#royalty!bucky

[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.

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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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[crazyunsexycool]

You should see me in a crown

Coming soon… series taglist is open just comment. must be 18+ minors DNI

Prince!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Modern royalty AU

You were a princess.

At least that’s what your father had been telling you since the day you were born. In reality you lived in a two story house with your parents in a random neighborhood. It didn’t stop them from giving you everything you could ever want or need. From piano to dance classes, tea parties and dresses. When you grew up you were determined to go to law school and you did with their support. The one thing they never talked about was their homeland or your father’s family. They taught you all about traditions but whenever the subject was brought up they would quickly shut it down. So it wasn’t a surprise when you planned a vacation with your best friend that would take you to a few countries in Europe, including their homeland. You only wanted to have a life changing experience.

And you would.

James Buchanan Barnes was the crowned prince of his home country. He was next in line to become king. Every day that passed was a reminder of it. His parents’ words echoed in his head constantly. He needed to settle down and get married, start a family. All in the name of the crown. Bucky was more than ok doing that, he just wanted to do it with someone he loved. Yet love was the one thing royalty rarely found. His reputation of being a playboy didn’t help when it came time to settle down either. It came as no surprise that his parents became matchmakers.

Two worlds are turned completely upside down. Bucky wants a chance to find love. You desperately seek to connect to your roots. Hearts are broken and truths are revealed.

[holylulusworld]

Windfall

Summary: You are the last unmarried lady. A spinster.

Pairing: Royal!Stucky x Royal!Reader

Warnings: 30+ reader, modern royal au, old fashioned society when it comes to the age of unmarried women (kinda), polyamorous, throuple marriages are allowed in this world, mentions of rejection, the reader is a loner, bitchy ladies, established mlm relationship,

Square filled for @allcapsbingo: B5: Loneliness

Words: 940+

The ladies sneer when you pass them by. You don’t spare them a glance, aware that they do not like you.

People always fear what they do not understand. Like a woman who wants more in life than being her husband's arm candy.

“I don’t know why she holds her head high like that. She’s the last unmarried daughter. Even her younger sibling and almost every cousin are engaged to a gentleman. The last one will be married soon and the poor soul not getting the chance to marry one of the younger ones will settle for the windfall.”

The other women giggle at Lady Dorothy’s words. “You’re right. No one wants the old spinster. A man wants a young woman, a beautiful innocent blossom. Not a withering rose.”

You don’t take their words to heart. They are not wrong. All the gentlemen roaming your parents' house only came for your sister or the cousins your father took in after their parents passed away.

“Lady Y/N,” you sigh when Lady Sharon makes her way toward you. At least she’s kind enough to talk to you in public. “There you are!”

“My dear,” Lord Loki, Sharon’s husband greets you. He bows and presses a chaste kiss to your hand. He’s one of the few men seeing you as more than an old spinster. Loki appreciates your wit. “How have you been?”

“Fine, Lord Loki,” you reply. Unlike the other ladies in the room, you look him straight in the eyes. You’re not the kind of woman cowering in front of a man only because he has a cock between his legs. “I hope you are well too.”

“Very well,” he smiles at his wife. “My brother finally got engaged.”

“Again,” Sharon adds. “He’s a little fickle when it comes to courting for a woman. He should grow up and settle for one lady.”

“I understand him well,” you nod thoughtfully. “It isn’t easy to find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. You should choose with your heart and mind.”

You barely escaped the nagging ladies and their gossip. Now you are hiding at the library to read another book. Loki and Sharon wouldn’t mind. They invited you to use their library when you are around and read as many books as you want to.

Nose burying in another book you don’t recognize someone sneaking inside the library.

“Stevie, you look so good today.” Your eyes flit up when you hear voices behind one of the shelves. “I can’t wait to put my hands on you.”

“Buck, we can’t. Not here.”

Frowning you listen closely. There is commotion behind the shelf, and you are sure, the men are up to no good.

You close the book and get up to find out what’s going on. If someone tries to steal Loki’s books, you will stop them at all costs.

Silently sneaking toward the shelf, you practice your speech in your mind. You’re not shy, but two men can be intimidating. Especially when they try to commit a crime.

You round the shelf, stopping in your tracks as you face the men. Your breath hitches in your throat because the men do not try to steal Loki’s books. No. They are kissing each other passionately.

You recognize the men. James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers. You heard rumors about them being in a relationship but never talked to them before.

You swallow thickly. What can you do? Say something? Tell them to not do such a thing at Loki’s library.

The only thing you can do is turn back around and walk toward the armchair to read your book. If you leave the library now, they will know you saw them. If you say something, they will get mad.

So, you sit back down, open your book, and start reading. You can still hear them kiss and moan but try to blend the noises they make out. It’s inappropriate to listen to their lovemaking. Not to mention sinful and forbidden.

You close your eyes and bite your lower lip. Their moans go straight to your lower half, the sacred garden you only touch at night, hidden in your bedroom.

“Aw, Bucky. Look at that pretty angel touching herself for us. Do you think we should help her out?”

Your eyes snap open as you feel eyes on you. You didn’t realize that the book slipped from your fingers and that you bunched up your skirt to slip your hand into your panties.

“I-no. I didn’t,” you lick your dry lips. “I wouldn’t… no. This is a misunderstanding.” You furiously shake your head.

The men watch you move your fingers, smirking as you cannot stop yourself from touching your clit.

“Doll, you are rubbing your sweet pearl for us, huh?” Bucky’s eyes are glued to your spread legs. “Tell me, did you like watching Stevie and me?”

You nod.

“Did it make your petals all wet?” Steve husks. “Did you touch yourself because you wanted us to touch you?”

You nod again.

“Stevie,” Bucky whispers lowly. “Do you know who she is? The angel no one dared to marry. It’s said that she’s a fiery little thing. Untamable and mouthy.”

“I’m not!” You grunt. “How dare you say such a thing!”

“Fiery and naughty, my beloved,” Steve cups his lover’s face to kiss him deeply. He moans into Bucky’s mouth, making you gasp loudly. “I guess she needs two strong pairs of hands to tame her.”

“Indeed,” Bucky smirks. “I bet her father will be so happy when she gets married to not one but two Lords making her an honest woman…”

Tags in reblog.

[sarahowritesostucky]

Alpha, Beta (& Omega) Masterlist

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

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

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

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

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

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

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

A wedding night. (Word Count 2411) Explicit

A honeymoon. (Word Count 2976) Teen

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

A consummation. (Word Count: 2817) Explicit

A fever (Word Count: 3619) Mature

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

A school reunion (Word count 3449) Teen

A sojourn in London (Word count 2010) Teen

A public scene (Word count 3617) Teen

A Headship's rebuke (Word count 3627) Teen

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

A tour of the continent (Word count 5652) Explicit

A homecoming (Word count 4286) Explicit

A settling In (Word count 5616) Teen

A courtship (Word count 3201) Explicit

An Inquiry (Word count 6883) Explicit

Masterlist

@openup-yourmind

[fandoms-writings]

Pairing: Knight!Bucky x Queen!Reader

Summary: Sir James Barnes has served at your side for over five years. For five years, he’s silently adored you from behind his metal armor. But what would happen if he could no longer keep it a secret from you? Could you possibly harbor similar affections for him? Afterall, he’s just a knight - you’re the queen. 

Warnings: smut 18+ ONLY (smut will be indicated with a ❂︎), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, flirting. Secret relationship. Each installment will contain it’s own warnings. 

Installments are organized in chronological order. If you have any suggestions, or questions about the pair, please send an ask! It may be turned into a chapter <3

Yes, Your Grace

Adoring Fool  ❂︎

Masked Stranger

If Only for a Moment

Moodboards: 

a little picnic

[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🎶

Tags: @cherryblossomsky - - @babylooneytoonz - @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond - @leyannrae - @avengerlex - @pineprincess - @nik2write - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08 - @scxrletrecsmarvel - @hallecarey1 - @rosecentury -

Bucky lived in no way an out of ordinary life for a common folk in Valencia, currently he sat in the town tavern and drank as fools got into fights and arguments, and mistresses of the night bargained with men and women alike. He didn’t pay much attention to these people, he was alone and he preferred it that way, when a cloaked figure came up and sat next to him, he tried to hide his annoyance. A pint was put in front of the person who began to drink from the glass. Bucky kept his gaze forward, pretending not to notice the stranger. He gripped his mug tighter, weighing whether or not to say something when the figure spoke first, their voice low and calm, the feminine tone of the stranger's voice caught him off guard. His eyes flickered toward the hooded figure, though he still didn’t turn fully to face them. A woman? Usually a respectable woman wouldn’t find herself in such a place. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not looking for conversation. Just passing through.” She spoke passively. Bucky nodded, the woman peeked his intrigue, her presence lingered in his thoughts as he drained the last of his drink.

As the barmaid decided it was closing time Bucky was one of the first to leave as was the cloaked woman. She seemed to run in the direction of the forest near the castle, Bucky liked his casual life but this woman felt magnetic in so many ways Bucky was gonna do the first out of the ordinary thing in his life, follow her. 

Her legs moved knowing if she got caught the reprimanding would never end, it wasn’t until she was in the forest she knew she was being followed, she did the only thing she could think of and that was hide in the tree line, as she watched for who was following her. It was the man from the Tavern? He stopped, catching his breath, and then spotted her. She was half-hidden behind a tree, watching him. “Who are you?”

“You shouldn’t be here.” She ignored his question. 

Bucky stepped closer. “Nore should you.” He scoffed. 

“I know where and where not to be.” She spoke with confidence. 

“Maybe. But I’ve seen enough to know something’s not right. If you’re in trouble, I’m not just going to walk away.” He shot back at her, a serious look in his blue eye shone brightly. 

She looked at the dark sky and she sighed, the distant sound of rustling, almost like footsteps, caught their attention. Her expression hardened again, and she took a step closer to him, her voice dropping to a whisper. “We need to keep moving. If they find us here, it won’t end well��I’ll explain what I can.” He followed her as she moved swiftly through the dense forest, the shadows of the trees swallowing them up. The woman glanced back at Bucky, her face barely visible beneath the hood. “Stick close.” she instructed, her voice a low murmur. “And try not to make any noise.”

He matched her pace, his eyes scanning the dark woods for any sign of danger. “So, what’s this all about? Why are we running?”

She sighed. “I snuck out.” The woman said, confusing Bucky more. 

His pace stopped making her slow down. “From where?” Now he didn’t know if he was traveling with a criminal or something of the sort. 

Y/n signed and spun on her heel. “The castle, now come on, I have to get back before the sun comes out, if you want an explanation then I suggest you keep moving with me.”

Bucky’s hesitation was still evident. “Why would you sneak out of the castle unless your a prisoner or something.” 

She was getting annoyed by the man's questions. “I’m the princess okay, now follow me. Or you’ll be taken to the dungeons by them.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise, his steps faltering for a moment. “The princess? You’re telling me you’re royalty?”

“Not what's important right now.” She got him to follow her, once she was sure they lost them, they stopped and rested, she answered Bucky’s questions.

Bucky looked around, trying to make sense of the situation. “Why are you running from the castle?”

“I’m not running away, as I said I have to go back before the sun rises, I just snuck out for a few drinks, and to get away.” Y/n now removed the cloak hiding her, Bucky now could see she was young and stunning. 

Y/n’s eyes met Bucky’s, and she could see the confusion and concern etched on his face. The moonlight highlighted the delicate features of her face, making her look even more ethereal. Bucky’s gaze lingered on her, trying to reconcile the image of a royal princess with the woman who had been sitting next to him in a tavern.

“So.” Bucky began, still processing her words. “You’re telling me you’re a princess who just wanted a night off from all the royal stuff?”

“If I could I would forever be off from royal stuff. It's not as great as you’d think.” She sighed. “I know I'm lucky, it’s just, let me just ask you, if you were to marry someone you don’t know would you be okay with it?”

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly at her question, the gravity of her words sinking in. He looked around, as if the forest could offer some clarity. “Marry someone I don’t know? That sounds like a nightmare. Who’d want to spend their life with a stranger?”

Y/n’s shoulders relaxed a bit, a trace of relief in her eyes. “Exactly, and I’ve been arranging to marry this person since I was child, that’s why I'm enjoying as much time as I can till that happens.” 

Bucky’s expression softened with empathy. “I can’t imagine what that must be like. To have your whole future decided for you before you even had a say in it. It sounds like a prison of a different kind.”

As they spoke the sky began to turn into a crip blue. “I have to go now.” Y/n said standing from beside him, on the forest floor. 

Bucky offered her a reassuring smile. “If you ever need anything or if you just want to talk, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you…” She led on not knowing the man's name yet. 

“Bucky, uh James.” He corrected. 

“Y/n.” She smiled, feeling a warmth in the brief connection they shared. As she made her way back to the castle, Bucky headed towards town.

