#as if the peggy carter one wasn’t enough

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

"I'm Taking That As A Yes, Princess"

PAIRINGS: Ghostface!FratPresident!James "Bucky" Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: Getting alcohol spilt on you, fingering, a bit angsty? (if you squint), semi-bathroom sex, swering, unprotected sex (darlings, please wrap your man's pig in a blanket), p in v, mentions of cum, handjob, a slight hint of a blowjob and slight fluff? (If I have missed anything, please feel free to let me know 😊)

WORD COUNT: 2,922

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

Walking into the house, you were immediately surrounded by sweaty, sticky bodies. You grimaced at the overwhelming feeling and tried to find a space where you could catch your breath. The kitchen was relatively empty, except for a couple making out on the counter. You decided to mind your own business, reaching into the fridge and navigating past cans and bottles of beer to grab a water bottle hidden at the back.

You twisted the cap off and took a long sip. Everyone was dressed up differently, which made sense—it was Halloween. Instead of babysitting your little cousins, you’d faked being sick to your parents, dressed up, and come to the Alpha Phi house. This wasn’t like you at all. The top student in your class, the teacher’s pet, the early-assignment submitter, the girl who became a TA in her junior year—you were the “good girl.”

So why were you here? Because you’d overheard some girls talking about the infamous Halloween party that the Alpha Phi guys threw every year. And you weren’t the type who usually went to parties. So why this one? Because you’d heard that Steve Rogers was going to show up, and you had a little crush on the star player of the varsity ice hockey team. You’d been trying to muster the courage to talk to him ever since you sat next to him in a lab in your first year. That was two years ago, and you’d been harbouring feelings for him ever since.

Your heart did a little flip every time he smiled at you when you passed him in the halls. Finishing your water, you threw the bottle in the recycling bin and tugged your tutu down to avoid a wedgie. The ballerina costume was a last-minute, twenty-dollar buy, but you were happy with it—the corseted top accentuated your chest, and though the sheer tights were a bit snug, it didn’t bother you too much.

You were making your way through the crowd and spotted a tuft of blond hair. Your heart flipped again. This was it, the perfect moment. You were going to ask Steve if he wanted to go out sometime. He was tipsy enough to say yes, and if he said no, he’d be too focused on his hangover tomorrow to remember your question. You took a deep breath and started toward him.

Then you saw them. You’d thought the rumours weren’t true, that they couldn’t be real. But the sight of Steve Rogers making out with Peggy Carter would be forever etched in your mind, because the pain in your heart was unbearable. You stood frozen, your heart thudding in your chest as you watched Steve's hands roam over Peggy’s body. You clenched your jaw and sniffled, rooted to the spot.

You only snapped out of it when someone spilled their drink on you. “Damn, sorry, gorgeous,” a guy dressed as Fred from Scooby-Doo winked at you drunkenly before chuckling and moving away. You shook your head, trying to clean the alcohol off your costume.

“Hey, buddy. I think you owe the girl a real apology,” another voice piped up. You looked up to see a towering figure dressed as Ghostface, holding Fred by the shoulder. “Now, say you’re sorry—like you really mean it, and none of that half-assed stuff because you’re shitfaced,” Ghostface ordered, crossing his arms. Fred straightened up, looked you in the eye, and apologized sincerely. Ghostface nodded approvingly and sent him away.

Before you realized it, Ghostface had moved closer to you. You turned to see him looking you over, his mask bobbing as if inspecting your costume. He clicked his tongue and put a hand on the small of your back. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You both walked upstairs, where the sounds of the party gradually faded, and you were grateful for the quiet. You hesitated when he opened a door and gestured for you to go in.

For the first time that night, you spoke up. “Um, I’m sorry, but I don’t even know who you are.”

The chuckle that followed freaked you out a little, but then he reached up to remove the mask.

James. Freaking. Barnes.

You tried your best to mask your surprise, but you were sure he saw it, because the corners of his lips lifted into a smirk.

James “Bucky” Barnes—the captain of the varsity ice hockey team, a good student, a charmer, the president of Alpha Phi, and most importantly, the best friend of Steve Rogers.

You’ve met James a few times here and there. During some of the varsity games. And passed him in the dorms sometimes. He never caused you any trouble. He even offered to help you move-in in your second year when he clearly saw you struggle push your luggage up the stairs.

You were just acquaintances.

You swallowed and timidly walked into the pristine room, surprised by its immaculate condition. “I certainly didn’t expect a frat president to have such a clean room,” you muttered, hearing James laugh at your comment as he closed the door.

“Well, I don’t work well in a messy environment,” he shrugged and walked closer, his gaze trailing over your corset. You backed up slightly at the intensity of his approach, making him huff a laugh. “I don’t bite, princess,” he said, his fingers grazing the edge of your corset.

He gently guided you to the adjoining bathroom. “I’ll have to wash it out a bit. So, if you don’t mind getting your tutu a little damp, princess…,” he led, waiting for your response. You shook your head, signalling it was fine. He nodded toward the counter, and you hopped onto it.

He wetted a towel and began dabbing it on your clothes. “So, what’s a timid thing like you doing at a fraternity party?” he whispered, his focus on cleaning up the stain. You glanced at his concentrated face before looking away. “What? Can’t a girl come to a party?” you replied, defensively, for some reason.

James chuckled, “Oh, a girl can come to a party. But you, you’re not that type of girl, princess.” You raised an eyebrow at him, puzzled by his statement. “I mean, you never come to parties in general. So why the sudden appearance?” He sighed and caged you between his arms.

You tensed, starting to stammer. “Well, I wanted to see someone,” you shrugged, looking down at your hands.

“Yeah?” James asked, his gaze piercing. “Who was the special guy?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, then quickly looked away. He used two fingers to tilt your face toward him. “Eyes on me, princess,” he said softly.

“Steve. I came to ask Steve out…,” you admitted, spilling your secret.

James looked at you with you look, you couldn’t decipher what it was. But you didn’t know what to feel about it. He looked into your eyes for so long, you started to tear up due to the lack of blinking.

“Steve…,” he dragged it, and it made you wonder why. But you didn’t question it.

He continued to dab the wet cloth to your clothes. “You didn’t have to do that you know… The, um, asking the guy to apologize to me,” you broke the silence, because you couldn’t take the stuffy air that was in between the both of you.

James shook his head and chuckled as he dabbed on your neckline. “If I didn’t my Ma would scold my ear off if she knew. And, besides, a pretty girl needs to be treated right.”

You’re breathing stops at that, and you looked up at him with a confused look. He smirked at your expression, “what?” You shook you head and asked him, “you think I’m pretty?”

James scoffed and nodded, “I would have to be blind if I didn’t think your stunning, princess.”

You didn’t realise but your lips and James’ were a hair breadths away. “James…,” you tried to start but James beat you to it, “Bucky, princess. Call me Bucky.”

You gulped and nodded.

“Bucky.”

He groaned at they way his named sounded on your tongue. “Princess, your killin’ me here,” he whispered more to himself than at you. His knuckles gripped onto the counter tight. “Please…,” he muttered.

“Pardon?” you didn’t catch what he said.

“Please let me kiss you.”

You froze, you didn’t know what to do.

You always thought Bucky was hot. Hotter than Steve, but you never had any classes with him to fully judge him. You were a hundred percent sure that if Bucky was your lab partner instead of Steve, you’d totally be crushing on Bucky instead.

And if that were the case, you’d be nodding your head like a mad man. Steve was taken, you were still recovering from that. Bucky, apparently, liked you. Liked you more than you thought he did.

You saw the way his gaze flickered from your eyes to you lips and back to your eyes. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and saw his pupils dilate at the movement.

“I-,” you started but your thoughts were washed away when you saw Bucky lick his lips too. You heart thuds in your chest as you feel like the whole world is dark and the spotlight is just on you with the way Bucky looks like you. There’s a small part of you that wanted to feel how his lips would feel against you.

So, you nodded.

Before you knew it, Bucky was standing between your legs and gripping your hips. He then pulled you close and smashed his lips on yours. You took a second to understand what was going on, but when your conscious did come back to you cupped his face and kissed him back.

He licked at your bottom lip asking your permission to open up your mouth and you allowed it immediately. Soon your tongues were dancing together, yours was meek and shy letting Bucky do all the taking over. You wrapped your arms around his neck and whimpers against his mouth, which just made him groan against you.

He moved his lips from your mouth to your jaw, then to your neck. You tilted your head to give him more access, and the more you let him the more your whimpers turn to moans.

He moves his hands all over your body, “this okay, princess?” He whispered against your skin, and you nodded fervently and grasped at his black cloak. You felt him palm at your chest, and you sighed and whispered a, “more, Bucky, please.” He nodded against your skin and moved his hands up your thighs and squeezes the flesh of your thighs.

You felt the heat pool between your things and squeezed them together. Bucky smirked and pushed them away, “nuh uh, none o’ that.” He got closer to you, and you wrapped your legs around his hips and chuckled. His hands moved to your inner thighs, and you gasped out, the wetness pooling more into your underwear.

You felt his knuckles brushed against your core and you whimpered and dropped your head against his shoulder. “Please, Bucky,” you muttered against his costume. Without any other word he ripped your tights at the centre and felt the wet path of white cotton.

“Oh princess, so wet f’me already?” Bucky snickered and you nodded at his question.  He rubbed his knuckles against your cunt’s lips and pressed his fingers harder when he heard your soft mewl. “You like it don’t you, princess?” To which you nodded again and whispered his name breathlessly.

He pushed your underwear aside and sunk his thick fingers in, and you whined at the intrusion. The sweet stretch felt better than your own meek fingers and soon Bucky was pumping his fingers in and out making your legs shake. “I’m not even rubbing your clit, princess. Your legs are already shaking,” he whispered roughly against your ear.  

His thumb started to rub at your clit and that’s when you lost your mind. You mewled and moaned his name as his fingers were rubbing that deep spot in you and his thumb playing with your button has you becoming a wailing mess. He bends down and started to attack your neck. “Fuck, Bucky. Please,” you cried out as you feel your impending orgasm start to build at your core.

Bucky roughly rubbed at your clit and within seconds your gushed around his fingers. You sighed and untensed your shoulders. Bucky brought his fingers to his mouth, closed his eyes and licked them clean. You whimpered at the sight.

You both leaned in and captured the other in a deep kiss, Bucky picked you up like you weighed nothing and exited the bathroom and walked until he placed you down on his bed.

He pulled the Ghostface mask down and leaned to tower over you. You bit your lip, and he chuckled, “didn’t know princess was a bit freaky, hmm?” He unbuckled his belt under the cloak, and you took off your tutu and tossed it somewhere in his room.

When he managed to get his cock out of his pants, your eyes widened as the sheer size of him and then looked at him to see the small smirk that was painted on his lips. “Something wrong, princess?” You gulped and said, “it’s not gonna fit.”

Bucky chuckled and leaned over you once more and whispered into your ear, “we’ll make it fit, princess.” The tone he used made you shiver, and you gripped onto his shoulders and readied yourself. Bucky ran his shaft up and down you’re sit and you whined desperately.

“Bucky, please. I need you,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back. He tapped your cheek with two fingers and said, “eyes on me, princess.” And with that Bucky slowly pushed inside you. The stretch was so deliciously sweet and painful it made you lose your mind. You both gasped at the feeling of him moving further into you.

“Fuck, princess. You’re so tight,” he grits out as he starts to slowly thrust in and out of you. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and your nails raked down his back and he let out a deep moan which made goosebumps raise on your skin.

The sound of skin slapping on skin wasn’t’ as loud as your wails of Bucky’s name and moans. When the tip of him tapped against that spot in you, your eyes rolled to the back of your mind and you squealed, “Bucky right there, oh! Right there!”

Bucky grabbed a hold of the headboard and thrusted harder into you, aiming at that same spot and you felt tears run down the side of face in pleasure. “Fuck, princess. Gripping me like a vice,” he purses his lips as he knocked his hips against yours.

You felt the sheer length of him move in and out of you, your walls embraced him like he was meant to be there in the first place. “Attagirl. Take what I give you, yeah?” He huffed against your ear. The coarse patch of pubic hair that rested at the bottom of his happy trail, rubbed against your clit giving your that nice friction and it made you whine even more.

He pressed a hand against your abdomen and pressed down harder and it made the feeling even better. He saw how you reacted and pressed down harder, and you arched your back at the feeling. With that you felt the climax in you start to rise, “Bucky, I’m so close.” You whimpered as you watched the man wearing the Ghostface mask rut into you expertly.

He threw your legs over his shoulders and rutted into your harder, the band at your core bends and bends until it finally snapped and soon you were coming around Bucky’s cock.

Bucky groaned deeply at you squeezing him tightly, he pulled out and you whined at the loss of the feeling. He was fisting his length at the sight of you post orgasmic bliss and it looked so hot from your perspective. You quickly got on your knees and replaced Bucky’s hand with yours. “Fucking hell, princess,” he ran a hand through your hair and bunched it up at the back of your head. “That’s it, making me feel so good,” he sighed and threw his head back.

He groaned when you parted your lips, the mushroom head of his member inches away from your mouth. He tipped his head back, “fuck I’m so close.” And soon you felt his warm spent spill down your throat. Bucky moaned at the sight, and his chest reverberated deeply when he saw you swallow.

He pushed you down to lay on your back again and he then he laid next to you. You reached up and took of his Ghostface mask so you can his face. “That desperate to see my face? Hmm?” He smirked at your action. You shook your head and chuckled shyly, “maybe.”

Bucky reached up and caressed your face. “You know you’re really pretty right, princess?” You blushed at his comment, “buy me dinner first, Barnes.” Bucky chuckled and then nodded, “are you free this weekend?”

You froze, “you can’t be serious.”

“Well, I kinda am.”

“You are a piece of work James Barnes,”

“Should I take that as a, yes?”

You chuckled and shook your head; you gave him a soft smile.

“I’m taking that as a yes, princess.”

🎀🎀🎀

A fic posted during the midst of exam period?!

I would like to thank @buck-star for helping me with coming up with this idea!

This took a while and it's ALOT, but late night productivity hit me like a freight train haha.

I've one more exam in the next week and I'll be done!

Hope you lovelies liked this!

Lemme know what y'all think of the fic!

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[the-winter-spider]

Timeless | B.Barnes

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: None

A/N: I was listening to Timeless By Taylor Swift and was clearly inspired.

Masterlist

——

2024

The night sky was ablaze with flashes of light and the crackle of energy blasts as you and the Avengers fought your way through the remnants of a fortified enemy base. The mission had been straightforward—take down a group of rogue mercenaries who had been experimenting with dangerous, uncharted technology. But like most things in your line of work, nothing stayed straightforward for long.

You dodged a barrage of gunfire, returning fire with precision, while Steve and Bucky fought side by side, taking down enemies with practiced ease. Natasha was up ahead, taking out a sniper nest, while Tony soared above, providing aerial support with his repulsors. You could feel the heat of the battle on your skin, your senses heightened by adrenaline.

“Stay sharp, everyone!” Steve’s voice crackled through your earpiece. “Something’s not right about these guys.”

You didn’t need him to tell you twice. There was an eerie, unnatural energy surrounding the mercenaries. They were moving too fast, their reflexes too sharp for ordinary humans. And then you saw it—a strange device in the center of the base, pulsating with a sickly yellow glow.

“Tony, what the hell is that?” you called out, your eyes fixed on the device.

“Not sure, but it’s giving off some seriously weird readings,” Tony responded, his suit’s HUD lighting up with unfamiliar data.

Before you could react, one of the mercenaries—his eyes glowing with the same yellow hue—turned his attention toward you. He raised his hand, and suddenly, you felt a force tugging at you, pulling you off balance. The ground beneath your feet seemed to shift and warp.

“Y/N, get out of there!” Bucky shouted, his voice desperate sprinting toward you, but it was too late.

The world around you exploded in a kaleidoscope of colours as the force yanked you from your place in reality. Your vision blurred, and your body felt like it was being stretched and compressed at the same time. You could hear the panicked shouts of your teammates growing distant as you were sucked into a swirling vortex of light and sound.

“Bucky!” you cried out, reaching for him, but your hand grasped nothing but air.

And then, everything went black.

1930s

You landed on your feet with a thud, slightly stumbling back into a large tree.

“Y/N? What the hell are you doing? And what are you wearing?” Peggy Carter scowled at you.

Your mouth fell open. This wasn’t just another time—this was a different universe. You could feel it in the air, something distinctly off. The timeline wasn’t your own.

Peggy grabbed your hand, her grip firm. “I hope you had enough time alone because you’re going to be late!” she scolded, pulling you along. She was dressed in a stunning pink gown, her hair styled perfectly, as always. Peggy was gorgeous, no matter the universe.

“Late for what?” you asked, allowing her to drag you along. You knew you could trust Peggy, even in a world that wasn’t your own. You had to play along, to avoid disrupting whatever timeline you’d landed in.

She spun around to face you, her hands on your shoulders as she inspected you. “What are you doing, Pegs?” you asked, the nickname slipping out naturally, even though it felt foreign on your tongue. You hadn’t called her that in seventy years, and the thought brought tears to your eyes.

“I’m checking to see if you hit your head, because there’s no way you’d forget that today is your wedding. You’ve been talking about it since we were little!”

Little? You didn’t meet Peggy until 1943, when you were twenty-five. So things were really different here. “My wedding?”

“Oh my gosh! We do not have time for this!” Her hands flew up in exasperation as she yanked you towards the cutest little house. You noticed the green front door, the white picket fence, and the blooming sunflowers. It was beautiful. You could see an archway decorated with flowers, undoubtedly for your wedding. The wedding that was apparently yours.

Peggy peeked her head inside the house. “Is he still upstairs?” she called out. A voice responded affirmatively, and she hurried you inside, not giving you a chance to take in your surroundings. The house looked as though someone had just moved in—or was planning to. You could hear voices from upstairs, your heart skipping a beat when you recognized a laugh. His laugh.

Before you could fully process it, Peggy pulled you into a room just off the foyer.

Inside, you saw a garment bag, likely containing your wedding dress. Another woman was setting up curlers and makeup. When she turned, you nearly gasped. “Becca?”

“Finally! Oh my gosh, what are you wearing? Where did she run off to, Peggy?”

“That’s what I said!” Peggy replied, starting to take down your ponytail and brush your hair. “She was by the pond.”

“The pond? What were you doing over there? Did you fall in? You’re a mess,” Rebecca scolded.

A few tears slid down your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened as she wiped away your tears. “Whoa, okay, hey. We’re not mad, just worried. And we only have,” she glanced at the clock, “two hours until showtime.”

They worked on your hair and makeup while you sat there, trying to absorb it all. This was a moment you never got in your own timeline, one you should have had. Anxiety gnawed at you. What year was it? Who were you marrying? Was Bucky here? Surely he was if Rebecca was, but what if this was after the train incident? What if you had moved on in this timeline in a way you never did—or never would? Was Steve here? Was he finally with Peggy? What was your Bucky thinking? Did he know you were gone? How long had you been missing from your universe? Did they miss you?

