#outsiders scott au
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Do y'all wanna hear about my 2 outsiders Scott aus (say yes)
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if the 7 evil exes r ponys gang plus bob then whoâs roxie? would she be marcia?
yes!!! a friend (hi cris!) helped me out w this but hereâs whoâs who:
matthew: two-bit
lucas: soda
todd: dally
roxie: marcia
twins: bob n randy
gideon: johnnyđđđ
ofc this isnât like stationary or whatever. might change my mind but this is what i got so far :3
#ponyboy curtis#ponyboy curtis vs the world#two bit mathews#sodapop curtis#dallas winston#marcia the outsiders#bob sheldon#randy adderson#johnny cade#the outsiders#the outsiders au#scott pilgrim vs the world
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Because of the combined effects of their antlers and wings, Xornoth has some Issues when visiting other empires. Doors, for example
#this WILL be a recurring gag#Scott has the same problem#just scaled down a size#Xornoth takes one look at the Undergrove and is just like#âI assume weâre meeting outside then?â#poor shrub is mortified#empires smp#empires s1#rain rambles#Rivendell siblings#Xornoth#smajor1995#marriage of state au#mos: xornoth#mos: rivendell siblings
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if you're doing the empires fanon swap meme, would you doodle a scott of animalia ^_^
hi!! i am definitely not uhh *checks watch* 12 days late for this :D but here it is!!!
with a bonus pearl the bard as a thank you for waiting! to be fair i got hit by the double combo of death (exams and art block), so this is just a traditional sketch i colored on my phone with slightly off anatomy but hey! it's art!
#i had to do some research because i'm not actually that familiar with eswap outside of the yuri lol#also i realized halfway through this that i drew him as a calico cat. oops i hit him with the trans beam of cat i guess#scarlet art#scarlet answers#scarlet original postâ˘#eswap au#empires swap au#scott of animalia#eswap scott#pearl the bard#eswap pearl
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Hey! I adore following your art and it so inspires me to draw as well. So thank you for your work. I wanted to ask how you imagine Magneto in your style and what impact he has on your Scott's story or character, if any. The Uncanny X-Men Comics around the Nation X era where the two develop a super interlinked dynamic have always been super interesting so I was wondering.
thank you!!
hmm well i have posted magneto i think exactly twice, as part of a commission (x) and as part of a gift (x). the gift was done this year so its probably more indicative of how he'd look in my style, but also i think my art has been changing a lot in the last couple of months. i like magneto, but he is not one of the characters infesting my brain and motivating longer projects, so i just draw him more rarely. even in stuff i don't post.
tbh the nation x stuff (as w a lot of stuff post-2000s) is kind of a big blind spot w me. i just kind of bounce off superhero nation stuff i think no matter who's involved. but i do like the bit of stuff i have read concerning magneto and scott.
i think earlier magneto spends a lot of time thinking of scott (and the original five x-men) as like. extensions of xavier. like he cares about his relationship to xavier and his philosophical and political opposition to xavier and anything scott says politically doesn't get filtered through as scott's position so much as xavier's position as stated by a particularly rigid and kind of harsh student. i think this basically bc magneto has a tendency to talk through the other x-men to charles when he's in villain mode, and also bc in my mind stuff like god loves man kills does position scott as an extension of xavier. like. scott's the true believer here. he doesn't doubt, even when charles himself does. the way magneto comes to see scott as his own person with his own political ideas is really cool to me, and i enjoy seeing the like. backing magneto has for scott? it feels like it is founded on this decades long non-relationship of seeing scott and the x-men continue, which is then helped along by a new closer relationship.
ig my thinking on how magneto impacted scott is like...not very much on an interpersonal level, for a long time. like they just didn't actually know each other that well at all, and scott's really into adopting some of xavier's position as pretty like. rigid rules. like scott is more uptight than charles is. i think magneto largely operates not as a person but as an idea for him to orient himself against and also a threat that sometimes tries to kill him/ kill other people/ make scott's day worse in some other way.
i think in general scott is kind of confused by magneto?? on an interpersonal level?? which is part of what makes their later dynamic fun to me. the idea that scott can continue to be confused and frustrated w magneto even as they become much closer and be like oh ok. this isn't an x-men vs magneto thing, you are just kind of annoying and confusing on purpose. he's just kind of like that. i think after you get into utopia and afterward scott clearly comes to value magneto's opinion more, but before that magneto's not even a guy to scott he's just this like. nebulous idea of what scott is against and also scott does not like him.
#like outside of aperture au (au specifically designed to explore how scott is affected by magneto) i think there's just. a lot less to say.#or maybe not less to say but i am picking up less so#w.ask
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Me trying to figure out who would be the Ghostface duo in a nordegrim scream au while at the same time drawing little doodles for it:
#this is a cry for help#also adding the rest of the cast outside of Sidney and randy cause those are Stacey and Neilâs roles#never thought Iâd make scream au until like yesterday#I know Scottâs gotta be someone like dewy or in a role similar to Sidneyâs dad but not the same#i also have the idea of Wallace as Tatum cause thatâs Sidneyâs friend but again idk#anyways if any of you have better ideas than pls share#scott pilgrim#scott pilgrim comic#scott pilgrim takes off#nordegrim#scream au#emily shitposts#cause this is kinda a shitpost ngl
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I saw your tags for my Wynn au nd I just wanted to comment that I absolutely love the idea for a trafficblr au included !!! I have so many more ideas for this au now Ahhhh
Hi omg!! I'm totally gonna ramble about my concept now because its so fun to think about. Its so good to see other Wynn players in the Life Series tags :D
Yeah, me and a friend have been fixated on Wynn for a bit so it's been buzzing around my mind. Since Martyn is already a cameo character (old man Martyn), I've been thinking about it so much. Also, yknow, Grian being a founder of the server. My premise for the AU was Renchanting based. Ren is a respected Paladin of the Ragni army trying to fix the corruption in the Wynn plains and Martyn, an assassin from Nesaak is like. hey. you know that old wizard that got corrupted? Yeah, yeah, I want to undo the damage he did. Let me prove I'm a good adventurer. Let me undo some damage. And Ren is obviously like "okay, dude, tag along anyway, I'm all for it". I think they'd probably meet some other people along the way, make the Renchanting group a guild and such. For the other members: Etho would be a Riftwalker Mage, Skizz would probably (??) be an Acolyte Skyseeker, BigB would be an Archer (maybe Sharpshooter?) and Impulse would probably be some kind of Knight too. If Tango were in it then he'd be a Fallen Warrior because of the damage boosts.
#A lot of this is a draft so anything outside of Ren and Martyn would probably change.#I think the Desert alliance would just be a rival guild in this type of AU.#Scott would totally be a Lightbender Mage OR a Trapper Archer. I think.#Grian would TOTALLY be an assassin too. Probably also a Trickster or Acrobat?#up the ante || asks#wynncraft#While this is about the other series. I am afraid to maintag LOL.
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tfw you come up with an au concept that is SO DELICIOUS specifically because it creates SUCH fucked-up/angsty situations or backstories but then you just kinda have to. sit there vibrating because in order to talk to anyone about it you have to explain the entire setup of the au and it probably wouldn't land as well anyway
#sb and l rambles#sw ideas#this post is about luke being the only one who can disobey leia's Powerful Word in the kencyrath au (also about sabe in that au)#leia's Powerful Word is her main shanir ability. padme's wasn't as pronounced but when their keep in the haunted lands was overrun--#--she ordered sabe to go find leia (in the organa house and disguised as a minor highborn) and sabe wouldn't leave her so she Ordered her#sabe dies on the way out but. her lady had ordered her. sabe needs to find leia and protect her. so she keeps going as a haunt.#xm ideas#this post is also about the nine houses au of the xmen i was kicking around earlier where jean and scott are a necro/cavalier pair#i haven't decided which is which but i just keep coming up with angstier and angstier situations involving scott's sunglasses#i really would want the outsider pov on this and kitty/rachel would make a killer cavalier/necro pair but then it's not really outsider pov#ANYWAY THE POINT IS THAT THIS IS A. GOOD PROBLEM TO HAVE TBH
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Outlander AU Character List
Scott- Angel, ,came up the elevator alone, first one in the maze Katherine- human, came up the elevator alone after Scott no
Jimmy- Half-demon, came up the elevator alone after Katherine
Gem- Demon, came up the elevator with Fwhip after Jimmy
Fwhip-Demon, came up the elevator with Gem after Jimmy
Joel- Human, came up the elevator alone after Gem and Fwhip
Pix- Human, came up the elevator alone after Joel
Sausage- Half- Demon, came up the elevator with Pearl after Pix
Pearl- Narrator, human, came up the elevator with Sausage after Pix
I will add the rest of the characters as they enter the maze, but I donât want to give too much away.
#empires smp#empires smp au#empires s1#esmp#outsiders smp#scott smajor#katherine elizabeth#jimmy solidarity#geminitay#mythical sausage#esmp fwhip#fwhip#joel smallishbeans#pixlriffs#pearlescentmoon#the outlander au
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Celeste
FallenAngel!BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader AU
summary: Heaven is not what they tell you. The celestials donât live in harmony and the devil is not as far as you might think. Heâs vicious in his ways to seduce every being - makes even the mighty fall from grace. And one of them happens to be your guardian angel. When James is banished from the heavens, he is forced to amend his sins on earth. What did he do wrong, you might ask? Well, he fell for the one he watched over.
a/n: I thought Iâve read a FallenAngel!Bucky fic on here before. But I couldnât find it. So please, if you know it, tag me. Anyway, this is my take on the au.
word count: 20.3k (good lord, someone take my computer away)
warnings: this might offend some people (remember this is my fantasy world - I donât know much about angels and the whole shebang), soulmate trope, the devil, also God?, jealousy/envy, mentions of killing and abuse, banishment and punishments, he falls first (literally lmao), fluff and wholesomeness, agony, angst (of course, with happy end!), smut (wingplay, Buckyâs got heavenly dick, Virgin!Bucky, size kink, cum play) !MINORS DNI!
ďžâŤ đđđđ đđđđđđđđđđ ・âシďžâś đđđđ
đđ đđđ â§*シďžđ.đđ ・âシďž
all image credit goes to @animarvelita on TikTok (there's more at the end)
James.
Wake up, James.
Wake up!
The wind hits his lashes before he opens his eyes. Heâs falling. Heâs falling and thereâs nothing he can do.Â
��� â â
Itâs eerie outside, you note as your towel glides over the countertop. The entire window of the diner displays dark clouds. Dark clouds that will soon bring the heavy rain Old Lee has been mumbling about for days now.Â
Not too many people believe what the crazy farmer says but you canât help but notice how much he really understands of the world.Â
Nick hits the little golden bell by the serving hatch and you take the fresh sandwiches to a table by the door.Â
âAnything else I can get you?â
âWeâre good, honey.â
You just nod as your eyes stay focused on the small parking lot outside. You wipe your hands on your apron and return to the counter when the first drop of rain hits the window pane.
â â â
Branches are aching beneath his weight when he crashes through the trees. A deep thud echoes in the woods as his body hits the ground. Itâs raining.Â
Every tragedy needs rain.
â â â
"Are you alright, dear?" Peggy, one of the regulars, a wise old lady, asks and points to your hand that's settled above your chest.Â
You clear your throat. "I'm fine. Just a frog in my throat." You nod with a tight smile. Something seems to have knocked the air out of your lungs. But you've been feeling like you are coming down with something for a few days now.Â
"Must be the weather," Howard comment's next to Peggy, and his newspaper crumbles beneath his touch.Â
You turn and refill their coffee mugs. "Yeah... must be." But you can't shake the feeling it has brought to you.Â
"It's always the weather." Peggy nods before the door to the diner opens and Old Lee enters, his muddy boots dirtying the checkered floors. You scrunch your nose. You'd be the one cleaning that up later, Scott surely won't do it.Â
"This ain't a normal April storm, folks." His hat tips before he sits at the counter in front of you. "You look like youâve been trampled by a cow.â
"It's just the weather," you say and place a cup of hot tea in front of him. That's just Stan: brutally honest and strangely right about everything.Â
â â â
Pain is strange. His feet get caught in the thorned bushes. Golden blood is the only evidence of his path.
And itâs slowly turning black.
â â â
The storm outside intensifies, the rain hammering against the diner's windows with an unrelenting force. Old Lee's words linger in the air, stirring a sense of unease among the patrons. You glance outside, noticing the darkness creeping in as if it's swallowing everything in its path.
A shiver runs down your back as you remember how much Pietro would have loved this storm. Your mind drifts back to the memory of him. He always found solace in the chaos of nature, seeing beauty even in the fiercest storms.
But he's is gone now, lost to you in a way that is irreversible. The ache in your chest intensifies as you try to push away the memories, focusing instead on your tasks at hand.
Stanâs voice is low and gravelly when he murmurs again. "You can't outrun the storm, kid. It's coming for all of us, whether we're ready or not."
His words are chilling, but you shake it off, forcing a smile as you refill his tea.Â
"We'll weather this storm just like we always do." Peggy chimes in as her hand lands on yours with her calming touch. But your heart is hammering in your chest, still. Something feels off. As if a piece fell out of place, waiting to be discovered, and raving to make a mess.Â
â â â
Itâs cold and muddy here, no comfort in sight. But heâll venture on until he reaches you. His soul is pulled to your very presence.Â
He needs to find you. Needs to amend his wrongs. Though is it really wrong to love?
â â â
Itâs dark out when you hang your apron in your locker and wave a short goodbye to Nick. Pulling your coat tightly around you in an attempt to brace yourself for the wind, you step outside into the deluge. The rain lashes against your skin, soaking you to the bone on your walk through deserted streets and cold concrete.Â
You sigh thinking about everyone that made it home dry, probably sitting in their beds right now, watching the rain roll down their window pane with a hot cup of cocoa in hand.Â
But that seems to postpone itself, you realize as you abruptly halt. You look around. This isnât your usual route home. But something pulled you off your intended path and toward an unfamiliar alleyway. Confusion mingles with a strange sense of anticipation as you find yourself drawn deeper into the darkness.Â
Your head is screaming at you. This is dangerous. You shouldnât be doing this. Why are your feet moving anyway?
And then you see it. Or rather... him?
A figure stands at the end of the alley, obscured by shadows and rain, but there's something about him that sets your heart racing.
"Hello?" you call out tentatively, your voice barely audible over the storm. You hate how weak you sound.Â
He steps forward into the dim light, his features illuminated by a flickering streetlamp. Dark hair and a strong yaw, wide muscular shoulders, his arms are adorned by silver cuffs. His whole being is well over six feet. But he seems even taller as something wide reaches from behind him, almost hugging his shoulders and prodding up towards the sky. He steps forward again and your breath hitches in your throat when you can finally make out the grey feathery wings standing from behind his back.
But you donât run. You donât even stumble back. Your feet are frozen to the ground. Then his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as youâre caught in the intensity of his gaze.Â
âIâve been searching for you,â he says, his voice almost like a whisper to the wind. Calling and marvelous.Â
Everything inside you tells your how absurd this situation is. How fast you should be running anywhere but here right now. But the way your heart races doesnât feel like fear. In fact, youâre not even scared. More fascinated, awestruck, intrigued. You know he wont hurt you.Â
âI donât know you.â You manage to stammer, your eyes still locked with his. The tension overwhelming and electrifying all at once.
âThat should be obvious.â He points to his wings smiling amused, a smile that you know holds a universe of secrets and promises. You want to learn them all, you catch yourself thinking as your eyes slip to his lips.Â
âI donât understand.â
âYou donât need to understand,â he replies and itâs the first time his wings move behind him. âJust trust that we are connected in ways you cannot even begin to imagine.â
âWell?â You clear your throat and cross your arms in front of your chest, relieved your body is able to move again, though the pose feels rather awkward. âWhy are you here?â
He seems shocked for a moment, as if he hadnât expected you to play along so fast. And, to be honest, neither did you... at least a little.Â
âI need to...â His mouth falls shut again and he turns his head down to the side, shoulders heaving. âI guess I need a place to stay.â
âWith me?â Thatâs insane. You know it is. But why does it not surprise you?Â
He nods, you shake your head. âI cant just accommodate a...â You gesture to him and he clears his throat awkwardly.Â
âAngel.â
âRight, of course.â You chuckle as you scan his body again. Only now do you see the torn clothes and bloody feet. Drenched through and through.Â
You sigh. âI donât even know your name...âÂ
His eyes are sparkling, the smallest of twitches making him look a little softer, tangible even. Youâre not afraid of him. And it messes with your head. You should be scared, right? But all there is in your body is the steady tingle pinging from your heart back to your stomach.Â
âItâs James.â His smile is handsome when he reaches out his hands, offering you a better look to his toned arms.
Whywhywhy? âAlright.âÂ
â â â
James looks out of place in your rather small living room. His size dwarves every piece of furniture carefully picked out to make your house a home. He makes it look like a doll house just by standing in it.Â
But he doesnât seem to care. James ducks when he passes through the door and you watch his feathers ruffle as they press themselves to his back in order to fit through.Â
Youâre not sure what to do. Never in your life did you think you would end up in a situation like this. There is no protocol for hosting celestial beings. Though a how to angel dinner party guide would come in handy now. Did he even eat?
Something must be wrong with you. You let a total stranger into your house, even though your track record of people skills is not exactly the best. One that is borderline freakishly tall and has wings. Wings that look soft and beautiful. But strong and kind of intimidating as well. But why does he feel so safe?
âYouâre staring.â James notes and a handsome grin spreads across his face.Â
âIâm not really used to having angels in my house to be honest.â The sarcasm is dripping from your tone in subtle undertones. But James seems to enjoy it. âWhy are you here? On earth... I mean.â
He stares at the ceiling and his wings sag a little. âI have a mission, dearest.â He tells and his eyes meet yours. Theyâre deep blue and stormy - just like the sky. You can see yourself falling lost in them. His presence is all-consuming, making you shiver. It reminds you that the both of you are drenched from the rain. A puddle has formed around your feet and Jamesâs wings guide the water droplets to your hardwood floor in two perfect circles. His hair is curling at the ends, in the nape of his neck and the water is also running down his throat, pooling in the remains of his shirt.Â
âWhat mission?â
âI cannot tell you yet.âÂ
You nod, even though you donât understand. But you donât want to pressure him. âDo you need a shower? Or... clean clothes?â The second you ask you feel stupid. Itâs silly right? Why shouldnât angels shower?Â
Then again, the way he looks at you is one of surprise. âYes, that would be good.âÂ
âGood. Yes.â With a sigh you flee through the hallway to your room in search for some clothes.Â
â â â
A shower. James is giddy. Human things have always excited him. He has been watching from the heavens for eons, never truly experienced them quite like this. But heâs intrigued. Especially when you offer them to him like heâs not an intruder in your life.Â
If things were different, you would never know he even existed. But James is guilty of happiness that he gets to meet you in person.Â
Up close, youâre even more perfect. You smell nice, your home feels cozier than anything heâs ever experienced, and your voice sounds just a sliver more comforting when its directed at him.Â
He is smiling like a fool, standing in your living room - the one he knows by heart but so much more personal now. And when you return to him with a pile of grey cloth, his heart skips a beat. You bring him the familiar warmth that made him fall in the first place. But having you within an armâs length makes all of it feel worth it.Â
There is not an ounce of regret in him for being here.
Electricity shoots up his arm when you touch his hand. Itâs cold and wet - he immediately vows to always keep you warm from now on - makes it his purpose to have you be comfortable for the rest of your life.Â
You lead him to the bathroom, grinning sheepishly when you gesture toward your shower.Â
âIt might be a tight squeeze.â You point at the glass surrounding your bathtub. âBut itâs all I can offer.â
âIt will do just fine.â He reassures you.Â
âI will leave you to it then.â James is confused.
âAre you not staying?â
âSorry?â
âTo help me.â
âHelp you... shower?â There is hesitance in your tone, but James truly doesnât know how to turn the thing on.
âWell, yes.â
âI...â Your eyes are big, staring up at him through surprise and nervousness. âI donât want to intrude. Give you some privacy to- oh.â
His clothes are already on the floor. He knows this much. Shower is something one does naked. But you seem to be shocked when his whole body is revealed to you. Do you like it? James is sure he looks as close to a human as a person with wings can. So why are you still staring at his stomach?
His eyes catch yours as they move a little lower, your eyebrows raising just that much higher and a smirk places itself on his face. So, you do like what you see. He confirms silently. Not that he particularly knows why. He never noticed people by their bodies - only their soul, because that is the important thing - the one that never changes.Â
And yours is the most enchanting of them all.Â
â â â
You watch as James sitâs down on the opposite end of the sofa. Heâs declined every offer you have made for him to feel a little more welcome. But he seems content. His smile hasnât left his lips ever since you led him to the bathroom.
You couldnât help but notice his body when he revealed it all to you. Itâs like every inch of him is carved by the gods. He looks soft in the right parts, strong enough not to be skinny with his height. And his male parts. Well, they look more than satisfactory.Â
You felt like a pervert staring him up and down while he stood there with this kind of proud innocence to him, wondering if he understood how proud he could be of his looks. There is so much you donât know about him. Itâs not like you havenât talked.Â
You have. But he speaks in riddles.Â
âYou are staring again.â James notes and you immediately snap your head elsewhere.Â
âIâm just figuring this situation out, I guess.â
He smiles encouragingly. âYou can ask questions. I imagine youâve been eager to know more.â
You exhale long, taking courage to look him in the eyes. âAnd you will answer all of them honestly?â
âHonestly, yes.â His teeth find his bottom lip and you squeeze your thighs together. âI cannot promise to answer them all.â
âOkay.â
âGood.â
A comfortable silence settles between you as you think of the first thing you could ask him. Maybe you should get the most obvious one out of the way. Maybe you should ask him more about himself, though youâre not sure how personal he can get if he spent his entire life in heaven. You just assume there is too much to do to pursue actual hobbies and such.Â
âIs there a God?â
âStarting with the light questions, I see.â You just look at him with intrigue. Already lining up all the other questions no-one else in this world has the opportunity to have answered. James sighs and then nods. âYes, God exists.â
âDo you know God?â
He hesitates, his eyes fleeting to the end of the room and then back to you. âYes.â
âWhy did that answer take you so long?â
His jaw tenses and his eyes find the floor as if he was cursing himself for offering this situation. But then again, you havenât heard him cuss once. Maybe youâre wrong. âIt was under rather... unfortunate circumstances.âÂ
You nod as if you understand. But you can only imagine. âSo, heâs like the big boss, only getting involved when things escalate?â
James looks caught, his wings draw in closer. After a moment, he clears his throat and his feathers ruffle with a small shake. âFirst of all, itâs she/they. And second, ... I guess you could say that, yes.â
âI knew it.â You grin as the pride washes over you at this information. âWhy did she never correct us?â
âLetâs just say mankind doesnât have a great track record of enforcing things that go against their believe... Not that it would be believable if someone told the story of meeting an angel who told them God is a woman.â
âFair point. That person would have probably been burnt alive.â You nod again, crossing your legs and turning to him on the sofa. James takes a moment to rake his eyes over your body, making you feel tingles all over. You clear your throat. âSpeaking of torture... Why do we have war and world hunger?â
âPlease do not take this the wrong way. Those are issues that very much concern God or anyone that wantâs the best for her people, but sheâs busy. She manages everything else that has gone south since.â
âSince what?â You partly enjoy the way James talks to you as if you are an insider, but you only understand half of what heâs saying.Â
âSince she and Lucifer had a big fallout.â He shrugs, but it just adds to your confusion.
âIâm not following.â
He rolls his eyes as if it were your fault you donât know about this supernatural fight. âThey had a disagreement. Luciferâs response to Godâs proposal was an ill-conceived frivolity which ended up becoming the patriarchy.âÂ
To say youâre stunned is a serious understatement. âYouâre telling me the devil threw a tamper tantrum and thatâs why we have inequality? How did he even do that?â
James shakes his head. â...Yes. The trial is still in progress. But it may be calming to know that we have not figured out exactly how he convinced an entire species of males being the stronger part of it.â
âNo, James. It is not calming to know.â You sigh and watch as he clasps his hands in his lap, his cuffs glistening in the lamplight. God, theyâre big. You immediately scold yourself for thinking this, feeling weirds as the words of your mother echo in your head âDonât you dare use Godâs name in vainâ. âWhat exactly has God done since then?â
The smile returns to his face and you readjust yourself on the sofa. âOh, you wouldnât want to know how this world would look if she hadnât kept busy with sorting it.â
Your nose wrinkles in a frown, as you check the points off in your head. âI really donât think it can get that much worse. Climate change, mass genocides, what else could there be?â You nod at each one just as James lifts up his fingers and opens his mouth as if he is starting to count.Â
But you stop him. âPlease donât.â
âYes, that is probably for the best.â
It is silent for a moment as you try to process all the information you have just attained. It is a rather weird feeling. Knowing you know what no-one else on earth does and not being able to tell. Knowing there will be no-one believing you.Â
You sigh when your head starts spinning from how crazy this day has been. James seems to be rather relaxed considering he barely knows you. His dark hair falls around his face perfectly, the back of it forming a cute curl in the nape of his neck and your fingers itch to touch it.
But you refrain, reminding yourself that he is a stranger - and an angel. Beside the fact that he has not once reached out to you, just randomly touching his hair would probably be the weirdest thing to do right now.Â
âCan I ask you something?â He suddenly breaks the silence and you shoot a thank you to the sky for saving yourself from going down the mental rabbit hole of how soft his hair looks.Â
âYes.â
âWhy did you take me in?â Jamesâs eyes are boring into yours so innocently. If it werenât for the giant wings on his back, he would almost look like a normal clueless and incredibly cute guy. And yet he just revealed outerworldly gossip as if you were discussing the latest celebrity TMZ.Â
âI-â you trail off, thinking about it for a while. You arenât sure how much you can tell him. But James has been genuine from the start. It wold only be fair to do the same. âI felt like you needed me.â
A weird feeling takes over your body suddenly. Like a warm flush rushing through you. James fidgets in your peripheral and nods in understanding. âI did. I do.â
Itâs like the reality of it all hits you like brick when a noise sounds from outside and his wings twitch, pushing over a pile of books on the cupboard behind the sofa. This is not normal, something tells you, and yet your stomach flutters in a way that feels a lot like butterflies. Everything about James is fascinating to you. You constantly fight the urge to reach out and brush your fingertips over every part of him. And for some reason, your mind tries to tell you that he would let you.Â
âWhy are you really here, James?â You voice is only a whisper when the rattling outside subsides. Itâs probably a raccoon or something. But James looks a little nervous all of a sudden.Â
âIâm afraid that is one thing I cannot tell you, love.â
You sigh. âI guess... I just want to help. Having you stay here doesnât feel like itâs enough. There has got to be something you need to do.â
âThat is very kind of you. I admire your bravery and openness.â His lips spread into a smile, his hand lifting from his lap as if he is about to place it on yours, but his fingers only strech and land back on the sofa between you. âBut to be truthful, even if I knew what I had to do, I am not sure wether I would do it or notâ
So he is a little deviant. You smile at the small observation. Maybe itâs the reason he is here in the first place. But you feel like you have asked James enough for tonight. Just on cue, a yawn escapes your lips.Â
âYou should rest. It has been a long day.âÂ
You nod, rubbing your eyes and rising from the soft cushions. âI have a spare bedroom. You can sleep there.â
âThat is fine. I do not sleep.â James shakes his head as he rises with you out of curtesy. With his hands clasped in front of him he looks like a goth painting.Â
âWhat? Never?â
âI am not human, dearest. My body attains energy in different ways.â You shudder again, blaming it on your sleepiness as you rub your arms when another yawn escapes you.Â
âMaybe you can tell me about it tomorrow. I am really tired.â
âI will be watching over you.â Your name passes his lips like a song, sending another shiver through you. What the hell is the matter with you. You huff as you catch yourself again. It really never occurred to you how often you referenced to the supernatural... âTake all the rest you can get.â
âGood night, James.â You nod and wave awkwardly.
âGood night.â
You know Jamesâs eyes are only you until you disappear into the hallway. But you cant help but feel safely watched over with him around.Â
â â â
They will find him, and they will send him further from you than he ever was.
â â â
James hates the days you have to leave for work. He watches you with a sense of longing and resignation, knowing that he must find a way to navigate this separation once again. Though it is necessary he find a way to dodge the inevitable.
Itâs the vexing thing about the celestial kingdom. They always leave one to find the laws on their journey. There is no book he could read on earth that could help him here. But he has seen the repercussions of disobedience, felt the weight of his transgressions bearing down on him like a heavy chain.
And yet, as he watches you prepare to leave for work, a sense of desperation gnaws at him from within. He wants to reach out, to beg you to stay, to keep you safe from whatever dangers may lurk beyond the safety of your home.
But he knows he can't. He's bound by duty, by the laws of God that dictate his every move. And so, with a heavy heart, he watches silently as you gather your things and head out the door, leaving him alone once more.
As the door closes behind you, James is left with nothing but the echoes of your footsteps fading into the distance. He knows he should use this time wisely, to prepare for whatever trials may lie ahead, but his thoughts are consumed by you, by the overwhelming need to protect you at all costs.
â â â
Thereâs and angel in your home. And heâs so freaking attractive, itâs unfair.Â
It has been a week since you found James. And despite the incredibly irrational decisions of yours to invite him into your home, nothing bad has happened to you. Sure, the first night you might have dreamt about him. Heâs everything your fantasy books described an more. And you couldnât help but let that tiny romantic sliver of you hope for the more.Â
But James is more pious than any catholic boarding school kid youâve ever met.Â
He seems to enjoy a good joke and heâs quite confident. But he never once touched you. And while that should not be one of your first concerns, considering heâs a stranger and an angel, something inside you tells you heâs holding back.Â
He never even flinches when you reach out to him. And the longing stares he sends your way make you shiver with anticipation. Yet there is no attempt to ever pull you in - even though you are so sure you were sending signals.Â
Maybe there are no signals in heaven. What are you even saying? Of course there are no signals in heaven. You donât even believe dating exists up there.Â
âYo, whaddup with ya today? Iâve been calling your name for a solid minute.â
âSorry. Feeling a little off today,â you mumble to Nick and retrieve the food waiting in the serving hatch.Â
âYou canât go home. I donât wanna serve alone today.â
âScott, thereâs literally no-one here.â You gesture toward the few people sitting in their booths and sigh. âBesides, I never said I was going home.âÂ
âDonât get mad. You barely texted me back this week. Whatâs so awesome about your home when Iâm not there with you?â You feel the heat rising to your head at Scottâs comment. âYouâd think sheâd call me if she ever needed to hide something.â He mumbles to Nick who just laughs and flips a pancake.Â
You turn to him with your fists by your side. âThe weather is weird and cold, canât I need a little down time?â
âNot from me!â Scott looks baffled. Heâs your friend, and yes, you had other things to worry about than be on your phone this week. But you also knew he wouldnât understand.
âYouâre being a real pain in my ass today, Scotty.â
âGood, so everythingâs back to normal then.â
You throw a towel in his face. âShut up.â
âCut it out, you two, thereâs customers.â
Scott resumes to the back, effectively dodging his work and leaving you to serve the new customer. But your breath hitches in your throat when you look up from the counter.
James is standing in the door, already drawing looks of attention from a few people. Heâs smiling back at them, even waving at a child before his eyes meet yours and your heart sets off again. It seems to always do that when heâs close.Â
You rush toward him, wrapping your fingers around his cuffed wrist and he audibly exhales.Â
âYou canât be here.â
âWhy not?â
âBecause-â you lean in closer and James bows down to get his face to your level. âYouâre and angel.â You mutter under your breath and the sexy smile returns to his perfect lips.Â
âAnd how would they know that?â His eyebrow raises.Â
âYou-â you lean back, examining his shoulders - only then noticing that his wings are not there anymore. âHow?â
âI only show myself to truly important people.â He winks and you stumble back a little, his sudden boldness making your legs feel like jello.Â
âWhat are you doing here?âÂ
James looks around the diner as though he has not planned this far. His eyes swerve to the counter and then back to you. âI want to watch you work. I enjoy spending time with you.â
âBut you canât be here without ordering.â
âThen I will oder.â
âYou donât eat, James. Do you even have money?â
That seems to surprise him. âNo.â You shake your head and look at the tiled floor. Jamesâs wrist is still wrapped in your hand but there is no attempt to hold you. So you drop it. Why did he even come here when he wonât touch you?
âPlease, beautiful. Let me stay.â His eyes are genuine, his lips purse in a plea. All you can think about is how weirdly lucky you are that this Adonis of a being chose you for his quest.Â
You bite your lip and watch him shudder. âAlright. Just sit by the counter and try to be inconspicuous.â
His smile spreads wide. âIâll be as invisible as the air you breathe.â
You exhale and get back to work but unfortunately, his promise doesnât last long. Before you know it, Peggy has chosen the seat right beside James. Sheâs leaning over to him at the counter and Howard just sits beside them with his newspaper in hand - as always. James seems just as invested in the conversation as Peggy and as you steal glances over to the pair of them, insistently hoping he wonât spill about his identity, you catch Jamesâs eyes lingering on you.Â
âYou are a fine young man, James.â Peggy's hand lands on his, tapping it in a grandmotherly manor, though her eyes are glinting with something akin to longing. She whispers something into his ear you cant make out and Jamesâs eyes shoot to yours, his face tinting rouge from one ear to the other.Â
âAnd you are a remarkable lady, Peggy,â he clears his throat, his mind seemingly wandering elsewhere. âYou remind me of a girl a friend of mine was in love with once.â
âThen he must have been the happiest man to ever live.â
Peggyâs hands tremble when she reaches for her cup of tea, her red lipstick taint the white porcelain as James watches her movements with a soft stare. He looks so protective of her, it makes your insides tingle. âHe truly is, though he seems like he has forgotten about it lately. Is this your husband?â He gestures to Howard, who just slams the newspaper down in front of him, blank eyes staring at James while Peggy laughs and waves her hand dismissively.Â
âThis rascal?â She presses her hand to her chest as she tries to calm down. âNo, dear. My husband died a long tome ago.â She smiles warmly, floating in melancholy when she continues, âI never loved another man since. He was a heaven sent. Strong, kind, always worked towards the greater good... and his looks were to die for, too.â She winks and James chuckles.Â
âOh I wish a love like that to everyone. Promise me something, James.âÂ
âAnything.â
âIf your find it, never let it go.â Her hand clasps around his biceps, her tone a motherly sternness laced with affection.Â
James eyes you again and it feels as if the air is shifting with tension. âMy word is in Godâs name, Peggy.â
â â â
James feels the repercussions of his being on earth stronger every day. In heaven, he was miserable because he had to watch you live your life without him. On earth, heâs in agony because he knows, if he ever were to touch you, he would cease to exist.
