#Bucky barnes royal au

[buckrecs]

Hello! Do you perhaps have recommendations for Alpha!bucky?

Alpha!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Crave by @harrylovex

you realise that you can’t survive your heat without bucky.

intensional by @noctumbra

alpha!bucky sends you a shirtless pic and then offers to spend your heat with him. feelings ensue.

scent by @noctumbra

“you’re one eager and hungry kitten,” bucky whispered in your ear as he licked over your scent gland, where his bite situated perfectly.

vanilla by @noctumbra

his scent was the other thing that made you go stupid other than his eyes: leather, a bit of vanilla, oranges and wet wood.

wet by @noctumbra

your mating sessions are always intense with bucky.

butterfly by @idy-ll-ique

bucky's going into rut. y/n volunteers to help him. feelings come out.

Let Me Love You by @slothspaghettiwrites

When an Omega is feeling very anxious or nervous their Alpha will hold them close while gently crooning and scenting them until they calm down.

Dating apps are stupid by @buckylattes

You decide to download this dating app, well….Natasha persuades you into it. You make a profile and agree to just have it for a week. If nothing becomes of it then you can delete it. But….you swipe right on this handsome man who’s description shows him out to be a gentleman like you’re looking for. So…what happens when he matches with you???

make you mine by @bonky-n-steeb

Bucky keeps his distance from you thinking you can do better than him. but he loses all his restraints when he sees you with another alpha.

to love is to burn by @bonky-n-steeb

You go into heat at the worst moment in the history of time, maybe ever.

took one hit and I was gone by @bonky-n-steeb

after the rise of hydra, your entire life turned into a living nightmare. you lost everything you held precious, your job, your house, your degree, even hope. but then you’re assigned as a mate to him, your enemy and your only ray of hope, James Buchanan Barnes.

little red riding hood by @bonky-n-steeb

your big bad alpha chases you across the woods.

Break Lights by @boxofbonesfic

his omega by @bucksfucks

bucky helps you through an expected heat.

ever since by @syntheticavenger

Bucky Barnes finds his center in a late night subway ride.

By Chance by @green-eyeddragonfanfiction

Female!Reader is an Omega. Alphas and Omegas are rare, and Reader’s been able to avoid alphas through sheer force of will and luck in equal parts.

Feral by @bucknastysbabe

And You’re Mine by @winterarmyy

In which Bucky, the big, scary, 'undesired alpha' was tricked into a blind date where he met his precious little omega.

Protector by @rookthorne

After an eternity of being held against your will, and just as long having been forced to watch your alpha suffer at the hands of the wicked, an opportunity arose. An opportunity so rare, so unique, that it would never be offered again. It was time to escape, and it was time to bathe the halls in their blood – never again would you be held by the bars of a cell, not if he could stop it.

SERIES

Heart and Soul by @all1e23

Alphas only brought trouble. The only thing they are good for is bringing their Omega’s pain and forced submission. They were dangerous, reckless and cruel. There wasn’t an ounce of kindness in any of them.  She didn’t need an Alpha, and she certainly didn’t believe in that True Mates fairytale. That was just some fabricated fable Alphas made up to trick innocent doe-eyed Omegas. She wasn’t going to fall for that.  Not again.No Alpha would ever get her to believe that love truly exists. And then, James Buchanan Barnes walked into her life.

Better Like This by @simsadventures

You are the newest addition to New York’s elite team of Detectives concentrating on domestic violence and rape, which everyone calls the Avengers.  You are an Omega, very bubbly and open to everyone around you, and everyone is super sweet to you, except one person- Bucky, your true mate.  Will you be able to destroy the walls he has been building around his heart for years, or will he reject you and break your heart forever? 

Some Alpha by @ofstarsandvibranium

Bucky is an Alpha, but can never seem to find someone who wants him to be their Alpha. Until he finds you, a Beta, who’s as firey as an Alpha, yet also tender-hearted like an Omega.

Heal by @chucksfavouriteprophet

For months you managed to distance yourself from Bucky Barnes, the alpha you long for. But one night you have no choice but to comfort him, something which brings out emotions in both of you. Except it also brings out emotions in the Winter Solider, which results in a devastating turn of events that neither of you might be able to come back from.

All The King’s Men by @nastybuckybarnes

Your father always said that if it weren’t for your presentation, he’d think you were an Alpha. There’s a reason for that. Growing up in a world where Omegas are treated like garbage, you’ve fought for the respect that you have. Until you’re sold off to an old King desperate for a bride. But you will not lay down and present for your new husband. No, you will fight back.

Mr. Grumpy by @holylulusworld

Bucky hates omegas. You change his mind.

knife play by @helvonasche

They're on the run and Bucky goes into rut.

Knight In Rusty Armor by @revengingbarnes

For the sake of politics and to get rid of you, their omega daughter, the King and Queen of England marry you off to the King of France. Settling into an unfamiliar monarchy is a tedious process all by itself, but a new problem arises soon after your arrival at your new home.One of the Knights turns out to be your true mate. Your Alpha. The one you are meant to be with. But you’re mated to someone else. And that someone else is the King of France.

Masterlist by @angrythingstarlight

Masterlist by @holylulusworld

[buckyalpine]

Yours to Claim

King!Bucky x reader

Warnings: angsty, SMUTT, flufff, Arranged marriage, virginity loss, marriage consummation, bit of bleeding, King Bucky is a sexy, loving, protective warning.

You stood in your new chambers, fidgeting with the lace of your dress, eyes flickering to the various pieces of art work that decorated the walls; moments earlier you had signed your life away to a man you had never met before in exchange for an alliance over war. 

A promise of peace if the two kingdoms united; an easy fix at no one’s expense. 

Except yours. 

You flinched at the sound of the door clicking shut, the king, and now your husband, silencing the hushed whispers on the other side before making his way over to you. Even if his advisors and servants were now quiet, you knew at least one would be lingering around the door way, listening.

Waiting.

You still hadn’t seen him properly, having kept your gaze down to mask the tears that had threatened to fall throughout the ceremony. To your surprise, he didn’t drag you to bed like you expected; instead he strode past and removed some of the many layers he wore for the ceremony before standing in front of you again. 

“I hope everything's been to your liking princess-” You were caught off guard with his question, your eyes flicking up, surprised to find soft blue ones looking down at you. “-and that you’ll be happy here” 

He cared about your happiness?

You nearly scoffed at the thought but his voice was sincere, not a hint of malice found. You hadn’t noticed before but he had a handsome face; a beautifully carved jaw under his his dark beard, delicately sharp nose, soft pink lips and if you looked for a moment to long, you’d get lost in his eyes. 

Shaking the thought away you focused back to the matter at hand. It had to happen one way or another. You agreed to this for your kingdom, there was no point in having second thoughts now.

“They’ll be expecting us to...” Your voice trailed off, glancing off to the side at the large bed that was set in the middle of the spacious room, soft silken sheets and thick lush pillows neatly arranged by the castle maids. You knew how this worked. Love and affection didn’t matter, your marriage wouldn’t be considered legitimate until...

And if you didn’t-

One day you were living your life, preparing for the day you’d have the throne and now you were here.

To be seen in a way no one else ever had.

Touched in places no one dared lay their hands on.

You were now his property. 

You tried to push the anxiety that started to claw at your mind, making your way over to the bed and sitting up right as you were taught, waiting for the man you were now tied to, to consummate the marriage. Your breath hitched as you felt the bed dip down beside you from where the king sat, surprised to feel his warm hand gently lay on top of yours, giving you a comforting squeeze.

“Princess we don’t have t-

“I want to” you tried to sound confident but your voice wavered, your breath hitching again when he tilted your chin to look at him, your eyes struggling to hold his gaze. 

“This is my kingdom” he said with a firmness that was not directed at you but rather towards the distain he had for the rules that had put you in such a position in the first place, “I’d never force you to do anything, princess” The slight growl in his voice made your heart skip a beat; yet again, there was only sincerity in his words.

However, it was far more complicated for you.  

You didn’t want to fail the very duties that had been instilled in you from the day you were born, not wanting the sacrifice you made for your family to go to in vain if anyone dared question the fulfilment of your wedding night. 

“I want this” You looked directly at him with confidence but your eyes gave away your vulnerability.

“Then I’ll make it good for you, pretty one” He murmured, the pulse in your veins quickening when his hands came to cup your cheek as he moved you to lay down on his bed. He carefully tugged at the ribbons of your corset, freeing you from the constricting garment and tossing it aside before slipping off the rest of your dress. You felt exposed, lying bare against the cool sheets while he undressed himself; you couldn’t help but glance over at his toned body as he discarded his own clothes, corded muscles running under tan skin, scars from battle decorating his body  

The worst was the scarring along his left shoulder, angry jagged lines running from his neck to his shoulder blade, some of the scars extending to his chest and arm. There were divots in his skin from where the cuts ran deeper than others. 

 It made him beautiful.

You looked away as his pants fell around his ankles leaving him in his all naked glory, feeling hot under his gaze. You instinctively squeezed tightly together, arms draped across your naked chest to cover your modesty. Your eyes were trained on the tapestry that was hung across the room, biting your lip when you felt him crawl onto the bed, kneeling before you, his knees on either side of your legs, bare skin touching yours. 

“You’re allowed to look, princess” The king smirked at your flustered state, “I belong to you just as much” 

You swallowed thickly, flicking your eyes back to him, involuntarily gripping the sheets finally seeing all of him from his long dark hair falling in waves to his shoulders, his frame broad and solid. A shiver ran down your spin as you continued to trail your eyes further down to his thick length, veins running along the shaft, curved towards him. 

You were confused  as he moved to lay down beside you, having expected him to lie on top instead but he didn’t; instead he kept his eyes locked with yours, moving your arm to uncover your breasts. You held your breath as he laid them aside, your nipples peaking against the cool air, still waiting for him to shove your legs apart and take what he wanted. 

“You’re sure, princess?” He whispered, his face by yours, letting his warm hand rest on your tensed stomach, humming when you hesitantly nodded. 

You bit a gasp as his fingers trailed down your body, coaxing your thighs apart, softly caressing the sensitive flesh as you tried to squeeze your legs together. He let out a soft chuckle, moving your thighs apart again, your eyes growing wide when his fingers dipped into your folds, smearing the slick that started to pool between your legs.

“I- you shouldn’t-” You didn’t understand what he was doing, your mind reeling when he moved his fingers close to where you were more sensitive, making it harder for you to control the noises that wanted to slip through. 

“I should know every part of my wife” He trailed his fingers back up, watching you intently, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk when he brushed over your swollen bundle of nerves, a gasp escaping you when he pressed his fingers tips against it, “Her most sacred places” 

Your breaths quickened, your walls quivering with need, a feeling you had never experienced before, already melting into the pleasure he was giving you. 

“I made a promise to take care of you” he started to rub soft circles around your clit, humming and the moan you tried to bite back, your lip caught between your teeth. He pulled his hand away from your soaked cunt, his thumb still glistening with your arousal tugging down on your lip making you gasp. 

“You don’t ever have to silence yourself with me princess” His voice dropped an octave, jaw clenched, the meaning behind his words deeper than wanting to hear how pretty you sounded as he pleasured you. He caressed down your body till he found your clit again, rubbing you with such care, building a steady rhythm that had all your nerves lit on fire. A coiling pleasure wound tighter and tighter with each stroke of his fingertips. 

“You’re the softest thing I’ve ever touched” His hands had seen war, violence and bloodshed, scars and callouses evidence of his bravery and fierce loyalty to his kingdom. 

And now to you.

“Such softness deserves to be loved” he whispered, dipping his head down to your chest, taking your nipple between his lips, gently suckling while continuing to rub slow deliberate circles around your clit. “And worshipped” 

Your body moved on its own, your thighs spreading apart, giving him more access to you, your back arching off the bead, needy moans and whimpers filling the room as he switched to your other breast. 

“Ooh-it feels-mmphh-” You couldn’t formulate words, hands blindly gripping at the sheets, squirming as he rubbed faster, a fiery pleasure starting to crawl down your spine. You could feel his hard length press against your thigh, your fingers twitching to wrap around him and soothe the ache of his swollen cockhead, his pink tip wet and leaking. He noticed your gaze flick down before looking away, loving your sweet innocence. 

“You’re allowed to touch me, princess” He murmured against your cheek, taking your hand, trailing it between your bodies, moving it to wrap around his thick length. He moved your hand along his velvety shaft, his cock hard and throbbing against in your soft palm, “Every part of me is yours now too”  

You let out a whimper, hesitantly dragging your hand up and down, learning to build a rhythm he seemed to respond to, listening to the low grunts and groans he made when you twirled your hand around the tip before stroking all the way back down to the base. 

“Is-is this okay” Had he not been right beside you, he would have missed the whisper of your voice, a smile gracing is lips as you awaited his answer. 

“Of course, princess” James rubbed tighter circles around you, determined to get you make you shatter in pleasure before taking you apart all for himself, wanting every intimate moment you spent with him pure bliss for you. You signed your life to him; he was going to cherish that in every way possible.  

“oh-please-p-please!” Your eyes rolled back, your clit swelling as warmth began to spread throughout your body, the coil ready to snap, just a bit more- “Please-” You didn’t even know what you were begging for, your body chasing the building pressure that was holding you right over the edge. You found yourself tugging and stroking him faster, coaxing him to move closer, guiding him to where you needed him most, your cunt clenching, making a mess all over the sheets. His hips rutted in your hand as he slotted himself between your legs, keeping his body weight off you, propped on one arm as he lay above you. 

“Please?” Your eyes were glassy, skin hot, a concoction of nervousness, excitement, lust and desire coursing through you as you moved your hands to grip onto his thick shoulders. 

“Are you sure you’re ready?” His hand softly petted your hair, eyes swimming with concern, the blunt tip of his cock throbbing against your leaking cunt.

“Take me” you whispered, feeling your heart rate quicken when he reached down between your bodies to line himself up, pressing against your entrance. You whimpered, letting your nails dig into his skin at the burn, feeling his the tip of his cock push into you, stretching your tight cunt apart. 

“Shhhhh” He cooed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he pushed in further, trailing kisses down your nose to your lips, your grip nearly breaking the skin on his back. “I won’t hurt you princess”  

You could feel his back muscles tense, focused on filling you slowly, finally joining together in a way that made you husband and wife.

“J-James” You didn’t even consider that you’d called him by his named instead of title, too lost in the feeling of him claiming you, hot pain and pleasure radiating through your body at the foreign sensation. 

“I know, I know” he nodded against your neck, his cock splitting you open further, wider at the base. “Breathe, breathe, I have you” He could feel your pussy flutter and squeeze his length, trying to accommodate for his girth. He pulled away from your neck to brush the hairs that clung to your forehead, his thumb gently smoothing the crease between your brows. 

“Look at me princess” he whispered against your lips as your cracked your eyes open, the sting slowly melting when you got lost under his blue gaze. He kissed your temple, lips pressed against your skin, your own nails clawing into his back as he fully sheathed himself inside you. 

“May I?” He asked, giving you time to adjust to the feeling, only beginning to slowly rock his hips when you nodded, your legs moving to wrap around his waist, thighs squeezing his tapered waist. 

“Feels-good” You let out a breathy moan, your legs trembling as he barely pulled out, pressing his cock in as deep as it would go, pushing you into the mattress. You clung around his body as he let his weight drop on you, keeping you covered under him while moving faster, his hand coming to lace with yours. 

“So good to me” He rasped, squeezing your hands in his, moaning when he felt your pussy pull him right back in every time he pulled away. It was like you were made for him, every curve and dip of your body molded perfectly with his, your tight wet heat swallowing him entirely, taking every inch he was willing to give you. “You’re mine now”

“No one’s ever going to hurt you princess” His eyes hardened making your cheeks heat up under his protective gaze, dark hair falling around you in a curtain of intimacy. Your family may have married you off to bring peace to the land but he was not going to use that to his advantage to use you. He would take care of you and treat you like the queen you were, protecting his newest most prized treasure.  You mewled against his lips, a stray tear slipping past your eyes, his lips kissing them away, a stark contrast to the way his cock was hitting deeper in your cunt, kissing your cervix as he fucked into you. 

“I promise” he kissed your wrist, before pinning it against the mattress beside your head, thrusting faster, your moans loud enough to let the next kingdom over know you were at your husbands complete mercy in the most intimate and primal way possible.  

“James-James-please-I” Your chest was pressed against his, eyes pleading for your release. He groaned, angling his hips to rub sensitive spot deep inside you making you see stars, spots starting to cloud your vision, the band ready to snap again. He panted, working his hips faster, rolling them, coaxing you further and further to the edge. He could feel his own orgasm ready to burst, gritting his teeth, determined to take care of yourself before giving into his own. 

“Let go my princess, let go for me, I have you” 

“JAMESS” 

He held you tightly as you fell apart on his cock, moaning at the sting of your nails dragging down his body. Your cunt milked and squeezed him, desperate for him to give you everything drop he had. He wrapped his arms around your body, tucking his face against your neck, sinking his teeth into your soft flesh, unable to hold back when he felt your hands card through his hair, softly grazing his scalp before giving it a gentle tug. 

“Let-let go for me” You whispered softly in his ear, wanting him to know you accepted him just as much as he accepted you, needing him to understand you saw him as your husband, not just your king. “My James” 

“My princess” He groaned against your skin, pushing himself as deep as your body would allow, hot spurts of his seed filling you till it dripped onto the sheets. He continued to softly rut into you, riding through both your highs until he was spent, his cock beginning to soften inside you. 

“I have you, I have you angel” He whispered, rubbing up and down your back, his nose buried in your hair, kissing down the column of your neck to your shoulders. “Do you feel alright” 

You whimpered at the loss of him as he pulled out, a dull soreness beginning to settle between your legs. Your eyes grew wide at the dots of red that stained the sheets, pouting when you felt a loss of warmth as your husband sat up. 

“Lie down angel” He cooed, moving you to lay on his side of the bed and tucking you under the plush sheet before swinging his long legs to the edge of the bed. You reached out for him, your fingers softly grasping at his wrist, wanting to feel him hold you when you felt so vulnerable. 

“But-”

“I’m going to take care of your princess. I told you, you’re mine now. Mine to care for” He made his way over to the water that was set aside in the room, dipping a clean cloth to dampen it before making his way back over to you. He carefully wiped you down, between sweet words of how he’d forever put you first, a vow he made when he agreed to marry you. He wiped away the tears that spilled down your cheeks before getting up again to toss away the cloth. 

He caught a glance of himself in the mirror, his skin now decorated with new marks left by you, a proud smirk gracing his lips, happy to add a scar, this battle being his favorite one of all. 

The one to your heart. 

One he’d have to earn with patience and love, this night being the first of many. 

“The sheets-” You blinked up at him as he slipped between the covers, pulling you to his chest, cocooning you in his warmth. 

“Will be for my eyes only” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, deciding he’d only allow your ladies in waiting to ever enter the chambers, ones that were loyal to you and that you trusted. “You’ll be safe with me” 

You relaxed in his hold, closing your eyes and falling asleep to the steady beat of his heart, the anxieties that clawed at your chest disappearing into the night, your heart melting for the man you now were honored to call yours. 

The king.

Your James. 

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[nastybuckybarnes]

Kingdom Fall  -  Four

Pairing: Farmboy!Bucky X Princess!Reader

Summary: When an invading Kingdom forces you to flee your home, you find yourself stranded in an enemy kingdom on a farm, and the farmboy is nothing like you thought he would be.

Warnings: Violence, Angst, Fluff, Injuries, mentions of SA, Mentions of Murder,

Word Count: 4.2K

A/n: Like lowkey i didn’t know anyone was interested in this series but ig some of y’all are which is great cause i have 7 parts of this already written lol

Series Masterlist

~*~

“Again!” Steve shouts, glaring at the farmboy who’s fallen onto his back.

You watch as the two spar, admiring how they move, how their muscles ripple and flex as they fight.

It’s been near two weeks since Steve found you, and James has already picked up on how to wield a sword. Something about the way he holds it with such ease has you questioning just who he truly is, but you pay that thought little mind.

Instead, you focus on the map in front of you, circling specific areas where you know your people will seek refuge.

All you need now is to gather supplies.

You look around James’ small little house and a wave of sadness crashes over you.

He would really leave this for you. He would abandon his post for someone he barely knows.

Since Steve’s return, James has been a little more reserved, a little bit quieter than before.

And Steve has been a little more agitated than normal. The soldier that you knew was kind and softhearted. The man who found you is rough and aggressive. You’re not sure if it’s because of the circumstances, or if there’s something beyond that that is causing his new attitude.

You glance out the window again, unable to tear your eyes from the two men for long as they spar.

Both have relieved themselves of their shirts beneath the hot sun, opting instead to work bare from the waist upward.

You watch, impressed, as James manages to get Steve onto his back, yielding to the brunet.

He has the skill of a born fighter, and the grace of one as well.

He offers his hand to Steve, who glares at it and rises to his feet.

“You do not help the enemy,” he barks, glaring at the farm boy.

James stares at him for a long moment before speaking.

“And you do not turn your back on your allies,” he retorts.

Steve glares at him then turns away. “We are finished for the day.”

You can't help but roll your eyes at them and their antics.

They enter the cabin together and you don’t look up from your maps.

“I do hope that by the time we enter battle, you two are no longer squabbling like boys,” you muse.

“We are not squabbling,” Steve murmurs, pulling up a chair and taking a seat.

You look between the two men, lips pursed.

“Well then, what would you call it?”

Steve opens his mouth to answer but gets silenced quickly when James raises his hand.

The blond glares at him, the expression fading a moment later when he hears what’s got the brunet on edge.

“Horses,” you murmur, rising to your feet and peering out the window.

The two men come behind you, each ready to protect you with their lives.

