#marvel royal au

[buckyalpine]

Yours to Claim

King!Bucky x reader

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

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

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

Except yours. 

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

Waiting.

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

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

He cared about your happiness?

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

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

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

And if you didn’t-

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

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

Touched in places no one dared lay their hands on.

You were now his property. 

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

“Princess we don’t have t-

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

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

However, it was far more complicated for you.  

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

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

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

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

 It made him beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“JAMESS” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-”

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

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

The one to your heart. 

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

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

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

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

The king.

Your James. 

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[beananacake]

My Crown Upon Your Head

Ch. 1

Prince!Bucky Barnes x Reader

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

WC: 3.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You kept your head low as you said your name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was simple enough for you to do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sadly, your dreams were once again stalled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Sir.”

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

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You may go.”

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

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

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

Your husband. What an absurd notion!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

…

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are already married.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She is your wife.”

[wolfpup026]

I bet Mobius would've liked Loki's play

[gyuuberryy]

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐌 !

pairing: venom!jay x reader

genre: venom au, one sided rivalry, loser!jay, office coworkers, superhero

synopsis: when a geeky coworker’s transformation catches your eye, curiosity leads to a discovery far darker—and more thrilling—than you ever imagined. now, blackmail has you entangled with jay and his possessive alter ego, venom, in a dangerous game neither of you wants to end.

warnings: kissing, fighting, venom??

note: where are my marvel girlies at whoo hoo! venom is so pookie and my biggest "hear me out" hehe he got me sobbing in the theatre. jay as venom would be SO hot kjvfbvnjb >< so i wrote this to make up for me going mia for a while, i have too much school work so writing will be slow. anyway enjoyyy reading!!

word count: 2.5k

your office life was a balancing act between emails, deadlines, and… keeping your one-sided rivalry with park jongseong alive. jay(as everyone else called him), with his slightly too-short ties and endearing but tragic fashion sense, was the clueless office geek. he was awkward, quiet, and too nice for his own good. yet, no matter how awkward he was, jay always managed to excel in everything he did, effortlessly snagging the praise you thought should have been yours.

what irritated you most was that jay never seemed to notice your rivalry. he was too busy offering you help or giving you his signature polite, bumbling smile. and sometimes, you’d even catch yourself watching him a little too closely, feeling a reluctant warmth for his harmless, good-guy charm.

one afternoon, you wandered over to his desk, smirking as you noticed his usual setup: notebooks organised to the millimetre, a stack of neatly sharpened pencils, and a sticky note that read “be confident!” in his looping handwriting.

he looked up as you approached, adjusting his slightly crooked glasses and giving you a shy smile.

“hey, park,” you began, leaning casually against his desk. “did you remember to double-check the new client report? i know how thorough you like to be.”

jay blinked, his cheeks turning pink. “y-yeah, i went over it twice… just to make sure everything was right.”

“of course you did,” you replied with a playful eye roll. “wouldn’t want our employee of the month slipping up, now would we?”

he smiled, looking down at his notebook. “just doing my best.”

you shook your head, laughing softly. for some reason, you loved seeing him blush, getting him all flustered with a few well-placed jabs. jay was sweet, awkward, and, despite your constant teasing, he never seemed to hold it against you.

but the next week, everything changed.

jay showed up to work that monday looking like a different person. gone were the slightly wrinkled shirts and too-short ties. instead, he wore a fitted, charcoal button-down with the top few buttons undone, revealing a silver chain against his collarbone. his sleeves were rolled up, showing his forearms in a way that made you do a double-take. and he’d traded his old glasses for sleek, dark-rimmed ones that suited him way too well, giving him a smouldering look.

you did a double take as he walked by, giving you a casual, confident nod. “morning,” he said, his voice low and smooth. the bumbling, endearing jay you knew was nowhere to be found.

you shook it off, convincing yourself it was just a fluke. but over the next few days, you couldn’t ignore the transformation.

he traded in his ill-fitting clothes for tailored shirts, stylish watches, and a few artfully unbuttoned collars that showed off his neck and a hint of muscle. it seemed like his glasses had now permanently changed, now sleek and sophisticated, accentuating his jawline in a way that made you, against your better judgement, find yourself staring a little too long.

and it wasn’t just his style—jay’s entire demeanour was different. instead of blushing and stuttering, he’d catch you looking, smirking with a confidence that left you flustered.

one afternoon, you approached him, determined to regain some control of the dynamic. “wow, park,” you said, crossing your arms. “fancy new look. trying to impress someone?”

he looked up, a slow smile spreading across his face. “why? is it working?”

your cheeks heated, but you forced a laugh. “don’t flatter yourself.”

“oh, i don’t need to,” he replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “you do a pretty good job of that.”

his words left you speechless, your usual comebacks fizzling as he held your gaze with a smirk. flustered, you turned away, cursing under your breath.

when had park jongseong become… hot?

over the next week, his flirtations continued, growing bolder and more direct. every time you tried to tease him, he’d have a response that left you stumbling. gone was the stammering, geeky coworker you used to playfully bully; in his place was someone who knew exactly how to get under your skin, his newfound confidence throwing you off balance.

but one night after work, things took an unexpected turn.

you’d noticed him acting strange, glancing at his arms as though trying to keep something in check. he slipped out of the office quickly that evening, his face tense, and curiosity got the best of you. you followed him, keeping your distance as he made his way down the street, eventually ducking into a dark alleyway.

hiding behind the corner, you peeked around, pulling out your phone and hitting “record” just in case. what you saw left you speechless.

jay was standing in the middle of the alley, his body tense, his hands clutching his head. dark, inky shadows pulsed along his arms, twisting and curling like tendrils wrapping around him. his posture shifted, his shoulders straightening as the shadows coiled around his body, transforming him into something that was equal parts terrifying and mesmerising.

suddenly, jay let out a deep, guttural growl, his face contorting as sharp, gleaming fangs appeared, his once-soft eyes turning pitch black.

“finally,” a rough, raspy voice rumbled, oozing from jay’s mouth with a sinister excitement. “let’s go for a little… snack.”

a cold chill shot through you as you held up your phone, capturing the whole transformation on video. your heart was racing, but you couldn’t look away. whatever was happening to jay was unlike anything you’d ever seen.

as he turned, his gaze fell on the man who’d appeared in the alley, a figure holding a crowbar, his face twisted in anger. jay’s lips twisted into a wicked grin as he stalked toward the man, his voice dropping into a dark, predatory tone.

“ohhh, you picked the wrong guy to mess with tonight,” the voice sneered, dripping with a twisted glee. “i am going to enjoy this.”

the man froze, his face paling as jay’s shadows coiled around him, binding him in place. jay’s grin widened, his fangs gleaming as he leaned in close.

“run along, before i decide you’d make a nice little snack,” he growled, his voice a terrifying blend of jay’s and something far darker.

the man didn’t hesitate, stumbling away into the shadows. but as jay straightened, his gaze flickered over to you, and his eyes narrowed. in a heartbeat, he was in front of you, his inky black tendrils stretching out to trap you, pinning you against the wall.

you swallowed, trying to keep your breathing steady as he loomed over you, his dark, twisted grin sending a thrill of both fear and fascination through you.

“you… got that on video?” he murmured, his voice back to normal but tinged with a rough edge.

you held up your phone, smirking. “every second of it.”

his eyes flashed with a dangerous glint, and he leaned closer, his face inches from yours. “we could just… eat you, you know. save ourselves a lot of trouble.”

you raised an eyebrow, refusing to back down. “please. you didn’t even eat that guy. there’s no way you’d hurt me.”

he chuckled, the sound low and dark, his gaze flicking over your face. “hmm, true… i like you too much for that.”

the words left you breathless, your heart skipping a beat as you stared up at him, stunned. his face softened, a small, genuine smile replacing the sinister grin.

“so… about that video,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

regaining your composure, you smirked, crossing your arms as best you could with his tendrils pinning you to the wall. “i think i’ll keep it… as insurance. you know, just in case you feel like getting hungry again.”

he tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “so… what, you’re blackmailing me now?”

“exactly,” you replied, your grin widening. “you’re going to help me out with a few things, and i’m going to keep my mouth shut about your… secret.”

jay sighed, the shadows retracting as he released you, though he kept his gaze locked on yours. “fine. but don’t push it.”

you grinned, savouring the thrill of having the upper hand. “deal.”

over the next few weeks, you took full advantage of your “arrangement.” you had him running errands, fixing things around your apartment, and even carrying your heavy boxes at work. gone was the bumbling, geeky jay you’d known, replaced with someone who wielded both power and confidence—and didn’t hesitate to let you know it.

curiosity getting the best of you one day, you found yourself pulling him aside. “so… about your little… transformation,” you began, eyeing him carefully. “is he, like, a shadow monster or something?”

jay’s eyes widened, and he looked genuinely affronted. “shadow monster?” he repeated, crossing his arms. “he’s a symbiote. and he’s got a name, thank you very much.”

you raised an eyebrow. “a symbiote? i mean, he looks pretty shadowy to me.”

jay sighed, clearly unimpressed with your description. “no, he’s not ‘shadowy.’ he’s a sentient being that forms a bond with his host—me. he’s venom,” jay clarified, the name coming out almost reverently, and with a slight glint in his eye.

“oh, i see. so, he’s a person?”

“well, he has his own… opinions,” jay replied, wincing as he paused. “we’re a package deal, so to speak.”

“damn right, a package deal,” a deep, gravelly voice suddenly rumbled from within jay, and you felt a slight chill as the symbiote made its presence known.

you stared, both amazed and slightly unnerved. “oh… hey there, venom.”

venom chuckled, the sound reverberating low and menacing. “hello, sweetheart. i hear you think i’m a 'shadow monster.' "

jay rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly exasperated, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he said, “see? he doesn’t like being called that.”

you smirked, glancing at jay and then back at venom. “got it, venom,” you replied, a teasing lilt to your voice. “no shadow monster remarks. i’ll be sure to remember that.”

that evening, you called him over to help fix a squeaky window in your apartment. when he arrived, his sleeves were rolled up, and those dark tendrils emerged, forming into tools as he worked. you couldn’t help but watch, fascinated as he tightened the screws effortlessly, his movements precise and fluid.

he glanced over his shoulder, catching you staring. “see something you like, darling?” he teased, his voice low, laced with that familiar dark humour.

you scoffed, crossing your arms. “keep dreaming, park.”

jay smirked, his gaze flicking over you with a look that was anything but innocent. “oh, i don’t have to dream.”

your face heated, but before you could respond, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “you know, all you have to do is say the word.”

flustered, you quickly turned away, ignoring the smug grin on his face.

one night, as you were heading home from work, you felt someone following you. before you could react, a man grabbed your arm, yanking you into a dark alley. panic surged through you, your heart hammering as you struggled against his grip. but before you could scream, a low, guttural growl echoed from the shadows.

jay emerged from the darkness, his face twisted into a terrifying, fanged grin, his body wrapped in shadows that made him look both monstrous and mesmerising. he moved faster than you’d ever seen, dark tendrils coiling around the man’s arms, pinning him against the wall with a force that made your would-be attacker whimper.

“didn’t anyone tell you?” he snarled, his voice laced with dark satisfaction, his grin widening to show those gleaming fangs. “not to mess with what's ours.”

the man’s face turned ghostly white as he struggled against jay’s grip, terror flooding his eyes. jay’s smirk only grew, his shadowed form tightening its hold as he leaned in close, as if savouring every second of the man’s fear.

“i should just eat you,” jay’s voice growled, laced with menace and barely-concealed delight. “but you’re too pathetic for even a snack.” with a dismissive sneer, he released the man, letting him stumble away in blind terror, tripping over himself as he fled into the night.

when you looked back at jay, his inky tendrils had retracted, his monstrous form dissolving into something closer to the man you knew. yet his eyes still held that dangerous, possessive glint, and his breathing was still heavy, his gaze locked onto you with an intensity that made your pulse race.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, but with an edge of something raw and wild. his hand moved to rest on your arm, fingers lingering as if to reassure himself you were safe.

you nodded, swallowing as you tried to steady your breathing. “thanks to you…”

a wicked chuckle escaped him, his head tilting as his eyes darkened with a new, eerie glow. you could feel the presence of that “other” entity in him, lurking just beneath the surface. “oh, she’s safe with us,” it rumbled, making your skin prickle. “but i think she owes us something, don’t you, jay?”

jay’s gaze softened for a moment before that twisted smile took over again, his features shifting, the shadows flickering as he allowed his alter ego to take control.

“you really think i owe you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the thrill that coursed through you.

“absolutely,” jay, or rather venom replied, his grin widening. “we didn’t just save you. we protected what’s ours. and i think a little… reward is in order.”

you arched an eyebrow, unwilling to back down. “and what kind of reward does a shadow monster want?”

jay leaned closer, his breath warm and tinged with something dark. “i have a few ideas.” he chuckled, his sharp fangs glinting in the low light. “but don’t worry, sweetheart. we won’t bite… unless you ask nicely.”

your cheeks flushed despite yourself, but you kept your cool. “i don’t think you’re as scary as you want me to believe,” you teased, meeting his dark gaze. “you wouldn’t hurt me.”

his eyes gleamed with amusement. “oh, i could… but where’s the fun in that?” he tilted his head, observing you with a dark curiosity. “besides… jay likes you too much. and, maybe… so do i.”

the admission left you momentarily breathless, your heart pounding as you stared up at him. just as you were about to respond, his face softened, his gaze flicking to your lips before he leaned in.

without waiting another second, jay captured your mouth in a fierce, consuming kiss. the roughness in his embrace was offset by a possessive tenderness that made you melt, your hands gripping his shirt as he pulled you closer.

when he finally pulled back, his eyes flickered between jay’s gentle warmth and venom’s dark amusement. “so, boss,” he murmured, his voice laced with that familiar, playful edge, “any other tasks?”

with a grin, you pulled him closer, “i think i can come up with a few.”

jay chuckled approvingly, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “good… because we’re just getting started.”

and with that, he leaned in once more, his mouth claiming yours in a kiss that promised this was only the beginning of a thrilling, dangerous new game.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[deliciousangelfestival]

I Hate It When You're Drunk - 8

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

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

I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[thehorrorgirlstyles]

Be my Queen

King!Loki x Commoner!reader

Warnings: Royal AU, Mentions of death, Swearing, 18+ content, blood, violence, mature themes, sexual themes & words, dark themes

Note: I am not an expert with Royal titles, I tried as closely to follow what I know, but there could be some mistakes such as status.

Summary: Loki has taken a liken to you, wanting you to be his queen....his mother has other plans in mind.

____________________________________________________________

"Mother, MOTHER!" you yell out, running towards her. The guards drag her limp body away from you, she leaves a trail of blood behind. "PLEASE MOTHER!" You cry out as they disappear around the corner. You keep running, trying to reach her, but she's gone and you can't seem to keep up. You can't feel your body as tears stream down your face. You continue to run, but you end up back where you started. Blackness surrounds you as you drift off losing consciousness. Your eyes close and you feel yourself falling, hitting the floor with a "thump!".

_______________________________________

You wake up in a cold sweat, breathing deeply. This has been the third time you've had this nightmare this week. The recurring dream of your mother haunts you, but you know that it isn't true. It's just a nightmare. She passed away in her sleep due to a disease, your own father told you when you were eight asking, "Where mommy has gone?". So why do you keep having this nightmare you wonder?

You get out of bed and head to the bathroom. You have no time to think about the dream as you have more important things to do today. Loki's ceremony where he will be announced King happens in a few days. As the daughter of the Royal Advisor and executive officer, it is your job to help the servants and ladies-in-waiting with making sure everything is ready when the day comes. The kingdom has been over crowded as of late as the commoners and people of the kingdom are excited to see Loki become king. It is believed that he will be a great ruler as he is kind and compassionate to those of less status. You especially are happy to see Loki become King, he deserves it.