Y/n found her secret way of getting out and into the castle wall. “You're late.” Natasha, her lady in waiting, had her arms folded over her chest.

Y/n sighed, then a sweet smile pulled onto her lips. “I know, but it was the greatest night by far.”

Bucky shut the door of his home he shared with Sam and his wife Monica, Sam was a royal guard, and Monica had a shop in town to sell things that came from their farm that Bucky kept. “Didn’t Hela close up hours ago?” Sam asked, getting ready to leave for the castle.

“Yeah, I went for a long walk.” Bucky lied easily knowing that Sam’s job might have obliged him to tell the king. 

“Sure you did, what's with the dopey look then? You met someone!” Sam smirked, and had his mouth hanging in shock. “I’ve told you a hundred times you could have any maiden you want in town, the fall over you.” Sam jabbed. “So you gonna tell me?Is it Doloras? Or what about Yelena?” 

Bucky’s mind was pulled back to his time with Y/n. “I didn’t meet anyone, I just went for a walk. Now if you mind I'm gonna get a bit of rest before I take care of the animals, and fields.” Sam’s lips pierced, he was gonna tell Steve of Bucky’s update, maybe he’d know?

Y/n and Natasha made it to her chambers. “We have to start getting you ready, did you even sleep?”  Natasha fussed over her, Y/n’s father wasn’t known to be a kind man to the staff of the castle nor his own family, don’t even begin on how he was as a king. “I told you to be back-” “Before sunrise the sun isn’t even up yet.” Y/n sighed. Y/n moved to her dressing table as Natasha began working on her hair and makeup. The castle was already waking up, and the sounds of servants and courtiers preparing for the day filled the halls. Y/n’s mind drifted back to her conversation with Bucky. The brief respite from her royal duties had been refreshing, but now she had to face the reality of her impending marriage.

Natasha worked in silence for a moment before speaking, “Your father will be meeting the King’s emissaries today. The wedding plans are moving forward rapidly.”

“I’m aware,” she said, her voice laced with resignation. “The entire court is buzzing about it.” Natasha’s hands paused for a moment. “You seem more troubled than usual. Is it just the wedding, or is there something else on your mind?”

Y/n glanced at her reflection, the weight of her responsibilities and her recent night out clashing in her thoughts. “It’s not just the wedding,” she admitted quietly. “Last night was... a reminder of what I’m missing. I spoke with someone who made me feel like there’s more to life than what’s laid out for me.”

Natasha's face fell. “Y/n.” Natasha’s voice was a warning almost, she hadn’t ever supported the marriage due to Y/n being her friend, but Natasha also warned Y/n not to be seen or caught, knowing if someone caught word of the princess leaving all signs would point to Natasha helping her. “You know I’ve always wanted the best for you. But you must be careful. If word gets out about last night, or if anyone suspects me of helping you…we both know the consequences.”

“I know it was risky but he followed me into the forest when I was returning to come back.” Y/n sighed, looking at her hands more thoughts of the night spent with Bucky, she couldn't tell Natasha that he knew she was princess, she’d lose her mind. 

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of being followed into the forest. “He followed you? That’s risky. You should have been more cautious.”

“I was careful.” Y/n said quickly, her voice edged with frustration.

Natasha softened, her tone empathetic. “I know it’s hard. But you have to keep your focus. There will be time to address your own desires later. Right now, you need to play your part and keep your head down.”

Y/n sighed, glancing once more at her reflection. “I’ll do what I have to. But I can’t help but wonder if there’s a way out of this... a way to find something for myself.”

Bucky awoke, he began to get ready to head out and begin his work for the day and as he did the night before played in his mind of the princess and her confessions, and how genuinely good she seemed. It was different and hard to fully understand the woman talk about her life, being royalty seemed to have been nice until he had spoken with her now hearing the other side that comes with it, Bucky felt lucky, as he stood tending to crops. As Bucky worked in the fields, the weight of his encounter with Y/n lingered in his thoughts. He found himself contemplating the stark contrast between his modest, uncomplicated life and the gilded cage that Y/n described. The notion of having one’s entire future predetermined seemed almost alien to him, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her.

Soon Bucky made his way into town to see Maria, at her store, as he did he noticed the crowds lining the streets, this confused him till he saw the blue and gold carriage rolling through the main path to the gate of the castle, this was a usual thing for the town when a wealthy or highstates person came they would show respect to the person by gathering. “Who is that?” Bucky asked as Maria came to his side on the path where everyone stood. 

“A King, I assume for the Princess.” Maria shrugged, Bucky’s eyes widened as the realization dawned on him. Last night had been a rare moment of freedom for Y/n, and it might have been her last. The weight of that understanding settled heavily on him.

As they spoke, other townsfolk nearby chimed in, their voices a blend of speculation and excitement. “We’ll be united with the kingdom of Eldoria if this wedding comes to pass.” One man said, his tone edged with fear. The thought of joining Eldoria, with its strict laws and militaristic culture, was unsettling for many. 

“You don’t think the king would allow it right?” her voice shaking with apprehension. Eldoria's rigid patriarchal norms were a far cry from the values of Valencia, where women had greater rights and freedoms. The idea of such a union highlighted the stark contrast between the two realms and fueled fears.

The more Bucky listened, the more his stomach tightened with unease. The thought of Y/n marrying into such a repressive society was troubling. Eldoria's brutal legal system and its emphasis on male dominance painted a grim picture of what Y/n’s future might hold.

[navybrat817]

Cordially Invited: Part 2

Pairing: Modern Knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Female Reader AU Summary: You're a princess in love with your knight. Will the two of you get your happily ever after? Chapter Summary: You tell your parents that you plan to bring your knight as your plus one to Natasha's wedding. Word Count: Over 2k Warnings: Pining, flirting, slight feels (it's me okay), idiots in love, protective Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Bucky's POV after Part 1! Excited to share more of this world. ❤️ Beta read by the beautiful @whisperlullaby (thank you!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by Nix, divider by @firefly-graphics and moodboard and banner by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky knew from a young age that he wanted to be a knight. It wasn’t just a position of bravery, but one of honor. His father reminded him of that many times throughout his life. Fighting alongside his friends, he served and protected the kingdom with everything he had. Even at the cost of losing his left arm.

It was his resilience that caught the King's attention.

"Will you serve and protect her Royal Highness of Brooklyn?"

"With my life, your majesty."

Everyone knew of the princess of Brooklyn. Beyond your beauty, you exude warmth and generosity to the masses. You preferred working with the people and charities over going to galas. Your charm and wit won everyone over.

Especially him.

He half expected you to throw a fit when your father assigned him to be your bodyguard. Not because you were spoiled, but because you didn't get to choose him yourself. Instead, you welcomed him with kindness.

And he quickly fell in love.

“Am I decent?” you asked once you came out of the bathroom, smiling over at where he stood in the corner.

Free of your robe, you wore a knee-length navy blue dress with a pair of heels to match. While you likely chose the outfit for modesty, it hugged the curves of your body and he longed to remove it so he could see the hidden treasure underneath. He had to clear his throat as his stare lingered a second too long.

The way it always did.

While knights today didn’t have to swear to chastity or celibacy, he wasn’t meant to lust after the one person he was sworn to protect.

I'm not meant to love you either, but how can I not?

"You look beautiful," he said truthfully. "You always do."

You looked down as you smoothed out the fabric with both hands. "You're just being nice," you teased.

"No, princess," he said, straightening up as he walked over to you in a few strides. He placed a finger under your chin when you didn't lift your head, making you look at him. "When I say you look beautiful, I mean it."

"Thank you, Bucky," you whispered.

The people of Brooklyn looked at you with adoration, but you looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky for you. Your smile was like giving him the sun. He wondered if you realized how many different smiles you wore for your family, friends, other royal members, and the public.

And the one you wore just for him.

But it doesn't mean you love me, does it? You simply trust me because I'm your knight and confidant.

"And you do not lower your eyes to anyone," he added before he could dwell on his thoughts, dropping his hand to his side.

"I thought that's what good girls did," you grinned as you spun away from him and glanced over your shoulder. "Or am I only supposed to be good for you?"

If I had my way, I'd show you just how good you can be for me.

"If I didn't know any better, princess," he said, moving in front of you before you could grab the door handle to open it. "I'd say you were teasing me."

"Maybe I am," your grin widened as you brushed your fingertips along his arm. The light touch had his blood rushing faster in his veins and he fought to keep from shoving you against the door and claiming you as his. "Maybe I'm preparing you for the wedding reception."

"You think I won't put you over my knee if you tease me?" he threatened, his darkened gaze dropping fast enough to see your chest rise when you inhaled. He was certain if he put his hand on your chest, he'd feel your heart race faster.

"You wouldn't, good sir," you said, lifting your head defiantly.

Fuck, how am I supposed to get through this when all I want to do is ruin and cherish you?

"Try me, princess," he whispered as he took one step closer.

He did his best not to stare too deeply into your eyes. It was bad enough how gone he was for you. He also didn't know if the glances, the teasing, any of it was because you cared about him or if you were merely comfortable with him. If you had any idea how he felt, you wouldn't toy with his feelings.

You weren't cruel.

"If you ever put me over your knee, it will only be done with my permission," you said after a moment, rushing out the door with a giggle as he went after you.

"It isn't proper for a princess to run," he called after you as you skidded to a stop along the marble floor and fixed your posture.

"And who's to say what's proper?" you asked as you began to gracefully walk. "Don't think I won't put a codfish on your head."

He hid his smile as he caught up in a few strides, taking his place beside you.

I wish I could take your hand in mine.

There were many who didn’t understand why Bucky would risk his life for someone else simply because of their bloodline or the name tied to them. If any of those people truly knew you, they’d beg to be where he stood. He almost suggested once that Steve should be your personal guard instead when he realized how deeply he cared for you, but he couldn't bear the thought of someone else taking his place. Any knight would watch over you, of course, but would they show you the same care that he did?

Would you trust them the way you trust him?

You stopped outside of your father's study and straightened your dress and exhaled slowly. He understood your nerves. When you had your heart set on something, you wanted it. He prayed they accepted that you wanted him to be your date.

The guard at the door opened it once you nodded. This was one room your parents didn't permit many to enter, outside of family, guards, and anyone cleaning. Your mother sat on one of the ornate sofas, finishing a cup of tea, while your father sat at his desk and looked over his paper. Like when they sat on their thrones, they displayed power and pride.

The only other person in the room was Erma, an older palace worker who had been there long before you were born. She loved you like a granddaughter. Bucky respected her for that and more.

"There you are. We were beginning to wonder if you snuck out for the day," your mother said as she set her cup down and stood to embrace you, giving Bucky a chance to take his place in front of the bookshelf after he bowed. "Would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you," you said, smiling over at Erma as she came over to clear the tea. "Good morning. How are you?"

"Very well, your highness. Sir James," Erma curtsied, even after you told her many times she didn't have to greet you so formally.

"My dear, would you stop looking at that and greet your daughter?" your mom asked.

"I'm seconds away from tearing this to shreds," your dad grumbled as he shoved the paper away. His eyes warmed as he glanced up to look at you. "I'm sorry."

"I didn't mean to disturb you," you said as your mother sat back down, gesturing for you to do the same. "I just wanted to finally tell you who I'm bringing as my plus one to the upcoming wedding. I think I kept you waiting long enough."

Bucky noticed that Erma slowed her cleaning, delaying it so she could listen. She kept the palace tidy and her team in line, but he knew she also observed her surroundings. He didn't fault her for that.

"That isn't a disturbance at all," your father smiled. "Who have you chosen?"

"Sir James," you smiled back.

No one said a word at your declaration. Erma carefully set the teapot on the tray and bowed her head. Your mom didn't look in Bucky's direction, but focused instead on your father.

"Dad? Did you hear me?" you asked.

The king's smile didn't disappear quickly. It faded slowly as he narrowed his eyes and turned his gaze to Bucky. He looked back at the man, not defiantly, but with confidence. The knight wasn't easy to intimidate, far from it, and he was larger than your father. But up against the will of a man with a precious daughter? Would he lose?

Worth losing my other arm if I have to fight.

"You're bringing your knight?" your dad asked, his voice calm as he looked at you. "Explain, please."

"What's there to explain?" you asked, keeping your hands folded on your lap. "My knight is best suited to escort me, especially since he'll be in close proximity to keep an eye on me."

Your mother nodded slowly. "That's true."

"And there's nothing that says I have to bring a prince," you continued. "I asked Sir James and he said 'yes'."

"Did he?" The king swung his gaze back to Bucky.

"He did, your majesty," he answered, even though he didn't direct the question at him.

"To be honest," your father began, sitting back in his chair as he considered his next words. "I thought you might accept the offer from Prince Nicholas. At least, I hoped you would."

Bucky clenched his teeth when your shoulders sagged, but stayed silent. If your dad wanted you to go with Nick, it meant that he wanted something from him. You were a princess, not a pawn.