“They wear the King’s colours,” James says, his arm finding your bicep and pulling you from the window.

The horses are barrelling down the gravel road, still a fair distance away, but you’ve no doubt that they’re looking for you.

“Guards searching for refugees, no doubt. For us,” Steve whispers.

You look between the two men for a moment before your eyes dart back to the window, trying to formulate a plan.

“Here, follow me.” James grabs your hand and leads you toward the bedroom. “There’s a small door to the cellar beneath the bed. You should be safe there.”

Steve pulls you from the brunet’s grip and shakes his head.

“Why should we listen to you? For all we know, this could be an ambush.”

You’d be lying if you said the thought never crossed your mind.

You peer over at James, waiting to see his response, to see if there’s any malice or lies behind his eyes.

You find nothing but honesty and worry, though, as he defends himself.

“I have already sworn my life to protect her. I would not risk endangering her. And, if I were to want harm to befall her, why would I allow you to teach me how to wield a sword? And why would I not have done it prior to your arrival?”

He asks question after question that holds nothing but proof of his true intentions.

Steve must realize this, too, because he reluctantly moves the bed and opens the latch on the floor.

A dark hole greets you, and a ladder leads the way.

Steve, ever the warrior, leads the way, calling for you to follow him once he's reached the bottom.

You take a deep breath, eyes connecting with James’ one last time before you begin your descent.

A warm hand finds the small of your back as your feet hit the floor, and you and Steve look up at James as he stands above you.

“As soon as I am certain they're gone, I will come fetch you.”

You nod, “be safe.”

He smiles softly at you, his eyes tender for a brief moment before he closes the latch, submerging you and Steve in darkness.

“This was a bad idea,” the blond murmurs after a moment, stepping closer to you when he hears the bed scratch along the wooden floors above your heads.

“You didn’t exactly have a better plan, did you?” You retort, reaching for him and allowing your fingers to spread across his chest.

One of his hands comes up to hold yours in place and he sighs heavily.

“I do not trust him, Princess. He has not yet proven to me that he is trustworthy.”

“But he’s proven it to me. Is that not enough for you?” You question softly.

Since you were a young girl, Steve has been there for you. Even as a sickly child, he still pledged his life to you, swore his sword would forever be yours and that he would always protect you and obey you - and you, in turn, swore to never take advantage of his oath. He’s made sacrifice after sacrifice for you, as you have for him, and so you thought you were at a point where you could trust each other endlessly.

“Princess, I do not question your judgement,” he clarifies softly, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. “I question his intentions. You will forgive me if it takes more than a moon cycle or two for a Lornillian man to prove his worth to me.”

You ponder his words carefully while your fingers trace patterns on his chest.

You understand where he’s coming from. Steve has seen firsthand what the men of Lornilla have done. Though you feel in your heart and soul that James is different. He must be.

You trust him.

Maybe not wholly, but enough to allow him temporary power over you.

“I... I understand your hesitance in trusting him,” you finally concede, nodding along with your own words though he can barely see you in the darkness of the cellar.

“I do understand, though I hope you are not closed off to the idea of there being good in men. I have found it in myself to trust a man born of Lornilla before, and now I am doing it again.”

Steve falls silent, the reminder of his past haunting him.

The two of you have spent many nights by a campfire, telling stories of your past. Reliving horrors that you shouldn’t have had to face in the first place. And every time you both have come to the conclusion that, had you not seen and experienced such hardships, you would not be the people you are today.

You open your mouth to speak again but snap it closed when you hear footsteps creaking overhead and male voices talking. One is familiar. The others are not.

Steve pulls you closer, one hand on the hilt of his sword as he glares up toward the cellar door, ready to fight to the death for you if need be.

For a brief but definite moment, you realize how foolish this has been.

You truly have not known James long at all, and now your life is in his hands.

No more than before, you suppose.

But now you have no advantage. At least before, when it was only the two of you, you had your weapons and your skill. Sure, he may be stronger, but you’re a warrior. A fighter. You’ve fought more battles than you can count and slain more enemies than you’d like to know.

But now? Now you’re completely at the mercy of the Lornillan men. If they were to storm the cellar they would have the upper hand. You are nothing more than a sitting duck, awaiting a hunter's arrow.

The footsteps fade from the room, but Steve stays standing at attention, eyes trained on the cellar door.

He shoves you behind his back and unsheathes his sword when the bed scratches against the floor a few minutes later, and then the two of you are showered with light.

He blinks furiously against it, willing his eyes to adjust so he can do his duty, so he can protect you, but James stands alone at the door to the cellar.

“They’re gone. The dust has settled behind their horses, but I cannot be sure they will not come back.”

Steve glares at him then climbs out, scanning the room and the house before returning to you only to find you accepting James’ help out of the cellar.

“What did you tell them?” The blond demands, glaring at the farm boy.

James looks between the two of you and sighs.

“They’re looking for the missing Princesses of Aresia. I told them I know nothing of Aresia. I thought our King strong enough to overthrow women.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, pondering his words for a long moment before turning to Steve.

“You need to train harder. We do not have time to spare anymore. It is only a matter of time before they come back or worse - find the others. We need to leave and we need to do so soon.”

Like seasoned soldiers, the two follow your command diligently.

The next several days are spent with the two of them training while you pour over maps and books and stockpile all the supplies you can.

Since Steve’s return, your nights have been spent alone in James’ bed. The brunet uses the excuse of tending to the animals - a task he is no longer able to do during the day- and the blond claims to be monitoring the perimeter.

You’re going over the route to safety one more time, trying desperately to memorize it before your journey in a few days.

The supplies have been packed, for the most part, and are stored in the stables with the horses.

The sun has just begun setting, and James and Steve are wrapping up their training for the day.

You’re so caught up in your reading that you almost don’t hear the hooves beating against the gravel.

Almost.

When you notice the guards, you shoot to your feet and immediately grab your weapons from where they lay strewn across the kitchen table.

You rush out the back door into the field where the men are sparring, both of them freezing when they see the panic on your face.

“Riders. Men of the King. They’ve come back.”

The two men look to the gravel road and Steve feels his stomach drop while James’ heart ties itself in knots.

“We cannot risk going back to the house. They’re too close, they’ll see us,” Steve murmurs, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the barn.

“In the hayloft. There are bails to hide behind. A ladder leads there from behind the pile in the far corner. They will not think to look there. Move quickly,” James urges, turning toward the pig pen to busy himself with the animals.

You and Steve follow his instructions, running over to the barn and yanking the door open, then slipping inside and pulling it shut tightly behind you.

You follow James’ instructions and climb the ladder in the corner with Steve hot on your heels.

The hayloft is old and rickety, and you pray that it doesn’t collapse under the combined weight of you and Steve.

Eventually, the two of you settle, buried beneath the hay and pressed tightly together.

He has an arm wrapped around you, keeping you grounded and making sure you know he’s there, that he’s not going to let anything happen to you.

Meanwhile, James is trying to make it look as though he truly has been working in the fields all day, rather than sparring and training to fight against the very Kingdom he resides in and provides for.

“You there! Farmboy!” A guard shouts, barrelling onto his land on horseback. There are at least six other guards behind him, all on horses, and James feels like he may be sick.

“Yes?” His voice is surprisingly steady.

“Have you seen any refugees? Fleeing from the neighbouring country? Women?”

James pretends to think for a moment then shakes his head.

“None through this way, no. Why? Are we expecting some women folk?”

The guard looks around James’ property then looks over to the house.

“May we come in?”

James swallows hard then nods, wiping his hands on his pants.

“If I’d’ve known you lot were coming I would’ve put some tea on.”

The leader only chuckles and shakes his head.

“That won’t be necessary. We only need to have a word with you.”

James leads the way back to the house, taking note of the few guards who don’t follow and instead opt to look around his property.

Trying to act as casual as possible, James takes a seat at his kitchen table and prepares to put on the act of the century.

“So, you have not had any visitors lately? Nobody unexpected has come around?” The guard asks.

James shrugs, “besides yourself? No.”

The guard nods, slowly taking a look around the house.

This guard is different than the one that came the first time. In fact, they all are.

These ones are rougher. Far harder and they have an anger beneath their eyes that has James on edge.

He’s not sure it’ll be so easy to talk his way out of it this time.

“If you were to come upon a woman, what would you do?”

James shrugs and rubs the back of his neck.

“Well, I reckon I would probably use her the way women need be used. Stuff her full of my cock an’ see if she has any use. Otherwise, I would bring her to town. Sell her for a penny or two.” The vile words physically hurt to speak, and James hopes you never have to hear him speak this way.

The guard nods, eyeing the brunet carefully.

“The King has now put out a notice that any woman who is not visibly owned by a man or accompanied by her owner will need to come to the village square to have her worth determined. Especially if she is a face not seen before. We do not care for whores at the whorehouses. They have no business in the village square. But women who seem untouched. Women who do not understand the way the world works. Women who would dare speak against you. Those are the ones that are to be collected and brought before us for judgment.”

James nods his understanding.

“Should I stumble upon one, I’ll be sure to bring her to the village square.” He pauses for a moment then looks up at the guard, “do I need to leave her untouched?”

The guard chuckles and claps a hand on the brunet's shoulder.

“You may do what you please with her, we only need her alive to determine her worth.”

The guard takes a calculated look out the window, then nods to himself and rises to his feet.

He roots through his pockets for a long moment before producing a small coin purse and dropping it on the table.

“Consider this... payment for your cooperation. I’m sure you’ll find it more than enough to cover the expenses.”

James pulls his brows together then follows the guard's gaze out across the field and toward the barn.

Smoke pours from the roof, and James feels his stomach drop into his feet.

“Well, we’ll be on our way now. You remember what I said about those women. Failure to bring them forward is treasonous, punishable by death.”

James only stares at the barn, his heart racing in his chest as the guards leave.

You don’t notice it at first, nose pressed against Steve’s chest. It isn't until you hear it that you start to question what’s going on.

“Is that...” Steve trails off quietly, sniffing the air then pushing into a seated position.

Sure enough, bright orange flames lick up the sides of the building, the hay feeding the fire quickly.

Beyond the crackling of the fire, you can make out male voices speaking just beyond the door.

You slowly raise your eyes to Steve’s silently asking him what to do, if you can fight your way out of this.

He takes a slow breath then nods toward the ladder that you climbed to get to the hayloft.

Slowly, you climb back down, one hand pressed to your mouth and nose to try and prevent inhaling the smoke as much as you can.

Steve follows you down then jogs silently over to the barn door, one ear pressed to it before he shakes his head and makes his way back over to you.

“They’re standing at the door. We cannot leave that way. We must find another exit.”

You swallow hard and nod, looking around the barn for anything that could be used as an exit.

The building quickly fills with smoke, the temperature increasing as the fire devours the hay.

Time is running out.

Sweat is already beading across your neck, a single droplet rolling down your back as you and Steve search for another exit.

The crackling of the fire is almost deafening and the heat is quickly becoming unbearable.

You duck under a low-hanging beam near the back of the barn, desperate to find another exit. A hole in the wall. A window. Anything that will grant you even a breath of fresh air to clear your head.

Each breath has your lungs stinging and your head growing cloudier.

“Princess!” Steve’s voice whispers harshly, a hand finding your bicep and tugging you closer to the wall.

You look up at him, confused and groggy as more of the smoke clouds your senses.

His blue eyes seem far away, the smoke between the two of you muddling those clear depths.

“Steve,” you whisper, one hand finding his forearm.

This can’t be it, can it? This cannot truly be how it ends for you, not when you have so much to do, so many people to save.

You stumble a step and cough as the smoke invades your lungs.

“This way, hurry,” Steve whispers, grabbing your hand and leading you along the wall.

You follow blindly, the flames growing taller and stronger and consuming everything in their path. It will only be mere minutes until you and Steve are included in that.

“Hurry, Princess. Out this way,” Steve whispers, pointing to a small door along the wall across from you, directly across from the main door.

You look over at him and give him a nod, then hurry across the barn and through the flames with him right behind you.

A loud creak sounds from overhead and you pause for a moment to find the source of the sound, and a moment is all it takes for a beam from the ceiling to come tumbling down toward you.

“Princess!”

One moment you’re staring certain death in the face, and the next moment you’re on the ground, gravel and hay biting into your skin.

“Steve!” You rush to his side, eyes wide as you see the beam pinning his leg down.

“I’m all right,” he rasps, panting hard then coughing, “it’s only on my armour.”

You reach for the beam without thinking, grabbing and heaving only to cry out softly in pain as the hot wood burns your skin.

Releasing it as slowly as you can manage, you wipe your hands on your dress and look around desperately to find something to give you enough leverage to push the beam off of him.

“Go, Princess! Now!” Steve commands, glaring at you when you shake your head at him.

“No. I left you once, I will not do it again!” You retort, reaching for the beam again only to be overtaken by a fit of coughs.

“You are of no use to your country, to your people and your sisters, if you are dead.”

Your eyes meet his and you shake your head, beyond furious.

You will not leave him to die.

With shaky legs, you rise and run out of the barn coughing as the fresh air bites at your lungs.

“(Y/n)!”

You look to the sound, pointing to the barn as your coughing continues.

“Steve,” you croak, grabbing James’ hand when he rushes to your side, “he’s trapped. Please, y-you must help him.”

James looks up at the burning barn then back down to your face, his decision made.

Without a second thought, he rushes into the burning barn toward the blond on the floor.

He inspects the scene, one hand covering his mouth and nose to prevent the smoke from getting to him too quickly.

Grabbing a stray branch from the ground, James hurries to Steve’s side and shoves the wood beneath the beam pinning the blond to the ground.

With a mighty heave, he frees the soldier, and Steve is quick to scramble out of the barn with James hot on his heels.

The blond coughs violently, immediately rushing to your side and checking you for injuries with little regard for his own health.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, one hand cupping your face while his eyes scan your body.

You shake your head, hating how strained his voice is. It reminds you of when the two of you were children and he was more sick than he was healthy.

James watches the exchange and feels his stomach sink just the tiniest bit.

It sinks further when the reality of the situation hits him and he realizes just how much he’s lost.

He turns to the burning barn with tears in his eyes.

He remembers building that when he was just a boy with his father. Tending to the animals, playing in the hayloft with his sister.

His whole life has been spent here, and now it’s nothing more than a pile of rubble.

Your eyes find the brunet and sorrow makes your own heart heavy.

You slowly make your way over to him, placing a gentle hand upon his shoulder.

“James...?”

He takes a deep breath and turns to you, his eyes glossy.

“When do we leave?” He asks, his voice full of both anger and pain.

You take a deep breath and look at everything in front of you. You look at the burning barn, at the setting sun and the small farmhouse.

Your gaze then travels to the men with you.

“The way to the shelters is long. We must go through the city and gather provisions. We leave tomorrow.”

James takes another deep breath and nods, turning away from the smouldering remains of his past life and looking you in the eye.

“It is not safe for women in the city. You will need to do as I say. The men will be harsh, but you cannot argue. Being by our side will do you well and keep you safe, but if other men realize who you are, they will not hesitate to slay us where we stand in order to get to you and bring you before the King.”

You swallow hard and nod, trying to take it all in.

This will be a true test of your patience and your acting all in one.

“With the gold they gave me for... my trouble...” James begins, “we will have more than enough to cover food and water. Likely enough to last several weeks. We will walk the horses through the city, you will need to wear a cloak that will cover your weapons and your identity.”

He turns to Steve, “you will need to listen to me. This is the city that I grew up in. I know how to travel unnoticed. You and your mannerisms will stick out like a sore thumb. If we are to ever reach our destination safely, you will both need to trust me and follow along with what I do.”

Steve glances at you, waiting for you to agree before he does.

When you finally nod your agreement, the blond does the same, and James sighs.

“Rest. I will salvage what I can overnight.”

Steve places a gentle hand on the brunet's shoulder, smiling softly.

“I will help you,” he says firmly, allowing the brunet no room to argue.

James’ eyebrows raise and he looks between you and Steve carefully.

“We all require sleep this night. I will help you,” he repeats.

James slowly nods and you watch as the two of them head off together to salvage what they can and prepare for the long journey ahead.

[welldonebeca]

i could have chosen you (and yes, i would) - Masterlist

Summary: To form an alliance with another Kingdom, your father arranges a marriage between you and James, the duke of Barnes and best friend of King Steve I of a neighbouring kingdom, and you struggle to make a relationship out of your arranged union. Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, arranged marriage, medieval AU, fluff, eventual smut.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 on Patreon (10th of May on Tumblr) Chapter 8 on Patreon (17th of May on Tumblr) Chapter 9 on Patreon (24th of May on Tumblr) Chapter 10 on Patreon (31st of May on Tumblr) Chapter 11 on Patreon (7th of June on Tumblr)

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"i could have chosen you (and yes, i would)" was posted on my Patreon in October 2022 and is fully posted on my page. To read it before anyone else, consider subscribing! It's just $2 a month and it helps me a lot during these hard times.

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Tag list is open!

[beananacake]

My Crown Upon Your Head

Ch. 1

Prince!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis: When an arranged engagement between Prince James of Brookland and Princess Natasha ushers the discovery of the existence of a marriage contract between you and said prince, you readily agree to a divorce for the sake of the kingdom. At first, you had been willing to be separated from Prince James but as you spend more time with your husband, you begin to feel things that are forbidden. It does not help your case when James shares the same sentiments. As you combat the emotions that excite and scare you, the discoveries you make of the people that surround you make you suspect there is something else at play...

WC: 3.9k

Warnings: period-typical misogyny, 18+ for delicate issues, typos, not beta'd

A/N: Hi! Welcome to my first Bucky fic! If you think you've read this before... uh, no you didn't ;) Likes, comments, and reblogs makes beananacake a happy writer lol

Once upon a time, there was a girl who accidentally married the prince.

That would have been a story to be told for ages, you thought ironically to yourself. It would have made for an everlasting tale by the Brothers Grimm; storytellers whom you had met during one of your travels to the distant land of Prussia with your diplomat father. They were an odd sort; old men whom you would never have thought to have been the authors to the short tales you loved reading as a child. Their stories were rather macabre despite the hopeful beginnings. After all, not every Once Upon A Time ended with a happy ever after.

I wonder how they would have written my story, you mused rather distractedly as you stood before the King of Brookland.

You had been summoned to the palace the moment your ship had docked into the kingdom’s port. There was no preamble as to why you were wanted; they had only loaded you unto the carriage and had been presented to the monarch without so much as a change of clothing. You were not vain but it would have been more preferable to be wearing the proper attire when meeting with the king. Instead, you met him in your leather breeches, a silk dress shirt, and a waistcoat that you had fashioned from your father’s old vest—all of these articles of clothing were scandalous by themselves, but not as scandalous as knowing the reason why you had been summoned.

“You see, my son is set to marry the Grand Duke’s niece but we find ourselves in an unusual predicament,” said King George II of Brookland as he stood from his throne.

You had no voluminous skirt to tuck your hands into when you were nervous. Instead, you only clenched them at your sides, clutched into fists to calm the nervous quake about you.

“My secretary has found a marriage certificate binding you and my son in matrimony.” The king said disdainfully as he looked down on you. He was a classically handsome man if a bit gaunt and pale. His blue eyes were kind yet piercing. His jaw was strong and covered with a beard that was white as it was thick. His voice rasped with every words as though he labored them out. He was an old man, stooping because of his many years but it did not dampen the regal, commanding aura he had about him.

“You had been married to my son for two decades.”

Twenty years? You would have been but six years! Surely, there must have been a mistake.

You took a discreet step back, afraid of the silent fury in his voice. You had no idea of this marriage to the prince but your lapse in memory only seemed to make the blaze of anger in the king's eyes grow.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I have no idea of this certificate of which you speak.”

A harsh scoff sounded from the man who stood beside the throne. Your eyes flitted to the Grand Duke and the cruel severity from him made you step further back. His features told you he did not belong to Brookland; rather than possessing the strong jaws and high cheekbones of the Brooks, he appeared more foreign. The Grand Duke—an honorable title reserved only for the king’s advisers—had his lips drawn tight, his brown eyes beady as he regarded you.

“His Majesty will not tolerate insolence, child. I suggest you answer in truth.” His words, while spoken calmly and simply, chilled you. His eyes betrayed nothing nefarious but there was an air about him, of something that made him unfriendly to you. Then again, it was his niece the prince was promised to and you had unknowingly married said prince.

“My apologies, Grand Duke,” you bowed your head as you lowered into a curtsy. You could not bear to look him in the eye for one more time.

“Tell me your name again,” commanded King George.

You kept your head low as you said your name.

“If you are who you say you are, then it must be you who signed this contract.” The soft unraveling of the scroll drew your attention and you looked up as the king thrust it before you.

There it was. Your name, written by the hand of a six-year-old child. It was a mess of letters but it was discernible enough for anyone to read your name. Beside it was Prince James’s inscription, no better than yours but still enough to be recognized as the name of the kingdom’s future monarch.

The royal seal of the Barnes of Brookland—a crowned lion standing atop a shield that bore the coat of arms of the family—brought about a memory that had long been buried until that moment.

You watched closely as your father, a scholar and one of Brookland’s diplomats, poured hot wax on the space between where he and another had signed. It was a rich blue with gold flecks, the colors and symbol of your country’s opulence. You were always curious as to why he did the ritual of laying his ring on top of the molten wax after signing the papers. You asked him.

“It is a promise, Y/N,” your father had replied as he took of his signet ring and placed it sigil-down on the paper.

“Like friendship, papa?” you had asked in your small, excitable voice.

He chuckled fondly, caressing your cheek as he watched you in the candlelight. “Of a sort. This paper is a memory of that friendship with our country and this country’s king.”