When you get out of the shower, you sit down at your vanity and brush your hair. Looking into the mirror you realize what this means for Loki and you. He will have to take a Queen and you have little to no status. You only reside in the palace because your dad is their right hand man. Queen Frigga has been like a mother figure to you as your family grew up serving the royal family and has provided your family with the honor of residing in her kingdom of Asgard, her saying that it will be easier to call on you if you live in their quarters. When your mother passed, Frigga told you that you would take her place and become her lady-in-waiting as soon as you turned 18, which happens to be the same day as Loki's ceremony.

As you and Loki grew up together, you developed feelings. You have been seeing Loki since you guys were 16. You don't know how you'll be able to see him grow old with someone else, but you know he'll have to. You finish up getting ready when you hear a knock sound on your door. You tighten your robe around yourself, walking towards the noise.

"Yes?" you answer the door looking out to see Emma, a servant.

"Hello m'lady Prince Loki asked me to give these to you" She comes in and hangs 2 dresses on your closets doors. One is green, the other gold, both covered in diamonds each stunningly gorgeous.

"He said to choose which one you like best to wear today as well as the jewelry I laid out on your bed" She points to the Emerald earrings and diamond necklace.

"You can find him in the enchanted garden when you're done and I'll be back later to clean up your room" She walks out closing your door.

You look at the dresses deciding on which one to wear. Loki has been gifting you presents for quite some time. While you enjoy them you also feel like it's too much. You should be helping the servants, instead your playing dress up, living a life that only someone of royal status should.

__________________________

"Y/n" Loki looks at you with a small smile on his face.

You walk into the garden coming face to face with Loki.

"I see you chose the green my favorite color...You look beautiful in anything you wear my love, but you look breath taken right now" He grabs your hand, pulling you in closer. He wraps his arm over your waist, kissing you passionately.

After a minute, you back away and put your hand on his chest, "Loki, I-I..."

He looks into your eyes with concern, "What is it darling, are you alright?"

"Loki why I appreciate the grand gestures and the big fancy dresses, you can't keep doing this".

"Doing what, I don't understand..do you not like the dress, I can have another made for you my dear" he pushes a strand of your hair out of your face, his arm still holding your waist.

"No its not that...its jus-...its just that your going to be king soon and I'm no one Loki" "Your going to have to take a Queen and I am simply your servant...a commoner at best.. I'm only here because of my father"

"Y/n my love for you is stronger than any title, if being King means that I lose you.. then I shall simply stay a Prince" "However, since I can chose who will be my Queen, when I become King, I chose to take you as mine"

You look at him in shock, "bu-But Loki I'm not a Princess, it's goes against the rules".

"It doesn't matter darling, I will have the highest authority, what I say shall go and if anyone dares to say something I will deal with it myself" "Titles don't mean anything to me, in my eyes you are so much more, you have always been since I first laid my eyes on you back when we were only little beings"

A tear slips from your eyes and he wipes it away. You kiss him deeply and he roughly grabs your hips pulling you in closely. Everyday you crave his touch, you will never get enough of him. He pulls you towards the stone wall in the garden. Your back hits the wall and he hikes your leg up. You wrap it around his hip as you grind against each other.

"God, I can't wait to make you my Queen" he groans out, grabbing your neck and deepening the kiss. He's rough with his movement like he hasn't touched you in days. Your dress prevents you from actually doing anything right now, your corset feeling like its knocking the breath out of you. It is probably a good thing since you are in a public place where anyone could walk by. The garden mostly being inclosed by large glass windows and a few stone walls.

"Fuck" he slams his hand by your head, against the stone. "Shall we go to my bed chambers right now?, I need to take you Y/n.. you are making me a madman" He moves towards your neck, biting and sucking, making you moan out.

"While that sounds like a lovely idea my Lord, we both have duties to attend to and I think we have lost track of time" you giggle out, wrapping your hands around his neck.

"I don't mind losing myself in you" He goes back to your waist, pulling you in closely, meeting your mouth. You kiss him back, both moaning into it.

You hear someone clear their throat. You both quickly back away from each other. Your face reddens as you realize it's his mother that interrupted you.

Loki pulls his shirt down and tugs on his collar, sorting out his suit. He clears his throat, "uh- Mother what seems to be the matter?"

Frigga looks between the both of you. You can't tell, but there seems to be something behind her eyes that doesn't look happy. Even though she smiles and walks further into the garden to meet you, "Son, Princess Amor is here to meet with you, she is in the foyer with Duke William".

Loki goes to complain, but is stoped by Frigga, "It is advise that you see to her, now" She gives her son a warning look. Frigga has been trying to set her son up with a Princess over the last few weeks.

He sighs and looks to you, "I'll be back as soon as I can" he gives you a sympathetic look and kisses the top of your head, walking out the garden.

Frigga watches him leaves and looks to you, "Dear, walk with me will you?"

"Of course Frigga" you give her a small smile and go to start walking.

She stops you, "Its your majesty". You look at her, she's never once made you call her that, it has always been Frigga since you were little, but you nod and she smiles at you.

-----------------------------------------------------------

You guys walk to the end of the palace outside to where the dungeon is kept, she opens the door to the basement and you look at her.

"Why are we going down here?"

"Why my dear, I simply wish to show you a part of the plaace you haven't seen before is all" She smiles, but it doesn't meet her eyes. You can't help but feel that something is wrong, but you follow her down the stairs.

It's cold and dark, the stairs seeming to go on forever. You finally reach the bottom and see a bunch of rooms some with prison bars. You guys walk to the end of the hall. On the way you peep into one of the rooms and see blood smeared on the walls, chains hanging from the ceiling.

You can't help but ask, "What exactly do you use this place for?"

She turns around and motions you to continue following her. You reach the end of the hall and enter the biggest room of the dungeon. Inside is more chains and a large table in the middle that looks like a guillotine.

"To answer your question, this area of the palace is used for anyone that crosses the kingdom, such as traitors or thieves"

"So like a prison, where they serve out their time...pay back their debt?" You ask looking around the room.

"Yes exactly..except they don't serve out their time.. you seen we have other rules around here that we have to enforce in order to keep the peasant in control, an eye for a eye if you will".

You stop your movements and look at her, "You kill them!?"... "But Loki would never dare to do such a thing".

She laughs, "Yes I see my son is a little too weak to carry out these things, which is why I carry out the orders".

"You command the guards to kill...but why Frigga?.. they're still people, people with families and children".

"IT'S QUEEN FRIGGA TO YOU AND YOU WILL ADRESS ME A SUCH!" she yells at you. You jump back in shock. "They should have thought about that before crossing me..GUARDS SEIZE HER!"

You look up and see five men come rushing in, they grab you roughly. You try to get away from them, but their hands dig into your skin, making you cry out, "Wh-What are you doing?" You look to Frigga. Why is she doing this to you?

"You see dear my son is deeply in love with you and I can't have that, it makes him weak, and you are no one..a nobody, he needs to marry someone of royal status... a Princess" "I let you both have your fun, but now he will be crowned King in a few days".

"B-But I don't understand you practically raised me, my family has been apart of yours for so long.. I looked at you like you were my own mother!"

"I know dear and I'm sorry for that, your father has been quite loyal to us and I to have looked at you as my daughter, but the fact is that you aren't.. and I need my son to marry someone that will be an asset to our kingdom.. you are simply not that, its nothing personal dear".

The guards move you towards the table, strapping you to it with ropes. You squirm as you try to get free, but it's no use the ropes burn against your skin. "He'll never forgive you for this..Loki will never look at you the same!" You cry out.

"He won't know it was me.. neither will your father, he will still be serving us as if you never existed" She laughs in your face, "Just like he did with your mom"

"What?" You look at her, "My mom died of disease".

"Is that what he told you?" .. "I had her taken away and killed, she was a pest, my husband couldn't seem to take his eyes off her, so I got rid of her and him".

It wasn't a dream? It was real? The guards really did drag her away and you saw it happen..

More tears stream down your face. Frigga comes up to you and pets your hair, "Shhhh sweetie its okay it will be over soon, I am truly sorry it had to come to this.. I would have had you just marry off to someone else, but you're ruined. I know Loki ruined you and no one wants a whore of a woman who has slept with another man".

"Please, don't do this.. Please Frigga I beg of you!" You cry out in a last attempt to save your life.

"Shh we wasted enough time, soon Loki will come looking for her and we need to get rid of her body, hurry up and pull the lever!" She shouts to the guards.

"Can't we have a little fun with her first, I mean she is just stunning" You hear a guard say.

"You can have fun with her after you kill her, she won't fight you back because she'll be dead, less hard on you." Frigga replies sounding annoyed.

You look at them in disgust, how could this woman you once thought of a mom do this to you?

"Oh but I like the chase, I like when they fight back, screaming out for someone to come to the rescue, but no one hears them" He smirks at you and touches your face. You whimper and flinch away from his touch.

"If you make it quick, then I'll grant you the permission".

The guards smiles at Frigga's response and gets on top of you, he rips the dress, your corset showing, while only a piece of fabric remains on your arms. You try to fight back against him, "STOP, PLEASE, SOMEBODY HELP, HELP ME!" You scream out.

He chuckles at your cries, "It's a shame that we have to kill you afterwards, such a waste of a pretty face".

Suddenly a man barges into the room, "MY QUEEN!" he looks to Frigga, frightened.

"What is it!"

"THE PRINCE, HES COMING, A GUARD TOLD HIM WHAT YOU WHERE PLANNING!"

Frigga face pales, "HURRY UP GET OFF THE GIRL, KILL HER NOW!"

The guard gets off of you immediately and while you're thankful he couldn't progress any further, you are also now scared for death faces you.

Frigga decides that the guards are taking too long of a time, as you see her push one out of her way and walk towards the lever. You screams out for help. When your prayers are answered.

"STOP THIS ISNTANT!" Loki opens the door.

Frigga's hand pauses in front of the lever. Tears continue to stream down your face.

"BACK AWAY FROM HER!" Loki rushes to your side and begins undoing the ropes which hold you down. You look at him and see a look that you've never seen before. He is beyond angry.

"Loki I-" Frigga begins.

"DO NOT SPEAK TO ME!" he raises his voice, not even looking at his mother.

He finally gets you free and helps you off the table. Your dress or what's left of it falls off your body due to the rip. Loki looks at you in disbelif. He pulls you to him and holds your sobbing body as you shake with fear. He shushes you, continuing to hold you as you cry. He looks and sees all the bruises that litter your body. He snaps his head to the guards around him and then he finally looks to his mother.

"How could you do this?" he says barely above a whisper. "I will never forgive you for this, you are no mother to me and you are certainly not a Queen".

"Loki, I was only trying to save Asgard's future..Your future" Frigga pleads with him. You look and see tears forming in her eyes. How ironic you think.

Loki looks to the guards ignoring his mother, "Who touched her?". No one replies. "WHO FUCKING TOUCHED HER!" The guards flinch with fear.

"It was him, he tried t-to ra- me" You point to the guard that was on top of you. Loki looks at you and pulls you back into him.

"I want you to get on that table and pull the lever" he looks at the guard.

"What- But- but- I- she" the guard quivers in fear.

"Stay right here darling and close your eyes" Loki kisses the top of your head and lets you go. He walks over to the guard and you hear him punch him.

"Please, it was a mistake, I didn't mean to touch your lady my Lord" you hear him grunt out. Loki grabs the guard by his collar and throws him under the guillotine.. You hear the guard scream out as the blade cuts into his neck. Loki wipes the blood off his face that splattered on him, "Anyone else?" he looks around the room and back to you.

You finally open your eyes meeting his, your eyes fall to the lifeless body on the floor, but Loki moves to block your view. You quietly shake your head.

"Alright then, what shall I do with the use of you" .. "How about we start with you mother" Frigga looks up, scared when she sees the look in her son's eyes.

"Guards lock her away in one of the dungeon rooms, until I figure out what to do with her, maybe I'll let sweet Y/n decide, since it was her life you so blindly casted aside".

"Son-" Loki cuts her pleads off, "GUARDS!"

The guards look between each other not knowing who's orders to follow.

"I AM YOUR KING YOU WILL OBEY ME!" Loki yells out. The guards rush to grab Frigga, dragging her away. The image reminds you of your mother, funny you think, what goes around, comes around.

As soon as they're gone Loki rushes to your side. You see the pain in his eyes as he stares at you. "I am so very deeply sorry my darling, I should have known my mother would go behind my back like this" .. "I promise you I won't let any harm come to you ever again, we will rule together, you will be my Queen, Asgard's Queen, you deserve it more than any Princess, Y/n".

"As long as I am with you Loki, I don't care if I am Queen or a commoner". He holds on to you tightly with the promise of never letting go.

_______________________________________________________

Timeskip: 5 years later

"My Queen what color do you wish for the baby's room?"

"Hmmm I believe a dark shade of green would go nicely" You smile at Emma and rub your growing belly. "It's Loki's favorite Color".

Note: This was a longer one, as always hoped you enjoyed! :)

[upat4amwiththemoon]

As free as an avis | 8

Summary: A princess and a commoner falling in love was a scandal on itself, but them both being women just adds fuel to the fire.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Warnings: this story will deal with homophobia and sexism, this story is mostly historically inaccurate, angst

Word count: 3024

a/n: the next chapter just might be the last one

Tags: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @themagnificentmx @raven-reyes-wife @spongebobtentacles @friskyfisher @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @inarayofmoonlight @sayah13 @wandsmxmff @emsmultiverse @natashamaximoff69 @scarsw1fe

masterlists | guidelines

All parts: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

Something is wrong.

Something has felt wrong since last night, when her and Wanda left their picnic. They didn't dare to touch each other or even speak when they went back to the castle. All Wanda did was escort Y/N back to her chambers, before going to her own.

The first thing to happen when Y/N woke up, was one of her mother's servants walking into her room, and demanding she do see her parents. So, that is what she does.

The servants are keeping their gazes strictly away from the Princess, only glancing down at her when they think she isn’t looking at them.

There’s a small frown on her face as she walks towards her parents’ office. Her hands are resting behind her back, unconsciously fidgeting with her rings due to the atmosphere. It’s not unheard of for the whole castle to be off when her parents’ aren’t in a good mood, but this is different. This feels worse.

Y/N looks around, noticing how the servants immediately turn away when their gazes meet. She pulls on the collar of her dress, suddenly feeling like the air is running out.

She stops in front of the office door, knocking on it softly, fearing her parents would be set off if she knocked any harder.

“Come in.”

Her body tenses as she hears her mother’s cold voice. She takes hold of the doorknob and twists it, opening the door just the slightest. She takes a moment, her chest heavy with a feeling of doom. Something in her gut is telling her to just turn back and run, never looking back.

Y/N swallows, opening the door properly and stepping inside the room, closing the door behind her.

“Lock the door.”

She hesitates. She can only see her parents’ backs, but their postures are too rigid. Something is wrong. Y/N locks the door with a soft click.

No one knows what is happening behind the locked door. No one can hear a whisper from the other side, even if they pretend to clean outside of the door, trying to eavesdrop. It somehow makes everyone more on edge, as all three of the royals tend to be very loud people, especially when fighting.

It has been hours since Y/N went inside the room. Wanda, Natasha, nor Yelena have been told anything, and everyone refuses to speak to them, especially to Wanda. The certain servants act the same around Wanda as they did around Y/N.

Once they realized no one would tell them anything, they decided to go wait in Y/N’s room, where they have been for the past hour now. The two sisters pacing, while Wanda sits on the bed.

“Go over it again.”

Wanda sighs, rubbing her face. “Natasha-“

“Go over it again.” Natasha’s voice is rough as she stops to glare at Wanda, before continuing her pacing again.

“Stop it.” Yelena intervenes before her sister goes even further. “She already told you everything they’ve done in the past week, she clearly doesn’t know what is going on. And whatever is going on, it’s not Wanda’s fault.”

“It’s clearly about them!” Natasha scoffs, shaking her head. “Whether she likes it or not, it’s partially her fault.”

Yelena slaps Natasha’s arm, not in a gentle way either. She may be younger, but she isn’t afraid to put Natasha in her place if the need be. “It is not her fault.” She and Wanda have become good friends during her time in the castle. “Y/N would hate to hear you say that.”

