#i want to know what my faves see the force as now

[pupkashi]

a/n: i just wanted to write abt yuta being scary and sexy so here is my word vomit

masterlist

thinking abt bf!yuta who looks and acts so pathetic around u but is so protective and intimidating

yuta is so helplessly in love and devoted to you, even a blind man can feel the love he has for you a mile away. yuta is the first to laugh at your jokes, the first to tell you happy birthday and congratulate you on everything. he’ll give you anything you want the minute you ask for it, no matter what it is.

yuta doesn’t get into arguments with you, he’ll apologize for whatever he did wrong and prove to you he’ll never make the same mistake again. he’ll shower you in gifts and acts of service and spend as much quality time with you as you want.

there isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you.

yuta okkotsu isn’t the beefiest man on the planet, nor is he the tallest. but he is the most intimidating when he wants to be. and whenever anyone is a little too friendly with you, he definitely wants to be.

it’s only been two minutes since he left to the use restroom and there there some douchebag was, trying to flirt with you. it makes his blood boil, seeing someone who isn’t him be that close to you, trying to buy you a drink as you politely decline him.

it takes only a moment for yuta to walk up to you, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you close to him.

“who’s this, angel face?” he asks you, his voice is soft and sweet as he speaks to you, but his eyes are sharp and venomous as he stares at the other man.

“he just was talking to me about some sport, he’s nobody yuu” you smile, trying your best to contain the situation while you could.

“yeah i was just leavin, don’t wanna waste my time on something used” the man snorts, turning around before his body is jolted backwards as yuta grabs his wrist.

the man immediately cried out in pain, knees buckling as yuta’s grip only tightened. “how ‘bout you quit crying and apologize,” yuta taunts, jaw clenched as his grip grew stronger.

“baby please i don’t want a scene” you plead, squeezing his arm and forcing him to look at you. yuta always thought your eyes were so alluring. something about them brought him a sense of serenity he never thought was possible.

“okay” he mumbles, letting go of the man’s wrist, rolling his eyes as the man cradled his now broken wrist, crying out about his pain and running the opposite direction.

the two of you don’t stick around, walking out into the hot summer breeze before you stop, hands on your hips as you stare at your lover.

“yuta” your tone is more than enough to stop him dead in his tracks, slowly turning on his heel with a sheepish smile on his face.

if you didn’t know your lover, you never would’ve guessed that the man who’s a stuttering and blushing mess in front of you broke a man’s write for flirting with you.

his shoulders are slouched a bit, strands of black hair framing his face perfectly as he tried his best to defend himself.

“I’m sorry darling” he begins, already giving you the puppy eyes you fall for, “i couldn’t just stand by and let some scumbag try to talk you up without-” you cut him off by grabbing his hand and pulling him to sit with you on a nearby bench.

“pretty boy, you know I’m only yours right?” the words make yutas fave flush a deep red, nodding softly as he looks at the ground. “you don’t have to fight or threaten every person who gets too close to me, i can handle myself” you explain.

“you shouldn’t have to” yuta mumbles, looking at you with a small pout. “i wanna be the one to protect you,” he sighs, “i wanna let the world know that they shouldn’t even think about trying anything with you.”

there’s a beat of silence and yuta is about to apologize again before you’re crashing your lips onto his. it’s a shock to him, but he immediately kisses you back, smiling when you bite his bottom lip softly.

“cmon let’s go home,” you smile, laughing when yuta practically jumps up, back to his sunshine smile as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“you wanna make some cookies and watch a movie?” he asks, swinging your held hands as you two walks together down the empty street.

“you read my mind, pretty” you grin, leaning into him as the two of you walked, loving how he instinctively put his arm over your shoulder and kissed the top of your head.

there’s not a care in the world for you. you’d never have to look over your shoulder or carry a weapon with you. as long as yuta was by your side the only thing you’d have to worry about is stopping him from killing anyone who hurt you, intentionally or not.

[popponn]

idk if you accept requests but i badly want to read the blue lock boys with the orange peel theory going around on tiktok 🥹

notes: anon, i was in a slump and then you come with this, please know i cant get it out of my mine for 2 whole nights. so, please have this, i hope u will enjoy it & your fave is there. also shoutout to @doobea for helping me with rin & barou esp <3 aso for standing my yappings. warning: none, post canon au in mind, reader's gender unspecified.

character: isagi, kaiser, bachira, chigiri, nagi, reo, rin, sae, barou + bonus

isagi

sweet boy will do it with a smile. is not the tidiest but you can now eat your orange while sharing with him. has a vibe that he is sort of used to doing this somehow. a total win still. if you do the same for him he will get flustered. also asking this is one of the quickest ways to get mr. egoist switches to mr. sweetheart boyfriend.

“Eh, why are peeling one too? I already… for me…?…I, uh—I see. Thanks… I—I am… give me a second.”

kaiser

you are the one who will peel for him—unless you throw a fuss and give him a silent treatment because this guy's pride is no joke. he can, he just doesn't want to. but to appease you and gain back his rightful spoiling, he will. afterward, at least, he learns his lesson and when you are about to peel one yourself, will take it and peel it beautifully for you like a second nature.

“…the fuck are you staring at? Just take it. You are about to eat it anyway, right? Then what's the big deal?”

bachira

yes, he will no question asked but is it worth it. probably will make a mess out of his energy. you will be laughing along with him somehow though so it is worth it. having the sunshine doing anything in front of you is a guaranteed smile-inducing routine. as for the orange, please do switch to other alternatives, for example: kisses, as suggested by him.

“Isn't this better than orange? Huum, huum! More healthy, sweeter too, right? Another one?”

chigiri

depending on his mood, you will either get a very cute orange peel or a half-peeled orange (at best) you have to finish peeling yourself. on the former, you get a smug bf who will feed you like it's a pocky stick. on the latter, you better be the one feeding him while hugging and cuddling him. multitask somehow. also, give him kisses because he is called a ‘princess’ for a reason.

“Ah, being in your arms being fed like this… yeah, yeah. I know don't worry. I will repay the favor.”

nagi

realistically, you will be the one peeling it for him and forcing him to eat one. because why would he even touch one? he is too lazy for that, nothing personal. but, let's say he really, really loves you: he still won't, he will just give you orange-flavored jelly in replacement. it does come from a place of love though, he genuinely thinks it's less troublesome to eat and, hence: better.

“Eating that is troublesome. It taste the same too. We can also do it while kissing. Mouth to mouth. Better right?”

reo

normally, will get a servant to peel it for you and him. though: can he do it? will he do it if it must be him? no question asked, absolutely will, all while chatting and staring at you with so much love. totally mr. k-drama male lead. you and your premium orange are in good hands.

“Oh, man, you are sometimes really …huh? Nah, I mean, I like doing this. It's just now I feel like I have to do this every time, so… yeah.”

rin

the first time, he will click his tongue and mess up. he will crush the orange. better never speak of it again, just know he loves you wholly despite everything. then a week passes and suddenly you will get a professional competitive orange peeler part-timer. without asking. just eat your orange. unless you are sick of it or it makes you actually sick.

“Did the orange taste good? … good. Nothing. You just look… nevermind. Do you want another one?”

sae

will he or will you. realistically, no? there are two possible reasons: 1) he can't. his whole stat is in soccer. 2) “you can't?” aka is it worth it getting judged by him. in case #2 though, just act cute and aim for his soft spot for you, he will fold and peel it with you pressed to his arm. he will grumble or glare but that's just itoshi-esque tsundere.

“You can't do something like this yourself? This will be the only time I’m doing this… Also who told you to move away?”

barou

our king. will peel the skin and the white fiber for you. tidy peels and if you know your way around his heart—you do just smile or blink and he is gone—he will also feed you. 10/10 execution no notes. probably will do this in kotatsu, dinner tables, and other domestic settings that are not bed while being a tsundere.

“I’m doing this just so you don't make a mess, got it? Also, scoot closer, your leg is kicking me—what do you mean I’m lying?!”

bonus

kunigami will, both before and after wc because you are his world. the difference would be in his expression only and there is that because his love for you would never change. shidou will but genuinely, please just peel it yourself. aiku will, not without teasing you though. gagamaru will either will or teach you how to eat the skin too. zantetsu wants to do it, but it will be really messy so please just don't. hiori will do it like a sweet boy, but if he is in his sadistic mood he will tease you for a bit before finally feeding you.

[bamsara]

what are your most favorite tropes? :3c

IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED:

Near death experiences

Emotional revelations due to said near death experiences

Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Mutual Pining but they believe its unrequieted

"you're my worst enemy but you're so important to me"

Drunk chapter where at least One fist fight happens

Bridal carry after someone gets injured

Slow Burn...of course

"i got you this gift because it benefits me and im not telling you how" (the benefit is seeing the other person enjoy the gift)

Force Alliances or Temporary Truces

"I don't like killing but I'll do it for you"

"I prefer to kill my problems but I won't, for you."

Or: "This person has no idea how many people I've killed in order to protect or provide for them and I'm going to keep it that way."

Mean or Villian Character is actaully a really good Sibling/Parent/Child,ect and has someone they care about

Or better, Villian character adopts child AND is a good parent

Everyone knows the pairing likes each other except for the pairing

Temporary (or non-temp)Amnesia

"I learn your favorite things because I plan to use them against you one day" (proceeds to not do that) (proceeds to get them food or items that persons likes just because they like them)

Breaking and Entering. Literally.

Person A is in love, Person B says they're not but they're 10x times worse actaully

Slip-of-the-tongue/Accidental confessions. Doesn't have to be love confessions but just "whoops i was not supposed to say that"

Biting as a love language

One is feral and bloodthirsty but is put in the position of 'protecting an idiot' because the other is also feral and has no self-preservation. Both characters must be badass, just equally stupid

Kiss on the head/cheek while the other person is sleeping

Bloodstained kiss

Heat-of-battle confession about something

Protagonist refusing to become villian or repeat villian mistakes, not in a 'owo i cant do that its bad' and more like 'fuck you you dont get to see what you wanted to make of me'

Signifier of 'this is my friend/family/lover'. Could anything between a ring, a jacket over someone's shoudlers or scent marking, anything

"if im immortal, then you gotta be too or we both dyin"

Knight x Their Charge

Human x Non-Human

Sunshine x Grump

Character that looks sooooo cute. Oh he's a little fucked up actaully

"ahhaha he's such a freak haha. i need him carnally."

They are mortal enemies. They are also best friends.

Hostage / Rescued trope plus Hostage / Doesn't get to rescue because the hostage killed everyone already

Plot info that's missing that's vital to the story and it's revealed that One of the pairing or someone in the group knew the info the entire time

"I said mean things to you because I hate you, so why am I feeling guilty now"

There was only One Bed

Really competent and scary character is really GOOD at a harmless and charming small hobby completely uncharacteristic to their public persona

Nightmares. And then sleeping in the same bed because of nightmares

Cultural differences / Language Barrier

Character gets so surprised flustered they trip over something or break something and it topples and it starts a chain reaction like a cartoon

There are more but these are some of which I can remember off the top of my head. I've written many of these myself in several of my stories and will continue to do so until the end of time, esp my faves

[kat-mobile]

Hey love ❤️ hope you’re doing good

Can I request Tommy with a gentle, empathetic and sensitive reader please. It was an arranged marriage and he found out his new wife would cry herself to sleep over a book she read or just a cat. His reaction to someone who is completely opposite of him

Thank you in advance ✨

Tommy with a wife who's his complete opposite

A/N: Hey baby, thanks for the request!! I'm doing good and I hope you are too ❤️ I forgot to put on the requests post to specify if you want it as a fic or headcanons so I've made it sort of a mix of the two, hope that's okay anon. I made this blog to try and improve my writing skills and as this is my first attempt it isn't the best, so sorry about that lol. Hope you like it!! (this is set sometime around series 1-2 cause those are my fave)

It was an arranged marriage and to be honest... you weren't particularly thrilled by the notion of being married to Birmingham's most known and feared gangster. But you would do anything for your family and if your father decided that this is what would be best for securing the future of the family then you'd follow through on your part of the deal, even if it seemed like you and Tommy had absolutely nothing in common.

This was a couple months ago now and you had somewhat settled into your new life in Small Heath and with Tommy by your side, the two of you living in comfortable tandem. You had settled into a routine and life was good, or as good as it could be with the risk of being married to a Shelby.

He would buy you any book that you so much as happened to glance at and in turn you would patch up and sew back together any unfortunate pieces of clothing that got in the way of Tommy and his dangerous life style and work, fighting back tears and worrying at your lower lip as you did so. You may not quite understand why he was constantly putting himself in danger but he was your husband all the same and you had grown to love him as your marriage progressed

you would also force him to go and see an actual trained medical professional whenever he came home with said ruined clothing, as a dead husband is less than ideal and you have grown attached these last couple months

Your empathy and tendancy to cry over him when he got hurt was a shock at first but he quickly got used to it, he even tried to avoid getting hurt just so as to not have to see you cry over him

He may not say it outright but he appreciates everything you do and how much you care for him

He doesn't like to keep secrets from you but he doesn't share all aspects of work life with you as he doesn't want you to worry too much, but if being kept in the dark would worry you even more he'd make an effort to keep you in the loop

Your gentleness and compassion is a welcome contrast to his life from before you were apart of it, Tommy didn't know that he needed it before you

If there's one thing about Tommy Shelby, it's that he protects what's his and as his wife he treats you with the utmost care (especially if you have a tendancy to seek out the good in all people)

One night when Tommy (finally) came to bed he found you curled up in a ball on your side with your back to the door, tears gently running down your smooth cheeks

Unsure of what to do when confronted by your distress but still wanting to help, he'd rush to your side and scoop you up onto his lap, holding you close with your tear-stained cheek pressed against his chest and an arm thrown protectively around your shoulders. He'd cautiously rock back and forwards whilst his hand moves slowly up and down your back in what he hopes is a soothing motion. He's a little awkward and stiff but damn if he isn't fucking trying

He'd use his forefinger and thumb to tilt your chin up and force your eyes to meet his own before softly questioning you on why you were crying

"What you crying for, hmm love? Ruining your pretty face"

He'd say, wiping away your tears with his thumb

Upon hearing that the reason for your tears was a sad ending to one of the books he bought you he'd be a little taken aback and he would honestly have to suppress the urge to laugh

It all seemed rather silly to him that you'd cry over some words on paper

"Tommy it isn't funny, it was really upsetting" you'd hiccup out through your tears

he'd just shake his head and sigh, apologising, before pulling you closer, finally laying down on the bed with your legs intertwined

Tommy had hoped it would be a one of chance but when he caught you crying in bed again over the ending of Of Mice and Men, he very quickly figured that he'd have to adapt

Tommy developed a system for when you had your... shall we say moments, he'd sit down on his side of the bed with his back pressed against the headboard before he lifted you up and placed you in-between his legs

Sitting you so that your back was resting against his chest and you could feel his heartbeat

You would then explain to him the sad moments in your books as he softly hummed and nodded his head along to your words

And when he got tired from your quiet voice lulling him to sleep he'd pull you down with him as he laid on his side, caging you in against his chest with an arm around your waist

Those were the nights that he slept the best

[pearlymel]

Could I request Boothill, Argenti, and Jing yuan (as well as your faves if youd like to add more) with an s/o who has panic attacks or panic disorder(unprompted panic attacks)?

No worries if you arent comfortable with the topic

@dragon-anon

ʚɞ Synopsis : the hsr men helping you through your panic attacks.

Includes : Jing Yuan, Argenti, and Boothill.

Warnings : gn!reader, panic attacks, fluff fluff.

Notes : one time i had a panic attack and didn't know what to do, it was a bit scary. Ty for the request, to anyone reading this, my requests will be closed for now as i have upcoming fics for you all ♡

↳ ARGENTI.

The rain, how lovely it was. Watching the harsh droplets of rain fall down. Despite the force of the downpour, you remained completely dry, shielded from its touch. Argenti, ever protective, had ensured that not a single droplet came close to your skin, holding the umbrella gracefully to shield both of you, his side shoulder even dampening since you both won't fit underneath the protective shield of the umbrella.

The rain, normally a soothing and calming presence, now seemed to amplify your anxiety rather than soothe it. You felt the familiar weight of panic settling upon you, like a train smashing through the thoughts in your head. Your breathing grew labored and shallow, your chest constricting as if being squeezed. You tried to rationalize your feelings, wondering if you were just overthinking the situation, but deep down you knew it was a panic attack.

“My dear,” he repeated, because you seem not to hear him the first time, he took note of your labored breathing and the wild eyes. And immediately, he took your hand to find a place to sit together, finding a concreted side and wiping the dirty water with his hands or parts of his clothes, all so it could be a bit dry for you to sit on.

Once both seated, he spoke again, “i want you to follow the rise and fall of my chest, okay?” His voice was firm, yet soft and smooth like silk, he held both of your cold, clammy hands and placed them over his chest. You couldn't speak, like you were in a bit of shock, but you followed his instructions, feeling how his chest rose and fell, you copied the movements, your head falling a bit since the chest tightness wouldn't go.

Argenti continued to take slow, measured breaths, letting the rise and fall of his chest guide your own. He could see beads of sweat forming on your forehead, your body shaking under his touch.

“You’re doing great, darling,” he murmured, his hands gently massaging your back in an attempt to soothe you. “Just follow my lead, nice and slow. You’re doing well.”

"l-lovely weather." You try whispering as you look around to lighten the mold, the rain only intensifying in return. "Indeed, it is lovely." His gaze never leaving your face as he spoke, like he was referring to you rather than this predicament. He slowly moved one of his hands up to cup your cheek, gently thumbing away some of the water droplets that clung to your skin.

You manage to calm down in a short time, you give your knight a soft smile of appreciation, and he took your hand in return, pressing a gentle kiss on the palm pf your hand.

↳ BOOTHILL.

There were a lot of people, too many. You felt the place was suffocating you, like their gazes were all on you despite everyone minding their own business.

It felt like their eyes were eating you, judging your every move, your appearance, how you spoke even.

You were zoning out, parting your lips to breathe, your hands grabbing a fistful of the fabrics of your clothes on your sides. You forget that Boothill was even in front of you, and unaware of your internal strife, Boothill continued his bantering, blissfully ignorant of the panic attack about to unfold.

However, when he noticed your labored breathing and how you were grabbing at your sides so harshly, his expression shifted, concern etching across his rugged features. "Somethin's wrong," he stated, his gaze flickering with a mix of curiosity and worry, "Are you alright, darlin'?"

You swallow thickly, "It's crowded, i think, i don't want to be here, I can't breathe—"

He instinctively stepped closer, his presence creating a bubble of personal space that shielded you from other party-goers.