“Can I do it with my friends?” You watched with curious eyes, taking note of where he had written his name and the fact that it must be sealed with wax and his ring.

“Of course, little one. I shall have to teach you how to write your name so you can sign your promise.”

You beamed, eager to employ this newfound knowledge and practice of sealing your promises of friendship.

You were unable to read as well but it was no matter, your papa will teach you. It was your memory that was prodigious and you remembered his process. First, he took parchment from his sheaf of papers. He signed his name on the first empty space, then the other man did as your father had. They shook hands. Your father poured hot wax and placed the sigil on the promise and placed it on different sheaf of papers.

It was simple enough for you to do.

You recalled that moment you had done it. You had visited the palace with your father and he had let you play around the grounds while he conducted business with the other diplomats of the kingdom. Prince James had been but a boy then, a little older than you were but not old enough to talk affairs of the kingdom. He had been in the garden alone and you approached him with the idea of trying your newfound way of sealing friendships. You had not realized that you had plucked a marriage certificate from the Great Study because, truly, all of your father’s contracts appeared one and the same to you and you had assumed as much for all the papers. You innocently scrawled your name, taking good care in spelling it right as your father had told you. The prince had done the same and with your father’s ring, you sealed your—and the prince’s—fate.

“You recognize it then,” asked the king as he snatched the offending paper away.

“Your Majesty—” The apology did not slip past your lips.

“You may look innocent but I sense ambition in you, girl,” remarked the adviser. There was a hint of malice in his words and you flinched.

“Grand Duke.” There was a warning edge to King George’s tone. He turned to you once more. “You recognize this certificate?”

You steeled yourself, standing erect as you drawled out slowly. “It was not my intention to bind myself in marriage to the prince, Sir.” You swallowed. “My father introduced contracts to me as a way of keeping friendships. As a child of six, I did not know of diplomacy or the legitimacies of binding contracts nor the numerous different kinds of it. I only took the paper as I had assumed all were one and the same. I signed my name and had the prince sign his and stamped it the ring my father had me hold for safekeeping. I did not know that any agreement signed by the prince and sealed with the royal stamp would be legally binding even at so young an age.”

The silence that followed echoed in the throne room. Your boots scraped against the marble floor and you were once again reminded that you were unfit to be meeting with the king in such a state. Women, even common folk, were expected to be in dresses and long skirts. You shunned those articles of clothing whenever you were traveling the waters, finding breeches, shirts, and practical boots better than the full hoops of the skirt that often got in the way whenever you walked about the ship. The sailors were used to seeing you in this garb and did not find it offending at all that you were not dressed like a lady but to the eyes of the king and the Grand Duke and perhaps the many a footman you had passed before entering the throne room, you looked downright scandalous.

“We will keep you in the palace, Y/N.” proclaimed the king, which made you turn to him once more.

Evidently, the news shocked the Grand Duke as well because he turned to the monarch with his question plain on his face. King George held up a hand to his adviser and sat on his throne before answering.

“We will keep you in the palace until we find a solution to this impasse.”

“Of course, Sir,” you replied because what else was there to say?

“Surely, you understand the delicacy of this matter. I would not have you proclaiming to the people that you are the new princess—or rather, had been their princess for near two decades already.”

You were offended at his insinuation but did not show it. You had no right to show indignation towards the king.

“In here, you are contained. You shall still be free to roam the palace grounds as you please but we will not have you out of it. If so, you shall have a chaperone and we would be informed of your itinerary.”

You only nodded. You were a creature of adventure; the very notion of being confined within the palace grounds was comparable to have your wings clipped. But I had started this problem and I must pay for my childish ignorance, you thought to yourself.

You were set to sail with your father once again to the return to the distant land of Wakanda. It had been your life; traveling from one kingdom to another. You had learned of cultures and languages, of food and dance, and everything it was that you could ever beheld. Your home kingdom might be tiny and beautiful but the world beyond held more possibilities that you never once thought was within your grasp.

Oh, how you would have wanted to walk your father’s footsteps as Brookland’s new diplomat. You learned from all the travels you have done; your father had made you his apprentice and had taught you everything he knew of his trade. People still underestimated you. It was unheard of for someone of the fairer sex to be an ambassador, so you had never tried. You only acted as an adviser to your father within the confines of his office walls, honing your innate talent of persuasion and diplomacy.

Sadly, your dreams were once again stalled.

“Your Majesty, since I am common folk, my presence in the palace will arouse suspicion.”

The king nodded. “It is all being taken care of. My son's cousin will be arriving soon and you shall pose as a guest with him. You are merely early in your arrival.”

“Of course, Sir.” You paused and looked down to your clothes before turning back to the monarch “There is also a matter of my trunks, Your Majesty. I have arrived empty-handed.”

King George looked at you from your head to your boots. “Are all your clothes thus?”

You shook your head. “No, Sir. This is what I wear when I am traveling the seas. I do not find it practical to wear a skirt whilst I am on deck and the tides are high.”

“Ah, yes. You travel with your father.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He nodded. “I cannot allow you to leave the palace so soon after we have talked. Write him a missive for your trunks but do not mention your business here.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You may go.”

“My King,” you genuflected at the monarch before doing the same to the Grand Duke. “Your Grace.”

You stepped backwards, keeping the front of your body towards the king as you slowly went out of the throne room. Once the doors had closed, you heaved a great sigh and straightened, only to knock against someone behind you. You turned and gasped, rooted in place, at the sight of the man before you.

It was the prince. Prince James Buchanan Barnes. Prince James with his dark hair and fiercely blue eyes and features that told you he truly was the son of Brookland. He had grown handsome over the years, which shouldn’t come as a surprise as his father was a handsome man as well. James—were you allowed to address him as James?—had a firm look on his face, a bit reminiscent of his father’s gaze as he watched you. Broad of the shoulders and fit of the body, his muscled legs were encased in tight white breeches and his coat brought out the color of his eyes. They were as blue as the sea and as clear as the sky.

Your husband. What an absurd notion!

“Careful,” he said as he held you by your arms. His voice was deep and smooth and it caressed you in places that you never thought were possible.

You ogled at the prince. As much as you wanted to  look away, you cannot. His gaze held you, searching your eyes and quite frankly, perhaps even your soul. Even if you had nothing to hide, you were scared of the things he would find there. Like the matter of your being bound to him in marriage.

Your heart skipped a beat. It had nothing to do with your being nervous of him finding out about your accidental ploy of being married to him but more of the fact that you had never been looked at like how he was looking at you. Your appearance was unkempt and you had not been able to properly tie your hair but something about his stare made you feel like you were much more beautiful than you truly look. He made you feel emotions not even the best of the world could offer and for the life of you, you had no idea why.

Your knees buckled and you bent down in an ungraceful curtsy. It did not escape your notice that your arms were still caged by his fingers. The heat from his hands seeped through the soft cotton of your shirt into your skin and you gave a shaky breath. “Your Highness, my apologies. I did not see you—”

“James. I thought the hunt would have run you ragged.” You heard the king say as the doors open behind you.

Princes James gave you curious smile and you realized he had no idea of who you were or why you were there. Would it change if he knew? You wondered absently. Your eyes still lingered on his lips.

“It is all right. No need to apologize.” he said.

You turned to his eyes as you rose to your full height. His hands left your arms and the imprints that he left warmed you as you were ushered away.

…

…

…

Prince James Buchanan Barnes was, for all intents and purposes, an apprentice. His whole life he was schooled to be the next king of Brookland. He was taught to be a soldier to know of battle strategies. He had masters who taught him philosophies and history. He was knowledgeable in three languages because his parents had insisted he learn two more so he can converse with more people. He was, essentially, an apprentice monarch. And a king, even one still learning the trade, needed a queen.

Which brought him to the matter at hand. His father had promised his hand to the Grand Duke Zemo’s niece. He had never set eyes on her before and was only sent a portrait that he and his father had looked at and had deemed her beautiful. Her country was powerful and Brookland—albeit teeming with natural and mineral resources—needed to ally with a kingdom for its protection. Marrying a princess from a rich and powerful country was the correct step in ensuring the best for the kingdom. It was what his father had done with his mother. It was fortunate that his parents had fallen in love despite the circumstances.

“I was not aware Princess Natasha was arriving today,” James said as he pried his eyes away from your retreating figure.  

It was unusual for him to see a princess not in their finest clothes, either, especially one from a country that was advertised to him as bountiful and rich. He had no qualms, however, about seeing you in such a state. Clad in what was commonly considered as undergarments, you were a small person than what the portrait had let on. You came only until his chin and even then, you still seemed tinier. Your legs were enclosed in buckskin leather, much like his own when he went hunting, and it made him wonder if maybe you hunted as well. You wore a dress shirt beneath a curious piece of waistcoat that you had tucked in the waistband of your breeches and it accentuated your rounded hips and ample bottom. You wore none of those heeled shoes he knew ladies favored. Instead, your feet were clad in flat boots that went up to your knees and showcased your perfect calves. Albeit you were dressed inappropriately, it did not escape him that you were dressed practically. And sensually, he thought to himself.

You were beautiful in the portrait but in person, you were exquisite. The painter failed to capture the smattering of freckles across your nose or the hint of lightness on your hair. There was a small scar on the side of your cheek that he did not notice when he beheld your picture; perhaps the painter found it wise to not include the blemish lest it deterred him from making an offer of marriage to you, even if it was not his idea to be wed to you. Be that as it may, the scar endeared him to you. It made you appear more tangible, more… real, and nothing like the uptight version your uncle had painted you to be.

“Heavens, no. I would never associate myself with that—that thing.” Zemo said, looking at your back in what could only be termed as disgust.

James raised a brow. So you were not the princess. “I would assume that thing has a name and a purpose?” When his question was met with silence, he turned to the king. “Father?”

“Walk with me, boy.” was all the king said. He waved his hand away to his adviser. “Thank you, Grand Duke. We do not need you in this talk.”

“Your Majesty. Your Highness.” Zemo bowed as King George led James away.

He followed his father down the Hall of Portraits. He remembered his lessons of his family’s history, of the important people who had changed the laws and the lives of many. King Alphonse. Queen Mariam. Queen Winnifred, his mother. He knew it best not to dwell on his mother’s untimely death around his father, whom he knew was still mourning her. She had left them so suddenly and they both had not been the same ever since. It did, however, brought them even closer.

“James,” his father started as they arrived in the garden. “There is a matter I wish for you to know.”

Rarely did his father venture this far into the gardens. Queen Winnifred had kept a small alcove for her personal use, locked away but still kept clean by the royal gardener. James often went there when he needed time for himself. His father did not.

“Yes, father?” James asked, watching his father closely as he sat.

Since his wife’s death, the king’s health had deteriorated rapidly. The doctors had deemed it a great depression, one the king will brave in a few months’ time, but James knew his father would never recover from the death of his beloved. Every day he feared his father would leave him so soon after his mother had. The mere idea frightened him.

“You are promised to Princess Natasha,” King George said, to which James nodded. “But there is a small matter we must address before you wed her.”

He raised an inquiring brow. “Does she not want to be wed?”

“She wishes to be wed to you, James. However, we find ourselves at a loss for something you have done some twenty years ago.” He patted the space beside him on the bench and the prince sat.

Twenty years ago? What could he have done at eight years old for his father to remark on now?

“Are we bringing up old sins, father? Because if we are, I do not remember what I had done at eight years old that would bear remembering.”

“My boy,” the king clasped his son on the shoulder. It was a fatherly touch but also that of a king, a touch that brooked no argument.

“You are already married.”

James frowned. Married? Surely, he would have remembered the festivities that came with the union.

“Married? I don’t remember meeting my bride or signing a marriage contract.” He turned to his father. “Are you well, father? Perhaps we should return inside. The sun—” The sun had killed his mother. He did not wish the same for his father.

The king waved his hand away. “I am well, son. Do not worry about my health.” He looked sternly at the young prince. “You are not married to the Princess Natasha but you have been married for two decades now.”

“Father, I must ask you to speak plainly. I had been married for two decades? And not to the princess I was promised? Then who am I married to?”

“Do you know anyone by the name of Y/N Y/L/N?”

James’s frown deepened. He readily denied but stopped short.

Y/N. The name sounded familiar to him. And then he knew. He remembered; the girl he had invited inside is mother’s secret garden and had played with under his favorite tree. Familiar eyes that lit up as they smiled at him, the same ones who had looked upon him just a few moments before. You had brought a paper to him—a promise of friendship, you had said—and he signed it with no hesitation.

“She is that girl you thought was the Princess Natasha, my boy.”

James looked back to the door they had came through, as though he would see you appear if he called your name out loud.

“She is your wife.”

[deliciousangelfestival]

I Hate It When You're Drunk - 8

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden romance between a princess and her bodyguard leads to a dramatic wedding, but their happiness is soon overshadowed by political intrigue and betrayal, testing their love and resolve.

I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist

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The empty hall echoed with the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor and the frantic rhythm of heavy breathing. Someone was running.

You sprinted as fast as you could toward where Bucky was. The gunshot had come from the changing room where Bucky had been just moments ago. You had barely finished changing from your wedding dress into another gown for the reception when the noise tore through the air, sending a chill down your spine.

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear clawing at your insides. Did your father have a change of heart? Was Bucky in danger?

As you reached Bucky's room, you gasped at the sight before you. Bucky was on the floor, cradling a man's lifeless body in his lap. The scene was eerily reminiscent of The Madonna della Pietà, with Bucky's anguished face mirroring the sorrow of the famed sculpture.

"What’s going on?" you asked, breathless and desperate for answers.

King Leonard turned to you, his expression cold and calculated. “Another rat snuck in, trying to harm James. But our new head of security, Isaac, took care of it.”

Isaac, who had discreetly concealed his gun, straightened his suit with a calm, practiced elegance. He bowed slightly in your direction. “The safety of the royal family is my top priority,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying a detached professionalism.

"I see," you replied, trying to mask the turmoil swirling inside you. "Could you leave us alone, please?"

“Of course.” King Leonard snapped his fingers, summoning another guard who swiftly moved to lift the lifeless body from Bucky's lap.

Your husband remained silent, his face a mask of shock and disbelief.

As Leonard and the others prepared to leave, he glanced back at you both. “Don’t keep our guests waiting too long,” he warned, before directing his gaze at Bucky. “Change your clothes,” he added, his tone leaving no room for argument. Then, with a final, authoritative nod, he exited the room.

Bucky slowly stood up, his movements heavy and dazed. You reached out to steady him, noticing the blood splattered across his suit. A wave of dread washed over you; this was surely a bad omen—someone had died on your wedding day.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” you asked, your voice trembling with concern as you gently touched his arm.

Bucky shook his head, his eyes distant. “No, I’m fine,” he muttered, still in a daze. “I should get changed.” He moved toward the wardrobe, where a spare suit had been prepared for him.

As he changed, he remained silent, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. The shock of seeing Isaac—the man he had once trusted—turning traitor was still too much to process. Isaac, who had seemed so loyal and full of hatred for the king, had betrayed them all.

“Who was he?” you asked softly, hoping to break through Bucky's silence.

Bucky snapped back to the present, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before looking away. “Just like the king said, another assassin,” he replied, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

“I’ve known you for too long,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on Bucky. “I know when you’re lying.”

He flinched at your words, the truth of them hitting home. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he walked toward you. “It’s true that someone tried to kill me,” he admitted, his voice low and strained.

You stared at him in disbelief. “You? Why would someone try to kill you?”

He shrugged, a casual gesture that didn’t match the gravity of the situation. “I managed to put him down and wanted to ask him some questions, but the new head of security shot the assassin before I could,” he said, letting the half-truth slip from his lips. He hoped it would be enough to satisfy your curiosity.

“Let’s go,” Bucky added, extending his arm to you. “We can’t keep the guests waiting too long.”

Realizing he wasn’t going to share more, you sighed inwardly and looped your arm through his. Together, you walked down the long hallway, your footsteps echoing in the vast space.

As you walked, the image of the lifeless body being carried out of the room replayed in your mind. You kept your expression neutral; under your father’s tyrannical rule, you had seen more than your share of death and had faced countless assassination attempts yourself. You had lost count of the number of times you’d almost died, only to be saved by Bucky’s quick actions.

But this assassin—this man—had looked different. He wasn’t like the trained killers you were used to seeing. He had looked malnourished, haggard, dirty. An assassin should be stealthy, composed, deadly—a shadow that could move unseen. But this man had been anything but. His appearance raised more questions than answers.

You gritted your teeth, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. What was going on? The day wasn’t even over, and already your husband was hiding things from you.

Finally, the two of you reached the large double doors leading to the reception hall. The head butler, standing tall and formal, bowed before opening the doors with a flourish. His voice rang out in a clear announcement, “Your Highness, Princess Y/N and Duke James Buchanan Barnes.”

'Duke.' Bucky could hardly believe it. He had been given a royal title—a position he never thought he’d occupy. As he stepped into the grand hall and saw everyone rise from their seats and bow, a strange feeling washed over him. In the past, he would have been among them, standing to show respect or remaining still like a sentinel. But now, everything felt different. The weight of his new role pressed on him, heavy and unrelenting.

The room was filled with dignitaries and high-ranking officials, all eyes fixed on the two of you. As you made your way to your designated seats near King Leonard, Bucky couldn’t help but feel a mix of discomfort and disbelief.

You took your seat next to your father, the tyrant king, while Bucky sat beside you. You could feel the tension radiating from him, his jaw clenched and his hands resting stiffly on his lap.

Leonard stood from his seat, lifting his champagne glass high, and the room fell silent in anticipation of his words. His gaze swept over the gathered guests, and his voice, deep and commanding, filled the hall.

“To my daughter, Y/N, and her husband, James Buchanan Barnes,” he began, his expression a mix of pride and authority. “Today, we celebrate not just the union of two hearts, but the unity and strength this marriage brings to our nation. May your lives together be filled with loyalty, love, and an unwavering commitment to our great kingdom. To the happy couple!”

“To the happy couple!” echoed the guests as they raised their glasses and drank to the toast.

The reception started in a formal, reserved manner, with dignitaries and high-ranking officials mingling and offering their congratulations. But soon, the atmosphere shifted, becoming more lively and animated. Laughter and chatter filled the room, and the formal lines began to blur as the guests relaxed.

Your friends surrounded you with warm smiles and excited chatter, each of them eager to share their well-wishes. One of them leaned in with a grin, her eyes sparkling. “Your dress is absolutely stunning, Y/N! It’s already gone viral online—everyone’s talking about it!”

Another friend chimed in, laughing, “And let’s not forget about Bucky! He looks so dashing in his uniform; he’s gaining a whole new fanbase!”

Their enthusiasm and joy were infectious, and you found yourself smiling, momentarily caught up in the happiness around you. It reminded you of why you had wanted this day so much—the joy, the celebration, the love shared with friends and family.

As you glanced across the room, you noticed Bucky deep in conversation with Archer, the Defense Minister, and several other military officials, easily identifiable by their uniforms. A pang of sadness tugged at your heart. Bucky didn’t have many friends here; most of the people surrounding him were tied to duty and obligation rather than friendship.

“Champagne, ladies?” Cassian suddenly appeared beside you, a tray of champagne flutes balanced effortlessly in his hand.

Your friends eagerly took a glass, and Cassian gave you a knowing smile. “Ladies, could you give us a moment? I have something to say to the bride.”

“Of course,” one of your friends replied, and they moved away, leaving you alone with Cassian.

Once you were alone, Cassian offered you a fresh bottle of champagne with a sly grin. “Care for a drink straight from the bottle?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Are you trying to make me look like a fool?”

Cassian smirked. “Just trying to help you forget your misery. Marriage troubles already, right after the vows?”

Your glare was sharp, and Cassian chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “I’ve been to a lot of weddings,” he continued, “and usually, the couple is inseparable at the reception. But you two? It’s like you’re miles apart.” He shook his head, feigning disappointment.

“Shut your mouth, or I’ll have you deported,” you snapped, half-joking but serious enough to wipe the smirk off his face.

Cassian raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “You actually have that power, you know.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you challenging me?”

His smile widened. “Only if you become queen.”

You rolled your eyes in exasperation and turned away, heading toward Bucky, who was still engaged in conversation with Archer.

As you approached, Archer’s tone was low and serious. “What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into, Bucky? Who was that dead man?”

Bucky sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a long story. It’ll take time to explain everything.”

“Bucky,” you called softly as you reached them.

Archer immediately bowed. “Your Highness,” he said respectfully before stepping away to give you privacy.

“What were you two talking about?” you asked, your curiosity piqued by their hushed conversation.

Bucky offered a tight smile. “Just some military matters, nothing to worry about.”

“Oh,” you replied, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. You wanted to know more but could see he wasn’t in the mood to share. Your hand instinctively reached for his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze, hoping to reassure him that you were there, ready to support him.

A commotion erupted outside the grand hall, shattering the festive atmosphere of the wedding reception. The heavy wooden doors suddenly swung open with a loud creak, and a group of people entered. Every head turned, gasps filling the room as the guests took in the sight. The newcomers were dressed entirely in black, their faces obscured by black veils that covered them from head to toe.

You and Bucky exchanged bewildered glances, neither of you recognizing the mysterious figures.

Leonard, his face contorted with anger and suspicion, barked, “Guards!”

At his command, the royal guards quickly assembled, forming a tight circle around the intruders, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords, ready for any sudden movements.

The figure at the front, clearly the leader, stepped forward with a slow, deliberate grace. A soft, yet firm voice emerged from beneath the veil, a voice that was unmistakably familiar. “It’s been a long time, Leonard.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You whispered, almost to yourself, “It can’t be…”

The woman in black continued, her voice calm but resolute. “I have no hatred, Leonard. I’ve come only to offer my blessings to my niece.”

