#king!steve rogers x reader fanfiction

[justiceiswater]

It’s not a punch in the face, but it’s pretty darn close! A good ole’ one-two from Thor and reader! He is gonna be so wrecked when they refuse him entry into her rooms. And I think some suffering on his part will do them good!

Pseudo Princess Pt.12

A Special Delivery

10/26/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader         Word Count: 5,520

Warnings: talk of sex, angst, jealousy, violent images, language

A/N: I will come back and add tags after I eat. I’m hungry. And tags take forever. This one will answer a few of the questions I’ve been getting. The next one will answer more. I hope you like it. Let me know what you all think! I read EACH and EVERY comment. There have been a lot lately and I haven’t been able to respond to all of them but be aware that I see them. I read them. I love them. They mean so much. Thank you! If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work.

Tags are CLOSED for this story!

Keep reading

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the ravenous rupture

fused with the foe, chapter five

a/n: and that's it for fused with the foe! but don't you worry, our wonderful king and queen will return in both of the next instalments of the series ♡ (the release date for the next one is already up on the masterlist)

summary: “I don’t want you to think we have to have a conventional marriage, gods know we haven’t so far,” he added with a tilt of his head, “so, I just wanted to convey to you that if you ever want to be with someone else, at any degree, then you have my full support to do so.” 

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, smut, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, love confession, crying, kissing, loss of virginity, semi-public sex, manhandling, size kink, belly bulge, dirty talk, oral, fingering, handjob, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, aftercare

word count: 3895

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Raising yourself up onto your tip toes, your fingertip still didn’t even manage to graze the spine of the tome you were trying to reach, only the tall shelf it stood on. 

But just then, before you could turn to get a chair to balance on, an inked hand came into view and grasped the book for you. 

“The Biology of Soil: A Farmer’s Comprehensive Study of Dirt,” Barnes dryly read the title out loud, “sounds absolutely riveting.”

“Don’t mock,” you snatched the leatherbound tome out of the knight’s hand, “it is interesting!”

“Of course, it is, your majesty,” he bit down a chuckle, “my apologies.”

A soft laugh couldn’t help but bubble out of you as you exited the library, “you know, you remind me a lot of my brothers.”

Walking at your side, he shot you a squint, “is that a compliment?”

“Well, I meant it as so, but I guess it could also be interpreted as an insult, all depending on which brother.”

Sinking further back into the plush armchair, your eyes danced from star to star as they glinted back at you through the big library window. 

The full moon was so bright that you hadn’t needed to light a candle in order to make out the sentences in the open book that rested in your lap. 

But suddenly, the creak of the heavy double doors to the chamber found your ears and when you twisted your head to discover who it was, your frame immediately sprung up from your comfortable seat. The forgotten tome tumbled to the floor with a dull thump as the embroidered dressing gown you wore over your ivory chemise fluttered around your legs as you swiftly stood.

“Your majesty–, Steve, I mean, Steve,” you clumsily corrected yourself, “hi, hello.”

“Evening,” he simply smiled, slowing his stride as he watched you bend down to pick the hardback off the floor. 

Hugging the book to your chest, you blew out a breath, “what–, uh…” you eyed the loose linen shirt he had sloppily tugged into his trousers, “what are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugged, “thought a boring novel might do the trick,” letting his fingertips kiss the ends of each bookcase as he neared you by the window, “what about you?”

“Yeah, I can’t sleep either,” a soft sigh flowed from your lips, “my mind just doesn’t seem to wanna settle down these days…”

A gentle furrow appeared to Steve’s brow, “what’s troubling you?”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” you placed the book down on the round side table by the armchair. 

“If it’s keeping you up then it’s not nothing,” gripping the tall back of the chair, he rested against it as he gazed at your visage in the moonlight, “come on, you can talk to me.”

The knot in your chest tightened, “no, I can’t,” and you averted your gaze to the stone floor, “I really can’t…”

“Why?” 

“Because–…” clenching your jaw in an effort to keep tears at bay, you briefly shot him a glare as you snapped, “because I just can’t, alright?” squeezing your eyes shut, you quietly muttered just beneath your breath, “gods… how long will I have to wait…” 

Having apparently had better hearing than you’d thought, Steve then queried, “wait for what?”

Fluttering your eyes back open, you met his gaze and uttered sombrely, “…for it to pass…” feeling your heart thump painfully in your chest just from the mere sight of him. 

A low sigh slowly seeped out of his lungs before his unwavering gaze averted to the upholstery of the chair, “…I hope you know that I’ve grown to care for you a great deal. You’re a very dear friend,” he uttered with the utmost sincerity, “and as a dear friend, I wish for you nothing but the purest of happiness. I want you to experience all of the great and wonderful things that life has to offer,” his ocean eyes then drifted back up to catch yours, “don’t let our union hold you back for any of that.”

Sucking in a breath, you asked, “what do you mean?”

“I don’t want you to think we have to have a conventional marriage, gods know we haven’t so far,” he added with a tilt of his head, “so, I just wanted to convey to you that if you ever want to be with someone else, at any degree, then you have my full support to do so.” 

Averting your gaze, “…is that what you want?” you dug your nails into your opposite palm, “for us both to openly be with other people?”

“I don’t want you to be lonely and depressed,” fragments of desperation resonated in his tone, “you’ve already experienced more than one lifetime of hardships and I really don’t want this to be another one. So, when you fall in love, please don’t hesitate. You of all people deserve to experience that.” 

“…I–…” a shaky breath escaped you, “I can’t–…”

“…you can’t?” he echoed in nearly a whisper. 

“I can’t because–…” lifting your gaze, the library around you grew more blurry by the second, “because I can’t stop thinking about you,” you revealed, “from the moment that I wake to even the dreams that possess me at night. I can not shake you from my thoughts no matter how hard I try,” as you blinked, a tear escaped and rolled down your cheek, “Steve, I wish for you to experience those very joys you speak of just as fiercely. I just want you to be happy even if I’m not the source.”

Looking as if he was scarcely breathing at all, his gaze stayed fixed upon you as he uttered, “dove, why do you think I wish that for you?” your eyes grew wide at his confession, “I don’t wanna be with someone else when you are the one I want by my side,” his fingers faltered from the grip they had on the back of the armchair as his slow steps began to carry him closer to where you stood, “not just as my queen, but as my friend, as my conscience, as my judgement, as my heart,” his eyes glistened as he then declared, “I am yours, Y/n. I didn’t plan for it, I don’t even know when it happened or how, but I do know that it’s true.”

Closing the short distance that remained, you walked up and pulled him down as you began to rise up to your tip toes. As you crashed your lips against his, it didn’t take long before you felt his broad hands glide over your waist. 

Breaking the kiss, you retracted just enough to catch the beguiling look in his eye. The corners of his lips drew up dreamily just as yours did right before you dove back in.

As your fingers weaved in his beard, so did his tongue as it danced against your own, making you lightheaded as your feet began to shuffle back, though you didn’t realise that you’d even been moving till your spine crashed against a sturdy bookcase. 

Parting momentarily at the impact, a soft giggle swiftly followed your initial squeak the collision conjured. As his gentle chuckle echoed your own, Steve’s palm caressed down your features before he captured your lips once more. 

When the fire inside of you crackled and burned too hot for you to ignore, you pulled back, a glossy string of saliva still kept you connected a moment before you gasped, “Steve, I–… I–…”

Resting his palms over yours as they clutched the top of his tunic, he tilted his chin back further, “what?” creating enough of a distance between you to truly check in. 

But how you were going to ask of him what you desired remained a mystery, no matter how hard you scrambled your fuzzy mind. So instead, you wrapped your fingers around one of his wrists and slowly guided it lower. 

“Dove…” he sucked in a breath as his gaze shadowed the journey you were taking his touch on, “do you wanna–…” finding your eye, he asked you softly, “you sure you know what it is you’re asking for?” 

“Yes,” swiftly flowed out of you as you nodded dizzily, “I–… I know. I read the books, I read all of them, I know how it all works,” your rushed words conjured a lovely little chuckle from the royal, “I just–… please?” your hot breathed fanned across his features as he leaned back in close, “I–… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you…” with your fingers still enveloped around his wrist, his touch slowly began to take over and to move on its own, “fantasising about what you might be like…” unhurriedly ghosting up and down the curve of your waist, “about what your touch must feel like…” each time creeping closer and closer to where you wished for him to caress, “how it differs compared to my own…” till his teasing touch ended each fluttering swoop with feather-light grazes at both the swell of your tits, as well as the lower part of your abdomen, just before he actually reached anything real, through still leaving you utterly dazed. 

Leaning a forearm against the shelf behind you, he smirked, “…you think about me?” 

“Every night,” you dug your fingers in the fabric of your chemise and pleadingly began to hike it up, “sometimes the sun doesn’t even manage to set before I need a moment alone… all because of you.”

As he then captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his wandering hand dipped under your thin shift before you’d even raised the hem completely. When his touch found your buzzing pearl, a whimper slipped from your lungs and vibrated against his tongue as your grip on the fabric faltered and it dropped to hang around his wrist like a curtain.

“Is this how you dreamed about me touching you?” he gazed down at you, smiling at the way you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

Mind melting to ooze, you bubbled, “yes–, but also–, oh!” your brows knit together as he switched to circle your clit harder, “a-also–”

“Also how?” you could hear your want reverberate off the palace walls as he touched you, “did you dream about me kissing you down here?” holding your gaze, Steve then sank to his knees before you. 

Your breaths came in ragged as you blinked down at him, “y-yes,” watching intently as he dipped his head under your gathered-up skirts. The sloppy pecks he then lavishly began to plant over your glistening petals felt like nothing you’d ever imagined, “oh, that’s–,” you let out a broken moan, “don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Throwing your head back against the bookcase, Steve’s grip buried in your crumbled clothes as his soft tongue dragged through your desperation. 

Letting go of your chemise with one hand, it drifted down your hip. Enclosing his lips around your throbbing clit, he sucked down hard as his fingers joined to sweep through your mess, only parting from you for a breath, “gods, you taste so fucking good,” before he eased one digit inside your clenching cunt. 

You barely noticed that it was falling before the robe you wore slipped off your frame and tumbled to a puddle on the floor, leaving you with only the thin shift and the king’s hot kisses for warmth in the cold night. 

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” you whimpered, reaching down to thread your fingers in his honied hair as a second finger sneaked in beside the other, fucking you gently with them. 

You nearly wiggled out of his grasp when his luscious laps unravelled you completely, but somehow the monarch managed to follow your every squirm till he softened his efforts and replaced them with a few soft pecks over your sensitive clit that made your whole form twitch.

Fluttering your eyes open, you met his gaze as he raised the back of his hand to wipe some of your juices from his beard. 

Breathlessly, you uttered, “get up,” and as he did, you didn’t waste any time before your eyes drifted from his tender stare, “take your shirt off.” 

With one hand, he reached back and tugged the tunic off of his head, swiftly letting it drop to the floor and join the fabric puddle already at your feet. 

For a moment, he didn’t give in on his urge to close the short distance between you, simply stood there and let your stare study him, learn the galaxy of his flesh, every little mark and scar that told the story of his past. 

With your eyes still glued to the burliness of his fuzzy chest, you uttered, “tell me again,” before lifting your gaze up to meet his, “tell me again so that I know this is real.”

Reaching out to grasp your right hand, he said, “it’s real,” stepping closer as he placed your ceremonially scarred palm over his heart, “I’m real, this is real,” his fingers on his own marked hand, which clasped over yours, gently brushed over your knuckles as he spoke, “I am yours,” he shifted again and closed the small gap between you, “I will always be yours till my dying breath.”

Sucking in a shaky breath, you watched as the moonlight glinted in the blue of his eyes, making them look like the sea on a stormy night. 

“I think my heart has belonged to you ever since the dragon attack,” you professed, “though it took me a while longer before I realised what it was, why you made me feel the way that you do,” you parted your fingers against his chest, “Steve,” and let his weave in with your own, “I love you.”

Using his hold as an advantage, Steve yanked you to him till your lips crashed against his. Letting your free hand wander across his warm skin, it swiftly came down to cup the palpable tent in his trousers.

“Fuck…” he groaned lowly as you offered him a light pet. 

As you shifted to fiddle after the buttons on the side of his breeches, even the aid of your other hand didn’t yield any success in undoing more than one of them. Swiftly coming to your rescue, you swore it only took him three seconds before they hung loose enough around his hips for his cock to spring free.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you glanced down at length which stood so proud it poked you in the stomach. If only you had the proper context to truly know how intimidated you should have been at the discovery of his fat girth. 

Hesitantly inching your fingers closer as you stared, you asked, “can I–…?”

“Mhm,” he hummed as he slowly brought your hand the rest of the way down, engulfing his own grasp around yours and gently showing you how to touch him. 

As a sinful curse flowed from Steve’s lips, his free hand drifted up to weave itself into your hair. 

“Will it hurt?” you watched how your fingers failed to meet on the other side of his girth. 

“I don’t know, I hope not,” his forehead rested against your own, “but if it does, then we just stop and figure something else out, okay?”

“Okay…” you hazily nodded. 

Feeling his fingers flex around your own, you saw precum glint at the bulbous tip. 

“It’s all for you, dove,” you felt him throb at your touch, “all because of you,” a desperate growl then seeped out of his lungs as he seized your lips in a fervent kiss, and the next thing you knew, the whole world fell out from under you as he scooped you up into his arms. When a shrill yelp escaped you, Steve simply readjusted his grip on you and said, “don’t worry, I’ve got you,” nipping gently at your neck, “I won’t let you fall.”

With your fingers still grasping his girth, the new position now had your pussy pressed dangerously close to it, so close that you couldn’t help but sweep the head of his cock through your soppy folds and drench him. Tapping your clit a few times, the instinctual drive of his hips triggered you to simply cup his length near and let him part your pretty petals and lather himself in your needy nectar. Each desperate thrust ended in an electric nudge at your pearl, rendering you to whimper shakily into the night. 

But then suddenly, in the fog of it all, the very tip of him caught your entrance and slipped inside, purely because of just how wet and ready you were. 

“O-oh, fuck!” everything froze as you reeled at the staggering sensation, breathlessly digging your nails into his broad shoulders and leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

“Sorry,” he hastily panted, “you okay?”

“Uh–… uh-huh,” you nodded fuzzily, shutting your eyes a moment as you caught your breath. 

But then as your gaze fluttered open once more, you caught his stare and offered him a short, affirming nod, holding his eye as he slowly began to move. 

Your mouth hung agape as he shallowly fucked you, barely even giving you anything but still turning you into goo in his grasp. 

“Y-you’re so beautiful,” you whispered as you fluttered around him. 

Gliding you’re your palm up to his cheek, moans tumbled out of you both as he gently began to offer you more. Your legs couldn’t help but twitch in his grasp as he practically split you in half with the way he eased you down on his fat cock. 

“You’re doing so well,” his face crumbled up in a silent moan as you felt every detail of him slowly stretch you out, “gods, you’re so wet…”

And the next thing you knew, it wasn’t so slow and steady any longer, as the bookcase your spine was pressed against rattled at his efforts. 

You thought before that just the bulbous head of him was overwhelming, but to have that tip kiss desperately against the deepest part of you was something else entirely. You couldn’t speak, you couldn't think, you could barely even breathe, just go slack in his firm hold and feel him, not just right there, but fucking everywhere, that’s how stuffed you were. 

Steve’s strength wasn’t that novel to you these days, but to have him lift you up and sink you down on his cock, like you were just a leaf on the wind, still managed to amaze you. 

“F-fuck,” you blubbered as you tumbled over the edge once more, “oh, fuck!” accidentally knocking a few books down as one of your arms flailed for purchase. 

You barely registered the loud thud the crashing books emanated as your frame melted down into his hold. Your face buried itself in the crook of his neck as he breathlessly came to a halt, still embedded deep inside of your clenching cunt. 

The sound of his breaths directly in your ear helped to soothe your tingling senses as he rested his cheek against the crown of your head. 

Shifting his feet, Steve carried you the short distance over to the comfortable armchair you’d inhabited earlier. Carefully sitting down in it and keeping you in his lap, his arms silkily slid up your back and hugged you close. 

After persuading you to curl out of your hiding spot by planting soft pecks all over your face, you blinked down at him, bathed in the moonlight that gushed in from the tall window beside where you sat.

Gliding a hand around to your front, Steve gently tugged on the thin string at your neckline, undoing the bow, before he pulled the shoulders down your arms till you slid out of the sleeves and the top of the undergarment crumbled to gather at your waist with the rest of the fabric. 

As he pressed his lips to the peak of your tits, one of his palms accompanied the kisses. A soft whine flowed out of you as your hand slid down to where your bodies were still joined and played with your puffy pearl. 

Casting a glance down, he groaned, “yeah, rub that little clit for me,” and your hips intuitively began to rock gently. 

As you touched yourself, something else caught your attention as you slowly began to ride him. At the lower part of your stomach, you felt the dull bulge of his staggering size poke your palm steadily to the rhythm of your gentle efforts.

Letting your pebbly nipple escape from his lips with a pop, his gravelly timbre washed over you as you slowly rocked, “that’s it, fuck–,” his grip slid down to be firm on your ass, “that’s my girl.”

Abruptly, as if snapping out of a trance, you notice just how loud you both were being.

“Wait,” you shushed him though didn’t halt your hips motions, “we’re in the library, someone could hear us!”

“Then fucking let them hear us,” his fingers dug into your ass as he desperately took over and bounced you in his lap, manhandling you as he slammed you down on his cock hard enough for you to lose your breath, “no one would dare bother us, trust me.”

And before you knew it, your cunt clamped down one last time around his cock, hard enough to halt his efforts and milk him of all of his worth. 

Weakly letting his dick slip out, your skin was practically glued to his as you plastered yourselves to each other and you sensed his hot load slowly leaked out of your sensitive hole. 

As you listened to his heartbeat slowly return to normal and your heavy lids fought to stay open, a thought entered your mind. 

“Hey, Steve?”

Shifting his arms around you, his soft hum washed over you, “hm?”

Keeping your voice low, you shared, “I don’t wanna sleep alone tonight…” but to your surprise, a gentle chuckle then rumbled in his chest, “what?” you lifted your head and blinked up at him, “why are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just­­–,” he smiled, gazing down at you as if Zondür himself had divinely created you especially for him, “you really think I’d let you skip off to your room alone after all of that, like it never even happened?” 

Huffing out a short giggle, you lowered your glance, “well, when you put it like that…”

“Yes,” he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, “if you want me to sleep beside you, I will,” rising from his comfortable seat, he readjusted his grip on you, twisting you to him as he hooked an arm behind your knees and at your back. As he carried you close, he began to lumber out of the library and down the hallway, concurring the short distance to where your chambers lied, “my queen, I would love nothing more for the rest of my days than to fall asleep with your head on my chest and wake up to your softness arching against me…”

Flexing your fingers around his neck, you raised yourself up enough to capture his lips in a tender kiss one last time just as he kicked your bedroom door shut behind you both.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[ronearoundblindly]

Okay, so, hear me out.

I know I've got a Beauty and the Beast AU coming for skinny!Steve, but @darsynia gave me/let me have this idea of a Cinderella AU with him, too, except he is the Cinderella character who gets transformed to live his dream for a day.

I present to you the setup of:

*All photos from Pinterest

Steven is the only child of an exiled prince, and due to happenstance of the aged Warrior King Phillips having no male heir of his own, Steve becomes true royalty overnight.

His cousins, Princesses Margaret and Sharon, angry at the circumstance of their demotions at court, offer no help to the young, small, and often sickly new king.

No one is allowed to see him until his coronation. The few knights and advisors who have laid eyes on Steve are sworn to secrecy, and though he has a mind for strategy, Steve is burdened by his appearance.

Given the coronation crown the night before the big ceremony, Steve stares deep into the massive yellow gem at its front and wishes to look like the "ruler they all want to see."

And he does.

He wears the heavy crown easily, he stands tall over most of the court, and he carries a heavy, steel sword at his hip for the first time ever without the blade dragging across the stone floor.

The court is elated. No one looks twice, not even the handful of men who knew, but that's the magic of the stone...

Steve meets a seemingly endless stream of people, but the most curious is the apprentice of King Phillips' military advisor, a young man he saw befriending a stray cat in the courtyard while everyone else ogled and angled for him. The apprentice's eyes...there's just something about them...

After a long celebration feast where he charmed the nobility with humility, practicality, and honor, Steve falls asleep small again, but certain he can win over the whole realm if he can simply be known for his actions, not his physique.

That becomes the plan; Steve will work behind the scenes, make the kingdom better for people high and low, and then he'll be loved and accepted for who he is. In the meantime, he, in his natural form, can act as a sort of messenger or page boy 'for King Steven' and move around freely. Why not? They all are on the lookout for a man standing two hands higher and broader than him.

One of his first visits is to his inherited military advisor. Of course, Steve doesn't expect the apprentice to live inside the family home, possibly somewhere on the estate maybe, but after a long ride to get there and a long discussion while sitting in the man's study, Steve asks if he might walk the garden before leaving.

He asks about the woman by the roses, and his advisor simply replies "that's my daughter."

Of course, he won't bother to introduce him. Steve's an untitled nobody like he's been his entire life thus far.

Steve might not have seen the resemblance, truly, if not for the exact movement of your finger to gently lift a wilting petal back into place.

It's the move the apprentice made when scratching beneath the cat's chin, and he'll never forget that smile.

"You," he blurts, startled at the otherwise drastic change in your appearance.

You jump back before composing yourself, shielding your eyes from the bright sun above as you look him over.

He's more alarmed by your curtsy than you are by him, watching you bow deeply where moments ago your father dismissed him offhand.

"Your Majesty," you say to the ground.

You...

You recognize him like this? How? How is that possible?

His wish was granted. They all saw a perfect soldier, but that's just the thing: you didn't want to be ruled by a perfect soldier.

You wanted a good man.

You, who secretly longs to offer more to your father and family than a bartering chip for marriage, same as his cousins, need the king to be a good man because then he'll understand this...

A/N: Ok, full disclosure, I might already be very protective of this one, so we'll see if I can bring myself to put it all out there. Anyway! Thank you for the gif, Brandy! It was a great opportunity to get this down.

Also, if it's just an idea/intro, do I include the taglist? Idk. I hate pinging y'all if it's not like a lot of content.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[buckets-and-trees]

Cedar Trees

a collection of Royal AU stories centered around a King Steve Rogers and Queen!Reader

You came into this betrothal to Steve Rogers, King of York, with no illusions to the situation – yours was a marriage to ensure the continuation of many generations of alliance and peace between your respective kingdoms. It was your duty as the second-born. Very early, however, you learn what your royal union truly means to you both, and it's more than either of you expect.

Content Warnings: [check individual parts for their respective warnings] politically arranged marriage, reluctant pining, SMUT (rough fucking and fluffy and intimate sexual situations)

AUTHOR NOTE: The setting for this is a semi-Georgian era in a loose version of a North America based in no reality, only aesthetic and general royal protocols of the time.

ADDITIONALLY: I actively and eagerly accept questions about this AU as well as requests - asks I can get to fairly quickly, requests may take me longer. I know their general story, but I have no agenda for a plot for them, so I'm willing to fulfill requests based on what people would like to see in this couple's story.

ORIGINAL FOUNDATION PIECE: Fire Burning From a Cedar Tree

Release Order:

Fire Burning From a Cedar Tree [3.4k]

The Thrill of Knowing How Alone We Are [1.2k]

Winter Solstice (response to an ask)

Cold Hands, Warm Hearts [1.3k]

A Shift in the Morning Routine [1.1k]

Love That's Laid Beside Me [5k]

The Silence of the Hushed Sublime [4.8k]

Chronological Order:

The Thrill of Knowing How Alone We Are

Fire Burning From a Cedar Tree

A Shift in the Morning Routine

Winter Solstice (an ask that plays into their narrative)

Cold Hands, Warm Hearts

Love That's Laid Beside Me

The Silence of the Hushed Sublime [4.8k]

Extras:

what if Cedar Trees was also an omegaverse?

ask re: kinks and physical intimacy

Resources:

Collection Cover by me

Divider by @firefly-graphics / #evansyhelp

[talesofadragon]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝

Synopsis: The Kingdom of Brooklyn needs a queen, and the Royal Council needs a noble princess. As for newly crowned King Steven Rogers, he needs a love that rebels against conformity, granting him the solace he yearns for. So what happens when all he needs is not what his kingdom wants?

Pairing: King!Steve Rogers x Chambermaid!Reader

Warnings: None.

Genre: Angst | Fluff

Word Count: 6.1K

Author’s Notes: Requested by the sweetest @crazyunsexycool. Thank you, Val, for this wholesome idea! To all Marvel fans out there, go check out her incredible work!🩵

All Masterlists | Steve Rogers Masterlist

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 and deceiving word in history will evermore be art. At first glance, it’s enticing, delicate, and memorable. A barrage of emotional responses to the tragedies and the grievances of life. Whether in color or in monochrome, in words or emotions, art is a melodrama that lures you in, pulls you toward its undertow. Until there comes a time when you realize that all these stories were never quite this scintillating, they just were. 

“Your Majesty.” 

Steve shakes his head as the voice registers in his mind. It takes him a fleeting moment, about five seconds, to realize that he stands within the confines of his chambers. The vibrant rays of the morning sun cascade through the windows, casting an ardent glow. Another five minutes elapse as Steve blinks away his confusion, his gaze withdrawing from the withered pages of his sketchbook, evidence of the relentless assault of his charcoals and ink.

“Maiden Katherine,” he acknowledges the chambermaid in his room. Her eyes are downcast, evading his cerulean hues. “Pardon me, what was it that you said?”

The young woman gasps, though covers it quickly with a cough. Her errant gaze lands briefly on Steve before it strays away once more. “Your Majesty, I was merely asking if you needed anything more.”