Itâs slanted. He gave up everything coming here and despite the fact that his wings stopped working the second he fell from the sky, he categorizes the uncertainty eating away at him as even worse. Hanging in limbo is more troubling than actually going to hell, he is sure of it.Â
He watches you move about your house with the same longing look torturing his features since he realized how much he needed you. Itâs laughable how dependent on you he has become. While you go about your life with the minor change of having a roommate, James despises the unforgeable distance heaven has created between you.Â
You are friendly with him - you are friendly with everyone. James would even go as far as to say that you two are friends by now. But he wants so much more. So much more he cant tell you because even if you did know about his feelings, there is nothing either of you could do about it.Â
James sighs standing from the sofa, ducking his head when he passes through the doorway to you. You never questions when he just follows you around. The soul bond probably keeping the curiosity at bay if it feels anything like his experience. It feels good for no explicit reason.Â
You sort some bowls in your cabinet as he stands behind you, offering to place the ones higher up so you donât have to struggle too much. âWhatâs heaven like, James?â You ask innocently through your movements. âAre there pearly gates and fluffy clouds?â
James loves when you say his name. It makes him feel closer to you than ever before. In a way, he equates it with your touch. Just as his saying your name is his way of reaching out to you.Â
âMore like endless paperwork and celestial coffee breaks.â Coffee breaks. He learned about those a while ago and he loves the concept. âBut hey, the views are to die for.â He gets lost in your eyes, remembering how much more distant they felt when he was watching from above and he is thankful to be this close to you now.
You smile smugly, and thats when the heart race sets in again. Heâs sure you feel it too. Because your eyes avert and your hand places itself atop your chest.Â
You think something is wrong with you, he just knows it. Itâs like the time you watched hours on hours of Grayâs Anatomy and then proceeded to research yourself into a frenzy about the sicknesses you might suffer. But James made sure then that there was not even a paper cut compromising you and he will do the same now, too.
He is desperate to tell you what it is you feel, that there is not much you can do and that he feels it ten times worse because he hates to see you suffer. But he needs to be careful about how much he reveals to you.Â
âOh my god, Iâm getting paranoid,â you mutter to yourself and James smirks at your small slip up. He has noticed how you try to minimize your references in curses. Itâs cute, really, because he knows how much you used to do it. Itâs a little bit amusing, the small deviant trait of yours making him feel like he has found something in common with you and heâs almost proud of it.
You collect yourself, quickly, breathing in deeply and then turning around to him. âI have to run some errands today.âÂ
âGreat, where are we going?â James asks with eagerness. Car rides excite him. He has always found them fascinating, but actually being in one is a whole new experience.Â
You bite your lip and for once, James does not feel the familiar tingle in his stomach when you do so. There is sadness sitting in your eyes when you answer him. âActually...â Your tongue darts out to wet your lip just for your teeth to dig into it again and an unfamiliar tightness travels through Jamesâs body. âIt is something I need to do by myself today. I hope that is okay.â
The angel nods vigorously, trying to ignore the pang in his chest. âYes of course. I will leave you to it alone.â He steadies himself on the door frame and then heads to the living room where he grabs a book and settles on your window sill to look occupied.Â
âIt is nothing personal, James.â Your head dips from the doorway and he looks up. âIt's just... it would be weird for you to be there.â
âI understand.â The way he adds your name to his answer makes him sick. But his body is feeling weird, not showing him the familiar signs of jealousy or anger he knows. It feels... warm and uncomfortable.Â
âI will be back soon.â Your voice travels through the hallway and your footsteps along with it. James stares at the empty doorway for a while, his eyes shooting down to the book when you suddenly reappear. âDo you want anything from the store?â
âNo, thank you.â
âOkay.â
And then the door falls shut. But before James can get consumed by his loneliness, he puts the books down - something about an ice breaker - and heads outside to follow you.Â
â â â
But earth can be a lonely place. At least hell will welcome you with warmth.
â â â
You didnât lie. You were at the store. But now that youâre treading on the small path towards the grey cemetery walls, James feels the fear spread through his body like a slow and painful death.Â
Heâs hiding behind the trees closing around the park, watching you as you halt before a simple headstone. He can feel your mourning deep within his heart, tugging, yanking, pulling on the tiny strings that sting so effectively. His temple leans against the rough bark as his eyes trace your slow movements. You place a small bouquet of flowers on the soil before the engraved letters, resting your forehead on the gold stone.Â
He canât see it completely, but he knows youâre crying. You always do. Everything within him screams to reach out to you, to hold you and sway you until the world feels less taunting, but he knows how difficult it could make things.Â
So, instead, he remains hidden, a silent sentinel in the shadows bearing witness to your sorrow from afar. He feels the weight of your tears as if they were his own, each drop a dagger to his soul and a reminder of the distance that separates him from you.Â
And yet, even in the midst of your pain, there is a flicker of something else - resilience, determination, a quiet strength that refuses to be extinguished. Itâs a testament to your spirit, a beacon of hope in the darkness that threatens to consume you both.Â
As you linger before the headstone, lost in your memories and your grief, James feels a surge of admiration swell within him. Despite the pain you carry, you continue to preserve.Â
âItâs really a shame you never have the balls to comfort her.â A voice whispers in his ear and James shoots around to be met with a redhead whose eyes stare daringly up at him. âThen again... I guess it would be kind of ironic, donât you think?âÂ
âWhat are you doing here, Wanda?â All angels are made weary of Luciferâs spawn. They are vicious and manipulating, carrying the pits of hell to places that least expect them and watch it all go up in flames as they stand laughing on the sidelines.Â
James knows the demon standing before him. More than once have their paths crossed throughout time, but he is surprised to see her every time anew. He refuses to show any sign of weakness in her presence, knowing that to do so would only invite further manipulation.
Wanda chuckles darkly, her laughter echoing through the trees. âOh, nothing much,â she muses with a wicked grin, pacing around James to take a closer look at him. âJust though Iâd remind you of what youâre missing out on by playing the good little guardian angel. But who knows... maybe one of these days, youâll finally grow a spine and take what you want.â
James clenches his jaw, struggling to maintain his composure in the face of Wandaâs relentless provocation. He knows better than to let her under his skin, but the demonâs words cut deep, striking at the heart of his insecurities. He feels the surge of frustration rising within him as his fists clench by his sides, the weight of his silver cuffs pressing against his wrists like chains. âI canât,â he whispers, his voice barely above a whisper. âYou know I canâtâ
Wandaâs gaze narrows as her arms cross in front of her chest. âCanât or wonât?â She counters, her voice tingling with an unspoken dare.Â
James hesitates, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. "I... I don't know," he admits finally. "But it doesn't matter. My duty lies with heaven, with protecting her. I canât do that when Iâm lost in the in-between.â
Wanda's eyes glitter with amusement as she takes a step closer, closing the distance between them with an unnerving grace. "And what if heaven isn't where you belong?" she whispers in a seductive purr as her fingers flick against his cuffs. The sound travels through the trees, making you turn and look around you. "What if your heart longs for something more, something... forbidden?"
A shiver runs down his spine, a sudden realization dawning within James. For so long, he has clung to the safety of his celestial duties, fearing the consequences of straying from the path laid out before him. But now, as he stands face to face with the embodiment of temptation itself again, he can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, heaven is not the place where he can truly flourish.Â
âI donât trust you, Wanda.â He admits genuinely, though the possibility of her words holding truth gnaws on his very soul.
âYou shouldnât.â She smirks devilishly, eyes flashing in a short glimmer of red and evil. âThere will be consequences to disobeying celestial rules. But you will never find out if a life free of them would be more fulfilling to you if you donât try.â She winks, setting uncertainty free within him. âFind me when you have made the right choice.â
As he watches Wanda disappear into the shadows, leaving him alone with his thoughts, James knows that he is standing at a crossroadsâone that would determine the course of his destiny for eternity. And though the path ahead is uncertain and fraught with peril, he can't help but feel a glimmer of hope stir within him, a whisper of possibility that promises a future filled with love, and happiness, and the chance to finally be as close to you as he has always wished for.
â â â
The night has broken over your small town by now. James has made it back with a conflicted heart before you came home from your errands. He knows you notice his silence as he normally enjoys to talk a lot to you. But you donât say anything.Â
He is just sitting quietly in the kitchen as he watches you make a cup of tea, wondering what it tastes like right before frowning at how scared he is to try a cup of hot water just because he doesnât know what it would do to him.Â
Wandaâs words come back to the forefront of his mind and the unease she instilled within his heart right alongside it. He has been longing to reach out to you for so long, has wanted to touch and comfort you in so many ways his mind began to spin. Especially after days like this, when you went to visit your brotherâs grave. You would be crying yourself to sleep tonight. And you would get up tomorrow, wipe the sorrow from your eyes and continue to live your life as if nothing happened. Because you are strong and resilient.Â
And James, even though he is finally present, is not able to offer you the solace you so desperately deserve.Â
At least he thought so.
His eyes wander to the silver cuffs around his arms, feeling the weight and letting the subtle clink of them seep into his skull. He has never questioned why or how the rules of heaven applied to him. He never even thought about the consequences of breaking them until he felt the need to protect you. He never really cared until you became the most important thing in his life.Â
Now, seeing the pain in your gaze, and feeling the guilt for being here, not soothing you gnaws on him, sending him back to a state in which he would kill to see you smile again. Free of fear and sorrow.Â
You bite your lip when you settle on the chair across from his. Your eyes look dull, but James canât help but think there is a question posed within them. Something desperate and restricted. Oh, how he would love to know what youâre trying to say. He is just too inexperienced with human interaction that he can get a read on everything just yet.Â
James feels his heart picking up, knowing it beats in the same rhythm as yours, but he doesnât dare speak, knowing his voice will betray him. Your tea cup is empty, your eyes tired, and he knows that this evening with you will end within seconds.Â
âGood night, James.â You finally say, following the small ritual you have established with him as you wave at him weakly.Â
Normally, he says it back. Normally, he guides you to the bedroom and closes your door promising to watch over you in silence. Normally, he doesnât have a demonâs words ringing in his ears.Â
But today, something feels different. As you gather your things and head towards your bedroom, a sudden surge of determination courses through him. He can't bear the thought of being separated from you, even for a moment longer.
With a sense of reckless abandon, and the words of Wanda hanging in his mind James makes a daring decision. Ignoring the warnings echoing in his every being, he reaches out to you, his touch barely grazing your shoulder as you turn to leave.
In that fleeting moment of contact, something shifts. A spark ignites between you, a connection so powerful and undeniable that it defies explanation. Time seems to slow as you both freeze, caught in the throes of a bond that transcends the boundaries of heaven and earth.
For a heartbeat, everything hangs in the balance, the air crackling with electricity. And then ...nothing happens.Â
There is no rush of wind and light that makes him disappear, leaving behind only the echo of his presence lingering in the empty space between. There is nothing else welcoming him in wrath or absolute nothingness or whatever is supposed to happen if a celestial ever dared to touch a mortal.
He opens his eyes that he had shut tight without noticing. And youâre still here. In front of him, staring at his hand that is softly wrapped around your wrist. His mind is struggling to make sense of what just happened - or rather what didnât. It was all a hoax.Â
James feels rage bubble within him. And as you stand there, alone in the quiet stillness of the room, touching. He counts yet another reason why heaven was never where he belonged.
A single tear rolls down his cheek when he pulls you into his body and wraps his arm around you tightly. His heart beats violently, pumping the anger of knowing how much time he wasted not being close to you through his body. His wings follow close behind, sealing you into his warmth and creating a space just for you and him. Itâs as if you are made for him. Your body tugs perfectly beneath his feathery white wings and he knows heâll hold you like this for eternity.Â
â â â
Heâs touching you.Â
James is touching you. No, actually, heâs consuming you with his whole being, pulling you into the best hug you have ever received. His wings wrap around you protectively, engulfing you into his scent entirely. Itâs earthy, and clean, and... heavenly.Â
You chuckle slightly as your cheek presses to his chest, your head barely reaching his collar bone, but it just makes you feel enclosed by his presence from all around. You heart beats just as rapidly as his and you exhale in content as you realize that youâre not the only one feeling this connection.Â
You donât know what changed. Maybe you are not as good as hiding your sadness as you think you are. Or maybe there is a whole other reason behind this angel guarding you into the most loving hug you have ever experienced. But fact is, you needed it today more than ever.Â
And James knew ...because he strangely knows so much about you. He feels familiar without trying and it is a weirdly comforting thing to experience. Especially after all you have been through.Â
Hesitantly, and almost sorrowfully, you pull away from his warm chest. His wings loosen around you, his arms leaving just enough space for you to lean back and stare into those azure blue eyes of his. Heâs beautiful up close. Long lashes frame his loving stare as his mouth tugs into a smile, taking yours right with it.Â
âYou touched me.â You say in awe as Jamesâs eyebrows slightly raise. âYou thought I didnât notice, but I did.âÂ
There is a steak silence as his gaze travels over your face then roams his arms that are still holding you tightly close to him. âShould I not be touching you?â He asks carefully.
You can feel his hands retreating but you pull him right in before theyâre gone. âI was just wondering when you would.â You snuggle back into his shirt and his hands cradle your head to him. âIs it embarrassing to say Iâve wanted you to do it for a while now?â
âNot embarrassing at all.â His chest rumbles with a chuckle. âIâve wanted to do it even before then. I just didnât know if I could.â The last part is a mere whisper that dissipates in your hair when his mouth presses to it in a feather light brush.Â
A rush of warmth floods through you, filling every corner of your being with a sense of belonging you've never known before. Time seems to stand still, the world falling away until there is nothing left but the two of you, entwined in each other's arms.
"You've wanted to touch me?" you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them, a confession born of the unspoken longing that has lingered between you for far too long.
James's gaze softens, his fingers trailing gently along the curve of your cheek as he meets your eyes with a look of quiet intensity. "More than you could ever know," he replies. "But I feared the consequences.â
âWhat consequences?â James shakes his head as his thumb still lingers on your skin.Â
âI donât know.â You reach up to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against his cheekbones as you search his eyes again. It was stupid of you to assume he didnât touch you because he didnât like you. He was probably scared of what would happen if angels ever dared. The look in his deep blues tells you how worried he was. How long he withheld for the sake of dodging the unknown.Â
âItâs not bad, is it?â You hand travels across his chest, feeling the muscles tense in its wake. âTouching.âÂ
James's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding against his chest as he gazes down at you with a mixture of awe and reverence. And once again, you would love to know what is happening inside his brain.Â
With a trembling hand, James cups your face in his palm, his touch gentle yet possessive as he leans in to press his forehead to yours. You cant help but feel that there is something keeping him from you, still.Â
âLet me stay with you tonight, my beloved.â His fingers tighten around your face ever so slightly. âLet me hold you and keep you safe.â
âSafe from what?â You ask in a trance as your fingers bury in his hair and you play with the thought of pressing your lips to his. But he has taken so long to hug you. You donât want him to be overwhelmed.Â
âAnything.â He whispers back and closes his eyes. A whole new warmth consumes you when his words seep in, blanketing you in cherish and admiration. If this is what being appreciated feels like, you will fight to keep the feeling forever.Â
âOkay.â
â â â
Oh how much the celestials have lied. Flying is nothing compared to this.Â
â â â
As you bustle about the diner, taking orders and refilling coffee mugs with practiced ease, Peggy sits at her usual spot at the counter, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she watches you work.
"Something on your mind, Peggy?" you ask with a smile, setting down a plate of pancakes in front of a hungry customer.
Peggy leans in closer, her voice low and conspiratorial. "I couldn't help but notice that smile of yours, dear," she says with a knowing wink. "It's positively radiant today. Dare I say, it's almost as if you've got a secret?"
You chuckle, feeling a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks at her observation. âHmm, I donât know,â you reply coyly, unable to suppress the grin that tugs at the corners of your lips as you tab your finger against them. âWhat makes you think Iâd share it with you?â
âWell, I am a loyal customer for one...â She pauses as she thinks of another point. âAnd I am old enough to think the secret dies with me." Peggy presses, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
âPlease, you know the entire town.â You laugh and Peggy waves her hand dismissively, though there is a proud smirk on her red lips.Â
Before she can respond, a voice cuts through the air like a knife, sharp and tinged with bitterness. "What's all this about smiles and secrets?â
You turn to see Old Lee leaning against the counter with a grim expression. His worn-down straw hat flops over his eyes, making him look even more grumpy than usual.
"It's nothing, Stan," you reply, trying to defuse the tension with a forced smile. "Just some friendly banter."
Old Leeâs eyes narrow slightly. "Friendly banter, huh? You're squawking like a bunch of chickens in a henhouse."
Peggy rolls her eyes, clearly unimpressed by Stan's attitude. "Oh, hush up, Stan," she scolds, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. "Can't you see we're having a moment here? This is girl talk. Go and drink your tea like the grumpy old man you are.â
Old Lee shakes his head in response but wisely chooses to turn back to his drink. âWe all know how the last time she came in here with a smile that big turned out.â Old Lee grumbles searching your eyes once more. âThe frogs're telling me weâll have another rain cominâ soon. You better be careful, sweetheart.â
You share a conspiratorial look with Peggy, either of you not sure wether to believe him or not. Stan is not one for sappy love stories, but he certainly hits the nail on the head with his predictions every time. His bold hint towards the last big death this town suffered glides off his tongue like a Sunday prayer and it ripples down your spine in ice-cold peaks.Â
âThat is in the past. Right now, I really am hoping we are talking about the charming gentleman I talked to the other week. He certainly is a sight for sore eyes.â Peggyâs eyes sparkle as Old Lee huffs into his cup.
She winks back at you and the smile returns to your lips, along with the giddy feeling you get when James is called into your mind. But before you can respond, the diner door swings open, signaling the arrival of another customer and putting an end to your conversationâfor now, at least.
â â â
A noise calls from the back of your house right before the sun starts its journey in the sky. You donât wake as James tries to stir carefully with his arms still holding you tightly. He was not sleeping - he doesnât need sleep, but he still feels groggy from the warm and comforting night being ripped away with the sound.Â
It piques another time and now, James is sure, someone is trying to get inside. Within minutes he is out of bed, checking the window and then closing the door to your bedroom on his way to the back.Â
He is ready to protect you at all costs, eager to show you how much you mean to him, but when he sees a touch of white beyond the window and hears the familiar rustling of feathers that accompany it, it only takes him a second to realize who has come to intrude your peace.Â
Two men - angels - just as tall has James litter the kitchen once he opens the door and pulls them inside with both hands. Samuel, the one standing a little to the side, brushes his clothes off once he comes to a stand again, watching James with amusement and curiosity. âI see you havenât changed much, James. A simple âhelloâ would have been just fine.â He crosses his arms before his chest, his wings shaking the dowry rain from their feathers and right onto your kitchen floor.Â
âWhy are you here?â His eyes search those of Steven - a friend of his but also an angel ranking higher than James ever will.
âYou know why weâre here.â He steps closer once he has composed himself again. âYou are testing the heavens.âÂ
James huffs, feeling the anger rise inside him. If anything, heaven was testing him. So he goes on to ignore the blonde angel before him, willing his heart to calm at all the frustration accumulating at once. âDid you know it was a lie?â James starts instead. His voice is strained when he thinks of all the times he refrained from touching you just to keep you safe. âJust a way to keep us from initiating contact?âÂ
Steven doesnât say anything and Samuelâs stare meets that of James again. Steven shows little remorse, the pride on display now more than usual. The supposed betrayal James has caused is nothing to the sting boring into his soul by the very man standing in font of him. Steven is cold, distant - when he should be a friend.
âI should have known.â James shakes his head. âYour duties have always placed higher than your friendships.â
âThat is because duties are the most valuable virtue God can give.â Steven finally says and his jaw ticks angrily.Â
James could never imagine being more loyal to a system placing as many restrains as heaven does. Not when he knows how good the real world can feel. How precious it is to smell flowers and hold the one you love in your arms well into the night.Â
âYou came here with a mission, James. And since your fall, you have done nothing but frolic throughout this place with your very own human.â Samuel is eerily still behind the broad blonde spitting one accusation after the other. But James decides not to comment on it just yet.Â
âIt is far more than that,â he rasps feeling the protectiveness flood his body.Â
âWe know. That is why you are here in the first place.âÂ
âWhat am I supposed to do, Steven?â James tries to keep his voice low, but his frustration is too great. Steven should be the one to understand better than anyone else. But he seems to have locked that part of him far away right now. âHow can I amend a sin that is irreversible?!â
âEvery sin can be amen-â Steveâs eyebrows raise and Samuelâs eyes flickers from James and focuse behind him. That is when his heart beat picks up again. And as much as he loves you, he wishes with all his being that you are not standing behind him right now.
âPlease, no.â He mutters and turns just to have you approach from the hallway with tired eyes.Â
âWhat is happening? Who are you?â Your voice sounds sleepy, a hand rubbing over your face before you find yourself by Jamesâs side.
âAngels.â He bites his lips, contemplating for a moment but deciding that you deserve to hear what is happening in your own home. A home he hopes to be part of forever. Besides, with Steven here, there is no ending this conversation without confusing you more. âThey want me to abandon you.â The bitterness is evident in his tone. But he regrets it as soon as he catches the stutter in your heart.
âWhat?â Itâs all you say, but the way you do breaks his collected facade.Â
âJames-â
âWhat do I have to loose, Steven?â his arms open wide. "They already cast me out. They took my freedom, they took it all.â His wings barely shake, just emphasizing his statement.Â
Steve steps closer, causing you to slightly shove yourself behind James, his arm reaching around you, just not touching yet. âBut there is still a chance to redeem yourself.â
âWhat if I donât want it?â James bites back.Â
âDonât act rash, James. Think about this.â
âI have.â Long and hard. Every night he holds you, he has enough time to do so. And he has come to the conclusion that nothing compares to having you this close to him... and only him.
âYou know of the punishment placed for sinners who do not attempt to right their wrongs.â Steven is seething beneath the surface, James can tell. But he tries to stay professional. He can try all he wants. James has already made a decision.Â
âWhat is he talking about?â Your voice takes him back to your presence. Your hands sneak around his forearm and hand, to which his body responds like a reflex. His fingers squeeze yours, his body seeks the heat of yours. Samuel looks at the interaction curiously, Steven settles for a disapproving taunt.
âI lose my wings. I lose heaven.â James explains to you, watching as your eyes open wider in shock.Â
âWhat?â There is so much more behind your astound answer. What does this mean for us?
âJames is banished from the heavens temporarily already.â Stevenâs voice drips with authority, making you stiffen beside him. James hates it. And he doesnât hate much.Â
âWhy?â Youâre too soft for this, too fragile to take another betrayal so soon. He has just gotten started and he already feels you drifting away. Your eyes are glassy when you turn to Steven. âWhat could have possibly been so bad that you ended up here?âÂ
âYou didnât tell her?â Sam breaks his silence. The surprise is written all over his face just to be replaced by confusion when James utters his name in warning.Â
âTell me.â It seems as though his eyes switch between everyone in the room, trying to warn them all of what will happen if they take his opportunity of telling you himself.
âJames is not just any angel.â
âSteve, stop it.âÂ
âHe is your guardian angel.â
It all happens too fast. A look to Samuel tells him there is no ending this. Steven wonât stop until he has tried his all to have you turn from James.Â
âAnd he committed the worst sin of them all.â You look shocked and expectant. The grip on Jamesâs hands grows tighter with every syllable leaving Stevenâs mouth. And James is silently cursing the angel in front of him âHe killed a man... for you.âÂ
You stumble back and James catches you only to earn a warning glare from Steven and Samuel.Â
âBrock,â you whisper and it sounds like the single word has taken the entire air out of your system.
Lighting brightens your house over the stifled morning gleam and thunder sounds dangerously in the distance. Youâre flinching, though searching Jamesâs eyes as he steadies you back on your feet.Â
âYou cant do this forever, James.â
âAnd what if I try?â He turns fully. âWhat if I would rather get myself killed than come back to heaven?â
âHe wouldnâtâ Steve is heaving, but Sam steps forward, Laying a hand on the blondeâs shoulder in an attempt to soothe his rage. âThe soul bond affects her just as it does him.â
âWhat does that mean?â Itâs barely a screech when you interrupt them again. Turning to James and tugging at his shirt, you convey the frustration of being kept in the dark through your features. âWhat does it mean, James?â
He sighs, shaking his head and then closing his eyes - hoping to escape this conversation. But it is happening. âIt means, if I die... you will die, too. A soul need replace that of a guardian one.â
At this point, James questions his sanity. How could he have not realized the twisted ways of the celestial realm sooner? In an attempt to soothe both his aching head and your tired soul, he reaches out to pull you into a hug, but your hands swat his arms away.
James recoils as if struck, the sting of rejection shattering his heart into thousands of pieces
âYou might think it wise to revisit what we offered you, James.â
The words hang in the air like a dark omen when Steven and Samuel disappear. With a heavy heart, James turns away from you, unable to bear the weight of your disappointment any longer.
As you walk away, James is torn between the desire to comfort you and the fear of causing you further pain. But when he reaches out to touch you, once more, your tears are a silent testament to the rift that now lies between you.Â
"I... I'm sorry," he stammers, his voice choked with emotion. Itâs a desperate attempt to fix this, even if he does not know how.
âGo, James. Please. I need time to understand all this-â
âI can help you.â
â-alone. I want to be alone.â You swallow hard. âLeave, please.â Your tears finally spill and James despises that he is at fault of them.
âGo.â
Feeling more abandoned than ever, James leaves you to your grief, the weight of his actions weighing heavily on his soul. In that moment, he realizes that the price of his newfound freedom may be greater than he ever imagined, leaving him trapped in a prison of his own making, forever haunted by the memory of the one he could never save.
He knows there are not many ways to fix this. But he is determined to find the one that will.
â â â
He doesnât remember earth to be quite this cold.Â
Find me when you have made the right choice. The words keep ringing in his head.Â
A little warmth would feel nice now.
â â â
You were angry when you told James to leave. Angry, and hurt, and confused, and shocked, and fucking tired of it all.Â
But now that he is gone, an unfamiliar emptiness has taken its place where your tingles used to be. Everything makes so much sense now. The weirdly familiar feeling. The sense of security around him - a total stranger at the time, who obviously possessed more strength than you could ever imagine. The instant pull from his heart to yours.Â
The quiet of your house seems to close in on you. The walls feel tighter, the rooms emptier. Every corner holds a memory of James, a reminder of the presence that had once filled your life with warmth and mystery. His laugh echoing in the hallway, his silhouette framed in the morning light through the kitchen window, the way he seemed to know when you needed comfort before you even realized it yourself.
You sit at the table, staring at your untouched cup of coffee, replaying moments in your mind. The time he effortlessly carried your groceries when you insisted you could manage alone. The nights he stayed up with you, talking about everything and nothing, his voice soothing and familiar. The way he looked at you, as if you were the center of his universe.
The days seem endless without him. Simple tasks feel monumental in the absence of his reassuring presence. You find yourself hesitating before making decisions, second-guessing your choices, yearning for the silent support he always provided. The realization hits you: you had built your life around him, around the safety and stability he brought, even without knowing the full truth of who he was.
You cannot deny that a big part of you misses him despite all the lies he told you. Well, not lies entirely. You know he has always been truthful to you ...he just never told the whole truth until he was forced to.
And even though the other two angels who visited made him reveal his secrets to you, you feel like there is so much more to discover still.Â
Your hand settles over your heart, trying to pull the constant racing around James back into existence. But it beats in profound silence, acting as though nothing has happened, when - in fact - everything has changed. James came into your life and unapologetically took your heart away. You donât want it back. You want him back. Heart or not, your souls are connected. And now that he is gone, you know what you have truly been missing all this time.Â
With a sigh, you rise form your chair and grab your keys, determined to find a way to help James out of the trouble he has caused because of you. A shiver runs down your spine at the memories of it all. Jamesâs sin had good intentions, you know this much. But two people died at the time of it - though only one deserves your mourning.Â
You pull your door closed and make your way to town hall. The entire left wing of the building is dedicated to the library and you are destined to find out more about the man who crashed into your life and took your heart away... and then disappeared.Â
The library is quiet, the soft rustling of pages and the occasional whisper the only sounds that break the stillness. You approach the counter, where a librarian is meticulously organizing a stack of book. She looks up as you approach, her kind eyes lighting up with curiosity.Â
âHello, dear,â she says warmly. How can I help you today?â
You hesitate for a moment but then you decide to just start at the beginning. âIâm looking for some texts about angels,â you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. âMore specifically fallen angels... and the consequences of disobeying.â
The librarian raises an eyebrow and a look close to amusement and happiness reaches over her face. âThatâs a rather specific topic,â she muses and your brow begins to sweat. Maybe this was a stupid idea. The woman is still eyeing you with a smolder, but then, as if you pushed a button, she shrugges and begins to type away on her computer. âGood thing itâs my job to get you exactly what you need.â
She nods slowly after a little while. âWe do have some old texts and legends about angels. Let me show you.â With that, she lifts her body out of the office chair behind the desk and leads you to the far end of the library. Itâs a quiet corner where the oldest books are kept. She pulls an ancient-looking leather-bound volume from a high shelf. For the place it has been kept, it is surprisingly dust-free.Â
With a smile, she hands it to you and then wishes you âhappy huntingâ.
The book is heavy in your hands. The front is embossed in golden letters. Your fingers trace over it, feeling every ridge and dip. âLegends of the Divine and Fallenâ, the title reads.Â
When you flip through the pages, the bookâs well-worn smell engulfs you and something inside you shifts. You brother loved old books. The one in your hand brings you right back to when you were kids. Pietro had a whole wall of shelves filled with his favorite stories. And more so than often, you snuck inside when he was out with his friends, grabbing one whose cover intrigued you the most and then getting lost in the pages until he came back and read it to you.Â
He sparked your interest in reading - made you the bookworm you are today. And finally, probably caused you to jump into this adventure with James in hopes of finally living inside on of your fantasy worlds.Â
You eyes get caught by a story in the book, your thumbs halting and fully opening the page as intrigue tingles in your entire body with every word you read.Â
The Tale of Buchariel: The Curious Angel
In the celestial realms, where light and harmony prevail, there existed an angel named Buchariel. Renowned for his loyalty and dedication, Buchariel was also marked by an insatiable curiosity. His yearning to understand the world beyond the heavenly gates set him apart from his brethren, who were content to serve without question.
One fateful day, driven by an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, Buchariel descended to the mortal realm without divine permission. His eyes beheld the beauty and chaos of humanity, the joys and sorrows that defined their existence. It was in this realm, teeming with life and temptation, that Buchariel's fate took a dark turn.
As Buchariel wandered the earth, a demon of cunning and allure took notice of the angel's presence. This demon, skilled in the art of seduction, approached Buchariel with promises of forbidden knowledge and experiences that no celestial being had ever known. Blinded by his curiosity, Buchariel succumbed to the demon's temptations, engaging in acts that defied the sacred laws of the heavens.
Word of Buchariel's fall reached the celestial realm, and the angels were dispatched to retrieve their wayward brother. They arrived in time to save Buchariel from complete corruption, pulling him from the demon's grasp and returning him to the realm of light. However, the consequences of his actions could not be undone.
The celestial court declared Buchariel's punishment. He was stripped of his rank and given an ultimatum: he could return to heaven only if he vowed never to betray the divine will again. God, in His infinite mercy, offered Buchariel a chance at redemption. He was to serve as a guardian angel, watching over humanity and guiding them towards righteousness. In this duty, he could be close to the world, yet stay obedient to heaven.Â
Buchariel accepted his fate, grateful for the opportunity to make amends. Yet, the legend speaks of the angel's perpetual struggle. Constantly exposed to the allure of the mortal world, Buchariel walked a fine line between duty and desire. His heart, once pure and untainted, now carried the scars of his past transgressions.
Eons passed, and Buchariel's vigilance never wavered, but neither did the temptations. His soul remained in perpetual conflict, torn between his heavenly duty and the memories of earthly sensations. The legend warns that Buchariel's fall could occur once more, for the battle within him is eternal. He is an angel forever on the edge of sin, a guardian who knows the weight of temptation, and a being who understands the cost of free will.
Thus, the tale of Buchariel serves as both a caution and a beacon. It reminds all who hear it of the delicate balance between obedience and desire, and the endless journey towards redemption that even the most divine must undertake.
A chill runs down your spine as you realize the parallels between the legend and James. The delicate balance between obedience and desire - serving and sinning. James did sin again. When he killed the man who ended your brotherâs life.Â
You sit in silence, the weight of your realization settling over you like a shroud. Itâs clear that Jameâs story resembles that of Buchariel in too many ways to be a coincidence. He was weirdly comfortable on earth, now that you think about it. For Christ's sake he even told you he had met God âunder rather unfortunate circumstancesâ. If what the legend says is true, unfortunate is the understatement of the century. Now you cant help but wonder what price he might pay for his defiance.
â â â
The diner hums with its usual activity, the clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversations fill the air. You move mechanically from table to table, refilling coffee cups and taking orders, but your mind is elsewhere, clouded with thoughts of James and the emptiness his absence has left behind.
Peggy, sitting at her usual spot at the counter, watches you with concern etched on her face. She waits until you pass by her with the coffee pot before speaking up.
"What's happened to that smile of yours, dear?" Peggy asks, her voice soft and maternal. "You used to light up this place."
You force a smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "Just tired, Peggy. You know how it is."
Peggy's eyes narrow, not buying your excuse for a second. "Tired, my foot. Something's bothering you. You can talk to me, you know."
Before you can respond, Scott chimes in with a smirk. "At least now I know youâre back to normal," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Thought you were gonna float away with all that grinning you were doing."
You shoot Scott a glare, feeling a mix of irritation and sadness. "Thanks, Scott. Really helpful."
âAlways at your serviceâ He tips his nonexistent hat, almost bringing a chuckle up within you. In his own way, he never faisl to cheer you up a little.
Peggy waves a dismissive hand at Scott and turns her full attention back to you. "Don't mind him, honey.â She leans in closer, her expression softening. "But seriously, what's going on? I haven't seen you this down in a while."
You sigh, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. "It's complicated, Peggy. Someone important to me... well, they're not around anymore. And it's just... hard."
Peggy reaches out and pats your hand gently. âWe all miss Pietro, dear. Losing someone is never easy... especially after all youâve been through.â
You nod, grateful for her kindness, but the ache in your chest remains. You can't bring yourself to tell her itâs not your brother you are mourning at this time. "I appreciate that."
The hustle and bustle of the diner continues around you, but for a brief moment, you feel a small measure of comfort in Peggy's concern.
As you turn to refill another customer's coffee, Peggy's words linger in your mind. Maybe opening up a bit more wouldn't be such a bad idea. Maybe, just maybe, sharing the burden could help ease the pain of James's absence, even if only a little. But who should you talk to? The only person you were every really close with is gone...