She moved forward with an elegant stride, and the tension in the room seemed to make every step echo louder than it should. The guards hesitated, unsure whether to stop her. Her presence seemed to command an unspoken respect, and slowly, they parted to let her pass.

Even now, after all Leonard’s tyranny, the former queen’s influence lingered like a haunting memory. Alicia Svensson, the former queen of Veridian, the widow of your uncle, who was murdered by Leonard in his ruthless rise to power. All of his siblings and their families had perished, except for Alicia. On that bloody day, she had been away, visiting her ailing father in her homeland.

She was fortunate to have survived, but she lost her husband and sons. The grief drove her to madness, and she vowed never to return to Veridian, the land that had taken everything from her.

But here she was, walking through the hall with a quiet authority that silenced the room. Her steps, though soft, seemed to echo with the power of her past. Alicia stopped in front of you and Bucky, her veil still obscuring her face.

“I still remember both of you running through my gardens,” she said, her voice tinged with a melancholy that cut through the silence.

Memories flooded back—days of playing in her lush gardens, carefree and happy, under her watchful, loving eyes. Her sons, you, other kids, and Bucky are playing together. Before Leonard’s betrayal shattered everything.

Steeling yourself, you took a step forward, trying to hold back tears. “Aunt, thank you for coming,” you said softly, reaching out as if to embrace her.

But as you got closer, Alicia leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper only you could hear. “I pity you, dear. You, who know nothing or are too ignorant.” Her long nails grazed your skin, cold and sharp.

You flinched, pulling back, your eyes wide with shock and confusion.

She made the sign of the cross and prayed aloud, “I pray that you will one day replace your father and become a better ruler.”

Leonard’s patience snapped, his face red with fury. “You insolent woman!”

But Alicia was unfazed. “You can’t touch me, Leonard. I am here as a diplomatic guest,” she said, her voice steady and defiant.

Leonard’s lips curled into a sneer. “Then my guards will drag you and your servants out of this house.”

At his command, the guards moved in, roughly grabbing Alicia and her entourage, escorting them toward the exit.

Leonard turned to Bucky, his expression cold. “Make sure they leave the premises immediately.”

Bucky nodded, his face a mask of stoicism. “Yes, sir.”

As the uninvited guests were escorted out, the tension in the room slowly began to dissipate. The remaining guests murmured among themselves, shocked and curious about what had just transpired.

Leonard, ever the manipulator, raised his voice to calm the crowd. “Nothing to worry about, my friends. Please, enjoy yourselves! More champagne, wine, and food!”

But for you, the festive atmosphere was gone. The shooting, the death, and now Aunt Alicia’s ominous appearance—it all felt like a bad omen, a dark shadow over what should have been a joyous day.

With everyone preoccupied and the focus shifting back to Leonard, you found a moment to slip away unnoticed. Grabbing the bottle of champagne that Cassian had offered earlier, you quietly left the ballroom, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

The hall was dimly lit by the moon’s pale glow, casting long, eerie shadows on the stone walls. You walked slowly, lost in your thoughts, replaying the events of the day over and over in your mind. Once you were far enough away, you pulled out the cork with a loud pop and brought the bottle to your lips, drinking deeply. The cold liquid burned slightly as it went down, but it wasn’t enough to drown the turmoil inside you.

One bottle wouldn’t be enough to make you forget. Perhaps you’d find another, or a third, to numb the pain of this day’s bitter revelations.

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[sj-ficrecs]

fic rec 16!

SO! i haven’t been reading fic in a long time bc i’ve been reading books BUT, discovered this fic rec in my drafts from 2022 lol oops!

This is purely a fic rec blog, always reblogging fics I enjoy. usually Bucky x reader, sometimes Steve x reader, Chris Beck x reader, etc. So check out more I’ve reblogged on this page. :)

PREVIOUS FIC RECS HERE! // Q & A

Bucky x reader:

A Correspondence of Obligations by @pellucid-constellations prince!Bucky x princess!reader

“ Obedience, duty, pristine smiles—raised as the princess of an oppressive kingdom, you knew nothing else. Your father signed your life away at the ripe age of five, black ink bleeding into a contract between nations, fate cemented with the flick of a quill. So when the time came to fulfill the promises you were too young to make, you expected much of the same in the land of Brookshire. But Prince James had other plans, as did the enemies looming outside the castle walls.”

Sky Full of Song by @wkemeup pirate!Bucky x pirate/siren!reader

“Despite the bitter resentment of the crew, you found a home on Captain Barnes’ ship; on the ocean where you belonged, at the side of a captain you swore loyalty and heart to. But when course is plotted for a legendary island, the secret that has kept you alive for years is threatened to be revealed.”

Starting Gate by @navybrat817 motocross!Bucky x reader

“You attract the attention of your coworker's friend who just happens to be a handsome racer who plays for keeps.”

Oath by @softlybarnes (part of the Sugar series but can be reader alone) 40s Bucky x reader

“Bucky finally proposes to Y/N.”

Awake My Soul by @foreverindreamlandd​ Bucky x reader (Zombie apocalypse au)

“It’s been five years since zombies first started walking the Earth, destroying anything and everything in their wake. Now, in this apocalyptic world, fighting for survival comes as naturally as breathing. The one thing you’ve learned ever since they arrived, though, is that the living can be so much more dangerous than the undead. When you stumble across two young, scared boys lost in the woods and being chased by walkers, you go against your better judgment and help them to safety. Little did you know that helping them would lead you to Bucky - an angry, grumpy, distrusting member of the camp Shield. Bucky has zero interest in having you enter his life. He’s been hurt before and lost too many people to risk experiencing that kind of pain again, and he knows that there are secrets you aren’t telling the group. Yet, when push comes to shove, and you’re put at risk, he’ll stop at nothing to keep you safe.”

No Such Thing by @sanguineterrain college athlete!Bucky x reader

“You’ve been assigned to write a column for your school paper on the team’s spectacular running back. You don’t care very much for your university’s football team; you just can’t understand the hype, okay? Turns out your distaste for football bigheads was exactly on point: James Barnes is insufferable.”

Appointments by @buckycuddlebuddy Bucky x reader

“bucky barnes, finally being able to live freely in 21st century, accidentally gets a fuck buddy and starts to rediscover himself. the only weird thing about this situation is that you have to make an appointment to get railed by him.”

Recipe for Disaster by @seventven dad’s best friend!Bucky x reader

“your dad’s best friend bucky knows you have a crush on him. your parents invite him to join your family for the annual winter vacation”

In the Embers by @foreverindreamlandd Firefighter!Bucky x Fem!Plus Size!Adopted Rogers!Reader

“Bucky Barnes. The boy next door. Your brother’s best friend. The guy you’ve been in love with for as long as you can remember. Unrequited, that is, seeing that he only thinks of you as a sister (at least, that’s what you always thought). It’s been about a decade since you’ve returned home and reunited with the boy - now man - with stunning blue eyes and a smile that still puts a million butterflies in your stomach. You never expected to come back, thinking that you’d spend the rest of your life as a famous artist in Los Angeles with your boyfriend/manager. But things change, life gets messy, and now you’re back in your childhood bedroom living with your mom and working at the townie bar to make ends meet while you try to figure out what the hell to do next. The one thing that hasn’t changed? Bucky Barnes is still the boy next door, and there’s no running from him this time.”

Love in Four Acts by @chouettedubois neighbor MCU Bucky x nurse!reader

“You’re a nurse living in Brooklyn. You’ve got a crush on your next door neighbour who doesn’t seem to know you exist. One day his cat finds its way into your apartment, forcing you both to finally meet. That’s when you learn that he’s James Buchanan Barnes, ex-Winter Soldier. Well, there goes your chances. Or maybe getting close to a superhero isn’t as far-fetched as it sounds.”

Plaything part one + two by @captain-buckyyy virgin!Bucky x reader

“bucky’s innocence is just too much for you to resist”

calamitous love series by @classylo princess!reader x commoner!bucky

“Reader is a modern princess under immense pressure to marry before she takes the crown, she choose her Prince Charming four years ago… but he didn’t choose her back. He left her with a broken heart and her kingdom to rule alone. Four years later, reader is in an arranged engagement with a man who she can see herself loving… one day… everything seems to be falling into place until her original prince shows up at her engagement party determined to win her back before her wedding day.”

Not Even a Little by @intrepidacious roommate!Bucky x reader, modern au

“The problem of living with Bucky is that he makes it impossible not to fall in love with him. Even though you could list several hundred reasons why it’s a bad idea. And you have.”

Followed You by @cwbucky Bucky x reader

“You meet this guy named Bucky through Instagram. Even though neither of you knows what the other person looks like, you two immediately connect. Things get complicated when you start your new job at Stark Industries and you catch a glimpse of the handsome Sergeant Barnes.”

Matched by @nony-bear Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader

“Bucky Barnes always dreamed of settling down with a mate but after decades of trauma leaving him a grumpy old man with a robotic arm he’s convinced no one could love an alpha like him. Begrudgingly he follows his therapist advice and enrolls in the Swan Program a mate matching program offered but the new aged bio-tech company Mate-Tech”

Body Talk by @boxofbonesfic trainer!Bucky x plus size!reader

“You’re determined to come out of this breakup a better you, but Bucky likes the you you are.”

King in Your Story by @sinner-as-saint viking!Bucky x princess!reader

“Everyone in your father’s Kingdom knows that the Vikings often raid the castle’s warehouses. They take anything they want. Food, gold, weapons. Although they never seem to hurt your subjects. But you had had enough. Given your training, and your need to defend your Kingdom, your father agrees to let you trap the Vikings and bring them in for negotiation because this habit of theirs needs to be stopped. You hated the Vikings, and you thought you always would. Until the moment you met a pair of blue eyes which made your world stand still. Bucky was the Chief of his people; muscular, rough and tumble, and arrogant. Not to mention a shameless flirt, and he got on your nerves the most. But you knew it from the very day you laid eyes on his very handsome face that no matter how hard you tried, some part of you couldn’t fully hate him, nor resist him - even if he was the rival.”

Oh Baby, Oh Baby by @tooearlyforthis Bucky x reader

“As a new recruit, y/n isn’t allowed to go on all the missions yet. To make matters worse, they left behind another, someone that she had despised ever since she first stepped foot in the compound - James Buchanan Barnes.”

Before You by @m4tthewmurd0ck prince!Bucky x baker!reader

reader is a baker who happens to work at a shop the royals enjoy getting baked goods from :)

Steve Rogers x reader:

Rising Tide by @pellucid-constellations surfer!Steve x reader

“A relationship built up from the ocean floor, you and Steve had lifetime worth of memories—most best friends did. But things were beginning to change, unspoken feelings creating a rift that cast a shadow over the bond you called home. Unfortunately for you, rip currents are often hardest to spot in the dark”

[holylulusworld]

Dishonored

Title: Dishonored

Summary: You fell. For his lies. For him. From grace.

Pairing: Prince!Steven Grant Rogers x Princess!Reader; Lord Barnes x Princess!Reader (no polyamory)

Warnings: heavy angst (I’m not joking), lies, manipulation, hurting people for revenge, implied loss of innocence, unwanted/unplanned pregnancy, Steve being the worst, sadness, hopelessness, desperation, suicidal tendency/suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, fluff, we stan Bucky in this story

Rating: Mature

Words: 2,7 k 

Square filled for @anyfandomfluffbingo: Square 9: “I never loved you.”

Square filled for Lulu’s Winter Bingo 2022: Square 4: Winter

Square filled for @steverogersbingo: C3: Free space – Royal AU

Square filled for @buckybarnesbingo: C2: Sharing body heat

Please heed the warnings for this story. It contains triggering content such as attempted suicide.

You fell. For his lies. For him. From grace. 

How do you move on when your honor and grace get ripped away by the man who promised you love and devotion?

He lured you in – sweet-talked you into giving him the one thing you cherished the most. Your honor and innocence. Reserved for your future husband, and the man loving you unconditionally.

Lies. All lies.

It was a moment of weakness making you stumble and fall. Into his bed. Into his arms.

He took you apart, gentle, and slow. A miracle to you when you think about the aftermath.

A few months earlier, your father’s castle

“I can't believe Prince Steven came to woo me,” you mumbled to yourself. The prince arrived earlier this morning and you hoped your dreams would come true. You always felt a deep connection to the prince, and now, he’s here to talk to your father.

“Princess!” Your chambermaid scolded. “You shouldn’t be out here in the cold! Your father called for you. He wants you to meet Prince Steven. He will stay at the castle for a few weeks until he travels to his uncle’s castle.”

Your face fell. He came here to sit out the approaching snowstorm, nothing else.

How could you have been foolish enough to believe he came to ask for your hand?

“I’m…coming,” you tried to not cry. All your hopes and dreams ended up on the ground - shattered and torn. “We cannot let our guest wait.”

“Father,” you stepped confidently toward your father to peck his cheek. He was always soft on you, and let you break a few rules. Especially when it came to etiquette. You’re his little thunderstorm, a wild child with a bright mind and softness that’s hard to find among royals. “I heard we have a guest.”

“He’ll be here in a minute,” the king softly said. He ran his hand over your hair and patted your head. “I need you on your best behavior. I angered the prince, and we don’t want him to tell his father the king about it.”

You wrinkled your forehead. “What? I don’t understand,” you whispered so no one could hear. Your father is one of the kindest people you know. How could he possibly anger the prince?

“Your Highness,” Steven walked inside the throne room, accompanied by his best friend, and confident Lord Barnes. The brunette watched you with interest while the prince’s eyes drifted toward your brother and his fiancé, Lady Margaret Carter. “I see the princess will join us for supper.”

“Your Highness,” you turned your attention toward the prince. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again. It’s been too long.” 

Steven eagerly took your offered hand to press a chaste kiss to the back of it. “The pleasure is all mine. Thank you for having me.”

“Lord Barnes,” you smiled at the brunette. Last time you saw him he was reading a book in the garden, chuckling at something he read. “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay. The library is always open for you.”

“Princess,” Lord Barnes smiled wildly. “You look as beautiful as ever.”

“Oh…my…you are too kind, Lord Barnes,” you replied gracefully and batted your eyelashes. “It’s always a pleasure having you around.”

Supper was more than pleasant. Lord Barnes kept the conversation flowing while the prince watched you the whole time. He complimented you and raised his glass on your beauty and grace.

You were surprised. His eyes seemed to be glued to your brother and his fiancé. Out of a sudden Prince Steven turned his attention toward you. He even stopped his friend from talking to you.

Your cheeks heated up, and you felt warm when he placed his hand next to yours, subtly brushing your pinkie with his finger.

It was the first time he was so close, and you allowed yourself to bask in his attention for as long as it lasted. 

The next days felt like a dream come true. Steven asked you to spend time with him and go for a walk in the gardens. For propriety's sake, a chaperon accompanied you and Steven. But you didn’t care at all.

The moments spent with the prince were the best of your life. He made you smile, and laugh and your heart flutter.

All that mattered to you was his smile, his soft blue eyes, and the way he looked at you. It was the same way your father looked at your father and your brother at his chosen bride.

“I wish these days will never end,” you dared to hope Steven would say the same.

He took you by surprise when he replied. “Even if they end,” he looked you deep in the eyes, leaning a little closer to whisper, “I’ll always come back to you."

The prince was about to press a soft kiss on your forehead when your chaperone stepped in.

“Your Highness, please do not forget you are wooing for a princess, not a wench. Remember your manners,” she tutted. “We should head back inside. It’s getting colder, and I can smell the snow.”

Marjorie, your chaperone was right. Winter came faster than expected, accompanied by a snowstorm that wouldn’t let up.

The whole country was suffering from the cold weather and the snow masses.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The snowstorm and unforgiving winter kept Steven and Lord Barnes from leaving your castle.

You didn’t mind. Most of the time you spend with Steven, chatting about his kingdom, childhood, and love.

Yes. Love.

You held hands, and when your chaperone wasn’t looking, he even stole kisses. Steven promised you that love is the most precious thing to protect in this world.

He played you well, you give him that.

Your heart couldn’t take being apart from Steven for a single moment. So, you gave him everything you had to offer, and what he was craving. 

On one of these cold winter nights, you let him sneak into your bedroom, and take you to bed. He kissed you, and when he settled between your thighs you believed he would make you his wife and love you forever.

When it was over, he smirked, and his eyes grew cold. Your heart dropped as he hastily redressed. “Steven, what are you doing?”

“My plan went well, didn’t it?” He looked at you, making you feel ashamed of yourself. You grabbed the blanket to cover your body. The one he ruined with his touch. 

“I don’t understand, Steven. My love. What has gotten into you? You said you love me.” You cried as he looked at you, wrinkling his nose at your disheveled state. 

“I never loved you,” he coldly replied. “Your father forced the woman I love to marry your brother,” he sneered and curled his lips. “I stole his beloved daughter’s innocence. What will he do if he finds out you are carrying my bastard under your heart?”

“Steven, I don’t…” Your voice trembled. “Why? I…”

“I came here to ask your father to stop this insanity and let me marry Margaret. I love her dearly. He refused and wanted to send me away.”

You remember now. Your father told you that he upset Steven.

“But…she came here, begging my father to help her. She wanted to marry my brother. Margaret wasn’t my father’s first choice. Some princesses and ladies were more beautiful and with a better reputation. He agreed because she was in love with my brother and threatened to kill herself if he didn’t allow her to marry my brother.”

“What?” He looked a little shell-shocked at your words but shook his head. “Lies!” Steven yelled, making you flinch. “Shut your mouth, wench. Never talk about Margaret like that again.” 

He left without looking back and slammed the door shut. Leaving you devasted, heartbroken, and ruined.

After that night, he never looked at you. He declared that he was going to stay at the guest wing until it was time to leave.

One month later, …

Hopelessness is the only thing left in your life. You can feel a new life growing in your womb. Every passing day brings you closer to doomsday. 

Soon you won’t be able to hide the secret. Soon everyone will know you got dishonored.

Foolish girl letting a man take what should have never been his.

You run your hand over your belly, choking out another sob. If you want to save what’s left of your honor, you must take matters into your own hands.

Shakily you glance at the balcony parapet again. If you do it now, you can save your honor, and your father’s. 

Stepping toward the parapet you release a shuddery breath.

What if it’s not high enough? What if you survive? What if they ask questions?

“No,” you step away from the parapet. This is the wrong way to go. You must let it look like an accident. Or maybe, if you can find someone selling you a potion, you can end your life painlessly and fast.

The river looked inviting to you. You looked at the floating water, fascinated by its power and grace.

Once upon a time, you were gracefully too. 

That was until your grace and innocence got ripped away from you like it meant nothing to him. “If I step into the river, it will be over soon. Maybe they will believe it was an accident. I slipped and fell into the river.”

Slowly, you stepped toward the water, closing your eyes for a moment. This was the only way to save your honor. The water would wash away the sin you committed and take your secret with it.

You took another step, and another until you felt the cold water kiss your feet. “Cold.” You whispered but walked farther into the water, feeling it tug at your gown. “It will be over soon, my little stardust.” You rubbed your belly. “I’m so sorry.”

The water surrounded you, almost reaching your waistline as you heard someone call for you. “Princess! NO!”

It was Lord Barnes. His heart stopped beating for a moment when he saw you in the river. He knew something was wrong with the way his friend acted out of a sudden.

“Nooo!” You heard the water splashing and then, two strong arms wrapped around you like anchors holding you in this world. “What are you doing, princess.”

“I cannot…he dishonored me,” you choked out a heartbreaking sob. “I cannot remain. No man will want me. Not after he took my innocence and…the baby…it will be a bastard.”

Lord Barnes stiffened when the words floated out of your mouth like the water in the river. He couldn’t believe his friend and confidant would do such a thing to you for revenge.

“My love. No,” he dragged you out of the water, and wrapped you in his arms, letting you cry in his chest until there were no tears left in you. Lord Barnes said. “Stay with me, my love. I’ll keep you warm. We need to keep each other warm.”

“But I—” You lifted your head to look at him with tear-clouded eyes. “You should’ve let me die. Father will…”

“He won’t know. Not about what happened with Steven, nor what you did today. What a coincidence I came by when you slipped and fell into the river,” he whispered and kissed your temple. “I came back to ask for your hand, and to wed you in spring.”

Your heart thundered in your chest at his words. “I’m…ruined. You don’t want me, or my bastard child.”

“I will love it like my own, my love,” he kissed your cheek. “You are not ruined, princess. Only a little broken. But we can fix this. I got my heart broken once too. We will heal together.”

“My lord, the babe…it’s not yours…I can’t…you can’t.”

“It’s cold, let’s head back to the castle and get you warm. I’ll call for a healer…”

“Not a word about her condition except for the cold,” Lord Barnes warned the healer. “If you say a word about the other thing,” he patted his sword, “you won’t be able to spend all the gold you’ll get.”

“Not a word,” the healer nodded and walked back inside your room.

“Marry my daughter?” Your father eyed Lord Barnes warily. He came back a few days after Prince Steven and he left the castle. Alone, and with a grim expression. “But…what about the prince?”

“He’s a foolish man, my king,” Lord Barnes growled. “He lost his heart one too many times to a pretty face. I cherish your daughter, her grace, and her kindness. If you allow me to woo her, I’ll be forever grateful. I’m not a prince but love her dearly.”

“She admires you too,” the king replied. “She talked about you, and that you love to read as much as she does. If my daughter agrees, I’ll agree on your bond.”

Lord Barnes didn’t wait until spring to wed you. He insisted on marrying you within another month. 

You watched him with sad eyes as he desperately tried to fix his friend’s mistake.

“Lord Barnes, you can still find a better bride,” you took his hand to press a soft kiss on his knuckles. “I’m thankful that you tried to save my honor, but I cannot make you miserable for the rest of your life.”