A fleeting furrow emerges between Steve's eyebrows, and he casts a swift glance around the room. To his surprise, he finds it immaculate, untouched by the tumultuous night he had spent, forming dents in his rugs and battling wars within the confines of his sheets. 

As Steve turns his gaze toward Maiden Katherine, a gentle smile graces his lips. Unable to discern the woman's face due to her position, he finds himself succumbing to a glimmer of hope, however fleeting and insubstantial. Within the recesses of his imagination, he relishes the liberty to conjure an image of someone entirely different, a figure who embodies the yearnings of his heart.

“No,” he says, somewhat resentfully. Because his needs are conditional, and what he truly desires cannot be attained beyond the realm of his mind. “That will be all. Thank you.”

Maiden Katherine dutifully bows to her king, leaving him to his own devices. As soon as the door closes, Steve reaches back to trace the somber outlines of his sketchbook. Once more, his mind veers away from the confines of his chambers, transporting him to a realm far brighter.

SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO 

King Joseph and Prince Steven are a juxtaposition.

The King is the valiant moon. The Prince is the selfless sun. The former breathes preservation and prowess, while the latter longs for equilibrium and benevolence. And no matter their dualism, King Joseph sees otherwise, constantly building bridges upon bridges to force his son to concede and meet him. Not in the middle, but where he stands—light years away. 

Steve, though ten years old, has a keen sense of understanding. His mother, Sarah, never misses a chance to remind him that he’s a whirlwind for this world, and he couldn’t possibly disagree. 

When, like today, the pressures of the crown seem too hard to grapple with, Steve decides to step away. Not forever. Just a little while, until he’s able to face them all again. 

He’s at the Royal Gardens, a place he hasn’t visited since last spring after his allergies restricted him to his room. Now, almost a year later, he comes back, disappointed to see that his favorite tree has grown faster than he has. 

Steve approaches it, hands on hips and lips pursed in thought. How am I supposed to climb it now? he asks himself. He wishes Bucky was here, but he knows his best friend has sparring lessons, so he tries his very best to follow his own lead and climb it. 

He tries to climb, and he manages to pull himself up, but three branches and a half are more than enough to steal his breath. He sighs, seeing that he can’t climb higher. His hands ache from the effort. 

Just as Steve contemplates his next move, a small voice calls out, “What are you doing up there, silly?” Startled, he turns his gaze downward, meeting a pair of eyes that feel both familiar and unknown. 

“Who are you?” he asks the young girl in the blue dress. He knows she’s not a princess from the fabric’s quality, though her charming face suggests otherwise. 

“I asked you first.” 

Steve laughs at the girl’s spirited nature. “I am sitting.” She narrows her eyes, unsatisfied with his response. “I like sitting up here. The tree overlooks the castle grounds. It’s nice.”

The girl hums, accepting his answer. She looks up and then around before meeting his eyes again. “Do you care for some company?” 

Steve would normally say no. Aside from Bucky, he doesn’t like to spend time with anyone. But the little girl seems nice and curious, something he decides that he likes about her. So he nods his head.

He watches the faint smile on her lips as she holds tightly to the nearest branch and places her weight on it. Within a couple of seconds, she perches herself on the branch facing him.

“Hi.” 

“Hi!” she giggles, kicking her feet in the air. Now that she’s closer, he can see that she’s much smaller than him. A few years younger too. He watches her lean against the tree’s trunk, gazing around with pure wonder. “You’re right. It is quite nice here.” 

Steve shares a laugh with her before speaking again. “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N,” she announces confidently. He likes it. Both her name and her attitude. “And you?” 

He bites the inside of his cheek. Steve has been conditioned to answer this question in one way only: Crown Prince Steven Grant Rogers of Brooklyn. But he’s scared that if Y/N hears this, she might jump down and leave him alone. 

He thinks she’s adorable and kind. Definitely someone Bucky is going to like. So, instead, he says something else. Something he’s never said to anyone. “I’m Steve.” 

“Nice to meet you, Steve! How old are you?” 

“I’m ten,” he replies apprehensively. He knows that he looks much younger because of his height and weight.

Y/N seems to disagree, marveling at his answer. She beams, kicking her legs higher. “I’m six. Is it nice to be ten? My momma says the number ten is a two-digit number, so it’s bigger than six.” 

Steve barely blinks before a soft chuckle escapes his lips. He leans forward a little bit, making sure not to fall. Y/N is sitting there with anticipation governing her features, eagerly waiting for an answer. 

“It’s nice. I can retire to bed a bit later than usual.” That seems to satisfy Y/N, who claps excitedly in response. “I have never seen you before,” Steve then remarks.

Y/N hums. “My momma is Queen Sarah’s new chambermaid. I came to the castle with her.” 

“Oh.” 

Y/N nods. “And you? Does your momma work here, too?” 

“Somewhat, yes,” Steve replies. A comfortable silence stretches for a while, both kids hidden amongst the tree branches, listening to the humming of the birds and the voices of the wind. 

The birds fly around, some even landing atop the tree and catching Y/N’s attention. She marvels at them, then she suddenly stands up, looking at Steve. 

“It must be nicer up there for the birds to sit. Shall we go see?”

Steve hesitates. His blue eyes fill with apprehension as they count the number of branches left. There are six in total, two more than there were last spring. The tree is not too far from the ground, yet high enough for Steve to break his bones if he decides to venture up. 

“I can’t climb that high,” he sighs dejectedly. 

Y/N cranes her head to study Steve’s face. “Do you want to?” she asks to which he nods. “Then of course you can. You simply need a little help.” 

She says it so lightheartedly and surely, it makes Steve’s heart soar. Y/N braces herself and climbs one more branch. She extends her hand, palm open for Steve to take. He hesitates, knowing he shouldn’t and that his father will surely scold him for his actions. 

Y/N shakes her hand once, silently asking him to take it. Without thinking much, Steve does. Two minutes later, he finds himself atop the tree with two birds and a new friend. 

PRESENT DAY

Steve exhales loudly, his gaze fixed upon the tree etched within the pages of his sketchbook. He traces the delicate curves with his eyes, although he knows them by heart. Every intricate detail is etched into his memory from the countless days spent perched upon the tree’s branches alongside Y/N.

With a wistful glance, he closes the sketchbook and casts it aside, a reminder that before this artful piece and the memories it holds existed, there only ever was an unadorned tree.

“Your Majesty, I can say with absolute certainty that if you continue to wear that expression, it won't be long before the entire court assumes the Robe Bearers have skillfully concealed a stick within your regal attire.” 

“Bucky,” Steve grumbles. Though when he catches his reflection in the mirror, he relents, knowing his best friend, and Lord High Constable, isn’t all too wrong. He raises his hand to dismiss his attendants. They bow and exit, leaving the two men alone. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be anywhere else?” 

Dramatically as always, Bucky covers his heart with his palm. He looks down, seemingly wounded, before his cobalt blue eyes lift. “I am deeply wounded by your implicit dismissal and your forthright irritation, My King.” 

Steve rubs a hand down his face. He has endured twenty-seven years with this man, and sometimes, he wonders if befriending Lord James Buchanan Barnes was a good idea. He knows him all too well now. And if those remarks are any indication, Bucky is, without a doubt, mere seconds away from asking him what’s wrong. 

So Steve speaks his mind before the questions begin. “Must I attend this ball?” 

“You are the King,” Bucky replies. “And tonight you shall not only be celebrated but you shall also—”

“Subdue to the Royal Council’s wishes and secure the future of the throne.” 

Steve’s words have a bite to them. They’re sharp and terse, accentuating the resentment he feels toward this ordeal. He walks away from Bucky, attempting to gather his wits before saying anything else. He sits down on his large bed, one hand on his knee and the other holding his chin. 

“Do not think of it this way.” 

“How else must I think of this when I have no say?” 

“Perhaps you don’t have the freedom of choice when it comes to the matter, but you still have a choice, Steve,” Bucky reminds him. He joins his side, sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. He taps him on the shoulder, letting his hand linger there. “The Council has dictated that you shall marry, but only you shall choose who.” 

You couldn’t be more wrong, Steve says to himself. He looks away, the words a sharp slap to his face. He’s never been one for conformity, and Bucky knows this. He’s aware of Steve’s rebellious tendencies and audacious disregard for the Crown's decisions.

Steve knows what this kingdom needs—what queen it longs to have. So why should it be one of noble descent when it could be one of noble spirit? What significance holds the nature of her blood, when in truth, we are all blood in nature? 

“If the choice was truly mine, I would choose no one but her.” 

His eyes are still errant, following a pathway of their own. Though he can’t see it, he feels Bucky’s heavy gaze on him. 

“I should have known you were thinking of Y/N back then,” Bucky comments. He nudges Steve’s shoulder with his until the King concedes and gives the Lord his full attention. He remains quiet, though his eyes say it all. “When are you never thinking about her?” 

“How is she faring?” Steve asks. Each letter is spelled with a plethora of emotions. Carved with longing and desire. It has been a considerable length of time since Steve last laid eyes upon Y/N. Ever since his father banished her to a distant corner of the castle, accompanied by strict instructions to avoid any form of interaction with Steve.

“Well. Though it is beyond evident that she misses you terribly. The mention of you is the only thing that seems to brighten her day.” 

The answer draws a small smile on Steve’s face. He nods, his mind already taking a trek on its own accord, reminiscing the days Steve had spent with Y/N growing up, picturing her dulcet smile and the light that inhabited her eyes. 

Steve has forever been a captive of duty. The blood coursing through his veins tethers him to the crown while unwavering loyalty anchors him to his kingdom. His spirit, alas, was never truly his own, and his heart had long been barricaded by the Council. However, within his mind, a sanctuary exists where his thoughts could roam, untamed and unrestrained, as they collide and soar amidst the vivid memories of Y/N and the alluring freedom she perpetually bestows.

He is on the cusp of replying. With what, he isn't quite sure yet. The mere thought of Y/N has left him momentarily speechless, his mind struggling to find the right words. But the insistent knock on his door reverberates louder than any words he could muster.

“Enter,” Steve says as Bucky straightens and stands up. 

The door opens and in walks Peter, one of the new guards in Brooklyn. “Your Majesty.” Peter bows. “Lord Barnes.”

“What is it, Peter?” Steve asks. 

“His Majesty, King Father Joseph, is requesting your presence.” 

Something within Steve throbs, an ache that resonates through his being. His father possesses an innate knack for impeccable timing, a seemingly supernatural ability to intrude upon Steve's most cherished moments.

Reluctantly, Steve pushes himself up and follows Peter to his father's quarters. He treads the well-worn path, the bitterness seeping through every step. The portraits lining the walls and the chandeliers adorning the taupe ceilings are all too familiar, etched into his memory from countless prior journeys.

His footsteps weigh heavily upon the carpet, each one echoing his disdain for the impending encounter. He takes in a deep breath, steeling himself before the guards deliver a resounding knock, heralding his arrival. With a measured breath, he crosses the threshold and enters the room.

Upon doing so, the pain within him heightens, intensifying to a raw and poignant state. It feels as if every fiber of his being wants to claw its way out from within. His gaze fixates on his father, who lies weak and feeble on the bed, attended to by hovering nurses. Yet, within Steve's mind, contrasting images begin to form.

He envisions himself from years past, confined to his own bed, accompanied by illness and fragility as constant companions. But gradually, the image takes on a bitter-sweet memory.

SEVEN YEARS AGO 

Steve shakes, uncertain whether it's the cold air or his nightmares that make him tremble. His room feels empty and lonely since his mother's departure, and his father is too busy to give him a second thought. Bucky is off with the troops, stuck in endless meetings. The looming war hangs heavy in the air, and Steve's father has made his choice of soldier, and it's not him.

Steve hates it. Hates being so useless. He cannot even fight for his kingdom, so how is he supposed to rule it one day? He huffs an exasperated sigh, turning around in his sheets. He shuts his eyes, partially because he wants to sleep and purely because he’s trying to force himself not to cry. 

It’s not working, though, as he feels the world closing in. The ceiling’s shadows are suddenly creeping closer, and the walls are wailing as they speed ahead. The door to his chambers squeaks, and he thinks it’s flying off its hinges. But in an unexpected shift, the world around him takes on a different hue, one that brings a soothing and calming sensation he didn't anticipate.

“Stevie.” His eyes snap open, and in that instant, he becomes aware of the rapid pounding of his heart. 

“Y/N?” 

“I heard you weren’t feeling your best.” Y/N smiles sheepishly. She moves a strand of her long wavy hair away, taking a tentative step closer. “I thought, perhaps, you needed some company.” 

Steve wants to say a lot of things. But seeing her in her long blue-green dress made him fall quiet. He’s always loved that color on her. It’s his favorite. 

You look beautiful, he tries to say. I have missed you. How are you faring? But nothing of the sort comes out. 

“You will be in trouble if you get caught,” he hears himself say. Instantly he regrets it. But Y/N doesn’t seem to mind. 

She shakes her head and moves closer. “Being with you is no trouble at all, my prince," she murmurs, settling down beside him and clasping his hand in her own. Steve occasionally wishes his hands were larger, more powerful. He feels a pang of shame for the thoughts that have crossed his mind, imagining the different ways his hands would hold her and explore every inch of her being.

His temperature rises at the thought, and even Y/N feels it. She hovers over him, pressing her lips sweetly to his forehead. His eyes close involuntarily. One of his hands weekly clutch Y/N’s own while the other fists her dress. Steve moans under his breath. “You are burning up,” she says with concern lacing her tone. She moves away, and Steve instinctively reaches for her. She sees the worry in his eyes, deciding to brush it away by running her fingers through his hair. “I will not leave, Your Highness.” 

“Y/N,” he grumbles weakly. 

Y/N smiles, reaching for the bowl of water and the wet rag left behind. “I will not leave you, Steve. I promise.”

PRESENT DAY

“Steve,” King Joseph calls. 

Steve is engulfed in a whirlwind of internal battles, ignited by his father's actions that have shattered everything. Promises that were never his to break have been torn apart, and as a result, Steve decides that he's unable to forgive him. He feels no trace of mercy toward him. No trace of love.

The coronation ball is a spectacle of extravagance, opulence, and sheer absurdity. The entire Brooklyn Court has gathered along with monarchs from neighboring kingdoms. 

King Stark graces the event with his Queen and their young Princess, joined by King Thor, Queen Sif, and Prince Loki. Steve's gaze catches sight of his trusted Lord Chancellor, Samuel “Sam” Wilson, engaged in conversation with his father and the King of Wakanda. 

And though he cannot see him, he knows Bucky must be lurking in the shadows, sharing a hidden moment with Princess Romanoff.

Steve lingers for a few moments before revealing his presence. He stands atop the banister, peering down at the chaos he is about to face. His gaze sweeps across the room, longing for a glimpse of someone familiar, although deep down he knows it's merely a futile hope.

With a heavy sigh, he descends the stairs, fully aware that his destiny lies in wait.

"Announcing His Royal Majesty, King Steven Grant Rogers."

The music begins, and the doors swing open. Steve steps forward, discomforted by the weight of all the attention upon him. He offers nods as others bow and curtsy, attempting to keep a smile on his face. Reaching the throne, he settles into it with more haste than necessary. As soon as he is seated, his subjects rise from their positions.

"Thank you all for joining us tonight," he declares, projecting his voice with a hint of implicit hesitation. “We’re honored to welcome you to Brooklyn Palace. Please, do enjoy yourself. May this merry occasion pave the way ahead for our kingdom.” 

The crowd cheers enthusiastically, chanting Steve’s name and singing his praises. They raise their hands in the air and clap without restraint, though Steve doesn’t hear them. He’s out of tune with his senses, his consciousness hauntingly distant. Suddenly and prematurely, he’s thrust back into the moment. He doesn’t know how to react when Princess Sharon enters his line of sight.

“Your Majesty,” she curtseys. Steve has always noticed that she overdoes it, lowering herself far more than necessary. Sam once remarked she did it to appear meek and subdued—traits many men apparently seek in a woman—Bucky, on the other hand, remarked that she was desperate for attention. 

“Princess Carter.” 

“Sharon, Your Majesty,” she rectifies while meeting his eyes. “You may call me Sharon. If you please, Your Majesty.” 

To his ears, it’s more of a plea than anything else. Which is why he doesn’t recede. Engaging in idle conversation with her isn't what he desires, for he can already discern the thoughts swirling within her mind, mirroring the thoughts of many other women in the palace. His father had made it unequivocally clear that Steve cannot rule without a queen by his side.

“Your Majesty,” Sharon’s voice beckons. Steve gazes at her, failing to mimic her enthusiasm. “Are you not going to ask me to dance?” 

No, he feels the need to say. I do not wish to dance with anyone. But the musicians are getting ready and his father is pinning him down with a glare. 

Reluctantly, he extends his hand and picks Sharon’s. “Of course.” Steve kisses the back of her hand. Carefully, he leads her to the dance floor, front and center, waiting for everyone to join. 

Bucky stands to his right and Sam to his left. Facing them are Princess Natasha and Duchess Wanda, respectively. Kings Tony, Thor, and T'Challa join next, accompanied by their Queens. 

Gradually, the room transforms into a parade of eager guests, lining up in anticipation of the forthcoming dance. A cacophony of music erupts, and the rhythm permeates the air, setting the stage for a whirlwind of movement. 

The men bow with a flourish, while the ladies curtsy in graceful synchronization. In the timeless tradition of the dance, they take a bold step forward, closing the distance between them. Steve's hands, steady yet tinged with anticipation, find their place upon the small of Sharon’s back, guiding her with gentle precision.

He sweeps across the dance floor, leading Sharon in elaborate and pristine circles. Her gaze on him is imperturbable, features soft under the lights of the chandelier. Steve cannot understand how her eyes can be so alight—they’re looking at him as if he was the present and the future when he is, in fact, counting the musical notes, anticipating the next switch in partners. 

The dance is Steve’s “seven minutes in heaven,” as Sam so eloquently worded it. Though, in reality, it’s a vicious torment. This dance offers Steve the chance to dance with four women—three for two minutes and one for no more than a fleeting sixty seconds. And luckily for him, Sharon’s two minutes are now up. 

He spins her to the right, fueled by a sense of anticipation at the thought of stealing a precious moment of respite. She leaves his arms, and he breathes deeply for a moment before Princess Shuri joins him. 

"Your Majesty, do me a favor and grace us with a smile. I would hate for my brother to be proven right. He is constantly rambling about how my mere presence seems to unsettle everyone around."

Steve offers Shuri beyond what she has asked for. A heartfelt laugh tumbles from his lips, and he’s elated to know that the music is far louder than his unrestrained chortle. 

“Your presence is welcome and cherished, Princess Shuri.” Steve dips the princess, ensuring she doesn’t fall. He brings her back on her feet and continues with the rest of the choreography. “Tell T’Challa you are the single spark of joy and delight this evening has brought.” 

“Oh, I will most certainly tell him that.” 

With a final smile, Steve releases his grip on Shuri, allowing her to navigate her way toward Loki's outstretched arms. Though her departure may lack grace, it’s far more captivating to watch than the arrival of yet another noble lady, who is now nestled in his arms. 

Princess Carol’s face is stoic, and her movements feel robotic, pre-programmed. The silence between her and Steve is tumultuous as the prince leads her through the dance. He’s grateful for her aloofness, granting him the chance to focus on something else other than an unnecessary conversation, or worse yet, a proposal. 

His blue eyes meander, traversing the room with a wandering gaze. In the midst of his observation, he catches sight of Princess Natasha and Marquess Barton engaged in a dance. Their movements may lack the refinement of the other nobles, but they appear unperturbed, swaying to a rhythm that is uniquely theirs. Steve notices Natasha intermittently locking eyes with Bucky, exchanging playful winks and smirks that stir a bitter sensation within him.

He thinks he will never experience this. Never be given the chance to love with all his heart and not his mind. To love for love and not the kingdom. To live for his love to rule and not to rule for his love to die.  

Princess Carol slips from his grasp with unexpected swiftness, leaving Steve momentarily stunned. His attention lingers on her abrupt departure, forgetting the need to steady himself. 

As Steve's palm rests open, a hand slips into his, catching him off guard. His arm instinctively reaches out, hastening to steady the woman who has joined him. The sudden touch electrifies his senses, igniting a rush of anticipation within him.

Blue orbs lock onto a wistful masterpiece, refusing to blink and allowing the moisture to gather, lending a subtle glassy sheen. Steve's steps falter, his footing shaken. Only now does he realize that he has been granted six minutes to breathe and a single dance partner that has stolen his every breath.

At this moment, Steve grasps the true might of the human mind as the dance fades into the background though his feet glide effortlessly across the floor. His heart races with joyous abandon, his thoughts sprint in a frenzy, and his eyes struggle to keep pace, captivated by the dazzling radiance emanating from the figure in front of him. 

Steve's eyes fixate on the familiar turquoise dress adorning the woman’s figure, a sight he has imagined countless times in his most indulgent thoughts. Yet, reality surpasses any fantasy he could conjure. With fervent intensity, he absorbs every detail of the woman before him, noting the familiarities that stir his heart and the subtle differences that ignite a sense of curiosity.

He towers over her now, his height surpassing hers by more than an inch. His presence is imposing, a protective and ardent force. They stand close, near enough for her to catch glimpses of green in his eyes and for him to feel the softness of her bodice against his chest.

Time passes, maybe a minute, or perhaps more. He doesn’t know. Because with her, time is a paradox, too complex to comprehend. Or perhaps, plain unnecessary. 

He notes that no one is dancing, noble men and women retreating to the ballroom's margins. They're entranced by Steve and his partner. Their glances multifaceted, both welcoming and unnerving. But he doesn't pay attention to them. Not when the musicians are still playing, granting him an infinity of respite.

He clutches the woman tighter, lifting her up in the air. The light catches the tiara on her head, the one he had specifically requested for her as a gift on her sixteenth birthday. She had once refused to wear it, claiming she wasn't a princess. And she was right. She's not just a princess; she's a queen.

There is so much to say. Too many questions to ask. And yet, Steve can only whisper one thing as he sets her down on her feet, his lips lingering close to her ear.

“You are divinity in human nature, and I have evermore longed to confess to you this.” 

Y/N says nothing, but the gasp that tumbles out and the fingers that trace Steve’s elbow speak of it all. “You haven’t changed,” she notes. He shakes his head and gives her a disbelieving look as if to urge her to look at him again. “You are just as warm and just as kind. Just as beautiful,” she enunciates, whispering the last part. 

The words reach his ears, carrying with them a genuine sincerity that resonates deep within him. He releases a soft exhale, a breath that caresses her face. Her delicate lashes gracefully meet, pulling his attention away from her magnetic eyes to her angelic smile. 

Steve is captivated by every aspect of her presence, his senses entranced by the enchantment that surrounds them both. “I have longed for you,” he admits. Immediately, Y/N's eyes burst open, revealing a clash of waves within her irises—a turbulent ocean of swirling emotions.

“I’ve heard, and I’m here to satiate your longing, My King.” 

"Prince," Steve corrects briskly. As he holds her waist, Y/N places both hands on his chest. He tenderly caresses her bottom lip. "Don't cease to see me in a different light now, princess."

“I am not a princess,” Y/N refutes. “As for the last half of your sentence, no matter who you become to the world, you will always be my prince, Stevie.” 

In that brief moment, her eyes reveal a vulnerability that tugs at Steve's heartstrings. “Y/N, tell me you are truly here. Tell me this is not yet another deceiving portrait my mind has conjured.” 

“I am real.” 

“How?” 

“Queen Mother Sarah,” she admits. Her voice carries a tinge of sadness at the memory of the late queen. “Before her demise, she called for me. You were away at the time, fighting the war against Hydra’s army. She made me swear to attend your coronation ball. To be by your side once more.” 

Oh, mother. Steve stands in disbelief. Though his mother passed seven years ago, her presence lingers within him. A constant source of comfort and guidance. He can't help but compare the stark contrast between his mother's love and his father's hostility, fueling a mix of emotions within him. The dominance and aggression of his father's actions only serve to heighten his appreciation for his mother's enduring tenderness and thoughtfulness, even in the realm of the afterlife.

“I needed to be by your side, even though I know I will be in trouble.” Y/N’s voice shakes him out of his stupor. She’s biting on her lower lip, her long hair hiding half her face. “Your father will surely order me farther away.” 

“Let him try,” Steve challenges with determination, causing Y/N to wear a wearied expression of disbelief. With tenderness, he adds, "I'd like to witness anyone daring to separate the future Queen of Brooklyn from my embrace."

King Joseph seethes with a fiery intensity, teetering on the edge of explosion. Anger courses through his veins, overwhelming his senses in the wake of what he has just witnessed. With resolute determination, he guides his son towards the Council chamber, his mind already brimming with scathing words, poised to unleash his fury upon him.

“Of all of the women in this court and beyond, you have decided to entertain a chambermaid for the better half of the evening!” 

“She is not a mere chambermaid, father. You know well who Y/N is!” 

"A mere distraction," the King counters vehemently, his fist slamming down on the dark oak table with a resounding thud. "A disgrace," he continues, his voice filled with simmering indignation.

“A queen.” 

"Never! Over my dead body, you imbecile!" King Joseph retorts, his voice laced with venomous defiance, unwilling to yield to his son's audacious declaration.

"So be it then, father!" Steve roars with fiery determination. "All you have ever cared for is for Brooklyn to be the nexus of the Grand American Dynasty, no matter the cost, no matter the price! Your vision is so narrow that you fail to see the alternative paths, the possibilities beyond the ones you have carved for yourself."

“The avenues you traverse in your thoughts are nothing but insignificant alleyways leading to nowhere, boy!” 

"They are mine. All of them belong to me alone," Steve asserts with unwavering conviction. "They are the boulevards of my childhood and the thoroughfares of my future. They are paths carved by a woman who has treated me far better than my own father ever has!"