Peggy and Rebecca squealed in delight, snapping you out of your thoughts. They spun you around to face the mirror. You gasped softly. The woman staring back at you wasn’t who you expected to see again. Your hair was styled beautifully, parted and curled. Your makeup was flawless, enhancing your features. Your lips were painted your favourite red, a shade you hadn’t worn since before everything changed. They didn’t even make this shade anymore in 2024. Even though you had your boys back in your universe, you weren’t that girl anymore, no matter how much you wished you could be.

Rebecca and Peggy guided you to stand. “Okay, time to take whatever this… is off,” Rebecca said, motioning to your Avengers uniform. To anyone else, it might look like a tight, all-black tracksuit. Thankfully, you had used all your weapons during the mission, so you didn’t have any on you. Your last hidden knife was thrown just before you were tossed into what you could only assume was the multiverse.

Peggy opened the garment bag, handing you a smaller one. “Go put these on first,” she winked, shoving you towards the small attached bathroom.

“And please, for the love of God, don’t mess up your hair or makeup!” Rebecca shouted after you.

You stripped off your uniform, folding it neatly and placing it on the toilet. A small gash on your side caught your eye, and you winced as you cleaned it as best you could. Opening the bag, you couldn’t help but smile. Of course, it was lingerie.

You put everything on, marvelling at how it made you feel. It had been so long since you’d worn anything like this—or even worn the colour white. It felt wrong. You weren’t some innocent, naive girl anymore. You were a killer. You sighed, shoving your Avengers clothes into the bag the lingerie had come in. You felt exposed, the gash on your side still visible. Luckily, when Peggy found you, you were out of it. You could say you fell and didn’t notice.

Your hand hovered over the bathroom door handle when you heard a knock on the bedroom door. Thanks to your enhanced abilities, you could hear everything.

“It’s almost time. Is she ready?” Your heart did backflips. Steve. You’d recognize his voice anywhere, even underwater.

“Just have to do the dress,” Peggy responded firmly.

“She’s acting a little weird,” Rebecca added.

You could picture Steve’s brows furrowing in concern. “Nerves? I mean, she’s about to marry the love of her life. I’d be full of them if I were in her shoes.”

“She went for a walk. I think she hit her head. She was a little out of it.”

“Should we call a doctor? Maybe a concussion?” Steve asked, panicked.

Peggy laughed. “Steve, did you forget? I’m a nurse. I checked her over. Let’s just say it’s definitely nerves.”

A nurse? you thought. What the hell?

“Now get out of here! We’ll be ready in five minutes,” Rebecca said loudly, no doubt shoving Steve out.

You sighed, opening the bathroom door. Both their heads turned toward you. Peggy’s eyes immediately went to the red, angry cut on your side.

“Oh my gosh!” they both exclaimed, though with different meanings and tones.

“You look hot! Definitely making me some nieces or nephews tonight,” Rebecca said happily before her face scrunched up. “Ew, I forgot you’re marrying my brother.”

You felt like you could faint. It was confirmed. The you in this timeline still ended up with Bucky.

Peggy rushed forward, her focus on your cut. “I knew you fell!”

Rebecca gasped. “Bucky’s gonna be so mad I let you get hurt!”

“It’s fine, I promise. It doesn’t even hurt. I already cleaned it, Pegs.” You smiled sweetly at her. “Do you have any gauze? I don’t want to get any blood on the dress.”

She scoffed, looking offended before a small smile broke across her face. “Do I have gauze? Gosh, you and Steve really are two peas in a pod, both of you offending me within minutes!”

Peggy bandaged your side with practised ease, her hands steady as she worked. “There, good as new,” she said, standing back to admire her handiwork. She looked into your eyes, her expression softening. “You’re going to be okay… nerves or not, you’ve got this.”

Rebecca nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, and Bucky—he’s going to lose it when he sees you. He’s been head over heels for you since… well, forever.”

You forced a smile, your heart heavy with something you couldn’t quite place “Thank you, i-i don’t know what I’d ever do without either of you” This moment felt surreal, which of course it was because it never happened for you, but you took in every moment no matter what because you would never get this again.

Peggy grinned, handing you the wedding dress. “Let’s get you into this, shall we? Can’t keep your groom waiting.”

As you slipped into the dress, the weight of the moment pressed down on you. You were about to walk down the aisle in a universe that wasn’t your own, to marry Bucky, the mixed emotions had you feeling like a child again. You were trained to be an assassin and you were letting everything get to you. Maybe because your heart was still tethered to your own timeline, to your Bucky, and the life you had left behind…the life that was taken from you by Hydra.

Once you were dressed, Peggy and Rebecca stood back, their eyes shining with pride. “You look perfect,” Peggy said, her voice full of emotion.

Rebecca’s eyes misted over. “Bucky’s going to cry when he sees you…we're finally going to be sisters!” She squealed, pulling you into a hug.

Peggy’s eyebrows shot up. “I almost forgot! We got you something.” She turned away, digging through her bag. “And don’t say we didn’t have to, because of course we did.”

Before you could respond, she turned back, holding a tiny white box tied with a little red ribbon. Your hands trembled as you took it from her and carefully untied the ribbon. Inside was a delicate gold bracelet, adorned with two stones—your birthstone and Bucky’s.

“Look on the inside,” Rebecca whispered, her excitement palpable.

You lifted the bracelet, inspecting the engraving on the inner band: Mr. & Mrs. Barnes, June 8th, 1930 - A timeless love.

Your breath hitched. 1930. This timeline was so wrong from yours, everything was different.

“I… I…” you stuttered, overwhelmed.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Peggy said softly, her voice full of warmth. “May I?” she gestured toward the bracelet. You nodded, holding out your wrist as she fastened it around you. “Now you’re ready,” she winked, stepping back.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Let’s do this.”

As you made your way downstairs, the sounds of the wedding day grew louder—music playing softly, the murmur of guests waiting for the ceremony to begin. When you reached the bottom step, you saw Steve waiting for you. But not just any Steve—pre-serum Steve, the version of him you hadn’t seen in what felt like a lifetime. You couldn’t help but tear up at the sight of him, your Stevie.

His breath caught as he took in your appearance. “You look… stunning,” he said, his voice filled with awe.

You managed a small smile, your eyes welling with tears. “Thanks, Stevie.”

He laughed, a familiar sound that tugged at your heart. “Haven’t heard you call me that in forever. I’ll let it slide because it’s your wedding day.” He offered you his arm. “Ready?”

Of course, he was the one walking you down the aisle. Your parents must be gone in this universe too. “Yeah,” you lied, taking his arm. As you walked toward the backyard, where the ceremony was set to take place, you tried to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You had to keep it together, to play your part until you could figure out how to get back to your own universe.

When you stepped outside, your breath caught. The yard had been transformed into a picturesque wedding venue. Flowers adorned every surface, fairy lights twinkled in the early evening light, and the guests—all familiar faces, people you hadn’t seen in almost a hundred years, people who were gone in your time—turned to watch you. These were slightly different versions of them, but the sight was overwhelming.

But it was the sight of Bucky that nearly undid you. He stood at the end of the aisle, dressed in a sharp suit, his eyes locked on you. There was so much love and admiration in his gaze that it made your heart ache. This moment was everything you ever wanted, everything you dreamed of the day you met Bucky.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to take the first step down the aisle. With each step, the reality of what you were about to do weighed heavier on your heart. By the time you reached Bucky, your emotions were a tangled mess.

He reached out, taking your hand with both of his. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion.

You smiled up at him, trying to ignore the tears that threatened to spill over at the sight of him having both warm, flesh hands. “So do you.”

The officiant began speaking, but his words were a blur in your ears. All you could focus on was Bucky, standing before you, so close yet so far from the man you knew and loved in your timeline. He looked so peaceful, no war behind his eyes, no shadows lurking over him. There was no trauma here.

When it came time to say your vows, Bucky squeezed your hands, his voice steady as he spoke. “Doll, from the moment I met you, I knew you were gonna be my best girl.” He winked, causing you to chuckle. “I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you, and I’ll continue to love you for the rest of my life. I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for this day. I’ll remember it forever and cherish every moment we have together.”

His words made your heart clench. How could you possibly say your vows when your heart belonged to another version of this man? But you had to, for the sake of this universe, this timeline. You couldn’t disrupt it any more than you already had. It made your heart ache.

Taking a shaky breath, you began. “Bucky, I… I promise to love you for as long as you’ll let me. I’ll love you in every universe possible. It was always you, it will always be you. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The words felt hollow but carried so much meaning. Bucky’s eyes filled with love and joy, oblivious to your inner turmoil. When the officiant pronounced you husband and wife, Bucky leaned down, capturing your lips in a gentle, tender kiss. The guests cheered, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in the kiss, in the love this version of Bucky had for you.

But as the kiss ended, and you pulled back, reality came crashing down around you. You had to find a way back to your own timeline, to your Bucky. You couldn’t live this lie; this wasn’t the life you were meant for, not anymore. You wondered where the you from this timeline was? Where did she go? Would she come back once you were gone? Would it all make sense to her? Would she know everything that happened, or would she just get tossed in? Would the day restart for her? You sure hoped it would because this was her day, not yours. And you knew if it were your day, it would have been the best day of your life. She deserved it.

As the reception began, you excused yourself, slipping away from the crowd. You needed time to think, to figure out how to return to where you belonged. You paced at the front step, the door light flickering on.

“Doll?” Bucky’s voice cut through the silence.

You spun around. “Yeah, Buck?”

He placed his glass down, concern etched on his features. “Are you okay?” His left hand grabbed yours, the warmth of his touch startling you. Not feeling the coldness you were used to was breaking your heart. It felt wrong.

You glanced up at him, those same beautiful blue eyes and perfect pink lips. “Of course, I’m with you.”

He smiled the same smile, his eyes twinkling the same. Nose crinkling the same. He started to lean in. Your heart skipped a beat; this felt wrong. He stopped right before your lips. “Mrs. Y/N Barnes,” he whispered, his voice low. “I can’t tell ya how long I’ve wanted to call you that.”

“You have no idea,” you whispered, the weight of your words almost crushing you.

Then the door burst open. “There you are!” Peggy shouted, holding a very old but likely new-for-this-time camera. She shoved past you down the front steps. “This is perfect, the beautiful couple on their wedding day in their brand-new house!”

This was your house? Jealousy gnawed at you, seeing everything this version of you had. It was so peaceful—everything you had ever wanted but never got, and never would.

Bucky pulled you close to him, his right arm wrapping tightly around your waist, while his left hand reached out to hold your left hand, intertwining your fingers.

“Okay, smile in, 3…2…1!” A giant flash went off, and you heard the mechanism of the camera working before the film popped out. “One more for good measure,” Peggy said before taking another. “This one’s for you two, and this one’s for me.” She handed you the picture before skipping off, clearly tipsy.

Bucky rested his head on your shoulder. “Beautiful…” His voice was low as he kissed your bare shoulder. “Our future kids will love to see this one day.”

“Yeah, they will,” you whispered, barely holding it together.

“Well, wife,” he said, his voice filled with a smile, “we should get back to the party. Don’t wanna keep our guests waiting.”

You turned to face him, forcing a smile. “I’ll meet you back there? I just need to use the restroom.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead before walking off.

You went back to the room where you had originally prepared, locking the door behind you. You sighed, letting a tear fall. The enormity of what had just happened hit you full force. You were married, in a timeline that wasn’t your own, to a man who wasn’t your Bucky. You took the wedding rings off placing them safely on the vanity.

Frantically, you searched for the bag with your Avengers uniform, hoping for something—anything—that could help you get back. That’s when you felt it—thanks to your heightened senses, the faint crackle of static in the air. Panic surged through you as you fumbled with the bag, grabbing your uniform and shoving the wedding picture inside. Anything you were holding should come with you.

Suddenly, the static electricity surged, pulling you into its grip. You were flung through time and space, the world spinning around you.

1958

The disorienting feeling subsided as you landed on solid ground, gasping for air. The sounds of music surrounded you, and the smell of smoke filled your lungs. You looked down at yourself—you were still in the white dress, the bracelet from Becca and Peggy still in a bag clutched in your hand along with your gear and the photo, all still there. You stared at the picture, the image of you and Bucky smiling on your wedding day in that alternate timeline.

But this still wasn’t your timeline. You could tell by the dated cars and the subtle differences in the surroundings. At least something was happening, something that made you feel a bit more at ease. Your friends, your teammates—your Bucky—must be doing something, trying to get you back. Why else would you be in another timeline?

You stopped when you saw a newspaper on the ground, picking it up fast. The date read July 4th, 1958. At least you were moving ahead in time and not backward. You didn’t remember much about 1958 in your timeline; you were either in cryo or being experimented on, just like Bucky. The only thing you knew for sure was that today was Steve’s birthday.

As you walked through the familiar yet different streets, you noticed some stores were still here from when you last remembered, at least in your universe. One, a secondhand shop, caught your eye—a store you didn’t recall existing before. You slipped inside, knowing you had to blend in.

Rummaging through the clothing racks, you found a dress that would have to do. You didn’t have any money, and the thought of stealing made your stomach churn, but you needed to blend in until you were pulled from this timeline, just in case you ran into someone you knew. You didn’t understand much about the multiverse, but you knew enough to avoid tampering with it.

You sighed, grabbing a few more dresses and walking toward the changing room. The man at the counter called out, “How many do you have, Miss?”

You smiled sweetly, holding up three dresses. “Just three, sir!”

He nodded, satisfied, as you entered the changing room. Once inside, you used the moment to breathe. You had to take your time as if you were trying on the other dresses. You slipped the fourth dress on under your wedding dress, checking in the mirror to make sure it wasn’t noticeable. Satisfied, you stepped out, returning the other dresses to the rack.

“No luck?” the man asked.

You shook your head. “Sorry.”

“No worries, ma’am. You have a wonderful day!” he replied cheerfully.

You quickly made your way into an alley, taking off the wedding dress to reveal the more appropriate attire beneath. “Sorry, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself, tossing the wedding dress into a dumpster before stepping back out onto the street.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice called softly.

You froze, turning around. “Steve?” How was he still alive? You didn’t know exactly how the multiverse worked, and clearly, any insight you had was completely wrong. The only thing you were sure of was that you weren’t supposed to tamper with anything—or was that time travel? You were so out of your depth.

He looked the same as he did the last time you saw him in the 40s in your timeline. Fashion hadn’t changed drastically, and the Super Soldier Serum had kept him looking youthful. He definitely had seen war, but maybe the jet didn’t go down in this timeline, sparing him from the fate he faced in your own.

“Why do you sound surprised to see me?” He laughed, reaching out to pull you into a side hug, his left arm holding a brown bag. “Doing some shopping?” he asked, nodding toward the bag you were carrying.

You nodded, trying to keep your composure. “You know me,” you shrugged, forcing a smile. Your heart raced, knowing he could likely hear it with his enhanced senses, just as you could hear his.

“Oh! Happy Birthday!” you exclaimed, trying to shift the focus. “How old are you now? Sixty?”

He chuckled, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Oh, ha ha! I’ll have you know I’m not a day over forty!” But his eyes betrayed a sadness before he cleared his throat. “Ready to go?”

You nodded, letting him lead the way. The silence between you was comfortable, as it always was. It didn’t matter what timeline you were in—Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes would always be constants in your life, and vice versa.

As you approached your destination, you froze. A graveyard. There were so many possibilities of who you could be visiting here with Steve—his mother, someone from the war, or… Bucky. The pang in your chest was familiar, the same one you felt all those years ago when you saw Steve walking up to you and Peggy after that fateful day that took your Bucky from you.

Steve gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You nodded solemnly, gesturing for him to lead the way.

When you reached the grave, your breath caught in your throat.

‘James Buchanan Barnes

March 10, 1917 - January 10, 1945

Beloved son, brother, friend, fiancé, hero.’

The sight of Bucky’s name on the gravestone hit you like a punch to the gut. This timeline was too close to what might have been if only Bucky had been taken and not all of you. You never even got to see the headstone of your Bucky. This felt surreal, like a cruel echo of a life you could have lived but never did.

Steve sat down first, patting the ground beside him, signalling you to join him. You placed your bag down and lowered yourself to the ground, your legs feeling heavy. The weight of the moment pressed down on you as Steve pulled out a small box from the bag he was carrying. When he opened it, you gasped softly at the sight of photos, letters, and a ring pinned to a small cushion, kept safe all these years.

Carefully, Steve unhooked the ring and handed it to you. “I know you only like to wear it when we visit him,” he said, his voice gentle, laced with a sadness that matched your own. “When I saw you left it at home today, I grabbed it. I hope that was okay?”

His eyes held such deep emotion that it almost broke you. It was the kind of look that spoke of shared loss, of knowing all too well the pain of losing someone who was a part of your soul.

“Of course, Stevie,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. Your hands shook as you slipped the ring onto your finger, its familiar weight both comforting and heartbreaking. Another timeline where you didn’t get what you should have. Another reminder of the love that was taken from you, that you were once so close to having.

You stared at the ring, the symbol of a love that transcended time and space. It was a small, simple thing, but it held the weight of all the what-ifs and could-have-beens. You sat there in silence, mourning a life that never was, when Steve pulled out the photographs, laying them carefully between you.

There were pictures of Bucky and you, of Steve and Bucky, and some of all three of you together. As you looked through them, you let Steve retell the memories behind each one. His voice was soft and steady, grounding you as he recounted moments that felt as if they had happened only yesterday. The photographs were almost identical to the ones you had actually created with the boys in your own timeline, each one a snapshot of a life lived together in friendship and love.

One photo caught your eye, and you reached into the box to pick it up. It was a picture of you and Bucky dressed for prom. You inspected it closely, your eyes tracing every detail. It was exactly how you remembered, right down to the dress you wore, the smile on Bucky’s face, the way his arm was wrapped protectively around your waist.

“He couldn’t believe you actually agreed to go with him,” Steve said, a small smile tugging at his lips as he looked at the photo over your shoulder.

You smiled back, the memory warming your heart despite the sadness that lingered. “We had our first kiss that night,” you said, your voice soft with nostalgia.

“And the rest is history,” Steve replied, his tone light but tinged with the same bittersweetness you felt. He smiled, but his eyes were distant, lost in the memory of that night, of a time when everything seemed so much simpler, so full of promise.

“You have no idea,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Steve, as the weight of everything you’d been through settled over you like a shroud. The love you shared with Bucky was more than history—it was a bond that spanned timelines, a connection that not even the chaos of the multiverse could sever.

The two of you sat there in quiet companionship, the silence between you filled with the unspoken understanding of what you had lost and what you had found in each other. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the memories and the unbreakable bond you shared with Bucky—a bond that would endure, no matter what timeline you found yourself in.

Then you felt it. The electricity, the unease of what was about to happen , you know Steve felt it as he stood right up. His protectiveness of you taking over “Stay here” his voice switching over to his Captain America tone, leaking with authority you nodded. You watched him walk off, you grabbed onto your bag with your belongings, putting the photo of Bucky and you before prom in it before dragging you away from the grave, from Steve, from Bucky’s final resting place.

1500s

You landed with a jolt, gasping for air, your heart pounding in your chest. The world around you slowly came into focus— a garden, a fountain, and a castle? What the hell. The ring was still on your finger, the bag still clutched in your hand, but your surroundings were starkly different.