“My love,” he whispered. “I fell for you the first time we met. If only I knew about Steven’s plans, I wouldn’t have stepped back and let him woo for you.”

“It’s not your fault, only mine,” you sniffled, and wiped your eyes. “I wasn’t raised to become a wench. I decided to let him do this to me…”

“Y/N, you’re not a w-.” He shook his head. “Never use that word again,” he angrily said. “He was the one stealing the light from you. You’re still an innocent angel.”

“I know that I’m not,” you hid your face in his shoulder, allowing yourself to let the mask you wear so well slip. “You’ll get damaged goods, my Lord.”

“Call me James, or Bucky, my love,” he gently rubbed your back. “I promise, you are far from damaged goods for me. You are going to be my wife and I’ll love you. And the babe will get all my love too. They are going to mine.”

“What a beautiful pair, don’t you think?” Your mother asked. “She looks happy, my love.”

Your father smiled wildly as he watched you and your groom share the first dance. You smiled and laughed as Bucky twirled you around.

“I was worried about our daughter for a while. Prince Steven’s departure left her heartbroken,” the king held out his hand for his wife. “Let us join them and celebrate their union.”

The queen smiled and took your father’s offered hand. She didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.

A mother always knows when her child is in need. 

She will never break her promise to herself and tell her husband that she saw you at the river when Lord Barnes saved you, or that she heard what you confessed.

“He is a good man, my love,” the queen whispered. “Our beloved daughter couldn't find a better man.”

While everyone celebrated your wedding and danced, Steven stood in a corner, watching you and his best friend happy together.

He squared his jaw and balled his hands into fists. His heart dropped watching Margaret and your brother join you on the dance floor. 

Everything he did was in vain…

Tags in reblog.

[fandoms-writings]

Okokok so this could be for knight bucky 👀

(if reader is like a queen or princess), Bucky is in charge of your safety, he's always near and one day he escorts you to the gardens for a walk and him and reader are alone and he's so tempted to grab your hand!!!! It's aching to know what it's like to feel your skin against his (hand scene from Pride and prejudice iykyk🤭)

carrot you genius

i definitely followed this prompt pretty loosely and it kinda took on a form of it's own but i hope you enjoy it <3

Yes, Your Grace

Part 2 | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Knight!Bucky x Queen!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: a little bit of angst, but that's honestly about it.

You never lasted too long at galas, especially when they weren't in your own kingdom. 

Not having the familiarity of your staff. The smell of salt in the air as the ocean breeze washed in through your open corridor. The certain click of your shoes against the marble floors. It was all yours and safe and commonplace. 

Being in someone else's kingdom, at an event where everyone wants a chance to dance with the unwed queen was exhausting. You almost never left the dance floor with how many suitors were trying to win you over, to take the seat of King next to you. You never enjoyed any of them though. You knew they were just in it for the title, the power. Most of them not believing you should be able to rule on your own. That it was sacrilege that you still remained unwed. 

But you put on a brave face, a large fake smile to appease them and to keep the peace. If you didn't provoke them, it gave them no reason to storm your castle's walls. 

The exhaustion was evident on your face as James watched you from the sidelines. He was to have eyes on you at all times, especially since you weren't in your own home. He was your protector, hand picked by your father before he passed to be your personal knight until you relieved him or reassigned him. You had yet to do either in the five years he'd been by your side. 

His armor clinked as he made his way to you, mindful not to bump into anyone with the bulky metal. Expertly moving through the sea of royals, he paced his steps with the musicians playing in the corner - he'd practiced this dance with you too many times to count. You'd wanted a partner to brush up on your skills and you'd asked him one day during your breakfast. That was the closest he'd ever been to you for that long.

Your dance partner spun you out from their arm and towards James, who gave you a knowing look when you spotted him. He smirked at the pleading in your eyes and quickened his pace, stopping next to you. 

"Pardon me, Lord Wilson, I was wondering if I could steal her grace for a moment," He requested, the tone in his voice really leaving no room for argument. He watched as you curtsied and the lord bowed to you before you turned and grabbed James's elbow, allowing him to lead you outside. 

"I thought you might like a breath of fresh air," He leaned down a bit so you could hear his whispers as you passed other attendants. "I could tell you weren't enjoying the way Lord Wilson was spinning you around the floor. 

The noise that left your lips was a mix between a scoff and a laugh and it pulled James lips into a smile as he looked down at you. 

Your hand slipped from his elbow and he let you walk just a step in front of him. You glanced over your shoulder, "I appreciate the concern, as always, Sir James." 

"I thought we discussed this," He started, following you as you wandered the gardens that, in his opinion, could never rival your own, "I requested you not to call me James."

"You did," You smirked, stopping at a stone railing that overlooked the small pond as you turned to face him entirely, leaning against the stone, "but I do love seeing you in a fit over it." 

"I'd hardly call me reminding her highness of my request a fit," He chuckled as he stood just out of reach, which you took notice of. You always did. 

"Why are you standing over there," you asked, your smile slipping, "I won't bite." 

He gave you an easy smile, soaking in your attention, basking in it. 

It wasn't that you never gave it to him or that you were stingy with it. In fact, it was quite the opposite. You were always speaking with him. He accompanied you everywhere you went, so why wouldn't you? What kind of queen would you be if you didn't speak with your personal knight at all while he protected you? 

You two had grown close over the years, your relationship becoming more of one between friends rather than one of subordinate and superior. And James didn't mind one bit. He'd never tell anyone, for risk of being reassigned away from you, but he loved you. 

He was in love with you. 

He had been for years and it was one of the many reasons that he was so persistent about protecting you, even when you told him to get some rest - he'd just sit on the floor outside your chamber doors those nights. You started having Steve switch with him at night so he could sleep too, but he'd only sleep for a handful of hours and get washed up before coming back to switch again. 

You held your hand out to him, waiting for his gloved fingers to gently grasp yours. He did so, but at the expense of the tug in his chest. 

In all his years of serving you, he'd never touched you. He always made sure something was between the two of you, his gloves, your fur coat, something. 

It wasn't that he didn't want to touch you, he was actually dying to do so. He dreamed of the day that he could feel your skin against his, but he didn't want to taint your perfectly smooth complexion with his dirtied callouses. You deserved someone with a softer touch than his own. You deserved someone's hands who hadn't been covered in blood and dirt and grime and sin. 

He let you guide him to stand next to you, waiting for you to drop his hand, but you continued to hold on to it, absently fiddling with the leather covering his skin. God, what he wouldn't do to be able to actually hold your hand. To brush elbows. To feel your fingers on his arm as he led you around town. 

"Jamie?" He glanced up from your fingers to see you staring at the still water of the pond. 

"Yes, your highness?" 

It was a moment before you responded, but you didn't look over at him. Instead, you gazed down at the stone under your fingertips, scratching your nail along its surface - something he knew you did when you were nervous. 

"Do you think they're right?" If he hadn't been waiting with baited breath, he would've missed the question with how quiet you were. He figured you didn't want anyone else hearing your conversation so he dipped his head lower towards your ear. 

"What about?" 

"About me," You glanced up at him then, causing his heart to almost leap out of his chest. He'd never been close like this. Close enough to speak in hushed tones, sure, but never enough to see the details in your irises, the individual lashes that brushed against your cheeks when you blinked. "Do you agree that I'm some - some mad woman to not be married? To not have a husband to do the ruling while I give him heirs?" 

"Well," he started, testing the waters and giving your fingers a gentle squeeze, "I guess that depends on why you have yet to wed someone." 

You were silent at that as you refused to look away, but you squoze his fingers back, gripping his hand as you pulled it closer to you. 

He wanted to pull away from you, surely this close proximity would bring more talk about you to the other royals. Someone of your standing shouldn't be this close to him, holding his hand, noses almost touching. 

Yet, here you were. 

"I fear someone may already have my heart," You stated, glancing between his eyes. A pit formed in his chest and he had to ignore the ache as he steadied his breathing. 

Of course you had your eye on someone. With as many potential suitors as you had, how could you not already have a certain person in mind? But that left the question - why hadn't you wed them yet? Surely, whoever had caught your eye would be pleased to wed you. Who wouldn't was the better question. 

"Why haven't you wed them yet, your grace?" He gruffly asked, swallowing down the sudden surge of emotion in his throat. He was your personal knight - he couldn't let something like this break him down. Especially when you were not within your own palace walls. He had to remain calm and collected, at least until you retired for the evening. Then he could let the cracks spread until morning. 

You tipped your head down to look at his chest as you placed your free hand over the armor there, your nails gently tapping against the metal. "That's a sensitive conversation that shouldn't be held outside of our home walls, don't you think?" 

You looked back up at him, almost craning your neck with your proximity. He nodded, dazed at how your voice sounded when you said 'our home.' It wasn't the first time you'd referred to it like that, you did both live there. But there was something about the way your voice lightened when you said it. Like it was lifting a weight off your chest saying you wanted to tell him your secret. And though he may not be ready to hear who'd stolen your affections, a sense of pride filled him. You trusted him enough to tell him this secret of yours. 

And even if he wasn't ready to hear it, he'd protect that secret with his life if need be. Because it'd be for you.

He nodded, muttering a word of agreement and you smiled, but it lingered longer than usual. The corners of your mouth stayed lifted as you pried your gaze from his and released his hand, turning back to the path. You took a couple steps away before looking back over your shoulder at him, your smile ever-present. 

"Let us go home, shall we?" You asked. 

He shoved his nerves down as far as they'd go, steeling himself in preparation for your secret, and nodded once.

"Yes, your grace." He stepped away from the pond to follow you to the waiting carriage. 

He knew the time would come when you'd find a proper suitor, he couldn't expect you to stay unwed forever. 

He just didn't expect it to hurt as much as it did.

[sebastianstansqueen]

Yellow: Part One

A/N: I’m planning on updating this by random probably once a week, or every few weeks we will see what happens, but we’ll see what happens, if you want to be Tagged, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open feed back is always appreciated!

Wordcount: 2,267

Warnings: Angst, Forced Marriage/Arranged Marriages, I think that is all, but if I missed something please tell me.

Masterlist // Series Masterlist // Taglist open// 🎶Playlist🎶

Tags: @cherryblossomsky - - @babylooneytoonz - @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond - @leyannrae - @avengerlex - @pineprincess - @nik2write - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08 - @scxrletrecsmarvel - @hallecarey1 - @rosecentury -

Bucky lived in no way an out of ordinary life for a common folk in Valencia, currently he sat in the town tavern and drank as fools got into fights and arguments, and mistresses of the night bargained with men and women alike. He didn’t pay much attention to these people, he was alone and he preferred it that way, when a cloaked figure came up and sat next to him, he tried to hide his annoyance. A pint was put in front of the person who began to drink from the glass. Bucky kept his gaze forward, pretending not to notice the stranger. He gripped his mug tighter, weighing whether or not to say something when the figure spoke first, their voice low and calm, the feminine tone of the stranger's voice caught him off guard. His eyes flickered toward the hooded figure, though he still didn’t turn fully to face them. A woman? Usually a respectable woman wouldn’t find herself in such a place. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not looking for conversation. Just passing through.” She spoke passively. Bucky nodded, the woman peeked his intrigue, her presence lingered in his thoughts as he drained the last of his drink.

As the barmaid decided it was closing time Bucky was one of the first to leave as was the cloaked woman. She seemed to run in the direction of the forest near the castle, Bucky liked his casual life but this woman felt magnetic in so many ways Bucky was gonna do the first out of the ordinary thing in his life, follow her. 

Her legs moved knowing if she got caught the reprimanding would never end, it wasn’t until she was in the forest she knew she was being followed, she did the only thing she could think of and that was hide in the tree line, as she watched for who was following her. It was the man from the Tavern? He stopped, catching his breath, and then spotted her. She was half-hidden behind a tree, watching him. “Who are you?”

“You shouldn’t be here.” She ignored his question. 

Bucky stepped closer. “Nore should you.” He scoffed. 

“I know where and where not to be.” She spoke with confidence. 

“Maybe. But I’ve seen enough to know something’s not right. If you’re in trouble, I’m not just going to walk away.” He shot back at her, a serious look in his blue eye shone brightly. 

She looked at the dark sky and she sighed, the distant sound of rustling, almost like footsteps, caught their attention. Her expression hardened again, and she took a step closer to him, her voice dropping to a whisper. “We need to keep moving. If they find us here, it won’t end well…I’ll explain what I can.” He followed her as she moved swiftly through the dense forest, the shadows of the trees swallowing them up. The woman glanced back at Bucky, her face barely visible beneath the hood. “Stick close.” she instructed, her voice a low murmur. “And try not to make any noise.”

He matched her pace, his eyes scanning the dark woods for any sign of danger. “So, what’s this all about? Why are we running?”

She sighed. “I snuck out.” The woman said, confusing Bucky more. 

His pace stopped making her slow down. “From where?” Now he didn’t know if he was traveling with a criminal or something of the sort. 

Y/n signed and spun on her heel. “The castle, now come on, I have to get back before the sun comes out, if you want an explanation then I suggest you keep moving with me.”

Bucky’s hesitation was still evident. “Why would you sneak out of the castle unless your a prisoner or something.” 

She was getting annoyed by the man's questions. “I’m the princess okay, now follow me. Or you’ll be taken to the dungeons by them.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise, his steps faltering for a moment. “The princess? You’re telling me you’re royalty?”

“Not what's important right now.” She got him to follow her, once she was sure they lost them, they stopped and rested, she answered Bucky’s questions.

Bucky looked around, trying to make sense of the situation. “Why are you running from the castle?”

“I’m not running away, as I said I have to go back before the sun rises, I just snuck out for a few drinks, and to get away.” Y/n now removed the cloak hiding her, Bucky now could see she was young and stunning. 

Y/n’s eyes met Bucky’s, and she could see the confusion and concern etched on his face. The moonlight highlighted the delicate features of her face, making her look even more ethereal. Bucky’s gaze lingered on her, trying to reconcile the image of a royal princess with the woman who had been sitting next to him in a tavern.

“So.” Bucky began, still processing her words. “You’re telling me you’re a princess who just wanted a night off from all the royal stuff?”

“If I could I would forever be off from royal stuff. It's not as great as you’d think.” She sighed. “I know I'm lucky, it’s just, let me just ask you, if you were to marry someone you don’t know would you be okay with it?”

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly at her question, the gravity of her words sinking in. He looked around, as if the forest could offer some clarity. “Marry someone I don’t know? That sounds like a nightmare. Who’d want to spend their life with a stranger?”

Y/n’s shoulders relaxed a bit, a trace of relief in her eyes. “Exactly, and I’ve been arranging to marry this person since I was child, that’s why I'm enjoying as much time as I can till that happens.” 

Bucky’s expression softened with empathy. “I can’t imagine what that must be like. To have your whole future decided for you before you even had a say in it. It sounds like a prison of a different kind.”

As they spoke the sky began to turn into a crip blue. “I have to go now.” Y/n said standing from beside him, on the forest floor. 

Bucky offered her a reassuring smile. “If you ever need anything or if you just want to talk, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you…” She led on not knowing the man's name yet. 

“Bucky, uh James.” He corrected. 

“Y/n.” She smiled, feeling a warmth in the brief connection they shared. As she made her way back to the castle, Bucky headed towards town.

Y/n found her secret way of getting out and into the castle wall. “You're late.” Natasha, her lady in waiting, had her arms folded over her chest.

Y/n sighed, then a sweet smile pulled onto her lips. “I know, but it was the greatest night by far.”

Bucky shut the door of his home he shared with Sam and his wife Monica, Sam was a royal guard, and Monica had a shop in town to sell things that came from their farm that Bucky kept. “Didn’t Hela close up hours ago?” Sam asked, getting ready to leave for the castle.

“Yeah, I went for a long walk.” Bucky lied easily knowing that Sam’s job might have obliged him to tell the king. 

“Sure you did, what's with the dopey look then? You met someone!” Sam smirked, and had his mouth hanging in shock. “I’ve told you a hundred times you could have any maiden you want in town, the fall over you.” Sam jabbed. “So you gonna tell me?Is it Doloras? Or what about Yelena?” 

Bucky’s mind was pulled back to his time with Y/n. “I didn’t meet anyone, I just went for a walk. Now if you mind I'm gonna get a bit of rest before I take care of the animals, and fields.” Sam’s lips pierced, he was gonna tell Steve of Bucky’s update, maybe he’d know?

Y/n and Natasha made it to her chambers. “We have to start getting you ready, did you even sleep?”  Natasha fussed over her, Y/n’s father wasn’t known to be a kind man to the staff of the castle nor his own family, don’t even begin on how he was as a king. “I told you to be back-” “Before sunrise the sun isn’t even up yet.” Y/n sighed. Y/n moved to her dressing table as Natasha began working on her hair and makeup. The castle was already waking up, and the sounds of servants and courtiers preparing for the day filled the halls. Y/n’s mind drifted back to her conversation with Bucky. The brief respite from her royal duties had been refreshing, but now she had to face the reality of her impending marriage.

Natasha worked in silence for a moment before speaking, “Your father will be meeting the King’s emissaries today. The wedding plans are moving forward rapidly.”

“I’m aware,” she said, her voice laced with resignation. “The entire court is buzzing about it.” Natasha’s hands paused for a moment. “You seem more troubled than usual. Is it just the wedding, or is there something else on your mind?”

Y/n glanced at her reflection, the weight of her responsibilities and her recent night out clashing in her thoughts. “It’s not just the wedding,” she admitted quietly. “Last night was... a reminder of what I’m missing. I spoke with someone who made me feel like there’s more to life than what’s laid out for me.”

Natasha's face fell. “Y/n.” Natasha’s voice was a warning almost, she hadn’t ever supported the marriage due to Y/n being her friend, but Natasha also warned Y/n not to be seen or caught, knowing if someone caught word of the princess leaving all signs would point to Natasha helping her. “You know I’ve always wanted the best for you. But you must be careful. If word gets out about last night, or if anyone suspects me of helping you…we both know the consequences.”

“I know it was risky but he followed me into the forest when I was returning to come back.” Y/n sighed, looking at her hands more thoughts of the night spent with Bucky, she couldn't tell Natasha that he knew she was princess, she’d lose her mind. 

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of being followed into the forest. “He followed you? That’s risky. You should have been more cautious.”

“I was careful.” Y/n said quickly, her voice edged with frustration.

Natasha softened, her tone empathetic. “I know it’s hard. But you have to keep your focus. There will be time to address your own desires later. Right now, you need to play your part and keep your head down.”

Y/n sighed, glancing once more at her reflection. “I’ll do what I have to. But I can’t help but wonder if there’s a way out of this... a way to find something for myself.”

Bucky awoke, he began to get ready to head out and begin his work for the day and as he did the night before played in his mind of the princess and her confessions, and how genuinely good she seemed. It was different and hard to fully understand the woman talk about her life, being royalty seemed to have been nice until he had spoken with her now hearing the other side that comes with it, Bucky felt lucky, as he stood tending to crops. As Bucky worked in the fields, the weight of his encounter with Y/n lingered in his thoughts. He found himself contemplating the stark contrast between his modest, uncomplicated life and the gilded cage that Y/n described. The notion of having one’s entire future predetermined seemed almost alien to him, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her.

Soon Bucky made his way into town to see Maria, at her store, as he did he noticed the crowds lining the streets, this confused him till he saw the blue and gold carriage rolling through the main path to the gate of the castle, this was a usual thing for the town when a wealthy or highstates person came they would show respect to the person by gathering. “Who is that?” Bucky asked as Maria came to his side on the path where everyone stood. 

“A King, I assume for the Princess.” Maria shrugged, Bucky’s eyes widened as the realization dawned on him. Last night had been a rare moment of freedom for Y/n, and it might have been her last. The weight of that understanding settled heavily on him.

As they spoke, other townsfolk nearby chimed in, their voices a blend of speculation and excitement. “We’ll be united with the kingdom of Eldoria if this wedding comes to pass.” One man said, his tone edged with fear. The thought of joining Eldoria, with its strict laws and militaristic culture, was unsettling for many. 

“You don’t think the king would allow it right?” her voice shaking with apprehension. Eldoria's rigid patriarchal norms were a far cry from the values of Valencia, where women had greater rights and freedoms. The idea of such a union highlighted the stark contrast between the two realms and fueled fears.

The more Bucky listened, the more his stomach tightened with unease. The thought of Y/n marrying into such a repressive society was troubling. Eldoria's brutal legal system and its emphasis on male dominance painted a grim picture of what Y/n’s future might hold.

[buckrecs]

2023 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 2

masterlist | ✨- fav fics | status - complete

All of them are COMPLETE Series.

1. Chicken by @delusionalwriterr

Bucky x Reader

You and Bucky Barnes shared a strange relationship with each other and the team was getting tired of it. When a mission goes wrong, will you be forced to admit your feelings for each other or will they remain buried?

2. sweet reverie by @demxters

College!Bucky x Reader

bucky asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend but after what you thought was sweeter than a dream has you facing a harsher reality.

3. The Time of the Prey by @subwaysurf45 ✨

Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader

The younger sister of the most talked about princess in the kingdoms really can’t do much except smile and nod. When Natasha, your sister, finally goes to moves all of you to Shieldshire to marry her beloved Prince Steve you are left with your art, all alone. But one Knight took it upon himself to keep you company, and that company was all you needed to get through wedding season. Will that company last or will it be ripped away from the both of you? A war is starting and it seems targets are being made. 

4. super rich kids by @traitorjoelite

College!Bucky x Reader

kids with too much money, parties every night, and an incident with your best friend’s brother is just the norm on the upper east side.

5. Bring You Home by @sunflowersoldat ✨

Bucky x Reader

Y/N travels back in time to get Steve’s help for one last mission, but not everything goes as planned.

