#historical bucky barnes

[sjsmith56]

Assignment Bucky Barnes

Summary: A time travelling historian from the future is sent to 1940 to observe and interact with the young James Buchanan Barnes in a quest to learn more about him. When they fall in love it not only endangers the timeline but makes her a target of the future version of HYDRA.

Length: 2 parts / 35 chapters

Characters: 1940s - Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, named OFC (two), named OMC (several), the Barnes family. 21st and 22nd century - Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, named OFC (three), named OMC (several), descendant of Alexander Pierce, descendant of Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Minors DNI - contains sexual content which may be unsuitable for readers under the age of 18. Intense love relationship, angst, violence, death of a major OC, hidden relationships, concerns about privacy.

Author notes: This takes place in both the future and the past as science has evolved to allow for communication and travel between the different times. Future characters can also find themselves in the past with other incarnations of themselves - just go with it. Time travel is still messy and yes, there will be paradoxes but they are also part of the story. No TVA in this story. At its heart, it is the story of Bucky’s great love that wasn’t supposed to happen. Chapter titles after the break.

Part 1 - Into the Past

Chapter 1. Preparation Chapter 2. First Blush

Chapter 3. The Gift Chapter 4. I Found You

Chapter 5. Going Steady Chapter 6. Summer Love

Chapter 7. Reset Chapter 8. A Minor Setback

Chapter 9. Dark Days Chapter 10. Surrender

Chapter 11. September Chapter 12. Won’t Let You Fall

Chapter 13. Mysteries Chapter 14. Surprises

Chapter 15. December 1941 Chapter 16. The Man I Love

Chapter 17. Letters Chapter 18. The Return

Chapter 19. Doubt Chapter 20. The Beginning of the End

Chapter 21. Torn Into Pieces

Part 2 - Days of Future Passed

Chapter 22. Looking for a Ghost Chapter 23. The Switch

Chapter 24. Under the Radar Chapter 25. Rockaway Beach

Chapter 26. Love Eternal Chapter 27. Complications

Chapter 28. Operation Chrysalis Chapter 29. Sabotage

Chapter 30. Response Chapter 31. Face to Face

Chapter 32. Misdirection Chapter 33. Revealing Truths

Chapter 34. Home Chapter 35. What Should Have Been

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[writingsinashes]

Multi-Muse

Novella || Multi-Para || Canon & OC || Multi-Verse || Multi-Ship

30 || CST || NSFW

Muses and plots that span various media, such as films, literature, video games, mythology, and with the power of imagination.

With a touch of canon and a sprinkle of OCs, this blog might have just what you've been looking for!

Write with someone who's been in the RPC for about 17 years without the drama of the past 17 years! 😂

{Memes} {Rules} {Muses}

－ Ｐｅｎｎｅｄ ｂｙ Ｓａｈ． ᴰᶦˢᶜᵒʳᵈ ᵘᵖᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵠᵘᵉˢᵗ.

ᴾʳᵒᵐᵒ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @etherealxmuses ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᴶᵃˢᵐᵃⁿᵈᵉʳ

[donnalawliet]

Being in multiple fandoms can sometimes be weird. For example, the Kennedy assassination in fiction.

In the X-Men universe, Erik was framed for killing the president, even though he was trying to save him.

Meanwhile, the Wintersoldier, aka Bucky, actually killed the president in the MCU.

And in the Umbrella Academy, Five was tasked with assassinating the president…

…while Diego tried to save JFK.

Let‘s just say, that day in 1963 was quite the busy one indeed…

[delicatebarness]

winters widow | chapter vi

Summary: You are cordially invited to the wedding of Prince Steven of House Rogers and Lady Natasha of House Romanoff.

Warning: Arranged Marriage.

Word Count: 1256

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A/N: I'm very happy for the Romanoff girlies. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Winter’s Widow: @lanabuckybarnes | @sapphirebarnes | @sebastians-love | @mrsnikstan | @learisa | @railmesebstan | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @barnesxstan | @ghalouha | @mrsstuckyboo | @g-nobody | @mishidrish

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602

The morrow of the wedding dawned with a warm sunrise, a golden hue casting over the capital. Anticipation buzzed around the streets of Brooklyn, decorated with banners and vibrant flowers. Gleaming under the morning light, the palace adorned the colors of House Rogers and House Romanoff. 

Standing in Natasha’s quarters, your heart raced. Your dress was a beautiful masterpiece, with intricate embroidery and the finest silk. It reflected the status and elegance befitting of a noblewoman. 

Yelena helped you with the final touches in your braids as Natasha walked in wearing her wedding dress. It was magnificent, exquisite blends of gold and crimson symbolized the union of the two great houses.

“You look beautiful,” Yelena said softly, her eyes filled with sisterly pride toward Natasha. 

“You too,” Natasha replied with an unwavering smile, she reached out and adjusted a strand of your hair. “It’s a big day for all of us.” 

A knock signaled it was time and Yelena guided you through the grand corridors to the ceremonial hall. Taking a deep breath, the thick air and the scent of blooming roses filled your senses along with the hum of whispered conversations. From all across the realm, noble guests gathered as their elaborate attires added to the splendor of the event. 

The grandeur of the setting took your breath away as you entered the hall. High-arched ceilings draped in silk banners, pews lined with dignitaries and lords, all eyes turned towards the front where the ceremony would take place. Prince Steve stood at the altar, resplendent in his attire, his face composed of joy.

Standing by his side as his loyal companion was Lord James. His gaze met yours you took your place among the bridesmaids, a flicker of warmth passed through his eyes as they widened slightly. You gave him a small, reassuring smile. 

The grand doors opened once more, and the hall fell silent. Natasha, escorted by your father Lord Ivan Romanoff of Belova, entered with grace. Her smile, radiant, lit up the room. You could see the love that had grown out of duty as she approached her future husband. The king and queen, sat with dignified poise as they watched with approval. Their son preparing to take this significant step in life, and for the realm they protect. 

You found your gaze drifting towards Lord James as the ceremony progressed. Standing tall and composed, his eyes occasionally sought yours across the hall. A silent understanding passed between you, each time your eyes met, and your heart would quicken. The vows were solemn as they echoed through the hall, and Natasha held pride in her eyes as she pledged her love and loyalty to Prince Steve. 

When the ceremony concluded, the Grand Priest spoke his blessings, and the hall erupted in applause. Their first kiss as husband and wife was met with cheers. Glancing at Lord James, he was already looking over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. Returning the smile, you felt a rush of warmth spread through you. 

~

The newlyweds led the procession out of the ceremonial hall, the guests followed as they moved toward the grand banquet hall. The entrance to the hall was flanked by tall candelabras, flames flickering golden glows highlighting the opulence within. Tapestries depicting the histories of both your House and House Rogers, adorned the walls, intertwined in a vibrant display of artistry. 

As you mingled with the guests and chatted with various nobles, you noticed a friendly and familiar face, a face you hadn’t seen since your childhood, approaching. “Little Lady!” he greeted, his smile broad. 

“Scott!” you exclaimed as he pulled you into a friendly embrace, laughter escaped your lips as you let out a breath. “It’s wonderful to see you.” 

As you reminisce about old times, you and Scott fell into an easy conversation. His stories and humor never failed to make you laugh, however as your spirits continued to lift, you were acutely aware of Lord James watching you from across the hall. His gaze was intense. 

He stood with Prince Steve and Natasha, his gaze never faltering off you and Scott. “Who is that?” he asked, his voice low as it betrayed in hiding his jealousy. 

Following Lord James’ gaze, Prince Steve glanced over. “Scott Lang. Lord of a neighboring land to Belova. Married to Lady Van Dyne, I do believe.” 

His expression darkened, and his fingers tightened around his goblet. “What is he doing with my betrothed?” he muttered, possessiveness laced in his tone.

Catching the edge in his voice, Natasha smiled. “Scott has been a friend of our House and to us since childhood, Lord James. They’ve known each other for years.” 

At that moment, you glanced over and caught sight of Lord James’ intense gaze. You offered him a small wave, smiling brightly and reassuringly. The tension in Lord James’ stance and jaw softened in that instant. Returning your smile with a small nod. 

Noticing your attention shift, Scott followed your gaze. “Ah, Lord James,” he said with a knowing smile. “The White Wolf, a formidable warrior, indeed. His combat prowess is unmatched.” 

“Yes, he is remarkable,” you replied, admiration laced in your tone as a blush crept up your cheeks. 

Excusing himself, Lord James’ was unable to stay away any longer. Leaving Prince Steve and Natasha's side, he approached you. Scott gave him a respectful nose as he stepped back, allowing Lord James’ to take his place beside you. 

“My lord,” you greeted him softly, affection shined in your eyes as you met his gaze. 

“My lady,” he replied tenderly. His earlier jealousy was forgotten as his hand found yours, kissing gently against your knuckles.

Couples began to take to the dance floor as the music swelled. He gestured toward the scene before you as he reassured you with a squeeze of your hand. “Would my lady honor me with a dance?” 

Your heart fluttered as you beamed up at him, a wide smile tugged at your lips. “With pleasure, my lord,” you responded. 

Leading you to the dance floor, his hand stayed firm as it held yours. You moved together as the music began to play, you were closer to him than you had been before. Encircling around your waist, the touch of his arm sent a shiver down your spine. The new proximity made your heart race. 

The world around you seemed to fade away into a blur, all that mattered was the feeling of him guiding you. The way his gaze bored into you, an intensity leaving you breathless. His eyes, usually guarded, now revealed a new shade of blue and a depth of emotion that had you in a trance. 

Every turn and step brought you closer, the space shrunk until it felt like you were the only two people in the realm. Heat radiated from his body, and his breath mingled with yours in the shared air. It was intoxicating, the connection and the closeness spoke volumes, all without a word being uttered. 

“You dance beautifully, my lady,” he muttered, his voice a soft rumble as his breath against your ear sent a shiver through you. 

“And you, my lord,” you replied, keeping your voice to a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would break the spell of your moment with him. 

The music began to slow, the dance nearing its end, yet neither of you moved to let go. His grip only seemed to tighten slightly, a plea to stay close and not let the moment slip away. 

---

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[moon-language-0]

Gladiator AU feat. Emperor Tony and Steve as his prospective champion, by @fohatic

[logansgaar]

Okay but what if Bucky gets found out by HYDRA and Zola after capture because Dugan and Gabe are always ushering him to the back away from possible notice, to the point it backfires and draws suspicion. When they pick him out HYDRA orders him to recite the Lord's Prayer and Bucky recites what he always remembers Steve saying. The Prayer he made sure to remember before he was shipped out just in case something like this happened.

Only... Steve is Catholic. The Prayer that Bucky's heard Steve and some of his fellow soldiers recite is different from the one a Protestant would recite and his dog tags say he's a Protestant. He didn't even know they said the Prayer differently.

[late-to-the-party-81]

The King's Last Concubine

AN: Welcome, welcome to the short one-shot that spiralled a little out of control. I’m sure none of you will complain. If you like cheesy historical romance and Bucky then you’ve come to the right place. In all honesty I could have made this story much, much longer, but unfortunately I don’t have the time, so it’s wrapped up a little fast and without as many misunderstandings as the usual Harlequin/Mills and Boon normally contains. I hope you like it anyway.

Beta’d by the lovely @seriouslydex - thank you for your assistance in wrangling this into coherence.

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Bingo Fills - @buckybarnesbingo Square U1 - Kink: Concubine

Master list | BBB Master list

Summary: When Bucky takes over the throne after his Father’s death, he has better things to deal with than the group of concubines he’s inherited. He thinks the tradition is abhorrent and vows he wants no part of it. When he meets the newest member of the harem he finds his moral stance tested. How can he want the woman who was bought to please his father?

Relationship: King James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x Female Concubine Reader

Chapter word count: 10.2k

CW: Historical AU, Flowery historical language, Angst, Servitude, Lust, Male masturbation, Fluff, Miscommunication, Self-loathing, Jealousy, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Attempted Sexual Assault, Explicit Sexual Content, Declaration of feelings.

A quiet tension filled the air as you wandered your way around the gardens and corridors of the place you’d called home for the last six months. That’s when you’d been purchased - a gift for the elderly and ailing king, meant to boost his spirits and reignite his youthful zeal. However, all the youth and beauty in the world could not turn back the sands of time.

For the last few weeks the king had been getting weaker, not leaving his private rooms or entertaining any guests apart from his long faithful Queen, his heir, Prince James and his daughter, Princess Rebecca. It was a waiting game now, for the Royal Family, the country, and for you and the other members of the Harem.

Entering the solar, where all of you could spend your days in conversation, needlework, painting and reading, you could see Merith, the King’s favourite in an agitated conversation with Katya, the next concubine down in the pecking order. They had the most to lose when the inevitable happened, because it would be very unlikely that the Prince would wish to keep them around. Not only were they older than him, they had both also borne the King numerous children - it would be very strange for a new King to keep the mothers of his half siblings as concubines for himself. At best, the two women might hope to be housed somewhere pleasant in their retirement, maybe with a semi-wealthy husband. At worst they could be turfed out of the palace along with any of their children that the King hadn’t yet made provisions for.

As for your fate, that was also completely unknown. However, due to your age and the fact that you had only been here a short time, with very few interactions with the King, there was a chance that the Prince would want to keep you. You’d never seen him in the flesh, but you knew he was handsome from the glimpses you’d had of his portrait when you’d been led to and from the King’s chambers on those few occasions he had requested your company. However, despite what you had been purchased for, you had never actually lain with the King. He had tried and, as it was in your best interest, so had you, but the King was old and tired. 

Instead you’d provided him with company as best you could, rubbing his back, stroking his hair and reading him stories until he fell asleep and you could call the guards to escort you back to the Little Palace.

Of course, no-one knew what had occurred within the privacy of the King’s chambers, and if other concubines had had similar experiences they didn’t talk of it openly - it wouldn’t do to discuss the failing manhood of the person who held your life in their hands. However, what this meant was that you were still untouched by a man, with no experience other than what you had gifted yourself.

With a sigh, you crossed to the far side of the room, taking your place amongst the other younger and newer members of your unconventional community, picking up the sampler you’d been working on. There was no music being played and all conversations were kept to a minimum and spoken in whispers, out of a combination of respect and anxiety. The limbo dragged on.

Suddenly, the doors to the solar crashed open, and the King’s Equerry walked in, flanked by several guards.

“The King has died,” he announced. “Long live the King.”

The ladies fell into disarray.

“I really have to deal with that now?” Bucky asked of Coulson, his father’s, and now his, Equerry.

“I’m afraid so, your Majesty. It’s been two weeks since the late king passed away and decisions need to be made about those whose services you do not wish to retain. There may be some obvious candidates, but with others you may not know how you feel until you meet them.”

Bucky, now King James, sighed. It hadn’t come as a surprise when his father, King George, had passed away. His various ailments had worsened over the last few months and Bucky had actually felt relief for him at the end. The funeral had been last week and since then he’d been stuck in back to back meetings with the men who were now officially his advisors, sorting out matters of state. Admittedly, the fate of those who resided in the Little Palace hadn’t really occurred to him as important. It was an archaic tradition as far as he was concerned. Servants were one thing, but owning women just so you have a choice about who to fuck without any repercussions, just struck him as something that belonged firmly in the past. He still couldn’t get his head around how his mother had never once complained or commented about the practice - had never flinched when another Royal bastard was presented to the court so his father could make provision for them as he saw fit.

There was no question that any of the women who had provided his father with children - he wasn’t going to call them siblings - would have to be looked after in some way. He wasn’t a monster. The problem would be the others. There were about twenty or so of them, his father collecting them like fine artwork over his years on the throne and a few - and this thought turned Bucky’s stomach a little - were as young as his sister Rebecca. He didn’t feel as though he could just turn them out, however he didn’t want to keep them either. Without some kind of royal approval the women could be ostracised from normal society if their past were to become known, but could he really justify supporting all of them from the Royal purse for the rest of their days? Although, undoubtedly, there would be some noblemen more than happy to have his father’s cast offs as wives, especially as there had been no lack of suitors for their daughters. Those that had offered for them had obviously been hoping it would grant them a modicum more influence at court. Little did they know that wouldn’t be the case with him.

It also didn’t help that while Coulson could understand wanting to remove certain members of the Little Palance, he didn’t understand why the new King didn’t want to ‘get to know’ the rest of them. According to the Equerry, they were all very beautiful, demure, and accomplished, any one of them a suitable companion for lonely evenings. Apparently telling the dour man that if he was that taken with them he should feel free to fornicate with one himself, was not the done thing, but Bucky thought the look on Coulson’s face had been worth it. He’d then tried arguing that the ladies of the Little Palace deserved better than what they currently had, but his personal advisor had brushed the comment aside.

“These women want for nothing, Your Majesty. They sleep in the finest sheets, wear the finest fabrics, and eat the finest foods. Some would say they have a charmed life and what they gave up for it is very little in comparison to what they gain.”

“Fine,” he said with a defeated sigh. “I will at least deal with Merith, Katya and the other few that my dearly departed father put babies into, and maybe speak to the others. Let’s get this over and done with.”

Coulson smiled, obviously thinking that he’d won this round, and Bucky decided not to disabuse him. You have to pick your battles, as his mother was fond of telling him.

This time when the Equerry appeared, a fortnight after the death of King George, he sent nearly all of you out to the gardens, only keeping Merith, Katya and a few other of the ladies inside. It was clear that the women who were mothers to the late King’s bastards were about to find out their fate.

You walked slowly between the roses with your friend, Lila, the concubine who’d been obtained just a few months before you, swapping inconsequential small talk, neither wanting to verbalise what was actually on your minds - to say it out loud would be to court disaster. When the Royal Guards suddenly came outside you all stopped what you were doing, wondering if Master Coulson was going to deliver news to you all as well, but when a different, unexpected man appeared, you all lowered your gazes and dropped into deep curtsies. The King - the new King - was here. 

Anxiety rode through you, and all you could hear was the pounding of your heart. You were vaguely aware, from your peripheral vision, that Master Coulson was introducing the King to each member of his harem. You caught snatches of conversation, when the King asked each woman in turn their name and how long they had lived here. When they got to Lila next to you, you heard your friend giggle when the King asked her the same questions and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You liked her, but she was always a little silly. Maybe she thought to flirt her way into the King’s affections?

When the two sets of feet stopped in front of you, you waited for Coulson’s say so before coming out of your curtsey and raising your head.

“And here, Your Majesty, is our newest young lady. You may greet the King, my dear.”

You stood, glad to get out of the deeply uncomfortable pose, and prepared to finally see him in the flesh for the first time.

“Your Highness,” you said, your voice a little more breathy than anticipated, but that was because it had been knocked from your lungs at the vision that greeted you. 

King James was tall and broad in the shoulders. It was clear that the painting you had seen had been created when he was still a young man, only just into his adulthood. The man who stood before you now was no stripling. He was fully grown and oozed confidence and authority. His eyes, a cross between pale blue and grey, which had not been adequately portrayed by the Royal artist. His cheekbones were high and pronounced, and his jaw exquisitely chiselled, even if it was partially obscured by his facial hair. The hair on his head was short at the sides, but fluffy and slightly untamed on top, just tempting you to run your fingers through it. Now you knew why Lila had giggled. 

He took your hand in his, and you marvelled at how large and strong it looked in comparison to your own. You could clearly see the resemblance to his father, but this was a man in the prime of his life and the thought that he would have none of the problems in the bedroom that had beset the late King flashed across your mind, unbidden.

When he asked your name in his deep but clear voice, you had to swallow before you answered so you didn’t stutter like a schoolgirl.

“Master Coulson said you were new. How long have you lived here?”

“Just over six months, Your Majesty.”

“And you like living in the Little Palace?”

You hesitated for a moment, working out the best way to answer. The other’s hadn’t been asked this question. “It’s very pleasant. Thank you for asking Your Majesty.”

His lips, full and pink, twitched, picking up on the diplomacy of your answer. “Only pleasant? Oh dear. Well maybe we can improve upon that in the near future.”

He skillfully removed his hand from yours and turned back to his Equerry, and you returned your gaze to the floor. As he walked away you realised your heart was still beating fast within your chest. However, it was no longer anxiety that made it do so, but rather the newly unfurled bloom of desire.

As soon as Bucky returned to the Palace proper, he dismissed Coulson and headed directly for his private chambers. His time in the Little Palace had mostly gone as well as expected, Meredith and her cohorts fawning over him dramatically in thanks for his generosity and then meeting what seemed like a legion of beautiful, yet dull as dishwater, young women, who his father had acquired to make himself feel young. What he hadn’t been expecting though was that last young lady - he didn’t even want to think about the word concubine and all of the linked meanings it held. He’d never seen someone so beautiful, and it had been clear from the short exchange of pleasantries that you had intelligence and humour to match.

He felt the rolling heat of lust raise its head and desperately tried to push it aside. As unique in his experience as you may be, he shouldn’t - couldn’t - think about you in this way. Not when he knew you’d spent time with his father. It was more than he could bear. But he couldn’t get the image of you from his mind. The curves of your body that deserved to be traced and explored with reverence. Your large, expressive eyes that tempted him to drown in their depths. Your lips that called him to kiss you over and over until you couldn’t speak or even breathe due to how much you wanted him.

Entering his room he shut the door harshly, but he didn’t care. He was unbearably hard within his trousers, and while not a new sensation by any means, it wasn’t one he’d felt in some time. As the Crown Prince he’d had to be circumspect in his affairs,but there was no-one he’d been actively courting. Now he was King the pressure would be on for him to find a suitable wife and start producing heirs. However, he didn’t intend to be like his father. Once he was married he would be faithful and treat his wife with respect. The devil on his shoulder reminded him that he wasn’t married yet and was free to do what he desired, but he tried to push it aside.

Bucky threw himself down on his bed but every time he closed his eyes you were there, hovering behind his eyelids. He palmed himself over his trousers, trying to get some relief from his state of arousal, but it was no good. Almost unconsciously he undid the fastenings, letting out a small sigh as the pressure was lessened, but then it was just too easy to take himself in hand. A few small strokes, just to take the edge off, became harder and longer, and the vision of you behind his closed eyes smiled at him coyly, tempting him to ruin her. 

He imagined kissing you and touching you. Tracing every peak and valley with his lips and tongue. He imagined you doing the same to him, taking him in your mouth, lips stretched wide and tears in your perfect eyes. He imagined driving into you, again and again, while you gripped his shoulders and tangled your legs around his waist. Marking you - claiming you - as you called out his name over and over and trembled around him.

Bucky came with a cry, his spend spilling over his hand and stomach, and leaving him with an aching, hollow feeling of disgust with himself. He needed to release you and the rest of the ladies of the Little Palace and there-by banish you from his thoughts.

The next day he put his plan into action. He set Coulson the task of going through the remaining residents, from oldest serving to newest and finding them a new situation. Respectable marriages were the first preference - the Crown could provide a dowry - but failing that independence and a stipend until they became financially solvent on their own. If this plan had the effect that you would be the last to leave, that was just an unfortunate by-product of the most logical way of sorting the whole thing out, wasn’t it?

The edict by the King that the Little Palace was being disbanded was met at first with some trepidation. The women were all of a flutter, wondering what it would mean for them, but when Marie, the most senior of the concubines now that Merith and the others who had children had retired, was informed that, should she approve him, a husband had been found for her, any anxiety morphed into jubilation. Over the coming weeks, the number of you dwindled and you couldn’t help but feel a little lost amongst all the celebration. You were a strange sisterhood, that was certain, and you hadn’t gotten along with everyone, but you wished them well with a smile, and mulled over your sense of unease in private.

You weren’t sure what it was that was making you worried. It wasn’t as though you’d be forced into anything you didn’t want. Letitia had rejected three potential husbands before settling on a fourth, much to Master Coulson’s despair, and Tiffany had outright declared she wanted no husband at all, her and Dana wishing to set up house together and start a school. This came as no surprise to any of you.

It also wasn’t because you were so entrenched in this life that the thought of anything else was scary - you’d had more life outside these walls than in it - however you had found a camaraderie here, a sense of belonging, as strange as that may seem, that you hadn’t had before. And despite the fact that the idea of being intimate with the old King had been stomach churning, once he realised each time that it wasn’t going to happen, you’d found you’d enjoyed providing him comfort and some sort of friendship. Maybe being here had spoiled you? You’d admit it wasn’t a hardship to live somewhere where all your meals and clothes were provided and all you had to do was entertain yourself unless your services were required, although you did wish for more sometimes - a cage was still a cage, no matter how gilded and glittered.

Maybe having a husband wouldn’t be so bad. Hopefully he’d let you have some freedom - have some hobby or interest to keep you occupied, other than keeping house and popping out babies. You couldn’t help but be nervous though, especially as the numbers of you lessened until it was just you and Lila left. 

Each time one of the ladies was preparing to leave, the King would come and thank her for her service. How any of you managed to keep a straight face when he said that was beyond you, but it did give you the chance to watch him unobserved. He really was handsome, and seemed so kind and earnest in his thanks. A true King and diplomat. But that wasn’t all he was. Every so often he would catch your eye and you would feel… something. And you couldn’t explain what it was, other than that you felt like a moth captivated by a flame, longing to get nearer and nearer, even if it would mean your doom. It wasn’t just physical, either - although you couldn’t deny that you’d had thoughts about that. You wanted to get to know him. The real him. His hopes and dreams. What motivated him.

You got your chance when you were sitting in the solar, enjoying the sun that streamed through the windows as you read your book. Lila was outside in the garden, taking a walk with her potential fiancee, a man named Lang who was apparently some minor aristocracy. Guards trailed them at a discrete distance, but you didn’t think there was anything to worry about. From the glimpses you’d caught of them, Master Lang appeared to be a convivial and respectful fellow. He walked with his hands behind his back, not trying to touch or grab at your friend, but he leant in close to talk intimately.  He also appeared to be letting Lila hold an equal part of the conversation and you watched as she giggled behind her hand at a number of points in response to what you guessed were jokes.

“They appear to be getting on well.”

A voice from behind you, made you jump and turn in your chair. At the realisation that King James was standing there, you leapt up and then immediately leant forward into a deep curtsey. 

“Your Majesty.”

How had you not noticed him enter? Why was he here?

“Please stand. There’s only the two of us here. I wanted to see for myself how Master Lang was comporting himself and this seemed like the best place to watch unobserved.”

He walked closer to the window and you continued to stand, your hands clasping each other, as you watched him from under your lowered lashes. Despite the number of times you’d seen him recently you were no less dazed by his beauty than you had been the first time. You allowed your gaze to travel over his body, admiring the way his clothes were cut to show off his defined figure. Silver threads were woven through the black fabric of his coat and they shimmered in the sunlight. You itched to smooth the cloth over the broadness of his shoulders.

As if sensing you watching him, the King turned back to you.

“Please don’t let me disturb you from whatever you were doing. Pretend that I’m not here.”

Your lips twitched. “That would be difficult, Your Majesty. You do stand out.” You gestured to the walls of the solar, a pale pink colour, and then at his attire. He looked down at himself and you were taken aback by the flush that made its way to his cheeks.

“Aah, yes. I see what you mean.” He moved away from the window then, and toward the chair opposite the one you’d been occupying when he’d surprised you. “Maybe then we could sit and talk for a while? What have you been doing with your days these last weeks?”

You gave him a small nod and took your seat. “Very little, Your Majesty, other than helping the others pack up their belongings as they leave. Some reading, some needlework. I have been practising my languages too. What have you been doing? Important affairs of state I would imagine.”

“It is not nearly as glamorous as people think. Lots of meetings that seem to stretch on forever, but that is nothing to the never-ending paperwork. I swear everyone in the country will have my signature soon. Lots of time to relax and do what you will, seems wonderful to me. I admit to being a little envious.” He smiled as he spoke, his face lighting up in boyish amusement.

“I assure you,” you stated, “that after a while even relaxing becomes as dull as any paperwork.”

The King chuckled at that. “Does it now? I’ll have to take your word for it. Now, tell me, what languages do you speak?”

“French and Spanish. A little Portuguese. And I’m trying to improve my Greek.” You lifted up your book to show him the writing on the front. He smiled at you and your heart beat faster.

“Impressive, my lady. My Greek is somewhat rusty, although my Russian is still good. Come, read for me and we shall see if I can follow you.”

Feeling shy, you lifted your book and began, haltingly at first, to read out loud, your tongue trying to wrap around the unfamiliar syllables. It had been a while since you had spoken out loud, normally preferring just to read, but as you became more confident the words flowed easier and you managed to glance up at him now and again.

The King was sitting, relaxed in his chair, legs outstretched with his ankles crossed. His eyes were closed as he rested his head on the chair back, arms settled on his chest with his fingers steepled. For a moment you could almost pretend this was a domestic scene of a wife reading to her husband after a long day. However, you were not his wife and he was not destined to be your husband. That would be someone else.

When you reached the end of your chapter, you gently closed your book, placing it on the side table, and the King opened his eyes and sat up again.

“You have a wonderful reading voice and you navigated the words very well - better than I’d have done, I’m sure. I’ve always thought learning languages a worthwhile endeavour and it is my deepest regret that I do not know more. I’ll take note to ensure that my Equerry looks to place you in a situation where your skills will be appreciated. I have a feeling,” he said with a glance back towards the window where his friend was still busy gently wooing yours, “that you will soon be the only one here.

You felt heat rushing to your cheeks at the compliment. “That would be greatly appreciated, Your Majesty. I know that not all men wish for an intelligent wife, but it would be nice to not have to appear vapid just to gain favour with my spouse.”

King James snorted. “I’ll admit that I do not understand those who only wish for a doll for a wife. If you’re going to spend the rest of your days together, would it not be better to have someone to converse with. Someone to challenge you mentally. It would be rather dull otherwise.”