â â â
Yet another day passes in which you worry yourself tired. The house feels emptier than ever, the silence pressing in on you as you move through the rooms like a ghost. You try to distract yourself with chores and routines, but your thoughts always circle back to James. Wondering if heâs safe or thinking about you.
You sink into the worn armchair by the window, your favorite spot to watch the world outside. But tonight, the familiar view brings no comfort. The sky is a dark canvas, the stars hidden behind thick clouds. You hug your knees to your chest, feeling the loneliness wrap around you like a suffocating blanket as Old Leeâs words echo in your mind once again.Â
A quiet sob calls into the empty room - barely audible. And then the tears start falling down your face in constant streams. The memory of his touch, his warmth, his presence, feels like a distant dream. You close your eyes, trying to recall the feeling of James's arms around you, the sound of his heartbeat against yours. It's a comfort and a torment all at once.
You havenât cried like this since Pietro died... No, actually, you did when the message of Brockâs death reached you. But those were tears of relief rather than pain.Â
A sudden chill sweeps through the room, at the memory of the man who tormented your life in more ways than one. You open your eyes, frowning as you notice that itâs not only the thought of Brock making you feel this way. The air seems to crackle with an otherworldly energy. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you feel a strange pull, a familiar yet eerie sensation that makes your heart race.
You stand up slowly, your breath hitching in your throat. The room feels alive with a palpable tension, as if the very fabric of reality is shifting. You turn around, your eyes scanning the dimly lit space.
And then you see him.
â â â
James stands before you, his presence both startling and comforting, he notes as your herts sync again. His eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of relief and sorrow. You look as if you've been through a storm, yet there is a resolute strength in your gaze that anchors him. He probably doesnât look much better, considering he in fact has been in said storm. But heâd do anything to come back to you.Â
"James," you breathe, your voice trembling with emotion. "You're here.â
He steps forward, closing the distance between you. "Iâm here," he says softly, his voice carrying the weight of all the unspoken words and unshared moments.
You reach out, your hand trembling as it touches his cheek, as if verifying that he is real and not another figment of your imagination. Your skin is cold and the sensation sends a flood of emotions through him.
"Where have you been?" you ask, your voice cracking with the weight of your worry.
âIt is a long story," he replies, his hand covering yours. "But right now, all that matters is that I'm here. With you.â
In that moment, the world outside fades away, and all that exists is the space between you and James. The silence is filled with unspoken promises and the electric charge of a reunion long overdue.Â
When you fall into his arms crying, his knees feel like giving out. He has had a long journey behind him, but he would die before showing you weakness when you need him the most. âI thought I would never see you again!â You cry even harder and James wraps his arms around you with loving pressure.
âIâm here,â he tries to soothe you. His wings come around you once again in search for the calmness that washes over him when he realizes you feel safe.Â
âI donât think I can do without you anymore.â Your voice is muffled against his chest but his heart leaps at your confession. Warmth spreads throughout his body as the realization hits that you finally feel close to the emotions he has harbored for you for so long.Â
James wants to promise you that heâll never leave again. He wants to tell you that there is nothing worth losing you. Not the most tempting offer to ever exist. He wants to hold you forever, in fact, do more than just hold you and give into the feeling he has only ever heard about from demons and sinners.Â
But he canât. Because he knows it would not be true.Â
His feud with heaven is far from over. And the journey he plans to venture holds great unknown. So, he settles for the one thing he can tell you with certainty.Â
âI cannot be without you, either, my beloved. There is so much I want to experience with you but the most important of them all is love. I love you, with my entire soul and heart. I cannot deny you this truth any longer. I have done the unspeakable because of it and you deserve to know.â
You eyes look up at him widely, a question in them that has waited long enough to be asked. âBrockâs death wasnât an accident,â you whisper, but your posture remains steady. There is no pain or sorrow in your face. Just pure, plain curiosity.
âThey told me he was mugged and thrown in the river. But it never made sense to me.â You pull a little out of his touch and James lets you even though his entire body screams to keep you close. âThis town is too small to be mugged in. He was killed with a single stab to his heart. A mugger would never be so efficient.â
You gleam at him, seemingly waiting for him to confirm. But James stands in your presence with a sense of pride. He does not regret is transgression, not when it meant keeping you safe - which was and still is his greatest aim.Â
âThe way he was found was too peaceful to be from a robbery, either.â You tell him shaking your head. âHow can you make a murder look so respectful and honest?âÂ
âI am sorry if I have upset you, dearest-â
âYou havenât. Brock Rumlow was a bad man. It took me a long time to notice, but he was abusing and ill-driven. If anything, I am upset I couldnât thank you sooner that he is gone.â
âI had played with the though of removing him from the face of the earth for quite some time,â James confesses, feeling all the secretâs weight rolling off him like avalanches. âFrom the moment he first screamed at you... to the time he laid his hands on you. But I knew you were strong. I was so proud of you for getting up each day and moving on. I would have never acted had he not hurt you in a way even i could feel throught the very bond that ties our souls together. I knew you could handle the hurtful words, even the hurtful touches - that no-one, and especially not you, deserves. Your brother is of similar cunning as myself. But he was brave enough to act while I was fearing the consequences of testing celestial rule once more.âÂ
James catches the new tears rushing down your cheeks. But he wont stop telling you. He knows you need to hear it. It hurts him to revisit the memory of watching Pietro die in his quest to secure your freedom. âI was trying to honor you brother as much as ensure your safety when I... killed Brock.â He clears his throat and takes your hands in his. âHe would have continued to hurt every person he encountered. I do not regret what I did.â
âOh, James.â Your hands reach up to his face. James bows down to follow the tug you apply to his jaw. âThank you for telling me. I am not angry. And despite what the other angels said, I know you are a good person. I love you, too.âÂ
You smile as Jamesâs hands cover yours on his face. Your foreheads are touching and the room around you fades into nothingness. In this moment in time, there are just you and him, and all the new feeling bubbling inside him that he his eager to explore.Â
Heâs known it for long, but now he is certain than going back to heaven was never an option. Not when you are still here.Â
âI would love to kiss you right now,â you whisper in the space between you, igniting a heat within James he has never felt before.
âI would like that very much,â he confesses and as soon as the words leave his lips, yours are firmly pressed against his.Â
The sensation is overwhelming. Your lips are soft and warm, moving against his in a way that sends shivers down his spine. His hands still press yours to his skin, unsure what to do and overwhelmed with the experience opened to him. You gently take them and move then to your waist, then a little lower, making him trace the curve of your body as your tongue slowly slips between his lips. The contact sends a surge of electricity through him, making his heart race.
The kiss is tentative at first, each of you exploring this new and wondrous connection. Your fingers weave into his hair, anchoring yourself to him as if afraid he might vanish with this daring protest against heaven. He can feel the gentle tremor in your touch, the same mixture of awe and desire that he feels within himself.
You pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. Your breath mingles with his, cheeks heated and lips swollen. âMove your hands, James,â you whisper, guiding his hands to slide even lower on your body, teaching him how to hold you close, even though he thought he has always done so right. This is different. This is more.
He follows your lead, fingers trembling with the intensity of the moment as they squeeze flesh, eliciting a soft whimper from you that makes Jamesâs insides stir. Or maybe it is not his insides after all, he notices when his pants feel tighter all of a sudden.Â
Each brush of your lips against his, each caress, speaks of the longing and love that has been building between you for so long. James deepens the kiss, more confident now, feeling the warmth of your body against his, and itâs as if the world outside has ceased to exist.
Your thumb brushes over his cheek, and you smile, voice breathless. âYouâre doing great.â
The kiss becomes more fervent, your guidance helping James navigate this new territory. He feels like heâs pouring all his love and devotion into this one act, wanting to convey everything heâs never been able to say. His wings reach round you tentatively, leaving enough air for you to breathe. He wantâs to be wrapped up in you more - he cannot explain it.
James pulls back slightly, his breath coming in shallow gasps. âThis... this is incredible,â he murmurs in a voice husky with wonder. âIâve never felt anything like this before.â
You smile, eyes sparkling. âNeither have I.â
Your lips find each other again, more urgent this time, as if youâre making up for lost time - at least James is. The demon who lured him down the first time failed to mention this part of humanity to him.
âI want to show you more,â you finally whisper against his skin and at this point, James is willing to walk the sun if you asked him to.Â
âEverything,â he rasps, his lips touching you with every syllable. He cannot get enough of your taste. âShow it all to me, my love.â
âI want to start with taking off our clothes.â You kiss him again, making Jameâs pants feel even tighter. He knows about sex and he knows it is what you are hinting at. But he has never experienced it. It is no use to angels, since they cannot impregnate another. In heaven, it is rarely talked about - and if it is, one is warned about it.Â
Right now, James does not care why. He is eager to experience as much as there is on earth with you and then some. So, he lets you guide his hands over your shoulders, shrugging your cardigan off your body and letting his fingers glide beneath the thin straps adorning your shoulders now.Â
His hands are so big compared to yours. He marvels in the fact of how much stronger he is, making him able to protect you that much better.Â
James has no difficulty guiding the clothes from your body. Nakedness is something barely acknowledged where he comes from. But today... something about it feels different. This situation feels so much more intimate than it usually does. And he notices, when you kneel down to pull his pants down, his cock stands proud from his body, bigger than usual, and hard and- âOh!â sensitive, he notes when your lips kiss his hip, your face slightly grazing his member in the action.Â
With your head next to it, it looks disproportionately huge, but you donât seem to mind.Â
âThis... I have never done this before.â Jamesâs hands guide you back up to him. He is certain his cheeks are glowing red by now. He feels hot and bothered, yet so yearning for more of the teasing your face provided for mere seconds before.Â
âAre you okay with continuing?â Your eyes find his again.Â
âYes.â
âOkay, good.â And when he nods, you take his hand and lead him down the hall to your bedroom.Â
He has missed this place, missed holding you for the time he went away, but he can't tell you where he has been just yet. Not now, anyway. Right now, he wants to experience whatever you are willing to show him.Â
You walk around him, touching him all over, watching him react and making him lean down only to pull back before his lips can get a taste of yours again. Itâs beautiful agony and James is torn between pulling you into his strong grip and letting you wind him up until his balls feel like they are the ones squeezed tightly. They already are...
Eventually, you come to a stop behind him. He jolts when you fingers drive over the top of his wings, only for you to mumble a quick âsorryâ and coming back around in front of him.Â
âDonât be sorry. I was just not expecting it.â
You stare past him and at the white feathers protruding from his back. âThey are so soft... and pretty.â You find his eyes. âAll of you is pretty.â
He reaches for your face, finding pride in the way you nestle into his palm with a smile. âAnd dear, you are the most beautiful being the world has ever seen.â
âCan I touch them again?â You whisper only for James to now stare in awe.Â
He watches as your hands pass his body in slow-motion. They travel past his ribs and reach carefully towards his wings again. This time, he is prepared, though his stomach feels tight with something opposite of worry. More of a physical feeling he can't begin to explain. He closes his eyes and lets your touch travel over them like a prayer. Your path leaves shivers in its wake and James lets his head hang, reveling in the feeling. He opens his eyes and watches his cock twitch whenever the tingles get too much.Â
He gasps breathlessly when you graze the underside of his wings, making his whole body jump slightly.Â
âOh, are those sensitive?â You smile in awe, though your expression turns to excitement when he wheezes out his answer.Â
âVery.â
âDo you like it?âÂ
Your fingers glide over the same spot again, making his cock leak, feeling like heâs about to explode. âYes!â He grabs the sideboard next to him.
âI want to make you feel good, Jamesâ your voice is damp agains this ear and he bites his tongue before bursting.Â
âYou already do.âÂ
âI want to make it even better.â
James is not sure he can handle better. Heâs already floating miles above the ground when you touch him in the ways you do. Maybe he has to distract himself to enjoy this some more.Â
He could think about why heaven would withhold education of how amazing sex can be. That will make him calm a little, posting yet another reason why it was never the place to be for him.Â
Your hands wrap around his silver wrists as you guide him to the bed, pushing down on his shoulders until he is sat on the mattress, looking up at you with intrigue and awe.Â
âWhat are you doing?â
âIâm going to ride you, James.â You straddle his lap and his arms immediately reach around you.Â
âRide ...me? Iâm not a horse.â He states and watches as your smile lights up. But it settles a weary feeling in his stomach. There is a hint of mischief in your glint, and James is not sure he can handle it right now.Â
âDo you trust me?â
âWith my entire soul.â
You kiss him and push at his chest. âThe lie back for me.â
And so he does, realizing - once again - that anything heaven could offer him pales in comparison to the love he feels for you, a love that knows no bounds or logic and that is reciprocated in your every touch.Â
James watches as you scoot up his body until you are sat right behind his cock, which has not ceased to soften one bit since you kissed. It reaches all the way to your navel. But before he can take in the sight and calculate the size difference between you, you press him against your stomach, pulling another moan from his lunges.Â
His tip is leaking more and more with every touch you gift him and James starts to worry his body will give out before he can make you feel good.Â
âYouâre so big, so pretty.â You stroke him from base to top, letting your thumb press into the underside of his cock and send shiver after shiver through Jamesâs body. âI need you inside me.â
âI need that to.â His voice is strangled when you lift up and grind his tip through your wet folds, moaning with the friction he can only assume is the same for you as it is for him.Â
In a swift motion, the head of his cock sinks inside you, breaching tight muscle and making him feel dizzy with the new sensation. Your head falls back with a loud breath that makes his abs tighten. This whole time, he feels as though a gust of wind could make him unravel, but something inside him tells James he should hold out - or at least try to.Â
The raspy sounds escaping his throat cant seem to stop when you slowly work yourself all the way down his shaft. And the high-pitched scream you set free when his tip reaches another barrier within you makes him twitch and leak even more.Â
âAre you alright?â He asks through sweaty brows.Â
âIâm amazing.â You smile and lift yourself up only to sink back down into his lap. Your movements become steady, and when he finally gets over the way your mouth hangs slack, the rhythm you set builds even more pressure inside him.Â
The room is filled with messy sounds of skin and sweat and moans and heavy breaths. You sink down on him again and again until James feels like he is on fire. But you donât relent. Your pace never falters when you fall back and your hands grip his thighs, digging into his muscles until his toes curl.Â
Itâs too much at once and not enough at the same time. James feels as though there is a cliff he could fall over every second now, but heâs too scared to loose the sensations he is experiencing right now to let his body do so.Â
âTouch me,â you suddenly say, taking his hands which have fisted inside your duvet until now and placing them on the soft flesh of your breasts. Only now, your nipples are hardened when you guide his fingers over them. âLike this.â Youâre somehow fare gone and right there with him. But he does as he his told again, flicking his thumb over the pebbled flesh until your moans grow higher and higher. âAh, Yes!â
Itâs doing something to him, he his twitching every time your pussy squeezes him in tandem with his thumb on your nipples. His body is moving without the permission of his mind when he suddenly thrusts up. And then again. And again. Until you are mewling and crying on top of him, your fingernails digging into his legs painfully hard.Â
James immediately drops his hands only to watch you stare at him with wide eyes.Â
âWhatâs the matter. Why did you stop?â
He bites his lips in shame when he realizes he misses your constant movement on his cock. âAm I hurting you?â
You eyes possibly widen further. Leaning forward and capturing his cheeks with both lips and hands, you shake your head after you pull away. âNo! No, its a good thing, love. You feel so good. You...â Your expression changes to a rather shy one. âYouâre just very big. You should be proud.â
Something inside James clicks as you confess with another kiss to his lips. A smirk spreads beneath them when he curiously thrusts up inside you and experiences your hot breath gains his face.Â
In a second, his hands grab onto your hips, his body turns and flips the pair of you until your back hits the mattress as gently as he can offer in his compromised position.Â
A last look of reassurance when your eyes lock with his set off the urges he has suppressed so far. His hips snap forward over and over again, your pussy tightening more around him with every push. Your hands are fist into the covers, head thrown back and mouth open. There is no more sound coming from you at this point. And James understands why. He is as overwhelmed with the feeling as you look. When you grow even tighter, gripping this cock until he cannot move anymore, white pleasure as hot as hellfire rushes through his body, kissing his nerves from head to toe. He feels his balls empty as he paints your inside with his spent, only being able to lazily rut into you after a minute to seize every last drop of pleasure this moment has to offer.Â
Then he falls forward as if a higher force has taken all the strength from his body, though careful not to hurt you when his weight settles on top of you.Â
âWhat-â he needs to catch his breath first. âWhat was that?â
âThat,â you open your eyes, chest having with every deep breath, âwas an orgasm.â Your hands brush through his hair and James finds himself purring at the touch. âAnd it was the best one Iâve ever had.âÂ
You kiss him and chuckle when he looks at you questioningly. âI guess you could say it was outer-worldly... or even heavenly.âÂ
James rolls his eyes but canât stop the laugh from slipping his lunges. He pulls back and watches as his softened cock leaves your pussy, only to be followed by your mixed arousal dripping out of you.Â
Trance-like, his hand moves to collect the fluid and begins to smear it over your petals, up into the soft tuft above it. He knows angels cannot impregnate other beings, but he is fascinated by the scene in front of him. Itâs like a little testimony when he marks you all around the best place he has ever experienced, wordlessly rubbing and enjoying the whimpering sounds you make when he flicks over a particular spot.Â
âIs this sensitive?â He teases with a smirk only to be met with a playful smack on his arm.Â
âVery.â you say. âBut I am entirely satisfied as of right now.â
James sighs and falls into the sheets beside you. âMe too.â He nuzzles into your neck and pulls you closer to his body. He does not care that you are sticky with sweat or that neither of you are cleaned up. He just needs to hold you now that reality has taken its place back around him again.Â
âSo, you have been watching over me for - what? All my life?â
James hides the chuckle bubbling up his throat at your sudden question. He still has his eyes closed, taking in the feeling of your nails lightly scratching up and down his forearms. It makes him tingly.Â
âAll your life, yes.â
âAnd have you ever meddled with other things that were supposed to happen to me?â
âDo you remember the year in which you kept finding pineapples in arbitrary places?â
Itâs silent for a moment, but your movements donât falter. âI always thought that was a weird coincidence.â
James smiles into the crook of your neck. âConsider it my way of adding a little excitement to your life. And maybe a small attempt to make you notice me.â
You push yourself up slightly and rest on your elbows as you look at James. âI like you like this.â You smile.
âLike what?â Heâs smiling as well.â
âLess angel, more...â Your hand comes up to gesture at nothing in particular. â...deviant.â
The smile on Jamesâs face turns into a proud grin before he leans up to kiss you tenderly, savoring the moment and pushing away the thought that has been gnawing on him ever since he came back.Â
He holds you until you fall asleep, purposefully missing the opportunity to tell you what he has gotten himself into while he was away.
â â â
James stands in the garden, the sky overcast and heavy with the promise of rain. Heâs out here to retrieve a bouquet of your favorite flowers, smiling like a fool because he finally has what he always wished for. All his mishaps and seem worth it when he holds you in his arms at night.Â
The flowers are vibrant and alive, and he bends to pick them with a sense of purpose, each blossom a token of his affection. Even as the first raindrops start to fall, his joy is undiminished. The rain doesnât bother him; itâs a minor inconvenience compared to the happiness heâs found with you.Â
As he moves through the garden, he thinks of the moments youâve sharedâthe way your eyes light up when you see him, the warmth of your touch, the sound of your laughter, the way you writhe beneath him in she sheets. For the first time in his existence, he feels complete.Â
James clutches the bouquet and heads back toward the house, eager to see the surprise on your face when he presents you with the flowers.
But before he can pass the threshold, an eery feeling spreads though is soul, a shadow falls over him but vanishes just as soon. He scans the yard, his sight nestling through the trees at the very edge of it and then suddenly halting when he sees Wanda leaning against one at the very far corner of your property. Her presence is like a dark cloud on the horizon, a stark contrast to the bright joy he feels. Her red eyes glint with a knowing look, and her lips curl into a smirk that sends a chill down his spine.
âAre you not coming inside, James? The weather will only get worse.â You shout through the house only to appear behind him to inspect what is keeping him outside.Â
But Jamesâs stare is fixated on the demon in your yard, his protective instincts setting in immediately, scanning his surroundings while keeping a close eye on Wanda.Â
âWhat is going on?â You ask and reach your arms around him from the side. He can sense youâre eyeing him but he knows you see what he is seeing when your entire body grows rigid beside him.Â
âWho is that?â you whisper into Jamesâs shoulder as you step even closer to him, your voice barely audible over the increasing patter of rain. He squeezes you a little tighter, trying to shield you from the inevitable storm brewing. A quick look at your state tells him he should have send you inside. But It is too late for that now.Â
When his head turns back into the direction of the demon, it is no longer in its prior place. Instead, Wanda has moved across the garden with impeccable speed, looking up at the pair of you a few feet alway from the step leading to your porch.Â
âYou promised me time to explore the likes of this life.â His voice is low and intimidating, though he knows its futile in the face of a demon. They are scared of very little.Â
âAnd explored you have,â her red hair falls over her shoulder when her head ticks to the side. âTell me, Bucharius, is it worth the cost?â
The demon knows of the leverage it has on him. James was sure he would follow through with his request from the start. But he forgot, or maybe just hoped, the devilâs spawn would gift him more time until he had to go and seal the contract.Â
âYou know it is,â he pushes though clenched teeth, hating how your fingers clamp around his arm already.Â
âActually, I donât. But I would be an idiot to refuse an offer such as yours.â Wanda clasps her long fingers together and grins with evil. âOh, I will have so much fun with your soul once the time comes.â
The angel closes his eyes tightly, hating the way the demon pressures him to leave so soon. But it is for the greater good, for him at least. He needâs to be selfish for once - to be able to spend a lifetime providing whatever you desire.Â
âJust give me a moment, Wanda,â James says, his voice steady despite the chaos inside his head. He knows his flicker of happiness is about to be shattered, but he wants to hold onto it for just a little longer.
âWhat is happening? What does she want?â There are tears brimming in your eyes and James decides he has seen them far too many times to be a good guardian to you. It just secures his decision to do what Wanda came to collect him for.Â
James presses his lips to the crown of your head before gently tilting it upward with his fingers. His gaze is steady, exuding a confidence while you desperately cling to him in your confusion.
âIâm not sure I can handle all this newfound angelic drama,â you mutter with unease, and James kisses youâshort and sweet, a fleeting moment of peace.
Then he whispers against your lips, âPlease, you handle drama like a queen. Remember that time you dealt with Valentina from accounting?â His attempt at humor brings a small smile to your face, and he momentarily loses himself in the warmth and security it provides.
But the feeling doesnât last long.
âJames has made a deal with the devil,â Wanda grins, her red eyes flashing with malevolent glee.
Her words send shivers over your body, James feels the ripples pass beneath his fingertips. You pull away from your guardian angel, whose troubles have now escalated to an unthinkable level.Â
âWhat does she mean, James?â
â â â
Jamesâs silence is deafening. You pray, you beg, for this to be a terrible joke, but deep down, you know itâs not.
âJames.â Your words are strained, desperate for answers, desperate for reassurance. âWhat is she talking about?â
âIt is true,â James finally admits, his eyes free of sorrow but filled with determination. âI have made a deal with Lucifer. My wings for a mortal life. My soul when it leaves my deceased body after spending a lifetime with you.â
âWhat?â The word is a whisper, your mind struggling to process the gravity of his confession. Because your cheeks feel salty and stained before you realize what James has just told you. âWhy are you doing this?â you ask through your tears.
âBecause Iâd give up heaven if it meant being with you.â Jamesâs eyes burn into yours, the rain dripping off his wet face deceivingly. His voice is steady, unwavering. âIâd go to hell a thousand times over until my soul burns to ashes if it meant I get to hold you one more time. Youâre everything to me. Everything.â
Another wave of shivers slip over your skin with the way he presses the last word. His eyes are fiery, almost desperate. He is trying to make you understand how much better this decision is, but you fail to see how it can. âYou canât do this. You are destined for more. There are many more to come after me that need protecting and watching over.â
âAnd there have been plenty before you, yet none of them have or will ever compare, my love.â He touches your cheek, but you push his hand away. Your heart is already aching when you watch his face fall at the gesture. But you are not made for these types of dilemmas. You are human for fuckâs sake. âI would spend eternity regretting not experiencing life with you. I am tired of watching; I am over feeling the distance between us. Going back to heaven means finding you someone else to love. And I cannot do that. It would destroy me, burn me alive, rip my heart out of my chest.â
âJames, think about this.â Now the first angry tear slips from his face and mixes with he rain which has grown heavier. Dark clouds cast over the scene, matching the mood perfectly. Dreary and sad - how poetic.Â
âI have. For far too long. I will never feel truly fulfilled until I can be what you need me to be: a real, tangible person that grows old with you.â
You shake your head, your hair sticking to your skin. âYou have to believe me when I tell you that I exist only for you. My life was dull before you entered it, and it will feel like a black hole when you leave. There is nothingânothingâI wouldnât do to be with you.â
Never before have words felt more genuine than this. James is hunched forward, his eyes pleading at you from above. A sneaky hand has captured yours and presses it to his chest, where his heart is beating vigorously against your skin.Â
Resignation laces your voice when you finally answer him. âSo youâre just going to leave now? For how long? What if he tricked you?â
You donât know much about all the rules but one thing is for sure, the devil likes to play and deceive. Just the thought of James walking into a trap makes your stomach churn.Â
âThen it was worth it.â There is something akin to content and fulfillment in Jameâs stare when his hand squeezes yours and his heartbeat slows. Though yourâs seems to do the opposite.Â
âNo.â You say breathlessly.Â
âIâm sorry," he answers, and wraps your fingers around the bouquet in his hands.
âJames.â
âI love you.â
âJames.â
The rain intensifies, pounding the earth as if mirroring the turmoil in your heart. James turns and lets Wanda put him in chains, leading him away. You fall to your knees, crying, the three words you have yet to say hanging on your lips for nobody to hear. Heâs gone. Heâs gone without the knowledge of ever seeing you again.
â â â
And just like that it ends like it began: in tragedy⌠and rain.
â â â
Maybe you are just not cut out for happiness, you think as you wipe down the counter with a frown. The sun is shining today, almost mocking your bad mood with every chirping of birds outside. Earlier today, you were so angry about the reflection blinding you inside that you shut the blinds completely.Â
James has been gone for a week now and you already feel like breaking down over what youâve lost whenever something is mentioned that reminds you of him.Â
A few days ago, after a really rough night, you swore youâd never let anyone this close to you. Itâs the perfect start for you villain origin story, really. Losing your brother to an abusive ex. Losing said abusive ex thanks to a protective angel. Then falling in love with the angel only for him to go to hell for loving you back.Â
You heart cannot take another hit. Itâs constantly breaking as you think about the torture and pain James is probably suffering in the pits of hell. There is just no more room for another person, another worry, or anything else, really.Â
You will just die an old and groggy lady, likely still cleaning this very counter until you cant anymore. The whole town is going to know you as the weird woman with seventy two cats.
You shake at the thought of it, disposing of your towel and grabbings some plates from the counter to clean up some more.
âNew customer is yours, freaking weirdo has been standing outside the window and looking inside like some kind of stalker,â Scott mumbles as he paces by you with his head buried in his phone screen.Â
You just sigh and throw a used napkin into the trash before loading the dirty plates onto a kitchen tray.Â
âIâd like a sandwich, please.â A voice sounds from behind you and your entire body goes rigid.
It canât be. It cant. For days you have been wishing for James to come back, now you are finally becoming crazy.Â
But your heart picks up its familiar sprint and your entire body tingles with hope. Still, you donât dare to turn around.Â
âAre you not going to look at me, dearest?â
Your hands tremble as you grip the edge of the counter. What if itâs real? What if itâs not? The uncertainty gnaws at you, each second stretching into an eternity. Youâve dreamed of this moment, but dreams are fickle things, easily shattered by the harsh light of reality.
âJames...â The name slips out in a whisper, a plea, a hope. Tears sting your eyes, and you squeeze them shut, bracing yourself for the worst.
You take a deep breath and finally turn around. Truly, there he stands in front of you, with a bright and gleaming grin on his lips. There is one thing you notice immediately: the silver cuffs on his arms are gone. And he looks oddly free without them.
Almost trance-like, you round the counter, your had reaches out to him, touching his jaw, gliding down the length of his neck until your fingertips disappear into the soft curls in the back of it.Â
âIs it really you?â You whisper in awe as you start to drown in the familiar blue of his eyes. And when James covers your hand with his, squeezing his reassuring sequence to your bones, you know. Itâs real.Â
âIn the ...flesh.â he frowns but then smiles widely.Â
âWhat happened when you were gone?â Your curiosity gets the better of you, but James just shakes his head and then turns his face to kiss the inside of your wrist.Â
âNot here, love. Take me home... if youâll have me. Take me back. I promise no more secrets from now on.â
You just nod vigorously, finally pulling James into your embrace. The worry raging inside you fades into insignificance, eclipsed by the certainty that in this moment, youâve regained something intently more powerful - a bond that defies explanation, but feels undeniably perfect.Â
âI will always choose you over anything else, James.â You nuzzle into his chest as you ravel in the warmth of his body and the security of his touch. His heart is singing the same song as yours and his head hangs low atop yours, pressing meaningful kisses to your hairline between every stroke of his hand on your back.Â
The diner around you might as well not exist. All that matters is this connection between you - the bond that defies the boundaries of heaven and earth.Â
âBut tell me one thing,â you whisper into his shirt and James moves to better hear your low voice.Â
âI will tell you anything,â he presses into another kiss on your face, still holding you close.Â
âAre you... did the-â youâre not sure how to assemble the questions inside your mind without being bold. But James seems to know exactly what it is you want to say.Â
He takes both his hands from around you and guides your face to his until his warm lips press a meaningful kiss to yours. âYes,â he murmurs softly, yet steadily, conveying just enough seriousness to let you know how important and truthful his answer is. âI did what I promised. I am yours until the end of my life, and even beyond, my soul will be seeking yours for eternity. But until then, we will grow old together and finally be what we were meant to.â
His lips latch onto yours a second time and as the kiss deepens, a sense of completeness washes over you. In Jamesâs arms, you find the solace and passion you have been yearning for, a promise of love that transcends all else.Â
âI canât begin to tell you how much it means to me.â You smile back between kisses.
James pulls you even closer, his voice a gentle murmur against your lips. âWe have a lifetime to show each other.â
And in that moment, surrounded by the echoes of a bustling diner and the warmth of his embrace, you know that no matter the trials ahead, this love will endure, defying all boundaries and transcending every limit.Â
â â â
Because at last, thereâs noting more freeing than falling itself.
𫵠You cant get enough of this character? Go check out the chatbot I made for him! This way you can explore different endlings, plotlines, or just enjoy his company for a while longer đ
Lord, can we take a second and appreciate these images???!! Got me on my knees - and not for praying, I'll tell you this much...
Hello, loves. As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. I hope you had fun! Maybe... juuuust maybe if you want to, you could leave a comment or reblog on this post. New fics will be on hiatus until August, I have some real life work to finish. But please feel free to interact and talk to me. I love hearing from you! Take care, and ill talk to you as soon as I can. ~Meg đ
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Broke: Wallman/watcher outsiders Scott
Woke: Scott was owens second in command and executed as part of district 8's appeasement
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Do you have any Stiles kicked out of the pack recs?
Sure!
Leave It All Behind by asarcasticwitch
A coil of panic tightens in his chest as, after just three short rings, Derekâs voiceâraspy as if barely awakeâechoes through the speaker. âDo you know what time it is?â he grumbles, and at any other time, Stiles wouldâve made a joke or retorted with something so sarcastic it wouldâve undoubtedly earned him a huff in return. But right now, he canât think of anything to say.
The One You Choose by Asterekmess (Livinginfictions)
Stiles hadnât seen Scott in over a week, except for glances he caught during school hours.
It seems wasted now by DaaroMoltor
It's been months. Months of lonely days and lonelier nights. And Stiles can't understand what he did wrong.
Stiles, Wait! by Sivan325
5 times Scott tried to kick Stiles out of the pack, but Derek defended him, and 1 time Stiles and Derek left together.
Lone Wolf by Kikileduc
Stiles feels forgotten, he feels left out. So he does something about it, while getting reacquainted with nature he stumbles on to something else. If the pack doesn't need him, if his dad wants him to stay out of it all, well, maybe he just needs a distraction in the form of 3 adorable wolf cubs!
Sparks and shadows by Nival_Vixen
Stiles has to figure out a way to maintain a balance between his spark and the darkness inside of him.
No one called, until someone did. by queen_of_OTPs
Stiles found that he hadnât spoken more than necessary since August. Gone were the rambling rants, extravagant gestures, and range of vocal tones. Monotone sentences that were cut with sharp edges, words like knives and tone like venom. No one had called.
Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | possessive Derek | smut | hurt/comfort | magical Stiles | mafia | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse | witch!Stiles
#sterek#sterek fic#eternal sterek#stiles x derek#sterek fanfic#derek hale#stiles stilinski#derek x stiles#sterek fic rec#sterek fanfiction#sterek ao3#teen wolf fic#teen wolf fanfiction#anon asks#hedwig221b replies
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âľâž pressing the pads of their fingers into their lips in the aftermath, like theyâre either trying to capture the feeling or banish it from memory
with x1!Logan pretty plssssss đ
YES Ozzie omg thank you I love this â¤ď¸
Forbidden Fruit
pairing: dbf!Logan x neighbor!reader word count: 3.4k summary: Youâre a little obsessed with your attractive new neighbor. Unfortunately, heâs quite a bit older than you... And your dad's new best friend. content/warnings: non-mutant AU, unspecified age gap, written as x1 Logan, Scott is your dad (sorry), silence of the lambs spoilers???, yearning, tbh yall are as bad as each other, smut a/n: lmao this was supposed to be a drabble 𤡠ty to @ozarkthedog, the most perfect human đŠˇ
Thereâs a party roaring outside. As a general rule, your dad doesnât like to throw parties often, but when he meets the man whoâs moving in next door, he announces to you his plan. âHosting a new neighbor helps to establish a good relationship!â he insists, and thatâs that.
Youâre sat in the living room, the space dimly lit, nursing a Pabst Blue Ribbon as the glow of your latest Blockbuster rental illuminates your face.
"You even old enough to drink?" comes a voice just outside the door frame.Â
You jump, beer sloshing gracelessly down your front. You turn to him, glowering. Heâs silhouetted from the hallway and you canât make out his face. âYep,â you tell him, âI just have an immaculate skincare routine. Keeps me youthful.â
âSo youâre hiding inside⌠because?â
You shrug. âJust like time to myself.â
He nods, and then strides over. He takes a seat beside you.
âWho are you, exactly?â you frown, looking him up and down.
âYou mind?â he asks, smirking as he wiggles the beer you didnât realize he was holding and nods towards the bottle opener. The audacity.