Or maybe he thinks I'm not good enough to be on your arm.

"I don't want to go with Prince Nicholas," you told your parents, giving each of them a pleading look. "I'm choosing to bring Sir James. This is my choice. I don't need your permission."

Bucky almost went to your side when he caught the wobble in your voice. He wasn't worth getting upset over. He was proud, however, that you stood by your conviction.

And stood by him.

"It is her choice. We discussed that, my dear. You need to respect her decision," the queen said, holding up her hand before her husband could argue. If anyone knew how to put the king in his place, it was her. "I think Sir James is a fine choice. We'll arrange for our tailor to have a suit made."

You lit up like you were going to shout with joy before you cleared your throat and nodded. "Thank you, mom."

"Of course," she said, shifting so she could face Bucky. "You will keep her safe."

If it was possible, her gaze was more intimidating than the King's glare.

"My duty is to serve and protect the princess and you have my word that I will do so, your majesty."

He dared to look away from the queen and saw you smile at him.

I would do anything for you, my princess.

Bucky caught Erma slyly smiling as she excused herself from the room. Though she likely never heard him voice his feelings about you, as he was careful to only tell Steve in secret, she saw how he looked at you. She saw through him.

She also hadn't spoken to your parents about her suspicions, which meant she approved.

"Very good," the queen said, waving a hand toward the door. "Go. You have a busy day ahead of you."

You went to each of your parents and kissed their cheeks, quietly thanking them again. Your relief made Bucky relax. You may not need their permission to take him, but you didn't want to disappoint them.

"Sir James?" your dad spoke before either of you could exit the room. "Please know I meant no offense by my reaction. You're a good man and I know you'll take care of my daughter."

"Thank you, your majesty," Bucky said, bowing before you slipped your arm through his to pull him away.

Your dad might consider him a good man, but the look on his face said this discussion was far from over.

That went well, didn't it? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[stuckysbike]

The Queen Who Married Two Kings

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve (pre-established Stucky)

Arranged Marriage AU, Fantasy AU, Royalty AU

Rating/Warnings: Over 18's only, there will be dark themes and explicit sexual situations. Reader is Stark born, and they're shitty to her.

I’ve tried not to describe reader at all so you can be whomever you want.

Summary: Betrothed to two Kings, you travel with them to their home where you learn more than you ever thought you would. But how are you to cope with two husbands who want to start a family and secure their place in the world?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

[alienoresimagines]

Dying for more crumbs of your "I was made to protect you" Bodyguard/Royalty AU if you're willing to share!

Nonnie!! 🥹🫶🏻 I swear this AU was on the backburner because I couldn't find what I wanted to do with it but your ask really kickstarted it so thank you 🥹❤️ As crumbs, here is my humble offering of John and Gale, twelve years after their first meeting, when they are safe and well in love ❤️ Yes, we're starting backwards but take this as a guarantee I won't kill off any of them 😂 As for the main fic, an outline is starting to be formed and I hope I'll manage to get a few chapters done before uni starts 🥰 But really, none of this would be here without you, so thank you 🥹💕

Also on AO3

Our love, for eternity | Buck x Bucky (Royalty/Bodyguard AU)

John cannot remember the first time someone took his hand to press a kiss on his knuckles. Maybe when he was five, and his father could no longer protect him from the incessant requests of the Council to have him properly introduced to Court? He doesn’t remember much from it, too overwhelmed by all the noise and the crowd present, his only wish to hide himself behind his father’s legs but no longer allowed to, at least not in public. 

Almost thirty years later and he handles it much better, has learned to thrive on the attention and emotions of a crowd, even though he’s man enough to admit his father’s steady presence will always comfort him. Still, despite knowing it is part of protocol and that it is truly the least he can do, letting hundreds of nobles fall to their knees in front of him to bring his hand to their lips isn’t exactly on his pros list of being first Crown Prince and then King. Every day, he understands a bit better why his father chose to pass on the throne to him two years ago to live in a small cottage with Red and who knows how many horses the two men had managed to get their hands on since then. He’d gone to visit the two men just yesterday and they looked happier than ever, and John cannot deny that the idea of a small retreat in a house near the beach with Gale sounds like heaven. But alas, not for another twenty years at the least. 

He can do twenty years. With Gale at his side, he could do eternity as King. And really, when Gale is the one kissing his knuckles, the entire affair is much more tolerable, not to mention enjoyable. It never fails to have John’s entire being buzz with warmth spreading from his chest whenever Gale’s calloused palm gently close around his to bring his hand to his face until the now familiar prickle of beard tickles his skin, soothed by the press of soft lips. It’s a gesture Gale loves, always making sure he holds John’s gaze when his lips touch the tender skin, eyes warm and soft, corners of his mouth turned up even as it rests gently against John’s knuckles. They could be reading side by side in John’s private chambers, loosely holding hands in the space between their two armchairs, fire gently crackling in front of them, and Gale would bring up their joined hands until he could kiss John’s knuckles, only looking up from his book once John could feel his breath fanning over back of his hand. 

In all the years they’ve known each other and amongst all the different things they’ve done with and to each other, few things have felt as intimate as Gale kissing his hand, no matter how many times he’s done it. Each one feels like a vow, full of more emotions and words than anyone could ever see behind the gesture. Many people have brought John’s hand to their lips- or their forehead, an alternative he prefers with strangers, he has to admit- in a sign of loyalty. But Gale always does it in absolute devotion and love, so sincere and raw it never fails to tighten John’s throat with so many emotions he cannot name until he almost chokes on them.

To all assembled in the throne room today, it is a common gesture meant to show utmost servitude to a monarch. To John, it’s timeless proof there is no one more devoted to him and his heart than the man currently kneeling at his feet.

There’s a reverence in how Gale does it. The gentle grip in which he holds John’s right hand, letting the curve of his fingers rest against his index as he brings it closer to his face, head bowed, as if they are the only two present. 

John’s hands aren’t as soft or slender as other women’s in Court. They’re calloused and rough from sword training, knuckles scarred with little cuts here and there. Gale still takes his time swiping his thumb over his knuckles, as though softly uncovering the skin. John feels like the most precious thing in the world, and he has to bite his lip to keep himself from smiling too wide. Then, to his surprise, Gale bows his head even lower until his forehead rests against John’s hand, windswept golden hair tickling the skin of his wrist. He lingers for a moment too long to be anything but on purpose, and John’s heart feels so full of love it might burst right out of his chest to leap into the waiting hands of the man kneeling in front of him. Despite the numerous scars on those war-hardened hands, none would be- and have been- as gentle and tender in holding his heart, of this John is sure.

It’s been two weeks since they’ve seen each other, the longest they’ve ever been apart since they first met, twelve years ago. Neither of them had been particularly willing, but a foreign delegation had specifically asked for Gale to be their escort back home and nothing could have justified John’s refusal; the kingdom is more at peace than it has been in years and Anglia’s relations with its neighbors always need to be strengthened.

To know that Gale had missed him as much John had missed him, enough that he’d chosen to be bolder than usual almost as though he couldn’t help himself? It sends bursts of warmth through John’s gut, golden light flowing through his veins until he feels warm all over, toes curling in his boots. Twelve years and the strength of his love for Gale still threatens to knock him off his feet.

Gale lifts his head, locking eyes with him, and though John needs to be careful of the emotions playing on his face, Gale has no such limits, his back to the rest of the room. Warm and fond and longing, cornflower eyes look up through blond lashes, the smile Gale doesn’t let curve his lips beside the faint upturn of the corners of his mouth dancing in the depths of blue. Then, finally, his lips kiss John’s knuckles in a lingering press, his beard a sweet tickle on his skin. John’s missed the touch so much that his knees feel weak upon feeling it again after two weeks of being starved for it, and a small sigh escapes his lips. Gale must hear it because he wiggles his eyebrows teasingly when he lowers John’s hand with a last caress of his thumb, and it’s all John can do not to pull him up and kiss him senseless, feel the softness of pump lips and the rough but pleasurable burn on his chin and cheeks.

The moment it is appropriate enough for them to go, John is crowding Gale in a secluded alcove until all he can taste are Gale’s kisses. 

“Your Grace,” and oh, how John had missed that deep voice, the way it rumbles through his body in a shiver that goes down his spine. Heat stirs low in his belly, the familiar flames of arousal only stoked by Gale’s intense gaze as John pulls him up.

John is taking him to bed in the following hour, midday and reports be damned. 

Despite this promise to himself, he can’t help the urge to feel Gale close to him, so with an arm around his shoulders, he brings him into a brief hug, clapping his hand on Gale’s shoulder a few times to mask the way he turns his head just so to bury his nose behind Gale’s ear, inhaling deeply. Nobody would blink at this display of affection, the Court well aware of John’s easygoing nature and affectionate ways with friends. 

Too soon, Gale starts pulling back and John reluctantly lets him, for a moment missing the boldness of earlier but recognizing the longing in Gale’s eyes, knowing it mirrors his. 

“You missed me?” Gale chuckles, shakes his head as he steps back to a more appropriate distance. His eyes don’t leave John’s face, as though carefully studying any change that might have happened in the two weeks they’d been apart.

“Like a stone in my shoe.” 

Even if John cannot pull him back into his own body, hold him there with an arm around his shoulders, this is something they can do. The easy banter and fond teasing they both know all the hidden messages of. It’s there, in the warm blue of Gale’s eyes and the smile that pulls at his lips. John is sure it shows in the way his eyes crinkle, how he can barely stop his arms from reaching out again. But nobody will blink at the lack of honorifics or at the fondness coloring Gale’s tone, too used to seeing them attached at the hip when they can be, or Gale always half a step behind John in times of duty. People will smile and write about the unbreakable bond between a King and his Shield, once again proving how Royal and Shield are closer than soulmates, never knowing how true those words are. 

My Clegan fics

[fishyapple]

his highness' duty (clegan royalty au)

In which Gale is the crowned prince and John is his ever loyal captain of the royal guards

(snippit of another wip but royalty this time because I can't committ to any single clegan au at this point,,,,)

______________________________________________________________

Gale stared at him, a hard look in his eyes. John almost wanted to shrink back from it. 

“They know.” It’s not a question from the way he says it, John knows. It’s a statement. He lets out a breath, feeling the air exhale slowly out of him. 

“They know.” He confirms. John tries not to let his thoughts swarm. Tries not to feel his prince’s eyes burning into him. Tries not to feel the hot shame coursing through his veins, his inability to hide himself, to hide them. And then that shame turns into discourse, because why should he have to shoulder such a burden. To watch silently from the sides as the man he loves was almost torn away from him.

He raises his head back to Gale’s, and is startled to find not anger, but a quiet fondness. 

His prince is propped up by multiple pillows and there is still a pallor to his face. His eyes still have shadows underneath them from the surgery and lack of sleep, but John has never found Gale more beautiful. 

“You aren’t angry?” John questions. 

Gale ruefully laughs and shakes his head. 

“How could I be angry with you?” Gale’s voice comes out a little hoarse, but he has always had a deeper gravel to his tone than John did. John sees the blonde trying to sit up and quickly moves to help him adjust.

[deliciousangelfestival]

I Hate It When You're Drunk - 5

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.

I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

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

His body was drenched in sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. Bucky could hardly breathe as the king’s words cut through him like a sword against his neck. The sting of the blade pricking his skin was sharp, and a trickle of blood ran down to the sword’s edge.

“Because my daughter is fond of you, and I owed your father, you think I’d let you roam free?” Leonard pressed the sword against Bucky's neck, the blade pricking his skin until a small drop of blood trickled down.

The king saw the blood and smirked. He pushed Bucky away and wiped the blood off the blade.

Bucky took a deep breath, trying to gather his composure.

“How dare you and other rats try to demolish the monarchy,” Leonard sneered. “Kneel!”

Bucky immediately fell to his knees. “I cannot express how foolish I am, my king.”

The tyrant king scoffed. “So you still see me as your king?”

Bucky kept his gaze down. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Repeat the oath you swore to serve the kingdom,” Leonard commanded.

Bucky clenched his fist. “I, James Buchanan Barnes, as General of Veridian, swear my life to serve the kingdom and give my loyalty to King Leonard Damon II!”

“Say it again!” Leonard barked.

“I, James Buchanan Barnes, as General of Veridian, swear my life to serve the kingdom and give my loyalty to King Leonard Damon II!”

“Again!” Leonard’s voice thundered.

Each time Bucky repeated the oath, it felt like his pride and life were being trampled on. He could just take Leonard’s life right now, but if he did, he would be branded a traitor.

“You look pitiful, James,” Leonard chuckled.

Bucky’s feelings were a tumultuous storm of anger, shame, and helplessness. The humiliation burned in his chest, but he kept his expression stoic, knowing he couldn’t afford to show any weakness.

“I knew you were an idealistic person. Seeing you like this must be difficult for you.” Leonard shook his head.