“She is insignificant!” 

"How dare you! You have waged wars and battles, leaving me to mend the relationships you have severed. You have sowed fear and wielded despair in your son and your kingdom, and I will not allow you to condemn me or my future any longer."

“Steven!” 

“No! You will listen, and I will lend my ears no longer. I am the only heir to the throne. You and the Council be damned if you do not willingly allow me to marry the woman who will rule Brooklyn with far more grace and vigor than you ever had. Mark my words, I will take matters into my own hands and fight for love and justice, even if it means defying the entire kingdom.” 

“You would never," King Joseph says, his voice seething with anger and contempt, his eyes blazing with fiery defiance.

Steve smirk. It’s dark and vindictive, sending shivers down the spine of his father. “Watch me,” he whispers, his voice laced with a chilling determination.

He marches out of the chamber and onto the grand ballroom. His heart thumps in his chest, louder than the mellifluous sounds of the musician's instruments. 

He moves through the crowd like a lion king walking through his kingdom. His gaze locks on Y/N, standing beside Bucky and Sam. As their eyes meet, a mixture of surprise and anticipation reflects in the depths of her gaze, mirroring the emotions pulsating within him.

As the world around them fades into a blur, leaving only the two of them standing in the spotlight, Steve's years of etiquette training and courtship knowledge seem insignificant. Despite his mastery of courting rituals and the art of conversation, Y/N possesses the uncanny ability to shatter his carefully crafted facade. With a mere glance, she erases the learned scripts from his mind, leaving it a blank canvas, ready to be painted by her presence alone.

He doesn’t count his steps though he suspects they’re brisk. He reaches out and tugs at her hand, drawing her closer. Steve lets go of his thoughts and his constraints, deciding to focus on her. His lips are fierce as they suddenly clash with hers, and the sound of their lips moving together seems to echo louder than the

The kiss becomes a clarion call, a declaration of war and surrender in a single act. It symbolizes the culmination of suppressed emotions and unspoken promises, a deluge of feelings too long restrained. It ignites a storm of passionate responses, an uproar of joy and relief that reverberates through the room.

In that fleeting moment, it embodies Y/N's tenderness and longing, intertwining with Steve's defiance and resolve. The kiss bridges the fractures of their past and ushers in the promise of a shared future.

Like an art piece, it's crafted with meticulous detail and profound meaning. Its evocative power lingers in the air, leaving a trace of its essence. The kiss is not just a mere gesture. It's an effervescent expression of their love, unique and incomparable.

At this moment, Steve and Y/N claim their own narrative, painting their own masterpiece of connection and desire. It's an art piece that captivates all who witness it, leaving an indelible mark on their hearts and memories.

“I need a queen,” Steve breathes in haste. I need you, he’s trying to say. I breathe you. 

And Y/N laughs, delicately and boldly. She presses her palms against his cheeks, the warmth of her touch fanning the flames of Steve’s love. 

“Let me be everything you need and more.”

Steve Rogers has my whole heart, and I was unbelievably happy when Val overflooded my inbox with requests!! Still got one Mob!Steve and Professor!Steve one shots to write, which I'm super excited to start with. Btw, how the hell does Val know all my favorite tropes?

Anyhow, I was so excited, so I powered through this one. The others? Might take anywhere between 3 to 5 business months to release them. But Sab will try her best to release them sooner.

Don’t forget to send in your Marvel/Harry Potter requests!

Can’t wait to share more!!

[4rcaneye]

⭐️who i write for⭐️

mcu

steve rodgers

bucky barns

peaky blinders

thomas shelby

dc

clark kent

batman (ben affleck) & battinson

got

robb stark

jon snow

hotd

aegon targaryen

daemon targaryen

queen charlotte

king george

nhl

brock boeser

auston matthews

jacob markstrom

celebrities

jack harlow

cod

könig

ghost

challengers

art donaldson

[trinittyy]

fic recs

just a little assortment of my favorite works to keep track of them and also show love to the respective writers.

note - a majority, if not all, of the following works contain dark content that some could find triggering. tread carefully.

divider by @firefly-graphics

toxic affection - @love-toxin

warnings: harassment, bullying, some violence, forced relationship

pairing: yandere!bakugou x reader

literally unashamed to say that BNHA fanfiction is what brought me to Tumblr

but this was one of the first I found and it's epic

what's your escape - @gotnofucks

warnings: obsession, possessive behavior, non-con

pairing: dark!sherlock holmes x reader

the man is disastrously down bad for the poor reader

she was so witty and clever but in the end, he got what he wanted in the most satisfying way

infatuation - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor - masterlist

warnings: mentions of stalking, obsession, non-con

pairing: dark!clark kent x reader

poor girl didn't have a clue or a chance in the world to escape this man

sidenote: I can't add Roo to the recs without mentioning just how talented she is. She was the first proper introduction to dark fics in the Marvel fandom and I've been hooked ever since. The amount of detail and dedication that goes into her work is noticeable and she's a talent that deserves recognition. It's one thing to make me like a fic or two of my favorite Marvel men but another to have me thirst over shit I didn't think I'd like.

naughty ransom holiday tales - @jtargaryen18

warnings: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con

pairing: dark!ransom drysdale x reader

guilty pleasure series

hate to love ransom but I can't help it

what the king has - @sincerelythedarkside

warnings: dub-con, character death

pairing: soft!dark steve rogers x reader

royal au

love me a good jealous steve

plot twist shocked the shit outta me

smut was out of this fucking world

love bites - @cherienymphe - masterlist

warnings: character death, jealousy, non-con

pairing: dark!steve rogers x reader, peter parker x reader

modern vampire au (what's not to love there)

this actually made me cry like a bitch

ongoing series

sidenote: Seeing as Cherie will be on this list many times, I have to say it's difficult not to add every piece of work on this list because while some writers have a magnum opus, everything she writes is a work of art. Her range and the backstory she puts in her characters make each story feel like a movie I just can't get enough of. Will forever love her writing.

kryptonite - @cherienymphe

warnings: non-con, obsession

pairing: dark!bruce wayne x reader

the build-up and tension gave me actual chills

trailer park babydoll - @mypoisonedvine

warnings: dub-con, infidelity, age gap

pairing: wayne munson x reader

guilty pleasure fic

absolute filthy smut

wrath of the dragon - @straywords

warnings: non-con, chasing

pairing: dark!daemon targaryen x reader

yet another down bad man

overdue - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

warnings: creepy curtis, non-con, obsessive behavior

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

there's little to nothing i love more than a good ole broody man with attachment issues

anxious - @syntheticavenger

warnings: stalking, kidnapping

pairing: dark!peter parker x reader

tasm peter

cutest in a way lol little fic

the dream that got away - @dotieeee

there's not nearly enough dark fics ft my fave peter so I love this one

warnings: dub-con, non-con, manipulation, controlling behavior, obsession

pairing: dark!morpheus x oc!mera

probably the first dark fic about morpheus

each chapter was a masterpiece

and i still haven't seen the show lol

thanks for the invite - @syntheticavenger

warnings: non-con, bitchy friend behavior, implied drugging (i think), oral (f receiving), slight bondage

pairing: dark!lloyd hansen x reader

a funny little unhinged lloyd fic

rsvp - @syntheticavenger

warnings: dub-con, hide and seek, exasperated bodyguard, exhibitionism (a bit)

sequel to the fic listed above

lloyd is still unhinged and reader is still suffering

[anika-ann]

In the Name of the King (S.R.)

Type: medieval/fantasy AU

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 13,000 * 

Summary:  Sir Steven Rogers, having risen from common people, now one of the most trusted knights to prince Anthony. You, nothing but a servant, albeit to Princess Maria herself. 

Love blooms in any place and it cares little for the rules of the court – much like your Steven. Then again, war cares just as little for any feelings you and your knight might harbour for each other...

Warnings: 18+ for NSFW thoughts, talk and sexy times in making, inexperienced and rather reader, probably desperately era-inaccurate, blood and mention of violence, death, religious ambiguity, tooth-rotting fluff, angst, language, (reader has hair long enough to be braided)

A/N: This is sort-of a song fic for it is based on a Czech song. You can find it here. I took the liberty to loosely translate the lyrics for you throughout the fic.

* A/N: If you prefer reading it in two parts, the best part for a split is after 5,5k words – you will find a gif there. Divider’s mine, btw. Enjoy 🥰

Another bolt of lightning illuminated the room. You rolled around in your small bed, squinting against the violent light leaving you blind when the darkness of the night took over again. Your heart, already racing for it was filled with worry, jumped at the clap of thunder – as did you.

A bad sign.

A warning from the Gods.

They should not be out there, settled in a camp and preparing for battle. Storms like these were meant to make mankind bow in front of higher power and yet the cavalry had left in the morning, several troops heading to the West to protect the borders of the kingdom against Hydra, against the self-proclaimed king Pierce.

Gods, how you wished he would get struck by lightning for all the misery he caused to so many people, his own and others alike.

As if the Gods heard your thought, another clap of thunder seemed to shake the castle walls – a scolding for your blasphemy. You should not wish harm to another human being.

Then again, you should not pray to the old gods in the first place, but to the Lord, who shall save your soul from eternal flames of hell. Such were the ways of new religion; yet, it was impossible to let go of the ties to the dogmata you had been raised in.

And so you prayed to both. As fresh light exploded behind your closed eyelids, you prayed not for another man’s harm, but for one’s safety.

You shuffled on your bed, kneeling up, clasping your hands together, whispering under your breath as not to wake the two women sleeping beside you.

Please, bring him home. Protect him. Please, please, please. Should any harm come to him, the world would cease to make sense. Keep Steven safe.

Your Steven.

Your knight.

Your sun, your moon, your stars; with his smile shining as bright as all these combined, surrounding you with gentle warmth from the very first moment he had set his cerulean eyes on you and kneeled by your side to help you collect what your clumsy hands had spilled.

It was early morning, the sun barely peeking out from behind the horizon, colouring the East walls of the castle in orange and pink, the warm sunrays pleasant on your skin as you carried Princess Maria’s breakfast tray. You could not but smile at the gorgeous play of colours; and yet, your gaze wandered as you heard the grunts of effort mingling with light-hearted laughter from the grassy training areas.

A maid could never think herself anywhere near equal with the knights, therefore it was considered unthinkable to harbour feelings for any of them – the laws of the court would frown upon such union. And yet, you were only human of flesh and blood and the warm liquid rushing in your veins always felt hotter whenever you set your gaze on the well-built men.

Their physique easily made for a woman’s heart to race, the heroic tales of their bravery only strengthening the sentiment, as did the tales of their gentlemanly ways. You had witnessed differently, many of them acting overgrown children, but it would be foolish to deny that they were a sight to behold, every single one of them.

One in particular, however, stood out; for he was not only a handsome man, but an extraordinary one. The story of his heroics was spoken of long after it took place, long after his ascension to knighthood.

Of common origin, Steven was the only son of the town’s most valued blacksmith; Steven himself was adept at forging a sword, armour or a shield of the highest quality, but apparently also at wielding it – alert and bright.

Attentive to his surroundings, he had been fast and strong enough to prevent fatal consequences of the attack on Prince Anthony during his visit of the town where he was ambushed by two slayers of the Hydra kingdom. He stopped a deadly strike when dashing between a slayer and the prince, strong arm wielding the shield he had finished earlier that day.

Of all knights, Steven was most loved by the common people for while the rules for knighthood had not changed with his actions and he remained the only one graced with the honour to date, he had proven that a man, no matter of how humble origin, was capable of great things.

A knight from the people. A humble hero.

His features were sharp, but his eyes spoke of softness; he did not seem to lack determination, on contrary, his lineage forged his desire to fight for a better world. Of tall build, he held his head high – an aristocratic face lined with sandy chin-length hair – but for he never forgot where he had come from, he did not look down at people.

You had never spoken to him, but you had heard his voice before; deep, pleasant, respectful. Falling for him despite the distance between you had been as easy as dangerous for your heart. You were but a maid; had you been in love before he was knighted, then perhaps the circumstance would be different, but you had not met him before then. And so you were destined to long him in silence, busying yourself with serving to Her Grace Princess Maria.

Such was your goal at the moment; you were carrying breakfast, you reminded yourself, vainly, of course. The sight offered to you was too distracting to ignore.

As your gaze lingered on the expanse of Steve’s arm swaying the unsharpened training sword with ease, you lost your step – and sent the tray and its content flying, the metal clinking loudly as it hit the stony path.

All the knights’ heads snapped to you in an instant, alert, causing your face to be set aflame under their scrutiny; and as you swiftly kneeled to gather the utensils and food with a silent curse and prayer that most of it was salvageable with another wash, booming laughter hit your ears, causing your cheeks to burn in shame.

“Well done, my friends, our training must truly be aesthetically pleasing!” Prince Anthony’s voice called out, followed by another roar of laughter that chased tears of humiliation into your eyes you barely kept at bay.

Your shaky hands frantically started gathering the fruit – grapes, apple, pear, hopefully not too bruised – as you made to ignore the quickly approaching footsteps. You refused to look up, shame settled deep in your stomach as you assessed the damage, the smallest relief when you found the slices of bread still wrapped in cloth, albeit considerably less white now.

You felt the large man kneel by your side before you registered the hand, clad in fingerless leather glove, appearing in your field of vision. Only when the man begun to gather the scattered grape berries, you dared to look up; and the time must have stopped.

Your heart certainly did as your gaze was met with a pair of the most beautiful kind eyes without a trace of laughter. You lost the reigns of your body – it froze, your mind occupied fully by seeing such grace from such short distance. You had never noticed how plush and alluring his lips were, framed by a short beard; how handsome his face was when one corner of his lips curled up almost uncertainly.

It was the unusual emotion in his smile which pulled you back from your reverie. A knight was kneeling by you, the kingdom’s hero, helping you clean up the outcome of your clumsiness.

How kind of him – how below him  

“Oh, Sir Rogers, you must not bother-“

“But I must,” he opposed before you could even finish your sentence, sincerity lacing his voice and by gods, his voice was like velvet lined with silk. His gaze flickered back to the group of knights whose eyes you could feel at you still, intent. “Do not mind the blockheads that are laughing instead of helping a lady.”

A giggle of surprise escaped you, your hand quickly covering your mouth so no one could see; but Sir Rogers could and a smile broke out on his face, a boyish grin sprinkling his eyes with laughter and pride, warm and inviting.

By Lord, he must have been the most handsome man to ever walk the world, more so when he smiled like this. And he called you a lady – you, but a maid.

“I am hardly a lady, Sir Rogers,” you whispered bashfully, your lacking status bringing you grief like you had never experienced – a reminder.

But a mere smile from the man, and you lost the ground under your feet, your heart on your sleeve for him to take, no matter how unthinkable your romance would be.

His fingers took a gentle hold of your wrist, eliciting a gasp from your lips at the tender touch; he spilled several berries into your hand, thumb brushing your sensitive skin, sending the sweetest tingle up your arm.

A blissful smile fought its way to your face despite all reason.

“Well. Your beauty rivals one of a lady. … especially when you bless the castle with a smile like that.”

Oh, your heart fluttered like butterfly wings, your gaze instinctively searching his for the faintest trace of a jest; yet, you found nothing but sincerity.

“S-sir Rogers…”

He released your wrist, already having you mourn the loss; instead, his nimble fingers found one of the loose cornflower blossoms which had broken away from the small bouquet you had gathered to bring with the breakfast. He twirled it in his fingers for a moment, almost absent-mindedly, before his smile softened.

“This one might be broken, but perhaps it could serve its purpose in your hair at least?” he suggested, beckoning lightly to your braid.

Before you could as much as realize he meant it, he reached out, careful fingers – surprisingly so, for such a strong man – stuck the stem to the base of the braid behind you ear, sending your heart into frenzy when the pads of his fingers accidentally brushed your cheekbone.

“Lovely.”

A thank you never spilled from your lips for another voice rudely interrupted your intimate conversation.

“Steven! We fighting or picking flowers?  Get your pert arse in here!” Sir Clinton howled, causing you to wince – and the dream world Steven had created for you, one where he could harbour affections for you, started to disperse like a morning fog.

“He’s charming a girl for once in his life, give him a moment!” Sir Barnes, prince’s most entrusted Knight, cried out.

His exclaim was followed by a wave of suggestive boo noise at which Sir Rogers finally tore his gaze from yours, staring at his friends.

“Well if you acted more like knights and less like barbarians, making fun of a lady like that, perhaps I would have taken more haste to come back to you!”

All he earned by his chivalrous defence of your long-lost honour was a chorus of “oooooh” and perhaps later, he would be laughed at just as much as you had been when you had tripped. Yet, he seemed to be bothered little by that fact.

He shook his head, expression speaking of an apology not needed.

“I’m afraid I have been summoned, as rudely as it was.”

You gathered the last items, carefully laying them on the tray, a sad reflexion of how it had looked before you lost your balance and practically fell to Sir Rogers’s feet. As if it was not too late for that.

“Thank you for your assistance, Sir Rogers,” you thanked him sincerely, astonished to find him swiftly rising to his feet – and offering a helping hand you could not dare to refuse even if you wished. His strength made itself known as he pulled you to your feet with little effort on your part, causing your head to spin, the brief curtsy you gifted him at last feeling like a daydream. “You- you are most kind.”

The breath-taking smile shone the force of thousand suns, yet caressed you as gently as a summer breeze. “It was an honour, my lady.”

“I am not a-“

“I hope to see you again soon,” he spoke before you could protest fully, laying his arm over his middle, gracing you with the tinniest of bows you were not worthy of, “smiling just as beautifully.”

With those words, he turned back to the prince and his knights, leisurely running back to the group.

As you walked away, you could not but waver at the corner, casting a last glance at the man; Sir Barnes mimicked a curtsy and proceeded to punch Sir Rogers in his shoulder with laughter. Sir Rogers pushed him away with a playful scowl, gaze wandering you to.

You rushed away, smiling to yourself for the rest of the day, embarrassment long forgotten.  

Smiling you were not tonight; fear had seized your heart, consuming you by every moment as you silently stepped out of the princess’ maids’ room, leaving Wanda and Carol sleeping peacefully despite the rumble outside – and in your heavy heart.

You missed your Steven greatly whenever he went, but you understood his duty. Tonight, however, something hovered in the air, an aura of something ominous which had you losing sleep. With a candleholder burning in your hand, you wandered the corridors, nodding to the guards on patrol.

“The seamstress is awake,” Pietro, Wanda’s brother, uttered knowingly, beckoning the direction of Natasha’s chambers.

Perhaps it should have not surprised you that Sir Barnes’ beloved, too, could not find peace on this trying night; and as much joy as it brought you to find yourself not alone, a suffocating feeling squeezed your chest tightly for it meant she might sense the same unease surrounding tomorrow’s battle.

Yet, you headed for her chambers, nodding at Pietro in thank you.

 That night, we were all losing sleep it was as if God sent the storm to warn us; oh foolish men, there is no peace in a war I, too, laid down my life in the name of the king.

 The warm light of the candle was casting long shadows as you walked, reminding you of how the light and darkness played on Steven’s handsome face last night. The princess had been laid to sleep, providing you with a few moments to spent in your beloved’s presence before he would leave to fight for his country, yet again, and you were not one to waste the chance.

Goodbyes were never easy. Whether it had been just a chance meeting after the fateful breakfast incident, meetings when Steven would insist you called him his name, offered you a flower of a compliment in exchange for your smile or whether your encounter had been planned when he revealed his intention to court you, rules of society damned. Whether you were to tell him goodbye for several days due to an upcoming quest or just for the night. Whether the goodbye consisted of words, a touch, a kiss on a cheek or lips… never easy.

Yet his absence left larger ache in your heart the deeper you were falling in love. Every goodbye seemed harder than the previous one; last night parting made for no exception.

“I will think of you every moment I am away,” he promised sweetly as he sneaked his arm around your waist, sitting on the bench by the dying fire in the kitchens, long abandoned by the cooks.

Your body, pliant to his touch, melted into his strong form, arm laying over his torso, temple resting against his chest as you sighed, feeling your worry heavy in your stomach.

“As much I appreciate the sentiment, please do not, Steven.”

You could almost hear his frown as he nuzzled your hair, his lips brushing your forehead lovingly.

“Why not, my sweet?  Will you not think of me as well?” he questioned, voice wavering despite his teasing tone.

You swatted his hip gently, soothing the attack with a caress then.

“You must know that is not true. I—you must focus. Be careful. So you can come back to me,” you whispered, doing your best not to let the depth of your anxiety show.

Steven carried enough burdens for the time being, he needed not your fears to add to them.

“Oh my sweet…”

His fingers slipped under your chin, leading you to meet his gaze, a smile playing in the corners of his lips; not even his beard could hide his amusement. You pursed your lips in slight offence – his safety was no laughing matter.

“Please, Steven. I could not bear any harm coming to you. Be careful.”

His thumb brushed over your lower lip, his smile only growing, wandering gaze warmer than the remnants of fire.

“You know I will, my sweet. I have a duty to my king and I have a duty here, to you,” he muttered, gaze flickering to your lips, following the motions of his thumb as he felt the softness of your flesh.

You had not enough time to process the words before he leaned closer, capturing your lips with his in a kiss, hand moving to cradle the back of your head, parting your lips to engage in a dance of love which could have consumed all your thoughts, all your worry – and yet, the anxious feeling only dug its claws deeper, chasing tears into your eyes.

Steven released you to breathe the moment he felt the salt of your tears, sighing as he tucked a lose strand of hair behind your ear. Still, a smile adorned his now kiss-swollen lips, condescending and kind at once.

“Promise me?” you demanded, the prickle of his beard leaving your skin tingling, your heart racing.

“I promise, then. Do not cry, my lady…”

Oh, the traitor… the corners of your mouth twitched, the difference in your status having turned more of a teasing matter than anything else.

“Steven, you must stop this. I am not a lady.”

“Oh, but you are?” he opposed with a twinkle in his eyes before his lips went to catch the tears from your cheeks, drinking them as if they were nothing less than ambrosia gifted by the gods.

The warmth of his lips and the burn of his beard combined with his jesting drew a giggle from your lips, turning into a breathless moan when his strong arms winded around your waist, pulling you into his lap just like several nights ago.

Dirty, dirty cheater.

His lips found yours again, playful nips causing more giggles spill right into his mouth.

“Am I, truly?” you asked doubtfully. “What are my possessions? What lands do I own and command, Sir Rogers?”

“My heart.”

The jesting and games left as swiftly as they arrived, silence filling the room, your heart stumbling in your chest as you felt your expression morph into something much softer.

How had you ever stood a chance of not falling for this man? For his strength, for his beautiful brave spirit and his gentle, gentle heart? A heart he claimed was yours to own and command?

You let your fingers map out his handsome features, running tenderly over his forehead, brows, the nose of a true aristocrat, his pushy lips; a careful touch which had him flutter his eyes shut, eyelashes casting shadows on his cheekbones, the fire as if accenting his beauty, revealing his soul to entice yours to entangle with it forever.

“It shall be my most prized possession, then,” you whispered, barely audible, his hand blindly reaching for yours to kiss your fingertips, one by one, the tender gesture tugging at your heartstrings.

He looked at you then, with overwhelming affection that would choke you once he left in the morning – but you could not think of such things now. He was here still. And he was yours, as you were his.

“Good,” he hummed. “Should you trust me with yours-“

“I do-“

“I shall ask for it in front of the Lord and the gods themselves.”

Your lips parted in surprise, your heart suddenly so loud you could almost hear it, breath catching in your throat. Surely, he did not mean-

“Once I return, I shall ask for your hand, should you agree, my sweetness,” he promised, eyes wide and sincere, stunning you into silence lasting long enough to have him hesitate. “Do you not-“

Oh, how could he even question your wish to marry him!

“I do! I--- but Steven, you are a knight. I would spend thousand lifetimes with you if I could, surely you must know-“ you babbled, his index finger covering your mouth before you could explain.

You would love him always, day and night, from summer solstice to winter and back, and you cherished every moment--- yet the void between you was immense.

“I will settle for one lifetime. You know Anthony cares little for rules and I am but of a common origin myself. What kind of a monster would stand in the way of our love?”

It was not until morning when you realized the answer to his question; when you watched him from above as he stood in the courtyard by his horse, fastening the scabbard to the saddle and tugging at the leather, checking it would hold as they would ride.

You hated seeing him leave more than ever – you dreaded the moments his horse would canter out of the castle’s gates, rushing so willingly to face dangers the other kingdoms posed; to serve his king, your king, to protect what he held dear.

His gaze travelled up the castle’s walls, lingering at the windows of the princess’ chambers – the very windows you were watching him from, stealing last glances as your heart wept and trembled in fear for his life, longing for him to keep the promises he had given you last night.

With the prince’s command, the knights and soldiers left but ache and dust behind, along with an answer.

War.

The biggest and only true monster standing in the way of love was war.

The word resonated with you, leaving you weary and in frenzy at once, as you reached Natasha’s chamber, not needing to knock for her door was ajar – as if she knew you would be coming; as if she did not want to be alone either.

You slipped into her chamber, welcomed by a humourless but gentle smile.

“A pleasant night, is it not?” she hummed noncommittally, “leave the door open, please. Just in case…”

Just in case there would be any commotion in the castle. Perhaps the knights and soldiers would come back, accepting the warning from the Gods. Perhaps, perhaps…

Natasha’s room was relatively spacious for it equalled her craft-space. Besides a small bed with a solid wooden frame, several tables stood covered in pieces of fabric from simplest to the rarest ones, embroideries, bobbin lace, silk. Dresses in various state of completion laid over them or hung on improvised metal frames imitating princess’ lean figure. Silver and golden threads shone in the warm lights provided by a few candles by the stony walls, flickering to life as another lightning erupted behind the window, followed by a distant clap of thunder.