6. The Colour of Rain by @delaber

Bucky x Reader

On the run from his violent past, Bucky has sought refuge in a small town in Mexico where he enjoys the peace and quiet of not understanding a word of Spanish. A peace that is violently disturbed when he runs into the most annoying woman he has ever met.

7. All The King’s Men by @nastybuckybarnes ✨

Alpha!King!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Your father always said that if it weren’t for your presentation, he’d think you were an Alpha. There’s a reason for that. Growing up in a world where Omegas are treated like garbage, you’ve fought for the respect that you have. Until you’re sold off to an old King desperate for a bride. But you will not lay down and present for your new husband. No, you will fight back.

8. Peaches by @noctumbra

DBF!Bucky x Reader

what they were doing was wrong, both of them knew that. it had to be kept as a secret. not everyone would understand what they have, she knew that much. they’d look at them and see an older man misleading a girl so much younger than him. it wasn’t the thing, though. that had never been the thing. it wasn’t misleading, taking advantage ─whatever they called their situation. it was love. forbidden, not-society-friendly, but love. 

9. Sweet Dreams by @abovethesmokestacks ✨

Bucky x Baker!Reader

Sometimes you start talking with someone, and you realize you share an interest and a wish for a certain supersoldier to be cut som slack. Enter cupcakes.

10. Fuck Up The Friendship by @summerofsnowflakes

Bucky x Reader College AU

Fed up with having your feelings played with you decide to have some fun with a with your friend Steve.

11. A Sweet Old Fashioned Notion by @sidepartskinnyjeans

Bucky x Reader

As the dust settles on the second 'snap' Bucky has been getting to know Brooklyn again. His neighbourhood has changed a lot, but it's changed for you too since you got blipped back. Bucky is still pretty old fashiond at heart, there were things he expected from life, to get married, to have a family. Simple things that seem far away now especially when online dating is so hard. Maybe something more traditional would be good for both of you.

12. Soldier, My Soldier by @cryptidcasanova

Winter Soldier!Bucky x Reader

“I am the writing on the wall, the whisper in the air. Without these things I am nothing. So now, I must shed blood.” He lulled at the base of your throat. “Sweetheart, come with me.”

13. Homesick at space camp by @atlaese

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

dying on a cold spaceship lightyears away from home wasn't what you expected

14. Spirits in the House by @redgillan

Detective!Bucky x Reader

Reader is in a coma after a car accident. Bucky moves into your apartment and find your spirit still hanging around.

15. Sugary Sweet by @all1e23

Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader

Is it all just sugar or something more? 

16. Missing Piece by @likeahorribledream

Bucky x Reader

When Bucky first arrived to the compound, Steve was his only friend and the only person he trusted himself around. That is until Steve introduces him to you, his best friend. Bucky was fascinated by how often you and Steve would hug each other. It had been a very long time since anyone had touched him in such a loving way and it didn’t take long before Bucky found himself craving your touch, but whenever you’d get too close he would flinch as if someone had hit him. His trauma still too fresh a wound for him to be comfortable with someone touching him. Then one day, he finally fights his instincts and let you touch him. He hadn’t realized how truly touch starved he was until he feels the warmth of your skin against his. Something clicks for the both of you in that moment, you had found your missing piece. As long as you were with each other, you were home. You both tried to fool yourselves into thinking you were just friends, really close friends. Friends that needed to be together almost every minute of every day and who needed to hold each other to be able to sleep at night.

17. Metal Arm and Short Skirts by @buckyarchives

Bucky x Doctor!Reader

waltzing in as the new head of the Avenger's medical division, impressing everyone, and... scaring Bucky with your incredibly short skirts. Bucky's having a hard time looking at his arm as anything other than a deadly weapon, and you're more than happy to help him.

18. Scars by @chickenfics ✨

Bucky x Reader Western AU

Running from a past that haunts you and a future that is unsure, the last thing you wanted was to take up with a stranger. Strangers, you'd learned, are almost always more trouble than they're worth. But when dangers from the life you're trying to leave behind get too close for comfort, drastic times call for drastic measures, and the stranger you'd once feared becomes the only person you can trust -- and perhaps the only person you'd call your friend. Now you both just have to make it out alive... 

19. The Color of Blood by @theidiotwhowritesthings

Bucky x Agent!Reader Soulmate AU

In this world, a person didn’t discover color until they locked eyes with their soulmate. As an agent of SHIELD, finding your soulmate was hardly a priority. Especially since you were currently dealing with the shocking discovery that HYDRA had been pulling the strings behind SHIELD actions this entire time. Life was all about timing, and you were about to find out that your timing was absolute shit.

20. Everybody’s Watching Him (But He’s Looking At Her) by @writing-for-marvel

Actor!Bucky x Assistant!Reader

The entire world’s eyes are on movie star Bucky Barnes, what he’s wearing, who he’s dating, even the mystery behind why he needs a prosthetic arm - but Bucky doesn’t care about all that, he’s only got one thing on his mind, you.

21. 27 Dresses by @beccaanne814

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

You are the epitome of “always a bridesmaid, never a bride.” You think you know what love is, but sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of you.

22. Heal by @chucksfavouriteprophet

Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

For months you managed to distance yourself from Bucky Barnes, the alpha you long for. But one night you have no choice but to comfort him, something which brings out emotions in both of you. Except it also brings out emotions in the Winter Solider, which results in a devastating turn of events that neither of you might be able to come back from.

23. Dangerous Woman by @samthemarvelfan

Bucky x Reader

You know he blames you, but you never thought he’d hate you.

24. Witness Protection by @mymoonagedaydream

Bucky x Reader

You'd only been living in New York for a few weeks when Natasha introduced you to James Barnes, the man who’d change your life forever.

25. Everything’s Better in Westview by @espinosaurusrexex ✨

Bucky x Reader

Bucky and Y/N sneak into Westview to have the perfect life. Away from late Steve and Tony, Vision and Natasha, they let themselves be consumed by suburban magic. To their surprise, however, some of these people aren’t so dead in the town. And there are some other weird things happening that make them question their sanity. But that’s okay, right? ‘Cause everything’s better in Westview.

26. Trying by @moonlight-prose

Bucky x Reader

Bucky Barnes was a new person. He survived a war with Thanos, finally getting rid of his triggers, and losing his best friend. He didn’t think there was anything else to survive. That is until he meets you in a bookstore and you become something he is scared of losing. An old villain has shown himself and suddenly you are the target of a new ploy to bring the Winter Soldier back.

27. unconventional methods by @marvelouslizzie

Bucky x Adult Content Creator!Reader

Bucky Barnes has a big problem: he is too anxious to date and too old school to enjoy porn. But he needs some kind of relief, and he needs it right now. After getting an accidental boner during a mission, Natasha suggests him an application that seems to be exactly what he needs. Will your content solve the problem for him? Or will it create new problems?

28. ephemeral by @aescapisms

Professor!Bucky x Reader

Bucky Barnes fell in love with you, but the universe isn’t all that forgiving.

29. Bulletproof by @amandaoftherosemire ✨

Bucky x Reader College AU

You, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes have been the best of friends since middle school. On top of that, you’ve been in love with Bucky pretty much the whole time. Everything changed after the three of you got to college, however. Over the past couple of years you and Steve have become even closer but things between you and Bucky have been strained since the night he broke your heart. Can anything bring you back together?

30. The Heart is a Deep Ocean by @dreamlessinparis

Bucky x Reader Titanic AU

Titanic was known as the ship of dreams. For you, it was the dream of getting home, or so you thought. From the moment you locked eyes with James Buchanan Barnes, all those dreams changed and your life was never the same.

[buckyalpine]

Soft King Bucky

Im in the middle of writing this smutty fic with arranged marriage and King Bucky and in the middle of writing it, i had another thot pop up which I have to get out right now like RIGHT NOW. 

Imagine soft king Bucky on your wedding night. Its the first time you’ve ever been intimate with someone and your anxiety has been high all night because you know the maids and servants will inspect the sheets the next morning, your honor and dignity thrown to the wind.

But that's the way things were. 

You gave yourself to him, letting him touch you and make love to you, sealing the both of you together as you had promised in your vows. He was careful and soft, cradling your body to his, focused on knowing you would be protected along his side, putting your pleasure before his.

You wanted to melt into him, feel every ounce of the love he was willing to give but anxiety held you from letting go, worried about the aftermath, worried about if he see you were pure. 

The euphoria that consumed you both pulsed through you as you sat up, your stomach dropping at the stark white sheets. You scrambled up slightly in hopes of something but the sheets were anything but tainted, pure and clean as if you’d never laid on his bed. 

“I’m-I’m sorry-” Tears well in your eyes, panic rising in your chest, fearing the anger he’d feel, seeing you as tainted and impure. 

“What for darling” He whispered, concerned etched on his face as you let out a choked sob, not knowing what you could possibly go, there was no evidence to show you were pure, untouched before him, to show that he was the only man to have you this way. You squeezed your legs shut, curling up in a ball, shame consuming you, already hearing the words the kingdom would brand you. “My princess?” 

“I didn’t-I don’t understand, the sheets- you’re the only one I’ve-” You trembled as he pulled you into his arms, shutting your eyes, unable to watch his disappointment when he saw who he married. Bucky’s brows furrowed, taking a moment to understand why you were so distressed, hiding your face away. He thought over your words, tension crawling up his back, his jaw clenching when he understood your fear. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, keeping you close to his chest, pressing a firm kiss to your head, his lips brushing your hair as he spoke.  

“I agreed to marry the intelligent and headstrong princess to rule by my side because her mind and beauty had my heart when I saw her. A fierce woman fit to be by me, when she rode her horse into my kingdom alone, demanding justice for her people without fear of what could happen to her” 

He reminisced the day you strode into his castle, head held high, not a drop of fear in your eyes with a dagger strapped to your hip, sword firm in your hand.

He fell in love before you opened your sweet lips to tell him right off. 

“Look at me princess” He cupped your cheeks making you meet his intense gaze, thumbing away the tears that streaked your cheeks, “I shared my bed with you because I wanted to love you in in every way possible, not as a test of your worth” 

You were still tensed, curling up into him further while he moved you to lay on top of him, your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He pulled the covers over you, protecting you in a cocoon of warmth, tilting your chin to meet his eyes again. 

“You have my heart, that is as pure as it gets” tucking your hair away from your face, pulling you in for a kiss to your lips. “No one else gets to decide that, princess, no one” 

[nastybuckybarnes]

Kingdom Fall  -  One

Pairing: Farmboy!Bucky X Princess!Reader 

Summary: When an invading Kingdom forces you to flee your home, you find yourself stranded in an enemy kingdom on a farm, and the farmboy is nothing like you thought he would be. 

Warnings: Violence, Angst, Fluff, Language, More to Come

Word Count: 2.1K

A/n: Gonna spit out part one of this royal AU because im a what? A slut for royal AUs. I have 7 parts of this written lol. I also have more DBF!Bucky on the roster sooooo yeah im excited for that. Also wanna work on a viking!Bucky X reader. I’m also working on a few one shots and teddy bear picnic, so I HOPE to do another 12 days of ficmas or something like that but I'll keep y’all posted

Anywhoodles, I love you all <3 

~*~

“They’ve set fire to the Palace! We must hasten!”

Screams echo from the Palace as you rush through the servants' hallways, your personal guard pushing people aside in his haste to get you to safety.

You mutter out soft apologies to the women you pass, gathering the base of your gown and hiking it up as you sprint after him.

“Come, I can smell the stables. This way!”

You run after him, slowing only when you see your horse.

“Hurry, Princess. Up,” Steve says, helping you up onto your horse and climbing onto his a second later.

“Now we ride!”

As if hearing his command, your mares both start sprinting away from the Palace.

Away from your home, your people.

A risked glance over your shoulder at the flaming building breaks your heart. But, what’s worse, is the group chasing after you and Steve on their own horses.

Following your gaze, the blond glances back and pushes his mare to run faster, desperate to get you to safety, to do his job properly without fail.

“Go, Princess!”

You follow his command, looking back again when you hear him slow his horse.

“Steve!”

With a yank on the reins, you guide your horse back to his, heart in your throat when you see him unsheathe his sword.

He’s sacrificing himself to keep you safe.

“Go, Princess! Now!” He shouts, holding his shield in one hand and a sword in the other.

“No! I won’t leave you!” You grab at your own sword and slide off your mare, stumbling against the uneven ground.

“No! You are of no use to your people if you are dead. You must go.”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I won’t leave without you, Steve.”

He lets out a sigh and presses his forehead to yours for a brief moment.

“I will find you, Princess. This, I swear. Now you must go.”

“You will find me,” you order softly, pulling away from him and looking into his ocean-blue eyes.

He nods firmly, determination in his eyes as you climb back onto your horse.

“I will,” he promises, turning to the sounds of battle.

Your mare starts sprinting away, and only moments later do you hear the sound of swords clashing.

It takes every ounce of self-control you have not to turn around and fight by his side.

But he’s right.

Only the Gods know if your sisters survived, and if they didn't then you’re the only hope your Kingdom has.

You ride through the night, your mare expertly dodging trees and roots and running far away from the danger.

You’ve no idea how far you’ve gone nor where you are, when your horse stumbles on the uneven ground, launching you off of her back and sending you flying into the woods.

Your head smashes against a tree and you tumble to the ground in a heap as the world around you fades to black.

~*~

You awake with a soft groan, your head pounding and your body aching.

It takes a moment for you to remember what happened, but when you do you’re lurching upright regardless of the pain in your head.

Instead of being on the forest floor, however, you’re in a soft bed. The sky is not above you, instead a roof is.

You push to your feet and examine yourself, noting the lack of bindings around your arms and no pain between your legs.

So you haven’t been taken by someone who wishes to do immediate harm to you, but that doesn’t mean that they won’t hurt you at some point.

After taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you slowly open the door, peaking around before fully emerging.

You’re alone.

You explore the small house, keeping your breathing light and your feet even lighter.

It has one bedroom, a small kitchen, and an even smaller bathroom.

Your sword and weapons are all piled on the kitchen table, filling your heart with glee. With quick fingers, you slide them all back into place and hold your sword tightly, then head to the front door.

As you’re about to leave, with one hand on the doorknob, the door gets pulled open from the outside.

A huge body steps through the doorway without noticing you, and then you’re colliding with a hard chest.

“Oof!” You exclaim, nearly tumbling to the floor.

A study arm wraps around your waist, keeping you steady, and then you’re pressed against a warm chest.

“Whoa, easy! You shouldn’t be moving too much! That wound on your head looks pretty bad, you must've hit it hard when you fell.” He slowly drops his arm from around your waist and steps around you to inspect the wound in question.

“I cleaned you as best as I could while keeping you decent and your modesty intact, but I gathered some clothes that used to belong to my sister, and I need only light the embers beneath the tub. Now that you’re awake, you can truly clean, I’m sure you must want to.”

You stand there in the doorway, absolutely flabbergasted as this man drones on and on.

He must not know who you are, then, you decide.

“Here, I'll show you the way.”

You already know the way to the bathroom, but you follow him anyway, leaving a wide berth in case he makes a hostile move.

“Who are you?” You ask skeptically, watching as he keeps his back to you, leaving him vulnerable. He must know how many weapons you have, for he’s the one who took them from you. So why is he trusting you like this?

“My name is James,” he says with a small smile thrown your way.

You nod slowly, assessing him carefully.

“I am (Y/n),” you reply after a moment, waiting for the pieces to click in his mind, for him to realize who you are and try to kill you, but he never does.

“It’s very nice to meet you, (Y/n). The water should warm up soon. Linger as long as you’d like, I’m going to be in the kitchen making some food and a nice warm cup of tea for you.”

He leaves immediately after, pulling the door shut behind him.

You wait for a lock to click, for footsteps to barge into the house, or for some sort of fire to start, but nothing happens.

You wait for half an hour, each second ticking slowly in your mind, your sword held tightly in your grasp. Eventually, you strip down to your white slip and step into the warm water, a dagger held in one hand and a washcloth in the other.

Maybe it is an ambush, but if it isn't, you don't want to waste this opportunity to clean yourself.

Throughout the entire bath, the door stays closed and nobody tries to enter. Not once.

Once you’re finished, you dress in the clothes he gave you. The dress is a little snug, but a tug on the stitches fixes that swiftly.

It’s nothing spectacular, but you can move comfortably and even fight in it if you need to.

With a dagger in one hand and your sword in the other, you slowly emerge from the bathroom and into the kitchen where James is seated, humming softly to himself.

“How are you feeling?” He asks once he notices your presence.

“Better. Thank you.”

He nods, that gentle smile on his face again.

He rises to his feet and motions to the chair across from where he was sitting, then turns and walks to the counter, “the water is still warm. I wanted to wait to have my own tea with you. I have so many questions for you.”

You watch intently as he pours two cups of tea, handing one to you and then sitting back down.

You wait until after he’s had a sip of his to have a sip of your own, and when the flavour hits your tongue you can’t help but relax a bit.

“It’s my mother’s recipe. She used to make it for my sister and me whenever we were sick or upset. I thought... it might make you feel better. I can’t imagine how scared you must’ve been, waking up in a strange place.”

You want to tell him that you weren’t scared, a warrior doesn’t feel fear, but instead, you take another sip of tea.

“What happened? I found you lying in the woods near the creek, a horse protecting you. It took me nearly ten minutes to tame it enough to check you for injuries. Where are you coming from? Your clothes aren’t from Lornilla and I’ve never seen a woman carry so many weapons before.”

His waterfall of questions gives you a few answers.

Your horse is safe, no one knows where you are, and you’ve wound up in the invading Kingdom of Lornilla.

“I am... not from around here. I travelled a great distance, and I was thrown from my horse when she tripped,” you offer only that as your explanation and he nods, beyond curious but not wanting to push you any farther.

“Where am I?” You ask, taking another sip of the tea and looking around the small house again.

“Just outside the village. If you follow the gravel road there it will take you to the heart of Lornilla, though I don’t recommend a woman such as yourself going there alone.”

Your brows draw together, “do you not think me capable of protecting myself?” You question, your ego bruised.

His eyes go wide and he’s quick to try and explain himself.

“N-No! I just... they don’t treat women well there, is all. ‘Specially not women who defend themselves. You look like a strong person, and, based on all the knives you have, I don’t doubt you could defend yourself, but it’s dangerous to speak against men, even as a man.”

Ah yes, the patriarchal ways of Lornilla rage on.

You have to hold back an eye-roll at the thought of such a useless Kingdom treating women terribly.

But that brings you to your situation now.

You remember the smell of smoke and the sound of screams as the Lornillian army invaded your kingdom.

You know not if your sisters survived, nor if your mother did. But, knowing your mother, you know that if she went down it was not without a fight.

“Are you all right?” James asks softly, worry pulling his brows together.

Why does this random stranger care so much?

“Why did you help me? Why not leave me in the forest?” You ask, ignoring his question.

“You... you were hurt. I couldn’t just leave you there.”

“Why not? Anyone else would have. Or done worse, if we’re close to Lornilla.”

He nods, his lips pursed for a moment, “I’m not anyone else. I’m me. And I know that, were it my sister in your shoes, I’d hope someone would help her. You probably have a family... a husband... who would be terribly worried about you. I know that if I had a wife and she went out and were hurt... I’d want to know that there was a good person somewhere willing to help her.”

His answer surprises you and, as you look into his eyes, you see nothing but truth in them.

“I have no husband,” you tell him after a moment. “I know not if my family is alive. There very well could be no one looking for me...” your thoughts drift to Steve and your heart hurts a bit. “Does this change your thoughts at all? Knowing that you could do whatever you please with no consequences?”

A sour expression covers his face and he shakes his head, “It is not the consequences that stop me from doing terrible things, it’s the actions themselves.”

You watch him for a long moment, surprised and intrigued by him, his kindness, though you don’t fully trust it yet.

“If you do not have a husband, do you know anyone nearby? You must’ve been on your way somewhere, is there someplace I can direct you?” He asks gently.

You shake your head, a grey cloud darkening your mood as thoughts of your family fill your mind, worry tying a knot in your stomach.

“I... no. I don’t know anyone nearby. I don’t even know where I’m meant to go.”

He looks at you, at the way your shoulders slump forward slightly, your eyes draw down and defeat colours your tone, and he feels bad that there isn’t more he can do.

“You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need. I hope you don’t think I’m trying to make you leave. As long as you need, you may stay here.”

You smile gratefully at him, ignoring the stinging in your eyes.

“Thank you, James.”

~*~

[welldonebeca]

i could have chosen (and yes, I would) - 1

Summary: To form an alliance with another Kingdom, your father arranges a marriage between you and James, the duke of Barnes and best friend of King Steve I of a neighbouring kingdom, and you struggle to make a relationship out of your arranged union. WC: 2k words Warnings: Royal AU. Arranged marriage. Tension. Angst.

Masterlist

You stood straight as your lady in waiting pinned your hair in place, setting it back tightly before walking, back, and you turned over your shoulder to watch her move, picking something up and walking to you.

“What is that?” you asked, realising what she had in her hands.

A gable hood. One you knew too well, that you had worn against your own wishes many times before.

Lady Anne stopped, looking confused, and eyed the hood in her hands.

“It’s your hood, my lady,” she looked back at you.

It was a hood. Not your hood, no.

“That’s not my hood,” you corrected her. “I had two hoods made, one for today and one for my wedding. This isn’t either of them.”

Anne clenched her jaw, breathing in and out and moving her hands, pinching her nose, rubbing her hand over her face and looking for words as she squeezed the squared hood in her hands.

“My lady, this was sent by your stepmother,” she told you. “I don’t… it’s not my position!”

Yes, your stepmother, of course.

“I’m not wearing that,” you told her, shaking your head. “My father told me I could choose what I would wear tonight, this is not what I chose!”