“Well, she isn’t here to hear me.” Natasha grumbles, rubbing the spot Yelena slapped. “We have no idea where she is or what is going on…” her voice turns softer, “we don’t know if they’re hurting her.”

Wanda fidgets with her hands, not wanting to think about the possibility of the King and Queen hurting Y/N because of their relationship.

“We’ll figure it out.” Yelena assures, having taken the role of voice of reason, which she doesn’t usually take. “She is still the future queen, they won’t do anything too bad.”

…hopefully. They’re all thinking about it, but no one dares to say it.

Yelena gives Natasha a look, making her sigh. “Wanda, I’m sorry for blaming you. I’m just worried about Y/N.”

“I don’t blame you.” Wanda gives Natasha a small smile, though it’s not entirely genuine due to the circumstances. “I’m really worried too.”

Natasha nods, not continuing the conversation. Sharing emotions and having deeper conversation with anyone else than her sister and Y/N is difficult to her, sometimes it’s a struggle even with the two people she is closest to.

The silence stretches on for a while before the door opens, causing all of them to stand and stare, hoping for Y/N to walk through. One of the castle servants peeks through, “miss Maximoff?”

Wanda’s eyes widen. “That’s me.” She takes a step forward.

“The Princess is asking to meet you in the garden. She said you would know where.” With that, the servant leaves.

Letting out a breath, she turns to look at Yelena and Natasha. Her mind is moving too fast to make sense. “This…this means she’s okay, right?”

“Yeah.” Yelena sets her hand on Wanda’s arm, squeezing it softly. “Go on, don’t make her wait.”

Wanda nods, turning around and walking out of the room. There’s still a strange feeling in the back of her mind.

Y/N can hear Wanda’s steps getting closer. Her lower lip trembles as she stares at the oak tree. The wind feels colder today.

“Y/N?”

She closes her eyes at the carefulness of Wanda’s voice. Letting out a shaky breath, she turns around and looks at her lover, though her gaze lacks the usual softness.

Wanda frowns. She’s relieved there’s no visible marks on the Princess’ body, but she still doesn’t look the same. “Is everything alright?”

“You’re freed of your position as my personal maid, you need to leave the castle before sundown.” Her voice cracks as she stares at Wanda, tears glazing her eyes, but she blinks them away. This is no time to cry.

Worry is clearly etched on Wanda’s face, she was never as good at holding her expressions back, especially around Y/N. It takes her a moment to process the words that reached her ears, not fully believing she heard her correctly. “What?”

“You will get your final payment from the steward before you leave, and a carriage will be provided to your desired destination.”

The words don’t clear any of Wanda’s confusion, she never asked to be freed from her position, she doesn’t want that. She wants to be at the castle with Y/N. “Why? Did I do something wrong?” She whispers and takes a step closer, but stops when Y/N takes a step back.

“You’ve put childish imagines and beliefs in my head.” Her voice wavers just the slightest, even when she tries to will it away. Wanda notices it right away, she knows her better than anyone else. “Your foolish talks of creating my own destiny and following my dreams have corrupted me and made me neglect my duties as the future queen. This is why I have made the decision to send you away.”

“No, Y/N-“

“You will address me as Your Highness, as everyone else in this castle does.” She interrupts Wanda, her voice colder and cutting, but not without a sliver of uncertainty. “Please leave immediately.”

“I’m not leaving, Y/N-“ Wanda stops herself, “Your Highness, please, this isn’t what you want. You never wanted to be the next queen, you want to be with the people. The castle has never been the right place for you and you know that. We have an opportunity to leave, together.” Her words are starting to become begs for the Princess to hear her.

“Silence!” Y/N’s voice echoes through the garden. “Miss Maximoff, you better leave before I call for the guard to take you to the executioner.”

Wanda holds her hands on her sides, they’re clenched into tight fists, her nails pressing against her palms. “Some people are worth dying for.” She whispers with a smile.

Y/N falters at her statement, her breath hitching and eyes widening. She knows Wanda is serious. “If you do not leave immediately, your family will be banished from their home.” The words come out hushed, filled with shame.

“You wouldn’t do that.” Wanda shakes her head, refusing to listen to her. “These are not your words, they are your parents’!”

“Wanda, I don’t love you!” Y/N shouts, shutting her up. There’s coldness in her eyes that Wanda has never seen before. “I never loved you and never will. You were merely a moment of weakness, a distraction from my duties. I am ashamed of the things we did. You are pathetic to think someone like me could love, or even care about, someone as low and dirty as you. You are a disgrace.”

Wanda stares at the Princess with silent tears falling down her face. She could see no love on her face, no warmth or gentleness…no Y/N. Quickly her sadness turns intro hatred and disgust. She wipes away her tears and betters her posture, a glare in her eyes. “You’ll be a terrible queen,” her voice trembles, “a devil just like the rest of them. The people will hate you, Your Highness.” Her words are like daggers in Y/N chest, but she doesn’t nothing to show it.

When it’s clear neither of them will speak, Wanda courtesies and turns around, walking towards the castle as fast her legs allow her.

Y/N stares at the now empty spots, letting the tears to finally fall. She drops down to her knees, not minding the pain or dirt. Her tears turn into sobs that she tries to muffle with the palm of her hand. She just lost the love of her life, for good.

By the time Yelena find Y/N in the garden, she has already stopped crying, now just staying on her knees, staring at the ground.

Yelena lowers herself to the ground next to her and sets her hand on the Princess’ shoulder. “We need to get you inside.” She speaks quietly, not wanting to upset her even more.

“What’s the point?”

“The point is,” Yelena pulls Y/N up by her arms, “that you’re still the Princess, and this isn’t your end.” She starts leading her towards the castle. Her pace is slow and she stays right by her as they walk.

Y/N stays quiet. There’s no point in words. There are no words to describe how much she is hurting, how much shame she feels for the things she had to say to Wanda. How much it took of her to actually make it seem like she meant every word spoken, like just yesterday they weren’t speaking of running away together.

“I’m sorry.” Yelena whispers, squeezing Y/N’s hand, her eyes constantly on her. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.”

The rest of the walk back to the castle goes in heavy silence.

As much as Y/N would like to go to her room and fall asleep for a very long time, her parents aren’t allowing it.

The King and Queen invited Lord James Barnes to the castle and dragged Y/N into a meeting with the three them to talk about the idea of marriage, and at the moment, she is not present enough to argue against it.

Y/N sits between her parents once again, Lord Barnes sitting opposite of them. She is staring at the table between them, a distance in her eyes. If anyone notices it, they don’t comment on it, they talk as if everything is normal.

“Lord Barnes, we thank you for coming on such short notice.” The Queen smiles, her hands resting on the table.

He bows his head slightly. “It’s no trouble, Your Majesty. I was rather pleased to get your letter, as your daughter caught my eye the first moment I saw her.”

Y/N is pretty sure she was only 15 years old when meeting Lord Barnes for the first time.

“That is great to hear.” The King comments. “As you may know, we are looking to find our daughter a husband, and a future king to our kingdom. We believe you may be the perfect man for this role.”

He said that to all the other candidates who came before him.

“I hope you don’t mind us asking you questions before we leave you alone with the Princess.”

“Not at all.”

The Queen smiles at his enthusiasm. She glances at Y/N, noticing how out of it she looks, but at this moment she doesn’t care. She won’t let the Princess’ mood disturb this joyous possibility. “What do you think of children?”

“Oh, I want many.” The Lord immediately states. “I especially want sons to pass on my name, but I wouldn’t mind daughters either. My eldest son would obviously be my heir to the throne, if you choose me to be the next King.”

“You want sons? How wonderful.” The King and Queen glance at each other. Their greatest sorrow was never getting a true heir.

James nods with a smile, his eyes staying on either the Queen or the King, mostly the latter, as he is the man in charge. He rarely looks at the Princess unless he is admiring her figure, knowing she is here just for show. "Yes, I am a rather determined man and will not rest until I have at least three sons."

Three sons. Y/N raises her eyes long enough to glance at the Lord. She does not wish to have even one child, let alone three sons. How is she supposed to raise boys who will think less of her when they are men.

"Three sons, oh, how wonderful." The Queen repeats, very much pleased by his words.

The King nods in agreement, he has always dreamed to have sons to teach and practice swording with, but grandsons would do. "And what do you think of the crown? Would you uphold our rulings as the next King?"

"Of course, Your Majesty." The Lord bows his head. "I believe in your rulings and wish to be even half as good of a king as you have been. If I am to be the future king, I would be honored to learn under your leadership."

"Ass kisser." Y/N whispers under her breath.

The Queen turns to look at her daughter, her brows raised. She heard what was said, but she hopes she'll cause no trouble. "What was that, my dearest?"

Clearing her throat, the Princess straightens her back and looks back at her mother. "I merely expressed my happiness." She mumbles. "My apologies for interrupting your conversation."

"No, it is quite alright." A silent conversation passes between the King and Queen. "I believe we are done with our conversation." They turn to look at Lord Barnes. "We think you are a rather fine man, who will make a great king. So...shall we go ahead and arrange the marriage, we would be rather pleased with the earliest date possible."

"I am ever the happiest to hear that."

They all stand up, though Y/N has to be pulled up by her arm. The Lord walks over to her, putting out his arm for her to take, which she does. The four of them walk out of the room, all the servants evading their gazes when they come across them.

"You are not against being married soon, are you, Lord Barnes?" The King speaks as they walk, him and the Queen in front of James and Y/N.

"I have nothing against marrying soon, I have been ready for marriage rather long."

"Wonderful." A pleased smile grows on the Queen's face. She is so close to getting what she wants. "Then the marriage will happen in two days time."

Y/N's face falls. Two days time is so soon. She doesn't even know Lord James Barnes. She holds no love or warmth towards him. Although, she has found herself with no feelings without Wanda by her side.

The Lord smiles, his hold of Y/N tightening as he smiles down at her. "That sounds perfect, Your Majesty."

"Perfect indeed, mother." Y/N whispers, her blank eyes stuck on the back of her mother.

James' arm around hers feels rough, even through his clothing. He looks ragged and cold under his smile. The expression on his face looks different when looking at the King and Queen, compared to when he looks at Y/N. It's more genuine towards her parents, more...transactional when it comes to her. It's the same with everyone, they all want to please the rulers, everyone wants the people in power to be on their side. No one cares about the Princess, woe is her.

Except Wanda.

Wanda loved her, Wanda cared about her. Her heart aches at the thought of her. She wishes she could rip her arm away from James' hold and run back into her true lover's arms. But she doesn't, she stays there, holding onto the man, like a good princess.

Her mother's voice brings her back to the present. "Oh, how I am excited for this union. It will be celebrated throughout the city, we will invite the highest of people to be your guests, and use all the money we need to. Y/N, Lord Barnes, feel free to tell all your wishes to the wedding planner, as long as you do it today."

They walk past Natasha, thought none of them notice her eyes on them. She hears them speak of a wedding, and she's able to guess the nothingness in her friend's eyes is due to this. As the four of them walk further along the corridor, Natasha starts walking the other way, a frown on her face. There's this deep need to do something filling her.

She needs to fix this.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Kingdom Fall  -  One

Pairing: Farmboy!Bucky X Princess!Reader 

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

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

Word Count: 2.1K

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

Anywhoodles, I love you all <3 

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now we ride!”

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

Away from your home, your people.

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

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

“Go, Princess!”

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

“Steve!”

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

He’s sacrificing himself to keep you safe.

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

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

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

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

“I won’t leave without you, Steve.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he’s right.

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here, I'll show you the way.”

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

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

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

You nod slowly, assessing him carefully.

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

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

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

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

You wait for half an hour, each second ticking slowly in your mind, your sword held tightly in your grasp. Eventually, you strip down to your white slip and step into the warm water, a dagger held in one hand and a washcloth in the other.

Maybe it is an ambush, but if it isn't, you don't want to waste this opportunity to clean yourself.

Throughout the entire bath, the door stays closed and nobody tries to enter. Not once.

Once you’re finished, you dress in the clothes he gave you. The dress is a little snug, but a tug on the stitches fixes that swiftly.

It’s nothing spectacular, but you can move comfortably and even fight in it if you need to.

With a dagger in one hand and your sword in the other, you slowly emerge from the bathroom and into the kitchen where James is seated, humming softly to himself.

“How are you feeling?” He asks once he notices your presence.

“Better. Thank you.”

He nods, that gentle smile on his face again.

He rises to his feet and motions to the chair across from where he was sitting, then turns and walks to the counter, “the water is still warm. I wanted to wait to have my own tea with you. I have so many questions for you.”

You watch intently as he pours two cups of tea, handing one to you and then sitting back down.

You wait until after he’s had a sip of his to have a sip of your own, and when the flavour hits your tongue you can’t help but relax a bit.

“It’s my mother’s recipe. She used to make it for my sister and me whenever we were sick or upset. I thought... it might make you feel better. I can’t imagine how scared you must’ve been, waking up in a strange place.”

You want to tell him that you weren’t scared, a warrior doesn’t feel fear, but instead, you take another sip of tea.

“What happened? I found you lying in the woods near the creek, a horse protecting you. It took me nearly ten minutes to tame it enough to check you for injuries. Where are you coming from? Your clothes aren’t from Lornilla and I’ve never seen a woman carry so many weapons before.”

His waterfall of questions gives you a few answers.

Your horse is safe, no one knows where you are, and you’ve wound up in the invading Kingdom of Lornilla.

“I am... not from around here. I travelled a great distance, and I was thrown from my horse when she tripped,” you offer only that as your explanation and he nods, beyond curious but not wanting to push you any farther.

“Where am I?” You ask, taking another sip of the tea and looking around the small house again.

“Just outside the village. If you follow the gravel road there it will take you to the heart of Lornilla, though I don’t recommend a woman such as yourself going there alone.”

Your brows draw together, “do you not think me capable of protecting myself?” You question, your ego bruised.

His eyes go wide and he’s quick to try and explain himself.

“N-No! I just... they don’t treat women well there, is all. ‘Specially not women who defend themselves. You look like a strong person, and, based on all the knives you have, I don’t doubt you could defend yourself, but it’s dangerous to speak against men, even as a man.”

Ah yes, the patriarchal ways of Lornilla rage on.

You have to hold back an eye-roll at the thought of such a useless Kingdom treating women terribly.

But that brings you to your situation now.

You remember the smell of smoke and the sound of screams as the Lornillian army invaded your kingdom.

You know not if your sisters survived, nor if your mother did. But, knowing your mother, you know that if she went down it was not without a fight.

“Are you all right?” James asks softly, worry pulling his brows together.

Why does this random stranger care so much?

“Why did you help me? Why not leave me in the forest?” You ask, ignoring his question.

“You... you were hurt. I couldn’t just leave you there.”

“Why not? Anyone else would have. Or done worse, if we’re close to Lornilla.”

He nods, his lips pursed for a moment, “I’m not anyone else. I’m me. And I know that, were it my sister in your shoes, I’d hope someone would help her. You probably have a family... a husband... who would be terribly worried about you. I know that if I had a wife and she went out and were hurt... I’d want to know that there was a good person somewhere willing to help her.”

His answer surprises you and, as you look into his eyes, you see nothing but truth in them.

“I have no husband,” you tell him after a moment. “I know not if my family is alive. There very well could be no one looking for me...” your thoughts drift to Steve and your heart hurts a bit. “Does this change your thoughts at all? Knowing that you could do whatever you please with no consequences?”

A sour expression covers his face and he shakes his head, “It is not the consequences that stop me from doing terrible things, it’s the actions themselves.”

You watch him for a long moment, surprised and intrigued by him, his kindness, though you don’t fully trust it yet.

“If you do not have a husband, do you know anyone nearby? You must’ve been on your way somewhere, is there someplace I can direct you?” He asks gently.

You shake your head, a grey cloud darkening your mood as thoughts of your family fill your mind, worry tying a knot in your stomach.

“I... no. I don’t know anyone nearby. I don’t even know where I’m meant to go.”