You were no longer in 1958. You had been pulled into yet another timeline.

But this time, something felt different. This time, you weren’t alone.

A voice behind you, low and familiar, sent chills down your spine.

“What are you doing out here?”

You turned slowly, your breath catching in your throat.

There he stood—Bucky. But there was something different in his eyes, something darker, more intense.

“Bucky?” you whispered, unsure.

He moved swiftly, grabbing you by the arms and hoisting you to your feet. “You shouldn’t be out here, love. They could find you.”

“W-who?”

He stopped pulling you once you were concealed by the dense trees, your back pressed against the rough bark. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you again?”

“N-no? Bucky, what’s going on?” You didn’t like this timeline; everything felt too unfamiliar, too dark, too off.

His hands cradled your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks in a way that was both tender and desperate. This Bucky reminded you more of your Bucky than the others you had encountered—the darkness in his eyes, the shadows that told stories of things seen and done, of battles fought and lost. “Our plan is still set for dawn. If you still want to run away with me… if you’ll still have me.” His voice was laced with urgency and vulnerability. “Steve and Sam have everything ready. We just meet here at dawn, and the boys and I will handle the rest.”

His eyes bore into yours, pleading silently, worried that your hesitation was a sign you had changed your mind. He continued, his voice breaking slightly, “I know I can’t give you a castle or the fancy poofy dresses you hate so much.” You smiled at that— even though this wasn’t exactly you he was talking about, it still sounded like you. “But I promise I’ll love you with everything I have. No one will ever hurt you or lay a finger on you again. I love you… please, doll.”

“Bucky,” you whispered, reaching up to place your hand over his, “of course I’m still with you. It’s always you. There’s no me without you.” Literally, you thought. If only he knew the true extent of what you meant.

He let out the breath he had been holding, his shoulders relaxing. “Okay, okay.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Go back to your room. One small bag with your must-haves, remember? Leave the rest behind. We’ll start over together. Try not to talk to anyone. We meet back here at dawn.”

You nodded, and he smiled—that familiar smile that had followed you through so many timelines. “Okay, Bucky, I’ll see you soon.”

He grabbed your hands, pressing a kiss to each of your knuckles. “I’ll see you soon.” Then he turned, disappearing back into the trees.

You sighed, turning to make your way back to what you assumed was where you lived—a castle, no less. You had to be way back in time. You moved stealthily through the hallways, avoiding anyone you saw, making your way up the stairs. Your enhanced abilities made it easy to hear if people were coming or if a room was occupied, until you found one that seemed like yours. The confirmation came when you stepped inside and noticed a slightly off-looking floorboard. You smiled—of course, you would have a secret hiding spot.

Locking the door behind you, you added extra precaution by wedging a chair under the handle. You knelt by the floorboard and used a letter opener to pry it up, revealing a small bag tucked inside. Opening it, you found mementos, trinkets, but mostly letters.

You carefully unfolded one of the letters, your heart racing as you recognized Bucky’s handwriting. The words were filled with love and hope, speaking of a future you both dreamed of, away from the dangers and the darkness that surrounded you:

My Dearest Love,

Each day apart from you feels like an eternity. My heart aches for you, and every moment without you is a moment lost. When I close my eyes, I see your face, so beautiful and full of light, and when I gaze up at the stars, I find solace in knowing that we are both under the same sky. I see your eyes in every twinkle, as if the heavens themselves reflect the love we share.

Steve has brought troubling news—rumours that your father is pushing you towards marriage with that wretched George. The mere thought of you in his arms is unbearable to me. But hear me now, my love: I will not allow this fate to befall you. You are mine, as I am yours, and nothing in this world will keep us apart.

I have devised a plan, one that will bring us together once and for all. In three weeks’ time, we will be free. Meet me at our secret place, where the willow bends by the riverbank. I will be waiting for you there, ready to take you far from this place, where we can live the life we have dreamed of—together, without fear, without chains.

Until that moment, hold on to the thought of us, of the life we will soon share. Let it give you strength, as your love gives me mine. We will be together, my sweet girl, I swear it to you with all that I am.

Yours, now and forever,

With all the love in my heart,

B.B.

This bag was filled with letters from Bucky to you—hundreds of them. Each one was a testament to the love you shared, a forbidden love that defied the rules of time and space. It was fate. In every timeline, it was fate.

Each letter was a promise, a piece of the life you both yearned for, a life you were determined to reach if you could just make it to dawn.

As you placed the letters back into the bag, your resolve strengthened. The version of you here wasn’t just running away with Bucky—you were running toward the life you both deserved, a life free from the chains of expectations and the weight of secrecy.

You packed a few essentials into the small bag, knowing you couldn’t take much, but also knowing that what truly mattered wasn’t what you left behind, but who you were moving forward with. As you finished, you took one last look around the room—this life, and the person you had been here—aware that in just a few hours, you would be leaving it all behind.

Steeling yourself, you clutched the bag close and whispered to the empty room, “We’ll make it, Bucky. She’ll see you at dawn.”

With that, you slipped out of the room and into the shadows, ready for whatever the future—whatever this timeline—had in store for you.

Once outside, you carefully placed the bag by the tree, hoping that when you were inevitably pulled back through the multiverse, the you from this timeline would replace you in this spot. She would see the bag and know—because she would just know. You couldn’t leave everything behind, though. You slipped one of the letters into the bag you were still hauling around, the one with your Avengers gear, along with the photo of you and Bucky on your wedding day, and the one of the two of you on the way to the dance—the night of your first kiss.

You held the bag tight, feeling the surge of energy building around you. The air crackled with electricity, the atmosphere growing thick with anticipation. You braced yourself as the vortex of yellow and blue hues began to swirl around you, pulling you back into the multiverse.

As the world spun and twisted, you closed your eyes, clutching the letter and photos close to your heart. You didn’t know where you would land next, but one thing was certain—you would find him again. No matter how many timelines you had to traverse, no matter how many obstacles stood in your way, you would always find Bucky. But you wanted your Bucky

So as you were being tossed around you did something different this time, you thought of memories from your timeline. You kept picturing your Bucky. His long hair, his vibranium arm, his eye crinkles, the nose scrunch. His haunting blue eyes, the way his arms feel around you. The way you felt when you were reunited, the way his lips felt on yours.

2024

You crashed into the glass table at the compound, landing with a loud, painful thud. The impact knocked the wind out of you, and black spots danced across your vision. Voices filled the air, overlapping with the ringing in your ears and the pounding in your head. This was different—much worse than any landing in the other timelines. But then again, you hadn’t smashed into a glass table before.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you squinted through the blurriness. The compound slowly came into focus—familiar, yet surreal after everything you’d been through. You tried to gauge how this timeline felt, but your senses were overloaded. Through the haze, you recognized a voice.

“Tony?” you croaked.

His eyes were wide with shock and something you couldn’t quite place—relief? “Holy shit! It worked!” He looked at you, disbelief melting into excitement. “Is this…?” he gestured at you.

Strange stepped forward, his expression calm but with a faint smile. “The timelines are at peace. It’s her,” he confirmed, nodding at Tony before turning to you. “You’re back.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “I’m back,” you whispered, the reality settling in. “I’m really back.” You pushed yourself up, but the dizziness hit you hard. Tony reached out to steady you.

“Your senses might be slightly off as your body readjusts to its proper timeline,” Strange explained, his tone reassuring. “But with your enhanced capabilities, it shouldn’t take long.” He gave Tony a final nod before stepping back into one of his magical yellow portals—what you and Bucky had always called them.

Bucky. The thought of him hit you like a freight train. You turned to Tony, panic rising in your chest. “W-where is he?”

“He’s on his way,” Tony replied quickly. “FRIDAY alerted him. Cap had to get him out of the compound—he was getting hostile. They went for a run.”

You nodded, trying to process everything. “How long have I been gone?”

“Two months,” Tony said gently. “We should get you to medical, get you checked out. You fell through my table, for Christ’s sake.”

“To me, it felt like a few hours,” you muttered, the enormity of it all weighing down on you. No wonder you felt so disoriented—what had been mere hours for you had been two long months here.

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Wilson, and Mr. Barnes are back,” FRIDAY announced.

“I need to see him first,” you insisted, tears spilling down your cheeks as you pushed past Tony and sprinted toward the direction where you knew Bucky would be coming from.

You could hear all three sets of footsteps. Sam’s were slower, lighter, trailing behind. Steve’s were steady and precise, not far behind. But Bucky’s—Bucky’s were frantic, almost desperate, pounding toward you with an urgency that made your heart race.

When you rounded the corner, you saw them. The sight of Bucky made you stop in your tracks, your bag slipping from your fingers to the ground. Your hands flew to your face as a sob of pure relief escaped your lips. “Bucky.”

They all halted at the sight of you—except Bucky. He didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, pulling you firmly into his arms. His grip was tight, almost as if he was afraid you’d slip away again.

You clung to him just as fiercely, burying your face in his chest, inhaling the scent that was so uniquely him. “I’m here, Bucky. I’m here,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not letting you go again.”

You stood there in Bucky’s arms for what felt like hours—maybe even an eternity—and you wouldn’t have minded. It was as if time itself had slowed down, letting you savor the moment. When you finally pulled back slightly, your hands traveled up his arms, over the familiar contrast of flesh and vibranium, before resting gently on his face. He held onto your waist firmly, grounding you both in the reality of this moment.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s really you.”

Behind you, Tony’s footsteps approached, a reminder of the world outside your reunion. “Barnes, we need her in medical. She literally fell through my table,” he said, his tone half-joking but mostly concerned.

Bucky nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. He gently took your hand off his face, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles before lacing his fingers with yours. Together, you began to walk toward the medbay.

“Wait!” You suddenly stopped, turning back to retrieve your bag.

“What’s in that?” Steve’s voice came from beside you, his hand resting warmly on your shoulder.

You smiled up at him, reaching into the bag to pull out two photographs and a letter. Handing them to Steve, you watched as he stared at the images in shock before passing them to Bucky, your Bucky. Steve unfolded the letter, his eyes scanning the words that transcended time.

Then, you lifted your left hand, sliding off the ring that had been a symbol across lifetimes. You placed it in Steve’s palm, then removed a bracelet, handing it to Bucky. “There our birthstones,” you said softly, noticing how Bucky’s eyes began to water. “Look inside.”

Bucky’s voice was thick with emotion as he read the inscription aloud: “Mr. & Mrs. Barnes, June 8th, 1930 - A timeless love.”

“Holy shit,” Sam finally spoke, breaking the reverent silence.

You nodded, feeling the weight of all the timelines you had traversed. You glanced at Steve, then back at Bucky, your heart full of certainty. “In every timeline I was in,” you said, your voice steady, “you both were always there.”

Turning fully to Bucky, you let a tear slip down your cheek as you continued, “It’s always been you. Every time, in every world, it was always us.”

Bucky pulled you close again, his arms wrapping around you as if he could merge the fractured pieces of time that had kept you apart. “And it always will be,” he whispered into your hair, his voice filled with unshakeable conviction.

In that moment, surrounded by the people who had been with you in every timeline, every reality, you knew that your journey through the multiverse had finally led you home. There was no more running, no more searching. You were where you were meant to be—with the person you were always meant to be with.

It was a love that had defied time, space, and every obstacle the universe had thrown your way. And now, standing in the place where it all began, you knew it would last forever.

[applcrumbl]

Soulmate.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Soulmate! Reader Warnings: None I don't think? Author's Note: still old fics from @bapplbrumbl - unedited

It was in all caps, simple, but elegant. A blue ballpoint scrawled the somewhat legible lettering on the back of his hand. It was an unusual feeling, felt as if you were writing it yourself. He wasn’t. A soulmate thing, He didn’t really understand the reasoning behind it, or why it happened. Just that it was unusual, and that less than 45% of the population had it. Only those with a true soulmate; one that they actually had a chance of meeting. It was activated through sight, as soon as you saw your soulmate, whether it be a fleeting glance or prolonged eye contact, they would have the ability to see everything you wrote on your skin.

Dentist 2:30, it read.

Never anything useful in finding her, always appointments, or little reminders to get milk. Sometimes even a beautiful line of poetry that he wound up writing in his letters home to Steve. But, never a name, or an address.

She had obviously seen him before though, as he could read what was written on her skin; see the little doodles that lined the edges of her hands. Every Tuesday, 11:30am, they would appear. He assumed it was the cause of a boring class, a solid hour of sketches of flowers, and trees. She was talented and educated. He could tell. Bucky really liked that about her. But, sadly, he didn’t know who she was, and there was a possibility that she didn’t realise he existed.

At 16, he enlisted. Because of his duty to fight for the country he loved? Maybe. Because she had written about a visit to the recruitment office and he wanted the possibility of meeting her? More likely.

He wanted to at least see her. He wanted to be able to write to her and have her read it. He wanted a name, an age, anything to give him hope. But routinely, a simple ‘hello’ was written in bold capital letters. There was never a reply.

The first day of his training was a nervous one. He had left Steve in Brooklyn, alone, and the guilt was eating him. Not to mention his ‘skin scribe’, as Steve would put it, hadn’t left any messages that week. Bucky bit his nails down to stubs whilst on his lunch break. Any hope of finding her now was long gone, She was probably back home. And Bucky was most likely going to die fighting.

One of his fellow Regiment brothers cracked a joke. Something at Agent Peggy Carter’s expense. Bucky, desperate to fit in, poked in as well.

“Women on the front line? She wouldn’t last. Too busy combing her hair or something-”

His peers laughed. It died down rather quickly as a female voice spoke.

“That’s a write-up.” the person said. He hadn’t seen her before.

“Sorry ma’am” Bucky replied.

“What is your name, Soldier?”

Bucky sighed, “James B. Barnes, Ma’am.”

The woman nodded, turning on her heel as she walked away. Pen in hand. The man ignored the feeling of embarrassment as he turned back to his group.

“Bloody psychopath,” Bucky laughed, slightly on edge and checking the time on his watch, 11:29. “Okay boys, we’re late for track. Let’s go.”

The encounter was forgotten as quickly as it had happened. Bucky ran the 500m track, correcting his form as much as he could. He ignored the scribbles that appeared on his hands, much too focused to look at them. In hindsight, he wished he had. The quick glance before she washed her hands was not quite enough for him to believe what he had read. His heart fluttered at the sight, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. But it was too late, the pen had gone. Only the trace of the little note that took place on his skin.

James B. Barnes - 107th

If he wasn’t already nervous, he certainly was now. Almost stopping in his tracks as his regiment caught up behind him. He ran off of the track, despite the shouts of his superiors. He scanned the base, no faces jumped out at him though. He swore to write something to her as soon as he found a pen.

“Barnes, What are you doing?”

“Sorry Sir, Bathroom issues.” He lied.

Clammy hands gripped the pen tightly in his right hand. Veins climbed his fingers, framing the space where he was going to write. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried to contact her, but the extreme likeliness that he’d seen her that day made his heart thunder. Thoughts swarmed in his head like wasps around fresh fruit. What if he hadn’t seen her? What if she wasn't here? What if she didn’t reply, and didn’t want anything to do with him?

A shaky hand, lettered the words ‘are you here?’ In a small font at the top of his hand, leaving space for her to reply.

You had decided not to tell Peggy of the encounter with the rude group of soldiers. She already had it much too hard to hear every little rumour around the barracks. And so, the write-up went unfinished. ‘No trace that could hurt Peggy’s feelings’ you thought.

You were supposed to supervise training that afternoon, instead opting to take some well-earned time away from the camp. You sat with your book, reading. Eyes scanned the pages, taking in the words of one specific sentence to mind. Grasping for your notebook, you could not find it. Instead dog-earring the page to keep it in mind. Peggy would be mad at you for damaging the book, but you could deal with that later.

A knock at the door signified wanted entry. Cynthia entered. She was nice, you had nothing against her personally, but all she ever wanted to do was talk about her soulmate and how they met. The story was cute the first time, but after hearing it weekly for the entirety of the year so far, it got boring. And your feeling of loneliness grew bigger.

The whole soulmate trope felt like bollocks to you, where did it come from? Why do we have it? Millions of questions in your head but one of them stood out the most: Where was yours?

You were one to draw on yourself anyways, even accidentally. Mindless doodles were your coping mechanism and a source of entertainment during boring lectures. In other words: it was purely a hobby. But part of you hoped that your soulmate was out there if you even had one and that one day he would write something back.

You almost didn’t feel the ballpoint writing on your skin. It was faint, he had a light touch, almost careful to hurt you. It was so soft that if you had been paying attention to Cynthia, or were not craving the sensation, you probably wouldn’t be feeling it at all. The feeling was almost burning, yet loving at the same time, caring.

In a panic, you interrupted the story. “Have you got a pen?”

“Yes, but I’ll need it. Why?” She handed it to you.

Your leg bounced as you read the message on your hand. In all of the excitement, you didn’t even answer his question, instead of posing one of your own.

Who are you?

Bucky stared at his hand for what felt like hours, He sat alone in his barracks. Eyes not once leaving the rough skin of the back of his hand. Your handwriting had always been beautiful, but even more so now that it was directed to him. ‘James, But call me Bucky’ he answered, stroking his finger over the sentence she’d just finished writing.

The writing was getting smaller, a struggle to squeeze the conversation in. ‘Y/N’ she wrote.

Cynthia was getting impatient, somehow desperate to get her pen back. Considering the hours you had taken listening to her story, you would think she would be the least bit understanding of your situation.

“I need the pen back” she stated, a pompous hand extended forward. There was not much you could say to protest, handing the writing utensil over. You arose quickly, walking out of your room and into the neighbouring.

Bucky wrote back. 'Meet me, Please.'

“Is there a pen in here?” She asked one of the soldiers sitting on the bed. He threw a spare over. “Thank you”

‘Where?’ she wrote, hiding away. Then passing the pen back to the Soldier. And leaving.

‘I’m with the 107th regiment.’

It was a long shot, she might just ignore it. Wanting nothing to do with him. He silently prayed for an answer.

Meanwhile, in the corridor, you froze. He was here.

If only you still had a pen you could find him. Unwilling to ask that soldier for his pen back, you thought. Eventually giving in.

“I’m going to need your pen again, I am so sorry"

“I’m using it now,” The other soldier said, putting it on his bed and turning away.

A moment of worry traced your features, what if he thinks you’re ignoring him? You reach to grab the pen anyway, surely he wouldn’t notice.

But, he did. And with lightning reflexes caught the outstretched hand at the wrist. Again you apologised, taking in his features. You felt guilty, but after all, it was just a pen. “That’s my pen,” he stated.

“I know, I just need to borrow it for two seconds,”

Bucky thought you were pretty, same as he did when you wrote him up earlier. He felt bad for thinking that, considering his soulmate could quite possibly be very close. He complied anyway, watching you take the pen and glide it across your skin. four words, ‘i’m in the dormitory’.

He watched it happen, the exact moment the ballpoint touched your skin. The skin of his soulmate. Every letter shook his core, tears threatening to burst from his eyes. A hard stopped your movements.

“Y/N?” he asked, reaching to pull up the sleeve that had fallen to cover his hands.

Confusion plagued your features, a pair of furrowed brows turning to face the soldier. “Yes?” you questioned, not quite catching on.