Nothing was ever like you chose.

Not your food, your clothes, the people you were surrounded by, or the way you were always locked inside these walls every day - the whole day - without a friend or anything to do with yourself but waste away.

Ever since your mother died, things were just dreadful.

Your stepmother was your father’s second wife, a beautiful woman who had given him all the sons he could possibly have ever wanted, while your mother died giving birth to a single boy who had barely breathed before God took him too.

And you couldn’t even say goodbye to her.

Your sisters were gone, too - one was married off to a Duke in Bavaria, another to the Prince of Orange, and another in France. None would write to you often. Married life was probably much better than what you were all subjected to at home.

Your father’s dear wife just wanted to get rid of you, just as well, and send you as far away as possible. She had her five sons, a baby in her belly, and no patience for a girl who reminded her of a dead woman she had come to replace.

It didn’t quite help that your father didn’t have much time to worry about your household, too busy caring for the King - your uncle - and his business.

“Your father isn’t here, my lady. His Majesty summoned him,” she reminded you, sounding like she lamented it as much as you did. “And your husband-to-be is already waiting for us.”

Yes, your husband-to-be.

For years, your stepmother had been looking into a marriage alliance for you. To your most dreadful luck, all good Kings and princes were married or too young for you. The closest you’d been to actually marry someone was with King Steven, of a minor country, but it didn’t go through, and he just married the daughter of a duke who’d been his ward as a child.

And yet, that didn’t stop him from remembering you after a few years.

Your husband-to-be was a new duke, a strong ally of his who had been given the title for his service to the King, after almost dying to save his life. The same situation had left him crippled for life, though you didn’t quite knot the extent of it.

And you were his other prize, of course. A minor princess who was too far down the line to inherit anything but a title, but had enough of a name to give him one.

“I’ll be wearing my French hood to my wedding,” you told her. “And I don’t care what my stepmother says about it.”

Lady Anne just walked to you, and waited with the gable hood in her hands.

It was stupid. A stupid hood, one stupid little thing that you wanted to have, and yet you couldn’t.

“He is a good-looking man,” she whispered. “Quiet. None of his servants had anything to say about him to us.”

You swallowed down, nodding, and she moved forward to cover your head.

“Nothing good?” you asked her, afraid.

“And nothing bad,” she pined it, fixing your veil just as well.

What was worse? To be unacknowledged and forgotten, or step into the dark? You didn’t quite know. And yet, you were living both.

A little knock on your door made Anne stiff, and she turned to you.

“Come, my lady,” she offered you a hand. “They are waiting for us.”

You closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath, and followed her.

Anything would be better than this life.

You pushed the anger away from your face quickly, and let Lady Anne guide you away

She had very little power in your life, but was your only constant company. Some ladies would come and go from your household, usually attending to your stepmother, but Anne was your mother’s lady-in-waiting and had taken the role of caring for you and your sister when she passed. As the youngest, you were the one who needed her the most, and maybe the reason she had yet to retire.

As your wedding was arranged, you had hoped she could come with you, but she wanted to retire, and you could never ask her to give up on that.

You didn’t see your intended when you came down, nor your father or your stepmother, but your little brothers were right there, and they were the only reason you even smiled. They looked elated to see you, and Peter was the first to rush to your side when you stopped by him, squeezing your leg over your dress.

He was a quiet boy, just a little over five and very affectionate, and often slipped away to see you during his lesson breaks.

“Your husband is so big,” he exclaimed in a loud whisper.

You chuckled.

“Everyone is big when you are this little, Peter,” you petted his hair.

He giggled, and you bent, pressing a little kiss to his forehead.

“Did you have dinner yet?” you asked them.

This wasn’t a dinner for children, and only the oldest of the boys - Ferdinand, who had just turned 11 - would be present.

“Yes,” William, who was seven, nodded. “They let us have pudding.”

You chuckled. Good, they deserved pudding. They were all very good boys.

“Does your mother know you are all out of bed?” you asked, reaching for Joseph, the oldest of the little trio. “I don’t think you’re even supposed to be here.”

“I do,” you heard, and stood quickly, raising your eyes as your stepmother walked into the room. “They wanted to see you when I told them you would look very pretty tonight.”

You nodded stiffly.

“Thank you, your grace,” you whispered.

Your stepmother swallowed down. She wasn’t that much older than you, not enough to be your mother. You were nine when she came to marry your father, just turned 20, a bit over twelve years ago. For two years, your father had remained single, until your uncle reminded him of his duty as a prince - he hadn’t had any sons yet, and your father had to make sure he had a few of his own in case the worse happened.

Ferdinand came into the world around the same week of their first anniversary, and Joseph came two years after, then another two years later was William’s turn, and then two years later, Peter came, and Edward had been born just shy of two years ago, and was probably asleep right now.

“Now go, you three,” she told them. “Give your sister a hug and get to bed.”

Joseph, William and Peter squeezed you tight in a circle, and you knelt to kiss their cheeks, caressing their chubby faces as your heart ached. After you left for your husband’s kingdom, you’d hardly be able to ever see them again, and would probably never meet your new baby singling.

Hopefully, that would be a boy too. It’d be good for the kingdom.

“Can you read us to bed tonight?” Peter asked.

You smiled sadly at him.

“I can’t,” you caressed his hair. “It’ll be too late when I’m done with dinner.”

“And tomorrow?” Joseph asked. “Can you read us tomorrow?”

You hesitated. Tomorrow, in the morning, you would be getting married. It would very unlikely that you did even find a moment to do so.

“I’ll be spending tomorrow with my husband,” you explained to him.

They all looked very sad at your explanation, and Peter perked up.

“What if he lets you read us a story?” he asked. “Can you?”

You smiled a little sadly.

As if your husband would let you.

“Yes,” you decided to answer, to appease them. “If he does, then I will.”

They all nodded together and kissed your cheek, one by one, and you watched them depart, standing and turning when your stepmother cleared her throat.

“Shall we?” she asked.

You nodded, clasping your hands in one another.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She walked in front of you, and you just followed her down to the dining room, waiting quietly for the Duke.

When he walked inside, you realised Peter was actually right. Your husband-to-be was a big man, tall and broad-shouldered with a hardened face. His skin was a little tanned from the sun, and contrasted greatly with his dark brown hair, falling in messy waves on his face.

“Your serene highness,” your stepmother curtsied to him, and you did the same.

“Your Royal Highness,” he bowed to her and then to you. “Your royal highness.”

Your gazes crossed, and you sucked in a deep breath. His eyes were light blue, piercing and just… gorgeous. Like a clear morning after a long rainy season.

“We are honoured that you accepted this dinner invitation,” she spoke to him. “We know you are a busy man and can’t afford to waste your time.”

He simply nodded, not saying anything, and she cleared her throat.

“As the wedding is tomorrow morning, we don’t intend for this to take too long, of course. Just a family moment.”

The Duke nodded again, stiffly, and you let your eyes run over his body. People around you had speculated greatly about what was wrong with him, but you couldn’t see anything. He was walking, standing straight, and looked a little bit gloomy, but in what looked like perfect health. There was no scarring on his face, either, and he was… beautiful.

The four of you finally sat down, with your little brother taking your father’s place as you four sat around a small table, and your husband continued with his silence, just eating, though your eyes were quick to pick up on a little detail. He wouldn’t move his left arm, not even his hand.

Maybe that was what the war had done to him - it had hurt his arm. You tried to find some clue on your theory, but raised your gaze when you realised you might have been staring, and flushed when his eyes met yours, deeply confused, looking back at your plate before he could figure out what you were looking at.

There was no attempt of conversation as you ate - not from your family nor your future husband - and he simply stood once everything was over, discreetly bowing to your stepmother and then to you.

"Your royal highness."

And then he left.

Your shoulders slumped the moment he heard his horses leaving, but stood tense the moment your stepmother turned to you.

"Enthusiastic, isn't he?" she looked at you, and you could see the worry on her face.

You swallowed down. What was that supposed to be mean?

"Go to sleep, Y/N," she decided. "You'll have a full day tomorrow."

You just nodded.

"Good night, ma'am."

"Good night."

. . .

"i could have chosen you (and yes, i would)" was posted on my Patreon in October 2022 and is fully posted on my page. To read it before anyone else, consider subscribing! It's just $2 a month and it helps me a lot during these hard times.

. . .

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i could have chosen you: open

[beananacake]

My Crown Upon Your Head (Ch. 2)

Prince!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis: When an arranged engagement between Prince James of Brookland and Princess Natasha ushers the discovery of the existence of a marriage contract between you and said prince, you readily agree to a divorce for the sake of the kingdom. At first, you had been willing to be separated from Prince James but as you spend more time with your husband, you begin to feel things that are forbidden. It does not help your case when James shares the same sentiments. As you combat the emotions that excite and scare you, the discoveries you make of the people that surround you make you suspect there is something else at play...

WC: 4.9K

Warnings: period-typical misogyny, 18+ for delicate issues, mentions of war, Sam and Bucky are slightly out of character but let's just say it's for the sake of the fic, more of exposition in this one, large chunks of paragraphs, badly translated language

A/N: I will officially OPEN a TAGLIST! I cannot keep a fixed schedule for updating MCUYH so anyone who wants to be included, just comment down on the fic or maybe send me a message (my ask box is being annoying so it's useless atm). Please enjoy!

It was an unusual request that you asked for lemons and lavenders with your writing materials but they delivered. You merely said that they were for you to bite on but truly, the lemons were for writing a message that only your father could decipher. What was once a simple trick your father had taught you during your travels was now your only means of communicating with him without the rest of the palace knowing. You had only used it for important missives and what else could be more important than for your father to know that you had been married to the prince and that you were to be kept to the palace indefinitely.

You wrote carefully, telling him to keep the information to himself. You had no ambitions of being a princess and the irony of you being one—or being deemed ambitious by the Grand Duke—was not lost on you. You kept your secret message short and concise, and you also told him no promises of future missives lest you be found out. Once you were finished with the lemon ink, you let it dry and took to writing the obvious message with ink. You scribbled, in between the lines written in lemon juice, your request for your trunks, writing implements, and the many books you were supposed to be reading. The visible letter was short and direct and you sealed it with wax and a sprig of lavender—your unofficial insignia—so your father would immediately know that the message was from you.

When you have sent your letter, you met with the Head Housekeeper. She assigned to you a personal lady’s maid and had two girls prepare a bath for you and another to bring you an appropriate change of clothing. The Duke of Queensfield is bound to arrive by nightfall and the King will not want his guest to appear unprepared, she had said as she looked at you sternly. You cannot find fault in that; you still smelled like the salt of the sea and you did not want to further scandalize people with your unusual choice of clothing.

“What shall I call you, miss?” asked the maid—Wanda, she replied when you asked of her name—as she scrubbed your shoulders with warm water and simple soap. You had told her that you were fine with bathing yourself but the surprise on her face made you realize that you had made a terrible faux pas. Of course, guests of the king were expected to be waited on hand and foot.

“Y/N, please,” you replied. “I am all but noble so please do not burden yourself with titles to call me. If you are uncomfortable with calling me by my name, you can continue calling me ‘miss.’”

“I must confess, miss, I am inexperienced as a lady’s maid. I had only been an apprentice mere months before the queen passed.” Wanda told you humbly.

“I do not have my own personal lady’s maid.” You told her in confidence. “All that you do is of great help to me already.”

Wanda’s eyes were owlish on her face when she turned to you in surprise. She was a beautiful little thing despite the frailness and pointedness of her features. Her hair, an enviable shade of titian, was pulled severely in a bun on her nape and gave her a look that was beyond her years. The softness of her accented voice, however, betrayed the maturity of her features—she could not be any older than twenty.

You smiled gently at her. “I am unbearably common, Wanda.”

“It is rare for the king to house a common guest, miss, if you do not mind me saying.”

“I find my situation quite uncommon for a commoner like me.” You let her wash off the lather. “Your accent. It is familiar but I cannot place it.”

She paused in her ministrations, looking at you once more with her green eyes, before returning to her task. “I was from Sokovia,” she said simply.

Was. Such a simple word but it conveyed a thousand griefs. You knew of Sokovia, of the disaster that had been wrought by powerful countries at war. Sokovia was not at fault for existing in between two quarrelling nations. It was unfortunate to have been in the middle of it all. It had been all too sudden; the call for war happened unexpectedly that they had not amassed an army in time to defend themselves. It was the decimation of its capital city of Novi Grad that had put an end to the existence of such small but promising land.

“Forgive me.” You touched Wanda’s hand, squeezing it gently to convey your sympathies. “I would not have asked if I had known.”

“It is of little consequences now. My home is now here, in Brookland. To work for the kingdom is an honor, miss.”

You smiled gently. “Our monarchs are kind and just.”

“Yes. Most especially the queen, may her soul rest.” She hummed a regret-filled sound. “When she died, the whole kingdom was devastated. Since then, the king had been in poor health. He is worried for the kingdom’s future should he soon follow his wife.”

You let her dry you and bring your chemise before you pressed on with more of your questions.

“Is the prince incapable of ruling?” you asked as you adjusted the cotton garment against your body.

You had known princes were schooled into being future monarchs since their infancy. Perhaps Prince James was otherwise engaged in other matters, especially in that of being a soldier.

Wanda laced your stays as she replied.

“Prince James is very capable, miss. However, the king has stipulated that the kingdom be ruled by a king and a queen. He has to marry before he ascends the throne.” She passed you a modesty petticoat and, once worn, fastened a heavy hoop skirt around your waist.

Of course. It was the very reason you were called for, after all. Your presence had been a great hindrance to the future of the kingdom. With you still legally wed to the prince, he would not be able to marry the Grand Duke’s niece.

“Does he have a bride he wishes to wed?” you asked, bobbing as she brought another two more petticoats and the outer skirt overhead. “Are your privy to that information?”

Any woman, noble or not, would be curious about the future queen of the kingdom. Even one married to said prince.

“The Grand Duke’s niece, miss. It is said she is a Princess from Russia.”

A princess. It was now truly understandable why the Grand Duke was irate with you. Who else was a better match for the prince than a princess?

The butterflies in your stomach fluttered as you remembered James’s intense gaze. He had looked over at you appreciatively even in your disheveled state, and you had reacted in a way that had only been shown in Shakespeare’s comedies. There was a flutter of excitement that coursed through you at the sight of his appraising eyes—heady, potent, foreign; it made you feel silly. You knew you were flustered when you had looked at him, felt the heat rise and color your cheeks, and you made an utter fool of yourself by giving an ungraceful curtsy. You were often calm and collected in the face of royalty, always poised and proper, and in that moment, you stumbled. All because of your husband.

Oh, dear.  

You needed to stop calling him thus, even in your thoughts. The king would have you punished if he ever caught you referring to the prince as your husband.

Wanda rearranged the many petticoats under your skirt before running a flat palm down to keep it in place. She took a similarly colored bodice and fastened its buttons at your back. You faced the mirror and stifled a gasp when you saw your reflection. The dress was a confection of delicate lace and beautiful pink silk taffeta. The bodice was left bare, save for the intricately made neckline. Seed pearls and violet-hued gemstones were sewn with gold thread in elegant, floral motifs across your chest. Lace as delicate as a spider’s web cascaded just beneath it, fluttering at the slightest touch of the wind. Short, puffed sleeves of the same pink taffeta and cream-colored lace were gathered with a delicate pink bow on your arm. The layers of flounce that encircled the skirt may have dated the dress to the fashion of the yesteryears but it did not diminish the inherent beauty. It was simple yet opulent; it was a testament of Brookland’s quiet riches. And it fit perfectly as though it was made for you.

“Oh, how beautiful,” you gushed. It was a dress fit for a royal. “But I feel I am not fit to wear it. Such a dress would be missed by its owner. I am perfectly fine to receive a simple frock.”

“The late queen did not have much simple dresses, miss,” Wanda remarked as she bent down to fasten your shoes.

“I beg your pardon?” You must have misheard. Surely, the palace would not have lent you a gown from the late queen’s personal closets. “You mean to tell me this belonged to Queen Winnifred?”

“Yes, miss. Our Sunday’s bests are not fit to be worn to a receiving of the Duke of Queensfield, and the Head Housekeeper’s dresses would not have fit you properly without being taken in. This dress seemed the most fitting to present to you.” Your maid replied innocently.

Of course. If only your trunks had arrived during your bath, you would have a choice of dress albeit not as elegant as the one you were in. It is only a matter of clothing, Y/N. Princess Shuri had even lent her ceremonial robes to me when I needed them, you thought to yourself. Yes. There was no need for you to worry overmuch with your appearance. In the meantime, you would relish the feel of wearing Brookland’s fineries on your body.

“The Grand Duke, he is not a Brook,” you said when you sat before your vanity.

Wanda had insisted to style your hair and you agreed, knowing a simple plait would not be appropriate for meeting the prince’s cousin.

“No, miss. He was a part of the Sokovian nobility.” Wanda replied as she combed and pinned your hair.

“I see. Was he the highest ranking official who had been exiled here?”

“I do not think so. Although, he had been the only one who wished to serve the king.”

It was no wonder why his niece had been chosen as the prince’s bride. If the saying was true—that the Sokovians were unfailingly loyal—then the king could not have chosen a better future queen for the kingdom. It was another reason why you must divorce the prince as soon as you can.

You dismissed Wanda when she had finished with your hair but not before thanking her for her help. You strode out of your room with a new sense of purpose. Any book on the politics of the kingdom would be a great help to you and to this predicament you put yourself in. The palace library would have housed these scholarly books you needed.

You had a vague memory of where the library was, supposing it hadn’t been moved in the last twenty years since you had been here. You recalled it being situated near the gardens on the east of the grand staircase, with ornate double doors of gold gilding. Portraits of the current royal family and ones of the prince should be hung on either side of its entryway. You went down the grand staircase and headed right, smiling politely at the stunned footmen who hastily opened the doors to the library for you.

The scent of wood and books assaulted your nose before you saw the richly decorated library. Dark oak shelves were teeming with books of all shapes and sizes and it reached up to the grandly decorated ceilings. There were murals of heavenly bodies painted on the dome, of vibrantly colored scenarios that told of religious histories and Brookland’s myths and legends, and each panel was artfully done as the next one. Arched windows with views of the palace gardens gave ample lighting to the otherwise dark room. In the middle of it all lay two opulently carved long tables; each bearing candles, sheafs of paper, and writing materials. A mezzanine wrapped around the room; the shelves on it housing even more volumes. At the opposite side, a cavernous marble fireplace blazed generously.

On any other time, you would have perused every title of the books held within but for now, you settled for any book on Brookland’s laws and constitution. You walked over to the section of the library where you assumed housed those books and, pulling out one on the subject of constitution, settled by a window as you started to read.

You were not educated much in Brookland’s laws but you knew that the volume you were reading had been outdated, evidenced by a passage saying that land disputes must be settled with blood through fisticuffs to the death. It was barbaric and antiquated and it made you go to the mezzanine to find another book that may have held the answers you were looking for.

A tome on matters regarding matrimony caught your eye and you pulled it out. It was dated to the last century but still, it was recent enough for you to study. You opened it to the contents table and scanned its pages as you slowly came down the spiral steps.

“Mein Gott!”

A rustle of papers made you look up and to the eyes of Grand Duke Zemo. He stared at you in alarm, his skin turning a deathly pale that you had not realized was possible for someone of his complexion. His mouth was hung open in shock and his hands trembled as the papers wafted from them.

You quickly executed a curtsy to the surprised man. “Your Grace.”

“Wie konntest du hier sein? Du bist tot!”

His eyes were wide and unseeing; his gaze passed right through you.

“Are you all right, Grand Duke?” You asked worriedly.

You stood there, unmoving; afraid that suddenly doing so would spook the already-terrified man. It had been some time before a noise disturbed the eerie silence of the library. The loud cracking of the fireplace from behind you effectively shook him from his stupor.

He blinked in rapid succession, the glazed look in his eyes vanishing as he saw you. Color returned to his cheeks until they were tinted an angry shade of red. “I thought I had seen Queen Winnifred.” He whispered harshly.

“Forgive me.” You said, although you did not know why. It only seemed to be the appropriate response at the moment. You flattened a hand down the front of your dress. “My trunks had not arrived and the Head Housekeeper had offered for me to wear Her Majesty’s dress.”

He stared openly at you, his sharp eyes roaming about your figure. Gooseflesh prickled at the trail his eyes left on your skin. He finally turned away to pick at his fallen items and you stood there awkwardly, waiting for him to dismiss you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked instead as he placed his items on the table.

“I was hoping to find something to read, Your Grace.” you replied, watching as he lit a candle. “There was a book on the constitution of Brookland—”

He raised a disbelieving brow as he glanced at you. “First, you marry the prince and now, you wish to learn more about the laws of the land?”

His question oozed incredulity and judgement.

“What shall be next? You will turn us out of the palace?” He scoffed. “Do not fancy yourself helping us out of this problem. You have made one mistake already, girl. God knows you would be creating another one for me to solve.”

You kept silent. It was unjust of him to think of you so, especially when you and he were towards the same goal. You did not want to remain married to the prince for long—heaven knows you were not brought up for such a task—but Grand Duke Zemo did not have to be nasty in his refusal of your help.

“Find some light reading,” he said. “Girls like you cannot comprehend the legislations of the land. There is a book on flowers that I find befits someone of your stature.”

You gave a polite but strained smile. A string of explanations sat at the tip of your tongue but you withheld it. It was futile to argue with the man, much more when he yielded power over you.

“Thank you, Grand Duke.” You replied shortly. “If you could point me to the direction of those books, I would be happy to take one.”

“Such impudence,” he murmured before grudgingly pointing at one corner of the room.