"Hey, hey, hey..." He whispered, his voice soothing. "Don't panic, darlin'. Just focus on me, yeah? Take a deep breath. Let the air fill up your lungs nice and slow." You try following his instructions, he even rubs at your back, his other hand blocking your view to see the others. It was just you and him.

Boothill continued his gentle reassurance, his voice a soothing constant in the midst of the anxiety. "That's right, darlin'. Keep taking slow breaths. There's no need to rush." He added, rubbing your back in steady, circular motions, "Feel my hand on your back. Just focus on that feeling. In... and out... In... and out..."

It's magical, how relaxed you felt, it makes you close your eyes, "Thank you."

"No thanks needed, darlin'," Boothill uttered out with a grin, "I reckon we can take it easy for a moment. Just focus on your breathing. We can stay like this for a while."

"But we're kind of in the middle of the crowd.." you try looking around again, but he stops you from doing so, "those other folks, they ain't worth your worry. Just focus on yourself, alright?"

↳ JING YUAN.

When Jing Yuan entered the room, he saw you curled up in the corner on your desk, one hand almost pulling at your hair. He noticed how there were paper cups falling off your desk, rolling on the ground with the remaining drops of dark brown liquid seep from it.

Ah, you must've had too much caffeine.

"Sweetheart, how many cups did you drink?" Was the first question that was shot towards you, and you look behind you like you were a caught-disturbed cat.

Four, five cups? you felt the anxiety even crawling at your back, whispering harsh things into your ear.

Your heartbeat only quickened, probably from the fear of messing up your work that you pulled an all nighter for.

He was behind you where you sat, and he gently grabbed your chin and tilted your head upwards to look at him. He examined your face for a moment before shaking his head, “You really need to take better care of yourself. Look at you. You look like a mess.” He lightly pinched your cheek, making you frown, but your lips quiver slightly.

You try to speak back, but the quickening of your heartbeat wouldn't stop, you slouch on your seat, one hand resting on your chest while you try making sense of this.

Why was your chest tightening? Why are you shaking? Why do you feel nauseous?

Realising the severity of the situation, he drops onto one knee infront of you, taking your hands into his, “your eyes are unfocused, breathe for me a bit, can you do that?” he talks you through every single second of it, watching the slightest changes of your breathing or the way you focus at his face, taking it all calmly for you, but he was serious about it.

"I'll help you finish your project," he offers, standing up from the ground, "you don't have to—"

"I want to." He insists, bringing both of his hands to grip the sides of your seat while leaning closer to you.

For god's sake, his face is too charming for your poor heart.

"And you're banned from taking any kinds of caffeine." He gives you a cat like smile, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before walking past you to sort your papers out.

[brunchable]

Winter King, Part Three : Cruel Summer. . .

Pairings: King AU Bucky Barnes x Out of place Queen Reader Words: 17.4K Themes: Royaltycore AU, love and power, Arranged Marriage, georgian/regency era misogyny, profanity, Eventual Smut. Summary: Y/N finds herself struggling to prove that she’s more than just a pawn in this dangerous game of power. But when Winnifred demands answers, it’s not just Y/N’s loyalty to the king being tested—it’s her resolve to carve out a place for herself in a world determined to see her fail. A/N: Inspired by Queen Charlotte. I must say I love the chase scene between Steve and Y/N here HEHEHE. Let me know what's your fave scene? I'm actually curious about what ya'll want to see next ;) credits to the gif owners, it ain't mine.

Your fingers played nervously along the rim of your teacup, your gaze flicking to the tall windows that overlooked the estate gardens. It should have been a peaceful view. Instead, it only reminded you of how small you felt within the grand expanse of this new life.

Opposite you, the Dowager Queen, Winnifred Barnes, was the very picture of feminine authority. Even in the soft light, she seemed to carry the shadows of experience with her, the weight of a crown long set aside but never truly removed. Her eyes, a steely blue that seemed to pierce through all pretenses, were trained on you with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” you murmured politely, dipping your head in a respectful nod as she took her seat.

“Y/N,” she acknowledged with a curt nod, her gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. She motioned to the staff, who swiftly poured the tea and set delicate plates of pastries before you both. The clinking of porcelain was the only sound in the room until the servants exited, leaving you alone in silence.

Winnifred took a slow sip of her tea, her eyes never leaving your face. “I thought it best we have breakfast today,” she began, her tone measured but holding an edge that made your heart quicken. “After all, there’s much to discuss following last night’s... eventful proceedings.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but the knot in your stomach tightened. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

She set her cup down, her gaze on you sharpening. “How did you find your first night as a married woman?”

It was a simple question, and yet difficult to answer. You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. The truth of it all was still a bitter pill to swallow—that you’d spent your wedding night alone, while Bucky had left for his estate in Annecy. A flash of disappointment coursed through you, but you tamped it down, forcing a polite smile.

“It was... different,” you said cautiously, choosing each word with care. “We still have much to learn about one another.”

Winnifred’s brow arched ever so slightly, a glimmer of disapproval, or perhaps curiosity—lighting in her gaze. 

“Different, is it?” She leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering to a deceptively soft tone. “You mean to say that he left.”

Your breath caught, but you nodded, refusing to drop your gaze. “Yes, Your Majesty. He thought it best, given the circumstances.”

For a moment, the Dowager Queen was silent, her eyes studying you. Then, slowly, she tilted her head, the corners of her lips curving into something that might have been a smile—if it weren’t so sharp. 

“And you... let him go?” she asked, each word pronounced with a chilling clarity that made your chest tighten.

You blinked, taken aback. “I—”

“You didn’t make him stay?” she pressed, her tone holding a note of challenge. “You are his wife now, Y/N. The Queen of this realm. It is your duty to keep him by your side.”

The words struck like a lash, the implications behind them sinking deep. You opened your mouth, struggling for a response that wouldn’t sound weak or defensive. 

“I... I didn’t think it was my place to—”

“Your place?” Winnifred interrupted, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. “Your place is precisely what you make of it. Do not expect him—or anyone else—to show you the respect you deserve unless you demand it.”

Her gaze bore into you, and you felt yourself shrinking. There was no malice in her words, no cruelty—only a harsh kind of truth that left you reeling.

“I didn’t want to—” You paused, taking a steadying breath. “I didn’t want to force him. We... barely know each other, Your Majesty. I thought it best to give him space.”

Winnifred leaned back slightly, her eyes never leaving your face. “Space?” she echoed, her voice low. “You have given him space, Y/N. Now watch how quickly it turns into distance.”

She was right, of course. Bucky’s absence already felt like a chasm between you, one that you weren’t sure how to bridge.

“You are a queen now,” Winnifred continued softly, the steel in her gaze tempered by something gentler—something almost like understanding. “But more importantly, you are his wife. And being a wife means more than simply standing by his side in public. It means holding your ground in private. Pushing him when he needs to be pushed. Because if you don’t...” 

She trailed off, her eyes searching yours. “If you don’t, then others will step in to fill that space you so graciously allowed.”

The implication hung in the air like a warning, and you swallowed hard, the reality of her words washing over you. This was about more than just Bucky leaving for the night. It was about control, power, and the dynamics that would shape your marriage—and the kingdom.

You straightened your spine, meeting her gaze with as much resolve as you could muster. “I understand, Your Majesty. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

Winnifred’s lips curved into a faint smile—one that was both approving and calculating. “Good,” she murmured. “Because while my son may be king, it is the queen who sets the tone of the court.”

She lifted her teacup once more, taking a measured sip. “Now, tell me what else happened last night. Did he say anything that would suggest his intentions regarding your marriage?”

You hesitated, recalling the heated exchange with Bucky, and a message passed on to you shortly after he left. “He... spoke about needing time,” you said quietly. “Time to adjust. But he assured me that I am the only one he’s loyal to.”

“Did he now?” Winnifred’s gaze darkened, but there was a glimmer of something like pride in her eyes. “That is a start, at least. But loyalty is not the same as affection.”

You nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond.

“Listen to me, Y/N,” Winnifred continued, her tone soft but unyielding. “He may keep his distance now, but do not let it remain that way. You must find a way to close that gap. The sooner you do, the sooner the court will fall in line. Show them that you are a force to be reckoned with—both as a queen and as his wife.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Winnifred’s gaze softened just a fraction, and she set her teacup down gently, fingers tracing the delicate handle as if recalling a distant memory. 

“There was a time,” she began, her voice quieter now, “when I, too, thought loyalty was enough. When I believed that if I simply did as expected—kept quiet, remained the dutiful wife—things would naturally fall into place.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in her tone. Winnifred rarely spoke of herself, of her past. It was as if every part of her life before the crown was locked away, buried beneath layers of duty and decorum.

“But I learned,” she continued, her eyes taking on a distant, almost wistful look, “that being quiet, being passive, only serves to diminish your place in the marriage. To let others dictate your worth.”

She leaned forward slightly, her gaze locking onto yours with a newfound intensity. “So, I stopped being passive. I took control—not just for myself, but for the kingdom. And for him.” Her expression softened, but there was a sadness there, too. “Because even kings can falter. Even kings need someone to remind them of their place. Their worth. Their responsibilities.”

You stared at her, feeling as though you were seeing the Dowager Queen in a new light—a woman who had fought for her own place in a world determined to silence her.

“What I’m saying, Y/N,” she murmured softly, “is that you cannot let James dictate the course of your marriage. You must stand firm, push him if need be, and make him see you. Truly see you. If you don’t, you will always be the girl who stood in the shadows, watching others take your place.”

You swallowed hard, the force of her words settling deep within you. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I won’t forget that.”

Winnifred nodded, a small, approving smile playing on her lips. “See that you don’t. Because once you have his attention—once he realizes the strength you hold—he will never let you go.”

She straightened, the softness in her gaze receding, replaced once more by the composed authority of a queen. “Now, eat, my dear. You’ll need your strength for whatever comes next.”

And as you reached for your fork, her advice settled over you like an invisible crown—one you’d have to wear with as much grace and power as you could muster. Because from now on, this marriage would be yours to shape, yours to control.

× × × ×

High ceilings of the grand council chamber stretched above, adorned with elaborate chandeliers that cast glittering reflections onto the polished marble floors. The long, gleaming table in the center of the room was flanked by dark wooden chairs, each occupied by men whose expressions were masks of restrained curiosity and barely concealed tension.

The Dowager Queen, stood at the head of the table, her regal posture unyielding as she faced the most powerful men in the kingdom of Montelune. Prime Minister Nick Fury, with his one good eye keenly observing every subtle shift in the room, sat closest to her, his fingers steepled thoughtfully. Around him were the Duke of Hanover, Lord Pierce, and Lord Rumlow—all high-ranking noblemen with a vested interest in the stability and future of the crown.

The men exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes occasionally flickering toward the dowager as if uncertain how to broach the subject that loomed over them like a dark cloud.

Finally, it was Fury who cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Your Majesty, I trust you are well-rested?” His voice was smooth, but the weight of unspoken questions hung heavy in the air.

Winnifred’s gaze was cool as she regarded him, one eyebrow arching ever so slightly. “Rested enough,” she replied crisply. “Thank you, Prime Minister.”

Another awkward silence settled over the room, and the noblemen shifted uncomfortably in their seats. There was something almost comical about seeing men of such power and influence falter in the presence of a single woman, but Winnifred knew the source of their unease. It wasn’t just her title or her presence that made them wary—it was the nature of the matter at hand.

Lord Pierce leaned forward, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally managed to speak. “Your Majesty, we... we thought it prudent to gather today to, ah... discuss certain affairs.”

The Dowager Queen’s lips twitched in a faint semblance of a smile. “Affairs?” she repeated softly, her tone laced with just enough amusement to make him squirm.

“Yes, well,” Pierce continued, his face reddening slightly, “it is... as you might understand, a rather delicate matter. One that pertains to... er, ensuring the continuation of the royal line.”

Winnifred’s eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head, considering him with a look that could cut glass. “Are you inquiring whether the consummation of the marriage has taken place, Lord Pierce?” she asked bluntly.

The man’s flush deepened, and he coughed awkwardly. “Well, not in so many words, Your Majesty, but—”

“Say what you mean, Pierce,” Fury interjected dryly, his gaze unwavering as he looked between the dowager and the other noblemen. “We all know why we’re here. There’s no need to dance around it.”

“Indeed,” the Dowager Queen agreed, a steely edge creeping into her voice. “And let us dispense with the niceties, shall we? The answer is no. Nothing happened last night.”

Her words fell like a stone into a still pond, sending ripples of shock and discomfort through the room. The men exchanged uneasy looks, clearly taken aback by her directness.

Fury’s gaze remained steady, though his jaw tightened. “That is... concerning, Your Majesty. Considering the importance of securing the royal line—”

“Considering the importance of the king’s reputation,” Lord Rumlow cut in, his voice low and gruff. “If word gets out that he didn’t—”

“That he didn’t perform his marital duties?” Winnifred finished for him, her voice cold. “Yes, I am aware of the implications, Lord Rumlow.”

The silence that followed was almost suffocating. The men seemed at a loss, unsure how to proceed with such a delicate subject in the presence of a lady—no matter that the lady in question was the Dowager Queen herself.

Lord Pierce cleared his throat again, clearly floundering. “Perhaps, Your Majesty, there are... reasons for the delay. A need for time, perhaps, to... adjust?”

Winnifred’s gaze turned icy. “Time is not a luxury we have, Lord Pierce. Nor is it a cure for whatever holds my son back.”

Fury leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “Your Majesty, with all due respect, if His Majesty is reluctant... might there be another way to ensure that the matter is handled discreetly? Some form of... encouragement?”

“Encouragement?” The Dowager Queen’s voice was deceptively calm, but there was a dangerous glint in her eyes that made the noblemen stiffen.

“What exactly are you suggesting, Prime Minister?”

Fury held her gaze, unfazed. “I’m suggesting that perhaps His Majesty needs to be reminded of his responsibilities. He must be made to understand that this is not merely about him and his bride—it is about the future of Montelune. The stability of the crown.”

Winnifred’s expression did not soften, but she gave a single, sharp nod. “I am well aware of that, Prime Minister. But James—” She paused, catching herself, and then continued more firmly. “The King has always been... stubborn.”

“Then perhaps he needs a push,” Lord Rumlow muttered under his breath.

Winnifred’s gaze snapped to him, and he immediately looked away, his bravado fading under her scrutiny.

“A push?” she echoed icily. “Do you honestly believe pushing the King of Montelune will achieve anything other than further resistance?”

The men fell silent, and Fury’s shoulders tensed, his expression tight with frustration. “What would you have us do, Your Majesty? If the King refuses to—”

“The King does not refuse,” Winnifred interrupted, her voice ringing with authority. “He hesitates. There is a difference.” She paused, drawing herself up to her full height, her gaze cutting across the room like a blade. “But as I told you, this matter has already been addressed. The Queen will handle it.”

There was a collective pause as her words sank in. The Queen? Their glances darted back and forth, disbelief and confusion clear on their faces. It was Lord Pierce who finally voiced what they were all thinking.

“Your Majesty, the Queen is... well, she’s rather—”

“Inexperienced,” Rumlow supplied curtly, a hint of disdain lacing his tone.

“Meek,” Pierce added, though he looked apologetic.

The Dowager Queen’s gaze hardened. “You underestimate her.”

The Prime Minister’s lips pressed into a thin line. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, the Queen is still unproven. This court is filled with those who would tear her down the moment they sense weakness. To place this matter in her hands—”

“Is exactly what needs to be done,” Winnifred interrupted, her voice like steel. “She is not a child. She is a queen. And she must learn to wield her power—now, not later.”

The noblemen exchanged uneasy glances, clearly unconvinced. The silence that followed was thick with skepticism, and it was all too clear that they did not share the Dowager Queen’s confidence in Y/N.

But Winnifred stood her ground, unflinching. “Mark my words, gentlemen,” she said softly, a dangerous edge to her voice. “You may doubt her now, but she will prove you wrong. She will make you see her strength.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Lord Pierce asked quietly.

“She will,” Winnifred replied, the certainty in her voice absolute. “Because I have seen it. I know what she’s capable of.”

Another tense silence fell over the room, the men still wary but unwilling to argue further.

“Very well, Your Majesty,” Fury said at last, his tone resigned but respectful. “We will... defer to your judgment. For now.”

“Good.” Winnifred’s gaze swept over the room once more, as if daring anyone to question her again. “Now, unless there are other matters to attend to, I suggest we all turn our focus back to ensuring the stability and prosperity of Montelune. The rest... will be handled in due time.”

With that, she rose gracefully from her chair, the noblemen following suit. And as she left the room, her back straight and her gaze unflinching, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the Dowager Queen was a force to be reckoned with—one who would see this matter resolved, no matter what it took.

Once the door closed behind her, the men shared a look of relief mixed with lingering anxiety.

Lord Pierce let out a shaky breath. “I don’t envy the queen one bit,” he muttered.

Fury nodded slowly, his gaze still fixed on the door. “No, I don’t imagine many would,” he murmured. “Because if there’s one person who can push her to act, it’s the Dowager Queen herself.”

× × × ×

It had been five long days since you’d last seen Bucky, and the estate that was meant to be your new home felt more like a gilded cage with each passing moment. Every day unfolded like clockwork, precise and unchanging, as if someone had wound up a porcelain doll and set it down to perform its routine.

You would rise from your cold, empty bed, get dressed in yet another resplendent gown chosen by the maids, and eat breakfast alone in the grand dining room. Lunch, the same—only the time of day changed, the vast silence swallowing every bite of food, every clink of porcelain against silver. Dinner was no different, the emptiness of the long table a stark reminder that you were isolated, adrift in a sea of marble and gold with no anchor in sight.

Even your attempts to fill the hours felt hollow. Books, once a source of comfort, blurred into meaningless words on a page. The piano keys beneath your fingers, no matter how delicately or forcefully you played, only echoed through the cavernous halls, sounding less like music and more like a lament. You’d tried wandering the estate, but at every turn, there was a servant or guard with polite words and unyielding eyes.

“You mustn’t go out, Your Grace. It’s for your safety.”

Your safety. The words grated against you like sandpaper, their false concern suffocating. Safety from what? From whom? No one would say. No one ever did. And every day, you could feel your sanity slipping, unraveling thread by thread, as the confines of the estate closed in around you.

And now, standing at one of the grand windows overlooking the manicured gardens, you turned abruptly, spotting Scott lingering nearby as always. The man had become a constant presence, a shadow, his careful attention both protective and irritating. You narrowed your eyes at him, frustration bubbling up like a storm.

“Scott, I want to invite Lady Natasha, Lady Wanda, and Lady Pepper for tea tomorrow morning,” you stated, your tone clipped and firm, already expecting resistance. “Make the arrangements.”