He looks at you, at the way your shoulders slump forward slightly, your eyes draw down and defeat colours your tone, and he feels bad that there isn’t more he can do.

“You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need. I hope you don’t think I’m trying to make you leave. As long as you need, you may stay here.”

You smile gratefully at him, ignoring the stinging in your eyes.

“Thank you, James.”

~*~

[amethystarachnid]

Hey! I'd like to make a request for your Marvel Multiverse: Royal AU with tony stark x fem!reader

Anything with a very happy married couple, reader telling him that they are expecting their first child and tony being the best husband (and dad), I need some fluff and I appreciate your writing

THE CROWN'S HEART

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance and fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: you and Tony are king and queen, your life is full of duties but also full of love, love that doubles once you discover that you're with child.

ᯓ★ TW(s): pregnancy and childbirth

ᯓ★ AU:Royal but not modern royal

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The grand halls of the palace gleam under the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Tall windows allow beams of light to filter through, illuminating the royal tapestries and gold-gilded furniture. The air is calm, peaceful—just like your heart. You walk through the corridors, your hand grazing the stone walls as you make your way to the council chamber. There’s a nervous excitement bubbling inside you, but the smile on your face is soft and serene.

This moment—this secret you’ve carried with you all morning—it feels like a miracle. You can hardly contain it anymore. It’s time to tell him.

As you approach the grand wooden doors, two guards step aside, bowing deeply. You nod at them graciously before entering the chamber. The room is lined with advisors, but all eyes are on the man at the head of the table. King Anthony Stark, your husband, is leaning back in his chair, dressed in his royal tunic, the crimson cloak draped over his broad shoulders. His crown rests on his dark hair, slightly tilted, and he flashes one of his signature grins as he listens to a noble’s report on trade routes. But as soon as he sees you enter, his entire demeanor softens.

“My queen,” Tony says, standing up. His tone, though formal for the sake of the council, holds an unmistakable warmth that only you are privileged to receive. His brown eyes sparkle, and you can’t help but feel your heart flutter.

“Your Majesty,” you greet, smiling as you approach him. The formalities between you are but a veil, hiding the deep affection that has only grown stronger with each passing year. You and Tony have ruled the kingdom side by side, an inseparable pair, beloved by your people. You’ve always been each other's greatest strength, and now, your bond is about to grow even more profound.

You give the council a quick glance, knowing that what you are about to say is for Tony's ears only. “Might I have a moment with the king?”

The advisors exchange looks, then rise, bowing before excusing themselves. Tony watches them file out, and once the door closes behind the last of them, his playful smirk returns. He steps closer, taking your hand in his. "To what do I owe the pleasure, my queen? Sneaking away from your duties just to see me? I thought I was the one who couldn't keep away."

You chuckle softly, feeling his thumb gently caress your knuckles. “There is something I must tell you,” you begin, suddenly realizing how emotional the words make you feel. But Tony senses the shift in your tone before you can say more. His smile falters, replaced by concern, and he brings his other hand to your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice low, tender. “Are you alright?”

You nod, the smile returning to your lips. “I am more than alright, Tony. In fact, I’m… happier than I ever thought possible.”

His brow furrows slightly, but there’s a hopeful light in his eyes. “Y/N, you’re killing me with suspense. What is it?”

You take a deep breath, your heart swelling with the joy of what you’re about to share. “I’m with child, Tony. We’re going to have a baby.”

For a moment, it seems as though the entire world stills. Tony blinks, his eyes widening as he processes your words. His hands, still holding yours, tighten ever so slightly as if he’s afraid to let go. “Y-You’re…” He trails off, his voice a whisper.

You nod, your eyes shining. “Yes, my love. We’re going to be parents.”

A beat passes, and then—suddenly, a wide, joyous grin breaks across Tony’s face. He lets out a breathless laugh, his hand immediately dropping to your waist as he pulls you into a tight embrace. “A baby? We’re having a baby?” he repeats, his voice incredulous, filled with awe and wonder.

You laugh, your arms wrapping around his neck. “Yes, Tony. We’re going to have a child. An heir to the throne.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his face alight with a joy you’ve never seen before. “You… you’ve just made me the happiest man in the world.” His voice is thick with emotion, and for a moment, you think you see tears in his eyes, though he quickly blinks them away. “Our child… I—” He lets out a soft laugh again, shaking his head as though he can’t believe it. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you whisper, your heart full. “And this child will be so loved, so cherished. By both of us.”

Tony kisses you then, his lips capturing yours in a way that feels like both a promise and a celebration. When he pulls away, his hands rest on your waist, his eyes scanning your face as if committing every part of you to memory in this perfect moment. “I’m going to be a father,” he says again, more to himself this time, a mixture of wonder and pride in his voice.

“And you’ll be the best father,” you say softly, running your fingers through his hair.

Tony lets out a deep breath, then presses his forehead to yours. “Our kingdom… our family. Everything I’ve ever wanted is right here with you. We’re going to raise the future of this kingdom together.”

You nod, your heart swelling with emotion. Together, you’ve built a kingdom that thrives under your love and leadership, and now, you’ll build a family. The future feels brighter than ever.

Outside, in the courtyard below, the sound of life continues—knights training, children playing, merchants trading. But in this moment, in this room, it’s just the two of you, holding the promise of a future filled with love, laughter, and the tiny life growing inside you.

Days pass, and the secret between you and Tony feels like a precious gem that only the two of you are allowed to admire. Every glance, every brush of his hand when no one is looking, holds a deeper meaning now. In private, Tony can barely contain his excitement. He dotes on you constantly—making sure you’re resting, eating well, even having the kitchen prepare your favorite dishes with special care. His teasing remarks have softened into something gentler, more intimate. And every night, when the palace quiets down and it’s just the two of you, his hands drift to your belly as though already protecting what lies within.

But in public, you both maintain the dignified roles of king and queen. Tony is ever the charismatic leader—confident, sharp, and beloved by the people. You, regal and poised, stand beside him, both of you perfectly composed. Yet, there’s a shared secret in every look exchanged, every whispered word when no one is listening.

Finally, the day arrives when the news can no longer be kept hidden. Tony has insisted on a grand announcement, one that will not only share the joy but allow the entire kingdom to celebrate the future of their monarchy. It is to be a day of feasting, music, and revelry, and preparations have been underway since sunrise.

Now, standing in the royal balcony that overlooks the central square, you feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you—not with anxiety, but with awe. You glance at Tony beside you, his hand resting subtly on the small of your back, hidden by his cloak. He is every bit the king today—his crown shining brightly in the midday sun, his posture commanding respect, and yet, beneath it all, you can see the excited flicker in his eyes.

“Are you ready, my queen?” he murmurs softly, his lips barely moving as he leans in, just close enough for only you to hear.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “With you by my side, always.”

His smile turns a bit warmer, and though it’s a public moment, he gently squeezes your waist in silent affection. Then, Tony steps forward, raising his hand to signal for silence among the crowd below. The bustling marketplace, already filled with anticipation, stills as the people of your kingdom turn their eyes to their rulers.

Tony’s voice rings out clearly, commanding attention but also filled with warmth. “People of Starkhaven,” he begins, his voice carrying across the square, “Today is a day unlike any other. You have honored us with your loyalty and your trust, and in return, we have worked tirelessly to build a kingdom that thrives—a kingdom of peace, strength, and unity.”

There’s a cheer from the crowd, a roar of approval and pride. You can see the faces of your people below, filled with adoration. They love Tony. They love you. The sense of responsibility that comes with that love is overwhelming, but in this moment, it’s not just a burden—it’s a bond, a connection between ruler and subject.

Tony waits for the noise to settle before continuing, his hand returning to your back as if to steady you. “And today,” he says, his voice softer now, more intimate, “we share with you a personal joy. A joy that belongs to both your queen and myself, but also to each and every one of you.”

You take a deep breath, your heart racing as the words you’ve held inside for so long are about to be released into the world. Tony turns to you, his eyes shining with pride and love, silently inviting you to speak.

You step forward slightly, your voice steady despite the emotion rising in your chest. “The kingdom you have helped us build, the peace we all cherish… it will continue long after we are gone. For we are blessed to announce that we are expecting our first child.”

There is a moment of silence as the words sink in, and then, as if the entire kingdom has taken a collective breath, the square erupts in cheers. The sound is deafening but joyous, and you can see the people below clapping, shouting, hugging one another. It’s as if your news has given them a reason to celebrate not just your future, but their own.

Tony steps closer to you, his arm now fully around your waist, his thumb brushing against your side in a rare display of public affection. His grin is wide, genuine, and as he looks out over the cheering crowd, he raises his hand once more. “Let the kingdom rejoice!” he declares, his voice booming with pride. “For today, we celebrate not just our future heir but the strength and unity of our people. Let there be a feast in every home, music in every street, and joy in every heart!”

The crowd roars in approval, and already, musicians begin to play in the square below. Market stalls burst into activity, their owners calling out to sell food and drink for the festivities that will last long into the night. From your vantage point, you can see the entire kingdom come alive, as though the news of your child has brought with it a wave of hope and happiness.

Tony turns to you, his hand cupping your cheek briefly before he remembers the eyes on both of you. He leans in and whispers against your ear, his voice filled with nothing but adoration. “Look at them, Y/N. You’ve given them a reason to hope. You’ve given me everything I could ever dream of.”

You smile, feeling the emotion welling up again. “It’s not just me, Tony. We’ve done this together.”

His eyes are soft as they meet yours, and for a moment, it feels like the world has faded away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect, shared moment. “Together,” he repeats, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

As the music swells and the people of Starkhaven celebrate below, you stand beside Tony, your king, your love. And in this moment, surrounded by the joy of your kingdom, you know without a doubt that your reign will be one of peace, prosperity, and love—not just for your people, but for the family you are about to begin.

The soft light of the late afternoon filters through the curtains of your private chambers, casting a warm glow over the room. It’s a quiet moment, the kind you’ve come to treasure now more than ever. The palace may be grand, bustling with life and duty, but here, in the sanctuary of your shared space with Tony, it feels as though the rest of the world has faded away.

You sit by the window, hand resting on the growing swell of your belly, your back cushioned by soft pillows that Tony insisted be brought in for your comfort. Your gown, loose and flowing, rests easily over your now-round belly, and you can feel the faint fluttering of movement inside, a reminder that life is growing within you.

You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in the peaceful silence, when you hear the soft creak of the door. You don’t need to open your eyes to know it’s him. Tony’s presence fills the room even before he speaks.

“Caught you daydreaming again,” his voice is playful, though softer than usual, as though he’s afraid to break the stillness of the moment.

You smile without turning. “I was just thinking… about how much has changed in the last few months.”

Tony walks toward you, his boots barely making a sound on the thick rug. When he reaches your side, he doesn’t sit immediately. Instead, he kneels in front of you, his hands finding your knees, his touch gentle. “All good changes, I hope,” he teases, though the affection in his voice is undeniable.

“All good,” you assure him, reaching down to thread your fingers through his hair, an intimate gesture that speaks of the trust and love between you.

Tony’s eyes, warm and dark, drift to your belly, and as he does every time he sees you now, his hands move to rest on the curve of your stomach. His touch is reverent, as though the life growing within you is something sacred. “I still can’t believe it sometimes,” he murmurs, his thumb lightly brushing over the fabric of your gown. “That our child is in there.”

You chuckle softly, watching him as he gazes at your belly with a mixture of awe and tenderness. “I think I believe it a little more each day,” you say, shifting slightly. “Our child is starting to make their presence known more and more.”

Tony looks up at you, his eyes bright with excitement. “Still kicking?” he asks, his tone light but hopeful.

You nod. “Yes, every now and then. Sometimes at night when you’re already asleep.”

Tony’s brow furrows in mock dismay. “They’re already plotting to keep me out of the loop, huh?” He leans forward, pressing his ear gently to your belly. “Hey, little one,” he says in a low, affectionate tone. “Your father’s right here. Anytime you want to give me a sign, I’m all ears.”

You smile down at him, your heart swelling with affection. He’s always been playful, always had that sharp wit and charm that you adore, but there’s something different about him now. Something softer, more vulnerable. It’s as if the realization that he’s about to become a father has unlocked a new side of him, one that dotes on you constantly, one that speaks to your growing belly like the child can already hear and understand every word.

“I think they already know they have you wrapped around their little finger,” you tease, brushing a lock of dark hair from Tony’s forehead.

He grins, sitting back on his heels but keeping one hand on your belly. “They definitely do. Just like you do.” There’s no teasing in his voice now, only a quiet, sincere love that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Tony stands, gently pulling you up with him, guiding you to the plush couch where you both often spend your evenings. He sits first, then tugs you down beside him, arranging pillows so you can lean back comfortably. His arm immediately finds its place around you, pulling you close as your head rests on his shoulder.

He’s careful with you, always mindful of your growing belly, never letting you lift a finger more than necessary. At first, you tried to insist you were perfectly capable of doing things yourself, but Tony wouldn’t hear it. “You’re carrying our future,” he’d said one night with a smirk. “You get to relax. I’ll handle everything else.”

Now, you’ve grown used to his doting, even finding it endearing. The way he watches over you, the way he insists on fetching things for you or helping you sit down—it’s all part of his way of showing love, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Do you ever wonder what they’ll be like?” you ask softly, your hand resting over Tony’s where it rests on your belly. “Our child.”

“All the time,” Tony replies, his voice low, thoughtful. “I wonder if they’ll have your kindness, your strength. Or maybe they’ll be a stubborn little thing like their father.” He chuckles, but there’s a fondness in his tone that makes your heart swell.

You turn your head slightly to look up at him. “I hope they get your sense of humor. This kingdom could use a little more laughter.”

Tony grins. “Oh, they’ll definitely get that. Can’t be a Stark without a sharp wit.”

You laugh softly, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, his hand still gently caressing your belly. There’s a peace between you now, a contentment that feels like it could stretch on forever. You don’t need grand gestures or declarations in these moments—it’s the simple intimacy that means the most.

“I wonder if they’ll look like you,” you muse quietly, your fingers tracing lazy circles over Tony’s hand. “Dark hair, sharp eyes. They’ll be beautiful.”

Tony’s eyes soften, and he presses a kiss to your temple. “If they look anything like you, they’ll be perfect,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “But no matter what, they’ll have us. And we’ll love them more than anything.”

You close your eyes, leaning further into him, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing beneath you. “They’re going to be so lucky,” you whisper. “To have you as a father.”

Tony lets out a soft laugh, but there’s a vulnerable edge to it. “I don’t know about that,” he says quietly, his fingers stilling on your belly for a moment. “But I do know that I’m going to do everything I can to be the best father I can be. For them. And for you.”

You tilt your head up, your eyes meeting his. “You already are, Tony.”

His gaze holds yours for a long moment before he leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. When he pulls away, his hand slips beneath your gown to rest directly on your belly, skin to skin. The gesture feels intimate, grounding, as though he’s trying to connect with both you and the child within you all at once.

“I can’t wait to meet them,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your skin gently. “But for now… I’ll just keep talking to them. Let them know how much we love them already.”

You smile, resting your hand over his. “They know, Tony. They know.”

And in the quiet warmth of your chambers, with Tony’s arm wrapped protectively around you and the soft fluttering of life growing inside you, you feel that your future is brighter than you ever could have imagined.

The air in the royal chambers is thick with anticipation. Candles flicker in the dim light of the early morning, casting long shadows on the stone walls. Outside, the palace is quiet, but inside, there’s an electric charge in the air—an expectant hum that courses through every servant, every healer, and certainly through you. The time has come.

You grip the edge of the bed, breathing deeply, as a fresh wave of pain washes over you. Tony is right by your side, his hand clasping yours, his face a mixture of concern and awe. He’s been here with you for hours now, refusing to leave your side even when the royal healers suggested he might be better off waiting in the antechamber. But Tony wouldn’t hear of it. “She’s my queen,” he’d said, his voice firm, eyes unwavering. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And he hasn’t.

His thumb brushes over your knuckles now, his grip warm and strong, grounding you through the pain. “You’re doing amazing,” he murmurs, leaning close, his forehead brushing against yours. His voice is gentle, but there’s an edge of tension in it, like he’s holding his breath. “Just a little longer, my love. Just a little longer.”