You glare and grab the bottle opener. He holds his hand out for it, but you withdraw.Â
âLogan,â he laughs, âLogan Howlett. I just moved in next door.â
âOh,â you drop the bottle opener into his hand, remembering your dadâs words. Establish a good relationship. âOh, yeah, my dad was really excited about the party. Hope youâre enjoying it.â
His eyebrows raise. âYour dad?â
âYeah,â you nod, âScott Summers.â
âNo shit,â he frowns, âThat guy sends a lot of emails.â
âThat he does.â
Logan pops his bottle open. âMind some company?â
âLong as you donât mind watching Silence of the Lambs starting part way through.â
âOhhhhh yeah, has he asked for a quid pro quo yet?â
âAahh, a connoisseur,â you grin, âYeah, just got past that part. I can rewindââ
âNah,â he shrugs, âLet it play.â
You watch for a while in silence, but then start chatting again, swapping mundane questions.Â
âSo, Scottâs your dad, huh?â he asks, after a while.
âHe sure is.â
âWhen he said he had a daughter, I guess I assumed someone younger.â
âSame skincare routine,â you deadpan.
He closes his eyes, holding back a laugh as he shakes his head. âSorry, sorry. Itâs none of my business.â
âItâs okay,â you laugh, âYeah, he was still pretty young when I was born.â
âAnd what aboutâŚâ he trails off, suddenly realizing tact may be appreciated.
âDadâs a widower,â you explain simply.
Logan nods. âIâm sorry to hear that.â
You sit in silence for a moment, watching as Lecter is revealed to be wearing the guardâs face.
âHow about you?â you ask, âYou got a wife? Husband? Girlfriend? Partner?--â
He turns to look at you and you peter off. âNope.âÂ
Thereâs something in the way heâs looking at you. Youâre not sure if heâs being suggestive, or if youâre reading into things. Maybe itâs just the reflecting light making his eyes look more provocative than he intends.
Either way, you feel your heartbeat surge and your stomach flip.
You turn away and try to affect nonchalance, try not to be suddenly mesmerized by this unexpected plot twist that is Logan. The movie is wrapping up, Clarice taking Lecterâs call as he pursues Chilton. You try to focus on it, the score, the costumesâ but instead you notice the way he smells, musky and a little sweaty. Itâs nice. A little dizzying.
âWhat about you?â you ask.
âHmm?â
"You have any kids?" you ask, and immediately wonder if you waited too long to carry on the conversation.
"Shit," he snorts and shakes his head, "I hope not."
It takes you off guard. You burst out laughing.
He huffs, lifting the beer to his lips to hide a smile.
The credits begin to roll over the ending scene.Â
With the bottle drained, he pats his thighs and stands up. "Alright, kid," he says, "I probably shouldnât hide in here any longer.â
âMy dad appreciates it,â you tell him, âDonât wanna give him a heart attack when his guest of honor is nowhere to be found, soon to be discovered with his delinquent daughter.â
He picks up his empty and shakes his head, heading back outside. He calls back, âOh, youâre trouble.â
Now that youâve met him, you canât get him out of your mind.Â
When you see him again, a couple days later in daylight this time, you have to pick your jaw up off the ground. Heâs taller than you realize, and heâs fucking built. And fuck, heâs handsome too. When he sees you, he waves a hand. âHey Trouble,â he calls, âKeepinâ your nose clean?â
Weeks pass, and, much to your delight (and, admittedly, despair), your dad and Logan become close.Â
Sundays become your favorite day. Sunday, you discover, is the day you can see Logan through your window, chopping a seemingly endless stack of firewood.Â
One time, he catches you watching. To your utter shock, he winks at you. Knowing your eyes are on him, he lifts the hem of his beater to wipe his brow, and shoots you a shit-eating grin.
You had plans but that doesnât matter now. All you can do is shove your hand into your panties and rub circles around your throbbing little clit until you cum with a muffled sigh, knowing heâs outside. Knowing thereâs not more than a fence and a few feet between you.
Almost every night, his fire pit is alight and you see him reading, or strumming his guitar, or fucking whittling, serene in the smouldering glow, till the fire burns out and the night turns too cool to enjoy.
As the weeks pass, heâs at your house more and more. You wish your heart would stop doing flips whenever you see him on the sofa next to your dad, beer in hand, laughing at some story thatâs being recounted.
He says hello to you each time he sees you, and always asks after you when youâre out.
âOh, Logan says hi,â your dad will say over his morning toast, âWhy does he call you Trouble? Tell me you havenât been besmirching the Summers name?â
âNah,â you grin, âJust the littlest besmirchment, at worst.â
His eyes narrow.
âCâmon, now, we want to-â
âEstablish a good relationship!â you finish, grinning at the way he scowls.
âSmartass.â
âHey, Trouble,â heâll greet you, whenever you find him at your home.
âHey neighbor.â
âYou beinâ good?â heâll ask.
ââCourse not,â youâll wink, âWhereâs the fun in that?â
You love that he calls you Trouble. That he has a name, just for you. It feels like it could almost be something, and so itâs almost enough.Â
Before long, what youâd once feared was a one-sided attraction begins to morph into something different.Â
Itâs a Saturday, and you decide to wear a cute little dress. Itâs a flowy thing that hugs all your curves in the very best way, hem barely falling past the curve of your ass.
Your dad just popped out for another six-pack, and youâre in the kitchen, making pasta salad. With your father gone, Logan isnât subtle in the way he looks at you. You delight in how his eyes linger at the curve of your hip, the swell of your chest. It feels like a victory, the way he grits his jaw a little when you lean forward, cleavage on full display.
âWhatâs a pretty thing like you doinâ wearing a naughty little dress like that?â Logan asks, scowling.
You raise an eyebrow and try not to let the way your heart starts to flutter affect you. âThought youâd figured it out on day one â Iâm trouble.â
He looks you up and down, his gaze lascivious. Itâs the boldness of it. The two of you are alone, and you both know it.
âI think you like it,â you narrow your eyes.
Heâs silent for a long moment. Then he lets out a deep breath.Â
âGod help me, I do.â
âWhy donât you do something about it?â
He opens his mouth to respond, but then you both hear the latch, and the front door swings open.
Logan sits back, pretending as though nothing just happened.
You turn back to your salad.
You can see Logan in the sitting room, right in your line of sight. Your dad sits across from him, his back towards you.Â
If youâre honest, youâre not sure exactly what compels you.Â
You turn to face Logan, wave for him to catch your eye. He does, quickly, immediately attuned to you. Your dad doesnât notice the way his eyes follow you. You hold a finger to your lips. His eyes dart between you and your dad, and he tries to focus on whatever his friend is saying to him.Â
Slowly, you slip one strap down, and then the other. You can hear Loganâs breath hitch, which he covers almost believably with a gulp of his beer. Shimmying the bodice just a little, you expose your cleavage to near-dangerous depths. Heâs grinding his teeth now, and it feels like victory.
Quickly, silently, you slip your top all the way down, exposing your breasts to the cool kitchen air. Your nipples, already hard, tighten. Logan is holding his can so tightly heâs crushing it in his fist.Â
âYou okay, buddy?â you hear your dad say, and you can practically hear the frown in his voice. In a couple of quick movements, you slip your top back up and turn back to your salad.
âHuh?â Logan asks quickly, and then looks at his beer. âOh, shitâ!â he grumbles, relaxing his grip gingerly.
Itâs not till an hour later that your dad stands up and announces, âIâll be right back, gonna hit the head.â
When heâs gone, Logan bolts up and marches over to you.
âAre you out of your damn mind?â he demands.
You shrug and, not so subtly, glance down at his crotch. You smirk at the way the front is tenting. Logan stares daggers as he adjusts himself, better hiding his hard-on.
âSome of you seems to like it,â you point out.
âOut here? With him here? You want your daddy to kill me?â
âNo,â you promise, âNo, I just want you to fuck me.â
âJesus Christ youâre troubleââ
You both hear a toilet flush, and, moments later, footsteps descend on the stairs.
Logan adjusts himself again, and you blow him a kiss as he tromps back to his seat.
Itâs a week before you see Logan again. Heâs working late this week, apparently. Or maybe heâs just keeping his distance from you.
On Friday night, you debate going out. Itâs been a while, and you could use a chance to unwind. But drinks are expensive, andâ and you see a fire out your window. Logan sits out by his fire pit.
Without thinking, you put on your shoes.
Itâs late, but not too late. Your dadâs on his recliner, game on TV, newspaper in hand.
âYou headinâ out, kiddo?â he asks.
âYep,â you lie, âMeeting a couple friends downtown. Theyâre picking me up!â
âStay safe,â he calls after you, âCall me if you need a ride.â
âI will,â you tell him. âDonât know if Iâll be home tonight. Donât wait up for me!â
You head out of the house and through your neighborâs gate.Â
Logan is golden, illuminated in the glow of the flames. Heâs whittling something, angrily.
You realize then that your entrance has been near-silent on the soft grass. âUh,â you clear you throat and knock on his fence as you approach him. âHey, there, neighbor!â
Logan looks up and frowns when he sees you.
âYou are makinâ me crazy, Trouble.â he huffs.
âLike, in a good way?â you ask.
He glares at you.
You come closer. âCan I sit?â
Logan budges up, putting down his whittling tools.
âSoâŚâ you venture âAm I more trouble than Iâm worth?â
Logan scoffs.
âNah.â he concedes, âI just donât wanna make things complicated.â
You shrug. âTheyâre already complicated. Youâve seen my tits.â
He huffs out a laugh. âGoddammit, Trouble. I canât get you out of my head.â
âTheyâre great tits,â you shrug.
âThey are great tits.â Logan agrees.
The fire is crackling and the night is clear, stars hanging above you. You've been sitting side by side, quiet.
You donât know what to say. Maybe there isn't anything to say. Youâve been patient, dammit. You just need to leap.
You pull him towards you and he moves without resistance.
He growls into your mouth, a needy animal sound. The scruff of his beard feels nice against your chin and youâre dizzy with his proximity, with his lips on yours.
After an eternity in the space of a single moment, you pull apart.
Logan stares at you, overwhelmed. His eyes are dark, his kiss-glistened lips catching the light as the fire dances.Â
He presses the pads of his fingertips against his lips in the aftermath, as though either trying to capture the feeling, or banish it from memory.
Then, after a long moment, heâs on you. His hands grip you, grasp you, trace the shape of your body as though memorizing it by touch alone.Â
âInside. Now.â he growls, âOut here youâre askinâ for your daddy to catch us.â
Youâre barely through the door before Logan is tugging at your clothes. You help him pull your top above your head, and you fumble with the button of your jeans as he unhooks his belt and yanks off his beater.
In a matter of moments, youâre both fully bare. His skin is hot against yours as he holds you to him, caging you against the door as he drags his teeth along your shoulder. His hard cock hangs against your thigh, heavy and thick and leaking.
Your clothes trail from the front door to his sofa. You donât make it any further than that.
Youâre a ticking time bomb, a siren, pulling him in, driving him wild. He wants and wants and wants, more than he ever knew he could. So much could be ruined; his friendship with your dad, the scrap of reputation heâs been building, his new life in this new placeâ
But now his want has turned into a need, and feeling you soft and pliant and oh so willing against him, heâd be a fool to turn back now.
Loganâs gropes at you, fingernails digging into the swell of your ass before cupping your pussy in one large palm. Rubbing up and down your cunt, he smears your wetness around.
âYouâre fucking dripping,â he gasps. âPrettiest pussy Iâve seen.âÂ
Then he dips a finger into you and you groan and clench around it. He fucks you with it, deep, gentle strokes. He wasnât wrong. As he fucks you with his finger, you feel how unbelievably wet you are. When he pulls back for a moment, you can see his hand is glistening with you, drips going all the way to his wrist.
âI can take more,â you promise, and he growls.Â
âCanât say shit like that,â he pants, âYouâre sure you can take more. Can you take me? Donât wanna hurtââ
âI can take you,â you assure him. If youâre honest, you donât know if you can. What you do know is that youâre sure as fuck gonna try.
âHow do you want me?â he asks, fighting to maintain the last shreds of his self-control.
Ever the masochist, âWant you on top of me, my ankles round your shoulders. Need you deep.â
âGonna fuckinâ kill me.â
You lay back as he positions himself between your thighs. He presses a kiss to your left thigh before he hikes it over his right shoulder, and a kiss to your right calf, folding you in half.
He strokes the dripping head of his cock against your folds.
âYou ready?â he asks, and you whine in desperation, nodding a yes.
He presses in, notching the tip inside. You groan at the sensation, relaxing into it as he rocks his hips gently.
âDoinâ so good,â he praises, âI know, baby, itâs a lot.â
You writhe and moan. It is a lot, but you still want more. More of his cock, of his hands on your body, of his praise.
âTaking it so well,â he soothes, letting his cock slide that little bit deeper inside, pulling most of the way out and driving back in, pressing whispers in your ear as he fucks into you.
When his pelvis is pressed flush against you, he lets out a sigh.Â
âLook at that,â he huffs, âTakinâ all of me.â
You look down and watch enraptured as he pulls out and presses back in, deeper than you ever imagined, and rolls his hips, coarse hair grinding against your clit and making you howl.
âKeep making those pretty noises for me, honey.â
âNeed more-â you beg.
He starts rocking his hips, building a solid rhythm. His strokes are deep and devastating, and with every thrust you can feel your wetness start to flood down your thighs and cream around the base of his cock.
The wetter you get, the harder he fucks into you, each plunge punctuated with your cries, of âYes!â, âMoreââ, âPlease, Logan, pleaseââ
Generous to a fault, he gives you everything you beg for.
The frustration of these longing, pent-up weeks is almost a forgotten memory. As you build towards the peak of your pleasure, the man above you is an animal. He grunts and pants and fucks you deeper than you knew possible. Your whines and cries and demands taper off, replaced by soft moans that start to swell as he litters your collarbone with kisses and rubs a calloused thumb against your clit.
âIâmââ you warn, struggling to form words, âIâm gonnaââ
 ââM close too,â he grunts, âGive it to me, baby, need to feel youâ Please, babyââ
With his words and a firm press to your clit, you come with a sob, cunt squeezing around him in pulsing contractions.
He fucks you through it, muttering a steady stream of filth the whole time. âThatâs it, thatâs it, fuck youâre gushing, soaking this cock. You feel so fucking good, tight little thing stretched so nice around me, taking it all like youâre made for itââ
Before you can even get over the first climax, the second starts to build. Logan can feel the way your pussy twitches for him, the way your breath shudders as he drives into you with staggering thrusts.
âGonna cum again, arenât you?â He growls. âGood-â a thrust, âfuckingââ, thrust, âgirlââ thrust, âJust canât get enough of this cock, can you?â
You try to answer, but all that comes out is a cry as another orgasm overtakes you.
"Thatâs it,â the praises, still punctuating every word with a thrust, âThatâs it! Let yourself feel it, let yourself feel goodâ"
You do, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. Itâs overwhelming, the way it tears through you with no end in sight.
When he finally pulls out of you, you start to come back to yourself, your life-changing orgasm starting to wane.
Heâs beautiful above you, covered in sweat, your wetness dripping down his thighs as he strokes his creamy cock.
With a groan, he comes on your stomach. You wrap your hand around his, stroking him gently till every drop is spent.
You make room for him on the sofa, uncaring that both of you are covered in sweat and fluids, and pull him down to rest in your arms.
"Fuckâ" he exhales, and finally turns to face you again.
You stroke your fingers through your mussed hair.
"I knew you were trouble,â he murmurs, pressing kisses to your sternum.
There are so many things youâll need to talk about, to work through. You are neighbors, after all, and you canât do something like this without there being an aftermath.
But whatever is next can wait till morning.
Gently, he pulls himself up, and you with him. Holding each other close, you head to his bedroom. Without a word, you lay together, curled up in one anotherâs embrace.
Heâs silent a long moment before speaking. "Is your daddy expecting you home tonight?â He asks. Neither of you want to think about that.
But thankfully, âNo,â you tell him. âTold him not to wait up.â
"Oh, optimistic, were we?â He teases, and you look him up and down. His broad shoulders, sculpted chest, dark eyes, rumpled hair. This man youâve grown so very fond of.Â
âYes,â you smile. âYes, we are.â
Scott finds out, like, a day later and declares Logan his sworn enemy
#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#logan howlett x you#wolverine smut#james logan howlett x reader#xmen x reader#logan howlett x f!reader#logan x reader#logan x f!reader#logan x fem!reader#logan howlett smut#dbf!logan#dbf!loganxreader
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some invisible string
scott (twisters) x f!reader (7.1k wc)
summary when a piece of debris hits you during a chase, you're left with absolutely no memory of your friends - including the one who you were engaged to, and he certainly was a ray of sunshine.
content warnings injuries, inaccurate depictions of retrograde amnesia for the plot, he's mean to everyone but one person trope, amnesia au, angst with a happy ending, one reference to sex
if there's no love in oklahoma then how come i'm so in love with the entire cast? suspicious. i had a lot of fun writing this request! i have a lot of fun writing all of my requests tbf. and no, i'm not interested in naming my fanfictions after anything other than taylor swift songs at the current moment (i swear maybe someday). divider credits to saradika! :-)
Something wasnât right, you knew that from the moment you stepped outside of the van to set a scanner up.Â
Everything had felt off the entire day. The doppler that you were keeping track of had been cutting in and out, but you had been assured by your fiancee Scott that it was nothing to worry about. The rain had come in and out in short bursts, it wasnât totally unusual, but it was definitely strange how things were happening. But, there were still a lot of people who were out and about, unafraid of the storm and hoping to see a show.Â
Once you had taken your seat beside Scott, you knew better than to express that you were worried about this. The two of you had been having conversations about moving forward with your relationship now that you were engaged. Neither of you were getting ready to settle in the countryside, but you also knew that getting married was a big step. It was a big step in general to promise yourself to someone else for the rest of your life, but it was also a big step toward a future that included more than just being married and continuing to do what you were already doing.Â
If you started expressing cold feet in the field, it was going to bring about a whole other conversation that you werenât quite ready to have. In your heart, though, you could tell that there was something wrong. The air was thicker, more humid, than it typically was. Beyond that, there was a nagging feeling in the back of your head that was telling you that you needed to turn around, that something was going to go wrong even though you werenât quite sure what it was yet.Â
You were quieter than usual, tenser. Scott picked up on that and took your hand into his, letting you lean into him. He could be incredibly rude sometimes, and you knew that when you first met him. In fact, you were quite certain that he was going to be your mortal enemy by the time that you were fully used to working with everyone at Storm Par. But, to your surprise, it took you very little time to grow fond of his icy demeanor. He would have shouted from the hills for the first few weeks he knew you that he couldnât stand you, and he certainly detested how nice you were to him despite his rather unkind words.Â
But you continued to show compassion to him, you continued to care for him if something went wrong, you continued to be a strong asset to the team, and he couldnât help the feelings that developed. People on the team didnât really understand why you both were so enamored with each other. You had absolutely nothing in common other than where you worked, and yet something about it just worked. It made no sense how you fell in love with each other despite everything, but you did, and they were all excited to be invited to the wedding where they could finally (hopefully) see him express any emotion other than anger since the rest of the range of emotions was typically reserved for your eyes only.Â
When you stepped out of the vehicle to place the scanner, you could feel how heavy the air was. The tornado was impossibly loud, and wider than most of the ones that you had seen before. The wind speed was impressive, though you couldnât quite tell what it was just yet. Once the scanner was placed, you got back in the car. But it was quickly knocked out, a simple switch had flipped off, a button that needed to be pressed on the object to turn it back on.
âIâm going to go turn it back on.â
âItâs too dangerous, just drive.â
âIâll be alright.â Scott got out of the car before you could argue back, and you fully intended to wait for him while he was outside.Â
Fate had a different plan for you.
He was too distracted to notice, as he started walking back, that there was something flying right at him. Stepping out of the car, you hastily pulled him out of the way, but ended up right in the debris path before either of you could totally process what had just happened.Â
Scott was in shock for a moment, yelling something that you couldnât quite make out as you fell to the ground. Your head was throbbing, your eyesight jumbled up by black dots and blurry figures. It sounded like you were underwater with a train headed right toward you, Scottâs voice unintelligible as he kneeled in front of you. The last thing you felt was how quickly he picked you up to bring you into the car before your world went completely dark.Â
The sound of a beeping machine beside you faded in as you blinked your eyes open, adjusting to the dark room that you were being kept in. There were dim, warm lights behind you, and the television was very quietly playing some news station. It took you just a few moments to realize that you were in a hospital, but you couldnât quite tell how you had arrived there. Pressing the button beside you, you tried to sit up but felt a pounding sensation in your head.Â
A nurse came in after a moment, turning on the lights and immediately dimming them when she noticed how it made you hiss.Â
âWeâve been waitinâ for you to wake up.â She had a thick Southern accent, it didnât sound like the regional accents that you were typically used to, but maybe she was just from out of town. âWhat do you remember? Do you know how you get here?â
âIâm thinking it has something to do with this pain in my head.âÂ
âRight. Do you know where that came from? Just take a moment to think about it, donât rush yourself.âÂ
âCan you tell me where I am? Might job my memory.âÂ
âTexas, hon.â Texas, made sense with her accent, but it didnât make sense. You didnât understand why you were in Texas. âJust tell me anything you remember.â
âI remember⌠uhâŚâÂ
For the next few moments, you explained to her various things about yourself. Where you were born, where you lived. Eventually, when she told you how you hurt your head, you recalled that you were a storm chaser. Things were starting to make a bit more sense, but what made no sense was the way that she informed you that you had gotten injured because you had pushed your fiance out of the way from flying debris. She gave you your phone, letting you scroll through it as you looked at pictures with yourself and your finance and your co-workers. You couldnât really remember much of what you were looking at, barely recalling a majority of the chases that you had taken photos of. But, you would be lying if you didnât understand why you had gotten engaged to the man in the photos. He was absolutely stunning, you just wished that you could remember anything about him.
It was late at the time, two in the morning, so she left you to your own devices while you scrolled through your phone. Text message after text message to put a name to the faces that you were looking at and remember what your relationship with these people was like. Even though you were nervous to see your friends and fiance in the morning after them knowing if you were okay, and nervous that you were going to have to explain to them what had happened, you were hopeful that your memory was going to come back to you at some point.
By the time you had woken up, you did remember a little bit. You got bits and pieces of chases that you had, and you were informed by the nurses that your tests all came back with the same result - you had retrograde amnesia, which you knew. But, since you were getting some memories back, it was likely that you would be able to recover within the coming months. For the time being, it was important that you rested and tried your best to form new relationships with old friends.Â
As you finished up getting dressed, you were paid a visit from Javi and a few others at Storm Par who were ready to take you back with them. Notably, though, your fiance hadnât been waiting with open arms to welcome you back into society after a week.
âHow come the guy Iâm marrying didnât come to see me?â
âHe said he was too busy working.â
âToo busy to see his fiance?â
âWhat do you remember about Scott?â Javi asked, a nervous expression covering his face as you glanced down at your hands. âOh.âÂ
âThat âohâ sounded bad.â
âNo! I mean, you want to marry him so Iâm sure youâll still love him!â
If any assumptions about you had ever been misplaced, that one probably took the cake for the worst one. The moment you saw Scott, his appearance gave your heart a familiar yet simultaneously unfamiliar flutter, but his demeanor made you recoil in disgust. He was being plainly rude to his coworkers, which you found absurd. Had he no respect for the people who he was working with?Â
âHey, Scott? Your fianceâs here.âÂ
His face immediately softened, standing from where he had been previously scolding a young employee who he quickly shooed away. Just as he moved to cradle your face in his hands you moved away from him, your eyes firm.
âAre you always that mean to people who work for you?â
âHe messed up, he needed to be dealt with.âÂ
âIâm sure there were other ways of dealing with things.âÂ
âThatâs Scottâs only way of dealing with things.â Another man interjected, and you took a step away from him. As handsome as he was, you werenât quite sure that you were still in love with that personality of his.Â
âListen, I know things are strange right now, but you two are still sharing a bed - hotel is booked.â
âGreat.â
âBaby-â
âDonât.âÂ
Some part of you felt guilty seeing the hurt in his eyes for the rest of the day as you avoided him. He clearly loved you, for whatever that was worth. If he didnât love you, he wouldnât have wanted to marry you to begin with. But that love was coming from someone who seemed to be one of the most uptight, rude, degrading people who you had ever met. Even when he briefly tried to put on a nice face for you after being scolded by someone else, he quickly went back to his ways if someone did even one small thing that he disagreed with. The man was incorrigible, and you just werenât sure that you were willing to marry someone like that anymore even if you couldnât take your eyes off of him.
âHeâs so fucking hot.â You complained, nursing a lukewarm Ginger Ale that youâd paid two dollars for from a vending machine.
âWell, he is your fiance.â
âBut heâs the worst! Heâs so mean!â
âYeah.âÂ
âDid I seriously just agree to marry that man just because heâs hot? Iâm sure there are many tall, hot, men with perfect arms and- all Iâm saying is-â
âYou agreed to marry him for more than just his looks, I promise. But itâs not my place to make you fall in love with him again, thatâs on him.âÂ
Pushing away from the wall, you finally bit the bullet and joined scott in your shared room. The sight of him with damp hair, wearing nothing but a low-hanging pair of sweatpants made your breath catch in your throat, but you quickly brushed past him and looked through your bag to find something to wear before heading into the shower. Immediately, you noticed that he had left your toiletries out for you already, knowing that it must have been something that you were going to need. But, he also left a white t-shirt for you, his shirt.Â
As you undressed, you considered locking the door to the bathroom. Part of your brain was screaming at you that you didnât know this man and that all you had seen from him thus far was him being rather rude to the people that he worked with. The larger part of your brain, the part of your brain telling you to leave the door unlocked, reminded you that you knew this man enough to want to marry him. Even if he had been rude thus far, that was enough to get you to continue into the shower without locking the door. You had trusted him before, even though you werenât sure why, so you could - at the very least - not be even more hurtful than you already had been and let him hear the click of the lock of the door.Â
The shower itself did very little to relieve you. Your entire role in this company until further notice was reading numbers and sometimes getting in a car. Tomorrow, you were going to be in the car for a while because Storm Par was going to be heading to a town about three hours away. That meant that you were going to be in the car with Scott all day, and you werenât too sure that was good for either of you. It wasnât good for you because you didnât like his personality whatsoever, and it wasnât good for him because you knew in your heart that he loved you, but you knew that your dismissal of him was going to hurt his feelings. Even so, he really hadnât proven to you so far that he had much feeling in his soul that even existed to be hurt in the first place.Â
Once you were out of the shower, you were truly confused about what to put on. Some part of you wanted to just play nice and wear his shirt, and the other part of you wanted to not do something like that since you didnât really consider yourself in love with this man - not anymore. You couldnât even understand why you were in love with him in the first place. But, you werenât enthused about this simply because of the issues you had with him being so rude, what good did being rude in response to a gesture of kindness do you? It would make you no better than him, and you didnât want that.Â
Once you were finished in the bathroom, you joined him in bed. It was awkward laying beside him, trying to keep your eyes away from his body as he did his best to keep his eyes on his phone and not look at you.Â
âYou know Iâm not going to bite?â
âIâm not so sure about that.â You responded, finally turning to look at him. His eyes were just as soft as they were when he first saw you, but that softness was something that you didnât see him show anyone else. Maybe that should make you feel special, but it only made you wish that he could just be a little bit nicer to the other people he knows.
Scott sighed, turning his phone back on. It wasnât as though he wanted to ignore you, but he also just wasnât really sure what to do. He still loved you, but it was clear that you no longer remembered him. It was obvious an obvious choice to fight for the relationship, but he also just wasnât sure that he had the energy or desire to do something like that. Scott was never the type to try to force someone into a relationship with him, be it friendship or otherwise, and he certainly didnât like having people tell him how to behave.
To be clear, you had never been supportive of the way that he had acted before, but you also didnât abhor that trait within him as you seemed to now.Â
âIâm sorry that I donât remember you,â You started, turning to look over at him as he set his phone down against his chest. You fought to keep your eyes level with his, not glancing down at his warm skin no matter how much you wanted to. âThe doctor I spoke to earlier said that I should have my memories back within the year.âÂ
âShould?â
âNo guarantee, it just seems likely.âÂ
âOh.âÂ
âVery likely, and since weâre engaged, Iâm sure youâll be prevalent enough that Iâll remember you soon.âÂ
But, you werenât quite sure what that meant. It was true that you were engaged, but it was equally true that you had no idea why. The man was rude and seemed to be a little bit more arrogant than you actually liked in a person. He was a bit of an asshole, and nobody who you spoke to about him had anything to say other than that, and that they knew that it made no sense - it just worked. You were always bubbly and nice, and he was always kind of mean. You didnât know how that relationship worked, but apparently it did.Â
Sleep came easier that night than you figured it would. There were a lot of thoughts plaguing your mind, but it was easy because of how exhausted your body still was. You had figured that, being in a week-long coma, it would be difficult to get some rest. As it would turn out, that sleep hadnât been very restful. As much as you wanted to stay awake to work some things out in your mind, you were glad to have a moment to not have to think about anything for at least a little while.Â
The next day was predominantly the same as the first one. Rather uncomfortable, with you not really knowing whether you should feel compelled to speak to the man who you were supposed to be getting ready to marry or not. It was no surprise to you as you walked down to the room where you were assigned for the day - a radar watching position, until further notice - to hear Scott yelling at someone who you presumed worked for him. The part of it that caught you off-guard, as you lingered just outside of the view of the men inside the room, was what he was actually shouting about. Because it wasnât a poor performance or anything else that you had been hearing about him - it was about you.Â
âScott, I really donât think anything is going to happen all the way back here. When has anything ever happened back here?â
âWhen have any of us ever gotten hit by debris out there?â It was clear that he was worried, but you werenât sure why. If this was the lowest-stress thing that you could be doing, you doubted that anything was going to happen to you.Â
âListen, man, I know you feel guilty-â
âNo-â
âYou feel guilty because that debris was supposed to hit you, but you canât keep blaming yourself.âÂ
While you had been told that you were hit, and that the only person with you at the time was Scott, you hadnât been told how exactly it happened. It was news to you why it had happened, but there was a brief flash in your mind - you could vaguely remember it, why you were hit. He had been in danger, you tried to help him. After a moment, you recognized that it was probably morally questionable at best to listen to someone elseâs personal conversation and decided to make your presence known.Â
Stepping into the room, you locked eyes with Scott first before looking toward the man who you were going to be working with for the day. âI donât really like the idea of not being in the field, doesnât feel like my thing.â
âItâs not.â Scott replied, grabbing his hat that he had set down on the console beside him. âBut, youâre not allowed to do anything else for the foreseeable future.â
âJavi told me a month.â
âJavi was just being nice, your nurse said until youâre cleared.â
âThat could be in a month.â
âCould be, best not to force it.âÂ
He gave you a pat on the shoulder, one that made you glance back at him for a moment, but he was already gone. His lack of optimism was slightly jarring, considering the fact that everyone else had you convinced that you would be back in the saddle within a month. It was also comforting, though. It was odd, because he was doing the opposite of trying to comfort you, but there was something comforting in knowing that he was being fully honest with you about your condition and not just being optimistic (which could be foolish, in the long run) just to make you feel better.
âHeâs a real ray of sunshine.âÂ
âYeah, well, heâs your ray of sunshine.â
âI guess.âÂ
Sitting down, you took your station for the day and allowed the rest of the events of it to unfold. Throughout it, you were struck by a lot of things. A few memories slipped back in when something familiar triggered them, some memories of your friendships, but unfortunately none about the man who you were supposed to be in love with. He was handsome, youâd give him that, but you couldnât proclaim that you felt any love for someone who you knew nothing about other than him being rude to people.
But there was⌠something. Maybe it was muscle memory, since the heart is a muscle after all. There was some feeling that you couldnât described that coursed through you when you looked at him, that amplified when he briefly touched you. There was at least one flash of him holding your hand at some point in your mind, and a part of you wanted that now. You wanted to remember what it felt like, maybe it would help you remember your relationship with him better. But how did you broach that subject, when you barely got along at this point? It wasnât like you were arguing with him, he had been pretty tame for the most part throughout the day, but youâd been informed that a lot of his mean behavior was a bit less⌠scream-y, and a bit more of him just being sort of rude during conversations.Â
That became somewhat obvious as you listened to his conversations through the earpiece that he had on during the day. He wasnât yelling ay anyone, but he was being rude about how one of the other cars had misplaced their radar. You werenât sure if you expected anything different from him, but it was still a weird contrast from the way in which he spoke to you. He was somewhat timid around you, even-tempered and clearly confused about how you were both supposed to proceed in this relationship with everything that happened. A week ago, you were happily engaged to this man, but now you found yourself turned off by the rude words that you were hearing come out of his mouth.
âHeâs always like that, right?â
âYeah.â
âRight.âÂ
By the time the day was over, you were back on the road. Rather than wait around and miss the predicted early morning storm, you were all shoved back in the caravan of vehicles with everyone taking a turn driving so the others could get a chance to sleep. Everyone but you, since you were still recovering and straining yourself could put yourself - and everyone else - at risk if you were behind the wheel.
As hard as you tried to fall asleep, the seat behind you just wasnât very comfortable and there really wasnât enough room in the vehicle for you to do anything else. It wasnât until Scott placed an arm around you, urging you to just lay against him, that you just did what he was allowing you to do. It was a burden for him since he couldnât use that arm for the rest of the night unless he wanted to wake you, an even bigger burden when he somehow had to get into the driverâs seat without waking you up, but he did it regardless. Some part of that made your heart a bit warm, and some part of you recognized that perhaps those nice moments werenât quite so rare for you.Â
When you woke up, you werenât quite sure where you were. The last thing you remembered, you were in a car, but you were now laying down in a bed with nobody beside you. That was odd, since the last time you had stayed in a hotel room you had been with Scott, and you had been told already that there wouldnât be any staying in a hotel room for anyone since there just wasnât enough time.
Picking up the phone that had been placed on the nightstand beside you, you finally noticed the few text messages from your coworkers that you had missed. Scott had apparently gotten his own room, and Javi had decided that it would be best if nobody woke you since everyone was clear on making sure that you were taking care of yourself and not just trying to get back to work as soon as possible. It was still early, you were certain that everyone was still there for at least another hour. Still, it stuck out to you that Scott had gotten his own room. He did let you know where his room was, incase you needed anything, but it was enough to bother you and substantially shorten your process of getting ready for the day so you could try to catch him before he left his room.