“I take pride in the name of the tyrant king because of the sacrifices I made to get this throne,” Leonard said, his voice dripping with menace.

“And you?! A boy like you tried a coup d'etat?” His face contorted in fury, his eyes blazing with rage.

“I will take full responsibility, Your Majesty,” Bucky replied, his voice steady despite his fear.

“Don't worry, James. You will get the responsibility.” Leonard’s voice held a sinister note.

Bucky’s breath hitched at the tone of the tyrant king, as if Leonard had caught him in a snare. Bucky lifted his face to see Leonard’s expression, trying to read the king's intentions.

The tyrant king stood taller, dominating the room like a predator that had cornered its prey. “As we speak, my secret guard has captured your little group,” Leonard said, his voice dripping with malice.

“I will crush you, take everything you have, and turn you into an obedient lapdog for my daughter,” Leonard spat. His words were like venom, seeping into Bucky’s blood and poisoning his spirit.

Leonard leaned down, his eyes gleaming like a lion gazing at a helpless rabbit. “Do you know why I succeeded in taking the throne from my brother?”

Bucky stayed silent, but understanding dawned on him, and his heart sank.

“That’s right. There was a traitor among them who took my side. Same with you. There’s a traitor among your ranks.” Leonard’s smirk widened as he saw the realization hit Bucky.

Bucky felt trapped in a tornado, his mind whirling with the betrayal. Among his group, the strong brotherhood that shared the same goal, someone had turned against them. The thought was a knife twisting in his gut.

Leonard gave a strong pat on Bucky’s shoulder, his grip firm and condescending. “This is the last mercy you will receive from me. I let my only child marry you because that’s what she asked of me.” Leonard’s tone was a chilling reminder of the power he held over Bucky’s life.

The way Leonard spoke made it clear: Bucky was alive only because of you. He owed his life to you, and that debt weighed heavily on him.

👑👑👑👑👑

In another room, you are excitedly planning your dream wedding with the royal event planner. Your closest servants, who know this wedding is all you’ve ever wanted, join in with enthusiasm. The room buzzes with ideas and laughter, the air filled with joy and anticipation.

Suddenly, Bucky enters the room, his face pale and his movements tense.

“You leave us alone,” you order the servants, who quickly obey and exit the room.

You approach Bucky, touching his face gently. “Did my father do something?”

Bucky quickly grasps your hand and shakes his head, forcing a smile. “Well, it’s normal for a father to be stern, knowing his daughter will be taken away.”

His words hold some truth, but you can see there’s more to it. Your father must have said something to make Bucky this pale.

Just then, Marvin, the master of the household, enters the room, catching both you and Bucky off guard. “Forgive my rudeness, Your Highness,” he says with a bow, then heads to reach the TV remote.

The screen lights up with a news headline: “Group of Rebels Captured. The rebels were found in their hideouts. Veridian Intelligence successfully apprehended them. It was the king’s order to ensure the country’s safety.”

You gasp, “There’s a rebellion?” The news surprises you, but deep down, you understand the reason. Your father has wiped out all his enemies, but the problems persist.

Behind the smiles, compliments, and bows that you and the king receive, you know some of them harbor deep-seated hatred.

Beside you, Bucky clenches his fist, his knuckles white. His comrades have been captured, and the weight of guilt settles heavily on his shoulders. He feels the sting of betrayal, the pain of seeing those he fought alongside fall into the king’s trap.

“They haven’t done anything bad, yet,” you say, your voice trembling. You turn to Bucky, seeing the turmoil in his eyes.

“They were just trying to fight for what they believed in,” you continue, your voice soft but firm. “But I can’t condone violence either. There must be another way.”

Bucky looked at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and gratitude. In that moment, it was as if a breath of fresh air had swept through him. You understood him, and that understanding meant everything.

“I’ll tell the king not to impose a heavy punishment,” you said, turning off the TV and heading toward Leonard’s study. As you walked away, you felt Bucky’s hand gently grasp yours.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Not fully understanding the depth of his gratitude, you shrugged lightly. “I’ll see you later.” With that, you left, leaving Bucky alone in the room.

As the door closed behind you, Bucky's legs felt weak. He sank to his knees, the weight of his despair pressing him down. The room seemed to close in on him, a metaphorical cage of his own making. The echoes of his own thoughts reverberated in his mind like the clanging of bars, a relentless reminder of his entrapment.

His breathing was shallow, his chest tight with a mixture of anxiety and frustration. Bucky’s fingers trembled as he clutched the carpet, his knuckles white. The crushing reality of his situation settled over him, the hope he’d clung to now feeling like a distant dream.

He felt utterly isolated, trapped in a labyrinth of betrayal and duty. The warmth of your hand lingered on his skin, a fleeting reminder of the life he wished he could have—a life free from the tyranny he now faced.

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[janeykath318]

Bucky x Reader Royalty AU +soulmates

“I have found the man, your highness,” proclaimed the captain of the guard. “He has an incredible knack for hiding.”

You gave a pained smile. The stunningly handsome, but glowering man standing before you dressed in all black over chain mail certainly looked like like he could disappear if he wished. It was a little demoralizing that he’d chosen to disappear almost immediately after the moment of recognition of your shared soulmarks.

“Thank you, Steven,” you told him gratefully. “Will you give us a moment alone, please?”

“Of course, your highness,” Steven bowed, and having giving the man a warning glance, marched out of the room, with your other attendants following. You were alone with your soulmate.

You sat and looked at him unspeaking for a moment. He didn’t move a muscle, and returned your gaze steadily. The man had nerve, you admitted to yourself. Rising from your throne, you approached him and got right in his face. Up close, he was even more attractive and you noticed the blue of his eyes and the dimple in his grouchy chin in full detail.

“Why does such an exemplary knight turn tail at meeting his soulmate?” You queried, circling him slowly. “Surely I am not so terribly objectionable, am I?”

The way his eyes followed you as you suggested the complete opposite, which you took as a hopeful sign.

“In no way, your highness,” he finally spoke. His voice was deep and as majestic as the rest of him. “It is simply because I do not feel my soul is worthy to matched with yours. If you knew me, you would be disgusted at how black it is.”

“Sir James,” you sighed sadly. “I know. I also know what you suffered and sacrificed for our country. Life has not been kind to you, but you DO deserve to find happiness, and I deserve to have a choice in the matter, do I not?”

“Of course you do,” Sir James sighed after a moment. “But it could stir up trouble for you.”

“I can deal with that,” you told him. “Just trust the universe knew what it was doing when it matched us. I’ll never forget that look we shared that day. I felt something. Did not you as well?”

James’s eyes softened as you drew closer again.

“I did,” he admitted. “Very strongly.”

You took his marked right hand in your own so that the two soulmarks touched.

“In that case, Sir James, I am making the choice to try to win your heart. Despite what you think, it IS a good one.”

James stared at the joined hands then back at you.

“Who am I to turn down the queen?” he said finally, relaxing from his stiff posture.

“That’s better,” you encouraged. “Shall we adjourn to a more comfortable area for conversing? I wish to learn more about you.”

“Lead on, my queen.”

[holylulusworld]

Not a queen (8)

Summary: You are no one. What if fate makes you queen?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Maid!Reader x Nick (Fowler) Barnes

Warnings: dystopian world, modern royal au, shy reader, arranged marriage, idiots in love (kinda), hangover, fluff, cuddling, mentions of groping during sleep

This series takes place in the Two kings universe, at the same time. I recommend reading this story first to understand this universe better.

You can find all arcs here: Of Kings and Queens Arcs

Not a queen 7.5

Not a queen (Arc 2) masterlist

“Hmm…” you mumble in your sleep. Your eyes are still closed, and you snuggle into your pillow to get more sleep. You feel warm and safe. “Hmm…”

“Mouse,” a voice whispers in the back of your mind. “What if I make you mine? I could crawl under the covers and taste your sweetness.”

You feel a warm body press against your back. A hand moves over your arm, tickling your skin. It’s soft and gentle.

“Doll,” another voice purrs in your ear. “What if we both make you ours right now? We can just lay claim on your body.”

You flutter your eyes open only to meet a pair of ocean-blue eyes.

“Morning, doll. How did you sleep?”

“I bet she slept well,” Nick nuzzles his face in your neck again. He inhales your scent deeply and purrs your name. “She was between us, brother. The place where she belongs.”

Bucky presses a soft kiss to your temple. He smirks against your skin when you weakly push against his chest.

“We will go for a walk later. You can choose who will go with you. The other one will stay here. From now on, one of us will always accompany you. These are dangerous times, and we need to keep you safe.”

“You are saying this all the time. What’s going on? I don’t understand,” you look at Bucky, demanding answers. “I deserve to know.”

“You’ll get to know everything today. We will talk about it tonight. Give us a bit more time to sort out our thoughts. Nick and I need to think about a few things. The meeting with our allies was fruitful but…alarming.”

“I don’t understand what you are talking about. You’re worrying me,” you sniff. “I don’t want to be a part of all of this. My life was simple, but it was mine.”

“It was a life the law forced you into. They took away your brother from you! You need to face the world as it is,” Bucky sneers. “A rotten place. Dark, cold, and loveless.”

“Buck don’t scare her,” Nick sighs behind you. “It’s not her fault this world is a bad place to live in. She lost her brothers and parents. I think Y/N knows exactly what this world is.”

You lean into Nick’s touch when he wraps his arms around you. He seems to be in a protective mood, and you don’t mind having him close. “Nick, we talked about this. We will fill her in tonight. Period.”

“Fine, but stop being so loud. I still got a hangover and my mouse is already shaking. You’re scaring her.”

“Doll, I’m sorry,” Bucky presses his lips to your temple. “I didn’t want to get loud. I think it’s for the best when you go for a walk with Nick today. I’m a little pumped up…”

Nick holds your hand, smiling wildly as all eyes are on you and the prince. It’s a rare moment. Most of the time Bucky gets all the attention.

“Why is Bucky mad at me?” You question. “Did I say something wrong? I didn’t want to anger him.”

“It’s not your fault, mouse. Bucky is not mad at you, but at the situation we are in. Our friends…King Steve, his father-in-law, and our friend Tony want us to join a fight we aren’t prepared for. At least that’s what Bucky said.”

“A fight?” You whisper. “What do you mean by a fight?”

“We can’t talk about this here. Let’s enjoy our time in the garden,” Nick stops walking. He cups your face with his hands, leaning closer and closer until you feel his lips on yours.

“Nick,” you mumble, but kiss him back. “What about Bucky?”

“I saw you first. I want to have one thing first too,” he presses another kiss to your lips. “You’re my mouse, and he cannot have the first kiss.”

“It was a nice first kiss,” you shyly look up at Nick. He furrows his brows and purses his lips. “What?”

“Only nice?” He shakes his head. “No. We gotta change your mind.” Nick cups the back of your neck and brings your face close to his. He grins and dives back in.

His lips move against yours, taking your breath away. He slides his tongue inside, swiping over your tongue, snaking it with yours. You close your eyes and let yourself fall for the first time in your life.

Your legs wobble when he finally breaks the kiss. “That was,” you breathlessly say, “a kiss…”

Nick grins. He wraps one arm around your shoulders to steady you.

“That it was, mouse. A kiss.”

Bucky watches you curl into a ball on the sofa. You watch the fire feast on the firewood, yawning loudly.

“No sleeping yet, doll,” Bucky crouches down next to you to run his hand over your head. “We wanted to talk. Do you remember?”

“Hmm…I know. You wanted to tell me about the things your friends said, or want you to do.”

“Why did you stay in the garden for so long, Nick? You knew that we need to talk to Y/N,” Bucky sighs as his brother sits next to you on the couch, grinning. “What is it?”

“I stole the first kiss!” Nick proudly states. “I made her legs wobble, and she suckled at my tongue.”

“You did what?” Bucky grunts. “You fucker!”

“Language, brother,” Nick singsongs. “She enjoyed every second. I told you she’s my sweet mouse.”

You look at Bucky who glances at your lips. He sighs deeply. Of course, he wanted to kiss you first, but he knows his brother always came second. Even to their father. “Did he kiss you good, doll?”

Your cheeks heat up at Bucky’s question. You run your index finger over your lips, still feeling Nick's lips on yours. “It was very nice.”

“I’ll steal the next kiss, Y/N.” Bucky grins. “But only if you want me to.”

“I want you to,” you can believe you just said that. “Maybe tomorrow, when we go for a walk.”

“We need to talk about a few things first.”

“Nick said something about a fight.” You slowly sit up to look at Bucky. “What does that mean, Bucky? Will you get hurt?”

“Buck…don’t…” Nick shakes his head as his brother takes a deep breath. “Can we not keep her out of this?”

“I want to know.” You grab Bucky’s hand. “Please don’t shut me out. If you want me to become your wife, you cannot hide things from me.”