“I suppose,” you ventured, “that those men are probably the type to find other ways - other people - to keep them occupied.” A small smile crept across his lips at your statement.

“And I suppose you are correct, my lady. But if that is the case then those men have chosen poorly. I cannot imagine marrying someone, only to then spend all my free time avoiding them. Somewhat defeats the point of it all, in my opinion.”

“Well, I had guessed some of that about you, Your Majesty. What with you getting rid of this age-old tradition.” You gestured once again to the room around you but when you turned back to him, it was to see that the King’s eyes had narrowed slightly, studying you.

“And how do you feel about that?”

You sensed his words were a test and you licked your lips nervously before you answered.

“I have no real opinion, Sire. I live to serve and am happy to do what my King commands of me.”

There was a strange look on his face. He was no longer smiling and while he didn’t appear angry with you, his demeanor was now far more chilly than it had been a moment ago.

“And were you happy to carry out the commands of my late father?”

You hesitated before answering. “His Royal Highness was most kind to me. I was happy to serve him.”

You barely heard him mutter “I bet you were” under his breath before he suddenly stood, and you scrambled to your feet after him. 

“This has been an illuminating chat, my lady, and I thank you for your company. Soon you will be free of this place and can put this part of your life behind you.”

He nodded his head and once again you dropped into a deep curtsey, your eyes locked to the floor. You stayed that way as his footsteps retreated across the marble floor and you wondered what it was you had said that had turned him so cold.

Once again, Bucky found himself stalking into the sanctuary of his private chambers. Damn you, damn his father, and damn this ridiculous fascination of his. Whilst he’d tried to tell himself that the only reason he went to the Little Palace was to get a feeling for whether his friend was getting along with his potential betrothed, he also couldn’t deny the fact that he’d known you would be there as well, all alone.

He’d been enjoying your conversation until he’d been reminded why you were even there in the first place and sabotaged himself by bringing up his father. Then you’d all but admitted that you’d enjoyed doing what you did. Bucky felt sick at the thought. 

Images of you tortured him day and night, and spending time with you today had obviously been ill-advised because now he had more memories to draw on. The way you spoke so passionately and knowledgeably about the ways of the world. The way that you smiled and joked when you were relaxed.

Bucky’s fingers longed to pick up a charcoal and try to capture the way the sunlight had slid over the planes of your face, giving you an ethereal, other-worldly look, like some fae creature sent to enrapture him. Instead he tugged on the bell-pull, asking the page who appeared to go and fetch Coulson. He then paced up and down the room, chewing on his thumb nail for the few minutes it took the Equerry to appear.

“How can I serve you, Your Majesty?” Coulson asked with a low bow.

“I want the matters with Lang organised as soon as possible and the remaining occupant of the Little Palace resituated with all speed. It’s high-time this issue was finished, once and for all.

It had been a week since Lila left. A week in which you’d spent nearly every waking moment alone, other than when the servants were helping you dress and bringing you food. Although you mustn’t forget the omni-present guards stationed outside various doors. Which meant it was two weeks since the conversation with the King that had left you feeling more confused than ever.

Lila had returned from her sojourn around the garden gushing about Master Lang and his attributes. About how handsome and kind and funny he was, and how certain she was that they would suit. You plastered a smile to your face and said all the right things, but you couldn’t seem to concentrate on your friend’s happiness, your thoughts consumed by the memory of how the King’s face had looked at the end of your exchange.

He’d been so happy and relaxed, then suddenly so cold and closed. It was obviously no secret that he didn’t like the fact that his father had had concubines, but it had happened and to deny why you were living there would be foolish. Which is why you’d answered so diplomatically - he didn’t need to know what did or didn’t happen in the privacy of the late King’s chambers, and he probably didn’t want to know. What son would want those details? But he had asked a question and you’d answered the best way you knew how.

It hurt because you’d actually been enjoying yourself, and thought that maybe he’d been enjoying himself as well. There’d been a strange warmth inside you as the pair of you had talked and teased and joked, and over the last few days you found yourself wishing you could feel it again.

However, now you had something else to occupy your mind. Almost as soon as Lila had left to get married - and you were sad you couldn’t be with her on her big day - Master Coulson had come to tell you that arrangements were being made at pace for your own future. It was only mildly surprising then, when he’d come to you this morning to tell you that a potential husband had been found and you should prepare yourself to have dinner this evening. He passed you over some papers, giving you details of the man you were to meet.

Apparently he was a Baron, a widower, and a few years older than King James. His seat was on the other side of the country and apparently quite large, with the main house boasting stables, a library, and a formal rose garden. As you read through the information you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. It all looked good on paper, but you needed to be sure. You didn’t want to swap one cage for another - you had to at least like Baron Zemo, and him you. It seemed as though he spoke numerous languages, so at least you had one thing in common with him. Hopefully all would go well, and you could consign this place and thoughts of the King to the past.

A few hours later and you were putting the finishing touches to your toilette. You dabbed some rosewater behind your ears and smoothed your hands down the front of your gown. It was one of your favourites and you’d worn it every time you’d been to visit the late King. He’d always complimented it, saying that the colour of the silk brought out your eyes. You hoped the Baron would like it as well. With a gentle knock on the door, one of the servants let you know that your guest had arrived and was waiting for you in the solar. You took a deep breath and walked down the hall.

As you entered, you saw a man, dressed in deep purple, looking out of the window, with his back to you. 

“Baron Zemo, you are most welcome,” you said as you dropped into a curtsey. You heard him turn and then a be-ringed hand appeared in front of your eyes, offering to help you back to your feet.

“Thank you for having me here, my lady,” he replied as you stood. “I have been intrigued to meet you ever since the King wrote to me about your situation.”

You took in his features as he smiled gently at you. He had warm hazel eyes, straight, mid-brown hair that lay across his brow, and was clean shaven. He was slightly taller than you, but not by much and you pushed away the rogue thought about how King James virtually towered over you.

“Shall we sit and dine, and hopefully get to know one another better, sir?” you suggested.

“You’ve read my mind, my dear. There is nothing like good food, good wine, and good conversation, is there?” The Baron walked you over to the small dining table that had been set up and assisted you into your seat, and you felt like a grand lady.

The next two hours passed by amenably. The Baron was eloquent and charming, and when he found out that you spoke other languages he insisted on conversing with you in them, gently correcting your pronunciation and helping you when a particular word or phrase was outside your knowledge. At the end of the meal you were full, warm and a little tipsy from the wine - it wasn’t in your nature to imbibe often.

“Maybe,” Zemo suggested, “we should take a turn about the gardens? A walk in the cool night air would probably help aid digestion. What do you think, my lady?”

“I think that would be delightful.” You allowed him to help you with your chair once more and when you stumbled he linked your arm into his and walked you outside, away from the guards and servants who’d been present in the solar with you. 

The garden was illuminated with lanterns in addition to the lights from the solar, and the pair of you walked companionably along the pathways. So far he’d done nothing to worry you, and hadn’t been at all standoffish. You would have to give serious thought into accepting his suit, especially as you were unlikely to receive better. The problem with being the last to be situated was that it also meant that your options for a suitable marriage were narrower.

“You’re awfully quiet, my dear. What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?” You ducked your head at the compliment and couldn’t help but smile.

“In all honesty, my lord? I was thinking about how lovely this evening has been. I will admit to some trepidation, which I’m sure you can forgive me for. Things like this are all too new for me.”

“No forgiveness needed,” he said with a smile, one much wider than those he’d displayed earlier and you felt your heart pick up in your chest, although you couldn’t immediately say why. “It’s completely understandable. But can I say that you have vastly surpassed my expectations. The information given to me about you greatly downplayed your beauty and intelligence. And, if I may be so bold, I find myself captivated.”

You felt your cheeks warm, but you also felt a little uncomfortable, at his zealousness. Or maybe it was the wine? “That is kind of you to say, sir. However, I’m finding myself getting a little chilled. Maybe we should return inside?”

With a swiftness that startled you, the Baron took hold of your shoulders and steered you backwards until you came into contact with the wall. You gasped in shock at both the impact and his change in demeanour.

“Maybe I can find a way to warm you up?” He quipped before his lips came down onto yours, his tongue thrusting into your mouth and one hand falling to your leg, inching your skirts upwards. You tore your mouth from his and turned your head, but his lips just zeroed in on your throat instead, sucking and nipping.

“Sir! Get off me!” You tried to push him, but his bulk had you pinned. His questing hand breached the hem of your skirts and he started to grope at your thigh, and his lips trailed further down to the neckline of your dress. “I said get off!”

The Baron raised his head and stilled his hand, but didn’t move away. “Surely you must miss this? The touch of a man. And think how much better it will be with someone who is younger and knows how to please a woman.”

“I miss it less than you think,” you ground out between clenched teeth. “And I did not ask you for this. Let me go.”

He smiled predatorily and slid his hand up to cup your mound over your underwear. “Did you really think I would offer for you without seeing if you had all the necessary attributes I’m looking for. I need an heir, and intelligence and beauty can’t provide that. And let’s face it, it’s not as though you’re a missish virgin keeping herself pure for her wedding night.”

His hand started to tug at your underthings and you closed your eyes tight as fear started to take over. However, just as you felt the first touch of his fingers on your intimate flesh his weight was suddenly gone.

“I believe the lady said no, Baron Zemo.”

Your eyes shot open, and there was King James, standing between you and the Baron, who was now sprawled on the ground. The dim light of the lanterns partially lit his face and that, combined with his expression, made him look like an avenging angel. Then he turned towards you and his expression softened.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

Without the Baron’s hands on you, your skirts fell back to your ankles and you pushed yourself away from the wall to stand. 

You nodded and gave a little cough to clear your throat. “I’m fine, Your Majesty.”

The Baron scrambled to his feet and brushed the dust and gravel from his coat.

“Just a little misunderstanding between my fianceé and myself, Your Majesty. No harm done,” he said, his voice smooth and oily.

You took a step forward, your body trembling with anger. “I don’t believe that I’ve accepted your suit, sir. And after that display of ungentlemanly conduct I am now fully disinclined to do so.”

The Baron’s eyes snapped to yours, narrowing and he let his facade fully drop away. “Be quiet, whore. Who else would have you? You’re used goods, even if the one who did the using was the former King. You should be grateful I’m even considering you.”

You shifted, intending to step forward again and slap him, but the King held out his hand stopping you.

“You are out of line, Baron. No matter her history, the lady is still just that. A lady. And how you treat her is tells me that, despite your title, you are no gentleman.” His voice was steady, but you could pick up the undercurrent of rage - could see it in the way he was holding himself and the tick in his jaw.

Baron Zemo let out a bark of laughter, apparently oblivious to the danger he was in. “My dear James, I cannot believe how much you are defending one of your fathers handmaidens. She was obtained by him for one purpose, but you think it’s unreasonable for me to see if she lives up to that purpose before I marry her.” He peered at the King, then his eyes widened as though he’d made a startling revelation. “Do I sense some jealousy raising its head here?” He laughed again. “I should have realised there was a reason you kept her until last. Of course - she’s your whore as…”

He didn’t get to finish his vile words, because King James’ arm snapped out and he punched the Baron right on the jaw, then watched impassively as the man crumpled back to the ground. Then, just as suddenly, he turned towards you fully and without a word scooped you up into his arms. You squeaked and threw your arms around his neck as he walked briskly back towards the solar. As he made his way inside, the guards stood to attention but didn’t turn to look at you, however, you still hid your face in his neck from embarrassment.

“There’s some filth in the garden to be sent packing.” The King’s voice rumbled in your ear as he spoke to the guards, and then he was turning with you in his arms and striding down the corridor that led to the private chambers. 

“Which one?” he asked gruffly, and you uncurled from his chest slightly so you could point. He shouldered your door open and then kicked it shut before letting you down, your body sliding over his as he did so.

You looked up at him, eyes wide and heart racing, not even noticing that your hands still rested on the slope of his chest and that his hands were still on your waist.

“You’re sure you're alright?” he queried again, looking down at you with concern.

“Absolutely. You stopped him. You…” You started to shake then as you realised how close you’d come to real harm. Without a word, the king steered you over to the edge of your bed and you both sat down, your small hands held in his larger ones, one of his thumbs rubbing over the delicate skin near your knuckles.

“Just breathe, my lady. You’ve had a shock. I’m glad I was there…” he stopped mid-sentence and freed one of his hands to turn your head and bare your neck to him. You swore you heard him growl. “He marked you. I’m going to kill him.”

You took hold of his wrist and pulled it down so you could turn back to face him. “It’s nothing. Really. It will fade and in a few days it’ll be a memory. Then we can try again.”

He peered at you, confused.

“Try and find me a husband,” you clarified and then smiled in an effort to lighten the atmosphere in the room.

“No.” King James pulled himself away sharply and stood, his back to you.

Now you were the one who was confused. “What do you mean,’No’? ‘No’ to a few days or ‘No’ to a husband? I don’t understand.”

“Either. Both,” he snapped, still not turning around.

“Alright,” you replied. “We’ll find me somewhere to live, then. Discuss a suitable stipend amount like Master Coulson did with some of the others who refused a husband.”

“Not that, either.” He ground the words out and you felt your patience waning, frustration overtaking your confusion. You stood up and stepped closer.

“So no husband and no stipend. What are you suggesting? That I just leave?” You couldn’t keep the hysterical note from your voice.

He spun on his heel and moved into your personal space, just as the Baron had done only a few minutes ago. However you didn’t feel anxious or uncomfortable, and the warm feeling inside you was back, despite your anger at how contrary he was being.

“Not at all,” he said quietly, his eyes trained on you. 

On your face. 

On your lips.

“I thought you wanted me out of here. You don’t want any concubines, remember?” You arched your eyebrow, challenging him.

He leant forwards and your breath caught in your throat, his stormy eyes now all you could see.

“I still don’t,” he murmured and then pressed his lips to yours.

This kiss was entirely different to the Baron’s assault. It was soft and gentle. Coaxing, not claiming. The King’s hands came up to cup your face and you curled your own into the front of his jacket. The heat within you rose in intensity and you kissed him back, opening your mouth and letting him in. He moaned when you did, one hand sliding to your hair and the other to the small of your back, pulling you close to him. You could feel the evidence of his arousal, but it didn’t scare you. In fact it thrilled you. It was all the deepest thoughts you’d kept to yourself come to life, and they took you over. 

Your nimble fingers worked the buttons of his jacket and as they came undone the King let go of you to shuck it off. That was followed quickly by his cravat and waistcoat, thrown without care across your room, and then he pulled his shirt free of his trousers and toed off his shoes. He took you back in his embrace then, kissing you with more passion and your hands found their way under his shirt, stroking across the hard planes of his chest. He nipped at your lower lip in retaliation and you gasped as the brief stinging shot to your core.

“Tell me you want this,” he breathed into your mouth.

“I do,” you whispered back. You’d never been as sure of anything as you were now - consequences be damned. They were a problem for tomorrow.

Part of Bucky couldn’t believe what he was doing, because he really shouldn’t be doing it. He was a King and should be the better person. But, oh, how he wanted to be selfish for once and slake this longing he had for you. 

He hadn’t been able to stop himself from coming to see how you and the Baron were getting on, partially to assuage his guilt and partially to torture himself. When he’d found you both absent from the solar, one of the guards had told him you’d gone for a walk together. As he’d stepped outside and neither of you had been in the closer part of the garden a sense of unease had washed over him. Then he’d heard you shout and raced around a corner to see you pushing at the Baron as he held you against the wall, trying to violate you.

He’d barely been able to restrain himself when he saw that, only daring to separate you and check that you were alright. But then the Baron had started to spew his hurtful, cruel words and his resolve had crumbled. He’d had to make sure you were safe. He’d needed it like air.

Upon getting you inside, he’d told himself that he would just double check that you were alright and then leave, but then he’d seen the bruise on your neck and you’d tried to placate him with talk of trying to find a new suitor and he’d lost any sense of decorum. 

There would be no other husband, no grand house and pension, because you were his. You were his oxygen - his sunlight. His joy and his misery and his desire all rolled into one. So he’d kissed you, almost no better than the Baron, but then you’d kissed him back. Clung to him. You’d made it plain that you wanted him too, first with your actions and then your words.

Mentally calling himself a fool, Bucky spun you around and tugged at the closure of your dress, the multitude of tiny buttons that held it together flying across the room. He didn’t care, though. He could buy you a new dress. A thousand new dresses. He eased the open neckline over your shoulders and pushed the multiple layers of silk down your frame. Taking your hand, he helped you step out of the froth of fabric and you kicked off your slippers at the same time with a giggle that shot through him like a bolt of lightning. 

Bucky pulled you back to him with a groan and walked you towards the bed, laughing with you when you both tumbled onto it with a bounce. Your hands, so small and delicate, found his chest again, and he lent up and pulled his shirt over his head, watching you as your eyes darkened with desire as you took in what you saw. You traced your fingers over the definition of his abdominals and pectorals and Bucky shivered. 

“I want you, Your Majesty.” Your voice was low and breathy, and fuck did he just want to bury himself in you. Feast on you.

“Bucky,” he rasped. “Call me Bucky. There is no King here tonight.”

You came back together, kissing and touching and through it you both messily and awkwardly helped each other remove the rest of the clothes that separated you. As soon as your breasts were bared to him, Bucky couldn’t hold back, latching onto your puckered nipples, one after the other, drawing squeaks and moans from you, more intoxicating than any sounds he’d imagined in his private imaginings. 

His right hand skirted down your body, finding its way between your legs and you opened for him. He moaned around breast as he found your wetness and began to toy with you. Bucky teased your clit and stroked your folds, captivated by how more arousal spilled from you. When he slid a testing finger into you, you gripped his hair and arched into his hand, your soft mewl turning to a strangled gasp and he felt undeniably powerful, a small part of him, one he didn’t want to really acknowledge, feeling as though he was competing with the memory of his father. He was determined to erase it. After tonight there would only be him.

When Bucky added a second finger into your warm channel and circled his thumb on your clit, you whimpered his name. Not ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Sire’, but ‘Bucky’ as he’d asked you. He lifted his head and rose back up your body, capturing your lips and swallowing your cries as he drove you higher and higher. Your hands now clutched his shoulders, your short, manicured nails digging into him, using him as an anchor, lest you float away into the ether. He felt your body quiver beneath him as you neared the precipice of your pleasure and then the next second you were tumbling over it, your body spasming around his fingers, your mouth drawing all the oxygen from his lungs into your own.

Bucky kissed you through it, slowing his hand before pulling it away slowly. He shifted on the bed, kneeling between your limp legs, and as you watched him with hooded, lust filled eyes, he brought his fingers to his mouth and tasted your essence. He groaned as he did so, promising himself that he would drink directly from your source soon, but he couldn’t hold back his desire to fully claim you any longer. 

As his hand dropped to his cock, your eyes followed it, and you took your first real look at him. He couldn’t help but smile as your eyes widened and you tentatively raised your own hand towards his erection. He took hold of it and wrapped it around his length, marvelling at how your fingers didn’t meet. Your gaze flicked between his face and his cock, unsure which you wanted to watch. However, after a few minutes it was too torturous, and he repositioned himself to kiss you again and run his cock between your wet folds. Your hips rolled beneath him as you let out small whimpers of need and desire and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Bucky reached between you, lined himself up and sank into your warmth.

The cry of ecstasy you let out caught him by surprise and he looked down into your eyes. The truth shone out of them as you pulled in breath after ragged breath, your body struggling to adjust to his size, despite what he’d done to you only minutes before. He couldn’t really process it, but an animalistic part of him howled in pleasure at the realisation that you’d been untouched and consumed any remaining restraint.

Bucky snapped his hips, watching in awe as your eyes rolled in your head and the breath was pushed from your lungs. It was an addictive sight and he thrust into you again and again, unable to stop, needing to see your reaction. You clutched his biceps as he braced himself, your head thrown back and he never wanted to see you any other way - debauched and ruined on his cock. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Can you touch yourself for me, sweetheart?”

You mumbled incoherently but did as he’d asked, your hand moving between you, and Bucky knew when you’d found your centre from the way you clenched around him. He groaned at the sensation and let it spur him on. He dipped his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts and when you let out a wail he knew he’d found the right spot.

“That’s it, beautiful. Come apart for me. Come on my cock.” 

You screamed and spasmed around him and his rational brain knew he should pull out and spill himself over the sheets, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t not have this. He cried out, throwing back his own head, and surrendered to the inevitable.

It took you a while to come back to yourself, because what you’d just experience was so different from what you’d been told about. The King - Bucky - was cuddled up behind you, his arms holding you close and his nose pressed into your hair, dozing. You turned in his embrace and his long, dark eyelashes fluttered open.

“Hi,” you breathed cautiously, unsure of how you should be acting. However, when he softly smiled at you, you felt your heart leap inside your chest.

“Hello, yourself.” He dropped a gentle kiss to your lips and you smiled in return and relaxed. He was obviously content to stay in your private, intimate bubble for at least a short time more and you were more than happy to indulge him. You didn’t want to think about how you’d feel when this ended, it would hurt too much.

Pushing yourself up onto one elbow you looked down at him and idly traced invisible designs across his chest with your finger tip.

“So, Bucky, huh? Where does that come from?” 

He chuckled at your teasing tone. “From my sister, Princess Rebecca. Or as I call her, Becca-Boo or Sprout. My second name is Buchanan, and when she was learning to talk she couldn’t say it. Whenever she said ‘Bucky’ it would make me laugh, so she kept doing it and then refused to call me anything else. Then my mother picked it up, because if she called me James, Becca would stamp her foot and tell her off. And I liked it. It helped me separate the two parts of myself - Bucky, the normal man with normal wants, desires and hobbies etcetera, and James, heir to the throne, with duties and responsibilities who has to keep himself apart from those around him.”

There was a melancholy tone to his words, and you couldn’t help but bend down and press a light kiss to his lips. “Well I like Bucky.”

He brought his hand up to the nape of your neck, returning the kiss, and you wished that reality could just stay firmly outside for the rest of time.

When Bucky broke the kiss, he looked up at you with searching eyes.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked quietly and you immediately knew what he was talking about. You shrugged one shoulder.

“Does it matter? Would it have changed what just happened between us? Would you have thought differently of me?”

“No, it wouldn’t have changed what just happened, but I won’t lie and say I wouldn’t have treated you differently. I thought harshly of you, driven by jealousy. How could I allow myself to like you, desire you, when you had lain with my father? I was jealous of a ghost for having claimed you first, and I hated myself for feeling that way. That was why I acted coldly to you when we conversed in the solar. What you said. You made it sound as if you’d enjoyed being with him and ugly thoughts filled my head.” Bucky’s brow furrowed as he spoke and you itched to smooth out the lines that formed there.

“Well, it isn’t really the done thing to speak out loud about the King’s impotence,” you pointed out. “Especially with his own son. I was trying to answer truthfully, but without going into detail. And I suppose I did enjoy spending time with him. He may not have been the type of father you wished, or the husband your mother wanted, but he was still a man. We’d talk, mostly. I like to think that I gave him some comfort and companionship. I can’t say that I’m unhappy about the way things turned out.” You looked at him coyly from under your lashes and he laughed.

“You liked being claimed by me? You wanton wretch,” he teased.

“It was definitely different, and much better, than what I’d been led to believe.” He growled playfully, and in one deft move rose up and pushed you back to the mattress, caging you in with his arms. You brought your hand up and brushed the back of it over his cheek. “If I’m going to be a concubine, I’m glad that I’m yours.”

At your words, Bucky reared back, as if you’d slapped him and you immediately started to apologise. “I’m sorry, Sire. I shouldn’t have presumed…” Shame and guilt washed over you at how far you’d sunk into your daydream, and you fought your way out of the sheets. Rising from the bed, you found your shift in the heap of clothing on the floor and pulled it over your head. “I will leave you to your dressing and wait for instructions from Master Coulson later.” You bobbed a curtsey and turned toward the door, your hand reaching for the handle, eager to put space between you.

“Stop!” His command made you freeze mid step, your arm lowering back to your side. In a moment he was behind you, his hands firmly gripping your upper arms.

“You are not my concubine. I never wanted one, and I won’t start now.” He spun you, and when you didn’t raise your head, staring instead at a freckle near his collarbone, he tucked a finger under your chin and made you look at him. “You deserve more than that, my darling.” His tone softened. “You will be my wife. That is, if you will have me?”

You looked at him in shock. “What? How can I be your wife? You are the King and I am, well, just me.”

“And as the King, I can do what I want. And for anyone who gets pedantic about your previous status, there is precedent. Concubines have been turned into Queens before.”

You pulled yourself from his hold, raising your arms up in confusion. “You do not need to speak of marriage, just because you have bedded me and do not want a concubine.”

“This is not solely because we have lain together, sweet fool. I love you.”

His words made you stop and you wondered if you’d misheard, but he continued. 

“I fear I have done since I first laid eyes on you. And I just hope that maybe you can learn to love me too. Bucky, that is. Not just James, your King.” He reached out imploringly toward you. You looked back at him and then at his hand, before accepting it as you stepped forward, a broad smile making its way across your face.

“Learn to love you? That implies that I don’t already. How could I not, even if you were being grumpy and contrary.”

He wrapped you up in his embrace and looked down at you, eyes full of mischief. “Contrary? Is that anyway to speak to your King?”

“It is how a Queen speaks to her husband,” you joked back.

“Is that so? Then I must make you my Queen as soon as possible.” He closed the remaining distance between you, kissing you with vigour before lifting you and returning you both to the bed.

“However, nothing can be done until tomorrow. Whatever shall we do until then?” he drawled with mock innocence.

“I have a few ideas, Your Majesty,” you replied, mimicking his tone.

He shook his head. “Bucky, remember?”

“Bucky,” you agreed.

The End

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @sonatabee-blog, @goldylions, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @apenny4thots, @crayongirl-linz, @mrs-illyrian-baby, @wheezy-stucky, @km-ffluv

[sarahowritesostucky]

Alpha, Beta (& Omega) Masterlist

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: a/b/o, arranged marriage, domestic discipline, spanking, head of household, dom/sub elements, alpha Steve, beta Bucky, hurt/comfort, wedding night, alternate history, nobility/royalty au, Edwardian time period, m/f/m poly marriage, enemies to lovers

Summary: To save House Barnes from scandalous ruin, eldest son James must agree to a contracted marriage, accepting Lord Senator Steven Rogers as his Alpha, Husband, and Headship.

A contract of engagement. (Word count: 1066) Teen

A most untoward introduction. (Word count: 2368) Mature

A wedding eve's dinner. (Word count: 1619) Teen

A late morning wedding. (Word count: 1862) Teen

A wedding night. (Word Count 2411) Explicit

A honeymoon. (Word Count 2976) Teen

A honeymoon, cont'd. (Word Count: 3536) Mature

A consummation. (Word Count: 2817) Explicit

A fever (Word Count: 3619) Mature

A consummation, cont'd (Word count: 2928) Explicit

A school reunion (Word count 3449) Teen

A sojourn in London (Word count 2010) Teen

A public scene (Word count 3617) Teen

A Headship's rebuke (Word count 3627) Teen

A dream, a visit, a game (Word count 4823) Explicit

A tour of the continent (Word count 5652) Explicit

A homecoming (Word count 4286) Explicit

A settling In (Word count 5616) Teen

A courtship (Word count 3201) Explicit

An Inquiry (Word count 6883) Explicit

Masterlist

@openup-yourmind

[cricket-mound]

godamn what I wouldn’t do for a stucky resurgence rn ,,, psst psst ,,, pst

[hail-americas-ass]

And on my breast you may carve a turtle dove, To signify I died of love.

This was written as a beyond belated New Year's gift for @kestrafagnor, @amarriageoftrueminds, @16woodsequ, and @dontcallmebree. Without their hilarious input in this post, this fic would never have left my Google Docs.

Link here.

In which, comedy and tragedy are rolled into a one-shot featuring: the bitterly cold Hanukkah of 1944, the Howling Commandos & the Gayest Coverup in Modern History™, a Californian pickpocket, and Steve's dread which only grows as the war progresses and the passage of time steadily brings him closer to losing the man he loves.

[marvelobsessed134]

Season of the witch

This is part of my spooky summer series! You can find the masterlist on the pinned post on my page!

Sorry this took so long but here we are!

Parings: Judge!Bucky Barnes x Witch!Reader

Warnings: 1600s!au, Salem witch trials, historical inaccuracy, unbalanced power dynamics, sex in exchange for freedom, teasing, and I think that’s it.

You sat in your cell alone and sighed. You were going to be hung tomorrow for all to see. It was sad, really. But you didn’t have a choice. The witchcraft rumors were true so, here you are.

You looked down at your dress. At least it was nice looking. Your hair resting on your shoulder in a braid. Hearing footsteps approaching you looked up to find none other than Bucky Barnes, your town’s main judge for the court. And for these executions.

“You’re not supposed to execute me till tomorrow.” You stated matter of factly as you stood up fast, as soon as he was approaching your cell.

“I know. That’s what I came to talk to you about.”

“What? Are you going to let me have a last meal? If so I’d like a buttered toast with-“

“Silence!” He shouted. His shouts echoed through the empty jail. Yeah, so you got caught after all the other women who were accused met their fate. So you’re the only one here.

You shut your mouth immediately.

He unlocked the cell door and stepped inside, stalking towards you before pinning you against the wall. Your corset feeling a little more tighter than usual, your tits popping up right into his chest.

“Let me have you, and you can walk away free.”

You gulped, trying to ignore the feeling between your legs, “Really? You promise?”

“Yes, my dear. I promise.” And he pressed his lips against yours. You moaned into the kiss as you kissed back, feeling his bulge against your crotch. The brunette moved his arms behind you and roughly pulled your corset apart, tossing it on the stone floor and immediately taking your tits in his hands.

He sucked and bit your sensitive buds making your moans echo through the empty space. “As soon as I saw you,” he whispered as he tweaked your nipples, “I knew you were too pretty to die.” You moaned as he continued to assault your nipples.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He hissed before lifting the skirt of your dress up and pulling down your undergarments.

He quickly took his cock out of his pants and teasingly rubbed the tip against your entrance. “Please.” You begged.

Bucky smirked, “Yeah? You want it?”

“Please Judge Barnes.”

That got him to slide inside of your wet cunt as he filled you to the brim. “Oh fuck! You’re so tight!” The brunette groaned as he thrusted in and out of you, gripping your hips tightly. You gripped onto his shoulders, your nails digging into the skin.

You were both moaning messes as he repeatedly hit your g spot. Bucky started to rub your clit with his thumb as he fucked you, sending you over the edge. “I’m almost there!” You cried.

“Yeah? You gonna cum darling?” He teased as he moved faster and faster, till you clenched around his cock and squirted all over him. It didn’t take long for him to finish as well, shooting his hot load inside of you.

Once he pulled out you immediately put your undergarments back on and he tucked his cock back in his pants. He caressed your face lovingly before giving you a passionate kiss, “Don’t worry, my love. You’ll be out of here by the morning.”

[th3sungod]

i personally love bucky's long hair.

yeah, you could say he likes it short because Hydra practically forced him to grow it out -- but it was his.

Say it reminded him of his mom or sister. He used to always get complements on it, its softness or how the darkness of it brought out his eyes. He used to put various, albeit rudimentary, hare care with Becca, cause some girls seemed to like the texture enough. He kept it cut for the military, but you couldn't really keep too clean on the front lines and hydra gave him a single bar of soap on days they were generous.

So, right after, when he finally broke free from hydra after pulling Steve out of the water, he washed his hair. It wasn't too hard to find a half decent motel with an empty room, and take something from the nearest corner store. He used the soap bar to lather his hair, before taking a comb, and running it though.

The shower was warm for a lot longer than he expected, and hotter than what he could ever remember -- granted, any memories were fuzzy at best.

When he got out, having after cleaned himself and nearly scrubbed his skin raw as if trying to erase 70 years of grime, he did nothing further than sit on the bed. He wanted to let his hair dry. Back before, Becca would've rushed to use their hair dryer that she'd bought with her own savings -- 'all of her friends had it' -- but Becca had always been better at getting it all. Whenever he'd tried using it, it just became knotted and still wet in some places.

Waiting would've felt like forever if he didn't completely zone out. he didn't know when he'd gotten good at that, really, but he blinked once and his hair was mostly dry

It wasn't soft, it wasn't like it used to be, but it made him feel a bit better. he knew, in the back of his mind, Becca was long since dead, but it made him feel close to her in a way. he felt less like a weapon and more like a person, with his hair clean and dry. on his terms and standards.

and later, after spending time in the 21st century with a gracious princess and a king helping with neutralizing the pounding words in his mind, calling for blood, violence, and a mission well done, he starts with making his hair something he can be proud of, again. besides steve, it's all he has left of the old century, and he doesn't want to loose it.

the princess generously gives him different oils, tonics, liquid shampoos, and things she says would be good to use. He does, and he loves it.

___

okay but like actually tho i think bucky would have the prettiest long hair if he didn't decide to cut it, and he'd have like twenty products alone for it.he just kind of strikes me as that kind of person. ( like in the same way tony definitely has like a ton of those beard oils and brushes and stuff ) <3333

also sorry if this is a little ramble-y i just love this idea and wanted to talk about it :))

[stuckygeekevents]

To participate in this event, it is required that you join our discord server.

We are so excited to share our first Halloween event in our new home. This is bound to be such a fun collaboration, and we'd love to have you be a part of it!

[drgrlfriend]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kidn3ybeanz]

Red Warrior - Bucky Barnes x Super Soldier! Reader (2)

Chapter Two: A good-looking woman in uniform

It had been a week since Bucky had left for London and it wasn’t any easier on Y/n. Steve had followed him shortly after and God knows where he had been shipped out to, she couldn't bear the thought of it. At least he finally got what he wanted, Y/n reassuringly thought to herself. They were both gone now and soon she’d join them with her own mission.

Janie, her sister, had cried when Y/n told her what she was going to do. She liked to think that they may have been tears of happiness as Y/n was finally being recognised for the talent she'd possessed for years. Janie had never been quiet about how good she was as a nurse, how she could've done much better if it wasn't a man's world - but now that Y/n was going to be drafted out, she was proud to be able to go and tell her friends that she was the sister of one of the first ranked women in uniform - regardless of the fact that Y/n had repeatedly reminded her that the ranks weren't finalised seeing as though her superiors were still fighting the government for equal ranking (which she hoped they'd win...mostly so she could shove her rank in Bucky's face).

She continued packing up her things, not bothering to bring too much with her as she knew she wouldn’t have time for unnecessary things when she got to her new job. Given her experience, she assumed her job would just be a more advanced version of what she already did now - patching up the wounded and tending to the sick. She didn't see the point in bringing many clothes with her either seeing as though she'd either be stuck in the itchy khaki skirt-suit combination that made up her uniform, her medical uniform, or her pyjamas.

Y/n checked the clock, noticing she had fifteen minutes until her cab arrived and went over to her suitcase, pulling out the uniform that matched Bucky’s own that he’d taken her out in. She smoothed her fingers over the lapels, the service patches, the gold buttons, the name tag – this was as close as she would get to being a real soldier. Her name was pinned to her left breast pocket and smiled. L/n. It looked good on the jacket. Above it was her unit badge, the nurse's one. The arms were bare but perhaps they would be covered soon.

She would be made a second lieutenant if they got the ranks. It was the lowest of the ranks the nurses would have but nevertheless, she knew she would have some authority. She suspected she could hold rank over Bucky too – although she wasn’t too sure how the system worked for the nurses as they would probably change it but wished she could see his face as she rubbed her insignia in his face.

Y/n put the uniform back in her case, double-checking to make sure she had everything. She closed the case and clipped it shut just as she heard the honking of the taxi’s horn outside. It was early. With a slam and lock of the door, she made her way to her new job, scared and excited about what it could hold.

The taxi outside was driven by another soldier. He looked no older than twenty and had quite a slim build with lightly toned muscles. He had thick, brown locks hidden underneath a pointed hat and he smiled politely at her. She watched as he quickly got out of the car to place her bag in the trunk, and then opened the door for her and waited until she had slid in to close it behind her. Y/n leaned back against the soft leather of the car and waited for him to begin to drive. He started the engine and they were off. He drove in silence for a while until he caught her eye through the mirror.

“This must be big for you, ma’am.” She had to double-take at the name. Ma’am. It made her feel old but in a good way – like she was respected. It was usually miss or madam but ma’am seemed so proper and formal.

“Yes, very.” She replied, watching as the town she grew up in whisked past her. She’d barely ever left Brooklyn, never mind New York. “How far will this trip be?” Y/n asked politely, fumbling with the sleeves of her coat.

“Just over two hours, ma’am.” It wasn’t as long as she thought. She thanked him and continued to look out of the window for a while. “Ma’am, if you don’t mind my asking, what is your job? I was only told this morning I had to pick someone up of great importance.”

Great importance? Her? She was just a nurse. She flushed at his question and thought for a moment.

“I’m a…nurse?” He seemed to droop at her answer, obviously expecting some dangerous title that he could brag about to the boys back at base. “I don’t know why they brought you all the way out here, sir, but I’m not that special.” He looked at her through the mirror again and his smile seemed to melt all of her worries away.

“Well, ma’am you must be important to make them drive out here to pick you up, and please call me Private Smithson, I’m not really a high enough rank to be referred to as sir.” She was important…The thought warmed her up. It seemed narcissistic but she liked the fact she was so relevant that someone took the liberty to drive her out to the base instead.

“I’m not really a high enough rank to be called Ma’am, private, so I’ll call you what you want but drop the title hm? Y/n is fine.” He let out a small laugh and agreed to her terms and for the rest of the ride, they both sat in a comfortable silence. The smooth road beneath the car sent Y/n off into a dreamless sleep and when she woke, the car had stopped completely.

“We’re here ma- Miss Y/n.” She glared at the use of a title but still thanked him, opening the door of the car and climbing out. The air felt different here, they were in the middle of nowhere and behind her, she heard the chants of men running in unison as they trained. She really was here. Private Smithson brought her bag to her side and told her to follow him to his commander. She followed his orders and he led her to a building near where she saw a group of soldiers training. As she entered the room, she looked around in awe at how it was laid out. There were a few tables littered about the room and a desk in which a young secretary, typing something onto a typewriter. The private walked up to her and began talking and Y/n realised he was flirting with her.

He was like Bucky, she thought to herself, mentally cursing at the fact her mind seemed to keep bringing her back to her friend. She watched as the receptionist blushed and coughed before standing and running out of the room to find someone. The private walked back to her with the remnants of a grin and she rolled her eyes.

“You boys are all the same.” She shook her head, causing him to blush slightly and they waited again in silence until an elderly man came through the doors behind the lady from the desk. Y/n noticed the number of medal colours on his chest, took in his older appearance and realised she was about to speak to the man in charge. Both she and the private subconsciously straightened up and Y/n hoped she looked all right. Private Smithson saluted him and the man saluted back before nodding for him to leave. The private smiled at her once more before turning and leaving.

“You must be Miss L/n,” he started, motioning for her to follow him. She followed his command and he led her to a large office. Inside, there were medals on the walls and pictures on the desk and there was a name bar situated right so anyone could see; Colonel Phillips. “Tell me, Miss L/n, do you know why you’re here?”

“I believe it’s to nurse the wounded, colonel?” It was a guess, she still hadn’t been told of her duties and it was cutting a little too close to her starting day for her to not know. He let out a dry chuckle and walked behind his desk, grunting a little as he lowered himself into the chair. He motioned once more with his hand for her to sit and she did so, dropping her suitcase at her side so it leant against the chair.

“It’s more than that, this is a special branch of the army, we call it the S.S.R – the Strategic Scientific Reserve.” He told her, watching her with his aged eyes. It was like she could see the battles he’d fought through his eyes alone, they looked tired but full of life at the same time. Why was she here? She wondered. The fact she was just a nurse rang through her head but she dared not ask him, fearing he would quickly grow angry at her insistency that she was nothing more than her job. “It’s our job to come up with new ways to win the war using…different methods. This is why we’ve brought you in.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t believe I follow you, Colonel.” There was nothing she could do to help, she wasn’t a warrior, she was a healer. He let out another dry chuckle and reached inside of his desk to pull out some papers. He laid them flat on the table so she could see and Y/n quickly realised they were her records from both high school and all the jobs she’d had since.

“We’ve been following you for a while, L/n, you’re a smart girl.” He sifted through the pile of papers to a chart of her scores through every test she’d ever taken. “Smart enough that we are, or should I say Doctor Erskine is, asking specifically for your help in creating the new line of super soldiers.”

Y/n paled. What the hell were super soldiers? The colonel continued to tell her about their plan and she could only take half of it in, the other part of her brain was on overdrive. They knew about her results, they knew about her tests, her projects through high school…how? She’d barely used her knowledge on those subjects since she graduated, instead choosing to focus on her nursing abilities to pursue a career in it. It was like a slap in the face to know that all this time someone had been watching her like she was important.

“So, miss L/n, are you interested?” He finally asked and she shook herself from her inner thoughts, thinking hard on the question. She could help win the war, she could bring her boys home…She nodded, shaking the colonel’s hand and he smiled at her. “Good, now then, I suppose you should meet your new team?”

+++

“Agent Carter.” Colonel Phillips called over the field as they walked towards the mass of bulky men. Y/n expected one of them to turn to the colonel but was pleasantly surprised when a uniformed woman came from behind them and walked over. She saluted to him and he returned it before motioning to you. “This is Miss Y/n L/n, the new nurse for Project Rebirth.” The woman smiled at her and Y/n couldn’t help but take in how gorgeous she was.

“Hello, lovely to meet you,” The English accent shocked her. She expected something as strong as the Colonel’s or maybe even a New Jersey accent but the accent she held seemed to fit her perfectly. “Please, call me Peggy.”

“Nice to meet you, Peggy, I’m Y/n.” Y/n raised her hand to the woman and she shook it politely before turning back to the men she was with and barking out an order for them to take a lap. The colonel said his goodbyes and left the two of them alone.

“I’ll get someone to take care of your bags,” She pointed to the large case Y/n had been carrying since she arrived and she thanked the British woman. “Now, let’s take you to the doctor, hmm?” She called for a soldier nearby to take her case and he immediately was at her side, taking the bag towards the barracks. She led her away from the training area into another building and Y/n sighed in silent content causing the English woman to look to her. “Can I just say that it’s nice to have another uniformed woman on this base?” She asked, pointing her finger between them. Peggy let out a laugh that sounded melodic and Y/n looked at her like she was a goddess. How could one woman be so perfect?

“Yes, I have to say, it does help combat all of the testosterone that wafts through.” They laughed together until they reached the laboratory at the end of the hallway. She pushed the door open for Y/n and let her enter before closing it behind her.

Y/n felt the hairs on her arms prickle at the sudden drop in temperature. It was cold inside and she shivered. The lab itself was huge and there were various machinery and apparatus spread throughout the room with some men in lab coats dotted around. One of them was Erskine and he smiled when he saw her, placing his vial onto the table.

“Ah! Miss Y/n, so good to see you!” He enveloped her in a hug and Y/n stiffened at the contact. She slowly patted his back and he let go, grabbing her by the arms. “How was your trip? All well?” He asked with concern and she nodded slowly.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Good, good, I see you have met Agent Carter.” Both of them turned their attention to Miss Carter who was still standing by the door. Her red lips smiled at the doctor before she turned to Y/n.

“Yes we’ve become acquainted, I’d best let you get to work but you know where to find me.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and left the room.

“Ah Miss Carter, always so busy. Come-“ He pulled Y/n towards a rack with lab coats on it and urged her to remove her coat to replace it with the white variant. She did and placed her coat on the hanger next to it.

“What exactly will I be doing here?” She asked as he pulled her once more over to the vial he was previously working on.

“In...simple terms, you will be my assistant. We must find a suitable candidate, administer my serum correctly and then, if the transformation is completed successfully....we will recreate it many times until we have an army.” He said simply as if he expected it to just be a normal thing for her to hear. Y/n was still reeling from the whole story the Colonel had told her so she just went along with it. Before long, she was working on the solution in the vial with the doctor, telling him her opinions on the dosages and amounts of each chemical inside.

It felt right to her. Like a superior part of her brain was rebooting and she could finally use the knowledge she’d suppressed for so long. Erskine found himself smiling at the child-like smile Y/n made when she read over his notes, she was like a kid in Candy Land and he could tell she hadn’t had the chance to do things like this before.

“Why did you choose nursing?” He asked her as she read through his plan of how they would simulate the muscle growth, she added her own ideas in pencil and was deep in thought when he asked her.

“I have a friend who would often get into trouble, you met him, Steve.” The doctor nodded at her words, “That and it was the only medical thing I could really do.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, she was an intelligent woman who clearly knew what she was doing so why did she stop at nursing?

“I don’t know how things work in Germany, doctor, but here…there were sort of expectations for women. I had to pass up a lot of my dreams as the doors weren’t open for me.”

“I am... sorry to hear that.” She felt the sadness in his voice. Erskine knew that women had generally fewer chances of success but to see it first-hand, such a smart girl was limited because of who she was. “Are you unhappy because of it?” Y/n stopped her note-taking for a second and paused. She slowly brought her eyes up to meet her new superior’s and shook her head after a few moments.

“No,” she stated, causing him to frown in confusion. “I was happy with nursing. I could help the two boys who meant the most to me while helping others around my city when they were in pain.”

“A very respectable outlook on your situation, I admire that.” He told her honestly and she hid a blush at his praise. The doctor rolled his sleeve to read the time and gasped. “Ah, Mr Stark will be here soon to go through his side of the work, we should look through the files before you help me assess the candidates tomorrow.”

He passed Y/n some thick manilla folders and she sifted through them, reading about men who were top of their class in their groups, had reached peak fitness level and were good with orders. Some were handsome and she had to stop herself drooling at their pictures of their bare chests from the physical analyses. As she continued through the pile, a name shocked her to her core, he couldn’t be here. How? How could he have gotten into this project when even the normal army wouldn’t take him on?

“Steve is here?” She asked quietly, trying to contain her shock. Doctor Erskine laughed quietly and nodded, she opened his file and began reading it, stroking her finger over the photo of him. He finally made it. Her chest swelled with pride as she looked over his forms and noted the bold black ‘1-A’ stamped onto his card. “Why?”

“I found something in him that I have yet to see in most of the men that pass through this base,” he took the folder from her and pulled out a slip from behind his medical records, it was a handwritten note signed by him and as she read, she realised it was a personal recommendation from him for her best friend. “Your own description of him helped me choose him as my preferred choice and I believe he could be the final candidate.”

She’d helped him. She’d helped Steve achieve the one thing he wanted most in the world; a chance to fight for his country. She should have been scared; scared about the testing; scared of the chances he wouldn’t come out of the war or even the tests themselves alive. The only negative feeling she felt was that sisterly worry that had always presided over her when it came to him. She’d practically raised him with his mother after his dad died in the war, now who was she going to care for? She had her nursing sure, but, was she even a nurse now?

“Are you worried for him?” He asked, noting her silence as Y/n stared hard at the photo in the folder. It was one that she hadn’t seen before, taken on his first day on the base in his uniform. She smiled fondly at the picture and turned to her new boss.

“No, not as much as I should be,” She imagined him pushing through even the hardest tasks available to him as he fought to prove himself. “He’s doing what he’s worked so hard to do. I’m happy for him.” Doctor Erskine hummed in response and checked his watch again. Any minute now and Howard would be joining them, he felt rather excited to see the two communicate; perhaps they would get along. He’d briefly seen how Y/n had dealt with Bucky’s subtle flirting the night they had met and secretly hoped she would be able to knock him into line. Howard was a good scientist but he could be a pain in the ass.

Y/n tore herself away from Steve’s folder finally and went back to checking the stats of the other candidates, after she’d read through them all she placed them back onto the doctor's desk and turned back to the notes she’d been making.

There was a brisk knock on the door and Doctor Erskine waddled over to it, leaving her be. She closed the notebook fully now, she guessed it was time to finally meet the man who would be helping her change the world. The door opened and she heard the German doctor speaking to someone before a thick American accent cut him off with a laugh and some kind of jokey comment. Y/n thought back to the Expo only a week ago and marvelled at the fact she’d be working with someone as smart as him. She really was in the big leagues now. She waited for a moment until the doors closed again and two footsteps made their way back to her. Y/n was met face-to-face with the man with the flying car. He looked almost the same except his posh-looking suit and top hat had been replaced with a more casual pair of tweed suit pants, a neutral shirt and tie and brown suspenders to hold it all together.

“Y/n, right?” Howard asked as he walked over to the desk that she was stationed at. She smiled and nodded and he let out a charming grin, stretching out his hand so she could shake it. When she clasped her hand in his, he pulled it to him and kissed it softly, his gaze never leaving her own eyes.

Dear god. All of her nausea of being surrounded by such intelligence went right out the window. He was a flirt. She snaked her hand back and wiped it on her coat jacket, revelling in the slightly shocked appearance of the genius in front of her. He quickly shook off the loss and plastered that same smirk he’d had the whole time he was on stage that night and moved back.

“Howard Stark, I’ve heard lots about you.”

“All good things I hope?” He stepped closer to her again in an attempt to flirt and she watched as his moustache quivered as his lips rose into a sultry smirk. He was lathering it on thick, this man could not deal with not being able to get the girl straight away. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes into the back of her head, she walked around to the opposite side of the table, catching the ghost of a smile on Erskine’s face as he watched the scene play out.

“So, Doctor,” She started, completely ignoring the attention-seeking playboy that now feigned offence at her change in topic, “Where should we start?”

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