Knocking on the door, you could feel your heartbeat in your stomach. You hated the idea of anyone being mad at you in general, but it was made worse by said person being the one who you were apparently supposed to be marrying soon.Â
Scott opened the door, already dressed for the day but missing his shoes, earpiece, hat, glasses, and gum - all things that you had come to understand were important aspects of what he wore on any given day.Â
âDid I do something wrong?â
âWhat?â
âI just donât- like youâre mad at me? Because Iâm sure another room was extra money, and-â
âYou might not remember much, but youâre the same - you know that?â He stepped aside, motioning for you to come in. You did as you were requested to do, but it seemed to be manly so he could finish getting ready to go. âThatâs why I started being nicer to you, because you were always so worried that I was mad at you.â
âWere you?â
âSometimes.â He replied, and it was odd because he was being more forward with you than he typically was. Was it because he wanted you to talk to him more, because he liked that you sought out his conversation like you did? âBut not usually, I tried to be mad at you and it never worked.â
âSo why did you book a different room?â From what you could recall of the night before, which was everything before falling asleep, he had invited and encouraged you to sleep on his chest. Of course, you didnât remember anything that happened while you were sleeping so you also didnât quite know the lengths that he went to so you were comfortable. But, you did know that it would be rather strange if the man had a change of heart that quickly.Â
âI booked a different room so you wouldnât be uncomfortable.âÂ
âOh.âÂ
âIâm not a monster, we just couldnât get another room for you last time on such short notice.âÂ
âBut-â
âI brought you to your room, but I didnât keep a copy of the key or anything. Wait, what were you about to say?âÂ
âN-nothing.âÂ
Why did you feel somewhat upset about the prospect of not sharing a room with him? You didnât really enjoy the way that he talked to other people, but he wasnât really very mean to you. He, thus far, hadnât said a single rude thing to you and had seemingly gone out of his way to be nicer to you than he did for anyone else on the team. But it shouldnât matter, it couldnât. You hated the way he treated other people, even if the memories of falling asleep on his chest made your stomach flutter.Â
âYou can tell me, we are still engaged, I think.â
âWeâre still engaged.âÂ
âGood.â
âGood, yeah. Great.â
âUnless you donât want to be?âÂ
âNever said that.âÂ
Your face and⌠entire body, really, felt two hundred degrees as you looked away from him, looking at everything in the room other than the man in front of you. It wasnât until he was actually in front of you, his finger hooked underneath your chin and forcing you to look up at him, that you felt your breath catch in your throat.Â
âYou didnât say wanted to be, either.âÂ
âI havenât had coffee yet.âÂ
âYouâre not supposed to drink coffee for five more days, honey.âÂ
His eyes were hypnotic, was that why you liked him so much? His touch was gentle and warm, and for just a brief moment something struck you, some memory of his lips against yours, some memory of him holding you tight to his body and your fingers digging into his hair - but you couldnât remember much more muddled visions of past intimacy.
âHave we had sex?â
âQuite a few times.â
âWas it good?â
âI thought it was good.âÂ
Now he seemed amused, and you had yet to see him smile before this. He had dimples, which made you want to curl into a ball and die because of course he had dimples. But he was also your fiance, why were you so upset that you were attracted to your own fiance?Â
âCould you-âÂ
âHey, Scott? Your uncle is downstairs, could you hurry up?â The sound of Javiâs voice outside of the door snapped you both out of whatever was happening, Scottâs hand dropping from your face and your eyes flickering to the ground before staring at the back of his head as he finished getting ready.
âOne minute, man! Youâre early!â
âSorry!âÂ
Stepping toward the door, you listened to the sound of Javi walking away before sighing. Your hand was placed on the handle for just a moment, and you almost wondered what was going through your head throughout those few minutes with Scott. He was the person you were engaged to, you had to be engaged to him for a reason, so why were you so afraid of the fact that you were so into him? Maybe it was because it made no sense in your brain, but everyone had been clear that it had never made sense.Â
âHow early is he?â
âAbout fifteen minutes.âÂ
âWhoâs your uncle?â
âOur benefactor.âÂ
âScott?â
âYeah?âÂ
âI donât want my own room.âÂ
âIâll let our benefactor know.â He responded, looming behind you after a moment. But whatever softness he had been showing was predominantly gone, he was very work-oriented from what you could tell, and he wasnât the type to be late to even a business meeting that had started early.Â
âAm I a part of these meetings?âÂ
âTypically, no. But I think you should be today, since you almost- since you were injured.âÂ
Scott was the one to reach past you and open the door, letting you walk out first so he could lock the room behind him.
âHow long are we staying here?âÂ
âCouple days, thereâs going to be another storm here in a few days. Youâll be with me today after the storm.âÂ
âNeat!â
You could see that there was a slight smile growing on his face, but he pushed it aside since he was in public now. There was a bit of familiarity in the feeling of knowing that those more positive emotions that he displayed in front of you were only displayed in front of you, in trying to make him genuinely smile when other people were around when you knew for a fact that wasnât going to happen. You were certain that you had done this before, you just couldnât exactly put your finger on when.Â
The meeting with his uncle went fine, even though you were certain that you were never overly fond of the man. That was probably why you hardly ever met with him as well, since you didnât really need to be there in the first place. But he did spill a few somewhat embarrassing facts about Scott being worried sick about you being in the hospital, and how he was probably the one who left the television running in your room since Scott only left your side at night and when he needed to for work. Considering the fact that you were worried that he didnât care all that much since he wasnât there to pick you up, this information made you just a little bit more comfortable with him - and a little bit more curious about what else there was about him to learn that you couldnât tell just from the exterior that you had been shown.Â
The tornado was more of the same, you watching from the sidelines and wishing that you could do more than what you were doing and Scott being a little bit bitchy if someone did something that he didnât like. When it was over, he came back to bring you to the town that had been effected by the storm.
Thankfully, a majority of the damage had been done to a mall that hadnât opened for the day yet - the employees inside had a storm shelter, and most of the damage was just done to insured companies. For the most part, your role in this was just making sure that the franchise owners in the mall and the people operating small or independent businesses were in contact with Scottâs uncle. Though you werenât quite sure that you fully agreed with the business-model that Storm Par employed, you were able to take a few moments to help clean up once you were finished with that - even though Scott didnât really help do much other than lift the heavy objects that you tried to lift even though you werenât supposed to.Â
He did bring you to dinner, though, with a few other people on the team joining along. Sitting with these people brought, again, an odd sense of familiarity. It was odd because you knew that it should feel familiar, you knew that these were people who you knew and worked with, people who you were getting reacquainted with, but it didnât feel familiar because you couldnât remember most of your interactions with any of them. It just felt like something that your body was used to, something that your heart was used to, but something that your mind was interpreting as an entirely new experience.Â
Sitting beside Scott, you watched him discuss business with a few of the other people who you worked with while you took the time to read more of the detailed email that Javi sent you with everything that you had forgotten from the past few years. Truthfully, you werenât sure if you needed to read the entire thing. Your nurse had been clear that it wouldnât actually take forever for you to get your memories back since they were already starting to come back in bits and pieces, but you also had no idea how long it was actually going to take. If it was going to be a year, you needed to know about what you had missed. But if it wasnât, maybe you should spend more time continuing to engage in your new/old relationships.Â
Glancing down, your eyes were locked on Scottâs hand placed on his leg. You wanted to grab it, to see if it would remind you of anything, and from the way that he briefly glanced over at you, you knew that this was something that you did regularly. Flipping his hand over, he gave you the permission that you needed to take his large hand into yours, even though the feeling of your engagement ring against his skin seemed to make his fingers jolt for a second. But, he kept his composure. Seemingly, he just didnât want to act too soft in front of the others - that was no surprise to you, though.Â
While your hope of magically regaining your memories because of one single touch didnât actually end up coming true, that didnât stop you from having a nice dinner. It was nice to talk to everyone, to get to know them again, nice to just be around people and alive with the knowledge lingering in the back of your mind that you had almost gotten yourself killed for the man sitting beside you. Despite the glaring character flaws that he displayed when speaking to seemingly anyone other than you, he was still someone who you clearly loved for one reason or another enough to get yourself hurt to protect him.Â
Upon returning back to the hotel, Scott helped you move your still packed bag to his room before you changed into a simple pair of sleep shorts and accepted his offer to wear one of his shirts to sleep in. You still couldnât shake that feeling from earlier as you stood in his room again, that feeling to do⌠something. You werenât sure what it was that you wanted. Did you want to discuss more with him? Did you want him to tell you more about your relationship so you could better try to understand it? Were you purely being driven by carnal desires and lust? You werenât so sure until he stepped out of the bathroom from his shower, your head turning from tea you had been steeping for the past few moments.Â
His hair was wet, but there was still a slight curl to it. He was dressed in just his sweatpants again, your eyes lingering on his torso before looking back up to his face. His eyes were almost unreadable, but you knew exactly what it was that you had wanted to do earlier - what you needed to do now.
Setting your mug down on the cupboard, he watched you curiously as you walked closer to him.
âNeed something?â
âI think I need you to kiss me.â
âIâm sorry?â
âPlease.âÂ
Whether you thought it was going to jog your memory, or because your body was so used to craving his touch that even your unfamiliarity - which was made a lot less since he had been willing to answer your questions all day - couldnât deter it; it really didnât matter. Scott was slow, gentle, giving you enough time to back away and change your mind if you wanted to.
But you held onto his hand as he placed it onto his cheek, and you leaned in to kiss him almost as fast as he leaned in to kiss you. It did feel glaringly familiar, but it also ignited something within you. Though you didnât remember everything, fragments of your relationship with him replayed in your mind - only small ones, moments that you would need to ask about, but moments nevertheless. The sight of him smiling, of him cleaning mud from your hair after a storm - moments that were soft and sweet and everything that you had come to believe were impossible from him.
You sighed into the kiss, letting your body relax closer to his and encouraging him to deepen the kiss as he brought his free hand to rest on the back of your head. His fingers were slightly tangled into your hair, his tongue pressed lightly against your bottom lip. He felt so good, but you knew that you had to pull back after a moment.
âI didnât answer your question earlier.â
âWhat- oh.â
âI do still want to be engaged.â
âMe too.â
âWell, duh, you didnât forget your memories.â You replied, teasingly as you pressed a chaste kiss against his mouth before taking your tea and setting it on the nightstand. He watched you, seemingly in a trance for a second, before joining you in bed. âI want you to tell me everything you remember.â
âThatâs going to take a while.â
âUntil you get too tired.âÂ
âDeal.âÂ
For roughly two and a half hours, you were able to have moments in your relationship described to you as though they didnât happen to you, and you were able to feel like you remembered even the ones that you didnât remember. It was true that the man beside you, the man who you had agreed to marry at one point in your life - a point in your life that he made sure to describe to you - wasnât the nicest person in the world, but that didnât change the fact that he was nice to you, he was affectionate with you, and had somehow fallen in love with someone who couldnât be more different from him. Even though you were just becoming acquainted with him again, you were certain that it wasnât some impossible task to fall in love with Scott just because he was a little bit prickly.Â
In the coming weeks, you would regain a lot more of your memories, and Scott would fill in the blanks that you werenât so sure about. He would go a little further than he needed to, somehow trying to woo you again when you had already told him that you still wanted to marry him, and it didnât take you regaining every little memory you ever had with him to fall in love with him again. He was horribly rude to everyone else, but when he was sweet with you, it felt better than any interaction that you had with anyone else. When you eventually did get all of those memories back, there was a sense of relief, but there was also a sense that it was almost unnecessary.
The fact that you had fallen in love with him not once, but twice, made it clear to you that you had made the right choice when you had committed to marrying him two times at this point - and it was going to make you a lot prouder to walk down the aisle than you ever would have before, because there was no doubt in your mind that it was the right choice.
#scott x reader#scott imagines#twisters x reader#twisters imagines#twisters fanfiction#david corenswet x reader
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suburban neighbors AU
I want to do an AU where Wade moves into a gated community and spots his new neighbor outside, drinking beer and mowing his lawn in a sweaty tank top and booty shorts; and the little old ladies across the street sees him gawking and pulls Wade aside to tell him Logan is the resident homewrecker, like he's broken up two marriages already (Jean and Scott and Eric and Charles). None can withstand his slutty ways, so he should stay away if he wants to survive with his relationships intact. Wade's like, "well, lucky for him, I am painfully single."
Basically, I just want to write Logan being so unintentionally sexy that he wrecks marriages with his mere existence in the vanilla-ass suburbs and Wade simping for him and talking through his weird feelings with his walking group gal pals whose average age is 68 years young. Yes, Al is in that walking group and she fucking hates listening to him talk about his man crush but there are no other walking groups in the neighborhood and she was there first.
âAre you ok?âÂ
âNo,â Wade was shaking from head to toe, âI went over there to yell at him for blocking our shared driveway, but he answered the door in a slutty little towel and I think I blacked out.âÂ
Ellie raised an eyebrow. âDid you really?âÂ
âEither that or I asked to suck his cock,â He poured himself a tall glass of water from the tap and gulped it down. Wade wiped his mouth on the back of a hand and exhaled, âGod, I hope it was the former.âÂ
Loud aggressive banging came from the front door then.Â
âShit.âÂ
âYeah, Iâd put my money on the verbal sexual harassment. Want me to grab my baseball bat?âÂ
âWhat am I gonna do with your baseball bat?âÂ
âFuck him up.â
âI want to fuck him, not fuck him up. Thereâs a difference, child. Pay attention.â
#but I have no time#so many ideas#deadpool 3#deadpool and wolverine#poolverine#deadpool & wolverine#deadpool#deadpool x wolverine#logan howlett#wade wilson#wolverine#hugh jackman#deadclaws#my writing#negasonic teenage warhead#x men
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Winter King, Part Four : Afterglow [18+]
Pairings: King AU Bucky Barnes x Out of place Queen Reader Words: 25.6K Themes: Royaltycore AU, love and power, arranged Marriage, georgian/regency era misogyny, profanity. Warning: Sinister intent (Drugging, Sabotage). Torture, mentions of blood. Sexual Content - Losing Virginity, unprotected piv sex, Oral (F). Big size difference. Summary: After a tumultuous separation, Queen Y/N receives a desperate letter from King James Bucky Barnes, pleading for her presence in Annecy. Reluctantly, she agrees to meet him, only to be confronted with unresolved emotions, simmering tension, and a fragile hope for reconciliation. Amidst grand dinners and intimate revelations, Bucky strips himself bareânot just of his regal façade but also the deepest scars of his past. In the midst of courtly games and political intrigue, will their love survive, or will it be another casualty of the crown? A/N: Inspired by Queen Charlotte. I'm sorry it's so long lol. I hope you enjoy the SMUT SCENES. . . what do you want to see next? credits to the gif owners, it ain't mine.
The sound of footsteps drew your attention away from the window, where you had been staring absently swaying trees on this windy day. Scottâs familiar presence hovered by the door, his posture stiff, yet there was something⌠cautious in the way he approached you. His gaze darted around before finally settling on the envelope in his hand.
âA letter for you, My Queen,â he announced, extending it toward you. âFrom His Majesty.â
You blinked, your heart giving an unexpected flutter at those words. Bucky? He had finally reached out. But you quickly tamped down the unwelcome swell of hope, narrowing your eyes at the innocent piece of parchment.
âLeave it on the desk,â you instructed curtly, turning back toward the window, fighting to maintain your composure.
Scott hesitated, his gaze lingering on you as if contemplating whether to say something more. But he gave a sharp nod, placing the letter on the desk beside you before withdrawing quietly. The door clicked shut, leaving you alone in the quiet, with only the letter as company.
You stood there staring at the creamy white envelope as if it were a serpent poised to strike. It sat there, mocking you with its pristine perfection, the royal seal pressed into the wax glinting in the dim light.
With a huff of frustration, you snatched it up, breaking the seal more aggressively than necessary. The wax crumbled beneath your fingers, the crackling sound oddly satisfying. Unfolding the letter, your eyes skimmed over the familiar scrawl of his handwritingâprecise and strong, just like the man himself.
My Dearest Y/N,
I know Iâve hurt you. I know Iâve pushed you away. But I need to see youâto speak with you without anger clouding our words. Please, come to Annecy this evening. I need to see you, if only for a few hours.
Yours, James
You stared at the words, a myriad of emotions rushing through you. Anger, for how easily he thought he could summon you. Resentment, for the pain he had caused. But beneath it all, it made the ache in your chest tighten in a way you hadnât anticipated.
ââIf only for a few hours,ââ you muttered, reading the line again, your lips pressing into a thin line. âAs if one meeting could fix everything.â
But even as the angry words left your mouth, you knew you would go. Damn him, for knowing that you couldnât resist this fragile olive branch he was extending. A chance to see him, to hear himâto finally understand what was going on inside his head.
You glanced outside again, noting the dusky sky deepening into twilight. The evening was already upon you, and if you were to make it to Annecy by nightfall, you would need to leave soon.
With a resigned sigh, you turned back to the letter, your fingers brushing lightly over the words. You didnât want to admit it, but a part of youâthe part that still remembered the way his gaze softened when he looked at you, the way his voice dropped when he said your nameâyearned to go.
Maybe⌠maybe this time, youâd get some answers.
âScott,â you called, your voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside you.
He appeared almost instantly, his expression expectant.
âPrepare the carriage,â you ordered, folding the letter and slipping it back into the envelope. âWeâre going to Annecy. Tonight.â
Scottâs eyes widened in surprise, but he bowed quickly, masking his reaction with a swift nod. âOf course, Your Grace. Iâll have everything ready at once.â
As he hurried out of the room, you took one last look at the letter, then slipped it into the pocket of your gown. The anger simmering in your chest hadnât completely vanished, but it was no longer the driving force behind your actions.
You would go to Annecy tonight. And you would hear what he had to say. But you would do so on your terms, with your walls firmly in place.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
The carriage rolled to a slow halt, the rhythmic clatter of hooves fading into silence as you glanced out of the window. The familiar grounds of Annecy stretched out before you, shrouded in the soft glow of twilight. Lanterns flickered to life along the pathways, casting a warm, golden light that danced across the cobblestone and neatly trimmed hedges.
A footman stepped forward to open the door, offering his hand as you descended. The hem of your gown brushed against the ground as you took in the estateâthe sweeping lawns and carefully sculpted gardens, and the imposing silhouette of the mansion against the evening sky.
But there was no sense of awe, no appreciation for the beauty that surrounded you. Your chest felt tight, anger simmering just below the surface as you squared your shoulders and lifted your chin, determined to keep your composure.
âYour Grace,â Scott murmured quietly from beside you, his voice tentative. âShall I accompany you inside?â
You shook your head, barely sparing him a glance. âYou can,â you ordered, your tone clipped and curt. âI wonât be long.â
Scottâs brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering in his eyes, but he nodded. âAs you wish, Your Grace.â
You turned away from him and began your ascent up the grand staircase, the soft rustle of your skirts and the distant chirping of crickets the only sounds accompanying you. Two guards flanked the massive double doors leading into the mansion. They bowed as you approached and opened the entrance for you, revealing a grand foyer lit with chandeliers and brimming with quiet opulence.
The steward appeared almost immediately, bowing low. âYour Grace, His Majesty is awaiting you in the dining hall.â
You nodded stiffly, following his lead as he guided you down the long, silent corridor. The air was thick with anticipation, the echoes of your footsteps reverberating off the marble floors. Each step you took felt heavier, the anger you had tried to keep at bay during the ride flaring up with every second that passed.
Finally, the steward opened a pair of gilded doors, stepping aside to let you pass. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you stepped into the room.
The scent of roasted meats, fresh herbs, and baked pastries filled the airâan exquisite spread laid out over a long, polished table. Plates gleamed under the candlelight, and goblets of fine wine shimmered like liquid rubies.
But all of itâthe decadence, the beauty, the carefully curated feastâturned to ashes in your mouth the moment you saw it.
Your steps faltered, eyes widening as they took in the elaborate arrangement. An intimate dinner for two, set with painstaking care. It was as though someone had plucked the image of a perfect evening out of a dream and tried to force it into reality.
You turned sharply, refusing to take another step inside.
Bucky, who had been standing at the opposite end of the table, his expression hopeful, froze as you spun back around, your face pale with restrained fury.
âY/N, waitââ
âWhat is this?â you demanded, your voice cold, your gaze sweeping over the table again before landing back on him. âWhat are you trying to do?â
His brow furrowed, confusion flashing across his face. âI⌠I wanted to have dinner with you. Toââ
âDinner?â The word burst out of you like a bitter laugh, devoid of any humor. âYou dragged me all the way here for dinner?â
His mouth opened, but whatever he had planned to say fell silent at the look on your face. You could feel your body trembling with the effort to hold back the wave of anger surging inside you, anger that had been simmering since he had begun this dance of hot and cold, sweet words followed by crushing silence.
âPrepare the carriage,â you bit out to Scott, who had followed behind, your voice leaving no room for argument.
âYour Majesty?â Scott glanced between you and Bucky, uncertainty creasing his brow.
âNow, Scott,â you snapped, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel Buckyâs gaze boring into your back, and you kept walking, your gown billowing behind you like a storm cloudârefusing to let him see the emotions simmering just beneath the surface.
âY/N, wait,â Bucky called out, the confusion in his tone sharpening. You heard his footsteps quicken, the soft thud of boots against marble as he closed the distance between you. âWhere are you going?â
âAway from you,â you said through gritted teeth, your pace never faltering. âBack to the estate. I shouldnât have come.â
âWaitâstop walking this instant!â Buckyâs voice rose, a hint of desperation breaking through. He reached for your arm, his fingers brushing against your sleeve, âPlease, listen to me.â
You whirled on him, eyes blazing.Â
âStop? Stop?â The word left your lips in a hiss. âWhat could you possibly have to say to me that you havenât already made abundantly clear, James?â
Buckyâs hand fell to his side, at the way you spat his name. Youâd never used it like that beforeâlike a weapon, sharp and cutting. He drew in a shaky breath, his gaze flickering over your face as though searching for some way to reach you through the storm of emotions.
âPlease, Y/N, justâlet me explain. Iâve been⌠distant, I know.â he said, his voice softening, pleading. âBut I didnât know how toâhow to show you that I⌠that I care.â
âCare?â You laughed again, short and humorless, âIs that what you call it? Ignoring me for days, leaving me in silence, only to send a letter and expect me to come running whenever you deem it convenient?â
âI know,â he whispered, stepping closer, his fingers twitching at his side as if resisting the urge to reach for you again. âI know I donât deserve it, but I need you to be here. I needed to see you.â
You shook your head, struggling to keep your composure. âThen say that, James. Say what you want, what you feel. Stop hiding behind theseâthese grand gestures and empty words.â
His eyes darkened with a flicker of frustration as you threw his words back at him. He closed the distance between you in two swift strides, the sudden nearness of him making your breath hitch.
âIâm trying to,â he said, his voice low, almost a growl. âIâm trying to show you, Y/N, because I canât say it in a way that does justice to how I feel. Words⌠they fall short. Iâve said so many things wrong, pushed you away with every damn word Iâve spoken. So, Iâm done talking.â
You stared up at him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. âThen what are you going to do?â
His hand, hesitant and shaking, reached for yours. Slowly, he turned your palm upward, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin of your wrist, tracing the frantic beat of your pulse.
âPlease⌠stay,â he murmured, his voice breaking on the word, âI need to show you.â
âThen show me.â
The word barely left your lips before Bucky stepped past you, his hand trailing away from yours, and headed toward the hallway. For a moment, you hesitated, rooted in place as you watched him stride away, his posture tense, yet determined. And then, as if caught in some magnetic pull, your feet carried you after him, heart pounding furiously in your chest.
The walk was silent, the click of your heels against the polished floor echoing softly. Buckyâs pace was quick, his shoulders set, each step purposeful. You followed in his wake, your mind racing with questions, frustration, and the unrelenting hope that he might finally give you the answers you sought.
He led you through the winding corridors of Annecy Estate, past servants who discreetly looked away, past grand rooms shrouded in shadows, until you reached a pair of large, double doors. The heavy wood gleamed in the dim light, their surface intricately carved with the Barnes family crest.
Bucky pushed the doors open, not looking back as he stepped inside. You faltered, the sight of his private chambersâa place youâd never set foot inâsending a shiver of uncertainty through you. But you took a deep breath and followed, crossing the threshold into his space.
The door clicked shut behind you, sealing you both in a cocoon of silence. The room was spacious, yet felt intimate. A large bed dominated one side, its dark, plush coverings pristine and untouched. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books, trinkets, and objects that seemed to whisper secrets of who Bucky wasâwho he had been before all this.
The air itself seemed heavy, saturated with his presence, his scentâa mix of cedarwood, leather, and something uniquely himâwrapping around you. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and made it hard to think clearly.
Bucky stood a few steps away, his back still to you as he exhaled slowly. Then, without a word, he shrugged off his jacket, letting it slide from his shoulders to land carelessly on the bed.
You stiffened, your eyes widening as he reached up, his fingers deftly undoing the cufflinks at his wrists. The small, metallic clinks of the cufflinks being set aside reverberated in the quiet room. A sense of disbelief warred with your anger and confusion as he moved with easeâremoving the barriers of clothing one by one.
âWhat are you doing?â you whispered, your voice wavering despite your best effort to sound unbothered.
Bucky didnât respond immediately. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves, revealing strong forearms corded with muscle and veined from tension. But as the fabric fell away, you saw itâhis left arm gleaming under the soft light, the sleek, dark metal reflecting the flickering glow of the candles.
A lump formed in your throat as you stared, mesmerized by the sight of his vibranium arm. The intricate lines, the smooth surface⌠It was both a masterpiece and a reminder of something darker buried deep within Buckyâs past.
He caught the look in your eyes, the way your gaze lingered on his left arm, and his jaw tightened, vulnerability crossing his features.
âWhat I should have done at the start,â he murmured. With each unbuttoned piece of his attire, your pulse seemed to stutter, your chest tightening with the unfamiliar, heady sensation. He unbuttoned his shirt, the fabric parting to reveal the chiseled lines of his chest and abdomen, the faint scars that traced paths over his skin like echoes of battles fought and endured.
You swallowed hard, your gaze locked on him, helpless to look away. There was something achingly intimate about thisâwatching him undress not in a way that was seductive or calculated, but almost like he was shedding his armor, piece by piece.
âBucky,â you began again, the name trembling on your lips. âIââ
He let the shirt fall to the ground, the fabric pooling at his feet. Standing there, bare-chested and exposed, he seemed both vulnerable and unbreakable. Then, he turned fully toward you, his gaze piercing as it held yours.
âDo you remember? I vaguely told you about this arm?â he asked softly, his voice strangely calm, almost detached. âIt was not by choice. I was seized, shatteredâmy mind reconstructed piece by pieceâstarting with this.â He lifted the vibranium arm, his fingers flexing ever so slightly, the metal catching the dim light. âThey mentally dismantled me until all that remained was this⌠weapon. Something to be wielded, something to be governed by anotherâs will.â
He paused, his gaze shifting away from you, staring down at the arm as if it were some loathsome thing, some cursed appendage that didnât belong to him. âThe arm became a reminder that I was no longer humanâjust a tool. Something to be wielded by others.â He exhaled sharply, a shudder running through him. âEven now, with the arm being mine again, I still feel⌠trapped by it.â
He stood in silence, his breathing slow and measured, his chest rising and falling with each deep inhale. For the first time, you were able to truly take him inâthe strength in his body tempered by the vulnerability in his posture, the contrast of metal against flesh, the scars etched like battle lines over his skin.Â
But what struck you most was the look on his faceâhead turned slightly to the side, his eyes downcast, almost as if he couldnât bear to look at you.
And it was then that you realized.
He was ashamed.
Ashamed of what heâd become. Ashamed of what had been done to him. Ashamed of showing you this, of letting you see him like thisâso utterly exposed, not just in body, but in everything heâd tried to hide from you.
The sight of himâstripped of every defense, every guiseâstirred something deep within you. This manâthe one who had wounded you, driven you away, barricaded himself from youâwas now baring himself before you in a manner that spoke of desperation, a yearning to be seen, to be understood.
âWho else. . . knows of this?â You asked carefully.
âA selected amount of trusted people.âÂ
Though you longed to speak more, to utter something that might soothe the tempest raging in his eyes, words faltered on your tongue, trapped by the gravity of the moment. So instead, you remained silent, allowing yourself to absorb the image of himâeach line, each imperfection, each fragment of who he was.
Slowly, tentatively, Bucky lifted his gaze. His eyes met yours, searching, imploring, as if hopingâbeggingâthat you might see beyond the anger, beyond the hurt, and glimpse the man he truly was. The man he was trying to be.
He took a hesitant step forward, then another, until he was standing just a breath away. His hand twitched at his side, you thought he might reach for you. But instead, he did something that stole the breath from your lungs.
Without a word, Bucky sank to his knees before you.
The sight of himâthis proud, indomitable man kneeling at your feet, his head bowed lowârendered you momentarily breathless. He appeared utterly defeated, his broad shoulders slumped as though bearing the weight of the world itself. His gaze remained fixed upon the floor, his hair falling forward, shrouding his face in shadow, concealing him from view.
And then he spoke, his voice so low, so raw, that it scarcely rose above a whisper.
âI beg for your forgiveness, my Queen.â he murmured, the words trembling with a pain so profound it caused your chest to tighten. âI apologize for every moment I made you feel as though you were isolated. For distancing myself from you when you were the only thing that kept me whole.â
Your hands tightened at your sides, the urge to reach out, to touch him, to offer solace warring with the resentment that still simmered beneath your skin. Yet you remained still, your gaze unwavering as you listened, waiting.
He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with the movement, and his head dipped lower, as if the act of speaking these words cost him more than you could fathom.
âIâve hurt you,â he continued, his voice fracturing. âI have distanced myself, not out of want, but out of fearâfear that you might perceive me for what I truly amâa shattered, ruined man who knows not how to be a husband. Nor a king.â
He lifted his head slightly then, his eyes glistening as they found yours once more. There was a desperation in his gaze, a pleading that cut through every barrier youâd tried to put up.
âI cannot undo the things I have done,â he whispered hoarsely. âI cannot alter what I have become. I desire to be betterâfor you. For you deserve nothing but the best.â
Your breath hitched, your chest tightening painfully as you stared down at him, the tears that had been burning at the back of your eyes threatening to spill over. This was James, laid bare before youânot the king, not the soldier, but the man who had been so afraid of his own darkness that heâd let it swallow him whole.
And now, here he was, kneeling at your feet, offering up his broken pieces in a desperate plea for forgiveness.
âPlease,â he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. âPlease⌠tell me I havenât lost you.â
Seeing him like thisâso utterly stripped of every layer of pride and pretenseâwas something you could not bear to witness. Slowly, you stepped closer and you reached down, your fingers brushing gently against his shoulder.
âRise, James,â you whispered, your voice soft yet firm, a command veiled in gentleness. âStand.â
He hesitated, the weight of your touch sending a shiver through him. His gaze faltered, lingering on your hand as though it were a treasure beyond his worth. But when he finally looked up, the confusion and uncertainty in his eyes were laid bare, and for a moment, he seemed like a lost, wounded creatureâhesitant, unsure of himself.
âStand up,â you repeated, your tone stronger now, a note of steel beneath the tender veneer. âYou are a king. A king kneels for no one.â
His brow furrowed, the wariness in his expression unmistakable as he continued to search your face. Your gaze held him steadily, refusing to let go, refusing to allow him to sink back into the shadows. Cautiously, he rose to his feet. Your hand, still resting lightly upon his arm, guiding him until he stood at his full height. He seemed even taller now, towering above you to the point where the top of your head barely reached his shoulders.Â
You stepped closer, the space between you vanishing, your head tilting back as you looked up at him. Even though he loomed over you, his presence larger than life, the vulnerability in his eyes made your chest squeeze.
âLook at me,â you murmured, lifting your free hand to his face. Your movements were unhurried, as though you were giving him the chance to retreat if he so wished. But he remained still, his breath catching as your fingers grazed his cheek, tracing the strong line of his jaw before cupping his face with a touch that was achingly gentle.
âY/Nââ he breathed, his voice scarcely more than a murmur, the broken plea within it tugging at the deepest parts of you.
Your gaze softened, and with a tenderness that startled even yourself, you leaned in, the distance between you shrinking further until your forehead rested against his. His breath mingled with yours, uneven and labored, as if it were a struggle for him to simply remain standing.
Your thumb moved in a slow, careful caress against his skin, brushing away a single tear that had slipped past his defenses. He exhaled a shaky breath, the tension in his shoulders ebbing as you held him close, his presence anchoring you as much as you were anchoring him.
âI see you,â you whispered softly, your voice trembling with the weight of the truth contained within those three simple words.Â
His eyes closed for a fleeting moment, as if he were savoring the sweetness of your words, letting them seep into the deepest, most wounded parts of him. When he looked at you again, there was something different in his gazeâa depth of emotion that was almost too raw to bear.
âWhat is it that you see when you look at me?â he asked quietly.
You inhaled slowly, taking in the breadth of his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell with each labored breath, the fragility that lingered beneath the surface of his strength.
âI see a man who has faced battles no one should ever endure,â you murmured, your fingers tracing the line of his cheekbone with exquisite care, âa man who carries the weight of a crown and the burden of his past with more grace than he knows. I see the courage that others overlook, the goodness that still remainsâhidden beneath the scars and the sorrow. I see the man you are, and the man you wish to become.â
A tremor ran through him, and he bowed his head, his forehead brushing against yours, the closeness of your bodies rendering words unnecessary. You felt the warmth of his breath against your lips, tasted the unspoken promise in the air between you.
âTell me I am not lost to you,â he whispered, his voice breaking as if he were speaking through a pain too profound to voice.Â
Your hand, still cradling his face, tilted his head upward, forcing him to meet your gaze. You held him there, your eyes burning with a fierce intensity that matched the storm within your own heart.
âYou are not lost to me,â you vowed, your voice a quiet, resolute promise. âBut I do not forgive you. . .yet.â
A breath of relief escaped him, a sound so soft and unsteady that it made your heart clench.
âYetâŚâ he repeated slowly, as if tasting the word on his tongue, a spark of hope flickering in his eyes. âYet is good. Yet is hope.â
âPerhaps.â
A single tear slid down his cheek, and you brushed it away, your touch as light as a feather, a quiet acceptance in your gesture that left him breathless.
âI see you,â you whispered again, the words a balm to both your wounds. âAll of you. And I am not afraid, I will not look away.â
A shuddering breath escaped him, his shoulders sagging as if a weight had been lifted from his soul. In this moment, there was no king and queen, no titles or formalitiesâjust two people standing in the quiet aftermath of pain and sorrow, holding on to the hope of something more.
âThank you,â he murmured, his voice a broken whisper that reverberated through the stillness around you. âThank you⌠for seeing me.â
You nodded slowly, the barest of smiles curving your lips as you let your forehead rest against his once more. And in that shared silence, amidst the chaos of emotions and the stillness of the night, you both found a measure of peaceâhowever fleeting it may be.
You could feel it in the way his breath mingled with yours, in the way his hands shook ever so slightly as they hovered, uncertain, at your waist.
âJamesâŚâ you breathed, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, a plea.
