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alostlovergirl · 6 months ago

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Marriage of Convenience

(Not my gif)

Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Summary: He really needs a wife.

Tags: arranged marriage, some of Loki questioning his feelings (?), reader questioning her feelings (?)

Note: This is going to have a few parts… so let’s see how much I can pump out of this story.

Part 2: The Marriage Pt3: The Sex

It started out as a simple suggestion. “If you want to be around her so much, why not marry her?”, more as an unfunny joke from his father rather than a suggestion and it earned an eyeroll from the teenage prince of mischief with a huff. He didn’t think about it, simply feeling seen and comfortable with his childhood best friend, spending all the time he was supposed to be training with her. She was a just a random villager that he met as a young child when she snuck into his room during a party his father threw. They have been inseparable since, building a nice friendship that would last for lifetimes as his mother would put it. This friendship also gained her family royal protection, keeping Loki’s friend safe from all harm that would be sent Asgard’s way. Now, since he was being forced into an arranged marriage to a woman he barely knew, he was starting to consider asking her to marry him.

He makes his way to the city, thinking about how he was about to ask her. Should he be direct about it? Or should he try to sugarcoat this as much as possible so that his friend wouldn’t think he was weird? It was a dire situation for him because he didn’t want to marry at all, he wanted to be free to do as he please, not have a wife or husband nagging him 24/7 about his kingly duties. He wanted a throne, but not like this. Thor gave up the throne, in pursuit of being a warrior that protects Asgard instead of a king, leaving the crown to the second and youngest son. This marriage came about for him to accept the crown, with a wife by his side or he could forget about even inheriting the throne. He walks past the townspeople, going towards a small stone house in the middle of the city, a smile gathering on his face. He was always excited, like a little puppy, to see his best friend cause its his little chance to be happy for a few hours a day. He made for his favorite woman no matter what he was doing, even if he was injured from a battle, he would limp his way to her to come lay on her couch, listening to her worry about his wellbeing.

He loved her… well being her friend. The two of them were perfect for each other, in more ways than Loki is ready to admit right now. He knocks on the door, standing back from her oak door, looking over the tidy little home she has made for herself. As soon as she opened the door, he is greeted by his smiling friend with a laundry basket being held into her hip by her forearm. “My prince.”

He snorts a reply. “You know I don’t like you calling me that...” That just made her laugh a bit, immediately letting the god into her home, closing the door and trapping in the warm air in her home. He liked being in her home. It was so much more comforting than his chaotic life of royalty. It was a nice place for him to relax, especially when she gives him an empty, golden mug and fills it with his favorite wine. “You owe me 90 coins for that expensive ass wine, mister.” She teases him, smiling before going back to her little area in the middle of her carpet, scrubbing at her clothes. Loki followed her into the laundry room and sits in a stool in the corner, resting the mug in between his leather cladded thighs, watching her wash her clothes vigorously.

“So, what brings you to my home, friend?” she asked, peering up at him as she scrubbed up and down with the soapy brush, hands already rough from the number of times she has scrapped herself. Her question fogged his mind because he never really thought about how he should ask her to marry him. He has never shown no type of interest towards her, considering he never let himself feel those types of feelings, making this more difficult to imagine her having a positive reaction to his proposal, but unless he marries the spoiled brat of a princess that he is going to be promised to soon, he better just come out with it. He takes a deep breath, picking up his mug and chugging it before putting it down on the floor. The God kneels in front of his friend, grabbing her hands from the warm water and squeezing them tightly. “I need your help... and this is not like me to ask for help as you know, but I am about to be promised to a woman that I simply cannot marry...”

Her eyebrow raised, confusion filling her face as soon as he grabbed her hands with such a tenderness that she had never seen. Loki, being a trickster, every time he has seen her, he has scared the living shit out of her. Now, here he was, unexpectedly popping up at her door and looking at her with such desperation in his eyes. Just how bad was this woman that he was being betrothed too? She relaxes her shoulders and looks at him, a nervous smile appearing on her face as she wonders how much trouble she is going to be in for the idea he is about to suggest. She was already on Odin’s trouble list. Nothing could have possibly prepared her for what he was about to ask her to do.

“I am going to invite you to dinner tonight... and I am going to propose to you in front of my father, mother, brother and my betrothed. It will pull me out the engagement with her and it will put me in an engagement with you.” He said it so casually, as if he wasn’t asking her to accept a marriage proposal to him and possibly uproot her peaceful life to being in the public eye 24/7. She went quiet, not sure how to respond and not making eye contact with him as she thought about the suggestion. “You are basically asking me to enter a fake marriage with you? Would we get married, Loki?”

He sighs, looking down a bit, losing a bit of his confidence. This is not like him at all. “I could try to hold it off as much as possible, but we would have to get married. See, my father has told me that I would have to inherit his throne to retire him and my mother. Thor would have been the perfect choice. Already married and the first son... but he gave up the throne, leaving me with the burden of finding a wife.” Her stomach was swirling with nausea and butterflies, thinking about how the hell she was supposed to handle the responsibility of being the Queen of Asgard. She has seen Frigga’s workload, and it is not nothing that she doesn’t ever want to inherit. Seeing her hesitance, he started to plead. “Please. It is a selfish request I ask of you, my dear friend… but I cannot marry that woman.” He held her hands, tighter. “She is annoying...”

She laughed, snorting a bit and breaking the tension in the room. “She is that annoying that you ask your friend to marry you?” she jokes, pushing her hands upwards and holding his forearms, leaning a bit closer to him. “If I do this for you, promise that it won’t get weird?”

He nods immediately, pulling her into a tight hug, grateful for her acceptance. “I promise, friend.”

When the night came along, the nerves were starting to set in. She was friends with Loki, but she had never been inside his private room and here she was, sitting there in a silk gown that was cold against her skin. She played drums on her thighs as she waited for Loki to get dressed for tonight’s dinner. She was about to proposed to… for the sake of her friend. She didn’t know why she was so incredibly nervous, enough to feel like she was about to throw up. “How do you sleep in here?!” she called out to her friend, who was with a servant in his giant closet. She was trying to break the mood with a little joke. “It seems so uncomfortable in here... I don’t think I would get a wink of sleep in here.”

It made Loki chuckle from the closet, a rustle of leather against leather being heard. “It’s comfortable... warm and the bed helps. I sleep like a brick most nights...” She giggles, running a hand through her hair. Even his voice seemed to calm her, making her smile more times than she wanted to admit. He finally steps out, dressed in his normal outfit, without the cape and hair slicked back with gel. His heavy horned crown sat upon his hair, framing him out perfectly. He gives her a little spin, fishing for some compliments. “How’d I look?”

“Like my Loki...” she hums, standing up, still a bit wobbly in the heels he had chosen to wear. He said it would impress his father if she stood a bit taller, almost the same height as Loki. She walked over to him, adjusting his crown and making it crooked on his head, earning a signature grin from him. Loki, since he has grown from the young boy that she befriended, has grown into a handsome young man. It made her feel something in the pit of her stomach that she ignored completely. “Seriously, you do look good. How do I look?” She gave him a little smile before pulling back from him, letting him see her outfit. He just smiles, eyes raking over her body in a, what he hoped, friendly way.

“Amazing.” He simply says.

He takes her warm hand into his cold ones, leaving the room with her. He enjoyed the little jokes she could make even before meeting his father, making him feel like something that he couldn’t ignore. The feeling made him feel nauseated and excited at the same time, leading her down the hall to the dining room. She looked absolutely ravishing in her dress, not helping the feeling. He straightened his posture as he could hear his father and the father of his betrothed laughing, heartily. The smell of meat and sweets filled his senses as he opened the door, leading his friend to her seat before taking his seat next to her.

The dinner went as expected, introducing herself to the king and queen in a respectful way. Saying hello to Thor and greeting the lady, who was giving her some death glares from across the table. She keeps her demeanor poised, something that she and Loki would laugh about later. When the proposal comes along, it comes after dessert and a little nod of approval towards his son from Odin. She could hear an audible breath from Loki as he stood up from his chair and moved it. He takes her hand, gently and lifts her up from her seat, pulling her almost too close to him, feeling his breath encase her face, making her shiver a bit. “Just act surprised... afterwards... I am going to kiss you to really sell it.” He whispered, looking into her eyes and making sure she understood her assignment. She nods, slightly and backs away from the prince, watching in fake surprise as he drops to one knee, spewing out some fake sympathy words. Hell, he even earned some fake tears from her as he opened the ring box. The story he was really trying to sell here was that two of them had been in a relationship for quite awhile before now and gods, was she selling it especially. A little squeal and an excited nod when he asked for her hand in marriage really made his betrothed, who they had totally forgotten about, angry enough to leave the room. The relief she felt radiating off his body was enough to relax her as he slid the ring on her finger.

She had totally forgotten about the kiss… she almost bit his lip when he did kiss her, pulling her in closer by her hips and her hands on his board chest. The kiss felt electric, feeling a wetness gather between her legs that she never felt for her friend. He pulls back, saliva connecting their lips and a weird look on her face that she had never seen before from Loki. It was like a hungry look… like that kiss had awoken something in him and it would have only gotten weirder if he wasn’t snapped back to the reality that he was standing in front of his parents and brother by them clapping.

She was now engaged to her best friend... Oh god, where does she go from here?

#marvel #new writer #x reader #loki laufeyson #loki god of mischief #loki of asgard #loki x reader #loki x you #loki odinson #arranged marriage #friends to lovers #new post

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letstalkaboutshtufff · 9 months ago

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Twisted Love pt 8

Loki x reader

Pairing: Loki x Wife reader

Warnings: Language, I think that’s it tbh

Summary: You tell Loki about about Baldur

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"L-Let him go Mathis..."

"Is this how you spend your time? Collecting mutts instead of making your husband happy ." His eyes scrunched in disgust at the squirming creature.

"Mathis enough, you're scaring him!" you reach for Baldur several times each time he is yanked out of your way.

"Since when do you get to tell me what to do huh?" He scowled tightening his grip and you acted before you thought when you heard Baldur whine in pain.

Swiftly your knee found its way rocketing into Mathis's ahem knights in shining armor.

Taken aback you heard an oof, and quickly used his surprise to snatch Baldur out of his grip.

You hastily took a few large steps back, eyeing Mathis with unease.

"You'll pay dearly for that you stupid bitch." His voice was low and threatening. You didn't wait any longer before darting around the cart and running back into the safety of everyone's eyes.

Only when you were back in the safety of your tent did your shoulders finally slump in relief.

You let out a tiny gasp however when you realized that Loki was there. At least you didn’t have to worry about Mathis sneaking in you supposed..

Loki raised an eyebrow seeing you out of breath.

"Uh, there was a…..snake outside..." a big fat snake you'd like to hit with a shovel...

He hummed and went back to reading his book.

You busied yourself with setting Baldur onto his makeshift bed on the floor.

"Shh shh, it's time for bed now alright?" You tried soothing the creature but you could tell he was still in fight mode from before.

"Nothing will harm you I promise..." you whispered.

"Did the mighty wolf get scared from a little snake?" Loki mused setting his book down and moving to pour a glass of wine.

"Something like that..."

"I suppose you'll go out again tommorow right?" You glanced over your shoulder.

"Yes, unfortunately until a silver tailed wolf is hunted down, we will not stop".

"Mm...." You stayed silent for awhile gathering up the courage to speak.

"And does the wolf have to be k-killed...?" You asked tentatively.

"That has been the tradition for centuries yes..." he raised the glass to his lips.

"....."

"Is there something you wish to say?" He stopped and lowered the glass giving you his attention.

"No but... there is something I wish to show you..." you said barely above a whisper.

You motioned for him to come closer, when he did you moved away so he could see Baldur fully.

He didn't catch it at first, but you saw the slight raise in his eyes and his mouth fall slightly open.

"Is that a..."? you nodded.

"I didn't know until I brought him here..."

"Well it seems there is only one thing to do unfortunately..." you felt a spike of panic.

"W-What?" Before you could act Loki had grabbed his cloak and swiftly made his way out the tent.

You quickly scrambled for Baldur, he yapped being woken so abruptly.

Once he was secure in your arms you stood with him protectively in the very back of the tent.

A million worries raced through your mind.

You weren't so afraid as to not protect Baldur with force but what could you do against everyone if they forced him away??

You eyed the poker in the fireplace, letting out a humorless laugh. You could only imagine how crazy you would look fighting off asgards warriors with a hot stick.

Although you weren't exactly going to standby and let Baldur be killed.

While you were panicking Loki reentered the tent pausing when he noticed you huddled in the corner like a mouse.

"Uh, perhaps I should've explained before I left..." he frowned.

"W-what's going to happen?" You tightened your grip.

"Well first you can relax, the poor creature is hardly breathing" you loosened your grip only slightly, still very much on guard.

"Here put this on" you just then realized Loki was holding a pile of golden fabric.

He held it to you expectantly but you didn't move. Loki was a bit surprised since this was your first real act of defiance but he found your resistance refreshing. Better than you always cowering half the time.

"Trust me alright? Put this on and come outside" he didn't explain more just gave you a look that you supposed was supposed to be reassuring but really wasn't.

After he left you started at the fabric laying on the bed for several minutes before finally having the courage to approach it.

With one hand, the other still holding Baldur close, you lifted the heavy silk.

A cloak? What is going on??

You considered just staying huddled in the corner but then Lokis words crossed your mind

Trust Me

It took several more minutes before you finally moved. You draped the ridiculously regal cloak around you and tucked baldur beneath the silk.

You would not let him out of your sight no matter what.

It took you another several minutes to finally lift the flap and when you did you jumped seeing Loki directly in front of you blocking your view.

He looked severe, something bad was sure to happen.

“Y/N”

You swallowed shakily but didn’t speak as he addressed you.

“Unfortunately there’s only one thing that happens now” tears burned at the corner of your eyes. Stupid y/n for trusting him. A quick glance around showed the entire camp and the royal family looking equally as severe.

You shifted your feet, ready to bolt back in at a moments notice when Loki suddenly stepped to the side and you shivered when he revealed Odin walking forth to replace his place.

Stern and powerful and looks ready to kill.

“Y/n. Princess of Vanaheim, now a Princess of Asgard. You are to uphold all our traditions and rules while you are here. It is a great shame on your part you didn’t tell us earlier that you located the wolf”

“My Lord I-“

“Silence!” his hand shot up Palm facing you.

“What’s done is done but now we must continue the custom”

No no no what do you do!?

Even your mother in law didn’t look sympathetic in the least.

“So my people of Asgard..” he said loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Welcome your wolf queen”

And suddenly you felt the air around you rush against you and your feet were off the ground.

“Wha what!? W-What’s going on!?!?” You held Baldur tightly whilst frantically looking down but surely this was a dream because everyone was now cheering and laughing, your eyes met Lokis and he also had an amused smirk.

“WOLF QUEEN WOLF QUEEN WOLF QUEEN”

They chanted over and over as you continued being surfed around on what you now realized was a palaqin of sorts.

“You didn’t think we would hurt a helpless creature now did you my dear?” Freya beemed up at you.

“I-I” you were at a loss for words still being pushed up and down.

“Now then, to the celebrations!” Odin yelled and suddenly the palaqin was being moved forward.

Without thinking you called out to him

“Loki!” Your voice full of embarrassment and fright.

He only smirked at your distress and followed the palaqin.

Trust you my foot

Baldur seemed to be enjoying himself and stuck his tongue out happily.

Finally you felt yourself being lowered and you practically launched off, cheeks hot and breathe fast

How embarrassing!!

No what was truly embarrassing was how you tripped over the cloak and basically face planted into your husbands chest. His hands instantly steadied you.

You couldn’t quite find any words so you decided not to speak and just shakily pushed yourself away.

You were led to a throne at the head of an impossibly large wooden table.

They wanted you to sit there? Despite your slight annoyance at Loki for not preparing you, your eyes still sought out his for help. He gestured with a slight nod towards the seat.

Everyone was standing around waiting so you did the only thing you could do. You played along and sat down.

It was surreal that as soon as you did, everyone else followed.

“To the wolf Queen!” A million goblets raised, wine sloshing, trays of steaming foods you’d never seen before. Delicacies shoved onto your plate.

A dream, a really weird impossible crazy dream. One where you fell asleep a maid and woke up a queen.

You almost let out a very unlady like What the fuck.

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A/N *Peeks from behind bush in shame* sorry its been so long ya’ll, its been a rough few months:(

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#loki x reader #arranged marriage #loki #loki series #loki x you #loki fic #twisted love #angst #fluff #marvel #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki x y/n #loki x reader wife #loki fanfiction #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson x reader #Smut

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sebastianstansqueen · 3 months ago

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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.

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rosepetalsinwinter · 1 year ago

Text

Meant to Be — Bucky Barnes (7)

Chapter 7 — Mr. And Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: mafia!bucky x innocent!reader

Word count: 7,856

Summary: There is more than meets the eye, and Bucky is suspicious. What is everyone hiding?

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos, brief nudity? (blink and you'll miss it)

Note: Sorry, it's been a while. Enjoy!

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Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

"Today I know that such memories are the key not to the past, but to the future."

— Corrie Ten Boom

May 4th, 2018

He never understood what triggered it, but he found himself reliving it at odd times. The figure always sneaked up on Bucky in his dreams with an eerie silence, draped in shades of gray and brown.

"You really don't remember me?" the figure would taunt.