Scott’s expression shifted, a mixture of unease and hesitation. He lowered his gaze briefly before speaking, his voice quiet but unwavering. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Your Majesty.”

Your brow furrowed. “And why not?”

“My Queen… you’re still within the period of your honeymoon.” He chose his words carefully, as if speaking too freely might shatter the fragile peace that lingered between you. “It’s traditional for the queen to remain in seclusion during this time.”

“Traditional?” The word tasted bitter on your tongue, like bile. You let out a derisive laugh, shaking your head incredulously. “What, precisely, is there to seclude myself for? The king is nowhere to be found, and I—” You broke off, swallowing the sharp edge of your anger. “I am not permitted to invite anyone into my own home?”

Scott straightened slightly, his discomfort plain as day. “It’s not a matter of permission, Your Majesty. It’s simply how things are done. You are to stay within the estate until the period of seclusion ends.”

“Customary.” You echoed the word again, as if tasting its bitterness for the first time. You let out a short, sharp laugh that was entirely devoid of humor. “The king can do whatever he pleases while I am expected to sit idly and await his return. Is that what you mean?”

Scott’s mouth opened, but no words came. He simply stared at you, his gaze flicking nervously to the maids who were also watching, wide-eyed and tense.

You took a step closer, your voice softening into a dangerous whisper. “Tell me, Scott—how long is this period of seclusion supposed to last?”

“Until the tenth day after the wedding, Your Highness,” he murmured, lowering his gaze respectfully. “It is meant to provide you time to acclimate to your new role and… to reflect upon the responsibilities that come with it.”

“Reflect,” you repeated bitterly. “All I’ve done is reflect, Scott. Reflect on how little control I have over my own life. Reflect on how I have been shuttled around like a prized possession instead of a human being. Reflect on the fact that I have no voice, no say—no freedom.”

Silence fell over the room, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a dense fog. Scott shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting to the floor.

“Your Majesty,” he said quietly, “these traditions are not meant to confine you, but to protect you. To ensure your position as queen is established and—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, your tone ice-cold. “If you’re going to say one more thing about traditions or customs or protection, I would rather you not speak at all.”

Scott’s mouth snapped shut, and he gave a small, stiff nod. “As you wish, my queen.”

“Good,” you murmured, turning back to the window, your gaze hard and unyielding. “Leave me.”

You didn’t look back as Scott and the maids slowly withdrew from the room, the door closing softly behind them. The silence that followed was almost suffocating, and you stood there, staring out at the gardens that were just as closed off to you as the rest of the world.

No freedom. No voice. No choices.

× × × ×

Later in the evening, as you sat restlessly by the fireplace, staring at the flames that offered no warmth, the door to the drawing room opened, and Captain Steve Rogers stepped inside. His tall frame seemed to fill the space, and for a moment, you allowed yourself a flicker of hope. Perhaps he’d brought news, or perhaps—just perhaps—he’d come to take you away from this unending monotony.

“My Queen,” he greeted formally, bowing his head slightly.

“Captain,” you acknowledged, trying to keep the edge of desperation from your voice. “It’s good to see a familiar face.”

He offered a small, sympathetic smile as he approached. “I apologize for not visiting sooner, Your Majesty. Things have been... busy.”

Busy. The word sent a fresh wave of bitterness through you. Busy for everyone but you, it seemed. You forced a smile, gesturing for him to sit. “No need to apologize, Captain. But tell me—where is the King? I haven’t heard from him since I arrived.”

Steve’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, his gaze flickering toward the floor before meeting yours again. “He’s still in Annecy, My Queen.”

“I see.” you said softly, the name foreign on your tongue. “How exactly is Annecy?”

“It’s about a quarter of a day’s ride south, through the forest and along the main road,” Steve explained, his voice careful, measured. “It’s a secluded place, one he visits often when he needs to... reflect.”

The way he spoke made something inside you snap, your control fraying at the edges. 

“Reflect,” you murmured, the word a bitter taste in your mouth. All this time, he had been in Annecy, brooding and reflecting, while you languished here, alone and forgotten. The distance between you felt more like an abyss.

“How would one get there, exactly?” you asked, feigning nonchalance. “Just in case I wanted to... send a letter, perhaps?”

Steve’s brows furrowed slightly, suspicion flickering in his blue eyes. “It’s not safe for you to travel alone, my queen. The roads can be treacherous.”

“I’m not asking for permission to travel, Captain. Merely inquiring out of curiosity,” you replied, your tone light but your heart pounding in your chest. “If I were to send a messenger, I would need to know the way.”

He hesitated, but then sighed, relenting. “It’s a straight path through the eastern gates of the estate, then along the main road until you reach the first fork. You’d take the left path, following it through the forest until you cross the river at the stone bridge. From there, it’s just another few hours until you reach the edge of Annecy.”

You nodded thoughtfully, your gaze dropping to the floor, committing his words to memory. “Thank you, Captain. That’s... very helpful.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched you. “My Queen, if you’re considering—”

“I’m not considering anything,” you interrupted smoothly, your lips curving into a placating smile. “I’m merely... curious.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded nonetheless. “Very well. If you have any other questions—”

“Actually,” you cut in, your voice suddenly brighter, almost too casual, “I was wondering if I might step outside for a moment. The fresh air might do me good.”

“My Queen, it’s already quite late,” Steve said carefully, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. “Perhaps it would be best to wait until morning.”

A flicker of frustration flared within you, but you forced yourself to remain calm, nodding graciously. “Of course. . .of course. You’re right, Captain.”

Steve’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but his gaze remained watchful as he bowed his head. “Goodnight, Your Majesty.”

You offered him a demure smile, waiting until he turned to leave before your expression hardened, determination flaring to life in your chest. You watched him leave, each step of his boots echoing down the hall, the sound growing fainter until you were sure he was gone.

And then, moving swiftly, you slipped into your chambers and changed into a riding outfit, the dark fabric molding to your form like a second skin. Your heart pounded in your ears as you quietly made your way through the estate, avoiding the servants and guards as you made your way to the stables.

It was time to take matters into your own hands.

The stables were dimly lit, the smell of hay and leather filling the air. You slipped inside, your footsteps quiet as you glanced around—and then you saw it: Steve’s horse, a powerful white spotted stallion, already saddled and prepared for his return journey. He must have left it ready to go, just in case he needed to leave in haste.

A thrill shot through you as you crept closer, your fingers trembling with both fear and excitement. This was your chance. You stroked the stallion’s neck gently, murmuring soft words of reassurance before swinging up into the saddle. Steve’s horse shifted beneath you, but you steadied him, your resolve hardening.

You turned the stallion toward the eastern gate, your heart hammering with a mix of exhilaration and dread. The estate was still and silent as you urged the horse forward, guiding him through the gates and onto the open road.

Just as you reached the edge of the estate grounds, you heard a shout—Captain Rogers, his voice laced with both alarm and disbelief. 

“Your Majesty! What are you doing?”

But before he could reach you, you dug your heels into the stallion’s sides, sending him into a gallop. The wind whipped past your face, the thrill of freedom and fear mingling as you urged him faster, faster—

“Damn it!” Steve’s curse echoed behind you, and you risked a glance over your shoulder to see him sprinting to the stables.

Within moments, he’d mounted another horse, spurring it forward with a sharp command. “Your Majesty, stop! You can’t just—”

But his words were lost to the wind as you rode, your stallion’s hooves pounding against the dirt road. For the first time in days, you felt alive, the adrenaline coursing through you like fire.

Steve was gaining on you, his horse closing the distance quickly. You could hear him shouting your name, the words muddled and frantic, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

Not until you reached Annecy.

Not until you reached him.

× × × ×

The night was alive with the sound of hoofbeats thundering down the narrow, moonlit road. The crisp air bit at your cheeks as you leaned low over the stallion’s neck, the wind whipping past your ears in a deafening roar. The exhilaration coursing through you was intoxicating—a reckless thrill that washed away the numbness of the past days.

You were free, if only for a fleeting moment.

But behind you, not far off, you heard the determined pursuit of another horse—a powerful, steady rhythm that only a seasoned rider could command.

“Your Majesty!” Steve’s voice rang out over the pounding of hooves, a mix of frustration and exasperation lacing his words. “Stop, damn it! You’ll get yourself hurt!”

You clenched your jaw, pushing the stallion faster, your heart racing with equal parts fear and defiance. Let him chase me, you thought stubbornly. You weren’t turning back now. Not when you were this close to escaping.

The darkened forest loomed ahead, the path winding and treacherous beneath the canopy of towering trees. Shadows stretched and twisted, the moonlight barely penetrating the thick branches. But you didn’t falter. You knew how to handle a horse, knew how to navigate even the trickiest of trails. You just had to stay ahead.

A glance over your shoulder revealed Steve, his broad form hunched low over his mount, his expression tight with concentration. His horse was closing the distance, its powerful strides gaining on you inch by inch. A thrill of panic shot through you, and you urged your stallion forward, digging your heels in as you veered off the main road and plunged into the woods.

Branches clawed at your sleeves and hair, the underbrush thick and uneven beneath the horse’s hooves. But you pressed on, darting through the narrow gaps between the trees, your breath qyickening. You could hear Steve’s curses behind you, the snapping of twigs and the rustle of leaves marking his relentless pursuit.

“Your Majesty, this is madness!” he shouted, his voice closer now. “Stop now, before you hurt yourself!”

“Go back, Captain!” you called over your shoulder, the thrill of the chase making your blood sing. “I’m not turning around!”

“Damn it, woman!” Steve growled, unable to hide his frustration with you. “You’re going to regret this!”

The path ahead narrowed even further, the trees pressing in on all sides. Your horse stumbled slightly, its hooves slipping on the loose soil, but you quickly regained control, urging it onward. You could feel Steve’s presence like a shadow at your back, his horse matching yours stride for stride, the sound of their breathing harsh and heavy in the cool night air.

And then, with a burst of speed, Steve’s horse surged forward, drawing up beside yours. You stole a glance at him, your eyes meeting his briefly in the dim light. His gaze was fierce, determined—and utterly unyielding.

“Pull up, My Queen,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. “Now.”

You shook your head, setting your jaw stubbornly. “No. Not until I see him.”

Steve cursed under his breath, his hand darting out to grasp at your reins. “I’m not letting you—”

You yanked the reins sharply, steering the stallion to the right and away from his grasp. The horse whinnied in protest, but you held firm, pushing it onward. Steve swerved to avoid colliding with you, his horse skidding on the loose gravel before regaining its balance.

“Damn it!” he shouted again, his voice raw with a mix of anger and concern. “This isn’t a game!”

“No, it’s not!” you shot back, your voice rising with the intensity of the chase. “It’s my life, Steve!”

Something flickered in his eyes—something that looked almost like pity—but he didn’t relent. He tightened his grip on the reins and urged his horse forward, drawing up alongside you once more.

“I’m not letting you go,” he ground out, his jaw clenched. “Even if I have to drag you back myself.”

“Try it,” you dared, the words slipping out before you could think better of it. “Just try.”

His eyes flashed, and for a moment, you thought he might actually do it—might tackle you right off your horse and force you back. But instead, he gritted his teeth, his knuckles white where they gripped the reins.

“Fine,” he bit out. “You want to do this the hard way? We’ll do it the hard way.”

And with that, he urged his horse even closer, the two animals almost neck and neck now. He reached out again, his hand brushing against your arm, and you tensed, your heart hammering wildly.

But instead of pulling you back, he yanked sharply on the reins of your stallion, forcing the horse to slow and swerve, breaking your pace. You let out a cry of protest, your grip tightening on the reins as you fought to keep control. Steve’s horse blocked your path, cutting off any chance of escape.

“Let me go!” you shouted, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and desperation.

“Not happening,” Steve growled, his eyes blazing as he leaned in closer. “You think I’m going to let you ride off into the night alone, to God knows where, just because you’re stubborn?”

“You don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly,” he interrupted, his tone harsh. “I understand that you’re hurting. That you feel trapped. But this—” he gestured to the dark woods around you, his voice rising with exasperation—“this isn’t the way to fix it.”

You glared at him, your breath coming in short, furious gasps. “And what would you know about it, Captain?”

“Enough to know that if you keep pushing like this, you’re going to get yourself hurt,” he shot back, his voice cracking slightly. “And then what? Do you think that’s what he’d want? For you to risk everything like this?”

You stared at him, your chest heaving, and for a moment, the fight drained out of you, leaving you hollow and aching. He was right. You knew he was right. But the thought of going back—of returning to that empty, suffocating house—was unbearable.

“I just... I need to see him, Steve,” you replied, your voice breaking on the words. “I need to understand.”

His expression softened, his grip on the reins loosening slightly. “I know,” he murmured. “But not like this. Not alone.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy with unspoken words. And then, slowly, hesitantly, you nodded, the fire inside you dimming to a flicker.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

Steve released a breath he seemed to have been holding, his shoulders relaxing. “Good,” he said quietly, his voice rough with relief. “Let’s head back.”

But as he turned his horse, you saw your opportunity—a split-second chance—and before he could react, you kicked Steve’s horse into a gallop, the sudden burst of speed propelling you forward, back onto the path.

“Princess—Queen—Y/N!” Steve roared, the sound of his curses following you as you tore through the woods, the wind whipping past you.

This time, you didn’t look back. You couldn’t afford to. You had to reach Bucky. You had to know why he’d left you there—alone and abandoned.

Steve’s shouts echoed through the night as he raced after you, his horse’s hooves pounding against the ground like thunder.

“Stop, damn it!” he bellowed, his voice raw and desperate.

“Enough!” you shouted back, your voice cracking with the force of it. “Stop telling me what I should and shouldn’t do!”

Steve’s horse pulled up beside yours again, his face tight with worry and anger. “This isn’t safe, Y/N!”

“Don’t you dare!” you snapped, your eyes blazing as you looked at him. “Don’t you dare tell me what’s safe. You can’t keep me locked up like a caged bird just because it’s easier for you to watch over me!”

Steve’s mouth opened as if to argue, but you cut him off, your voice trembling with fury. “I’m not turning back, Steve. Not this time. So either let me go... or help me.”

He stared at you, the conflict clear in his eyes. For a moment, it seemed like he might refuse, might force you to return despite everything.

But then he let out a harsh breath, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Damn it, Y/N... fine.”

“What?” you breathed, barely daring to believe it.

“If you’re going to do this, then I’m coming with you,” he ground out, his jaw clenched. “Because I’m not letting you ride off into the night alone.”

You swallowed hard, the fight draining out of you as his words sank in. Slowly, you nodded, a shaky breath escaping your lips.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the horses’ hooves.

Steve’s gaze softened, and he gave a terse nod. “Just... try not to get us both killed, all right?”

A faint, breathless laugh escaped you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a small flicker of hope.

With one last glance at each other, you turned your horses toward the open road, the path to Annecy stretching out before you.

× × × × 

The cold night air nipped at your cheeks as you and Steve rode side by side, the rhythmic gallop of the horses’ hooves creating a steady, almost soothing cadence in the darkness. The road ahead was long, the path winding through the forest illuminated only by the pale light of the moon, casting everything in a muted, silvery glow.

Despite the tension simmering between you, there was something almost... peaceful about it. The silence that stretched between you and the captain wasn’t oppressive like before.

Steve’s gaze slid sideways, lingering on your determined profile. He wasn’t sure what he expected when he’d first seen you at the palace, but it certainly wasn’t this. A princess—no, a queen—in every sense of the word, but also something else entirely. Impulsive, stubborn, unrelenting in your resolve to push forward no matter what stood in your way. Every action you took seemed to defy the expectations of your station.

And yet, here you were, riding through the wilderness in the dead of night, your chin lifted high as if daring the stars themselves to challenge your resolve.

The corner of his mouth twitched in grudging admiration. “You ride well,” he offered, breaking the silence.

You turned to him, arching a brow. “Are you surprised?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Maybe a little. I didn’t expect a queen to handle a horse like that.”

Your lips curved into a small, almost wry smile. “My father made sure I knew how to ride from a young age. I learned when I was six.”

Steve blinked, his gaze sharpening with curiosity. “Six? That’s... early.”

You shrugged, your expression turning thoughtful. “I suppose it is. But in my country, it wasn’t unusual. There was a lot to navigate, and horses were a necessity for both travel and safety.”

Something in your tone—a flicker of something distant, a shadow—caught his attention, and he studied you with newfound appreciation. He’d thought you reckless before—impulsive, driven by raw emotion. But perhaps he’d underestimated you. There was more to you than he’d thought, more beneath that composed surface you kept so carefully guarded.

“You’re more capable than most people give you credit for,” he murmured, his voice almost contemplative.

You glanced at him, your gaze sharp and discerning. “They don’t see what they don’t want to see, Captain. I can read, too, you know.” A dry chuckle escaped you. “I can speak three languages, play music, excel in archery. I know more about strategy and history than some of the advisors who sit in the council chamber.”

Steve’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he quickly schooled his features, nodding slowly. “That’s impressive.”

“Is it?” you asked softly, a hint of bitterness creeping into your tone. “It’s not impressive if no one cares to know.” You shook your head, letting out a sigh. “No one’s ever bothered to ask. Not even James.”

His chest tightened at the way you said it, the quiet hurt that laced your words. He looked down at the reins in his hands, feeling a pang of guilt. You were right. No one had asked. Steve certainly hadn’t. He’d only ever seen you through the lens of a title, a role. He hadn’t seen you—not until now.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, the words sounding inadequate even to his own ears. “I should have... I didn’t realize—”

“It’s not your fault, Captain,” you interrupted gently, your voice carrying a tired acceptance. “I’ve had to learn to hide things. If I didn’t, I’d be seen as a threat—or worse, a failure. Women aren’t supposed to read, to know things beyond sewing and dancing.” Your lips twisted wryly. “But I never liked being told what I could and couldn’t do.”

Steve couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “I can see that.”

You rolled your eyes, though the gesture was light. “I’m serious, Captain. No one sees me for who I am, only for what they want me to be. And if they did see the real me... I wonder if they’d be disappointed.”

The raw honesty in your voice cut through him like a blade, and he swallowed, a knot forming in his throat. He couldn’t imagine anyone being disappointed by the fierce, unyielding woman riding beside him. If anything, he was completely, utterly astounded by you. Your strength, your determination—it was unlike anything he’d ever encountered.

And yet, you spoke as if it were something to be ashamed of.

“I doubt that very much,” he said quietly, his gaze steady and sincere. “If they could see what I see, they’d realize just how wrong they’ve been.”

You blinked, surprise flashing in your eyes before you looked away, your lips pressing together. “Thank you,” you murmured, the words barely audible over the sound of the horses’ hooves.

He nodded, his chest tightening again. “You deserve to be seen, My Queen. All of you.”