Something snapped within him then, the fragility giving way to an onslaught of need, desireâdays of yearning and pain and longing surging forward all at once. His fingers tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, his lips crashing against yours with a fervor that stole the very breath from your lungs.
His lips were searing and desperate, and it had set your entire being aflame. He kissed you as though he were trying to brand his very soul onto yours, as if he were afraid that if he let go, you would vanish into the darkness that had claimed so much of his life.
Your hands tangled in his hair, fingers threading through the dark locks as you held him close, every ounce of your own longing and sorrow pouring into the kiss. His hands moved restlessly over your back, your sides, seeking to memorize the feel of you beneath his touch. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, coaxing you open, deepening the kiss until it felt as if you were drowning in himâlost to the overwhelming heat and passion of his embrace.
You gasped against his mouth, the sound swallowed by his fervent kiss, his lips trailing down to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the delicate skin of your neck. He pressed open-mouthed kisses there, each one reverent and almost frantic, as if he were both worshipping you and punishing himself for the times he had pushed you away.
âI have longed for you,â he murmured hoarsely, his voice a broken rasp against your skin. âDreamt of you⌠even when I tried to bury it, to banish the thought of you from my mind⌠you were always there. Always.â
âShow me,â you whispered, your own voice trembling with the force of your emotions.Â
And with a low, guttural sound, he obeyed, his hands gripping you tighter as he captured your lips once more. This kiss was slower, deeper, a languid exploration that felt like the unraveling of every barrier, every wall you had erected between each other. His mouth moved over yours with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his grip, as if he were pouring every unspoken word, every apology, into the kiss.
Your hands slid down to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm, each pulse a testament to the life that still burned fiercely within him. You felt yourself sinking into him, the world narrowing until there was nothing but the feel of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body pressed against you. He kissed you until your lungs burned, until every thought melted away, leaving only the heady sensation of being entirely, irrevocably consumed by him.
When you finally pulled apart, gasping for air,Â
the room was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the hearth in the corner and the faint rustling of fabric. Buckyâs hands had found the lacing of your dress, his fingers pausing there as if he were making some silent vow to himself.
âJamesâŚwait.â you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness. He remained unmoving, his fingers trembling slightly against your back, his breath fanning warmly against the nape of your neck.
âDo you wish me to stop?â he murmured, his tone strained, a mixture of longing and restraint warring within it.
Your throat tightened at the question, and you shook your head slowly, your heart pounding so loudly you were certain he could hear it. âNo, I just. . . This is my first time bedding a man.â
Bucky froze, his hands stilling where they rested against your bare skin. His gaze, sharp and searching, locked onto yours.
âWe donât have to do this,â he murmured, voice soft yet firm, his breath mingling with yours as he leaned close. âNot if you donât want to.â
You swallowed, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. He had every right to you, every reason to expect this, and yet there was no demand in his eyes.
âBut we must,â you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, a strange mix of conviction and uncertainty. âItâs our duty to consummateââ
âFuck duty,â Bucky interrupted, his tone gentle yet edged with steel. He lifted your chin, holding you there, making sure you saw the truth in his eyes. âI donât care about duty, or obligation, or what anyone else expects of us. The only thing I care about is you.â
You blinked up at him, caught off guard by the raw intensity of his gaze.
âTell me what you want,â he continued softly, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. âTell me if this is something you desire, if this is what you need. Because if itâs notââ His thumb brushed over your lower lip, his expression unyielding, determined. âThen weâll stop right here.â
No one had ever given you this power, this choice. Not when so much rested on this unionâon you fulfilling your role as his wife. And yet here he was, offering it all to you as if he didnât care about anything but your comfort.
âJames,â you whispered, your voice breaking on the word. You shook your head slowly, blinking away the sudden prick of tears. âI do desire this.â
His shoulders relaxed, the tension melting away as a soft, relieved smile curved his lips. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, his breath warm and soothing on your skin.
âThen itâs only us,â he murmured, his voice a promise, a vow. âTonight, itâs not for duty, not for the crownâjust for us.â
You nodded, your hands sliding up to cup his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath your palms. His lips brushed yours in the lightest of kisses, a tender affirmation of everything unspoken between you.
âTurn around,â he said softly.
Your heart raced as you complied, turning your back to him. His fingers, tentative at first, began to pull at the ribbons holding your gown together. Each tug loosened the fabric, releasing the tension along your spine. His knuckles brushed your skin as he worked, the contact igniting a fire beneath your flesh.
With each ribbon that came undone, the dress loosened further, slipping lower until it barely clung to your shoulders. You watched his reflection in the mirrorâthe way his eyes were fixed on you, his expression intense, almost reverent.
His hands hesitated at the last knot, his gaze lifting to meet yours in the mirror. The question in his eyes was clear: Are you sure? You gave a slight nod, your breath catching in anticipation.
Slowly, his hands moved upward, tracing the path of your spine until they reached your shoulders. With a gentle, deliberate motion, he slid the gown off your shoulders, the fabric gliding down your body until it pooled at your feet, leaving you exposed before him.
A shuddering breath escaped him. âYou are⌠breathtaking,â he murmured, his voice hushed, as if speaking any louder would shatter the fragile intimacy of the moment.
His fingers lingered at the small of your back, his touch light but firm as though grounding himself. The heat of his gaze roamed over you, burning in its intensity. He dipped his head lower, brushing his lips over your bare shoulder, sending a ripple of sensation through you.
âTurn around,â he whispered, his tone filled with both command and entreaty.
You turned to face him, pulse racing. The look on his faceâso raw, so utterly captivatedâmade your breath catch. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he hovered just above your skin. When he finally touched you, his palm resting gently against your waist, you could feel the restraint coiled within him, the careful control he was exercising.
âJames, IâŚâ You struggled to find the right words, but before you could speak, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, then your cheek, and finally, to the corner of your lips.
âYou donât have to say anything,â he murmured, his breath mingling with yours. âBut if this becomes too much, if you want me to stop, just tell me, and I will.â
âDonât stop,â you breathed, the words escaping you unbidden, honest.
His hands tightened on your waist, and with a careful, reverent touch, he lifted you slightly and guided you back to the bed. The thin chemise you wore shifted as he moved you, baring more of your skin, his eyes following every inch of exposed flesh.
His hands moved over you with a kind of restrained urgency, his touch both firm and achingly gentle. He leaned down, his mouth ghosting over the delicate skin at the base of your neck, his fingers tracing the path of your collarbone, your shoulder, your waist.
âAre you sure?â he whispered, his voice strained, roughened with need.
You nodded, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging him closer. âIâm sure, James. Just⌠be with me.â
His mouth claimed yours in a kiss that was slow and deep, a deliberate exploration that left you breathless. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of youâthe taste of his lips, the warmth of his body pressing against yours, the steady, unrelenting need building between you.
He eased you back onto the bed, his weight a comforting presence above you. With a tenderness that made your chest ache, he began to kiss his way down your neck, your shoulder, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
âTell me if itâs too much,â he murmured against your skin, his voice a low, resonant hum that sent shivers through you.
âItâs not,â you whispered, your voice a breathless sigh as your hands roamed over his back, the hard planes of his chest. âYouâre perfect.â
He smiled against your skin, his breath hot and unsteady. âNo, my queen. Youâre the perfect one.â
He captured your mouth in another kiss, deeper this time, his hands cradling your face with a gentleness that felt like worship. And as he moved against you, every touch, every kiss a testament to how much he cared, you felt yourself falling, losing yourself in the man who was giving you everythingâhis heart, his soul, his very breath.
Thereâs something so surreal about whatâs happening that your mind canât fully process it. It feels like youâre watching a playâlike it canât possibly be you in this situation.
Youâre lying on your side, facing him. His hands are on your skinâslightly rough, callused. Warm against your chilled flesh. Strong, though heâs not using that strength right now. He could subdue you with ease, but thereâs no need.Â
He kisses you again, his lips lingering as his hands move over your arm, your back, your neck, your outer thigh. His touch is gentle, yet firm, each caress feeling like a exploration. Itâs almost as if heâs giving you a massage, except you can feel the sexual intent behind his actions.
He dips his head lower, his mouth finding the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder meet. His teeth graze your skin lightly, and a shiver runs through you at the pleasurable sensation. Your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed by the unexpected tenderness. Itâs disarming, this gentleness of his, but at the same time, you feel⌠cherished.
One of his hands slides down, resting on your backside, kneading the soft flesh with a touch thatâs both possessive and comforting. His other hand travels upward, skimming over your belly, tracing the curve of your rib cage. When he finally reaches your breast, he cups you in his palm, squeezing lightlyâjust enough to make you catch your breath. Your nipples are already hard, and his touch feels good, almost soothing.
Each movement, each touch, feels like a silent vowâa promise to show you everything heâs capable of giving, as if heâs trying to communicate with you through every caress. And you let yourself get lost in it, in the heady sensation of being completely, utterly his.
You keep your eyes shut as he gently rolls you onto your back. Heâs partially on top of you, but most of his weight rests on the bed. He doesnât want to crush you, you realize, and a sense of gratitude washes over you. He lowers his head, placing tender kisses along your collarbone, your shoulder, your stomach. His mouth is hot, and each kiss leaves a moist trail on your skin, setting it aflame.
Then he closes his lips around your right nipple and sucks lightly. Your body arches instinctively, a wave of tension pooling low in your belly. He repeats the action on your other nipple, his mouth warm and demanding, and the tension inside you deepens, intensifies. He senses itâof course, he doesâbecause his hand moves lower, venturing between your thighs and feeling the slick evidence of your desire.
His fingers explore gently, and you canât help but let out a soft gasp as your body responds to his touch, the pressure building, tightening. Every sensation blurs into the next, leaving you helpless under his slow, deliberate ministrations.
âDoes it feel good, my queen?â he murmurs, stroking your folds with maddening precision.
A whimper escapes your lips as his mouth travels lower, the tickle of his hair brushing against your heated skin. You know what he intends, and your mind blanks out when he reaches his destination. For a moment, instinct makes you try to resist, but he effortlessly pulls your legs apart, spreading you open to him.
His fingers part your folds gently, exposing you completely to his gaze. Then he lowers his head and kisses you there, sending a jolt of electric heat through your entire body. His skilled mouth licks and nibbles around your sensitive clit until youâre moaning, your fingers clutching at the sheets. Then he closes his lips around it and lightly sucks.
The pleasure is so intense, so unexpected, that your eyes fly open in shock. You donât understand whatâs happening to you, and itâs terrifying. Youâre burning from the inside out, throbbing between your legs. Your heart is racing so fast you can barely catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you find yourself panting, gasping for air.
âBâŚBucky, am I supposed to feel this way?â you ask, your voice trembling with a mix of innocence and confusion.
His only response is a deep, throaty groan against you, the sound vibrating through your core and making your breath hitch. The gentle puffs of his breath against your slick skin make you shiver, and when you instinctively try to pull awayâoverwhelmed by the intensity of his mouthâhe tightens his grip, holding you steady. His hands are strong yet careful, firm but tender, keeping you in place with ease.
âYouâre close my queen, Iâll take you there.â he murmurs against your flesh, his voice low and rough, filled with a dark, sensual promise.
He doesnât relent, his tongue working you with maddening speed, teasing and tasting, drawing out soft whimpers and gasps from your lips. The pleasure builds higher and higher, a wave crashing over you, making you feel like youâre on the verge of shattering. His hands keep you grounded, his touch both possessive and gentle as he guides you through every pulse, every tremor of sensation.
You cry out, your body twisting and arching, but he holds you steady, not letting you escape the overwhelming pleasure that has you unraveling beneath him. Itâs too much, too intense, and yet you donât want it to endâyou canât imagine it ending.
âLet go for me,â he breathes, the words a command and a plea all at once, his mouth never stopping its sinful work. âJust let go, I have you.â
The tension inside you is building, coiling tighter and tighter, until it feels unbearable. Youâre squirming against his mouth, pushing and pulling at the same time, your body caught in a desperate dance. Each flick of his tongue, each graze of his teeth, sends you spiraling closer to some elusive, dangerous edge.
And then, with a soft cry, you go over it.
Your entire body tightens, muscles locking as youâre overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure so intense that your vision blurs. Your toes curl, your back arches off the bed, and you feel your inner muscles pulse in rapid, uncontrollable spasms.
You realize, in a dazed, breathless haze, that youâve just had an orgasm, your first. Your limbs feel like jelly, your skin flushed and trembling as the aftershocks ripple through you.Â
He doesnât move away immediately, his mouth lingering, pressing soft kisses to your sensitive flesh as he murmurs soothing words, guiding you gently back down from the heights of ecstasy.
The first orgasm of your life. And it was at the handsâor rather the mouthâof your husband. Your open your eyes again. But heâs not done with you yet. He crawls up your body and kisses your mouth again. He tastes differently now, salty, with a slightly musky undertone. Itâs from you, you realize. Youâre tasting yourself on his lips.Â
A hot wave of embarrassment rolls through your body even as the hunger inside you intensifies. His kiss is more carnal than before, rougher. His tongue penetrates your mouth in an obvious imitation of the sexual act, and his hips settle heavily between your legs.Â
One of his hands is holding the back of your head, while another one is between your thighs, lightly rubbing and stimulating me again. You donât really resist, although your body tenses as the nervousness returns. You can feel the heat and hardness of his erection pushing against your inner thigh, and you know itâs going to hurt you.Â
âJ-James,â you whisper, opening your eyes to look at him. âPlease take it slow . . . Iâve never done this beforeââÂ
His nostrils flare, and his eyes gleam brighter. âOf course, my queen,â he murmurs softly. His voice is low and soothing, yet it carries a promiseâa vow to be careful, to go at your pace.
With trembling hands, he hastily undoes his trousers, pushing them down just enough. When he shifts back slightly, his length springs free, standing thick and proud between you. Your eyes widen as you take him inâlong and intimidatingly hard, the sight making your heart race with a mixture of anticipation and fear.
He notices your gaze and the way you bite your lower lip, your apprehension clear as your eyes trace every inch of him. Swallowing hard, you try to reconcile how something that large could possibly fit inside you.
âTell me to stop, and I will,â he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. He reaches out, gently brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers, grounding you with the softness of his touch. âYou have my word.â
Your gaze flickers back to his, and despite the nervousness thrumming through your veins, you nod slowly. âDonât stop, I want this.â
Then he shifts his hips slightly, using one hand to guide himself to your entrance. You gasp as the tip of his cock nudges against your slick folds, then slowly, carefully, begins to push inside. Youâre wet, but your body tenses, resisting the unfamiliar intrusion. You saw how big he is, but the sensation of him stretching you now feels overwhelmingâimpossibly large as he inches his way into your body.
Pain flares, a sharp burning that makes you cry out, your hands flying up to press against his shoulders. His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours, his pupils blown wide with the effort of holding back. Beads of sweat form along his brow, and you realize heâs straining to keep himself under control.
âRelax, Y/N,â he whispers harshly, his voice taut. âIt will hurt less if you relax.â
Youâre trembling, body taut like a bowstring, unable to follow his advice because youâre too nervousâtoo overwhelmed by the pain. Itâs too much, having even a little bit of him inside you. You clutch at his shoulders, your fingers digging in his skin as your body fights to accommodate him.
But heâs relentless, his jaw clenched tightly as he continues to press forward, his thick girth stretching you inch by agonizing inch. Your flesh gives way slowly, reluctantly, the resistance in your body fierce, but he doesnât stop. He wonât stop. Each slow push is a battle, and the pain sharpens, your eyes squeezing shut as you sob quietly, nails scratching at his back.
âShhh, breathe for me, my queen,â he murmurs, his voice strained. Heâs trembling too, every muscle in his body tense as heâs fighting against himself.
He pauses for a second, buried halfway inside, his breath coming in ragged pants. A prominent vein pulses near his temple, his face contorted with effort. He looks like heâs in painâsuffering evenâbut you know the truth. This is pleasurable for him, this act thatâs hurting you so much. The realization makes your chest tighten, but before you can say anything, he lowers his head, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.
âIâm sorry,â he breathes, his voice breaking. And then, before you can process his words, he pushes forward againâfirmly, unyieldinglyâtearing through the thin membrane inside you with a single thrust.
You almost black out from the pain.
A cry bursts from your lips, the pain flaring white-hot as he stills, his full length now buried deep within you and itâs the most agonizingly invasive thing youâve ever experienced. He doesnât move, his hips pressed firmly against yours, his breath coming in harsh, unsteady gasps above you.Â
âBreathe,â he murmurs, his voice strained but soothing as he keeps himself perfectly still, letting your body adjust around him. Heâs so much larger than you, so much stronger. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes squeezed shut, his entire being focused on not moving an inch.
Your chest rises and falls in ragged breaths, your body trembling beneath him. The pain is sharp, throbbing, but thereâs something else nowâa sense of fullness, of being completely joined with him. His fingers slide down to entwine with yours, holding your hands as though anchoring you both.
âJust⌠breathe,â he whispers again, his voice barely more than a ragged breath.
Itâs a long, aching moment before the pain begins to ebb, your body slowly, tentatively adjusting to the size of him. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze, and in that instant, you see it allâhis struggle, his desire, and his absolute devotion to you.
âJames⌠you can move,â you whisper, your voice shaking.
He lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes closing briefly in relief. âAre you sure?â
You nod, squeezing his hands. âYes. I⌠I want you to.â
Slowly, carefully, he withdraws an inch, then pushes back in, the movement sending a jolt of sensation through you. It still hurts, but thereâs something else nowâsomething warm and electric, something that has your breath catching in your throat.
Initially, his movements only make it worse, each thrust adding to the agony as your body struggles to accommodate him. The pain is sharp, your muscles instinctively tightening around him, and itâs all you can do to keep from crying out. You grit your teeth, your breath hitching as he fills you completely, stretching you in a way that feels both impossible and overwhelming.
He watches you closely, his eyes never leaving your face as he moves again, each slow thrust careful, controlled. The pain begins to blur at the edges, each movement bringing with it a new kind of pleasure, subtle but building with each careful stroke.
âTell me if itâs too much,â he murmurs, his voice rough and hushed. âIâll stop. Just say the word, and Iâll stop.â
But you shake your head, your body slowly relaxing beneath him. âDonât stop,â you whisper, your voice trembling but resolute. âPlease⌠donât stop.â
And so he doesnât, his movements becoming a little deeper, a little steadier as he pulls you both into a rhythm, a dance of slow, aching intimacy that leaves you breathless.
Sensing your discomfort, he pauses, his brow furrowing in concern. His hand slips between your bodies, finding your sensitive clit. He strokes it softly, his finger moving in slow, gentle circles. The sensation is startling, a ripple of unexpected pleasure that momentarily distracts you from the pain. You whimper, your hips shifting reflexively as he keeps his touch light and steady, his thumb brushing over your swollen flesh with expert precision.
âFocus on this,â he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper. âJust this, love.â
You try, your mind grasping onto the pleasure heâs coaxing out of you. Itâs small at first, a subtle flicker against the backdrop of pain, but it grows stronger, more insistent as he continues to tease you. His hips resume their slow, steady rhythm, moving your body in tandem with his hand, each thrust pushing you against his fingers.
The tension begins to gather inside you again. The pain is still there, but itâs changing, being slowly overtaken by the pleasure. Your breath hitches, your body responding despite itself, and you feel a flush spread across your skin. Itâs almost maddening, how he manages to draw both pain and pleasure from you at the same time, your body caught in the push and pull of conflicting sensations.
âThatâs it,â he breathes, his voice strained, as if heâs fighting against something deep within himself. âYouâre doing so well, Y/N⌠so beautiful like this.â
Youâre writhing beneath him now, every muscle trembling as he moves with agonizing slowness, his hips rocking against yours. The pressure builds, the friction of his length inside you both painful and electrifying. You let out a soft cry, clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.
And then something shifts in him. His control falters. He growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating through your chest as his movements changeâbecoming less measured, less restrained.Â
âYesâOh, my GodâJames,â Your hands travel down until they settled on his bottom, urging him to plunge into you harder. His thrusts deepen, the careful rhythm faltering as he pulls back only to push back in harder, the motion sending a jolt of pleasurable sensation through you.
âFuck,â he grits out, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he fights for control. âYouâre so tight, my queen, it feels so good.â His voice is rough, the words almost guttural, and you can feel the tension radiating off him, the way his hands tighten on your hips as if heâs trying to hold himself back.
But he canât.
With a shuddering breath, he shifts again, his hand stilling between your legs as both of his arms come up to cradle your body. He draws back, just enough to look at you, his gaze fierce and dark, filled with a hunger that takes your breath away.
âI canât⌠Iâm sorry, I canâtââ His voice breaks, and then heâs moving again, harder this time, his control slipping completely.Â
âIt feels good, Jamesâkeep going.â You reassured him, through a needy whimper.
His hips snap forward, his pace increasing as he pushes into you with a force that has you crying out. Each thrust is deeper, harder, driving the air from your lungs, and the pain flares, bright and searing. But underneath it, the pleasure growsâan insistent, throbbing heat that coils low in your belly.
Buckyâs losing himself, the careful restraint heâd shown before unraveling with every push and pull of his body. You can feel it in the way he holds you, the way his breath comes in harsh, uneven gasps against your skin.
âJamesâŚ!â you sob, your body arching beneath him as he drives into you. He grunts in response, the sound raw, almost animalistic. His pace is relentless now, his thrusts coming faster, harder, each one dragging a mixture of pain and pleasure from you that has you trembling, gasping.
âFuck, youâre perfect⌠youâre taking me so well,â he groans, his voice strained and desperate. His hands move to your thighs, lifting them slightly to angle you just right, and then heâs pounding into you with strength that leaves you breathless, your fingers scrabbling against his back.
âGod, youâre so tight, so wetââ His words are a growl, his teeth grazing your neck as he buries himself to the hilt, his body shuddering against yours. âCanât hold back⌠canâtââ
He pulls almost all the way out, back hunching, and then slams back in, the impact sending a shockwave through you. You cry out, your nails raking down his back, but he doesnât stop. Heâs completely lost now, his hips snapping forward with a brutal, punishing rhythm that has you writhing beneath him, the world narrowing to the feel of him inside you, the way heâs filling you so completely.
âJames, pleaseââ You donât know what youâre asking for, your mind a blur of sensation as he drives you higher, closer to that precipice.
âCome for me,â he demands, his voice a rough command in your ear. âI need to feel youâneed to feel you fall apart around me.â
He reaches between your bodies again, his fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing it with just enough pressure to push you over the edge. The pleasure crashes into you like a tidal wave, your body seizing, muscles clamping down around him as you scream his name.
Your orgasm tears through you with blinding intensity, your inner walls fluttering, clenching around him as the world dissolves into darkness. Youâre only dimly aware of him groaning above you, his hips jerking as he follows you over the edge, his release pulsing deep within you. He holds himself there, buried to the hilt, his body trembling as he spills into you, his voice a raw, broken sound in your ear.
Slowly, the tension eases, the fire burning through your veins gradually fading to a warm, languid glow. He pulls out carefully, his movements gentle, and you wince at the sudden emptiness. But before you can say anything, heâs gathering you into his arms, rolling to the side and pulling you close.
His chest rises and falls against your back, his breath still uneven as he wraps himself around you, holding you tightly.
âAre you okay?â he whispers, his voice rough and full of concern. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, then your cheek, his hands stroking your hair soothingly.
You nod weakly, leaning into his embrace, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your release. âYes⌠Iâm okay.â
He lets out a long, shaky breath, his grip tightening for a moment before he relaxes, his body curving protectively around yours.
âIâm sorry,â he murmurs again, his voice soft and broken. âI didnât mean to hurt you⌠I tried, but I couldnâtââ
âDonât be sorry,â you interrupt gently, reaching up to brush your fingers over his cheek. He closes his eyes, his forehead resting against yours. He holds you close, his warmth and presence surrounding you.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
The soft, predawn light filtered through the heavy drapes, casting a muted glow over the bedchamber. The air was still, the quiet broken only by the faint rustle of sheets and the soft murmur of voices.Â
You lay nestled against Buckyâs chest, your fingers idly tracing patterns along the ridges of his muscles, your body relaxed and warmth from the shared intimacy of the night before.
Buckyâs lips curved into a small smile, his gaze tender as he watched you, his hand absently stroking your hair. âDid I mention that youâre even more beautiful in the morning?â he murmured softly, his voice still rough with sleep.
You gave a soft, breathless laugh, shifting closer until your nose brushed against his. âYouâre not too bad yourself, Your Majesty.â
The playful response earned you a gentle kiss, his lips brushing against yours with a adoration that made your heart flutter. What started as a brief caress deepened, his hand sliding to the small of your back, holding you close as if the mere thought of distance was unbearable.
The world beyond the room felt like a distant memoryâa place that no longer mattered. There was only the two of you, cocooned in the warmth of the bed, the connection between you forged anew in the quiet hours of the night. His presence, once a source of confusion and pain, had become your anchor, steadying you amidst the swirling uncertainty that had defined your marriage until now.
His lips moved against yours, tender and sure, conveying what words never could. You sighed into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as you allowed yourself to get lost in him once more. He responded with a low hum of approval, his hand slipping beneath the sheets to settle against your bare skinâ
And then the door to the chamber swung open.
âJames, I have told you time and time again that you must learn to prioritize your duââ
âYour Majesty!â a voice interrupted suddenlyâCaptain Rogers. He stepped into the doorway, eyes wide with alarm as he held out a hand, trying to stop the Queen Dowager from taking another step. âWait! Please, Iââ
But it was too late. Queen Winifred breezed past him with a sharp frown, completely oblivious to his warning. Steve barely had time to avert his gaze, heâd caught a glimpse of you and Bucky in the bed, your figures entangled in a state of undress. The faintest hint of a flush crept up Steveâs neck as he clenched his jaw, his discomfort visible as he hastily stepped back, turning his head away with an almost comical speed.
The shock on her face was unmistakable, her eyes wide as she took in the sight before herâBucky leaning over you, the two of you tangled together, the sheets barely covering your exposed skin. Your hair was tousled, your eyes still half-lidded with the lingering haze of sleep and intimacy.
âMotherââ Bucky choked out, his own shock quickly replaced by a fierce protectiveness. He moved in a flash, yanking the covers higher, shielding your body from view even as his gaze flickered with annoyance and embarrassment.
Your heart leapt into your throat, your face burning with mortification as you tried to hide behind the blankets, only partially successful. But the Queen Dowager had already turned to her back, her back ramrod straight, her shoulders tense as she stared resolutely at the doorframe. One hand clutched at the delicate fan she carried, the edge of it trembling slightly, the motion so subtle it was almost imperceptible.
âIâgood heavens,â she stammered, uncharacteristically flustered. âI⌠I had no ideaââ
Bucky shifted beside you, his voice strained but composed. âYour timing, as always, is impeccable, Mother.â
The sarcasm in his tone was enough to snap the Dowager Queen out of her daze. She cleared her throat, her fingers tightening around the fan as she lifted it to shield her face, the delicate lace trembling as she snapped it open.
âI⌠I came to speak with you about your lack of action at your own honeymoon, but⌠clearly, this is not the appropriate time.â
âNo,â Bucky agreed, a trace of amusement lacing his words now. âIt is not.â
âRight. Well.â The Queen Dowagerâs knuckles turned white as she gripped the fan even tighter, holding it as if it could somehow ward off the awkwardness of the situation. âCarry on. I⌠I shall speak with you later, James.â
And without another word, she turned around sharply, retreating from the room, her face hidden behind the fan as she passed a mortified Steve, who did his best to look anywhere but at his queen or king.
As Winifred left the room, Steve allowed himself one final glance before swiftly stepping aside, his gaze meeting Buckyâs for just the briefest moment. The look of sheer exasperation and embarrassment on Buckyâs face made Steve fight the urge to smirk, though he wisely kept his expression neutral.
Instead, he took a step back, cleared his throat awkwardly, and called out, âIâll, uh⌠ensure no one else disturbs Your Majesties.â
âSee that you do,â Bucky muttered dryly, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to you.
Steve quickly retreated down the hallway, disappearing around the corner, leaving the two of you alone once more.
You stared at the closed door, your mind struggling to process what had just happened, the lingering haze of sleep and the afterglow of intimacy shattered in an instant. Slowly, you turned to Bucky, who was staring at the door with a bemused expression, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter.
âI suppose thatâs one way to inform her weâve consummated the marriage,â he remarked dryly, his gaze sliding back to you, a wicked glint in his eye.
You gaped at him, incredulous. âYou find this amusing?â
He shrugged, the movement causing the sheets to slip down, exposing more of his bare chest. âI find it⌠effective.â
Despite yourself, a startled laugh bubbled up, the absurdity too much to ignore. You shook your head, your shoulders shaking with silent mirth as the tension dissolved.
âI donât know whether to be mortified or relieved,â you admitted, pressing a hand to your flushed face. âSheâll never look at me the same way again.â
Buckyâs expression softened, and he reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. âI doubt sheâll ever stop looking at you as the formidable woman who dared to march to Annecy in the middle of the night just to confront me,â he murmured, his gaze filled with warmth and something deeper, something that made your heart ache in the most wonderful way. âBut now⌠sheâll see you as something more. As someone who has claimed what is rightfully hers.â
He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, the taste of him sweet and familiar. âAnd that, my queen, is nothing to be ashamed of.â
You smiled against his lips, your hands sliding up to rest against his chest, savoring the feel of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.
âNo,â you whispered, âitâs not.â
And with that, you pulled him back down to you, the Queen Dowager and the world outside forgotten once more.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
The grand marble steps leading up to the main palace seemed to stretch endlessly as you and Bucky ascended side by side. The palace loomed above you, its spires piercing the sky, but there was a comfort in its familiarity, a sense of returning home. Guards and servants bowed low, murmuring, âYour Majesties,â as you both passed. Buckyâs hand rested on the small of your back, steady and sure, his thumb absently brushing over the silk fabric of your gown.
The Great Hall is bustling with activity, the murmur of voices rising and falling like waves crashing against the shore. Citizens from all walks of life fill the spaceâfarmers, merchants, artisans, and healersâeach awaiting their turn to approach the king. Bucky sits on the gilded throne, his posture regal, yet his gaze is softer than usual, focused not on the people but on you seated beside him on a smaller chair.
One by one, the citizens present their concernsârequests for land disputes, grievances with local laws, petitions for aid after a particularly harsh winter. Bucky listens attentively, his expression thoughtful, but more often than not, his gaze shifts to you.
âWhat do you think, my queen?â he asks, his voice steady and genuine.
The first time he did, you hesitated, taken aback by the sudden attention. But Buckyâs eyes were reassuring, filled with the unspoken message that he trusted your judgment. So you spoke, and your adviceâthough tentative at firstâwas well-received.
Now, you sit straight-backed, exuding a quiet confidence as you consider each matter carefully before responding.
The citizens have begun to murmur among themselves about your growing role in the kingâs court. Whispers of admiration mingle with doubtâsome marveling at your wisdom, others wondering if the kingâs indulgence will lead to reckless decisions.
The ripple of tension becomes tangible when Lord Carter steps forward, a calculating smile tugging at his lips. He bows low to Bucky, the motion exaggerated, then turns his attention to you, his eyes gleaming with thinly veiled skepticism.
âYour Majesties,â he begins smoothly, his tone dripping with courtesy, âit is a pleasure to see our king back on the throne. And to witness our gracious queen actively participating in the affairs of the realm⌠It is most intriguing.â
You return his smile with politeness, though you can feel Bucky stiffen beside you. Lord Carter is known for his silver tongue, and his words are never as benign as they seem. âI am merely assisting where I can, Lord Carter,â you reply, keeping your voice even.
âOf course, of course,â he agrees with a dismissive wave of his hand. âAnd yet, I wonder if Your Majestyâs counsel might not be too⌠idealistic?â He pauses, letting the word hang in the air. âTake the recent suggestion to provide seeds to the farmers affected by the blight. While generous, such a proposal could strain the treasury and set a precedent for the crown to supply every failed harvest. Perhaps the wiser course would be to consider less costly alternatives.â
Murmurs of agreement and disagreement spread through the hall, eyes shifting between Lord Carter and you, waiting to see how you would respond.
You keep your composure, though you feel the heat of scrutiny pressing down on you. âI appreciate your concern for the treasury, Lord Carter,â you say, your tone calm and measured. âHowever, a stable food supply is the backbone of our kingdomâs prosperity. If we let the farmers struggle, they will plant less next season, leading to higher prices and unrest among the lower classes. The cost of seeds is an investment in our future, one that will yield far more than it costs us now.â
Lord Carterâs eyes narrow, his smile tightening. âAn investment, indeed. But how do we ensure that the investment is not squandered? Some farmers may take advantage of the crownâs generosity, and others may fail despite our aid. What then?â
You do not falter. âWe will monitor the situation closely, sending representatives to oversee the distribution and usage of resources. We will also encourage local communities to form cooperative groups, ensuring that each village has a stake in its own success. This way, we not only provide aid but empower our people to be self-sufficient.â
A ripple of approval spreads through the hall. Even those who had been skeptical seem impressed by your thoughtfulness. Buckyâs gaze never wavers from you, pride shining in his eyes as you calmly hold your ground.
Lord Carter, however, is not finished. âAnd what of the well that dried up in Westport? Your suggestion to dig a new one may seem like a straightforward solution, but have you considered the possibility that the source may have been permanently depleted? If thatâs the case, no amount of digging will restore it. Should we not consider relocating the village instead?â
Gasps of shock and disbelief echo through the hall. Relocating an entire village is an extreme measure, one that would displace hundreds of families and disrupt countless lives. Your hands tighten around the armrests of your chair, but you force yourself to remain calm.
âRelocation should always be a last resort,â you reply firmly. âThe engineers we send will first conduct a thorough survey to determine if the wellâs depletion is a result of temporary shifts or a permanent change in the water table. If it is found to be permanent, then we can discuss the feasibility of relocation. But I will not uproot our people without exhausting every option to preserve their homes.â
For a moment, there is silence. Then, a slow clap echoes through the hall.Â
Lord Carterâs smile is sharp, predatory. âWell said, Your Majesty. It seems you have given this more thought than I assumed. I only hope your efforts yield the desired results.â
Buckyâs jaw tightens, and he leans forward slightly, his gaze fixed on Lord Carter. âI trust my queenâs judgment, Lord Carter. She has proven herself more than capable of understanding the intricacies of governance.â His voice is low, but it carries an unmistakable warning.
Lord Carter inclines his head, the smile never leaving his lips. âOf course, Your Majesty. It was never my intention to suggest otherwise. I merely wish to ensure that our realm remains strong and our resources wisely managed.â
With a final bow, Lord Carter steps back, leaving you and Bucky to exchange a glance. There is a question in Buckyâs eyesâAre you all right?
You give a slight nod, your lips curving into a determined smile. Yes, you seem to say without words. I am.