Bucky's responding grin was almost derogatory. "I'm sorry, am I supposed to?" He dismissed the flicker of familiarity attempting to crawl up his spine.

"You've changed."

He chuckled, deciding to humour the person. "Have I now?"

"You used to keep your promises."

"Did I?" Bucky slowly loosened the restraints behind his back, reaching for the concealed metal in his waistband. "You hit my head pretty hard earlier. I don't remember much."

"At least you kept your stupid sense of humour."

Bucky scoffed, spitting out the blood that pooled in his mouth from his bleeding nose. "You think you know me?"

"I do."

He shook his head. "You don't," he retorted. "You don't know me." The click of the safety turning off made them both pause. "And you never will." Years of training propelled him into action. The figure collapsed on the floor before the gunshot could reverberate through the room.

He stood tall over the lifeless form. "I always keep my promises."

May 4th, 2018

Bucky was beyond pissed. So far, his entire day had passed attending to one matter or another, making call after call instead of getting to know his wife. Not that she was in a state to talk.

Hmm, his little wife had been unconscious for nearly eighteen hours since she fainted in church. Bucky would have been seriously concerned if it weren't for the French maid and her reassurances. Fran—was that her name?—had informed him that the girl hadn't slept properly in over a week. Stress, she claimed, though Bucky suspected a deeper meaning behind the word. The way the maid narrowed her green eyes and tilted her reddish-blonde head hinted at something more.

The mobster took large swigs of Scotch straight from the decanter. Earlier, when the flight attendant came by to pour him a glass, Bucky had unleashed his rage, barking at him to leave the whole thing and disappear. He was in no mood for small talk.

A pounding headache throbbed in Bucky's temples. The entire day had been a whirlwind of problems. First, waking up to discover Phil Coulson dead. Dealing with Rollins' men—though that was stress relieving, at least.

Then, being brutally attacked outside the church, resulting in the need to dispose of the body in the East River, where the strong currents would erase any traces of foul play.

And let's not forget the spectacle that was his wedding. Fuck. The fucking wedding. And the shitshow that followed after. Bucky had so many questions. So many things he needed to address.

He hadn't been married a day, and already his wife was causing him problems. Bucky was exhausted, drowsy, and to make matters worse, he was overwhelmingly aroused.

With a scowl, Bucky downed the last of his Scotch, then glanced at his watch to see if he had enough time to address his growing... predicament.

He didn't.

They would reach Constanţa in half an hour, the estate in one. Bucky couldn't wait. Suddenly, his phone lit up with an incoming call, causing him to huff before ending it. Not even a minute passed before Danial Burgundy's caller ID appeared again. God, the man was persistent. After ignoring twelve calls, he still tested Bucky's patience.

"What do you want, you sick fuck?" Bucky answered impulsively.

The man on the other end sounded amused. "Hello to you too, James."

"Cut the bullshit, Danial. I'm in no mood for small talk." Danial was the last person Bucky wanted to talk to, especially after their conversation in New York. The older man was lucky he was Bucky's father-in-law now, or he'd already be six feet under.

"Right. Straight down to business then," Danial sighed. "I want to speak to my daughter."

Bucky scoffed dismissively. "No ace."

Annoyance tinged Danial's response. "Don't tell me—"

"She's taking a nap," Bucky interrupted. "She can't talk right now."

"I don't fucking believe you, James."

"I don't care." Bucky didn't give a damn about what Danial thought of him.

"Listen, asshole," Danial began losing his temper, "I know you've always been a good-for-nothing motherfucker, but—"

"Is that why you gave her to me?" Bucky taunted, a sardonic grin on his face. "Is that why you gave me everything?" That seemed to silence Danial, at least for the moment.

"Because I'm a good-for-nothing motherfucker?" Bucky chuckled, acknowledging a minor defeat. "I'll admit, you caught me off guard before with the stipulation you threw in my face, but don't think you have the upper hand here." Adrenaline coursed through Bucky's body as he further provoked Danial. "I got what I wanted. I didn't even have to work for it. You handed it to me on a silver platter." He prepared himself for the final blow. "In fact, I've already begun fulfilling that condition of yours." Bucky clicked his tongue. "No complaints so far. She's amazing."

"You bastard!" Danial exploded.

Yes, Bucky was being vulgar. Danial had forced his hand to leave for their honeymoon two days earlier, and Bucky didn't appreciate it.

He hushed Danial. "You'll wake her up. I tired her out. She needs all the rest she can get."

And there it was, the silent row of defeat. Danial sighed, audibly distressed. "She's still my daughter," the coward insisted.

"No, she's not," Bucky retorted, not to mock but to state a fact. He shrugged nonchalantly. "She's not yours. Not anymore. She's mine. She became mine the second I signed your papers."

"You Barnes' have always been greedy," Danial sneered. "Wanting what's not yours. Not giving a shit who gets hurt in the process. Fucking murderers."

"And you Burgundys have always been manipulative bastards," Bucky spat. "Pulling underhanded shit. Whoring out your women for a quick buck."

"You little—"

"Then that's exactly how I'll treat her. Like a slut, a fucking whore."

Danial's breath hitched on the other end of the line.

Bingo.

"No! Wait, no! Barnes, don't you fucking dare! Don't you dare fucking touch her—"

"Leave me the fuck alone."

Bucky ended the call.

The moon hung low in the sky, making way for the impending sunrise in a couple of hours. Bucky tossed his phone onto the seat opposite him and turned his attention to the porthole, gazing out at the soft glow beginning to fill the horizon.

They should be flying over Pitești by now, en route to Constanța. It felt good to be back home. Bucky stretched his arms above his head, contemplating Danial's reaction. If he didn't know any better, he might have mistaken Danial's tone for genuine concern about his daughter. Fortunately, Bucky knew better. With most of Danial's cards laid out on the table, Bucky would respond accordingly, starting with his bride.

Suddenly, the cabin door opened, causing Bucky to whip his head around, prepared to unleash his anger on the intruder. It was his bride, leaning against the entrance of the small bedroom at the back.

She still wore her wedding dress, barefoot and breathing heavily, cheeks flushed and hair rumpled. Her gaze wandered around the cabin in a daze, clutching the door frame in a white fist when the plane encountered slight turbulence.

"You're awake," Bucky broke the silence.

Her eyes scanned the surroundings as she took in their location. "Where am I?" she croaked.

Bucky frowned, realizing she must be thirsty. "Sit," he commanded instead of answering. His wife blinked owlishly, staring at him as if he had grown another head. A faint smile threatened to emerge. "Don't make me drag you here," he muttered. "Because I will."

His wife snapped to attention, unsteadily walking across the aisle, leaning against the empty seats for support. The image stirred something pleasurable in Bucky's mind. She halted across from him, hesitating to sit when she noticed his phone perched precariously on the edge of the armrest.

When Bucky reached over to retrieve the device, he let his arm brush against her leg. It was a gentle graze against the white lace that, nonetheless, left her flustered. Bucky smirked, savouring the sound of his wife's hitched breath.

The girl slowly lowered herself onto the brown leather, almost robotic in her movements. Her back remained rigid, and she wouldn't look at him. Why wouldn't she look at him? Bucky didn't like that. The table separating them was the only thing preventing him from reaching over and forcing her eyes to meet his.

Bucky pressed the overhead call button, his gaze fixed on the girl. He noticed black smudged under her eyes and lipstick smeared around her mouth. How many hours had it been since the ceremony? Too many and not enough. Her features appeared more striking in the natural light than in the harsh illumination of the church.

And there, when her eyes flicked up ever so slightly at the sound of the call button, Bucky recognized that same dead look from before, the one she had when he leaned in for a kiss that never happened because she fainted. It was more subtle, tamped down, but still present, difficult to ignore and even harder to comprehend.

Bucky summoned the flustered flight attendant and ordered food, water, and another Scotch. He may not have been hungry, but he assumed she was.

"Drink," Bucky pushed the glass of water toward her. She was playing with her fingers, gaze fixed on her lap.

"Where am I?" she breathed.

Bucky frowned when she didn't immediately comply. "Drink," he demanded with more force, pushing the water closer. He watched as she brought the glass to her lips with trembling hands and took a small sip.

"Where—"

"More," he interrupted with dissatisfaction. She was an impatient one.

Bucky thought he heard her huff in annoyance but disregarded it as she began to take hesitant sips that soon turned into large gulps, causing water to trickle down the sides of her mouth.

The glass was empty within seconds.

"We're in Constanța," Bucky answered her earlier question.

She looked up at him in surprise, eyes wide and lips parted. Bucky was hit with a sudden urge to kiss her.

"Excuse me?"

"Constanța, Romania," Bucky clarified. "I have a family house in Mamaia. We'll be landing in ten minutes."

Bucky leaned back in his seat and sipped his Scotch, raising an eyebrow at the girl's obvious shock. The slight burn of alcohol felt pleasant, immediately relaxing him.

She glanced around the cabin, blinking owlishly. She seemed flustered. "I don't have—" She took a deep breath. "Why are we in Romania?"

Bucky couldn't help but smile. "Why do you think? What do newlyweds usually do after getting married?"

He waited for the realization to dawn on her, watching as she trembled and shied away. Bucky wondered how experienced she was if a simple innuendo left her so flustered. He couldn't wait to find out.

She still wouldn't look at him.

"Where's my father?" the girl asked, her question directed at the floor.

It appeared the Burgundy princess was close to her last remaining parent. "Danial?" Bucky sneered, unable to suppress his annoyed scoff. "In New York, where he belongs."

She seemed taken aback. Her lips parted, and she straightened her posture in attention.

Bucky narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why?"

Flustered, she started to answer but then froze, her eyes wide with an emotion he couldn't quite discern. She shook her head furiously. "Nothing."

Bucky's suspicion grew tenfold. He was ready to interrogate her, but she interrupted him.

"And my friend?" she asked desperately. "Where is she?"

"Hmm," Bucky mused. "The blonde with the big mouth?" He missed the expression on her face as he finished the rest of his drink. "Dove, was it?"

"N-no," the girl denied. "She's French."

It took a second for Bucky to recall, and once he did, he couldn't help but smile.

"The French maid? She stayed with you after the ceremony. I talked to her about—"

"Well, is she here?" the girl cut him off.

Bucky met her eyes, and the second he did, she averted her gaze. Acting on instinct, he reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You interrupted me."

He watched as her breath quickened and her irises dilated. Bucky waited for a verbal response, but she remained frozen, struck dumb by his intimidating presence. "You're lucky you're cute," Bucky said, finally releasing her.

She seemed to deflate the second he retreated from her personal space and mirrored his relaxed posture, melting into her seat as if suddenly drained.

"Eat," Bucky ordered, pouring a finger's worth of Scotch into his glass and pushing it toward her.

An indescribable tension filled the air, an unspoken awkwardness. Which was to be expected, Bucky supposed, since this was their formal introduction. The girl shook her head. "I'm not hungry," she whispered.

Bucky downed the rest of his Scotch, keeping his gaze fixed on her. Her discomfort in his presence was palpable, incredibly aware of him with how she uncomfortably squirmed in her seat.

"Eat," he repeated, the finality in his voice leaving no room for argument. The girl obediently picked up the fork, ready to dig into the food. The meal consisted of a variety of fresh fruits, sweet and savoury pastries, and various breakfast proteins. She nibbled on a melon, taking such small bites that Bucky became frustrated.

The pilot's voice came through the overhead speakers, announcing their impending arrival, and the flight attendants prepared for landing.

"Shall I pack this to go, Mr. Barnes?" the female attendant asked, gesturing toward the untouched breakfast.

Bucky nodded. "Has the car arrived?"

"Of course, Mr. Barnes. Also, the police commissioner is waiting for you on the tarmac, per your request."

Bucky hummed. "Good." He retrieved his wallet and handed a few hundreds to the male attendant, who was closer. "For both of your discretion," he explained, referring to his previous phone calls.

"Thank you!" The attendant quickly pocketed the money, and the area was swiftly cleaned. The table between Bucky and the girl was folded and moved out of the way.

"Mrs. Barnes?" the female attendant called. "Mrs. Barnes, please fasten your seatbelt."

Bucky watched as the girl stared blankly at the attendant. "What?"

"We are preparing to land," the attendant explained, struggling to hide her bewilderment.

After a few more uncomfortable moments, Bucky leaned forward and fastened her seatbelt himself, ensuring it was secure. She tensed under his touch, but he ignored it, both amused and annoyed by her reaction to him.

He would need to rectify that later. There was no sound reason for a woman to be so cold toward a man. But for now... They needed to discuss more pressing matters, starting with why she...

Vaguely, Bucky recalled a drunken whisper from his father regarding the Burgundys. Something he had said after one too many drinks. "Their manipulations killed your grandfather."

Bucky hadn't comprehended it at the time, but perhaps he did now. He remembered his conversation with Danial. Surely, any offspring of Danial's would be just as cunning and manipulative as him.

Bucky would uncover the truth if it was the last thing he did.

May 4th, 2018

The car ride from the airport was filled with silence. The girl had lost her appetite but was picking at her food at the behest of her husband, who was engrossed on his phone. She took small, reluctant bites of the fruit, struggling to keep it down.

Husband. The word brought a welling of tears to her eyes. She fought to hold them back as she felt his penetrating gaze upon her. Was this how prey felt just before they were pounced upon by their predators?

James was a prevalent man, it seemed, if the Romanian Chief Commissioner himself came to the runway to greet the newlywed couple on their recent nuptials. The commissioner discreetly pledged his unwavering loyalty to them, and they exchanged handshakes.

"If you need anything," James assured him, "don't hesitate to reach out. You have my number."

They were on their way to James' villa, situated on the outskirts of the city and nestled in a little strip of private land. It was a secluded house meant to provide the newlyweds with privacy during their honeymoon. James had explained this to her before diving straight into his work.

Honeymoon. The girl felt a bout of fear wash over her at the thought. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with a murderer.

Oh God! Would she have to...? Bile rose in her throat. Fleur had warned her that the first time could be painful if both partners weren't ready. She vividly remembered the almost-kiss with Nathan two weeks ago—the anticipation, the push and pull. The immense relief when their moment was interrupted.

No, she wasn't ready at all.

Horror struck her. If Nathan, the university's golden boy, could stoop so low as to drug her, what would James be capable of? James, with his imposing stature and intimidating presence, his unconventional upbringing and violent tendencies. He was involved with the mafia! And now she belonged to him, bound by the laws of God and man.

He would force himself on her and take what he wanted. After the events of the past week, She wouldn't have the strength to fight him. She would lie there, helpless, as another piece of her soul withered away. At this rate, she wasn't sure how much more she had left to lose.

Bile rose even higher, but she forced it back down. Through the tinted window of the Escalade, the Romanian landscape flashed by, though she could not find solace in its fleeting beauty. The unfinished food sat neglected as they finally arrived at their destination.

The house was beautiful. Its dark exterior was adorned with soft lights hanging from nearby trees, creating a mesmerizing canopy that resembled a starry sky. Nestled behind trees and overlooking a meticulously landscaped garden, the two-story Spanish-style building exuded charm and elegance.

It seemed like a place she could one day call home... but she hated it.

The car faltered to a stop on the smooth cobblestone driveway, and the girl was so enraptured by the view that she didn't see James at her side until he opened her door and extended his hand.

She hesitated. Of course, she hesitated. Her father had sold her to this man as part of his despicable retirement plan. A man responsible for her mother's death. Perhaps he would be the one to eventually kill her as well. She didn't want to touch the hands that would bring about her demise, nor did she wish to meet the eyes that would watch the light in her own slowly fade.

Fear took over, and she let him help her out of the car. Clutching her skirt in her free hand, she took cautious steps, mindful not to trip over the fabric that now grazed the pavement without the support of her tall heels. It was then she realized she was still barefoot.

James barely acknowledged her, offering only a quick nod. His grip on her wrist remained firm and unyielding as he guided her pliant form around. They passed stone figurines portraying scantily clad fairies, a white deer with golden antlers, and fire-breathing dragons. They crossed over a small bridge above a flowing stream, with a seating area to their right and a vibrant array of flowers that tied the scene together.

A sudden wave of sadness washed over her as they reached the threshold. Like countless other girls, she had dreamed of her perfect wedding. She envisioned her lover cradling her in his arms, gazing at her adoringly, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as he carried her into their new home. Never did she imagine being dragged by her arm, trailing behind a husband she did not love, and into a house she never wanted to call home.

James released his grip on her wrist as they entered the foyer, and the girl exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. And if his touch provided even an inkling of comfort in this strange and unfamiliar place? Well, it was promptly ignored.

A few servants had gathered at the entrance to welcome the young couple. A frail older woman dressed in splashes of red and white stepped forward. "Ai venit devreme," she grumbled, her shoulders stiff and an ugly frown etched on her face.

"Scuze," James replied.

"Cum a fost zborul?"

"Lung."

"Trebuie să fii obosit."

"Nu prea."

The woman's eyes flicked toward the girl. "Ea trebuie să fie obosită."

James and the woman studied the girl until she warmed with shame, realizing they were talking about her.

"Poate," James grumbled, and they looked away.

The older woman suddenly embraced James, running her arms down his back. "Bine ați venit acasă, domnule Barnes!"

The girl was surprised to see a smile on James' face. The sight made her pause, and she tilted her head in contemplation. In her dreams, the monsters that appeared as smokeless fire, mocking her pain and suffering, never smiled. Yet here was one of those monsters standing before her in the form of a husband, smiling, laughing, displaying emotions she did not believe him capable of.