Silence fell between you again, but this time it was different—softer, gentler. The tension that had wound itself around you began to ease, loosening its grip ever so slightly. You stared ahead, your mind still spinning, but something in his words soothed the ache inside you, if only for a moment.

“Just... try not to run off on me again, all right?” Steve added after a moment, his tone lightening. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up at his exasperation. “No promises, Captain.”

He shook his head, a reluctant smile on his lips. “Of course not. You’d never make it that easy for me, would you?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you teased, and for the first time since you’d left the estate, the tension in your chest began to loosen, the weight of it lifting just a little.

Steve glanced at you, his gaze warm and admiring. “You really are something else, my Queen.” He paused, his expression turning thoughtful as he murmured, “Bucky has met his match, it seems.”

Your smile softened, a faint flush rising to your cheeks. “And you, Captain Rogers, are far too kind.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I’m just speaking the truth.”

× × × ×

The flickering glow of torches cast the estate’s front steps in a soft, golden hue, and a figure stepped forward from the shadows. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his eyes, narrowed and assessing, were locked on you as if you were an intruder. The guards flanking the entrance straightened, their hands subtly tightening on the hilts of their swords.

“Who are you?” the man asked, his voice carrying an edge of command.

You instinctively straightened in your saddle, your gaze meeting his. “I am the queen.”

His brows rose ever so slightly, a flicker of something—surprise, perhaps—passing through his expression. But he didn’t step aside. Instead, he squared his shoulders and planted himself more firmly in your path, his jaw set.

“And why is Her Majesty arriving at such an hour without an escort?” His tone was polite, but there was an undercurrent of steel that made your pulse quicken.

Before you could respond, Steve cleared his throat, guiding his horse a step forward, his gaze fixed on the man with an unflinching intensity. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Sam.”

Sam glanced at Steve, recognition sparking in his eyes, but he didn’t move. “Captain Rogers,” he said evenly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Didn’t expect to see you standing in the way of the queen,” Steve shot back, his tone calm but firm. “I suggest you step aside.”

The man—Sam—hesitated, his gaze sliding back to you, lingering with a mixture of wariness and something else... respect? Curiosity? You couldn’t quite tell.

“Your Majesty,” Sam said slowly, his voice measured, “I’m under strict orders to keep the estate secure.”

You squared your shoulders, lifting your chin as you met his gaze head-on. “I have come to see my husband. I am certain his orders do not extend to preventing me from entering.”

Sam’s lips twitched, as if he were fighting back a smile. For a heartbeat, you thought he might refuse again. But then he stepped aside with a graceful nod, sweeping his arm toward the entrance.

“Welcome, Your Majesty. Forgive me for the delay.” His eyes shifted to Steve, a knowing look passing between them before he turned back to you. “Shall I announce your arrival?”

You hesitated, glancing at Steve, who merely shook his head. “No,” you said softly, feeling a strange surge of determination. “I’ll find him myself.”

With a nod, Sam stepped back, gesturing for the guards to lower their weapons. As you dismounted, handing the reins to a stable boy who had appeared from the shadows, you felt Steve’s steady presence beside you—a silent pillar of support.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he murmured under his breath, his voice barely audible over the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

You nodded, squaring your shoulders. “I didn’t ride all this way to be turned back now, Captain.”

He gave you a small, tight smile, his eyes flicking briefly to Sam before returning to you. “Then let’s go find him.”

The grand entrance of the estate opened before you like the maw of some great beast, its stone walls and towering pillars casting deep, ominous shadows. As you stepped inside, the air seemed to change—thicker, almost suffocating, like a place that held too many secrets. The floors gleamed under the flickering light of candles set in wall sconces, the polished surfaces reflecting the nervous tension tightening in your chest.

Steve followed closely behind, his hand hovering near his sword, his gaze scanning the dimly lit corridors with the sharp, alert intensity of a soldier on high alert.

“He’s this way,” he murmured, gesturing with a tilt of his head.

You nodded, your heart pounding louder with each step. The estate was grander than you had expected, the hallways long and winding. For a moment, you felt disoriented, as if you’d stumbled into a labyrinth. But you forced yourself to focus. You were here for a reason—to speak to James. To confront him, to demand answers.

After what felt like an eternity, you reached a heavy wooden door, slightly ajar, warm light spilling through the crack. Steve slowed, his hand coming up as if to stop you, but you shook your head. You needed to do this alone.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open gently, stepping inside.

The heavy door creaked shut behind you as you stepped fully into the observatory. Your gaze swept over the large telescope set up at the far end, its towering structure silhouetted against the backdrop of the star-strewn sky. 

You saw him—standing beside it, a shadowed figure against the soft glow of the evening, the faint town lights far below barely piercing the darkness up here. His fingers traced the metal frame of the instrument, the careful precision of his movements almost reverent. It was unexpected—seeing him like this. Vulnerable, focused, his usual air of authority and distance replaced by something quieter, more human.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice clipped and cold. The question sounded more like an accusation, his grip tightening on the edge of the telescope.

“I think you know why,” you replied, your words as sharp as the air between you. “You can’t just keep sending me away like I’m some piece of unwanted baggage.”

He exhaled harshly, his shoulders shifting, but he still didn’t turn to face you. “You’re supposed to be at the estate. This is not—”

“Not what?” you cut in, your own frustration spilling over. “Not where I’m supposed to be? I’m your wife, James. Is it not my right to stand beside you, wherever you may be?”

Finally, he turned, his jaw set, eyes hardened as he stared at you across the room. “You’re making everything more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Complicated?” The word tasted bitter, and you threw it back at him like a weapon. “Complicated is this entire charade of a marriage you’ve thrown me into. You can’t even be in the same room as me, can’t look at me without acting like I’m some burden you’re forced to carry.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze never wavering. “You knew what was expected from the very beginning. I never misled you.”

“Never?” you shot back, stepping closer, heat rising beneath your skin. “What about everything you said that morning in the garden? You made me believe—” You stopped yourself, anger tightening in your throat. “You led me to believe there was more. You looked me in the eye and made promises without saying a word.”

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head sharply. “You’re twisting things, Y/N.”

“Am I?” Your voice rose, matching his, the words bursting out like they’d been waiting for this fight. “You led me on, made me think there could be something real between us. Did you really mean it? All those sweet words? Or am I just another woman you can disregard?”

His expression didn’t soften, didn’t waver. He took a step forward, eyes burning into yours. “You’re not just another woman. You’re my wife. And that’s exactly why I’m telling you to go back where it’s safe.”

You laughed, a cold, hollow sound that felt like it echoed through the observatory. “Safe. You keep saying that. But you know what’s unsafe, James? Being married to someone who treats me like a ghost. Like I’m here but not really here. Like I’m nothing more than a title to you.”

“You don’t understand,” he snapped, his voice dangerously low. “You think this is about you? It’s not. It’s about—”

“Don’t you dare tell me what this is about!” you interrupted, your anger roaring back to life. “You’ve been pushing me away since the day we married. You send me to that estate like I’m some delicate flower who can’t handle the truth. You won’t even give me the courtesy of honesty.”

“I am being honest,” he growled, his voice vibrating with suppressed rage. “You just refuse to accept it.”

“Then tell me why you shut me out!” you demanded, taking another step closer, refusing to back down. “Tell me why you can’t even bear to look at me!”

“Because it’s easier that way!” he exploded, the words crashing between you like a thunderclap. “Because every moment I spend with you, every look, every touch—it makes it harder to keep my distance. And I need that distance, Y/N. I need it.”

“Why?” The single word felt like a challenge, a dare, as you stood your ground. “Why do you need to keep your distance?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wild with something you couldn’t quite decipher. “Because if I don’t, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” you pressed, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “You’ll feel something? You’ll actually let yourself care?”

“Damn it, stop twisting my words!” he snapped, his voice echoing off the walls. He pointed toward the door, his hand trembling slightly. “This conversation is over. Go home.”

But you didn’t move. Instead, you square your shoulders, staring him down with a determination that only seemed to make his fury burn hotter. “You’re just a coward, James.”

“What did you say?” His eyes darkened, the heat in his gaze scorching.

“I said you’re a coward,” you repeated, your voice unyielding. “It’s not about protecting me, is it? It’s about protecting yourself. You can’t handle feeling anything real, so you shove me away and pretend it’s for my sake—”

“Enough!” he roared, slamming his fist down on a workbench. The sound reverberated through the room, you flinched, but didn’t back away. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his voice a raw growl when he spoke again. “I’m commanding you to go home, Y/N. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“And what if I don’t?” you shot back, your heart hammering in your chest. “What if I stay here and make you face me?”

He took a step forward, the distance between you closing until he was towering over you.

“You want me to be honest? Fine. I’m being honest now.” He leaned in, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Go. Home. Because if you stay, I can’t promise I won’t hurt you.”

The threat hung in the air, his gaze blazing with a warning you knew he meant. But even then, you didn’t move. You held his stare, refusing to look away, refusing to give in.

But then something shifted in his eyes—something dark and final.

“Leave,” he bit out, each word a sharp command. “Go back to the estate. This is not up for debate.”

“James—”

“Go.” His voice cut through the room like a blade, and for the first time, you felt the full force of his resolve, the cold, impenetrable wall he had built around himself.

Slowly, you stepped back, your eyes still locked on his, the ache in your chest spreading like a poison.

“You really think you’re protecting me?” Your voice wavered, the frustration and pain that had been building over the past five days bubbling to the surface, spilling out like a torrent you could no longer contain. “But all you’re doing is pushing me away. You think that sending me back to that estate, is what’s best for me? Locking me up like some prisoner while you hide away here?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his expression an unreadable mask of ice.

“Every morning I wake up in that empty bed, wondering if today will be the day you finally show up. If maybe, for once, you’ll decide that I’m worth more than a few fleeting words, worth more than some shadow you keep at arm’s length.” Your voice shook, but you pressed on, refusing to let the lump in your throat silence you. 

“I eat alone. I read alone. I play music for walls that don’t listen. I’m trapped in that place, surrounded by people who refuse to let me leave, because you’ve ordered it. ‘For my safety,’” you scoffed, the bitterness heavy in your tone. “But safety from what, James? From whom?”

He flinched, just barely, but you caught it. You saw the way his fingers twitched at his sides, the way his gaze flickered with something—regret, maybe—before he buried it beneath that cold, stony facade.

“Your silence is worse than anything else. Worse than the gossip, the rumors,” you continued, each word sharp, slicing through the air. “I didn’t marry a title, James. I married you—or at least, I thought I did. But the man I met in the garden… the man who promised me something more… that’s not who I see now.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze unyielding, his stance unrelenting.

“Fine. If you want to let this crumble to dust, then fine. But don’t you dare think that you’re doing it for me,” you spat, turning on your heel and heading for the door. “You want me to leave? I’ll leave.”

With that, you stormed out, slamming the door behind you, the echo of it reverberating through the silence he left behind.

And in that silence, Bucky stood alone, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes fixed on the door you’d just walked through, the words he didn’t say choking him from the inside out.

× × × × 

You stormed down the spiral staircase until you arrived at the hallway, each step punctuated by the echo of your boots against the stone floor. You barely registered the curious glances of the servants or the soft rustling of skirts as maids darted out of your path. Everything was a blur of color and sound, your heart pounding in your ears like a war drum.

You reached the grand foyer, your breath coming in ragged, furious gasps. You hadn’t meant to let him get to you—hadn’t meant to let his coldness, his indifference, chip away at the fragile hope you’d nurtured.

But he had.

And now the hope was gone, replaced by a searing anger that burned hot and unforgiving in your chest.

“My Queen!” Steve’s voice called out urgently somewhere behind you. You didn’t stop, didn’t even glance back. “What happened? Did he—”

“I do not wish to talk about it, Steve,” you snapped, not breaking stride as you pushed through the front entrance. The cold night air hit you like a slap, the sharpness of it biting into your skin, but it was a welcome relief—anything to douse the fire raging inside you.

“Y/N, wait—”

But you ignored him, striding toward the stables where your horse was already saddled and waiting. A stable boy jumped at your sudden arrival, his eyes wide with uncertainty as you approached.

“Bring my things. I’m leaving,” you ordered, your voice taut with barely contained fury.

“But—Your Majesty—” the boy stammered, glancing nervously between you and Steve, who had followed you out.

“Do as she says,” Steve murmured, his tone resigned, though there was a hard edge to his gaze as he watched you mount the horse.

“Y/N—” Steve tried again, his hand lifting as if he might reach for you, stop you. But you jerked the reins sharply, cutting him off.

“Are you coming?”

He fell silent, his shoulders slumping slightly as he watched you, the conflict clear in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something else, wanted to protest—but then his gaze flicked back toward the darkened silhouette of the estate, and he let out a low, frustrated sigh.

“Yes,” he muttered, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. “I’ll escort you back to Byron—but allow me to have a word with the King.”

“Do whatever you want,” you bit out, the bitterness in your tone making his jaw clench. 

Steve approaches your horse, looking up at you with a hardened look, “Do not leave without me.”

“I won’t.”

× × × × 

Bucky stood in the center of the room, the soft, amber glow of candlelight casting deep shadows across his features. His breathing was labored, each inhale and exhale scraping through his lungs like broken glass. He stared at the closed door, his hand still clenched around the edge of the workbench, his knuckle white with the force of his grip.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, his voice a harsh, broken sound in the empty room.

The door creaked open suddenly, and Bucky’s gaze snapped up, his eyes blazing with a dangerous mix of anger and fear.

Steve stepped inside, his expression tight, his shoulders squared. For a moment, the two men simply stared at each other, the air crackling with unspoken tension.

“What the hell was that?” Steve demanded, his voice low and fierce, like the growl of an animal poised to attack. He took a step forward, his gaze never leaving Bucky’s. “What the hell did you say to her?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he turned away, his shoulders stiff. “That is no concern of yours.”

“Like hell it’s not,” Steve shot back, his voice rising with barely contained fury. He took another step forward, his eyes blazing. “She came here for you. She rode all the way from Byron—alone, at night—just to see you. And you turn her away like she’s nothing?”

“Watch it, Rogers,” Bucky warned, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “This is between me and her.”

“Bullshit,” Steve spat, his fists clenching at his sides. “She is my queen. You may be her husband, but you are not acting as such. You are simply pushing her away—”

“Watch how you speak to me, Captain,” Bucky warned further, his voice low and simmering with barely controlled rage. He turned back to face Steve, his eyes flashing with a dangerous, unyielding intensity. “I am your King before I am your friend. Don't you ever forget that.”

But then Steve’s expression hardened, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he took a deliberate step closer, refusing to be cowed.

“You may be my King,” Steve ground out, his voice tight and edged with anger. “But that does not mean I will stand by and watch you destroy yourself. I know why you’re doing this. And it’s tearing her apart.”

“I’m doing what I have to,” Bucky interrupted sharply. He stepped forward, his hard gaze latching onto Steve’s. “Do not presume to know what is best for her, Steve.”

“And you do?” Steve challenged, his voice dripping with contempt. “Because from where I stand, it seems you are doing everything in your power to hurt her.”

Bucky’s expression twisted, a dark, bitter smile tugging at his lips. “You think I wish to cause her pain?”

“I think you’re terrified,” Steve replied quietly, his voice calm and unflinching. “You’re scared of what you feel for her, afraid of getting close—because losing her would destroy you. But this… pushing her away, pretending you don’t care… that’s just cowardice.”

Bucky’s eyes flared, his hand darting out to grab the front of Steve’s coat, yanking him forward until their faces were inches apart. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then explain it to me,” Steve demanded, his voice low and unrelenting. “You are sabotaging yourself and tearing her down in the process—I am done watching you destroy the one good thing you possess.”

For a moment, they stood there, locked in a silent, seething battle of wills. Then, slowly, Bucky released his grip on Steve’s coat, his shoulders slumping as if the fight had drained out of him.

“You should leave, Steve,” Bucky muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion and defeat. He turned away, his gaze falling to the floor. “Go take her back to Byron. Make sure she’s safe.”

“Bucky—”

“Just go,” Bucky bit out, his voice rough and ragged. He didn’t look back, didn’t give Steve a chance to argue.

Steve’s gaze lingered on him for a long, tense moment, a dozen words hovering on the tip of his tongue. But then he turned sharply on his heel, his boots echoing through the silent observatory as he left, the door slamming shut behind him.

And then, slowly, he sank down onto the nearest chair, his head dropping into his hands, his shoulders shaking with the force of emotions he couldn’t quite suppress.

But no tears fell. He’d learned long ago how to bury them deep, how to lock them away where they couldn’t hurt him—or anyone else.

Because this was the price of keeping you safe. The price of keeping his distance.

Even if it destroyed him in the process.

× × × × 

The maids moved quietly, arranging fresh flowers and setting a delicate porcelain tea set on a polished table. Queen Winifred sat gracefully in her high-backed chair, sipping her morning tea, her posture as rigid and refined as ever.

She barely looked up as her lady-in-waiting, Lady Harriet, approached hesitantly. There was a slight shift in the atmosphere—something unspoken crackling between them. Harriet glanced around, making sure no one else was within earshot, before leaning in closer.

“Your Majesty, I thought you should be informed… the Queen…” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “Last night, she left the estate. Captain Rogers accompanied her.”

The Queen Dowager’s hand stilled, the delicate teacup hovering just inches from her lips. “She did what?” she asked, her voice even but laced with incredulity.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Lady Harriet continued, her voice dropping lower as if speaking the words any louder would make them more scandalous. “She rode all the way to the King’s estate in Annecy. It caused quite a stir among the staff, even with Captain Rogers by her side.”

For a moment, a thick silence settled in the room. The Queen Dowager’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though considering the implications of such an audacious act. But then… something unexpected happened.

The corner of her lips twitched.

Lady Harriet blinked, surprised, as a soft chuckle slipped past the Queen Dowager’s lips—a sound so rare, it seemed to startle even her own maids. Winifred set the teacup down gently, a wry smile spreading across her face as she tilted her head in quiet amusement.

“She rode to Annecy,” she repeated, a hint of disbelief mingling with a spark of admiration in her eyes. “With Captain Rogers…” She shook her head slightly, as if she could scarcely believe it herself. “That girl…”

Her chuckle grew a little louder, a quiet, knowing sound. Lady Harriet exchanged a glance with one of the other maids, clearly perplexed by the Queen Dowager’s reaction. This wasn’t the disapproving reprimand they’d expected.

The Queen Dowager leaned back in her chair, her gaze turning distant as she stared out the window. 

“So, she did listen after all…” she murmured to herself, almost as if speaking the thought aloud would make it more real.

Lady Harriet hesitated, unsure whether to continue or to remain silent. “Your Majesty?”

The Queen Dowager waved a hand dismissively, still smiling to herself. “It’s nothing, Harriet.” 

