, and their smiles, once sharp and mocking, now seemed to falter, ever so slightly.

But just as you turned to leave, Sharon’s voice—smooth and saccharine—floated after you, stopping you in your tracks.

“It’s admirable, really, that someone from... Zienna is so resilient. I suppose growing up in such a small, modest country must have prepared you for all sorts of challenges.”

You froze, your hand pausing on the back of the chair. The underlying disdain in her tone wasn’t lost on you. Zienna, your home, was renowned for its beauty, but in the grander scheme of royal politics, it was often dismissed as insignificant. You could feel the mockery laced in her words, as if she were implying that your upbringing had made you desperate to prove yourself.

Leah’s laughter was light, airy. “Oh yes, Sharon. I imagine life there must have been... quaint. So very different from here, don’t you think, Princess?”

You turned slowly, meeting both of their gazes, your own smile never wavering. 

“You’re right. Zienna is different,” you said softly, letting the pride in your voice fill the room. “It’s a place where strength is measured by character, not status. Where beauty is in the resilience of the people, not the grandeur of a palace.”

Your words silenced them, the smile slipping from Sharon’s face. Leah’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though she hadn’t expected you to turn their words around so effortlessly.

“And if growing up there has prepared me for anything,” you continued, your voice steel beneath the sweetness, “it’s how to recognize empty words and empty hearts.” You paused, letting the weight of your gaze linger on them. “Qualities I can spot a mile away.”

The sunroom felt colder now, your retort hanging in the air like a cloud. Sharon’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t respond. Leah shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her earlier smugness evaporating.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” you said, a polite smile on your lips that didn’t reach your eyes, “I have preparations to attend to.”

And with that, you turned on your heel, leaving them behind. Each step you took away from the sunroom felt like a small victory, but even as you walked, their words echoed in your mind. The whispers of Lady Maria, the insinuations about James’s loyalty, the insults directed at your homeland—they lingered, swirling together into a storm of doubt.

As soon as you were out of sight, the carefully composed expression you had worn in the sunroom dissolved. Your lips pressed into a thin line, and with a sudden surge of frustration, you stomped away, your footsteps heavier. The garden path crunched beneath your shoes as you strode forward, the crisp air doing little to cool the heated emotions roiling inside you.

Your maids hurried behind you, their footsteps quick and uncertain as they struggled to keep pace. The sun was bright but dipped lower, casting long shadows over the carefully manicured hedges, but none of it registered in your mind. 

You stormed past the familiar stone wall—the very one you had once tried to climb, desperate for an escape from this life. A fleeting memory of that morning flashed in your mind, but you quickly whipped your attention forward, determined not to linger on what felt like another lifetime ago.

The sting of Sharon and Leah's words echoed in your thoughts, the insinuations they had dropped like poison slowly seeping through your veins. The worst part wasn’t their cruelty—it was the lingering doubt they left in their wake, the nagging feeling of inadequacy they had sown in your heart.

As you rounded the corner of the garden, you nearly collided with Captain Rogers. You froze for a moment, caught off guard by his presence. His tall frame blocked your path, and you looked up to meet the eyes of the man you had only seen from a distance—a legend in his own right, but unfamiliar to you until now.

“Princess,” his deep voice said, the faintest hint of surprise in his eyes. He stepped back, his posture respectful, but his gaze lingered on you, as if trying to piece together the storm that was painted across your face.

You drew in a breath. His broad shoulders seemed to fill the space, the strength behind his calm gaze only adding to the silent authority he carried. This was the first time he had seen you up close—really seen you—and you could feel his curiosity. His gaze was far too perceptive, as though he could sense the frustration crackling beneath your surface.

He didn’t move, his eyes scanning your face, taking in every detail—the tightness around your lips, the tension in your posture.

“Forgive me, Princess,” he said, his tone gentler now, “I didn’t mean to startle you. Is everything... all right?”

You hesitated. There was something in his voice—genuine concern, but also a strength, as though he was someone who wasn’t easily swayed by the petty games of court. The temptation to unload your frustration rose, but you bit it back, unwilling to show any weakness in front of someone you barely knew.

Behind you, faint whispers and barely contained giggles from the maids floated through the air.

“He’s even more handsome up close.”

“I heard he’s unmatched with the sword.”

“I wonder if the princess is the one who’s caught his eye.”

Their words blended together, stoking the embers of your growing frustration. You shot them a glance, and the group immediately fell silent, though the sparkle in their eyes remained, a few of them nudging each other playfully.

“Captain Rogers,” you repeated, forcing your attention back to him. His eyes flickered past you, noticing the commotion, but he merely smiled, almost as if he was used to the admiration.

"Apologies," he added with a subtle nod toward the flustered maids. "It seems I've become quite the spectacle." His lips quirked in a brief, amused smile before his gaze settled back on you, serious once again. "But that doesn't matter. Is everything truly all right, Princess?"

Your chest tightened. For a moment, the warmth in his eyes threatened to melt the wall you'd built, but you steeled yourself, unwilling to let anyone—especially James’s dear friend—see the cracks.

“Just taking some air,” you replied, attempting to sound indifferent, but your words wavered, betraying a hint of the emotional storm that raged inside you.

Captain Rogers didn’t move, his gaze softening. “It doesn’t seem like the air is doing much to help,” he observed quietly, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The subtle warmth in his tone took you by surprise, pulling you from the haze of your own thoughts. It was the first time someone had spoken to you without a layer of formality, without some hidden agenda woven into their words. You weren’t sure if it was refreshing or irritating.

“Well,” you said, lifting your chin slightly, “hence why I’m going inside.”

He stepped aside then, giving you room to pass, but not before his gaze lingered on you one last time, as though he were trying to understand what had unsettled you so deeply. There was no judgment in his eyes—only curiosity.

You nodded curtly in thanks and strode past him, determined not to let him see the cracks in your composure. But even as you walked away, you could feel his presence behind you, as if he were still watching, trying to figure out the puzzle you hadn’t realized you’d become.

Your rest of your maids caught up as you reached the palace doors, their hurried whispers behind you barely registering. You walked past the towering columns and through the grand foyer, a figure appeared ahead of you—a palace staff member—your valet—his uniform crisp and formal. He looked as though he'd been searching for you, his eyes lighting up with relief the moment they landed on you.

“Ah! Princess,” he said, his voice polite but hurried, his slight bow both respectful and urgent. “I’ve been looking for you. Please, follow me—your fitting for the wedding dress is ready.”

You blinked, your frustrations from the sunroom now mixing with a new surge of nerves. The wedding dress fitting. Another reminder of how close the ceremony was—how close you were to stepping into a role you weren’t sure you were ready for. But there was no time to dwell on that now.

You nodded, giving a small, composed smile, though inside, your thoughts still raced. “Of course. Lead the way.”

Scott straightened and gestured down the hall, his steps brisk as you fell in behind him.

× × × ×

The fabric of the gown rustled as the maids adjusted the delicate lace at your sleeves, each stitch tightening like the invisible binds that held you in place. It wasn’t the dress constricting you—it was everything. The ceremony, the expectations… him.

James had become more of a shadow in your life than a man. You hadn’t seen him properly since that morning in the garden, where the flicker of connection between you felt like something precious, something fragile. Since then, you’d only glimpsed him—his tall figure at the coronation, his back turned to you, always just out of reach. And yet, the memory of his touch, the sparkle in his eyes as he teased you, lingered in your thoughts, whispering promises that felt as intangible as smoke.

But promises were thin when matched against the reality of your situation.

Your fingers fidgeted with the silk of your gown as another seamstress knelt at your feet, adjusting the hem. The fabric was exquisite, shimmering beneath the light, but it felt like a gilded cage. 

Lady Monica Rambeau circled you, her sharp eyes missing nothing, her presence as unyielding as the steel boning of your corset. She had been assigned to you since the engagement had been announced, her demeanor polite but impenetrable. No matter how hard you tried, you could not pierce the veil of formalities that cloaked her every word.

As Lady Rambeau came around the front of the gown, you cleared your throat, trying to keep your tone light, though the questions weighed heavily on your mind. “Lady Rambeau, I’ve noticed something.”

Her fingers stilled as she pinched a piece of fabric at your waist. “Hm?”

You hesitated, watching her closely. “The King… he always wears a glove on his left hand.”

Lady Rambeau didn’t flinch, but there was the slightest pause in her movements, the briefest tightening of her lips. You had been trained to notice such things.

“Yes, Princess,” she said, her tone smooth, but you caught the subtle shift in her expression. “Many royals have their eccentricities.”

You narrowed your eyes, not satisfied with her evasive response. “It seems more than just an eccentricity, doesn’t it?”

For the first time, Lady Rambeau’s gaze met yours directly, a flicker of something—was it pity?—in her eyes. “The prince prefers not to discuss such matters. It is... a personal choice.”

You straightened your back, feeling the frustration coil tighter inside you. You were about to marry him, and yet everyone seemed to know more about your future husband than you did. 

“A personal choice that no one seems willing to explain,” you countered, your voice sharp. “I’m about to marry him. Don’t I deserve to know the truth?”

There was a beat of silence before Lady Rambeau averted her gaze, focusing on the gown again. “Some truths, Princess, are best left for the prince to share himself.”

Her words landed heavily in the room, closing the conversation with an air of finality. You clenched your fists, feeling the fabric of your gown bunch beneath your fingers, the weight of everything pressing down on you like the tight bodice of this perfect, suffocating dress.

“Perhaps,” you muttered under your breath, “but a queen who knows nothing of her king is little more than a pawn.”

Lady Rambeau’s lips tightened again, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she straightened, her expression smoothing back into its usual calm, controlled mask. 

“The gown is perfect,” she said, her voice cool. “You will be the vision of a queen.”

You stared at her, your frustration simmering. 

“A vision,” you repeated softly, looking at your reflection in the mirror. The girl staring back at you wore a gown fit for a queen, but there was something hollow in her eyes. The truth was, you felt like an imposter in that mirror. How could you marry a man who remained an enigma, hidden behind secrets no one would speak of?

Lady Rambeau cleared her throat, sensing your thoughts. “Before we conclude, Princess, we must review the schedule for the day.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. Not yet, anyway. “Of course.”

Lady Rambeau reached for the small ledger on the table, flipping through the neatly written notes. “This afternoon, after we’ve finalized the details of your gown, there will be a brief... educational session.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Educational session?”

Her voice was smooth, unflappable. “Yes, Princess. It is customary for brides of your station to receive instruction on matters... related to the marriage bed.”

Heat rushed to your face, and the room suddenly felt stifling. “I—what kind of instruction?”

Lady Rambeau, as always, didn’t blink. “There will be materials provided. Diagrams, illustrations. You’ll be prepared for what is expected of you.”

The air in the room seemed to thicken, and you fought the urge to pull at the bodice of your gown. This wasn’t just a wedding—it was the beginning of something far more daunting, far more real. And you were expected to step into it without hesitation, without question.

Lady Rambeau seemed to sense your discomfort but pressed forward. “Afterward, there will be time for rest before your private dinner with His Majesty.”

Your pulse quickened. The first private moment with James since that morning in the garden. You hadn’t been alone with him since. You hadn’t seen him up close, hadn’t had the chance to ask the questions that had been building inside you.

“A private dinner?” you repeated, trying to shake the thoughts of the diagrams, of everything that seemed to loom on the horizon.

“Yes,” she confirmed, her voice unwavering. “It will be your final opportunity to speak with His Majesty before the ceremony tomorrow.”

You swallowed hard. Final opportunity. The phrase echoed in your mind like a warning. This was your last chance to confront him, to ask about the glove, about the rumors, about everything you had been kept in the dark about.

You nodded slowly. “I see.”

Lady Rambeau closed her ledger with a faint snap, offering a thin smile. “Everything is in place for tomorrow, Princess. You need only focus on your duties as queen.”

Duties. Expectations. Those were the words that seemed to follow you everywhere. But what about your fears? What about the truth? What about the man you were about to spend your life with?

You swallowed the frustration rising in your throat and nodded. “Very well.”

Lady Rambeau’s expression softened ever so slightly, perhaps sensing your internal turmoil. “Is there anything else, Princess?”

For a moment, the bitterness from the morning tea bubbled back to the surface, and you found yourself saying, “Actually, yes. Are there... any other ladies I can spend time with? The morning tea with Lady Sharon and Lady Leah left a rather bitter taste in my mouth.” 

Lady Rambeau’s lips twitched, the barest hint of amusement crossing her face before she masked it once more. “I see. I can certainly arrange for you to meet with a more agreeable company.”

A small sigh of relief escaped you. “Thank you. That would be much appreciated.”

With a nod, Lady Rambeau offered a brief, genuine smile. “Consider it done, Princess.”

× × × ×

You sat in an ornate chair, stiff and uncomfortable, while across from you, the Governess stood like a sentinel, her stern expression and ramrod-straight posture making the space feel even more intimidating.

Your eyes flickered nervously to the stack of leather-bound books on the table between you, each one larger and more foreboding than the last. Then there was the parchment—rolled up, but ominous in its stillness. There was something about the entire scene that made your skin crawl, as though you were not here for a lesson but being led into battle.

“Princess,” the governess began, her tone clipped and authoritative, “this session is essential to your role as the future queen and wife. It is vital that you understand the... expectations that will be placed upon you in the marriage bed.”

You found yourself shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Your hands gripped the armrests, trying to hold on to a semblance of composure. But there was nothing composed about this moment, nothing regal about what was happening.

The governess pulled one of the books from the pile and flipped it open, revealing a diagram that made your stomach turn. The lines, the shapes—they were clinical, and yet, utterly mortifying. You felt heat rising in your face, and it took everything in you not to roll your eyes. The absurdity of the situation made you want to laugh, but you bit down on the impulse, hard.

“This,” the governess continued, her voice as sharp as her gaze, “is crucial knowledge for fulfilling your wifely duties. You must be prepared to consummate the marriage.”

You swallowed hard, shifting again, the lesson settling over you like an iron cloak. “I think I understand the general concept,” you muttered, trying to keep your tone light despite the tight knot of discomfort twisting in your gut.

She ignored your attempt at levity, her movements precise as she unfurled the parchment on the table. It revealed even more intricate—and mortifying—illustrations. Your eyes widened in disbelief as you stared at the detailed depictions, each one meticulously labeled as though this were a scientific experiment and not the intimate realities of your future.

You blinked, your heart pounding faster, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of your neck. This can’t be happening.

“Pay attention, Princess,” the governess said sharply, noticing your wandering gaze. “This knowledge is essential. You must understand your role—how to fulfill your responsibilities as a wife.”

Your patience snapped. You could no longer hold back the bubbling frustration. 

“My role?” you echoed, gesturing toward the diagrams with a wave of your hand. “You mean my role as a willing participant in this?”

The governess’ eyes narrowed, her back straightening further, if that were even possible. “Princess, this is not a matter to be taken lightly. The consummation of your marriage is not only expected, but required. You must take your duty seriously.”

A snort escaped you before you could stop it. The absurdity of it all—the coldness, the diagrams, the formality of something so intimate—was overwhelming. You hadn’t seen James in days, hadn’t even spoken more than a few proper words to him, and here you were, being lectured on consummation because it was a royal decree.

“I haven’t even had a proper conversation with the man,” you blurted out, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. “How am I supposed to take this seriously?”

The governess’ gaze turned icy, her lips thinning into a disapproving line. “Princess,” she began, sounding a bit disappointed, “you may find this situation amusing, but let me remind you—this is no laughing matter. As queen, it is your duty to provide heirs. That cannot happen if you do not fulfill your responsibilities to His Majesty.”

The levity you had clung to vanished, replaced by something far darker, far more suffocating.

Heirs.

This wasn’t just about duty anymore. It wasn’t about vague responsibilities or distant expectations. This was real. This was your future—your life.

“So,” She cleared her throat noticing the change in your demeanor, “If you don’t want His Majesty to find a consort willing to provide him an heir, I suggest you listen and learn carefully.”

The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thick. You tried to even out your breathing, but the panic clawing at your chest made it difficult to think, difficult to even breathe. You were no longer the girl standing in the garden, teased by a prince about escaping. You were a woman facing the stark reality of a role that felt far too large for you.

Your heart pounded in your ears as the governess’s cold, unrelenting gaze bored into you. She wasn’t just speaking of abstract duties or obligations. This was real, and you had no escape.

“I... I understand,” you whispered, though the words felt hollow. 

“Do you?” the governess asked, her tone softer now, but still cold with authority. “This is your reality, Princess. You cannot run from it. The marriage will be consummated. You will need to provide heirs. There is no escaping that.”

Each word she spoke settled into your bones, cold and unyielding. You had spent so much time avoiding this truth, brushing it aside as something distant. But now, with the weight of her gaze and the reality staring back at you from those diagrams, there was no avoiding it.

The laughter that had once bubbled in your throat turned bitter. There was no humor here. No escape.

Your hands clenched in your lap, gripping the fabric of your gown so tightly your knuckles turned white. You wanted to protest, to fight back against this fate being thrust upon you, but the enormity of it left you speechless. For the first time in days, you felt utterly powerless.

The governess, sensing your resignation, continued in her cold, measured tone. “I suggest you take these lessons more seriously from now on, Princess. This is not just about your future. It is about the future of the kingdom.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. There was nothing left to say.

You nodded, barely, the movement small and mechanical, as though you had been drained of all energy, all fight. Her words had pressed down on you, threatening to snuff out the last bit of spirit you had left.

And the worst part?

She was right.

There was no escaping this.

× × × ×

Lady Romanoff

The sound of clashing steel filled the training yard, the sharp ring of swords slicing through the afternoon air. Lady Natasha moved with deadly precision, her every strike calculated, her every parry effortless. The soldiers she sparred with were drenched in sweat, struggling to keep up with her, but she showed no mercy. Her red hair was tied back, a single loose strand framing her sharp, focused features.

"Lady Natasha!" A voice called out, breaking the rhythm of the duel.

She spun around, lowering her sword as a servant approached, bowing deeply before handing her a letter sealed with the royal crest. Her sharp eyes lingered on the seal for a moment before she waved her sparring partner off, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

Natasha turned away from the yard, stepping into the shade of the estate’s stone walls as she broke the seal. Her fingers traced over the words, the formal language of the letter at odds with the simple, direct life she preferred.