The storm was leaving. Could that be because the danger was not as great or that the gods had given up on the king’s army since they were not heard out?

“Personally, I would say a long night. An ominous one,” you whispered, earning a sigh.

Natasha ceased her work on a lovely silvery embroidery, laying the tambour frame on the nearest flat surface and rose to her feet, a silent offer you accepted with gratitude for the arms you longed to find yourself in were miles away.

She reciprocated the embrace firmly and you felt an ounce of your fear fall from your shoulders for now you shared the weight of it – yours and hers alike. Her goosebumps matched yours as she slipped hr arms under the flimsy shawl you had taken to cover yourself form gazes of the guards. Both of you wore but in simple nightgowns besides it, yet you sensed cold was not to blame for the prickle of her skin either.

Losing sleep with anxiety and intrusive thoughts were at work instead.  

“The weight of fears is lessened when one’s hands are occupied,” she informed you as she let go, brows furrowed with worry still, sighing. “But what of mind…”

Oh, you wished…

“I must try to busy my hands too then, at least.”

At your words, Natasha’s lips curled up in a smile yet again as she handed you your very own tambour frame which you kept in her chambers for such occasion, for sleepless or nightmare-filled nights such as this one.

You found your seat by hers, not fully across, not fully by her side, assessing the floral pattern you had started almost a month ago.

Natasha had been kind enough to sneak some of the royal threads for your work, expensive ones; threads no one would miss nevertheless for Nat was likely the most trusted woman in the castle besides the cook and the princess herself.

She jested you only deserved the very best for your wedding gown once Steven would lay his heart to your feet and you had been working on it since with the deepest care. Tonight, however, tears burned in your eyes as you observed it, the pattern as if mocking you with Steven’s entirely serious promise.

“He shall come back,” Natasha spoke, your expression not escaping her sharp attention. This of all her qualities was what made for her unparalleled ability as a seamstress – her attention to detail. “They all will, Steven and Bucky included.”

Bucky. Sir Barnes. Natasha’s beloved. He too was likely to be pestered about courting a seamstress, but Natasha was well-loved among the noble – the court would never bat an eye and passed no judgement, yet Sir Barnes had not yet asked Natasha’s hand in marriage. She rested unbothered by such; for all you knew of your friend, she would have asked his hand in marriage should she decided she was in a rush.

The thought made you smile for you were aware of the fact Sir Barnes would have said yes and thanked her, worshipped her more than ever. Their love was strong… and word had it that they shared a deep bond beyond pure love, crossing the lines of physical and perhaps the lines of proper. Natasha had hinted at such herself before.

Should you marry Steven as you wished, you were willing to cross as many lines as necessary yourself. You were willing to do just about anything to ensure he would not change his mind, that he would not be plagued with as much as a seed of doubt.

You believed your most trusted friend could be of assistance… without passing judgement.

“Natasha?” you spoke without looking up as you focused on continuing the cornflower with your needle. “I heard rumours.”

“Oh? Of what? Do tell, my dear. I am always happy to learn of the whispers laugh over them at times.”

You felt the blush creeping up your neck, your stomach twisting in embarrassment. Perhaps what you had heard was nonsense – something to laugh over as Natasha just said, nothing but a foolery you had believed in your naivety and inexperience.

“I must say now I am truly curious for your silence lasts too long. And you seem ashamed… just tell me,” she prompted you gently.

You noticed from the corner of your eye she had stopped working, only adding to your nerves.

Your felt the tips of your ears burn as you attempted to keep your tone and expression nonchalant nevertheless, clearing your throat.

“I heard rumours of… making men happy.”

“That does sound promising. Gold, glory or a woman can do that do them.”

You chuckled despite yourself as she deadpanned, some of your embarrassment melting away.

“I overheard a servant talking of ways a woman can please a man without… without sinning? As in truly sinning in the eyes of the Lord? Have you ever, uhm, heard of such thing?”

Silence settled over the room, hanging heavy above your heads.

The storm had left far enough so that no claps of thunder reached you anymore, no bolts of lightning interrupted the intimate atmosphere.  

Nearly pricking yourself with a needle in anticipation, you opted for ceasing your work, hesitantly looking up, meeting Natasha’s curious eyes with a sparkle of mischief that had you lower your gaze again.

“I have. And they are true,” she said simply at last, sending your heart racing.

Oh. So it was the truth then. There was an experience more pleasurable for men than you knew, places where Steven might appreciate your lips more than on his cheek, in his hair, on his mouth or even his neck. Your temples pulsed with the intensity of each beat of your heart at the revelation.

“Do you… do you know of it, Natasha?” you asked, fingers toying with the fabric in your lap.

“I do.”

Your head snapped to her; she was smiling playfully, head tilted to side – a cat that got all the cream and was bragging to her less sneaky friends.

You huffed and pursed your lips, not liking one bit to be made fun of; yet, you needed to know. And so you eased your offence, looking at the redhead pleadingly, baring your heart to her; for you knew that despite her smirk, she would never truly laughed at you.

“Would you please, please, tell me? I… he promised me yesterday. That he would come back and ask-“

“To marry you? Good Lord! Steven promised to marry you at last?!” she gasped, her eyes truly sparkling now, all teasing gone.

You nodded, unable to prevent your lips from forming a smile at the thought, and continued.

“I want to be a good wife to him one day…. but I would like to show him I will be able to make him feel good. What if he wonders if I can please him? He promised me everything and I-- I want to give him the same. Gods know marrying someone of my status will come with burdens and judgement… I don’t… I don’t want to disappoint him, to make him question his decision.”

Natasha’s booming laugh was a reward for your honesty, startling you.

Was this the first time you appeared utterly stupid to her? Silly? It was such a painful feeling… But once her laughter died down, she observed you with kindness, grinning wide and shaking her head.

“I cannot imagine a world in which Sir Steven Rogers could ever be disappointed in you. That man would build a ladder tall enough to reach the stars should you ask him to bring you one.”

Oh.

The shame dispersed in a blink of an eye, warmth enveloping your heart instead. Was that how Steven appeared to others in regard of his feelings for you?

“But very well. I shall tell you – he is only a man, after all. He will appreciate it, of that I am certain. But know, he can please you in a very similar way. And he should – sin or not.”

“…does Sir Barnes please you in such way?” you asked on a whim, taken by surprise at her revelation.

“Oh, but a lady does not kiss and tell!” she mocked offence, her coy smile answering your question. “Perhaps he shares the secrets of his mastery with Steven and you shall be very surprised when you succumb to him.”

The mere idea – so strange and yet incomprehensibly arousing since you had no experience with it nor you could imagine drawing pleasure from such activity – chased blood to your cheeks, having them burn hotter than fire.

The longing for Steve’s presence hit you sharper than the edge of his shield and sword combined, leaving your head swimming and your chest aching.

“He must return home safe first,” you murmured, exchanging a gaze of understanding with your friend, followed by her smile when you asked an innocent question. “Would you pray with me later?”

“I will. And they will. But now… I shall share the wonders of driving a man mad in ways he will thank you for.”

And by gods and Lord, she did.

 Strange cavalrymen are racing from the forest in our eyes, but droplets of fear – here, to kill is no sin. The very first shot has silenced my heart I shall not return home; my time has come.

(In the name of the king!)

Little did you know that in the darkness of the night, cut by bolts of lightning, howl of the wind, distant claps of thunder and the aroma of rain in the air as if warning them not to go into the battle, Steve laid awake, his thoughts were with you as well.

The tent shared with the rest of the knights protected him from the disgrace of a weather raging outside, light snores a strange lullaby Steve had grown almost fond of during the years of comradeship. He could recognize every single one of his friends by that sound alone, distinct to each; and despite that fact only strengthening the sense of belonging and his gratitude to be given the opportunity to become a knight, he longed for nights to spend with you at last.

The idea brought a smile to his lips; you would lie beside him, facing him, wide eyes watching him with affection, drunk on the pleasure he would have given you but moments before, warm palm gently laid on his cheek as if begging him to kiss your wrist. He would oblige – he would always give in to whatever you asked – but in the end, he would wrap his arm around your waist and roll you over to pull you to his front, align his body to yours, inch by inch. He would drop a goodnight kiss to your bare shoulder, causing you to shiver and snuggle ever closer and let the sleep take you both.  

And in the morning, he would wake only to make love to you again, because he would be allowed; because you would be married at last.

He had promised you as much last night and it was a promise he intended to keep. Just like he had promised himself he would bring all the pleasure he ever dared to think of, clinging to his mind ever since the night you had treated his wound from training, giving him but a taste of bliss.

The way you lowered your gaze when he called you beautiful still, the shape of your lips when you smiled, your tender hands scratching at his scalp when he kissed you.

The warmth of your body seeping into his skin.

He could only imagine how much warmer and inviting your heat would be once he was allowed. Oh Lord, how he had wished to have been allowed that night…

The way the torches illuminated your face made him yearn to pick up a piece of charcoal and a scroll of parchment meant for significant documents to capture the alluring image of you – an image which to him felt just as important as a treaty between kingdoms.

It was rather unusual for him to see you from his angle for normally he towered several inches above you, having you have to tip your head back to reach his lips. You had seated him there, however, and your expression left no space for protests once you learned he had been injured in the evening training, grazed by a little too sharpened sword which cut through his armour, made for a bruise and broke through his skin as well.

You were no physician, you had said, but you could clean and dress a wound like this.

A frown to your brow clouded your soft features with disapproval as you placed the bowl of warm water on the only table in the room, careful not to tip over the small vial of alcohol you had obtained for him. You pulled at the white cloth thrown over your shoulder, dipping one of the edged in the water before glancing at him and halting in your movements as if seeing him for the first time that night.

“What weighs your mind, my sweetness?” he asked silently.

“You not being careful enough,” you retorted as if on instinct; and then your teeth pulled lightly at your lower lip, indignation melting into bashfulness. “Uhm, I believe you will have to- to take off your shirt.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Steve’s lips. That did sound reasonable, yet he felt a slight pull at his nerves as you did at the realization.

You had never seen him bared of his garments, never seen his upper body exposed – or his lower half for that matter. He feared not your judgement for that would be ridiculous. But perhaps he did feel a bit anxious to fulfil your expectations.

A baseless worry, truly; the moment he slipped his shirt off, gritting his teeth at the pull at his cut, you were left staring at him, suddenly mute, lips parted with a soft sigh that spoke of everything but disappointment.

Steve would have been a liar should he say he did not feel pleased, his ego stroked gently. He had worked for the strength in his upper body his whole life and he worked hard for he had been born a weakling. Now muscles adorned his torso, a prove of power he had when wielding a sword and a shield. And by Lord, by would wield it for your eyes only had you always watched him with this silent wonder.

“Did cat get your tongue, my dear?” he teased lightly, unable to hide the smugness when you tore your gaze away from the newly exposed skin, caught staring. “I would never use my strength to hurt you.”

“I know,” you squealed before clearing your throat and composing yourself. “I was merely… assessing the damage.”

He was sure you were.

“Of course. Do you need me to strip anything else-“

“No--! This… this will certainly suffice. Thank you,” you smiled at him shakily, feeding his ego further with your embarrassment. “Just sit back for now, Steven, and let me clean the wound-- oh.”

You tilted your head to side curiously, gaze zeroed above his left hip.

Steve knew instantly what caught your eye.

The black lines were thick despite the size no bigger than his own palm, a small work of art many still frowned upon. You did not seem offended nor, Lord forbid, horrified. Merely curious – perhaps even fascinated.

“May I?” you asked in a whisper, already moving forward and reaching out your hand.

Steve gulped.

Yes, you may, by all means, he longed to say. Touch it, trace every line with your fingers, with your lips, your tongue even-

“Of course,” he rasped instead, scolding himself for his dirty thoughts.

Yet, as if you heard what was on his mind, the pads of your fingers brushed over the tattoo, a featherlight touch in a place where your skin had never met his before and set it on fire.

“A wolf?”

“Yes.”

You pursed your lips lightly in a sign of disapproval and so Steve rushed to explain.

“Bucky often jested we were a pack of wolfs rather than a group of knights and so we all chose a wolf. Do you… not like it? “

You met his gaze briefly, shaking your head with a shy smile, taking your touch away; and he already carved it again.

“No, it’s beautiful, just… a little aggressive.”

“Well, wolves are fierce warriors. Strong, loyal,” he pointed out, hoping you would not miss the weight behind his next words. ”Protective of their own.”

Their own. His own. You might not be a fellow knight nor family nor his wife yet, but he would lay his life to protect you should it be necessary.

And you could bet the royal jewels he would fight aggressively had anyone tried to harm you.

“Then you could have not chosen better,” you whispered, laying a kiss to your fingertips before pressing them to the artwork again, having Steve’s breath catch.

He wished you would kiss it with your lips directly – but then you would have to kneel in front of him, giving him a completely different idea as to where your lips could be and the imagery alone would be permanently etched into his mind.

So perhaps it was for the best that you had not, for he felt his arousal growing at the thought alone; instead, you moved to take care of his cut.

Your dominant hand dutifully wiped around the wound first, tender but thorough, your focus as sharp as one of an archer aiming to hit the middle of the clout. Your other hand rested against his shoulder for balance as you stood between his legs crouched and a little twisted, your position slightly awkward and no doubt uncomfortable.

“Sit, my sweetling.”

You gazed up at him, eyebrow raised questioningly, as surprised by his suggestion and he was for a moment.

Needless to say that at the moment, he was eternally grateful that Bucky and Clint had left for the town’s tavern, celebrating news of Clint’s wife Laura finding herself with her first child – leaving you and him alone.

“I must not block the light and have to be able to reach the bowl. I cannot very well sit, Steven,” you explained softly, blinking when he grasped at your hand and tugged at it lightly.

“You will not block the light,” he opposed, closing the gap between his thighs and leading you closer to stand by his legs and pulling at your skirt a fraction, “if you are sitting, straddling me. Come, my love. It shall be much easier for you.”

Your eyes grew adorably wide at his suggestion, softening at the endearment. Reluctantly, you obeyed, climbing over him and lowering your weight on his thighs, leaning onto his shoulder as not to fall. Steve welcomed the weight you brought with you, your breaths fanning his face as you shifted in attempt to find a comfortable position.

You met his gaze with an apologetic smile as if you had not just gifted him with your intimate proximity.

“Am I not too heavy like this?”

Oh even if you were, Steve would never dare to tell you in order to keep you so close to him for the rest of his days; let alone when you moved a few inches and brushed his most sensitive spot.

Oh Lord, he was going to hell, but it mattered not if he had his time with an angel before he would go.

“Like a feather, sweet. Comfortable? Stable?”

He placed his hands on your waist to ensure better balance and you smiled at him, gaze flickering to his naked chest, a gorgeous flush rising to your face.

Yes, he could go to hell for at the moment, he was having a taste of heaven.

“Yes. I shall work now.”

Steven wanted not to show he felt the sting as you continued cleaning the wound; but he found out letting you see him vulnerable was not the worst thing possible to happen.

When a hiss escaped his lips at the burn of alcohol, your eyes snapped to his with an unspoken apology; and his pain was soothed by the softest of kisses.

He stole several more from your lips, squeezing your waist, toying with the hem of your bodice before he let you continue, demanding such compensation every time you made his jaw tick with pain; and with each kiss, his hunger grew, each encounter of lips longer than the previous.  

The moment you were to take a fresh cloth to finish cleaning with water once again, Steve knew he could not let you. Not yet; he drew too much pleasure from this, having you, his dutiful carer, seated in his lap, soft and tender and unwittingly seductive.

Your lips had grown swollen from the kisses, calling for him to taste you again – and Steve was not one to ignore a call like that.

With a small noise of surprise on your part, he claimed your mouth again, hand reaching to cradle your face, gentle thumb stroking your cheek and coaxing you into giving in. Your body melted into his, pliant, lips succumbing to his advances and he felt something in him roar, a proud primal thing boasting at your trustful submission.

His arm wound around your waist firmly, pulling you chest to chest, your gasp of surprise swallowed by his mouth, your hands catching on his arm and in his hair, making him groan at the sensation which sent an impulse straight into groin.

It made his pants too tight all of sudden; he had no doubt it did not escaped your attention.

Yet you did not protest, your breathing turning heavy, your heart hammering against his chest and under his palm laid on your neck. You seemed to force your grip on him to ease, grasping at remnants of sanity in the whirlwind of need – and so he followed your example and released your lips for a moment.

“My love, my sweetling…” he whispered, drunk on the assault of sensations, drunk on everything that made you you.

How sweet you were, so effortlessly, unconsciously alluring to all his senses. The scent of your skin, the taste of your lips, the tender heat of your touch as you mimicked all little acts of affection he had ever shown you, your lips, hesitant and shy, wandering to his neck or the hollow of his throat to treat him.  

The most beautiful sight, eyes unknowingly blown with lust and wide with surprise at once as you felt his arousal he simply could not help, not with a temptress like you in his lap. Innocent but quickly learning from him, from others too no doubt – for you recovered from your shock, your trembling hands settling on his shoulder for support, grinding against him and by Lord, Lord, he wished to take you right there.

He had women in the tavern touch him before for money, he had eased the pressure in his loin thinking of how sweet your heat would be, but he would never – he could never. Not before he married you, not before he promised his love to you in front of the whole world.  

Yet, the way your eyelids fluttered shut at the foreign feeling, your lips parting with a shaky exhale at the first taste of pleasure, had his hands travel up your waist, teasing the underside of your breasts. He craved to taste you there too, almost as much as he longed for the ambrosia awaiting him between your legs, a cure which would make all the pain above his collarbone disappear completely.

“Oh Steven-“ you whispered as your thighs trembled when his hips buckled up, his name on your lips like an oil to the fire and a gush of wind strong enough to put the fire out at once.

He could feel the pressure in him building, his hands twitching to untie your bodice, ruck up your skirts and pull his pants down to remove all barriers between you, just him, you and absolute bliss--- but he could not, fuck, he must not do that to you.

He seized your mouth with his to swallow your sigh of pleasure; a desperate claim with a smidge of teeth for he felt his control slipping and he needed to take reigns of his desires at once, before he’d do things that could grant him instant gratification but would make for regrets later on.

He grabbed your hips, forcing his own to cease the instinctive motions, preventing your own as well.

A small pitiful sound which almost broke his resolve for it had his blood boiling escaped your kiss-swollen lips, leading him to stray from your mouth to your neck, heavy breaths expanding his chest as much as they did yours, every inhale of yours causing your breasts to brush against his naked chest.

You shall not give into temptation, you shall not give into temptation—

“Lord--- my sweet, my sweetling, how you tempt me,” he panted into your skin, unable to resist a small taste of it, one last time, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

“I must not dishonour you in such way, but…” He dared to look up to your flushed face, instantly regretting it for the acute need in his groin grew tenfold at the sight of your own desire written all over your features. “Lord knows it is the most difficult and yet the sweetest trial I have ever faced. You are beautiful, so beautiful…”

He ran his fingers over your cheek, over the slightly irritated skin where his beard scratched when his lips had sought to drink from yours, the corners of your lips now lifted in a shy smile.

“As you are handsome… how hard it is not to give in to a sin. I have never known until I met you, Steven,” you admitted, somehow appearing abashed and pleased at once.

His beautiful kind bashful minx of a woman. How could he not fall in love with you?

“I feel the same, my sweet. I love you. I thank the Lord for you every day.”

Your eyes shone with affection as you cupped his face and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

“I thank the gods and the Lord for you and your love every day as well. I love you. You must be more careful, Steven,” you whispered, gaze flickering to the wound you had not finished cleaning, worry clouding your features.

Oh should you always react in such way, curing him with loving kisses and the same passion you had shown him a moment ago, Steven thought that he should be, as matter of fact, much more careless.

But he could not tell you that – and he would not. He would soon put a plan in motion to spend the rest of his life with you. What kind of a fool would he be should he not try his hardest to make that life as long as possible?

“I will, my sweet. I will.”

Momentarily soothed, you kissed his lips softly and returned to your original task.

Should he keep his promise, Steve needed to catch a shut-eye at last – and chase those sinful memories away.

An early morning awaited them, the last training and a battle to be won to earn his reward; to no longer think of you, but to be graced with your presence… and to be granted your hand in marriage as well.

To reach victory, however, every single man, every knight and soldier, had to be in their best shape, in their sharpest minds, for Hydra could be cunning and unpredictable.

Defeat was not an option for Steve; he had too much to fight for.

For his king.

For his kingdom and the people.

For you.

Oh you.

How you would cry upon learning how desperately outnumbered the Starkerbürg army was. How you would weep, precious tears running down your face once you were to be informed of the victory coming with too high of a price.

Your tears would make for an ocean when you would see only a handful of men coming back, Natasha’s beloved a picture of blood and grief as he had witnessed Steve being one of the first men to get hit.

You would have drowned in your own tears if you only knew Steven’s last thoughts belonged to no one but you. The last thing he had seen looking up into the morning sun as he lied on his back, body too heavy to rise once more and fight, was your loving smile.

Steve could not bear to see you crying; so he was grateful for leaving this world with your smile in his thoughts instead.

 Do not weep for me, my beautiful Marian, when the tower bell rings to honour soldiers, proud My heart is silent, but in you there shall remain all the words that flare up like fire.

The storm did not return the following night – yet the uneasiness in your heart found you in Natasha’s chambers again, frantically working on your embroidery for busy hands were meant to settle an unsettled mind.

You retreated back to your simple bed earlier than the previous night however, your body feeling the consequences of missing sleep the night prior, exhaustion wearing you down and sweeping you to dreamland as soon as your head touched the sheets.

Yet, you were woken up with the first chirps of birds, the castle still wrapped in dark shadows – but lively with a haste that could only mean one and one thing only.

The troops were coming back.

You threw away your flimsy cover, searching for your shawl in a haste, your heart threatening to jump out of your chest with anticipation.

They were back. Steven was back!

Wasn’t it too early for them to return? Had something gone wrong? Was he injured during the battle? Had he lost a dear friend?

You caught Wanda’s sleepy eye as you stumbled out of the room, noticing Carol’s bed already empty – she always had been a light sleeper so the commotion in the castle must have intrude her rest before it did yours.

The corridors were brimming with servants and guards, all taking haste to gather in the courtyard by the gate, heavy footsteps and the rattle of armour ominous as you were still wiping sleep from your eyes and hurried along.

Gods please, I am begging you, Lord – let him be alright. It is but all I ask. Perhaps a cut for me to clean with care and love, a bruise for me to kiss tenderly---  grant me the sight of him, standing tall and healthy, smiling with relief to be home.

Breath had nearly left you by the last stairs, every beat of your heart almost painful against your ribcage, but you cared little for it, willing your feet to hurry still.

They had returned! Only a few more steps and you would be able to see them, dealing with neglecting the princess later on after your soul would meet its other half, chasing all worries away and wrapping you in his love instead. A few more steps only, to find peace-

You gasped as you found yourself in the courtyard at last, your soul nearly leaving your body in fright at the sight of several men looking a miserable excuse for knights – clothing torn, bloodied, articles of armour missing, two horses barely limping by their side.

Prince Anthony in the centre, supported by Sir Barnes and Sir Barton. Sir Drax leading the horses. Your eyes skimmed over what you believed was Mr. Thorn, Mr. Vaughn and Mr. Richards and a few men you did not recognize for their beaten faces or for having never met them before.

Cold seeped into your bones upon seeing that there were not more than thirty – and they appeared to carry themselves with the last remnants of strength, attempting to support one another.

There was no doubting whether there were others on their tail – they were not.

A pained cry erupted from your throat at the sharp pain piercing your chest, hand grasping at your sternum as to sooth it as the realization dawned to you.

No more men were coming. The pitiful remnants of an army stood before you by their prince, their future king, whom they protected with their lives--- and many loyal soldiers and knights were left behind, having kept their promise and laying their lives in the name of the king.

Steven was one of them.

Another sob escaped your lips as you rubbed at your breastbone, scratching that terrible itch that seemed to be spreading through your veins, burning and so devastatingly cold against the tears springing from your eyes, rolling down your cheeks.

Your lungs ached as you took a hungry gasp for air, violent tremble seizing your body, your head shaking of its own volition, stubbornly rejecting the plain facts laid in front of you. You understood – you understood in an instant, but your mind, and more so, your heart refused to acknowledge the gut-wrenching truth.

He was gone.

How could he---how could he be gone? He had promised! He had promised to come back and to be careful and to love you and to ask your hand in marriage for he cared not for who you were and who was him, only who you were together, he-

Steven was an epitome of strength and bravery and loyalty and trust and all the virtues known to man. How could he… how could he simply cease to exist? That must have been gods’ mistake for certain, for it made not an ounce of sense.

Steve was a knight, a fierce warrior, protective of his own as his comrades were supposed to be and yet they were standing there and he was not--- how could that be?

Surely this must have been but a nightmare. A nightmare your tired, fear-clouded mind had invented to make for an encounter all the sweeter, sweeter than Steven’s lips… sweeter than his promises.

Then why were you still dreaming? How had the terrible ache not tugged at your hand and pushed you back to reality?

Was your fear truly so paralyzing it had trapped you in your nightmare?

A flash of red hair caught your eye, Natasha’s hasty embrace nearly causing Sir Barnes topple over and the truth of the terrible scene in front of you twisted the knife in your chest.

There was no denying anymore; there was no waking up from this.

This was the price you paid for war: love. Your love was no more.

“What is it like?” you whispered shyly, teeth worrying over your lips as you wondered whether you had the right to ask.

You toyed with the soft ends his hair, a little too long perhaps, but only adding to the air of a nobleman he might be not, but certainly resembled. Steve was simply too handsome of a man to be a commoner, you would think people believed; and despite his heart of gold, his gentle hands brushing over your cheek as you laid on the grass only a few moments from the castle’s gate, you had to agree.

His beauty rivalled the sun itself; and his love bested the one of the sun as well.