“It’s not a fight,” Nick shakes his head. “It’s…” He grabs your hand to press a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“A revolution I suppose…” 

>> Part 8.5

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Alpha, Beta (& Omega)"

Rated: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6883

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: a/b/o, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, nobility/royalty au, alternate history, dom/sub elements, beta bucky, anal sex, oral sex, hurt/comfort, first time, age gap, domestic discipline, spanking, head of household, wedding night, Edwardian time period, m/f/m poly marriage

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

Story Masterlist

20. An Inquiry

This Chapter: They’ve only been married for a matter of months, after all. It seems almost insultingly soon for the mothers of Society to be sending in their requests to make enviable matches.

As Congress enters its fall session, Steve gets very busy with work. He’s away from the house most of the time, leaving early in the mornings and staying at his office in the city until late at night. He rarely makes it home for lunch anymore, and many suppers are missed as well, the servants wrapping up a plate to be reheated hours later. 

In the mornings, Bucky hates waking up alone in their bed, the heat of Steve’s large body already faded from the sheets. He knows that his husband is a Senator, is important, but that doesn’t make lonely meals or going to bed by himself any easier. Steve never initiates sex anymore, and it’s almost hurtful, even though Bucky knows it’s because he’s so busy, so tired. There’s little opportunity for Bucky to try and initiate sex either. He’s a heavier sleeper than Steve. Oftentimes the Alpha will slip into bed one night and right back out the next morning, Bucky having slept soundly through both events.

All of a sudden, Bucky misses the intimacy that’d been growing between them as new husbands. He feels, well … neglected.

“I’m tired, Baby,” Steve will say, when Bucky does manage to wake up in the night, when he turns over and spoons up against his Headship’s sleeping warmth, tries to slip a hand over Steve’s waist and down the front of his pajama pants. “Tomorrow, Babe,” Steve will promise, and rearrange Bucky in his arms with a sleepy, close-eyed smile. 

But those promises never materialize, and Bucky still wakes alone more often than not.

It’s just the lifestyle, he knows. Steve is a Senator. He’s dealing with important bills, working hard on legislation and coalitions, all for the good of their country. He’s down to DC every other week, and Bucky knows that his husband hates the traveling, especially when it’s only for a day or two of endless bickering sessions and snail’s-pace progress. 

“Long train trips have a great way of pointing out how old I am,” he tells Bucky wryly, but he’s only thirty, and Bucky makes fun of him for complaining.

“Right, because you’re so ancient.”

“Hey, you don’t know,” Steve gives a lopsided smile. “The benches are godawful.”

“Come upstairs with me,” Bucky cajoles one morning, taken by Steve’s expression. The alpha is dressed for travel and surrounded by his baggage in the foyer, waiting for Jarvis to bring the car around to take him to Grand Central Station. Bucky grabs his hand and gives a pull towards the stairs. “Real quick? It won’t take ten minutes.” He’s envisioning Steve pressed up against their bedroom wall and Bucky on his knees, a hasty suckjob while he jerks himself off. He offers Steve a saucy wink as he tugs on his hand. “C’mon, I want to give you a proper send off.” 

Steve laughs and extricates himself from Bucky’s grasp, giving good-natured excuses about how he won’t be able to control himself from taking things further, and how he’ll most certainly miss his train. He brushes him off, and Bucky has to pretend that it doesn’t hurt his feelings when the only intimacy he receives from his Headship is a placating kiss on his cheek.

“Be good,” Steve says, turning for the door. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

Bucky pouts, put out. He supposes the honeymoon phase is over.

One of Bucky’s jobs as Steve’s Spouse is to sort through the daily mail. As a senatorial household, they receive quite a lot. Sharon brings it to him after lunch most days, and Bucky sits at a little writing desk that’s in the back parlor and sorts through it all. The bulk of the mail is business related for Steve’s position, and Bucky knows not to go opening that. He gives those sorts of things back to Sharon for Steve to open at his leisure.

Bucky receives letters from his mother weekly, and also a fair number of social inquiries. There are weekly requests from other Society betas and omegas, asking Bucky to attend their teas and luncheons, their garden parties and charities. Bucky wouldn’t know how to get through something as tedious as a garden party, finding the prospect of such frivolous events to be dreadfully irksome. He has contemplated joining a charity board or two, but the rest are all firm impossibilities.

He prides himself on the fact that he’s gotten quite good at penning the most eloquent and polite refusals, so it’s quite the occasion when he opens a letter one afternoon with a specific social request to which he has no idea how to respond. He’s just set the letter opener down after opening the blush stained stationary that’s been addressed to: 

The Beta Spouse of Capt. Senator Steven G. Rogers, Lord James B. Rogers.

At first he’s only wondering about what sort of person would select pale pink stationary on which to write their correspondence, but that thought is wiped from his mind once he actually reads what the letter has to say:

Dear Sir, My name is May Marceau. You do not know me. Indeed, we have never yet had the chance to meet. But I am hoping that may soon change. I am writing on behalf of my beloved nephew and ward, Peter Parker, a boy of fine character and genteel disposition whom my wife and I have raised as our own since he was very young. He is now an eligible omega of Society by way of my wife, whose family has served for three generations as the elected of New York’s congressional district fourteen (Queens).  Peter is a kind and obedient young man, with a keen wit and engaging demeanor. He is accomplished in both the fine arts and homemaking tasks, but is not overly fond of the events of the season where a young fellow such as he would be most likely to meet interested suitors. Given this, I have taken it upon myself to make inquiries on his behalf. I read of your marriage this past summer to Senator Rogers, and I do hope you received our family’s card of congratulations for you and your new husband. I hope married life is treating you both well. Personally, I know only a little of Lord Rogers and yourself, but I have seen you at Society functions, and have heard only the most flattering things about your Headship and how he comports himself with his work. My wife and I are in agreement that he is undoubtedly a good man, and we must deduce the same about you. That brings me to my long-delayed point, which is of course to ask that both you and your husband consider the prospect of my nephew Peter becoming your Third. He is a sweet and comely boy who would make a fine addition to an esteemed House such as yours. I do hope you will consider alerting Senator Rogers to this inquiry, and perhaps soon a chaperoned meeting might be arranged.  I will wait with much hope for your reply.  Respectfully, May Marceau.

Bucky sits there at the parlor’s writing desk, dumbfounded for quite a while. He rereads the letter multiple times, trying to make sense of his feelings about it. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised. This is the way that these things are done, after all. Bucky’s own mother would have sent a similar letter to Steve’s beta father, back when she first inquired. The idea of it brings heat to his face, as he thinks about how the beta man would’ve then brought the letter directly to Steve himself, as Lady Rogers had already passed away and Steve assumed the family’s Seat. Bucky figures he should be grateful, at least, that it’s tradition for these inquiries to be sent to beta Spouses. That means he’s seeing this first, instead of Steve. And, technically, he has discretion on what to do now.

He flips the stupidly pink envelope back over, rereading how it was addressed only to him. Not to Steve, not to him and Steve. Just to Bucky. But even so, the line reads: The Beta Spouse of Capt. Senator Steven G. Rogers, Lord James B. Rogers. Bucky is defined as belonging to his Headship, and he knows that he’s expected to tell Steve about this inquiry. Hiding it would be … sneaky at best, punishable at worst. And Bucky really isn’t over that one time Steve took his belt to him during their honeymoon, so …

He wonders what Steve will say.

Insecurity flutters in his stomach as he imagines Steve deciding that they need to be polite, that they need to arrange a chaperoned meeting with this omega named Peter. Marceau—Bucky isn’t familiar with the name, though that’s not a surprise. There are dozens of elected in New York, and they all have their own children. They aren’t common, but they certainly aren’t High Society like Bucky and Steve are. Congressional districts’ elected positions are frequently kept by the same family throughout generations, but they aren’t inherited like Senatorial Seats are, so the family names do sometimes change. It would be an exercise in futility to attempt to keep track of them all. 

Mrs. Marceau made sure to emphasize in her letter that her nephew has been raised in their household and is considered to be just like a son—which indicates to Bucky that the boy’s real parents must have been of common origins. That doesn’t truly matter to him, but he winds up thinking rather snotty things about it anyway, just because this is his Alpha that’s being inquired about, and he isn’t inclined to be generous in thought.

He wonders how old Peter is, what he looks like. Sometimes inquiries are sent with a little picture included as additional enticement (and good God, Bucky hopes his own mother hadn’t included a picture in her inquiry), but there is none here, not even when he curiously rechecks the envelope for something missed. Bucky purses his lips. Maybe Peter’s not as ‘comely’ as his aunt suggests.

It’s a shallow, bitter little snipe of a thought that makes Bucky feel petty and foolish as soon as he has it. He scoffs at himself and begins to stuff the paper back into the envelope, unsure when exactly he’ll bring it up with Steve. They’ve only been married for a matter of months. It seems almost insultingly soon for the mothers of Society to be sending in their requests to make enviable matches. Bucky wonders if Steve’s fathers had felt the same way, when House Barnes’ request was received just after Sarah Rogers had died and Steve assumed the family’s Seat …

Sharon clears her throat from right beside Bucky, nearly making him jump out of his chair. “Christ!” he hisses, feeling overwhelmed. He buries his face in his hand. “Sharon. Jeez.”

“Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. She cocks her hip and holds out her hand. “Steve’s mail?”

Bucky sighs and grabs the pile of letters that he’s laid aside separately. “Here.”

Sharon’s eyes flit over the hastily re-stuffed pink envelope, but they don’t linger. “Hm,” she says, and walks away, likely headed for Steve’s office. Bucky wants to snap at her to act like a goddamn servant and not say “Hm” or raise her eyebrows like that or call Steve ‘Steve’ instead of his title. But he doesn’t say a thing. He knows he’s just being grumpy.

… And he’s pretty sure that Sharon would low-grade poison his meals if he talked to her like that.

The first time Bucky witnesses his husband pleasuring himself, he’s so shocked that he doesn’t know what to do. It’s in the evening—after dinner, but not so late as to be time to head off to bed. Steve had finished his meal at dinner and then left, requesting private time to work in his office and not be disturbed. But Bucky thinks that he might entice him into stopping his work for the evening and enjoying a nightcap together. Maybe they can even fuck in the office, on the rug in front of the fireplace.

That’s not what happens.

Steve is in his desk chair when Bucky opens the door. His eyes are closed, so he doesn’t notice Bucky, and Bucky freezes in place with his mouth agape. He can’t actually see anything, as Steve’s desk blocks his lower half from view, but it’s very obvious what he’s doing. His face is pinched and his jaw is slack, lips parted and shoulder moving in that telltale way …

Feeling his blood rush to multiple places, Bucky shuts the door and scampers away and doesn’t tell Steve what he walked in on. Then in the succeeding days he winds up feeling hurt, of all things. He convinces himself that it isn’t a very good sign, the way his Headship is behaving. First Steve turns his advances away each night, claiming stress and exhaustion, and now Bucky finds him resorting to harried self-pleasure! He fumes over it, worrying that perhaps it’s something to do with him, that something has changed and that Steve doesn’t want him sexually any more.

His frustration is compounded by the fact that he has to begrudgingly admit to himself that he was turned on by the sight of Steve touching himself like that. He shouldn’t find it so arousing, because Steve probably wasn’t even thinking of him while he did it. He was probably thinking of someone else, maybe one of their servants, or some delicate Society omega. Steve is clearly a good man and loving husband, but perhaps he’s oriented the same way Bucky’s father is. Perhaps he truly desires omegas, and Bucky is merely filling a spot for tradition’s sake.

He can’t bring himself to tell Steve about these fears. He feels silly and petty for having them. He decides to keep trying his best to be a good Spouse for Steve, as that’s all he can really do. He reconsiders the possibility of an engagement, thinking that maybe a Third in their marriage taking all of Steve’s attention would be better than the alternative of growing resentment and an eventual affair.

Bucky’s father had had lots of affairs, had even kept a household with a common woman. It’s an arrangement that many alphas in Society have, Bucky knows. An open secret that nobody talks about. Steve’s promised that he would never do such a thing, but alphas have needs, and Bucky is beginning to worry that he’s not enough to meet Steve’s. As long as he can keep Steve’s attentions contained well enough—enough to prevent an affair, to prevent something like what Bucky’s father had done—maybe Bucky can be satisfied. Maybe he’ll have to be. Steve has all the control in their marriage, after all. He might not give Bucky the choice.

Another night, after a dinner that they eat separately because Steve’s still working away in his office, Bucky sidles up behind him when they’ve dressed for bed and tries to entice him into some intimacy. “I miss feeling your touch,” he murmurs into the bend of Steve’s neck, inhaling his scent in a manner so obvious that Steve can’t possibly miss it. “Husband?”

Steve groans and turns around. He smiles tiredly and kisses Bucky on the forehead, the hug he provides far from what Bucky had in mind. “It’s been such a long day, Buck. Snuggle me instead?”