“To Lady Natasha Romanoff,

By order of His Majesty and the future Queen of Montelune, you are hereby invited to join the Princess Y/N’s court as a trusted advisor and protector…”

Her lips curved into the barest hint of a smile. Protector. She could handle that.

The wind stirred around her as she folded the letter, her eyes flickering toward the horizon where the palace loomed in the distance. She had been summoned. And when the future queen called, Natasha Romanoff never refused.

- - - -

Lady Maximoff

In the quiet of her private study, Lady Wanda Maximoff sat by a large, arched window overlooking the rolling hills that stretched far beyond her family's estate. The air smelled of herbs and candle wax, and the only sound was the faint crackle of the fire behind her. She was deep in thought, her hands idly weaving through the delicate threads of red magic that swirled around her fingertips, when a soft knock broke her focus.

A servant entered, bowing as he held out a letter sealed with the royal crest. Wanda's brows knit together as she dismissed the magic with a flick of her hand, taking the letter and gently breaking the seal.

The letter unfolded in her hands, the parchment crisp and formal, though the weight of its words pressed heavily on her chest.

“To Lady Wanda Maximoff,

By order of His Majesty and the future Queen of Montelune, you are invited to join Princess Y/N’s court, where your wisdom and unique abilities will be invaluable…”

She blinked, her eyes lingering on the phrase unique abilities. They were calling her for more than just her title. A sense of unease stirred in her chest, but also a flicker of something else—purpose.

She closed the letter carefully, her eyes drifting out of the window again. Her future was no longer here in the quiet, secluded halls of her family home. It was with the future queen. It was time to leave the shadows behind.

- - - -

Lady Potts

Lady Virginia Potts stood in the grand parlor of her estate, the late afternoon sun casting golden light over the polished wood floors. Her hands were busy organizing the mountain of correspondence scattered across the table, responding to various requests from lords and ladies who sought her counsel. Her estate was immaculate, a reflection of her meticulous nature.

A servant entered quietly, holding a single letter with a royal seal, far more significant than the others. Pepper paused, her hands stilling as she reached for the letter, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

Breaking the seal, she scanned the words with a practiced eye, though the gravity of the message slowed her reading.

“To Lady Virginia Potts,

By the request of His Majesty and the future Queen of Montelune, you are invited to join Princess Y/N’s court, where your knowledge and expertise in matters of statecraft will be essential…”

Pepper set the letter down, her fingers resting lightly on the parchment. It had been some time since she had involved herself with court politics, preferring the stability of her own estate and businesses. But this... this was a request she could not turn down.

The future queen needed her, and where there was a need for clarity and order, Pepper Potts would always step in.

She smoothed the letter, her lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. The court had no idea what they were in for.

× × × × 

The heavy oak doors creaked open as you were led into the private dining room, the faint rustle of your gown the only sound as the maid quietly withdrew behind you, leaving you in the stillness of the grand chamber. A fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a golden light over the room, and your eyes fell on him immediately.

King James stood by the large window, one hand resting on the frame, the other gloved hand at his side. He looked out over the sprawling grounds, the fading light of the evening casting a halo of gold through his hair, painting him in a soft, almost ethereal glow. You simply stood there, unable to speak. Unable to move. You hadn't seen him like this before—unburdened by the weight of ceremony or titles—and it stirred something deep within you.

Sensing your presence, he turned slowly, and the moment his eyes met yours, the air shifted. His smile bloomed—soft, adoring, and it lit up the space between you, as though you were the only person in the world.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice warm and intimate, yet restrained. There was a note of something unspoken there, something deeper. The way he looked at you—his blue eyes tracing the delicate lines of your face—made your heart stutter in your chest.

You offered him a small curtsy, your stomach fluttering as you lifted your gaze. “Your Majesty.”

"Please, to you I’m just James." James gestured to the long, elegantly set dining table. “Join me.”

You approached the table with grace, your pulse quickening as you took in the grand spread before you. The chairs were separated by a stretch of three empty seats, and despite the intimate setting, the distance felt like you're oceans apart. You hesitated for a moment but obeyed, sitting across from him at the far end.

He watched you, his smile not faltering, but his eyes grew thoughtful as you settled into your seat. “You look lovely,” he said quietly, his voice rich but gentle.

Your heart gave a little flutter, and despite the formality, you couldn’t help but feel warmth creep up your neck at his words. 

“Thank you,” you replied, meeting his gaze with a steadying breath. “You seem… deeply in thought,” you added, noting the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his gloved hand rested stiffly against the table.

He let out a quiet breath, his eyes lingering on yours as though he was trying to gauge your thoughts. 

“Perhaps,” he admitted with a small, almost shy smile. “It’s hard not to be when my future is sitting across from me.”

You look down with a smile, a shy reaction. But before you could let them settle too deeply, you cleared your throat, turning the conversation to lighter things. Questions formed quickly in your mind—trivial, unimportant things, but questions that would keep your heart from racing too fast, your thoughts from spiraling.

You gathered your courage, determined to make this dinner less formal and distant. There was so much you didn’t know about hum—about the man you were about to marry. So, before the weight of more serious questions settled over the evening, you decided to ask him about the smaller things. Things that would make him feel more human, less like the elusive king you were supposed to wed.

“Do you have a nickname?” you asked, breaking the silence with a playful tilt to your voice, hoping to ease the tension that had been lingering since the moment you entered the room.

James blinked, surprised by the question, then let out a soft chuckle. “A nickname? I didn’t expect that to be your first question.”

You smiled, “I have to start somewhere, don’t I?”

He grinned, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Well, my mother used to call me Bucky when I was younger,” he said, his voice softer now. “But that name’s reserved for a select few.”

“Bucky,” you repeated, the name feeling strangely intimate on your lips. “And who are these ‘select few’?”

Bucky’s smile widened, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. “People I trust. Mostly my closest friends.”

Your curiosity grew, and you seized the opportunity to dig a little deeper. “Speaking of which, who are your best friends? I feel like I should know the people who are important to you.”

“Steve—Captain Rogers, as you might know him. He’s been my best friend since we were boys. There’s also Sam—he’s got a sharp sense of humor and enjoys keeping me humble.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a good group around you.” You couldn’t help but smile at the affection in his tone. 

Bucky nodded, his gaze growing warmer as he spoke of his friends. “Yeah, I’m lucky to have them.”

“And your horse? What’s his name?” You shifted in your seat, feeling a bit more comfortable now that the conversation had softened.

“His name’s Alpine.” He glanced at you with a grin, clearly surprised at your curiosity.

“Alpine?” you repeated, arching a brow.

“It suits him,” Bucky said with a shrug, though there was a twinkle of fondness in his eyes. “He’s stubborn, strong-willed… reminds me of someone.”

You laughed softly at that, feeling the weight of the room lift slightly. “I’d like to officially meet him sometime.”

Bucky’s smile lingered. The conversation had been easy, light, but the distance—both physical and emotional—still felt too vast. You wanted to ask more, to dig beneath the surface. But the space between you felt like a barrier, one you suddenly couldn’t bear any longer.

Without overthinking it, you set down your cutlery, stood, and lifted your plate from its place. Bucky’s eyes widened slightly in surprise as you walked around the table and sat beside him, taking the chair at his right.

Bucky watched you, clearly taken aback, but there was no disapproval in his gaze. If anything, he was amazed at how you seem to give no mind with tradition.

Bucky looked up at you, his lips curving into an intrigued smile.

“Sitting across from you felt… wrong,” you admitted softly. “There’s too much distance.”

Bucky’s eyes softened at your words, and though his expression remained composed, the way his body angled toward you—subtly, almost instinctively—revealed more than he probably intended.

You swallowed, heart pounding as you prepared yourself for the question you’d been avoiding all night. “There’s something I need to ask you, Your Majes—”

“James.”

“James. . .” You repeated his name.

Sitting next to him, the air seemed intimate, and the flicker of the candles on the table cast shadows that danced between your gazes. He was watching you—intensely, yet not in a way that was uncomfortable. There was something magnetic about the way he studied you, as if he was trying to figure you out, but not in the calculating manner you’d come to expect from others.

You swallowed, composing yourself. The words slipped from your lips before you had time to second guess them. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you... about Lady Hill.”

Bucky’s expression didn’t falter, but you noticed the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched ever so subtly. He turned slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

You hadn’t meant to sound so blunt, but the name had hung between you like a shadow since the ladies made sure the name stuck to you. The jealousy bubbling up inside you—the ache you refused to admit even to yourself—made it impossible to keep the question locked away.

“Lady Hill,” you continued, your voice quieter now, though no less steady. “I’ve heard... stories. About you and her.”

Bucky sighed softly, his eyes drifting momentarily to the flickering flames in the hearth before returning to you. “You’ve heard a lot, I’m sure.”

You pressed your lips together, not trusting yourself to speak. It was foolish, really—this feeling of jealousy. You barely knew him, yet the thought of him being close to someone else, someone before you, unsettled you in ways you couldn’t quite understand. Or, maybe you did, but you didn’t want to admit it.

Bucky turned his full attention to you now, his eyes softening, though his gaze held something more serious, something weighted with regret. “There was a time when Lady Hill and I were... close. But that time has long since passed.”

You exhaled softly, though the knot in your chest didn’t fully loosen. “And now?”

His gaze softened even further, as if he could see straight through your carefully composed exterior. “Now?” he echoed, his voice quieter, more intimate. “Now, I’m here with you, not her. And that should tell you everything.”

The words sent a flutter through your chest, though you tried to ignore it. There was something undeniable between you—a pull, a connection that went beyond formalities. Yet, you couldn’t let yourself get lost in it. Not yet.

“Yes, yes it does.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed as he studied your expression, taking in the slight tremble in your voice and the way you seemed to press your lips together, fighting to keep your emotions in check. He didn’t need you to say anything more to know what was going on in your head. He could see it, the doubt creeping into your mind.

He sighed softly, setting down his glass, the clink against the table louder than the quiet room. His gaze never left yours, though.

“Something’s wrong,” he said quietly, his voice laced with a gentleness you hadn’t expected. “You’re not just asking about Lady Hill. There’s something else. What is it?”

You blinked, taken aback by how perceptive he was. You hadn’t meant for him to see through the carefully built walls you had erected. But there he was, watching you with concern, as though he could sense something brewing inside you. Your pulse quickened as you struggled to keep your composure, to bury the jealousy that had crept up, uninvited, after hearing all those stories.

You looked away for a moment, trying to find the right words, to shake off the feeling that you weren’t enough—that maybe you never would be for a man like him. But Bucky wasn’t the type to let something like that slide.

“Y/N,” he said softly, leaning in just a little, as though closing the gap between you might help ease the distance in your heart. “Talk to me. Whatever you’ve heard... Whatever they’ve said, you can ask me. I’ll tell you the truth.”

Your breath hitched, his words wrapping around you like a lifeline you hadn’t realized you needed. Slowly, you turned back to face him.

“They...” You hesitated, biting your lip as you struggled to say it. “They said, you always sneak out late at night to see her.” The admission came out more quietly than you intended.

“Do you believe that?”

You swallowed hard, looking down at your hands as your fingers twisted the fabric of your gown. 

“I don’t want to believe it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But... they’re so convincing. And I—” Your breath hitched as the words caught in your throat, and you couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence.

“Who is ‘they,’ Y/N?”

“People in court. They... they—”

“Be specific,” Bucky interrupted, his voice low, a command wrapped in concern. His blue eyes darkened with a mixture of frustration and protectiveness. He wasn’t angry—no, this was something else. He needed to know who had put these thoughts in your head, who had made you doubt him.

Your mouth hung open, caught off guard by the force of his words. He wasn’t going to let this go. He wouldn’t just sit there and let these rumors fester. And now, you couldn’t stop wondering—what would he do if you said their names? What would happen if you told him it was Sharon and Leah who had whispered those poisonous words into your ears?

For a brief moment, the idea of saying their names lingered on your lips. But you hesitated. Would telling him only make things worse? Would it lead to a confrontation you weren’t ready for? What if he confronted them, and everything in court shifted?

His gaze remained locked on yours, unwavering, waiting.

“Y/N,” he said again, his voice softer now, “Tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter who said it,” you murmured finally, shaking your head before looking back at him.

He blinked, surprised by your words, by the mercy you had just shown—choosing not to name those who had tried to plant doubt between the two of you. Most people in the court would have been eager to point fingers, to seek revenge or justice. But not you.

It doesn’t matter who said it. Your words echoed in his mind, and he realized just how different you were from the others. You weren’t driven by spite or the need for retribution. And that stunned him, amazed him in a way he hadn’t expected.

A slow breath escaped him as he continued to watch you, the vulnerability in your eyes clear, yet there was a strength there, too. A strength in choosing to let go of the pettiness of court gossip, in refusing to let others’ words dictate your path.

God, you're unlike anyone I've ever known.

But even as that admiration filled him, Bucky knew one thing for certain: he would find out who had whispered those lies to you. He wouldn’t let this slide. Not for the sake of revenge, but because those people—whoever they were—had tried to tarnish what was growing between you and him. And that was something he couldn’t forgive so easily.

Still, he wouldn’t push you now. He wouldn’t force you to tell him. You had shown mercy, and he respected that. But he would find out in another way. Quietly. Without involving you any further.

“You’re right,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “They don’t matter.”

You nodded with a fleeting faint smile. Your eyes flicked to his gloved hand, the leather dark and smooth, always present, never explained. 

“The glove. . .” you trailed off hesitantly, “Why do you always wear it?”

Bucky’s gaze followed yours, landing on the glove that covered his left hand. His face shifted, the softness hardening into what seemed like pain, and you thought he might not answer.

He flexed his fingers beneath the glove, his jaw tightening. “It’s... not something I speak about often,” he admitted quietly, his voice rougher now. “But since you’ve asked, and since we’re to be... married, I’ll tell you.”

You held your breath, your heart pounding as you waited for him to continue.

Bucky turned his head slightly, the tension in his posture growing. “I was injured. A long time ago,” He paused, his eyes flicking to you, gauging your reaction. “The glove hides the... reminder.”

He was holding back, guarding himself. You could feel it, sense it in every strained breath he took. Whatever lay beneath that glove—whatever part of him he hadn’t revealed—it was something that still haunted him, something he wasn’t ready to share to its full extent.

“I’m... sorry,” you said quietly, the words feeling inadequate. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Bucky offered a small, strained smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “There’s no need to apologize. It’s just a part of who I am now.”

“I see. You are very brave.”

His fingers twitched, aching to close the small space between you. But instead of reaching out, he curled them into his lap, trying to keep control. Because if he touched you now—if he let himself give in even for a second—he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

But the fear... the fear that you wouldn’t want this—wouldn’t want him—kept him silent. For now.

“You surprise me, you know,” he murmured, his voice low, intimate.

You blinked, “I do?”

He nodded, his lips curving into a small, almost tender smile. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. You ask questions no one else dares to ask.”

“I want to get to know you. .” You said without missing a beat, “You gave me a choice at the garden—whether to run or stay while knowing who I was—I chose to stay.”

The warmth in Bucky's gaze sent a flutter through your chest, making it hard to think clearly. You could feel the weight of his stare on you, the way his eyes traced every curve of your face, every movement you made.

"I feel the same way," Bucky said, his voice so soft it was almost lost in the space between you. His eyes lingering on your lips before slowly moving to look into your eyes.

You felt a pull, an unspoken invitation hanging in the air. You smiled and straightened yourself, “Good, I’m glad we both ag—”

Before you could finish, his hand cupped the side of your face and captured you into a kiss. His touch electrifies every fiber of you, and you froze, your heart hammering in your chest.

It wasn't a tentative kiss, nor was it hesitant. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours, gently nibbling on your bottom lip. He kissed you like he'd been dying to do it, like he'd been holding back for far too long, and now he couldn't help himself.

Your breath hitched, your mind going blank as you melted into him, your hand instinctively gripping the sleeve of his coat. The taste of him, the feel of his body so close to yours, was intoxicating.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. His eyes searched yours, filled with an adoration you had never seen before, and it took everything in you to catch your breath.

“I've wanted to kiss you since that day but I had to let you go," Bucky whispered, his voice rough with need. 

His gaze was heavy, half-lidded with desire, and just as he was about to lean in to taste you again, a knock at the door cut through the moment, shattering the fragile bubble of intimacy.

You jolted away from him, creating a hasty distance between you, while Bucky remained unusually calm, though his eyes still burned with the heat of the moment.

“Enter,” Bucky called out, his voice steady despite the tension lingering in the room.

The door creaked open, and Steve entered, his gaze flickering between you and Bucky before settling on his friend.

“Your Majesty, Are you ready to leave?” Steve asked, his tone casual, though you didn’t miss the brief glance he gave you.

“Oh,” Bucky muttered, his posture relaxing as he slid his hands into his coat pockets. “Is it that time already?”

You busied yourself, trying to smooth down your gown and regulate your breathing as you stood up, your heart hadn’t quite slowed.

Bucky stood slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as he straightened his coat, a small, teasing smile curling at the corners of his lips. He took a step toward you, the warmth of his gaze made your heart flutter all over again.

He reached for your hand, taking it gently on his own, and brought it to his lips, his touch soft and reverent. The kiss he pressed to the back of your hand was tender, but the heat of his breath sent a shiver racing up your spine. When he pulled away, his fingers lingered, tracing the delicate skin of your knuckles.

“I enjoyed my time with you tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. His thumb brushed lightly over your skin, and you could feel the sincerity in his words. “I shall see you tomorrow.”

He leaned in ever so slightly, his voice dropping even lower, the teasing glint returning to his eyes. “And Princess, don’t think about climbing any more walls,” His lips tugged into a smirk, “I won’t help you, if I find you.”

A soft laugh escaped you despite the warmth in your cheeks, and before you could respond, he stepped back, releasing your hand with a lingering touch.

Turning toward Steve, Bucky’s expression shifted back to his usual composed self. “Steve, walk her to her chambers, I’ll meet you outside.”

Steve nodded, stepping forward as Bucky offered you one last look, his gaze softening again. “Rest well, Y/N. For tomorrow I shall be yours, and you mine.”

And with that, he left the room, his presence like a shadow lingering even after the door closed behind him. You stood there, still reeling from the touch of his lips on your hand, from the quiet promise in his words, as Steve approached, clearing his throat gently to pull you from your thoughts.