Buckyâs fingers brush against yours once more, a silent vow of support and solidarity. âThen let it be known,â he announces, his voice ringing out across the hall, âthat from this day forward, Queen Y/N will sit beside me in all matters of governance. Her voice is to be heard and her counsel considered as equal to mine.â
The hall erupts into applause and murmurs of approval, but the hard gleam in Lord Carterâs eyes does not fade. He bows once more, his smile inscrutable, and turns away.
You watch him go, your heart steady. Whatever games Lord Carter intends to play, you are ready.
And you will not lose.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
The grand council chamber now buzzed with tension, the gathered noblemen exchanging wary glances as Bucky faced them from the head of the long table. Prime Minister Fury, Lord Pierce, and the representatives of House Stark, House Romanoff, House Maximoff, House Odinson, House Quill, and House Carter were all present, each of them bearing the weight of their houseâs influence and expectations.
It was a subtle standoff, a test of authority cloaked in polite words and thinly veiled demands.
You hadn't meant to overhearâyou had only been wandering the halls when you stumbled upon the slightly ajar double doors and the raised voices inside. But something kept you rooted in place, your pulse quickening as you realized who was speaking.
Prime Minister Fury broke the silence first, his gaze sharp and unrelenting as it settled on Bucky. âYour Majesty, forgive our persistence, but itâs been weeks since your marriage, and⌠the court is rife with speculation.â
You leaned closer, eyes narrowing as you strained to hear. You couldnât see Buckyâs face from where you stood, but the tautness in his voice was unmistakable.
âSpeculation?â His voice was low, a dangerous undercurrent running through it. âWhat sort of speculation?â
A murmur rippled through the room, and Lord Haynesworth, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, cleared his throat awkwardly before speaking. âThere have been⌠questions, Your Majesty. Questions regarding⌠well⌠whether the marriage has been properly consummated.â
Your heart lurched at the word, heat rushing to your cheeks in a mix of embarrassment and anger. Was that what this was about? They were discussing your private life as if it were some kind of public spectacle, something to be scrutinized and judged.
âDo not make us ask the question outright, Your Majesty,â Prime Minister Fury said finally, his tone edged with steel. âBut we must know. The stability of the Crown depends on it. If the marriage has not been consummated, the legitimacy of the unionâand of any future heirsâcould be called into question.â
Silence fell, thick and heavy. You could practically feel Buckyâs gaze sweeping over each lord, daring them to press further.
âThis is not your concern,â he bit out finally, each word clipped and seething with frustration. âThis is my marriage. My business.â
âYour marriage is our concern,â Fury countered, leaning forward slightly, his gaze unflinching. âItâs palace business, Parliament business, the business of the entire country! You cannot pretend otherwise.â
âThe kingâs marriage must be above reproach,â Lord Pierce interjected, his voice low but firm. âWithout a legitimate heir, the crownâs stabilityââ
âDo not speak to me of stability!â Bucky snapped, his voice like a whip crack through the chamber. You jumped at the sound, your breath catching in your throat as the tension in the room thickened. âYou told me I had to marry her for the sake of the Crown. I did.â
Silence fell, thick and heavy.
âYou told me I had to charm her, to win her favor, to make her compliant to the needs of the Crown. I did that too,â he continued, his voice dropping to a low, menacing growl.
âThen you told me to keep her at armâs length, to keep her from knowing me, because a king must always protect the secrets of his realm.â He let out a bitter, humorless laugh. âI have followed every command, every directive, without fail. And now, you dare to demand this?â
The room seemed to shrink under the intensity of his gaze, the noblemen exchanging uncertain glances but remaining silent.
âYou want to know if Iâve bedded her?â Buckyâs voice was soft now, deadly. âYes. I have. Does that satisfy you?â
Prime Minister Fury held his ground, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his discomfort. âWe must be sure, Your Majesty. The matter is not only about what is done but also about what is seen to be done. You mustââ
âI must?â Buckyâs voice rose, the sound reverberating through the chamber like thunder. âI have done everything youâve demanded of me! From the moment I took my first breath, it was hammered into me that my life was for the happiness or the misery of this great nation. That I must act, speak, feel in accordance with the needs of the Crown!â
His breathing quickened, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to contain the rage boiling within him.
âI am the image of duty,â he yelled, voice shaking with barely contained fury. âThe Crown is embedded in me, lodged like a blade through my heart. You do not need to remind me of what is at stake.â
Lord Haynesworth shifted uneasily, his gaze flickering to the others before speaking cautiously. âYour Majesty, we are not questioning your dedication. But if the queen is notââ
âDo not speak of her.â Buckyâs tone was a low, dangerous growl. âShe is my wife. Her worth is not for you to decide.â
A murmur of surprise swept through the chamber, the lords exchanging startled looks at the vehemence in his voice. They hadnât said a word against the queen, yet Buckyâs defense of you was fierce, unwavering. As if the mere thought of anyone questioning you sent a surge of anger through him.
âYour Majesty, we only askââ
âI have done my part,â Bucky interrupted coldly. âI will continue to do it, no matter the cost. But if any of you dare question her again, you will regret it.â
You stared, wide-eyed, at the scene unfolding before you, your heart beating loudly in your chest.Â
âYour Majesty, weâre merely trying to ensure the Crownâs safety. If the queen does notââ
âEnough!â Bucky roared, the sound echoing through the chamber, making the noblemen flinch. âI have bedded her. I have fulfilled my duty. That is all you need to know.â
He turned on his heel, his cloak swirling behind him as he stalked toward the doors. Just before he reached them, he paused, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper.
âThis meeting is dismissed.â
You stepped back quickly, heart racing as he stormed out, his expression thunderous. As the heavy doors closed behind him, you glanced back through the narrow gap, your heart still pounding.
A murmur of voices rose, low and uncertain.
âHe has finally done it, then,â Lord Haynesworth muttered, a hint of relief in his tone.
âGood,â Lord Pierce nodded, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against the table. âThen thereâs still hope that we can secure an heir.â
âWe need to tread carefully,â Prime Minister Fury agreed. âBut with the consummation complete, itâs a step forward. We must focus now on ensuring that an heir is conceived swiftly.â
A ripple of murmured agreement passed through the room, the tension easing just slightly as the weight of this particular matter began to lift.
Lord Carter, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat softly, a thoughtful smile playing at the corners of his lips. âGentlemen, let us not forget⌠they have only just begun their marriage. We must allow time for nature to take its course.â
The other lords exchanged cautious nods, the relief growing as they considered his words.
âQuite right, Lord Carter,â Lord Pierce agreed. âWe have time yet. If they continue in this manner, an heir will follow soon enough.â
Prime Minister Furyâs gaze lingered on the closed doors, his expression inscrutable. âBut if this proves to be the only victory⌠if no heir is conceivedâŚâ
âWeâll cross that bridge when we come to it,â Lord Carter interrupted smoothly, his smile widening ever so slightly. âFor now, we should be pleased that the matter has progressed this far. Let us not trouble ourselves unnecessarily.â
As the lords exchanged nods and the tension began to dissipate, Lord Carterâs smile widened ever so slightly. He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming lightly against the polished wood of the table. It was a small, almost dismissive gesture, as though he were content to let the matter lie.
But not everyone in the chamber seemed convinced.
Lord Stark, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly, watched Lord Carter with a scrutiny that went unnoticed by most of the others. There was something in the smooth way the man spoke, the casual ease with which he guided the conversation, that set Starkâs teeth on edge. Heâd seen men like Carter beforeâmen who wielded their influence like a blade hidden beneath velvet.
He glanced to his right, catching Lord Thor Odinsonâs gaze. The two exchanged a wordless lookâThorâs brow furrowing ever so slightly, as if he too sensed the undercurrent of manipulation threading through the discussion.
âLord Carter speaks wisely,â Stark said slowly, his voice carefully measured as he turned his gaze back to the man in question. âWe must be patient.â
Lord Carterâs smile widened at the praise, his eyes gleaming with a hint of something unreadable. âOf course,â he murmured, inclining his head slightly. âAfter all, it is in patience that we find clarity.â
Tony held his gaze for a beat longer, the polite smile never quite reaching his eyes. âIndeed,â he said softly, a hint of irony threading through his tone. Then he leaned back, crossing his arms as if to signal that he was done with the matter.
Thor, still watching Lord Carter closely, let out a low hum, his expression thoughtful. He didnât say anythingâdidnât need to. The wary glance he shared with Stark spoke volumes.
Lord Carter either didnât notice, or he pretended not to. He gave a gracious nod, the smile still playing at the corners of his lips, and then shifted his gaze to the other lords, effectively dismissing the silent exchange between Stark and Odinson.
But the suspicion lingered.
As the lords continued their murmurings, Lord Starkâs gaze never left Lord Carterâs face, his mind working rapidly. He didnât know what game Carter was playing, but he knew one thing for certainâwhatever it was, it was more than just a matter of marriage and heirs.
There was something else at stake. Something that Lord Carter was keeping hidden beneath that affable smile.
And if there was one thing Stark couldnât stand, it was a man who played games with stakes he didnât lay on the table for all to see.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
The private study in the main palace was dim, thick curtains drawn to keep out the harsh afternoon sun. The air was heavy, and Buckyâs frustration filled the room like a storm cloud. He stood near the window, staring out at the sprawling gardens, his thoughts a tangled mess of anger.
âYour Majesty?â Samâs voice broke through the silence, calm but edged with concern. He kept his distance, watching the way Buckyâs shoulders tensed with every breath he took. âMight I suggest taking a seat? You appear⌠troubled.â
Bucky didnât move, his gaze still fixed on some distant point beyond the glass. The pressure behind his eyes had been building steadily since that damned meeting ended. A dull ache that was rapidly growing into something sharper, more dangerous.
âYour Majesty?â Sam pressed gently, stepping forward. âIf I may, I think it bestââ
But before he could finish, Bucky stumbled back, his hand flying to his temple as the pain exploded in his headâwhite-hot, blinding. He gritted his teeth, a strangled sound escaping him.
âYour Majesty!â Sam was beside him in an instant, his hands hovering just above Buckyâs arms, unsure if touching him would only make it worse. âShall I summon Doctor Banner? Or Zemo?â
Bucky shook his head sharply, the motion only sending another stab of pain through his skull. His breath came in ragged bursts as he tried to fight it back, trying to push it away.
âNo,â he managed through gritted teeth, his voice tight. âIâm⌠Iâm fine.â
But the pain didnât ease. It only intensified, and Buckyâs knees buckled, forcing him to grab the edge of the desk for support.
âBucky, please,â Sam urged, his voice low but firm. âYouâre getting the symptoms. You needââ
âGet Banner,â Bucky ground out, the words barely more than a rasp. âNow.â
Sam nodded briskly. He moved Bucky to a nearby armchair, easing him down with the care of a man who had done this before. âIâll bring him right away. Please, just⌠try to hold on.â
Buckyâs eyes closed, his hand pressing harder against his temple. âY/N?â he muttered hoarsely, his voice barely audible. âIs sheââ
âHer Majesty is well, sir,â Sam assured him gently. âShe is perfectly safe.â
Relief washed over Buckyâs face, easing some of the tension from his features. âDo not let her see me like this,â he whispered, his voice rough and strained. âShe⌠she canât see this.â
âOf course, Your Majesty,â Sam replied softly. âIâll see to it.â
With one last, concerned glance, Sam turned and hurried out of the study, his footsteps echoing down the corridor as he went to find Bruce.
Left alone, Bucky slumped back in the chair, his breathing uneven as he tried to regain control. The pain continued to pulse through his head, but he forced himself to focus, to keep his mind anchored to somethingâanythingâother than the agony.
And all he could think of was you.
Ă Ă Ă ĂÂ
The candle flames flickered in the study of the Carter estate, shadows dancing along the richly paneled walls. Lord Carter stood before the grand fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the fire as it crackled and hissed. Sharon paced the length of the room behind him, the soft rustle of her silk gown the only sound breaking the silence.
âHer virtue,â Sharon spat, her voice cutting through the stillness. âIs that truly what they care about? Whether or not sheâs pure enough to produce an heir?â She stopped pacing, whirling to face her father. Her blue eyes, so like his, burned with fury. âThey should be more concerned with how unfit she is for the role. Sheâs weakâcompletely and utterly useless.â
Lord Carter didnât turn, didnât even flinch at her outburst. He simply stared into the fire, his expression cold, unreadable. âYou will set aside your petty resentments, Sharon.â
She blinked, the unexpected harshness of his tone pulling her up short. âWhat?â
âYou heard me.â His voice was low, but it carried an unmistakable edge, each word falling with the weight of command. âYour emotions are clouding your judgment.â
âMy emotions?â Sharon let out a humorless laugh, but there was a note of disbelief in it, tinged with bitterness. âIâm the only one who sees her for what she isâa pretty little figurehead propped up beside him, with no real power. If you would onlyââ
âEnough.â Lord Carterâs voice was sharp, final, cutting through her words like a blade. He turned then, his gaze locking onto hers with a look that made her take an involuntary step back. âDo you think I donât know what youâre doing? How youâve been conducting yourself?â
Sharonâs lips parted, but no sound came. She stared at her father, feeling the heat drain from her face as his gaze bore into hers.
âI see everything, Sharon. Every sideways glance, every whispered word of âconcernâ for the queenâs image in front of the council.â He took a step toward her, his eyes dark with anger. âYouâre so focused on tearing her down that youâve forgotten the larger picture.â
âThe larger picture?â Sharon echoed, her voice rising with indignation. âIâve done everything youâve asked! Iâve sown doubt, spread rumorsââ
âYes, and youâve made a spectacle of yourself in the process,â Lord Carter snapped. âThe other lords see your bitterness, your jealousy. They wonder if youâre motivated by politics or by personal vendetta.â
Her breath hitched, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. âIâm not jealous.â
âThen start acting like it.â His tone softened just a fraction, but there was no kindness in it. âIf you continue to act out of spite, it wonât be long before they dismiss you as a scorned woman and ignore you entirely.â
Sharon stiffened, the words landing like a slap. âFatherââ
âYou will listen to me.â He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a dangerous whisper. âYou will set aside your personal feelings toward her and start acting strategically. No more open hostility. No more scathing remarks.â
Her throat tightened, a flush of anger rising up within her. âAnd what am I supposed to do? Smile and play the obedient daughter?â
âNo,â Lord Carter said slowly, his gaze piercing. âYou will do something much more valuable.â
He turned his back on her and moved closer to the fire, watching the flames as if they held all the answers. âYou will make sure she never produces an heir.â
Sharon blinked, confusion creasing her brow. âWhat? How am I supposed toââ
âContraceptives,â he interrupted, his voice low and calm. âSubtle, untraceable. Something youâll slip into her teaâevery morning, every evening. Sheâll never know.â
Her mouth dropped open again, shock flashing across her face. âYou want me to poison her?â
âNot poison,â Lord Carter corrected, his gaze hardening. âPrevent. The council is growing impatient, and so is the king. All this talk of producing an heir has everyone on edge. If she remains barren, if there is no child⌠itâs only a matter of time before they turn on her. The king will have no choice but to seek a solution elsewhere.â
Sharon stared at her father, a mix of horror and awe flooding her chest. âYouâre going to sabotage her chances of ever having a child.â
âYes,â he said simply, the flames reflecting in his eyes like a promise of destruction. âAnd when the time comes, the council will demand he take a consort. Someone more capable. Someone who can give him what she cannot. . . and I will have you as a candidate.â
Sharonâs heart pounded, her mind racing as the full scope of his plan unfolded before her. âAnd if they find outââ
âThey wonât,â he said sharply, cutting her off. âThe contraceptives will be untraceable, with no lasting effects. And by the time anyone realizes whatâs happened, it will be far too late. The damage will already be done.â
Sharon swallowed hard, her throat tight as she forced herself to nod. âAnd what do I do until then?â
âYou remain discreet,â Lord Carter said, turning to face her fully now. âYou keep to the background. No more rants, no more public displays of resentment. Let them think youâve stepped back, that youâve accepted your place.â
His gaze softened, just a fraction. âThe queen trusts the palace servantsâuse that. When sheâs distracted, add the contraceptives to her tea. Once itâs in her system, sheâll be unable to conceive, and the king will have no heirâyou need to be consistent. . . otherwise it wonât work. And with every passing day, the councilâs discontent will grow.â
Sharon nodded slowly, feeling the last traces of defiance melt away, replaced by cold determination. âI understand,â she whispered. âIâll do it.â
âGood.â He turned back to the fire, his voice distant and calm. âAnd remember, Sharonâthis isnât about you. This is about securing our familyâs influence and power. Donât let your emotions ruin it.â
She nodded again, throat tight as she turned on her heel and left the study, his words echoing in her ears like a dark mantra.
Slip the contraception into her tea. Make her unable to produce an heir. And when the queen finally falls, the Carters will be there to take their place at the center of the kingdomâs power.
As she stepped into the dimly lit hallway, Sharon exhaled slowly, smoothing her hands over the front of her gown. She would do what needed to be done.
And when the queen finally fell, Sharon would be there to make sure she never got up again.
Ă Ă Ă ĂÂ
The room was filled with the sound of ragged breaths, heavy pants mingling with the low, needy moans that escaped your lips. The air was thick with heat, every whisper of movement, every shift of fabric, adding to the maddening tension that enveloped you both.
You clutched onto Buckyâs shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, using it as leverage as you rode him with a rhythm that left you trembling. The dress, though still draped around your frame, felt more like a cage now, the layers of fabric bunched up and tangled around your waist, trapping the heat between your bodies.
Buckyâs hands, strong and possessive, roamed over the curve of your buttocks, slipping beneath the folds of your gown, fingers kneading the soft flesh as he pulled you down against him, urging you to move faster, harder. The friction of his trousers against your bare thighs sent shivers of pleasure coursing through you, and you gasped, your head falling back as you lost yourself in the overwhelming sensation of him filling you so completely.
âGod, you feelâŚâ Buckyâs voice was a rough rasp, his words breaking off into a groan as you shifted, the change in angle drawing a deep, guttural sound from his throat. His hands gripped you tighter, almost to the point of pain, but it only heightened the pleasure, the sensation of being utterly consumed by him. âSo tight⌠so perfect⌠just like that, my queen.â
You moaned in response, the sound echoing in the quiet room, your body moving with a desperate, primal rhythm that matched the erratic beat of your heart. Each roll of your hips, each slide of your body against his, sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, building higher and higher with every pulse of heat, every brush of his skin against yours.
The feel of him inside you, hard and filling, drove you to the edge, your entire being attuned to the way his breath hitched, the way his grip on you tightened each time you moved. You could feel every ridge, every inch of him, stretching you, filling you, making you ache in the best possible way. The sensation of being so utterly full, so completely claimed, was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and pain that had you gasping for breath.
âJamesâŚâ You whimpered his name, your voice a breathless plea, your nails raking down his chest as you arched against him, desperate for more, for everything he could give you. Your movements grew more erratic, more frenzied, each thrust of your hips meeting his in a clash of heat and desire that left you both trembling.
âThatâs it,â he groaned, his voice low and rough, his gaze fixed on you with a possessive intensity that made your heart stutter. âRide me like you were made for it⌠youâre taking me so perfectly. So beautiful.â
His words sent a surge of heat through you, your body tightening around him in response, drawing a strangled curse from his lips. He shifted beneath you, his hips bucking upwards to meet your movements, each powerful thrust driving you higher, the pleasure spiraling out of control.
âPlease⌠donât stop,â you panted, your voice breaking on a moan as he shifted again, his grip on your backside tightening as he pulled you down harder, his gaze never leaving your face. âDonât⌠God, JamesâŚâ
âI wonât,â he growled, his voice a dark promise, his eyes burning with a feral hunger that sent a shiver through you. âI wonât stop⌠not until I feel you shatter around me. Not until Iâve had you again⌠and again⌠until you canât think of anything but this. But me.â
His words, the low, heated tone of his voice, sent you spiraling, your body tensing as the pleasure built to a dizzying crescendo. You could feel it coiling deep within you, an unstoppable force gathering strength, tightening, ready to snap.
Buckyâs grip shifted, one hand moving to your waist, the other sliding up your back to fist in your hair, pulling you down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss that sent you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you cried out, the pleasure crashing through you in relentless waves.
He swallowed your cries, his mouth devouring yours as he thrust up into you, each movement drawing out the sensation, prolonging the ecstasy until you were shaking, trembling in his arms.
âJames!â You gasped his name, your entire body quaking as the pleasure crested, the intensity of it leaving you breathless, boneless, completely at his mercy.
And still, he didnât stop. His hands continued to guide your movements, his hips driving up to meet yours in a relentless rhythm that left you gasping, your entire body thrumming with the aftershocks of your release. The feel of him inside you, still hot and hard and so very, very present, sent another shudder through you, and you whimpered, your head falling to his shoulder.
âSuch a good girl,â he murmured, his voice rough and unsteady, his breath hot against your ear. âTaking everything I give you⌠arenât you?â
âYes, my king.â you breathed, your voice a broken moan, your body pliant, yielding to his every touch, his every word.
âThen take a little more,â he growled, his hands tightening on your hips, holding you still as he thrust up into you one last time, his body going rigid beneath you as he found his own release, a low, guttural sound tearing from his throat.
You felt him shudder against you, his body trembling as he buried himself deep, the sensation of him pulsing inside you sending another wave of heat coursing through your veins. He thrusted into you over and over until he was spent, having given you every ounce of come he had. And then, slowly, reluctantly, he relaxed, his grip on you loosening as he exhaled a shuddering breath.
The room was quiet once more, save for the sound of your ragged breathing, the rapid thrum of your heart slowly easing as you clung to him, your body still quivering in the aftermath.
He kissed you again, slow and languid, savoring the taste of your mouth like a man starved. His tongue swept against yours, coaxing another soft moan from your lips. The kiss deepened, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, like he couldnât bear to let you go, like he needed to drown in you just a little longer.
But just as his lips found that tender spot at the corner of your mouthâ
A sharp knock echoed through the room.
You froze, your breath hitching as the sound cut through the haze of desire that still clung to you both. Bucky stiffened beneath you, his gaze snapping to the door, frustration flashing across his face.
âNot now,â he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He turned back to you, his eyes blazing with the need to continue what had been so rudely interrupted. His fingers tightened on your waist, drawing you closer as if to shield you from the intrusion.
âYour Majestyââ came a hesitant voice from the other side of the door.
âGo. Away.â Bucky bit out, his teeth clenched. He pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his grip on you remained.
But the voice persisted. âItâs urgent.â
With a deep, frustrated sigh, Bucky forced himself to pull away, his lips brushing against your forehead one last time before he moved to stand. He reached for his trousers, yanking them up with an annoyed huff, the fabric whispering as he buttoned them hastily. He tucked his shirt back in, smoothing out the wrinkles with brisk, jerky movements. His fingers worked quickly to adjust the waistband, every action brimming with irritation.
You watched, your pulse still pounding in your ears, as he deftly fastened his belt, the clink of metal ringing sharply in the quiet room. His jaw was set, his brow furrowed in concentration as he straightened his attire, each movement sharp and precise, trying to regain control over himself.
Bucky ran a hand through his tousled hair, pushing the disheveled strands back in place, then tugged at his shirt collar, tucking it in properly with a final flick of his fingers.
The urge to reach out and pull him back to you was overwhelming, but you forced yourself to stay still, your eyes tracing the rigid line of his shoulders as he turned toward the door.
âCome in,â he barked, his tone sharp and impatient.
The door creaked open slowly, revealing Sam, his expression caught somewhere between anxious and apologetic. His eyes darted briefly to you, taking in your flushed cheeks and Buckyâs still-wrathful demeanor before he quickly looked away, clearing his throat.
âYour Majesty,â Sam began, his voice careful, âforgive the intrusion, but⌠thereâs an issue that needs your attention immediately.â
Buckyâs gaze darkened, his jaw clenching as he fought to rein in his irritation. He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, smoothing out the fabric one last time. âAnd it couldnât wait?â
Sam shifted uncomfortably, swallowing hard. âNo, sir. Itâsâwell, the council is in an uproar. Theyâre demanding to speak with you. Itâs about the queen.â
Your heart squeezed at his words, and you glanced up at Bucky, your fingers tightening instinctively around the edge of your gown. He turned to you, his expression softening ever so slightly as he took a step forward, his fingers brushing gently against yours.
âIâll handle it,â he said quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. âStay here, Y/N. I wonât be long.â
You nodded, though the worry gnawing at your chest refused to ease. Buckyâs gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned away, his posture tense, his expression shuttered. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort to remain composed.
âLetâs go,â he muttered to Sam, his voice low and dangerous. He cast one last glance back at you before striding purposefully toward the door, the soft click of it closing behind him echoing through the room like a finality.
And as the silence settled once more, you exhaled slowly, your mind swirling with unease. Because whatever awaited Bucky out there, you knew it was only the beginning of something far more complicated.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
Bucky strode through the double doors, the faint murmur of his boots against the polished marble the only sound breaking the oppressive stillness. All eyes turned to him, a mix of wariness and expectation filling the room.
Prime Minister Fury cleared his throat, stepping forward with a respectful bow. âYour Majesty, we thank you for joining us so swiftly.â
Buckyâs gaze swept over the gathered lords, his expression cold and unyielding. He took his place at the head of the long table, eyes narrowed as he regarded each council member in turn.Â
âWhy have I been summoned?â His tone was clipped, betraying the simmering irritation beneath his composed exterior.
Lord Haynesworth, always eager to play the voice of reason, leaned forward. âYour Majesty, there have been⌠troubling whispers circulating the court.â He glanced at the other lords for support before continuing cautiously. âWhispers regarding the queen and Captain Rogers.â
âWhispers?â Buckyâs voice was low, dangerous. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as his gaze sharpened. âWhat kind of whispers?â
A murmur of unease rippled through the room, the lords exchanging wary glances. Finally, Lord Pierce spoke up, his voice carefully measured. âThere are rumors that the captainâs⌠interest in the queen is more than that of a mere guard.â
The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Buckyâs eyes darkened, the air around him seeming to crackle with barely restrained fury. âAnd what proof do you have to support these allegations?â he asked softly, his voice a lethal whisper.
The lords hesitated, each one glancing at the others, clearly caught off guard by the question.
âThere is no⌠direct evidence, Your Majesty,â Prime Minister Fury admitted reluctantly, his gaze faltering. âBut the captainâs presence around the queenââ
âPresence?â Bucky cut in sharply, his voice rising. âHis presence is at my command. I ordered him to stay by her side. So I ask againâwhat evidence do you have that my orders have been misconstrued?â
Silence met his words. The lords shifted uneasily, the tension in the room thickening as Buckyâs gaze bore into each of them.
âNothing?â Buckyâs voice was deceptively soft, his anger simmering beneath the surface. âYou summoned me here based on nothing more than baseless gossip?â
âYour Majesty,â Lord Carter ventured cautiously, his voice smooth and conciliatory. âThe concern is not just the rumors themselves, but the impact they may have on the queenâs reputation, and by extension, the Crown. If the people begin to believeââ
âBelieve what?â Bucky snapped, his voice cracking like a whip through the chamber. âThat the queen is a woman of loose morals? That she would dishonor me and this crown with one of my most trusted men? The mere suggestion is an insult not only to her but to me as well.â
The lords exchanged anxious glances, the kingâs rage palpable in the air.
âYour Majesty, we meant no disrespect,â Lord Haynesworth said quickly, his tone placating. âBut these rumorsââ
âAre a disgrace,â Bucky finished coldly, his gaze turning to steel. âAnd I want to know who started them.â
The council stilled, shock rippling through the room.
âFind the source of these whispers,â Bucky ordered, his voice firm and unyielding. âAnd when you do, bring them to me. Whoever has dared to spread lies about my wife and Captain Rogers will face the full weight of the Crownâs wrath.â
âYour Majesty,â Prime Minister Fury interjected cautiously, his gaze flickering with unease. âSurely we can handle this matter discreetly. Thereâs no need toââ
âDo you think I am playing, Prime Minister?â Buckyâs voice dropped to a lethal whisper, his gaze icy. âI want them found. And I want everyone to know what happens when they seek to undermine my authority with petty gossip. I will not tolerate anyone questioning my wifeâs honor.â
A tense silence fell over the room, the council members exchanging wary looks.
âIs that understood?â Bucky demanded, his gaze sweeping over the assembled lords.
âYes, Your Majesty,â they murmured in unison, heads bowing in reluctant acquiescence.
âGood.â Bucky straightened, his expression hard. âAnd one more thing.â
The lords held their breath, waiting.
âAny man caught speaking against the queen without proofâany manâwill find himself stripped of title and position. Do I make myself clear?â
The lords exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions taut with apprehension. But they knew better than to argue.
âYes, Your Majesty,â they echoed again, the words heavy with resignation.
Buckyâs gaze lingered on them for a moment longer, his expression a mask of cold fury. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the doors, his cloak billowing behind him.
Just as he reached the threshold, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.
âAnd if any of you doubt my resolve,â he said softly, his voice like ice, âremember this moment. Because it will be the last time I allow such disrespect to go unpunished.â
The silence that followed Buckyâs last, chilling words was thick, oppressive. It hung in the air like a noose, tightening around the lords as they exchanged uneasy glances, knowing they had overstepped, but uncertain how to make amends.
Just as Bucky turned back toward the door, a slow, mocking clap echoed from the far end of the room, the sound startling in its suddenness. Heads whipped around, eyes widening as they spotted the figure lounging in the shadows.
A man stepped forward, his movements unhurried, his posture casual yet carrying an undeniable authority. His dark hair fell loosely around his face, and a smirk curved his lipsâa smirk that spoke of mischief and danger in equal measure. He moved with a feline grace, each step deliberate, as if he were completely unfazed by the tension gripping the room.
âBrother,â he drawled, his voice rich with amusement as his eyesâglinting with an almost feral lightâfixed on Bucky. âNow that was a performance worth every second.â
Buckyâs gaze hardened as he turned to face the newcomer fully. âIsaac,â he acknowledged curtly, his voice devoid of warmth. âWhat are you doing here?â
Prince Ikarus, or Isaac as he likes to be called was Buckyâs younger twin brotherâknown to the court as a wild card, a force of nature as unpredictable as a stormâtilted his head, his smile widening as he glanced at the assembled lords, his eyes glinting with something dark and dangerous.
âI was just passing through,â he said lazily, his gaze sweeping over the noblemen, who stiffened under his scrutiny. âAnd I couldnât help but overhear this⌠charming little gathering.â
He stopped a few feet away from Bucky, his smile fading slightly as he took in his brotherâs tense stance, the barely restrained fury simmering beneath the surface.Â
âYou looked like you could use a bit of⌠support,â he added, his voice softeningâjust a fraction, but enough for Bucky to notice the hint of concern hidden beneath the teasing façade.
The lords shifted uneasily, clearly unsettled by Prince Isaacâs sudden appearance. His reputation as a man who thrived on chaos, who delighted in pushing boundaries, was well known. And now, faced with both brothersâone an unyielding king, the other a dangerous enigmaâthey found themselves caught between the hammer and the anvil.
âSupport?â Bucky repeated, raising an eyebrow. âWhat kind of support, exactly?â
Isaacâs grin returned, sharp and gleaming as a blade. âOh, you know, just a little reminder of what happens to those who speak out of turn.â He leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting lazily over the lords before settling back on Bucky. âFor instance, I hear the scoldâs bridle is quite effective at silencing loose tongues.â
A ripple of shock ran through the room, several lords exchanging horrified glances. The scoldâs bridleâa cruel, medieval punishment used to silence women accused of gossiping or speaking outâhadnât been mentioned in court for centuries. The very suggestion of bringing it back was enough to send a chill down the spines of even the most hardened noblemen.
âPrince Isaac,â Lord Pierce began hesitantly, his voice strained. âSurely you jestââ
âDo I?â Isaac interrupted smoothly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. âBecause Iâm not entirely sure I do, Lord Pierce. The idea of seeing a few of you donning that particular accessoryâŚâ He trailed off, his smile turning almost feral. âWell, it does have a certain appeal.â
âEnough, Isaac,â Bucky said sharply, his gaze never leaving his brotherâs. âWe are not bringing back barbaric punishments to deal with petty gossip.â
Isaacâs eyes flicked back to Bucky, his smile fading into something more serious, more thoughtful. âOh, but this is no ordinary gossip, is it?â he murmured softly. âTheyâre questioning your authority. Your marriage. Your wifeâs honor. I would think that calls for a rather⌠memorable response.â
Buckyâs jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he held his brotherâs gaze. For a moment, the room seemed to shrink around them.
Then, slowly, Buckyâs lips curved into a smileâone that didnât reach his eyes.
âI appreciate your⌠enthusiasm, brother,â he said quietly, his voice steady but carrying an edge of warning. âBut I am perfectly capable of handling this matter.â
Isaac studied him for a long moment, his gaze searching. Then, with a slight shrug, he stepped back, his hands raised in a gesture of mock surrender.
âOf course, Your Majesty,â he said smoothly, the smile never leaving his lips. âIâm merely here to⌠observe.â
Buckyâs gaze lingered on him for a heartbeat longer before he turned back to the lords, his expression hardening once more.
âFind the source,â he ordered coldly, his voice carrying the weight of an unbreakable command. âAnd if I hear one more wordâone more whisperâabout my wife, or Captain Rogers, or anything else that questions my authorityâŚâ
He glanced back at Isaac, his gaze turning icy. âI may not bring back the scoldâs bridle, but rest assuredâthere are other ways to silence a tongue.â
The threat hung in the air, chilling and unmistakable. The lords nodded hurriedly, their faces pale, and the chamber fell into a tense, uneasy silence.
Satisfied, Bucky turned and strode out of the room, his cloak billowing behind him. Isaac watched him go, a thoughtful expression on his face.
As the doors closed behind the king, the lords finally released the breaths they hadnât realized theyâd been holding.
Lord Haynesworth swallowed hard, his gaze darting nervously to Isaac. âYour Highness, you⌠you canât be serious about the scoldâs bridle, can you?â
Isaacâs smile was slow, almost lazy, as he turned his gaze to the trembling lord. âOh, I never joke about punishment, Lord Haynesworth.â
The lords exchanged wary glances, clearly unsure of how to respond. But Isaacâs gaze had already drifted away, his mind elsewhere, as if the conversation had already ceased to interest him.
âLet us hope,â he murmured softly, almost to himself, âthat no one is foolish enough to test the kingâs patience further.â
And with that, he turned on his heel and strolled out of the chamber, leaving the lords staring after him, their minds racing with fear and uncertainty.
Because one thing was clear: whether it was Buckyâs iron fist or Isaacâs unpredictable cruelty, those who sought to undermine the Crown would soon learn that the Barnes brothers were not to be trifled with.