“How-- I mean… on the battlefield. What is it like to fight?”

He tilted his head to side, frowning at you as he appeared to contemplate your inquiry – perhaps an inappropriate one. Yet you could not seem to help it for you wanted to know him more, you wanted to know everything… you wanted to be close to your love even at times when you were not for he had rushed to defend the crown and the kingdom.

“I apologize, I-“ you hurried, only to be interrupted with a shake of his head, sending his golden locks flying adorably.

“It is… loud. Chaotic. Cruel sometimes,” he tried to explain, cerulean eyes filling with an absent look, pulling him away from your happy moment.

And yet, his embrace was as tender as ever as you laid your heavy head on his chest.

His fingers slipped under your chin, insistent to see you instead of the horror which was no doubt etched in his mind. You were certain a single look at the terror would haunt you – left you terrified for your every breath. How could Steven simply lie here with you, heart on his sleeve, kind and inviting?

“And do you not… do you get scared?”

It must have been written in your eyes. Or perhaps Steven was such talented observer, reading between the lines, reading in your deepest thoughts; for he saw a plea and not another question.

Your plea of please, say yes. Tell me that for all your bravery, you do feel fear. Tell me that for all your heroism, you are only a human made of flesh and blood and strength and weakness and dreams, as am I.

“Sometimes, yes,” he admitted with a self-deprecating smile. He grasped your wrist in his long fingers tenderly, ran them over your palm and then fingers, only to bring them to his mouth, kissing every single fingertip. “But then I think of you.”

“You do?” you queried, doubtful and confused.

“Yes. And it gives me strength. I think of you, my sweet,” he whispered sincerely, “and my father and the kids playing pebble toss and five stones and… I recall in the midst of chaos what is it we fight for.”

Touched, you strained your neck to steal a kiss from the lips spilling the tender words, words speaking of Steven’s good heart; words helping you remember just how good of a man your Steven was.

And how your heart, whenever in his orbit, belonged to him more than to yourself.

He pecked your lips, smiling wider then, honest, and dropped a kiss on your nose.

“And I am not alone. Tony, Bucky, Clint, Drax, even Peter or Scott and others. They might all be dollop heads…” You failed to stiff a giggle at his choice of words, knowing he was not mistaken. “But they are skilled fighters. I shall not trust them with saving me lunch, but I trust them with my life.”

Skilled fighters they were, such you had had the chance to witness before. It stood to reason to believe Steven then. The knights could protect each other, having each other’s back, fighting all for one and one for all.

And so as difficult as it seemed whenever Steven had gone, you knew he trusted his friends – and you shall try to do the same.

The words Steven had spoken to you that day echoed in your head, bouncing around like little goblins, mocking you for your and Steve’s naivety.

I trust them with my life.

How foolish a man of his wits could be? How could you have allowed his empty promises to lull you into peace of heart?

I trust them with my life.

There was no denying Steven put his faith in those who were not worthy of it.

And for his foolery he had paid the highest of prices. His life. Your love.

Through the mist of your tears, you noticed the valets letting flags down the balconies; already signalling kingdom’s grief for the fallen men. Black as night and yet not black enough to capture the true nature of sorrow.

You blinked away the salty droplets burning in your eyes as people passed you, leading the survivors to the doctor’s chambers. Cries could be heard from several houses as the news spread like wildfire, burning everything in its wake, leaving unhealable scars.

Sobs shook you, but no one acknowledged you; each of you were overtaken by your own sorrow.

Sorrow was a lonely work after all, for everyone was destined to mourn in different manner, grieving different things… and different people. Sons, brothers, fathers. Husbands and lovers.

Lovers.

Your love. Your Steven.

A caress of a wind carrying his name ruffled your hair.

The night had just barely begun tuning into a day, the lower castle wrapped in shadows and darkness when the commotion disturbed your sleep and but upon learning the appalling reports of the army’s pitiful victory, the night seemed to cling to its reign.

Yet now, the wind made to disperse the heavy clouds which had surrounded the castle in sympathy. Sharp cold light of the sun broke through, a dawn of a new day; a beginning of an end. You let the violent intrusion of light fall on your face, eyes fluttering against the assault.

So bright… too bright in comparison to what your world had become.

Perhaps this was your punishment for praying to Lord and the old gods still at once; perhaps you displeased one or the other by not worshipping them and them alone.

Or perhaps the power of all of them together was not enough to protect your beloved Steve; perhaps the gods were just as powerless and helpless as any mere mortal like you.

Who even knew if there were gods and how mighty they were; what you did know with certainty was that they were not enough to protect Steve in life.

And so you fell to your knees, with no regard of getting in the way, clasped your hands together and prayed for Steve’s soul in death.

May the Gods protect him from ghouls and evil spirits. May the Lord grant him entry to the gardens of Eden, for his soul deserved peace and eternal love.

One day… one day you would hope to join him in afterlife; until then, you shall stay in the purgatory of living in the senseless world without him.

In the world where pointless wars slaughtered the mattes of love and tore soulmates apart.

 With the last shot fired, the once lively meadow burst into quiet tears and embraced the bodies of the fallen and the winners – whom there are none for a war is not won when lives are the price to pay. And all the beautiful Marians, who received the report of our death just as night melted into day, lifted their inquiring gaze to the skies and in that moment, the sun rose.

Despite the truth settling in, despite every passing day screaming the loss the whole kingdom had suffered, your life, suddenly dull, resembled the strangest of fever dreams.

Your mind received the message of reality clearly and undeniably; yet there remained an immense rift between the thought and your heart. In your heart, you could not yet accept that Steven was no more; where your thoughts kept humming with grief, your heart awaited Steven’s return, welcoming smile and pretty words to wrap you in affection.

It was simply such an ungraspable idea, a world without him. Incomprehensible. Impossible.

And yet your mind accepted it, perhaps for Steven loving once seemed just as imaginable.

But before your heart could be ripped apart by harsh facts, you tucked them into an imaginary drawer in your head along with your grief to hide it from sight – for a mere glimpse of it hurt too much.

You busied your hands during your days and attempted to engage your mind as well; yet every night, images of horror awaited you, haunting.

Steven’s motionless body swimming in a sea of blood, vultures circling above him to swoop down in order to feed on his flesh. The tattoo of a wolf adorning his torso coming to life, climbing out of his skin only to tear away a limb to present it proudly to the pack and begin a feast with a growl.

You were waking up with tears drenching your face, screams on your lips which you profusely apologized for to your friends in the morning, earning their forgiveness and endless pity.

Steve’s absence was ever-present; while no longer amongst the living, you saw him everywhere.

You had always thought his eyes were the colour of the sky; yet these days, the skies were the colour of his eyes. The golden threads Natasha laced Princess Maria’s wedding gown with were the colour of his hair when the sun shone bright and painted a halo around his handsome face.

The apples you brought to the princess for breakfast were the colour of Steven’s kiss-swollen lips. You took a bite of the ones you carried back, untouched, but it did not taste nearly as sweet, prompting you to burst into inconsolable sobs, infecting the cooks who had lost their loved ones as well with your tears. You longed for Steven’s lips to kiss your tears away, for his tickly beard to sooth their burn on your skin.

Your only fortune, should you choose to find joy in the smallest of things, was sudden haste to marry king Howard’s children for the kingdom needed swiftly strengthen its alliances; prince Anthony was to marry princess Virginia of Pottenberg, whereas princess Maria was to be wed to prince Steven of Strangerlands.

The preparations for a royal wedding which was to take place in the castle, along with packing and readying the princess for her journey, left only little space for your grief to overwhelm you.

And since you were one of the princess’ maids, you were to prepare yourself for a journey as well.

While you might have not possessed much, there were items you laid into your pitiful excuse of a luggage with great care; you set the hand-made embroidery for a wedding dress you shall never wear, for you no longer had your groom, on the very top of your bag. You ran your fingers lovingly over the pattern of meadow flowers you had chosen to for it reminded you of your first interaction with your beloved and swallowed your tears.

Foreign lands with foreign customs would have scared you only a few days ago, yet now they were a promise of easing your pain. In the walls of the new castle, you would see the ghost of your Steven less frequently for he had never walked its halls.

Leaving, as intimidating as it might seem, would bring you relief.

The loud crash of the chamber’s door against a wall startled you, having you swiftly cover your embroidery with the nearest cloth, your head snapping to the source of the noise.

Met with the flushed face of your closest friend, you blinked in surprise at her wide-eyed gaze, swiftly drying your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Why would you make such noise, Wanda? What is the matter?” you asked silently, clearing your throat when the swallowed tears made your voice hoarse.

“The--- the- I,” she panted, clutching at her chest as she tried to catch her breath, shaking her head wildly, causing you to feel worry instead of sorrow for the first time in days. “You are needed outside right away!”

To say such order struck you as odd would be a gross understatement.

As it was, you could not imagine a single thing you could do for the princess outside for you were certain she was having tea with her father and her brother before they would be forced to part. And if any help was needed at a request of anyone else, then surely your presence specifically was not a necessity? Wanda herself had just run up all the flights of stairs – she could have done the work in your place, could she not?

Why would she come for you instead? You possessed no special skills to make you any more desirable than Wanda – on anyone, truly.

“Me? Now? What for?”

In lieu of an answer, your friend simply gestured with her hands vaguely, the movement incomprehensible for you.

“Just take haste, for Gods’ sake!” she cried out exasperatedly, the smallest of smiles passing her lips at your gaze widening as well.

Wanda even more than yourself, was raised within the old religion – to call upon the gods felt not in character for her for she knew better.

You willed your feet to move despite how heavy they seemed for the past few days; haste would then be too strong of a word and yet, you tried.

The corridors were lined with royal colours of red and gold, the servants tasked with decoration for the royal visit and upcoming wedding dutiful as always. The preparations and anticipation had made the castle buzzing at last despite the tragedy striking barely a week ago – yet, now it seemed fresh excitement hovered in the air.

Had the party on the behalf of Pottenberg arrived without your notice? You had been so lost in your own thoughts lately it would not be too surprising should you be honest with yourself.

If that was true, you certainly did have to take haste.

Running your hands through your hair, quickly pulling it into an improvised half-braid, you hoped to look presentable enough not to be ejected by the royals. You attempted to straightened your skirt a bit as you descended the stairs, quickening your steps.

Taking a deep breath to stand tall despite feeling yourself anything but small, you stepped outside with your head held high so you could lower it in a curtsy when the situation asked for such display of submission and servitude.

Confusion had your head spin slightly instead as no horses, no carriages and no gleam of luxury which came with royalty appeared in sight.

Instead, you were met with a crowd of servants and townsmen, surrounding a group of people who looked as if they crawled out of hell itself. Dirty, bruised and bloodied, too pale to appear anything but sick and yet, tired smiles seemed to adorn---

Your heart gave out, a painful skip of a beat that made you truly dizzy.

You recognized them.

Your eyes searched every face frantically, some of them swelled with brutal bruises beyond recognition, yet you were certain these were Sir Lang and Sir Quill, then Ethan from the stables-

Oh gods.

Your palm was over your mouth, muffling the sob before you realized it erupted from your throat.

He was a horrifying sight; smudges of dirt he had clearly attempted to clean, hair on his left side stuck in a dark lump due to dried blood, as was part of his entirely unkept beard, the thick crimson seeping into once white under armour shirt where the blood trickled down his neck and shoulder.

Exhausted red-rimmed eyes, limp posture with his arm hazardously fastened to his chest by torn fabric, several shallow cuts peppering his arms, dirt cloaking the remnants of his trousers and shirt where the terrifying amount of blood – his or his enemies’ – hadn’t already stained it. Normally standing tall, his figure sagged at the moment, shoulders slumped as he barely remained on his feet.

And yet, by lord, by gods, he was the most beautiful you had ever seen him, his injured arm clinging to his chest which was rising and falling with only slight irregularity of his breaths.

He was still breathing, his heart was still beating – and yours thundered in your ribcage painfully as you choked on air and sobs.

Steven looked marvellous in his misery, because despite the weariness in features, his eyes lit up upon seeing you, his lips curling up regardless of the split--- he lived, he lived, he lived.

Your feet, having taken roots in the ground, moved of their own accord at last, carrying you to him swiftly as the soldiers hopped away, clearing your path with weary attempt at a smile. Your hands tore away from your chest and your face as you came to a halt in front of your beloved, eager to touch, aimlessly searching for a place to feel him without causing him pain.

Solving your dilemma for you, Steve was kind enough to reach out with his uninjured hand, cradling your wet cheek gently. You minded not the tremble in his fingers, covering his hand with yours, eyes fluttering shut to fully revel in the sensation you had believed you would never experience again; a sensation you had only had the fortune to savour in your dreams.

The sudden surge of panic had your eyes snap open, afraid you were still in the dreamland.

But you did not have to fear; Steve’s warm eyes observed you with endless affection still, melting into your touch as your hand found its way to his own cheek. His lips brushed your palm lovingly before he gently pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours with a breathy hiss of pain.

It was the display of agony he must have been in with every breath and the smallest of movements which finally untied your tongue, a waterfall of words falling from your lips.

“Steve---Steven, Steve, my love, what—how-“

Your fingers slipped to his nape, his pulse racing under your palm, the most precious thing you ever felt, only causing him to lean closer, nose brushing yours in a tender act of affection bringing fresh tears to your eyes.

Thump-thump-thump went his heart, a chant of love and life.

He was alive. Your beloved was alive.

“Druids. Luck. Divine intervention. I do not know, but it matters not. I am here,” he whispered, voice no less firm than within a battle cry.

I am here.

A promise. A declaration of love.

You found yourself yet again at loss for words, another sob escaping you instead. There were no words you were familiar with to do justice to your joy at this reunion. After countless of days, endless days of grief, he was standing there, holding your face in his hand and your whole heart as well.

Steve was alive.

“I made you a promise,” he continued in husky voice, “I told you I’d call upon your hand. It was all I could think of in the face of… of what I thought was the end.”

You squeezed his hand as to stop him, for it mattered not, not at this very moment, not ever, you would give him anything, everything, regardless of whether you were courting, married, or sneaking around and being the subjects of slander at the lower castle and the court alike.

As long as you should keep him, as long as he kept breathing, it mattered not if you could chant his name as you were now; falling from your lips like a prayer to whatever ancient force that brought him back to you.

And yet, you should have known better. Your Steven was a force of nature himself, stubborn and determined and proper. Time waited for no man and Steve could no longer wait for when fate would try to separate you again. He had to act in this very moment.

“Will you marry me, my sweet?”

You laughed, the joyful sound absurd in the circumstance; but your heart could burst as the reality of Steve holding you and asking you to marry him sank in at last, feeling as if the sun itself settled in your chest.

What choice did you have? What else could you possibly say when the gods were so merciful to give you a chance at bliss of spending your life side by side with a man you loved?

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

Cheers erupted around you, words of how sappy your future husband was, yet you could not care less, whatever the meaning the word possessed.

You had your Steven back; you had your heart sown together at once, waterfalls of grief turning into tears of undiluted happiness. Long path lied in front of you and it was not to be an easy one; Steven proposed, yes – in shaggy clothes, bloodied and dirty and with no ring to give you.

His proposal was far from flawless indeed; however, it was a promise. Not a promise of perfection, but a promise nevertheless. A promise of a beautiful life, for it would be with him.

And as you had learned upon daring to doubt him… your knight would always keep his promises to you. For that, he was a man far more noble than those who were born with nobility in their blood.

And he was yours. Always and to the end of the days – yours.

As much as you always would be his.

 Do not weep for me, my beautiful Marian, when the tower bell rings to honour soldiers, proud, My heart is silent, but in you there shall remain all the words that flare up like fire.

S.R. masterlist

Sequel - In the Name of All That’s Holy

Thank you for reading 💗 Feedback to this 13k beast is appreciated!

As you can see/hear, the song does NOT have a happy ending, but I just couldn’t… 😭 I couldn’t break her heart like that (AND MINE). Also, I was sent a cute knife along with a message as not to hurt knight Steve (yes, my beloved, I’m looking at YOU) 🤭

If you felt a bit of himbo energy from the knights in the beginning, know that Merlin is to blame. As he is for “dollop heads”.

(I never found whether the choice of a name ‘Marion’ has any particular meaning. I’ve always imagined her as a loyal woman in love, waiting for her kingdom’s hero to come home – I translated as Marian, for the resemblance with Lady/Maid Marian tied to Robin Hood legends. Up to interpretation.)

[holyluluslibrary]

Library reblog

Two Kings (3)

Summary: You have fallen in love with the king of Brooklyn. When your wedding day arrives, there is much more to discover about the man you fell in love with than you thought…

Pairing: Prince!Steven Grant Rogers x Princess!Reader  

Warnings: angst, modern royal au, dystopian world (kinda), fluff, young love

A/N: We are living in modern times, but in a dystopian/post war world. Almost every technology got destroyed. (We will get to know how in later chapters.)

Two kings masterlist

<< Part 2

Two years later, age of sixteen, …

EMP. Three simple letters.

Of course, it was much more complicated, and horrid when the world you never had the privilege to know ended.

One of the second sons invented something called EMP. One of the strongest weapons back then. At least history books tell you so.

One moment people chatted on a device called a mobile phone and the next they got thrown back into the dark age.

Weiterlesen

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the pained peace treaty

fused with the foe, chapter one

a/n: oh wow, i have no idea how to introduce this beast of a story except to say hi, hello, welcome! i really hope you enjoy this story, as well as the rest of the trilogy, idk if i've ever gone as in depth and all out with any story as i have with these.

summary: “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, abusive father (like super bad. he is a garbage person), wedding, blood, injury

word count: 4813

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“Your majesty, I must warn you, if, gods forbid, our people come to discover the great lengths you’ve been willing to go in this disagreement over the past two decades, they might start an uprising. And if you keep going, then it’ll turn into a full-blown war and you know our kingdom wouldn’t be able to survive that, not with them. Our city’s walls may be high, high enough to keep out any beasts that may wander this far south, but it wouldn’t keep them out. You know better than most how people from Eflorr are. If you don’t wanna lose your crown, one way or another, then I’d strongly advise that we come up with some peace treaty.”

“I know, I know…” King Ivan leaned back in his gilded throne with a huff, the quality of his voice was as thin as his towering frame, “a trade I think should suffice.”

A different advisor then timidly pipped up, “but our mines ran cold ages ago, what could we possibly offer that would be satisfactory?”

Not lifting his cold gaze, the king stared at a fixed spot on the marble floor as he said, “I know one thing the king lacks that we may be able to provide for him… a wife.”

“A wife–,” both of the men’s eyes grew wide, “but do you mean–, your majesty, she is your only daughter, are you certain this is the fate you want her to have? Those people are barbaric! If one of the dangers that rule the north doesn’t get to her first, one of their citizens surely will. Sire, what if history repeats itself?”

“Then let it do so. In fact, perhaps this could have been her purpose all along and I just didn’t realise it. Couldn’t see past my own rage to grasp how useful she actually could be…”

Sharing a nervous glance, one of the advisors asked, “should we send for her? See if she agrees with the plans?”

“No, I’ll tell her when the time is right. Wouldn’t want her to do anything stupid and ruin the one good thing she could ever provide,” finally lifting his stony gaze, the king commanded, “make the arrangements, I’ll see to it that she doesn’t ruin it.” 

Deep within the opulent halls of the gilded palace, standing grand and safe behind Ingorn’s tall city walls, twisting up towards the clouds, up in a window in the western tower, there you sat. 

Book in your lap, you leaned back against the small pillow you’d propped behind you to make the wide windowsill more comfortable. Small paper butterflies hung from strings above and some dangled so low that the childhood craft that still decorated your window trickled the crown of your head. Flipping the page, your fingertips brushed down over the illustration that appeared in the agricultural tome you’d found in one of your brothers’ rooms. 

As long as you put it back before Angus returned then you’d probably be good. And if he were to somehow notice, then as long as he didn’t rat you out to your father then it would be alright. Both Angus and a few of the others that were closer to your age, Oliver and Francis respectively, were always a bit of a gamble whether or not they would do such a thing. They didn’t always have the same spirit as the eldest pair of your older brothers, Xavier and Callum. 

You missed them so much your heart ached. The older they got, the longer their diplomatic missions seemed to stretch out, making the quiet palace that much more lonely in your solitude. 

A knock then suddenly boomed at your door, causing you to jump edgily in your seat before you slammed the book shut and nervously stuffed it behind the firm pillow. 

“Come in!” you called out, swiftly straightening out your dress that had crumbled around your legs at the comfortable seat. As the door to your room slammed open, the figure that stood in it caught you by surprise, “Father–, oh, hello,” you straightened your posture that much further at his arrival. 

Skipping over any niceties, King Ivan simply stated, “you need to pack up your stuff.”

Your brows knitted into a fierce furrow, “what?”

“Not everything, of course,” he cast a cold glance around the room though didn’t take a step to enter it, “just the things you are particularly attached to.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” your head lightly shook from side to side, “where am I going?”

When his eyes finally gave you the time of day, it swiftly dropped to the floor as a heavy sigh flowed from his lips, “why do you have to be the spitting image of her…” the muttering was unfortunately just loud enough for your ears to catch. His disappointment was always just loud enough for your ears to catch. When he entered the room and you moved to get up, he swiftly said, “stay seated, Y/n,” before he planted himself next to you on the wide windowsill, “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

“To Eflorr?” your gaze grew wide, “you wish for me to marry someone there?”

“Not just someone, you are to marry their king.”

“I–… I–…” your chest rose and fell rapidly beneath your rosy dress, “but father, you can’t–, I can’t go live with the people who killed mom.”

“We don’t know if they actually murdered her. But I do know that you did,” his glare locked upon you as he let himself seethe, “if you hadn’t been born then she’d still be alive,” the fact that the only thing he blamed more for his late wife’s untimely demise then the kingdom she’d perished in was you, remained a point that the sovereign had never been shy about sharing with you for as long as you could recall, “your duty is to protect and serve this land, this crown,” your eyes naturally fluttered up to gaze at the twisted gold balanced upon his head, “if you don’t go through with this, then those savages will come pillage and ruin your home. You are, regrettably, the very last hope this kingdom has of survival. You have no choice, Y/n. This marriage is the only thing that can stop a war we would never survive,” exhaling slowly, he then dominantly nodded in a concluding fashion, “pack your stuff, you have an hour.”

You felt tears sting your eyes as your bottom lip quivered, “an hour? But–, can’t we wait at least a few days before I leave? Can’t I get a chance to say goodbye to at least one of my brothers? None of them are home yet.”

Regret instantly washed over you as your father’s nostrils flared angrily. Seizing your arm in a bruising grip, he yanked you close as he hissed, “you listen, and you listen carefully, you little brat. You have been the bane of my existence ever since you took your first breath. You took away the love of my life. You don’t deserve a goodbye, you don’t deserve anything. Do you think I got a goodbye when your mother suddenly went into labour on that diplomatic mission? No. All I got was you. Not another son, but a living, breathing reminder of what I lost that day,” your eyes squeezed shut as your cheek tingled at the memory of his strikes, “now, be a good girl and go wet his prick, give him a few babies, do anything he’d fucking please, so that him and his barbaric army doesn’t come here and slaughter everything you know and love.”

“Your highness, are you cold?” the high-ranking warden sitting across from you in the carriage noticed the shiver that your body couldn’t seem to shake. 

Tearing your eyes off of the scenery along The Emerald Path that the narrow window granted you a view of, you glanced back at the warrior. The brown hair he had practically tied off at the base of his neck blossomed into a dark beard. A bare palm clasped over an inked one in his lap as you met his gaze and said, “no, I’m–…” in truth, you were scared, so scared that you were trembling like a leaf, but you couldn’t tell the foreign king’s advisor that, too much weighted on your shoulders, you couldn’t screw this up, “no,” glancing back out of the window, you only stared a moment at the sparse cottages that slowly came into view on the rolling hills before you turned your head again and let the nauseating nerves control your words, “pardon me, Barnes, is it?”

“Yes, your highness?”

“Sir, how much further till we get there?” your quiet voice echoed within the carriage, “it’s just–, it’s been days.”

“Oh, not long at all,” he shook his head lightly, “actually,” the knight leaned forward in his seat and cast his glance outside, “if you look out the window now, right there,” a small smile tugged at his lips as his finger shot up to point, “that river, that means we’re getting close to Borün city.”

As the river then suddenly curved before the dirt road, the clomping hooves of the horses that hauled the coach resonated as they trotted over a stone bridge. 

Twisting your head, you glanced out to your right and spotted farmlands curve over the rolling hills that swiftly blossomed into thickets and towering flora you’d only assume was the southern perimeter of The Noll Woods. Books about this kingdom had been banned in your homeland for as long as you could remember, but even though you were essentially going in blind, you still weren’t completely ignorant when it came to the dangers that called that sprawling forest its home, not that you were an expert in the slightest, but your brothers had from time to time told you tales of the monsters who dominated in this part. From giant and twisted insect-like creatures, to mischievous pixies, to even the rare dragon, those stories had always been your favourite. Apart from the rare occasion where Callum would share stories with you about your mother. Being the eldest, he was the only one who truly remembered her. 

Instinctively, your fingers fluttered up to fiddle with the opalescent stone that hung from a chain around your neck. In the middle of the milky jewel was a small rune engraved into it. You had no idea what it meant, but your fingers had still traced the carving countless of times before as it had hung from your neck for as long as you could recall. It hadn’t been till you were a ways into your teens that you’d come to discover that it had belonged to your mother. 

Casting your glance out the other side as you passed a tall watchtower, behind the wide city stables unfolded a port town so quaint that it surprised you. Over the small valley of gabled roofs towered a central tree, and beyond all of that, the sparkle of the sea caught your eye, a sight you’d never beheld before, haven not only stemmed from a landlocked metropolis, but also not haven been permitted to leave your room as much as your heart had desired. 