In one swift movement, he took his pen back, quickly gliding it over his skin. He didn’t have long to think, desperately wanting to write something cool that would impress you. But, he also just wanted to let you know. He wrote a simple statement.

Nice you meet you.

[imyourbratzdoll]

Could you do Bucky's POV for "she was his angel and he was her knight"? I would just want to know if Bucky did feel guilty but he was just hiding it.

I like your storys very much wether if it's smut, fluff or angst!❤❤❤❤

hi honey! thank you so much!

this is a sort of part 3 of you aren't nat, and she was his angel and he was her knight.

summary - bucky tries everything to destroy your happiness.

warning - angst, no happy ending for bucky.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips and @firefly-graphics

“So… You fucking my best friend now?”

The words echo in Bucky’s head.

“Can’t say I’m surprised. You have always been super easy.” 

He stares at himself in the mirror, following the bruises he received.

“I bet he wishes it was Natasha or maybe even Sharon. Do you really think anyone would want you as their first choice?”

His hand opens and closes. 

“Why should I? It’s not like you like her, and she’s just your rebound because you can’t have who you really want.” 

Bucky’s eyes connect with his own.

“Go on, Stevie. Tell her the truth, c’mon. Doesn’t she deserve to know that you aren’t better than me?”

His anger grows inside of him, remembering it all.

“You can’t take me, Steve. You’re weaker than I am.” 

All because of you, Bucky had lost his best friend. You just had to go and spread your legs for anyone who paid you enough attention, and Steve was the poor soul caught in your web. Bucky hated you and had hated you ever since he met you. When you asked him out, he found the perfect opportunity to make Natasha jealous and possibly hurt you simultaneously. Bucky really had no reason to hate you. When you met him, you welcomed and treated him like family. But the more you hung around him, the more he had grown to hate you, and now he hated you even more because you’ve turned his best friend against him. 

Bucky had come out of his room and headed to the loungeroom, noticing you and Steve curled into each other and Natasha and Sam the same. He scowled. He wished you would just disappear. No one wanted you here. He smirked. Maybe he could prove that Steve was just using you, yeah. He’d do that, and there’d be no way you’d ever compare to the Peggy Carter. He abruptly left the room, coming up with the perfect plan. 

A few weeks passed, and you and Steve were happier than ever, and it was pissing Bucky off. He smiled as a woman walked into the room and toward him. She was the spitting image of Peggy, which should make you see that no one wants you. “Bucky?” He nods, surveying her and feeling happy she kept with the 40s style. “What exactly am I doing?” 

He smiled charmingly, “You're just going to be my date to a party. Is that okay?” She nods, linking arms with him, and they head off to the party Tony had organised. More like yours and Steve’s engagement party, but if Bucky had it his way, there’d be no engagement, wedding, or you. They had entered the room, and Bucky grinned when Steve’s eyes widened slightly. His focus was on the woman beside his ex-best friend. When you saw what Steve was looking at, Bucky's smile widened even more. The smile on your face had fallen.

Bucky began to lead the woman over to the happy couple, feeling his heart skip happily as Steve’s gaze focused on the Peggy look-alike. “Hello, I guess congratulations are in order.” He watched you gulp, your eyes flickering between Steve and the woman. “Oh, right! This is my date.” She smiled, introducing herself and shaking your and Steve’s hand. 

Steve squeezes your side and smiles. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Steve, and this is my beautiful fiancee, Y/n.” Bucky frowned, wondering why he was now looking at you, not the woman he had brought. Steve’s eyes moved to Bucky’s icy blue ones and hardened. Bucky didn’t know that Steve wasn’t like him, even if he liked to think he was. Steve really did love you. He had loved you when you first met and loved you through it all. No other woman could compare to you, and Bucky had to realise that. 

Months after the party had passed, and Bucky tried everything to get rid of you, to hurt you. But it seemed like nothing fazed you anymore. Steve had clouded your mind from Bucky, and he couldn’t even ruin your wedding. 

Bucky sat outside, glaring at everything, not noticing Steve making his way over. “You know, she never did anything to you.” His gaze moved, and he glared more, “I don’t know why you hate her, and I don’t care anymore. You need to stop trying to ruin our happiness, do you understand?” Steve stared into the distance, where you stood, hand placed gently on your stomach.

“Please, you don’t love her.” He grunts as Steve slaps him across the back of his head. 

“Shut the fuck up. I love that woman with my entire being. We’re happy, Bucky. You should’ve been there as my best man. You should’ve been happy for me. You should be the fucking godfather to my child! But for some fucked up reason, you hate my wife. She treated you like a human from the beginning, and you just threw that kindness away. For what fucking reason?” Bucky stared at his old friend as Steve spoke, tears in his eyes with every word. “You don’t even have one. I don’t even know who you are anymore.” 

And with those words, Steve left, leaving Bucky alone. And for many years, Bucky would continue to be alone.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[noturlondonboy]

An open letter to Kevin Fiege

Note: please do not take this too seriously chat, I was assigned with writing an open letter for my English class, and I decided I needed to diss on Kevin to my English professor for a little while.

————

Dear Kevin Fiegi, (I know I spelled your name wrong, it is intentional.)

I’d just like to start off with a very sincere screw you. And if this wasn’t a school assignment that my professor is going to read, I would be using some choosier words.

Second, kindly go to Hell. Emily, my apologies. Moving on.

Let’s start with one of the most glaringly obvious problems you created and let happen in the MCU- the confusing and unnecessary death of Natalia Alianova Romanova, otherwise known as Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow.

I can understand Natasha insisting that she be the one to sacrifice herself instead of Clint- it fits her character archetype and offers a solid way for her character to die with dignity. If it weren’t such a stupid idea to kill her off in the first place.

Might I offer an alternative to keeping one of the arguably most important characters in the Marvel Universe dead in the cinematic adaptations? Did we even think about Tony Stark bringing her back with the Infinity Gauntlet when he revived half the world’s population? Did we consider at all that maybe when Steve Rogers made the (horrible) decision to stay behind in the 40’s, he could have warned the team about the dangers in Endgame? Maybe he could have prevented the Snap in the first place.

Maybe, maybe, maybe… so many options, and yet, here we are, onto Phase 5 of the MCU and Natasha Romanoff-less.

More on Steve in a second.

Natasha’s death felt unnecessary, shallow, and forced in order to create a narrative with enough drama and angst to soothe the most particular crowds. While we already had very few strong, main female characters, the loss of the Black Widow only adds the problematic misogyny in the MCU. This is aided by the fact that we received only one Black Widow movie (after she had canonically died, mind you) and have three Iron Man movies, four Thor movies, and three Captain America movies with a fourth on the way.

I’m sensing a pattern here, Kevin. A pattern I do not like.

If we wanted to stay on the topic related to misogyny, we could talk about Wanda Maximoff, and the injustice served to her character in Dr. Strange and the Multiverse of Madness. The show Wandavision gave us a beautiful narrative of how Wanda reacted to her immeasurable grief, and wove together an exciting story that provided us with intriguing lore and storyline options. However, in the absolute dookie bomb of Multiverse of Madness, almost every single point of conflict and character development that Wanda experienced was completely trashed and ignored in favor of turning her into a villain for the sake of villainy.

A terrible reason, by the way. Literally what the hell. Kevin. I am so incredibly upset with you.

Back to Steve Rogers, as promised.

Steve in himself is an incredibly in-depth character that absolutely lives up to the hype. He’s Captain-freaking-America. His actions are purposeful, his morals and strong and set in doing what is right, not what is expected. *cough cough* When Steve decided to stay in the 40’s when returning the Infinity Stones, he disrupted several important plot points. In Agent Carter, Peggy Carter moves on from Steve when he’s lost to the ice and finds love and peace and happiness with someone else. Steve ultimately steals back her affection from that life she had built for herself, and the importance she completed in her life with that man.

Have you ever watched Agent Carter, Kevin? Have you read any of the comics that you’re adapting for the screen? Have you seen the movies? The shows? Do you understand the plot lines you’re supposedly in charge of?

Secondly, we cannot forget about Bucky Barnes, even though Steve most certainly did. Remember Bucky, Kevin? Remember Steve’s best and closest friend? The man he promised to always stick with, “to the end of the line”?

No, Kevin. Clearly, you do not remember. Steve absconding Bucky was entirely out of character and makes no sense. What are we even doing here?

Thank you, but no thank you, Kevin. Please hand the MCU reigns over to someone who actually cares about the characters and what the fans want (in a reasonable sense.)

-London, aka the one you should hand them to.

[doctorhelena]

Steggy Fic: Not For A Million Bucks

I’ve created something for every day of Steggy Week 2024 over at @steggyfanevents! This is for Day 4 (Outsider POV). Previous Days: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3

Summary: Jack Thompson didn't particularly want a front row seat to this show, but oh boy, he's sure got one.

Rating: PG

Note: This is a sequel to my story Never The Normal Way, but you don't have to have read it to understand this one. (But if you like this one, you'll probably like that one too!)

Read it on A03

Excerpt:

Washington DC, October 9, 1950

“So, what exactly did Marge tell you over the phone?” Jack Thompson asked Daniel Sousa, standing back and letting him put his own bag into the trunk of the rental car. The plans for the new agency must be getting serious now, he guessed, if they were flying guys all the way from California for meetings.

On the other hand, it was entirely possible that the whole shebang was just a cover to get Sousa here to be briefed on Peggy Carter’s latest little unauthorized side project - Phillips and Stark were in on both, he remembered.

No. No, there really was going to be a new agency, and there was no way Carter wasn’t pretty deep into that too. She was just killing two birds with one stone  - or maybe three, because poor Danny Boy here was going to have a heart attack when he found out how thoroughly Peggy hadn’t been pining over him since she’d moved back to New York. 

Jack actually felt a little sorry for the guy.

“She didn’t tell me much,” Daniel said as Jack put the car into gear. “Just that she was excited about the new agency, and that she wanted me to come over for dinner tonight and catch up with a few friends.” He frowned. “She'd mentioned before that she might need some unofficial help on something, but - it felt like there was more to it than that. Like there was something else she didn’t want to say over the phone. Has she said anything to you?”

Jack snorted. “Yeah. And you’re not wrong. There’s apparently a hell of a lot she didn’t want to say over the phone.”

Daniel sighed. “It’s been a really long day, Jack. Don’t be an ass. Just tell me.”

Yeah, it must’ve been an overnight flight, to get into DC this early in the afternoon, Jack thought. He should probably take pity on the poor shmuck. “Well,” he told him, “the good news is you’re officially one of the few people she trusts enough to recruit for her latest little secret side investigation. And it’s a doozy. But the bad news is, uh - ”

“What? What’s wrong?” Sousa looked suddenly alarmed.

Jack sighed. “Look. This probably should come from her, not me, but if you’re going to need a minute to cry, better do it now and not embarrass us all at her place. She’s - uh, there’s a guy.”

Sousa looked both relieved and a little disappointed. “She’s seeing someone? Is it serious?”

“Well, she married him, so I guess probably.”

Daniel blinked. “What?” He looked more than a little hurt. “She didn’t - ”

Jack huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. She didn’t tell me either, till I popped into her office last month to say hi and caught her red-handed with a ring on her finger, looking like she’d swallowed a beach ball.”

“Wait, she - what? ”

Read the rest on A03

[poohsxhunny]

I finally finished s3 of Heartstopper and I loved it, but am I the only one who thinks you could really feel Olivia Coleman’s absence in Nick’s storyline this season? I can’t imagine his mom would do nothing in the 2 months Charlie was away or not notice how much Nick struggles without Charlie around. Nick literally had no adult to turn to or even ask how he was doing!! Why was Tara literally the only person worried about him?? I know they’re likely going to confront Nick’s dependency on Charlie and his people pleasing tendencies next season but it was just strange that his mom wasn’t there to check in on him. He really needed an adult figure in the story throughout the season. His aunt Peggy Carter showing up for 1 episode wasn’t enough! It just felt like a glaring absence to me.

Idk I’m in my mid 20’s and was worried about Nick!! Someone take care of that child!!!

[peachyteabuck]

cross the line (peggy carter x reader)

summary: after you’re officially coronated, your already-atypical relationship with your personal knight becomes something even more scandalous

commissioned by someone who wishes to remain anonymous 

pairing: peggy carter x reader

words: 7649

content warnings: the world’s most historically inaccurate royal au!, knight/personal guard!peggy, queen!reader, murder of a minor character, attempted murder of a main character, violence done onto the main character, virginity taking, strap on use, dubious consent, praise, i made steven grant rogers a misogynist for shits + gigs, protective!peggy, dom!peggy, sub!reader, blowjobs on strapons, manipulation

divider by @firefly-graphics​

This is your dream. This has been your dream since you knew what dreams were. Every moment of your life since the minute you unleashed your first scream was dedicated to primping and priming you until you were molded into the perfect queen.

This is your dream. As a baby, you were sequestered from everyone but the doctor, your parents, your nanny, and the wet nurse to ensure your health. You met the first person outside of that tight circle was introduced to you when you could walk. Even then, they were quarantined before and after.

As a child, you spent hours being quizzed on complex philosophy and mathematics by candlelight until your nanny begged for the tutor to stop. Being up until well before sunrise wasn’t enough: any moment you could be awake should be dedicated to meeting the same standards would-by kings were held to.

As a teenager, the focus turned to your appearance. Reading and writing were joined by a hair and make-up session. You recited factoids and roleplayed conversations with other rulers and aristocrats and constituents while you were shoved into corsets and fitted for dresses.

Your entire life has led up to this day, to this moment.

So why are you here, picking at your cuticles, as you hear your family and allies of the crown celebrating joyously? A new queen was not a frequent occurrence, especially one who reigned without a sudden, unexpected death or drought. None of that had occurred—your mother, aging and desperate for a life of her own, had informed you of her plan to abdicate the throne on the eve of your 16th birthday. It would give you two years until they’d announce, and a few more for everyone in every kingdom to adjust to the news.

You can hear your personal guard come in, the formal armor clinking as she steps. She prefers to go without (something about stealth being the best protection), but given the occasion, tradition requires her to be in full regalia.

“Are you all right, your majesty?”

You bite at your nail, pulling at the dead skin as you attempt to ground yourself. Staring off into the distance, you say nothing.

“That’s what I thought.”

Peggy had been your main guard since you were preteens. You, trying to learn politics and languages and negotiation tactics. Her, learning the ins and outs of palace protection from her mother. She was much scrawnier back then, limbs resembling the branches of a freshly planted oak tree. Peggy had bloomed since then, all muscle and confidence. She had also, over the years, become your closest confidant.

“Princess,” she says, her tone knowing. You can’t see her smirk, but it rests atop her words like moss in a pond. “Didn’t expect to find you here.”

A crash, quickly followed by bellows from amused, drunken palace goers, stops you from responding immediately.

“Don’t call me that,” you finally say with a sigh. Might as well start getting used to correcting people now, you think. Though, your tone does not have the kind of royal tone you’d often heard from your mother. “I am now your queen and you will address me as such.”

She smiles softly, nodding just a little. “My apologies, your majesty, you were a princess for a very long time, and so it will take effort to get used to.”

You don’t disagree—it’s still hard to remind yourself to respond to the title when it’s called. You start to speak, wringing your hands every so slightly. “Margaret-“

“Please, your majesty,” she interrupts you, raising one hand to her chest. “You mustn’t. Now that you are queen, I think it’s best to refer to me as Peggy. It’s what my mother called me.”

As you roll the name over your tongue, the sounds feel like a tough cut of meat between your teeth. Still, it seems important to her, and given all she’s done for you over the years, you feel as though you owe her. It’s then, as you run through what it would be like to call for her in front of the rest of the court, that you let yourself smile just a little.

“It’s very improper,” you say quietly, as though someone could hear you admit to entertaining such a thought.

Peggy just grins—big and toothy. You ignore the way your heart swells at the sight. “That it is.”

“And what would the queen mother think?”

“What the old crone doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

It’s hard to suppress a laugh in your state, the giggles overwhelming your defenses within seconds. It sometimes feels as though your mother is a lighthouse at the center of the sea, locating ships with horrifying precision. Queen or not, the thought of her knowing you’re deviating from her desires spikes fear in your gut. A terrifying woman, it’s easy to treat her the same way one treats a prison guard.

But then you think of your mother—not the queen, but the little bit of her that exists outside of the demands of royal life. She’d been queen for years when she was your age, your grandmother succumbing during the birth of her youngest brother. Within hours after he entered the world, your uncle became an orphan and your mother became a queen. Their roles overtook them, both of them mourning as they grew into their roles. It was your mother’s job to rule. It was his job to remain as far from the public eye as possible.

“Are you okay, your majesty?”

Peggy places her hand on your shoulder. You can feel her thumb rubbing into the sore muscles there, and you wish she could apply that pressure to every inch of your skin. She allows you to sit with your non-reply, the nice quiet a welcome change from the cacophony of noise. She looks you up and down a few times, noticing the way you wring your hands and how you bite at your bottom lip.

You don’t know it, but she watches you in the same way she did when you were teenagers. She couldn’t stop, watching as you both grew to fit the titles you were expected to live up to as adults.

But she can’t do anything about it—not now. Not until the time is right.

“May I?”

You nod.

She takes the crown from your head, holding it gingerly as she inspects it. You were able to design your own crown given the circumstances. It all had to be kept under a veil of secrecy, of course—the jewelers and blacksmiths were sequestered until everything had finished, and even then were sworn to secrecy for fear of beheading.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You sound more mournful than you intended. It really is beautiful, is the worst part. A half-circle peaking in the middle, pearls topping each peak. At the center, swinging as your knight holds it in her calloused hands, rests a dangling cameo made of ivory and obsidian.

“An orchid?” Peggy asks, that same smirk as before teasing at her lips.

You nod. “It represents love and thoughtfulness. My mother’s favorite.”

Peggy hmms, turning it in her hands again. The gold shimmers in the low candlelight, catching as the fat flames flicker. “It looks like a cunt.”

You just shrug, unable to comment on the likeness. Many of the knights were crude, almost alarmingly so, but the only experience you had with your center had been your monthly bleeding and the occasional anatomy lesson from an exasperated nanny.

“Yours looks prettier, though.”

You blink once, twice; bewildered by her comment. Any witty retort you might have made drowns in the confusion, your brow furrowing and heart racing.

“Wh…what did you just say?”

“I said,” she moves to where you are, her nose brushing against yours from how close you are. “Your pussy is much prettier than any gem you could put in front of me.”

You’re not sure what to say—mouth agape as you attempt to process what she’s said. Though neither of you had addressed whatever it was that crackled between you, neither of you had done much to dampen it, either.

“What would your royal friends think, hm?” Peggy moans, a slight laugh coating her teasing. “I wonder how the rest of the court would react to you defiling the good name of your foremothers.”

She knows what she’s doing—poking and prodding at the sense of duty you’ve shared since you were old enough to understand the importance of longevity to the royal lineage. You’ve spent your entire life dedicated to the well-being of the crown, allowing your family and their most trusted allies to contort you into the perfect royal to lead your kingdom. It’s your purpose, it’s your only skill, it’s your only option.