She took another sip of her tea, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “The Queen may have more steel in her spine than I initially thought.”

“Should we… take any action regarding her behavior, Your Majesty?” Harriet asked tentatively, still clearly baffled.

Winifred’s smile widened, a gleam of something almost like pride flashing in her eyes. “No, Harriet. Leave her be.”

She glanced down at her teacup, swirling the liquid gently. “Let her make her bold moves. Let her surprise them all.” She lifted her gaze, the hint of a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. “It’s about time someone shook things up around here.”

Lady Harriet shifted, still looking uncertain. “But Your Majesty, if Captain Rogers was with her, it might imply—”

“Captain Rogers may be a steadfast soldier, but he does not dictate the queen’s actions. She made her choice.” Winnifred paused, her smile deepening. “And if I’m not mistaken, that girl has enough fire to make any man, king or captain, follow her lead.”

And with that, she returned to her tea as if nothing had happened, the faintest smile lingering on her lips—a smile that spoke of a plan unfolding, of something more significant simmering beneath the surface.

Yes, the queen was proving to be quite a force, indeed.

× × × ×

You sit perched on a thick branch of the grand oak tree, high above the garden path. The cool breeze plays with the hem of your skirts and rustles the leaves around you. A delicate porcelain teacup is balanced carefully on a knot beside you, the matching saucer nestled securely on a branch above, where a glimmer of sunlight catches the floral patterns. 

Below, the world feels distant—removed. From this height, you can watch the maids flit about like little insects, pretending to ignore you while stealing glances up at your odd choice of seating.

Your book lies open in your lap, but you haven’t turned a page in a while. The words blur together as your gaze drifts away from the text, caught instead by the blue expanse of sky peeking through the foliage, your thoughts miles away.

It has been two days since you rode to Annecy in the dead of night. Two days since you confronted your husband, demanding answers he seemed unwilling—or unable—to give. And now, silence. Not a single word from him. Not even a letter. The ache of that silence lingers in your chest, tightening every time you think of him.

With a sigh, you look back at the pages, willing yourself to focus. But even now, the ache of anticipation tugs at you. A soft crunch of boots against gravel draws your attention. From your elevated position, you glance down and find Captain Rogers standing beneath the oak, his brow furrowed in a curious frown as he peers up at you.

“Your Majesty?” His voice carries a note of genuine confusion and surprise. “How did you get up there?”

You blink, taken aback, before a smile tugs at your lips. “I climbed, Captain Rogers.”

His eyes widen slightly, and then he glances at the tree trunk, scanning the branches as if trying to piece together the puzzle of how a queen—of all people—managed to scale a tree like a child escaping her governess.

“Climbed,” he repeats, disbelief tinged with admiration. “And no one stopped you?”

“No one saw me until I was already here,” you reply, a faint note of mischief coloring your tone. “And by then, what could they do? Order their queen to come down?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a reluctant smile as he steps closer, his gaze still on you. “Well, I can’t say I expected to find you up a tree, but… may I join you?”

You raise an eyebrow, looking down at him as he places one hand on the trunk, testing his grip. “Do you think you can get up here, Captain?”

“Only one way to find out,” he murmurs.

You watch, surprised and a little amused, as he hoists himself up, his powerful arms making easy work of the climb. He’s not quite as graceful as you’d been, but soon enough, he’s straddling the branch in front of you, facing you, his legs on either side of the limb to keep himself balanced. The limb dips ever so slightly under his weight. The closeness between you makes the air seem charged, a tension simmering beneath the surface.

“Impressive,” you say softly, tilting your head to regard him. “For a soldier, you climb trees like a schoolboy.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.” He shifts his position slightly, leaning forward, his hands braced on either side of the branch, bringing him closer, his gaze holding yours with unsettling intensity. “But what are you doing up here? Escaping the palace? Or just trying to find some peace?”

“Perhaps both,” you reply with a small sigh. “The view is nice up here. It gives me a different perspective.”

“Perspective,” he repeats thoughtfully. “Or maybe it’s a place to hide.”

Your gaze snaps to his, a flash of irritation rising at his too-accurate guess. “And if it is?”

“Then I understand.” His voice is soft, devoid of the teasing lilt he’d used earlier. “But sometimes… sometimes what we’re running from follows us, no matter how high we climb.”

His words strike something deep within you, and you avert your gaze, looking out at the horizon instead of meeting his eyes. “What do you want, Captain? Surely you didn’t climb this tree just to talk about running away.”

He shifts closer, his knee brushing against yours, the rough bark digging into your skirts as he leans forward slightly. His proximity is dizzying, his eyes searching yours with a kind of determination that makes your pulse quicken. “I thought… perhaps some company would be welcome. It’s a lovely day, and you seem… alone.”

“Alone, but not lonely,” you lied, the words almost a whisper. “Still, I appreciate the thought.”

“But you shouldn’t have to handle things alone,” he counters gently, his gaze softening as he watches you. “Sometimes, it helps to share the burden. Or at least… know there’s someone willing to share it.”

You glance down at the garden below, where the maids are casting furtive glances up at the two of you, their curiosity barely concealed. A murmur rises among them, speculation sparking like dry kindling. You can practically hear the gossip spreading like wildfire.

“Is this... concern for my well-being or more... personal interest, Captain?” you ask, your voice laced with challenge.

He holds your gaze, his expression softening in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Perhaps a bit of both,” he replies quietly.

A murmur rises among the maids, their eyes widening as they exchange knowing looks. Your gaze shifts briefly to them before returning to Steve’s, suspicion and confusion swirling in your chest.

“Captain Rogers, I—” You begin to speak but falter, unsure how to respond to this unexpected display of interest. 

He leans back slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “It’s just... Your Majesty, you deserve someone who sees you. Not just the crown, not just the queen, but you.”

The maids’ murmurs grow louder, and you force yourself to smile, though it feels brittle on your lips.

“That’s very kind of you to say, Captain,” you reply, your voice steady despite the confusion roiling inside you. “But perhaps you should keep such thoughts to yourself. I would hate for anyone to misunderstand your intentions.”

“Misunderstand?” he echoes, his smile widening just enough to be noticed. “I’m not sure there’s any misunderstanding when a man speaks his mind.”

Your eyes narrow, a flash of irritation sparking behind them. What game is he playing? Before you can press further, one of the maids drops a basket of flowers, the sudden clatter drawing both your attention. The young woman quickly bends to pick them up, her cheeks flushed, but not before she casts another furtive glance at you and Steve.

“Let them talk, Your Majesty. Sometimes, a little attention is exactly what’s needed.”

“Attention for whom?” you ask, your voice dropping to a whisper, your suspicion growing. “For me? Or for... someone else?”

His gaze doesn’t waver. “For whoever needs it,” he murmurs softly, the words thick with unspoken meaning.

You inhale deeply, holding his gaze as you speak. “I think it’s best if we don’t continue this conversation.”

With a quiet sigh, you carefully swing your legs over the branch and drop down, landing gracefully on the grass below. Steve follows suit, descending with a thud beside you, his presence lingering too close for comfort.

“Thank you for your... company, Captain,” you say quietly, smoothing down your skirts.

He dips his head in a respectful bow. “Of course, Your Majesty. I apologize if I overstepped.”

Without another word, you turn on your heel and make your way back to the estate, leaving him and his cryptic words behind among the watchful eyes and eager whispers of the maids.

The afternoon sun cast dappled shadows across the marble floors of the corridor as you made your way back to your chambers. Each step you took felt heavier, weighted down by the encounter in the garden, by Captain Rogers’ unexpected behavior, and the murmurs that had buzzed around you like a swarm of bees.

As you turned a corner, you caught sight of Scott—your valet—hovering a few paces behind. His presence was a familiar one, but something about it now felt... different. Obtrusive. You slowed your pace until you came to a halt, turning abruptly to face him.

“Scott,” you called softly, your tone edged with irritation and confusion. “Why are you following me?”

Scott, ever the stoic presence, dipped his head in a respectful bow. “Your Majesty, it’s my duty to attend to you.”

Your eyes narrowed as you took in the determined set of his shoulders, the way his gaze remained fixed just over your shoulder, never meeting your eyes. He’d been like this ever since you returned from Annecy—hovering in the shadows, always lingering close by.

“Yes, I know that, Scott,” you said slowly, studying him with a scrutinizing gaze. “But lately, you’ve been… hovering more than usual.”

His lips twitched, a fleeting sign of discomfort. “I apologize, Your Majesty. I merely wish to ensure your safety.”

“Ensure my safety?” you echoed, suspicion prickling at the back of your mind. You glanced around the empty corridor, a sense of unease settling in your chest. “Who ordered you to follow me around like this?”

Scott hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor before he glanced back up, his voice low. “It was the order of the king, Your Majesty.”

Your breath caught. Bucky? You frowned, confusion and frustration warring within you. Why would he do that? He hadn’t even bothered to see you, to speak to you since the night you confronted him. And yet, now he saw fit to have you followed?

“And… What of Captain Rogers?” you asked, your voice quieter now, a strange apprehension curling around your words. “Why does it seem like he’s been lingering around more often? Was that also at the king’s order?”

Scott shifted slightly, his expression remaining neutral, though there was a faint trace of something—sympathy, perhaps?—in his eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty. The king… he wanted to ensure you were… properly attended to.”

“Properly attended to?” You scoffed softly, shaking your head. The absurdity of it all threatened to choke you. “So, let me get this straight: His Majesty won’t speak to me, but he’ll send his best men to guard me as if I’m some helpless child in need of constant supervision?”

Scott stiffened slightly, but he didn’t respond, his silence speaking louder than any words could.

A bitter laugh escaped you, the sound harsh and brittle. “And here I thought I was being foolish for imagining things.” You looked back at Scott, your gaze piercing. “So, this—this is the king’s way of keeping me under lock and key?”

“It’s for your safety, Your Majesty,” Scott replied softly, his voice almost apologetic. “He wants to ensure nothing happens to you.”

“Nothing happens to me?” You shook your head, disbelief and anger simmering beneath your calm facade. “Nothing is happening to me. What does he think will happen to me? I’m not the one who’s running off and avoiding our marriage.”

Scott’s gaze dropped to the floor again, his silence confirming what you already knew. This wasn’t about your safety—at least not entirely. It was about control. About Bucky’s way of maintaining a grip on something he couldn’t seem to confront directly.

“Well,” you muttered, turning away sharply and continuing down the hall, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ll be sure to thank him for his... consideration.”

Scott fell into step a few paces behind you, his presence a shadow that only deepened your frustration. With each step you took, the realization settled deeper into your bones.

Bucky might have ordered this, but he was still keeping his distance. Still choosing to watch from afar, rather than face you. And that, more than anything, was what made your heart ache.

You stopped abruptly, your irritation bubbling to the surface as you turned back around to face Scott, a sudden thought lighting up your eyes. 

“You know what?” you murmured, voice edged with determination as a small, dangerous smile curled your lips. “I think I’d like to shoot some arrows.”

Scott’s eyes widened, a look of surprise flickering across his face. He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting away before he cleared his throat. 

“Your Majesty, I—” he started, hesitation written in every line of his posture.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head as if considering his reaction. “Is there a problem, Scott?” Your voice remained calm, but there was a sharpness beneath it, the kind that could cut through any excuse he might offer.

Scott’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, struggling to keep his composure. “I, uh, I don’t believe it’s wise, Your Majesty,” he murmured carefully, his voice almost too soft, too placating. “Perhaps… a walk in the gardens or a relaxing moment in the music room instead? Or I could—”

“Scott,” you interrupted sharply, crossing your arms over your chest as you leveled him with a pointed look. “Are you refusing your queen?”

The tension between you hung heavy in the air as his shoulders tightened, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the right words to say.

“Of course not, Your Majesty,” he managed finally, though his voice trembled ever so slightly. “It’s just… your safety—”

“My safety,” you echoed dryly, the irritation you had been holding back spilling out now. “Tell me, Scott, how exactly do arrows pose a threat to my safety? Unless I plan on aiming at myself, I believe I’ll be fine.”

His mouth twitched, struggling between his duty to follow orders and the fear of displeasing you. “It’s not the arrows, Your Majesty,” he murmured, choosing his words carefully. “It’s just… we were instructed to keep you... away from—”

“Instructed?” you cut in, incredulity and frustration sharpening your tone. “Instructed to keep me away from what? Activities that make me feel like I have a shred of control over my own life? I can’t even invite Lady, Romanoff, Potts and Maximoff.”

Scott shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the floor as if it held all the answers. “No, Your Majesty, of course not. It’s just—”

“Just what, Scott?” Your gaze was unrelenting, your patience wearing thin. “If you’re so worried about my safety, then be a good valet and stand by as I shoot. Ensure that nothing happens to me, since that is your duty, after all.”

He blinked, clearly caught between his loyalty to the king and his loyalty to you. The silence stretched long, taut and crackling with unspoken defiance. Finally, he exhaled softly, shoulders slumping just a little in reluctant acceptance.

“Very well, Your Majesty,” he said quietly, though his eyes remained wary. “I shall arrange for the equipment to be brought to the archery range. But… might I suggest a different method for alleviating your frustrations?”

You raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a faint smirk as you glanced at him. “Such as?”

“Perhaps a ride through the woods?” he offered quickly, hope lighting up his eyes. “Or I could arrange for a music instructor, or even some time in the library. Anything that would allow you to... relax.”

You let out a soft, humorless laugh. “You think a music lesson or a book will do the trick, do you?”

Scott hesitated but nodded, his voice gentle. “You’ve had a trying few days, Your Majesty. It’s natural to feel… frustrated. But there are ways to—”

“Enough,” you interrupted, your voice firm but not unkind. “I appreciate your concern, but I know what I need. Fetch the equipment. I won’t be persuaded otherwise.”

He sighed softly, bowing his head in reluctant submission. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

You turned away sharply, your gaze fixed on the distant view through the windows. The truth was, this wasn’t just about shooting arrows. It was about the tightness in your chest, the simmering anger beneath your skin, the need to do something other than sit around like a caged bird. Bucky had placed you under watch, yet he refused to see you.

If no one else would let you be free, then you would take what freedom you could. Even if it was just the satisfaction of a well-aimed arrow hitting its mark.

× × × ×

You stood at the archery range, your fingers gently tracing the fletching of an arrow. You could feel every set of eyes on you—Scott’s gaze wary and apprehensive, the handmaids’ murmuring softly amongst themselves, the guards standing at attention with blank faces. But most notable was Captain Rogers, his presence a solid, quiet reassurance, yet even he stood back, watching you like a hawk.

Taking a deep breath, you nocked the arrow, the smooth wood and feather a comforting weight in your hands. You narrowed your gaze, focusing on the target ahead. The world around you blurred, leaving only the taut string and the distant bullseye. And then, with a practiced release, you let it fly.

The arrow sailed through the air with a sharp hiss, striking the target with a satisfying thud. A few inches off-center, but still well within the mark. 

“Not bad,” Steve commented, a hint of admiration in his voice. “For a first shot.”

You turned to him with a raised brow, a glint of amusement in your eyes. “First shot of the day, you mean.” Then, without breaking eye contact, you nocked another arrow, your movements smooth, effortless.

Steve’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. He crossed his arms, stepping closer, though he kept a respectful distance. “Of course. I stand corrected, Your Majesty.”

Scott cleared his throat softly, stepping forward as if to remind everyone of the gravity of the situation. “Your Majesty,” he said, his voice laced with concern, “perhaps it would be best to—”

“To what?” you interrupted, the arrow poised and ready. “Put down the bow and take up knitting? Perhaps have a nice cup of tea and read a dull novel while I bide my time?”

Scott blinked, his lips pressing into a thin line, but he said nothing. Instead, his gaze shifted to Captain Rogers, almost as if hoping for support.

“Let her be, Scott,” Steve murmured, his tone gentle but firm. “If she wants to practice, let her practice.”

With that, you turned your attention back to the target, drawing the string taut. This time, the arrow flew with a deadly precision, landing just shy of the bullseye. A small ripple of approval murmured through the handmaidens, but Scott merely sighed.

You tilted your head, a sly smile curving your lips as you glanced at him. 

“Scott,” you began casually, as if speaking of the weather, “do we keep any paintings of His Majesty around the manor? Perhaps one in full regalia?” Your tone was innocent enough, but the implication hung heavy in the air.

The handmaidens exchanged startled glances, a few stifling giggles behind their hands. Steve’s gaze shifted sharply to you, his lips twitching, but he said nothing, watching the scene unfold with a barely hidden glimmer of amusement.

Scott, however, did not find it amusing in the slightest. His eyes widened slightly, and he straightened, his voice dropping into a low, chiding tone. “Your Majesty, that is not a funny joke.”

“Isn’t it?” You tilted your head, feigning a look of mock surprise. “I find it quite humorous.”

A muscle in Scott’s jaw twitched, but he composed himself quickly, his gaze flickering to Captain Rogers as if asking for assistance.

But Steve merely shrugged, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. “The queen does have a unique sense of humor,” he said lightly, his gaze still on you. “One might even say it’s… refreshing.”

You shot him a grateful glance before nocking yet another arrow, this time releasing it with a force that sent it whistling through the air. The arrow struck the outer ring of the target, and you clicked your tongue, feigning disappointment.

“Perhaps I need more inspiration,” you mused aloud, not bothering to hide the bitterness in your voice. “A better target. Or maybe something a bit more… personal.”

“Your Majesty,” Scott said warningly, stepping forward as if he might dare to take the bow from your hands. “This—”

You turned on him sharply, your expression hardening. “What?” you demanded softly. “This is my one small act of freedom. This range. These arrows. This target. Would you deny me even this?”

Silence fell over the group, thick and uncomfortable. The guards shifted uneasily, glancing at one another, unsure of how to proceed. The handmaidens fidgeted, casting worried looks in your direction. But Steve held his ground, his gaze never leaving you.

Scott swallowed, his eyes darting between you and Steve, then back again. “No, Your Majesty,” he said quietly, his shoulders slumping just slightly. “I would never deny you.”

“Good,” you murmured, lifting the bow again and taking aim, your gaze focused, unyielding. “Then let me have my small comforts, if nothing else.”

And with that, you released the arrow, the force of it reverberating through your arms. It struck the very edge of the target, just shy of missing altogether. You lowered the bow slowly, your heart hammering in your chest as you stared at the arrow, frustration coiling tightly within you.

“Perhaps next time,” you said softly, almost to yourself. “I’ll find a better target.”

Scott said nothing, his silence louder than any reprimand. But as you turned away, your gaze met Steve’s once more, and the warmth in his eyes—unspoken understanding, quiet admiration—was enough to dull the edge of your anger.