“Shall we?” Steve asked, his voice calm as always, though there was a knowing edge to his expression, as if he had sensed more than he let on.

You nodded, your heart still racing, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as Steve offered you his arm. As you walked together toward your chambers, you couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight had changed everything. And no matter how much you tried to calm your racing heart, the warmth of Bucky’s kiss stayed with you, long after you had bid him goodnight.

× × × ×

The heavy velvet drapes lining the walls absorbed much of the noise, leaving the soft echo of your footsteps the only sound that filled the space.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, “You’re quiet,” he said, his voice gentle, as though he didn’t want to intrude on whatever was lingering in your mind.

You gave a soft, tight-lipped smile, your heart still not quite calmed down after what had transpired with Bucky. 

“I find myself with much to contemplate,” you murmured, your voice carrying the weight of the evening. You stole a glance at Steve, who seemed to nod, understanding more than you expected him to.

“Bucky often has that effect upon people,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips, though his gaze remained forward.

The comment caught you off guard, and despite yourself, a soft laugh escaped. “Does he?” you asked, your tone teasing, but there was something in Steve’s smile that hinted he knew exactly what had happened between you and Bucky.

Steve chuckled, his voice a low rumble. “You’ve noticed by now, haven’t you?” He gave you a sidelong glance. “He is not an easy man to understand, I grant you that. But when he chooses to care for someone…” Steve’s voice faltered slightly, as though choosing his words with care, “…he does not do so in half measures.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the implication, but you didn’t respond. Instead, you kept walking, the candle lit hallway stretching out ahead of you, each flickering light casting long shadows on the stone floor.

Steve’s words hung in the air, and as you walked in silence for a moment, you couldn’t help but replay Bucky’s kiss in your mind—the way his lips had lingered on yours, the way his eyes had softened when he looked at you, the teasing warmth of his final words.

“Bucky’s lucky to have someone like you,” Steve said after a while, breaking the silence again. His tone was sincere, almost protective, and when you looked at him, you could see the loyalty in his eyes—not just to his friend, but to you as well.

The comment took you by surprise, and you blinked, unsure of what to say. “I’m lucky to have met him,” you replied softly, your voice carrying more weight than you had expected. It wasn’t just a formal response; it was the truth. In the short time you’d known Bucky, he had drawn something out of you—something deeper than you were prepared to admit.

Steve’s gaze softened, and his lips curved into a small, approving smile. “I’m glad you think so.”

As the walk continued, the palace walls seemed to narrow slightly, the corridor leading toward your chambers now dimly lit by only a few flickering torches. You could feel the end of the evening approaching, and with it, a certain reluctance to leave the comfortable quiet that had settled between you and Steve.

“Tell me, Captain,” you began hesitantly, “do you believe that His Majesty ever... doubts himself? Given the weight of the responsibilities he bears?”

Steve’s expression grew thoughtful, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. “He bears more than most could comprehend,” he said slowly. “But one thing I know with certainty—once his mind is set, whether it be upon a matter or a person,” his gaze flickered toward you meaningfully, “he does not question his resolve.”

As you approached the door to your chambers, Steve slowed, and you could feel the shift in the air, the end of the conversation nearing. He let go of your arm and turned to face you fully, his expression serious but kind.

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” he said simply, as if promising something far greater than just his presence. “If you need anything.”

“Thank you,” you replied, meaning it more than you could express.

He gave you a small nod, stepping back slightly as you reached for the door handle. “Goodnight, Princess.”

You paused, the door half-open, and gave him a warm smile before slipping inside. “Goodnight, Captain.”

As the door closed behind you and you backed against the door, your heart still racing, you realized that tomorrow your life will be changed drastically.

× × × ×

Captain Rogers descended the grand staircase, he adjusted the hilt of his sword, his gaze scanning the courtyard for Bucky.

The king was waiting by the fountain, leaning against his white stallion, Alpine, his silhouette almost ethereal under the silvery moonlight. 

“Ready to head out?” Bucky asked, his voice low and casual, as if they were merely discussing a routine ride instead of what lay ahead.

Steve mounted his own horse, the leather creaking softly beneath him as he settled into the saddle. He glanced at Bucky, then asked, “You kissed her, didn’t you?”

A smirk tugged at Bucky’s lips, but he didn’t turn to face Steve. “Wouldn’t you?” he replied smoothly.

Steve let out a sigh, shaking his head slightly. “I’m not going to answer that.”

A soft laugh escaped Bucky, the sound surprisingly light given the tension that clung to the night. They nudged their horses forward, the steady clop of hooves the only sound as they made their way along the moonlit path.

“You know,” Steve began, his gaze drifting to the silhouette of the palace behind them, “I have to wonder… Why do you want to be in Annecy tonight? Your wedding is tomorrow, Buck.”

Bucky’s shoulders tensed slightly, and he let out a low, rueful chuckle. He flexed his left hand, the movement barely perceptible but unmistakable to Steve’s watchful eyes. 

“You know why,” he said softly.

Steve nodded, understanding flashing across his features. He knew Bucky’s struggle—the ghosts that haunted him, the weight he carried that went far beyond a king’s responsibilities. There was always a part of Bucky that seemed to be at war with himself, the part that made even the simplest things—like sharing the same roof with his own future wife—feel like an insurmountable task.

They rode in silence for a few more minutes, the steady rhythm of the horses’ hooves lulling them into a semblance of calm. But then, Bucky shifted in his saddle, his gaze flickering to Steve.

“I need you to do me a favor,” Bucky said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm. “I need you to show a little interest in the princess.”

Steve’s head snapped around, his eyes widening. “What?” He blinked, incredulous. “Have you gone mad? Are you trying to get my head chopped off by the Queen Dowager?”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a smile, but his eyes were serious. “It’s important, Steve.”

“No,” Steve said flatly, shaking his head. “I’m not doing that. It’ll cause a scandal. It’ll make you look like a fool and make me look even worse.”

“Oh, come on,” Bucky urged, his tone almost playful.

“No,” Steve repeated firmly, his jaw set. “Why? Why would I do that?”

“Because I need some gossip,” Bucky said with a grin, though his eyes held a hint of something deeper. “Just enough to keep people talking.”

Steve let out a begrudging laugh, shaking his head again. “That’s worse, Bucky. Do you know how bad that would look? I’ll look like I’m trying to swoop in and steal the queen. The court would eat us alive. And besides—” he narrowed his eyes at Bucky, his expression hardening, “you really want to make me look like that?”

“Just trust me on this,” Bucky insisted, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “I’ll have your back, like I always do. You know that.”

Steve held his gaze for a long moment, suspicion mingling with concern. Bucky had that look in his eyes—the one that said he was up to something, something he wasn’t sharing.

“What are you really up to, Bucky?” Steve asked quietly, his brow furrowing. “What’s this really about?”

Bucky hesitated, the playful glint in his eyes dimming. He looked away, his gaze turning distant. “I need to find out who’s making up stories about me.”

“So, you want to use me to flush out whoever it is?”

Bucky’s lips twisted into a rueful smile. “Something like that.”

“Bucky…” Steve’s voice held a warning edge. “You’re risking a lot by playing these games.”

“It’s not a game,” Bucky shot back quietly, his voice tight. “They’re trying to undermine her, and I can’t stand by and watch.”

Steve stared at him, a mix of disbelief and reluctant understanding on his face. “And you think feigning interest in the princess will make them reveal themselves?”

Bucky shrugged, his smile strained. “Jealousy’s a powerful thing. If I act indifferent, it might embolden them. If I get you to show some interest in her, they might think they have more of an opportunity to turn her against me. The more they reveal, the more I can do.”

Steve let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Bucky’s expression softened, the steel in his eyes giving way to a gentler determination. “I know. But I can’t let them manipulate her. I can sense that Y/N is strong, but she’s alone here. She needs to see I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep her safe—even if she doesn’t understand it yet.”

Steve was quiet for a long moment, his gaze searching Bucky’s face. “And what if it backfires? What if she thinks you’re encouraging me because you don’t care?”

“Then I’ll have to fix it.” Bucky’s voice was resolute, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll make her see. But first, I need to know who’s been feeding her lies.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped, a sigh escaping him. “You’re asking me to throw myself into the lion’s den.”

“Just for a little while,” Bucky said softly, his voice almost pleading. “Just until I get to the bottom of this.”

Steve shook his head, but a small, resigned smile tugged at his lips. “You owe me a lot for this, you know that?”

Bucky let out a quiet laugh, the tension in his posture easing slightly. “I know. I always do.”

They continued riding in silence, the moon casting long shadows along the path. Steve’s mind raced, weighing the risks and consequences, but beneath it all was a steady resolve.

“Fine,” he murmured after a long pause. “But don’t blame me if this blows up in your face.”

“I won’t. Thank you, Steve.” Bucky smiled, his expression grateful and laced with relief.

Steve nodded once, the resolve in his eyes mirroring Bucky’s. “Let’s hope this works. For her sake.”

“Yeah,” Bucky whispered, his gaze turning distant as his thoughts drifted back to you. “For her sake.”

× × × ×

The morning of your wedding dawned with a soft golden light filtering through the tall windows of your chamber, bathing the room in its warmth. You sat in front of the grand vanity, your reflection staring back at you, almost unrecognizable in its regal splendor. The maids had been working tirelessly to prepare you, their hands deftly weaving your hair into an intricate style, fastening the delicate tiara onto your head—a symbol of the new life you were about to enter.

Your gown, a masterpiece of lace and silk, shimmered in the soft light, its heavy skirts spreading around you like a cascade of moonlight. The bodice fits you like a second skin, the embroidery of gold thread intertwining with pearls, adding to the weight you already felt in your chest. You could hear the faint noises of activity from the palace below, the preparations for the ceremony well underway.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Lady Rambeau entered, her usual composed expression softening slightly as her gaze settled on you. 

“Princess,” she said, bowing her head, “the carriage is being prepared. It will be time soon.”

You nodded, your hands clenching and unclenching in your lap. Your heart was a storm, the events of the past days swirling together with the impending reality of the ceremony. This is it, you thought. There was no more time for questions, no more time for doubts.

Lady Rambeau approached, sensing the nervousness in you. “You look every bit the queen,” she said quietly, offering a rare, almost motherly smile. “His Majesty will be pleased.”

You swallowed, your heart stuttering at the mention of Bucky. Bucky. How strange it felt to think of him as both the man you had kissed, the man whose touch had ignited something deep within you, and the king you were about to marry. The man who was still so much of a mystery to you, though the connection you felt with him was undeniable.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice soft, your mind too tangled with emotion to say more.

The doors of your chamber opened again, and in walked Captain Rogers, looking as composed and stoic as always, but when his gaze landed on you, he froze, his eyes widening with something akin to awe.

For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, and then his expression softened, his voice coming out quieter than usual. “Princess…” He cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping over you once more. “You look... radiant.”

His compliment caught you off guard, and you felt a faint blush creep up your cheeks. “Thank you, Captain,” you murmured, unable to suppress a small smile. There was something endearing about seeing the usually composed Captain Rogers momentarily taken aback.

He gave you a small, respectful nod before regaining his usual composure. “It is time,” he said, though his voice was still tinged with admiration.

Lady Rambeau stepped back, allowing you space, and Captain Rogers extended his arm toward you. “Shall I escort you?”

You hesitated only a moment before placing your hand in his. His arm was strong and steady, a rock amidst the storm that churned within you.

Captain Rogers led you down the grand staircase and out to the courtyard where the carriage awaited. Its intricate design was fit for a royal wedding, adorned with fresh flowers and draped in soft velvet. The horses were restless, sensing the energy of the day, and the servants moved with ease, making final adjustments.

As you reached the bottom step, Captain Rogers assisted you into the carriage, his hand still steady as he helped you settle into the seat. Lady Rambeau followed behind, ensuring everything was in place before stepping aside.

Captain Rogers gave you one final look before closing the door. “You will be magnificent, Princess,” he said, his tone filled with quiet confidence. “And His Majesty will be waiting.”

You smiled softly, trying to calm the flurry of nerves that danced in your chest. “Thank you, Captain.”

With a nod, he stepped back, and the driver clicked his reins, the carriage lurching forward toward the abbey where your future awaited.

The ride was quiet, the only sounds were the clatter of hooves against the cobblestone streets and the soft rustling of your gown as you shifted. Through the windows, you caught glimpses of the city—banners flying high, people lining the streets to catch a glimpse of the royal procession. Their cheers and waves were a blur, but their excitement was palpable, filling the air with a sense of anticipation.

As the carriage approached the abbey, your heart began to race. The towering spires of the grand stone building loomed ahead, casting long shadows across the cobbled courtyard. The doors of the abbey were open, revealing the grand aisle that stretched toward the altar where Bucky would be waiting.

The carriage came to a slow halt, and you took a deep breath, steadying yourself as the door opened. Captain Rogers appeared once again, offering his hand to help you down.

“Are you ready, Princess?” he asked, his tone as steady as his hand.

You nodded, though your heart felt as if it were about to burst from your chest. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Captain Rogers smiled softly, and as you stepped out of the carriage, he guided you toward the abbey’s entrance. The distance between you and the altar felt both infinite and fleeting. The weight of your gown, the gaze of the crowd—it was all overwhelming, yet the thought of Bucky waiting for you at the end of the aisle gave you strength.

The inner doors of the abbey slowly creaked open, revealing the breathtaking sight before you. The soft sound of music swelled through the vast stone hall, a hauntingly beautiful melody echoing off the towering pillars. As you took your first step inside, delicate flower petals, pale pinks and whites, drifted down from the ceiling, falling like a gentle rain around you, each petal kissing the floor at your feet.

The entire kingdom seemed to be watching, every gaze fixed on you as you stood framed by the grand doorway. Your heart raced, each beat thundering in your chest as you took in the magnitude of the moment. The aisle stretched out long before you, lined with noblemen and women from across the kingdom, their eyes wide with anticipation. But none of them mattered.

Because at the end of the aisle, waiting by the altar, stood James.

His regal form was clad in the finest ceremonial attire, gold embroidery gleaming against the dark velvet of his tunic. He looked every bit the king he was, tall and powerful, but his gaze—his gaze was solely on you. As the flower petals fluttered down, his expression softened, his lips curving into the smallest, most tender smile. His blue eyes, usually so guarded, were filled with warmth, a quiet awe that sent a rush of emotion surging through you.

You inhaled deeply, gathering your strength. You were walking alone, without an arm to hold, without anyone to guide you. This moment was yours to face. And with each step you took, you felt the weight of the gown, the tiara on your head, the delicate lace of your veil—all of it settling over you like a mantle of responsibility and power.

The crowd whispered in reverent awe, but their voices seemed like distant echoes as you walked forward, the petals beneath your feet crinkling softly with every step. The aisle felt both endless and too short, time stretching and compressing. But you kept your head high, your gaze locked on James, the silent thread between you pulling you closer with every heartbeat.

As you drew nearer, you could see the way his eyes shimmered, as if he, too, felt the enormity of the moment. His posture was regal, composed, but there was something in his expression—something that told you he was as affected by this as you were.

With each step, the world around you faded. The grandeur of the abbey, the watching crowd, the petals—they all became background to the electric pull between you and James.

Finally, you reached the end of the aisle. Your breath hitched, heart pounding, as you came to stand before him. For a moment, everything else fell away. It was just you and him.

James’s hand extended toward you, his touch warm, his smile soft and full of something deeper than words. “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice low, meant only for you. “You’re captivating.”

A flush crept up your neck, you were about to become his queen. You were about to take your place at his side—not just as a bride, but as his equal, his partner.

You gazed deeply into the most bewitching blue eyes, in the way his hand held yours so carefully, you knew that whatever doubts you had carried—about the kingdom, about him—they had no place here. Today, there was only you and Bucky, standing together at the threshold of something far greater than either of you could have imagined.

Bucky’s eyes never left yours, as if he were searching for something—reassurance, perhaps, or some unspoken promise. His fingers, warm and steady, curled gently around yours, grounding you in the midst of your racing thoughts.

The officiant’s voice cut through the air, ceremonious and strong, pulling you back to the present, though Bucky’s gaze still tethered you in place.

“Today, we bear witness to the union of our King, James Buchanan Barnes the third and his chosen bride, Princess Y/N of Zienna, a bond that not only joins two hearts but solidifies the foundation upon which this kingdom shall flourish.”

The words washed over you, powerful yet distant, as if they belonged to someone else’s story. And as you stood there, facing Bucky, you realized that while this was the culmination of the court’s expectations and the kingdom’s future, it was also more than that.

It was about him.

And you.

Bucky’s thumb brushed lightly against the back of your hand, a small, intimate gesture that sent warmth flooding through you. You met his gaze, and in that moment, something shifted. The doubt, the fear that had haunted you for weeks, seemed to dissolve under the intensity of his silent promise.

“Princess Y/N,” the officiant’s voice drew you back, “do you take King James as your husband, to honor and stand by him for the good of this kingdom and for all the days of your life?”

Your heart stilled for a fraction of a second, and then, with a steady breath, you nodded.

“I do,” you said softly. It wasn’t just a vow to the kingdom or its expectations; it was a vow to Bucky, the man beneath the crown, the man you were beginning to see more clearly with every passing moment.

The officiant turned to Bucky. “And do you, Your Majesty, take Princess Y/N as your wife, to cherish, protect, and honor her, for the good of this kingdom and for all the days of your life?”

Bucky’s gaze never wavered. His voice, low and steady, seemed to echo through the hall, even though he spoke just for you. “I do.”

As the officiant began the final blessings, you barely heard the words. All that mattered was Bucky’s hand in yours, the gentle press of his thumb against your skin, the warmth of his presence. And in his eyes, you saw it clearly—this was not just duty for him either. There was something deeper, something neither of you had fully acknowledged yet, but it was there, undeniable and magnetic.

“By the power vested in me,” the officiant declared, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The abbey seemed to hold its breath. The world, once again, shrank to just the two of you.

Bucky took a slow step closer, his hand still entwined with yours. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again, something flickering in his expression—anticipation. He leaned down, his movements careful, as though savoring the moment, and pressed a kiss to your lips.

It wasn’t a ceremonial kiss. It wasn’t for show.

It was the kiss of a man who had been waiting, yearning for this moment. His lips were warm, his touch tender yet filled with a quiet passion that left your heart racing all over again. The crowd faded away once more, the applause distant and faint, as you melted into him, your hand tightening around his.