If your mother had remained queen, she would have picked out some nice man for you to marry. A younger brother perhaps, whose power wouldn’t rival your own but still allowed your kingdom to gain some sort of leverage or asset. Normally these are done in childhood, sometimes they’re signed as soon as the sex is confirmed in the birthing room. You had escaped such a fate, in contrast to your sisters. Escaped only to find yourself in another possible trap.

“Retiring for the night?” Your head shoots up to see your mother’s lady-in-waiting, a much older woman who’d been in the castle since your mother’s teenage years, standing in the doorway. It’s then that you realize that you are tired, and move to rub at the dark circles under your eyes, not unlike the children of various royals whose bedtimes were hours ago. The rush of emotions, the pounding heartbeat, the awareness of your entire body…it feels as though you had been running through a field with reckless abandon and very suddenly met the kingdom’s sturdiest oak tree.

“Yes, I believe so.”

Her face softens, memories of your mother’s coronation rising. The woman has always said you look just like your mother did at your age, something you’ve never been able to fully process. “I understand. The queen requests-“she pauses for just a second before correcting herself. “The queen mother requests to see you before you disappear.”

You smile, nodding in affirmation. Before you can dust off your dress and stand, Peggy offers you her hand for stability. Your refusal dies into a hesitation when you realize a witness remains.

As you stand, she pulls you to her quick enough to make it look as if you had fallen. “I’ll meet you in your room, your majesty,” she whispers lowly into your ear. Before you can react, she straightens you into a standing position. Louder, she speaks again. “Now come along so we can find your darling mother.”

Lucky for you, no one has become caught in one of her famous conversations that can last for an hour or more.

“He and his guard will be staying for the next week or so,” she grins. It’s that real kind of smile, one that hasn’t graced your mother’s face in a long, long time. It stings, just a little.

You attempt to mirror her face, but you can feel how vacant your eyes look. “That’s wonderful, Mother. I’m glad such a close ally of the family will be our first guests after our coronation.”

The older woman pointedly ignores the flatness of your tone. “He’s wished to speak with you before he leaves.”

Great, you think. Lord Rogers is…an interesting man, certainly. Famously easy to anger and hard-headed, he only seems to care about women and ale. More accurately, he cares about women who are willing to put up with him while he drinks ale. Neither are hobbies of yours and so he has decided you are not worth respecting.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Your hands shake ever slightly as you find your way back to your quarters, the ringing in your ears drowning out the harshness of your steps. You nod to the two guards—Natasha and Valkyrie—who open the hefty door for you. There, sitting in your vanity chair, lies your loyal knight.

You’re unsure of what you should say, and so you say nothing.

“I’ve wanted you for as long as I’ve known what it is to want,” Peggy says, still seated.

“My reputation would never recover if anyone found out,” is all you can reply. Maybe the thought of your legacy crumbling would knock some sense into her.

The woman across from you just smiles. “That was when you were simply a princess. But you are queen now, so we’re free to do as we wish.”

You step back, watching with wide eyes as she moves to undo her ceremonial armor. Each time the metal pieces hit each other, you flinch at the small clang. The sound of metal reminds you far too much of violence, and you’ve never been one for that.

“Queens still have reputations, Peggy,” your protest is weak…but is a protest, nonetheless. Affairs like this could ruin a royal, send them tumbling into a well of scandal that would threaten the power your family had held for generations. If anyone learned of what was happening, you could be dethroned, excommunicated, possibly even executed. “Big, consequential ones.”

You can feel your mouth dry when she removes her undershirt, revealing her bare chest. Bruises, scars, and scrapes litter the skin, but it only adds to her natural allure.

When all you do is stare, she smiles ever-so-slightly. “Has no one educated you on matters of the flesh, your majesty?”

Part of you wants to deny you understand what she asks—but the rest of you is just confused. Most of the eligible bachelors in your court steered clear of your bath, too terrified of your mother to make any sort of romantic gesture. The allure of bedding a royal was far outweighed by your mother’s ruthless reputation. When a man was found kissing up the neck of your younger sister, one of his hands at the small of her back, he was sent to work at a proxy farm hundreds of miles away, rumored to be herding sheep with just one hand.

No one ever seemed worth the risk of losing them.

She speaks as she removes the cloth pants, your eyes drawn to the slight bulge at the apex of her thighs that the harder armor covered. “It’s an honor to be your first, your majesty.”

As her pants hit the floor, you can feel the air being knocked from your lungs. There, between her legs, rests a sort of…toy. Long, thick, tapering a little before flaring out again.  It looks like what the other ladies of the court had described after their nights of passion with visitors from other kingdoms.

“You’ll take me in your mouth soon, my queen,” she reaches into the bag at her side, producing a small, unlabeled jar that reminds you of the potions witches sometimes sell at the markets held near the castle. She pops the cork, spreading the thick, clear substance over the bulbous head between her legs. You’re not sure what she means, but the heat in your belly spreads along your spine, nonetheless. When her length is fully covered in it, she takes your hand, the scented oils from the morning having soaked beneath the surface, leaving only supple, perfumed skin in its wake.

“Here,” she practically whispers, her voice quiet but filled with what sounds like excitement. “Wrap your hands like this…”

Your knight guides you, her hand over yours as you wrap your fingers around it. It’s a strange feeling, but certainly not unwelcome. You follow her motions, moving up and down and twisting your wrist right before you reach the top. Peggy watches enraptured, her eyes locked on where your hands meet. It’s easy for you to presume she can’t feel what you’re doing, certainly not even witches could combine this material with the flesh of a human. But, with the way your knight’s lips part, the way her breathy moans fill the room…you’re not sure.

Her other hand, once curled into a fist at her side, now cups the back of your head firmly. “Lick the tip, your majesty,” she instructs. At any other time, you’d hesitate, but the lightheadedness that’s come over you silences your protests. Ever so lightly, you lick over where your hand had avoided. Your open mouth gives Peggy the opportunity to buck her hips, pushing the object past your lips. She takes care not to push it too far, merely pressing it onto your tongue so you would become used to the weight.

She’s been waiting for this day since she first saw you, since her mother told her of the duties that were passed down their family line for generations; since she had seen you studying French in the garden in your pink spring dress. She’d loved you for years—decades, even. Though she’d never wish it, if the Goddess took her tomorrow, she’d die a woman fulfilled.  

Peggy grabs at your hair, pulling you until you stand. She takes the position you just had, falling to her knees before burrowing herself under the hem of your skirt. Before you can ask what she’s doing, she unbuckles your shoes and pulls down your chemise. Too stunned to do anything else, you step out of them on instinct.

“Good girl,” Peggy purrs, leaving kisses along your thighs before standing back up. “My perfect girl.”

You lock eyes for a moment, expecting the other to say something, anything. When nothing comes, Peggy locks her lips with yours, leading you backwards until you’re pushed onto the bed. She’s practiced this many times, an old pillow covered in one of your nightgowns folded in half so she could smell your signature perfume as words of praise and promise tumbled from behind her lips. Just as she imagined, she parts your legs to find the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

I was right, she thinks. Much prettier than any crown.

“Oh Godess,” Peggy groans as she finally pushes inside of you. “You cannot imagine how long I’ve waited to do this-“

You moan as she enters you slowly, purposefully. Blood drains from your fingers as you grip the sheets with all you have, Peggy holding your legs open as you adjust to the feeling of her inside of you. She gives you a moment, tracing the calloused pads of her around your nipples, down your quivering stomach, and back up again.

“I-“ you’re not sure what you’re supposed to say, or if you’re supposed to say anything at all. “I-“

“Shhh, your majesty, Shh,” she reaches around to cup one hand over your mouth, the rough palm pressed against your lips. “Not all the servants are asleep. I don’t want anyone else to hear you sing for me. Not just yet.”

Your eyes widen as you realize what she’s saying. Each frenzied thought is broken as she pulls back before entering once more. Every time she retreats and leaves you empty and wanting, her pace quickening steadily.

“Wh-what do you-“

Peggy just smiles, watching as your eyes roll to the back of your head. It’s as though she’s watching your thoughts leak from your ears, your head falling onto the covers as pleasure overtakes you. She thought about flipping you over, about grabbing you by your hair and fucking you until you couldn’t walk. But she knew she had to start you off slowly, carefully as to not scare you off. Soon enough, though, she’d be able to fuck you in all the ways she’d fantasized; with her fingers inside you right next to her cock, with her hand around your neck, with her telling you the ways she’d fill you and how beautiful you’d look round with her kin. You were both young, and with your newfound power, had plenty of time to learn what you both liked best.

“Don’t worry, my beautiful queen,” she murmured into your neck. She had also imagined fucking you front of all the other knights in her tight circle of guards, showing the rest of them what they could have if they continued to pledge their loyalty. They’re all just as protective of you as she is already, but with queenhood comes increased threats that require increased vigilance. “I’ll explain in due time.”

It's then that she reaches down, moving to rub small, staccato circles at the most sensitive part of you. It’s a part you’ve explored before, under the thick covers and once everyone had presumed you asleep. That, though, was nothing like this—none of the fireworks, none of the way she grips your thighs to pull you back after each thrust.

This is what you imagine being struck by lightning feels like, the way your skin crackles every time she touches you. The difference, though, is that you’ve never heard of survivors wanting more. You’d never imagined anything feeling as good as this, as though those late-night explorations and giggles shared between princesses could feel so magnificent. Had everyone else felt like this, when they had indulged in matters of the flesh? Why had everyone kept such a thing from you?

“I’m, I’m-“ You’re not sure what’s happening, coil inside of you tightening with every passing second. Every muscle in your body tenses as you silently plea for Peggy for…well, truthfully, you don’t know what you’re pegging for. All you know is that you want it.

“Oh, your majesty,” Peggy smirks as she continues to pound into you, continuing to rub at the apex of your pussy. “Do it, baby, let go for me. Allow me the gratification of seeing you let go.”

You’re not sure what’s supposed to happen until it does, and a white-hot pleasure explodes inside of you. It reminds you of rolling down a hill, or being on horseback while it gallops. This is different, though, a nearly indescribable feeling lighting your skin ablaze. The feeling inches away little by little, your legs beginning to twitch. Peggy slows before pulling away completely, collapsing next to you as the toy prods at your leg.

“I’ll always watch over my queen,” she says as you pant, looking up at the ceiling of your room you had looked as a thousand times before. The mural your mother had painted for you hadn’t changed at all, but you…you were transformed. “No matter what.”

A week or so passes without incident. A week of your entire body on edge, of watching your personal knight as she stood in corners and examines perimeters. It’s a small part of you, but nevertheless, a quiet voice in the back of your brain shamed you in the way you’d imagine your mother would if she found out.

How did it end up like this? You, the most powerful person in your kingdom, bending at the will of your closest guard as though she had the magic to move mountains. A shudder ripples its way through your muscles as you imagine a world where she was blessed with the connection to the Mother Goddess.  She was the only one who could grant the special few the ability to harness the magic found in the soil of your land, and it was a gift to you that she hadn’t given Peggy that power.

“Your majesty,” Peggy says from across the room, her affect flat in the proper way staff are meant to address members of your family. “Lord Steven Rogers is here to see you.”

She steps into the room and to the side, making room for the man and his personal guard. James, if your memory is correct, watches over the interaction with the same stoic silence as Peggy. He’s large, much different than the leaner bodies of the women who make up the castle’s defenses. James fills the doorway, nearly having to duck just a tad. What really scares you is the way he stares, his jaw set and his eyes bearing into you. You make every effort to avoid his gaze as Steve sits down.

“I have something to share with you,” he says with a boyish smile. He slides a small, wooden box across the desk that you make no move to open. “But I’d like for us to be alone. No guards.”

As if he can sense your trepidation, he adds, “Just to put us on even footing.”

“If my security cannot be in the room while this information is shared,” you tremble, ever so slightly, as you push the box back towards him. You hope he doesn’t notice, but something in his keen eyes says there’s very little he doesn’t see. “Then I don’t want to hear it at all. And I certainly wouldn’t want your security here as well.”

“Oh, princess,” his words are tinged with a low, condescending chuckle. It reminds you of your father when he knows he’s bested you at chess—the same stupid, smug look painted across his face; the same infuriating smile playing at the very corners of his lips. As a child, you thought he was at least trying to hide the fact he had such a large competitive advantage, saving your young ego from being crushed too early.

As you stand here, though, a single eyebrow raised and the inside of your cheek between your teeth to keep you from lashing out…you understand it is merely a poor attempt to hide the glee of besting a person one views as deeply and utterly inferior.

You grit your teeth, clenching your fists as your side as you resist the urge to slap him with the back of your hand. As a royal, your mother had never expressed herself in such a rash manner. You hadn’t even held the crown for a week and were on the brink of putting the entire royal reputation in jeopardy.

What a failure.

“I am queen now and you know it,” you eventually bite out, face red hot with the knowledge you’d taken much too long to respond.

Lord Rogers smiles in the same way you imagine snakes or wolves do when they’ve spotted injured prey. “Let’s have this conversation again when you’ve calmed down. Tomorrow, perhaps?”

You paint a tense smile over your face, attempting to hide your distaste. “Tomorrow it is. I look forward to seeing you then.”

Peggy watches as your lady-in-waiting undoes your corset, her nimble fingers freeing you from its confines. Normally you liked your corsets—they improve your posture so much even your mother doesn’t comment on it—but that and the coronation dress weighed on you in an unfortunately literal way.

“My queen,” she nearly whispers. You expect her tone to be light and airy, and are startled by the more somber tone. “I need to speak with you.”

You blink once, twice. Why not here? Your face says, gesturing towards the lady-in-waiting as subtly as you can. Peggy’s stoicism remains unchanged.

“Give us a moment, Katherine, please,” you tell her, keeping your eye contact.

The dark-haired girl nods once, bidding you goodnight and curtsying before dashing away. She’s odd, that one, but so charming you choose not to comment when she’s around.

When the door shuts behind her, you turn to your knight, nodding just a little to prompt her.

Instead of speaking, though, she remains quiet, an obvious discontent washing over her face. A nagging feeling at the back of your heart wants to go to her, comfort her, bring out all the bad feelings so you can tame them. But you’re a queen, and she’s not a child, so you stay where you are—silent, stoic, painfully waiting for her to open her mouth and tell you what’s wrong.

When she does, though, you wish she hadn’t.

“I don’t like Lord Rogers very much,” is all Peggy says. She looks you dead in the eyes, jaw set. You wait for her to continue—to rant and scream and scowl.

You allow yourself a moment to sigh, the exhale ending in a dry laugh. Peggy narrows her eyes as you do so, tilting her head ever so slightly. “I’m not joking.”

It certainly sounds like it, though. She knows just as well as you how court politics works, how every single person in this castle has every single one of their decisions shrouded in a cloak of constrictive diplomacy. In a country situated at the center of the continent, a smile and a few lines of small talk are sometimes all there is between economic prosperity and absolute devastation.  

Speaking ill of Lord Rogers would effectively be the same as threatening to banish Lord Rogers from your castle. And banishing Lord Rogers would be the same as slitting the throat of his wife in their marriage bed. War? Guaranteed. Your chances of winning? Slim.

“Well, you certainly can’t be serious.” You’re outwardly scoffing now, rolling your eyes, and turning away from her without so much as a half-hearted excuse. There’s nothing in you that wants to fight; who wants to risk it all, fight the status quo, and make a new world from the ashes of the old one. You have never been very rebellious, and that instinct for conflict avoidance will serve you well if you want yourself, and your kingdom, to survive.

You expect your beloved knight to deflect. You expect her to do as you would’ve done: assume someone with loose lips was listening and you’d need to immediately play it off as some kind of nightmare and distance yourself from any ounce of culpability.

She doesn’t, though. She doesn’t move an inch.

“I’m serious, your majesty.” Peggy continues to meet your tense gaze, her own eyes free from any regret, or fear, or anything. Strong as a stone, and just as agreeable. Her face remains stoic, her sharp jaw set. “I would never lie to you.”

Red bleeds into the edges of your vision, the vision of your delicate legacy crashing to the floor like an antique teapot, crashing into a million, unfixable pieces and cutting into the bottoms of your soft feet. “Absolutely not,” you growl, your fists clenching in the light fabric of your underdress. “You know why that’s impossible, so certainly you wouldn’t be foolish enough to entertain the idea of saying it out loud.”

She still doesn’t budge. “I can’t lie to you, your majesty.” She repeats. “I have a duty to protect you-“

Now you bark out a laugh, the sharp descending into something darker quickly as you continue. “Protect!?” You reach across your abdomen to hold your sore stomach, glad you were able to get out of your corset before she opened her mouth. It feels like ages later when you’re able to catch your breath, the words still breathy as tears fall down your cheeks. “If anyone heard you, they’d have my head under a blade fast than you can cut the limbs off of any one person. You believing this is some roundabout way to fulfill the oath you took when you were given your sword is such horseshit you should be back shoveling it in stalls.”

You’re ready to continue—to bare your teeth and tear at her skin until she heeds your warning. Fangs—you wish you had fangs—so she’d know how ready you are to tear flesh from bone just to keep her from continuing. So that she’d know you’re also dangerous, and willing to fight if it meant you remained in power.

“Get out of here,” you snarl. “Tell Katherine to come back in. I don’t want to see you until I need escorting to the chancery tomorrow. Do you understand?”

Peggy’s face doesn’t change as she responds before turning and leaving. “Yes, your majesty. I will see you in the morning.”

Neither of you speak, you following just behind her in silence. The blanket of quiet remains as you enter, a servant having already lit the candles that illuminate the room. As you requested, Peggy remains just outside the thick door, only entering when Lord Rogers does.

He seems pleased you’d followed his directions, and it makes your skin crawl. If you had your way, you’d never deal with him at all—outsourcing all communication through a third party. Unfortunately, the Rogers name is powerful in this region, and a queen is nothing without her allies.

“So,” he sits across from you, separated only by your desk. You move to stand near him, eyeing the same box he had yesterday. “I’ve come to talk about the land deeds your mother signed over to me at the very end of her reign.”

Your brow furrows as you reach forward to grab at what he brought with him. Inside are…bones? They’re small but thick, with etchings in an alphabet you do not understand. “What are these?”

He scoffs, as though you should understand what riddle he’s piecing together. You resist the urge to remind him you can speak five languages, and read even more. If there was a language you didn’t recognize, you’d be going to the royal translators…not a man who’s been trying to de-throne your family since the day he could ride a horse. “They’re proof my family has had ownership over the lands I’m asking about since before your family name ever existed. You simply raise both your brows, still looking through the box.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

But you don’t, you really don’t. There’s nothing anyone’s ever told you about Lord Roger’s land deeds besides the fact he has a lot of them.  His family’s been around for as long as yours has and has amassed a similar amount of wealth and power. He controls several important ports, his castle is nearly as large as yours.

It hits you then, what he’s doing.

Originally both lineages were at war for the last few thousand years, moving borders and people and livestock as their whims changed. They’d both fought to control the kingdom that’s encompassed the land it had for centuries, the deciding factor being one last territory that a woman four or so generations ago had seized during a tense buyout the Rogers lineage had always claimed was faked. That’s the only territory his family had ever asked for, something your mother had spent many nights telling you about. They’d tried everything to get it back, from raids to paying witnesses to give false accounts of the treaty signing. This was another, even cheaper shot at their goal—to overtake what your family had held so dear.