"Bunică!" James kissed the older woman's hand before gently touching it to his forehead as a sign of respect. Ah! So she was his grandmother. The girl understood that much Romanian. "Mi-a fost dor de tine!"

Their attention was solely on each other, and as if compelled, the girl found herself stumbling backward, one step at a time. It was an instinctive reaction to the turmoil festering in her gut, threatening to drown and suffocate her.

"She's not wearing shoes," a voice with a thick accent remarked.

The girl froze in place. James' grandmother looked at her pointedly, with a kind of resentment the girl couldn't comprehend.

James gestured toward the girl's stiff figure. "Bunică, this is—"

"I know who she is," Bunică snapped. "I can smell a Burgundy from a kilometre away."

"Bunică," James warned in a low tone.

"I want to know why she isn't wearing shoes."

The girl consciously flexed her toes, trying to hide them beneath her dress. Her feet were dirty and sore from walking across the tarmac and then from the car.

Bunică circled the girl, closely scrutinizing her. "Well? Can you speak, girl? Or are you going to stare at me dumbly all day?" For a slighter woman, she was very assertive.

"Bunică," James warned once again.

"I just want to know if Danial gave you a mute bride. I wouldn't put it past him."

"She can speak," James snapped. "Say something."

The girl raised one arm in an awkward wave. "Salut." Shame filled her immediately after having obeyed him.

Bunică narrowed her eyes. "You speak the language?"

The girl vigorously shook her head.

Bunică turned to James for confirmation. "She doesn't," James replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Nu mă face cu ochii aia mari! How can I know if she isn't just as manipulative as her grandma—?"

"Bunică," James interrupted. "Why don't we talk in the study?"

The girl trembled from the number of accusations and verbal abuse hurled at her. She didn't know what she had done to deserve such treatment, but it obviously had something to do with her father.

Bunică gave the girl one last piercing look before abruptly walking away. Her eyes stung at the harsh treatment she was receiving from this stranger. If the grandmother was like that, how unpleasant would James be? She didn't want to find out.

James strode toward her, firmly gripping her arms. "Yelena will show you to my room. Get comfortable and wait for me there." He paused as if considering his words carefully. "Don't leave."

From one prison to another. Perhaps it wasn't such a drastic change from New York. He shoved her into someone else's arms without waiting for a response and hurriedly strode away to catch up to his Bunică.

Yelena was a sturdy young woman with broad shoulders and a slender waist. A dirty blonde braid rested atop her heart-shaped face, with round eyes and pink lips adding to her appealing features. "This way," she said in a thick, palatal Russian accent.

The girl followed Yelena further into the house and up the stairs. The Spanish-style villa boasted ample natural light with contrasting dark accents. Climbing the stairs, they reached a small hallway that led to a pair of doors.

"The master suite," Yelena announced, pushing open the double doors with a flourish and guiding the girl inside. Coming to a stop in the middle of the spacious room, the girl took in the striking contrast of grays, blacks, and earth tones that adorned the bedroom. Floor-length mirrors adorned one wall parallel to the bed, and a set of French doors leading to a small balcony graced the far side of the room. Cool air swept in from the open door, causing the girl to shiver as her heated skin lowered in temperature.

"Your luggage has already been brought up, and a warm bath has been drawn," Yelena informed her, closing the balcony doors when a strong gust of wind carried in some leaves.

The girl nodded but gave no reply, locking herself in the bathroom. It was spacious, surpassing the size of her room back in Vancouver. It exuded luxury, resembling something out of Architectural. Marble floors, wooden accents, twin vanities facing each other, a rain shower at one end, and a window overlooking the black sea at the other. And in the middle of it all, made prominent by the red rose petals scattered around, was an oval bathtub brimming with steaming water.

The girl approached the tub, hoping to relax her weary muscles and wash away the stress of the past few weeks, when something caught her eye. Folded neatly on a stool next to the tub were two engraved robes, a flash of gold against matte black. One bore the inscription "Mr. Barnes." She held her breath. While the other said, "Mrs. Barnes." She felt a sudden confusion, momentarily forgetting how to breathe—was it inhale, exhale, inhale, or the other way around?

She gave a frustrated cry and began tugging at her dress, the only barrier preventing her from resurfacing. From breaking through the layers of hurt and deceit, to feeling the fresh air on her skin, in her lungs. She kicked harder—clawed savagely, but her legs felt lifeless—her fingers weak, and try as she might, she couldn't swim to the surface—couldn't breathe.

The dress clung to her like a second skin, too tight in some places and loose in others. She reached for the zipper at the back but couldn't find it—couldn't break free of her cage. Another cry of frustration escaped her as she dropped to her knees in defeat.

And most curious, her hand snagged on something as she ran it through her hair. She painfully untangled her fingers, revealing the culprit—a ring, forcibly placed upon her by him. It was heavy, and big, and so beautiful ugly. She tugged at it, desperate to remove it from her body and cast it far away. That is what kept her here, anchoring her feet, clipping her wings, depriving her of oxygen.

This—his—ring.

Dipping her fingers into the soapy water, she watched as the diamond disappeared behind a floating petal. Yet, the ring remained stubborn, as if sewn onto her skin, fused with her very being.

Her right hand slipped, causing pain to bloom across her palm. The stupid ring had cut her! She huffed indignantly. How dare—how—why? Her lips curled, quivered, and a whimper escaped her. Then another, and another.

Pain seemed to follow the girl, clinging to her every step. Now, she finally let it wash over her. Pietro's duplicity paled in comparison to the betrayal of her best friend. Her friend who spoke too much and too fast, who pretended to care about her. Her sheepish smile at the ceremony was seared onto the girl's mind. And to think she had been involved in the entire scheme, conspiring with Pietro and her own father.

Was nothing real?

Pain! The girl recalled the last conversation she had with her mother. They talked about school and her mother's garden. Her mother had soothed her after another nightmare, as only mothers knew how. It had been nice. She had been happy.

Until she wasn't, and it wasn't. Now her mother was dead; her father had lied about it. And the girl found herself married to her mother's murderer.

Blood spread through the soapy water, turning it pink. And she finally allowed herself to cry, releasing the pent-up emotions that had thus far consumed her.

He didn't expect the first sob, nor the second or third. When Bucky heard the fourth sob echo through the room, he reached two conclusions. Firstly, he realized he needed to soundproof the bathroom and possibly the bedroom as well. He could hear every hitch in the girl's breath, every pained cry, and every sob she attempted to suppress.

Secondly, Bucky concluded that he must have overlooked a crucial detail in his extensive research regarding the girl, and something was clearly amiss. A lingering suspicion had plagued him since the morning of the wedding. Everything felt off.

Bucky recalled his conversation with Danial after the disastrous ceremony. When his father-in-law threw papers at Bucky's face and made him sign on the dotted line. Bastard.

Another sob caused Bucky to flinch, and he sank onto his bed, loosening his bow tie. Perhaps little Burgundy was unaware of her father's deceitfulness.

He remembered what his bunică had said. "How can I know if she isn't just as manipulative as her grandma?"

Or perhaps the girl was as cunning as described. Bucky knew his family had a history with the Burgundys, but he was unsure to what extent. He was gaining a lot from the marriage—power, money, land—what was she getting, apart from his last name? One thing was certain: the girl was keeping secrets from him. She had refused to see him before their wedding, and now she refused to say more than two words.

An evocative wail drew Bucky's attention back to the present. His feet carried him toward the bathroom, but he hesitated to knock. Bucky doubted the girl wanted his comfort, not that he knew how to provide any if she did.

Bucky Barnes knew women like the back of his hand—their bodies, that is; understanding the female brain was a whole different matter. Bucky knew the basics. He knew that "I'm fine" meant "I'm not fine." And "I don't mind" meant they definitely minded.

There wasn't much else Bucky felt confident about when it came to understanding female behaviour unless it concerned sex. Sex, he knew. It was easy and instinctual.

Boy meets girl. Attraction. Mind-blowing orgasm. Boom, it was as simple as that.

He had heard that honeymoons were filled with sex, sex, and even more sex. Where one's carnal desires came to life. It was supposed to be romantic, sensual, and sexy.

Bucky had spent the past month or so fantasizing about all the sexy things he would do to his wife. Nothing about her crying in the bathroom was sexy.

"Fuck." Bucky quickly changed out of his uncomfortable clothes and into a loose pair of black sweats. He neatly folded his wedding attire and placed it in the dresser, intending to have it dry-cleaned later.

Bucky plopped down on his bed. "Motherfucker," he whispered in disdain. He was not supposed to lie there, staring at the ceiling, trying to block out the girl's cries. He was supposed to be fucking her hard and fast, using her to release the stress of the past few weeks out of his system. Her tears were supposed to be tears of pleasure, not pain. His groans were supposed to be of satisfaction, not annoyance.

God, he was exhausted. Now that his body knew he wouldn't be getting lucky tonight, the weight of the entire week's stress settled heavily on his shoulders, making him feel foggy and worn out.

Bucky must have dozed off because the house was eerily quiet when he opened his eyes, and almost an hour had passed.

He stretched his lithe body with a yawn and forced himself up. He wouldn't let the girl rot away in the bathroom all day. They needed to talk, she needed to eat, and then Bucky planned to take her sightseeing in the city.

The bathroom was locked as he went to open it, and there was silence on the other end. Bucky called out his wife's name and knocked on the dark wood. "I know you're in there," he said, exasperation creeping into his voice. When he received no answer, his jaw clenched in frustration. "Come out, I need to talk to you."

There was some rustling on the other side, yet the door remained closed. "If you don't open this door in the next five seconds, I'm breaking it!" Bucky warned. He was not against property damage if it meant she would come out.

It took longer than five seconds, but the door eventually opened, revealing the girl in her wedding dress, still as beautiful as the night before.

Bucky cursed under his breath, momentarily distracted by her appearance. His mind worked a lot slower when she was wearing white. He let his gaze roam over her body. Her hair was a dishevelled mess, with pins sticking out every which way, and mascara streaked in lines down her face. It was unmistakable that she had been crying.

"What's wrong?" he found himself asking, concern evident in his voice.

The girl shook her head dismissively, avoiding eye contact.

"I could hear you," Bucky pointed out. He couldn't have ignored her cries if he tried. She was that loud. Her head bowed lower in what he suspected was shame. "Is it your father?" Bucky ventured. "Do you miss him?"

She remained quiet for a while, frustrating him further. Eventually, she spoke in a voice so low he wouldn't have heard it if he were not waiting for her reply. "My mother."

Of course. Bucky immediately realized his mistake. How could he have forgotten about her mother?

He apologized, "I'm sorry. Any idea who did it?"

His wife slowly lifted her head, eyes wide with alarm.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge her reaction. "I heard it was an inside job. You really don't have any suspects?"

She slowly shook her head. "No," she whispered.

Bucky nodded, as if satisfied. In reality, his sharp mind was assessing her sincerity.

His attention shifted, noticing that her neckline had plunged significantly. It caused his heart rate to increase with excitement, his body coming alive from her proximity. He could see more of her skin than before, not that he minded in the slightest. God, she was sweet. Then a sudden thought struck him—she was still in her wedding dress.

"You haven't changed?" he asked in a husky voice.

Her response was hesitant and quiet. "No, I—I couldn't reach the back."

Cute. Bucky moved aside, gesturing for her to leave the bathroom, smiling when she accidentally brushed against his chest. He closed the door behind him and approached his little wife who stood near the edge of the bed with her back turned.

Slipping behind her, Bucky pressed his body flush against hers, feeling her stiffen. "Relax," he whispered, lowering his head to meet her height. He gently tucked a straight strand of hair behind her ear. "Let me help you."

She didn't object as Bucky ran his hand over the back of her bodice, searching for a zipper or clasp to aid in removing her dress. Instead, he discovered an intricately woven corset, revealing glimpses of smooth skin from between the silk ribbons.

After a few attempts, Bucky managed to undo the bow at the small of her back, and the dress unravelled before his eyes. His wife inhaled in surprise, using her hands to cover the rest of her modesty.

Bucky removed the remaining lace, discarding it somewhere behind him. He noticed red marks on her skin where the corset had been digging in, and he couldn't resist running his fingers over the slight indents. God, her skin felt burning hot against his. It made his heart beat in his ears—made sweat line his neck.

Reaching around, Bucky grasped his wife's chin, tilting it toward him. The sight made him lick his lips in anticipation. Her eyes were darkened with lust, her mouth slightly parted, and her chest rose and fell with each breath.

Sweet, so sweet. And so close he could just reach over and claim her mouth for his own. They were so close he could almost taste the dried tears on her face. Bucky felt an overwhelming desire to touch her, to feel if she were as soft and sweet all over.

His hand tightened on her chin while his other arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer until their noses touched. He was ready to lose himself in her scent, but just like earlier at the wedding, his wife's eyes rolled back, and she collapsed against him.

"Fuck," Bucky muttered, holding his half-conscious wife in his arms. She was not fully unconscious and was mumbling incoherently, blinking her eyes, trying to regain control of her body. "What the fuck?"

Was this a regular occurrence? Bucky hoped not. His line of work was not for the faint-hearted. Hell, she was a Burgundy! Her father, Danial, was ruthless and unapologetic when it came to his empire, so it made no sense for his daughter to be so fragile under minor stress.

Unless she's faking it.

But the longer Bucky stood there, cradling his wife, the more absurd the thought seemed. She looked too sweet and innocent to be as cunning and deceitful as her father.

"God damn it!" Bucky carried her to the bed and laid her down on the sheets. Her eyes were droopy, but she was fighting to stay awake. "Hey," Bucky lightly smacked her face. "You're fine. Open your eyes." She slowly regained composure, blinking and looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time.

"Fuck." Bucky ran a hand through his hair in frustration. All he wanted was a conversation, a simple conversation with regular-sized sentences and no fainting spells. Was that too much to ask for? He didn't think so.

He blindly grabbed a shirt from his closet and handed it to his wife. "Put this on. We need to talk." He made sure to leave no room for argument. Leaning against the wall, Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and waited for his wife to dress.

"Well?" Bucky questioned when she looked at him blankly. "Get a move on. I don't have all day." He chuckled when the girl gasped in surprise. She could think whatever she wanted, but he wasn't going to let anything else delay their conversation. "I'm not moving until that dress is off," he warned.

She swallowed audibly before slipping her head through the neck hole and pulling the fabric over her dress. Bucky observed as she fixed the sleeves and neckline, making final adjustments and letting the dress fall to her waist. Hmm, it was a sneaky move, but Bucky decided to let it slide.

"Go on," he encouraged.

His wife remained seated on the bed, lifting her hips to remove the dress from her legs. It fell to the ground in a heap, and for a moment, Bucky was met with the sexiest thighs he had ever seen. He thought he saw a flash of white lace, but it was quickly covered. His wife pulled his red henley down, attempting to hide her skin, which made him frown.

What had Steve said about him getting some? Yeah. Right. That didn't seem to be happening anytime soon. Didn't mean he couldn't look.

Bucky hummed, breaking the silence. "You faint often?"

His wife appeared taken aback. "N-no, not really."

"Not really," Bucky echoed sarcastically. "Right, we need to talk about that. What happened yesterday?"

"I don't know," she replied, fidgeting with her thumbs, a clear sign of nervousness.

Raising a patronizing brow, Bucky remarked, "Come on, you can do better than that." The girl remained tight-lipped. "Were you drunk?"

She vehemently shook her head, denying it.

"I could smell it on your breath," he accused, recalling the moment before their failed kiss when he leaned in and caught a whiff of alcohol. There was no mistaking it.

"I had some Champagne, but I wasn't drunk," she insisted with desperation.

"Well, someone saw you finish an entire bottle," Bucky pointed out, caught between his wife's words and Dot's account. "Honestly, you don't strike me as someone who can handle her alcohol."

"It was nerves," she finally admitted, avoiding eye contact by focusing on the ground, the window, or the rings adorning his fingers.

"Nerves?" Bucky raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

"I got nervous because I've never done this before," she explained.

Bucky understood her perfectly well, but he couldn't resist playing with her. He faked a frown. "I'm not sure I understand."

"You know," she shrugged, silently urging him to fill in the blanks. Bucky took pleasure in making her say the words. "What newlyweds normally do after getting married."

"You mean fuck?" Bucky chuckled, enjoying her reaction. "Somehow, I doubt that."

"Doubt what?"

"Doubt you've never been screwed," his words hit the mark.

The girl's eyes snapped toward him. "I haven't."

Bucky felt a surge of excitement at her false confession. "I wouldn't lie if I were you."

"I'm not lying," she insisted.

Bucky uncrossed his arms and stood tall. "So you're telling me you've never had a boyfriend before?"

Something resembling shame flitted across her face. She hesitated to answer, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes."

Bucky didn't buy it, not for a second, especially after what he discovered the day before. He swallowed his harsh words and retorted with a snide remark. "Never had a boyfriend, huh? Interesting."

"I'm still young," she argued.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her argument. "Still young, huh? Well, sweetheart, age doesn't determine romantic experiences, but hey, who am I to question your luck with Cupid?" He couldn't help but add a touch of sarcasm to his voice.

The girl's face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. "It's the truth," she insisted, her voice tinged with defiance.