Bucky wants to scoff, but he can’t manage it. Steve’s too sweet in the moment, telling him that he loves him and coaxing him into the bed, both of their nightclothes on and no sex to be had. “Sorry, Honey,” he mumbles into Bucky’s hair. “Tomorrow, m’promise.”

But the next day, Steve’s back on the train to DC.

Bucky’s feeling morose and petulant and too much in his head when, two days later, the photographs from the wedding arrive.

It’s raining heavily outside and has been all day (a fitting match to Bucky’s mood), and Pietro comes into the parlor soaked to the bone. Bucky’s eyes widen but Pietro just waves off his attempt to get up from his moping and do something to help dry him off. “Don’t worry,” he says good naturedly. “Towels in the kitchen.” He lays his parcel down on the room’s coffee table with a smile. “Picked these up at the photographer’s studio.”

“What?” Bucky’s asking, even as Pietro hurries from the room, his clothes making sad, soggy sounds as he goes. Bucky sighs and gets up from his chair to go take a look at the package that Pietro somehow managed to keep dry. Inside the large envelope are over a dozen photographs, and Bucky’s heart beats a little faster as he realizes what he’s looking at.

It’s funny. He hasn’t really thought about the day of their wedding since it happened. He’s a very in the moment kind of guy, and with their weeks-long honeymoon and return to New York, setting up house and falling into a routine, Bucky hasn’t spent much time reminiscing about the actual day they got married.

The first photograph is of Bucky and Steve standing outside the front doors of the church, hands clasped and smiling. They both look shy in the picture, but Bucky doesn’t fail to notice how Steve’s smile, however small, looks more real than his own. Steve looks like he was genuinely happy in that moment. The idea that Steve had actually wanted the marriage, even back then, makes Bucky soften a little despite himself.

He sinks down onto the sofa and runs his thumb over the edge of the picture, looking at how his own timid smile looks far less convincing. Mostly Bucky just thinks he looks stressed in the picture, and that makes him set the first photo aside. He hates to think that his attitude that day might’ve ruined the pictures, that for the rest of their married lives, any time Steve wants to look back and reminisce, he’ll have to see Bucky’s pained smiles in every photo.

He flips to the next picture, which is a posed portrait with him and Steve and both of their parents. They’re arranged the way the photographer had told them to be, and Bucky likes this one a little better than the last, even though nobody’s smiling. They’d been told not to, as it isn’t customary for such a formal portrait, and therefore no sad or anxious emotions can be deduced on anyone’s face, let alone Bucky’s. He thinks that he actually looks quite handsome in his suit and well-styled hair. And Steve, well. Steve looks incredibly dashing. Bucky hums lightly and sets that photograph aside as well, being careful with his handling of the glossy paper. They’ll have to have all of these framed, he thinks; order copies, as his mother is sure to request some, perhaps Steve’s fathers as well. 

There are a few more of the formal style portraits, some of just Bucky and Steve, some with Bucky’s sisters included as well. Bucky is pleased to find that the photographer captured a few candid shots of their reception back at Steve’s parents’ house, everything less formalized and more jovial. Natasha is in two of them, and Bucky instantly misses her. He tells himself that he’ll have to arrange a visit soon. He hasn’t heard much from his friend since the wedding, and he wonders what she’s been up to.

Probably having more of a life than Bucky ever will. He tries not to be bitter about that. He cares deeply for Natasha and knows she deserves a full life. He promises himself that he’ll be happy for her, when she comes to visit and tells him all about her plans: what University she’s decided on, where her pre-university travels are going to take her, what subject she’s leaning towards for a future career path. Bucky won’t be bitter. He won’t.

The last photograph is another posed one, and Bucky’s struck by the keen memory of when they’d taken it. The photographer had directed him and Steve into the Rogers’ study, where there was a large portrait of Steve’s parents, posed in the traditional manner for a complete marriage: Sarah Rogers standing, Gregory Rogers seated in a chair at her side, and Joseph Rogers kneeling at both of their feet; Gregory’s one wristband on display as he reached up and lightly touched his wife’s arm, Sarah’s hand resting down on Joseph’s shoulder, her wedding rings right next to where his collar sat visible on his neck.

Given that the Rogers’ marriage had completed just over three decades ago, it’s a painted portrait rather than photographed. The three of them had posed solemn-faced, but still managed to look very happy. A satisfied triad. Joseph, in particular, looked very content in his kneeling position, expression close to beaming. Having met Steve’s two fathers and seen photographs of them with their late wife, Bucky knew straight away that it was an amazingly lifelike rendering. The artist had done well in capturing their love.

Of course, that’d only made it more awkward for Bucky on the day of his and Steve’s wedding, when they had to pose just in front of the portrait of Steve’s parents, directed by the photographer to echo the traditional positions of alpha and beta Spouse. Bucky remembers having had a few glasses of wine by then, and he’d been peevish at being made to sit in the chair next to Steve, at being ordered about and told to make sure his jacket sleeve rode up enough to showcase his wristband as he touched Steve’s arm.

“It’s just one photo,” Steve had admonished him at the time, imploring Bucky with his eyes to behave and just get through it. Bucky had acquiesced—but not without a good eye roll or two. Luckily, he’d schooled his expression properly before the photographer snapped the shot.

Now, Bucky bites his lip as he examines the photo of him and Steve. They look … like a suitably married couple. The intent of the photo is traditional: to highlight the lack of an omega Spouse kneeling at his and Steve’s feet. It’s a “one day” sort of photo, one that they’ll show to their future Third and hang next to the portrait that’ll be taken of all three of them, once their marriage is complete. They’ll smile and reminisce, and Steve’ll say things like, “Oh, look back at when Bucky and I first met. Can’t believe we didn’t have you, my Darling. Now we’re complete. Isn’t it so wonderful?”

That’s the idea, anyway. Couples are supposed to yearn for and search out their Third until they find them, then rejoice at having attained the domestic ideal of a Triad. Bucky decides he likes this photograph the very least of the bunch. He sets it aside and stacks all the others back on top of it, sliding them into the envelope and abandoning them there. He’ll show them to Steve when (or if) the alpha ever returns home from work on time. Steve practically lives in his office these days, so Bucky’s not exactly motivated to make it a priority to cater to him. He returns to his chair by the window and stares out at the rain, thinking about the inquiry from the other day, from May Marceau about her nephew.

If Nat were here, he could ask her to do some investigating, find out who the omega is, what he’s like. Natasha has a keen talent for such things. Bucky misses her all over again and wishes that she was there with him to hash out the issue. She’d commiserate, he thinks. She’d agree that it’s definitely too fucking soon for social climbing parents to be sending in their inquiries. Maybe she’d even back Bucky up on not telling Steve about it.

He hasn’t yet. He feels a little guilty about that, but pushes it away with a petulant reminder that it’s more Steve’s fault than his. The alpha’s never home to talk to anyways. Bucky sits there and grumps about it. He knows Steve has work, that he’s miles more important than Bucky is or ever will be, but surely he could at least make more of an effort to be close with one another? Surely if he tried harder they could have the occasional breakfast together, or dinner, or Steve could make an attempt to have sex with him like they used to. It’s been weeks.

Bucky wonders if Steve would make the effort if he had an omega waiting at home for him. That thought sits in his stomach like sour grapes, but Bucky can’t shake it. Would Steve be more eager if their marriage was complete? Bucky knows it’s something Steve wants one day. He knows his Headship wants a family with children. As a male beta, Bucky can’t give him that. But an omega could.

An omega like Peter.

Bucky thinks of maybe telling Steve about the inquiry, just to see what his reaction is, if his face lights up or not. Maybe Steve thinks about these things more than Bucky knows, maybe he goes into the city for work and sees omegas out and about with their chaperones and wishes that one of them were his. Maybe he thinks about making love to an omega, when he touches himself behind Bucky’s back.

Scowling at his sullen train of thought, Bucky shoves up from the sofa. “Snap out of it,” he mutters, because he’s had enough of himself. He really does need some company. He can’t keep sitting here idly day in and day out, overthinking everything. Even if he can’t stomach the tea parties and other insipid invitations of his fellow Society Spouses, there are other options. He’ll arrange a visit with Natasha, he decides, striding out into the hallway. And he’ll telephone instead of write. No sense wasting time with the post. His dour mood can’t take the delay.

The second time Bucky catches his husband pleasuring himself, he doesn’t back away.

It’s late. Bucky’s been woken from sleep by the sound of the bathroom door closing lightly. He sits up in the bed and blinks blearily, eyes adjusting to the darkness and then making sense of the shapes of suitcases he can see sitting on the bedroom floor. Steve is back. Sleepy as he is, Bucky’s heart quickens in excitement. This latest trip lasted longer than normal, almost five full days. He’s missed his husband and is eager to see him. 

A noise sounds, and Bucky’s eyes dart over to the bathroom door. It’s closed, but there’s a faint light coming from underneath, as though Steve has lit just one of the gas lamps inside the bathroom. Bucky slides out of bed and pads over to the door, intending to go in and surprise Steve with a hug. He only gets the door open part way before he’s freezing in place.

Steve is standing at the vanity, hunched over a little. He’s got one hand on the marble countertop, propping himself up, and his other hand is ��� oh. Bucky swallows heavily, his belly swirling and pelvis tightening in arousal at the sight of Steve touching himself. 

His eyes are closed and he’s breathing open-mouthed as he braces against the counter and pumps his cock in fast strokes. It’s all very frantic, hurried, like he’s trying to get it over with quickly. He’s still dressed, with his shirttail pulled loose and his collar undone, both sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his fly open in the front where he’s pulled himself out and is furtively jerking off. 

Bucky stares at the tight, focused motions of Steve’s fist working right at the head, appreciating his strong forearm, its dusting of hair and flexing tendons. It’s so sexy, so masculine. Steve’s got big hands, the veins prominent underneath the skin, his grip strong as he tugs on his cock. Bucky can’t peel his eyes away as he stands there and watches, a boner forming dizzyingly fast beneath his sleep clothes.

God, Steve’s beautiful when he’s feeling pleasure. And the spectacle of him giving it to himself has got Bucky hard within seconds. There’s an element of shame to this as well, though. This is private. Steve thinks he’s alone. He wants to do this alone. That hurts and confuses Bucky: that his husband hasn’t come to him for sex, would rather touch himself hurriedly and hushed in the dark. But Bucky can’t think about it now. He should be retreating back into the bedroom right now, he knows he should. But he feels frozen in place, unable to look away or make himself move. He fears that the slightest twitch or sound from him will alert Steve to his presence.

There are soft, barely-heard noises of Steve’s shirtsleeve rustling, of skin on skin. It’s hurried, what he’s doing, desperate and fast and forced-quiet as he strips his cock in the next room over from his supposedly sleeping Spouse. It’s as if he’s been waiting a long time to do this. Maybe things had been too hectic in DC, these past few days, maybe Steve’s been too stressed, unable to really let loose until now. Bucky’s cock throbs at the thought of his Alpha being so pent up that he has to touch himself like this. He’s been away in DC for four nights and hasn’t touched Bucky in nearly two weeks. There’s an anguished pinch between his eyes, his jaw slack from panting and lips shiny from how he keeps wetting them with his tongue. 

Bucky wants him so bad he can hardly stand it.

Then Steve makes a low, barely-there sound in his throat, and opens his eyes to look down at where he’s touching himself. Bucky’s heart leaps into his throat and he jerks in place, and the movement must catch in the mirror or something, because Steve’s head whips to the side in a flash. His hand freezes on his cock, eyes going wide. “Buck.”

Bucky is mortified, caught out watching his husband in such a private moment. He opens his mouth, trying to think of something to say. “I-I—”

“Shit.” Steve’s entire face is going red. He’s taken his hand off himself and is pulling at his shirt to cover in front. He’s stopping.

“Wait,” Bucky says, because he hates that, and his heart is still in his throat. “Don’t. Don’t stop.”

Steve’s eyes get wider. “What?”

Bucky pushes the door open the rest of the way. He takes a step past the door frame, inserting himself into the space where his husband had thought he’d had privacy. “I want to see,” he whispers, feeling absolutely wanton for saying it. “Keep … keep going.”

Steve’s color deepens even further, and he can’t meet Bucky’s eyes. “Buck, No.”

“Please?” Bucky says, taking another hesitant step in. He stops and waits until Steve looks at him. “Touch yourself. Let me watch.” He loves seeing how the embarrassment in Steve’s face gives way to cautious arousal. He’s surprised and maybe a little disbelieving at first, but that’s quick to fade, replaced instead with dark interest and heated, heavy-lidded eyes. He makes to move towards Bucky, but Bucky steps back. “No,” he says. “I want to watch. I want to watch you do it to yourself.”

Steve’s scent spikes, smokey and aggressive. If he were any less of a gentleman, he’d probably be growling by now. As it is, his eyes get dangerously keen, a glint to them that makes him look predatory, which is decidedly un-Stevelike.