× × × ×

“Have you heard?” Lady Leah’s voice, soft but carrying the weight of scandal, broke through the hushed quiet of the drawing room. She leaned forward, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. “They still haven’t consummated.”

Lady Ravonna’s teacup paused halfway to her lips, a delicate brow arching. “The king and queen?” she murmured, as if the very notion were inconceivable. “How do you know?”

Leah’s lips curved into a smug smile. “People talk,” she said simply, glancing sideways at Sharon, who sat rigid, her fingers drumming against the arm of her chair. “And apparently, they talk quite a bit.”

“Seven days,” Lady Maya added softly, her gaze flitting between the women. “A week, and still… nothing?”

A delicate scoff escaped from Sharon’s lips, though her eyes were cold, calculating. “I’m not surprised. Our queen,” she sneered, the title dripping with disdain, “is too busy batting her lashes at Captain Rogers to notice she has a husband.”

The other women exchanged startled glances, shock and intrigue flaring to life in their eyes. Ravonna set her teacup down with deliberate care, her gaze narrowing slightly. “You’re saying there’s something between them?”

“I’m saying there’s enough for people to start talking,” Sharon replied coolly, her voice a low, dangerous purr. “You know how these things start—one whispered word, one lingering glance… and suddenly, there’s a story worth telling.”

Maya’s brow furrowed slightly, a hint of concern crossing her face. “But… the queen and the captain? It seems—”

“Impossible?” Sharon cut in sharply, “Hardly. The way he hovers around her, like she’s some delicate flower in need of protection… the way she looks at him, like he’s the answer to all her problems. It’s disgusting.”

The other women exchanged wary glances, sensing the venom simmering beneath Sharon’s words.

“Sharon, you should be careful,” Leah murmured softly, her gaze darting nervously to the door. “If people hear you speak like this—”

“Like what?” Sharon snapped, her voice laced with bitterness. “Like the queen is nothing more than a conniving bitch?” Her lips curled into a cruel smile, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Because that’s exactly what she is. A lying, manipulative whore who thinks she can just—”

“Sharon!” Maya hissed, glancing around the room frantically. “You can’t say that!”

But Sharon continued, undeterred, her voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “She’s a whore,” she repeated, the word dripping with venom. “Parading herself around like some saint, when she’s got Captain Rogers hanging on her every word. And for what? To make a fool of the king?”

Ravonna shifted uncomfortably, leaning forward to place a calming hand on Sharon’s arm. 

“Sharon, enough,” she murmured firmly, her tone gentle but insistent. “You need to calm down. Words like that will only bring trouble.”

Sharon’s gaze snapped to Ravonna’s, her eyes blazing. “No. Words like that will bring the truth to light. The truth about what she really is.”

“But you don’t know that for sure,” Maya whispered urgently. “It’s all just… whispers. Hearsay.”

Sharon let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Whispers are all we need. Whispers will turn into rumors, and rumors will turn into truths, whether they’re real or not.” She straightened, her gaze steely. “I’ll make sure of it.”

The other ladies exchanged uneasy looks, their faces pale. But it was Leah who spoke up, her voice trembling slightly. “And what if this all backfires? What if the king doesn’t believe it?”

“Then we make sure he does,” Sharon said coldly, “We make sure everyone believes it. Because if she thinks she can just waltz in here and steal everything I’ve worked for… she’s got another thing coming.”

“What exactly are you saying, Sharon? What do you intend to do?” Ravonna frowned, her gaze skeptical.

Sharon’s smile was slow, almost sinister.

“Nothing. For now.” She leaned back in her seat, the picture of composed fury. “The court will tear her apart on its own, once they realize she’s unfaithful. Once they see her for what she truly is.”

“But… how?” Leah asked hesitantly, her brow furrowing. “There’s no proof. No evidence.”

“There doesn’t need to be,” Sharon said dismissively. “People love a scandal. And the more outlandish it seems, the more they’ll believe it.”

“But Sharon,” Ravonna murmured, her voice tight with unease. “You’re playing with fire. If the king finds out—”

“Let him,” Sharon snapped, cutting her off. “Let him see what his perfect queen is really like. A disloyal wife. A disgrace. He’ll thank me in the end.”

They exchanged uneasy glances, none daring to speak, none daring to question further.

Finally, it was Maya who broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “But… what if it backfires?”

“Then it backfires,” Sharon said coolly, shrugging as if it were of no consequence. “But it won’t. Because I’ll make sure it doesn’t.” Her gaze hardened, her expression fierce. “No matter what it takes.”

× × × ×

The grand council chamber in the main palace was abuzz with tension, the air thick with barely restrained impatience and worry. High-ranking noblemen lined the long table, each one glancing nervously at the Dowager Queen as she entered the room with her head held high, her presence alone commanding silence.

Queen Winifred took her seat at the head of the table, her gaze sweeping over the gathered men. Prime Minister Fury, seated directly to her left, leaned forward, his brows knitted in frustration.

“It’s been seven days,” he began, his voice carrying a distinct edge of impatience. “Seven days, Your Majesty, and they still haven’t consummated their marriage.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, voices low but urgent.

Lord Haynesworth, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, spoke up next, his tone carefully measured but no less troubled. “Your Majesty, the lack of consummation is… troubling, to say the least. The kingdom needs stability, and without a legitimate heir, we risk giving dissenters an opening to question the monarchy’s strength.”

“Indeed,” Duke Townsend of Lancaster agreed, his fingers drumming restlessly against the polished wood of the table. “There are already whispers. Rival factions are looking for any sign of weakness, and this... delay is giving them all the ammunition they need. We cannot afford to let them think the crown is vulnerable.”

Queen Winifred’s gaze narrowed slightly as she listened to their concerns, her face a mask of calm composure. She had expected this—expected the panic, the finger-pointing, the thinly veiled attempts to shift blame.

“And without an heir,” Lord Pierce added, his voice rising, “we’re risking more than just whispers. We’re risking civil unrest. There are already reports of some nobles openly questioning whether the king is... able to fulfill his duties.”

Another wave of murmured agreement swept through the chamber, the words laced with anxiety and fear. But Queen Winifred remained impassive, her fingers resting lightly on the arm of her chair.

“Gentlemen,” she said, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade, “you are all acting as if I do not understand why there needs to be an heir.” She leaned forward slightly, her gaze sharp and unyielding.

“You forget that I am the one who secured the throne for my son after the turmoil of his father’s reign. I am well aware of the consequences should there be no successor.”

A strained silence fell over the room as the noblemen shifted uncomfortably in their seats, chided by her words. But it didn’t last long.

“Then what is being done, Your Majesty?” Lord Haynesworth pressed, his voice lower now, but no less insistent. “The queen has failed to... inspire confidence in the king. If this continues, we may have to consider alternate measures.”

A tense murmur followed, the suggestion hanging ominously in the air. Queen Winifred’s gaze turned icy, her eyes boring into the man who dared to voice such a thought.

“Are you suggesting,” she said softly, dangerously, “that we undermine the queen’s position? That we destabilize her standing at court?”

Lord Haynesworth cleared his throat, looking away, but Prime Minister Fury leaned in, his voice grim.

“Your Majesty, we’re suggesting that you take action—swiftly and decisively. It’s clear that Queen Y/N is not—”

“Careful, Fury,” Queen Winifred interrupted, her voice low and lethal. “Choose your next words very carefully.”

The Prime Minister paused, visibly reining in his frustration. “Your Majesty, the queen’s actions have been... questionable. If she cannot perform her duties as a wife, how can we expect her to perform her duties as a queen?”

Another murmur of agreement rose from the table, the men nodding, emboldened by the Prime Minister’s words. But Queen Winifred’s gaze remained cold, calculating.

“There are still three days left before the period of seclusion ends,” she said firmly, cutting through their mutterings. “We will not resort to drastic measures based on impatience and rumors. The queen is more than capable of fulfilling her role, and I will not have her judged prematurely.”

“But Your Majesty—” Duke Townsend began, only to be silenced by a sharp glare from the Dowager Queen.

“Need I remind you all,” she continued icily, “that this entire situation was precipitated by the king’s absence and neglect? My son bears just as much responsibility for this situation, if not more. Do not lay the blame solely at the queen’s feet.”

“Of course not, Your Majesty.” A smooth, honeyed voice cut through the murmur of agreement, drawing all eyes to Lord Carter, seated near the middle of the table. He inclined his head slightly, his expression the picture of respectful deference. “We know the queen is… new to this role. As you said, she has shown great patience. But we must ensure she understands the gravity of her position.”

Queen Winifred’s gaze shifted to him, her expression cooling a fraction. “Are you implying that she does not?”

Lord Carter smiled gently, his fingers tapping lightly on the table in a rhythm that seemed almost contemplative. “Not at all, Your Majesty. I merely suggest that perhaps the queen might benefit from… additional guidance. From those more experienced in navigating the complexities of the court and the expectations that come with the crown.”

His tone was mild, even reasonable, but beneath the surface, there was an undercurrent of something dangerous, something quietly undermining. A subtle criticism wrapped in a layer of politeness, creating ripples of doubt with each carefully chosen word.

“And what sort of guidance would you suggest, Lord Carter?” Winifred asked, her voice deceptively soft.

He spread his hands, a faint smile touching his lips. “Nothing drastic, Your Majesty. Just… an assurance that she understands the full extent of what is at stake. We would not want any misunderstandings to arise, after all.”

Queen Winifred’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded once, her gaze never leaving his. “I see. Well, rest assured, Lord Carter, I will make certain that the queen is fully aware of her responsibilities. And I will remind all of you once again—there are three days left. We will revisit this matter then.”

The subtle warning in her tone was not lost on the gathered men. They shifted uncomfortably, casting uneasy glances at one another.

“Three more days,” she repeated, her gaze sweeping over each of them, daring them to argue. “Until then, I expect every one of you to refrain from spreading further discontent and to let me handle this matter. Is that understood?”

A chorus of reluctant nods and mumbled affirmations followed, but none dared to protest further.

“Good,” Queen Winifred murmured, rising to her feet with regal grace. “Because should any of you take matters into your own hands before the honeymoon period ends, you will find yourselves facing more than just my displeasure.”

With that, she turned on her heel and swept out of the room, leaving the noblemen in stunned silence. As the heavy doors closed behind her, the men exchanged wary looks, unease settling like a shroud over the council chamber.

“She’s defending the queen,” Lord Trenton muttered, disbelief etched into his features. “I never thought...”

Lord Carter, his gaze lingering thoughtfully on the closed doors, smiled faintly, his expression carefully neutral. “Three days,” he repeated softly, his voice carrying a measured tone. “We shall see if the queen can prove herself worthy of that defense.”

“Three days,” Duke Townsend muttered, shaking his head. “She expects us to wait three more days while the court fills with rumors and discontent. This cannot end well.”

“Waiting is no longer a luxury we can afford,” Lord Pierce interjected quietly, his gaze darting toward Lord Carter. “We’re already seeing signs of division among the lower houses. If this continues…”

Prime Minister Fury leaned forward, his voice a low, harsh whisper. “It’s not just the lower houses we need to worry about. Every day without an heir gives the rivals more time to gather support. We need stability now.”

“Then perhaps,” Lord Carter said softly, his tone calm amidst the brewing storm, “it is not the queen we should be questioning.” His words drew curious, cautious glances, and he smiled faintly. “There are two parties in a marriage, after all. If an heir is what we need, perhaps we should be focusing our efforts elsewhere.”

A silence settled over the group, heavy and charged with unspoken meaning.

“You mean the king,” Duke Townsend murmured, a slight frown pulling at his features. “But His Majesty—”

“—Is just as responsible,” Lord Carter finished smoothly, his gaze steady. “We’ve already seen how his absence affects the queen’s standing. Perhaps it is time we remind him of the consequences if he continues to... neglect his duties.”

“Careful, Carter,” Prime Minister Fury warned, his voice laced with tension. “Tread lightly. The queen dowager may have left, but her influence hasn’t. One wrong move, and you’ll have more than the crown’s displeasure to contend with.”

Lord Carter’s smile never wavered, but his eyes held a dangerous glint. “I assure you, Prime Minister, I am well aware of where the true power lies. But if the queen dowager wishes to protect the queen, she must remember that protection does not extend to inaction.”

The men exchanged wary looks, the conversation shifting into murmured agreement. The line had been drawn, the challenge subtly issued. And even as they debated, the weight of Lord Carter’s words lingered in the air, thick with intent and unspoken plans.

Three days. Three days to see if the queen would succeed… or if the cracks in the crown would deepen beyond repair.

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

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

@classicrebound @nommingonfood @greatenthusiasttidalwave @railmesebstan @annawilk

@landoslutmeout @winterslove1917 @missvelvetsstuff @s0kovianwitch

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hello! I just found your blog a couple days ago and I love your stuff!! I like that you mark everything as either being romantic or platonic (as an aromantic, I would like to say you are a saint for doing that) , and all the little pictures and memes bring me immense joy

I was wondering if you could do a platonic alastor x reader where reader makes/made a deal with Alastor. Like full on, sold-their-soul-to-him, no-takesies-backsies kind of a deal.

And like, maybe Alastor doesn't care about them that much at first, but they slowly grow on him? And reader doesn't like alastor that much either, but they have the same dark, chaotic energy and they just sorta click eventually. (and maybe some Rosie in there too??)

Omg you're so sweet for this 😭 Some of the platonic ones are my FAVE! Plus, I get that not everyone is looking for romance 🤧

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

Plus a little Rosie X Reader

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: Cartoonish antics, little bit of violence, Alastor being Alastor, Reader lost their soul

Description: ☝️⬆️

You didn't think Alastor was serious when he said he wanted your soul, who tf does that??

Alastor, that's who, you dummy

To be fair, you totally thought you were going to win but imagine your shock when chains suddenly appeared on you like a leash

Bullshit bullshit bullshit

He has you working at the hotel with Husk and Niffty but you go out of your way to mess things up for him

If you're gonna be his pet then you're going to be a nightmare pet

Maybe he'll decide you're not worth the trouble and give your soul up?? That's a thing that happens right?

So you do little things to fuck with Alastor, big enough to annoy him but subtle enough to be an accident

He wants you to make him tea? Oops!! You've poured salt instead of sugar and now he's choking down salty tea because he's too proud to admit you pulled one over on him

Not him giving you a death glare from over his cup

"How is it~?"

"Delightful."

He wants you to wash the dishes? Fine but you're going to drop and break his favorite mug and every replacement he gets

You're so clumsy

You have to carry his bags?? Fine then-

No, you know what? Niffty can carry the bags she's much more strong and sturdy than she looks

You're no fun

The point is, if Alastor is going to make your life miserable because he owns your soul, you're going to give it right back

You don't even make the punishments fun for him

He doesn't stop seeing you as his worst deal until your both suddenly faced against the same foe

Some idiot Vox hired to pick a fight with Alastor and for some reason Alastor picked you to handle it

Watching you play with your prey reminded Alastor of himself, giving him a few good chuckles

By the time you were done, your opponent had practically pissed themselves to death, terrified by your maniacal nature

After the fight while you're being patched up, you and Alastor share a few laughs as you retell what happened

And then you two laugh about Vox

And then you two laugh about how your opponent died

Nobody else is laughing you sick fucks

There's a change in your dynamic after that day, the two of you becoming partners in crime

Those pranks and punishments you two used to use on each other? Now you're combining forces to use them on everyone else

Everyone thought things would be better once you two put aside your differences

But this is so much worse

They find excuses to just send you two out of the hotel so they can have some peace and quiet

You just feed off each other's worst energies and keep making each other worse

The only mitigating force for you two is Rosie, she's the only one who can get you two to slow it down

"Alright! Hold it!"

Not the two of you being scolded by her, looking like two little kicked puppies because Rosie won't let you two blow up a shop

But the owner is so sleazy!!!

No, you two can't pretend to be repairmen so you can break into people's homes and destroy their tvs

She won't even let you write fake fan mail to Vox, slowly gaining his trust as his number one fan only to shatter his heart in some devastating and public way

Wtf is wrong with you two

She just knows how best to handle the two of you and doesn't really mind how twisted the two of you get to be

She finds it adorable

You are besties by that point, an unstoppable force that wreaks havoc on anything in your path

Oh and sweet Rosie is there too

Holding the leashes for you two

You almost forget he owns your soul and so does he most days, the two of you seeing each other more and more as equals

Or at the very least, friends 🧡

Maybe you've earned your soul back

Nah, keep it

This was so fun! I really hope you liked it!

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Some of @render-me-usless' Fav Fics!

If you want to make me a list let me know in IM. You can do whatever you want, fave fics, fav tropes or even check out the pending asks page and fill one of those.

Where to Search for Snow by suburbanmotel

(1/1 I 8,954 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles and his Gigantic Repressed Feelings accidentally affect the weather. A lot. Like. A lot.

//

  “It’s snowing, Stiles,” says Derek.

Stiles looks up. He nods. “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

Derek looks at him. “It’s snowing, Stiles. In your bedroom.”

Stiles and the Seven Wolves by SylvieW

(1/1 I 10,421 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles is Snow White, Kate is the Evil Queen, and when Chris the Huntsman doesn't kill him, he runs off to live with seven werewolves.

Somewhere to Start by Lissadiane

(1/1 I 33,552 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles has always known that he isn't quite human - the plant life that tends to sprout around him whenever he gets upset or excited gives it away. He's never really fit in among the regular people in Beacon Hills and is determined to wait it out, go to college, and find somewhere to belong. He's forced to abandon those plans, however, after he desperately agrees to enter into an arranged marriage to save his father's life.

An arranged marriage with an angry, sometimes furry dude with trust issues. It's all very Beauty and the Beast, without the singing candlesticks.

Waiting by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(2/2 I 81,018 I Teen I Sterek)

Not wanting to think on it too much, Stiles took a step forward and passed his hand between the bars, moving the bleeding side closer to Derek’s mouth.

“Not too close, he bites.”

Stiles snatched his hand away just as Derek had been about to lick at it. The snarl he got in response was not comforting.

“He what?” Stiles asked nervously, turning to Deaton.

The man looked a little amused. “Don’t worry, only if he doesn’t like you.”

“Well, he probably hates me, now!” Stiles insisted, turning back to Derek.

He looked extremely displeased.

Three Marks by sanam

(8/8 I 113,736 I Mature I Sterek)

"And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off— And suddenly it was done. Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt."

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

A Desperate Arrangement by mikkimouse

(25/25 I 115,506 I Explicit I Sterek)

"I'm sorry, I believe there's something wrong with my hearing," Stiles said. "Because I could have sworn you just told me you set up a betrothal agreement with the Hales. A betrothal agreement involving me. Me."

Scott smiled his easygoing smile and nodded, which told Stiles no, he hadn't misheard a damn thing.