Bucky leaned in closer, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Sure, sure. I guess it's just a rare case of a twenty-two-year-old with zero love history. Must be some kind of record."

The girl clenched her fists, clearly affected by his remark. "It's not as uncommon as you think," she retorted.

Bucky grinned mischievously. "Oh, I'm sure it's a regular occurrence," he replied sarcastically, enjoying their banter. "Cupid must have taken an extended vacation when it came to your life."

She shot him a piercing look. "Well, maybe I've been waiting for someone worthy."

Bucky chuckled, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "Someone worthy? Well, here I am, sweetheart," Bucky spread his arms in an elaborate display, "ready and willing."

With that final snide remark, Bucky settled back into his previous position, eager to see her reaction. The tension in the room lingered as they locked eyes, both unwilling to back down.

"You have some nerve," the girl huffed in irritation.

Bucky's smirk widened, thoroughly enjoying their verbal sparring. "You have no idea, sweetheart," he replied, his voice laced with amusement. "Nerve is practically a requirement in my line of work."

The girl's cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. She clenched her jaw, determined not to let his taunts get the better of her. "Just don't expect me to swoon over your nerves," she retorted, her voice laced with a hint of sarcasm.

Bucky chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "Oh, sweetheart, I wouldn't dare," he said, inching closer. Somehow she seemed even smaller when he towered over her. "But it seems like you're pretty daring for the both of us." He grabbed her chin and narrowed his eyes, dropping all pretense of humour for a moment. "Don't forget though, this marriage won't be built on swooning or romance. It's a partnership, an arrangement. And you'll find that I bring much more to the table than fucking nerves."

The girl flinched at his harsh words, pursing her lips. Angry tears gathered in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. "And what is that exactly?" she spat. "Because so far, you've been a beast."

For the first time that day, Bucky felt a genuine flash of rage rise within him. He stepped back and released her chin, clenching his fists at his sides and away from her. What had he done to warrant being called a beast? He was trying his best to make sure she was comfortable, but it seemed the Burgundy princess had higher standards.

He breathed through his nose, plastering a mocking smile onto his face. He could tell the second the girl realized the weight of what she said because she was suddenly back to her quiet self.

"Power, protection, and a life you couldn't even fathom," he responded with intensity. "I may not look like your typical knight in shining armour, but I can guarantee this much—no one will ever dare to mess with you as long as you're mine. You have my name now. There's nothing you could possibly want that I couldn't give you."

Bucky paused and took another step back so the girl didn't have to strain her neck as much to look at him. He wanted her full attention on him as he delivered his last blow. "What will you bring to the fucking table?"

The girl's expression softened slightly, her defiance giving way to a flicker of uncertainty. She seemed to be grappling with conflicting emotions, the weight of their unusual situation bearing down on her.

Her eyes went vacant for a moment as if she wasn't in the room anymore. "I'll give you an heir," she whispered.

"What?"

She shook her head, seemingly returning to the room. "I'll give you a son. An heir."

Bucky cocked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Well, that's a given."

He watched with mild pleasure as she deflated in front of him, defeated. Bucky turned to leave.

"I don't understand you." Her voice was the softest it had been.

"You don't know me," Bucky retorted, slowly warming up to her fluctuating tone. "And I don't know you." He glanced at his watch. "Be ready in five. I'm taking you out for lunch."

Note: Thoughts?

Ao3│Wattpad│Ko-fi

Main Masterlist│Series Masterlist│Series Playlist

Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! 💜💜

@bbgem329 @broco8 @calwitch @candybabysworld @chwlogy @darlingsuna @emmabarnes @hallecarey1 @la--figue @last-sheep @littlewhiterose @lostyx @marvelatthetwilight @matchat3a @moonlightreader649 @nefri-black @ng4b20 @nothingbettertosay81 @pineprincess @prettywhenicry4 @ria132love @sebastianstansqueen @sergntbarnes @speedysimp @star017 @thegirlnextdoorssister @tinkerbelle67 @umadirectioner @valkyrie418 @vayollie @veroxbarnes @vollzeitliebe @writing-for-marvel

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky x innocent!reader #mafia au #marvel #meant to be series #mywriting #forced marriage #arranged marriage

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bi-ss · 11 months ago

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~ Ties that bind ~

Bucky x reader- arranged marriage.

Summary: You agreed to arrange marriage when you were little, after seeing who you are to marry. You wish you could go back.

Warnings- violence, guns/weapons, illegal stuff, drugs, fluff if you squint, smut eventually, Sharon being a bitch, swearing.. That's all I can think of but every chapter will have its own warnings.

(Spelling may be bad as I'm very dyslexic sorry in advance)

Part 1 -here

Part2 -here

Part3 -here

Part4 -here

Part5 -here

(Yes, I liked my own blogs, OK? Also, if you don't like this sort of thing or my writing, please just don't read it. I honestly love feedback, but hateful messages are not welcome xx)

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drgrlfriend · 1 year ago

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Okay, how did I just now realize that I never posted this amazing commission from @quicksillver? I asked for a scene from Freedom's Reach, not realizing in my non-artist head that the scene I chose would be a technical *nightmare* what with mirrors being little bastards and all, but Misha came through like an absolute CHAMP. Definitely stop by their blog and give them all the love!

“Penny for your thoughts?” Bucky says. Clint looks up, startled, to find Bucky standing in front of him, collar up and a tie looped around his neck.

Clint clears his throat a little, sure that he must be blushing. There’s a standing mirror in the corner and Clint guides Bucky over to it, crowding in behind him to knot the tie. “I’ll tell you about them later,” he growls, deep and low into Bucky’s ear, just to make him shiver. “Or else we’ll never get there in time.”

Clint takes note of how Bucky’s eyes in the mirror go dark and hot, and he presses a little closer than necessary, letting Bucky feel every inch of him along his back. He reaches out a hand and snags Bucky’s jacket where it’s waiting on the back of a chair, watching in the mirror as he helps Bucky into it and smooths his palms down the front, the gold ring on his left hand gleaming in the lamplight. The left arm of Bucky’s jacket is pinned up neatly, the dark blue wool skimming Bucky’s lean frame and making his eyes glow an icy blue.

“You look beautiful,” Clint can’t help but murmur.

Bucky turns, hand sliding inside Clint’s jacket to cradle his ribs through the thin linen of his shirt, his own ring cool and hard in contrast to the warm press of his fingers. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” he says, cutting off Clint’s retort with a hungry kiss.

By the time they tear themselves apart they are running a bit late, and have to take a few more moments to straighten up their clothes anew. Clint’s skin is still buzzing as he and Bucky descend the grand staircase to the main lobby, hand-in-hand. Bucky gives Clint’s fingers a squeeze and Clint squeezes back, their rings clinking together as they head toward the dining room.

#the winter soldier #bucky barnes #clint barton #hawkeye #marvel #mcu #winterhawk #my fic #freedom's reach #historical au #mail order bride au #arranged marriage au #comic!clint barton #fraction/aja comic!clint barton #deaf!clint barton #whob2021 #winterhawk olympic bang

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themculibrary · 7 months ago

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Arranged Marriage AU Masterlist 2

part one

A Marriage Between Realms (ao3) - professnerdiness loki/sylvie E, 16k

Summary: “She and I are both the offspring of Kings. The son of Laufey and the daughter of Odin. Two children whose fathers have been mortal enemies for millennia. They stole us from each other when we were babes, and raised us far from our lands and people. And now, we’re being married in order to reunite our families and bring peace to the Nine Realms.”

Prince Loki of Asgard and Princess Sylvie of Jotunheim are wed in a marriage of convenience and political necessity. Can they find something deeper between them?

A Sylki Arranged Marriage AU

A Promise of Peace (ao3) - neonheartbeat loki/sylvie E, 107k

Summary: Sylvie Odinsdottir knows her duty as a princess: to place Asgard above her own wants and desires. But when she meets the Jotun prince she's been promised to marry since she was young, she finds her loyalties begin to shift, and trust is a luxury she may not be able to afford for long...

Arranged (ao3) - NotEvenCloseToStraight steve/tony T, 8k

Summary: Royalty AU-- Howard arranges a match between Tony and Steve, but when Tony tries to run away with Tiberius instead, Steve goes after his betrothed and brings him home. Things are difficult between the couple at first, but an impulsive kiss leads to softer moments, and finally the arranged pair find happiness together.

Come lay with me, You're safe with me (ao3) - annunziatina tony/bruce M, 48k

Summary: In exchange for a military contract that would save his family from financial ruin, Tony Stark is forced to abandon his desire for love. But the reclusive scientist to whom Tony is promised is far from the army grunt he imagined. And maybe love isn't really out of reach.

everybody wants to rule the world (ao3) - bevioletskies peter/gamora T, 109k

Summary: Peter is the one and only heir to the Celestial throne. Gamora is expected to successfully lead the Titans to conquer the galaxy. A political alliance is in the works, and there may or may not be wedding bells in the air.

Alternately: Peter and Gamora find themselves in an arranged marriage and want nothing to do with it, but might need each other more than they think if they want to escape their genocidal fathers forever.

heavy is the crown (ao3) - Anonymous steve/tony G, 17k

Summary: “Why did you pick me? As a match. Howard forced you to marry, but you had - there were other options. Many of them.”

“Maybe I wanted to help you,” Tony says. “To help - anyone, for once. Your people needed it.”

Oh, Steve thinks dully. So it wasn’t about him at all. It’s - a comfort, in some ways. In others, it’s… less so.

“And-” Tony hesitates. "Everyone said you were kind. I thought… if I had to marry, I’d prefer to marry someone kind.”

(Or, Arranged Marriage AU.)

I’m With Him Until the Death Do Us Part (But It Doesn’t Do for this Hungry Heart) (ao3) - Just AnotherMarvelGirl wanda/vision E, 4k

Summary: I really tried to come up with a better summary, but I keep going back to the basics: an arranged marriage royal AU, with cheating, smut, and murder.

In the Hall of the Mountain King (ao3) - Hippiebuckyharrington steve/thor, background bucky/tony E, 26k

Summary: Thor doesn't mind taking the throne when his father dies. He doesn't mind giving up his partying ways with his brother in order to be the responsible King Asguard deserves. What he does mind is having to marry the prince of the neighboring kingdom of Midgard. He doesn't need a spouse to run his country, and he isn't ready to settle down.

Steve really would just like love, a family maybe, and to not be stuck watching his newly married brother mooning over his new husband. And he'd rather be painting anyway, so an arranged marriage is not the worst idea. What Steve doesn't want is to be married to the strange almost barbaric King, who shows up spectacularly hungover to their wedding. Now he's alone, and scared in a place miles from anything he is used to, saddled to a King who doesn't want him.

But maybe, maybe all hope is not lost, even with the disaster their wedding turns into. Maybe, just maybe, there is something to be salvaged from the less than ideal circumstances that brought them together.

just wrong enough to make it feel right (ao3) - thelilacfield wanda/vision M, 7k

Summary: “This is Vision. He is my personal guard. And he will be yours, my lady, whenever you ask.”

She thought that coming to the kingdom would be the end of all her troubles. Marrying a king would be her happy ever after. And yet, as Vision steps forward and shyly bows to her, she can’t help thinking that troubles are only just beginning with the way her heart flutters when those blue eyes meet hers.

Marriage and Mate Chases (ao3) - NotEvenCloseToStraight steve/tony, bucky/natasha, sam/clint E, 439k

Summary: A Regency-ish AU:

Strict, stern Alpha Captain Steve Rogers is firmly in control of himself, his army, and his life and intends to marry an Omega who shares the same ideals while wild, flighty Omega!Tony loves to flaunt Howard's rules, society's expectations and has no intention of settling down.

An arranged marriage forces Alpha and Omega together, but Steve's constant disapproval and Tony's refusal to compromise leads to anger and arguments, missed heats, harsh ruts and a lack of bonding bites. Vicious rumours fly about the Omega's fidelity and the Alpha's ability to control his mate and when Steve runs away to war to distance himself from his unpredictable husband, Tony turns to new friends and illicit activities to hide his hurting heart.

Steve returns from war a changed man ready to be a good husband, dedicating every minute of every day to winning Tony's heart back, but Tony is tired of being ignored, busy with his own projects and unwilling to give the Alpha another chance.

With outside forces plotting to ruin what little happiness they have, are Steve and Tony doomed to be unbonded husbands, married but never truly mates?

marry the sunset (ao3) - becuille t'challa/m'baku E, 5k

Summary: On the night before his wedding, T’Challa is not surprised by his inability to sleep. He is plagued by thoughts of M’Baku from years ago, pushed back in his memory like a long forgotten dream.

Of Broken Dreams and Mended Hearts (ao3) - Kellyscams steve/bucky, peggy/gabe, clint/natasha, pepper/tony, bucky/rumlow M, 354k

Summary: When the House of Barnes is left in massive debt after the death of George Barnes, their oldest son and heir, Bucky, is forced to sacrifice his own hopes and dreams by entering an arranged married to Steve Rogers. Steve seems kind enough, has a prominent job in the government, and was even voted Society's Best Catch. But the House Rogers is significantly higher in status than Bucky's family, which means Bucky is marrying up in Society, and marrying up doesn't only come with rewards, it also comes with certain...expectations and losses--some of which Bucky might be willing to do anything to avoid. And those opportunities might come his way.

Unless, of course, he actually starts falling in love with his new husband...

Seasons of Time (ao3) - ABrighterDarkness, britbrit99 steve/thor T, 56k

Summary: Thor hadn’t put much thought into what marriage and bonding might look like for him. The consideration only ever went as far as acknowledging that it was something that would need to happen, that was expected of him. He certainly didn’t ask questions or press for answers he was wholly uninterested in hearing.

Someday he would be required to court potential mates that would inevitably lead to marriage and, of course, bonding. He would be expected to have a child, at least one, preferably born with an Alpha designation, who he would then be expected to raise to take his place some many, many years down the road.

Someday, the time would come where he would need to conform to the role of King that he would eventually fill and that included the aforementioned expectations.

The Norns Write Right in Crooked Lines (ao3) - Anny_Franny loki/tony T, 17k

Summary: Two princes are forced into an engagement to form a military alliance and save thousand of lives. Thor and Tony had everything to be a happy couple: they were friends, they liked to drink, they knew how to deal with their weapons. Maybe they didn’t love each other, but hey, given time, who knew? Except…

Well, except Tony kinda fell in love with his hot dickish brother-in-law.

The Robot King (ao3) - betheflame pepper/tony T, 27k

Summary: Howard Stark has been a narcissistic control freak for a long time, so no one should really be surprised he added his son’s betrothal to a business merger, even when said son is 4 at the time.

Pepper and Tony are soulmates and all is looking peachy, until a tragic car accident, a well-placed lie, and years of emotional abuse conspire to force them apart.

Can they make it back to each other? And despite Howard’s indifference, find true love?

+++++++++++++

(Of course they can. I only write happily ever afters.)

Basically, this is Lion King, which means it's Hamlet, because evidently I only write AUs now.

The Selection (ao3) - worrisomeme steve/bucky, riley/sam, peggy/angie, clint/natasha M, 20k

Summary: The Department of Spousal Selection. Anyone not married by age 25 gets a spouse assigned to them by the government. And it’s fine, really. The matches are almost always a perfect fit. Steve Rogers is a successful tattoo artist who’s about to have his world turned upside down when he’s matched with a one Bucky Barnes. As they navigate their new life together and learn to deal with each other’s baggage, will their match prove successful, or will their inner demons tear them apart?

we deserve a soft epilogue, my love (ao3) - zashizawa tony/natasha N/R, 9k

Summary: "Love. . ." She trailed off, brows furrowed, "Love isn't always enough to make someone stay, Tony."

His eyes met hers, the green shining from the weak streetlights nearby, and he wondered when that had become his favorite color.

"It can be." He argued, because he knew his parents loved each other, and that was enough for them. He didn't know why, but they did.

"But, not always." She replied pointedly, looking between him and her. He knew where she was coming from.

They'd gotten closer, he didn't know how, but he could feel her leg brush against his under the water.

They both locked eyes for a moment, and Tony found himself gravitating closer. "It can be." He murmured yet again, his fingers brushing delicately against her bare side, his eyes flickering from her eyes to her lips.

"It can be." Natasha finally agreed, looking at him just as intensely as he stared at her.

(Or, the arranged marriage au nobody asked for)

What Comes on the Stage (ao3) - buckybarnesdeservestobehappy (hutchabelle), chaosmanor steve/bucky E, 11k

Summary: Living in Wyoming Territory in the 1880s, recently widowed Bucky Barnes needs a wife—someone to help him on the farm and bear him children. When he arranges for a bride from the East Coast to join him on his homestead, he’s met with a surprise. What he doesn’t foresee is falling in love, especially when Steve Rogers isn’t at all who Bucky expects to step off the stagecoach.

wish you were the piece to get me out of the game (ao3) - disaster_energy loki/mobius T, 10k

Summary: “It is only courteous of us to propose an option as well, the peace between the realms would-”

“Propose me.”

-- Or; King Mobius is looking for a consort among the Nine Realms. Loki discreetly throws himself as tribute.

#themculibrary #marvel #mcu #masterlists #arranged marriage #arranged marriage masterlist #au

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sarahowritesostucky · 7 months ago

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Happy Little Family

📖"Taking Back What's His"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6170

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, dubcon/noncon, a/b/o, threats and coercion, rape, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", yandere, kid fic

Summary: You thought you'd left behind the man who turned out to be more dangerous than you'd ever imagined. But one day he walks back into your life and reminds you that, come hell or high water, you're all going to be one happy. little. family.