You nod, though your breath comes in quick, shallow bursts as another contraction takes hold. You’ve never felt anything quite like this—the intensity, the overwhelming ache—and yet, you feel Tony’s unwavering presence beside you, his love wrapping around you like a protective shield.

Time seems to stretch and warp, each moment bleeding into the next until finally, with a final push and a cry that feels like it comes from the very depths of your soul, it’s over.

And then—a sound. The tiny, piercing wail of a newborn fills the air.

The room seems to still, and for a moment, everything else falls away. All you can focus on is that sound—the first cry of your child, the life that you and Tony have created together.

The healer, her face flushed but smiling, wraps the newborn in soft linens and steps forward, offering the child to you. “Your Majesty,” she says, her voice soft with reverence. “It’s a girl.”

A girl.

You blink, the words sinking in slowly, and then—there she is. A tiny, perfect bundle, her face scrunched up, her fists waving in the air as if already determined to make her presence known in the world. You feel an overwhelming surge of emotion, a love so fierce it takes your breath away.

You look at Tony, whose eyes are wide, glistening with unshed tears as he gazes down at your daughter. “A girl,” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper, as though he’s afraid to break the fragile magic of the moment.

The healer gently places the baby in your arms, and as soon as you feel the weight of her against your chest, something inside you shifts. This is your daughter. Your child. The heir to the throne.

Tony leans in, his arm wrapping around you as he gazes down at the tiny girl in your arms. His fingers brush over her cheek, so delicate, so impossibly small. “She’s perfect,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re perfect.”

You laugh softly, though it’s mixed with tears. “We did it, Tony,” you whisper, unable to take your eyes off your daughter. “She’s here.”

He kisses the side of your head, his lips lingering against your hair. “You did it,” he corrects gently, his voice filled with awe. “You brought her into this world, and I… I’m just… I can’t believe it.” His hand rests on her tiny head, cradling her with the same tenderness he always shows you.

“She’s the first girl,” you murmur after a moment, the realization settling in. “In all of Starkhaven’s history… no woman has ever inherited the throne.” The weight of it—the sheer magnitude of what this means for your daughter, for the kingdom—hits you. A girl. The firstborn. The future queen.

Tony, however, doesn’t seem concerned with politics right now. His eyes are locked on your daughter, a soft, almost boyish grin spreading across his face. “Well,” he says, his tone light, “then it’s about time a woman ruled, don’t you think?”

You look up at him, surprised by how easily he says it, how little it seems to matter to him that this breaks centuries of tradition. But that’s Tony. When it comes to you, to your family, he’s never been one to follow the rules. His love for you, for your daughter, eclipses everything else. Politics, history—they’re just details. Right now, all that matters is that you’re here, safe, with your child.

“She’s going to be a force to be reckoned with,” he says, his voice soft but full of pride. “Just like her mother.”

You smile, your heart swelling as you look down at your baby girl. Her tiny fingers curl around yours, and you feel that connection—the bond between mother and child that is stronger than anything you’ve ever known. “She’ll have your strength too,” you whisper. “Your heart. And we’ll raise her together. She’ll be loved, so deeply.”

Tony nods, his hand still resting on her head, his thumb brushing over her soft skin. “We’ll raise her to be kind and wise. She’ll be a queen, but more than that, she’ll be everything this kingdom needs.”

You glance at him, seeing the love and pride etched into every line of his face. “But we need to give her a name,” you say softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Our daughter deserves the perfect name.”

Tony leans back slightly, his eyes narrowing in playful thought. “Hmm, I was thinking something strong. Something royal, like…” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Antonia.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Tony, no.”

He grins. “What? It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Queen Antonia Stark. I think she’d appreciate being named after her incredibly charming father.”

“I think not,” you tease, though the warmth in your voice makes it clear you’re in no hurry to rush this moment. “We need something unique. Something that will honor the future she’ll shape.”

You both fall silent, thinking. The room is still, save for the soft sound of your daughter’s breathing. And then, an idea comes to you. “What about Lyanna?” you suggest quietly. “After my grandmother. She was a woman of strength and wisdom, much like I hope our daughter will be.”

Tony’s eyes light up, and he nods slowly, as if tasting the name on his tongue. “Lyanna,” he repeats, his voice soft. “It’s beautiful. Just like her.”

You smile, feeling the weight of the name settle over your daughter, a name that carries history but also hope for the future. “Lyanna Stark,” you whisper. “Our daughter. Our future queen.”

Tony presses another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if sealing the moment in time. “She’s going to change everything,” he murmurs. “And we’ll be right there with her, every step of the way.”

You nod, your heart full as you gaze down at your newborn daughter, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. She is everything you never knew you needed. And in this moment, surrounded by love, you know that whatever challenges the future holds, you will face them together. The three of you—Tony, you, and your daughter—are a family. A new legacy begins with her.

And Starkhaven will never be the same again.

The day has finally come.

The throne room is alive with anticipation, a hum of excitement running through the gathered nobles, advisors, and esteemed citizens who have been invited to witness the long-awaited announcement. It’s been months since the birth of your daughter, Princess Lyanna, but for her safety, she has remained mostly hidden from the public eye, known only to a few close confidants.

Today, that changes. Today, the kingdom will meet their future queen.

You stand beside Tony at the grand entrance to the room, dressed in your royal finery. He wears his crown and the deep crimson and gold of Starkhaven, his posture straight and confident, but there’s a warmth in his eyes as he gazes at you and the tiny figure you hold in your arms. Lyanna, swaddled in silk embroidered with the royal crest, her dark hair already showing beneath her cap, is the picture of serenity, her little body tucked safely against you.

Tony leans in slightly, his hand resting at the small of your back, his voice low and affectionate. “Are you ready for this, my queen?”

You smile, glancing up at him. “I’ve been ready for months, but it’s our little one who’s the star today.”

He grins, his eyes flicking to your daughter with a mixture of pride and amusement. “She’s going to steal the hearts of the entire kingdom, you know. Just like her mother did.”

The herald steps forward to announce the arrival of the royal family, his voice booming through the hall. “Presenting Their Majesties, King Anthony and Queen Y/N of Starkhaven, and their firstborn child, the heir to the throne…”

There’s a pause, a beat of silence that seems to stretch forever.

“… Princess Lyanna Stark.”

The room erupts into a murmur of disbelief. Whispers ripple through the crowd, shock and confusion passing through the assembled faces. It’s no secret that Starkhaven has never had a queen inherit the throne. For generations, the kingdom has always been ruled by men, and the people had likely expected the king and queen’s firstborn to follow that tradition.

You take a deep breath, stepping forward with Tony at your side, Lyanna held securely in your arms. As you move to the dais, you feel the weight of centuries of tradition pressing against you, but it doesn’t crush you. Not when you know that this moment will change everything—for you, for Tony, and for your daughter.

When you reach the top, you turn to face the crowd. Tony is the first to speak.

“My people,” he begins, his voice clear and strong, echoing through the hall. “Today, we stand at the crossroads of history. You have served this kingdom with loyalty and devotion, and in return, it has been our greatest honor to serve as your king and queen.”

He pauses, glancing at you with a warm, reassuring smile before continuing. “Today, we introduce to you the heir to the throne of Starkhaven. Our daughter, Princess Lyanna.”

Another wave of murmurs sweeps through the crowd, but this time there’s something else beneath the initial shock—curiosity, intrigue, and slowly, acceptance.

Tony holds up a hand, and the room quiets once more. “For centuries, our kingdom has been ruled by kings, but that does not mean that only a son is fit to wear the crown. We are entering a new age, an age where strength and wisdom are not confined by tradition, but by the heart. And I tell you this with all the conviction of a king and a father—there is no one more suited to lead Starkhaven into the future than my daughter, your future queen.”

He looks to you, and you step forward, gently pulling back the silken cloth to reveal Lyanna’s face to the gathered crowd. Her eyes are closed, her tiny fist resting against her cheek, completely unaware of the history being made around her.

There’s a collective intake of breath, and then—slowly, as if in a ripple—applause begins. First hesitant, but then growing stronger, until the room is filled with the sound of hands clapping, feet stamping, and voices raised in approval. You see the surprise in the faces of some of the older nobles, but you also catch the bright, inspired gazes of the younger women in the room. They look at Lyanna with wide, hopeful eyes, as though seeing their own futures reflected in her.

Tony beams beside you, the pride unmistakable in his expression, and you can’t help but smile, your heart swelling with love for him and for the little girl cradled in your arms.

Then, a voice from the crowd rings out, clear and full of emotion. “Long live Princess Lyanna! Long live the future queen!”

The chant is picked up by others, and soon the entire hall is resounding with the cry: “Long live Princess Lyanna!”

It is a moment of pure triumph, a declaration that the kingdom is ready to embrace change, ready to follow a queen. You can see it in the faces of the women present, how the news of a female heir brings a light to their eyes that wasn’t there before. They whisper to one another, standing a little straighter, with a sense of pride and possibility.

You meet Tony’s gaze, and the warmth there is overwhelming. He leans in close, his voice barely above a whisper as he says, “I told you she’d change everything.”

You laugh softly, your heart full. “She’s barely a few months old, and already she’s a legend.”

Tony smiles, his eyes glinting with that familiar mischievous charm. “Of course she is. She’s a Stark.”

As the crowd continues to chant Lyanna’s name, the applause growing louder, the music begins to swell, signaling the start of a grand feast in her honor. The kingdom has embraced her, your daughter, their future queen. And though the road ahead may be filled with challenges, you know in this moment that Lyanna’s reign will be one of strength, unity, and hope.

You and Tony step down from the dais, moving through the crowd, accepting their well-wishes and smiles as they bow in respect. Lyanna stirs in your arms, her tiny eyes blinking open for the first time since the announcement. She gazes up at you with wide, curious eyes, and a soft smile spreads across your lips as you whisper, “Look, little one. Your kingdom awaits.”

It’s a quiet afternoon in the royal gardens, the air warm and filled with the scent of blooming flowers. Sunlight streams through the treetops, casting a soft, golden glow over the garden. You sit on a cushioned bench, one hand resting on the gentle curve of your belly, watching with a smile as Tony chases Lyanna through the grass.

Lyanna, now a bright and spirited toddler, squeals with laughter as her father chases her, his steps deliberately exaggerated and clumsy as he pretends to struggle to catch her. She’s dressed in a light gown, though her little crown keeps slipping as she runs, her curls bouncing with each step. Her laughter echoes through the garden, infectious and pure, and you feel your heart swell watching them together.

“Careful, Princess,” Tony calls, his voice filled with playful warmth. He’s down on one knee now, arms spread wide, beckoning her to run into his grasp. “Come here, or I’ll have to send the knights to capture you!”

Lyanna giggles, spinning in a tight circle before darting toward him. She’s full of energy and confidence, even at this age, already carrying herself with a natural grace that leaves no doubt she’ll make a fine queen one day. But right now, she’s only a little girl, wrapped up in the joy of playing with her father.

When she finally reaches Tony, he scoops her up, lifting her high above his head and spinning her around. She shrieks in delight, clutching onto his shoulders as he holds her tight. He pulls her close, dropping a gentle kiss on her forehead before lowering her back to the ground.

“Did you catch the princess?” you ask, your voice light with amusement as Tony guides her back toward you.

“I did,” he says, setting her down beside you with a flourish. “But I think she let herself get caught.” He winks at you, a playful glint in his eye, then turns back to Lyanna. “Isn’t that right, little one?”

Lyanna grins, clutching onto his hand and leaning against your knee as she gazes up at you. Her eyes—so much like Tony’s—are bright with joy, and she reaches a tiny hand out to rest it gently on your belly.

“Baby,” she says softly, her voice full of wonder. She’s been enchanted by the idea of a sibling ever since you and Tony shared the news, though you know she doesn’t fully understand it yet. But she pats your belly with a look of pride, like she’s already the protective big sister.

“Yes, love,” you say, covering her hand with yours. “There’s a baby in there. Your little brother or sister.” You glance up at Tony, and the two of you share a smile, a silent exchange of love and joy.

Tony kneels beside Lyanna, his arm slipping around her shoulders as he gazes at you, his eyes soft. “Do you think they’ll be as mischievous as this one?” he teases, pulling Lyanna in for a quick hug.

“Oh, I have no doubt,” you reply, chuckling. “With you as their father, I expect nothing less.”

Tony laughs, feigning a look of shock. “Me? Mischievous? You wound me, my queen.”

You smile, reaching out to brush a hand along his cheek. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

His eyes soften, and he takes your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your palm. “No,” he says quietly, “I wouldn’t. These are the days I cherish most. Watching her grow, knowing our family is growing…” His gaze shifts to Lyanna, who’s now plucking at some flowers at your feet, utterly oblivious to the depth of her father’s love.

He watches her for a long moment, a look of pride and wonder on his face. He’s smitten with her, just as much as the rest of the kingdom. She’s the beloved princess, already adored by the people and known throughout Starkhaven for her kindness and spirited nature. You know it won’t be long before they start whispering about the future queen she’ll become, but for now, she’s just Lyanna—your daughter, his little girl.

As the sun dips lower in the sky, Tony pulls Lyanna into his lap, and she curls up against his chest, her little fingers toying with the chain around his neck. He looks over at you, his free hand resting on your growing belly, his gaze filled with a love that seems almost too vast for words.

“She’s our legacy,” he says softly, his voice a gentle rumble as he holds Lyanna close. “And so is the one on the way.” He looks at you, his eyes shining. “But you—you’re the heart of it all, my queen. You’re the one who makes this kingdom feel like home.”

Your heart warms, and you lean over, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “And you’re the one who keeps us all laughing,” you murmur, your voice filled with affection. “The one who makes it all feel safe.”

The three of you sit there in the fading light, a peaceful, perfect little family. Lyanna drifts off in Tony’s arms, her tiny hand clutching his tunic, her face nestled against his shoulder. He cradles her with infinite tenderness, his fingers tracing patterns along her back as he watches her sleep.

In this moment, with the sun setting and the future bright before you, you know that whatever may come, your family is the legacy that will endure. Starkhaven will be safe, guided by the love, strength, and laughter that have already shaped its future.

And with Tony by your side, your daughter in your arms, and another on the way, you feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

I love love royal AUs, especially the ones set in historical royalties like this one, idk why, it feels so magical I guess. If you liked the story don't forget to like, reblog and drop a follow if you want to learn more! <3

[weekend-whip]

Character Ref Sheets for the Marvell Sibs for no particular reasons (the reasons are it's ABOUT TIME)

[buckyalpine]

Soft King Bucky

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

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

But that's the way things were. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[beananacake]

My Crown Upon Your Head (Ch. 2)

Prince!Bucky Barnes x Reader

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

WC: 4.9K

Warnings: period-typical misogyny, 18+ for delicate issues, mentions of war, Sam and Bucky are slightly out of character but let's just say it's for the sake of the fic, more of exposition in this one, large chunks of paragraphs, badly translated language

A/N: I will officially OPEN a TAGLIST! I cannot keep a fixed schedule for updating MCUYH so anyone who wants to be included, just comment down on the fic or maybe send me a message (my ask box is being annoying so it's useless atm). Please enjoy!

It was an unusual request that you asked for lemons and lavenders with your writing materials but they delivered. You merely said that they were for you to bite on but truly, the lemons were for writing a message that only your father could decipher. What was once a simple trick your father had taught you during your travels was now your only means of communicating with him without the rest of the palace knowing. You had only used it for important missives and what else could be more important than for your father to know that you had been married to the prince and that you were to be kept to the palace indefinitely.

You wrote carefully, telling him to keep the information to himself. You had no ambitions of being a princess and the irony of you being one—or being deemed ambitious by the Grand Duke—was not lost on you. You kept your secret message short and concise, and you also told him no promises of future missives lest you be found out. Once you were finished with the lemon ink, you let it dry and took to writing the obvious message with ink. You scribbled, in between the lines written in lemon juice, your request for your trunks, writing implements, and the many books you were supposed to be reading. The visible letter was short and direct and you sealed it with wax and a sprig of lavender—your unofficial insignia—so your father would immediately know that the message was from you.