When Bucky pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re mine now,” he whispered softly, just for you. There was no arrogance in his voice, only a raw honesty that sent shivers down your spine.

“I am,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible, but the words hung between you, carrying a promise that went far beyond this day.

Bucky’s lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes alight with something warm, something real. And as you both turned to face the crowd, ready to walk back down the aisle as husband and wife, you knew—whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever doubts or fears still lingered, you would face them together.

× × × × 

The grand hall was alive with music and laughter, the sounds of celebration echoing off the high ceilings. Glittering chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow across the room, illuminating the hundreds of guests who had gathered to celebrate the royal union. The air was filled with the scent of fresh flowers and fine wine, mingling with the soft murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter.

You stood at the edge of the dance floor, a glass of champagne in hand, watching as couples twirled in elegant dances, their gowns and suits a blur of color and movement. The weight of the tiara on your head reminded you of your new role, but it felt strangely lighter now, after the vows had been spoken, after the kiss that still lingered on your lips.

Across the room, Bucky stood among a group of nobles, listening to their conversation with polite attentiveness. But his gaze kept drifting back to you, his watchful eyes never leaving your figure for too long. There was a tension in the way he stood, a quiet possessiveness in the way he observed you, as if even from this distance, he wanted to be sure you were safe, that you were comfortable.

You could feel his gaze burning on you, and it sent a flutter through your chest. He hadn’t been far from your side all night, his presence a constant reassurance, a steady anchor amidst the whirlwind of festivities. And though you hadn’t had much time to speak since the ceremony, every glance, every brief touch of his hand against yours, felt like a promise that this night was only the beginning.

A soft voice at your side drew your attention back to the present. “Your Majesty.”

Lady Rambeau appeared at your elbow, her expression as composed as ever, through her eyes held a hint of warmth. “There are a few ladies I’d like you to meet,” she said, her tone formal but respectful.

You nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Of course.”

She gestured toward a small group of women approaching from the other side of the room. As they drew nearer, you recognized them from their noble houses, each of them a prominent figure in the kingdom. But there was something more about them—an air of confidence, of grace and power—that set them apart from the other courtiers.

“These are some of the finest ladies in court,” Lady Rambeau continued, her voice lowering slightly as they approached. “They will be valuable allies to you, my Queen.”

The first woman stepped forward, her striking red hair catching the light as she offered you a small, respectful curtsy. “Lady Natasha Romanoff, Your Majesty,” she introduced herself, her voice smooth and controlled, though her sharp eyes seemed to take in everything at once. “It is an honor to serve the queen.”

You smiled, feeling the weight of her words and the strength behind them. “The honor is mine, Lady Natasha. I look forward to getting to know you better.”

Next, a woman with dark, piercing eyes and an aura of quiet intensity stepped forward, offering a graceful curtsy. “Lady Wanda Maximoff,” she said, her voice soft but filled with a certain gravity. “If ever you have the need for my skills, my Queen, they are at your disposal.”

You nodded, sensing something deeper in her words, though you couldn’t quite place it. “Thank you, Lady Wanda. I appreciate your support.”

Finally, a woman with an air of calm authority and intelligence stepped forward, her blonde hair elegantly styled. She smiled warmly at you, her eyes twinkling with a quiet humor. “Lady Virginia Potts, Your Majesty. I oversee many of the palace affairs, so if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

You returned her smile, feeling instantly at ease with her. “I will certainly keep that in mind, Lady Virginia. Thank you.”

Lady Rambeau stepped back slightly, allowing you to take in the moment, surrounded by these powerful women who had now become your allies. There was a sense of reassurance in their presence, a reminder that while this role may be daunting, you were not alone.

As you exchanged a few more pleasantries, you felt Bucky’s gaze on you once again, a protective and possessive energy that seemed to radiate from him even across the crowded hall. You glanced over your shoulder, catching his eyes from across the room.

He gave you a small, knowing smile, his eyes flicking toward Lady Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper as if to acknowledge their presence before returning to you. There was a promise in his gaze—a promise that he would always be watching over you, no matter where you were or who you were with.

You turned toward Natasha, who was observing the room with sharp, calculating eyes. "It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?" you asked, your voice soft but holding a hint of amusement. The grandeur of the evening, the weight of the crown on your head, the people all watching—it was overwhelming, and yet, there was a certain thrill in it.

Natasha’s lips tugged into a small smile, her gaze flicking back to you. “It is. But I imagine you’re used to holding your own.” 

“I’m learning quickly, I suppose.” You smiled back, appreciating the compliment. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Natasha replied smoothly. “You’ll find the court can be... an interesting place. But if you play your cards right, you’ll have allies in all the right places.” There was a sharpness to her words, a subtle warning about the political nature of the people around you. But beneath it, you could sense her offering her support—her expertise.

Pepper leaned in slightly, her tone warm and filled with humor. “What Natasha means is that while the court can be a bit of a battlefield, there’s no need to navigate it alone. The three of us, well,” she gave a small shrug, “we’ve had our fair share of skirmishes.”

Wanda nodded, her dark eyes studying you with quiet intensity. “The court is full of whispers and schemes. People will say anything to sway your favor.” Her voice was soft, but there was a firm resolve behind it. “But when you surround yourself with people who have your back, the noise becomes just that—noise.”

You took a sip of your champagne, letting their words sink in. It was comforting, in a way, to know that these women had been through the same games you were just beginning to experience. You had already seen the sharp edges of the court with Sharon and Leah—how they used rumors and backhanded comments to try to shake you. 

Pepper glanced at you, her eyes twinkling with understanding. “I’m sure you’ve already had a taste of how competitive some of the women can be.” She raised an eyebrow knowingly. “Sharon and Leah, I imagine?”

A soft laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and you nodded. “You could say that. They’ve been… welcoming in their own way.”

“Welcoming. . .That’s one way to put it.” Wanda exchanged a glance with Natasha, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“Don’t worry about them. They’re just... testing the waters. Seeing if you’re as strong as you look.” She paused, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I have a feeling they’ll be disappointed.”

 “I certainly hope so.” You couldn’t help but grin at Natasha’s confidence in you.

Pepper leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping slightly, though there was still a playful edge to it. “If you ever need a little extra... assistance in handling those types, just let us know. We’ve got plenty of experience dealing with difficult people.”

Wanda’s gaze softened, sensing your internal struggle. “Don’t let them intimidate you. You are the queen now, and that holds power. But more importantly, you have us.” She gestured to the women around you. “We’ve all been through our own trials. We know what it’s like to navigate these treacherous waters.”

Natasha nodded in agreement, her voice quieter now, more sincere. “And we’ve made it through to the other side. You will too.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at their words. It wasn’t just the alliance they were offering—it was genuine friendship, the kind of support that went beyond titles and formalities.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice laced with gratitude. “I didn’t expect to find this kind of... connection here.”

Pepper placed a gentle hand on your arm, her expression kind. “We look out for each other. That’s how we survive.”

They exchanged glances, their shared smiles filled with a mixture of amusement and affection, and you felt a deep sense of belonging in their presence. It wasn’t just about surviving court anymore—it was about thriving.

Pepper gave a mock sigh, shaking her head with a smile. “Honestly, I’m surprised there hasn’t been any drama tonight. Though, with Sharon and Leah, it’s only a matter of time.”

Wanda chuckled softly. “Perhaps they’re waiting for the right moment. You know they love an audience.”

Just as the laughter between you and the ladies began to fade, a warm presence approached from behind, sending a shiver of awareness down your spine. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was. The subtle shift in the air, the quiet command of the space—Bucky.

You glanced over your shoulder, your heart giving an unbidden flutter as his deep blue eyes met yours. He wore that easy smile, the one that made it seem like he was perfectly comfortable with the world, though you knew there was more to it than that.

"Ladies," Bucky greeted smoothly, giving a small but respectful nod to Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important." His gaze lingered on you, a playful glint in his eyes.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Nothing you couldn’t improve upon, Your Majesty.”

Bucky chuckled, his eyes flicking to each of them before settling back on you. “In that case, I wonder if I might steal my wife away for a dance?”

You could feel the amusement radiating from the women beside you, but it was Pepper who spoke first, her tone light and teasing. “By all means, Your Majesty. Just don’t keep her too long. We were just getting to the fun part.”

Wanda smirked, adding, “We wouldn’t want her to forget where her real loyalties lie.”

“I’ll do my best to have her back before you can miss her.” Bucky chuckled again, his hand extended toward you, palm up, his gaze softening as it locked onto yours.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips, warmth spreading through you as you placed your hand in his. His fingers curled around yours, firm yet gentle, and the simple touch sent a wave of anticipation through you.

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised the ladies, though your attention was already fully on Bucky.

Bucky gently led you away from the group, to the dance floor, you felt the world begin to fade away, leaving only the two of you.

The music swelled around you, the soft notes of the waltz filling the air like a gentle breeze, but it was Bucky’s presence that consumed you. His hand was warm and sure at your waist, the other cradling your hand as he guided you effortlessly across the floor. His touch, the closeness, made your heart race with an unfamiliar but welcomed thrill.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and the corners of his mouth lifted into that boyish smile that always made your pulse quicken.

“You seem deep in thought, Y/N,” he teased lightly, his voice a soft rumble, the glint in his eyes mischievous.

“I was thinking,” you replied, feigning seriousness, “how lucky I am that you haven’t stepped on my gown yet.”

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and warm, and without warning, he spun you, pulling you back to him with a flourish that made you gasp in surprise. You stumbled slightly, but his arms tightened around you, pulling you against his chest.

“I’d never let that happen,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “You’re far too precious for me to misstep.”

Your laughter bubbled up, light and carefree, filling the space between you. It was strange how easy it was to laugh with him, how quickly he could disarm your nerves, making the weight of the evening feel like nothing.

As the music slowed, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your temple, the tender gesture sending a wave of warmth through you. His hand, still at your waist, slipped slightly lower, pulling you closer as he whispered, “I think you owe me a dance every day for the rest of our lives, don’t you think?”

You grinned up at him, your heart soaring. “Every day? I thought kings were supposed to be busy ruling kingdoms.”

Bucky’s eyes gleamed with affection, his lips brushing your forehead this time. “For you, I’ll always find the time.”

Before you could respond, he spun you again, your skirts flaring out around you as you twirled. You giggled, completely caught up in the moment, in him. When you came back to him, he caught you easily, his grip firm and strong, and you couldn’t stop the laughter that escaped you.

“There’s that laugh. You should smile more often. It suits you.” He smiled down at you, his gaze tender, his thumb brushing your cheek. 

Your cheeks flushed under his gaze, the butterflies in your stomach refusing to settle. His eyes held something deeper, something that made you feel as though you were the only two people in the room.

Without another word, he leaned down and kissed the corner of your mouth, his lips lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. Then, as if unable to resist, he placed another kiss on your cheek, then one at your jaw, and finally one just below your ear.

“James!” you gasped, though your laughter betrayed you as you squirmed in his arms, the playful affection catching you off guard.

He laughed, a low, rich sound, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “I can’t help myself. You look too alluring tonight.”

You couldn’t stop the blush that crept up your neck, but you leaned into him, resting your head against his chest for just a moment, allowing yourself to melt into the warmth of his embrace. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm that matched the sway of your bodies as you danced.

As the music slowed to a gentle hum, Bucky’s hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the soft skin there. He tilted your chin up, his eyes soft but filled with that same playful affection.

“Have I told you tonight how lucky I am to have you by my side?” His voice was a low whisper, meant just for you.

You smiled, feeling your heart swell. “No, this is the first.”

“I’ll make it a hundred before the night is over.” He grinned, his thumb gently tracing your jawline. 

Before you could reply, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss slow, tender, and full of unspoken promises. It wasn’t the hurried, stolen kiss from before—it was on purpose as if he were reminding you that despite all the eyes watching, this moment was just yours.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered, “I’ve been waiting all night to be with you.”

“And now you are,” you murmured, feeling the warmth of his breath against your lips.

His lips brushed yours again in response, a feather-light touch that left you breathless. And as the music faded and the evening stretched on, the two of you swayed together, the rest of the world melting away in the warmth of his touch and the quiet, intimate moments you shared.

For the first time all night, you weren’t just the queen and her king. You were simply Bucky and Y/N—two souls bound by something far deeper than titles or crowns.

× × × × 

From your position on the dance floor with Bucky, you caught glimpses of the other guests enjoying the festivities, but it was Captain Rogers who caught your attention. He stood near the edge of the room, his eyes drifting—not to the crowds or the dancing couples—but to Lady Natasha.

For most of the evening, you had noticed him, his gaze lingering on her with a quiet, almost tentative intensity. Steve Rogers was many things—brave, honorable, and steadfast—but when it came to matters of the heart, it seemed he was not as confident. Natasha, for her part, appeared entirely unaware, laughing and speaking with Wanda and Pepper, graceful as always.

But then there was Sharon, standing not far from Steve, her eyes on him, watching his every move. You could see it in her posture, the subtle tilt of her head, the way her fingers gripped her glass—she thought his attention was on her. It wasn’t difficult to guess where this was heading, and the tension of it made your heart race for reasons entirely different from the dance.

Beside you, Bucky must have sensed your distraction, because he leaned down and murmured, “What’s caught your eye, my Queen?”

You smiled, tilting your head slightly toward Steve. “I think Captain Rogers is about to make a move.”

Bucky followed your gaze, his lips quirking into a knowing grin. “About time. He’s been staring at her like a lost puppy all night.”

You chuckled softly, watching as Steve squared his shoulders, his resolve clearly building as he took a deep breath and started toward Natasha. The room seemed to slow, the moment stretched out as he approached her, his expression carefully composed but with a hint of nervousness beneath the surface.

But just as Steve was a few steps away from Natasha, Sharon stepped forward, a bright smile lighting up her face, clearly under the impression that he was coming for her. She reached out, her fingers brushing his arm in what she must have thought was a gentle, flirtatious gesture.

“Captain Rogers,” Sharon greeted warmly, her voice lilting. “I was just wondering if—”

Steve, clearly caught off guard, blinked at her in confusion, his eyes flickering quickly from Sharon to Natasha, who had just turned and was watching the interaction with a raised eyebrow.

Sharon’s smile faltered slightly, but she pressed on, her tone hopeful. “Would you like to dance?”

Steve's gaze flickered toward Natasha, who stood not far from him, her expression composed but with that ever-present sharpness in her eyes. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then his eyes caught sight of Sharon’s father, Lord Carter, watching the scene unfold from the corner of the room. The older man’s gaze was piercing, his posture stern and authoritative.

Steve hesitated, his throat tightening. He was well aware of the power Lord Carter wielded within the court, the weight of his opinion, and how much sway he held over many matters—both spoken and unspoken. His glance darted back to Sharon’s expectant expression, her eyes wide with anticipation.

For a heartbeat, the room seemed to hold its breath. Steve’s jaw clenched, his shoulders rigid as he fought with himself internally. And then, as if a decision was made for him, he forced a smile and nodded. 

“Yes, of course.” he said simply, offering his hand.

Sharon’s face lit up with a brilliant smile, and she slipped her hand into his, her gaze flickering triumphantly to Natasha for just a fraction of a second. Lord Carter nodded approvingly from his spot, his face easing into a look of satisfaction.

But as Steve led Sharon to the dance floor, his eyes found Natasha one last time. The disappointment in her gaze, so well hidden behind her cool demeanor, pierced him deeper than any wound ever had.

Bucky’s hand remained steady on your waist as you moved together, his gaze focused on you. But your attention wavered, drawn back to where Steve and Sharon now stood together on the dance floor. The way Sharon’s lips curved into a self-satisfied smile made something coil unpleasantly in your chest.

You kept your expression serene, eyes trained on them with the same polite interest expected of a queen surveying her court. The facade was perfect—no one would guess that beneath the surface, your feelings toward Lady Carter were far from friendly.

“Everything alright?” Bucky’s low murmur brought your focus back to him. He was watching you, his eyes filled with curiosity. He hadn’t noticed the brief flicker of disapproval in your gaze, hadn’t caught the way your fingers tightened slightly against his shoulder.

You smiled up at him, soft and unassuming. “Of course,” you replied lightly, matching his steps with effortless grace. “I was simply observing our Captain. It’s not often we see him… in such a position.”

Bucky’s gaze shifted briefly over your shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “No, it’s not,” he agreed, amusement lacing his tone. “Poor Steve, stuck dancing with Lady Carter when it’s clear his mind is elsewhere.”

Your smile grew a touch tighter, but you nodded, letting out a soft, almost indifferent laugh. “Yes, quite the predicament,” you mused, keeping your voice light and even.

You knew Bucky wasn’t probing further—he was simply sharing an observation, unaware of the way Sharon’s presence grated against you like nails on silk. And you intended to keep it that way.

He spun you gently, your skirts sweeping elegantly around you, and you caught sight of Sharon’s face once more. She was speaking animatedly, leaning just a bit too close to Steve, clearly basking in whatever illusion she’d spun for herself.

You looked away before Bucky could follow your line of sight, turning your gaze to meet his instead. 

“Do you think they make a good match?” you asked the question casually and laced with just the right amount of interest.

Bucky shrugged slightly, his grip on you unwavering as he guided you through another smooth turn. 

“Steve can decide for himself,” he replied, a neutral smile on his lips. “But it’s obvious where his heart lies.”

You hummed softly, nodding as if merely considering his words. “I suppose so,” you murmured, then shifted the topic with ease, guiding the conversation away from Steve and Sharon.

As Bucky’s attention shifted fully to your words, your expression remained the picture of calm. Yet inwardly, your gaze flickered back to the dance floor, watching as Sharon leaned in, whispering something into Steve’s ear.

Your smile didn’t falter, not even for a second. But the disdain simmering beneath it was a quiet, insistent thing, buried beneath layers of grace and composure. Sharon could have her little victory tonight—it didn’t matter.

Because you knew exactly where Steve’s gaze would turn when the music ended, and it wouldn’t be on the lady currently in his arms.

× × × × 

The carriage wheels creaked softly beneath you as they rolled over the gravel path, the only sound filling the heavy silence between you and Bucky. You sat across from each other, the space that had once felt warm now stretched and distant. Bucky’s gaze was fixed out the window, his profile bathed in the soft moonlight, but his expression was unreadable. You had tried to break the silence once or twice, but each attempt had fallen flat, met with a polite nod or a quiet murmur. The joy and excitement from the wedding already felt like a distant memory, replaced by the weight of unspoken words and something heavier that lingered between you. The estate loomed ahead, but instead of excitement, a growing unease settled deep within your chest.

The estate stretched out before you, magnificent and imposing. The manicured gardens glistened in the fading light, and the grandeur of the manor seemed to stretch endlessly, its windows glowing like embers. As the carriage halted, Bucky disembarked first, extending a hand toward you. His touch, though familiar, carried an unusual stiffness that unsettled you.

As you stepped down, you glanced at him, uncertainty swirling in your chest. "Where exactly are we?"

Bucky’s lips curved slightly, the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. His gaze drifted to the manor. "Well, what do you think?"

You took in the estate’s breathtaking beauty, momentarily distracted by its splendor. "It’s magnificent. Who resides here?"

Bucky’s gaze softened as he turned back to you. "I had it refurbished just for you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest, a warm flutter of surprise catching you off guard. "This is our home?" you asked, hope threading through your voice. "James..."

But Bucky’s expression faltered, his tone more measured. "It’s your home."

Confusion washed over you, your brow furrowing. "My home? What does that mean?"

"This is where you will live." Bucky’s eyes flickered briefly, avoiding yours.

A chill ran through you as his words sank in. "I’m not sure I follow," you said slowly, your voice laced with uncertainty. "If this is my house, then surely it is ours as well?"

Bucky’s face remained impassive, though his tone was distant. "Technically, St. Vincent’s Palace is our residence. But here, this is where you will stay."

Your pulse quickened. "And where will you stay?" you asked, feeling the weight of his reply before he even spoke.

Bucky’s jaw tightened slightly. "I have an estate in Annecy."

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach. "So, you intend to live in Annecy?"

"Yes."

"And I’m to live here?"

"Yes."

Your chest tightened as you stared at him, disbelief clouding your thoughts. "But it’s our wedding night."

"It’s late," Bucky said, calmly, almost too calm. "You’ve been traveling. You should go inside, meet the staff, rest. You’ll need your strength for the coming days."

You shook your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "No, James. It’s our wedding night. We’ve just been married." Your voice dropped, your cheeks flushing slightly. "Aren’t we supposed to spend the night together? Is that not what married couples do?"

Bucky’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you asking me to perform my marital duties to you?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "I’m not asking anything," you replied, your voice wavering. "I just thought... Isn’t this the night we’re meant to spend together? My governess always said that’s how it’s done. . . That it’s important."

He let out a heavy sigh, the tension in his shoulders palpable. "Very well," he muttered, turning abruptly toward the entrance. "I’ll stay then."

"James!" you called, quickening your pace to follow him.

"I said I’ll stay," he repeated curtly, his strides long and deliberate. "Are you coming or not?"

The staff clapped politely as you entered the grand foyer together, but your mind was elsewhere, trying to make sense of what was happening. 

"James, slow down," you pleaded, your voice rising as you hurried after him. "I can’t keep up with you."

He came to a sudden halt, turning to face you, frustration etched into every line of his face. "You wanted me in the bedroom. Isn’t that what you were asking for?"

You froze at his words, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. "No."

His brow furrowed. "No?"

"Not if you’re going to act like this," you said, your voice trembling. "You’re upset. What have I done? If I’ve offended you in any way, I’m sorry—"

Bucky’s expression softened, but there was still tension in his stance, his left hand flexing. "You haven’t done anything wrong," he said quietly, though his voice carried the weight of something unspoken. "It’s just... I’m comfortable in Annecy."

Your heart clenched. "Then let’s go to Annecy together."

Bucky shook his head. "No. You’re staying here."

"Why?" you asked, searching his face for answers. "You don’t want me to go with you?"

"This is your home," he said firmly, his tone final.

You felt the distance between you grow with every word. "My home. . ."

"Yes."

Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. "I see."

Bucky exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he nodded. "Good. Then everything is settled."

But nothing felt settled. Not at all. "No. No, it is not settled." you said, your voice cracking in utter confusion. One moment he couldn’t get his hands off you, this sudden change was too difficult to let go. "James, is this what our marriage will be? Us living separately?"

"Yes," he replied, his voice steady but detached.

"Why?" you whispered, tears threatening to well in your eyes.

He hesitated for a moment before answering, "I thought it would be... easier this way."

"For whom?" you asked, the pain in your voice evident. "For you? Or for me?"

Bucky’s patience frayed, his tone sharpening. "I’m not having this discussion with you."

You stepped closer, your voice pleading. "I just want to understand. Please, tell me why—"

"I don’t need to explain anything!" Bucky’s voice thundered, his frustration boiling over. "I’m the one who decides, and I have decided. Are you forgetting that I am your KING?!"

His words hit you like a physical blow, your heart shattering. You stepped back, your voice trembling as you dropped into a low curtsy. 

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," you said quietly, your head bowed in deference. "I thought you were just James."

Bucky’s expression fell, regret flickering across his face. He reached out for you, his voice softer now. "Y/N, please—"

But you pulled back, avoiding his touch. The guard you thought you’d lowered, the tentative trust you were building—everything slammed back up, a fortress around your heart. You were foolish enough to think you were getting to know him better.

 It was clear now how wrong you were.

"May I take my leave, Your Majesty? Or do you have more to say?" Your voice was brittle.

Bucky’s hand dropped to his side, a look of defeat crossing his features. "Y/N... you don’t understand, this is for the best."

You swallowed hard, forcing a brittle smile as you nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever you wish. I shall rest now. I wish you a safe trip to Annecy."

With that, you turned and walked away, the echo of your footsteps haunting the grand hall as you left him standing there, the distance between you stretching wider than ever.

Love always blew up in your face, shattering whatever good you’d dared to believe in. You were a fool to believe that it wouldn’t go south in the worst way this quickly.

Each step you took, you buried the yearning, the desperation to reach out and demand more from him—from what you could be together.

Instead, you rebuilt the walls. You raised the drawbridge.

And you vowed to tread carefully with your emotions when it comes to him.

[stxrvel]

remorse (5)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader... or not? content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, flashback, a lot of remorse, fights, stubborn people, lack of communication, angst. a/n. its finally here. i haven't re read this chapter bc im almost falling asleep and i have to work tomorrow, but i'll give this one another look in the weekend. a friend of mine helped me with the traduction bc i'm really really burnt out rn. also, chapters names changed!! i hope you guys like this one! see you on the next one🫶🏻

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“Oppa…”

Yoongi raised his head, his body leaning toward the piano acknowledging your presence in the room, and you could tell how he was physically struggling to move away from the instrument. Under his watchful gaze, you walked in his direction shuffling your feet, with a pitiful expression and every intention of openly complaining to one of the elders in your group of friends. But you relaxed your expression when you were a few steps away, recognizing his notebook on the piano lid and the trail of ink between his fingers at a safe distance from the keys.

His laughter confused you, and when you looked up, his lips were curved into a pretty smile. It was annoying. He was only two years older than you.

“What happened now?”

You remembered that you had come with a purpose, but your mind, as evasive and suggestible as ever, found more interest in what your eyes had caught.

“The usual,” you barely commented, moving to sit on your legs in front of Yoongi. “Were you writing?”

Yoongi glanced over to find his notebook, his shoulders shaking in a sigh because he knew he wouldn't be able to escape this conversation now that you had discovered him.

“Something like that…”

“Can I see it?”

“It's nothing decent. I don't think it's prudent.”

You pressed your lips together at his response, letting your shoulders droop, disappointed. But it was what you had expected; after all, Yoongi was quite secretive about his notebook, and it was rare for him to let you get this close and know so much about him. Even though you had probably known each other since you learned to swim and multiply, and surely knew more skeletons in his closet than he would like to admit, Yoongi still had a reluctance to show you or anyonw his writings. You had to catch him at a very relaxed moment.

So you set aside your emotions, not allowing Yoongi to respond as you pouted, and crossed your arms while turning your head away.

“Taehyung and Jungkook got so competitive on the court that they kicked us all out,” you frowned, remembering how the two had rushed past you and stolen the ball in the blink of an eye, moving so quickly and with cheeky laughter that you barely understood what was happening until you saw them tussling with the ball in front of the scoring area.

They were already in extracurricular hours, and although everyone had subjects to study and delve into, they decided to take a moment to take advantage of the fact that the school court would be empty and play for a while. Jin and Namjoon had left the game after two quarters because they simply couldn't keep up, and since one was in your group with Jimin and the other with the two kings of competition that day, they decided to kick them out and leave them as referees along with Hobi, who was the initial one.

Surprisingly, Yoongi also didn’t attend the game or his extracurricular class, choosing to get lost in the music room, taking advantage of the fact that it was empty that day because classes ended early.

“I don’t understand why they have to ruin everyone’s fun.”

Your little thirteen-year-old self, ignorant of many aspects of life, could only cross her arms and complain. Yoongi smiled, his two extra years of age giving him an understanding that perhaps you didn’t have access to, because it was inconceivable to you that such a sacrilege could be considered funny. Basketball hours were sacred!

“They're just messing around.”

“Oppa, you should've seen how they were pushing each other,” you shook your head, refusing to believe that Yoongi really wanted to defend them. “If you had been there, you could've stopped them.”

“And Jin?”

“He was laughing with them.”

“Ah,” Yoongi turned his head. “So the second best option was me?”

You shrugged. “Well, I thought I could convince you to go to the court, but…”

“But…?” Yoongi rested a hand on the bench, leaning in to see you on the floor.

“Maybe it’s more fun to listen to you play the piano.”

You smiled brightly, intertwining your fingers while Yoongi wore a half-smile. Without responding, he straightened up again, adopting the posture he had when you saw him through the glass of the door, before you interrupted his concentration. His fingers danced in the air for a few seconds, touching the notes in his head, recalling sound after sound, until the pressure on them gave way to a melody unknown to you.

It had to be a new piece, a new composition in his notebook. Yoongi played, calm and serene, focused and absorbed, letting the sound flow as if it came directly from nature.

Seeing Yoongi like this was… a strange event. Later, as time passed, you would think it was unbearable to have to see him everywhere, to hear his name around every corner, but at that moment you were lost in him, absorbing the sounds of his mind that his fingers materialized on the piano, allowing yourself to be carried away by the tide of his emotions, the way he conveyed so many words with his touches. The fast and slow notes, the change of tempo, all so meticulously created and organized to send a message, to describe an emotion, to paint a scene.

Yoongi was scared. Perhaps nervous, even. When he finished his piece, you could only look at him in awe, his shoulders moving a little faster due to the intensity with which he finished, keeping his head down, as if processing what he had just done. His fear was palpable, his hopelessness and unease.

“Oppa?”

“I don’t know…” he paused, dropping the lid over the keys and taking a calmer posture. “I don’t know if I’ll do the right thing when I graduate.”

“Why?” your brow furrowed, and you leaned forward in concern. “You’ve always talked about it. And you have a lot of talent, oppa, I know you’ll make it.”

Yoongi gave a nearly pained smile, as if he understood something you had no idea about.

“Jin is going to medical school.”

“I know. But it’s what he’s passionate about,” you moved closer to your friend, trying to give him some of the support he always gave you. “Isn’t music what you’re passionate about?”

The black-haired boy frowned. The answer was clear in his eyes, in the way he played the piano until he was breathless, but the gestures of his doubts were there too: when his fingers trembled with anxiety, his eyes gaining more shine as the seconds passed.

“Oppa,” you called, trying to break the silence, trying to prevent his thoughts from eating him alive. “If it’s what you love, you’ll succeed. I’m sure of that.”

You saw how the haze in his eyes disappeared, his features relaxing at least a little.

“I probably only have your support. I’ll have to rely on that.”

His small smile constricted your heart. In that moment, you didn’t know what you could do to show him that it was enough, but you were also unaware of the reality that his words held. It was probably due to your age, the age difference with Yoongi, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he would never be completely satisfied with that. You wondered if it was about you, just for a second, recalling the way he smiled when some of the other boys gave him words of encouragement.

Maybe he was just more vulnerable with you than with the others, but a thirteen-year-old's reasoning didn't go that far.

With your foolish conclusion, you came home that day with a heavy heart.

-

Speaking of loose ends and unresolved issues, there were some specific people who deserved to take home the award and the crown for the most intrigue of the century. Because when you entered Choi Dohyun's office, with Seojun and Yuna on either side, even knowing that there were things still pending answers and others you could barely understand, the last thing you expected was for those you weren’t even aware of to suddenly materialize, like a kick to the stomach.

But keeping your head high and your composure was something you had lacked the last time, and thus, against all odds, your face showed no emotion when you caught a glimpse of Min Yoongi storming out of the office looking angry, not even when his eyes moved towards your figure and his wires crossed for a millisecond, betraying his movements. The sound of his shoes against the floor didn’t even distract you, keeping your gaze fixed on the man who appeared behind the door, with a huge smile on his face and eyes that screamed that signing this contract might take more from you than it would give.

Min Yoongi flanked you, a nearly imperceptible gasp of surprise escaping him as you passed by his side, not even giving him a glance of acknowledgment over your shoulder, as if he were less than a mere insignificant dust particle, and he collected himself as best he could to keep walking, ignoring the astonished looks your companions shot him.

You flashed the biggest smile, a feeling of anger settling deep in your stomach, and you shook hands with Choi Dohyun, who was cheerfully introducing himself with a voice an octave higher than usual.

You didn’t miss the way he shot a glance down the hallway, where Min Yoongi should have been disappearing, and the bitter sensation in your throat intensified.

“Well, don’t take it the wrong way, I’m very happy because we finally have this,” Yuna beamed, raising the envelope with the contract as if it were her most cherished possession, just as they exited the large publishing house and the cool afternoon air greeted them, “but did we just see the damn Min Yoongi leave that office?”

You simply sighed, feeling the tension radiate from your brother’s body, who hadn’t separated from you since the moment you were ushered away by Choi Dohyun's secretary.

“That was… wow. I don’t even have words.”

Seojun rolled his eyes, and you had to suppress the urge to pinch his side when Yuna turned to look at you with the envelope in her hands while you all waited to see your father’s blue car navigate the avenue.

“Do you think… this means we’ll have more opportunities to meet the seven gods of Olympus than most people?”

Her smile made you feel nauseous, but out of her ignorance, you could do nothing but try to mimic it. Seojun, on the other hand, was making nothing but irritated faces.

“Maybe, if you work harder.”

Yuna let out another squeal of excitement, and you took a deep breath when she turned around to look at the cars again. Seojun wrapped his arm around yours, glaring at anyone who came too close, even by accident.

Your friend kept murmuring in disbelief, and all you could think was that she was probably holding in her hands the worst decision you had ever made.

-

Whatever the reason for your encounter with Min Yoongi, you had deduced that your bad luck came down to being out of the house. Putting a foot outside the holy altar of your home was proving lethal for your emotional stability, so you spent the rest of the day locked up, managing your social media and overseeing deliveries.

Dohyun had agreed that the publishing house would handle the entire printing, packaging, and shipping process of the books, as purchases were only growing with each passing day. His real offer was to leave you with nothing to do but continue planning your stories, because at that moment, you were a goldmine for him.

“Unbelievable! Jung Hoseok revealed the truth behind the distancing of the Korean entertainment dynasty.”

The voice coming from Yuna’s phone caught your attention. You lifted your head from the blank document on your computer screen, glancing sideways at your friend, who was comfortably sprawled on your bed with a furrowed brow and a conflicted expression, as intrigued as she was worried about what she had just heard.

“These past few days have been tough for the kings of entertainment, as the last public sighting of them was over a week ago when Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Jeon Jungkook left the businessman’s building and enthusiastically greeted all their fans. As good followers, we know it’s too strange not to see them often, and the last time this happened was when Jung Hoseok had the accident that prevented him from continuing to play professional tennis.”

Yuna looked intensely focused, biting her nail and awaiting the climax of the video. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but you couldn’t deny you were a bit curious about what news they would share, knowing that the boys weren’t ones to openly discuss their private matters.

“With their reputations at stake and rumors flying back and forth [how exaggerated], Jung Hoseok had to come out to clarify the situation. His official statement, which was informally published on the famous app Whotalks, said: ‘We’re all fine. Please be patient with us.’ Whether his statement implies misunderstandings among friends that are in the process of being resolved or if we should wait for an official statement from their leader, we’re not sure. But it’s concerning the—”

“Why would they make such a big deal about this if they aren’t even sure what that post implies?”

Yuna paused the video, giving you a confused look, surely thinking you were immersed in whatever you were doing on the computer (nothing), too busy to pay attention to these “insignificances,” as you used to say.

“Y/N, you really have no idea of the magnitude of power these men hold over the entertainment industry. With a snap of their fingers, they could shake everything.”

“And why did they get so much power?”

“They earned it. Through their hard work.”

You couldn’t help the huff that escaped you. You didn’t find what Yuna had said funny because it was true; they had worked incredibly hard to achieve what they had at that moment. At least you knew that their beginnings had been humble. But it annoyed you, inevitably, because you couldn’t control the resentment shaking in your chest. Healing my ass, you hadn’t forgotten anything from the last few years, no matter how much you wanted to convince yourself otherwise. So much effort to force them out of your life, only for them to find a way to disrupt it again in a week as if they had some right.

What a bunch of audacious—

“Oh. A message came in.”

Your friend sat up on the bed, and you sent her a confused look.

“Messages come in every second, Yuna.”

“It’s from a verified account.”

Without lifting her gaze in your direction, you froze in your chair.

“Oh—”

Oh no.

“No fucking way—” Yuna stood up in the bed, exclaiming loudly: “Kim Taehyung is in your DM's!”

“Tell him to go to hell.”

“¿¿Huh??”

The words slipped out before you could think twice. From the tense way the words left your mouth, you could tell Yuna was torn between asking more or simply contradicting you. Her eyes moved from the screen to your face, her fingers moving almost imperceptibly over the device.

“You know, every time you make it harder to understand what’s going on with these people.”

Finally, she locked her phone and dropped it on one of your pillows. You had never been a fan; your friend understood that. She had never questioned you about it… except for that random afternoon in this same room when she asked too many questions, but after the encounter with Yoongi that afternoon, you wondered what moment or what would need to happen for her to stop believing that it was just a matter of taste differences and for you to have to tell her the truth.

Before everything that happened a week ago, you had never considered it necessary to talk about it because so much time had passed, and you believed you were at a point where things related to them really didn’t affect you anymore, nor would you ever have to interact with them again to warrant giving your friend a statement. But of course, things were different now, and emotions would continue to clash with one another, and you hated to think that their attitudes meant they were trying to return to your life, or at least get involved to some extent, which would imply, strongly, that you would have to tell Yuna what had happened.

“Have you ever thought that you might have run into him if you had gone to the convention?”

“Yeah...” you sighed in defeat. It was impossible not to consider that alternative, how things might have turned out. If you would still have this overwhelming resentment in your chest or if they would have carved their way back into your heart once more.

The foolish you at eighteen would be thrilled right now.

“And even with that doubt... don’t you have even a little curiosity about what he says?”

You preferred not to, to be honest. You would rather just rip out every memory from your head with tweezers to be able to return to a semi-normal life, where your biggest worry should be saving enough for a trip and not when those damn lunatics were going to leave you alone.

But you found yourself stretching out your arm to take the phone when Yuna handed it to you, a grimace of insecurity settling on your face.

“I’m not going to ask,” Yuna spoke, and you sent her a glance just as she turned on the bed and took her own phone to continue watching her celebrity gossip. “I’m not going to pressure you.”

You didn’t respond. You lowered your gaze to the device in your hands, feeling a mix of relief and bitterness. Well, at least she had given you the opportunity to worry about that later.

The screen lit up, and there it was. A new message from Kim Taehyung.

thv Hi. It’s Jimin.

Huh?

You ?

The read notification arrived almost instantly after you replied. With your brow furrowed, you watched the bubble appear from his side of the chat.

thv I’m sorry for writing from Tae’s account, but you blocked me

Ah. Ah. Right.

After receiving the notification that Jungkook had followed you a few days ago, and especially because he had shown up at your work out of nowhere short after that, you had blocked everyone else with an Instagram account, just to be safe.

A small detail.

You Oh, yeah

That Jimin was trying to contact you, considering the context of the whole situation, wasn’t too outrageous. When you studied together, apart from being the first to start teasing others and fostering friendly banter, he was also the first to try to fix things because he couldn’t stand hostile and tense environments. It’s not that you thought he had a chance to fix anything now, but maybe you were a little interested in what he had to say. After several days, it was inevitable not to feel curious, right?

After the bubble appeared and disappeared several times, the message finally arrived.

thv Do you think we could talk in person?

You No.

thv I promise it'll just be me

You No.

thv It can be anywhere you choose

You I said no If you have something to say, write it If you don’t have anything interesting to say, then I’m going to block this account too

thv No Wait Okay.

The sound of Yuna’s phone had faded into the background of your mind. You kept your eyes on the typing bubble, fearing that maybe Jimin would change his mind and decide not to respond to the questions swirling in your head. Now that he was being so persistent, you were more eager to know. I mean, it was the least you deserved, right? Some kind of answer, some kind of reason, a why. Something to explain everything, because the root of that growing resentment in your chest was due to their lack of communication, to their ease in discarding you like a worthless piece of paper, not even caring if the air swept you away or the rain destroyed you.

They owed you something, and you had the right to an answer. You could have moved on, yes; you thought you had, yes; living with resentment in your heart affected a person’s life, yes... but God would be the only living being on earth and in the universe who wouldn’t feel even a pinch of pain for everything that had happened. For the inexplicable disappearance, for the disconnection, for the destruction of an incredible blind trust that was woven with that friendship you believed to be unconditional but ended up being one-sided. Who could really blame you for being cautious of them?

If when you cultivated that friendship, that friendly love, the fruits they returned to you were rotten, how could you simply trust? Who could?

thv I’m sorry for what happened. I know this was very abrupt, and it must have been strange for you

Strange, for lack of a better word. Strange was a euphemism.

thv I apologize on behalf of everyone.

You I’m not interested

thv If we could meet in person, I could explain better

You I’m not interested. That wouldn’t change anything.

thv I know this goes beyond what happened this week, but I don’t want you to have a bad impression

You You’re a damn audacious one, Jimin Do you think it’s only the latest thing that would make me see you all negatively? Is that the only thing you’ve done? Or well, what you haven’t done either

thv Okay, I expressed myself very poorly I know we were already on bad terms before; I meant that I didn’t want it to get worse

You Well, honestly, I didn’t think it could get worse until now.

thv I’m making it worse

You Wow, apparently you do have awareness and common sense For many years, I thought you lacked that

You blocked the phone, letting it drop onto the table, your heart racing because of the audacity that man had to refer to what had happened as if it were just a silly childhood memory, as if it had simply been a stupid basketball game where you weren’t allowed to play. That only reinforced your thinking, the only plausible reason you had given life to over the past few years, the only explanation you had for their disappearance: that they never cared about you as much as you did about them; that you were never truly fundamental in their lives. Because, come on, they had built a friendship and shared memories before you appeared on the scene; they knew each other beforehand with a depth you could never reach, long before your name reached their ears. They had a connection; you were never ignorant of that; there was something in them that kept them united, something that made them understand each other almost on a spiritual level, and naively, you believed they had made you a part of it; that you had managed to be part of that connection.

But no, it was never like that. It was always one-sided. Whether you were a game, a case of charity, or someone they simply couldn’t say no to, you had no idea, but none of those options felt too foreign to reality. Especially considering the way Jimin referred to the past as if it had been a child's game and nothing more. There was never more for them. You should've known that.

thv I’m really sorry, y/n I truly wish I could talk to you in person I promise I can explain many things

His messages shone on the lock screen, and more than feeling curious again, you felt rage. So now they could talk. Now they could fucking communicate. Where was that willingness ten years ago? Five years ago, even? You never thought you would see any of them so willing to offer you what you had longed for, maybe at least to finally bring closure to the whole situation.

But you didn’t want to give them the right to become the victims in this situation. They had time to do something, yes, now you knew, and they simply chose not to; it was high time you really let it go. Let them go. What would an explanation fix now? When, if there was still something of the friendship you built, it should've crumbled to dust. Their willingness now meant nothing. If you ever saw any of them again, you would rather rip their hair out in a fit of rage.

You Fuck you Fuck all of you

And you blocked Taehyung’s account.

Anticipating any possibility, you also blocked Jungkook and hoped that would be the end of it.

Finally, you would try to seek true healing, because it was about damn time.

-

You y/n, I'm so sorry y/n? y/n????????????????

Oh no. Taehyung's going to kill me.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Speaking of the king of Rome.

Park Jimin flinched, tightening his fingers around the phone he was holding, which clearly wasn’t his, literally caught red-handed. He swallowed hard when his friend’s footsteps drew closer, circling around to face what he feared most.

“Jimin...” Taehyung began, his confused expression turning into caution, quickly shifting his gaze between the phone and the wide-eyed blonde. “Tell me you didn’t do it.”

Jimin shrank even more, pursing his lips, realizing there was no escape. In his defense, he had fervently believed for a moment that he would succeed. Taehyung hadn’t agreed from the start, especially given how angry Yoongi had been that afternoon when he arrived at the penthouse and how he had locked himself in Namjoon’s office, and the tone of their voices hadn’t diminished for even a second, especially not when Jin arrived an hour later.

Taehyung and Jimin weren’t sure what had happened, but considering the recent events, they could make an educated guess.

It all led back to you.

They were surely paying for what they did.

“I told you it was a terrible idea!” Taehyung strode closer and snatched the phone from Jimin’s tightly clenched hands. Jimin let out a defeated sigh, sinking back against the couch as Taehyung began to scroll through the messages, growls escaping his throat.

“I didn’t think she’d be so...”

Jimin hesitated, and when he turned to look at his friend, his furrowed brow silently asked, “are you serious?”

Another defeated sigh escaped him.

“You’re not fixing anything. If Namjoon finds out about this...”

Taehyung didn’t finish his sentence, but Jimin understood. But could any of them really blame him? Let he who is without sin cast the first stone! No one was a saint in that place when it came to you. At least he had the decency to try to explain things when the others just charged in as if nothing had ever happened (for now, Taehyung and Jungkook, simply because he still had no idea what had happened with Yoongi).

The problem, of course, was that Jimin was better at comforting someone in person than through messages.

“There's no going back from this.” Taehyung murmured, still focused on the screen. The shine in his eyes gave Jimin an idea of what was going through his mind, and he remained silent until Taehyung looked up. “We really messed up.”

“Did you need this reality check?”

“Did you?” Taehyung frowned. “I don’t know why you expected a different response.”

“Well, what did you expect to happen doing what you did?”

Jimin watched his friend click his tongue.

“What did you expect me to do? I didn’t think it would snowball like this.” Taehyung shook his head, and Jimin barely recalled with a shudder how the atmosphere had felt in the penthouse after Tae had posted that story about your books on his Instagram. “I just wanted...”

Once again, Taehyung chose to remain silent, but in his absence of words, Jimin understood.

To make up for it.

“Obviously, I’m not going to say anything,” Taehyung added, shooting a sideways glance at his blonde friend. “After whatever happened with Yoongi, I don’t even want to imagine how Namjoon would react if he finds out about this.”

“If he finds out what?”

Jimin and Taehyung froze on the couch, watching through the reflection of the TV as the person appeared behind them before they could recognize the friendly yet concerned tone.

Jung Hoseok circled the couch, clearly troubled by what he had just heard. It was evident he had just returned from practice because his hair was wet and he looked somewhat flustered, his cheeks flushed despite the chilly weather that night. He dropped his training bag on one of the armchairs, and Jimin averted his gaze when he caught his friend's eyes. It wasn't that they usually kept secrets and tiptoed around the others, but ever since Jungkook had pulled that stunt of searching for you at work when Namjoon had expressly forbidden it, the waters between them had been a bit tense, and any topic involving you could explode any healthy and cooperative conversation in seconds.

Hoseok crossed his arms, allowing his cheerful expression at finally arriving at the penthouse to fade completely, hardening his features as he shot a stern look at the two young men.

Taehyung also averted his gaze. The moment he heard Hoseok's voice, he tucked the phone between his legs and probably looked tenser than he should have. He, just like Jimin, didn’t dare meet Hoseok’s eyes at that moment. Because Hobi had stopped at the door, and with whom they had in front of them, they couldn't hesitate. They both knew it, they both understood.

And Hoseok knew very well. He was aware of all the tricks the two shared and could sense from their silence that they were up to something. Besides, of course, their conversation had been overly revealing. They had to be thankful it was him who arrived in the midst of their confessions, and of course, he would demand to have a conversation of such gravity with such freedom.

But no, in that house, secrets were not kept.

“If he finds out what?” Hoseok emphasized the words, urging the stubborn young men to keep their mouths shut.

Hoseok then exhaled through his nose in a sigh.

“Is it about y/n?”

Jimin and Taehyung lifted their gazes, a bit tempted but diverting their eyes as if pretending to be uninterested. While the atmosphere had been very tense lately, Hoseok and Jin had kept themselves somewhat distanced from all that unease, mainly because their demanding jobs kept them away from the penthouse most of the time. Namjoon, for his part, couldn’t escape the topic as easily since he had an office at home, initially to monitor them in a healthy way, and now because he felt the need to keep an eye on each of them to prevent them from doing something stupid.

Yoongi... well, maybe he had tried to stay on the sidelines, but he had clearly failed miserably if he had ended up arguing with Namjoon and Jin.

“What did you guys do now?”

Hoseok's severe tone was chilling. Jimin remembered the times he had decided to participate in his dance classes, the few that he taught personally each month, and how he had felt Hoseok’s sharp gaze and his blunt comments about his steps in front of all the students. It was as if he became another person. Although it was terrifying, the two young men admitted it was refreshing to see him like that in the academy, because he had lost a bit of his spark since his accident. Before, he only looked that serene and committed when he was at his tennis practice.

At that moment, however, Jimin and Taehyung appeared more reluctant despite his severe attitude, because they didn’t know if he would spill the beans to Namjoon afterward.

“And what happened with Yoongi?”

The slight softness in his tone made Jimin lift his head. Still with his arms crossed over his chest, Hoseok sat across from them at the table in the center of the room.

Jimin sighed, and Taehyung shot him an alarmed look. Are we really going to give in this quickly?!

“We don’t know what happened with Yoongi. He just arrived in the afternoon, locked himself in the office with Namjoon, and they wouldn’t stop arguing. Then Jin came in, but that didn’t make them stop.”

Hoseok looked up, scanning the hallway. Now the house was silent, perhaps more grave and tense than usual. Hoseok didn’t know how it had come to this and hadn’t sensed that atmosphere immediately.

“Is Jin here?”

“I think he’s in his room,” Taehyung replied, shifting on the couch. “He stormed out of the office a while ago.”

Hoseok grimaced at the mere thought, causing a shiver.

“Then it is about y/n.”

Jimin and Taehyung once again averted their gazes.

“Oh, come on.” Hoseok uncrossed his arms, more frustrated than angry at that moment for not being able to fully understand what was causing so many arguments among his friends. “I’m not going to go talk to Namjoon later, regardless of what you tell me. I just want to understand.”

The two young men exchanged a glance, Hoseok believed, communicating mentally. It was always strange but interesting how those two could understand each other at such a level that often they didn’t even need a look. They could support each other's ideas without overthinking it, just like they were doing at that moment in front of him, and Hoseok couldn’t help but think that this topic could cause them more harm than they realized. That these two were even hesitant to share something with him now, fearing to do so, considering whom they could trust or not, spoke volumes about how this issue was being handled and it was not healthy at all.

Hoseok didn’t know that Namjoon had been arguing. The only time he had talked about that topic with the others was when Jungkook’s incident happened, because by crossing such a clear and blatant line, Namjoon saw the need to have a group meeting to set some ground rules. But whatever had continued to happen that he was unaware of was creating cracks in the trust of all the members, and that didn’t sit well with him at all.

“I wrote to her on Taehyung’s Instagram,” Jimin began, looking down with his hands intertwined on his legs. “And I might have made things a lot worse...”

“Might have?” Taehyung turned to look at the blonde, who barely raised his head to meet his gaze before Hoseok interrupted.

“And what did you say to her?”

Jimin pressed his lips together. “I asked if we could meet in person, and when she said no, I just tried to apologize for everything.”

“Don’t forget that you proceeded to carry out a rather undisguised gaslighting.” Taehyung added.

“I didn’t manipulate her!”

“You spoke to her as if everything that happened didn’t matter at all!”

“That’s not how it was! I just expressed myself very poorly,” Jimin exclaimed, facing Taehyung’s accusations, who remained with his arms crossed and chin raised, clearly in disagreement with him. “You, more than anyone, know that I don’t communicate well through text.”

“Because you overthink everything. You didn’t even need to text her in the first place. I told you it was a terrible idea. Now she hates us even more!”

“Did she say that?” Hoseok intervened.

Taehyung gave him a disbelieving look.

“And I quote: fuck all of you.”

Hoseok took a deep breath, trying to process the situation. Taehyung looked angry, and Jimin appeared offended that Taehyung was so upset about what he had done, in addition to misrepresenting his words, if Hoseok understood correctly. But the brown-haired guy had a point: it had indeed been a terrible idea, and Namjoon would lose all his hair if he found out. He understood Jimin’s motivation for trying to reach out, but Hoseok felt Jimin had lost some tact in the process by approaching you just to find a quick solution. Clearly, the atmosphere in the penthouse was affecting everyone, and not in a good way. He couldn’t judge or blame Jimin for trying to lighten the situation for both parties, even if he could have approached it differently.

So Hoseok sighed, understanding the magnitude of the problem they had, and turned to the two young men who were now looking at him attentively, after recently avoiding his gaze as if their lives depended on it.

“How did you think you were going to meet her with the level of fame you have?”

Hoseok knew Jimin had acted on impulse, and perhaps addressing the underlying reasoning would make him think better next time, if there was one.

Jimin opened his lips slightly, confused.

“I... I don’t know, but I would've found a way.”

Taehyung scoffed. That would have been impossible because, surely, only after Jungkook, Jimin was one of the most recognizable faces in the industry and, therefore, couldn’t walk freely down the streets without having a horde of fans behind him within seconds. If, for some divine reason, you had agreed to meet with Jimin, then he would have exposed you too much to the public eye and you would have had more problems before getting any answers.

“There’s no way, Jimin.” Hoseok spoke, as the blonde shot a fierce look at his brown-haired companion. “We’re no longer in a small town.”

The two young men turned to the elder, putting their silly squabbles aside. A feeling of nostalgia and longing filled the air, embracing them and bringing to the surface poorly buried memories in the gardens of their minds; the gusts of Hoseok’s words uncovered them easily.

“We can’t afford that luxury now. We lost the opportunity a long time ago.” Hoseok reminded them, with a hint of discord in his voice.

Taehyung hated remembering those times. Having had his hands tied, sealing his mouth voluntarily, believing he had no other option... it completely sickened him. For a long time, regret had physically drained him.

“I won’t talk to Namjoon, don’t worry.” Hoseok assured them, and although the two young men should've breathed with relief, the truth was that they already felt too shaken. “But be more careful about where you talk about these things.”

“What things?”

“Fuck!”

Taehyung jumped off the couch when the voice came from his right, being the closest to the source. The three friends turned to see Yoongi, walking down the hallway from his room to the main living area of the penthouse.

“Are you guys sharing secrets?”

Instead of being scared, Jimin and Taehyung fell back onto the couch, letting out an exhausted breath. Yoongi shot a confused look at Hoseok, who returned it with a more severe expression.

“Come here, Yoongi. We need to talk.”

-

i hope you guys enjoyed! and thanks to my friend for helping my unresponsive overworked ass.

[Friend: I don't know if the tags worked. I'm sorry!]

tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7 @11thenightwemet11 @yoongznme @queenbloody @lynnettys-world @darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi

[sungstars]

love game | kjw x fem! reader

synopsis: you and your boyfriend love playing an interesting game at parties, but he couldn't let you win.

word count: 1.4k (not proof read sawri)

content warning: established relationships, infidelity(sort of), yn is a bit unhinged(you'll see), jungwon is down bad and also unhinged, fingering, idols added for world building, dom/sub dynamics, mentions of edging

author’s note: i wrote this based off of this request! this was heavily inspired by the beginning of season 3's chuck & blair's relationship in gossip girl. i hope that you all enjoy and again, requests are open! i really tried my best on this without making it too long.