This chapter: You try one last, desperate ploy to escape, but it doesn't exactly work out. And James hasn't come alone. The next time you wake up, you're a long way from home.

Nickname Dictionary: vorishka = "little thief" mamochka = "mommy/little mother" kotenok= "kitty/kitten" omegya = (made up) Russian spelling of omega omegechka = (made up) "little omega" krasotka = "Pretty(n.)/pretty one" pchelka = "little bee"

2. Taking Back What's His

(Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!)

He says something to you, after. Words that might as well be in his native Russian, for how well you take them in. But they're soft, and reassuring—he’s pleased. His body weight moves off the bed.

When you finally open your eyes and blink up at the ceiling, it’s the softest baby pink all around the edges, like smoke curling into your vision. It’s nice, peaceful. Feels good-all-over in that way that painkillers do. You haven’t experienced it since the last time you had sex with an alpha.

Which James unfortunately seems to have figured out was with him, almost two years ago.

“Oh, kotenok, You haven’t been fucking anybody.”

You’re still in the afterglow, mind muzzy, all of your previous panic and fear blunted near to the point of erasure with how nice it feels to float, when you hear James’ pleased chuckle from where he’s getting dressed. He comes back and leans over you. “Hey Sweetheart. Feeling good?”

You frown at him, though it takes a concerted effort to make any expression of displeasure. You want him to know you aren’t happy, that this state he’s fucked you into isn’t real. You want to slap that smug fucking look right off his face. All you manage to come up with is a pouty little “no" that makes James laugh.

“Come here.” He fixes your dress, then helps you up off the bed. He seems to be checking to make sure you’re steady on your feet before he lets you stand on your own. “You good?”

“M’fine.” He knows you too well, knows how intense it can be for you, how strongly you react to him. You avoid his knowing gaze. You’re not completely useless like this. You can still remember everything that’s going on, can still remember June. “Please,” you say again, trying to change the tone of your voice. “Let me give her to Hilde.”

James rolls his eyes. “Right, right. Your friend across the street.”

“Please James?” You look up at him, pink edges all around his face, so pretty. Goddamn him. “She’ll be safe there.”

Again, something passes through his eyes too quickly for you to identify. It might be annoyance. He sighs, and the look, whatever it was, is gone. “Sure thing, Doll. Babies need a lot of stuff. You might as well pack up what she needs.”

You nod tearfully, going to your closet to grab a bag. He follows close behind, sending a clear message that he’s not planning on letting you out of his sights while you do this. James isn’t stupid, you’ll give him that.

In the nursery, June is happy to see you and wants you to pick her up. You talk to her in a sweet, placating voice as you go around the room grabbing different things that she’ll need and stuffing them in the bag. At this point you know to be grateful for the haze. Even as it tapers off, it’s blunting the sorrow that you know would otherwise have you sobbing and your voice clogging with tears. This way at least, you’re able to keep June thinking everything is alright. This way she isn’t scared.

It’s when you’re crouched beside the changing table, stuffing diapers into the bag with James behind you that you get the idea: Downstairs: the kitchen: in the drawer. Your gun.

You stop moving long enough that James notices. “What’re you doing? Come on.”

You stand back up. Yes. You have to do it. This is the only chance you have at getting out of this and not losing June. You lick your lips nervously before turning back around to face him. “I … have to get her bottles and stuff from downstairs,” you say, hoping that the lingering post-coital haze is enough to keep your true intentions off your face. Your eyes flick up to James, who’s squinting at your tits.

“Bottle?” He starts to smirk, and you glare at him.

“Yes. Asshole. I won’t exactly be around to feed her, now will I?”

His face softens at that and he gives you an apologetic look. “Right. Well go on, then.”

You move for the hallway, realize he’s not following you, and turn back in confusion. He’s beside the crib, holding his hand out for June to touch. Your heart leaps from your spot in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

He arches an eyebrow. “I’m waiting right here until you come back upstairs,” he says, his message clear.

Your pulse picks up, but you force yourself to nod. You’re useless without that gun. You have to get to it. He narrows his eyes at you while June giggles and reaches for his wiggling fingers. “No games.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, and turn and head for the stairs.

It’s pure torture to move at a casual speed, especially as your mind is clearing and the fearful emotions returning. In the downstairs hallway, you check once over your shoulder that James hasn’t followed you, then pick up your pace, hurrying into the kitchen and heading straight for the drawer where you keep the gun.

Your eyes tear up as you maneuver past the digital lock that you installed for nothing. June’s still crawling. She never even got old enough to toddle over here. You press the code into the keypad, cringing when it does its quiet little two-tone ‘beep’ at being unlocked. You wait, heart in your throat until you hear the mechanism moving, then rip open the drawer.

Your heart stops and your brain freezes and all you can think is: No. No, no no—

“Looking for this?”

You whirl around, and there he is: standing on the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the sink as he holds your only weapon in his hands.

His face is relaxed, Goddamn him, as he pretends to ignore your horror and instead holds the gun up to flippantly inspect it. “I have to say, Doll, I’m impressed. I would’ve expected some puny girl gun. Ruger, Derringer. But this?” He turns the Skorpion in his hands, and chuckles softly when he sees the cartridge. “Jesus. You really wanted to blow a hole in somebody, didn’t you?” His eyes finally drag up to you, the hand he’s holding the gun with dropping down by his side as he starts walking over, slowly, step by step, eyes boring into you with a growing anger.

Oh shit. Dread curls in your gut but you’re frozen. Bolting now wouldn’t even get you to the staircase. He presses in close, pinning you against the countertop. He brings the gun up and nudges your jaw with it, leaning in and breathing in your face, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find it, vorishka?”[little thief]

He’s taunting you with your own failure, and you can’t stop the whimper that breaks from your throat at having your one and only plan foiled so pathetically easily. “James,” you plead, “I didn’t—”

“Shh sh sh. None of that, now.” He’s speaking softly, sweetly, but he’s furious. He drags his lips over your cheek and the barrel of the gun you stole from him over the other. “So what was the plan? How were you going to kill me with my own gun? Pop upstairs and shoot up the nursery?”

“N-no.”

“Ah. Right. You’re smarter than that. You would’ve waited for me to come down and see what the fuck was taking you so long, or put it in the duffle and waited until we dropped the whelp off at the neighbors. Is that it?"

You sniffle and nod, angry at him for being such an all-knowing asshole. “You can’t hold that against me,” you say, trying to defend yourself.

He nods thoughtfully. “Hmm. Yes, I suppose you’re right. I can’t blame you for that.” Your shoulders start to relax, that is until he pulls back to glare at you and holds the gun to you again, this time pointing it right underneath your chin. He looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “But do you know what I can hold against you, Little thief?” Your face pinches in fear, sure that you’re about to be shot, and he digs the muzzle cruelly into your skin, forcing you to look at him. “The fact that that pup up there is ten months old, and I’ve never even fucking seen her.”

Your eyes widen as you realize: he knows. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but he beats you to it.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell she’s mine?”

“James,”

“All this time!” he hisses, hurt lancing through his features. “You kept her from me! What gives you the right?”

“I—I didn’t—”

He growls and pushes away from you, several steps back, glaring. “Nothing, is the answer you’re looking for. You had no right to do that.”

You try to edge to the side, but freeze when he straightens his arm and points the gun right at you. “James, wait …”

He aims it at your face, but then lowers it for a center mass shot, which is what really convinces you you’re about to die. “Say goodbye, mamochka,” he says, with steely eyes and his finger curling over the trigger.

It’s a submachine gun that fires in three shot bursts, or fully automatic. Either way, you know you’re about to be riddled with bullets, so you start to hyperventilate. It’s an embarrassing reaction, but at least you have the dignity of knowing what your last words on this earth would’ve been. “Don’t hurt her,” you gasp.

His eyes fill with rage and he pulls the trigger.

… Nothing happens, but you’re bracing so hard that it takes you a full two or three seconds to realize it. Then, when you do realize it, and you see James standing there looking grim but completely unsurprised that you haven’t been shot, all of the breath rushes out of your lungs. You feel like you’re about to faint, which is apparently what he’s waiting for.

He ejects the empty magazine, shaking his head in disbelief. “You really thought I’d do it, didn’t you?” He takes a step forward, but pauses when you flinch back. “What the hell have you convinced yourself that I am?”

You step back again when he moves. “Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t.”

“Don’t, don’t,” he whispers, mocking you. “Don’t what? Don’t take back what’s mine? The mother of my pup? A pup I didn’t get to see grow or come into this world?” Your breath hitches with emotion and he doesn’t miss it, the bastard. “Yeah,” he says darkly. “You robbed me of that. But I’ll get over it, don’t worry.” He leers up and down your body in its flimsy sundress. “I’ll be putting another one in you real soon.”

You see red. Fury sweeps through you and stings your eyes, roars in your ears. You grab the nearest thing to you, which is the edge of the utensils crock on the counter. It spills over and your hand closes around the handle of the meat mallet. You cry out and swing at him, wanting to smash his smug fucking face to smithereens.

“Woah-ho, easy there.” He laughs and takes a surprised step back, as though you’re nothing but a tantruming child. “Stop being so dramatic.”

You growl and lunge for him again, but cut off in a shriek as someone suddenly grabs you from behind. The meat mallet clatters to the floor as you’re hauled back against the hard body of another man. One big arm wraps around your middle, and the other holds a cloth up at your face, pressing it over your mouth. “Mmph!” you yell out, muffled, and get a huge inhale of chlorine-like smell into your lungs for your trouble. You hold your breath and thrash, but it’s less than useless. The person holding you is large and strong. When you try to headbutt him, it doesn't even clip his chin. You bring your hands up to try and claw at the hand holding the cloth over your mouth, but your nails meet metal instead of skin, and you gasp in another inhale of chemicals as you realize who it is. “Mmph!”

James steps up close, smirking fondly as he watches you fighting the urge to inhale. Eventually he tuts and reaches up to cup your cheek. “Shhh, omegechka. Stop. Stop fighting now. It’s all over.”

“Nngh!”

“Just take a deep breath and go to sleep. Everything’ll be alright, I promise. Just relax.” You whimper as you feel yourself running out of air, knowing that your body’s going to force you to draw breath in a second. James leans in and kisses your forehead tenderly. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers, just as your vision starts to fade out, “or our daughter.”

The smell of professionally scented, circulating air hits you first, and then the taste of old pennies in your mouth. Then, a gradually increasing sense of awareness of your body in space and time. At first you think you're somewhere very bright, as colors and rainbows dance through your lashes, but the more you blink your eyes open, the more the brightness fades and your vision comes into focus.

And there he is: holding a crystal tumbler and looking like he's been waiting for you to come round. "Well hello there, Sleepyhead,” he says. “Welcome back." He takes a sip of whatever it is he’s drinking, the ice cubes clinking softly against the sides of the glass. He looks totally relaxed.

You sit up straighter in the seat where you’d been slumped, moving your tongue around inside of your dry mouth and trying to remember what happened. And then reality hits you in waves, each one more devastating than the last:

James—He found you.

June—She's not there.

"How're you feeling? Thirsty?"

You blink, dazed, a few lingering specks still floating at the edges of your vision. You look around the room you’re in, clocking your surroundings. Windows, cabin—Shit. You're already on a plane. Pressure builds rapidly at the backs of your eyes as you fight not to cry, thinking of your baby girl left behind, never getting to see her again.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Bucky’s eyes sharpen on you when your stifled sob breaks out and you throw a hand over your mouth. "Steve,” he says, still watching you in concern. “Get her a bottle of water."

“Sure thing, boss.”

And then the worst realization of all: You look over and see the winter fucking soldier walking down the aisle, holding your baby.

They've got June.

Your eyes widen and you make a distressed little ‘meep’ of a sound. “Steve!” you blurt, and he turns to face you. He looks surprised that you’ve spoken directly to him. He’s not wearing his usual black mask, but he still looks huge and intimidating, and it’s like seeing a wild animal right next to your baby—dangerous, wrong. Your mouth works uselessly as you stare at his hands on June’s body: one supporting her head, and the metal one scooped under her butt. You see her back rise and fall steadily through her bumblebee onesie and you realize that she’s asleep. “I-is she okay?” you ask, heart in your throat.

Steve’s eyes narrow at you, but he nods curtly. “She’s fine.”

Across from you, James scoffs, drawing your attention back to him. “He’s going to put her down. There’s a crib in the back. She’ll be fine,” he says, when he sees you stiffen in protest. “You and I have some catching up to do, vorishka.”

“I thought we did that back in my bedroom,” you snap.

“You still want the water?” Steve asks.

“That’s okay.” Bucky keeps his eyes on you. “I’ll take care of her. You just stay back there with pchelka while she sleeps.”

Steve nods, and you can’t help yourself. “Wait! Please. Please give her to me. Steve?” You sit forward with your arms outstretched, but can only watch helplessly as the other man obeys Bucky and ignores you, disappearing back into the next section of the plane. Bastard never did like you.

“She’ll be fine,” Bucky assures you. “Just sit back and relax. We won’t be in the air for too long.”

You hate it, but you do sit back in the chair. James won’t hurt her. You know that. Especially now that you know he knows. You look around the cabin, taking in the wide, leather seats and gleaming wood finishes. There’s a couch, tv, a bar. A fucking electric fireplace. It's the sort of luxury you used to go starry-eyed over; incredibly rich men, fat or old or ugly, tripping all over themselves to spoil you.

… Only, James was never any of those things.

“This is your plane?” you ask, dragging your hand over the arm of your seat.

James smirks. “What? You thought I’d kidnap you and then fly commercial?”

You purse your lips at his joke. “I guess not.” You relax back, trying to get your bearings. It is bad news that you’re already on a plane with him. You’ll be landing at his private airstrip at the Siberia compound, which gives you no middle ground to run. You bite your lip as your thoughts race and you try to think of anything you might be able to do once you get to—

“Stop it,” James says quietly, drawing your attention back to him. He’s giving you a stern look. “You barely got away before, and that was on your own. Now we’ve got our daughter. Anything you try will put her in unnecessary danger and you know that.” He shakes his head, some of that sadness from before creeping back into his eyes. “You’re not leaving me again, omegechka.”

“I’m not?” you echo, stuck in place by his stare, by the memories you share with him, and the fear you have of what he’s planning for your punishment. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m just taking back what’s mine, Sweetheart. You do realize that?” You fail to answer him and his gaze hardens just a little bit. “That’s okay. You’ll see it eventually. This isn’t a bad thing. If you had just stuck around a little longer instead of lying to me and running off, then you would’ve seen it before, and we wouldn’t have to be going through this right now.” He raises his drink to you in a little salute. “You, me, and pchelka? We’re going to be a family.”

You don’t refuse the water he gives you, or the drink that he mixes for you, after. If James wanted to keep you drugged up until reaching Siberia, he certainly could’ve done so without allowing you to wake up on the plane. You’re only conscious right now because he wants you to be. And because you know that, you don’t protest the drink he prepares for you over at the bar. To be honest, a stiff one actually sounds really good right about now.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he hands it over, still unmoored by this drastic shift in circumstances. A few hours ago you’d been safe in your cottage, then suddenly you weren’t. One minute you’re sure you’re about to get a bullet in the face from this man, and the next, he’s got you sipping thousand dollar vodka on his private jet, calmly explaining how he intends to keep you and force you into some twisted form of domestic bliss.

“I had a whole renovation done for her,” he tells you. “Pchelka will have plenty of room to play and grow.”

You frown, hating the idea of your daughter growing up in that cold, Siberian fortress. You don’t care if he’s bought her an indoor waterslide and a herd of ponies. It’s no place for a child. “What does that mean?” you ask grumpily. “That word: chelk—? You keep using it. You can’t just rename my daughter.”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, but he wipes it away fast. “Pchelka means little bee. The outfit you put her in has bees on it.”

“Oh … Right.” You love that set. It’d been another gift at the shower, from Hilde.

“And she’s my daughter too,” James says tightly.

You gulp at the bitterness in his tone, at his eyes boring into you with reproach. It’s silly, but you do feel bad about hurting him in this one way, at least. “Her name is June,” you offer quietly.

His face draws tight with emotion that’s impossible for you to decipher. Mostly you just sense hurt coming off of him, tingeing his scent and making it into something mournful and awful. He stares at you for a long time. “You made me think you’d lost it,” he eventually whispers. “How could you do that to me?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not. You’re just sorry that I found you.”

“I saw you kill people, James!” you cry. “I saw who you really are. I couldn’t stay. Not after that.”

His mouth ticks up at the corners. “Oh, Sweetheart. You’ve got no idea who I am, or what I’ve done for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes gleam and he lifts his drink, tipping back the last of it. “Do you even remember where we met?”

You frown. “Of course.” You’d met him on a yacht, off the coast of Greece. At a party you’d been paid to attend as one of a flock of similarly hired ‘pretty girls’. Five hundred bucks just to sit around and drink cocktails for a few hours and make whoever owned the yacht look like a successful playboy. James had taken one look at you and made it his mission to charm you off of that boat with him. And you’d fallen for it, hook line and sinker. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You don’t know as much as you think you do,” he says disdainfully. “Don’t know how lucky you really are. I saved you.”