After seven years of lengthy negotiations, the treaty between the Hales and the Argents has fallen apart and the two countries fell into war.

Months later, there's an uneasy truce, thanks to the intervention of King Scott McCall, but it won't last. In a desperate attempt to maintain the peace, the Hales sign a treaty with the McCalls to marry Prince Derek to Prince Stiles Stilinski, King Scott's brother.

In the history of the world, there have been many better ideas.

Black and Blue by charlotteinlace

(50/50 I 209,549 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles knows what he should be doing, finding a good Dom and seeing a few dozen therapists. But that shit can wait, right now he's got a gang to infiltrate and a murderer to find. A murderer who killed his father.

[theoldgodsaredisappointed]

Idk y'all like at this point it just feels like there's nowhere to go for long time mtg fans who are more interested in the game's original settings and stories.

Half of all sets in a release block going forward are UB, and now UB is legal across all formats? Grand, sprawling stories like the Phyrexian invasion are given a set (and a shitty half If they're lucky) to resolve, when they would've been given a whole release block to themselves in the past.

Nothing against those who enjoy UB, I'm not gonna stand here and pretend I didn't buy the fallout edh decks. If you like an IP and it comes to magic it's exciting! If it brings in new players that's great! But at a certain point what's the true priority here?

Old players generally aren't interested in most or every UB set. Players drawn in by their fave IP being in magic are a lot less likely to invest in the next sets. More casual players often can't afford the premium usually placed on UB sets. Wizards has to pay out God knows how much in licensing fees to monster companies with more money than them like marvel. Clearly this isn't sustainable.

But at this point it truly and genuinely feels like magic is not interested in telling it's own stories in its own unique settings. It doesn't care about giving it's writers the time to actually Write. It's more concerned with original settings staying "on theme" then actually feeling like fleshed out worlds with deep and complex lore.

I'll be shocked if magic Doesn't become nothing more then an IP blender game within the next 5 years. And if it does become that then it'll be an even quicker limp into the coffin.

Draft is dead. The future of EDH is uncertain at best. Standard is basically just for competitive players and tourney grinders hoping to make money. UB is going to dilute any remnants of originality and writing magic could be bothered with.

But hey the hasbro stock holders are happy right? Number go up? Number go up good? Damn it all for short term profits. Who cares what happens in the long run.

(I want to clarify that I do not bash the writing and lore of magic to bash the People writing it. Rather the Company that does not properly support them and give them the room to nurture their stories. I don't even necessarily want to heap all the blame on wizards. I have no idea how much hasbro forces their hand. What a slap in the face to see magic have some of its most successful sales ever with lotr and bloomburrow and Still face massive layoffs. This. Isn't. Sustainable.)

These are my opinions I'm venting

[mondaymelon]

— 𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲! ♡

໒꒱ || :feat~ xiao, kazuha, heizou, wanderer x gn!reader:

⤷ a handful of my faves since it’s my birthday!! ♡ (july 27th pspspps send me bday wishes i promise i dont bite)

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @solxima, @poweredbyghostadventures, @haliyamori

⤷ how they confess their love to you.♡

Is it really love that XIAO’s feeing? He can’t be sure, especially when he can’t even identify the complicated emotions that are making his heart flutter.

However, there’s no time to sit here pondering and examining, not when his heart longs for you at the very mention of your name, or how he just can’t seem to get the thought of you out of his head. He has to find a way to express what he’s experiencing, and soon, before the three words he dreads to speak escapes his lips against his will.

“I love you.”

You’d think it’d be such an easy task to complete, yet the adeptus grows uneasy at the mere thought of it. Perhaps denying him is the worst possible solution, but what should happen if you grow wary of him? Would you stray from his occasional touch, and fail to meet his eye? Xiao can’t risk finding out, yet by the day his quickened heartbeat seems to be growing all the louder.

“Ah, Xiao.” A faint smile crosses your face as you glimpse the familiar male at his usual spot, standing alone by the balcony railing, his arms crossed over his toned chest. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes,” he speaks slowly, wanting to prolong this moment - to see your warm smile just a fraction longer. “There is something… I must tell you.”

You cock your head, letting out a little laugh upon seeing his troubled expression. “There’s no need to be nervous, go ahead!”

Would there be a need to if you knew what he was to ask of you?

He shakes his head lightly as to clear his meddling thoughts, his hair ruffled from the breeze. “I…I don’t know how to put this, but I-“ His breath catches in his throat, and he forces a swallow. “You’re all I think about, all I dream about. I’d do anything and everything for you. I love you, so please… let me call you mine. I just, I…” Xiao can’t even begin to explain what he’s feeling right now, or give a valid explanation for his actions. His gaze doesn’t miss the shocked expression that flits across your face, his own eyes hesitant to meet yours. But they do, upon hearing the melodic sound of your voice uttering his name.

“Xiao, I… archons, do you know how happy you’ve just made me?” Your words are breathy as you take in a shallow inhale.

He blinks once, and suddenly, you’re in his arms, pressing against him like you never want to let him go.

Warm.

In the pale moonlight, the smile that graces his lips is slight, but catches your attention all the same.

“Perhaps I was made to love you.” ♡

Yes, he’s heard tales of this adoration before, and however unfamiliar, KAZUHA as to convey these feelings before he’s unable to contain them a second longer.

Perhaps that was why he had unconsciously invited you out for a quiet stroll around Guyun Stone Forest, where the Crux was currently anchored. It was an innocent request, but the male did have some ulterior motives in mind - perhaps you’d understand if you read one of the many poems he’s written while thinking about you… lips pressed together in thought, a quill in his dominant hand as the other sat beneath his chin, the dim candlelight illuminating the focused expression on his face, his cheeks just slightly flushed with red…

Ah, but there’s no chance in Celestia that he’d ever show you his works of you. Those words are for him to read, just like what he’ll say to you tonight is for only you to witness.

Kazuha takes you by the hand, his touch warm in the cool night air. His bandaged fingers intertwine with yours, and while you don’t make a move to retract, his grip on you tightens all the same.

“Kazuha? Why’re…” While your companion has always been rather open to displaying his physical touch, he had never been this daring before, to take your hand and not even uttering a word about the manner. Something about his air was different this evening, but it was difficult to put a finger on it, especially with the distracting smile he sent your way that seemed to make your mind go blank.

“Hm? Is there something wrong?” He can’t possibly ask a question with that charming face of his and expect to receive a proper answer. Instead, you just sheepishly tilt your head to where the two of you’s hands meet. At that, he lets out a low chuckle, the gleam in his eyes proving his amusement. He doesn’t know what has given him this amount of confidence, how he’s become bold enough to pull you closer… perhaps it was the sake Beidou offered to him earlier? That’s the only possible explanation.

Gently, like the warm breeze, he lifts your hand, swiftly getting down on a knee as he brushes his velvet lips against your skin.

“Have I made my infatuation towards you apparent yet? I love you.”

The moment seems to pause time, everything, all of it, but you can sense how your lips move despite how you’re still frozen, “I love you too, Kazuha.”

Ah, the way his name rolls of your tongue so naturally sends his heart racing.

“It’s always, always been you.” ♡

As much as he’ll try to deny it, WANDERER, who doesn’t even have a heart to ponder these sensations, knows that what you’re doing to him is something he doesn’t wish to admit.

It’s unfair, really, how easily you’re able to sway his resolve. Every part of you is simply infuriating, from the way you say his name, to the way you gaze at him, it makes his face warm, and seemingly nothing he does is able to prevent that. And it’s strange, how he can still experience these… affections, even with his missing core. If it makes any sense, you bring a sort of humanity to him.

It was a philosophy he had crafted for himself - that there were certain aspects of what made one human, requirements that the puppet had been unable to fulfill. That is, until you appeared, because you made him feel something he didn’t want to confess, and bearing… love… made him like you.

At the same time, it scares him. Love is a foreign concept, if anything, and he’s constantly afraid that he’ll make a mistake that’ll cause you to leave him. He can’t let that happen - he can’t even imagine his life without your warmth now. Ah, but if he told you how he really felt, would that keep you by his side? He’s paranoid, yet desperate for your affection, and a confession seems to be his only solution.

A letter bearing your name arrives at your doorstep, the only evidence of the sender being a small sparrow perched upon the paper, chirping insistently until you had taken the envelope.

Meet me at our usual spot at dusk.

Those seven words are all that’s written on the blue-rimmed parchment, with no signature to identify the individual, yet you let out an amused laugh. There’s only one companion with this amount of audacity, and you can already picture his scowl as he wrote these words.

“Hello?” You tentatively call out his name into the evening air, glancing around yet seeing no sign of him. There’s a great gust of wind, and there he appears, donning his signature ridiculously large hat, the dangling charms on it swaying with the breeze.

“There you are.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you smile. “For a second, I thought you were going to ditch me for the fun of it.” Truthfully, you wouldn’t put it past him.

He ignores the comment. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You’re slightly startled by his suddenly serious tone, but nod along. “Alright…?”

“I like you.”

“…Sorry?” How strange, it seems like today your ears have decided to play tricks on you?

A light scowl makes its way upon his face as he visibly grits his teeth. “Augh, fuck it- I said, I love you, idiot.”

There’s no mistaking the flush that’s descended upon his expression, dusting the tips of his ears and his cheeks. “Uh?” You sound stupid, but that’s the only sound you’re able to utter as you stare at the male in utter shock.

“I’m not repeating myself three times.”

You shake your head, frantic as you can feel your heart rate increasing. “No- I heard you the first time it’s just that- I…” it’s hard to explain what you’re feeling right now, so you don’t, instead wrapping your arms around and pulling the two of you closer.

He seems to melt in your hold.

“I can’t even begin to fathom my life without you, so please, stay by my side.” ♡

(a/n) ive grown old. ive… ripened

[ecoterrorist-katara]

I just saw your post about Toph being the one that brings out Katara’s inner (gremlin) child and my god you’re so right. Katara actually gets to just be a kid when it comes to Toph, she gets to be petty and actually really mean sometimes (saying the stars are beautiful and then telling Toph it’s too bad she can’t see them was CRAZY) but she also gets to pull a scam and go to a spa with her (and then wash three girls down a river after Toph dumped them in there for being mean to her). And I love that we get to see those sides of her that Toph drags out.

Contrast that with the like one time she was kind of mean to Aang in the waterbending scroll episode and had to immediately apologize to him and promise she wouldn’t try to learn from the scroll anymore. Toph brings out what Katara is really like when she gets to just be someone’s friend (and even sister figure) and when she isn’t being forced in one way or another to take on a motherly role for them. (Side note but this is also why I wish we’d gotten to see Katara and Suki interact one on one because I feel that would’ve been another relationship that just allows Katara to be a teenage girl and relate to another girl who would probably understand her pretty well)

Anyway I love your blog and I hope you have a lovely day!

YES absolutely agree w you! Katara is unhinged when it comes to Toph but in like, a not very serious way. One of my fave things about Katara and Toph is how Toph is the first person to reject Katara’s caretaking unequivocally in a way that asserts that they’re on equal ground. it’s not a babysitter situation because like you said, Katara decided to be bratty right back!

And conversely, I think it’s funny that Katara, who is super kind and compassionate and unequivocally the heart of the group, is the person who’s rudest to Toph LOL. Toph really does not want people to treat her like she’s made out of glass, and one of the ways she does that is by being brash to other people, but Katara is the only one who really meets her on that level of sheer belligerence, you know? But Katara can also be pretty thoughtful about what Toph does need, like saying exactly the right thing in Tales of Ba Sing Se. They're just so in sync, yet set each other off. It’s beautiful.

I absolutely agree with you re: Suki too. I want them to swap fighting tips and talk about makeup and other #justgirlythings. But I also want Suki to demonstrate to Katara that leadership and caretaking can happen in combination, because Suki held that joint role with the Kiyoshi Warriors. Katara has so much leadership potential and I think Suki could have been a great mentor to her in that regard. (Uh oh, now I ship Sukitara oops)

I’m honoured you like my blog and I hope you have a lovely day too!!!

[sanji-piss-hell]

ZOSAN FIC REC

Here is some of my fave zosan fics. Some of these I read years ago and so I don't fully remember what theyre about but they we're good enough that I still have strong emotional attachments when I see the name. Most of them are things I've read recently. Literally all I do all day is homework and have an app tts fanfics to me like an audio book so there's quite a few of recs here. I am not the best at summeries but just trust me bro these are GOOD SHIT. I only provide the best. What I consider a good fic: - Takes place in the one piece world (I don't like modern aus) - Characters stay in character or if they do have changes from their canon portrayal there is a justifiable reason from within the story. - Solid story telling and arcs (even the shorter fics) - The Zosan dynamic is kept mostly how it is in canon they fight and bicker. (I know some like when they're soft with eachother like a loving married couple. You won't find much of that here) - Some of these have pervy sanji, que nose bleeds and ogling. With that out of the way here's the list!! Now to my fave zosan fic of all time and ironically enough the only fic taking place in a modern setting: Life is fine series. TW: Drug abuse, heavy angst, depression I have reread this twice and forced a friend to read it too. It is so amazing not just for the zosan but for the genuinely good story telling. You follow zoro reeling from his sudden loss of relationship with Sanji and falling down a...Well uh, path. It's fucked it's dark it's depressing and its fucking riviting. Alot of the time reading this you're just like WHY DID SANJI LEAVE HIM WHAT IS GOING ON??? Honestly I need to reread this again. Onto softer fics to heal your heart after that one: Honor in limits, his strengths in weakness By Hawksbrood

“Fucking hell cook, what happened to you?” Zoro demanded, voice low so as not to disturb the others sleeping nearby.

Sanji rolled his eyes. “What do you think? I told you we got in a fight earlier.”

“Not that, your fucking feet!”

The cook snarled at that, crushing his cigarette in his teeth. “What the fuck do you mean, my feet? They’re just feet!”

Zoro’s eyes widened, looking at the bruised flesh before him. This wasn’t that.

This was just so good and cute. I appreciate watching zoro appreciate sanji. They take care of eachother but in a way where theyre both still them yeah know? I appreciate how sanji is written letting himself be vulnerable but understanding that he's always gonna be crass cause it's just a part of who he is.

come on, come on (turn a little faster) by donutsandcoffee

The one where everyone thinks they’re dating, Sanji is oblivious, and Zoro takes everything in stride.

Sometimes a love story can go in reverse.

I reread this one recently and it's just soft and sweet. I like watching sanji flounder around. The gay panic is great.

a complete guide to falling in love by ThousandSunny Sanji was trained in the Bridal Arts; this does not go unnoticed by the rest of his crew. I read this like 3 years ago and I dont remember much but I do remember loving it!

Part Timer By 8ball Sanji really, really doesn't want to give Zoro a job at his restaurant. Zoro doesn't really even want to work there in the first place, but, well, there’s this thing with Sanji, and this thing with feelings and the whole thing is pretty damn stupid all together. Zeff just wants grandkids. He’s too old for this bullshit anyways. I am sure everyone knows 8ball very well they're like zosan famous but still just in case this one is really fucking good. Also read this 3 years ago so I don't remember much but I consider this a zosan classic. Onto the rated R Grand Buffet by asyndese Drunk fic!! If there was one thing Zoro knew, it was that you could always trust Sanji's inclinations to do a beautiful 180 as soon as he was drunk. Luckily, Zoro was more than equipped to handle it. I spent. 30 minutes. Trying to find this fic again because that's how much I loved it. It altered my brain chemistry. Sanji getting a nose job during sex is just. aaaaaaaaa. Read it. Cannot suggest enough. Horrors not yet known by Trixree

Sanji doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, is the thing. Of all the times he has seen Zoro shirtless (in battle, mostly) he just… never noticed. The problem is, once he has noticed, Sanji can’t seem to stop noticing. And neither can anyone else.

In which Zoro has a nipple piercing and Sanji has a Problem.

I recently reread this and the first time I read it I didn't really get the whole gender sanji shit. Now though???? Yeah another fic that rewired my brain chemistry. This fic opened doors for me it exposed me to a new world. Also sanji gay panic is in here and I live for that. It can be pretty raunchy (love that too) Three rounds with a tiger by KobochaKitsune Another drunk Fic!! also in modern times damn maybe I lied sdklfj

Liquid courage, drunken decisions, terrible euphemisms, and texts from last night, or: how to think entirely with the booze (and your dick) for once.

Or: By the time Sanji got to the party, everyone was already drunk.

I read this 3 years ago (theres a trend going on can you tell??) It also rewired my brain chemistry (from this point on just assume all of these nsfw fics rewired my brain chemistry each of these opened doors for me. This one opened the doors to bottom zoro.) Fucking 20k words of just pwp. I dont even know how the author did that bro like damn. Nature of things by stark_black Tw: Sex work and prostitutes When the Sunny docks, Sanji and Zoro sometimes seek out relief in some not so savory places. After crossing paths in town on more than one occasion, the two find they have a lot more in common than they would like to admit. I hunted this down for like fucking hours a couple of weeks ago because it was that good. Stark_Black has a fucking library worth of zosan fics this one is a classic to me. But if you want more content check out his other fics I think they have like over 100 zosan its kinda insane. Coregasm by Yakarmi

Sanji discovers that sometimes, Zoro has orgasms while he lifts.

-----

“You…” Sanji trailed off, gaze turning down as he licked his lips. Pink tongue darting out nervously. “You orgasm when you exercise?”

Zoro clenched his jaw. Shrugged. Trying to act nonchalant.

“Sometimes.”

Sanji’s eye went wide, and like his mouth had suddenly been liberated from his brain, blurted out, “that’s so fucking hot,” before clamping his hands over his mouth. His cigarette fell from his mouth, bouncing soundlessly on the ground.

Bro bestie, the way this put me on nose bleed Sanji. Perv sanji. I need that gif thats like mmm cause man this is good. Ending this fic rec with a BANG we have

Contingencies and Congruencies by PeaceSignDisasterBi

Somewhere between finishing the bottles of alcohol and mugs of beer, the crew comes together to create a contingency plan for something that may-or-may-not-happen during their time on the Grand Line and beyond. Usopp thinks it's more likely than bumping into zombies, Zoro wants to stay out of this, Sanji is just going with the flow, and Nami may or may not keep things legally binding and above board with consistent consensual acquiescence. Robin finds it all amusing.

The damn chart stays in the locked drawer in her desk, split into three neat categories: Devil Fruit Powers, Science, and Magic. Each represents whatever they're hit with but also categorizes the amount of self-control the person has during.