When you have sent your letter, you met with the Head Housekeeper. She assigned to you a personal lady’s maid and had two girls prepare a bath for you and another to bring you an appropriate change of clothing. The Duke of Queensfield is bound to arrive by nightfall and the King will not want his guest to appear unprepared, she had said as she looked at you sternly. You cannot find fault in that; you still smelled like the salt of the sea and you did not want to further scandalize people with your unusual choice of clothing.

“What shall I call you, miss?” asked the maid—Wanda, she replied when you asked of her name—as she scrubbed your shoulders with warm water and simple soap. You had told her that you were fine with bathing yourself but the surprise on her face made you realize that you had made a terrible faux pas. Of course, guests of the king were expected to be waited on hand and foot.

“Y/N, please,” you replied. “I am all but noble so please do not burden yourself with titles to call me. If you are uncomfortable with calling me by my name, you can continue calling me ‘miss.’”

“I must confess, miss, I am inexperienced as a lady’s maid. I had only been an apprentice mere months before the queen passed.” Wanda told you humbly.

“I do not have my own personal lady’s maid.” You told her in confidence. “All that you do is of great help to me already.”

Wanda’s eyes were owlish on her face when she turned to you in surprise. She was a beautiful little thing despite the frailness and pointedness of her features. Her hair, an enviable shade of titian, was pulled severely in a bun on her nape and gave her a look that was beyond her years. The softness of her accented voice, however, betrayed the maturity of her features—she could not be any older than twenty.

You smiled gently at her. “I am unbearably common, Wanda.”

“It is rare for the king to house a common guest, miss, if you do not mind me saying.”

“I find my situation quite uncommon for a commoner like me.” You let her wash off the lather. “Your accent. It is familiar but I cannot place it.”

She paused in her ministrations, looking at you once more with her green eyes, before returning to her task. “I was from Sokovia,” she said simply.

Was. Such a simple word but it conveyed a thousand griefs. You knew of Sokovia, of the disaster that had been wrought by powerful countries at war. Sokovia was not at fault for existing in between two quarrelling nations. It was unfortunate to have been in the middle of it all. It had been all too sudden; the call for war happened unexpectedly that they had not amassed an army in time to defend themselves. It was the decimation of its capital city of Novi Grad that had put an end to the existence of such small but promising land.

“Forgive me.” You touched Wanda’s hand, squeezing it gently to convey your sympathies. “I would not have asked if I had known.”

“It is of little consequences now. My home is now here, in Brookland. To work for the kingdom is an honor, miss.”

You smiled gently. “Our monarchs are kind and just.”

“Yes. Most especially the queen, may her soul rest.” She hummed a regret-filled sound. “When she died, the whole kingdom was devastated. Since then, the king had been in poor health. He is worried for the kingdom’s future should he soon follow his wife.”

You let her dry you and bring your chemise before you pressed on with more of your questions.

“Is the prince incapable of ruling?” you asked as you adjusted the cotton garment against your body.

You had known princes were schooled into being future monarchs since their infancy. Perhaps Prince James was otherwise engaged in other matters, especially in that of being a soldier.

Wanda laced your stays as she replied.

“Prince James is very capable, miss. However, the king has stipulated that the kingdom be ruled by a king and a queen. He has to marry before he ascends the throne.” She passed you a modesty petticoat and, once worn, fastened a heavy hoop skirt around your waist.

Of course. It was the very reason you were called for, after all. Your presence had been a great hindrance to the future of the kingdom. With you still legally wed to the prince, he would not be able to marry the Grand Duke’s niece.

“Does he have a bride he wishes to wed?” you asked, bobbing as she brought another two more petticoats and the outer skirt overhead. “Are your privy to that information?”

Any woman, noble or not, would be curious about the future queen of the kingdom. Even one married to said prince.

“The Grand Duke’s niece, miss. It is said she is a Princess from Russia.”

A princess. It was now truly understandable why the Grand Duke was irate with you. Who else was a better match for the prince than a princess?

The butterflies in your stomach fluttered as you remembered James’s intense gaze. He had looked over at you appreciatively even in your disheveled state, and you had reacted in a way that had only been shown in Shakespeare’s comedies. There was a flutter of excitement that coursed through you at the sight of his appraising eyes—heady, potent, foreign; it made you feel silly. You knew you were flustered when you had looked at him, felt the heat rise and color your cheeks, and you made an utter fool of yourself by giving an ungraceful curtsy. You were often calm and collected in the face of royalty, always poised and proper, and in that moment, you stumbled. All because of your husband.

Oh, dear.  

You needed to stop calling him thus, even in your thoughts. The king would have you punished if he ever caught you referring to the prince as your husband.

Wanda rearranged the many petticoats under your skirt before running a flat palm down to keep it in place. She took a similarly colored bodice and fastened its buttons at your back. You faced the mirror and stifled a gasp when you saw your reflection. The dress was a confection of delicate lace and beautiful pink silk taffeta. The bodice was left bare, save for the intricately made neckline. Seed pearls and violet-hued gemstones were sewn with gold thread in elegant, floral motifs across your chest. Lace as delicate as a spider’s web cascaded just beneath it, fluttering at the slightest touch of the wind. Short, puffed sleeves of the same pink taffeta and cream-colored lace were gathered with a delicate pink bow on your arm. The layers of flounce that encircled the skirt may have dated the dress to the fashion of the yesteryears but it did not diminish the inherent beauty. It was simple yet opulent; it was a testament of Brookland’s quiet riches. And it fit perfectly as though it was made for you.

“Oh, how beautiful,” you gushed. It was a dress fit for a royal. “But I feel I am not fit to wear it. Such a dress would be missed by its owner. I am perfectly fine to receive a simple frock.”

“The late queen did not have much simple dresses, miss,” Wanda remarked as she bent down to fasten your shoes.

“I beg your pardon?” You must have misheard. Surely, the palace would not have lent you a gown from the late queen’s personal closets. “You mean to tell me this belonged to Queen Winnifred?”

“Yes, miss. Our Sunday’s bests are not fit to be worn to a receiving of the Duke of Queensfield, and the Head Housekeeper’s dresses would not have fit you properly without being taken in. This dress seemed the most fitting to present to you.” Your maid replied innocently.

Of course. If only your trunks had arrived during your bath, you would have a choice of dress albeit not as elegant as the one you were in. It is only a matter of clothing, Y/N. Princess Shuri had even lent her ceremonial robes to me when I needed them, you thought to yourself. Yes. There was no need for you to worry overmuch with your appearance. In the meantime, you would relish the feel of wearing Brookland’s fineries on your body.

“The Grand Duke, he is not a Brook,” you said when you sat before your vanity.

Wanda had insisted to style your hair and you agreed, knowing a simple plait would not be appropriate for meeting the prince’s cousin.

“No, miss. He was a part of the Sokovian nobility.” Wanda replied as she combed and pinned your hair.

“I see. Was he the highest ranking official who had been exiled here?”

“I do not think so. Although, he had been the only one who wished to serve the king.”

It was no wonder why his niece had been chosen as the prince’s bride. If the saying was true—that the Sokovians were unfailingly loyal—then the king could not have chosen a better future queen for the kingdom. It was another reason why you must divorce the prince as soon as you can.

You dismissed Wanda when she had finished with your hair but not before thanking her for her help. You strode out of your room with a new sense of purpose. Any book on the politics of the kingdom would be a great help to you and to this predicament you put yourself in. The palace library would have housed these scholarly books you needed.

You had a vague memory of where the library was, supposing it hadn’t been moved in the last twenty years since you had been here. You recalled it being situated near the gardens on the east of the grand staircase, with ornate double doors of gold gilding. Portraits of the current royal family and ones of the prince should be hung on either side of its entryway. You went down the grand staircase and headed right, smiling politely at the stunned footmen who hastily opened the doors to the library for you.

The scent of wood and books assaulted your nose before you saw the richly decorated library. Dark oak shelves were teeming with books of all shapes and sizes and it reached up to the grandly decorated ceilings. There were murals of heavenly bodies painted on the dome, of vibrantly colored scenarios that told of religious histories and Brookland’s myths and legends, and each panel was artfully done as the next one. Arched windows with views of the palace gardens gave ample lighting to the otherwise dark room. In the middle of it all lay two opulently carved long tables; each bearing candles, sheafs of paper, and writing materials. A mezzanine wrapped around the room; the shelves on it housing even more volumes. At the opposite side, a cavernous marble fireplace blazed generously.

On any other time, you would have perused every title of the books held within but for now, you settled for any book on Brookland’s laws and constitution. You walked over to the section of the library where you assumed housed those books and, pulling out one on the subject of constitution, settled by a window as you started to read.

You were not educated much in Brookland’s laws but you knew that the volume you were reading had been outdated, evidenced by a passage saying that land disputes must be settled with blood through fisticuffs to the death. It was barbaric and antiquated and it made you go to the mezzanine to find another book that may have held the answers you were looking for.

A tome on matters regarding matrimony caught your eye and you pulled it out. It was dated to the last century but still, it was recent enough for you to study. You opened it to the contents table and scanned its pages as you slowly came down the spiral steps.

“Mein Gott!”

A rustle of papers made you look up and to the eyes of Grand Duke Zemo. He stared at you in alarm, his skin turning a deathly pale that you had not realized was possible for someone of his complexion. His mouth was hung open in shock and his hands trembled as the papers wafted from them.

You quickly executed a curtsy to the surprised man. “Your Grace.”

“Wie konntest du hier sein? Du bist tot!”

His eyes were wide and unseeing; his gaze passed right through you.

“Are you all right, Grand Duke?” You asked worriedly.

You stood there, unmoving; afraid that suddenly doing so would spook the already-terrified man. It had been some time before a noise disturbed the eerie silence of the library. The loud cracking of the fireplace from behind you effectively shook him from his stupor.

He blinked in rapid succession, the glazed look in his eyes vanishing as he saw you. Color returned to his cheeks until they were tinted an angry shade of red. “I thought I had seen Queen Winnifred.” He whispered harshly.

“Forgive me.” You said, although you did not know why. It only seemed to be the appropriate response at the moment. You flattened a hand down the front of your dress. “My trunks had not arrived and the Head Housekeeper had offered for me to wear Her Majesty’s dress.”

He stared openly at you, his sharp eyes roaming about your figure. Gooseflesh prickled at the trail his eyes left on your skin. He finally turned away to pick at his fallen items and you stood there awkwardly, waiting for him to dismiss you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked instead as he placed his items on the table.

“I was hoping to find something to read, Your Grace.” you replied, watching as he lit a candle. “There was a book on the constitution of Brookland—”

He raised a disbelieving brow as he glanced at you. “First, you marry the prince and now, you wish to learn more about the laws of the land?”

His question oozed incredulity and judgement.

“What shall be next? You will turn us out of the palace?” He scoffed. “Do not fancy yourself helping us out of this problem. You have made one mistake already, girl. God knows you would be creating another one for me to solve.”

You kept silent. It was unjust of him to think of you so, especially when you and he were towards the same goal. You did not want to remain married to the prince for long—heaven knows you were not brought up for such a task—but Grand Duke Zemo did not have to be nasty in his refusal of your help.

“Find some light reading,” he said. “Girls like you cannot comprehend the legislations of the land. There is a book on flowers that I find befits someone of your stature.”

You gave a polite but strained smile. A string of explanations sat at the tip of your tongue but you withheld it. It was futile to argue with the man, much more when he yielded power over you.

“Thank you, Grand Duke.” You replied shortly. “If you could point me to the direction of those books, I would be happy to take one.”

“Such impudence,” he murmured before grudgingly pointing at one corner of the room.

Taking the heavy tome, you replaced it before heading towards the section of the botany books. There was an array of them, all of botany but of different subjects. You also saw the different languages of the books, more artfully designed than the others. The foreign books appeared untouched, the gold foil of the titles still complete and glinting in the sun.

There was a section of German books and you plucked one out of the many unblemished volumes. You also took two sheets of paper and a pencil from the table when you descended.

“I shall bid you good day, Your Grace.” You curtsied in his general direction. He waved his hand at you dismissively and it cued you to leave the awful man alone.

In the very least, you knew where the library was located. The book about the laws of the land would have to wait. This book on botany, however it came to your possession, looked interesting. You were conversant in many a language, reading this German book would not pose a problem. It would keep you occupied while you waited for your trunks to arrive.

…

…

…

From his window, James watched as you emerged to the garden.

If he were honest with himself, he would say he was disappointed that you weren’t wearing your breeches and shirt anymore and that he could not admire your shapely figure but with the dress you had now donned, there was no mistaking the contours of your body. He had not had this visceral reaction to the Princess Natasha’s portrait, but then again, he had not seen her in the flesh. You, however, he had seen and admired. There was no mistaking what a great beauty you were and he would be blind to deny such visible truth to himself.

He could not find it in him to be angry with you. It was a peculiar situation you both had gotten into, the innocent intentions and legally binding contracts. His memory of you had rang clear in his head by the time he finished speaking with his father; he remembered your hope for a friendship with him, your eagerness in trying to copy your father’s way of sealing such relationships, and the way you were excited when you both had—unintentionally—sealed each other’s fate. It was simply laughable and not worth getting furious over, unlike his father and the Grand Duke Zemo.

With a renewed sense of vigor, James headed towards the garden. The ledgers had become awfully boring and the numbers had started to swim before his eyes. He had not even touched the missives that had piled on his desk lest he misunderstand important matters. This is a much needed reprieve, he convinced himself. I will do better once I have taken a stroll in the gardens.

He was determined to get to know you, that much was true. Even if you were not to remain married for long, he was eager to learn more about you. King George had said that you had traveled to different kingdoms and territories with your diplomat father and had lived in those places for nearly all your life. You were foreign as much as you were a Brook; that in itself was fascinating to him. Among other things, that is.

“Your Royal Highness, I suppose the reason for your rushing is so we can train,” came an amused, sarcastic voice behind him.

James stopped and turned towards its source. Samuel Wilson, the Captain of the Royal Guards, walked towards the prince with an air of equal parts amusement and frustration.  

“Whyever would you think otherwise?” James asked, a brow quirked at the obvious jape.

“You have been avoiding all my attempts at getting you to train.” remarked Sam. “Is it so hard to pick up your sword again? You had not been the same since the battle in Sokovia. A little movement should take away the laziness in you.”

“I had not been evading you and I am not lazy. I have had other important matters to attend to.” The prince exited the building with Captain Wilson trailing behind him. “And besides, don’t you tire of losing to me?”

Where were you? James thought as he scanned for you in the gardens. You could not have moved so quickly in the short time he went down to find you.

“I have never lost to you. I was simply bolstering your already inflated ego. And if you’re looking for the mysterious miss, she’s due west.” Sam said.

“I am not looking for her,” James replied hastily, much to his chagrin.

“Of course,” Sam said in a false grave tone. There was an unmistakable knowing grin in his words.

“I am not,” insisted James but approached you anyway.

He did not want to disturb your peace. You were poring over a book on the table while your hands were busy over a piece of paper. Scribbling, perhaps? he thought to himself as he watched you.

“I shall go and introduce myself.” Sam told him as he strode on ahead.

James followed behind him, taking on an impassive air so he did not seem overeager as he approached you. It had been a while since he last felt this way about a woman. It had been with Dolores—Dottie, as how he came to know her. She was an interesting character; ambitious for a mere daughter of a seamstress but wise beyond her years. A pity it was that he could not continue his friendship with her; the call for war drove the two of them apart. As he fought, she had gotten married. James was rightly heartbroken but he knew it would not have stood against his father. Princes married with royals, as was the custom.

“Sam Wilson, Captain of the Royal Guards, at your service.” Sam said as he bowed before you.

Against the backdrop of the high summer sun and the palace garden blooms, you appeared resplendent.

“Good day, Captain Wilson.” You smiled gently. You turned to James and curtsied. “Your Royal Highness.”