You scoff. “You’re no different from those boat guys. You think you’re so special, God’s gift to omegas, I get it.”

“No,” he grits. “You really don’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t know! I know what I saw. All over the floor of your goddamn office. I slipped in it for Christ’s sake!”

“Right, right. The men you saw me kill,” he says, referencing the scene you’d walked in on just before you’d faked your miscarriage and fled. “You were eavesdropping outside the door, weren’t you, Little thief?”

You jut your chin out. “Yes. So what?”

“You know, I’d always assumed you heard the entire conversation. Now I realize I was wrong.”

“What?”

He laughs under his breath—at your expense, you suspect. “Who exactly do you think they were?”

“Your business associates. The same sort of underworld, black market scum as you. Only they didn't work for you. You screwed them over and they were there to collect what you owed them, and you murdered them instead.”

James scoffs and smiles angrily, sticking his tongue into his cheek as he looks away in frustration. "Figures," he mutters.

“What?” you snap. “You’re gonna deny it?”

“I’m not denying anything. But I killed them for you.”

“Oh please. Just stop it. Stop lying! I know what you do for work.”

Granted, you'd been a little slow on the uptake back then, too enamored and swept up in the whirlwind romance with your first Alpha that you hadn’t ever stopped to wonder where his money came from, or where it was he jetted off to “on business” every few days. It’d taken a year for you to piece it together, to see the true magnitude of the enterprise he ran, and how dark it really was.

Sitting in front of you now, he doesn’t deny it, which only bolsters your disdain for him. “I don’t want that in my life,” you hiss. “Arms dealing, drugs, smuggling, mercenaries. And apparently human trafficking as well.”

His eyes flash. “They don’t call it that, you know. It’s called the ‘skin trade’.”

“I don’t care.”

He gets up to go pour himself another drink at the bar. “Right,” he snaps, like you’re an idiot. “You’re so fucking naïve, krasotka [pretty (n.)]. So convinced that I’m the devil. But you have no idea how much worse it could’ve been for you.”

“You threatened to sell your own daughter before you figured out she was yours!”

Refusing to be provoked, he returns to stand right in front of you, forcing you to look up at him towering over you. “I knew she was mine from the second I walked in that house,” he says, making your breath catch.

“How?”

He smiles nastily and takes a sip from his drink, then sets it aside. He leans over you with his hands on the back of your seat, caging you in. You can smell the expensive alcohol on his breath as he gets in your face and tells you, “I put that baby in you, moya omegya. She’s a part of me. You think I wouldn’t be able to figure that out? Think an Alpha doesn’t know the scent of his own flesh and blood?”

You tense, fighting not to shrink away. “You’re making that up.”

He chuckles lowly and puts his face right next to yours, cheek to cheek, savoring your reaction. “Sweetheart,” he purrs, “I may not have forced a mating bite on you back then like I should have, but there are other ways to leave your mark on someone.” He dips in to kiss your neck, right over your unbitten glands. “I found you by your scent,” he whispers. “Sniffed you out.”

You shiver at his hot breath on your skin and the deadly soft tone of his voice. The way your body responds to him isn’t anything you can control, and he knows that, but it still makes you flush with embarrassment when he takes a deep inhale in the bend of your neck and hums with satisfaction when he smells the effect he’s had on you. “I wouldn’t have sold her anyway,” he tells you, pulling back and picking up his drink. “I want you to know that. I don’t participate in the skin trade.”

You swallow thickly, watching him watch you as he waits for you to react to him in some way. You don’t know why you believe him about this one thing, but you do. “But you’re aware of it,” you say. “You know it happens, and you don’t do anything to stop it.”

His jaw works in frustration. “I’ve interfered a time or two, when I could get away with it.”

“Well, aren't you a hero.”

“I didn’t say that,” he snaps. “I said I’ve done what little I could. These men make a lot of money dealing in omegas, and they don’t take kindly to being stolen from.”

“I can imagine.”

“No,” he mutters into his drink. “You really can’t.”

There’s something oddly bitter in his tone, like he's working hard not to tell you something. You bite your lip and watch him for a minute. “... How much?” you ask.

“What?” His eyes darken when he figures out what you’re asking. “No.”

“Tell me.”

“It depends,” he grits, glaring at you. "Now cut it out."

Sober, you might have; but half a vodka spritzer after nineteen months of no alcohol has you bolder than you usually would be. You look down at yourself, feigning flippancy. “Well what about me? How much would I go for?”

“Kotenok,” he warns lowly, growling when you continue to press him with a snotty little,

“Come on, I thought you were such a dangerous criminal? You can’t even discuss a little human trafficking with the weak omega you just trafficked?”

He probably knows you’re trying to antagonize him, but he still rises to the bait. He sits back and lets his eyes drag over your body in a way that makes your pulse pick up. “Well,” he drawls, “you just had a baby. So that’s less right there.” Your nostrils flare angrily and he gives you a look. “You’re the one who asked,” he reminds, waiting until you give him a nod to continue. He gives you another onceover, this time lingering in certain places longer, a softer look in his eyes for the softer parts of your body. He almost seems to get distracted. He catches himself overindulging and looks away, like it’s hurting him to consider you this way. “Most people want their omegas untouched,” he says quietly. “Especially if the buyer's alpha, which they usually are. It’s an instinctual thing for us. We’re very driven to possess. We don’t like to share.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you mutter.

His gaze snaps back to you, a painful amount of familiarity in his eyes. “You’dve been a couple million, back when we first met.”

Your eyes widen. You weren't expecting that. “But … I wasn’t even a virgin.”

He arches an eyebrow. “I said untouched, not virginal. Not in that way. Alpha buyers want unbonded and never bred, first and foremost.” He leers at you. “Not that there aren’t some who’ll pay a little extra to pop a girl’s cherry. But that’s not the main thing they’re looking for, when they buy.”

You scowl. “Right. So I guess I’m damaged goods now."

“Oh no, mamochka,” he says seriously. “You’ve only gone up in value in my eyes. Though believe me when I say I’m more than happy to contribute to the depletion of your market value." He raises his glass to his lips, looking darkly pleased. “You’re not for sale, and you never will be. You’re mine.”

You're embarrassed to be the one to break eye contact first, but you can’t keep listening to him talk about how much he likes you and watching him look at you like you’re his most prized possession. With any other man you’d just be disgusted, but James has always had a knack for getting you flustered, and he knows it. There’s always been an inexplicable pull between the two of you, and he knows that, too. It’s the main reason why you've always refused his attempts to bond you. You're terrified of what it’ll be like after, since you already know how pathetically helpless you are around him without a bond.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you mumble quietly. “Where is it?”

“Just down there.” He nods in the direction behind you, opposite from where Steve had gone with June.

You press your lips together and get up without looking at him, but you can feel his eyes on you the entire time you’re walking away.

“Don’t take too long in there, kotenok,” he purrs from back in his seat. “Or I’ll have to come in after you.”

In the bathroom, you splash water on your face and lean against the sink, looking at the girl staring back at you in the mirror. You blink, and she blinks, but it feels like you’re looking at another person, someone you don’t know. She looks fragile. Tired, and dazed. June’s been sleeping through the night for months, but it’s been a hell of a day.

You scrutinize your reflection, smoothing your dress and tucking your hair behind your ears, thinking about how you have zero makeup on. Then you scoff at yourself for caring what you look like in front of him. You think about how much you’ve changed in the seventeen months since you ran away. Not just physically, but mentally. You’ve had to be so strong. For June, for yourself. It’s been awful, and lonely, and you’ve hated yourself for not being able to stop missing him.

You sniffle and splash more water on your face, grumpily thinking that postpartum hormones are so much worse than the pregnancy ones. You grab the towel off the wall, but freeze when you bring it up to pat your face dry and get a smell of it.

Oh.

You whimper, unable to keep from pressing it harder to your mouth and nose and inhaling deeply. It’s James’ scent, and it smells so good. It smells like Safety and Love and Alpha. You hear the sound of your own, needy mewl and you gasp, yanking the towel away from your face and tossing it into the sink, trying to keep your shit together. You brace your hands on the counter and glare at your reflection to tell her to stop it, stop it, stop it, but all it takes is seeing your lower lip quiver, and soon your entire face is collapsing in long-repressed sadness. You turn away from the mirror with a pathetic noise, throat aching from the urge to keen.

Why does this have to be happening?! You’ve tried so hard, for so long. To be strong for June, to get over him, to move on! You bury your face in your hands and choke on a wrenching sob. You know you have to be quiet, have to stop, have to pull yourself together before he—

A soft knock comes from outside the bathroom. “Doll?”

You whine and hastily search for a lock on the door, but there is none, and James hears your crying and pulls the door open. “Honey,” he mourns when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You push past him, hurrying in the direction he isn’t blocking. “Leave me alone!” you cry, hating the blubbering in your voice that makes you sound just as weak as James thinks you are. You arrive in a perfectly made up bedroom with no point of egress other than the one you arrived through. You whine in distress, circle around helplessly, and then throw yourself onto the bed when he arrives at the doorway looking worried. “Leave me alone!” you cry, curling onto your side and pulling one of the pillows down to bury your face in. At least it isn’t suffused with James’ scent. You still cry though, unable to keep it in anymore now that you’ve started.

He tuts sadly from the doorway and comes into the room slowly. He stands there for a long minute, silent, before he sighs and his weight comes onto the bed. “Sweetheart,” he says.

“Just leave me alone,” you whine miserably. “Go away!”

“Shh sh sh.” He curls up behind you, arms around your waist and legs pushing in behind yours. He kisses your shoulder and hugs you, but it only makes you cry harder at how achingly familiar it is. “It’s okay,” he murmurs between kisses. He doesn’t try to get you to stop crying, or ask you what’s wrong. He seems to know exactly why you’re breaking down, and he simply devotes all his efforts to helping you calm down in your own time. “S’okay, s’okay. Everything’s gonna be okay,” he keeps saying, soothing you with a deep rumble in his chest. “I’ve got you, Sweetheart. I’ve got you now. It’s all gonna be okay. Shhh.”

At first, his placating makes you angry, but not enough to stop your crying, and once that tapers off from sobs to quiet, sniffling tears, you can’t seem to dredge up the anger anymore. It isn’t there.

“You feeling a little better?” he asks kindly, gently tucking your hair behind your ear and then hugging you again.

You whine when you feel his lips against your neck. “I’m fine,” you rasp, voice coming out scratchy from all of the crying. You cringe and scrub your face into the pillow in embarrassment. “Just got a little sad.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, giving you a supportive squeeze. “That’s okay.”

You hate how he says it, because it’s obvious that he knows why you were crying: Poor, sad little omega, bawling her eyes out over how much she’s missed her Alpha. He nuzzles into your neck, telling you it’s okay and that you’re allowed to cry. As much as you hate him being able to see into you so easily, you’re just grateful that he isn’t rubbing your face in it right now. The way he's holding you and comforting you feels good. You don’t fight to get away from him.

The two of you lie there together for what feels like a long time. Once you’ve stopped crying and are only giving the occasional sniffle for your runny nose, he goes back to running his hand over your side. It’s a gesture of comfort. He’s not groping you, but even still, you blush at the vulnerability of it. You find yourself glad that you’re facing away from him.

The plane shifts noticeably, and James’ hand pauses on your hip. “Pilot said we’re landing soon,” he murmurs. “Should probably go and get pchelka up.”

You sniffle and fight off the urge of resurfacing tears at hearing him reference June. One day of knowing his daughter and already he’s got a nickname for her. You should be annoyed by that, but instead it just makes your heart squeeze with emotion. “Pchelka,” you whisper, trying out the word.

“Yeah.” He hums happily and kisses your shoulder one last time. “Little bee. Come on. Let’s go.”

You don’t think about how it’s far too soon to have arrived at your destination, until you’re back in the main room of the cabin on the way to where Steve disappeared with June, earlier. You pause at the windows, peering out at the landscape. “This isn’t Russia,” you say, confused. The plane is definitely descending, but you’ve only been in the air for a few hours at most. “James?” you ask, as he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Together, you both look out at the looming mountains and turquoise waters below. “Where are we?” you breathe.

James rests his chin on your shoulder and sighs happily. “Home,” he says. “We’re home.”

A.N.: See? Much less Rapey! Plenty more mega-dub con to come though, so don't you angst-lovers worry. Thanks for reading!💖Sarah

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monster-cock69 · 2 years ago

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okay but omegaverse (maybe mob?) au where tony and peter had been engaged since he was born and peter grew up getting sneak glances at his fiance just not knowing what to do with him

#starker #omegavesre #prompt #peter parker #tony stark #avengers #marvel #spiderman #iron man #someone please write this #mob au #omega peter #alpha tony #arranged marriage

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gloromeien · 9 months ago

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Two Houses, both alike in dignity In fair Venora, where we lay our scene

Friends! I could not resist posting this on March 10th, AKA Bucky Barnes' birthday. Happy 107th, Bucky my beloved!

Here it is, the arranged marriage AU. This one is quite angsty, as comes part and parcel with those kinds of plots. Steve and Bucky both have very tragic pasts where lots of heavy things happened to them, and their road back to each other is a slow one. But, IMHO, so worth it for the eventual revelations and self-discovery and smutty fun. I have written almost all of it, and I am so proud of these two lovebirds, let me tell you. Or not, since you will discover for yourselves.

Hope you have as much angsty fun with these two loveys as I did. Enjoy!

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Captain America (Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Darcy Lewis, Sarah Rogers (Marvel), Rebecca Barnes Proctor, Bruce Banner, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones (Marvel), Claire Temple, Stephen Strange, Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Gabe Jones, James Montgomery Falsworth, Peggy Carter, Alexander Pierce, Brock Rumlow, Peter Parker, Maria Hill, Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel), Phil Coulson, Original Child Characters - Character Additional Tags: Stucky - Freeform, Married Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Feels, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Slow Burn, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Original Character(s), Original Child Characters, Kid Fic, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Has Panic Attacks, Protective Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - Medieval, ish, House System, Queendoms, Call it feminist medieval, Think What If CA:TWS happened but with feuding queendoms, Slight Romeo + Juliet ripoff but without the tragic ending, Two Houses both alike in dignity, Star-crossed lovers but arranged marriage style, I don't really know how to classify it, let me know if i miss something Summary:

Two Houses, both alike in dignity In fair Venora, where we lay our scene

Not a typo. ;) Three years after a brutal, bloody war that saw their formerly friendly queendoms at odds for the first time in history, Prince Steven Rogers of House Grant seeks to solidify the peace between Lehigh and Venora through an alliance--marriage with Prince James Barnes of House Buchanan, his childhood friend turned unexpected enemy. But after years as the Fist of Hydra and a long recovery from brainwashing and torture, Bucky isn't in a place to marry anyone, let alone someone he doesn't even remember. Stubborn to the core, afflicted by tragic losses, and still half in love with someone who might only be a memory, Steve and his family journey to Lynbrooke, the capital of Venora, to attempt to end the tension between their queendoms, and perhaps heal his wounded heart.

#stucky #Stucky AU #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve x bucky #stevebucky #arranged marriage #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #marvel #stucky feels

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alostlovergirl · 5 months ago

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The Sex

(Not my gif)

Summary: Tonight is the night

Tags: Lost of virginity, sex, some fluff, inaccurate descriptions

Note: I wrote this at 3 in the morning, so its short. I will probably come back and change somethings but enjoy it! I don’t know if I will make more parts to this, so this might be the last part.

Tag: @trojanaurora

Pt 1: Marriage of connivence Pt2: The Marriage

He was kissing her, holding her hands off of him, backing her down the hallway. He needed her in ways he couldn’t describe if he tried. Holding himself back those months before their wedding in an attempt to not scare her caused quite a bit of build up. She felt her nervousness building up in her stomach from being inexperienced, hiding it well as her husband scooped her up into his arms, holding her to his board figure. His chest was pressed into her breast, her lips dancing with his and tasting the alcohol on his lips. His hands rested on the curves of her ass, tilting his head to the side, and deepening the kiss to the point where it felt as if he was trying to suck her soul out. He takes her to their shared bedroom, laying her on the bed, pressing her back into the soft mattress, kissing the already forming bruises on her neck.

She looked up to the ceiling, feeling his warm lips leaving wet kisses on her neck. She could not believe she was about to do this. She was about to lose her innocence to the one person she called her best friend, who is now her husband. She had never looked at Loki as being attractive to her, but he was looking damn good as he was running his hands up her wedding dress. She puts her hands on his shoulders before moving them downwards, tugging on the back of his suit, not wanting to wait any longer to have him. She never thought of herself being desperate, but here she was, wanting nothing more than to be spread out on this bed. “Loki...” She whines in a pleading tone, making him pull back and taking off his suit jacket, letting her pull off his shirt. He had this smirk on his face; a look of amusement as she tugged off his shirt. She looked up at him, a smile fighting its way to her face as she pushed him. “Leave me alone!” She was embarrassed, being so desperate for something that she has never experienced.