"have you seen jungwon anywhere?" you exhaled, already irritable that your boyfriend left you pretty much as the two of you got to this house party you didn't even want to attend, shooting a glare the boy in front of you, jake.

jake looked around nervously, obviously trying to come up with a lie to cover for his best friend that wasn't obvious.

that's the thing you didn't understand, how men could think that you were dumb enough to believe they didn't know anything. you always knew, you were just giving him the opportunity to answer honestly.

"he. . ." jake began, looking down at his cup, "look, i don't know. go ask sunoo or something."

you rolled your eyes, brushing past jake but not before hitting the bottom of his cup to make it spill all over him, “oops. go ask sunoo to help you clean that up.”

you’re pretty sure you heard jake call you a bitch under his breath, but you didn’t have the patience to go back and forth with him. not today.

there weren’t many places that your boyfriend could’ve ventured off too, so you decided to start downstairs.

as you descended down the stairs, you noticed that there were people gathered in a circle with an empty soju bottle in the middle.

spin the bottle? how high school. you thought to yourself, but if jungwon was down here, you knew he probably encouraged the idea.

scanning the room, you didn't see your boyfriend, but your eyes landed on a particular raven haired boy who you knew couldn't keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it.

you plastered on your sweetest smile as you sauntered over to him, making sure to pull your v-cut sweater down even more.

"hi sunghoon," you purred, eyeing him up and down, "i feel like i haven't seen you in so long. what have you been up to?”

the boy’s eyes scanned you as well, stopping to look at your cleavage before finding your eyes, “oh hi y/n, has been a while hm.. still with that boyfriend of yours?”

god he wasted no time, did he? you wrapped an arm around his bicep, looking up with the best blowjob eyes you could give, “mm jungwon? we are kind of. . . in a rough patch. why? did he say something?”

“not at all,” sunghoon gave it no thought before wrapping an arm around your waist to feel your boobs press against his side, “though. . . i did see him play spin the bottle with everyone and go into a room with that girl. . . what’s her name? jaehee! that’s it.”

you innocently tilted your head to the side, a pout forming on your glossy lips, “mm. how long have they been in there?”

sunghoon pondered for a second before looking down at you once more, “they should be out any. . .”

his sentence was cut off by the closet door slamming open and hitting the wall behind it. your boyfriend, jungwon stepped out of it with disheveled hair and his sweater now wrinkled.

his eyes scanned the room before landing on you wrapped in sunghoon’s arms, lips quivering up in a smirk before turning back to jaehee.

“—second.” he said, his arm immediately dropping from your waist and downing whatever was left in his cup, “i should probably get back to the party. good seeing you though.”

unfortunately for you, sunghoon began to catch on to this pattern between you and jungwon a while ago. and as hot as you were, he didn’t want part of it—at least to jungwon’s knowledge.

you sauntered up to the pair, a mean look plastered across your features as you stepped in front of them. jaehee froze in spot, eyes growing as big as saucers and looking over to jungwon.

“spin the bottle?” you ask, scoffing as you gave jaehee a once over, “with her?”

jungwon chuckled, pulling jaehee closer to him, “c’mon. like you weren’t over there feeling up sunghoon. ‘oh sunghoon, you are so strong. please put me in a headlock.’” he squealed in a high pitch voice to mock you.

“jaehee,” you turned your attention back to the girl who felt like she would turn to stone if she looked into your cold eyes, “you know jungwon has a girlfriend, yes?”

jaehee shifted away from jungwon’s grip if it was searing hot, eyes planted on the floor, “well. . . he told me that you two were on a break and it didn’t um. . . he didn’t care so why should i? he wasn’t going to mention it and i wouldn’t either. . . if i had known i would’ve—.”

“wouldve what?” you cut her off, stepping closer to her and forcing her chin up with your index finger, “told me you groped my boyfriend for 7 minutes because everyone encouraged you to go into the closet with my boyfriend? c’mon jaehee, i wasnt born yesterday. i always know. tsk. . . such a shame. a pretty and smart girl like you garnishing a reputation as a boyfriend stealer.”

the girl’s eyes filled with panic and tears threatened to spill over, “n-no. . . i’m sorry y/n. please, forgive me.”

you dropped your hand from her chin, rolling your eyes at her and taking a step back, “because i’m not entirely a cold hearted bitch, i accept your apology. i’ll act like this never happened and you won’t mention it again. everyone in that circle is probably too drunk to remember this anyway, and if they mention it, you best act like you don’t know who jungwon is.”

she nodded quickly, you would think her neck would’ve snapped off as she scurried up the stairs and as far away from the two of you as possible.

you turned your attention to your boyfriend who was looking at you in disbelief, “you are so fucked up, y/n.”

shrugging your shoulders, you grabbed him by his wrist and pulled him into the exact room he left with jaehee.

as soon as the door was closed and locked, your back was pressed against it and jungwon’s mouth was on yours.

you pushed your tongue in his mouth, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck as he pulled your leg up and over his hip so he could press himself into you.

that’s what you really loved about jungwon, he got hard over any physical contact between the two of you.

he was so attracted to you, it took nothing to get him to submit most of the time.

his hand snuck it's way under your skirt, fingers pushing your panties to the side, "it's sick how wet you get from this."

you let out a moan when his fingers came into contact with your clit, rubbing it in figure eights, "it's sick how much you enjoy doing this."

jungwon chuckled, attaching his lips back to yours as he continued rubbing you, "mmh, but that's what makes this game so fun. it's the same routine, no wondering what will happen next except how you'll scar whatever girl fell into my trap."

your lips carved into a frown, grabbing his hand to stop his movements on your cunt, "excuse me?"

"it's not an insult," he quickly added, "but it'll be the same. i'll finger you, you'll go down on me but won't let me finish until you cum at least twice, and then i fuck you and we're done."

as true as this was. . . you didn't like that he was basically mocking you. jungwon and you did have the same routine every time you played this twisted game, but that doesn't mean he had to say it out loud and ruin the fuck.

"hm," you simply said, dropping his hand from your grip, "continue."

"i'm not trying to insult you," he whispered against the shell of your ear as he slid two fingers into you, groaning at how they sucked him in, "i'm sorry if i did."

"it's fine," you bit out, trying to focus on how his skilled fingers moved in and out of you, "but you're wrong."

the way jungwon curled his fingers inside of you had you see stars, and almost change your mind about what you were about to say.

"wrong about what?" jungwon pressed his palm against you, giving your clit the pressure you needed, cunt clenching around his hands desperately.

a squeal escaped you as you felt yourself reach your peak, gripping his shoulders tightly as you rode this high out, "'m gonna make you cum until you're crying and begging me to have mercy on you."

jungwon removed his fingers from your panties, adjusting your skirt before bringing his hand to your lips, "suck."

you grabbed his wrist, moving his hand to his face, "no, you suck, and just for that, another orgasm added to this list, fuckin' brat."

oh it was going to be a long night.

end!

[moonstruckme]

i want this to be a series even if i'm the only one who will read it

would you do more royal!au sirius x reader??? please??? i mean the fluff and the banter alone are ripe for more situations but the smut of banging in a castle in formal wear or the angst of some great big political problem??? i'm here for it allllllll

only if you're interested in it

Absolutely I would! Thanks for requesting lovely ;)

cw: nausea, controlling family dynamics

prince!Sirius x princess!reader ♡ 2.1k words

You lie atop your bed, rubbing the sheets between your thumb and pointer finger. You estimate their thread count is about ten gazillion. The duvet piled by your feet is probably stuffed with feathers of a goose hatched from a golden egg and raised with a silver spoon right here in the palace. It all makes you feel slightly nauseous to think about. 

Though in fairness, the nausea could be from any number of things. The several courses of rich foods you had to force down over dinner with the Black family, the way Sirius’ eyes seemed to flicker every time they passed over you, the many, many hours of memorization you’d put in only to set your fork on the wrong edge of the plate when you wanted to signal you were finished eating, or perhaps the conversation you had with your grandmother and her council of advisors in her office afterwards. 

All in all, you’re really only waiting to either be violently sick or fall asleep. Whichever comes first. 

A knock on the door makes you sit up slowly. No one usually cares to see you past dinnertime. You wonder for a moment if you’ve misheard, if someone knocked further down the hall and the sound carried. 

Then it comes again. You get up. 

Sirius’ mouth is already half curved when you open the door, but his smile blooms as he takes you in from head to toe. 

“My,” he leans against your doorframe, looking positively delighted, “don’t you look cozy.” 

Your cheeks flame. You hadn’t been expecting any visitors when you’d put on your pajama bottoms and giant, graphic nightshirt. Sirius is also the most casual you’ve seen him in a gray sweatshirt and dark jeans, but he’s still wearing clothes, which means he’s still dressed better than you. You fear this is an inevitability you may never escape with him. 

“I’m having an early night,” you say.  

He frowns. “Oh. Really? What could I do to persuade you not to?” 

You feel your eyebrows rise. “What would you be persuading me to do instead?” 

“I’ve been thinking,” Sirius says, looking you in the eyes, “we should go out.” 

You feel acid in the back of your throat. You nearly choke on it. “We—you and me?” 

“I see how that wording could be confusing. I don’t mean like a date,” he clarifies. You let out a breath, and his grin renews. “Not that I would ever deny you one, gorgeous, if that’s what you wanted. But what I had in mind was more of an introduction to the kingdom.” 

Your stomach settles a bit. The inside of your lip finds its way between your teeth. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, it doesn’t seem like you’ve gotten out much since you’ve been here. Am I wrong?” 

You shake your head. 

Sirius’ smile is almost gentle. “I know it’s a bit unorthodox, because I’m not from here and your family rules this place, but I’ve actually been here quite a lot. I could show you around the town, get you acquainted with some worthwhile haunts.” He pauses, analyzing your reaction. “There’s a bakery not far from here that has the most incredible apple pastries this time of year, best I’ve had. They only use seasonal ingredients.” 

There’s an uneasy feeling about this, about him, an allure and a simultaneous urge to run. But you’re intrigued. “The best you’ve had?” 

His eyes flash with satisfaction. “Change quickly. They close at ten.” 

Sirius proves his prowess quickly. He brings you into town off the main road and says a few words to your guards that have them keeping a furtive distance from the both of you. To any passerby along the lamplit streets, you look like a regular couple. Intentionally or not, Sirius’ hand in yours completes the image. 

He pulls you into a coffee shop first, coerces you into trying a specialty latte and promises it won’t matter when you order it decaf. You make it to the bakery just before close, and Sirius orders not only the apple pastries but some with pear and a few with blackberry and one muffin for each of you to have tomorrow morning. He charms everyone behind the counter so effortlessly the owner gives you the muffins for free. 

You end up sitting on the grass at the edge of a park, on a hill sloping downward towards the street. Admittedly, you’ve not put much thought into the kingdom you’re allegedly supposed to run someday. It still feels like some kind of fraudulence to sleep in your bedroom in the palace, and the idea of being a princess to this place doesn’t feel any more real now that you’re seeing it up close. 

But this is a town you could love, you think. It’s the sort of place you might have traveled, before, and imagined your life in. Maybe a job at the bakery, grabbing coffee before your early mornings, indistinguishable from any of the other locals strolling around and chatting with shopkeepers and wearing their footprints into the ground. It’s hard not to imagine it even now, though you know your role in this place is far less quaint.

“Mmmmygod,” Sirius moans, licking sugary apple glaze from the corner of his mouth. “Your palate is not prepared for this. Don’t let it get cold.” 

You fish your apple pastry out of the bag obediently, taking a bite. It’s warm and soft, the dough flattening over your tongue. You close your eyes, and the flavor blooms. 

“Wow.” 

“Right?” He sounds downright gleeful, excited for you in a way that’s out of keeping with the refined, stately way you’re both usually expected to behave. 

“You were right. It’s really good.” You give him a smile and take another bite before putting the pastry away. 

Sirius cocks an eyebrow at you, his expression unabashedly judgemental. “You’re not going to finish it?” 

“Dinner didn’t sit very well with me,” you say apologetically. “You can have the rest, if you want.” 

“Oh.” His countenance melds into something like sympathy. “That’s alright, you can reheat it tomorrow if you like. Are you not feeling well?” 

You press your lips into a smile. “I’m okay.” 

“They’ve been running you pretty ragged, yeah? It must be a lot.” 

“I’m okay,” you say again, softer. 

You think the polite thing would be to at least act like he believes you, but Sirius doesn’t. You can feel his gaze on your face as you look out over the town. He’s been a bit different tonight, you think. Still ridiculous and jovial and loud, but gentler at times. Friendly in a more sincere way. Kind. 

You take a breath. “Can I ask you something?” 

You can practically feel the lift of his eyebrows. “Maybe,” he answers, half humorous. 

“Did you know our families have been trying to arrange our marriage?” 

There’s a thick pause. You watch a couple of the lights in windows go out. 

Sirius’ sigh is heavy. “Honestly? I suspected.”

You turn towards him, your throat tightening with nausea and fright and half a dozen other emotions you haven’t identified yet. Sirius is still looking at you, his mouth twisted in a grimace. 

“My family doesn’t tend to see fit to involve me in these things, even when they pertain to me,” he says somewhat bitterly, “but I know how my parents operate. It’s not rare for us to have visits here, but these last couple since you arrived have involved much more nice-making than usual.” He leans back on his forearms, tilting his face to the sky. For the first time since you’ve met him you think that he looks almost tired. “I suppose us appearing to get along at the ball probably didn’t help matters. They’re always looking for someone who can ‘tame’ me. Now they likely think you’re it.” 

You fight to keep your tone even. “Can they just do that? Make us get married?” 

“Well, clearly it’s not that easy, or we would be.” Sirius seems to be musing aloud. His eyes trace the stars, voice low and thoughtful. “I imagine the holdup is on your side of things. My family would love to be rid of me, but your lot may not want to take me on.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you say, but your voice is growing wispy, your vision blurring. 

Sirius sits up. “Hey.” He sounds upset, but his hand on your shoulder is gentle. “Don’t do that. It’s not as bad as it seems, it’ll be okay.” 

“Sorry.” You jam your fingertips into your eyes, trying to keep tears from leaking out. “I’m sorry, I’ve just never felt so…out of control before.” 

Lately, that’s all you’ve felt. Helpless, robbed of your autonomy. You eat and wear and say what you’re told to, you need guards to go out and get pastries, and now the rest of your life is being practically given away to some other kingdom so that your family can rest easy knowing trade agreements are well solidified. 

“I know,” Sirius murmurs. His palm runs a couple inches down your arm, then back up again. It’s the most tentative you’ve seen him. “You’re not, though, really. They can scheme all they want, but nothing has to happen unless both of us get in front of an altar and say ‘I do.’ No one can actually make us go through with it.” 

You lower your hands enough to look at him, and he gives you a sideways smile. 

“I’d be more than happy to be the one to ruin us, if you like. I have a reputation for foiling my parents’ plans anyway. You can even act betrayed. The gracious new princess, and the wayward prince who wouldn’t be bound to her.” 

You worry the inside of your lip. “I wouldn’t want to throw you under the bus.” 

“Sweet of you, doll, but I’m already under there. No sense in taking you with me.” 

He takes another pastry out of the bag, resolved and resigned. You study him. Your life has been nothing but change lately. One terrifying revelation leading to the next, seemingly following a structure you’re not privy to. You haven’t had time to get your feet under you in your new life, constantly being told you’re doing things wrong or getting introduced to new important people or having your manners corrected. This is only your first time getting out into the town where you live! You don’t feel ready to be married. 

But through all the madness of your new life, Sirius has been an odd sort of constant. Kind, and grounding, and casual even when it’s improper. He’s been a real friend to you, the only person who stops to ask how you’re doing and seemingly wants an honest answer. You’ve come to take comfort in him. 

“Do you really think my family is keeping us from…” You find you can’t say it, but Sirius catches your drift anyway. 

“It’s the only explanation I can come up with,” he replies. “Or, not keeping us from it, necessarily, but slowing the process. They’re likely negotiating something to do with the trade agreement, making sure I’m a worthwhile deal for them to take on.” 

“How long does negotiating that stuff take?” 

“I don’t know. Believe it or not, this is actually my first time as well. At least a couple weeks, I’d guess. Your family may want to see how you’re settling in first.” 

You gnaw on your lip, pensive. When you look at Sirius, he’s looking back at you, gray eyes discerning. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks you. 

“What if we didn’t stop it yet?” 

Surprise flickers over his expression, gone as quickly as it came. “I assumed you’d want to be done with this as soon as possible. Why are you asking?” 

You shrug, feeling your cheeks heat. “You’d probably have to be here pretty often while they’re still talking things out, right?” 

“Yeah…” 

“And we’re sort of friends now, aren’t we?” 

Sirius’ mouth pulls up on one side. “I’d love to be your friend, gorgeous.” 

“So…” You pull up a blade of grass, carving it in half with your fingernail. “As long as we don’t say ‘I do,’ we don’t have to be married, but we don’t necessarily have to send you home before they’ve even decided anything, right?”

He leans forward interestedly. “Are you suggesting we let our families go through weeks of pointless negotiations, maybe even humor their beliefs that we like each other, just to break things off when it all comes to a head?”

“Well, we do like each other, don’t we?” You smile, and he beams back. “I don’t know, would that be okay with you?”

“Oh.” Sirius shakes his head at you, still grinning. “Sweetheart, you are even more fun than I imagined you’d be.”

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Clayton beresford x Female hockey player headcanons? Please and thank you!

CLAYTON BERESFORD X F!HOCKEY PLAYER HEADCANONS ⛸️

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort. THIS IS AWFULLY SHORT FOR SOMEONE LIKE ME

Author's note: I was never really interested in hockey so it was new to make. Although I hope I got everything, and if I made a mistake, please accept my dearest apologies. Also I got A LOT Clayton requests and wow..you guys are the best

Clayton Beresford who spotted you at the hockey game;

Clayton never imagined he'd find himself at a hockey game, let alone a women’s hockey match. His close friend had practically dragged him along, insisting he come to support his girlfriend, who played for the local team. Clayton agreed, more out of loyalty to his friend than any real interest in the sport.