The wind tousled at your carefully coifed hair. Lemon and lavender, he thought as he caught a whiff of your scent.

James cleared his throat, which had become uncommonly tight. “Sam, this is Miss Y/N. She is my father’s guest.”

“Miss Y/N,” Sam repeated. He took your hand in his and placed a kiss atop it.

“I’ve heard stories of your triumphs in the war.” You told Sam, a polite smile gracing your face. “It must be quite a task to be commanding so many soldiers in the battlefield.”

“It is no simple feat. Prince James wishes he could command the army as I have,” Sam said with a sly grin.

James rolled his eyes. Disparity of their classes aside, Sam often jested with the prince and vice versa. But even if he and the captain were close friends, he had not told the captain as to why you were present in the palace. He knew it would do more harm than good to tell him of your relationship with each other. His father had been adamant that he divorce the two of you quietly so he could push through with James’s wedding to the Princess Natasha.

“I do not wish to command them, Sam. I do.” James said as he puffed his chest out with pride.

You snickered, then promptly apologized when both men turned to you with equally surprised looks.

“Oh, do forgive me. I do not recall ever seeing such a display of bravado since a proud young panther pounced at the older, more worldly one for a piece of food in Wakanda.” You rambled, a rosy tint rising on your cheeks.

At that, James laughed.

Any person would have cowered at the sight of the prince and the captain of the Royal Guards but not you. You were natural and you spoke your mind with such ease that it made him admire, as well as envy, you. There was no pretense or false modesty about you and it was refreshing for him to see that you weren’t one to fall at his feet and wax poetic about his title or his dashing good looks.

“And who won?” Sam asked, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.  

“One panther or another. I did not stay long enough.” You told him, adopting a serious mien. “Otherwise, I would have been their next meal.”

James smiled deeply. Your wit was sharp. It was a rarity these days. Most often, he was faced with a bumbling fool or a stammering twit.

You were also a proficient artist, he remarked, as he took in the array of papers on the table. You were sketching the flower that was on your book, halfway done by the looks of it. And intelligent as well, he silently mused as he saw the language of the book. He knew not many other people who had studied German; it was arduous language and was commonly taught to the children of noblemen and royalty. Most certainly it was not taught to the common folk.  

Every little thing he uncovered about you made him all the more curious.

“You study plants?” James asked as he motioned to your sketch. And a remarkable one at that, he thought approvingly.

You cast a furtive grimace at its direction. “Oh, no. The Grand Duke suggested that I read a book on flowers because it befits me instead of taking the book I was intending to read.”

He raised a brow at that. Zemo may appear hawkish but the man was as meek as a church mouse. “And what was it that you wanted to read?”

When you caught a rosy lip between your teeth as you hesitated, it was a surprise that he did not catch on fire on the spot at the heat that coursed through him.

“I was reading about the constitution and the laws of the land, Your Royal Highness.” you said after a moment’s hesitation.

“Whatever for?” Sam asked.  “If you do not mind my asking.”

James had momentarily forgotten his friend was present.

You turned your attentions to the Captain, hesitance still marring your face. “My… friend desires to learn of the grounds of separation. She is convinced she isn’t a fit match for her husband.”

“If I may inquire, why is the lady convinced she is not suit for her husband?”

“For one, her husband is so above her in stature. It is an unusual marriage, if I dare say so, Captain.” Your eyes met James’s as you went on. “They had unmistakably signed a marriage contract and had been bound since.”

There was uncertainty in your eyes as you looked at him. In anticipation for my reaction? James wondered. Your offense was great in King George’s eyes but to him, it was comical. Absurd and laughable. If Sir William Shakespeare were alive and present, he would have another comedy in his hands.

But it was a matter between you and him. Sam need not hear nor know of it.

“Yes, highly unusual.” Sam remarked. “But no matter. Should you wish to return to the library, I am certain His Royal Highness would be of great help to you.”

The prince nodded, hiding his surprise at being mentioned by his friend. “Yes, of course.” He leaned in towards you, a secret smile on his face. “Although, I must warn you, the language the laws were written in are not in German. Most are in Latin.”

You smiled and a dimple sank into your cheek. “It is no matter. So long as all of them are not wholly in Latin, then I think I shall understand it.”

James found himself mesmerized; his eyes trained on your lips for longer than what was allowed. They were petal-like, soft, and fresh.

“I’m afraid I must excuse myself.” Sam said suddenly. “I do not think Prince James would be coming with me to practice his swordplay so I shall leave him in your hands.”

“Oh.” You said, surprised, and turned to the Captain. “I’ve no intention of stealing him from his training, Captain.”

“And I believe he has no intention of coming to it.” Sam said wryly. He took your hand and bowed over it. “It was a pleasure to have met you, Miss Y/N.”

You smiled. “The pleasure is all mine, Captain Wilson.”

As Sam vanished behind the doors, James turned to you.

“Shall we take a turn about the gardens, Miss Y/N?”

[sebastianstansqueen]

Yellow: Part One

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

Wordcount: 2,267

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky, uh James.” He corrected. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

My Queen Chapter 2

Steve Rogers is the newly inherited Duke of Brooklyn, struggling to fix the mistakes of his parents while enduring an overbearing, matchmaking mother.  He has no intention of anything romantic in his future, but will a forced love connection with the Queen change his mind?

Warnings: smut, slight domestic violence, minor character death

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Friday came and Steve was fuming.  His mother was constantly hovering nearby, fussing with his collar as he left his room and chattering at him about royal protocol as he walked towards the front door.  “You’ve grown so much since you last went to an event, you’re so handsome!  I’m sure she’ll love you–”

“Ma,” Steve said warningly.  

Sarah put her hands up in surrender.  “Okay okay.  Well good luck my dear,” she said as he walked to the car pulling up for him.  The driver quickly opened the door and he settled into the seat.  He thanked the driver and nodded to his mother as the door shut then sighed heavily when they took off towards the palace.  He had not been to any royal events in years, due to his embarrassment.  His mother was right, he had grown physically over the years, so he was sure Queen Y/N wouldn’t even recognize him from the last time she saw him.  He probably wouldn’t recognize her either.  They had barely become adults the last he saw her, and it wasn’t like they were ever properly friends, just acquaintances.

When they pulled up to the palace the door was opened for him again and he was led inside and through some hallways until they reached a large sunroom with a table prepared with two places settings.  Steve marveled at the almost fully-windowed room.  There were sun catchers placed in the awnings above him, little iridescent mobiles tinkling against each other from the breeze of an opened window and casting rainbow prisms along the adjacent wall and floor.  There were scores of plants lining the long window sill with a section in one corner covered by a long cushion and a blanket folded up next to it with a book sat atop.  He was left to wait for her and in the silence he strode up to the window seat and picked up the book.  Steve didn’t recognize the title, “Beauty” by Robin McKinley, but read the synopsis and thought it interesting.  A fantasy reader, he mused.  He set the book down and walked along the window inspecting the plants.

“Rogers,” a voice gruffed behind him.

Steve turned and then smiled.  “Wilson.”

Sam laughed and approached him, giving him a long hug.  “It’s been a while.”

“It has, how are you?” Steve asked as he clapped Sam’s shoulder.

“Well, thank you.  I’m sorry to hear about your father.  I would have come to the funeral–”

“Please, I know you were out of the country with Her Majesty.  It’s fine,” Steve waved away his concern.  “We got her card.  All is well.”

“Hm.  So…your mother…” Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

Steve sighed again, hanging his head.  “I know, don’t get me started.”

Sam laughed again.  “It’s alright, Her Majesty is well aware of how Sarah is.  You have nothing to be worried about.”  Steve gave him a small appreciative smile.  “Speaking of, she’ll be here in just a moment.  I just wanted to come say hello before I’m dismissed.”

“And now you’re free to go,” Y/N walked through the door just then, her lady’s maids following behind and distracting her so her eyes were turned away looking at the fabric they were showing her.

“Ah, excuse me,” Sam gave Steve a head bow then turned to Y/N and bowed to her.  

“Oh, shoo, all of you!” Y/N snapped, pushing away the fabric and waving Sam away, who quickly pushed the lady’s maids out the door and closed it behind him.  “Ugh, I’m sorry, Your Grace, I–” Y/N finally looked at him and paused, her eyes slightly widening.

“Your Majesty,” Steve walked forward, bowing to her.  Y/N automatically gave him a small curtsy and gave him her hand which he took and kissed her knuckles lightly before releasing it and standing straight.  “Thank you for your card.  We were most appreciative of your condolences.”

“Of course,” Y/N said, giving him a polite smile.  She tried not to ogle him.  Steve had grown over a foot, gained a lot of muscle and had become incredibly handsome since she’d last seen him.  He was no longer the scrawny, sickly boy she’d met years before.  He sported a slightly longer haircut and a clean cut full beard, making him look rugged but put together.  “Shall we?” she gestured to the table.

“Yes,” Steve said and held out a chair for her.  She thanked him as she sat and he walked around the small table to the other chair facing her.  Once he was sat Y/N picked up a small bell and rang it, resulting in a few maids and footmen bringing out plates of food and drinks.  As they placed it all down in front of them she thanked each of them with a smile before dismissing them.

“So, long time no see,” Y/N ventured starting the conversation as she put her napkin in her lap.

Steve huffed a laugh as he did the same.  “Yeah, I uh…” Y/N watched him as she piled her plate with food from the dishes in front of her.  He snorted as he looked away.  “I know I should apologize for not being social, but I won’t.”

Y/N smiled widely.  “You have nothing to apologize for.  Being antisocial is not a crime.”

“Tell that to my mother,” Steve mumbled.  Y/N laughed at his deadpan tone.  Steve seemed surprised at her laughter and a wider smile lit up his face.  

“Yes, she is…tenacious,” Y/N said, hiding her mirthful smile behind her teacup while she took a sip, giving him a playful glance.

Steve smirked.  “I feel like I need to apologize for her, though.  I do not condone such behavior,” the crease between his eyebrows returned.  Y/N wanted to run her finger down that crease to help him relax.  “My parents sent you letters asking for increases.  That was not acceptable and you were right to deny them.”

Y/N felt for him.  His embarrassment was palpable, and she could tell he didn’t particularly want to be at this lunch date.  She sighed, setting her cutlery down as she leaned back in her chair.  Steve was surprised again at her change in demeanor.

“May I speak frankly with you, Steve?”  Y/N cocked an eyebrow at him.  Steve nodded warily.  “As your mother may have told you, I’m looking for a husband.” Steve’s eyes narrowed at her.  “But I’m not.  My advisors are.  I’m turning 33 this year and they have decided that means I’m becoming an old spinster.  They’re threatening a Parliamentary takeover if I do not secure a partner to help me create an heir soon.  And since our Parliament is full of imbeciles, I’m afraid of what that could mean for our country.” She looked away from him and out the window, watching the hummingbirds at the feeder outside.  “I do not need a husband to rule.  This is the 21st century, for fuck’s sake.”  

Steve couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up his throat at her cursing.  Y/N laughed with him, shaking her head.  “I can tell you are embarrassed by your parents’ behaviors, believe me I know what that’s like, and now you have quite a load on your shoulders to bear when it comes to securing you and your mother’s futures.  A union with me would be highly advantageous to you.”  She leaned up against the table with her arms, looking at him conspiratorially.  “The suitors my advisors have been finding for me have been as idiotic as they are.”  Steve snorted at her candor.  “So when Sam said you were coming for lunch, I knew it was the work of your mother, but I thought it would be interesting to see how it goes, since I remembered you as a kind but quiet boy.  Now you’ve grown into a full-fledged man, and strikingly handsome if I do say so myself,” she smirked at him.  Steve blushed at her compliment.  “I don’t like playing games and I don’t like wasting my time.  If you do not wish to pursue anything romantic of any kind with me, please say so now, so I may know how to proceed with this lunch.”

Steve gawked at her.  Y/N had grown into quite the impressive woman, not just because she was the Queen, but also because of her tenacity and passion in governing the country.  She had made leaps and bounds beyond what her predecessors had been able to accomplish within just 15 years of her reign and made a reputation for herself as a blunt but fair ruler.  She was very attractive, he’d always thought so, but even more so now as she aged and grew into herself and her own personality.  He found her incredibly alluring and loved that she was straight forward with him.  

“To be honest, no, I wasn’t planning to pursue anything romantic,” Steve decided to be honest.  

Y/N nodded but didn’t look hurt or embarrassed.  “I appreciate your honesty.”

“Not because of anything to do with you personally!  Just because I have not wanted the same relationship I’ve seen my parents or others in nobility with arranged or advantageous marriages have,” he paused, trying to find the right words.  She nodded.  “But I do find you…quite charming.”

Y/N giggled at him.  “Charming?  I don’t think I’ve ever been called charming before.”

“Really?” Steve said, genuinely surprised.  

“Perhaps some polite euphemisms that refer to my blunt nature…sometimes intimidating,” she trailed off.

“That’s what makes you charming,” Steve then copied her stance and leaned forward on the table.  “Alluring.”

“Alluring?” Y/N’s eyebrows raised high.  “My goodness Steve, are you trying to make me blush?”

“Maybe,” Steve smirked at her.  He felt himself getting more comfortable with flirting.  “It does bring such a pretty color to your face.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she did blush that time.  She couldn’t hold his gaze and quickly looked down at her food.  “Thank you,” she muttered, giving him a quick glance.

“Are you not used to receiving compliments, Your Majesty?” Steve teased her.

“Y/N, please.  And I receive plenty of compliments, but they're usually from people trying to get something from me,” Y/N answered honestly.  “They're also not usually coming from such a pretty face.”

Steve blushed deeply, having to look away from her this time and fight the smile on his face.  “Pretty, am I?” he laughed.

“Ridiculously,” Y/N laughed with him.  They stared at each other for another moment.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” Steve said hopefully.

Y/N gave him a lopsided smile.  “Yes.”

The rest of lunch was them eating and getting to know each other better.  By the time they had finished their plates and the conversation began to wind down, the sun had moved in the sky, casting shadows into the sunroom as the afternoon wore on.  A knock came at the door, interrupting Y/N in a story about Sam, who walked through the door.

“Speak of the devil,” Steve laughed.

Sam gave them both a disapproving look then turned to Y/N.  “Your Majesty, your meeting with the Prime Minister?”

“Ugh,” Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, wiping her hands and her mouth on her napkin then standing.  Steve quickly stood with her.  “I’m sorry to cut this short, Steve–”

“Short?  You’ve been talking for three hours!” Sam said incredulously.  Y/N’s eyebrows raised at him and he shut his mouth and looked down.  Steve chuckled.

“As I was saying, thank you for coming to lunch, Steve,” Y/N turned back to him and lifted her hand.  He quickly took it and kissed her knuckles again.  Instead of dropping her hand he decided to be bold and pulled her hand, making her step towards him.  He then dipped his head and kissed her cheek, making her inhale sharply, her fingers grasping his hand tightly.

“It was my pleasure, Y/N,” Steve said quietly next to her ear.  She looked up at him with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open.  “I’ll call you about that date.”

“I look forward to it,” Y/N said politely, but there was a hunger in her eyes.

Steve smiled and bowed to her before walking toward the door, Sam staring at him wide-eyed as he followed him out.  Once they were out of earshot Sam pushed him, making him trip forward a bit.  “What the hell?” Steve scoffed at him.

“What was that?” Sam chastised him.  “You can’t kiss her face!  Or call her by her first name!” 

“Well I just did,” Steve smiled.  “We have a date.”

“A date?” Sam whisper-yelled at him.  “How?  She hasn’t wanted to date anyone…ever!”

“Guess I’m a pretty good flirt,” Steve shrugged.  Sam led him back to the front doors, the car already waiting for him.  “Hey, what’s her favorite flower?”

Sam gave him an unimpressed look.  “Sunflowers.  Why?”

“Just checking,” Steve said, clapping Sam’s shoulder before getting in the car.  His mother would never let him live this down.

[deliciousangelfestival]

I Hate It When You're Drunk - 7

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden love between a princess and her bodyguard. They love each other deeply, but their relationship is threatened by the tyrant king's oppressive rule and their differing social statuses.