“This is Eflorr?” you asked as the carriage began to roll up the winding path to the stone castle that loomed on the cliff, granting you a new view of how the river that you’d crossed slid through the city and spilt into the ocean.

“This is Eflorr, your highness,” the corners of his lips twitched at the sight of how wide your curious eyes were. 

“It’s–… it’s–…” your stare danced over the lush ivy that climbed the solid towers, “not what I expected…”

“What did you expect?”

Tearing your gaze away from the window, you blinked, “oh, I didn’t mean–,” suddenly worried that your shock had come out sounding rude, “I just–… I don’t know a lot about this land,” in the few tales you’d heard about this place, there had been a running gag that the people of Eflorr had lived so close to the dangerous beasts that called this part of the continent their home that they too had turned into monsters, “it’s just different than I imagined.” 

Ascending the jagged hill and passing through the front gate, it opened up into a wide courtyard before you felt the carriage finally roll to a stop. 

The wagon creaked gently as Barnes stepped out first, though when his boots were firmly on the cobblestone, his frame twisted as he reached an outstretched hand back for you to grasp in support of your own exit. Ever so apprehensively, you slid your own palm into his as your other twisted in your long skirts before you slipped out of the carriage. 

Letting go of his gasp, the soldier's low timbre washed over you as your head tilted back to take in the vast stronghold, “his majesty, unfortunately, couldn’t be here for your arrival as there was a bit of a dryad problem further up north he had to take care of,” you gaze tore away from the fort and fell upon him, “but I assure you he should be back in time for the wedding.”

“Oh, alright,” you breathed, unsure if that fact made you feel better or worse about the entire predicament.

“If you’d like, I can give you a brief tour of the castle,” he offered as he led you towards the main entrance into the castle proper, “or if you’re exhausted after the journey, then I can just show you directly up to your chambers.”

Offering him a polite smile, you nodded, “a tour would be lovely, thank you.”

He only briefly went over the buildings surrounding the courtyard you’d entered into, as they were mainly designed as barracks and various other facilities for the local wardens, though the horses that stuck their heads out of the royal stalls in the corner did catch your eye before you moved on inside. 

Barnes’ voice echoed in most of the chambers he showed you in the castle’s western wing. The vast stained-glass windows that were in the ballroom for instance took your breath away as you saw how the light streamed through them and warmed up the room with glittering little rays of colour. 

Behind the great halls, squeezed in between and connecting the two major parts of the fort, there you crossed through a much more quiet and lush courtyard. The pebble paths that curved around the central fountain too curled around various topiary bushes that were trimmed to perfection like living sculptures. 

Though as your guide showed you the eastern wing that crested over the foaming sea below, your curiosity got the better of you. 

“Hey, Barnes?”

Slowing his leisurely stride, he tilted his head slightly, “yes, your highness?”

“What are dryads?” your brows knit lightly together, “you mentioned there was a problem with them, but what are they?”

“You don’t know?” he glanced over at you, clearly trying to mask his surprise as you shook your head, “oh, well, they are forest spirits, nymphs,” he explained as you roamed deeper down a broad hallway on the second floor, passing many private chambers both to your right and your left, “it’s not uncommon for them to wander and bother the folks who live further up the coast. Have you never encountered one? They are not as uncommon in Obelón as most of the other creatures that thrive this far north.”

“No, I’ve never seen one…” you shook your head as a low sigh flowed from your lips, “never really seen anything…”

“Not much of an outdoorsy person?” he guessed in a light-hearted tone. 

Forcing a smile, you replied, “you could say that…” as you hadn’t been allowed to be one even if you wanted to. Passing a set of double doors that stood wide open, the sight inside made you halt your steps, “is this the library?”

Shadowing you as your feet crossed the threshold, he nodded, “yes, it is,” then pointed back over his shoulder, “and your quarters are right down that hall.”

Numerous grand bookcases stood lined up all the way down to where a tall window allowed the sunlight in and let it stream through the rows. 

“Can I–… would it be alright if I read some of them?” 

“Of course, your highness.” 

“Would you mind showing me which ones I’m allowed to read?” you briefly peeked back at him as a bubble of anxiety fluttered in your belly, “I don’t wanna accidentally read something that I’m not allowed to.”

Barnes then blinked back at you a moment before he uttered, “your highness, you can read each and every one of them if you’d like. Why wouldn’t you be allowed to read whatever you wish? They are yours after all, or will be after the wedding,” the corners of your lips twitched upwards as he then asked, “would you like to peruse the titles now or do you want to see your chambers?”

“Oh, uhm,” you tore your gaze away from the tomes and turned back, “I’ll look later.”

“Alright,” he nodded, extending his inked arm to show you the way. As he pushed the heavy wooden door open to the room at the very end of the hall, his voice rang out once more, “this is the peacock suite,” following him inside, he settled to a stop near the exit for you to explore the space on your own, “you can, of course, change anything you’d like for it to match your taste.”

“Thank you,” you breathed as you slowly made your way deeper into the chamber. It was gently divided with a more formal area towards the front where both tufted couches and a crackling fireplace stood, as well as a set of doors that opened up to a quaint balcony. Towards the left, under a swirling archway, twisted a broad canopy bed up towards the tall ceilings, warm with blankets and furs, and in the corner, by a breezy partition, stood a deep cobber bathtub.

Haven not noticed that he’d moved, you then heard as Barnes creaked the doors to a close, “if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be right outside.”

With a loud creak, the heavy double doors opened before you and revealed the grand hall. As soft music gushed out, you nearly didn’t recognise the space from your tour the other day as it was now decorated with vibrant flowers and flowing banners that dropped down from the high ceilings above, as well as being completely packed with a swarm of people. A thin path parted the giddy crowd right down the middle towards the opposing grand door that guards opened simultaneously to yours. 

A shaky breath filled your lungs as you stared at the man crossing over the threshold. The flickering candlelight caught the honeyed shine of the locks that came down to tickle the nape of his neck. A bit darker, his short beard was full and warmed up the bottom half of his gruff features. He sure looked like a man who could slay a kraken with his bare fists, as the soft fur cloak that draped over his shoulders did not conceal his bulky physic one bit. The neckline of his indigo tunic stretched low enough for you to see the concave of his fuzzy chest and the impressive battle scars that broke up the rippling flesh. 

You’d seen the portrait of the king that hung in the hallway that stretched up towards the throne room, but to see him before your very eyes, in flesh and blood and not precise paint, was something else entirely. 

The long and embroidered train of the blue silk kirtle you wore dragged across the store floor behind you as both you and the monarch slowly stepped into the chamber to join in the very middle. 

The enchanting music stopped as you reached one another and the parted paths to either exit slowly closed as the crowd gathered and enclosed around the sacred vow that was about to ensue. 

Parting the sea of people like a divine force, an elderly woman, with a braided grey mane so long that it hit the floor, stepped up beside the both of you. 

“People of Eflorr,” the crone’s calm voice boomed, “today marks a day of unity, a day of peace, and most of all a day of love. Like a seed planted in the soil, tonight we will all witness this relationship blossom and go on the journey of growing into a magnificent tree, with roots strong enough to endure any storm, to propagate new seedlings that will watch over and shade our kingdom when yours have fallen.” 

Looking to the king, she handed him a small dagger from her belt and spoke, “blade across skin,” and he reached out for your right hand, “strike out your seedling’s love line,” your breath hitched as you felt him slice the top of your palm. Crimson blood trickled down onto his own hand as yours rested atop it, “and claim it as your own,” he flipped the blade around and handed it to you, before presenting you his own palm, open in yours. He didn’t even blink as you hesitantly pierced the calloused skin and traced the line already adoring his broad palm, “weave your lines together, so they become the same,” he then moved to clasp your hands together, his wide grip engulfed yours completely. Your teeth sank into just the faintest bit of your bottom lip at the fresh sting of your wound as it bled into his, “and may this scar serve you as a reminder, of the vow you made on this momentous day.” 

And as the last of the matron's words flowed from her lips so did the roar of celebration that erupted throughout the crowd as the festivities of the night bloomed at an instant.

The feast had been nothing short of immaculate. Countless of dishes had been spread out on the crowded banquet tables ranging from the savoury braised legumes to the sweet and shiny pies. It was an impossible task to try and taste every one of them, but an excuse you still used to stay glued to your seat and not get up and mingle with the boisterous gathering of strangers. 

As a stark contrast, you thought you only noticed the king take two bites before he rose to greet some latecomers who had arrived. Laughing and chatting with the sea of people, he hadn’t offered you a single word, barely even a brief glance the whole night. Though your gaze still followed him from your seat up at the high table as he moved through the crowd like they were all his dearest friends. 

When the moon had floated up to be high in the sky, clearly visible on the other side of the stained glass, your head had dropped down into a propped-up palm as a deep yawn forced its way out of your frame. 

“Are you tired, your majesty?” a deep timbre suddenly found your ears, a specific tone that caused your spine to straighten out at once. 

Whipping your head to your right, your weary eyes grew wide as you saw the king again at his seat, “no, I’m alright,” you hastily coughed out, “I’m so sorry for behaving like that in your presence. This party is exquisite.” 

“It’s alright, you can yawn,” you suddenly felt the need to look away now that his ocean stare was finally fixed upon you, “it’s late, I was about to retire for the night as well, so I can only imagine how you must feel. If you’d like, I could escort you back to your chambers. I’m not sure how familiar you’ve become with the castle since you’ve arrived, but even I can still get lost when the corridors are this dark and I’ve indulged in perhaps one too many goblets of wine.”

A flutter of nauseating nerves rushed within your belly, but even so, you still pushed through and forced a smile, “if that’s what the king desires, then sure, you can escort me.”

It was your wedding night. You knew what was about to happen. 

Or, actually, you didn’t quite know what the marital act entailed, but you were sure a man such as Steve had enough of an understanding to take charge. All you knew was what little you’d been told. To strip down naked, not whine or scream, and do as he tells you. 

The soaring butterflies within you only grew more ferocious as you followed his long stride throughout the castle. Out of the ballroom and through a cold stone hallway, when you crossed the bridge that linked the two wings over a part of the cliff that descended dramatically, you nearly doubled over the parapet to empty your stomach over the town of Borün that blossomed below. 

But with a shaky intake of breath, your fist closed around the silk of your skirt as you settled yourself and forced your feet to keep moving. Even as you passed the threshold into the eastern part of the castle, you still shadowed the monarch up the many steps until his broad palm held the door to your chambers open for you to enter. 

The fire had been lit while you were gone, and the room was encased in the warm glow. 

“Did, uh…” you heard the door close behind you as the king attempted a bit of small talk, “did you have a nice time tonight?” 

“I did, your majesty,” you kept your answer brief out of fear that he’d hear the tremble to your tone. 

Slowly turning his back to you, his gaze washed over the room, “are you pleased with your bed chambers?” he settled to face the balcony, the door slightly ajar to let the night breeze seep through and rustle the sheer curtains, “because if you don’t like it, if you’d rather have a view of the town then the sea, then that’s an easy problem to fix.” 

“I think the view is just fine from here, but thank you,” you answered politely as you gathered up the last bit of your courage and reached back to undo the long row of buttons that went down the spine of the light blue dress. 

When the silky garment dropped to the floor, the quiet rustle was enough to draw the king’s attention.

First offering you just a quick glance over his shoulder, he then swiftly whirled around completely, “what are you doing?”

Weaving your fingers in the thin material of your chemise, you blinked back at his stunned features, “I’m sorry, am I doing it wrong?” sure that he could already see everything through the sheer, white fabric. 

His feet didn’t move as he asked, “what are trying to do?” before he averted his gaze to the stone floor. 

“Well,” you uttered quietly, “it’s our wedding night.”

“Oh…” was all he breathed. 

“To be transparent, I’m actually not quite sure what’s to happen, but I do know it’s something,” reaching up, you took the gold and twisted circlet, that crowned your head, off and carefully sat it down on the side table to your left, “I don’t know the details, I just know that I should strip down. Do you know what we’re supposed to do?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, briefly squeezing his eyes shut, “yes I do, but, your majesty, please, keep your clothes on,” his gaze flickered back to you as you slowly began to hike up the last layer. 

“Why?” your fingers froze, “isn’t it a tradition here for us to–”

“Well, yes, but–…” he let out a strained sigh before slowly stating, “I’m gonna go.” 

A chill crawled up your skin, “…oh, I see…” you uttered quietly as he crossed the room, “did I do something wrong?”

Halting in the doorway as he ripped it open, “no, you–…” but the rest of his words crumbled as his gaze settled upon you one last time, instead letting a low sigh flow from his lungs, “sleep well,” and added nearly subconsciously just before the door slammed shut, “goodnight, dove.”

Even though a wave of relief washed over you, a sting of hurt also followed suit as the king left. 

Had you done something wrong, or did he just find you that repellent, that hideous, that he refused to perform his marital duties?

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[celestialdolll]

The King’s Lover (part one maybe?)

This story as well as this blog is 18+ so no minors are to interact. Minors who do interact will immediately be blocked.

This work is not to be copied, translated or reposted on any other site.

Note; Just want to credit @donutloverxo​ and @lizzygal​ as The series ‘A Royal Scandal’ really inspired me to write this and if you haven’t already, you should check it out. Also this is my first story so please go easy on me 😅

Pairings; King!Steve Rogers X Black Female Reader

Summary; King!Steve and y/n have been together for a while and have been going strong although they have kept it been keeping their love a secret. However, the Queen mother finds out about their relationship and decides to break them apart.

Warnings; smut, degradation, fluff, angst, unprotected intercourse (don’t forget to wrap it guys), possessive, dominant behavior, Mean Steve, swearing, I think that’s it?

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

You let out a yawn as you slowly arose from your slumber completely oblivious to your surroundings. Your deep e/c eyes were uncovered as your lashes fluttered. Your plump lips turned in a cute pout as your face contorted with exhaustion despite just waking up.

However, the exhaustion was pretty justified considering the many rounds you and Steve had gone through last night. Despite his cool and polite demeanor that he often demonstrated to the public, behind the scenes he was a dominant and insatiable man which he always showed between the sheets.

And last night was proof of it.

Nonetheless, regardless of his continuous chase for pleasure he never neglected to satisfy your own wanton needs as he dragged orgasm out of orgasm from you so many times that by the end of the night, you were a blubbering mess.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

“ohhh f-fuck, please don’t stop” you spluttered out as Steve pushed your back down further so that your ass was up and your head lay down in the royal pillows. Your knees began to tremble as his member stroked your g spot repeatedly bringing you closer to that orgasm you were so desperately chasing.

“Angel”, he moaned deeply, “You look so perfect getting drunk off my cock”

Steve could easily say that watching you like this was one of his favorite things which is why he would often find himself balls deep your slick heat watching you slowly become undone by his relentless thrusts into you.

“Steve, I-I’m so close, ugh please!” You moaned as your heat clenched around his rigid member knowing full well that if he continued his movements you would come undone, yet again. 

“Don’t you dare cum now.” He forcefully grit out. You felt so tight around him, he knew he wouldn’t last long. “Com’n baby you gotta hold it for me, be a good girl and hold it.”

You could barely register his words, gasping at how deep he was pounding into, the delicious sensation was was just too good.

“Are you a good girl? Only good girls get to cum. Do you wanna come for me?” he said as he slapped your perky ass you making you moan even more.

“Oooh, ye-yes i’m a good girl, please let me cum!”

“Huh, then you can cum my love.”

You felt yourself climbing your high as Steve leaned down and wrapped his left arm around your waist. His right hand toyed with your clit whilst he pounded into you harder than ever, making your mouth drop open in pleasure.

“Cum for me baby, yeah that’s it. Look at you cumming as I fuck you stupid.”

He was right, you couldn’t even give a coherent response as you finally let go.

Steve was still relentlessly fucking you before he came inside of you, letting his cum spill into you.

“Fuck I love you angel, always making me feel good.” he gushed with a lazy smile before turning you head to press a sweet kiss on your lips

You let out a dreamy sigh before responding with, “I love you too Stevie.”

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

“mmhh, good morning doll.” Steve said as he peppered multiple kisses on your face before he slowly laid his lips upon yours giving you a long, deep and loving kiss. His voice was deep and guttural from only just waking up and all you could think about was how hot he was without even trying.

You let out a little giggle in response to his antics before responding back to him with, “Good morning Stevie.”

“I still cant believe your here with me.” Steve had been trying to convince to come to his suite in the palace which you had always been against doing so. You were a student in university trying to make ends meet working as a waitress which sometimes made you feel inadequate when spending time with Steve. It wasn’t that you felt ashamed by your current occupation as you did enjoy the job for the most part and it was only temporary. You just sometimes felt out of place when you thought about your position in his life.

Steve was a king. And as much as you loved him, you would sometimes find yourself often questioning your worth when it came to him. He exuded power and confidence whilst you weren’t exactly the type that enjoyed to stand out in the crowd. It was little things like this which would sometimes make you question the validity of your relationship with him but when you would look into his deep blue eyes you could see the love and respect he had for you.

“I can’t believe it either, it’s so big.” You said with wonder as you let your eyes roam along the premise of his room. “I swear my entire apartment could fit in this suit!”

Steve let out a chuckle whilst he stared imminently at you still taking in all your features still wondering how he was so lucky to find you. He couldn’t wait for the day he could make you his queen. The day you would walk down the aisle in a beautiful white dress. Having the first dance with you at the wedding reception with not only friends and family watching but the entire country as well. That was what he wanted but he knew that you wanted to get your degree so he waited and tolerated having to keep the love you two shared a secret. Despite how much he hated it. 

You were too good to be a secret. He wanted to share your love with the world. Show you off. Make all your wishes come true and spoil you even more. However, he knew what you wanted and had to put you and your needs first.

“What are you about thinking baby?” You softly spoke, breaking Steve out of his thoughts.

“Just thinking about all the ways I’m gonna spoil you, make you happy.” 

You rolled your eyes at this. Steve loved trying to spoil you. Key word; try. You always felt bad when he would buy you designer bags, jewelry, clothes and other gifts. You didn't want you relationship to be a transnational one and you didn't want him to think that was what you wanted from him. You also knew that you could never buy him gifts of the same caliber which made you feel guilty whenever he bought you things.

“Nooo, Stevie”, You groaned as his strong arms pulled you closer to his hard chest snuggling you as he kissed your forehead.

It was moments like these that you treasured. Just being held by him. It made you feel safe and protected. Like nothing could ever hurt you. Because you had Steve.

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Princess Veronica sat peacefully outside in the gardens with a glass of orange juice in one hand and freshly baked croissant in the other. This was where she would often be found early in the morning. Having breakfast whilst simultaneously getting space from the overbearing Queen Mother who also happened to be her mother.

Queen Regina, The Queen Mother had a reputation in the royal palace as a cold and frankly stuck up woman who always thought she was right and would do anything to uphold integrity in the royal household. Regina had recently discovered the little affair that her son was partaking in and was not impressed to say the least. Over the past couple of weeks since she found out, she had been slowly yet surely bubbling with rage as she seethed at her son’s decision in a so called “partner”. However that rage had and finally been put at boiling points when she over heard some maids in the corridor discussing how the king had bought a girl into his bedchambers.

She was positively seething upon hearing this news and had come to the decision that this needed to end. She had allowed this to happen for too long.

Enough was enough.

“Good morning darling!” Regina cried out as she approached the young princess, gears in her mind ticking with schemes.

“Oh.. good morning mother” replied Veronica halfheartedly. She loved her mother but she knew visits from her at times like these would typically not end well and from the little smirk on Regina’s face it was clear that this instance would be no different.

“Veronica darling, there is a matter of importance that we need to discuss that concerns your dear brother”

Veronica absolutely adored her brother Steve. He was her big brother who spent their childhood always protecting her and offering guidance even when he was crowned king if not more so. She would do anything for him and valued his happiness and safety more than everything. Regina knew this.

“Alright then, what is going on mother?”

“Oh Steve...” She sighed, “A couple of weeks ago I discovered that your brother has been seeing this girl for quite sometime and seems to be very enamored by her.”

“Really? That is great! Although I cannot believe Steve kept this from me! I need to speak to his about this.”

Just as veronica stood up about to leave to find her brother the queen mother took her arm in a vice like grip and pulled her down right away.

“Great news? Are you serious!” She cried incredulously. “Veronica let me explain and I need you to listen very carefully to what I have to say, alright?”

When the princess gave her a curt nod she continued. “This girl, y/n, she cannot be trusted, cannot be with Steve and cannot worm her way into this prestigious family. Our Dynasty.”

“Well Why not mother?”

“Once I had my people look into y/n I found out that she is still in another relationship with another man. Horrified I went to investigate myself and followed her whilst she met up with her Beau. What I heard next just broke my heart for Steve! They were making plans to extort him for money, blackmail him and get information they can sell to the media as he continues to fall in love with her.”

Veronica’s dainty hands quickly covered her mouth in shock as she took in the information that her mother had given. Her heart broke for Steve upon hearing that he was being used by someone he apparently loved.

“Wha-what can we do then. Surely we must tell Steve?”

The queen mother had to force a frown to hide the smirk that began to form upon her lips, once realizing that her daughter had fallen into her little trap.

Everything Regina had just said was entirely false. You didn’t have another relationship, you had no bad intentions and had absolutely no plans to extort money from Steve, which she knew. And that was a problem. So in order to get Veronica onside she needed to improvise.

“No, I fear that Steve is so far in that telling him would not be enough. We need to show him. In fact have a plan but it will only work if you do everything that I say..”

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

7:30 pm

You let out an exhausted sigh as you practically collapse onto the couch, limbs aching as you feel your body become anchored to the plush cushions. You were so happy to finally be back home in your apartment. It was a very busy day at the cafe and you were doing the closing shift which you absolutely hated. All you wanted to do was relax and go to sleep especially since you had lectures in the morning the next day.

knock knock

“Ugghhh..” you groaned as you heaved your limp form towards the door, unimpressed for being interrupted whilst trying to relax.

As you opened the door your frustration almost instantly melted way as the blue eyes you loved so much stared right into yours. “Stevie!” You cried in both joy and confusion, “What are you doing here? You didn’t call?”

“Can I come in? We need to talk y/n.”

From the solemn tone of his voice and the pissed off look on his face you could tell that something was very off indeed. As you opened the door wider and he swiftly walked in you knew instantly that this “talk” would most likely have bad repercussions for the both of you. This gave you anxiety and left a sick feeling in your stomach.

“Stevie, what’s going on? What do you want to talk abo-”

“I need to look in your bag.” He said curtly.

You recoiled back, flabbergasted by his demeanor. The way he just cut off you left you with a feeling of hurt. He was being so cold towards you and you just could not understand why.

“My bag?” you questioned incredulously, “Why do you need my bag Steven?”

His nostrils flared with irritation at both your use of his full name and the fact that you wouldn’t just give him your bag when he had just asked you to. Steve hated having to repeat himself, however, with you he didn’t care if he had to say things a million times, he loved you so much, there were always exceptions for you. However that was not the case for today.

“Y/n, you know I do not like to repeat myself. Give. Me. Your. Bag.”

“Not until you answer why you want it so badly!” You huffed as you crossed your aching arms across your chest. The way he was using your actual name was not going unnoticed by you and you knew full well he was doing it on purpose. He wanted you to know that right now you weren’t his “love”, “doll” or “angel”. You hated this.

“Do you have something to hide y/n?” His eyebrows furrowed as he stared so intently at you. “Are you lying about something? I mean you do have a history of doing so, right?”

Your eyes widened at the little dig he took towards you. You had been honest with him from the beginning of your relationship and trusted him so much that you informed him with your past. You were not proud of your past actions and always felt remorseful of them which he knew. He also knew how hard you had and continued to work on yourself to be a better person. He knew. So the fact that he was going to try and use it against you royally pissed you off.

You angrily scoffed as you went over to the side of your couch, grabbed your bag and handed it over to him. “Here, since you wanted it so badly!”

Steve gripped your bag as he began to rummage through it. He knew he had really hurt you when took that dig at you and saw the sadness in your eyes. He desperately wanted to take it back but then remembered why he was there and his anger quickly returned tenfold. He needed to make sure that his sister was wrong in her assumptions about you and that you weren’t using him. The thought that your love was not real hurt his core so much that he would feel a wave of anxiety consume him when thinking about it. He need to make sure you weren’t guilty. That he was right about you.

As he continued to search a little glimmer of hope began to rise as he started to realise that it was not there. That was until something caught his attention out the corner of his eye. His quick movements when looking in the bag halted as he walked over to the stack of drawers in the corner of the living room. Hastily he made his way over there to check it out and his heart dropped when he saw that you indeed had what he was looking for.

Meanwhile, you still stood stunned and confused by the whole ordeal. So far you had to close up the cafe and come home later than you would have liked to, your boyfriend barges in ruining your relaxation, then demands to look at your bag before berating you and then rummaging around in it like a squirrel looking for buried nuts. And now he was over by the drawers looking at some object you definitely haven’t seen before much less remember placing it there.

“Steve can you please just tell me what the fuck is going on here!”

He slowly turns his head around so you could see his face. There were tears pooling in his eyes and his face was a storm of anger and hurt.

Concerned, you walked over and placed your hand on his cheek attempting to soothe him before he roughly shoved you away from him his face now only showing rage.

Oh shit

“The hell- ?”

“Don’t you dare touch me ever again.” Steve lowly spat out whilst glaring at with so much hatred you wanted to curl up into a ball, still not understanding the situation.

“I-”

“What did I ever do to you other than love and care for you? I would’ve done anything and everything for you. Hell, I would’ve even given up all of this, the crown, the money, my duty - everything! Just for you to use me for some cash grab, are you really that desperate for money? Are you really that pathetic?”

“Steve..”

“No! Don’t call me that. You have no right to call me that.” He gritted out, “It is your majesty to you. Don’t you forget your position. Only worthy people can call me by. My. Name.”