“What… what its cute that you are so desperate to get my clothes off..” He was teasing her, especially as she ran her hands along the curves and dips of his sculpted body, almost drooling at her husband’s physique. He had little freckles on his chest, beauty marks on his skin and some scars from what she was guessing was battles or training with Thor, who tended to get rough. She was married to this… this handsome god of a man… and this man loved her. What did she do to deserve this? Loki leaned down a bit, kissing her forehead as he reached around her, pulling the zipper of her dress down. He pulled the delicate dress off, tossing it to the side before running his hands up her pretty body. She wore no bra with a pair of panties that was becoming soaked with her arousal. Gods, was he attracted to her. She was always so gorgeous and the fact he gets to wake up next to her every morning makes his dick twitch in his pants. His mouth connected to one of her nipples, sucking on it and listening to how she was reacting; her hands grabbing at his crown and her body rolling into his mouth, little moans falling from her above. His other hand was cupping her cunt, rubbing at her wetness and listening to the moans intensify. She was rutting against his hand, trying to get every bit of friction he was giving to her. “Pretty girl…” He groans against her breast before pulling away to kiss her, tongue burying itself into her mouth. He slips her panties to the side, pressing a finger inside of her and watching her face contort to being uncomfortable, tears forming in her eyes.

He was as gentle as possible for her, thumb rubbing at her clit and watching her expressions closely to make sure he didn’t hurt her. She whimpered, looking at him with a pained expression. “It’s okay. It’s okay… You are doing very good..” He comforted her, kissing her glossy lips and her slightly red face, thrusting his finger carefully. Once she was able to relax, panting in pleasure, he added another finger and gently comforted her as he stretched her out. His fingers were already doing it for her, moans of pleasure coming out of her mouth and into his shoulder, her fingernails dragging against his unmarked back. She pressed her chest against his, head falling back once more as he presses deeper inside of her, curling his fingers. She grabs him by his belt, yanking him closer. She needed him bad, the throbbing in her cunt becoming almost too much for her handle.

“C-come on.. I’m ready.” She says, desperately pulling his belt open before he can even react. His chuckle tickled her ear, sending a tingling sensation down to her cunt. Her desperation was cute, especially when he knew that she would be shocked at what she sees once his pants are open for her. He pulled his fingers out, leaning back on his haunches and letting her pull his pants open, releasing him. She had no idea what she was getting into before she released him from his pants, a whimper coming from her as she was met with the monster. He groans, feeling some relief when he was let out. Her motions stilled, not really expecting him to be packing all of that. She wasn’t even sure if she could fit it all inside of her, wrapping both of her hands around his cock, trying to assess the situation. That smirk was back on his face as he wrapped his hand around hers, stroking himself with her slick. He was leaking pre-cum and was rock hard. He moved his hand, hooking his arms under her thighs, yanking her forward. She yelps, settling back on the edge of the pillow, fear really starting to settle in her stomach. She felt tears gather at the corner of her eyes and he caught this, leaning in to cup her face.

“It’s going to hurt, but I am right here. I am right here for you...” He reassured her, kissing her deeply, making sure she felt the love he had for her. He lines up and slowly sinks into her. She pulls back from the kiss, in pain and whimpering. She was trying to focus on something else, grabbing onto Loki’s horned crown for leverage. He was surprised but let her hold on as he filled her out. Her womb felt heavy as he buried himself inside, grunting. She gripped the gold crown, breathing heavily. He stayed there, letting her get use to the feeling of him, gripping her thighs to keep himself from fucking into her before she was ready. He was struggling though. She was warm and squeezing around him, making it so much more difficult not to lose control. She grunts, releasing the death grip off his crown and laying back on the bed, relaxing into the cool sheets. “Are you okay?” He asked, voice shaking a bit as he was really holding on for her. She nods, grabbing his forearms. She nods, opening her legs a bit wider for him.

As soon as she nodded, he moves so that he was on top of her, holding her down by her sides. He moves almost all the way out, before burying himself back into her wetness, listening to her pleasure filled moans. She was digging her nails into his forearms, the feeling of him overwhelming her senses. She looked away as he pulled back, filling her back up again, moaning into her ear. She felt him pull back from him, his panting breath on top of her face before he grabs her face, yanking her back to look at him. “Look.. at me..” He sounded like he was already close and he probably was with the way she was gripping him, leaving him breathless and gripping her waist. Shit, it felt like his first time again as he started to speed up, one of his hands pressing down on her stomach and feeling where he was. She looked into his eyes, trying to keep hers open, wanting to see his face and the way his eyes rolled back a bit with every thrust, like it was taking his sanity away. She couldn’t speak, just letting out moans and whines, but he was groaning through it. “Fuck… you feel amazing..” he grunts out, reaching between them and rubbing at her clit, her legs tightening around his hips. Her hands were on his back, scratching more deeper marks into him.

She was feeling too good, like she was being taken to the clouds as his cock dragged against her walls. She was gripping at his arms, moaning loud enough for the sound to run down the hall. The bed creaked with every thrust he made, slow and deep, leaving her panting for more.

They switched positions. He had her turned around, cheek buried into the pillows as he sunk himself in her over and over, gripping a cheek in his cold hand. He sat back on his haunches, thrusting upwards and letting his head fall back in intense pleasure. He could feel her trembling and every time she tried to pull away from him, he dragged her right back, impaling her deeper on his cock. “Loki!.. Loki..” She was moaning his name, sounding so pretty for him as he ruined her innocence. She was cross eyed, pleading and begging with drool trickling down her lips. He was losing himself inside of her as she was becoming cock drunk. He grunts, leaning over her body and fucking into her like a wild animal, hands pressing into the arch of her back. She gripped the sheets, almost screaming if he didn’t cover her mouth. His eyes were closed and he was just relishing in the feeling of her.

He felt her reach bad, grabbing his pants and pulling him closer, wanting to hold onto him. He sits up, opening his eyes and holding her hand, slowing his movements down. He hums at the white ring forming around his cock, her wetness gathering up. “I’m going to cum..” She whimpered out, pressing back on him, tears gathering up in her eyes. He grunts in response, releasing her hands and grabbing her waist, dragging her back on him more. He kissed her spine, each kiss tender and loving before pulling out, flipping her on her back. He wanted to look into her eyes as she came undone. He pushed back in, continuing his slow movements and kissing her, sucking on her tongue. He was drinking every moan that slipped. He had taken his crown off and his hair was a fluffed-out mess from her grabbing on it. She kept eye contact with him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him like she was starving for it.

She felt her orgasm build up before washing over her in a wave of pleasure and warmth, moaning into his mouth. He pulls back, putting his head against hers and closing his eyes, desperately working himself to his orgasm. He grunts, making a face of strained pleasure as he fills her up, her womb full of him. She whimpers, holding onto his scratched-up shoulders.

“Fuck…” He breaths out, pulling out and collapsing on her with a gasp coming from her. She had cried all her make up off, laying back on the pillows and breathing heavily. She feels him kissing her shoulder, burying his face deeper into the crook of her neck.

Nothing else was said that night. She fell asleep under her husband.

#marvel #new writer #x reader #marvel smut #arranged marriage #loki laufeyson #Loki #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki of asgard #loki god of mischief #loki x reader smut

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anukulee · 1 year ago

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Improper (Loki Fanfic)

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In Contribution with Smolvenger (Tumblr)

Note: This has mentions of GOT (Game of Thrones) characters, if you click on their name you should be able to pull up an image of them. These images will come in handy later trust me.

A/N: As a treat for you all this chapter will be my first ever contribution, this being with Smolvenger (Tumblr). She gave me the idea with Hal sneaking out with someone to a tavern and I expanded on it adding a betrothed, alongside Loki. So while our ideas might be the same, we are taking different approaches, and I as of now have yet to read hers. Meaning in no way will my work be excatly likes hers, but you will have it to look forward to. Now with that out of the way please enjoy my first-ever kinda of contribution....

Her face rumored to be beloved, and admired by all, was graced with a frown. A frown that always seemed to be held in regards to him. A very frown that Loki felt didn't suit her features, not that she would ever let him tell her that, for she was far to stubborn to listen to his reasoning. Far to uptight about the rulings, that had likely been drilled into her since birth just as they were with him. Her tone mirroring her, rigid point of view, as she spoke to him. "My prince, I would highly suggest against this," she said, just as she did every time Loki would attempt to get them into mischief.

"Now what would be the fun in that, my dear," Loki responded, unaffected by his betrothed's words, for he had heard them far too many times.

"You call this fun?"

"Yes, what else might this be?"

"Inproper, of course."

"You always say that my dear," Loki said, another remark out of his silver tongue, far to use to their bickering.

"And yet you never seem to listen," she reasoned just as she always tried to do, yet as always Loki ceased to listen.

"What fun would it be if I were to listen?"

"Not everything has to be fun, my prince."

"Says the killjoy."

"I am no kill joy as you call it," Loki's betrothed proclaimed, as her arms folding across her chest, and right to her bosom, one that Loki remainded himself to not to close look upon.

"Aren't you my dear?"

"I am not."

"Prove it then."

"How?"

"Come with me to the Lion's tavern."

"The lions tavern," Loki's betrothed, asked confusing now masking her face.

"The one and only."

"You mean the one with all the," Loki's betrothed, started to say yet seemed to fail at finding the exact words, through Loki already what she was going to say.

"The lady company."

"Yes."

"Some go there for the women." In fact I can think of a few, Loki thought, but saw better as not to name.

"Figures."

"I never said I do."

"You don't?"

"Perhaps I go for the drinks."

"You know I am no innocent young maiden?"

"Aren't you," Loki said, giving a skeptical look towards his betrothed face.

"I am afraid not, my prince, for having many men in my family has immuned me to such flights."

"Have they?"

"Yes."

"Then if that is so, why do you act, so..."

"Uptight, was that you were going to use?"

"Clever aren't you? Trying to guess what I might say."

"I do try, my prince," she teased tone now far lighter then before.

"Enough with the prince talk, I am your betrothed, not some stuffy old lord."

"I would never call you stuffy."

"Then what would you call me?"

"I don't believe you might want to hear to what I would call you."

"Don't I, it wouldn't be anything I haven't heard before."

"And give you the satisfaction of being right?"

"You tease."

"Takes one to know one doesn't it?"

"Such a tongue you have on you little one," Loki interjected, now edging ever so closely towards the one who would one day become his wife. Rather then back away as Loki might've thought, his betrothed did no such thing and remained still.

"I am no little one."

"Aren't you for you are younger then I."

"I will have you know, I am not much younger then that shield maiden friend of yours."

"Sif?"

"Yes, I believe that was her name."

"You make little point my little dove."

"Again I am not little."

"Aren't you, considering I am a god?"

"And I shall be a goddess once we marry."

"If we marry."

"You doubt our parent's wishes," she asked, her eye brow now furrowing in a way that Loki's couldn't say wasn't alluring.

"I doubt your likelyness to kill me."

"As if I would waste such a task on the likes of you."

At this Loki made a fake stabbing motion with his hands, as if she had wounded him, when truly she hadn't, at least not further then anyone else had. "You wound me my dear."

"Do I? From what I hear you can just come back alive."

"So you have heard tales of me?"

"Of course, who hasn't heard of you?"

"Yet you will still marry me?"

"I do as my parents wish, just as you do."

"Ah yes, the wills of our gracious parents."

"Indeed, my prince."

"Loki," Loki interjected, causing his betrothed to pause for a moment. "Call me Loki."

"Loki?"

"Yes, if we are to be married, you might as well call me by my proper name, no more of this my prince nonsense."

"If that is what you wish."

"Now now, what happened to that fierce vixen who was just speaking to me?"

A look of confusion once again crossed Loki's betrothed face, one that he figured would happen. For ladies such as her have likely been taught that they must keep their mouths shut and obey their husband's wishes. A setiment that seemed to be voiced in his betrothed next words. "You like that?"

"Why wouldn't I, for what is more alluring then a fierce woman?" Loki was far from the people that she has likely been told up, for he was one who prefered someone that would keep him on his toes. For what was life without a little danger or mischief? Perhaps this might be more fun then I intially thought, Loki's mind already slowly turning.

"You find it alluring?"

"Yes, for I have always liked my companion to be sharp of mind and tongue. I find it makes the sex far more sensual."

"Such crass words coming from you."

"What did I wound your ears," Loki asked, his tone while still teasing held just the smallest bit of concern. He had heard tales of woman not knowing such things until after they were married or at times broken into the wrong way.

"No, as I said before I have long since heard the things due to my family."

"I see, then shouldn't that make going to a tavern of no issue," Loki asked, finally getting back on subject.

"And if anyone were to see us, what might we do then?"

"We can say we are searching for someone."

"And who might that be," Loki's betrothed asked, her arms crossed against her chest once more.

"One of our advisors of course," Loki said, as if the very idea he was suggesting wasn't going against everything that his fiance had likely been taught.

"And which one might that be?"

"The one who always lingers at establishments such as those."

"And who in there right mind would do that," she asked, her brows furrowing once more, still very much skeptical about Loki's idea.

"If you come with me, you shall see. So how about it," Loki said offered his hand out to hers.

"I swear to all the gods above if we get caught, I am blaming you," she said, relenting likely not in the mood for another bickering spat with Loki. One he was pleased enough not to have.

"Whatever you wish, now let us go," Loki proclaimed.

"And how do you suggest we do that, we just going to waltz up wearing this," she said, gestering to the royal attire they were currently wearing.

"But of course not, I am far too clever for that," Loki said, and with a simple glow of his seidr, both he and his betrothed were adorned with clocks, hers being blue while his was black.

"And this will help how," she asked?

"Patience my darling all in due time."

"Must you with the pet names?"

"Always," Loki remarked with a grin, as with another glow of his seidr, his form changed, his hair now longer black as raven, now turning a light brown color almost blond with the sun, his eyes no longer green, now becoming more a hazel eye color, his clothing turning more into what one might see on a commoner wear yet rather then it be green instead it was red.

"What no green," Loki's betrothed asked?

"While this color isn't to my taste, people prefer my brother's color to mine, and seeing as we don't wish to be seen I thought it might be best."

"I see, now what about me," she asked, gestering to her still dressed royal clothes.

"It's of no issue," Loki said, as with another grow of his seidr, her dress became something more similar to what a woman of Asgard would wear now beneath the blue cloak. "Now would you wish for your features to remain the same or shall I change them?"

"I would rather like to keep my features, through I suppose my hair could become a lighter color."

"If this is your wish, my lady," Loki said with a bow, as his fiance went from looking like what could best be described as Anne Bolelyn (from Tudors), to Margaery Tyrell (GOT), her hair no longer dark brown falting on black, to a lighter color that was more like Loki's, and her eyes now green. "Now shall we go," he asked offering his hand to hers. Rather then decline she took it.

"I suppose we shall."

With a final glow of Loki's green seidr the two vanished, but not before Loki left two illusions in their place, in case anyone were to wonder. The illusions already bantering just as Loki and his betrothed would do.

The next time Loki and his betrothed reappeared, they were on a tunnel. "Must that be so dizzing?"

"Never teleported before?"

"Not without riding."

"Well it was either that or we walk, and I figured you would rather not be seen so this was the best I could do."

"We are in the dark," she protested.

"Not for long," Loki said, as soon the smallest bit of light began to admit from his palms. "Now will you let me lead the way?"

"If I must."

"There we go."

"Yes, now where are we," she asked, following the light that was coming from Loki's palm as he lead the way.

"Let us just say I have my ways of escaping the castle." With a single finger coming up to Loki's lips toward the end.

"I see without Heimdell knowing."

"We wouldn't be here if he knew."

"Point there." Step by step Loki lead the way with his betrothed following right behind him. "So who is this advisor we are searching for?"

"One that comes from Winterfell."

"You mean the realm of ice and snow without the frost giants?"

"Yes, his wife is the curent reigning queen of Winterfell."

"You mean Sansa Stark?"

"You have heard of her?"

"Yes, everyone has heard of Sansa and her lord husband Tyrion Stark. He is said to be one of the wisest men and from the Lannisters of Vanaheim."

"Have you heard of the other tales about him."

"What other tales," Loki's betrothed asked, a curious look upon her face once more.

"At the taverns he has earned the name of Small Drunk One, through he hasn't been there as much since getting married."

"If that is so, why is he here this night?"

"His wife lady Sansa, is said to have other matters to attend to, and I fear Tyrion might do something."

"So you are friends with this man, how unexpected coming from you."

"What can I say, I am always up for a surprise," Loki asked with a friendly shrug.

"If that is what you call it."

With that Loki and his betrothed finally began to talk, as they continued their way through Loki's tunnel, yet not without bickering along the way. Until finally they seemed to have arrived in the streets of Asgard, as Loki squashed the light out, and put a finger to his lips once more. "Remember no mention of whom we are."

"Who do you think I am?"

"I suppose you are right."

"Aren't I always?"

"Must you?"

"Always, after all if I give you an easy time, what shall you expect when we are married."

"Quite a tongue you have now?"

"There is nobody but you and I to know of this, and you won't tell."

"Won't I?"

"You won't, because it will all lead back to you."

"Will it," Loki asked his now light brown eyebrow raising just a bit.

"If not I shall make it."

"Fair game, I suppose, now what shall your name be if you are asked?"

"I was thinking Astrid Erikdottir, and yours?"

"I was thinking perhaps Thomas Williamson's."

"Perfect, now shall we go Thomas," Loki's betrothed asked now offering her hand to Loki.

"I suppose we shall lady Astrid," Loki said, as the two made their way to the tavern now above their head.

As Loki stood in front of the wooden doors that had guarded the tavern, ones that Loki had never particularly noticed on previous visits. Through on previous visits Loki had been more preoccupied by other things, whether that be seeking pleasureable company, or looking for a way to drink the days away. To perhaps forget just for a moment that he was the asgardian prince, even if he was merely second.