It’s easy to see now that the markings on the bones show tallies of cattle losses in a shorthand developed by farmers, indicating his family would’ve been working the land after the year the agreement had gone into place. This, of course, means absolutely nothing.

You chew your lip as you examine them, building up the courage to speak. “Lord Rogers, I am not sure this indicates anything meaningful. Many families work on land they do not own. This isn’t proof at all your family has any right over the land, or over the kingdom”

As you look closely at the engravings once more, “You stupid little bitch!”

You don’t have time to turn around; to slap him across the face, or find a letter opener to remind him of your years of self-defense training. All you have time to do is cry out as his palm meets your cheek, your screams becoming muffled as he grabs the back of your neck and turns you around so he can pin you against the desk.

“Peggy!” you try to yell, but all that comes out is a choked sound.

“You will give my family what we are owed. I will kill you if I have to.” His words are practically growls, holding you with one hand as he reaches into his coat. As you struggle, he flashes a thin, sharp knife in front of your eyes.

“Please-“ you kick at him, figurines your mother had collected (and you hadn’t yet had the heart to have a servant collect and placed in her quarters) fall to the hard ground. Some shatter immediately, others skidding across the floor. “Please don’t kill me I-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He flips the weapon in his hands, as if he was showing it off. “Now hold still, this doesn’t need to hurt. There are a few spots I can hit that’ll have you bleeding out in seconds. But if you want it to hurt, I can-“

He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence before he’s thrown off of you, slammed into the nearest wall. You’re partially thrown with him, but Peggy’s arms keep you from traveling the same distance. One of the other guards, Valkyrie, holds him against the wall as Peggy drops to the floor to hold you. Other guards you can’t remember the names for flood in behind her, holding his arms behind his back and dragging him away.

“You’re okay, my queen,” Peggy whispers. “You’re going to be okay.”

She scans you for harm, eyes wide as she checks for broken bones or open wounds. A few spots are tender. One, most notably, at the place the table made contact with your abdomen. Still, nothing that can’t be healed with a few days of rest and (most important) nothing that will leave horrific and long-lasting scars. Katherine comes in soon after, taking you from Peggy and ushering you across the castle and to your bed. She fetches you something to drink and a cool cloth, fluffing your pillows once your heart has slowed enough that exhaustion replaces adrenaline.

It all happens so fast, you don’t have time to question why all of those women were close enough to help in the first place.

Peggy stands behind Katherine, watching as she comforts you.

As your eyelids grow heavy, she moves to pet your hair, leaning down to murmur into your temple. “I’ll be back, my queen.” You don’t hear it, sleep long since having pulled you into its arms. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”

She slips out of the room, silently exiting out of your area of the castle before finding a door hidden behind a tapestry depicting a field of poppies, your grandmother’s favorite flowers. The secret paths had been built the same time the castle was, meant to be a way for those that served in the castle to enter the servant’s quarters without disturbing the royals. Fifty or so years ago, though, too many servants were living there, and in an effort to stave rebellion, an addendum to the castle was built. Now, where some had lived, slept, and ate, lay abandoned rooms far from the eyes of royalty.

The staircase is narrow, so narrow she has to hold her sword in front of her. She’s silent as she navigates the maze-like corridor, the path to her destination an easy show of muscle memory. The door, unassuming and identical to the rest of them, opens to a scene she’s been wishing for since she first saw Lord Rogers look you up and down all those years ago.

Five women, two on each side and one immediately behind, flank the man that sits tied to an old chair from the servants’ quarters. It’s been used for these sorts of nights before, as evidenced by the scuffed wood that marks where pieces of leather kept one’s limbs in place. They fight, they always do. For Peggy, it’s part of the fun. No sense in killing something without a desire to live.

She stands as the man sits, his face already bruised and bloody. Split lip, a cut through his right brow. Every time he spits it’s tinged pink. Even though she wishes they had held off until she arrived, Peggy wishes it was redder. Nothing matters more to her than the fact he remains in pain.

“Do you know what the punishment is for laying a hand on Her Majesty?” she asks.

He looks pathetic in the low candlelight, she thinks. He’s over six feet, covered in lean muscle and scars. She can see every pitiful inch of him—she instructed the other royal guards to strip him down when they grabbed him from his plush bed once all the royals had retired for the night. He was surprisingly easy to overpower, according to the message she received from the guards, delivered via a squire who had an affinity for staying up much too late. He was fast and, more importantly, quiet on his feet. Both necessary to avoid being caught. While many of the knights in this kingdom were women, it’s easy to see how his skills would do him well in the profession.

“You’ll never get away with this,” he spits out.

Peggy smirks, small laughs escaping from behind the others’ hands. She takes a moment to allow the others to collect themselves (and to give herself some time to savor the rage that washes over his face as he realizes they’re all laughing at him.

“Well,” she says eventually. “One of us tied to a chair right now, and it isn’t any of us, so…”

He snarls, reminding Peggy of one of the guard dogs that roam the farms around the castle. They look very similar, in a way—strong jaw, barred teeth, a little grimy from their misadventures. Lord Rogers lacks something that would shrink the gap between them. Those dogs, as innocent as they sometimes look, would defend their flock with their lives; she’s seen them ward off mountain lions to protect the sheep they’d grown up with.

Peggy doesn’t think he’d defend anyone other than himself.

Lord Rogers doesn’t know it (and, given his condition, he may never found out), but his personal knight was given an option: either leave, change his name, and abandon the Rogers lineage…or die trying to defend the bloodline he swore to secure.

Needless to say, he chose the latter, and his various body parts are being fed to pigs at the far end of the castle’s main farm. Kamala offered to do that, the young girl eager to be involved but not old enough to secure herself to the heart of the action. Truthfully, Peggy found the entire endeavor useless given they sent his head to Lord Rogers’ wife in an unlabeled box. It should arrive by the end of the month, giving them enough time to do what needs to be done.

“Do you confess?” Natasha asks, her sword secured in her belt. Peggy only enlisted the guards she believed were level-headed enough to follow her lead. Normally, she’s all right with those she relies on going rogue—she trusts them for a reason—but tonight requires a very specific form of precision.

Steven just scoffs. “Confess to what, exactly?”

“We know what happened with the Queen,” Jane says, her tone flat. “We know what you did to her.”

The man laughs the kind of fake, sarcastic laugh Peggy had come to loathe from him. “That bitch had it coming. She’s hiding something from me, just like her cunt m-”

He is interrupted quickly by the back of Peggy’s hand. It throws him off, stunning him

“Confess.” One of them say, calmly.

“Fuck you!” Lord Rogers will scream back. Unfortunately, it seems to have only quieted him for just a moment.

Each denial is met with a similar reaction.

This time, it’s Carol punching him so hard that he starts to spit out blood afterward. The time after that, it’s Monica carving out leg muscles with a farrier’s knife. After that, it’s Wanda flattening his fingers with a hammer. His body, morphing into some monstrous, destroyed thing, is tormented with every broken breath he takes. A slight wheeze tinges each exhale.

Peggy watches him, watches as the women she trusts with your life take him apart piece by piece. At the end of the night, long before the morning rises, he will be mangled to the point of no return before one of them gives him the undue mercy of ending his life. This was the plan, even if she had no desire to watch him receive such an undeserved gift. Originally, she’d wanted to keep him alive for days and show you her handiwork…but a stern conversation with Gamora had ended that conversation. Her magic gave her the kind of sense a brutish knight lacked, Peggy thought.

She steps back, tossing the hefty stick to Carol, who catches it. “Do what you need to do,” she says to no one in particular. “I’ve got what I need.”

Steven tugs at his restraints, the panic in his eyes palpable despite being nearly swollen shut. “You bitch! Let me out of here!”

Peggy just laughs, not bothering to face him as she walks away. The Lord’s pleas silence as she shuts the door behind her, deep screams becoming fainter and fainter as she sneaks down the corridor once more. She retraces her path, fire in her veins making the trip much shorter this time around. Before she knows it, she’s back in bed with you, tracing the indents your pillow’s creases have made on your cheeks.

“Peggy?” you murmur, your tired brow furrowing. Sleep rests heavy on your slurred speech, exhaustion still wracking your bones.

She shushes you, tucking herself under the covers. When you move over to give her unnecessary room, she merely grabs your hips to pull you back. When you return to your original spot still deep in the throws of sleep, Peggy lets a small smile escape from behind her teeth.

“Got a surprise for you when you wake up, baby,” she whispers. “Just go to sleep for now. Everything will be okay when you wake up.”

[buckets-and-trees]

Can you do a part 2 to "Tiny Vessels" where Steve regrets leaving Reader and was just confused and went back to her? I hate it when Steve leaves Reader for Peggy.🥺

You know what? Yes. I also hate that he went back. I half didn't even like writing Tiny Vessels, but I still remember feeling so compelled to write it the day that I did - I think I was punishing him and wanting to add even more layers to him having made a big mistake by going back in time, so... yeah.

AND LET ME BE CLEAR - I'M NOT VEXED YOU ASKED FOR THIS, NONNIE! I'm actually pretty touched that it resonated enough for you to ask for a follow up.

Title: Don't Forget You Were the One Who Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x gn!Reader Word Count: 1.3k

Content/Warnings: angst

Additional Notes: This will clock in as the second of the five offerings for my 300 follower request fest. This ask kicked around in my head, but then this morning it clicked, and I wrote it out in just a few hours, so if there are mistakes, it was the rush of writing. The original was a one-day write, and so I guess it's fitting that this one was, too. And as the original was also heavily influenced by a song, I listened to Wild Way by Tori Amos for some of the inspo on this.

Your breath caught at the sight of him standing next to your door, and you came to an immediate halt.

“Hey,” he said, pushing off from where he’d been leaning against the wall, a forced and uneasy smile on his face.

Good, you thought, he shouldn’t feel comfortable.

As you approached and unlocked the door, he didn’t make any other moves to touch or greet you, and you were glad he had enough sense for that. You were glad for the moment of putting your keys in the lock and turning it open to have your face hidden from him so you could bite your lip in frustration. And fear. You desperately worked to keep your heart from racing, knowing he’d be able to hear your heartbeat if he tried – and you knew he would be hyper focused on every sound, movement, and reaction.

You entered your home and left the door open for him to follow you inside. You dropped your purse and keys on the table next to your entry and kept walking. You heard him slowly close the door behind him.

“So, when did you get back?” You asked, knowing he would be waiting for you to speak before pressing you into any further conversation.

“No small talk,” he murmured. You turned to face him, a frown on your face. “No, of course not. Um, today. Only an hour or two ago.”

You crossed your arms and were quiet for another few moments.

“Why did you come here, Steve?” You finally asked.

“You know why–”

You cut him off with a scoffing noise. “I don’t know why.”

“You know in my letter I said– “

“I didn’t read it,” you interrupted again.

He drew his head back sharply, blinking at you. “You didn’t – didn’t Bucky give you – “

“You left without a word, and thought I would want to read a letter you gave to Bucky to give to me? You didn’t get to do that to me.”

He dropped his gaze and put his hands in his pockets. “Okay, that wasn’t fair.”

“It was cowardly.”

You saw the effect those words had on him. You didn’t care that they cut him to the core. He deserved it after carving your heart out and crushing it without a care.  

“Did you think you could leave, walk around in whatever yesteryear with Peggy Carter for ten months, change your mind, and just come back and think I’d be waiting and ready to welcome you back into my arms?”

“No,” he took a few steps toward you, looking back into your eyes again, “I knew it wouldn’t be that easy, and I didn’t walk around in the past for ten months. I wasn’t there a full two days before I was trying to come back. It took time to hunt down the right people and technology, but it wasn’t even a full two months that I saw there before I got out.”

“Wait, so… you were only there for less than two months but you let ten months pass here for your time to reappear here?”

“I know that scientifically I could come right back, but I also knew I left and I didn’t deserve to come back and act like I hadn’t left.”

“No, Steve!” you dropped your head. “This is what was wrong with us before, only I didn’t know it back then because I was too caught up in all the Captain America aura about you. I couldn’t believe someone like you would be with someone like me,” Steve opened his mouth to say something, but you held your hand up, raised your head back up and kept talking, “but you were even worse. You didn’t think you deserved love or happiness at all. I was stunned by every bit of us getting together, it felt like a stupid modern fairytale in the middle of everything else that was awful. After a while I even started to believe it myself, thought maybe I was good for you even, but not good enough for you to stay in the end, and now you’re telling me you thought you had to do even more time to make up for leaving?”

Steve sighed, and you could feel the waves of ache radiating off him, matching the ache in your own chest.

“You were too good for the failure I thought I was,” he started to explain. “I knew it wasn’t just me who failed in defeating Thanos, but it didn’t make me feel like any less of a failure, and every day I was living a life full of reminders of how much we lost. Until you. I started to build something again after you.”

“Then why did you leave?” the question burst from the part of your heart where everything still felt like scorched earth.

Steve sighed. “In the letter – “

“You get to tell me to my face, Steve Rogers.”

He nodded. “We brought back half the universe, but I still felt like a failure because we lost Tony and Nat. I couldn’t face it. But when I got back there, I couldn’t shake how vile and cheap it was to run away, and the only one I wanted to talk to about it – about fixing the snap, about losing Nat and Tony, about leaving this time for the past, about trying to get back to the future – I only wanted to talk to you.”

He took another step toward you, but you took a half a step back.

“That was a good speech,” you said, “but Steve…”

Your shoulders softened, and he stepped forward again. He tentatively reached out, took your hand, and you looked down at them.

“It can’t be just a good speech,” he said. “I need it to be the best speech of my life.”

You couldn’t hold back the overwhelming battle of emotions anymore, and tears started falling down your cheeks. You heart yearned to let him right back in, and yet it also wanted to banish him forever.

His other hand came up to brush some of your quiet tears away with his thumb.

“I hate you so much right now, Steve,” you cried while not being able to resist leaning into the palm of his hand. “I had to.”

“I deserve it, but I want to deserve you at some point. I didn’t expect to come back and be welcomed into your arms, I expected to come back and earn the right to wrap my arms around you again.”

“God damn you, Steve Rogers. I want to tell you yes, but I can’t promise you anything any time soon.”

“I know,” he said, closing the gap between you and pressing his forehead down to yours.

“No,” you whispered, and put a hand on his chest – not to push him away, but to at least hold him from coming any closer. “You might think you know,” you your voice was firm but quiet, “but I don’t think you do. I’m hearing what you’ve said. It means everything that you said you’ve come back for me, but the man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with still smashed my heart and left me alone for almost a year.”

Steve didn’t say anything immediately, only continued to stroke his thumb over your cheek, hold your hand, and keep his forehead pressed against yours for a few minutes. Everything still hurt, but it was a balm for the moment.

Finally, he spoke. “Unless you tell me to go, I’m never leaving again. You’re my end game, as long as you need, whatever it takes. I will wait – patiently, but with no pressure and no expectations.”

Then you let the silence fill the space between you.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “And I love you.”

“For now, just kiss me once.”

He did not hesitate, capturing your lips in the kiss he’d been desperate to have for far too long and not knowing when he would get to kiss you again.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

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[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

Truth or Dare (6)

Summary: What started off as an innocent game of truth or dare between two noble born sisters, Y/N and Margaret “Peggy” Carter, quickly turns south when Y/N meets Steve Rogers and James “Bucky” Barnes. 10 years later Peggy is getting married reuniting the bunch, tensions rise as the sisters engage in truth or dare one more time before Peggy is married.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not Beta'd. Sorry for the long wait. If you want to be added to the tag list, please leave a comment saying so below. Let me know if I missed anyone.

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 6

Clip clop. Clip clop. Clip clop.

Each thud of the horse’s hooves hitting the dirt below reverberated in the open meadow. The sound was a stark contrast to the duke’s usual return. Typically, when returning, Bucky didn’t care about drawing attention to himself. No one paid him any attention anyway. This time was different.

Beyond the cloud of dirt, Bucky could make out the shadow of a man leaning against one of the horse stalls. Gently pulling the reins, his sleek black horse slowed into a trot. The cloud of dirt faded behind them. Drawing closer, Bucky could make out the honey locks and strong jaw beyond the rich fabrics clinging to the man. Steve. Bucky wasn’t sure if he recognized the man because he wore the face of his old best friend or because of the status that came with the clothes he now wore, the clothes Bucky once wore.

When he arrived at the stalls, neither man said a word as Bucky dismounted the horse. Bucky made quick work unfastening the saddle while stealing a glance at the new prince over the horse’s back. He could feel Steve’s eyes on him, putting Bucky on edge. He didn’t know why Steve had been waiting for him, watching him.

Sensing the silent judgment radiating off Steve in waves, Bucky’s control burst. Stomping around the front of the horse, he snarled, “If you have something to say, just say it.” His words were hard, but his hands were gentle as he removed the horse’s bridle. The horse blinked back at Bucky, unfazed by his loud outburst.

Steve kept mute, wondering if Bucky would confess something if he remained silent long enough. In return, all he got was a lot more stomping and grunts as he closed the wooden door, sealing the horse behind it.

Lifting a hand to block the sunlight from his eyes, Steve asked. “Where’d you go?”

Bucky shrugged, wiping the dirt from his leather-clad palms. “You came all this way just to ask me that?”

Steve frowned, folding his arms across his chest. ”Just answer the question, Buck.”

“What are you doin’ here?” Bucky countered.

“Can a guy just check in on his pal?”

While Bucky’s mouth remained frozen, his eyes scanned Steve from head to toe, searching for a tell. Growing impatient, Steve pushed himself off the wall, taking a step forward. “Where’d you go?” He asked again.

Bucky ran a gloved hand along the stubble on his chin. “Out for a ride.” It wasn’t a lie, but Bucky knew that didn’t answer Steve’s question. Bucky stalked away from the horse stall and headed straight for the castle.

Bucky got three feet before a hand on his shoulder stopped him. “Bucky, stop.” The brunette spun around, knocking Steve’s hand off his shoulder in the process. “I know.” Bucky stilled, his eyes cold enough to make Steve freeze. Ignoring his chilling gaze, Steve sighed. “Tony sent word that you’ve been lurking outside of his house. It’s bad enough he lost Pepper in the war. You have to stop this obsession with him and Gail.”

The duke straightened his shoulders, clenching his fists. His mind pressing rewind on the moment Tony took a flail to the arm of his last statue. The moment Gail looked at him like he was the bogeyman. They deserved each other.

“I know you, Buck. You’re going down the wrong path all on your own this time. Whatever you’re plotting has to stop. Now.”

I do. I do. I do.

The two words ghosted on Peggy’s lips in a silent prayer. Cast back at her through her wine glass, her scarlet-stained lips wrenched into a grimace. Had the youngest Carter been marrying a gentleman without status or of equal status she would have been fine. Instead, she was marrying the forthcoming king. As a countess, Peggy was already under the spotlight, but her engagement added more pressure. Like sand descending to the base of an hourglass, every wedding planning event taunted her, a countdown until she would lose her privacy and be expected to produce an heir. She needed a proper send-off to her youth, to up the stakes of truth or dare.

Steve would never approve of such a risky game, not when the fate of their kingdom relied on him. Peggy didn’t want to sneak around Steve, but her need for an adventure was too great. If she couldn't find the excitement she craved, settling for living through others would suffice. The countess’s grimace turned into a mischievous grin. Clink. She tapped her wine glass against the glass bottle. Cheers.

A sea of green and pink swarmed Y/N’s vision as she entered the queen’s garden. The orchids were in full bloom this time of year, but the queen’s statue in the center remained the main focus. The carefully etched marble eyes followed Y/N throughout the garden. It didn’t matter that Y/N wasn’t alone. As soon as she caught a glimpse of the queen's icy stare, she realized she was under scrutiny. The silent judging eyes and pressed lips were an expression Y/N had become familiar with. It was a mask Amanda Carter wore around her daughter. It was the same expression Peggy or Steve had adopted at the mention of Bucky. Like everyone else, Y/N was sure the late queen would side with the majority on an introduction to her son; it was a bad idea. Despite the warnings attached to the former prince's name, Y/N wasn’t worthy of an official introduction to her son.

Walking through the queen’s garden with another man hadn’t been on her to-do list, but the prince insisted. T’Challa’s presence the past few days had been welcoming. His kindness had been a slap in the face. It was genuine, not a front in the public eye like her parents often reverted to. Given time, she could envision herself falling in love with the prince. If only Bucky would stop invading her thoughts.

“She’s beautiful.”

The comment caught Y/N off guard. Her eyes sliced toward the prince standing beside her. She scanned him from head to toe. His eyes remained trained on the statue, his face contorted in admiration. The back of his right hand rested in his left, clasped behind his back. T’Challa was a tall man, but between his rigid posture and monochrome black outfit, he grew a few inches with one glance.

“A marvelous queen,” he continued.

“Was,” Y/N corrected.

T’Challa’s lips curved into a tender smile. “In my culture, death is not the end. It’s more of a stepping off point.”

“That’s a nice way to look at it,” Y/N hummed. Making eye contact with the statue once more she wondered if that was true. Did Bucky have anyone in his corner, looking out for him?

Making eye contact with the guard pursuing them, T’Challa extended his elbow. Accepting the silent gesture, Y/N latched onto the prince’s arm. His gait turned brisk, creating a massive distance between the guard and them.

“I am not foolish enough to think you love me,” T’Challa began. Y/N's eyebrows skyrocketed. Before she could open her mouth to protest, the prince continued, “Nor do I love you.”

“Excuse me?” Y/N asked, but part of her was relieved. Sure, her mother would be disappointed she wouldn't marry a prince like Peggy, but it wasn’t what Y/N truly wanted, who she wanted.

T’Challa chuckled. “The king’s son, you fancy him.”

Her attempt at ripping her hand from the prince’s arm failed. Wakanda’s prince held his other hand firmly over hers, maintaining the appearance of a couple. He could hear the faint sound of metal rattling behind the pair. With enough distance between them and the guard, T’Challa reassured her. “Don’t fret. Your secret is safe with me.”

Y/N's shoulders dropped, her eyes trained on the cobblestone beneath her feet. “How did you know?’

“The way the two of you evade one another in public. It’s the same way my friend Nakia and I perform in public.”

A gasp tumbled beyond the woman's lips. The lighthearted way he spoke, as if there were no consequences for their actions, had her head spinning.

“Why are you telling me this?” Y/N whispered.

T’Challa glanced at the woman beside him. “I like you, Y/N. A marriage between us would be profitable to both kingdoms. Between you and your sister, the alliance between our kingdoms would be powerful. An alliance by blood. Since we are in identical situations, I figured we could have our own partnership.”

Y/N's heart thrummed beneath her bodice. She tentatively opened her mouth to speak, her shaky voice betraying her, “What do you propose?”

T’Challa smirked at her choice of words. “We wed. We honor the marriage when it comes to politics and the eyes of the public.”

“And the rest of the time?”

“We are free to see whoever or do whatever we want.”

Mulling over the idea, she frowned as the castle came into view along with other lively bodies. So many things could go wrong, but her focus remained wholly on what could go right. This might be her only opportunity to have something with Bucky. If her parents married her off to anyone else, she was confident they wouldn’t offer her the same arrangement.

After gnawing at her bottom lip, Y/N asked, “Is that a formal proposal?”

Y/N stood motionless at her bedroom window. The imaginary rock on her finger weighed her down more than she had anticipated. As a child, the idea of wearing a ring from the love of her life excited her, but now, when she imagined a ring on her finger, she saw nothing but a shackle. One her status would trap her in. Forever stuck in a loveless marriage. It would be the performance of a lifetime, for a lifetime. 

An image of the dark-haired duke flashed through her mind. Would Bucky accept the terms of this new relationship? He didn’t seem to mind Natasha’s career choice, although her performance was exceptional. He had snuck backstage to fuck her. Was that what Y/N had condemned herself to? A life of sneaking around?

A knock at the door had Y/N stepping away from the window. She had only taken a few steps when the door swung open.

“Y/N!” Peggy shouted, racing toward her. The costly fabric of Peggy’s skirt bunched between her fingers.

Bracing herself for the impact, Y/N was able to keep the two of them upright when her younger sister collided with her. Y/N gasped for air crushed between Peggy’s arms.

When Peggy finally pulled away, her hands trailed from Y/N’s biceps to her hands. Pulling both Y/N hands toward her chest, Peggy squealed, “Congratulations! Mother just told me the good news. Steve and I are so thrilled! T’Challa is a great choice.”

Y/N froze. She knew? “What?” Y/N asked exasperated.

Peggy tipped her head, staring at her sister through her eyelashes. “T’Challa asked Father for your hand. Father accepted.”

Y/N gulped. “And Steve knows?”

Peggy rolled her eyes, “Of course! Mother has become the town crier, alerting everyone that not one but two of her daughters will be queens one day.”

Y/N’s stomach churned. It was idiotic of her to think she would have a chance to break the news to Bucky when she couldn’t talk to the man in public. If her mother hadn’t told him, she was sure Steve would.

“The kings are going to sit down soon and discuss the terms of the alliance. Steve and T’Challa will modify it when they are kings.” Noticing the faraway look on Y/N’s face, Peggy squeezed her hands. “None of that matters. I’m just glad you’re going to be taken care of.”

Y/N wanted to ask Peggy if she and Steve had the same arrangement, but she couldn’t without giving her and T’Challa away.

Wide-eyed, Y/N replied, “T’Challa hasn’t even asked me yet. I haven’t said yes.” Y/N knew it was a pointless argument. Her father had accepted the proposal on her behalf. She would be engaged to T’Challa by the end of the week.

Peggy led Y/N to the bed decorated in rich fabrics. When her sister sat beside her, Peggy sighed, crossing her legs. “I know it’s a lot of pressure, but it will be worth it. Trust me. You need a distraction, and I know just the thing.”

Y/N stared blankly back at the younger Carter.

Peggy inched forward. “Truth or dare?”

Y/N huffed a laugh. If there was one thing that could keep Y/N distracted, it was a dare from Peggy. Without missing a beat, she replied, “Dare.”

Peggy licked her lips before a devilish grin overshadowed her angelic features. “I dare you to visit the pleasure house.”

Dumbfounded, Y/N hissed, “The whore house?! Margaret Carter, have you lost your mind?”

The brunette shrugged and then collapsed the rest of her weight on the mattress. She gazed at the ceiling, kicking her dangling feet like a schoolgirl disclosing a secret at a sleepover. Then she rolled onto her side, propping her head into her hand.

The older Carter resembled a fire-breathing dragon. Peggy swore she could see the steam seeping from her sister’s ears.

“Not as yourself, of course.” Peggy rolled her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing. “Look,” she narrowed her eyes. “I overheard the help discussing that the prince will be there.”

“T’Challa?”

Peggy squeezed her lips in a thin line. “Steve.”

Squeezing the bridge of her nose, Y/N moaned. “You want me to spy on your fiance?”

“Some of the guard’s garments are in the washroom. I’m sure something will fit you.”

Y/N scowled. “You’ve gone mad. Why don’t you spy on Steve yourself?”

Peggy pushed herself into a sitting position, twiddling her thumbs. “He’ll recognize me. We’ve spent too much time together. He’ll never expect you, let alone recognize you.” A coy smile graced her lips, “Unless you surrender.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @supraveng @kandis-mom @xycnsstuff @mcu21lover19 @saltedcoffeescotch @unaxv @raven1234321

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 22

I wondered if people throwing up and breaking down at the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility was nothing unusual, because no one seemed to be bothered by my outburst. Steve and I were still sitting in the chairs by Agent Carter’s desk, and I had calmed down enough to tell him the whole story. I recounted how I had loved his best friend since we were children, how we kissed in the bushes next to my house when I was 16, and what had happened the night before Bucky left for war. I told him how I tried not to act on my feelings, even though I loved him too. Steve didn’t interrupt me; he listened quietly, nodding occasionally but mainly remaining still, trying not to be emotional. When I finished, he put his head in his hands and stared at the floor, tapping his foot nervously. My nerves were frayed, and I wanted to give him time to process everything, but the longer he remained silent, the more I feared his reaction.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, placing my hand on his shoulder. The way he pulled away from me broke my heart; this was exactly what I had been so afraid of. Just then, Peggy walked up and said, “Howard will see you now,” glancing curiously at Steve’s state but choosing not to comment. He stood up without a word and followed her into the restricted area where Stark was working on his inventions. I quickly got up and followed them, trying to catch his attention. "Steve, talk to me... please say something... anything," I pleaded, but he didn’t even look at me. Peggy noticed the tension between us as she glanced back and forth, but Steve quickened his pace and shook his head.

I tried to focus on Stark and the things he was showing us as we walked around his lab. He had created a shield for Steve out of vibranium, one of the rarest metals on Earth, according to him. When it was my turn, he led me to a table full of weapons and handed me a handgun and a knife. I would have been disappointed if I wasn’t preoccupied with other things. I decided to try talking to Steve again, but before I could, he approached Howard and asked, “Are we done now?” Stark nodded, and Steve walked out without sparing me a glance. Peggy seemed to sense the tension and looked between us before running after him, calling his name.

I stood there, frozen, my mind and emotions in a whirlwind. Howard watched me with a questioning look, as if wondering why I was still in his lab. He approached with a smile, “Do you like fondue?”

It was a question I wasn’t expecting. “What’s fondue?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“It’s a Swiss melted cheese dish for dipping bread,” he explained.

“Why do you ask?” I tried to keep my frustration in check; I was not in the mood for small talk.

“You seem sad... I find that there’s nothing melted cheese can’t solve,” he said, his tone almost cheerful. I was puzzled by where this conversation was leading, and when I didn’t respond, he continued, “So what do you say, you and I and some fondue in the Swiss Alps?”

Was he flirting with me? I declined his offer, and as I turned to leave, he called after me, “Still, you should try some fondue.” What a strange man, but at least he managed to distract me from the impending end of my friendship with Steve.

The fact that I had told Steve everything and his reaction occupied my mind so completely that I pushed the memory of my pregnancy to the back of my thoughts. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it; I had wanted children in the future, but the current situation was far from ideal. Would I have changed my mind about getting the serum if S.H.I.E.L.D. had told me I was pregnant? What would Bucky have said if I’d told him we were expecting a child? Did I need to tell him now, when it was no longer relevant? I knew I had to talk to him, if only to let him know that I had been honest with Steve.

I walked to the hotel where we were all staying in London. Stepping into the lobby, I saw some of the Howling Commandos gathered. Dum Dum Dugan called out, “Mrs. America, up for a card game? Falsworth already owes me his house, his rifle, and the very pants he’s wearing. I’m getting bored,” he laughed. Normally, I would have joined them, but I wasn’t in the right state of mind for it. “Do you know where Bucky is?” I asked absently.

He pointed up the stairs. “He should be in his room. I haven’t seen him come out since breakfast.”

I thanked him and walked upstairs, stopping in front of his door. Taking a deep breath, I knocked. I heard his footsteps approach, and my heart raced as my hands grew sweaty.

“Who’s there?” he asked through the door.

“It’s me,” I replied.

The door opened, and he said, “Come in,” already walking into the sitting area of his room. It was dark, the curtains drawn over the windows, and his bed was unmade. I sat down next to him on the sofa and immediately began to tell him everything, almost everything. I spoke of Steve, his reaction, and how I felt about the entire situation.

“To be honest, I can’t blame him. He must feel betrayed,” Bucky murmured. “We should have told him a long time ago.”

I knew he was right. It must have been a shock for Steve to learn that his two best friends had been hiding their feelings for each other for the past ten years. Perhaps it was better to give Steve some time and let him come to me, but waiting in this state of uncertainty was exhausting.

“Can I stay here?” I asked, not wanting to be alone. It would drive me mad to sit in my room, swallowed by emotions and thoughts.

“Sure you can, doll,” Bucky said, pulling me into a comforting embrace. The smell of his cologne brought back a flood of emotions. I hoped that staying here might provide some relief now that everything was out in the open, but I still had that one little secret gnawing at me. Was there any point in telling him? Maybe it was something I should save for after the war, when we could return to our normal lives. I rested my head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent as he played with my hair. He kissed my forehead and smiled down at me, making my heart race.

Maybe staying here wasn’t the best idea after all. Before I could overthink everything, I gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. He looked unsure, his eyes questioning me. I pulled him closer by the lapels of his shirt and kissed him again. The world seemed to fade as the kiss deepened, our bodies pressing together in a desperate embrace. His hands roamed over my curves, his fingers tracing along my skin. The kiss grew more passionate, the desire building between us. Bucky lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bed. Without hesitation, he laid me down gently and climbed on top of me, our mouths never parting. There was an insatiable hunger in his touch, an urgency that guided him as he tugged at the hem of my shirt. I leaned forward to help him remove it, my breath catching as his hands trailed along my skin.

He quickly shed his own shirt, and as I admired his toned muscles, our bodies pressed together once more. We explored each other eagerly, the rest of our clothes discarded in our haste to be closer. Our passion grew, the kisses becoming rougher, the touches more demanding as we gave in to our carnal desires.

He grabbed a condom from the nightstand, put it on, and drove into me without hesitation, making me gasp as I clutched the sheets. Our bodies moved together with increasing force, a desperate need driving us to the edge of ecstasy. All inhibitions were shed as we sought release, our movements becoming frantic and urgent. His hands gripped my thighs as he thrust into me, his face buried in my neck as he kissed me there. The combination of sensations pushed me to the brink, and with a whispered, “I love you,” I reached my climax. Bucky followed with one final, intense push, and then he rested his forehead against mine, smiling as he caressed my face.

“I love you too, doll,” he whispered back.

In that moment, something inside me shattered. I was overwhelmed by emotions, tears streaming down my face. I shook my head, lost and unsure of where these feelings came from. I realized how different things could have been if I hadn’t insisted on getting the serum. Bucky pulled me into his arms, stroking my arm gently. “It’s alright. It’s normal to feel all these emotions after the high you just experienced,” he said softly.

I shook my head again. “That’s not it, Buck. There’s something I didn’t tell you.”

He sat up, wiping away my tears. “What is it, doll? You can tell me everything.”

It was now or never. He had a right to know, and I was tired of keeping secrets. “I was pregnant before I got the serum. I didn’t know, and S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t tell me. I read it in my file… I was just an experiment to them, and now our baby is dead,” I sobbed

Next Chapter

[themculibrary]

Fics With Peggy Carter Masterlist 2

part one

Agents Carter (ao3) - justanotherStonyfan steve/bucky/peggy M, 7k

Summary: When he comes to her, he’s kneeling. Hands behind his head, eyes down, he’s kneeling in the middle of her office floor and there she is, gun in hand, pointing a weapon at something that looks a lot like someone she used to know.

“You have five seconds,” she says, “and then I’ll be required to redecorate.”

A Minor Distraction (ao3) - orphan_account peggy/natasha E, 3k

Summary: Rumors about an organization experimenting with the super soldier serum bring Peggy Carter to Russia, where she meets a young factory worker named Natalia.

A Refrain of Disjointed Time (ao3) - sonatine peggy/jack, steve/bucky T, 11k

Summary: The SSR agents encounter the Winter Soldier in the early days of his deployment. Forty years later, at a benefit in New York City, Peggy Carter and Jack Thompson are visited by this ghost from the past — although this time, they can see his face.

A Woman’s Touch (ao3) - all_soul peggy/angie T, 59k

Summary: It’s been a week since Peggy saved New York from Dr. Fenhoff, and Dottie is loose in the big city. Regardless of Interim-Chief Jack keeping her off the Underwood case, her fraying relationship with Daniel, and the tightrope that she walks at home with Angie, she’ll find her. Peggy Carter always gets her girl.

Black Water Rising (ao3) - Sholio T, 29k

Summary: An apparently abandoned Hydra facility turns into a deathtrap for Peggy and the SSR team. Set after 1x08.

come home yesterday (ao3) - customrolex bucky/peggy/steve G, 369k

Summary: ‘You’re gonna be just fine,’ Steve said, close enough that Bucky could feel his breath. 'Maybe I’ll try to enlist again, join you—’

'Don’t kid about that,’ Bucky said, even tho he knew Steve wasn’t really. He’d tried to enlist once before Bucky had been drafted, and a few times after that. 'Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.’

'You’re taking all the stupid with you,’ Steve grumbled. He straightened Bucky’s tie, and kissed him once again. Bucky tried to memorize how it felt; it was over too quickly.

Endings and Beginnings (ao3) - truth_renowned peggy/daniel M, 56k

Summary: Two cups of angst, a few tablespoons of smut and a heaping helping of mytharc. Post Hollywood Ending. Originally posted as a one-shot but it wouldn’t leave me alone until it became a search for Jack’s shooter. Alternates between Peggy’s and Daniel’s points of view.

fill out the form first (ao3) - flowermasters peggy/steve G, 3k

Summary: Peggy and Steve meet in the most mundane of ways. That is, of course, before the bank heist.

Flowers (ao3) - includewomeninthesequel steve/peggy E, 91k

Summary: She was light, warmth, and life.

She was everything he wasn’t, and everything that he didn’t know he wanted - needed - until this moment.

A Steggy love story inspired by the myth of Hades and Persephone, with more than one twist along the way.

International Incident (ao3) - linascribbles steve/peggy E, 112k

Summary: Peggy Carter rose through the diplomatic ranks in the midst of the Incident and in her short career already stablished herself as a skilled and well-connected negotiator. Stationed in the Washington DC embassy, she’s right on the front lines of the fallout of Project Insight. Governments get purged, new and unexpected doors open, and Peggy Carter is nothing if not resourceful.

As she gets plunged into a world of spies, mad scientists and superheroes, familiar faces start to pop up. Particularly one pesky Captain America, who seems to have no idea what international law entails and considers country borders mere suggestions.

Legacy (ao3) - Pegsccarter steve/peggy T, 41k

Summary: "You won’t be alone.” Little did Peggy Carter know, those words to Steve would apply to her after Steve’s supposed death.

Lovers in War (ao3) - Shatterpath steve/peggy M, 13k

Summary: There is so much more to the tale of Peggy and Steve; their tale of love and war, of laughter and loss, of pleasure and pain. The more I watched their movie, the more I saw. That seeing became this.

We pick up with our heroes on the night after Steve has returned to camp with the liberated POWs. Hold on tight!

Peggy Carter: Code Name Polaris (ao3) - flyingfoxtopus E, 11k

Summary: Steve ‘Captain America’ Rogers had a job. Stop Hydra and the rest of the Nazi’s taking over the world. It was a hard job. Which was why it wasn’t Steve’s job to deal with the home front fallout of his plans. It was Peggy’s. And she was very good at her job. At least she had been up until now. This time Steve might be asking for more than even she could manage.

Steve wanted ‘Polaris’. The only problem was ‘Polaris’ wasn’t technically cleared to go to the front.

Peggy had questioned the code name when Steve had first given it to her. At the time it had felt more like a pet name than a proper call sign. It still felt like a pet name sometimes, even now that it was clear she really was guiding the Howling Commandos through everything.

There’s no denying, at least in Peggy’s mind, that she could help the boys out of whatever mess they’ve gotten themselves into. If Command will just let her… Or if it comes right down to it, if she manages to sneak out to them without official help.

Peggy Carter is a Howling Commando (ao3) - The_Marauders_Daughter steve/peggy M, 19k

Summary: It’s 1944, and Hydra is giving the SSR a very hard time. Sometimes Captain America isn’t enough for a mission. Sometimes what the mission needs is Peggy Carter.

Preserved (ao3) - Domenika Marzione (domarzione) steve/peggy N/R, 72k

Summary: After the rescue of the 107th, Steve Rogers cashes in all of his favors and makes what deals he can to get Bucky a medical discharge from the Army, sending him home to Brooklyn and far from enemies and curious scientists both. But Steve’s war goes on until it ends badly, in an exploding plane over the Black Sea. Captain America is presumed dead, his shield recovered and returned to a grieving America while his body remains undiscovered.

Seven years later, a new danger is threatening to unbalance the already-roiling Cold War: a Soviet assassin let loose from behind the Iron Curtain. Peggy Carter isn’t sure she wants to believe that the assassin is a super-soldier because of what it could mean, but she does know that whoever it is, she’ll have to break her promise to keep Bucky Barnes far from danger.

Question and Answer (ao3) - keysburg peggy/daniel T, 35k

Summary: Returning to reality after their Hollywood Ending, Daniel and Peggy have their hands full with Hugh Jones and the M. Carter file. If that wasn’t enough to hinder a fledgling romance, there’s still an office to lead–and a mole inside it. At a specialized training camp, Daniel searches for the traitor. Meanwhile, he learns more than he expected about all his agents, including Peggy.

The Lady is a Tramp (ao3) - maggiemerc peggy/angie M, 21k

Summary: Angie’s got suspicions on what Peggy does for a living and she’s determined to protect her at all costs…to other people. It’s not like she’s crazy and about to risk her life for a dame that’s more hot and cold than the plumbing on the third floor of the Griffith Hotel.

The Woman with the Shield & The Man with the Plan (ao3) - CaptainJimothyCarter steve/peggy G, 11k

Summary: “You followed us,” Steve observed instead of answering her question. He held his bruised hand out to her, slender with long artist fingers. “Steve. Steve Rogers, ma’am.”

There was that smile again, softer this time as she shook his hand in a firm grip. “Agent Peggy Carter, and yes, I did follow you.“

tony and peggy’s big day out! (ao3) - orphan_account G, 6k

Summary:

She presses on the communication device in her ear. “Mister Jarvis, do tell me you’re nearby.”

His answer is immediate. “I am but four blocks away, Missus Carter. What is it you need? A coffee, perhaps?”

“Oh, nothing of the sort,” she says, panting slightly with her rush. The screams of civilians ache in her ears, set her stomach rolling. She tries to find breath, force it into her lungs. Someone slams into her shoulder and she stumbles. Tony grips her hand doubly hard. She grabs him in a smooth motion, an arm beneath his bottom and a hand on his back, and his arms go around her neck impulsively, his nose pressing into the side of her throat. “Perhaps a pickup, if you’re not too busy?”

“Why, never for you,” Jarvis says. “What’s happened this time?”

“Just a bombing,” says Peggy.

“At three in the afternoon?” says Jarvis. “Frankly, how rude.”

Truth, Justice, and the Cheating Cheater Way (ao3) - owlet peggy/steve T, 4k

Summary: Don’t play cards with Captain America. Just don’t. Especially if you’ve pissed him off recently.

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

FINDING YOU Chapter 10

Summary: You're in a relationship with Steve Rogers, but his best friend just always seems to be around!

Word Count: 1.1k (this is a short one!)

Warnings: angst, mentions of death

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 10

It had been another abysmal day. You’d had no shortage of them in your life. The news of the death of yet another friend was a familiar but unwanted feeling. This one particularly stung. She had been someone you’d only known a short time, had spent little time with, but there was nothing quite like the bond forged through a shared trauma. Manaka’s death had been senseless, dying by the hand of a vicious inhuman who had been corrupted by their power and greed.

You stumbled up the stairs to your apartment after a long day at work, wanting to bury yourself in a cocoon of blankets and chocolate cake. What you hadn’t expected was to meet your neighbor ex-boyfriend and his old flame in the corridor. You’d let yourself cry in the car on your way home and the mascara stains around your eyes did not make your face viewable to the public, particularly not in front of the illustrious Peggy Carter.

“Hey!” Steve was the first to speak. He wasn’t close enough to see your face clearly.

“Hi,” you mumbled.

“Are you alright?” Peggy noticed your disheveled expression first.

“Fine, thanks.” You lied, eyes welling up with tears again.

Peggy looked at you with a sympathy that you couldn’t bear. You’d never opened up to her when she had tried to engage with you, always being polite but not overtly friendly. In the end, she had stopped trying. 

Steve approached you softly, his hands on your shoulders. “Ace?” His tone was so gentle, so intimate that you crumbled in his arms. He held you tightly as you grieved the loss of your friend.

Your sobs quietened quickly in his embrace. His stable chest, his strong arms, his warmth, his powerful heartbeat, they calmed you, made you feel safe, feel loved. You weren’t sure how long you’d been there, but you could feel Steve’s breath on the back of your neck, his hands on your back. You wanted to stay there forever. But you couldn’t. It felt as though you’d had another friend being ripped from you and the grief you had been feeling threatened to overwhelm you again.

You pulled out of his arms. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Your hands shook as you grappled with your keys. You couldn’t stop shaking as you tried to insert it into the lock of your front door.

No one tried to stop you as you wrenched open the door and slammed it shut. The relief of escape flooded through your body, you sank down to the floor and curled up with your knees to your chest. You let the tears fall in silence as you sat on the cold hard floor in your home, wallowing in the feeling of having lost everything.

It hadn’t been long before there was a knock on your door.

“Ace? Can I come in please?” It was Steve. He hadn’t left.

You didn’t answer.

“I’m coming in. So if you’re in front of the door, now is the time to move.”

Steve opened the door cautiously, spotting you sitting a few feet from it. He still had your spare key. It didn’t surprise you, you still had his. Giving it back was like giving up hope that you’d ever be together again. You looked around, expecting Peggy to be behind him.

“I told her to go on ahead. They don’t need me there anyway.”

Steve sat down beside you, trying to wrap his arm around your shoulder.

“Stop. It's not right for me to do that anymore, I can't have you like that.” You hated that you were crying again, but the tears just would not stop. “I love you,” you sobbed.

If Steve was surprised by your outburst he didn’t react from what you could tell with your face buried in your arms. He made no attempt to leave your side. He waited patiently as you concluded with your latest flood of tears. When you looked up at him, you were shocked by the expression of utter devastation on his face.

This whole time you hadn't once thought how he might be feeling, assuming that he didn't have any feelings for you. You didn’t have the audacity to believe that he might have chosen you.

“Oh Steve, I'm sorry.” You rose to your knees and threw your arms around his neck. 

You didn’t know if it was reflexive but he locked his around your middle, tightly, like he never wanted to let go. His head rested comfortably on your shoulder, as though it was meant to be there and the back of his neck familiar. You caressed the nape of this neck, gently pushing your fingers into this hair.

“I miss you,” his voice was muffled but there was no doubt to what he said.

“I miss you too,” you murmured in reply.

Neither of you moved for over ten minutes until…

“Steve, I can't feel my knees.”

Reluctantly Steve let you out of his vice grip.

You sat back on your legs, not turning away from him. “It's okay, you don't have to feel guilty. You can say anything to me. It will stay between us.”

“Every time I open my front door I feel guilty.” You lived opposite him, he couldn’t leave his own home without being confronted by your existence.

“We made a right pig's ear of things, didn't we?”

“It was so overwhelming, and … you weren’t there.”

Not once had you stopped to think that this would be difficult for him. You’d assumed that he would have made his choice without difficulty. “I thought… I didn’t want to make things hard. For you to make a choice between-”

“You made the choice for me. By disappearing.”

You felt a twist in your gut. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You did it because you were afraid.”

You hated the anger in his voice but he was right, you were terrified of being rejected, so you’d run away before he could have made a choice.

“But I needed my best friend.”

“I thought that was Bucky’s role,” you were only half joking.

“I think he belongs to you now.” Steve smiled. “Ace, you understand things about me that no one else has. I think we’re a lot alike.”

“There’s no going back now, is there?”

Steve sighed.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I could have come to you sooner. I should have come to you. I’m just as much to blame, more so really.”

You wanted to tell him you loved him. When you looked into his eyes, you could see the words floating there, on the tip of his tongue. But neither of you spoke. Things were finally over between you.

​​

[captainjimothycarter]

Just A Drop Of Time More

Steve is fucking exhausted. For the past five years, all he’s done is work, work, work to distract himself from the very fact that he was living in the future and everyone who knew and loved him was dead. Or so he thought because when he comes home one evening, he finds a very alive and young Peggy Carter waiting for him.

He set his bags down on the opposite couch and stared at her, never breaking eye contact as he removed his jacket. This close, he truly saw the full details. She was just as he remembered - young and spry. A glint in her eyes told him she was ready to tackle the world and all it threw at her.  That fiery spirit he loved so damn much, that he never wanted to tame, but to feed it and let it grow. He wanted that fiery spirit back, he wanted his Peggy back but this wasn’t real. His mind was just playing tricks on him. If this was real, she would’ve said something by now. She would’ve welcomed him home with open arms, told him off for being ridiculous with his self-care, and sent him to bed after a meal. But this wasn’t Peggy. Peggy would’ve not only said something by now, but she’d have a look in her eyes that recognized him. This imposter didn’t, she looked at him like he was nobody to her, and somehow that hurt worse than the illusion. Besides, another point that this wasn’t real? Peggy was wearing jeans, jeans, and a flannel shirt. He was sure he'd never seen her in a pair of jeans in any of the photos he’s seen of her. This wasn’t real. Peggy would never wear jeans, at least not that baggy kind. It wasn’t until he was in the kitchen, often glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes, did she finally say something. “You look exhausted.” Three simple words. It was enough to bring a hollow, pained laugh from the depths of his throat. Enough to make Peggy and him both cringe as the sound echoed around the room. He didn’t reply, instead, he tried to ignore her as he busied himself with a meal and she stayed right in that chair. Habits would be habits and Steve found himself making enough food for two, leaving behind one plate as he grabbed at his and a bottle of water, and retreated to the bedroom. He paused in the doorway and looked back to her, the forgotten plate on the counter.  “I am. Tired, I mean” he muttered. “I’m tired of life. I’m going to bed. Help yourself to anything you want.” Peggy Carter was in his house. She was lounging on his chair, drinking his wine, eating his food. A dead woman was alive and well in his home and he couldn’t comprehend it. He didn’t want to comprehend it. He didn’t want to think.  Peggy Carter might somehow be alive or it might be his brain finally cracking from exhaustion - either way, Steve knew the solution was sleep. If he woke up the next morning and she was still there, then he’d proceed with the next logical explanation: That she was Hydra.

I love this fic so much. Bonus: Here's the photo that inspired it all:

[serenastark-writes]

What If... Strange And Serena Intervened?

Captain Carter entered the eerie Sanctum Infinitum, her shield at the ready. The air was thick with tension, and shadows danced across the room, cast by the dim, otherworldly glow of the Forge at its center. Doctor Strange Supreme stood by the Forge, his hands clasped behind his back, the faint echo of magic humming in the air.

"Welcome, Captain Carter," he greeted, his tone calm yet ominous. "I'm glad you agreed to help."

"I still don't fully trust you," Carter replied, her voice firm. "But if there’s even a chance to save a universe, I’ll do what I must."

Strange smirked, his eyes narrowing. "Good. Then you’ll understand that sometimes, sacrifices must be made."

The sound of heels clicked on the stone floor, and Carter turned to see a figure emerge from the shadows. Serena Stark, clad in her Iron Sorceress armor infused with dark energy, approached with an air of dangerous elegance. Her black eyes glinted with malice, and her aura was suffused with the corrupted power of the Darkhold.

"Meet my ally," Strange said, his voice tinged with something darker. "Sinister Serena. Like me, she's made mistakes. And, like me, she’s willing to do what it takes to fix them."

Carter's grip on her shield tightened. "Another multiversal menace? Let me guess—she's helping you hunt 'universe-killers' too?"

Serena’s lips curved into a wicked smile. "Oh, Peggy. It's not 'hunting.' It's justice. These variants have done unspeakable things. Strange and I are just cleaning up the mess."

As Carter was led deeper into the Sanctum, she felt the unease growing. The Forge loomed ominously ahead, its mechanisms whirring with an unnatural energy. Kahhori was restrained nearby, her expression defiant despite the chains of magic binding her.

"She’s a danger to every reality," Serena said coldly, circling Kahhori like a predator. "And you, Captain, will help us ensure she pays the price."

Carter glanced at Kahhori, then back at Strange and Serena. Something was off—this wasn’t justice. It was vengeance, a twisted attempt to absolve themselves by punishing others.

"What is the Forge really for?" Carter demanded, stepping protectively between Kahhori and the sinister duo.

Strange's expression darkened. "It's the only way to bring back what we've lost. Our universes—our lives—our loved ones."

"And the cost?"

Serena's voice was sharp. "Necessary."

Realizing the truth, Carter made her move. With a quick toss of her shield, she shattered the magical restraints holding Kahhori.

"Run!" Carter shouted as chaos erupted.

Strange and Serena advanced, their combined power creating a storm of corrupted magic. Serena unleashed streams of dark energy, her Iron Sorceress armor amplifying her attacks, while Strange summoned demonic constructs to corner Carter and Kahhori.

"You can't stop us!" Serena shouted, her voice laced with fury. "We’re doing what you’re too weak to do—saving the multiverse!"

"You’re not saving anything," Carter countered, deflecting their attacks with her shield. "You’re just repeating the same mistakes!"

Kahhori, tapping into her own power, summoned an ancient windstorm that disrupted Serena’s magical constructs. The fight intensified as Carter and Kahhori worked together, using precision and agility to hold their ground.

"You think you’re heroes?" Serena taunted, her voice cold. "You have no idea what true loss feels like—what it means to destroy everything you are to protect what you love."

Carter’s resolve hardened. "I know enough to recognize when someone’s lost their way. And I won’t let you take anyone else down with you."

Amidst the chaos, Carter freed the captured variants. Together, they united against Strange and Serena. Black Panther Killmonger, weaponless, hurled debris to distract them, while Kahhori focused her energy on weakening the Forge.

Serena's attacks grew more ferocious, her anger boiling over. She clashed with Carter in a brutal hand-to-hand combat sequence, her dark magic and Iron Sorceress armor making her a formidable opponent.

"You should’ve stayed out of this, Peggy," Serena hissed, her black eyes glowing. "You can’t win."

Carter dodged a blast of energy and countered with a shield throw that staggered Serena. "Maybe not alone. But I’m not alone."

The variants joined the fight, lending their weapons and powers to Carter and Kahhori. Strange and Serena were forced onto the defensive as the tides turned against them.

As the Forge began to collapse under Kahhori’s power, Strange was consumed by his demonic counterpart. Serena, weakened but still fighting, realized that their plan was failing.

"Strange!" Serena called out, her voice cracking. "We can’t lose now!"

But Strange, caught in the throes of his own corruption, was beyond saving. In a moment of clarity, he turned to Serena.

"We can’t fix this," he said quietly. "But we can end it."

Together, they made the ultimate sacrifice. With a final burst of magic, they contained the Forge’s collapse, pulling it—and themselves—into the void.

Epilogue

The Watcher returned Kahhori and the variants to their respective universes. Carter, however, was taken to Strange’s restored universe, where Christine Palmer lived.

"Why show me this?" Carter asked.

The Watcher’s gaze was unreadable. "Because even the darkest souls can make a choice to do the right thing in the end."

Carter looked out at the multiverse, her heart heavy. "Take me home," she said softly.

As the stars shimmered around her, she thought of Strange and Serena. Two broken souls who had tried to save their worlds—and lost themselves in the process.

[imyourbratzdoll]

Based on the song by katy perry ” the one that got” were reader and Steve had a love like no other, but like it says one of them was “the one that got away” weather it be Steve Choosing the war and Peggy over Reader. Or Reader choosing happiness with some else in endgame because Steve never made the choice or decision to further make their relationship serious Later realizing that he made a mistake.

Depending on how you choose to write it, it could end with “ In another life, I would be your girl We keep all our promises Be us against the world”

Or “In another life I would make you stay So I don't have to say You were the one that got away”

Sorry it’s long bubs :( I just really wanna see some angst with this

hey bubs, I hope you like it.

summary - steve was the one that got away... but did he really?

warning - angst.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You felt… 

Drained.

You thought that you and Steve had the best love story out there… But you should’ve known you never compared to Peggy Carter. 

You had never planned that one day you’d be losing him. It used to be you and him against the world, and it was never you without Steve. You two had made a pact. He held your hands one night, pressing his forehead against yours as he whispered, “I’m with you till the end of the line.”

Now you sit here, wondering if that was a lie. You wish you could’ve hated the people who caused this and made it possible for him to go back in time. But it wasn’t their fault that he chose someone else over you, who stood by him through thick and thin. Tony seemed to have a clue that Steve would pick her, and he left you a large sum of money and a letter explaining that even if Steve left you, you’d always be family to him. Sadly he never got to tell you this… Because he died.

All of this money couldn’t buy you a time machine. 

You wished you were enough for him to stay. 

As you walked across the field, you felt the power inside you coursing through your veins. You could feel the anger building inside. You could feel the rage burning your flesh. Your eyes locked with the old Steve, watching them widen as you grinned. You could feel his body shiver from how menacing you looked. 

Your eyes burned a bright orange, and your hair flowed wildly behind you as you began to hover. Your body flew closer to the man that broke your heart. Not even the men around could stop you. As your hand wrapped around his neck, you snarled down at him as your chilly voice sent fear through everyone’s bones. 

“In another life. I would make you stay.” You began to lift him into the air. His choking and pleading fell on deaf ears. “In another life! I would be your girl… We’d keep all our promises! BE US AGAINST THE WORLD!” 

Snap.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.