At this point tears were pooling down your face as you felt your heart drop and shatter into pieces listening to the love of your life continue to berate you, digging and digging at you.

“Ha, tears?”, he sarcastically chuckled, “What’s wrong y/n, did you think I would never find out the truth. I mean how stupid could I be to fall for this. I’m supposed to be a king, I have been a king for nineteen years just for me to fall prey to some whore’s tricks. I mean when you look at it from that point of view I guess I’m the pathetic one.”

“I-i don’t understand. W-where is this c-coming from?” You shakily stuttered tumbling over your words just from how distraught you were. How did you two get to this point? To the point when you were no longer his angel but now the whore who seemingly ruined his life.

“Wow. So is this what we’re going to do now? Play dumb? Fuck this, I’m done. I hope you enjoyed this little game while it lasted, because trust me, you will never get the opportunity to treat me like a fool ever again. Goodbye y/n.” His voice was calm as he said these words yet you could feel both the anger and pain rolling off him as he threw your bag down onto the sofa before walking out your apartment.

You silently shook as you felt the devastation take over as tears uncontrollable poured down your face before falling onto the sofa completely unnerved by the events that just took place. You had never loved anyone the way you loved Steve. You trusted him with your life and would do anything for him. Correction - would have.

[buckets-and-trees]

Congrats again on 300 my love ❤️❤️ so you may already know which AU I’m going to be requesting, because it’s my favourite story of yours (so far) and that is Fire Burning from a Cedar Tree!! This story made my heart ache and if you have the inspiration for it I’d love love love to see more!! I don’t want to restrict your imagination by being too specific, but literally anything with those two and I would die of happiness 💙💙

Em, I squealed when you dropped this into my box for the request fest! Partly because I adore you. Partly because you know I also really adore Fire Burning from a Cedar Tree. And partly I squealed out of terror because...I was worried I wouldn't be able to do any kind of follow up to this fic justice. But I took a deep breath and let that go and decided to just let whatever happen happen. I was also a little worried because when I wrote Cedar Tree, it felt very finished, so I didn't have any leftover thoughts to pick up and play around with, so I literally took that first week to just think about them and their story. And then... a lot of scenes started to emerge - stuff before and after Cedar Tree, stuff that was just them, stuff with the people around them.

This is where I landed for now. It's not the same as Cedar Tree - first thing being that it's told from Steve's perspective instead of the reader's - but I'm thinking it will make sense in their overall narrative.

This it the end of their honeymoon, a few weeks before Cedar Tree.

Title: The Thrill of Knowing How Alone We Are Characters/Pairings: King!Steve Rogers x female!Queen!Reader, brief Sam and Bucky Word Count: 1.2k Summary: The final night and morning of King Steven's royal honeymoon.

Content/Warnings: smut: vaginal intercourse/penetration

Additional Notes: The third offering to celebrate 300 followers with the request fest! While this depicts events before Fire Burning from a Cedar Tree, it does not stand alone and should be read AFTER reading the original piece. Song title inspiration from Better Love by Hozier, which is one of the songs on my original Cedar Tree writing playlist. A/N 2: This still is pretty arbitrary, but although I knew the original was a historical royal AU setting, I basically closed my eyes and pointed when I ended up saying it was medieval. I debated between medieval or Georgian/regency vibe, but NOW it's decidedly Georgian, which will be more relevant if/as I share more of their story in the future.

It’s as he’s on his back, staring at the ceiling, that Steve realizes he’s already deciphered the difference between how it sounds when you’re asleep, when you’re awake, and when you’re somewhere in between. He didn’t expect that.

He expected a lot of things after taking you as his queen, but there were so many small things that make sense, but he simply hadn’t thought of, like this – knowing so quickly the sounds of your breathing.

Ten days and in some ways he knew so much more about you than he knew about anyone else but himself – more than he’d known about his parents, than Bucky whom he’d grown up with and trusted else as his closest friend and advisor, more than his general Sam who he trusted with the security of his kingdom and his own life.

The betrothal, the brief period of engagement, the wedding, and the wedding feast had all been very public and formal. The moment the two of you had entered the royal carriage to make the journey to his small palace in the lake country for the honeymoon, everything was suddenly private and intimate. It was the first time Steve had truly been alone with you, and the first moments alone would have been awkward – he certainly hadn’t thought about that moment until suddenly the two of you were there alone – but you had clearly thought of the circumstance in advance and had been prepared to make easy conversation. While the first few minutes had been an effort to make conversation, they swiftly did progress to easy conversation. The topics had been largely trivial and unimportant, but the words were not stilted.

After a late and quick supper upon arrival, the two of you had retired to the royal bedchamber. Steve had expected a dutiful consummation, and duty may have called for the deed, but the execution had unexpectedly run deeper, warmer, with the undertones of the fledgling familiarity built over the few hours alone earlier. Each day the familiarity grew, and though there could have perhaps been moments that could have allowed each of you two part naturally, you both drew each other into extending conversations, going on walks or rides or visiting a new area of the palace together, continuing formally in the first few days until it became merely natural and the two of you forgot altogether the idea of spending much of the time apart.

Now he understood the nostalgia with which many referred to the honeymoon. It was a pity it was coming to an end. Two weeks ago, you were little more than strangers to be wed and fulfill your royal duties. Here on this final night, he could not think of it ending. Tomorrow he would go back to being the king again.

He sighed and turned his head to look at you. He wanted to reach for you, pull you closer, touch you, but the touching wouldn’t be enough, and he’d said sensibly that the two of you should retire early specifically so he could sleep and be well rested for his early departure. He hadn’t thought you warming his bed would be torture. He thought that it would be soothing and help him sleep. But this was worse, and the longer he listened, the less it seemed sleep would ever come to him. But he would not leave or send you away, it was the last night he would have this kind of closeness afforded to him with ease. He also didn’t want to disturb you if you were perhaps close to dropping off to sleep. Nearness was enough, even if it meant no sleep.

Suddenly you shifted, rolling to lie on your back, and you let out a long sigh of your own.

“Sleep alluding you, my queen?”

“As it seems to be alluding you, my king. I know the time is only slipping away until you’re required to wake and depart. Is my restless state keeping you awake?”

Steve laughed. “Perhaps, but not in the way you think.”

He rolled up on his elbow and places a hand on your hip, drawing circles there with his fingers.

“Perhaps I can beckon sleep for both of us in…other ways.”

His hand moved up to cup your breast. He gave a squeeze and brushed his thumb over your nipple, the thin fabric of your night shift barely there. You whimpered his name, arching slightly into his palm.

“Yes?” he pressed.

“Yes,” you pleaded.

While he reached down to pull up the hem of your nightdress, your hands went quickly to free his growing desire for you. Quickly he shifted his body over yours, nestling between your eagerly parting legs. He smiled as he guided his cock to your heated folds, happy to find you were already wet. He looked up to your face, and you bit your lip before reaching your hands up to his jaw and drawing him down to meet your lips. Steve devoured you with his kiss as he plunged into you, and you gave yourself up to him completely until you were both exhausted and sleep finally overtook you.

When one of his esquires woke him in the pre-dawn glow, he suppressed a groan of agitation. It is not the kind of king he has ever wanted to portray to his subjects. He will always be a dignified king. He was diligent in making sure you were tucked in with propriety before falling asleep himself, but he looks over to make sure your modesty is preserved this morning now with someone else in the room. He wants to kiss you goodbye, and while part of him wants nothing more than to wake you, see your eyes look up at him before he leaves, he refrains from doing anything more than brushing the hair off and away from your face with only the lightest caress. It would be silly to wake you for any more sentimentality. The honeymoon is truly over, and he only feels this consuming tie because of the unique circumstances of here and now. When you are both back in the capitol, it will be more normal and less sentimental. He will be himself again.

Downstairs in the hall there were simple foods ready for him to break his fast, and Lord Barnes and General Wilson were both waiting and ready to receive their king. Barnes would accompany him to Stark’s kingdom, but Wilson was there to escort the queen back to the castle.

“Guard her with your life,” Steve commanded.

Wilson gave a slight bow. “Yes, my king.”

Steve turns to look at Barnes only to find a smirk on the man’s face. “What is so amusing at this hour?”

“You gave that order as if he hasn’t been in your service for years.”

“She is the queen,” Steve reminded them.

“I will afford her the same safety and security that I have for your majesty since given the responsibility of this position.”

Steve shook his head, “You should afford her more than you do me.”

Without hesitation, he responded, “It will be done.”

Steve strode out of the foyer and Barnes fell in just one step behind him. “We need not rush away from the palace so soon. The official royal business of Stark’s expo does not require you so immediately.”

“This was the plan,” Steve retorted, “why would we alter course?”

“The sooner we leave, the sooner we can return to your queen,” he agreed.

“The sooner we can return to my kingdom, Lord Barnes.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

read more of the CEDAR TREES COLLECTION

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[justiceiswater]

I’m ready!!! I’m ready for a touch of happiness, a little bit of courting maybe, a some soft smiles here and there. I think it’s awful bold of Steve to say something as dumb as “I didn’t mean it!” Cuz he very much did mean to push her away. It’s only when he actually faced his emotions he saw his mistake. But if I loved him like princess loves him then I can let it go too.

Pseudo Princess Pt.13

Amends Through Timber

10/29/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 6,020

Warnings: language, angst

A/N: This one actually got away from me. It was supposed to have more but this is where it went. Next chapter we’ll know the answer to everyone’s burning question. I hope you enjoy this one. Let me know what you like! If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Tags are CLOSED for this story!

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[plaidamoosette]

His Greater Good -- Part I

Summary: After the death of your father, the King, you take the throne for yourself. And though your Kingdom has thrived, the threat of war appears on the horizon. Your only option is to accept one of two marriage proposals; Brock Rumlow, a scummy King hell-bent on flipping the order you all fought so hard to create. Or Steven Rogers, a firm but gentle man whom always leaves you dizzy and confused. How will you save your kingdom? How will you protect your people, and your own heart?

A/N: So originally I wanted it to be a dark fic but I’m not sure if it actually is so we’ll see what you guys think! Also, Italics are for memories or past events.

Credit to originals owners/creators of all images or characters used or shared in this series.

Word Count: 4,309

WARNINGS: This series contains explicit content and is not intended for younger audiences. Read at your own risk. Smut (eventually), noncon?, violence, swearing, men being assholes. Although, there is no smut in this chapter. Thank you.

Prologue

The sun was setting on the horizon, setting the landscape on fire, blazing in hues of orange and red and yellow. The King stands tall, peering down at his Kingdom, admiring it. Although it was small, it would soon be so much bigger.

The Dark Enchantress slithers up behind him, almost blending into the encroaching night. Her pale hand slides up the smooth naked skin of the King’s back, and he shivers as her sharp nails leave red trails along his flesh. She leans in close to whisper in his ear.

“All that is left is for you to seduce the Queen, marry her, and take over her Throne. Only then, will we be able to finish our plans,” her voice was barely a hiss.

“And what if she says no?” King Brock Rumlow turns, clasping her elbows, drawing her body closer to himself.

“Asking is only a courtesy. A King does not bow to a Queen, a King takes. We want her to think it was her idea, but no matter what, we will not take no for an answer.” The Enchantress clutches his shoulders, and he nods.

“And then what?”

“And then, we watch the world burn.” A grin slices through her face, and she tilts her head back in a laugh as his lips leave small kisses across her skin.

Below, the army they had gathered cried over and over again, their noise a deafening rumble which shook the walls, “Hail Hydra!”

                                                                                                                           Five years. That’s how long you have run this kingdom by yourself. Five long years, after your father had passed on your 15th birthday celebration. All of your counselors and advisors immediately pushed the prospect of marriage on you. “You’re of age,” they would tell you. Ripe for the picking.

“If I am the ample age to marry, then I am fit to rule my Kingdom. Know your place, advisors.” You would sneer at them, gracing them with a slight bow of your head before welcoming the long line of citizens that had complaints left and right.

It was hard, exhausting work, but your father had prepared you for this. He had always filled your head with knowledge of ruling, how to be diplomatic in tough situations, how to present yourself as a lady and a Queen. How to handle your battalions and your farms, the trading business, and the counsel with the other royalty.

Although, your first annual council was… rough, to say the least.

“Who let this little girl in?” One king had cried.

“Watch your tongue! This is her royal Highness, Queen (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Fernlock. Her father passed away only two months ago. Show some respect.” King Anthony had defended you, giving you a soft smile. He had always favored you, taking joy in your playful banter. He had always told you your sharp tongue would take you far in this game of thrones.

That first meeting was rough, but you quickly taught them that you were as sharp as your father, with fresh ideas of how you wanted to run things. It didn’t take long for you to earn your place.

These past few months, though, were the worst you had ever witnessed. Your crops were thriving, your relationships with the neighboring kingdoms and caravans were flourishing… but for some reason, one man threatened your reign. And his persistent actions were… annoying, to say the least.

“You must have an excellent reason for bursting through my doors, unannounced, and uninvited,” you quipped at the man who strode into the main hall of your castle, as you handed a series of papers back to the courier.

“Your Highness,” King Brock Rumlow bowed, a grin stretching his lips. His dark hair was tied back in half of a braid, his dark garments symbolizing his trade. The sword on his waist creaked as the leather stretched and moved. “I have come with a proposition that I felt was better said in person.”

You eye him for a moment, staring into his dark orbs brazenly, before flicking your fingers. “Proceed.” You melodic voice echoed in the grand room. You knew what he was about to ask, he had only hinted at it in the hundreds of letters he had sent, which were now merely ashes in your fireplace. The servants enjoyed the chocolates he sent. The only worthwhile gift was the steed he sent you, which was now resting in his stall within the grounds area.

“My Lady,” he begins, clasping his hands over his belt, “as you know, I have yet to take on a Queen to rule beside me-”

“No.”  You knew it was against your upbringing to interrupt a man when he was speaking, but you knew where this was going, and you would not stand to hear it.

“My Queen, if you shall allow me to please continue.” You could see Rumlow’s jaw twitch in irritation, fingers flexing.

Your advisor, Hogan, cleared his throat at your side. You release a slow breath, and then smile tightly, gesturing for him to continue. This was his third time asking for your hand in marriage over the course of two years, and you were growing rather sick of it.

“As I was saying- I have yet to take on a Queen. And currently, my kingdom is falling into despair. We have been struggling with a drought in my region, and the Northern Men have been raiding the surrounding settlements of my territory. Now, though my army is vast, with all of the men I have recruited to defend the villages, there is no one to farm. No food for the soldiers, and soon… there will be no soldiers. No soldiers means no protection, and- well… you know what else ensues.”

“But why come to me for aid? Yorkshire stands between you and I, why not go to King Anthony for aid?” You cross your legs under your heavy skirts, the deep blue dress complimenting your skin and the bodice accenting your features, your peculiar birthmark on display, just below your collarbone on the left side. You see Rumlow’s clasped hands lower, covering over his crotch.

“As I was saying, I have yet to pick a Queen,” he enunciates, and you take a calming breath, heavily exhaling.

“And?” You raise an eyebrow. You weren’t going to fall into this trap. You wanted him to spell it out for you. His jaw twitches again. If you didn’t know him personally, you would find his rugged features and chiseled face appealing. But you knew better.

“I would feel more comfortable if we could have this conversation privately,” his brown eyes flicker to Sir Hogan, and then back to you.

“Happy?”

“I shall leave you, my Queen.” He bows his head, glaring at Rumlow before retreating through the door to your left. It stayed cracked though. Happy never stayed too far from you.

“As I was saying, If you were to accept my offer, I would wish you to become my Queen. With our combined forces, we could vanquish the Northern Men and then begin our Empire.”

You almost choked at the word. “Empire? Are you deranged?” You all but shrieked, struggling to keep your composure.

“You just stated how Yorkshire stands between us. Anthony is old, his Princess is only a few years old, and his Queen is not strong enough to keep the peace. His kingdom is surviving purely by his trade business, thanks to his access to the shore. If you and I were to form an alliance and join in matrimony, then we would be able to conquer him.”

You rise from your feet, slowly descending the steps of your perch, only to walk a slow circle around him. He keeps his eyes forward, jaw set, but you knew he was observing out of his peripheral vision.

“First, you invade my home, violating the rules of common courtesy. Then, you propose a marriage without first gathering a council to discuss. And finally, you suggest that I break a union between Fernlock and Yorkshire that has been just about the best thing I’ve done since taking the throne- and not only that- but you suggest that we, what, kill him?”

Before you could even react, Rumlow twisted around, grabbing hold of you, one hand on your arm, the other clutching your throat. “You really need to be taught to watch the way you speak to a King.” He growled, his breath hot, fanning across your face.

“And you shall learn how to treat the Queen of Fernlock!” You cry, spitting in his face before bringing your palm to his cheek, striking him with as much force you could muster.

“I will have you!” He shouts, taking your throat in his hold again, but the door that Happy was waiting outside of burst open, and a series of footsteps stormed inside. Happy ripped Rumlow away from you, and you gasp, taking in a deep breath.

“I think that King Rumlow has overstayed his welcome,” Happy grunts as he wrestles the man back, two guards taking hold of each of his arms, dragging him towards the door.

“If you don’t take my offer, I’ll find someone who will!” Rumlow bellows as he is forced outside of the large doors, the threat ringing in your ears.

Your cheeks flushed red with anger, and you clench your fists. The only negative thing you had inherited from your father was his temper. “Happy, send word immediately to King Anthony of what transpired today. As well as King Steven.”

“King Steven?” Happy mutters under his breath, trailing behind you as you storm towards your study.

“Yes. As much as I’d rather not involve him, his kingdom resides on the outskirts of Rumlow’s as well, and if that bastard continues on his plans, then they are both at risk.” You huff, throwing yourself into the chair at the large desk, pulling together papers and you quill.

“What shall I say to them?” 

“Summon them here, actually. I think it would be best for them to hear it from me personally,” you sigh, shuddering at the words Rumlow had just spoken to you. 

What had you just gotten yourself into?

                                                                                                                          It was weeks before you received a response. Both men came running to your call when Happy sent an urgent letter of distress. Their announcements of arrival came to your door only a week before they themselves showed up.

“My Queen, you look lovely as ever,” King Anthony smiles at you, taking your hand to kiss your knuckles, bowing over your hand. He was the same age as your father, maybe a year or two younger, and had always treated you as family.

“Your charm gets you nowhere with me,” you laugh, flicking his nose to free your hand.

“And with me?” A second voice interrupts the two of you, as King Steven Rogers enters the room, removing the cloak from his shoulders, flakes of snow still sticking to the flowing blonde waves of his hair.

You bow low, although you never break his eye contact. A bold move that you were well known for, gazing into his bright blue eyes as he held out his hand. You place yours into his rough palm, and he kisses your knuckles. His facial hair tickled, and he shot you a grin.

“I’m afraid I did not call you here for pleasantries,” you sigh, spinning around and striding towards your study, expecting them to follow. “I have several great concerns to bring to your attention, and I’m fearful for what our futures hold. I trust you two the most out of the rest of the Council.”

The clatter of their boots ran silent as they tread over the thick carpets that adorned the floor of your study, which was really your father’s. You kept everything the same as when he passed. It still even smelled of him. You swiftly clear away his journal, which you had been reading before you greeted the men. Your father held detailed notes on both of the men in front of you.

“Brock Rumlow stormed through my doors over a month ago, proposing a rather treacherous plot to overthrow you-” you looked at Anthony “- and disrupt the balance that we have all worked so hard to maintain.” You lace your fingers over the desk, the sunlight filtering in through the large window behind you, the heavy snow reflecting pur white light into the room.

“And what exactly did he propose, might I ask?” King Steven was the one who spoke, his voice low. You always hated the way he gazed at you, almost… predatorily. Like you were a meal he was waiting to devour. It makes you hot in uncomfortable places.

“He proposed a marriage between he and I, to destroy the Northmen that are invading his borders, and then to create an empire by first taking over Yorkshire. I assumed Amrika would be next in line, considering that Rumlow has always hated you.”

“Why would he propose marriage to you? You have already made it clear how you feel about sharing your throne,” Anthony shifts, and you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

“I would never marry that bastard even if it were my last hope. We need to devise a plan in case he decides to attack. I’ve had agents sent to monitor his actions in case he starts massing his forces on your borders, but I am worried for my kingdom.”

“You are not equipped to fight in a war,” Steven murmurs, brows furrowed, deep in thought. 

“I must admit that I have not even considered reforming my armies. When I took the throne, I promised to maintain the peace that my father had achieved, and that I would avoid war at all costs. Now, if it is inevitable… I have no idea how many others he has contacted about his plans. I have not spoken to any others on the council. I feel my gender would get in the way, that they would claim I’m having a feminine panic over something simple, but I know it is more than that.” You fret, standing to face the large windows, a hand fluttering to clutch the pendant that had belonged to your late brother. He had fallen in the final war that had ended all wars. Or what you had hoped was the last.

You hear a chair move, and the glasses and decanters to your left clink as Anthony pours himself a drink. Something you knew he would do, according to your father. ‘Tony loves his spirits, so I always make sure to put my best out when he is coming. Damn that man for having such rich tastes.’ “And what makes you think he even has reached out to other members?”

“When he came here… well, before he left actually, as he was being dragged away by my guards for manhandling me, he made a subtle threat.” You turn to look towards the men, only to find Steven was merely a few feet from you. “He said, ‘if you don’t take me up on my offer, I will find someone who will’. Who else could he go to, than someone else on the council?”

“‘Manhandled’ you? Are you alright?” Stevens' voice was low, gentle. According to your father, he was anything but. Atleast, on the battlefields, where your father had fought with him. And the hands that had slain hundreds, now softly tilted your head back, searching for injuries.

“Your concern is touching, Your Grace, but I am unscathed. I can handle myself,” you smile tightly, stepping away from his touch, rubbing your thumb into the palm of the hand that had slapped Rumlow. You ignored the spark that ignited in your lower belly at Steven’s touch, his soft eyes… his full bottom lip.

You clear your throat. “Until things play out a little more, I’d like to confirm that you two have my back. Your armies completely surpass what exists of my own, and are equal to Rumlow’s. And I will fully fund any efforts you make against him. Money, food, labor. Even shelter for any refugees from the outer villages.”

“Our alliance stands. I made a vow to your father on his deathbed that I would watch over you, and in doing so, our kingdoms would thrive together. I should thank you for being so urgent to inform me on what happened, and I am sorry for his brashness,” Anthony approaches you, gently clasping your shoulders. “I am going to stay here a few days and help you summon the Council. I’m assuming my usual room is prepared?”

“As always,” you laugh, “with plenty of alcohol and thick curtains.”

“You act as if I’m a lush!” He laughs with you as he leaves your study, following the path that he must know all too well.

“And what about you?” You turn towards Steven, clasping your elbows, peering up at him.

“I think this color suits you well,” he hums, his wandering fingers once again invading your space, clasping the soft material. It was a lighter shade of blue, with cream accents and a low neckline, which you knew he noticed.

“About our alliance, Steven,” you whisper, backing away from him once again, but he only followed you.

“I seem to recall a proposal that I had made to you less than a year ago, similar to Rumlow’s.” He traces the line of your jaw and then down your neck. You fight to suppress a shiver, but it betrays you. He smiles. “Only mine was less tyrannical.”

“Steven, you know how I feel about this. I can’t just hand over my people like that, I’ve fought too hard-”

“I know. And I’m not asking you to hand over anything. Together, we can rule our kingdoms. Together. You and me, and eventually..” hie hand lowers to your stomach and you gasp, jerking away one final time, crossing the room.

“This is exactly why I say no. I am more than just a vessel for your spawn-”

“Spawn?” He scoffs, interrupting you, but you continue.

“I am the Queen of this region and I am not finished yet, I still have a lot of things I need to do, and I cannot be distracted by a husband or… children.”

“Like what? Name something that you’re ‘working’ on, and I’ll leave you alone,” he throws up his hands, exasperated. You stutter for a second, at a loss of words, not used to such an outburst from him.

“Like, well,” you take a breath, and then clasp the door, throwing it open, “um… I’ll see you at dinner tonight. Make yourself at home.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” He tips his head to you, gliding past you, but stopping just as he passed in front of you. “I know you read his journals. Why don’t you check the last chapter of his last book. Maybe then you’ll change your mind.”

He whispered that last part to you, passing you as he went towards the guest chambers that you had prepared for the kings. Your breath catches in your throat. You had never read the last chapter that your father had written. It was the last thing on this Earth that he had touched, that he had said… you felt if you read it, then he would truly be gone. You refused, but at Steven’s challenge, you glanced at the journal.

No, you chide yourself. You will not fall victim to his childish charm. You slam the doors shut, dressing yourself in a cloak so you could stroll the castle grounds. The cool air would clear your head.

                                                                                                                          A week passed, and Steven and Athony left your castle, promising to send word to you after they reached out to the Council, to seek out allies of Rumlow. But before Steve left, he presented you with a gift.

“Here, an apology for upsetting you the other evening,” the grin was back on his face, and you held your head higher. He reaches out, clasping your hand, placing a small object into your palm. It was warm, as if he had been holding it for a long time.

You glance down to find a beautifully crafted pendant, with a large blue gem in the center of an intricate design or silver metal, twisting around a few smaller rubies. It was an absolutely gorgeous piece of jewelry, one you just couldn’t accept. He must have known what you were thinking, because he folded your hands over it.

“It belonged to my mother. I had always planned to gift it as a wedding present… until then, I shall have you wear it now.” He smiles genuinely, and you huff, a small cloud cutting through the cold air.

“Steven,” you whisper, but he hushes you. 

“I’ll wear you down eventually,” He chuckles as he turns around, bounding down the steps and onto his horse, who whinnies as he pulls the reins. “We’ll see each other soon again.”