Taking the heavy tome, you replaced it before heading towards the section of the botany books. There was an array of them, all of botany but of different subjects. You also saw the different languages of the books, more artfully designed than the others. The foreign books appeared untouched, the gold foil of the titles still complete and glinting in the sun.

There was a section of German books and you plucked one out of the many unblemished volumes. You also took two sheets of paper and a pencil from the table when you descended.

“I shall bid you good day, Your Grace.” You curtsied in his general direction. He waved his hand at you dismissively and it cued you to leave the awful man alone.

In the very least, you knew where the library was located. The book about the laws of the land would have to wait. This book on botany, however it came to your possession, looked interesting. You were conversant in many a language, reading this German book would not pose a problem. It would keep you occupied while you waited for your trunks to arrive.

…

…

…

From his window, James watched as you emerged to the garden.

If he were honest with himself, he would say he was disappointed that you weren’t wearing your breeches and shirt anymore and that he could not admire your shapely figure but with the dress you had now donned, there was no mistaking the contours of your body. He had not had this visceral reaction to the Princess Natasha’s portrait, but then again, he had not seen her in the flesh. You, however, he had seen and admired. There was no mistaking what a great beauty you were and he would be blind to deny such visible truth to himself.

He could not find it in him to be angry with you. It was a peculiar situation you both had gotten into, the innocent intentions and legally binding contracts. His memory of you had rang clear in his head by the time he finished speaking with his father; he remembered your hope for a friendship with him, your eagerness in trying to copy your father’s way of sealing such relationships, and the way you were excited when you both had—unintentionally—sealed each other’s fate. It was simply laughable and not worth getting furious over, unlike his father and the Grand Duke Zemo.

With a renewed sense of vigor, James headed towards the garden. The ledgers had become awfully boring and the numbers had started to swim before his eyes. He had not even touched the missives that had piled on his desk lest he misunderstand important matters. This is a much needed reprieve, he convinced himself. I will do better once I have taken a stroll in the gardens.

He was determined to get to know you, that much was true. Even if you were not to remain married for long, he was eager to learn more about you. King George had said that you had traveled to different kingdoms and territories with your diplomat father and had lived in those places for nearly all your life. You were foreign as much as you were a Brook; that in itself was fascinating to him. Among other things, that is.

“Your Royal Highness, I suppose the reason for your rushing is so we can train,” came an amused, sarcastic voice behind him.

James stopped and turned towards its source. Samuel Wilson, the Captain of the Royal Guards, walked towards the prince with an air of equal parts amusement and frustration.  

“Whyever would you think otherwise?” James asked, a brow quirked at the obvious jape.

“You have been avoiding all my attempts at getting you to train.” remarked Sam. “Is it so hard to pick up your sword again? You had not been the same since the battle in Sokovia. A little movement should take away the laziness in you.”

“I had not been evading you and I am not lazy. I have had other important matters to attend to.” The prince exited the building with Captain Wilson trailing behind him. “And besides, don’t you tire of losing to me?”

Where were you? James thought as he scanned for you in the gardens. You could not have moved so quickly in the short time he went down to find you.

“I have never lost to you. I was simply bolstering your already inflated ego. And if you’re looking for the mysterious miss, she’s due west.” Sam said.

“I am not looking for her,” James replied hastily, much to his chagrin.

“Of course,” Sam said in a false grave tone. There was an unmistakable knowing grin in his words.

“I am not,” insisted James but approached you anyway.

He did not want to disturb your peace. You were poring over a book on the table while your hands were busy over a piece of paper. Scribbling, perhaps? he thought to himself as he watched you.

“I shall go and introduce myself.” Sam told him as he strode on ahead.

James followed behind him, taking on an impassive air so he did not seem overeager as he approached you. It had been a while since he last felt this way about a woman. It had been with Dolores—Dottie, as how he came to know her. She was an interesting character; ambitious for a mere daughter of a seamstress but wise beyond her years. A pity it was that he could not continue his friendship with her; the call for war drove the two of them apart. As he fought, she had gotten married. James was rightly heartbroken but he knew it would not have stood against his father. Princes married with royals, as was the custom.

“Sam Wilson, Captain of the Royal Guards, at your service.” Sam said as he bowed before you.

Against the backdrop of the high summer sun and the palace garden blooms, you appeared resplendent.

“Good day, Captain Wilson.” You smiled gently. You turned to James and curtsied. “Your Royal Highness.”

The wind tousled at your carefully coifed hair. Lemon and lavender, he thought as he caught a whiff of your scent.

James cleared his throat, which had become uncommonly tight. “Sam, this is Miss Y/N. She is my father’s guest.”

“Miss Y/N,” Sam repeated. He took your hand in his and placed a kiss atop it.

“I’ve heard stories of your triumphs in the war.” You told Sam, a polite smile gracing your face. “It must be quite a task to be commanding so many soldiers in the battlefield.”

“It is no simple feat. Prince James wishes he could command the army as I have,” Sam said with a sly grin.

James rolled his eyes. Disparity of their classes aside, Sam often jested with the prince and vice versa. But even if he and the captain were close friends, he had not told the captain as to why you were present in the palace. He knew it would do more harm than good to tell him of your relationship with each other. His father had been adamant that he divorce the two of you quietly so he could push through with James’s wedding to the Princess Natasha.

“I do not wish to command them, Sam. I do.” James said as he puffed his chest out with pride.

You snickered, then promptly apologized when both men turned to you with equally surprised looks.

“Oh, do forgive me. I do not recall ever seeing such a display of bravado since a proud young panther pounced at the older, more worldly one for a piece of food in Wakanda.” You rambled, a rosy tint rising on your cheeks.

At that, James laughed.

Any person would have cowered at the sight of the prince and the captain of the Royal Guards but not you. You were natural and you spoke your mind with such ease that it made him admire, as well as envy, you. There was no pretense or false modesty about you and it was refreshing for him to see that you weren’t one to fall at his feet and wax poetic about his title or his dashing good looks.

“And who won?” Sam asked, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.  

“One panther or another. I did not stay long enough.” You told him, adopting a serious mien. “Otherwise, I would have been their next meal.”

James smiled deeply. Your wit was sharp. It was a rarity these days. Most often, he was faced with a bumbling fool or a stammering twit.

You were also a proficient artist, he remarked, as he took in the array of papers on the table. You were sketching the flower that was on your book, halfway done by the looks of it. And intelligent as well, he silently mused as he saw the language of the book. He knew not many other people who had studied German; it was arduous language and was commonly taught to the children of noblemen and royalty. Most certainly it was not taught to the common folk.  

Every little thing he uncovered about you made him all the more curious.

“You study plants?” James asked as he motioned to your sketch. And a remarkable one at that, he thought approvingly.

You cast a furtive grimace at its direction. “Oh, no. The Grand Duke suggested that I read a book on flowers because it befits me instead of taking the book I was intending to read.”

He raised a brow at that. Zemo may appear hawkish but the man was as meek as a church mouse. “And what was it that you wanted to read?”

When you caught a rosy lip between your teeth as you hesitated, it was a surprise that he did not catch on fire on the spot at the heat that coursed through him.

“I was reading about the constitution and the laws of the land, Your Royal Highness.” you said after a moment’s hesitation.

“Whatever for?” Sam asked.  “If you do not mind my asking.”

James had momentarily forgotten his friend was present.

You turned your attentions to the Captain, hesitance still marring your face. “My… friend desires to learn of the grounds of separation. She is convinced she isn’t a fit match for her husband.”

“If I may inquire, why is the lady convinced she is not suit for her husband?”

“For one, her husband is so above her in stature. It is an unusual marriage, if I dare say so, Captain.” Your eyes met James’s as you went on. “They had unmistakably signed a marriage contract and had been bound since.”

There was uncertainty in your eyes as you looked at him. In anticipation for my reaction? James wondered. Your offense was great in King George’s eyes but to him, it was comical. Absurd and laughable. If Sir William Shakespeare were alive and present, he would have another comedy in his hands.

But it was a matter between you and him. Sam need not hear nor know of it.

“Yes, highly unusual.” Sam remarked. “But no matter. Should you wish to return to the library, I am certain His Royal Highness would be of great help to you.”

The prince nodded, hiding his surprise at being mentioned by his friend. “Yes, of course.” He leaned in towards you, a secret smile on his face. “Although, I must warn you, the language the laws were written in are not in German. Most are in Latin.”

You smiled and a dimple sank into your cheek. “It is no matter. So long as all of them are not wholly in Latin, then I think I shall understand it.”

James found himself mesmerized; his eyes trained on your lips for longer than what was allowed. They were petal-like, soft, and fresh.

“I’m afraid I must excuse myself.” Sam said suddenly. “I do not think Prince James would be coming with me to practice his swordplay so I shall leave him in your hands.”

“Oh.” You said, surprised, and turned to the Captain. “I’ve no intention of stealing him from his training, Captain.”

“And I believe he has no intention of coming to it.” Sam said wryly. He took your hand and bowed over it. “It was a pleasure to have met you, Miss Y/N.”

You smiled. “The pleasure is all mine, Captain Wilson.”

As Sam vanished behind the doors, James turned to you.

“Shall we take a turn about the gardens, Miss Y/N?”

[stuckysbike]

The Queen Who Married Two Kings

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve (pre-established Stucky)

Arranged Marriage AU, Fantasy AU, Royalty AU

Rating/Warnings: Over 18's only, there will be dark themes and explicit sexual situations. Reader is Stark born, and they're shitty to her.

Summary: Betrothed to two Kings, you travel with them to their home where you learn more than you ever thought you would. But how are you to cope with two husbands who want to start a family and secure their place in the world?

Chapter 1

“Your father demands an audience with you,” a droll voice said from the doorway of your dayroom. You lifted your eyes from the book in your lap and fixed the man with a scowl. He looked ridiculous in red velvet pants with gold piping. You hated the livery your father had his staff wear. It was neither practical nor attractive but it served well to display his wealth and, god forbid, taste. If one could call that taste.

“And I would like to slay a dragon but that won’t happen anytime soon,” you muttered under your breath levelling him with a sweet smile to make up for your earlier scowl. It wasn’t this man’s fault that you hated your father. It was your father’s fault.

“He’s rather insistent milady,” the voice said. He sounded weary, and you suspected he was rather bored. You were bored yourself but you didn’t want them to know that.

“I’m busy myself,” you lied smoothly. The man, slim and in his fifties with deep set eyes, let a flicker of annoyance pass his face. You didn’t recognise him, but he continued to stare stubbornly. Sighing you stood up and fixed your hair in the looking glass, brushed creases out of your dress and picked up the novel you had been reading. You darnt leave it lying around. Your father encouraged you to read this muck, yes, but you made sure there was proper reading within its covers. A pamphlet outlining changes to a tax law on tobacco would be frowned upon.

He had this ridiculous notion that women who read romance novels knew how to take care of a husband. The last thing you wanted was a husband like those described in the novels, or a man like your father or brothers.

“Milady, if you please,” the man said again, his voice thinning on patience.

“Alright!” You snapped as you turned and headed out the doorway, not bothering to wait for him. You knew the trail to your father’s study well, knew all the shortcuts and quick escapes, so naturally, you took the long way.

Around you portraits of your ancestors peered down their noses as you and you resisted the childish urge to stick your tongue out at them. You slowed a few times to peer out the windows but you could delay no longer.

Your father, King Howard, a greying man in his sixties, was waiting for you behind a large oak desk that had suffered garish carvings before being placed here, another symbol of his wealth and power. Beside him stood your brother Tony, his heir. It was no secret that Tony was your father’s favourite child. Everyone had assumed that, as the only daughter, you would also be favoured, but this wasn’t so. You weren’t the sweet child he dreamed of; instead you were strong willed and wild, defying him at his every turn. Your education was still a sore point for you both; he felt you had received too much, you felt you didn’t receive enough.

“Father,” you dipped your chin slightly, knowing he preferred when women curtsied to him, but today it seemed as he had more pressing matters than dredging up old fights. You stood in the centre of the plush rug that lay before the desk letting your heels sink in deep, hoping to damage the carpet.

Tony scowled at you, he’d always had some sort of resentment towards you, and you often wondered if it was because you were a girl and perhaps he was worried that he would no longer be your fathers favourite. That resentment turned to distaste at the way you acted with your father.

“Daughter,” your father said, his voice weary, and you knew he was expecting a fight. “You’re to be married.”

You pursed your lips; it was rare that your father got straight to the point. You filed this away to examine later.

“Married. I’m barely nineteen,” you said. Marriage was not what you wanted from life. To have children to a man who wouldn’t love you, to a man like your father who’d had three wives, who’d driven your own poor mother to despair with his appetite for other women.

“And if I’d had my way you would have been married three years ago but your mother pleaded with me…” He sighed deeply, no doubt looking for sympathy for having another dead wife. You had none to give; he had driven your mother to the grave.

“Does my husband have a name or shall he remain anonymous until I meet him at the alter?” You asked.

“Husbands,” your father moved something on his desk then shuffled some papers. He was nervous, you thought, very unlike him.

“Husbands? Plural?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Indeed. You know of the alliance between King James and King Steven,” Howard said.

Everyone knew of their alliance; it had caused quite the scandal three years ago when they wed and decided to unite their countries. They had once been one land and very few people residing there resisted, but kingdoms such as your fathers and that of your neighbours such as the Odinsons had been most wary.

It seemed your father had found a way to protect himself yet again.

You knew all about the neighbouring kingdom of Farotaide, it was part of your education to be up to date on this. The kings lived in a large castle at the edge of the woods on a cliff overlooking the sea. It was said to be beautiful.

Farotaide was a cold place, with sharp winds even in the summertime, and prone to snow half the year round. The people ruled under the kings were hardened, warriors, blacksmiths and butchers, crops were grown, winter crops consisting mostly of root vegetables and potatoes, all the year round. They were a harsh people and the women fought as quickly as the men did. Their ale was bitter and their wine sour, but they were clever engineers, and they had a lot of land and forest under their control. This would be a strategic union.

But you would be wife to two husbands. How would that even work? They would be twice as demanding of you, but then, knowing what you did about their culture and society, it was worth the gamble. Perhaps you wouldn’t fight, and instead agree to this union.

“I agree,” you said after a moment’s pause. Tony scowled, expecting a fight he didn’t receive, and even her father looked shocked for half a second.

“Oh, that’s good then, I’m sure you have a lot to prepare, you will be married soon no doubt, there’s little point in dallying with these things,” he said clearly dismissing you.

You did not go back to your rooms, instead you went to the library, and headed into the map room from there. You found Farotaide easily, they controlled about a third more land than your father. There were notes on climate, terrain, population, and agriculture and battle tactics on the margins. You studied until you needed to change for dinner.

Your father sat at the head with his sons around him, Tony to his right with his new wife Pepper clutching his hand like a sheep. You hated her, hated them all as they discussed your upcoming nuptials. “The Kings will be here next week, and all being well, you’ll be married within the month,” your father said clasping his hands together.

“I’ll be going to live with them I assume.” You said as you pushed the food around your plate. You had lost interest in your food.

“Of course.” Your father said.

“Then I’ll need a new wardrobe,” you said.

Tony snorted and Pepper covered her mouth to hide a laugh. “Another excuse to spend father’s money,” he said.

“No, but Brooklyn where the keep their kingdom seat is located is a much colder climate than ours, I don’t think delicate silken dresses will do me much good in the winter do you father?” You said smiling at him. The pale blue dress you wore now was a favourite, but it wasn’t practical for where you were going.

“Our father is already putting up a dowry just to get rid of you, and paying for your wedding nuptials. I doubt he’ll be dressing you after next week. Let your husbands take care of it,” Tony said tossing his napkin onto his plate and leaning back in his chair.

“Someday, my dear Tony, father will be dead, and this will be your land, your home, your very table. And someday, dear brother, I’ll sit here at this very table, and I’ll embarrass you in front of your peers as you wish to embarrass me in front of my new family. It would be insulting to send me there without appropriate attire, I will not start my marriage on an insult,” you said sweetly.

“Oh, do shut up sister.” Tony said standing up.

“I’m bored of this anyway,” you said standing too. “I’m afraid I feel one of my headaches coming on, father, I shan’t be good company this evening. I’ll head back to my bedroom and take a long rest.”

“Off you go out of my sight,” Your father snapped. Tony spoke loudly.

“I hope the kings at least gets one good son out of her before she turns into a simpering mess,” he said. Everybody laughed and you clenched her fists. You paused, took a deep breath, and smiled sweetly as you walked to your room, already plotting your revenge.

Your father, you believed, informed his friends and allies before he informed the Two Kings that their proposal, and thus their alliance, had been accepted.

There was to be a Royal Wedding and it would be a glorious affair. Afterall it is not often that a princess marries two kings at once!

The Wakandans were first to arrive, followed by the Odinsons two days later. You watched the pomp and ceremony from your room, your father and brothers were keen to greet their neighbours, to use this social event to network. It made you sick to your stomach to see them act so, but you lifted your chin, hardened your eyes, and gave your guests that tight, slight smile that your mother taught you so many years ago.

More prestigious guests arrived, each trying to outdo the last with their opulence, but the worst was King Howard insisting that everyone wear their best, that his whores were well hidden and that you stayed as the meek and dutiful daughter before everyone.

Noticeably absent was your intended husbands, and your father was insistently vocal about this. You couldn’t recall ever meeting any nobles from Farotaide, but you were eagerly curious to see how they arrived. You wondered what sort of spectacle they would bring; clearly, they wanted to make an arrival and cause a scene. You were beginning to regret agreeing so easily. Eventually you decided them arrogant and rude, they clearly had little interest in getting to know you prior to the nuptials.

You were preparing for bed when you heard it, a deep rumble like thunder in the distance.

Wrapping your favourite wool cloak around your shoulders you made her way down the servants’ staircases and headed through the kitchens and outside to the battlements. Beside you one of your fathers’ watchers shifted nervously as he peered into the darkness. A mass of black was streaming towards you in a line, loud thunderous thuds carrying through the dark night. For a moment you feared you were under attack until a cloud shifted, and moonlight drenched across meadows around your father’s palace.

Two hundred men and women galloped towards you on horseback.

They stopped, preparing to make camp and a small party moved forward while the rest effortlessly blended into the trees that lined the meadows. You made your way to the courtyard, your soft soles quiet on the dry cobblestones, trying to keep a smile off your face. You liked the entrance the Northerners had made in contrast to the grandeur and finery everyone else made. They weren’t showing off, and you had the feeling they didn’t need to, this was just how they operated. Suddenly your anger at them turned to amusement.

“And you are?” A guard was saying, his tone tight. His knuckles were white as he gripped the spear in his hand, and you could help but think the foolish weapon looked useless to these warriors.

“James Barnes, my husband, Steve Rogers.” A gruff voice said. You quickened her step towards the gates to get a better look at the two men.

“We weren’t expecting you now,” the guards voice said.

“When did you expect us?” Steve asked, his voice louder than James.

“Daylight hours, I’d imagine,” you spoke up taking pity on the guard. You stepped forward and pulled your cloak around your throat. Both men met your eyes, and the shiver that ran down your spine was not entirely due to the cold.

“Well, we’re here now,” James said with a sly curl of the lips.

“Indeed, you are. Have someone announce to King Howard that his wayward guests have arrived,” the gatekeeper commanded giving you the stink eye. You couldn’t resist sticking your tongue out at him, but Steve’s voice distracted you. You didn’t miss the short smile the two men shared at your behaviour.

“We are at a disadvantage. You know who we are, but we have no idea who you are,” Steve spoke up. You stepped back as the small band of men and their horses made their way inside the castle walls.

You toyed with the idea of stringing them along and telling the men you were someone else, but you decided on straight up honesty. It wouldn’t do to start their relationship on that sort of note.

“I’m to be your wife, or so I’m told,” you said. James glanced down at you. He was tall, broad shouldered and terribly handsome with a few days’ worth of dark stubble on his chin. His eyes looked blue in the dim torchlight but you liked what she saw. Steve on the other hand sat taller on his horse. He didn’t seem as thick as James but he had a full head of thick blond hair and a well grown beard.

“Ah, our wife you say?” James said with a coy smile. Your heart fluttered a little, people rarely looked at her like that, but James’ eyes were raking your body, and while Steve kept more reserved he was just as curious you could tell.

“Why did you arrive at dark?” You asked curiously. Steve stared at you for a second but a voice behind you interrupted them.

“Please ignore my silly little sister, she has no manners. My name is Tony, I’ll be inheriting, I’m to be your brother in law.” Tony said pushing past Lydia to shake James’s hand. James, who was still holding the reins of his massive horse, looked from Tony’s face to his hand and back again before turning to you.

“I like the dark,” James said ignoring the horse nosing at his arm. Behind him Steve made a noise you didn’t understand, and you didn’t miss the flicker of something in James’ eyes.

“The stables are this way. Our grooms can take care of your horses.” Tony said pushing past you to gain attention.

“We’ll take care of our own horses, he had the decency to carry me here without complaint, it’s the least I can do.” Steve corrected Tony but he was looking at you. “I always take care of what’s mine.”

“Good, I like a man who knows what he’s doing.” You smirked, and when both men smiled at you, you realised that your heart was racing.

“Stop being vulgar and go away,” Tony hissed in your ear, his eyes flashing dangerously in the moonlight.

“I think I prefer her company to yours,” James said bluntly. You almost laughed aloud at the rage building on Tony’s face.

“Oh, I know where I’m not wanted,” you said in a teasing voice, shooting a wink at James as you turned on your heel and headed back inside. Perhaps leaving the two Kings to your brother’s attentions was a poor strategic move but you were sure you they would understand. It didn’t do for a princess to stand outside in the night talking to her betrothed. As you slid into bed you smiled, wondering what the next days would bring.