As the heavy doors closed behind the Barnes brothers, the lords exchanged uneasy glances, the atmosphere thick with barely restrained tension. The kingâs fury had shaken them, but the presence of Prince Isaacâhis dark humor and thinly veiled threatsâhad left them truly unsettled.
Lord Haynesworth was the first to speak, his voice tight with anxiety. âBy God, the king truly lost his temper this time.â
âWe should have expected as much,â Lord Pierce murmured, shaking his head slowly. âThe king has always been fiercely protective of those he cares about.â
Lord Carter leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful smile playing at the corners of his lips. âYes⌠but it seems the queen is more valuable to him than we anticipated.â
âValuable?â Lord Stark interjected, his gaze sharp as he regarded Lord Carter with open suspicion. âThe queen is not some pawn to be valued and assessed. She is the kingâs wifeâand more importantly, sheâs been a steady hand in the chaos weâve created.â
Lord Thor nodded firmly beside Stark, his broad frame leaning forward, fingers drumming thoughtfully against the table. âStark is right. She is proving herself capable, and that is what matters. And as for Captain Rogersââ he paused, his eyes narrowing as he glanced around the tableâ âheâs done nothing to warrant these accusations.â
âOf course, Lord Thor,â Lord Carter agreed smoothly, his expression deceptively innocent. âBut perception is everything, is it not? The courtâs perception, the peopleâs perceptionâthese things shape the strength of the Crown.â
âPerception is shaped by those who whisper in the shadows, spreading lies and stoking fears,â Lord Romanoff interjected coolly, his gaze locking onto Carter. âI wonder who benefits most from such whispers?â
âIndeed,â Lord Stark added, his voice like a blade. âWho stands to gain from undermining the queenâs position?â
The room fell silent, all eyes on Lord Carter, who merely smiled, a picture of calm amidst the storm. âGentlemen, I assure you, I have nothing but the stability of the Crown in mind.â
âAnd yet, you seem quite at ease stirring the pot,â Lord Loki murmured, his voice a low purr as he leaned back, his gaze shrewd. âOne might almost suspect you enjoy watching it boil over.â
A ripple of tension passed through the room, but Lord Carter merely shrugged, his smile unwavering. âI am only concerned with ensuring that the Crown is safeguarded against any⌠potential vulnerabilities.â
âAnd what vulnerabilities might those be?â Thor demanded, his tone dangerously low. âIf you have evidence to support these accusations, speak it now. If not, then perhaps itâs time we stopped entertaining idle speculation.â
Lord Carterâs gaze flicked to Thor, the faintest hint of a challenge in his eyes. âIf the king himself is ordering an investigation, who am I to contradict him?â
âYouâre a man who clearly wants to see how far he can push his influence,â Lord Stark retorted sharply. âBut Iâll tell you this, Carter: Iâll not stand by while you tear down everything weâve fought to build. And that includes our support of the queen.â
âIs that so?â Lord Pierce murmured, his gaze flicking to the others. âAre we all agreed, then, that we trust the queenâs intentions and see no fault in the captainâs presence?â
There was a murmur of assent from Thor, Loki, Stark, and Romanoff, their loyalty to Bucky and his chosen allies clear.
But the hesitation from the other lords was palpable, their eyes darting nervously to one another before settling back on Carter, whose smile widened ever so slightly.
âLoyalty is admirable,â Carter said softly, his voice smooth as silk. âBut loyalty, when misplaced, can be⌠dangerous.â
A chill swept through the room, the lords shifting uneasily as they digested his words.
âEnough of this,â Fury interjected firmly, his voice cutting through the rising tension like a knife. âThe kingâs orders are clear. We are to find the source of these rumors and ensure that this matter is put to rest once and for all.â
âAgreed,â Lord Pierce said quietly, his gaze thoughtful. âBut let us not forget what Lord Carter said earlier. The kingâs loyalty can be a double-edged sword. If we push too hard⌠we risk losing his favor.â
âOr perhaps,â Loki interjected softly, his gaze lingering on Carter, âwe simply risk revealing who truly holds sway over his decisions.â
Carterâs eyes flashed with something dark and dangerous, but his smile remained intact. âYou seem rather⌠invested in this, Lord Loki.â
âOnly in seeing justice done,â Loki replied smoothly. âAnd ensuring that no one with ulterior motives takes advantage of a situation already fraught with tension.â
âUlterior motives?â Lord Haynesworth echoed uneasily, glancing between Carter and the other lords.
âYes, ulterior motives,â Lord Stark cut in, his gaze never leaving Carterâs. âThe only question is, whose motives are they?â
Carterâs smile finally faded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. âCareful, Stark. You wouldnât want to find yourself on the wrong side of this conversation.â
âIs that a threat?â Tony asked, a sharp edge to his voice.
Carterâs smile returned, colder this time. âA warning. To all of us. Because if the king is willing to defend the queen so fiercely now, just imagine what heâll do if he thinks weâre working against her.â
Thorâs fist slammed onto the table, the sound reverberating through the chamber. âEnough! Weâre here to protect the Crown, not tear each other apart. This is exactly what those spreading rumors wantâdiscord, infighting. I will not be party to it.â
A murmur of agreement followed his words, the tension easing just slightly as the lords shifted, reassessing.
âWe will follow the kingâs orders,â Fury said firmly. âBut we do so with caution. We need to keep our eyes openâfor every possible outcome.â
âAnd for every possible enemy,â Loki added quietly, his gaze still fixed on Carter.
The room fell silent once more, each man lost in his own thoughts, the weight of unspoken suspicions and half-formed alliances pressing down like a heavy shroud.
And as the lords finally began to file out, exchanging wary glances, one thing was clear: the battle for influence over the kingâand the queenâwas far from over.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
Bucky stood at the head of a private chamber adjacent to the grand council room, the heavy wooden doors sealing him away from the prying eyes of his advisors. The room was lit up by a single chandelier overhead, his gaze was fixed on a map spread out on the table before him, but his mind was far from the ink and paper. He wasnât broodingâno, brooding suggested indecision, and he couldnât afford that luxury.
Isaac lounged against the far wall, his usual air of nonchalance nowhere to be seen. Heâd been silent for some time now, eyes trained on his brother with a sharpness that few ever glimpsed beneath his playful facade.
âYou knew,â Isaac said quietly, breaking the silence. It wasnât a question, but a statementâa challenge even. âYou knew it would come to this.â
Buckyâs lips twitched in the semblance of a bitter smile. âOf course, I did.â He glanced up, meeting Isaacâs gaze with a calm, unflinching stare. âThe moment we stood in front of the council with no heir to speak of, I knew thereâd be whispers. Thatâs why I ordered Steve to stay close to Y/N.â
He shifted his weight slightly, fingers tapping rhythmically against the edge of the table as he continued. âI wanted to see who would be the first to take those whispers and turn them into weapons. And I wanted them to feel confident enough to move. Thatâs the only way to draw them out.â
Isaacâs brow furrowed, his lips curving into a slow smile. âSo youâve been using Captain Rogers as bait?â His voice carried a hint of admiration, laced with a trace of something darker. âYouâre more ruthless than I thought, brother.â
Bucky shrugged, his expression hardening. âI needed to know who would dare. And I know theyâre out there.â
Isaac raised an eyebrow, intrigue sparking in his eyes. âWho?â
Bucky glanced down at the map, his gaze sweeping over the names marked along the edges. Each one belonged to a noble house, a prominent family in the realmâa member of his council. Men who wielded power not just through their titles, but through their influence, their alliances.
âWhoever they are,â Bucky murmured, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone, âtheyâre part of the council. Iâve seen the way they exchange glances, the careful way they speak around meâlike theyâre testing the waters, seeing how far they can push.â
He leaned over the table, his fingers brushing over the marked namesâeach one a potential traitor, a possible conspirator. âBut I donât know who yet. Not for certain.â
Isaacâs grin widened, a hint of excitement glinting in his eyes. âSo, whatâs your plan?â
âLet them think theyâre gaining ground,â Bucky said softly, his gaze darkening. âLet them believe Iâm too distracted, too burdened by the pressure of producing an heir to notice their scheming. Theyâll grow bolder, make mistakes.â
Isaac tilted his head, studying his brother with newfound respect. âAnd when they do?â
Buckyâs eyes sharpened, his voice hardening with resolve. âIâll be there to catch them. All of them.â
Isaacâs smile widened, his eyes gleaming. âSo, whatâs my role in this little drama?â
Bucky regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. âYouâre going to dig deeperâunder the table. Quietly. Find out whoâs speaking to whom, what promises are being made, and to whom. Leave no stone unturned, no matter how small.â
Isaac straightened, a gleam of something dangerous sparking in his gaze. âAnd when I do?â
Buckyâs expression didnât waver. âWeâll tighten the noose around their necks. But only when Iâm ready.â
A silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken understanding. Isaac nodded slowly, pushing off the wall and taking a step toward the door.Â
âI like it,â he murmured, a wicked smile playing at the corners of his lips. âBut you know Iâll have to get creative. This sort of under-the-table investigation doesnât lend itself well to⌠conventional methods.â
âI donât care how you do it,â Bucky said evenly, his voice carrying a weight that brooked no argument. âJust make sure no one traces it back to us.â
Isaac inclined his head, his smile widening. âUnderstood, Your Majesty.â
He turned to leave, but paused just as he reached the door, glancing back over his shoulder. âYou know⌠I havenât met the queen yet,â he said casually, the statement laced with an edge of mischief. âDoes she even know I exist?â
Buckyâs gaze hardened, his voice low and firm. âYouâll meet her when the time is right, Isaac. Until then⌠stay focused.â
Isaacâs eyes glinted with something unreadable, but he merely nodded, pushing the door open and stepping out into the corridor beyond.
As the door closed behind him, Bucky exhaled slowly, his shoulders straightening as he turned back to the map on the table.
But Isaacâs question still hung in the air, and Bucky glanced back at the closed door, his thoughts spinning.
He didnât know who the traitors were yet. But he could feel them circling like vultures, waiting for him to falter, to stumble. They were carefulâtoo careful. And that caution was telling. Only men who feared exposure behaved so cautiously.
Buckyâs fingers tapped against the table, his gaze narrowing. âItâs not just one,â he muttered to himself, his voice low, a dark edge lacing each word. âItâs a group.â
He let out a slow breath, his gaze sweeping over the councilâs names once more.
âTheyâre part of the council,â he murmured, a humorless smile curving his lips. âHidden among the men Iâm supposed to trust.â
But trust was a luxury he couldnât afford. Not now. Not until he knew exactly who was behind the shadows cast over his reign.
Straightening, Bucky turned away from the map, his expression hardening once more. âLet them think theyâre winning,â he murmured softly, his gaze distant and calculating. âBecause when the hammer falls⌠itâll fall hard.â
He glanced back at the door one last time, his expression resolute. He would not be a weak king. He would not be a pawn in his own court.
He was the King of this realm. And he would crush anyone who dared to forget it.
Ă Ă Ă ĂÂ
Next day.
The late afternoon sunlight streams through the tall windows of the palace drawing room, casting a soft, warm glow over the intricately decorated space. You sit near the hearth, your attention shifting between Wanda, who speaks animatedly, and Nat, who lounges back in her chair, a faint smile playing on her lips as she listens.
Pepper moves gracefully around the room, setting out a fresh tray of delicate pastries and refilling teacups. Laughter bubbles softly as Wanda recounts a recent diplomatic visit.
ââand you should have seen his face when I suggested the princess of Cerion join us for the ball,â Wanda says with a sly grin. âHe looked as though Iâd asked him to dance with a bear!â
Nat chuckles, shaking her head. âThe princess or the bear would be equally entertaining. Canât say Iâd blame him either way.â
You feel a smile tug at your lips, warmth flooding your gaze as you glance at Pepper, who rolls her eyes with an affectionate sigh. âReally, Wanda. You shouldnât be toying with poor Lord Bateman like that. Youâll give him a heart attack.â
âServes him right for underestimating us,â Wanda replies with a mock huff. âMaybe next time heâll think twice before making such⌠colorful remarks about the queen.â
Your smile falters for just a fraction of a second, but Nat notices. She leans forward, resting a hand gently on your arm. âHeâs just a pompous idiot. His words mean nothing.â
You nod, grateful for her support, but before you can respond, the grand double doors to the drawing room swing open, and Sharon Carter steps inside.
Conversation stills instantly, the soft laughter fading as all eyes turn toward her. She stands framed in the doorway, her expression carefully composed but tinged with an emotion you canât quite place. She hesitates just long enough to be noticeable before taking a deep breath and stepping forward, closing the door softly behind her.
âYour Majesty,â Sharon greets quietly, a hint of uncertainty in her tone. She glances at the other women, nodding respectfully. âWanda, Natasha⌠Lady Potts.â
âSharon,â Wanda replies, a brow arching ever so slightly as she leans back in her chair. âWhat brings you here?â Her voice is light, but thereâs an unmistakable edge beneath the politeness.
You straighten slightly, exchanging a glance with Nat, who gives a subtle nod, as if to say Letâs hear what she has to say. With a cautious smile, you gesture to one of the empty chairs. âYouâre welcome to join us, Sharon. Is something on your mind?â
Sharon swallows, her fingers twisting together in a gesture that almost looks like nervousness. She steps further into the room but keeps her distance, her gaze focused on you.
âI wanted to speak with you, Your Majesty. To apologize,â Sharon says, her voice steady but quiet. âFor the way Iâve behaved in the past.â
Wanda and Nat exchange quick, skeptical glances, while Pepperâs hand pauses over the teapot, her gaze flicking to Sharon with measured curiosity.
âApologize?â Pepper echoes softly, setting the teapot down with a gentle clink. âThatâs⌠unexpected.â
Sharon nods, taking another step closer, though still keeping a respectful distance. âYes. I know my actions and words have been⌠less than kind.â She pauses, eyes dropping to the floor as if gathering her thoughts. âIâve let my emotions get the better of me, and Iâve judged you unfairly, Your Majesty. Iâve spoken out of turn, assumed the worst, and for that⌠I am truly sorry.â
You blink, surprise flickering across your face. Youâve heard countless apologies in your time at courtâsome genuine, others dripping with false sincerity. But thereâs something in Sharonâs tone, in the way her voice almost trembles, that gives you pause.
âPeople say things they donât mean when theyâre hurt or frustrated,â you reply carefully, your voice measured. âBut what brought this on, Sharon? Why now?â
Sharon swallows again, glancing up with eyes that seem brighter than usual. âI⌠Iâve had time to reflect on my actions. To see the impact my words have hadânot just on you, but on everyone in the court. I let my emotions guide me because⌠because I was angry and felt overlooked. I thought I had a right to be resentful, butâŚâ She shakes her head, gaze dropping again. âI see now that I was wrong. I was unfair.â
Wandaâs eyes narrow, her fingers drumming lightly on the arm of her chair. âAnd you expect us to believe this sudden change of heart?â
âNo,â Sharon says quickly, looking up again, her expression earnest. âI donât expect you to believe meânot right away. But I want to try to make amends, to show that Iâm sincere.â
You exchange a glance with Nat, then Pepper, who gives a slight, almost imperceptible nod. Your gaze softens as you turn back to Sharon. âWhat is it that youâre asking for, then?â
Sharon hesitates, then takes a step forward, dropping into a graceful curtsy. âIâm asking for the chance to help. To be of service in whatever way I can. I know Iâve been⌠difficult to work with, but I want to change that. I want to prove that I can be an asset to you, Your Majesty.â
Nat scoffs softly, crossing her arms over her chest. âAnd how exactly do you plan to do that, Sharon?â
Sharon glances at her, then back at you. âIâve been at the palace more often, observing how things work, learning the routines. I thought⌠I could help with some of the smaller tasks. Things that donât require much trustâyet.â
âTasks like?â Pepper prods gently, her gaze never leaving Sharonâs face.
Sharon bites her lip, looking almost sheepish. âLike assisting with the morning tea service, helping with correspondence, perhaps just until Lady Rambeau gets back from her leave?â
Pepperâs brow furrows slightly, surprise flickering in her eyes. âYou want to help⌠with tea?â
Sharon nods earnestly. âYes, anything that would let me be useful, even in a small way. I just want to prove that I can change. That I can be someone worthy of serving you, Your Majesty.â
The silence that follows is heavy, tense. You can feel the weight of everyoneâs gaze on you, waiting to see how youâll respond. You study Sharonâs face, searching for any hint of deception, any trace of the bitterness that had so often colored your interactions.
But Sharonâs gaze is steady, her expression open and⌠vulnerable.
Finally, you let out a soft sigh, a small, tentative smile tugging at your lips. âVery well, Sharon. Iâll give you the chance to prove yourself.â
Wanda and Nat both shoot you incredulous looks, but you hold up a hand, silencing them. âEveryone deserves a chance to change. And if Sharon is sincere, then Iâm willing to see where this goes.â
Sharonâs shoulders sag with visible relief, and she nods gratefully. âThank you, Your Majesty. I wonât let you down.â
âStart by joining us for tea,â you suggest, gesturing to the table. âWe can discuss more about how youâd like to help.â
Sharon hesitates, glancing around at the women, then nods and moves forward. Wanda and Natâs eyes follow her every move, but Pepper, ever the gracious hostess, hands her a cup of tea with a small smile.
âThank you,â Sharon murmurs, her fingers trembling slightly as she accepts the cup. She looks up at you, a tentative smile on her lips. âThis means a lot to me.â
âI hope youâll make the most of it,â you reply softly, though thereâs a note of caution in your voice. âWe all want whatâs best for the kingdom.â
Sharon nods fervently, lowering her gaze as she sips from the cup, the picture of humility and contrition.
And as the conversation resumes around her, she glances down at the tray of teaâher eyes lingering on your cupâbefore quickly looking away, a satisfied smile ghosting across her lips.
The first step has been taken. And you will never see whatâs coming.
Ă Ă Ă Ă
You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the tension lingering from Sharonâs unexpected visit. Her apology had sounded genuineâalmost too genuineâand now itâs left you more conflicted than ever.
As you turn to head toward your chambers, soft but purposeful footsteps echo behind you.
âQueen Y/N,â Natasha calls quietly.
You glance over your shoulder, watching as she approaches with that guarded expression she often wears when somethingâs weighing on her mind. Before you can even ask, she gently places a hand on your arm and steers you toward a small alcove, away from the passing servants and prying eyes.
âNat?â you murmur, a hint of concern threading through your voice. âWhatâs wrong?â
Instead of answering right away, Natashaâs gaze sweeps the corridor, ensuring the two of you are truly alone. When she finally meets your eyes again, thereâs a seriousness there that makes your heart skip a beat.
âListen to me,â she begins softly, her voice low and calm, but carrying the weight of an unspoken warning. âAbout Sharonâs apology today⌠donât let it sway you too much.â
The words land like a stone in your chest. You blink at her, trying to push back the confusionâand the small flicker of hurt. âYou donât think she was being sincere?â
Natasha shakes her head slowly, her grip tightening ever so slightly on your arm. âItâs not about sincerity. Sharon may very well believe everything she said. But even sincere apologies can hide other motives.â
A deep sigh escapes you, and you lean back against the wall, letting the cool stone steady you. âThen what am I supposed to do? Sheâs already offered to help with small tasks. Turning her away now would seemââ
âNo, donât turn her away,â Natasha interrupts, her gaze softening just a fraction. âLet her help, let her do exactly what sheâs offered. But donât give her more than that. Donât give her information she could useâanything you wouldnât want to become court gossip or twisted into something else.â
You close your eyes briefly, trying to reconcile what you know about Sharon with what Natâs saying. âShe looked so sincere, Nat. For the first time, it felt like maybeââ
âLike maybe you could have a friend in her?â Natasha finishes gently, her tone understanding. She takes a step closer, her voice dropping even lower. âI understand, my queen. You want to believe the best in people. You want to give them chances. Thatâs what makes you⌠you. But you have to be careful. Just because someoneâs smile looks real doesnât mean their intentions are.â
âBut what if sheâs telling the truth?â you ask softly, meeting Natâs steady gaze. âWhat if sheâs genuinely trying to make amends?â
Natashaâs lips curve into a faint, almost sad smile. âThen sheâll prove it, over time. But donât give her your trust all at once. Make her earn it, piece by piece.â
You swallow, nodding slowly, but the doubt lingers. âDo you think she would really try to⌠to hurt me? Even now?â
Natasha doesnât hesitate. âI think people are capable of doing a lot worse than we think when theyâre desperate.â She reaches out, lifting your chin gently until your eyes meet hers. âIâm not saying sheâs dangerous. Iâm saying sheâs unpredictable. And thatâs enough of a reason to be wary.â
You nod again, this time more firmly. âI understand. Iâll be careful.â
âGood.â Natâs fingers brush lightly against your arm before she steps back. âAnd rememberâyouâre not alone. Weâre watching her too. So just⌠be smart. Guard your words around her.â
A faint smile tugs at your lips despite the heaviness in your chest. âThank you, Nat.â
She nods, a hint of warmth breaking through her stoic expression. âAnytime. Now, get some rest. You need to be sharp for tomorrow.â
As she turns to leave, you watch her retreating figure, the worry etched in her posture speaking volumes. With a sigh, you lean back against the wall, letting your head fall back as you stare at the ceiling.
You want to believe Sharon. You want to believe in second chances. But Natâs words echo in your mind like a warning bell.
âPeople are capable of doing a lot worse when theyâre desperate.â
Slowly, you push off the wall and head toward your chambers, Natashaâs parting words circling in your thoughts.
Genuine doesnât always mean safe.
When you finally reach your door, you hesitate, casting one last look down the empty hallway. Your fingers curl around the handle, and you take a deep breath.
Youâll let Sharon prove herself. But youâll do it on your termsâstep by cautious step.
Because if thereâs one thing youâve learned in the palace, itâs that trust is a fragile thing, easily shattered and dangerous to wield.
And youâre not about to risk everything on someone who may still be hiding a knife behind her back.
Ă Ă Ă ĂÂ
It was lateâfar too late for visitors. But a soft knock at the door drew your attention, pulling you from your thoughts.
âWho is it?â you called gently, setting aside the book youâd been attempting to read, the words blurring together in your tired mind.
âItâs Sharon, Your Majesty,â came the reply from the other side. Her voice was soft, tentative, carrying a note of uncertainty.
You hesitated only for a heartbeat before responding, âCome in.â
The door opened slowly, and Sharon stepped inside, a silver tray balanced perfectly in her hands. The fragrant scent of roses and chamomile filled the air, the delicate aroma wrapping around you like a soothing embrace. She offered you a soft smile as she approached.
âYour Majesty,â she greeted, bowing her head slightly. âI thought you might appreciate something soothing to help you relax before bed. Itâs a new blend I had prepared, meant to ease tension.â
Your eyes flicked to the elegant porcelain teapot and matching cups on the tray. A small smile tugged at your lips despite the lingering exhaustion. âThatâs very thoughtful of you, Sharon. You didnât have to go out of your way.â
Sharonâs smile widened just a fraction, her gaze lowering almost shyly. âItâs no trouble at all, Your Majesty. After everything youâve done for meâgiving me a chance to prove myselfâI wanted to offer a small gesture of my gratitude.â
You nodded, the sincerity in her voice wrapping around you like the warmth of the fire crackling softly in the hearth. âThank you, Sharon. But if Iâm to enjoy such a thoughtful gesture, Iâd like you to join me. Itâs lateâno reason for either of us to drink alone.â
Sharon blinked, a flash of surprise crossing her face before she schooled her features back into that calm, deferential smile. âOh, no, Your Majesty, I couldnât possibly intrudeââ
âPlease,â you interrupted softly, gesturing to the empty seat across from you. âI insist. I would be more at ease if you joined me.â
She hesitated for a heartbeat, the slightest flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. But then she nodded slowly, lowering herself gracefully into the chair opposite you. âOf course, Your Majesty. If it would make you more comfortable.â
Sharon set the tray down on the small table beside you, lifting the teapot and carefully pouring your tea. The pale golden liquid shimmered in the low light, steam curling up to mingle with the scent of fresh flowers.
You accepted the cup she handed you, holding it delicately between your fingers. âThank you,â you murmured, inhaling the calming aroma. âIt smells wonderful.â
Sharon smiled, her eyes watching you closely. âItâs a special blendârose petals, chamomile, and a hint of mint. All meant to soothe and relax.â
You glanced at the cup in her hand, then back at your own. âIt sounds lovely. Why donât you pour yourself a cup too?â
The words were casual, almost lighthearted, but the look in your eyes was steady, unwavering. Sharonâs smile tightened just a fraction, and for the briefest moment, her gaze flickeredâalmost as if she were weighing her options. She poured herself a cup and she nodded, lifting the cup to her lips. âOf course, Your Majesty.â
You watched carefully as she took a sip. Her movements were smooth, no hesitation, no sign of discomfort. When she set the cup down, she smiled, the expression soft and genuine.
âItâs delicious,â she murmured, her tone light. âIâm sure youâll find it very soothing, Your Majesty.â
Relief washed over you, and you allowed yourself to relax, lifting your own cup to your lips. The first sip was everything Sharon had promisedâlight, floral, with a subtle sweetness that lingered on your tongue. The warmth spread through you like a gentle wave, easing the tension from your shoulders.
You smiled, setting the cup back down. âIt really is lovely. Thank you, Sharon.â
Her eyes brightened, and she nodded eagerly. âIâm so glad you like it, Your Majesty. You seemed so tense earlierâI thought this might help.â
For a few moments, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the teaâs calming effects wrapping around you like a soft blanket. Each sip seemed to pull you further into a state of ease, your lingering worries melting away.
But then Sharon shifted slightly, her gaze dropping to the cup in her hand. âYour Majesty,â she began softly, lowering her voice. âI wanted to apologize⌠again. For everything.â
You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. âSharon, youâve alreadyââ
âI know,â she interrupted gently, her eyes lifting to meet yours. There was an earnestness in her gaze, âBut I want you to know that I mean it. Truly. I was wrong to speak against you, to doubt your strength. Youâve shown more grace and patience than I could ever deserve.â
The words were spoken softly, her voice laced with emotion. And as you looked at herâreally looked at herâyou couldnât help but feel a small pang of sympathy.
âSharon, we all make mistakes,â you murmured, your voice gentle. âWhat matters is what we do to make amends. And youâve been making a genuine effort.â
A faint blush colored her cheeks, and she ducked her head, smiling shyly. âThank you, Your Majesty. That means more to me than you know.â
You nodded, taking another sip of the tea. The warmth continued to spread through you, a sense of lightness settling in your chest. It was comforting. Reassuring. And yetâŚ
Something tugged at the back of your mind, a tiny voice urging you to look closer. But you pushed it away, reminding yourself that trust needed to start somewhere.
âIâm glad we can put the past behind us,â you said softly, your voice carrying a note of finality.
âYes,â Sharon agreed, her gaze lingering on your face. âAnd I promise, Iâll continue to prove myself worthy of your trust.â
You offered her a warm smile, leaning back in your chair as you took another long sip of the tea. âI appreciate that, Sharon. I truly do.â
Sharonâs smile widened as she lifted her own cup, taking a delicate sip. You watched, waiting for any hint of hesitation, any sign that something might be amiss. But she continued to drink, her expression remaining calm and serene.
The two of you continued to talk, your words coming slower now, your thoughts softening at the edges. The teaâs warmth wrapped around you like a cocoon, soothing every frayed nerve, every lingering worry.
You chatted for a while longer, until the cups were nearly empty and the candles burned lower. By then, any lingering doubt had melted away, replaced by the comforting haze of peace the tea seemed to bring.
âThank you for sharing this with me, Sharon,â you murmured drowsily, a soft smile curving your lips. âI feel better already.â
âIâm so glad to hear that, Your Majesty,â Sharon replied, her voice carrying a note of quiet satisfaction.
As you leaned back, letting your eyes drift shut for a moment, you missed the flicker of triumph in Sharonâs gaze. The tea may have tasted the same for both of you, but the effects would be vastly different.
And with each sip, the future Sharon envisionedâone without an heir to solidify your reignâcrept ever closer.
Ă Ă Ă ĂÂ
The comforting haze of the tea still lingered in your mind, warmth radiating through you even as the echo of Sharonâs parting words faded into silence.
You barely noticed the gentle click of the door closing as Sharon took her leave, her footfalls soft and measured as she made her way down the hallway, the silver tray held steady in her hands.
She moved with the same graceful poise as always, her face composed, the hint of a satisfied smile lingering at the corners of her lips. But as she turned the corner to leave, she frozeâjust for a fraction of a secondâher gaze catching on the tall figure whoâd appeared at the end of the hall.
Captain Rogers.
Steve stood there, his broad frame casting a long shadow under the dim lantern light, the familiar, stoic set of his jaw making him look almost like a statueâunyielding and immovable. Heâd arrived to relieve the guard outside your chambers, his presence a steadfast barrier between you and the dangers that lurked in the night.
But as his eyes locked onto Sharonâs, something shiftedâsomething tense, wary.
He didnât say a word. Neither did she. They simply regarded each other in silence, the air between them thick with unspoken questions and guarded suspicion.
Steveâs gaze dropped briefly to the tray Sharon heldâthe empty cups, the elegant teapot glinting softly in the low light. His brows furrowed, just slightly, the faintest sign of curiosity etched onto his face.
Sharonâs fingers tightened imperceptibly around the trayâs handles, but she maintained her polite, serene expression. She gave him the barest of nods, a silent acknowledgment of his presence, then turned on her heel and continued down the corridor, the soft rustling of her skirts trailing behind her.
Steve watched her go, his gaze never leaving her retreating figure. Even after she rounded the corner and disappeared from sight, he remained still, his eyes narrowed in thought.
A faint clink echoed from where sheâd been moments beforeâthe sound of the tray shifting ever so slightly, betraying the tension in her grip. It lingered in the silence that followed, a tiny, insignificant noise that somehow felt⌠wrong.
Steveâs jaw tightened, and he glanced back at the closed door to your chambers, his posture stiffening.
He hadnât seen Sharonâs face during any of the council meetings, but heâd heard whispers about herârumors and murmurs that drifted through the palace like a subtle breeze. Whispers of bitterness, of a deep-seated resentment that no one quite understood.
And now, here she was, slipping away in the dead of night with a tray of empty cups.
He took a slow, measured breath, then turned to the guard he was relieving, nodding curtly. âIâll take over now,â he said, his voice low and firm.
The guard nodded, giving a quick salute before stepping back and marching down the corridor, his footsteps fading into the distance.
Once alone, Steve shifted his gaze back to the corner where Sharon had vanished. He remained still, listening to the silence that filled the hall. Then, with a barely perceptible shake of his head, he turned back to your door, his expression guarded.
Whatever had transpired inside your chambers, whatever had passed between you and Sharon, it would have to wait until morning. For now, he would do what heâd always done: stand sentinel, watch, and ensure your safety.
But even as he settled into position outside your chambers, the image of Sharonâs faceâcalm, composed, and just a touch too sereneâlingered in his mind.
And deep down, in a part of him that had always been more instinct than thought, Steve knew:
Something wasnât right.
Ă Ă Ă ĂÂ
A few hours before.
The sound of metal scraping against metal echoed through the stone basement in Annecy, the dim candlelight casting flickering shadows against the damp walls. Buckyâs breaths came in short, sharp huffs, his chest heaving as he strained against the leather restraints that bound his arms and legs to the wooden chair. Every muscle in his body was tensed, veins bulging under his skin as he braced himself for what was to come.
Doctor Zemo stood across from him, meticulously adjusting a series of metal probes and needles connected to a brass device on the table. The contraption hummed ominously, wires sparking to life as Zemo calibrated the dials, his expression blank, methodical. Cold.Â
âThis will hurt,â he stated, not out of warning, but as a detached observation.
Bucky didnât respond. Sweat dripped down his face, pooling in the hollow of his collarbone. His gaze flickered to the side, catching a glimpse of Steve and Sam standing just beyond the iron bars separating them from the room. Their expressions were twisted with anguish, eyes betraying their helplessness.
âYou donât have to do this, Buck,â Steve whispered, his voice strained. His hands were gripping the bars so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Sam, standing beside him, looked away, his jaw clenched.
âI have to,â Bucky ground out through gritted teeth. His voice wavered, but his eyes held a fierce determination. âIf this is what it takes to stop itâŚâ He didnât finish the sentence, but they all knew what he meant.
âBegin,â Zemo ordered, ignoring the exchange. With a flick of his wrist, he activated the machine.
The first jolt sent Buckyâs body arching off the chair, a strangled scream tearing from his throat. His metal arm thrashed violently against the restraints, the vibranium whirring and sparking as the energy surged through it. Zemo watched impassively, his gaze fixed on the way Buckyâs eyes rolled back, the pain so intense it nearly swallowed him whole.
âStop itâGod, Zemo, stop!â Steve shouted, his voice cracking. He made a move toward the door, but Sam caught his arm, holding him back.Â
Buckyâs screams filled the room, reverberating off the walls. Every second felt like an eternity, each new wave of pain forcing a deeper, more guttural sound from his chest. The muscles in his neck strained, his face contorting with agony. He gasped for breath, his back slamming against the chair as the electric current ceased for a brief moment.
Steve turned his face away, his shoulders shaking. Samâs eyes glistened with unshed tears as he stared at the floor, unable to bear the sight.Â
âWhy are you doing this?â Sam hissed, his voice barely audible. âThis is torture.â
âIt is necessary,â Zemo replied coldly, not even sparing them a glance. âTo sever the Winter Soldier from James Barnes completely, I must isolate the root cause. Itâs the only way to stop the episodes.â He turned a dial, and the machine buzzed louder, casting an eerie, blue light across the room.
Bucky gasped, his body convulsing as the current tore through him again. Blood dripped from his nose, his eyes red and wild.Â
âMake it stop!â Steve shouted, his voice breaking. âPlease, Zemo, stop!â
But Zemo remained unmoved. The torment continued, relentless and unyielding. Buckyâs screams gradually faded into hoarse cries, his voice giving out as his body sagged against the restraints, utterly spent. His head hung low, sweat and blood mingling, dripping onto the floor. But even then, his fingers twitched, the tremors of pain echoing through him.
âEnough,â Zemo finally said, his tone clinical. He turned off the machine, the hum dying down to silence. The air was thick with the aftermath, Buckyâs ragged breaths the only sound in the room. Zemo approached him slowly, removing the needles and probes with steady hands. âIt is done. . .for now.â
Buckyâs head lifted weakly, his eyes glazed over but still defiant, still fighting. He looked at Steve, then Sam, a flicker of something unbroken in his gaze.Â
âItâs okay,â he rasped, his voice barely audible. âI can take it.â
Steveâs chest tightened, tears slipping down his cheeks despite his best efforts to hold them back. âYou shouldnât have to,â he whispered, voice trembling.
But Buckyâs lips twitched into the faintest shadow of a smile, the kind of smile that spoke of years of pain, years of enduring and surviving.Â
âI can take it.â
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