Bucky’s belly clenches in desire at that look. The smell of aroused alpha winds into his senses and makes him feel that much more light headed by what’s happening. He feels like a child playing with fire, or poking a bear. “Steve,” he urges, voice coming out breathier than he means for it to. “Go on.”

Steve reaches for his shirt and begins to undo it deftly, staring Bucky down the whole time. Watching those strong hands working down the row of buttons is more erotic than it has any right to be—especially when Bucky’s just stood there and seen those fine tendons and long fingers working between his husband’s legs. He licks his lips, waiting with bated breath as Steve rids himself of the shirt completely

His cock is bared as soon as he does, exposed through the gape of his fly. It’s obscene. He’s fully hard and bobbing in the air, big and thick and shiny at the tip. He stands there and doesn’t touch himself for a long moment, letting Bucky look his fill as the tension builds between them. “You like it?” he finally asks in a voice gone raspy with arousal. He still manages to sound smug, as if he knows just how much heat is flushing through Bucky’s face right now. 

Maybe he does. Bucky’s never had much of a poker face.

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. He’s got to force himself to stand still, to not rush over and sink to his knees in front of Steve and offer his mouth for the taking. He knows exactly how good it would feel to have that thick cockhead resting against his tongue, filling his mouth, consuming his senses. And god, he wants it.

“Bucky?”

He inhales sharply through his nose, attention shooting back up to Steve’s face. Steve’s looking at him with amusement. He’s laughing at him. Bucky straightens his spine. “You heard me,” he says bossily, egged on by Steve’s Alpha ego and how fucking hot it is. “I want to see it."

“See what?” Steve taunts. “Say it.”

“You’re the one who’s been ignoring me for weeks,” Bucky snaps. “So go on: Touch yourself.”

The smirk slips right off Steve’s face. He takes a step towards Bucky, then seems to rethink it with the way his exposed cock bobs in the air. “C’mere,” he says, quietly but serious, like he might use his Voice next if Bucky doesn’t listen.

Bucky swallows thickly and steps closer, only a few feet away from the vanity and Steve and his exposed flesh. Steve closes the remaining distance between them and wraps an arm around his waist, pulling them together. Bucky inhales sharply at the sudden press of his husband’s warm body, the turned-on smell of him, the hard line of his cock that’s now wedged in between them. Bucky struggles to get any words out. “I—”

“You been feeling ignored, Sweetheart?” Steve murmurs, leaning in to press his face against Bucky’s neck. He starts kissing him in barely-there pecks, repeats the question, “You feelin’ lonely? Feelin’ needy?” against his skin, and it’s more his voice than the kisses that makes Bucky’s knees go weak.

“I … are you kidding?” he sputters. His eyes slip closed without his permission. “Of-of course! You’ve been—christ—you’ve hardly been here, and you never wanna …” He loses track of the sentence, because Steve has started tracing the shell of his ear with his tongue, and the feeling of it is just devastating, searing a line of heat straight down to his cock, turning his brain to mush. He moans and his hips stutter forward into Steve’s without his permission. “Oh.”

Steve chuckles darkly and steadies him. “Easy there, Doll.”

Holy f— Steve’s never called him that before. Bucky … Bucky likes it. He hums with his eyes closed as Steve starts nuzzling over where his scent gland is. He scrapes his teeth over the spot as if he’s thinking about biting it, and Bucky moans, “Steve.”

“Yeah?”

He whines and pushes against Steve’s chest. “Wasn’t kidding. I want you to do it. I want to see.” Bucky rarely makes sexual requests like this. Steve took his virginity months ago, and they’ve fallen into a routine of easy, instinctual, enjoyable sex. Bucky knows his face is flaming as he says it, as Steve locks eyes with him again and rumbles deep in his chest. Fuck. Bucky whimpers needily. Steve slides one hand up to the back of his neck and uses it to hold him in place. He reaches down between them and wraps his other hand around his cock.

Bucky’s heart is beating out of his chest, and he’s so hard it actually hurts not to be touching himself right now. Steve’s so close, right up against Bucky as he starts stroking himself off. Their feet are touching, breath mingling between them. Bucky’s erection is obvious beneath his sleep pants, the backs of Steve’s knuckles bumping it as he strokes himself off. “Christ,” Bucky whispers.

“Shh,” Steve murmurs. “Just watch.”

Bucky does. Steve’s fully hard, giving himself slow, tight strokes. He wrings his hand down the shaft, only going halfway down before he squeezes back up and twists his fingers roughly over the head, rubbing his foreskin and squeezing like he’s trying to milk more precum from the tip. Bucky’s mouth waters when he sees how wet his husband is getting, how dark and thick he is. “S-steve,” he says shakily, once again wanting so badly to sink to his knees. “Let me suck you.” He starts to move, but Steve’s hand tightens harshly at the back of his neck, holding him in place.

“Uh uh,” he grunts, authoritative and smug. “You wanted to watch. So watch.” Bucky whimpers and Steve chuckles darkly at him. “It’s what you would’ve done if I hadn’t seen you, isn’t it?” he asks. “Kept watching?” Bucky can’t bring himself to answer, but Steve doesn’t seem like he’s waiting for a reply anyway. “Yeah, you would’ve. Horny little boy. You would’ve stood there in the dark and watched.”

Bucky moves closer and changes his angle, pressing his clothed cock to Steve’s thigh. Just that slight pressure feels amazing. Steve hisses under his breath and squeezes his cock tighter, and Bucky has to ball his own hands into fists to keep from touching either one of them. “Fuck,” he grits out in a harsh whisper when Steve grinds his thigh forward with purpose. “Ugh, Steve.”

“It gets you hot, huh?” he says. “Watching me jerk off? Seeing how your Alpha likes to touch himself when he’s alone?”

“Yes,” Bucky breathes, staring between their bodies and clinging to Steve, not ashamed anymore. Steve’s hand is so big, his fingers so strong and thick around his cock—His cock that’s wet and near to purpling, it’s so hard. Bucky eyes the darker skin at the base where his knot is. He’s thicker now, not blown yet but getting there. Bucky desperately wants to touch it. “Steve please,” he begs, all dignity gone. “Please let me. Let me just touch. A little?”

Steve grunts and starts stroking himself faster, obviously turned on by Bucky’s desperation. He scruffs him with the hold he’s got on the back of his neck. “No,” he grunts. He lets go, uses that hand to hastily shove his own pants and underwear past mid-thigh. Bucky groans as everything is bared to him, and Steve growls a dark, possessive sound. “Get down on your knees and watch.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck everything in the world that makes Bucky want so badly to obey his husband. He sinks to his knees, Steve pushing him down as he goes. With his face at the level of Steve’s dick, it’s even harder to keep himself from toppling forward and trying to take Steve into his mouth. But Steve hasn’t stopped stroking himself to give him the chance. Bucky whines like he’s an omega in heat being denied alpha cock, and he shuffles as close as he can, pressing his face to Steve’s leg, cheek against his thigh and lips only centimeters from where Steve’s fisting himself. Bucky groans at the overwhelming scent of him. “Alpha,” he breathes, because he wants it so bad. “Oh, God. Let me.”

Steve moans and keeps going. He’s close. Losing the tight, measured control from before, stripping his cock faster and faster.

Bucky’s gaze slides down to his balls, so big and heavy and pulled up tight now, ready to release. “Shit,” he breathes, one hand sliding down between his own legs without thought and grabbing his cock through the fabric of his sleep pants. He squeezes and gasps, looks at how the dark skin of Steve’s knot is swelling, imagines what that added girth would feel like if they were having sex, how it would feel bumping against his rim, or even … even pressing inside …

“Fuck,” Steve grits out, close. Bucky’s eyes fly up and they connect gazes, and it is the hottest moment of Bucky’s entire fucking life. “Baby,” Steve gasps. “M’gonna cum.”

“Yeah.” Bucky takes his chance. He leans in and puts his mouth on Steve’s knot, taking as much as he can reach from his position. Steve makes a noise like the air has been punched from his body, and his stroking stutters. His free hand grabs Bucky’s hair without mercy, pressing Bucky’s face into his crotch hard as he shouts and jerks himself off into climax.

Bucky comes with barely a squeeze to his own cock, and the feeling of Steve’s knot blowing right against his lips.

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[artficlly]

lady of the ghosts [chapter 8]

After a great plague ravages your city, you are looking to marry to secure safety for your people. With a war finally ending, the nearby kingdoms are looking to celebrate. King James "Bucky" Barnes decides to continue his family's tradition of hosting a courting season. A medieval courting marvel AU.

Pairing: king!bucky x lady!reader

Warnings: FLUFF, sexual tension, some angst, mention of sex work, mention of war, mention of funeral, tiny amount of anxiety/doubt, swearing, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 3.5

A/N: i wanted to make this a smaller chapter before shit hits the fan, very dialogue heavy and fluffy. please let me know what you think and reblog/like! sorry for any typos - enjoy!!

chapter masterlist | main masterlist

It was said that Neume once dwelled in the waters surrounding Faliene. As a guardian of the city, she waited beneath the waves. If she detected malice on the ships that entered her waters, she would rise from the ocean floor, her body hulking and blue with seaweed and barnacles entangled across her flesh. She would seize the ships with an iron grip, the wood splintering and cracking under the strain. She would drag the sailors to the bottom of the dark, sandy sea, where they would either drown or perish in her crushing grip. 

She was a protector in more ways than one; her presence wasn’t only to instill fear in those who ventured into the Falienean waters but also to aid those who worshiped her. They claimed she would herd the fish towards the fishermen who sailed off the coast, easing the giant schools into the hand-woven nets. On quiet, empty nights, some claim you could hear her singing. Her hums were reminiscent of whales, eerie and lonesome as they reached across the vast, vacant waters. Her song would lull the creatures to sleep, and only then could she be at peace. 

According to legend, Nemue's deep sleep, brought on by her own song, is what caused Faliene's misfortunes to start. As her children waited for her to return, disease and evil crept into her beloved city and slowly poisoned those who remained. Faliene held her breath, waiting in anticipation for the return of her song. The north had been stuck in a slumber for too long; it was time for her to come alive once more. 

The breeze was stronger than usual up on the rocky cliff of The Fishhook. The slowly rising sun partially melted the snow and ice below, where the waves pounded mercilessly along the exposed coast.  

James squinted his azure eyes against the whipping wind, his hair tousled, and his cheeks pink. The two of you had decided to hike up the southernmost point of Faliene’s coastline before it turned to mountain and sea. You had taken the daunting and winding path upward to the peak of The Fishook, a large curved outlook that had been creatively named due to its shape. Halfway up the path, Steve and Peggy had left you behind in favor of exploring a tiny, frozen cave. You knew it was so they would have a moment alone to continue their activities from the Pass; it was harder to do so with King Harrison’s ever-watching eye. 

“Do you see it?” The winds hurtling along the coast have left your lungs burning, and words are nearly stolen as your breath is ripped from you.

“You might have to point it out to me.” James’ admits sheepishly, eyes darting as he surveys the blue, glacial waters below. You step closer to him, careful and slow on the icy rock below, as the two of you are close to the dangerous edge. If the plummet didn’t kill you, the freezing waves crashing against the rocks certainly would. 

With a gloved hand, you point at a darker patch of water, where presumably the ocean floor is deeper than the rest of the bay. James ducks his head, his eyeline following along to where you point. Your gaze is on the side of his face, watching each emotion cross while studying every twitch of his eyebrow or jaw. 

“It’s supposed to look like a woman curled up on her side.” You explain, watching as he tilts his head ever-so-slightly, as if trying to see from a different perspective. James had been insistent on his prior promise of falling in love with the ghost city. Unlike the other guests, who mainly remained in the warmth of Fort Faliene, drinking and laughing their days away, James required endless exploration. 

Sometimes you wondered if it was somewhat of a ploy to get you alone, as even if Steve and Peggy came along as ‘escorts’, the two of you frequently found yourselves abandoned by the pair. Steve and Peggy had more interest in each other's mouths and bodies than the sights of Faliene, unlike James, who remained enraptured by every story and sight you showed him. 

You had toured him through the docks, the city, and the surrounding areas. The people of Faliene watched on with knowing smiles; even Brannigan seemed chuffed by your apparent familiarity with the King of Galanta. From what you gathered, the Falieneans were secretly pleased and were growing to forgive you for your lack of engagement. Why pester you about marrying a lord when you were actively seducing a king? 

“I see it.” James speaks up from beside you, his confused expression melting into a grin. “Her head is facing the east.”

Your eyes flickered over the now familiar planes of his face, watching as he rubbed the stumble across his jaw out of habit. A small smile plays across your face, words leaving you despite your attention being nowhere near the shape of Neume in the waters below. “I know it’s silly, that it’s just the shape of the seafloor, but Falienean’s have always said it looks like Neume sleeping on her side.” 