The game was intense, fast-paced, and full of energy—much more exciting than Clayton had expected. But it wasn’t the speed of the players or the roar of the crowd that caught his attention; it was you. First, he caught a glimpse of your eyes.. somehow..and he felt something he for the long time had not felt at all. A fluttering feeling escaped through his body, unlocking the almost forgotten cell to butterflies that made him feel nervous with a deep hint of excitement

Gosh, he was there before and it didn't end well. He promised himself to stay away from women...yet he couldn't help this. He felt powerless to the feeling. His jaw tightened

He was a damn CEO, Clayton Beresford..yet he couldn't control his feelings..

"Nice game, huh?" His friend broke him out of his thoughts with a gathering pack of his cigarettes to the woman's disgust at their left

"Sir, you can not smoke in here" she said as the man hold back an eye roll

Clayton Beresford who the same night was introduced to you by his friend;

After the game, Clayton couldn’t shake the image of you from his mind. As fate would have it, his friend introduced him to the team after the game. When it was your turn to shake his hand, Clayton was momentarily lost for words. Up close, you were even more impressive—strong, yet approachable, with a warmth in your eyes that contrasted with the fierce competitor he’d seen on the ice.

“You played an incredible game,” he finally managed to say, surprised by how genuinely he meant it. Although he made sure to tear his gaze away from you and quickly scann all the girls from your team, so it would look like he's talking about them all

“Thank you” you replied with a smile, feeling a weird fluttering in your chest

Gosh, you were there before..he's just a random man that happened to just squeeze your hand a bit too long and have this extremely handsome fa-- no, you promised yourself to never look at another man after things with Luca..you can't just fall for any other guy that just wanted to congratulate your team..you're better than that, y/n

Clayton Beresford who over the next few weeks, found excuses to attend more games. Each time, he stayed a little longer after the match, hoping for a chance to talk to you. And each time, you found yourself looking forward to seeing him again. There was something about him—his quiet confidence, his genuine interest in you as a person, not just as an athlete—that drew you in. Your conversations started simple, about the game or mutual friends, but soon they became more personal. Clayton was different from the usual crowd you attracted—more thoughtful, more introspective. He wasn’t intimidated by your success or your passion for hockey. Instead, he admired it, and that admiration slowly turned into something deeper.

Clayton Beresford who invited you to dinner (aka date) after months of relationship (just because he wasn't sure to trust you after an experience with Sam)

Clayton Beresford who after months of dating asked you to move to his penthouse

Clayton Beresford who was your number one, biggest fan. Always tried to appear at your every game and if he couldn't, which was very rare, he watched it on his computer during his work

Clayton Beresford who learned to love hockey, not just because of you, but because he saw how much it meant to you. And you, in turn, found yourself drawn into his world, supporting his endeavors with the same passion he showed for your career.

Clayton Beresford whose gentle, nurturing nature was the perfect counterbalance to your fiery determination on ice. He admired your determination and strength, while you appreciated his thoughtfulness and stability.

Clayton Beresford who had with you a special game-day ritual. Before every match, Clayton (sometimes..but often) made love to you in hotel room..just a quick stress reveal session;

Clay's lips devour yours, hungrily returning the passionate kiss as he presses you against the wall, his hands wandering your body possessively "you're gonna play good for me, right baby?"

"mhm--wanna make you proud"

Clay's lips trail down your throat, leaving a trail of fiery kisses, when he murmurs against your skin "I will be, I promise... just give me everything you've got...but I'm already the proudest I could be" his tone breathless

You grabbed his curls, pulling on them slightly as he thrusted into your tight entrance in and out

He groaned so sinfully after deepened kiss, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusts deeper, hitting that sweet spot "you'll make me so proud, baby. my perfect little athlete..."

His words did not help with overtaking feeling you felt that made you almost surrender to it to the point your eyes closed

his hips snapping against yours with a fierce intensity "open your eyes, baby... I want to see those pretty eyes when you come undone for me..."

"its--its hard--"

He smirks against your lips, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he reaches around and grabs your ass, pulling you closer to him "i know..but look at me, baby... I need to see those pretty eyes"

he lets out a low groan as he feels you give in to him, his hips never stopped moving as he continues driving into you "yes, baby-fuck, just like that...ya can feel how close you're making me feel, hm?"

just as you were about to speak, clay covers your mouth with his hand, his thumb pressing against your plump, almost swollen lower lip "shhh, baby...save it for when I tell you to scream."

Clayton Beresford who, after particularly tough games, takes charge of your recovery at home. He’ll run a hot bath, prepare a meal, and make sure you get a massage to ease your muscles.

Clayton Beresford who is your emotional anchor when things get intense or when the pressure gets too much

Clayton Beresford who often works out with you (mostly in the mornings). Whether it’s hitting the gym or going for runs. Although not always he wants to, his more of a guy who could sleep all day and waking up around 6am only to exercise is..not really pleasing for him

Clayton Beresford who has accepted this part of your life where you love the cold and winter sports. For him it wasn't so shocking (although he prefers more warm weather). But still, you two often go on winter getaways to ski resorts, where you spend time skiing, snowboarding, and enjoying cozy evenings by the fireplace.

Clayton Beresford who's there for you during recovery (when you're injured and etc). He's really helping you to stay positive during this time and ensuring you have everything you need

Clayton Beresford who often took you out for small (or bigger) dates in your both free schedule

Clayton Beresford who absolutely loved to tease you about most of the things

Clayton Beresford who often searched comfort in your presence

Clayton Beresford who once surprised you with custom-made hockey gear. He collaborated with a designer to create equipment that was not only high-quality but also personalized with little details that meant something to both of you—like your initials intertwined with his, or a small symbol representing your relationship engraved on the inside.

Clayton Beresford who has a special tradition for celebrating your victories. After every big win, he takes you to your favorite spot in the city—whether it’s a cozy café, a scenic overlook, or a hidden gem of a restaurant—where you can relax and bask in the glow of your success together. And if your team lose, he tries to keep you positive, not overthink it much and focus on what's important.

Clayton Beresford who is a soft dom (obviously) however he loves watching you ride him. Struggling sometimes to accommodate his thick member in your tight core

Clayton Beresford who you visit on random days at his workplace out of boredom

Clayton Beresford who proudly wears the jersey with your number during games

Clayton Beresford who often got irritated at paparazzi that usually follow you two when you're in public, as people that just want to spend time with each other outside the shared walls

Clayton Beresford who saw you create a memory box filled with mementos from relationship with him—ticket stubs from your first game, photos, small gifts you’ve given each other, and even a few of those pre-game pep talk notes.

Clayton Beresford who's really on making expensive vacation in only high-quality places

Clayton Beresford who bought you expensive gifts

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @fuckmyskywalker

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[waddei]

my ocs valentina and aldana :)

aldana amado (tall one with black hair) is romans sister and valentina is both alans girlfriend and tomas's classmate

ive touched on aldana before and will do so again in a moment but heres some valen lore

shes 19, she used to go to aldanas school and thats how they know each other but changed schools after getting held back a year for the second time (aldana romans and alans school is a private school and her parents where tired of paying for it)

she ended up in tomas's school on the same grade as him. she sits next to him cus shes actually trying to get good grades this time around and hes quiet and never tries to talk to her (still she sometimes tries to strike conversation with him, something he actually starts to aprecciate after he starts to actually try and socialize with people)

shes pretty laid back and chill, she likes to say that she minds her own bussiness but shes huge into gossip. thats the main reason shes dating alan actually hes like deep into that shit and always finding stuff out. she kinda finds him weirdly interesting and thinks his generall inexperience with women is kinda charming and also likes that he isnt overly romantic or too clingy (hes too dedicated to his grind really)

aldana thinks shes fucking crazy for dating a loser like alan, specially since alan hangs out with roman and she hates him. but shes also really jealous of her having a boyfriend and jealous of basically everything about her so she kinda shuts up about it

aldana herself is 15, shes generally very insecure in typical teen girl fashion, she looks up to valentina as someone who has everything she wants "shes prettier than her, shes got bigger boobs, she has a boyfriend, she more likable, shes everywhere and everyone likes her" etc etc

she belives that the first thing on her way to being like her is her relative lack of independence. shes very often forced to stay at home to watch her little sister Pilar and beacuse of this she skips a lot of "teen activities" that she sees as crucial to her social life (theyre not really, she has plenty of friends and theyre actually pretty nice about her not being available a lot) she envies how valen doesn't seem to give a fuck about anything and wishes she was like that

she resents her parents for this but she also resents her brother roman, who never helps her at all and mostly just dips for the entire day every day and only seems to cause trouble.

she met valentina at a random birthday party and they clicked veyr quickly, becoming #besties. shes very tall for both her age and being a girl so valen kinda thought she was older, something that aldana was really happy to hear

[callixpene]

WHICH L&DS LOVE INTEREST WOULD EACH OF THEM DISLIKE THE MOST

If all the L&DS LIs meet, who do you guys think they will dislike the most out of each other?

In my opinion:

Xavier would HATE Sylus

A Hunter(who is not MC) meets the leader of Onichynus? This man's bad news in Xavier's eyes.

And I feel like Sylus' naturally arrogant demeanor would irritate him to no end.

I genuinely think that if these two meet they would throw hands on sight.

Rafayel would be ANNOYED of Xavier

I don't know, I think he'd be envious that as MC is Xavier's co-worker and lives in the same apartment complex as her, Xavier will get to see and spend more time with her than Rafayel can.

The glares this man would give Xavier if they ever meet might just make Xavier just as annoyed at him.

Zayne would be IRRITATED of Rafayel

Zayne's a cardiac surgeon so he has limited free time to see MC. On one of his rest days, I can only imagine how disappointed and grumpy he'd be if MC wouldn't be able to spend time with him because Rafayel would ask her to go tend to him(because she's his bodyguard).

If he finds out that Rafayel just called MC to hang out and not to actually do bodyguard duties he'd get even more irritated of Rafayel.

He would think he's acting like a child, as he is so adamant to take up all of MC's free time.

Sylus would NOT LIKE Zayne

Sylus is a tough one, someone as confident as him wouldn't normally be insecure of anyone.

But as he's fallen for MC, I think he would be jealous that MC seems she's more trusting and reliant on Zayne than to him.

That fact would definitely piss him off. MC's trust for Zayne would make him insecure as he knows she doesn't trust or rely on him like that, yet.

I also think he would be low-key jealous whenever MC expresses how much she respects/admires Zayne for his achievements as a doctor, etc. It would make him insecure as she can't really admire him in that way as he's kinda the leader of a criminal organization.

What do you guys think? Who would they dislike the most?

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Tom catches Evans trying to sneak into the Restricted Section for the third time that week a couple days later.

He knocks on the door frame – the element of surprise did him no favours last time – and leans against it casually. “Hard at work, Evans?”

Evans looks up at him with a glare that could strip paint, before turning the glare back to his book.

“It must be serious, to demand so much of your focus.”

No response.

“Perhaps I can help you with your research,” he offers. “I’m quite good at it.”

“What do you want, Riddle.” From the frustrated tone to the tense body language, it’s clear this is not really a question. More of a muggle sirens-and-lights warning.

“Why are you so convinced that I want something from you?” 

“You’re a Slytherin, of course you want something.”

Tom doesn’t bother to point out that Evans is also a Slytherin; he gets the sense it’s a sore spot.

“And yet you don’t exhibit such scorn for either Malfoy or Black. What makes me so deserving of your suspicion?”

Evans snorts. “Those two couldn’t disguise what they’re really after if their lives depended on it. And neither of them is trying to get into my pants.”

“Well, more fool them.”

Evans sputters, flushing up to his ears.

“Piss off, Riddle!” The boy stands up, flinging the book closed (time magic, Tom notes – something to consider later) and almost falling over in his rush to leave as he gets tangled in his chair.

Tom darts a hand out and grabs onto Evans’ wrist before he can escape.

He narrows his eyes and considers the evidence. It’s a disproportionate reaction to an innocuously flirtatious comment. Tonight's efforts to take Evans to bed (or the table, or against the wall – he’s not picky) might be a wash, but perhaps he can learn something to improve his chances in the future.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Evans scoffs, looking increasingly distraught. “Everything’s wrong! And you being weird doesn’t help.”

“Weird?” Tom says, a little offended. “If my advances are unwanted, just say the word, but there’s nothing weird–”

“Stop playing with me!”

“Why do you think I’m playing with you?”

Evans snorts derisively. “As if someone like you would be interested in someone like me.”

That brings Tom up short. Is something so trivial the only obstacle?

“Do you think so little of yourself?”

“My self-esteem is neither here nor there,” Evans says irritably. “And jesus, how big is your ego – I don’t want you, so there must be something wrong with me?”

“I didn’t say that. What did you mean by ‘someone like you’ and ‘someone like me,’ then?”

“I’m a nobody, Riddle,” Evans says after a brief pause. “No fortune to speak of, no connections in high places, no real future prospects. There’s nothing exceptional about me. And you,” he hesitates, weighing his words. “You are exceptional – you would accept nothing less for or from yourself. People expect great things from you, and I have no doubt you could achieve them.”

The boy looks straight into his eyes. “But I do doubt your ability to tell the difference between ‘great’ and ‘terrible.’” 

Tom feels a shiver slide down his spine, his breath catching in his throat. He wants to peel Evans open and find out what he knows, why he thinks that, who the hell he thinks he is to say such a thing to him. At the same time, Tom wants to get as far away from the suddenly strange boy, and that’s far more manageable at the moment.

He casts a quick obliviate and returns to his dorm. Sleep is long in coming to Tom that night.

(Tom Riddle’s Guide to Repeatedly Failing to Get Laid in the Restricted Section)

[ghouldtime]

Enough of the moody venty things on my blog,

I present to you my idea of what animals Hybrid!141 (except different animals than what's usually popular) would be I'll write a series for it if enough people are interested 👀animal shifter au also possible??? I'm open to ideas

Captain John Price - Moose While he's not the biggest, I feel it matches his strength in leading terms and in the sense of his larger personality (even if he isn't exactly extroverted). They're the kings of the forest and while they might look cuddly and friendly, you don't want to screw with them or you'll quickly find out why they have that title. He's got that intimidating aura to him

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley - Badger I KNOW THEY'RE SMALL AND HE'S NOT but look at it! He already has the black and white aesthetic going for him. Not to mention, badgers are solitary animals and can be extremely aggressive, you do NOT want to mess with a badger. They're also mostly nocturnal and as someone who works in the dark, it fits him so well. He's badger coded

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick - Shrike (seriously these guys are WILD they're so sick) "What the hell is a shrike" is probably the most common question I'll get for this. This little dude is a BIRD OF PREY. But no, it doesn't just kill them with talons, it IMPALES THEM ON SPIKES. YEAH. BRUTAL. THEY MIMIC SONGBIRDS TO ATTRACT AND EAT THEM. These little dudes are sick and the dual nature and the complexity im eating it UP its so perfect for him. I really think it fits him because his looks can be extremely deceiving (fully agree with everyone who votes him as pretty boy of the year but ofc he's not only that). And of course he's clever and a lot of people won't expect the danger that comes with him?? I swear the duality is just perfect perfect for him

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish - Fox Playful, intelligent, and possibly an unpredictable goofball, he fits a fox to a T. I'm also strongly considering otter I'm really tied in it but they're both so fitting??? He's got a bright personality, can be outgoing, and sure has the brains to back it up. He can be destructive when he wants to and needs to have an outlet. Either fox or otter, he's got the vibe. Not too serious most of the time but if they're determined, yeah - best not to mess with them, they have teeth and claws for a reason

[pureastrologywisdom]

𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔩 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔰𝔱𝔶𝔩𝔢

When trying to develop your style your natal chart can be a perfect aid in exploring what things will work for you. With fashion an important factor is matching your style with your essence. You want to wear what feels like you. 

Alongside this being able to project or showcase different sides of yourself and aspects of your personality you want to play up. Embodying different signs in your chart is a really fun thing to do. See how you feel when you emulate the energy of each sign. Its fascinating to see how you interact with the world and how it interacts with you.

There are a few different areas you want to look at here - depending on certain factors which I will discuss later:

Your rising sign 

Your Venus sign

Your Moon sign 

Your Mars sign 

Your MC

Your 5th house

Your dominant planet

Your Rising sign is how you come across to people, working with this helps give a natural element to your fashion sense/ look, it’s things you look effortless in. Leaning in to your rising sign can really help boost your confidence and make you feel more authentic.

Your Venus sign is what attracts people to you. Wearing things that embody your `Venus sign will make you feel more magnetic and attractive. It is what you want to wear when you want to feel beautiful. And it will draw people into you. Perfect for a date night.

Your Moon sign is an interesting one to incorporate into your fashion sense. Personally when I wear things that reflect my moon sign I feel very comfortable in my own skin. I also feel very feminine. Something about it really brings harmony to my wardrobe. That is the best way I can explain it for now.

Your Mars sign is for when you want to feel sexy. Wearing things that emulate your mars sign will give you an aura of confidence, making you feel more bold. People will find it hard not to notice you. This is good for a night out, a more spicy date night, and comes in handy when picking out lingerie especially. Wear things from your mars sign when you want to feel powerful.

Alongside this, if you want to be noticed, try wasting something that correlates to your Midheaven if you want all eyes on you. Its a good way to stand out. This is good for a job interview also.

Your Fifth house is something I don’t see a lot of people mention when it comes to this topic. But I feel it is very Important, your fifth house rules over creativity after all. And after all, fashion is all about being creative. 

Looking at your dominant planet can also help you see what energy you naturally give off, that was you can dress to enhance that energy.

I like to be able to know the typical styles, colours, fabrics, patterns, silhouettes and things associated to each of my signs so `i can play about with it and find a balance in my wardrobe. Being able to mix and match different things to emphasise different elements of myself.

Alongside this I am releasing individual reports based on the ‘essence’ of each sign. That way you can find it easier to see a mood-board and examples of the expression of each of your signs that you wish to enhance and understand more in your chart.

It includes fashion tips, beauty recommendation and things to give you a a specific vibe for each sign. 

If you are interested dm me on here before you email me, as `i wont see it otherwise. 

The price of an Individual one is 15 pounds, there is a bundle deal of 40 pounds for three

I have made these from scratch for you guys and this mixes two of my passions together with this project so I really hope you enjoy. 

If you are looking for any other reading message me on here also, and I will get back to you. I have five spaces available from now until the end of October, so i can give each of my clients a good amount of time

Thank you for reading

Pureastrowisdom xx