AKA: 5 times Zoro and Sanji had to help each other as Consensual Helpers of Dubious Consent + 1 Time There Was Nothing Dubious At All

Ok this is 152k long its pretty insane. It regoes over the arcs so throughly so carefully that I literally had to question my memory because I havent experienced alot of these arcs in a while (it's one of the reasons im rewatching one piece). I will say despite how amazing and well written this is I had a hard time comprehending sometimes. now I was sick at the time of reading this so that might be why but sometimes the way things were phrased felt like yoda talking. I think it's just me though. I'm not used to big words :( And thats a wrap!! These arent even all the ones I wanted to include I have at least 20 more off the top of my head but I'll save that for another day. I hope you find joy in these fics Like i did I'll def do another one of these as cause I didnt even touch my sanji centric fics or germa 66 or just in general the best sanji fanfic writers. (Mentioned some of them like 8ball, thousand sunny and donuts and coffee.) Best of luck to yall and let me know what you think!

[onyour-right]

My thoughts on the season finale. First off, a big shout out to The Acolyte for making me (someone with literally no former knowledge of star wars and what its about) actually interested in the universe and curious to know more.

My girl Mae. I love her, she did nothing wrong ever. Her sacrificing her memories of her sister in order for Osha to achieve what *she* wants was beautiful and such a 180 moment Also, the fight scene between them? Exquisite. The way she set up Sol? I could have kissed her on the lips for that. I need for her to be happy though :3

Qimir. My best boy. He is so down bad for Osha and its actually hilarious. They're already a married couple your honour, they protect, they bicker, THEY TOUCH (that thumb touch was just so intimate holy fuck; also when they held hands at the end). His fight scenes with Sol? Fucking immaculate. That moment when he took off his helmet to fight? MUAH. Chef's kiss. His reaction to his old Master? :( I wanted to give him a hug.

Osha. My other girl. I love her, she can do no wrong either. I love that we saw her anger, her fighting abilities, also that she forgave and apologised to her sister at the end which was such a poignant and beautiful moment. I'm glad she's giving into her desires. Her and Qimir as a couple are gonna be a force to be reckoned with (did you see what I did there; please clap for me).

Sol. His ending was poetic justice but gosh, I still feel a bit sad over him. The fact he still couldn't say that his actions 16 years ago were wrong and steeped in bias was so f*cking frustrating.

Vernestra. She can choke. Qimir and Osha are gonna come for her ass in season 2, mark my words.

Shoutout to the senator!!! He came and spoke and he is now one of my faves.

My prediction for season 2 (i'm manifesting it): we'll explore Qimir's background and why he was so triggered by seeing that green headed twot. Qimir and Osha are gonna fully be in their lovers era, training, causing mayhem, some kissy kissy too. We could also potentially see our duo trying to save Mae because i dont trust she's safe.

[zhonglis-little-slvt]

So.. Zhongli.....

If he's a dragon hybrid as many depict him to be, seeing as he's the former Geo Archon, with much power. Would he be able to control himself and his draconic nature in the heat of the moment with a small fragile human?

Two thick cocks stood before you, slightly weighed down from their length. You gulped, excitement and fear rising in you as you looked up at your lover from where you kneeled below him.

You were sat neatly on a silken pillow before the former Archon, while the male in question sat tall on the couch in front of you. His lithe index finger poked at your throat before his finely trimmed claw slowly and gently made it's way up to your chin to tilt your face toward his own, forcing your gaze to meet his amber eyes.

"What's wrong little thing?" He asks with a dark chuckle. Your legs shift below you on the pillow as you try to distract your nerves from becoming too much to handle, unknowingly avertingnur gaze.

With a snap of his fingers he regains your attention. Leaning down he places a festher-light kiss to your plush lips. "Talk to me sweetheart." He said, his tone slightly softer, but you could still hear the authority behind his words which made you shiver in anticipation.

"Not sure if I can do it." You murmured quietly. You had worried about having your first time in general but now? Seeing the length, the girth. Knowing how much it must hurt to stretch that far. You were intimidated to say the least.

He huffed out a soft laugh. "You can. I'll guide you through and we'll go gentle at first." The promise in his words had your heart melting. You knew you loved this man and you trusted him, so all you had to do was trust him one more time. "O-okay. Going slow. Got it." You replied, more so to yourself than to him.

He smiled as he watched you near his lengths with your mouth slightly agape. Hesitantly, you licked your lips before putting the tip of the first cock in your mouth. Just the tip was wide enough to have you open your mouth more than you had anticipated. A grunt sounded from above, making you look up at Zhongli to see his amber eyes... glowing?

Just as you were about to pull off to ask about his condition he suddenly spoke. "Fuck that feels so good. Think you can take me back a bit more baby girl?" You still wanted to ask but seeing the need written on his face made you quickly decide to hold off. After a quick breath through your nose you leaned forward a bit further, taking more of him into your mouth. Your gaze fell to his body as you saw what you were doing to him.

As pleasure consumed the former Archon, his arms turned black while his veins glowed a vibrant gold. The tips of his chocolate brown hair began to glow a soft orange hue as you saw his trimmed claws get slightly longer. Seeing the effect you had on him only empowered your actions, giving you a sense of pride as you began to lightly suck on the thick appendage the laid upon your tongue.

His hand raked through your hair as a growl rumbled through his chest. "Such a good girl- taking that cock." Your eyes roamed back up to his fave to see his pupils had turned to slits. His sharpened features had you rubbing your thighs together in need as you began to feel wet. "Can you take more? Just a little more? For me." He asked, his velvety smooth voice had you leaking as your tongue licked over a particularly thick vein it had found as you slid further down his shaft, causing his head to fall back with a loud moan.

His second cock was now in your face as you suckled on the first. Feeling a bit bad for ignoring the poor thing for so long you reached up to thumb at the tip. A sharp gasp had you looking up to see him arching his back with his head on the back of the couch. "Oh, oh my- Such a good girl." He praised.

He took your freehand and sat it upon his thigh as he held it while he smiled down at you, his fangs on full display for his special girl. "Look at you, making Daddy feel good like this." At that, you gagged and made him moan. "Oh? Was that a gag? Did I cause that?" He asked in a teasing tone.

Averting your gaze you focused back on his second cock as you smeared his precum around the tip. "Hey, good girls don't ignore their Daddy." He said as he made you look at him by lightly pulling at your hair, making ue softly whine. "You like that don't you?" Not able to pull away you huffed on his cock and sucked a bit harder which had him releasing your hair and squeasing your hand. "Oh yes you do!"

After you had gotten used to his length you began to bob your head and pump your small fist around him. His jaw dropped as his eyes rolled. You would be smirking with pride if your mouth wasn't full at the moment.

Your panties were soaked as was the pillow below you, and you knew he was close from how his thighs tensed. Tightening your grip on his second length you stroked him quickly and after a few swift pumps, you were gulping down dragon cum while more spilled over his abdomen.

You dropped your hands to your lap but your head remained in place as he came down your throat, the warm, white liquid stopping after a moment. Once his orgasm was finished you gave him one final suck before pulling away with a heavy pant. Getting proper breaths of air for the first time in minutes you took slow breaths with a prideful grin, you just made a dragon cum. Correction- you just made your dragon cum!

After he caught his breath, Zhongli sat up to look at you. "Hah- You ready?" He asked with a devilish grin. "Ready? I just finished?" You said confused. He only laughed

"You had me finish, now it's my turn." He growled out, sounding nearly feral as he leaned down from the couch and pinned you to the floor.

His forked tongue slithered over your collarbone and up your neck before delving into your mouth. You moaned softly as his teeth nipped at your lips whilst he explored your wet cavern. He was rough yet gentle and his actions have you writhing beneath him.

"Shh, patient. You'll get what you want soon enough." He soothed as his hand snaked down your body to pull off your drenched panties. His fingers slid over your folds, gathering your arousal before he found your clit. "Looks like someone's excited, hm?" He hummed into your ear lowly, resulting in a soft moan from you. He toyed with your clit, pinching, pulling, circling it with his claws, anything that had you arching your back.

Pressing a finger into your tight entrance, he began to thrust his digit in and out of you repeatedly. A lewd squelching sound resonating in the air as he adds another clawed finger overtime, stretching your dampened hole to take him. "Feeling good down there?" He asks? A teasing lilt to his voice. You can only nod, not trusting your voice.

Slowly he drags his fingers over your g-spot and pulls them from your core. A wet 'pop' sounding through the room. He takes the slick arousal from your leaking pussy and smears it along his cocks, sticking himself up before pressing both his tips to your core.

"Daddys little girl ready to take him?" He asks. You knew the question however, was rhetorical, as he already began pushing both lengths into your waiting hole, making you cry in ecstasy. "Oh my- Daddy!"

Your head fell back, expecting to be met with the hard floor but instead was met with the soft pads of your lovers fingertips. "That's it baby, let go." He sweetly cooed as he continued to push into your small hole.

Panting, you felt the wood peeling as your nails scratched at it. You felt as if he was trying to rip you in two in the most pleasurable way possible. It wasn't until you felt him stop moving did you breathe somewhat normally again. His tips were pressed against your cervix, hitting the deepest parts of your pussy and filling you full.

Without warning he began rutting into you. Thrusting into your small body as his clawed hands gripped your hips and kept them firmly held against the floor. His eyes were slides and his tongue was out. He looked like he wasn't even there anymore!

Despite your minor concerns for what was happening, you couldn't do a thing. Moans and gasps slipped from your lips as his twin cocks pummeled your insides without mercy.

♡▪︎•◇•▪︎♡▪︎•◇•▪︎♡▪︎•◇•▪︎♡▪︎•◇•▪︎♡▪︎•◇•▪︎♡

You laid on the floor panting as you came for the nth time that night. Zhongli was blissed out of his mind at the moment, his eyes were rolled back as he laid his head upon your chest. Everything was so peaceful despite the feeling of the pulsing in your core from his cocks still being buried balls deep inside you. But at the moment, you didn't care.

Everything was warm, you were content, and the moment he woke up- you knew you would be getting the best aftercare knowing to dragonkind.

This was a request but to anyone else who got this far. I hope you enjoyed it you fellow sluts <3

[geotjwrs]

Could you maybe do one where Jenna and Reader are working on Wednesday season 1 (They’re just friends but both like each other and haven’t told the other yet) and Percy (or literally anyone else) flirts with Jenna a bit, which makes Reader jealous. Jenna doesn’t notice at all how jealous Reader gets but their friends notice and eventually when Jenna is talking about Reader saying she wishes Reader felt the same way she feels about her the friends just straight up tell her about how jealous Reader gets, calling Jenna just blind cause it was very very obvious.

Jenna realises and confronts reader about it, not sure what could happen from there but yeah

Anyways I love your work you’re like one of my fave writers on here!! ❤️❤️

can't you see me

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The set of "Wednesday" was buzzing with the usual hustle and bustle of filming. Jenna and Y/N had become close friends since the start of production. They shared jokes, late-night talks, and a deep connection that neither dared to label as more than friendship.

During a break, Percy Hynes White strolled over to Jenna, exuding his usual charm. Y/N watched from a distance, his stomach twisting as Percy leaned in closer, his body language oozing flirtation.

"Hey, Jenna," Percy said with a grin, his eyes locked on hers. "After this, how about dinner? I know a great place."

Jenna giggled, twirling a strand of her hair. "That sounds nice, Percy. Maybe we can invite the whole cast."

Percy's smile faltered slightly, but he nodded. "Sure, the more, the merrier."

Jenna and Percy continued to chat, their conversation filled with laughter and playful touches. Y/N clenched his fists, trying to appear unaffected. Emma, who was nearby, gave him a knowing look.

"Dude, you're like an open book," Emma whispered.

"What are you talking about?" Y/N muttered, eyes still fixed on Jenna and Percy.

Emma rolled her eyes. "You're jealous. It's obvious. Why don't you just tell Jenna how you feel?"

Y/N sighed, frustration evident in his voice. "It's not that simple, Emma. We're just friends. She doesn't feel that way about me."

Emma smirked. "If you say so. But I think you're the one who's blind here."

Over the next few days, Y/N started to distance himself from Jenna. He avoided long conversations, kept his interactions professional, and immersed himself in his work. Jenna noticed the change and felt a pang of hurt and confusion.

"Y/N, do you want to run lines?" Jenna asked one afternoon, approaching him with her usual bright smile.

Y/N glanced up, forcing a smile. "Actually, I need to go over my scene with the director. Maybe later?"

Jenna's smile faded slightly, but she nodded. "Sure, later then."

As the days passed, Y/N's distance became more pronounced. He spent more time alone, listening to music in his trailer, and avoiding any situation where he might see Jenna with Percy.

One evening, after filming wrapped, Jenna decided she couldn't take it anymore. She headed to Y/N's trailer, determined to find out what was going on. She found him inside, earphones in, listening to Clairo's "Bags."

"Y/N," Jenna said, knocking softly before entering.

Y/N looked up, quickly pulling out his earphones. "Hey, Jenna. What's up?"

Jenna took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "We need to talk."

Y/N's smile faded, concern flickering in his eyes. "Is everything okay?"

Jenna nodded, stepping closer. "No, it's not. You've been so distant lately. Did I do something wrong?"

Y/N sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not you, Jenna. It's just... complicated."

Jenna frowned, frustration bubbling up inside her. "Complicated? You've been avoiding me, Y/N. We used to be so close, and now you barely talk to me."

Y/N looked away, the weight of his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "I just needed some space."

"Space?" Jenna echoed, her voice rising. "From what? From me?"

Y/N clenched his fists, feeling the anger and frustration boiling over. "From seeing you with Percy, okay? I can't stand watching you two together."

Jenna blinked, taken aback. "Percy? We're just friends, Y/N. Why does it bother you so much?"

"Because I like you, Jenna!" Y/N shouted, his voice cracking. "I've liked you for a long time, and seeing you with him... it hurts. Can't you see me, Jenna? I'm right here."

The room fell silent, the weight of Y/N's confession hanging in the air. Jenna stared at him, her mind racing as she processed his words.

"Y/N," she said softly, stepping closer. "I had no idea. I've been so blind. I thought... I thought you only saw me as a friend."

Y/N looked up, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and despair. "I didn't want to ruin what we had. I thought it was better to stay silent."

Jenna reached out, taking his hand in hers. "You didn't ruin anything, Y/N. I feel the same way. I've been too scared to say anything, but... I really like you too."

Y/N's eyes lit up with a mixture of disbelief and happiness. "Really?"

Jenna nodded, her smile bright and genuine. "Really."

From that day forward, the dynamic between Y/N and Jenna shifted. They were still the same playful friends, but now, there was an added layer of affection and understanding. During scenes, their chemistry was undeniable, drawing admiration from the cast and crew.

One day, while filming a particularly intense scene, Jenna and Y/N found themselves holding hands longer than necessary. The director noticed but didn't say anything, smiling to himself. During breaks, they would steal moments together, sharing quiet conversations and secret smiles.

As the final scenes of "Wednesday" wrapped up, the cast and crew gathered for a small celebration. Jenna and Y/N found a quiet corner, away from the noise.

"I can't believe it's over," Jenna said, her voice tinged with sadness.

Y/N smiled softly. "It's just the beginning for us, Jenna."

She looked up at him, her eyes shining. "Yeah, it is."

[illustromic]

My thoughts on drawing wings (an unofficial tutorial)

Do you want to get better at drawing your favorite winged character? Do you have winged OCs? Just want to learn something new? I can't promise this post will help, but maybe it'll give you some helpful tips.

I know, I knowww, wing tutorials have been done to death. I don't care. This was initially inspired by a conversation on twitter, but actually I've wanted to write down my notes on the topic for a long time lol. Basically wings are one of my special interests so it's very important, for me, to draw them both nicely and also realistically.

On that note, let me first show you my resume *distant sound of floodgates opening*

Like what you see? Read on! (Oh, and I will only be covering feathered/avian wings bc those are the type I know best.)

Now, I'm not here to give you a step-by-step guide on wing anatomy and aerodynamics, because there are plenty of other resources that cover this already, and I'll list my faves at the end of the post. Right now, I'm going to give you some easy guidelines and tricks that I wish more artists knew.

1: Wings do, in fact, have bones (crazy, I know) and are actually very rigid because they have to support the weight of a living creature. There are some positions you cannot physically force a wing into irl.

2: Flight feathers are not placed willy-nilly on the wing, because then they wouldn't catch the air properly. Again, like the bones, they are rigid and strong, so don't draw them like fur or ribbons. All wings have the same pattern of feather placement, with slight variation depending on species. If you learn the feather sections, it will automatically improve your drawings a lot.

2.5: Feathers overlap each other like a handful of playing cards, and this looks different depending on which side of the wing you're drawing. They always do this unless they're extremely untidy.

3: The size of the wingspan is important if you're going for a more realistic design. There is no "scientifically accurate" measurement when it comes to fictional creatures, but my general rule is when in doubt, you probably need to make them bigger. Personally, for my original winged human species, I give them wings that can be up to 12 feet long each (the artistic sacrifice is that it's really hard to fit the wings on the dang page lmao, so make your own call).

4: Get used to drawing folded wings. Most of the time, birds keep their wings folded because it prevents them from getting damaged and it conserves energy. The trick is to get good at visualizing how the joints bend and overlap (look at plenty of photos!) In general, they can fold much tighter than you think.

5: Wings and feathers take a lot of patience to draw, but the results are worth it. I've seen so so many incredibly beautiful and skillful artworks that are---well, maybe not ruined, but still negatively affected by a pair of wings that look like an afterthought, or not even like wings at all. You have no idea how much a little extra time and practice will add to your work until you see for yourself.

Finally, some notes on "stylized" wings: Of course it's perfectly ok to draw more simplified/cartoony wings if that's your preference!! BUT there is a difference between a stylistic choice and a lack of effort/poor understanding of the subject matter. Even cartoonists have to learn the fundamentals of realism so they know how to make their designs logical and appealing. Here are some examples of more stylized wings that I feel retain the core principles of anatomy/aesthetics:

And last but not least: A list of helpful links I use personally for reference and inspiration!

I made this pinterest board for general artsy inspo, and this board to curate my very favorite tutorials/refs/information, focusing on the scientific aspect of wings and flight in general. Feel free to use both! (I also suggest pinterest in general for pose refs and such, but try to only practice using photos at first and not other drawings.)

I highly recommend this blog and this blog if you want examples of artists who draw more realism-based winged creatures!! They are both huge inspirations for me and I think you should totally follow them even if you don't plan to draw wings lol <3

If you're REALLY serious about it, my favorite ref books are: Winged Fantasy, a lovely drawing book by Brenda Lyons; Proctor & Lynch's Manual of Ornithology; and Angelus vincens by R. Spano, which is essentially an artbook by someone who (I believe) designed biologically plausible "angels" for their senior thesis.

Ok, idk how to end this lol but I hope it helped! I know it's not my normal kind of post but I'm super busy with college stuff rn and this was all I had time for. If you guys have any questions or feedback, please let me know!!!

-Aloe <3