“You know, everyone always talks about how superstitious the north is, but I think it’s simply that we Southerners are too boring.” He replies, his eyes abruptly cutting to yours. There is a small smirk across his features as he notices your stare, and you look away, cheeks pink, now not only because of the cold. 

“I don’t think you’re boring.” You hum quietly, your words nearly stolen by the next gust of wind as you look to your feet. 

“We definitely are.”

You sucked on your teeth for a moment, tilting your head so you could see him through your peripherals. A smile crosses your face as you realize he’s been watching you the entire time, gloved fingers reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. You finally pluck up the courage to look back at him. “Tell me a story about Galanta, then. I will be the judge of whether it is boring or not.” 

James lets out a long sigh, looking upwards at the horizon in thought. “They are all stories of war and death, I’m surprised I didn’t die of boredom as a child having to listen to all those tales–”

“You know that I like history.” You cut him off, playfully pushing at his chest. Your cheeks warm up more, realizing that the hard muscle beneath doesn't give under your touch. James chuckles, running a hand through his hair as he looks down at you. “Tell me a story about when you were at war then. Maybe that will be more exciting because you were actually fighting–”

“People who tell their own tales are always bragging.” James grumbles with a hard look, which quickly softens as he catches your pleading look. He shakes his head with a sigh, humming as if in thought. His hands mindlessly come to your cloak, gloved fingers twisting through the fur trimming.

“During the war,” He begins. “Steve and I stumbled upon Prince Micheal in a whorehouse. He was so drunk on ale that he could barely see, let alone walk. The girls were sick of him, so we offered to take him back to camp. The trip was short-lived, though… We grew tired of dealing with him, so we left him passed out in a pig pen. He didn’t return to camp until the next day, it was lunch when he stormed in. He was all covered in filth. He didn’t remember a thing, but he knew Steve and I had something to do with it, we could hardly keep a straight face due to the stench.” 

A laugh bubbles in your chest, and you shake your head at the brunet. Steve had often mentioned how he and James tormented the Prince when they could. Those were tales that Steve would whisper to you over dinner, while Michael bragged and boasted about exaggerated stories further down the table. Though this was not a story you had heard before, you quickly learned that Steve was not as open with you about his secrets as you first assumed – his and Peggy’s affair being just one example. You wondered how many tales from the war were lost to you due to Steve's reluctance to share. This story seemed to have a glaringly obvious reason why.

“You and Steve frequented whorehouses?” You ask innocently, and you hear James suck in a sharp breath, his head tilting to look away guiltily. A teasing smile plays across your lips as you lean closer to him. “The good King James and his knight Sir. Rogers getting their cocks wet? How scandalous.” 

You could imagine the girls in the whorehouses would have loved to be visited by James and Steve – rich, handsome war heroes? They would’ve been snatched away before they even put their foot in the door. You didn’t have envy or malice for the whores, unlike some ladies of court who bickered about the ‘filthy harlots roaming the war fronts’. You imagined James and Steve would’ve been a welcome break from the usual soldiers who would’ve wondered their way. 

Beside you, James swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing, and he looks back at you with surprise in his guarded eyes. You wondered if he had ever heard you speak in such a vulgar way before — Steve definitely had, especially when he schemed and got you a few drinks in. His hands reach out, gripping your waist to tug you even closer to his body, and you oblige with a satisfied sigh. 

“It’s just the way of things during war.” He says, his voice husky and low as he looks down at you. His words hesitate, his tongue wetting his lower lip as he scans your face. “You’re telling me you didn’t bed a knight or two during the war? While you were all alone in Haiford Castle?”

Your smirk spreads. “You think King Harrison would’ve let me stay if he had any inkling that I wasn’t a virgin?”

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

You allow your eyes to roam over his face as you take your time answering his question. You note the way his pupils have dilated and the subtle strain in his jaw, as if silent worry was clawing behind his cool demeanor. 

“No. I didn’t.” You reply honestly. “You really think I would invite one of your knights into my bed, or even worse, a Haifordian knight?” 

James grins at that, as if secretly pleased by your answer. You could imagine he made assumptions about you, considering your affinity for finding trouble and irritating authority. Even if you often made it your mission to irritate Prince Michael or King Harrison, you had never fallen to the depths of sleeping around with men you despised.

“I must be good then if you’re willing to have me.” He replies, his voice still low and rumbling in his chest.

“And who said you were invited into my bed?” Your eyes flutter upwards as you look at him through your lashes, a coy smile forming in response to his smirk. 

James hums, his hands squeezing tighter as he presses a soft, gentle kiss to one of your exposed collarbones. His grin is cheeky as he raises his head once more, his expression near ravenous as he watches your breath hitch slightly, goosebumps raising across your skin. Everything about his touch and scent is intoxicating, and you nearly forget you are standing on an exposed cliff as you lean heavily into his touch. 

“I am going to speak with King Harrison tonight.”

“About what?” You manage to stutter out. Your mind is hazy and confused as you try to focus on something other than the pattern he is tracing across your ribcage with his thumb.

“Us. Peggy.” James begins, and you stiffen under his touch. “I am going to gift Steve land and make him a lord – maybe a duke or a count. Something high-ranking enough for him to marry Peggy.” 

“I haven’t even agreed to marry you.” You say through narrowed eyes. “Don’t you think this is too early?”

James looks down at you with a frown. “Where else will you go now that the funeral is complete? You can’t return to Haiford… If we settle this issue with King Harrison, you could return to Galanta with me–”

“What if I want to stay here?” You interrupt, and James snaps his mouth shut.

There is a long pause between the two of you, with James sighing slowly through his nose as his grip around your waist eases, his fingers no longer tracing delicate circles.  

“Well…” James begins hesitantly. “Once we are married, you will have to balance your time between Faliene and Galanta, as will I. If you cannot lead Faliene until our marriage, it would be wise that you return to Galanta until the ceremonies–”

“I want to be married in Faliene.” You interrupt once more.

“I thought you said you hadn’t agreed–” He starts with a grin, only for you to cut over him again with a huff.

“Hypothetically. If there were a hypothetical marriage between us, I would want it to be here–”

He is still grinning as he speaks, as if amused. His eyebrows arch as he speaks. “You do realize the Galantaians would riot, right? Robbing them of a wedding celebration–”

“I am only just winning back the trust of my people, they would be insulted if I snubbed them–”

“Well, it is tradition for the wife to be married in the husband's–”

The playful tone that had built through your exchange quickly snaps, and a scowl crosses your face as you take a step back from him. “Please don’t tell me you’re under the assumption that a husband should be the only one in charge simply because he is male–”

“No – Y/N. No.” James gasps, exasperated. His gloved hand raises up, cupping your cheeks as he looks down at you with a frown. “If we are married, Faliene would be run by you and only you. I will sign whatever papers you ask me to, and I will not interfere unless you ask my opinion.”

You blink at him slowly, exhaling sharply out of your nose as you lean into his touch despite the stubborn look across your face. A small part of you is anxious; you have been hesitant and cautious to trust all of your life. What if, like Rumlow, James was trying to fool you into marriage so he could control the seafaring of the continent? 

“Are you telling the truth?” Your voice is quiet, nearly lost to the winds. Thankfully, James doesn’t seem insulted by your wariness.

“Of course I am. I know that if Faliene is to flourish, it can only be under your rule, not mine.” James hums, his thumb gently swiping over the skin of your cheek before he pulls away. “Maybe it is best we leave the talk of weddings until after I deal with King Harrison. Deal?” 

He offers his hand in the small distance between the two of you. You chew on your lip for a moment, nodding your head as the apprehension in your gut eases. You reach out, grasping his forearm near his elbow. The muscle is bulging and swollen in comparison to your small hands. His fingers wrap around your own forearm, engulfing the clothed skin entirely as you both shake hands on this new agreement. 

“Deal.” You mutter back, though you can’t fight back the smile that has formed. 

There is a new feeling growing in your gut. 

Hope.

—

“Does King James always fuck you with his eyes?” Wanda asked from behind you, her nimble hands expertly washing the soap from your hair. Your strands were lazily dangling over the side of the tub, the water trickling off into the bucket below. Your eyes rolled back into your head, a small huff leaving your lips as you leaned harder against the warm metal. 

Once returning from The Fishhook with Steve and Peggy in tow, Wanda managed to sneak you back into your rooms before your presence was requested elsewhere. Tonight there would be one final feast before most of the guests returned home, and it seemed everyone wanted your attention or opinion on the most mundane of subjects. You had been practically assaulted with questions about dining displays and menus, while the Asgardian Princes, Thor and Loki, somehow managed to trick you into showing them the wine cellar. 

As if sensing your rising stress levels, Wanda had pulled you away, declaring she needed to help you bathe and dress for the dinner to follow. 

“You can act all coy, but we’ve all noticed it. Brannigan is biting at the bit to start organizing a wedding.” Wanda continues, and you groan loudly, slipping deeper into the warm water.

“Do not let him organize anything.” You grumble, and the woman chuckles behind you. 

“When you said you knew the Galantian’s well, I didn’t realize it was because you had invited them into your bed–”

“He has not been in my bed.” You protest, sinking even further into the water until it reaches your chin.

“Ah. Matter of time. You can see it on his face that his cock gets hard everytime he looks at you–”

“Wanda.” You cut over her sternly, wrapping your arms across your chest as you turned in the tub to face her with a scowl. The water sloshes around you at your sudden movements, Wanda withdrawing as a small wave departs the tub. “I have already upset King Harrison enough, I can’t upset him more by having rumors spread around.”

“I am sorry.” Wanda sighs, elbows braced against her thighs, as she leans over to look at you. “I am just excited for you.”

You can’t help but let a small smile grace your lips at her words. As much as you wanted to be annoyed, there was always a sincerity and sweetness to Wanda that made you cave. You move forward through the water, your breasts pressed against the metal as you cross your arms over the lip of the tub. 

“I am sorry for keeping secrets… It is just that to keep the peace between Haiford and Galanta, we have to be careful.” You mutter softly. Wanda gives you a sympathetic look, ringing out the damp cloth in her hands. 

“King Harrison is still expecting Princess Peggy to marry King James?” She asks quietly, abandoning the cloth over the lip of the tub. You press your lips together tightly, watching as Wanda fetches you a dry towel. 

“Unfortunately.” You grumble in return, standing. You allow most of the water to cascade off your skin and hair before wrapping yourself in the towel and carefully stepping out of the tub as Wanda readies your dress. 

You quickly dry yourself before the cold sets in, scoffing as Wanda speaks up once more from across the room. “He must be blind if he has not seen the way Princess Peggy and Sir Rogers dance around each other.” 

“I think I may have accidentally helped Peggy by distracting King Harrison.” You admit sheepishly.

Wanda snorts. “He seems to be looking everywhere but at Princess Peggy. Gods, he spends more time enamored with Lord Rumlow than–”

“What do you mean?” You cut over her abruptly.

Wanda arches a brow at you. “King Harrison and Lord Rumlow, they’re always constantly muttering away in the corner, haven’t you noticed?”

“I have.” You say it with a frown. At least you had noticed it more back in Galanta, but these past two weeks between the funeral, James, and organizing, you had barely had time to play spy. It was harder to notice the small things of court when you were now the center of attention rather than a ghost slinking around on the outside of conversation.

“Maybe King Harrison has grown bored of wives – Maeve says that the two of them remain locked up in King Harrison’s rooms most days and nights. She scarcely has time to clean!” Wanda says as she helps you pull on your dress, a thick, dark material with fur trimmings and silver beading around the waist. 

“Does she know what they are doing in there?” You pry cautiously, tugging the sleeves in place and shooing Wanda away as you begin to lace the front. 

“No. They always grow quiet when she knocks, and they send her away. The staff are making bets over what date they’ll announce their affair.”

You don’t reply, instead pondering over this newfound information. Wanda begins muttering about the hairstyle she will craft for you tonight. You are barely listening as you sink into the seat in front of your mother's old vanity. With any hope James’ and King Harrison’s chat goes well tonight, you felt a pit of dread growing in your stomach at the thought of what Rumlow might be scheming.

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[kalee60]

My latest AU fic is finally up - my twist on royalty!

Title: made you look

Rating: E

Tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Guards, Pining, Sassy Bucky, explicit sexual content, bottom Bucky, POV Bucky Barnes, slight dom/sub, mild fighting scenes

Summary:

Being part of the Wakandan King's Guard was a job Bucky never thought he'd fall into. But apart from the uniform, it was a great gig, especially since he got to stare at Captain Steve Rogers when the changing of the guard occurred. The same Captain who six months earlier promised him the night of his life then disappeared, ignoring him after.

So when Bucky ends up on duty with Steve, he wasn't expecting to be recognised, nor was he expecting a rogue intruder to interrupt his less than platonic thoughts.

First save the palace - second get the guy?

Or was there some other plan in motion that Bucky didn't know about?

~*~*~*~

If this sounds like something you'd be interested to read - click on in here!

This is also for the @stuckybingo prompt - N2: "jerk"