Yet with his betrothed, watching her eyes flicker up to the words The Lion's Head engraved above them. Loki felt a new apperciation for having been here before, just so he could see this. Noticing more details that he never had thought of, such as the fact he could hear the muffled sounds of the tavern even merely standing outside the doors. The two standing in silence, for a few moments as the two took in the enviroment around them, Loki's heart beating with every passing moment, not that he would admit it. Nor would he admit that he was the first one to spoke, far tired of not hearing her voice. "So how long do you intend on standing out here my lady," he asked, already having a teasing comment on his mind.

"For however I wish to, considering you dragged me here," his betrothed asked, tongue as sharp as ever.

"You agreed to come, so isn't this on you?"

"You called me a killjoy, so I thought why not prove you wrong."

"And you certainly have, I am surprised you have made it this far princess."

"Yes, despite my desire to kill you, leaving me a widow," his betrothed said, using a tone far to causual for what she had suggested.

"We both know if you were to do that, you might have to marry someone worse."

"Yes, while you are a pain, I much rather take your company over another."

"Awww that almost sounds like a complainment," Loki said, his tone still teasing.

"Take it whatever you would like. Now are we to head in or shall we be married before we do?"

At this comment, Loki stepped out of the way, allowing the door to creek open, holding it for his betrothed. "After you my lady I insist," he offered.

"If you insist I suppose I must go in."

With these words, Loki's betrothed stepped into the doors of the tavern with the door creeking shut upon it's closing.

youtube

The moment they stepped into the tavern there was noise, and sights that no one would let someone such as Loki's betrothed or in this case Astrid to see. Through Loki had intially come to the tavern to show his betrothed some fun, it seemed as perhaps Tyrion might be worse of then he feared. As Loki's eyes began to search for where Lord Tyrion would be, through Loki's betrothed eyes were elsewhere. Eyes that Loki wouldn't say he yearned to see on him, not that he could say anything.

Just as Loki swore he could see Tyrion, something blocked his way, as music filled the air. "What is this," Loki's betrothed asked, confused from what she was seeing.

"Music of course, what else might it be?"

"Yes, but what are we to do?"

"Dance of course."

"Dance."

"Yes."

"Here?"

"Why not?"

"Without wearing any proper attire, or doing the waltz?"

"Not every dance is the waltz my dear."

"I know, but I didn't expect it would be in a place such as this."

"So will you have this dance with me," Loki asked holding his hand out to her.

"I........," Loki's betrothed stuttered unsure of what to do.

"Come on, you said you weren't a killjoy, so why not try just this once?"

"Yes, but what? You afraid I will let go of you?"

"Perhaps."

"Doth the lady protest?"

"Always."

"If that is so we have no need to do this, I could always find some other way to get over to Tyrion," Loki said as his voice dropped just a bit. For while he would never admit, he had a desire to dance. Perhaps to see her eyes light up in a way he had never seen before, and would likely never see given how formal they must be.

"No, I can do this."

"Are you sure," Loki asked his face full of concern not wanting to pressure his betrothed into something she might not want to do.

"I am sure."

"If that is what you wish then follow me," Loki said, as once Loki's betrothed took his hand did the two begin to dance alongside everyone else. As with every turn they made they got closer and closer to someone. It was here where Loki began to dance closer to the smaller man.

As to the sky, a small man barely 4'5 in height, his almost as blond as Loki's current appearance, his eyes a bright blue, with a scar running down half of his face, yet rather then be dressed warmly he wore longer clothing, colored black, with boots at the bottom, in one hand through he had a glass full of mead aimed towards the sky. "There he is," Loki said, as he pointed to said small man.

"That's Tyrion?"

"Yes, you do recall he is short?"

"Of course, everyone knows of his stature, what I didn't expect is for someone, so small to be able to hold so much mead."

"You wouldn't yet here he does."

"I can see that, but what do we do now?"

"Now we go to him," Loki said as he soon let go of his betrothed hand much to his dismay. Making his way over to Tyrion, everything after that became a blur of people. Loki's only goal was to get towards Tyrion.

"Cheers to my lady wife, who couldn't make it," he said slurring every so often with his words.

"Tyrion," he exclaimed, once he was close enough to the small man.

"And who might you be," Tyrion asked, his words still slurred.

"Someone you know."

"Are you sure for all I know you could be *hic* a stranger, or perhaps someone sent by my family *hic*."

"We can dicuss this later, why are you here," Loki asked, as slowly he went to one side of the table. Loki's betrothed seeing this took to the other side at least she tried to, until something happened, through Loki didn't see it at the time.

"For the company of course *hic* seeing as my lady wife isn't with me *hic*. How I miss her red hair, her bosoms, and very being *hic*," Tyrion proclaimed.

"You won't be able to see her, if you remain here."

"And why won't I?"

"Can't you come with us," Loki pleaded.

"Why now isn't the time to discuss such matters *hic*. Now is the time, for fun my friend prince Loki *hic* would know of this. Now have some fun young man *hic*, the night is young," a drunk Tyrion proclaimed.

"Yes, but," Loki said about to protest when something caught his eye. His betrothed in the arms of someone else, something that stirred Loki the wrong way. Almost as if there was a ping in his heart. Impossible, it can't be, it's too soon, he thought. Yet still the ping remainded, as rather then focus on the fun he could be having instead Loki's eyes were elsewhere. Watching as his betrothed was in the arm's of another, his gaze switching back and further between the drunk Tyrion, and his betrothed. Rather then thinking it through, he grabbed the still drunken Tyrion earning him protests from him.

"What is this for?"

"Your own good, friend."

"It isn't, if it were for my own good *hic* you would let me drink and know things *hic*," Tyrion proclaimed, this got Loki to recieve looks from the tavern paterons, including the one that held his betrothed.

At this Loki let out a too casual laugh. "It's nothing, I am afraid my uncle here has had far too much to drunk, so we should be off," Loki said, the lie coming out of his tongue quicker then one might expect. Taking this chance to motion his betrothed towards him, as soon Loki held a drunk Tyrion, exiting the establishment. Once in a corner that nobody could see Loki changed from Thomas Williamson's, back to Loki.

"It's you Loki," Tyrion proclaimed.

"Yes, it is, what would Sansa say about this?"

"Well Sansa isn't here *hic*.

"Yes, but a lady was."

"Whom?"

"My betrothed."

"And who might that be? Perhaps it *hic* was the lady who was stolen away *hic*."

"You know?"

"Of course I know, beloved prince, you do *hic* recall I drink and I know things. Didn't you *hic* think I saw, your jealous glare my friend *hic*?"

"You have no which you speak of."

"Don't I, I am not your brother nor am I Jamie *hic*."

"And if you were right," Loki asked his arms now crossing against his chest.

"We both know I am, I would ask what her name might be *hic*?"

"You can call me Astrid Erikdottir," a voice injected as much to Loki's delight, his betrothed stood there once more, her hood off.

"I see, it is a pleasure to meet you *hic*, through I never expected it would be like this *hic*."

"Nor did I sire," Loki's betrothed said offering her hand to Tyrion.

"How much did you hear," Loki asked?

"Whose to say, now shall we go, I believe we have had enough fun," Loki's betrothed asked paying little mind to the question.

"Must I," Tyrion asked?

"I am afraid we have meeting tomorrow, and father may not like seeing you there."

"Ah yes, your father, how I wish *hic*, I could drink when dealing with him."

"Alas you can't Tyrion."

"I know dear prince, then let us go *hic*," Tyrion proclaimed before he began to mumble something about his other drunken adventures.

Through Loki paided little to no mind as he followed Tyrion, but not before redawning his Thomas Williamson's look. He looked towards his betrothed in an apologetic manner. "Was this fun enough for you," she teased.

"Must you," Loki asked?

"You were the one who claimed, to wanting to have fun."

"Yes, but perhaps next time it could be more fun."

"More fun then this?"

"Far more fun."

"Ooh and you expect me to go along with it?"

"Won't you?"

"Only if you admit something?"

"And what might that be?"

"You were jealous."

"Jealous?"

"Back at the tavern when I was dancing."

"And if I was, what might you say?"

"I would say he dragged me over there, and I had little desire to go."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

"My how improper of you, for wanting to refuse a dance," Loki teased.

"You were the one who wanted me to have more fun."

"That I did, and did this live up to it?"

"Perhaps but how could you imagine in topping it next time," she asked turning her gaze toward Loki.

"Next time?"

"Yes, for I am afraid I might still be what you might call a killjoy."

"Are you?"

"Perhaps, you might just have to see on how improper I can be," she said and before Loki could say anything she went closer to Tyrion with Loki following closely behind. Through just as she said that a thought crossed Loki's mind. A thought that perhaps this wouldn't be so bad.

A thought that would remain in his mind even after Astrid Erikdottir, turned back into his betrothed, through that thought would remain clouded until later. For Loki and his betrothed had much more improper things to do, through those stories are for another time, through this story was just the start of their improper lives together, one that would be long and full of what would be deemed of improper things. All because of one improper visit to a tavern....

#loki #soft loki #jealous loki #bickering couple #proper lady #arranged marriage #tyrion lannister #tyrion x sansa #loki x female reader #loki x oc #loki fic #loki marvel #Tyrion cameo

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letstalkaboutshtufff · 11 months ago

Text

Twisted Love Part 7

Loki x reader

Pairing: Loki x Wife reader

Warnings: Forced marriage, language, anxiety, panic attacks, if I forgot anything please let me know!

Summary: Loki finds out what you have been up to.

“I’m wet”

“…..”

What the hels did you just say…!?Out of all the things?!?

“Yes I can see that… and the reason you are standing here looking like a banchsnep is because?”

“W-Well um.. I was out taking a little walk and came across this poor creature clinging to a branch in the river…”

Lokis eyed widened and his head tipped towards you “River? Forgive me I don’t believe I quite heard you right”.

You shifted your feet, “U-um yes he was struggling in the river..” you said barely above a whisper.

“You- what were you thinking?!” Oh great, he was angry now. Dammit you didn’t think this far ahead, but it’s not like you could ignore a dying animal.

“I-I…it was going to die Loki…” you felt the corners of your eyes begin to burn. The adreline having worn off and now you were in trouble. Your body was shivering and you felt terribly exhausted.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous thundergapes river is!? Why didn’t you have your guard go rescue it? Speaking of I’ll need to have a word with your guard because clearly Asgards finest need a lesson on common sense”.

Your eyes shifted to the ground, avoiding his gaze.

You could feel the tension rise even more when it dawned on him why you looked even more ashamed. “You went alone?? Do you have a death wish?! Do you know how many dangerous creatures are out there-“ he was about to scold you even more until his eyes caught sight of a single glittering tear drop from your eye to the ground.

He sucked in a sharp breath. He was mad yes, more than mad actually. But he did not want you to cry.

He took a few moments to calm himself.

With a deep sigh he stepped forward, slowly this time and spoke in a softer tone. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head. “Next time please be more careful, and from now on if you wish to go out no one is forbidding you but you shouldn’t go alone.” He said the last part with finality.

“I understand… forgive me”

He hated how saddened your tone was.

“As long as you understand there’s no need to apologize. I’ll leave so you can bathe.” You nodded shuffling from one foot to the other. He knew you must be freezing so he didn’t delay exiting the tent.

“Thank you Loki…” he paused opening the flap. He nodded simply over his shoulder and disappeared.

He felt better when you didn’t stutter.

A short while later you found yourself immersed in a steaming heaven. It was nice to draw your own bath for once. You always felt so bad when Adessa did it although she insisted on it.

After thoroughly cleaning yourself you slid on an emerald silk robe and called the wolf over to you.

He came bounding happily and you had to scramble back to avoid getting wet when he suddenly jumped in the tub.

“No wonder you were in the river you little fish, so brave hm?” You smiled scrubbing at his now bubbly fur.

“You know you’ll need a name? How about Baldur? Since you’re my brave little wolf.”

You continued scrubbing off the layers of dirt and grime and as you did your eyes began to widen.

He wasn’t a brown or gray wolf like you had assumed…

No, once you got past several layers of hardened mud you saw the pure white fur of a very special breed of wolf. And when you lifted its tail, your suspicions were confirmed…The very same breed this whole hunt was for…

Oh hels

**********************************************

They wouldn’t hurt a cub would they? No surely not…

You contemplated worriedly as Baldur slept soundly in your lap. Silver tail tucked under him comfortably.

Maybe you’d have to sneak him back out to keep him safe but if he was all alone how would he survive?

Perhaps Loki could help, or Adessa when she gets back.

You thought back to when Loki was scolding you. You didn’t like making him upset. Actually you didn’t like making anyone upset however it felt worse with Loki somehow.

You were grateful he didn’t seem too upset after he noticed you crying, although you were a bit embarrassed to be seen like that.

You wondered how the hunt today went. It saddened you greatly that they were going to kill such a beautiful creature.

“May I enter?” You straightened up hearing Lokis slightly muffled voice outside the tent.

“Yes”. Loki entered swiftly, still clad in his armor and you felt guilty that he had to delay changing and cleaning himself because of you.

“Shall I draw you a bath?” Your old habits of serving slipped it seemed and you noticed the surprise on his face.

“There’s no need, I’ll call for a servant” you nodded, feeling a bit dumb you had asked.

He stepped forward eyeing the sleeping creature.

“How is the little runt?”

“He’s alright I think, after a bath and some food he seemed full of energy…Well before he wore himself out chasing a fly around the room and now he’s just fallen asleep.” You stroked his head lovingly.

“What do you intend to do with it?” He tilted his head.

“Well he was all alone, I don’t think he’ll survive if I send him back…”

“Do you wish to keep it?”

Your eyes shot to his in hope, “C-can I??”

“If you wish, I have no qualms. As long as the mutt stays away from my leather boots.”

You smiled at that.

“Thank you, I promise he won’t cause any trouble.” You move to stand off the bed to set Baldur on a pile of furs but cry out and stumble suddenly when you feel a sharp pain in your ankle.

Loki is quick to steady you with two arms firmly holding you.

“Easy, easy, here”.

You half set half toss Baldur on the bed and allow Loki to help you sit.

You panic slightly when you see him kneel on the ground.

“I-I must’ve twisted it or something, I’ll be fine“ you try to shuffle away but it’s not like you had much room to go.

You hold in an eep when he cups the back of your ankle and brings it up.

“L-Loki, really it’s fine!” You felt heat rush to your face.

“Some would say a bleeding foot is cause for concern..” he turns your ankle slowly looking at is from all sides.

“B-bleeding?”

He nods before releasing a sigh. “You probably cut it on the rivers rocks.” You felt a pang of guilt but that was quickly overtaken by curiosity when you noticed Loki’s fingers emit a golden light.

The stinging started to subside and within seconds the pain was gone completely. Loki conjured a roll of bandaged and for the millionth time that day you were taken by surprise when he wrapped your foot with gentleness you didn’t know he was capable of.

“Loki you don’t have to bother- I can do it”

His eyes snapped up to yours and you gulped.

“My seider won’t heal the wound however you shouldn’t feel pain from it any longer” you nodded.

He guided your foot back down before rising from the floor.

“Thank you…” you don’t know why….you definitely weren’t afraid but… your heart couldn’t seem to stop beating when your eyes met his.

“How was the hunt?” You asked as you soothed Baldur back to sleep.

“Unsuccessful unfortunately, I was hoping we would be able to get it over with sooner but perhaps we’ll have better luck tomorrow.”

You hummed in response.

You watched as Loki rang the magical little bell that summoned a servant and watched him conjure a larger privacy screen.

How lucky magic users are..

**********************************************

Later that night Loki had gone out again somewhere while you sat contemplating what to do with Baldur.

The creature in question was currently entertaining himself chasing a little ball on the floor.

“Baldur shall we go to the grass for a bit?” The last thing you needed was him pooping on the furs. You promised Loki he wouldn’t be trouble after all.

You grabbed the biggest cloak you could find and snuggled him to your chest.

Quietly you lifted the flap of the tent, satisfied that no one was paying attention you swiftly made your way to a secluded spot behind one of the large carriages.

“Alright boy, go on” you set Baldur down and he tilted his head at you.

“Cmon use the grass… no not roll over…Baldur no come here look-*sigh*” this might take awhile….

Finally after Baldur got his fill of chasing a butterfly and rolling in the grass did he finally do his business.

“Good boy” you ruffled the fur on his head. “Shall we go now? It’s quite late, I don’t want anyone to worry.” You moved to pick him up when he suddenly darted away from you.

“No Baldur it’s not time to play- come here- no- agh- please stop-“ Baldur was having the time of his life with his front lowered to the ground and bum shaking thinking this was all a game.

“Baldur wait don’t go that far-“

*snap*

“B-Baldur!”

Suddenly the pup was squirming in the air being held by the scruff. The figure who held him stepped out of the darkness of the treeline and you felt a cold panic overtake you.

“Well well well, what do we have here?”

“L-Let him go Mathis...”

***************************************************

Part 8

What’s this? Two posts in one week!? Who am I??😂

Thank you so much to all my lovely readers. Your comments bring me soooooo much joy and motivation to write more. 💕

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#loki x reader wife #Loki #Loki series #loki laufeyson #loki x y/n #Loki x you #angst #fluff #loki x reader #arranged marriage #jotun loki #marvel #loki imagine #loki fic #romance

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