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

In the other room, laughter and excitement filled the air as you and your bridesmaids gathered for the wedding preparations. Your friends, all hopeless romantics, were thrilled for you, knowing how much this day meant.

They huddled around, admiring your wedding dress—an elegant, simple gown adorned with delicate flower embroidery. The white fabric shimmered softly in the light, making you look like a vision of grace.

You wore a crown that once belonged to your mother, a cherished heirloom that your father had handed to you himself. After receiving his permission for this momentous occasion, the bitterness you once held toward him had softened, if only slightly.

As you stood before the mirror, gazing at your reflection, the crown glinted softly in the light, a symbol of the legacy you carried. You couldn’t help but wish that your mother were here with you, guiding you through this pivotal day.

With the international media coverage, a small part of you hoped that wherever she was, she would see the news and know that her daughter was getting married.

“You look stunning,” one of your bridesmaids said, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

“Bucky’s going to lose his breath when he sees you,” another chimed in, a playful grin on her face.

“You two are perfect for each other,” someone added, placing a hand on your shoulder. “We’ve all seen the way he looks at you. There’s no doubt in my mind this is exactly how it’s supposed to be.”

Their words were heartfelt, and as they each gave their blessings, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth. Their support made the day even more special, reminding you that you weren’t just marrying Bucky—you were also surrounded by people who truly cared for you and wanted to see you happy.

The wedding became a national holiday, a day of grand celebration and international coverage. Streets were lined with eager spectators as the festivities unfolded in a magnificent parade. Soldiers in gleaming uniforms rode atop powerful horses, their disciplined ranks adding a military grandeur to the occasion.

King Leonard seized the opportunity to showcase the might of Veridian, reminding the world of the nation's strength under his iron rule. As Bucky watched the display, he realized with a sinking feeling that he had truly entered the lion's den.

“We have to go to the church,” said Archer, the Defense Minister of Veridian. With no family of his own, Bucky found himself accompanied by Archer, his father’s old friend and now the closest thing he had to family. The ministry of defense, a symbol of the power Bucky was stepping into, stood by his side.

They climbed into a classic Rolls-Royce, the car gliding through the streets toward the church. The clear windows made Bucky an object of attention, with every pair of eyes in the crowd focused on him. People cheered and waved the flag of the country, their excitement palpable as they awaited the groom’s arrival.

“Wave, Bucky,” Archer prompted.

Bucky waved, but it felt hollow. He was like a goldfish in a glass bowl, exposed and on display for all to see.

“Your father would be proud of you,” Archer remarked.

Bucky could only wish his father were there to see this day.

“Except your mom. She’d be furious that you’re marrying the king’s daughter,” Archer added with a wry smile.

“If she’s still alive, I hope this is enough to bring her back, wherever she is,” Bucky replied, his voice tinged with a longing he couldn’t suppress.

“She’s still alive,” Archer said, his tone suddenly serious.

Bucky’s eyes snapped to Archer’s, disbelief and hope warring within him. “Don’t joke with me,” he said, his voice tight with emotion.

“I know where she is,” Archer responded calmly.

Relief washed over Bucky like a tidal wave, the best news he had heard in years. “Where is she?” he demanded, but then hesitated, glancing around. “Wait, is it safe to talk about this here?”

“There are no bugs in the car, and the driver is one of my people,” Archer reassured him.

Thank God, Bucky thought, grateful that Archer had thought everything through. “So where is she?”

“In an enemy state,” Archer said, pausing before revealing the name. “Thalassa.”

Bucky’s world tilted on its axis. Thalassa—the very mention of the place sent a chill down his spine. King Leonard’s decree was clear: anyone who visited Thalassa would be branded a traitor. His mother had chosen to live in a country that refused to acknowledge Leonard as the rightful ruler.

“I hope you can make a change around here,” Archer said, his words heavy with meaning.

Bucky could only hope, his mind spinning with the revelation and the burden it now placed on his shoulders.

👑👑👑👑👑

Bucky arrived at the church first, stepping into the grand hall that had been meticulously decorated for the royal wedding. The aisles were lined with white roses, and soft golden drapes hung from the high arches, casting a warm, regal glow throughout the space. The scent of fresh flowers mixed with the incense, creating an atmosphere that was both sacred and celebratory.

Diplomatic guests from across the world filled the pews, their attire as varied and ornate as their countries of origin. Bucky, however, recognized none of them. They were not his guests but those of King Leonard, each one a powerful figure in their own right, all there to witness the union under the king's command.

Bucky's attention was momentarily diverted to the seats behind King seat. Cassian and his uncle, Duke Griffin, were seated there, their presence adding another layer of complexity to the scene.

Cassian, who had earlier expressed his disillusionment with the arranged marriage, now sat with a mask of indifference. His eyes occasionally flicked toward Bucky, a mixture of pity and curiosity in his gaze. Beside him, Duke Griffin, an imposing figure with a sharp gaze, remained impassive.

As Bucky stood at the front, feeling the weight of their gazes on him, the doors opened to reveal King Leonard. The entire congregation stood and bowed deeply as the king entered, a silent acknowledgment of his absolute authority. Leonard’s presence commanded the room, his every step echoing through the grand hall.

Before taking his seat, Leonard approached Bucky, his expression unreadable. He placed a firm hand on Bucky’s shoulder, a gesture that felt more like a warning than reassurance.

“Your duty is just to make my daughter happy,” Leonard said, his voice low and cold. “I don’t expect anything else from you.”

Bucky didn’t trust himself to speak. He simply nodded, his throat tight, as Leonard withdrew and moved to his place of honor.

A hush fell over the crowd as the master of ceremonies stepped forward. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the voice echoed through the church, “the bride, Her Royal Highness, the Princess, will now arrive.”

As the church doors opened, the anticipation in the air became palpable. The choir's voices rose in harmony with the music, and the orchestra began playing Canon in D, the notes echoing through the grand hall.

Bucky stood at the altar, his back to the entrance. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a drum of nervous energy that reverberated through his entire being. He knew the moment had come, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around just yet. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to steady himself, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

As you entered the church, the soft rustle of your gown mixed with the melodious strains of Canon in D, creating a symphony that enveloped you. Each step felt like you were walking through a dream, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves.

The grandeur of the church overwhelmed you—the lavish decorations, the rows of esteemed diplomatic guests, and the sea of faces turned in anticipation. But amidst the opulence, your focus was solely on Bucky. He was the reason for every flutter in your chest, every tremor in your hands.

Your bouquet of fresh flowers felt like a lifeline, grounding you amidst the storm of emotions. The crown your father had gifted you, a delicate piece of history, seemed to weigh heavier now. It was a reminder of your lineage and the monumental step you were about to take.

The aisle stretched before you, a path leading to your future. With every step, you could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you. Despite the nerves and the overwhelming feeling that this was all too surreal, a smile found its way to your lips. You couldn’t believe it—after everything you’d been through, you were finally here, marrying the man you loved.

King Leonard, standing beside you, took a firm but reassuring grip on your arm. His presence was both a comfort and a reminder of the responsibility and expectation that came with this union. As he guided you down the aisle, the weight of the moment was palpable. His role was to lead you to Bucky, ensuring that you were united in front of everyone who mattered.

As you reached the midpoint of the aisle, you looked up at him with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Father."

Leonard's gaze softened slightly, though his voice remained steady. "If he ever makes you cry or hurts you, just tell me."

You met his eyes with unwavering confidence. "That will never happen."

As you walked closer, Bucky finally found the courage to turn around. The sight of you took his breath away. You looked like a vision, an ethereal presence that made his heart skip a beat. His chest tightened with a mix of love and fear, knowing that this was it—the moment that would change both your lives forever.

The ceremony began, and the priest’s voice filled the air with solemnity and grace. He spoke of love, commitment, and the vows you were about to take. The words washed over you both, their weight sinking deep into your hearts. Bucky glanced at you, his heart pounding, as the priest asked him the most important question of his life.

"Do you, James Buchanan Barnes, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, till death do you part?"

Bucky’s voice was steady, though he felt anything but. "I do."

The priest then turned to you, and you felt a wave of emotions—love, fear, excitement—crash over you.

"And do you, Princess, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, till death do you part?"

With a voice filled with certainty and love, you answered, "I do."

The priest smiled warmly and announced, "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Bucky reached up to lift your veil, his hands trembling slightly. As he finally revealed your face, your smile met his, a beacon of pure joy that made his heart race.

Without waiting for the priest to instruct you, Bucky leaned in and kissed you. The spontaneous, heartfelt gesture drew laughter and applause from the guests, filling the church with a warmth that melted away any lingering tension.

Hand in hand, you and Bucky turned to face the guests, but first, you both bowed deeply to the king.

King Leonard, with a measured smile, stepped forward. "Welcome to the family, James."

Bucky met the king's gaze, doing his best to suppress the unease bubbling beneath the surface. "It's an honor, Your Majesty."

With the formalities complete, you both began the procession down the aisle, greeting guests as you went. Outside the church, the crowds had gathered, their cheers erupting as you stepped out. The sight of you in your beautiful white dress and Bucky in his military uniform was like something out of a fairy tale. The people waved flags and called out well-wishes, celebrating what seemed to be the happiest day of your life.

But Bucky couldn’t shake the gnawing fear that clung to him. The memory of the blood-red message burned in his mind, making him feel vulnerable in the open space. As much as he tried to keep up appearances, the urge to get inside, away from prying eyes, was overwhelming.

Thankfully, the ornate carriage that awaited you both was fitted with bulletproof glass, offering a sense of security that Bucky desperately needed. Once inside, you beamed with happiness, the joy of the day radiating from you.

"Can you believe it, Bucky? We’re finally married!" you said, your voice bubbling with excitement as you squeezed his hand.

Bucky forced a smile, trying to match your enthusiasm. "Yeah… finally."

You leaned closer to him, your eyes sparkling. "I knew this day would be perfect, but I never imagined it would feel this incredible."

Bucky nodded, his mind racing. "It’s everything you deserved."

You noticed a hint of something in his voice—a flicker of doubt, perhaps—but dismissed it, too wrapped up in the joy of the moment to let it linger.

As the carriage began its journey back to the castle, you continued talking about the day, the guests, and the future that lay ahead. Bucky listened, his hand still holding yours, but his thoughts were elsewhere, his eyes flicking nervously toward the bulletproof windows. The carriage offered safety, but the dread in his heart remained.

Unaware of the storm brewing inside him, you smiled, resting your head on his shoulder, content in the belief that this was the start of your happily ever after.

👑👑👑👑👑👑

Bucky had just finished changing into a suit when he stepped out of the room, adjusting his tie. The weight of the day was pressing down on him, but he was determined to keep it together for your sake. As he walked into the hallway, he was suddenly shoved back, his shoulder slamming into the wall. The shock of the impact made him blink, and when his eyes focused, he felt as if he were seeing a ghost.

"Lucas?" Bucky's voice wavered in disbelief.

The man before him was a wreck—a shadow of the comrade he once knew. Lucas’s face was gaunt, his eyes bloodshot and wild, his clothes disheveled like he had crawled out from the depths of hell. His hands trembled, and in one of them, a gun was pointed directly at Bucky's chest.

"You… you fucking traitor!" Lucas spat the words with venom, his voice cracking under the weight of betrayal. "We trusted you! Our comrades… our friends… and you sold us out to that monster!"

Bucky raised his hands slowly, trying to calm his friend. "Lucas, listen to me—"

"Shut up!" Lucas’s voice was a shriek, desperate and unhinged. He shook his head, his grip on the gun tightening. "You don’t get to talk! Do you know what they did to us? What they did to me?"

"I know, and I’m going to make things right," Bucky said, his voice low, trying to keep it steady even as his heart raced. "But killing me won’t change what happened."

"You don’t get it, do you? It’s too late! It’s all too fucking late!" Lucas’s eyes were filled with rage and sorrow, a man broken by unimaginable horrors. He took a step closer, the barrel of the gun trembling but still aimed squarely at Bucky.

Bucky could see Lucas was beyond reason, his mind fractured by the torment he had endured. Every second felt like an eternity as the gun wavered, Lucas’s finger twitching on the trigger. The fear was real, but Bucky couldn’t let it control him.

"Lucas, please," Bucky’s voice was almost a whisper. "I swear, I didn’t betray you. We can fix this together—"

A gunshot rang out, the sound echoing through the hall like a death knell. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the searing pain of a bullet tearing into him. But nothing came. No pain, no darkness. He opened his eyes, and the sight before him made his breath catch in his throat.

Lucas stood there, his eyes wide with shock, blood seeping through his shirt from a wound in his chest. He staggered, his grip on the gun loosening. Bucky instinctively reached out, catching Lucas before he could collapse to the floor.

"It… it wasn’t you. I’m… Avenge us," Lucas choked out, blood bubbling up in his mouth as he spoke.

"Don’t speak, Lucas. I’ll get help," Bucky said, his voice breaking as he tried to hold back the tears. He could feel the life draining out of his friend, the warmth leaving his body.

"It’s… too late," Lucas whispered, his voice barely audible now.

Bucky looked up, desperation and anger swirling in his chest, and that’s when he saw him—Isaac. The man he thought was dead, standing there as if nothing had happened. Isaac was clean, composed, his hair neatly combed, and his suit pristine. He looked every bit the part of someone who had just stepped out of a palace, not a prison.

"You," Bucky growled, his voice filled with fury as he held Lucas’s lifeless body. "It was you."

Isaac’s lips curled into a cold smile. He bowed his head slightly, a mockery of respect. "From now on, I serve you, Your Highness."

"You fucking traitor!" Bucky’s voice was a roar of pain and anger. He wanted nothing more than to rip Isaac apart, to make him pay for everything he had done.

"Oh, what a good job youdid on your first day." A cold, authoritative voice cut through the tension.

Bucky looked up to see King Leonard, his presence commanding the room. The king walked in, seemingly oblivious to the blood-stained scene before him, as if Lucas's dying body was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Isaac straightened up and greeted the king with a formal nod. "It’s my duty, sir."

King Leonard smiled, his gaze shifting to Bucky, who was still cradling Lucas’s lifeless form. "Let me introduce you to the new head of the castle guard, Isaac."

Bucky’s anger simmered just below the surface, his hands clenched into fists. Isaac, the man who had betrayed them all, was now standing here with the king’s blessing. This was no longer just a political game—this was personal.

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[honey-minded-hivemind]

ART'S NOT MINE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THESE! I especially love the gray/mauve deathbed moth one! I'm kinda picturing that one, maybe with the horns, and Laura is their little feral fluffy sibling or relative (depending on which option you prefer for the Moth Royal Family)!

Reader is this mysterious, shrouded being, one that history remembers as just as dangerous and cruel and wicked as their family, who met a fate no one ever talks about... yet Laura somehow is their sibling, or is their relative, who then frees Reader, and all the other Moth Family Queens who were trapped in crystal or turned to stone or put in eternal slumber on the moon...

The shenanigans! Imagine great-great-great-great-great dad/pa Sabretooth, known as a bloodthirsty monster, being this giant fluffy behemoth of a mothman/monster, amd he's completely cordial with Laura and Reader. And his younger brother (or son?) Wolverine, known to be a beast in mothman flesh, with sharp knives and swords and a fluffy mane of raven blue-black, who is hugging his relatives and fretting over them. Then there's Beast, thought to have been a mad scientist and maker of monsters, who is sweet as pie and gives their wounds kisses. Plus Kurt and Todd, their other relatives who were trapped, who seem to be Laura amd Reader's age, amd are funny amd friendly, yet we're rembered in history as monstrous beings, spawns of darkness... Yet every single member is so... different, from what Laura has always been told.

(It's surprising when a few of the things said about the others are true (namely Sabretooth and Wolverine, maybe Beast and maybe Todd...) yet Reader is so nice, nothing at all like the murderous, vicious, deadly queen that everyone has said and believed...)

(Which is your favorite picture, @phosi ? And which story plot do you like better for the Moth Family Royals?)