“Next time, bring Sam and James with you, I miss them.” You wave at them as they retreat through the gates, and you suck in the chilly air. Back to business. There was no use in worrying over the coming weeks. You had to start preparations. You called in a meeting with the local leaders of your villages to discuss preparations for a potential… Well, they needn’t know what’s at stake just yet.

                                                                                                                          You were hiding behind the pillar, listening in on the two men as they talked. Your father’s booming voice filled the hall as they stopped in the center.

“What if things don’t fall into place as you’ve planned? What if she…” The other man sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Peering around the side, you stare, sighing at his strong, handsome features, the thick and full beard that covered his jaw, and the strong shoulders that flexed when he walked. You wondered who he was talking about. A woman, probably a woman he was planning to marry. He was a King, and a new one. They usually got married pretty fast. To have children and all that.

“There you are!” Cried Wanda, your lady in waiting. You push a finger to your lips to shush her, but it was too late. She had given you away.

“(Y/N),” your father called condescendingly, and you lowered your head as you came around the corner, walking towards him as he held out a hand towards you.

Your father was handsome as well, softer around the middle, with permanent lines along his face from years of worry. You knew you were the source of a few of those wrinkles. A scar also carved its way down the side of his chin and on his neck, a wound which had almost killed him in the Final War. His savior was standing in front of him, clasping his hands behind his back so he could bow towards you. You curtsied, before taking your father’s hand. The guests were all leaving after celebrating your 13th birthday. Your father had also used it as a time to discuss big matters with a few of his allied Kings. Something about the Northmen.

“My little Mouse, I was just about to send away our final guest. Would you help me?” Your father placed his hands on your shoulders, putting you between them. Your cheeks flush hot at being so close to King Steven, and you curtsy again, giggling.

“I thank you for coming, Your Royal Highness. Please, travel safely, but return soon.” You hide your smile behind your hands, hiding a squeal as he flashes you his dashing smile, and small dimple appearing in his cheek.

He opened his mouth to say something when another set of arms scooped you up, spinning you in a circle, causing you to shriek and squeal in delight, slapping at the back of the man who had stolen you away.

“Sir James, please, this is improper!” You manage to get out between laughs, his own hearty laugh bouncing off the walls. But he relents, planting your feet on the ground. You frantically tuck your hair away, panting a little, fists up.

“You make it difficult to be a lady, Bucky!” You bark, swinging towards him, which he dodges with ease.

“You do that on your own, little Mouse. Practice your speed, then maybe you’ll catch me,” he chuckles, tapping your nose with his metal hand, spinning you away from him so you could wave to Sir Sam.

“James, have you been teaching my daughter to fight?”

“No, she just watches. You better keep an eye on her, she sees all,” James grins one final time, wrapping his arm in a brotherly manner around Sam’s, who quickly shrugged it off.

“Princess, it’s time for our lessons,” Wanda tugs at your arm, hissing in your ear, her accent thick with her native tongue. You were currently studying the language of the Northmen, but you’d much rather be here, to see the handsome men off.

“Remember what we discussed,” your father squeezes Steven’s shoulder, and the blonde man nods, turning around to exit through the large doors, giving you a wave of goodbye.

You release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and then skip away with Wanda, your other Lady, Natasha,  coming to join you at your left.

“I thought we were going to keep it a secret that we’ve been watching the knights practice,” Nat’s whisper was harsh. You shrug, linking your arms.

“Surely father will only think it's a joke. Speaking of which, shall we practice at the Old Place?” You ask in Sokovian, Wanda’s mother-tongue.

“You wouldn’t believe what I’ve got my hands on!” Nat squeals, and you settle yourselves in the large room that acted as your learning homeroom.

If only things had remained so simple and easy.

Taglist:

@ivybarns @yellow-winds

[bonky-n-steeb]

stay with me (1)

summary || One fine morning, you find yourself in a period drama, with doppelgängers of your friends. You will deal with this mess later, but first you gotta eat your cereals. (MULTIVERSE AU)

warnings || smut (in the next part!), angst, manipulation, 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝙋𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙎𝙀 𝘿𝙉𝙄!

Also look at his walk in the gif…. damn!

It was just a regular morning in the avengers tower. You were munching on your cereals, Steve had just come back from a run and Tony had supposedly opened a portal to an alternate reality.

Today morning you were eating your breakfast when Jarvis announced that Tony had called all of you urgently in his lab. You had rushed there, thinking he was in danger, only for him to smirk and tell about his new discovery: he had opened a portal to an alternate universe.

The portal was a bright orange circle swirling with magic. Tony was proudly standing next to it and besides him were Dr. Strange and Bruce. These three had used their geniuses to open that portal.

“That’s cool! What do you think I would be like in this universe?” Steve asked inquisitively. “The universe doesn’t matter, you’re always gonna be a punk.” Bucky instantly replied.

Steve rolled his eyes and playfully punched Bucky. You couldn’t help but notice how handsome Steve looked with his sweaty shirt clinging to his body. You were gladly able to hide your smile by eating another spoonful of cereal.

Natasha was probably the only one who was actually paying attention to what they were saying. “So, where does this actually lead to?” You hummed along with her.

“Uhh… about that…. We have no idea.” Tony shrugged. “You mean you have no idea where this thing opens?” You asked walking closer to the glowing circle.

“No. We just know it’s somewhere in the alternate reality.” You titled and peered, hoping to see anything further into the other universe. “Isn’t that risky?” You asked somewhat sceptical of the whole setup.

“All the experiments are somewhat risky.” The portal probably understood what Tony said, because the next thing you knew, you were being pulled into it. Wisps of golden magic surrounded themselves around you and merged you with them.

It was for a fraction of a second that you felt the force, because the next, you were standing in the wildest place of your imagination: a literal historical drama.

People surrounding you were wearing rich furs and historical clothes. You seemed to find yourself in the middle of a courtroom from the overall look of it.

You turned around, unsure of where you had landed yourself. The previously glowing portal was now nowhere to be seen. As you bewilderedly turned around, a man looking very similar to Tony walked towards you.

“Tony?” You stared in disbelief as he was wearing clothes Tony wouldn’t ever touch. The supposed court was awfully silent from the moment you had arrived.

“Y/N?” He looked as if he had seen a ghost. At your name, a huge smile spread across your face. These guys are pranking me, you thought to yourself.

“Nice try! You had me there for a moment, not gonna lie. I mean, there’s still time for Halloween.” You laughed and pat him on the shoulder, like you did usually, but he quickly flinched away from your touch.

“Lady, what are you talking about?” He titled his head with confusion. Lady, really? Tony, you can do better. “Alright, knock it off. I got it, it was funny. Hahaha.” You fake laughed.

You audibly gulped when Tony squinted his eyes with confusion. “There’s some misunderstanding.” A very calm voice said from the opposite side of Tony. You turned around to see Bruce standing in clothes just as weird as Tony.

“I… You… you aren’t my Tony and Bruce, are you?” This couldn’t be happened, not to you. “No. We are not. Just like you aren’t our Y/N.” he replied just as calmly.

You neatly studied the faces of all the people attending the assembly and gasped when you realised all of them looked like the friends you had left behind.

But these people weren’t your friends. They were truly strangers who just carried a resemblance to them. You were actually in a parallel universe, without any known way of going back.

“No. No. No! This is not true. This can’t be true. I… I have to go back! Please!” All your calm and jolly demeanour quickly changed to full blown panic. Tears accumulated in your eyes and sweat beaded your forehead.

“Calm down.” You looked around for the portal like a caged bird finding for an escape. “Where am I?” You had started shivering because of the cold as unlike others, you didn’t have anything warm to cover you.

“You’re in the kingdom of Brooklyn.” You closed your eyes and sighed with defeat. At least the names are similar, you tried to comfort yourself. “Oh great!” You said sarcastically.

Tony tried walking towards you, but acting on your instinct, you raised the only thing you had in your hand, a spoon. Holding the spoon like a knife towards his direction, you walked two steps behind. “Stay back.”

You had no idea who these people were and what they were going to do with you. You couldn’t trust them. “We are not going to harm you.” He said with a placating gesture.

“How do I know?” The thought of being so very away from your home, from your friends, horrified you. These people could be vile for all you know. “Because I promise so.”

The murmuring in the court stopped the moment everyone heard the voice. You looked up to see the voice belonged to the king. And you wondered how you didn’t notice it, because it was none other than Steve.

He stood up and walked towards you as you stared at his beauty. He had long flowing blond hair and a thick beard covered his face very much unlike your Steve who had a clean shaven face. But his nose was just as bent and his eyes were just as blue.

“Steve?” You were unsure what to call him. He looked much stoic at first, but then hearing his name, a huge smile graced his face. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s me, Steven. I promise you, we won’t do anything you don’t want us to do. But I think you must be cold.”

You looked down at yourself and you couldn’t feel more out of place. You were in your sleep shorts and a really comfy shirt while your hair was as messy as a birds nest. And on top of that you had just a spoon and a bowl filled with goddamn cereal.

Life couldn’t possibly get more creative, you sarcastically thought. You nodded at his question and he offered you his warm jacket. “Here, take this.” You smiled and draped it around you.

“Wait. Why am I the only one freaking out? Why aren’t you worried that a random idiot popped off in the midst of your assembly?” Everyone was just too calm for your liking.

“It’s because we understand you are from another universe.” How did they know? “How do you know about alternate universes? Aren’t you supposed to be old timey?”

Alternate universes were supposed to be a thing of modern science, right? Steven just chuckled before replying, “I think your universe might be a bit advanced than us in a few ways, but this land is filled with magic. We know the old and the new ways.”

This was literally Alice in wonderland. “Oh. Okay. So how can I go back?” Steven pursed his lips at your question, “We can’t specifically open a portal to where you came from. So we have to wait until someone from your side does.”

“Fuck.” You cursed and looked at your bare feet. You were stuck in some place out of a fantasy and your last hope rested on people who had no clue what they were doing, and by that you meant your Tony and Bruce.

You just hoped you went back home in this lifetime at least.

~~~

You stared at your clear reflection of your face in the still water of the pond and wondered how your life had taken a complete opposite turn.

It had been three days and nobody had come for you. You were dying with worry as to why they hadn’t come. You had hoped at least by the end of the first night your friends would find you.

The extravagant dress you were currently wearing wasn’t really comfortable. You weren’t used to wearing such clothes and usually preferred sweatpants and shirts.

The cold breeze was gently touching your face and you bathed in the serene calmness. The royal palace was bustling during the day, but at night, it became a little too quiet.

The people over here weren’t as bad as you had thought. They were understanding and caring. But still, they weren’t your friends and this wasn’t your home.

“Missing your home?” You jerked when the rough voice disturbed your peace. You turned around to see Steven walking towards you. You should’ve heard him approaching you, but you were too lost in your thoughts.

Steven was very much different than the one back at home. His people adored him as their king and he indeed was a man to be respected and feared. But what surprised you the most was how outspoken he was.

From what you had seen, whatever was in his heart was on his tongue, unlike your Steve who was a bit reserved. But at the end of the day, he was still a Steve Rogers. The idiot with zero self preservation skills.

The people had told you enough stories of how he had won wars and brought peace and prosperity. You couldn’t help but admire him.

“Yeah.” He walked over and sat besides you on the soft grass. “Don’t worry. You’ll find a way back. And even if you don’t, you can always live here.” His words were oddly comforting.

“Thanks.” You were probably required to add some title at the end of your sentences, but you didn’t know what to add. And Steven never asked you to call him anything but Steven.

“What all do you miss about your home?” Steven wanted to know more about you. “Where do I begin?” You pretended to think before answering.

“First of all, I miss my friends. They were the only family I had, and I terribly miss all of them. And I miss my mobile phone.” You said chuckling.

“What’s… what’s a mobile phone?” He asked inquisitively. “A phone is a.. ummm,… small metal box with which you can send instant messages, call and do a million other functions.”

It was a terrible description, but you didn’t have anything better to offer. “Oh. That seems interesting.” You pouted and slowly nodded. “It must be boring right, to send letters and wait for days for the response?”

“Not really. If something is urgent enough, I do this.” The next second you head a ‘hello!’ In your head in Steven’s voice, but his lips didn’t move.

You gasped loudly, “Did you just say hello in my head? That’s so cool.” Steve loved how fascinated you were. “You know magic??” Steven smiled giddily and nodded.

“Can I ask you something?” You had been here for three days, and one question was eating you up. “Go ahead.” His eyes sparkled in the moonlight as he looked at you.

“Is there a Y/N here?” There were most of your friends from earth, so there must be another you too, right? But you hadn’t yet found your own variant.

Steven looked away for a moment and cleared his throat before answering. “There was one. She died. We were betrothed but the wedding day never came.” His voice was heavy with pain.

“I’m sorry.” You didn’t know what to say further and just let the moment pass. “So, your Steve must love you too, right?” You couldn’t stop yourself from scoffing sarcastically.

The truth was, you loved Steve. But he didn’t love you. You had been absolutely shattered the day you had seen him kiss Sharon. But no matter how much it killed you inside, you just couldn’t stop loving him.

“I wish.” You replied scornfully. You didn’t want to cry in front of Steven, but the adamant tears once again collected in your eyes. Steven looked at you with disbelief and shook his head.

“I don’t think there is a Steve in any universe who doesn’t love Y/N.”

“As beautiful as it sounds, it’s not true.” You rapidly blinked your eyes to stop the tears. You held your legs close and placed your face on your knees as the night got cold. “He must be an idiot then.” You smiled at his comment.

Steven had been thinking of something for the past few days. The thought had struck him the moment he had seen you appear through the portal. He cleared his throat before speaking,

“I have been thinking of something for the past few days. What if you stay here?” You could sense the hesitation in his voice.

“I am gonna stay here till they find me.” You couldn’t quite catch the meaning behind his words. “I was talking about… forever.”

And that’s when you realised what he was saying. “Stay here,… with me.” His eyes were shining with hope and you knew you were going to break his heart by rejecting him.

“I… I can’t do that.” You had an entire life back home, you couldn’t just give it away. “Think about it. You can have everything you want. Just ask me and I’ll get it!

And we… we can have each other.” You looked straight ahead into the dark and thought for a moment. Was his offer so bad?

There were the other avengers to protect earth, you weren’t as such needed. Other than that, you didn’t have much else to your name. And Steven was talking about a future together which you definitely didn’t have with Steve.

“Would you love me?” You wouldn’t be able to tolerate it if even Steven didn’t love you. “I suppose I already do.” He was very genuine in his answer.

You had spent the past three days with Steven and he really was a guy you would’ve fallen for if you were born here. But this wasn’t your universe, was it?

Maybe he would love you because you looked like his long lost love. But it wouldn’t be so bad right? You just wanted to be loved for once in your life, and maybe Steven would do just that.

“Give me a few more days to think. Please.” He looked absolutely gorgeous as his eyes crinkled with a smile. “Take as many days as you want.” Pulling you closer, he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead.

~~~

Steven was seated comfortably in his chambers, going through the affairs of State when a golden circle started glowing on his right side.

He had seen that circle before when you entered through it almost a whole month back. He smiled at the thought of how you had changed his life in such a short time.

A man wearing a red cape who looked like a variant of Stephen Strange, the royal healer in his court, walked through the portal. His expression was serious and determined.

“You must be Steven Rogers I assume. I’m Dr. Strange and I’ve come here from earth-616 and I’m sure our Y/N accidentally stumbled here. So to prevent you from any further inconvenience, I’ve come here to take her back.”

Steven clenched his jaw and stared him down. You hadn’t yet replied to his question, though you did seem to settle down in his kingdom and he was sure you would say yes in just a few days.

He couldn’t quite get how Strange even came here. Steven had locked down all the possible portals giving entry to this universe to ensure none of them ventured here.

Yes, he was guilty. He had told you people from your universe had to open the portal but it wasn’t true. He could open the portal and send you back. He had lied to you and kept you in the dark. But how could he not? How could he possibly ever lose you?

Since the moment you had come here, he had decided that you would be his. He had lost his Y/N long back and life had given him another chance, he wasn’t going to fail you this time.

And as time passed, you didn’t give him a chance to regret his decision. You were a ray of sunshine in his cold life. You were nothing like his Y/N, you were brave and straightforward unlike his meek and evasive Y/N.

When he had met you, he wanted to keep you because you looked like his previous love. But now he had fallen in love with you; the girl who crashed into his life with a spoon in hand.

If his motivation before was strong, now it was even stronger. “She doesn’t want to come with you.” He was sure Stephen wasn’t yet aware of his betrayal, or he wouldn’t have been so calm.

Dr. Strange squinted at Steven, “That’s impossible.” Steven got up from his chair and ran a hand through his hair, “She herself told me she doesn’t want to go back.”

“You either take me to her or I’ll find her myself.” Not a single moment had the avengers rested since you had been sucked into the portal. And he wasn’t going back without you.

“You don’t believe me?” Stephen scoffed and shook his head. “No. I don’t. And I guess you are going to waste my time, so I’ll find her myself.” Steven lunged for him but before that he was gone through his portal.

“Fuck!” Cursing, he began a dead run for your chambers. He had to find you before fake Stephen, he thought bitterly. You couldn’t know the truth, it would ruin everything.

You were trying to remember the lyrics to one of your favourite songs when Dr. Strange walked through another glowing portal. The smile that spread across your face was absolutely heartwarming.

Without another word, you pulled him into a tight embrace. Never had you hugged the neurosurgeon before. He too smiled and returned your hug.

“How are you?” He checked over for any form of injuries and sighed when he found none. “I’m fine. How’s everyone else? How’s Tony? Nat? Steve?” You were asking questions like an excited kid.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself. Come with me.” You happily nodded your head and we’re just going to walk through when the door to your room burst open.

Steven held on to the door frame as he heaved from running so fast. His overgrown hair was disheveled and looking at him made you stop in his tracks.

Seeing Stephen, you had forgotten all about Steven and this new universe. “Come on.” Dr. Strange urged you but you refused to look away from Steven.

“Don’t go.” Steven panted out, and it was enough for you to change your decision. You walked a step back and dr. Strange was visibly annoyed. “What are you doing? Let’s go!”

“No. I’m not coming back.” Now that you had said it, it didn’t feel like a big problem in your life. You weren’t sure if Steven loved you, or if he was still in love with his dead fiancé.

But at least he made you feel loved. He looked at you as if you hung the stars and shared sweet kisses under the moonlight that made you melt. The occasional embraces made you feel safe.

“What are you saying?” Dr. Strange looked at you as if you had lost your mind. “I’m saying I’m happy here and I don’t want to come back.” Steven gave you a blinding smile and you knew you had chosen right.

He closed his eyes and pinched his nose, annoyed with your antics. “Do you know how sick everyone is worrying about you? Tony and Bruce haven’t eaten properly as they blame themselves.

And Steve… he’s just going crazy. You need to come back. Try to understand. We need you!” The thought that you were indirectly hurting your friends made you ache.

“If you missed me so much, then why didn’t you come earlier?” You failed to notice how stiff Steven stood at your question. “We have no clue why, but something was stopping me from opening the portals. I’m not yet sure…”

“Why don’t you stop experimenting with things you have no idea about. How about that? I wouldn’t be here in the first place if you knew what you were doing.”

“I’m sorry but come back please!” You hadn’t ever seen Dr. Strange pleading before. “I… I’m sorry too. It’s not your fault. But I won’t be coming back. Tell everyone I’m fine over here.” Your anger had mellowed down considerably.

“Don’t do this. Steve misses you.” It wasn’t really a secret among the other avengers that you had a crush on Steve, they just didn’t know how deep it ran.

“He’ll be fine. Everyone else will learn to live without me too. And I’ll… I’ll come to meet you some days, if that’s possible.” He sighed defeatedly and looked at Steven.

“Is it because of him?” Stephen couldn’t believe you were giving them all up because of a look alike of Steve. You just shyly nodded.

“Take care of yourself.” Dr. Strange knew you won’t be coming back now. Your decision was written straight across your face. “You too. Tell everyone to look after themselves too. Goodbye!”

He just patted your back and left through the portal leaving you and Steven alone in your room. “So you’re staying.” Steven still couldn’t believe you had chosen him.

“Yes. I am.” He closed the door and walked closer to you. “I have to tell you something. I love you.” The love you had so yearned for your entire life was sparkling clearly in his eyes.

“I love you too.” You had indeed fallen for the generous king. He pulled you closer and passionately kissed you. Living with him wasn’t that bad, you thought to yourself.

~~~

“No!” Steve threw all the items on his desk to the ground with frustration. “Calm down Steve.” Nat tried to calm him but he was fuming with anger.

“She can’t do this. She can’t do this to me!” Steve felt betrayed when strange told him you refused to come back. That too because of some doppelgänger of his.

“She has made a choice and it’s better if we live with it.” Tony was hurt too, but he knew he had to console Steve. “I think he has done something to her. You said he knows magic right?”

“I didn’t think she was under influence.” Dr. Strange stated as a matter of fact. “Maybe he was just better at expressing himself.” Bucky finally said what everyone else was afraid to say.

Steve’s eyes snapped up and he punched his desk again. “Maybe you are right. Maybe it was my fault that I never told her how I felt. I never told her how much I loved her.”

Tears slipped free from his eyes and for the first time, Steve broke down in front of everyone. “It’s okay. We all make mistakes.” Steve took a deep breath and rubbed his tears. But his eyes were shining with sheer resolve,

“I’ve made a mistake, and I’ll make it right. I am gonna get her back, no matter the consequences.”

[bccky]

Made For Each Other

Chapter 1 - The White

Pairing: King!Steve Rogers X Queen!Reader (Royal AU)

Summary: The King of Loh, Steve Rogers and you have been betrothed to each other since you were children. Along the way, you fall in love, leading to many, if not all, to believe that you two are made for each other.

If this was true, then why did Steve lead an attack on your kingdom and force you to marry him the very next day?

Words: 770

Warnings: angst, hatred, forced marriage, forced kiss, enemies to lovers, bad Stevie (warnings will change with each chapter)

A/N: I had written this way back when I had been experimenting with dark fiction, but I couldn't make myself write Steve without a redemption arc lol. Not beta'd.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist • Series Masterlist

Ps. I imagine Steve in this series to have a body like Chris does in the Red Sea Diving Resort... Like ya know, big :) with a beard like Andy Barber and usually slicked back blond hair but like feel free to imagine him as you want ;D also, find the picture of the dress at the bottom Xx

"With the power vested in me by His Majesty, I now pronounce you man and wife." The priest exclaims joyously, though it all feels like a farce to you. 

Marriage is supposed to be between lovers, and if required, a mutually beneficial arrangement between the two at the very least. In this case, it seems like only one benefits everything, while the other loses all.

And why wouldn't it? This is no happy occasion, but an overzealous attempt to display the King's power, Steve's power.

He does not deserve the title, you decide mentally.

He's not your king. He'll never be your king.

The priest continues after stopping for a dramatic pause, "Your Majesty may now kiss your bride." 

There's a collective sound of 'aww's as Steve takes a step towards you.

To an outside eye, it must be easy to be deceived by his conniving smirk, since it may look like a shy grin. But as you stand across him at the altar, you can't be tricked. 

Steve's baby blue eyes darken as he leans forward to capture your lips, not deterred when you don't make an effort to kiss him back or even close your eyes, but cups your cheek in his palm to make your unwillingness discreet. 

You wish you could just run away and start anew with a quiet life where no one knows who you are, but you can't. Your hands are cuffed together and strategically posed so that your long veil makes it invisible to the prying eyes.

Steve's Royal Advisor and your maid of honor, Lady Romanoff, has held the edge of a blade against your lower back, which you guess is also concealed by some part of your white wedding gown and the angle you both are standing in.

You can tell Steve is getting frustrated, his grasp on your face more rough, and he glances behind your shoulder, a supposed instruction to Lady Romanoff because she increases the pressure on the blade.

It almost cuts through the skin of your exposed back, the threat making you comply and let Steve's tongue roam your mouth for however long he wishes. 

If it wasn't for Romanoff, you would've bit his tongue off. 

Now, you stand helplessly still as Steve's cold blue eyes glimmer in satisfaction at the defiance in yours as he pulls away.

His dark gaze reminds you of the previous day when he was dragging you out of your castle by your hair, showing how you were nothing more than a game to him. 

And as much as you want to slap the smug smirk off his face, you don't, knowing that acting out will only further the bratty image of yours that Steve presented you as to his people. 

You are only a trophy from his latest conquest, the infamous headstrong princess that he claimed for himself upon taking over your kingdom, your home forcefully, even though you were going to be his soon.

Steve went as far as to want you to think that you were getting a privilege since he had ordered the rest of your family to be imprisoned after a five days long war. 

"Let's see how long you last before I break you." The way he utters the words as he pulls away would make you or any other woman recoil away, but you're determined to not show him even an ounce of fear. 

You're not going to let him win.

There are thousands of eyes that watch your union with their beloved King, and you know that if you want even an ounce of their favour and support should you ever require it, being calm and composed is the only way. 

You need to be seen as a collected and resilient Queen, even a quiver in your actions can be held against you. 

So you stand straight and square your shoulders, conveying through your body language that you're not giving up. You're not going to be the one that loses. 

A new crown is set upon your head that matches the colour and the precious metals of the one that Steve wears.

It's nothing like your old tiara, though lighter in weight, it feels burdening and as if it is made up of thorns, bringing a sense of discomfort and alienation.

"I now present to you, the King and Queen of Loh." The Herald announces and Steve is quick to change his demeanor into the poor substitute of the kind-hearted king the world thinks him to be. 

He puts an arm around your waist, forcing you to face the crowd. "Smile and wave, my darling." And you do as he says, reminding yourself that you're only biding your time.

I’d love to hear what you think! Please like, reblog and comment to let me know :) Comments and reblogs make my day Xx

If you'd like to read more of my works, click on the masterlist linked on the top of this post!

If you wanna be tagged for the next part, please reblog this and mention it there 😊

Lastly, may I present to you, the wedding dress: