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marvelettesassemblenow · 11 months

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The Swan Princess

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: Fairytale AU based on the movie The Swan Princess – Bucky and you hate each other! Your kingdoms hope for a marriage between the two of you, but each summer you have to spend with in each others presence makes it worse – until his friends start to befriend you and he realizes you have more in common than he thought. But when he was ready to finally accept his feelings a curse hit you.

Warnings: Reader is called Sunshine, maybe some stuff that isn’t accurate because I couldn’t decide on a time this would take place and switching POV’s

Word Count: ~7k

A/N: This is for Nika! I started it so long ago as I rewatched the movie I liked so much as a kid and I still loved the part when they were kids! Sadly my favorite part didn’t fit in, as Bucky wouldn’t offend you in 5 syllables or less. @intrepidacious

Once upon a time there were two kingdoms divided by a sea. It wasn’t so long ago to be honest, but that’s just how fairytales start and this is the one of the swan princess. We’ll get to the part with the swan soon, but first we must start when she was just a little girl.

Her parents had both passed and the kingdom was without a ruler until the princess was of age. Until then a council was ruling the kingdom on the island. The council often argued but there was one part everybody agreed on: They needed to bond with the kingdom of Shield. An arranged marriage would solve all their problems as Shield had an heir only one year older than the princess. The only problem was that the late king and queen had made sure that their daughter should only marry if she wished so and should have never had the pressure of an arranged marriage. And so the council came up with a plan that they proposed to Queen Winnifred of Shield, who immediately agreed. Both kingdoms would benefit from a joining and the plan was made that the princess and prince would spend each of their summers together to hopefully fall in love.

They didn’t get discouraged when the princess and prince hated each other at age seven and eight. They were young kids and both thought the other gender was gross. Prince James even wiped his mouth after he was forced to kiss the young princess hand. „James, behave!“ the queen called him out.

„But mom, girls are just gross,“ James said in a whiny voice and looked up to his mom.

„You don’t think so about Natasha, right?“ His mom tried to point out, but his mind was made up. He wanted his summer spent with his two best friends Steven and Natascha – not being forced to entertain a stuck-up princess who had been apologizing repeatedly that there had been mud on her dress when she stepped outside the carriage. Natasha was covered in mud and didn’t complain!

His only logical response was to tell his mother that Natasha didn’t count. She sighed, but didn’t force him anymore. They still had time and they were still kids.

It didn’t get better the following summers. James, Steven and Natasha had been friends for years and spent all year together. You on the other hand didn’t have any friends. The council, maids and teachers raised you, so your childhood wasn’t really one for fun. You learned how to stitch and to sit properly at a table, so you were always lost when the three kids started games that you didn’t know and soon you rather sat with the maids and helped them stitching some flowers onto a tablecloth.

It all came to a turning point when Samuel came along. He was the son of a new teacher and only a year younger than you – and he was your first friend. He played hide and seek with you and taught you that it was okay when the seam of your dress was dusty and that you could clean it. And soon your laughter was heard in the castle and you were smiling as you were finally having fun. Which gave you the nickname Sunshine from the guards and maids in the castle as you were still always politely greeting them and asking how they were, while sneaking them little treats – but now you were mostly smiling and happy while doing so.

“Sunshine,“ James, who went by Bucky now, scoffed. “What kind of stupid nickname is this?“ He kicked a stone that was lying in front of him on the path and then even his supposed to be best friend had gone behind his back. “Hi Sunshine,“ he waved in the air with a stupid grin towards a tree and made gagging noises afterwards. No one was here to see him, but he had to get it off his chest. It was supposed to be Steve and him against you. Not you bringing a friend along who glared at him the whole time and Steve greeting you with a horrible nickname that wasn’t even fitting. And now he was stomping alone to his tree house while his traitor friend was making new friends and forgot all about the pact they both had made years ago to never befriend you. He hoped at least Natasha was still on his side.

It turned out that Natasha wasn’t on his side as both her and Steve reminded him, they weren’t ten anymore and that you could all spend your time together. But Bucky watched how you joked around with the guards and the smile you got back made him roll his eyes. Why were you charming everyone? He had heard about the whispers how they hoped that there would be a marriage. But he was only 14, he shouldn’t even be thinking about stuff like that. And with you? No way!

You on the other hand didn’t think your summers sucked anymore. Sam trained to be a guard and was accompanying you to your visits still and Steve and Natasha were nice and started to include you – even if it sometimes meant to exclude Bucky. Stupid nickname, you thought. And he was always especially mean when you played cards and he lost. But it wasn’t your fault when luck was on your side and that he had a tell when his cards weren’t as good as he pretended them to be.

“We could go to the market tomorrow on your last day here,” Steve suggested when he shuffled the cards. Bucky wasn’t amused but in the end he agreed to go to – at least he could get one of the best peach pastries, that would make up for the day. And at least you were gone soon and he would have his friends to himself again.

A carriage was taking the five of you to the market the next morning with four guards trailing along. They weren’t too keen to accompany the teens on an outing, but then you came and handed each of them a flower and thanking them for trailing along. One of them even put the stupid wildflower through his chain armor – which caused you to smile so brightly that Bucky finally understood why you got that nickname.

People swarmed the young prince when they saw him and you snuck away with a guard and Sam by your side. A lovely smell pulled you towards a bakery. “Good morning,” you greeted the baker when you stepped inside the small building.

There was only grunting as a response until the tall man turned around and spotted you. “Oh, excuse me. Good morning, princess. What can I get you?”

“What can you recommend?” you ask and looked around. In response the baker held a finger up in the air, turned around and came back with a steaming plate in his hands.

“These are the favorites of the prince. He loves them and gets them every time he comes by. I hope you’ll like them just as much. Maybe I can even provide them for your wedding, it would be such an honor.”

That made your eyes grew wide. “What wedding?” you asked stunned, but Sam had already placed some coins on the counter and grabbed the plate.

“Thank you for that, I’m sure we’ll enjoy them,” he said and pushed you towards the door while the guard just shook his head towards the baker.

“What wedding, Sam?” you asked him in a quiet voice when you stepped outside and he was already tasting a small pie.

“Oh yeah, well... they all hope that you and Bucky will marry,” he picked a crumb from the corner of his mouth with his tongue. “As if you couldn’t get someone better and not as brooding. What about Steve? I could see that, I think?” He was quiet after that and you pushed the half-eaten pie in his face. You could hear a chuckle behind you.

“Stop talking nonsense,” you said and grabbed the plate from him. You shared them equally with the others and Bucky was surprised that you even handed him one and that you got his favorite.

-x-

“What are you reading?” Bucky let himself fall into the seat next to Natasha. He just came from lessons and a meeting and he was tired.

“A letter from Sunshine,” his friend replied casually, but Bucky peaked up.

“You exchange letters?” he asked confused and was more awake.

“We have for three years now,” Natasha confirmed. “Mostly we write about what a dumbass you are.”

“Haha,” Bucky replied, but he wasn’t so sure she was really joking. He hadn’t been the friendliest towards you, even though you had tried.

“Other than that, she’s really nice. And lonely, Bucky. She’s living on an island without her parents. Her only friend there is Sam and her whole childhood was constantly pushing her into being a queen. She’s 17 now and the only times she was outside of her kingdom was here and let’s be honest, we weren’t friendly with her at the beginning. It’s only two months until she’ll come again, just try to not be as annoyed, will you?”

“I’m not really that annoyed with her anymore to be honest. It’s just that people expect that we’ll marry each other. They watch like a hawk how we’re acting and it’s,” his voice turned quieter at the end until he stopped himself.

“I get it,” she said and pushed her elbow into his side. “Maybe you should write to her about it. If there is one person who’ll understand how you feel it's her. Just clear the air and maybe you’ll be friends. You don’t have to marry her, you know? And before you say that it's expected from you and that both kingdoms could benefit from it... Be Bucky first and future king later. Just try to talk to her normally, you’ll see she’s nice.”

“I’ll think about it. After dinner,” he added when his stomach let out a loud growl.

In the end Bucky did send you a letter. And you replied, which motivated him to write a response and you both agreed to just try to be civil towards each other. You also both started to talk about the pressure both of you felt and with the hushes of whispers of a marriage that was following you when you were walking through the halls.

Bucky was looking forward to see you this time, because it seemed like you just got him. And so he was smiling when he stood in front of the castle, next to his mother and best friends and saw the carriage on the horizon.

“Are you smiling?” Steve teased his friend quietly, but the queen still heard and was beaming.

Sam was the one helping you out of the carriage and maybe that was a good thing because you knocked the breath out of the prince. It had been nine months since he last saw you and maybe it was because he had never really looked at you before or maybe it was because he now knew a little bit more of you, but you were beautiful. And when you smiled at Natasha who beat him to greet you, he decided that from that moment on he would call you Sunshine too. Steve came next and then his mother nudged him so he would finally come forwards and greet you.

He wanted to greet you with your title, he really did, but when he kissed your hand for the first time and wasn’t grossed out by it or the idea of standing near you, your nickname slipped his lips as a greeting.

“It’s good to see you, Bucky,” you replied and he held your hand when he guided you towards his mother where you could greet the queen.

“Do you want to lie down after your travel?” he asked you, but you denied and so it was decided that you would all gather for tea in the green house. He knew it was one of your favorite places as Steve had told him so. It was something you didn’t have at home. Bucky offered his arm and you accepted with your friends and guards following behind you.

“What is happening?” Sam asked Natasha and Steve, not believing his eyes. But that was only the beginning and when the second month of your visit was coming around no one was batting an eye seeing you and Bucky arm in arm anymore. Instead, the whispers weren’t whispers anymore and they were openly asking you when the wedding would be. But no one of you even bothered to reply to that.

“Since when do you like that brat?” Sam asked, referring to Bucky the name you had given him when you were younger.

“Since I noticed he isn’t really a brat,” you replied and tugged Sam along on your way through the garden. “We were kids, we aren’t anymore and I kind of like him now. He kind of gets me in a different way.” You then realized what you said to your best friend and started to apologize, but he stopped you.

“I get it, kind of. It’s something different for someone who is in the same position. And I mean he is friends with Steve, so how bad can he be?” he chuckled and you continued your way. As if on cue your name was yelled by the blonde, who ran up to the two of you and asked if you wanted to accompany him into town as Bucky was sitting in a meeting.

When you came back you had some peach pies in your hand and were on the search for Bucky, who was searching for you as well. When you found each other and you held out his favorite pies for him and him a flower (because he just had to give it to you as he knew it would make you smile), your friends all had a smile or smirk on their faces when you agreed to dine with Bucky while Steve decided he would eat with Sam and Nat in the kitchen tonight.

This was the first year that both parts weren’t glad that the summer was over.

“You can write to me, if you want to,” you said when Bucky was leading you through the castle towards the carriage that would bring you to your ship.

“I will,” Bucky promised and cleared his throat. “And you don’t have to wait for next summer to come visit. You can come visit in winter too. We have places here that are nice in the cold too. And the greenhouse is heated we could sit there even when it’s snowing outside. I mean, if you want to,” he added more shyly, but still hopeful.

“Do you mean that?” you asked and stopped to look at him.

“Absolu-,” he started but didn’t finish as the impact of your sudden hug cut him off.

“I would like that very much,” you admitted in his neck.

“You’re always welcome here,” he told you and although his mom had said the same sentence to you often, you never felt them like now. The farewell did take longer until a guard told you you needed to leave before it would be too late for the ship. You promised again to come back sooner and went on your way.

It was late in the evening with Steve and Natasha being in a competitive round of chess when a knock was heard above the storm outside. At the same time as a thunderbolt was hitting outside the door was opened.

“Prince James, sorry to interrupt but I thought you wanted to know. It’s about Sunshine, I mean Princess,” he started but Bucky was already jumping up at your name and stalking towards the guard that wasn’t even fully in the room. Steve and Natasha had also stopped their game and walked closer so they could hear the guard over the storm.

“There has been an accident. Samuel is here and he says they got attacked.” Bucky knew that Sam would never leave without you. His heart got heavy as he feared for the worst. The guard pointed him in the right direction where Sam was sitting on a chair while someone tried to get a look at his leg that was bleeding.

“We were attacked,” Sam said as soon as he saw Bucky running towards him. “I couldn’t really see what it was and I tried to get Sunshine out of there, but there was suddenly a bright light and she was just gone. I couldn’t find her, I searched for her, you must believe me! I would have never left without her! She wasn’t there and with the injury I thought it was better to get you.”

Not soon after Bucky left with a few men despite the storm. But they couldn’t find anything despite the carriage and the men that were left there. They couldn’t see that much and the rain would wash away every traces soon, but even Bucky had to admit to himself that they couldn’t do anything more now. The next few days and nights were restless, but your friends were searching for you.

What they didn’t know was that they had no chance of finding you. You were held at an enchanted place and even if they found it – there was no way that they would recognize you. Which would be the only way to help, but we must rewind a few days.

After the attack on the carriage, you were knocked out. When you woke up your feet were wet and your dress had soaked up a lot of water. You tried to push yourself up, but you were too dizzy to do so.

“Ahhh, my princess is awake. That is good, we can wrap this up in a few minutes.” You couldn’t recognize the voice, but something was off and nothing could have prepared you for the next sentence. “My dearest princess, would you please marry me?”

Your dizziness was all forgotten when you pushed yourself up. “What?” you wanted to scream, but it was more of a whisper. One part was because of the ridiculous offer, another because the man in front of you looked nothing like a man with the red skin across his face.

“Isn’t it simple? When I’ll marry you, I’ll be king!”

“Why do you even want to be king of Madripoor so bad? Wouldn’t it be easier to just kill me?” You didn’t know why you were even suggesting that, it was like an offer of your part and you didn’t know what he was capable of.

He walked closer. “See, the thing is your folk loves their princess. When you’ll finally agree to marry me, your kingdom will accept me. Because there has to be something good about me, when Sunshine decides to marry me. And you and I both know why I want your kingdom! Usually islands need more help, so I wonder why no one was suspicious that a lot of things just grow there. The things you could do with the Tesseract and you fools use it to let the ground be more nutritious,” he scoffed. And you were shocked that he knew about it - it was one of your best kept secrets! “Don’t look so shocked, I knew your father. But enough of that. Will you marry me?”

“No, never!” The words were spat out of your mouth and he nodded as if he had expected that.

“Then we’ll see each other tomorrow. Goodnight my little swan.”

You would scream if you could be sure he wouldn’t hear you and wouldn’t know he got under your skin. Why was your life so unfair? You felt helpless!

The secret had been kept for generations. Once your ancestor found a cube that had a blue shining. When he took it in his hand he felt the force from it. It had been a hard year, the rain hadn’t stopped and the harvest had been weak. His folk had been starving and so he had wished for a miracle to help him. The miracle had been the stone that was called Tessaract and the information had been only shared by a few selected people. But as it always had been when there was a force was that someone tried to steal it for their own selfish purpose. The guy that had kidnapped you and whose face you hadn’t seen yet was once called Johann Schmidt. He was a magician wo had the Tessaract for a short while. But he was too selfish, wanted too much at once and now he was called Red Skull as it described him the best now. HIs face was deformed and red and he wasn’t ashamed. Why should he care what he looked like when he almost had the solution for infinity? He had to get closer, but he couldn’t come back to the island, your father had made sure of that. So had trapped you at the lake. You could only turn into a human when the moonlight hit the water on the lake and you were touching the water. You could turn back into a swan anywhere as soon as the first rays of sunshine were seen.

Days passed and the routine stayed the same. Every night he came back, asked the same question and walked away when you refused. You were standing at the end of the lake waiting for the moon to rise. There was something in your feathers that you tried to pick out with your beak when something slammed your body into the water. You tried to lift your neck, but something pushed you under the water. Something sharp was pressed into your body and it hurt, but then you felt your body shifting. The struggle for air was still there but suddenly your human head was out of the water and you took a big breath. A pressure was on your chest and when you looked at it you saw a white cat staring at you. If a cat was able to look puzzled this one just did.

“Did you attack me?” you asked and the cat looked from its paw that was resting on your chest towards your face as if it couldn’t understand what was happening here. Which it probably couldn’t. The cat stayed close to you after that, followed you when you were walking around at night in your human form (and hid once Red Skull came to ask you the dreaded question) and when you turned back into a swan it stayed near you. It even laid beside you when you finally rested your eyes and thought back of home and your friends.

Meanwhile Bucky, Steven, Natasha and Samuel were gathered in the greenhouse as it was the only place where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Okay, I hate to say this, but we searched everywhere. I don’t know how, but if they’ve taken her, they must be really far away,” Steven sighed. He was exhausted, not that he would say that out loud but his friends looked like they would drop from the chairs any minute now.

“We can’t give up,” Bucky still sounded determined, but his eyes were closed. He just needed to rest them for a second. That’s why he didn’t notice the yellow and orange sparks that started to appear.

“What is that?” Natasha asked and it caused Bucky to raise his head. Everyone was staring now at the sparks that appeared in a circle until they suddenly spotted a blonde woman, stepping confidently through it and stopping in front of Sam.

Bucky didn’t have a weapon with him so the first thing he could think of was standing up and taking a few steps into the direction of the new arrival. “Samuel,” the blonde woman said coldly.

“Yelena,” Sam replied, not much warmer.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know,” the man agreed, which caused the others to share a confused glance. Their attention was divided by another newcomer. A man with white streaks in his hair and a long red cape followed through the hole and then the sparks died.

“I’m magician Strange, this is Yelena and we’re here to search for the princess. As this was the last place where she was before she disappeared we needed to come here. We’re sorry for coming in here unannounced,” he said, but he didn’t sound as he was sorry at all.

“Where were you coming from?” Natasha asked and walked around the place where the sparks had been and only a small black trace on the floor revealed that there had been something magical.

“It’s called a portal and I don’t have much time. Yelena, if you’re done with staring at Samuel, would you help?”

It still took a few seconds for the staring contest between the man and woman until she stepped back and stood next to the magician. “We need something from Sunshine that she recently had on her,” she said and suddenly Bucky felt as if he couldn’t move under her stare. Maybe it was magic too.

“I’m not going to give someone I haven’t even heard of something of her. Maybe you’re after her and I would only help you.” Bucky managed to say. He couldn’t see it, but Natasha and Steve were nodding behind him.

“You haven’t heard of us because we’re in a secret organization. That’s the point: You don’t see or hear us.” He could have sworn he also heard an insult, but it was too quiet.

“They tell the truth. They live on the island and they’re there to protect the land. I know Yelena and I know of Strange, I was wondering when they would show up.”

“Then a warning would have been nice,” Steve commented.

Samuel recreated the story of how you were taken and the other added where they had been searching for Sunshine and what they found at the damaged carriage. They brought the magician and his shadow towards your stuff. Magician Strange wasn’t interested in your clothes and books, but then he found a stone. It was a regular stone, he didn’t have a special color or a special shape. They were confused why it had been there, but Strange claimed it was the object they needed. Sunshine carried around the stone with her on her travels as it was a gift from Steve. He had given it to her when they started to become friends and he had pressed it in her hands and told her if Bucky was annoying her again she should just throw the rock at him. He had laughed and ran away, but it was the first present she got from a friend and so she kept it close to her. Strange told Yelena he would open a portal for her where he would feel she was with the help of the stone, but he looked more than confused when the other people said they would follow through. He tried to tell the prince he couldn’t just send him out, but in the end he noticed he didn’t have a chance at a discussion with them and he wanted to get their princess back so he agreed.

Packed with weapons they stepped through the portal. When Bucky looked back he saw Strange staring back at him before the portal closed. They were in a forest, trees he had never seen surrounded him. He could hear the animals, a few birds and frogs. While the others discussed how they should approach they divided in teams. Yelena, Natasha and Sam while he would walk with Steve.

“Take this,” Yelena pressed a red stone in his hand. It was smooth and cold. “If there’s black magic around it will glow and alert you. Be careful.” She nodded at him a last time before she walked away with Natasha and Sam.

“That’s a lot. Suddenly there’s magic, we just stepped through a hole full of sparks to step out into a forest and we have a stone that will glow when we stumble across magic. But I guess that’s what you’ll have to do for the woman your best friend loves,” Steve concluded.

Bucky looked from the stone to his friend who was smirking at him. “I thought she was your friend?”

“Oh, she is! But she’s also the woman you fell in love with. I actually thought we would have this discussion when she would have been gone for a few days and you noticed that you miss her. Not here – mostly because I didn’t know this part existed.”

“I already noticed,” Bucky admitted and looked at the stone. No glow, still cold and dull in his hand. “That’s why I invited her for winter. And that’s why I’m afraid we won’t find her.”

“We will! Now come, so you can tell her,” Steve patted Bucky's shoulder and with more determination than ever they walked through the uneven path. Suddenly there was a glimmer in the stone and Bucky tugged on Steve’s sleeve to show him without having to talk. The closer they walked towards a lake the brighter the glow became. The fact that the sun was down and the moon was about to come up made it look even brighter.

By the end of the lake was a white swan staring at them. Next to it was a white cat - also staring. “It seems like it comes from them,” Bucky whispered. “What should we do? Should we catch them? The swan and the cat?”

“I mean we were only here to find Sunshine,” Steve was interrupted by the swan making angry noises at them. Before they could say anything else the swan was startling them as it ran in their direction. Its beak was pulling at Bucky's sleeve, and it ripped. Steves arrow was pointing at the swan, but the bird took another bite into the fabric and Bucky was too stunned and almost lost his balance as the swan was pulling him in the direction of the lake. When he gained back his balance and pulled into the other direction, he lost another piece of fabric. It almost seemed as the swan huffed and waddled towards the water alone – still followed by the arrow. As soon as it could the swan swam on the lake and the cat followed to the muddy path where it could still stand and interrupted the line of the arrow.

“What should I do?” Steve asked, but Bucky only had eyes for the swan. As soon as the reflection of the moon hit the water small splashes flew into the air until they swirled around the swan.

“What is happening?” Bucky asked but had already drawn his sword. The cat looked unimpressed even by the splats of water that were hitting it as it was still staring at Steve. The water went higher and higher until it suddenly stopped and fell. But where previously had been the swan was now Sunshine. “How?” Bucky breathed.

“Bucky,” you sobbed and ran towards him. As you had to travel through the muddy part he had enough time to lower his sword and wrap his arm around you as soon as you reached him. Your tears landed on his shirt, but he couldn’t care at all.

“Are you okay, love?” His arm pressed you against him and he savored the moment you were in his arms. The stone in his hand suddenly wasn’t only glowing but turned hot. The air around them was shifting.

“You have to go,” you exclaimed and pushed him away.

“We just found you,” he tried to say, but you kept on pushing. “Go now, before he sees you. Please,” she begged when he didn’t move at all. The cat behind you was hissing. “Just hide there,” you pointed somewhere where the trees were thick. Unwillingly Steve and Bucky walked where you pointed and they only did it because they noticed your panic. The white cat was also hiding in the high grass and Bucky had to watch as you tried to dry your eyes while the grass around you started to become greener and flowers started to grow.

“There you are,” he heard a voice and his eyes were about to fall out when he spotted someone walking towards his Sunshine. “There is no need for tears, we can turn them into happy tears if you’ll finally accept my offer of marriage. Your days as a swan will be over, you can go back to your island. So will you marry me?” Bucky had to watch as the man with the red face stepped towards you and tried to wipe away your tears. He was about to confront the man, when he saw you stepping back and he could hear your disgust when you declined.

“Oh this would have been your chance, princess. Did you think I wouldn’t notice your little visitors. This was your last chance,” with a swipe of his hand the enormous tree where Steve and Bucky were hiding was split in two. “You think you can save her? What fools you are! Have fun finding her now!” A loud boom was heard and before they could do anything the whole area around them changed. Loud cackling was heard and suddenly hundreds of swans were surrounding the two flabbergasted men. They couldn’t see Red Skull anymore but could hear his voice before it faded out. “No more human form for you, princess. Let’s see if your prince will recognize you now.”

“Where is he?” Steve asked confused.

“Where is she?” Bucky asked at the same time.

It was loud, very loud. They could almost not hear each other despite standing next to each other, but the swans were making so much noise. They were making their way towards the lake while a few of them came towards Steve and Bucky. One snapped at Bucky’s sleeve. “Sunshine?” he asked, but the swan only turned more aggressive. Another one was biting in Steve’s shoe.

“Sunshine?” Both yelled in the hopes that you would hear them and come towards them. But they only saw birds over birds.

“And why are they so aggressive? Sunshine?” Bucky complained and tried to take some steps forward, but there were too many birds. Suddenly a few swans were extra loud and two started to dive into the air. Feathers were flying around and they could see something else between the swans: a white cat. The one which had protected Sunshine.

“We must reach it, I bet it will be able to recognize her! Can you grab it?”

“One of them just stole my shoe!” Steve complained and tried to move forward but slipped on the ground and almost fell on one swan. In the end he managed to grab the cat who climbed his form more than willingly and sat down on his shoulder. “Got it, Buck!” As soon as both men stood next to each other the cat walked over to Bucky's shoulder. Together they moved and when the claws retrieved from Bucky's skin, he knew they came closer.

Until the claws came back full force suddenly and the noise in his ear indicated that Sunshine had to be close to them. That’s when he spotted one swan fighting against two others and the cat jumped in, ready to shove her claws into the bird. Steve was pushing one out the way and Bucky almost ran to the animal that was injured and tried to scoop it up in his arms, but the bird didn’t want to be caged.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he tried to soother it. “Calm down, Sunshine. I’ve got you!”

It was these words that did the trick. Suddenly it was very quiet around them while the swan and the prince stared into each other's eyes. One by one the other swans disappeared until only one remained.

“I think she needs to be on the water to change,” Steve’s voice sounded much too loud in the now quiet area. Bucky was finally able to lift the swan he believed to be his princess and carried it towards the water. And as soon as the feet touched the surface the water started to spin splash against both – although the prince couldn’t care less as he stared into the face he came to love.

“You’re hurt,” he exclaimed once he let his eyes roam over your body and saw you clutching your arm against your torso.

“It’s not much, but we need to leave. I think the curse might be broken I feel more like myself I think. But we need to get out of here in case he comes back.”

The prince agreed. He might be a good swordsman but he was helpless against magic. The three of them made their way back to where Bucky and Steve came from, including a white feline following them. Bucky didn’t hesitate to pick it up and place it back on his shoulders. As soon as it had a comfortable place where it was secure it retreated its claws and slung its tail around the prince neck. With Sunshine to his right and Steve on her right side they continued their way.

“Okay, so we have Sunshine. And now how to we get back? The portal is closed?”

“Oh, I might be able to fix this,” you said and walked towards a burned place on the ground. Suddenly your voice had more authority than they had ever heard from you. “Magician Strange, I order you to open this portal right now so your crown princess can come back home.”

“How did you do that?” Steve asked when he watched the sparks to appear again. You pointed at a bracelet around your wrist with an orange stone like the one they had in their hand. When you told them it was a precaution so you could stay in touch with the magicians it dawned on them that they didn’t even have a plan to get back or if they even should have made it back. And later when you heard the whole story you fell even more in love with your prince and were glad that you had such good friends who risked everything for you.

“It’s so good to see you, princess,” Strange lowered his head instead of a bow.

“It’s good to see you too, magician Strange. At least one magician I know I can trust.” Your recap of the story was interrupted when another portal opened and Yelena, Natasha and Samuel stepped through. Samuel didn’t even care that he had to bow before you – never in your life had you seen him rum so quickly and his arms were thrown around you. A burnt smell filled your nose, but you didn’t care and wrapped your uninjured arm around him.

“I’m so sorry I failed you,” he almost sobbed in your shoulder.

“You didn’t fail me,” you assured him. It was chaos after that. When Strange heard the whole story, he took Yelena with him to face Red Skull and they disappeared through the portal. After a lot of hugging and checking in with each other (and calling a healer for your arm) you all agreed to get cleaned up to get rid of the burned smell and the smell of swamp.

Many hours later you were all still gathered in a sitting room. Your head laid on Bucky's shoulder and you had problems with staying awake. Sam was currently retelling the story of a dragon they had faced and you weren’t sure if you should believe him if it wasn’t for Natasha who backed up his story. The white feline was laying on the softest pillow next to Steve, but decided that your lap looked more comfortable.

“You can sleep, princess. We’ll all protect you,” Bucky mumbled in your ear.

“I need to go home tomorrow, but maybe – would you like to accompany me? I could show you my island and to be honest,” you paused as you weren’t sure if you could share your feelings now.

“I’m not ready to be apart from you again too,” he assured you and a featherlight kiss was pressed against your hair.

“Okay, good,” you yawned and your eyes finally closed.

In the end the two kingdoms were reunited. And while it was a huge political thing that no one really wanted to get into it was more about their princess. As the story started as the Sunshine and the Grump it didn’t end that way. Because when their King looked at his Queen you wouldn’t know who smiled more. It was a story of love that most people would only find in a fairytale book. And with their friends who travelled with them from the island to the mainland it wasn’t only a story about love, but friendship and family. And as we stated that the story wasn’t so long ago, they still live very happily.

Masterlist | Library Blog

Reblogs, comments, asks or just a ramble mean the world to me <3

#bucky x reader #fairytale au #fairytale retelling #the swan princess #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #prince!bucky #sunshine x grumpy #bucky x female reader #prince!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #found family

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beananacake · 1 year

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My Crown Upon Your Head

Ch. 1

Prince!Bucky Barnes x Reader

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

WC: 3.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You kept your head low as you said your name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was simple enough for you to do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sadly, your dreams were once again stalled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Sir.”

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

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You may go.”

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

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

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

Your husband. What an absurd notion!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are already married.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She is your wife.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes royal au #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #prince bucky barnes x reader #prince!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel royal au #marvel historical au #prince!bucky #bucky barnes x y/n #my crown upon your head fic #beananacake writes

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holylulusworld · 10 months

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Not a queen (5)

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

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

Warnings: angst, dystopian world, modern royal au, shy reader, arranged marriage, idiots in love (kinda), possessive Nick, cocky reader (kinda), talk about sex, language, Nick is a horny bastard, a hint of fluff

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

A/N: Read Wuthering Heights. :)

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

<< Part 4

Not a queen (Arc 2) masterlist

“Stop fidgeting,” Nick tuts as you nervously shift in your seat. He tried to read a book while watching over you. He’s still angry at his brother. “You’re making me nervous.”

“Stop locking me away then. Let me go home and look for a new bride. You’re an awful prison guard,” you bite back, “and a pervert. I dare you to touch me again!”

“You would purr like a cat in heat for me if I ever touched you,” he grins when you shy away, and drop your gaze. “You’re so cute and sweet. Do you want me to show you the ropes for our wedding night?”

You scrunch up your nose. “No! Keep it in your pants!”

“I wasn’t talking about my cock,” he laughs. “Maybe you’d like it when I go down on you and taste your sweetness.”

“Go down on me?” You gape at Nick. “What do you mean? Do you want to have a look at my feet? I just washed them.”

Nick makes an odd noise. His features soften when you look at him, brows furrowed in confusion. “Aw, you are a cute little mouse. I will enjoy ruining you.”

He slams the book shut and places it on the coffee table next to the old armchair he occupied. Nick gets up to stand in front of you. He looks you all over. “What are you doing?”

“I try to find out if you are playing with me, or if you are innocent through and through,” he purrs. Nick cups your face with his large hands, leaning closer as you stare up at him with doe eyes. “I wanna taste you, mouse. Can I?”

“What?” You are confused. Nick was cruel and rejected you anytime he got the chance to do so. “I-“

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” He brushes his lips over yours. You whimper and close your eyes. You hold your breath and wait for the feel of his lips on yours. “Mouse…”

“Hands off!”

You shriek as the door slams open and a beyond furious Bucky steps inside the room. He glares at his brother, ready to rip Nick apart.

“For fuck’s sake, Bucky,” Nick cures under his breath. “What are you doing here? It’s my turn to spend time with Y/N.”

“You tried to grope her again!”

Nick sneers. “I wanted to kiss her, you idiot. She doesn’t even know what it means to go down on a woman. I only tried to ease her into becoming our sweet wife.”

“Nick, I swear,” Bucky growls, “if you don’t stop toying with Y/N to hurt her I’ll break your face.”

“Toy—what?” Nick purses his lips. “I want the first kiss. Is that so hard to understand!”

“You don’t even like her.”

“Maybe. But she’s a cute mouse and I want to…” Nick huffs. He doesn’t know what he wants if he’s honest. All he knows is that you woke his jealous streak. The thought of his brother having you first drives him up the wall.

“You want what?”

“Nothing.”

Nick storms off. He grumbles under his breath before slamming the door shut behind him.

You are confused. Moments ago, Nick tried to kiss you, and then he changed his mind once again. Only because his brother caught you in the act.

“Did he hurt you?” Bucky steps toward you to cradle your face. He looks you all over, humming as you just look at him. “Did he kiss you? Did he steal the first kiss?”

“Why are you always fighting? I’m not some toy you can fight over. You’re like my twin brother, fighting over nonsense with me when we were kids…” You shake your head and drop your eyes to his chest.

“You didn’t tell us much about your brothers.”

“The eldest died before I and Y/B/N were born. He was the first son. When Y/B/N and I were born…” You sniffle.

“It was a death sentence to your brother,” Bucky whispers. “You never told us you were twins. I thought he was your elder brother.”

“Oh-he was! My brother was born first,” you grab Bucky’s wrist. “He was good big brother. But the law shows no mercy to a second son. It didn’t matter our elder brother was long dead.”

“It’s insanity, Y/N. This law is a crime against humanity. One day, we will this endless circle of death and violence. I promise.”

Bucky presses a soft kiss to your forehead, lips lingering as you close your eyes. “How?”

“We will tell you all about it soon. Just give me a little time to tame my brother. He always was the wild one.”

“Mouse, come here,” Nick pats the empty spot next to him on the sofa. “Let’s read a book and talk about our engagement.”

“Where’s Bucky?” You glance around the room, wondering if you can trust Nick to not try to grope you.

“Did he kiss you? I bet Bucky stole the first kiss.” Nick looks like an angry child when you step toward the sofa. “Did he? You can tell me. I know it’s not your fault. Bucky always got everything first.”

“He kissed my temple,” you whisper. Nick is still a mystery to you. Most of the time, he tells you that he hates you. And now, he almost looks hurt. “Not my lips.”

You sit next to him, glancing at the book in his hands. “It’s called Wuthering Heights,” he says. “Did you read it?”

“No. What is it about?” You ask.

“So, there is this guy Heathcliff. He’s an orphan who falls in love with a girl above his class. Poor guy loses her to some richer guy.”

“That’s sad,” you sniff. “Why do you read such a book?”

“Wait, that’s not the end, mouse,” he excitedly says. “Heathcliff devotes the rest of his life seeking revenge on her family and all who have wronged him.”

“He sounds like a bad guy.”

“What? I—”

“She’s not wrong, Nick. Just remember how Heathcliff treats his son and the boy’s mother,” Bucky interjects.

“You really had to ruin the book for me,” Nick pouts. “Why do you always mess with the things I like?”

“Did he love her for real?” You move a little closer to Nick to take the book out of his hands.

“What?”

“Heathcliff, did he love her, or was it just…”

“He loved her dearly,” Nick leans closer again to cup your cheek. “He would’ve burned the world for her, mouse. It was the kind of love you make you a better person or destroying you.”

>> Part 6

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #bucky barnes x reader #prince!bucky #prince!nick #modern royal au #dystopian au #Not a queen (5)

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pinkiebieberpie · 2 years

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prince!bucky

he's quite possessive, loves his princess and would do anything for her, charming, everybody loves him and the whole kingdom thinks he's a perfect pure angel but only his princess knows the truth; she knows his body, knows how it feels to be close to him, to have him inside you, to feel his lips and hands on your warm skin;

bucky moodboards list

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pellucid-constellations · 2 years

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A Correspondence of Obligation - Five

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Princess!Reader (Royal AU)

Summary: Obedience, duty, pristine smiles—raised as the princess of an oppressive kingdom, you knew nothing else. Your father signed your life away at the ripe age of five, black ink bleeding into a contract between nations, fate cemented with the flick of a quill. So when the time came to fulfill the promises you were too young to make, you expected much of the same in the land of Brookshire. But Prince James had other plans, as did the enemies looming outside the castle walls.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Angst, lots of longing

a/n: I love love feedback, so let me know what you think! Thank you for reading ♡♡

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Lady Wanda loved to gossip—you’d learned that quite early on.

Each day in Brookshire, you’d make your way to the dayroom for tea and ‘fraternizing’ as your mother used to call it, and she would spill everything she’d learned from the halls. Kitchen maids, stable boys, noblemen; no one was safe from Wanda’s wandering gaze, and that made for very good entertainment. And Wanda was loyal to you, never one to share your business with others. She was considered a lady in your court, after all.

So after two days of lying in bed and moping, the sun restricted by the linen curtains that still let in entirely too much light, you decided you would need to brave the castle halls and get some answers from the fountain of knowledge herself.

You said ‘brave the halls’ quite literally; Bucky had been lurking at your door relentlessly, passing notes through your guard that you left unread on your vanity.

Someone must have been informing him that you weren’t reading them, because after about five or six abandoned parchments, Bucky instead found the two minute sliver of time that your guards changed, and spoke through your door, instead.

“Please, princess, just give me ten minutes. I promise I will explain everything and you won’t have to say a word.”

No answer for that one, although his voice had surprised you.

“I am begging you—completely on my knees and begging for you to simply listen to me, darling. Please.”

His voice sounded more rough that time, more broken. Probably comparable to yours.

I am new to this and doing terribly, believe me, I know. The way I feel for you overwhelms me and I did you a great disservice by not sharing a whole truth. But I cannot sleep knowing you hate me, cannot breathe.

You were so confused—inconsolable and filled with an anger both new to you and so deeply repressed. He couldn’t sleep? He felt overwhelmed? You had shoved your covers over your head long before he left your door.

“Steve tells me that you refuse to speak to him as well. Do not shut others out because of me. Your cousin had no idea that that… woman would do such a thing.”

The revulsion as he spoke the word shocked you, but still not enough to get out of bed.

“Please, at least spend some time outside during the day. I promise I will not bother you. I miss you endlessly but I’d rather you be happy and distant than any other variation.”

You had pressed your hand to the door when he came by that time. It was around midnight and you were plagued by the desperation in his voice. Your stomach had that same feeling that arose when he brought you hot chocolate on your first day here, but then you had slipped and the door hinge rattled and the quick intake of Bucky’s breath on the other side of the door had you running back to bed.

“I miss you.”

That one nearly did you in. Because he wasn’t asking for anything, wasn’t pleading for a forgiveness you didn’t even know how to provide. He simply wanted you to know.

Bucky had already been by for his morning groveling, so you knew the halls would be safe for at least the next two hours. He was supposed to be in the throne room to receive the people’s loan requests for the day. You just hoped he hadn’t abandoned his duties in favor of trying to wipe your memory of the kiss that still burned your eyes every time you blinked.

You cracked the heavy wooden door keeping you protected in your room and peeked your head through with an almost comical slowness.

“Sir William,” you stage whispered, glancing up at the stiff guard to your left. “Has the prince truly left?”

Sir William glanced at you from the corner of his eye, clearly over your antics in his old age. “Yes, Your Highness. But he will surely return. Lady Natasha and the duke haven’t been by yet. Shockingly.”

You huffed out a relieved sigh and slinked through the door, ignoring the news of your friends. The hem of your dress skimmed at the tops of your feet with each careful step. The hall was wide and empty, but as you breezed past tapestries and portraits, you felt watched; you felt as if Bucky had eyes everywhere, desperate to get even a single chance at a conversation with you.

And instead of annoyance consuming you at the thought, your chest hurt. Because above all—above the ignoring and the hiding—there was the pain. There was the memory of Bucky’s gaze, adoration overwhelming the blue hues, love written in his smile. There was the feel of him forever impressed upon your skin; against your back, your cheeks, your hands. That all felt tainted now, and you weren’t sure if there was anything he could say that would undo that.

You weren’t sure if the filter that now held firm over every memory with him could ever be wiped away.

You needed to speak to Wanda. Bucky would give you every piece of information needed for forgiveness, but Wanda, Wanda… you knew she would give you everything. Period.

The door to the dayroom clicked open without any hang ups—no hidden princes jumping out from dark corners—and the small group of ladies by the window stood to bow. You had been missing from afternoon tea a few times now, and you could tell by their shifting eyes that they were more than a little curious as to why. You made a beeline for Wanda, anyway.

“Lady Wanda, would you mind taking a turn about the room with me?” you asked, a feigned calmness in your regal posture.

She caught on faster than you could blink. “Of course, princess.”

Her arm looped with yours as the other ladies sat, clearly disappointed in their lack of gossip. The rugs in the dayroom made the walk a silent one, but the birds that flitted past open archways made up for that missing stride. They landed on branches and ruffled leaves, creating a small buffer for your hushed words.

“I am sure you have heard what happened,” you spoke to the ground, Wanda’s hand tightening on your arm as she took a small inhale.

“Unfortunately.”

“Then you must know what I am about to ask you.”

Wanda nodded to the ladies as you passed them, smiling as she whispered, “Of course. And I have looked into the topic at great length.”

A few more steps away from the card game by the window and she stopped you by an archway, faking a look out at sea.

“Queen Sharon and the prince spent a lot of time together when they were younger. Their courts were politically distant, but their parents encouraged them to play together since they were so close in age. There was never anything between them. Sources tell me that the queen may have had a childhood crush, but the prince was never interested. He kept his flings quick and detached—waiting for you, I’d suppose. And he hasn’t been with anyone in the last three years.”

Your lashes fluttered to the edge of the archway, taking a moment to collect yourself. You knew Bucky must have been with at least one other person before you. He was a few years older, and you wouldn't expect him to be completely celibate while he waited for his arranged bride to finally join his court.

But the thought still tugged at something deep within your chest, the images conjured from the cruel corners of your mind trying to suffocate you.

Wanda continued after an inhale of the ocean breeze. “The real root of the problem here is with Madripoor’s monarchy. They have been struggling since before Sharon became queen, constantly trying to grapple with a population that is on the brink of a revolution. High taxes, little resources, queens that demand too much—they lack the love of their people, and that’s never good for unity.

“Many believe that Sharon’s parents sent her to Brookshire so often because they hoped the prince would take her for a wife instead, but that can never be proven. And besides, once James was able to make decisions for himself, he was dead-set on you.” Wanda nudged you away from the view, finally turning to meet your gaze as you continued your walk. “What I’m trying to tell you, princess, is that Madripoor is on the brink of a political collapse. Sharon is losing her power and a union with Brookshire would be just what she needed to gain it back.”

Your mind was a flurry of emotion and logical thought, the two twisting and convoluting your already tattered opinions. Sharon needed political power, and Bucky would be able to give her that. They didn’t have a history of romance, and, according to Wanda, Bucky had safeguarded any emotional attachment for the moment he met you.

But Sharon was a competent queen; she knew that attempting to break up a royal decree, one blessed by the churches, would be considered treason.

“Do you think that the queen…” you began, uncertainty heavy in your tone. “Do you think that she has fallen for the prince? You seem so sure that he would never want her, but would she want him? She is a queen, Lady Wanda. Even if he does not love her, that’s two kingdoms the prince would gain with the union. I can only offer him a treaty.”

Wanda scoffed, the sound echoing in the room. “I have heard many things about Queen Sharon, but being a romantic is not one of them.”

You worried your bottom lip as you rounded the next corner of the room, more confused than ever. You didn’t have much experience with love; you weren’t allowed to even speak to most of the boys in your court, let alone kiss them. You couldn’t imagine using such an intimate act as a ploy for political power, but up until a few months ago, there were many things you couldn’t imagine.

The joy of riding a horse. The way your stomach flipped every time Bucky let his fingers glide along your jaw. The freedom of walking the halls without a particular destination in mind. The rage and the betrayal and the dejection that came from watching a man you had never expected to love you kiss another woman.

You didn’t know what to believe—who in this whirlwind of a court you were supposed to trust when everything was such a novel experience for you.

“Princess, may I speak freely?” Wanda questioned, her eyes never leaving the side of your face, watching as you parsed through a thousand emotions.

“You may always speak freely.”

“I know what you saw. And I know your background. You expected the worst from the prince and instead, you found… something else. Seeing him in that room must have pulled the ground out from under you.” Wanda came to stand in front of you, gripping your shoulders in a stern, friendly manner. “But I have never seen a man look at a woman the way the prince looks at you. I have never before seen the lengths he has gone just to catch a glimpse of you these past few days.

“You know I am the ears in this castle, and, Your Highness, all I hear from James is you.”

Your chest heaved, Wanda’s hands rising and falling with the motion. Your mouth parted but no words escaped. Your eyes stung and welled up until the figure in front of you became glassy. It was improper to cry in front of others, to cry in front of your ladies, but Wanda simply squeezed your arms in response.

“I’m not telling you to forgive him.” She spoke softly, comfortingly. “I am simply suggesting that you hear what he has to say. But make him work for it. He may be a prince, but that does not excuse him for being an imbecile.”

Your laugh was heavy and shadowed by unshed tears, but it was a laugh, and that was more than you had managed over the last few days.

Wanda had given you something to hold onto—a way to make sense of this mess that had become your life. And while it wasn’t a solution, maybe when you were forced out of the castle tomorrow for your foreboding date with the prince, you would at least pretend to listen.

“You look lovely.”

“Do not talk to me, Steven.”

“What—Y/n, please, I have apologized more times than I can count,” Steve exasperated, jogging to catch up with your guard as they guided you down the winding hall.

“Perhaps you should learn to count higher.”

Your cousin finally reached your side, matching your determined pace as you hightailed it to the back gates of the castle. With Wanda’s words still ringing in the back of your mind, paired with a very strong—albeit pandering—pep talk from Natasha, you had made resilient plans to be unwavering on this trip with Bucky; to listen to his words, but only to listen.

If he wanted your forgiveness, you would need a lot more than words. That is, if what Wanda said was the truth. If there was even a hint of actual romance behind that kiss—if Bucky had any part in initiating it—you were done. You would live an entire lifetime of loneliness before you became a fool, a woman on the side.

“You started speaking to Natasha again!” Steve called, trying to catch your attention. “She knew about Sharon as well.”

You spared a glance in his direction. “Natasha knew that Sharon was still in the castle. She did not know that the queen was getting comfortable in Prince James’ room. And I would hardly consider dressing me each morning a wanted conversation.”

In all honesty, you missed both of them more than anything. Natasha had come to your room the night you cried against your bed sheets with open arms, but you had given your guards strict instructions to not let anyone in. The words were muffled by tears, and Sir William looked about two seconds away from dashing protocol to hug you, but the order was there.

Natasha had given you space. It wasn’t until just yesterday that you had given her a chance to explain herself. She had known Sharon was still in Brookshire, but her station did not allow her to find out where. That admission had eased some of the spiraling betrayal deep within your chest, but your head was still light from all the tears you shed.

Somehow, Steve’s actions felt worse. He had been in Bucky’s chambers when Sharon was there. He had joined you after breakfast for walks around the courtyard just minutes after speaking to the queen, a smile and fond eyes staring down at you as you shared court gossip. And he had never said a word to anyone, other than the brief comments made to Natasha.

It was worse than betrayal—betrayal was localized, concrete. What you felt around your cousin was simply hurt, and hurt was all-consuming.

Steve huffed, desperate. “Well neither of us knew she was going to make advances toward him. Bucky certainly didn’t know. At least give him the chance to explain if I am sentenced to the silent treatment for the rest of my life.”

“You are sentenced to a lifetime of not speaking.”

A strangled scoff left his throat. “Y/n—”

You whirled around on your heel, furrowing your brow to focus on something other than tears. “Steven, I have trusted you my entire life. Back at home you and Natasha were all I had after mother passed. You told me I would always have you and I believed that. But you… you chose this court over me—chose to keep secrets that have left me hollow. I don’t know what to believe anymore, if you even still want me as someone to keep close, so you will excuse me if I am reluctant to speak to you.”

Steve’s expression was nonplussed, grieving. It was as if you had slapped him and left him stunned, feet rooted to the polished ground and mouth unable to close. You had half a mind to feel guilty when his lip quivered, but then a soft voice left him, unlike anything you had ever heard.

“I will be in the carriage with Natasha. Right behind yours if you are to need anything.”

The wide, wooden doors behind you boomed open, the warmth blooming along your back stealing any response you would have shared. It was a gentle warmth, with clouds normally uncharacteristic to Brookshire dotting the sky. You turned with a twisted expression and found that a small group had formed at the back gates of the castle, waiting for you to step through and join your fiancé in the carriage.

A trip to the outer edge of the kingdom was to come, where the ports were plentiful and the people were bustling with trade. You were excited for the journey—back in Hyland you rarely got to see much—but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t just a little tainted.

Because instead of pure excitement radiating from you, there was a twinge of hesitancy as Bucky rounded the carriage, a sword at his hip and a tiredness to his face.

Your foot caught an unevenness in the ground when you spotted him, all coordination leaving your body with the curl of his hair and the clenching of his fingers at his sides. You hadn’t seen him in days, and without a door to keep him from view, you felt your hands begin to tremble as you fell.

“Whoa!” Steve called, his arm catching you around the waist. You saw Bucky’s head shoot up at the sound from across the courtyard. “Are you sure you’re up for today?”

With the worried step Bucky took toward you, you were straightening yourself out in an instant, brushing off your cousin’s arm and inhaling, deeply. “I’ll be fine, Steve,” you murmured. But your words held less than a fraction of the bite than they’d had before.

You tried your hardest to keep your eyes forward and your head held high as you walked to the carriage; Bucky had to think that this wasn’t the end of the world for you. He had to understand that you were a princess first, and would be fine without a strong, loving union with him. That’s what you had expected when you first got to Brookshire, anyway.

And on the outside, you were sure that’s how it appeared.

On the inside, there was a storm raging through every inch of your body.

“Princess,” Bucky greeted, his tone wavering when you finally allowed your eyes to fleetingly meet his. “Coney Port awaits your beauty.”

You felt your stomach clench.

Keeping a strong front in the presence of others, it seemed.

You nodded to him, a slow motion that implied things you could hardly even grasp yourself. Bucky grimaced at the action, mouth parting but no words filling the space. When you passed him, you felt a piece of you crumble, the piece that longed for the warmth of his hand on your back or the whisper of his lips along your temple.

Peter, who had been watching the exchange with an uncomfortable smile, quickly found his place by the steps of the carriage, an eager hand held out to help you into the cab. But Bucky was faster than him, your fingers taken into the hands you had missed so terribly.

He didn’t have a glove on. It was protocol that princes wore gloves on their outings, part of the uniform of royalty. And Bucky always wore them when he was supposed to.

So when that spark traveled up your wrist and bloomed in your chest—when your breath caught in your throat as his skin touched yours—you were sure his forgetfulness was intentional.

That charming imbecile.

You watched as he shut the doors behind you, making sure your dress was securely in the cab with delicate hands. Squire work, really, but Bucky didn’t seem to mind, grateful to simply be close to you. You hoped he would keep this air once you started your long carriage ride; you hoped he would be pleasant and gentle because you needed to keep your mind clear in order to fully grasp his words.

Bucky entered the carriage with a timid, shaky breath soon after you were settled. He sat opposite to you, his knees inches from yours in the enclosed space. It felt heavy—the atmosphere. It felt as if everything the prince had planned on saying over the past few days was crushed beneath an intangible weight.

You almost thought he might’ve given up. That maybe after so much time spent against your door, he decided his dignity was worth more than your forgiveness.

That thought was wiped from your mind when you saw the way his fingers twitched on his lap—the way his knee bounced as you waited for the horses to lead you to the edge of the kingdom. Nerves, so uncharacteristic of a prince.

When the horses did finally begin the journey, your body jolted back with the force, the edge of the seat digging into your shoulder. You were grateful; it grounded you enough that you weren’t shocked when you heard the delicate timbre of Bucky’s apologies over the strong hooves.

“I know this is unfair,” he began. “That I am making you listen to all of this when you are trapped in a carriage with me. But I have thought of nothing but your tears for the past few days. Even if you do not forgive me, please, just allow me to explain. Allow me to take away some of that hurt.”

Turning your head from the window, you faced him, finally getting a good look at the discoloration under his eyes and the pale nature of his skin. His beard was unkempt and his hair, while held firmly by a crown, looked disheveled in a way only another royal would be able to discern. You dipped your head in response, not quite trusting your voice to be any stronger than his.

Bucky’s relief was palpable, a gust of staggering air leaving him.

“I grew up with Sharon. We were childhood friends, nothing else. I can swear to you that there was never anything between us and I never want there to be.”

“And was there ever… anything with anyone else?” you cut him off, already breaking your own rules. If he was to tell the truth, you would need it all.

He sighed, fingers tucking loose hair behind his ears with little coordination. “I have been with other women.” Your throat hurt at his confession, an unwarranted possessiveness taking over. Bucky hadn’t known you back then, he hadn’t promised you anything. “But I never let it go anywhere. I didn’t want it to go anywhere when I knew you were my future—”

“You may continue.” You didn’t really care to hear more about the other women that didn’t go anywhere. Twigs snapped beneath your words.

Bucky looked conflicted for a moment, the carriage jostling his body as he tried to read the imperceptible emotions on your face. He wasn’t aware that you already knew most of the story he was going to tell, so schooling your face into a mask wasn’t nearly as hard as it should’ve been. You felt bad for a moment, considering the secret you were keeping, but the secret was yours. This time, you got to know things that he did not.

He cleared his throat. “Um, Sharon. She had been acting differently as of late. Sending me more letters, asking to visit court—up until a few days ago I thought she had developed feelings for Steve. But she had been pushy at your ball, making me dance when I was clearly trying to join you elsewhere. After we left for the night she was enraged. She told me I wasn’t behaving like a future king, that you were a bad influence.

“I thought she was just trying to help lead me in the right direction since we had been friends for so long, but then she… well she made her intentions clear and she wouldn’t leave.” Bucky leaned forward in his seat, resting his forearms on his legs and avoiding your eyes. “She told me that I didn’t need you. Repeatedly. She offered me Madripoor.”

You sucked in a sharp breath; knowing he would say that did not lessen the blow.

The sound appeared to shoot through Bucky’s chest, causing him to glance up at you from under furrowed brows. And despite himself, he grabbed for your hand, a desperate plea for your attention.

“Please understand, I would turn down so much more for you. Before you came to this court I might’ve humored the thought, but, princess, now that I know you I would turn down far more than a kingdom.”

“Why?” you whispered over tumbling rocks and loose dirt. “Why would you do all of that for me? You’ve never even… I mean, I saw you in that room with her. The way you were kissing her. You’ve never…”

The hand around yours tightened. “I was not kissing her. She heard you speaking to my knight and kissed me the second the wood passed the door frame. Y/n, Sharon wants power, not love. She knew kissing me would drive you away from what we already had and thought it would give her an opening.”

You blinked, the most important part of your question left unanswered. You already knew what Sharon’s motives were, and you knew that Bucky was more than sorry by his haggard appearance and the words left at your door. But you still wanted to know why.

Why hadn’t Bucky kissed you when he had kissed so many in the past? Why had these unnamed women been given the luxury of the prince against their lips when you were the one he would give up kingdoms for? Why hadn’t he at least tried?

And why were you different from the rest—better than a queen?

“I know...I know that,” you hushed. The cabin took a harsh right, the abrupt shake making his hold on you trail up to your arm to keep you steady. You continued. “But how am I supposed to believe all of this when it comes to me? How can you feel this way about me when I have hardly a clue who I am myself? I have not had a single moment in my entire life to find out who I am and you somehow seem so sure.

“You’ve been closer with others in the past. How can you be so sure of me?” you stressed, trying to convey the mess of your thoughts to a man still seeking your forgiveness. Bucky simply shook his head, his eyes flitting between both of yours with a frantic confusion.

“I do not understand.” Bucky finally reached past the skin of your wrists, cupping your cheek in an unsure hand. The tremor in his touch could be felt even through the jolting of the carriage. “Darling, they were nothing compared to what I feel for you. I thought this was about Sharon.”

“It is, but—but it’s also so much more because… because you haven’t kissed me. And I had to see you kiss her.”

The carriage shook to an unnatural degree, the horses disrupted and frantic. You weren’t sure if they were supposed to be running at such a speed, but the urgency with which the driver was calling out to them told you that they weren’t. Bucky took a concerned glance behind your head to peer out the window, but his hand on your face hadn’t budged. He slotted his knee between yours, moving forward to encase you in safety.

You reached up to brush your fingers along his knuckles, too focused on your jumbled thoughts to notice the way the guards on horseback could no longer be heard beside the carriage; you couldn’t focus on anything other than the novel distress coursing through you. Is this what love was—confusion and unrelenting insecurity if not in his presence?

The light graze brought the blues of his eyes back on you, his mind now consumed by the touch.

“Princess,” he breathed, a sadness dripping from his tone.

“Why don’t you want to kiss me?”

Bucky couldn’t answer you.

Bucky couldn’t do anything other than watch as your carriage was split in two, wheels flying and horses rearing back until they had enough calm to run. And they did run; they ran from the wreckage and the men that came on even faster steeds with bloodthirsty smiles and red-handled swords. Red was not the color of Brookshire. Bucky didn’t take the time to notice that as the last threads of your dress fluttered past him like letters lost to the wind—like words forever forgotten.

He reached for you; he stretched so far that he was sure he would catch you, but your head knocked against the window, and suddenly you were falling faster than he would ever be able to move, eyes closing on the terror that ripped through him like a curse. You fell, and the men on horseback didn’t appear to care about anyone else laid out on the disrupted trail.

So Bucky couldn’t answer you. He could simply watch as his worst nightmare played out, the sword on his hip clinking against broken wood as his body tumbled away from yours.

His conjured light leaving him along with his consciousness.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #prince!bucky #royal au #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #a correspondence of obligation

919 notes · View notes

subwaysurf45 · 2 years

Text

The Time of the Prey (7)

Summary: The younger sister of the most talked about princess in the kingdoms really can’t do much except smile and nod. When Natasha, your sister, finally goes to moves all of you to Shieldshire to marry her beloved Prince Steve you are left with your art, all alone. But one Knight took it upon himself to keep you company, and that company was all you needed to get through wedding season. Will that company last or will it be ripped away from the both of you? A war is starting and it seems targets are being made.

Pairing: Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Words: 5k

Warnings: swearing, yelling, descriptions of injury, we’re getting the gang back together!!!

Series Masterlist II Series Playlist

It was night when your eyes opened, the forest was silent, part of you thought you had entered the afterlife but when you looked at your hands and saw the dirt and grime you knew you were still alive.

The stories of death were very personal to many different people, you remembered your father getting one final burst of energy before passing, telling people he was fine but they knew he wasn’t. Other people began to smell lemons even if there were none present, and some hallucinated someone in front of them. There were journals of people seeing a bright light before them, the voice of their higher power, or even the voice of their lover who had passed before them.

The burst was fading and your eyes were falling heavy again, the sounds of movement were either a fragment of your imagination or the animals who lived on the forest floor.

But before you closed your eyes you saw a light, a light in the distance. You began to prepare yourself, making sure you left peacefully and not with a fight. Your vision began to double and you saw two, nodding to yourself, trying to make your seating position more comfortable.

But then you saw a triple, then quadruple.

Those were not gateways into the heavens, those were lanterns. The lights rapidly multiplied and began to illuminate the soldiers and the horses, through the trees you saw an eagle on a flag.

“James,” you whispered to yourself, the eagle was Shieldshire’s crest. “Bucky,” your voice had left you, not a single ounce of power was left to muster up a call. “Bucky please,” you tried again but your voice gave out mid way through, instead of talking you’d just make another sound.

Your hand swished around the fallen leaves and sticks, a collective halt came from the men in the distance. You did it again and earned a few murmured questions, people wondering what that was.

You smacked the forest floor three times quickly, then three times slowly, then three times quickly again. A couple people picked up on it, the lights began to flicker with movement, they were moving closer.

“This could be a trap, men,” you heard a voice say, “knock your bows.”

“No,” you whispered, your lips incredibly dry. A hand rested on your stomach, though it hurt to breathe in you did so anyway. “Bucky,” you tried as hard as you could and only managed a sound a little higher than normal speaking, the men stopped again.

Except for one.

“Y/N?” the voice brought a tired smile to your lips, “where are you, say that again!” he was over to your left, you tried to speak again but didn’t know if it worked, “keep talking, Y/N, I’l find you, keep-”

Your head rolled to the side, he was frozen in his stance. The amount of blood oozing from you caused his jaw to hang loose and his eyes to scan your body. The colour from his face drained for only a second before he jumped into action, he kneeled by your side but his hands hovered over your body, not sure where to start and if he’ll make it worse.

“Men!” he screamed while staring at you, “bring the nurse,” his voice was shaky, his hand moved to your forehead to pet back your hair, “it’s going to be okay,” he whispered, “bring her now!” to make sure he wasn’t screaming in your face he finally looked over to the crowd of lanterns.

As your breath became more shallow his shaken hands moved faster, still not knowing what to do because of the amount of blood dripping from you.

“Mhm-” you tried to speak but a groan was all that left your lips.

“It’s okay,” Bucky cupped your cheek, “you’re okay, don’t talk, alright?”

“My back,” you whispered, slowly closing your eyes, exhausted from the amount of effort it took to speak.

The nurse finally ran up and dropped her very small box beside her, “it’s her back,” Bucky said quickly, placing his hand on your shoulder and making you lean forward, “Great Hells,” he whispered, “it’s okay, sweet, it’s okay,” it seemed he was telling himself the reassurance rather than you.

“These are extremely infected,” mainly pus oozed rather than blood, “she’s burning up, we need to get her back and we need to do it fast,” your vision was blurry but you knew she was looking at Bucky.

“Men!” he called, “this does not end the war,” he stood, “you all must go and I must bring Princess Y/N back to our kingdom for medical attention.” The Knights began to argue, all of them wanted to go home, “I was charged by Lady Melina to bring her home and I’ll die before I let her stay here!” his voice shook as he screamed, not waiting another second he grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, “I know…”

“Bucky…” you whispered, “just let me go…”

“No,” he grunted as he placed you on his horse, quickly getting on behind you and making you hold the reins, his large hands covering yours to keep them steady, “rest back on me, sweet, rest back on me there you go.”

“Bucky,” you whispered again but he was too busy giving orders, shouting at his men and then taking off. Your body shook as the horse sprinted down the trail, “I’m tired.”

“I know you are,” he spoke loudly over the sound of hooves hitting the ground, “but stay awake for me, alright?” his chin rested on your shoulder, “your family will kill me but I need you here for as long as I can, I missed you, I longed for you, I was about to slaughter every man in that kingdom for you, I-” he cut himself off and continued to ride, grunting as he tried to keep you upright.

“I’m going to sleep,” you muttered and let your eyes close.

********

When you woke up you were no longer on a horse or in the woods, your coreset was not on and you were shoeless. Under you was a comfy bed and not the back of a tree, your eyes took in the moment and found your room looking back at you.

“Was that a dream,” you muttered to yourself and tried to reach behind you to check the cuts, being greeted with terrible stinging, “it was real,” you groaned and laid back down. As you laid there by yourself you looked up to the ceiling, feeling your hands resting on your stomach, you could almost feel Bucky’s arms around you.

The door opened and your eyes flew to it, “sister!” Natasha ran up to you and hugged your head into her chest, “you’re alive!” she began sobbing, “I thought you had left us, thank the heavens, oh my…” she peppered kisses on your head, touching and feeling all around your face to reassure what she was seeing.

“How long was I asleep?” your speaking voice had been out of use, making it gravelly.

“Four days, sister, four terrible days,” she pulled you back in again, “you woke screaming the first night and we gave you tumble weed,” a hard medicine to kill pain but also knock you out so you wouldn’t have to feel anything anymore.

“Where’s Bucky?” you pushed her away, looking at her watery eyes.

“Who?”

“Ser James,” you balled up her dress, “I must see him now.”

“No,” she shook her head and stood up tall, “he was the one who caused you to be taken, he has been banished,” she squinted at your appalled expression, “you should be thanking me.”

“No,” you tried to stand but it was too painful, “get him back here now, I need him.” Natasha shook her head and began to walk away, “bring him back, he saved me from the woods, he cared about me so sweetly, he loves me-”

“I don’t care who he loves-”

“And I love him!” you screamed at sat up, immediately laying back down, “I love him and I have always loved him,” Natasha was disgusted, “you either banished neither or both, I will even marry that man to keep him here I do not care if I go back on years of my own ideals, I will be proper and a real princess just to keep him with me, get him back now!”

Natasha looked out of the doorway, “I… I hadn’t banished him yet…he’s-”

“Bring him to me,” you cut her off, “now!”

“Never,” she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

With the strength you had gathered during your rest you stood and walked towards the door, using the door as balance. You had gotten good at sneaking around guards, taking the winding hallways to Bucky’s chambers. No one had been in the halls, most likely still fighting the war. When you reached his chmaber you could hear movement but you waited for voices, seeing if Natasha had beat you there.

You were greeted with two people talking, neither were Natasha.

“Listen to me,” it was Prince Steve, “I do not want you to leave but I also want to make my wife happy, you must understand me.”

“You know I am a good person, and that I would never let her die on my hands,” Bucky bit back, “you know me better than her and yet you are making her choose where I should go, does that make sense to you?” he yelled.

“Ser,” Steve spoke softly, “I am prepared to let Princess Y/N go with you,” you could hear a pause, “she wouldn’t be banished like you are but she’d be allowed to leave with you.”

“Don’t put that choice on her,” you could hear him pacing, “she has been political bait her entire life and now you want her to make a choice that will cause uproar no matter what she chooses, making the all the kingdoms talk about her, do you really think we should add that to all the things shes been through?”

Your ear pressed up against the wooden door, you wanted to open it so badly but you just couldn’t. It hurt to hold back but you knew you had to, for yours and his sake.

“James,” Steve said sadly, “this is all I can offer you, truly, all I can do.”

“Is she awake?” Bucky asked.

“As far as I know, no,” you could hear Prince Steve get closer to the door, you quickly ran and his around the corner you knew he wasn’t walking towards. After hearing their goodyes you heard the door open and then shut, a loud sigh coming from the Prince. His footsteps got quieter and quieter as he walked in the other direction.

Your back didn’t hurt to move, just when you touched it. You could feel the layers of padding and bandaged used to keep the cuts from seeing the light of day, infections were teh elading cause of death because they were so unknown. You had read books about the history of medicine, something to do while Natasha learned how to sew, and there were things that seemed basic but were yet to be understood.

Slowly, you placed one foot in front of the other, seeing the wood on the door move closer. How would you greet him, knocking or walking right in, would you say anything? It would be hard to just spring this on him, probably cause him a heart attack. Once you reached the door you stood there, still as can be. If he heard your hearing he didn’t respond to you, then again, you were holding your breath.

All of the confidence you had left got you to a fist right in front of the door, not knocking or moving. You held still, thinking of the many out comes, maybe it was just easier to go back to bad and have him come to you. But when were you the hopeless princess who waited for her Knight in shining armor.

you had been chained and whipped; how was this harder?

When you heard a stop in his moment you knocked on the door, “no thank you,” was all he said. You laughed to yourself and slowly opened the door, “I said-” he froze in the middle of his room, only in his black trousers and nothing else, you weren’t expecting him to be without a tunic.

Shamelessly, your eyes raked his body as you both stood frozen for two different reasons, the box he was holding had slipped from his hands but neither of you broke the eye contact once you looked back up at him.

“Hello,” you whispered, staying in the hallway.

“Are you real?” he stepped forward and gently reaching his hand out, you let him cup your cheeks when he was close enough.

Tears gathered in your eyes as you felt his warmth, you leaned into his touch and brought your hand up as well to fully feel him. His skin was soft yet callused with battle, your eyes were closed as you felt him, his aurora, around you. His other hand slipped on your waist, pulling you closer and staying on your hip.

“You’re alive,” he had leaned down and wrapped both arms around you, “I can’t believe my eyes,” your tears had already started falling, his were beginning.

Both of you shook as you cried on one another, he stepped back and shut his door. Your hands stayed wrapped your his neck while his moved around, feeling you to make sure you were real. They were restless, his head was still like yours, pushed deep into your neck.

“I thought I lost you-u,” he sobbed, “I was so lost, I can n-not describe it,” his frantic hands stopped and he fully wrapped around you, holding you so tightly it was starting to hurt your scars, but you didn’t say a word.

“If you leave, I will follow,” you whispered and slowly pulled away, letting your forehead rest again his but your arms stayed looped around him.

“I can not ask that of you,” his head shook.

“You are not asking,” your fingers played with the hair on his neck, scratching his scalp, “I am telling you, I do not want to live a miserable life, I want you.”

“I want you too,” his hands squeezed your hips, “I want you so badly.”

You pulled away and looked deeply in his eyes, “then have me.”

It was an open invitation, he took it quiklcy. His lips caught yours before you could say something else, moving quickly with a purpose. You tried to catch up but he seemed to be one step ahead of you, kissing you hard enough your teeth were starting the clack against one another.

Hands felt up and down your back, causing a little irritation to your scars but you kept your mouth shut again. Bucky’s teeth had sunken into your bottom lip countless times when he felt you want ot pull away, making sure he could have you for a long as possible.

“Bucky,” you groaned, “wait…” after a few seconds what you said registered with him and he pulled away, out of breath and panting as he stared at you. “Slow down,” you said with a smile, “I am not going anywhere.”

“I know,” he cupped your cheek and pressed his thumb to your lips, “but I’ve always wanted to do that, truly, I have always wanted to know what your lips felt like.” once he caught his breath he walked to you to the corner of his bed, “Y/N, I do not want you to leave your life for me,” he started but waited for a moment, “but I also want you to know that I am deeply in love with you.”

“Bucky,” you whispered and took his hand, “I am fully captivated by you.”

“I know you are not interested in marrying, but if you’ll have me…” he took a deep breath, “I could make you so happy, putting up my helmet would grant me a lot of money, money that would keep up happy for the rest of our lives together.”

“I want to be with you,” you admitted, “but I do not see myself as a bride, it’s very confusing and I don’t understand it sometimes but-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” he shook his head quickly, “but I could retire now, especially after this war.”

“What happened?”

Bucky explained how when the men had shown up a revolution had already begun against the government, people were fighting the guards and losing because the Knights had much more combat experience. When Southlands’ army showed up most of the retreated back to thier homes and watched the real army battle it out, but some of them stayed to fight the fight. Eventually the royals surrenered and gave up their crown, no one took it. There were a few Knights who thought they were worthy but the people of Hydra’s Hill took the power for themselves, claiming the revolutionaries had a new idea about government.

“Voting,” Bucky said, “they want to have a democracy.”

You couldn’t help but smile, that old lady was right, she may have gone down with her ship but at least the people got what they deserved. No one had been elected yet, there were still people who didn’t like the idea or people coming up with campaigns about rebuilding the city the had been slightly broken from the attack.

The door swung open adn Natasha stood there with fire in her eyes, your mother stood behind her. “You must take me as a fool,” she walked forward, “my sister hasn’t been awake for an hour and you’re already having relations with her,” she gestured his lack of shirt, “you’re pig!”

“Natasha,” your mother said sternly, “this is what you wanted to show me, you took me out of a meeting for this?”

“But mother!” Natasha whined, “they should not be together, he let her get stolen, he should be stripped of all titles, he’s going to be kicked out of this castle!” her foot stoped to punctuate her sentence.

“You must take me as a fool, daughter,” your mother smacked Natasha’s arm, “I charged Ser James to retrieve my second born, and he did.” she looked at him, “put on a shirt, son.”

“Sorry,” he offered and stood.

“He should not be banished, it is not his fault there were spies, none of us knew!” her arms were thrown in the air, “I fully give my permission for the two of them to marry- if they choose to do so,” she quickly added and looked at you, taking a moment to register your puffy lips and slightly dilated pupils, her eyebrows raised and you looked away with a smile.

“This doesn’t make sense, I am the Princess and soon to be Queen, I should be making the decisions here,” Natasha threw her arms around.

“All I see right now is child throwing a tantrum,” you mother crossed her arms, “stop acting like one.” Natasha shut her mouth and cross her arms, “I say let them stay for the wedding, which is in a fortnight and then we can decide what to do, give people sometime to cool off a little before we make any banishing choice here, alright?”

Lady Meline and Natasha left soon after that, you stayed seated on the corner of his bed and watched as he slowly began unpacking things.

“You must be uncomfortable in that night gown,” he pointed out, it was tight and not lose like a dressing gown should be, “you must let your wounds breathe, my love,” he walked over to you and spun you around uniting the few staings on your back.

“Wait,” you quickly turned back towards him and took his hand, “I’ll be fine, I can get undressed on my own,” you thought of how ugly your scarring would be, “let me change on my own.”

“Let me undress you,” he whispered and held your gown, “I’ve been dreaming of this, let me underess you, take care of you for a while, huh?”

“We’ll have the rest of our lives to do so, Bucky,” you saw the way his eyes lit up when you said his name, “let me undress on my own, I don’t want you looking at my scars.”

He shook his head, “I’ll find you beautiful no matter what, I swear it.,” he spoke softly as you stood and found yourself tucked in a corner where he couldn’t see you.

“Thank you,” you said before you changed into a nightgown, he had called a handmaid to grab one for you.

Once you were finished you spent the rest the day in the gardens, painting by yourself. Though you were in front of that pond again it was not reflected on your canvas, it was too innocent now, you had other things on your mind. The face of the old women began to appear, strictly from memory you had gotten her nose and eyes right, small parts about her were added or taken away. Her warmth came through the painting even though she was cold to the touch when she took your hand, it was the inside coming out.

Without thinking you had given her a smile, the same one she offered when you tried to play off that you weren’t a Princess.

When the sun was beginning to fall you debated packing up your things for tomorrow but you just couldn’t stop, you had hit a good stride and didn’t wan too stop incase you lost it again. You didn’t hear him approach but you did feel the gentle brush of his fingers against your arm, causing you to turn around slowly; you knew Bucky’s touch.

“Are you coming inside soon?” he asked softly, looking at the painting, “who’s this?”

“The lady I met when I was escaping Hydra’s Hill,” the sound of the place caused Bucky to grow stiff, “she gave me some treatment on my back.” you looked down at his hands to see a light shall, making sur eyou weren’t getting too cold when the sun set.

“Come inside, love,” he got right up close to your ear, making you shiver, “see, you’re cold, let’s throw this on and head to my quarters, I got permission from your mother so I could watch over you.”

“You just can’t get away from me now can you?” you laughed as he covered his face, throwing the shall on and taking your arm in his, walking you to the doors and to his room.

“Now that I have you, I never want to let you go,” he admitted once he was in the comfort of his own room, “I can’t bare to think of you chained up, getting whipped, even seeking medical attention from a old lady in Flea Bottom, I just can't,” he stressed and took your hands into his own, bring them to his lips and placing gentle kisses on them.

“I’m here now,” you leaned forward, you could feel his lips brush against yours.

“Do you want to spend the night?” he asked, staying the same distance, tilting his head and asking the questions on your lips.

You didn’t respond verbally, your answer was given as you connected your lips and cupped his cheeks tightly. A groan came from James and he began walked forward which made you walk backwards, the backs of you legs hit the edge of the bed and you fell back, having him on top of you. A giggle left your lips as you pulled away for a second, feeling your noses still touching one another.

Bucky kissed the corner of you mouth and then your cheek, working his way to your jaw line and then your neck. The new feeling caused a pit to form in your stomach but you knew you weren’t nervous, desire was building.

Sex was never taught to you, the feelings of lust and desire were always frown upon in any royal family. You weren’t supposed to think about bedding someone until you were married, there was no way you could do it now; not with the sound of your father’s voice in the back of your head.

Shame began to build as Bucky felt around your body, moments from the dungeon also appeared in the forefront of your mind. His hands were starting to touch and feel as well, it didn’t make sense why all these emotions and memories were now starting to arise.

“Do you want me to stop?” Bucky looked up at you, “you’re frozen…” you didn’t respond, simply looking at the ceiling with wide eyes, “Y/N,” he scrambled off of you, “hey, come back to me, it’s Bucky, just me, love,” he took your hand, shaking it slightly.

“S-sorry,” you spat out, sitting up straight as you fixed your dress. Smile and nod, the sound of your father’s voice rung in your head. You looked at Bucky and smiled, the fake smile you did when you first arrived.

“What are you doing?” he asked, kneeling beside the bed.

Your mind raced for an answer, one you had given before, “I love the stained glass windows,” you smiled again, lacing your hands together.

Bucky’s eyebrows pulled together tightly, “Y/N,” he said and slowly placed his hand on your shoulder, “you are in my room, I’m the only one here, you may speak freely like you have been before - I am not mad you wish to stop, in all honestly, I should have-”

“Don’t be cross,” you giggled and stood up, “this is your space and your area, I over stepped and came in, I should take my leave back to my chambers,” your back was stiff and your chin was high, still smiling as if strings were pulling your lips back.

“Y/N,” Bucky didn’t know what else to say, “I-...” he walked to the door and blocked it, “you’re going back to some reserve, stop that and be here with me, we will fall asleep and nothing more…but you have to get out of this…trance.”

Flashes came before you, in the dungeon, your old castle, your father, the man who whipped you, the man who torued you, the old lady, the forest, the way Bucky looked at you as you were dying, the nurse who ran up with him, the black dog.

The world began to blurr, your hearing and vision became distorted, “let me grab a nurse,” he said before turning to the door.

“That will not be nessicary,” you shook your head.

“No,” he was stern, “I’m getting a nurse.”

“I said no,” you reached out the grab his arm but quickly braced for a slap, when nothing happened you looked up again to see the man just staring at you, an appalled look on his face, “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“I’ll grab your mother,” he whispered and quickly ran out of the room.

“No,” your eyes welled with tears, “not my father,” you couldn’t chase after the man who was in the room with you, so you sat on the side of the bed and rubbed your arms, a sudden chill washing over you. You began to prepare what you were going to say to your father, how you would explain the situation you were in.

All of a sudden the door bursted open, Lady Melina walked in, she kneeled in front of you and took your hands in hers, “I do not need to know why you are in this room- nor do I care,” she started, “but I need to know what is going on.”

“Please don’t tell father,” you cried, hanging your head but keeping your posture perfect for your mother.

All you heard was a sigh, “you’re tired, you’re hallucinating, and you’re here right now - your father passed years ago, my sweet.” You slowly looked up to meet your mother’s gaze, “behind me is the man you are courting, Ser James Barnes, you call him Bucky, do you know that man?” all you could do was nod, “you just came back from Hydra’s Hill, you were taken, do you remember that?” more tears began to fill your eyes, “alright,” she quickly hushed, “you do, and do you remember who saved you and brought you home?”

“Him,” you pointed to the worried man standing behind your mother, “Ser James.”

“What do you call him?” she waved him over and he also kneeled.

“I call him Bucky,” when your eyes met him the facade began to crack, “he calls me love, he likes my paintings,” you reached out and grabbed his hand, “I-I am starting to remember…I think.”

“This happens to a lot of people,” your mother hushed, “I had it growing up all the time where I slipped into my royal persona when I couldn’t understand what was happening to me, people call it the ‘Princess Slip’, most women get it,” your mother cupped your cheek, “I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without it happening to you if I’m blunt.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered and look at Bucky.

“It’s alright, love,” he moved closer and sat beside you on the bed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “you’re freezing,” he muttered and grabbed and blanket that at on his bed, wrapping it around you and then getting back to hugging your side.

“You will stay here with Bucky for one night,” she looked between the both of you, “but after that this will not continue, am I understood?”

“Of course,” Bucky nodded, watching Lady Melina leave.

Bucky gently moved you under his covers and got changed himself, joining you quickly. He laid on his back and watched as you curled away from him, hugging yourself under the sheets. His hand reached out and touched your shoulder, gently moving his thumb, then his hand moved and started to rub your back slowly. You knew he could feel the raised scars but he said nothing, just soothingly rubbing your back to try and lul you to sleep.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, rolling over and looking up at Bucky, “I don’t know what happened to me there, everything was a blur,” you placed your head on his chest and wrapped your arms around his torso, “that’s never happened to me before, I-”

“Just close your eyes,” Bucky whispered and placed a hand on your back again, “I want you to sleep right now, ou need your rest and all is forgiven, love,” he looked down at you with a sad smile, “just close your eyes.”

You did just that, lying still with your eyes closed. Having Bucky hold you made you feel so secure and safe, the tingles and warmth seeped through your entire body and soon enough you were on the verge of sleep. Right before you entered your dream you felt the man hold you tense, then slowly, you could hear sniffles coming from above you.

“I should be the sorry one,” he whispered to your sleeping body, “I should be the one paying for this.”

NEXT EPISODE

Thanks for all the love and reading, if you enjoyed don’t be afraid to reblog!

- Rambo <3

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 2 years

Text

Royalty AU

Garden Party with Prince!Bucky x Princess!Reader 🫖 ⛲️ 🌷

moodboard masterlist

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just-dreaming-marvel · 2 years

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Part of Your World MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

MARVEL MASTERLIST

You are a mermaid princess, forbidden from ever breaching the water's surface. But when you save a human’s life, everything changes. You long to know more of the world above you, specifically of the man you saved. What will you sacrifice to see the man again? And will it be worth it?

(A Little Mermaid AU)

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

More Coming Soon

I no longer do tag lists, so please don’t ask. Simply follow and interact.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #Bucky Barnes x f!reader #prince!bucky #prince!bucky barnes x mermaid!reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel fanfiction

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landograndprix · 2 years

Text

𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖔𝖈𝖊𝖆𝖓 ☆ 𝖇.𝖇𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖊𝖘

𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢

pairings– prince!bucky x pirate!f!reader

summary– ripped from the safety of a kingdom he'd rule one day, prince James Buchanan Barnes tries to survive his time on The Golden Rose, the crew members and the captain– you.

warnings– prince bucky is a spoiled, cocky piece of shit, reader couldn't care less, Steve's here. If this flops, it never fucking happened.

wordcount– 1.8k+

masterlist��

|| 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓮 ||

any other day, James Buchanan Barnes would've adored the thought of two woman standing in his bedroom, eyeing him and observing his manly figure as he's dressed in nothing but his undergarment, lusting for the prince and unable to keep their hands to themselves but the point of a sword is digging into the flesh of his chest, awfully close to his heart and the looks upon their faces isn't exactly something bucky would describe as lust, no it was far from what he had dreamed off.

A cold breeze wafts through the big open window, thin curtains dancing in the winds, that must be the way these two ladies had made their way into the castle, his bedroom and the sound of gun fire, fighting and screaming echoes through the darkness of the night, only lit by the flames of fires and explosion.

No, this is not what he'd thought of when celebrating his father's departure into the open sea, sailing away for a month or two or maybe even four.

Bucky had imagined his days without his father's presence to be more…joyful but the dark pupils and merciless looks on the faces of the two strangers standing in his bedroom tells him just how much it's not going to be something joyful.

Even in the comfort of his own home, for the very first time in his life bucky feels unsafe and under the gaze of the short brunette and the red-head, bucky feels naked in nothing but his undergarment. God, his father would laugh knowing his son isn't capable of fighting two girls but in all fairness, who would want to fight someone with a sword to your heart and the barrel of a gun aimed at your head?

But how dare these ladies break into his house and hold him under gun point– if they even could be called ladies, they're acting like men, like..the pirates his mother had told him about when he was younger.

Pirates, yes. The puzzle pieces connect together in mind. The unwashed hair, the dirty clothes and the dirt on their faces– unhygienic, dirty..poor; pirates.

"James Buchanan Barnes?" The brunette speaks up, letting his name roll from her lips as she digs the point of her sword deeper in the skin of his chest– bucky groans at the feel; arousing almost? Good lord he really needs to find himself a wife to please his needs, doesn't he?

"Depends on who's asking," Bucky grins another groan falling from his lips and followed by a hiss of pain as the female pirate– rather pretty he must admit – digs her swords further and further into his flesh, blood staining the fabric around it "is it strange I find this rather..arousing? Now, how about we drop our weapons, get a cup of tea, beer..wine, whatever we please and take you beautiful ladies to bed, have some fun?"

"Do you find yourself funny, barnes?"

"Bucky..you can call me bucky darling and I do in fact find myself rather amusing, though I have the idea you ladies might think otherwise."

"What gave it away, mate?" The red-head behind the brunette speaks up for the first time, brows raised in curiosity.

"Most women laugh at my jokes, I can hardly get a smile from you ladies." Bucky confesses, cockiness dripping thick from his voice.

"We'll be laughing when we get you on the golden rose– get on moving."

The brunette once again pushes her weight slightly against her sword, Bucky barely feels the pain– taking a step back, he quickly looks at the open window and the war zone that takes place in the village down below his bedroom window. His palms getting sweaty as the height between his window and the ground below seems rather big.

Bucky swallows the lump in his throat "down there– you've..I've never climbed down– you ladies have done this before," stumbling not only over his feet, bucky stumbles over his words, stuttering with every step he takes back, the ladies coming closer and closer "at least let me get dressed."

Within the blink of an eye, the red-head snatches some pants from the edge of the bed and tosses them his way "that's enough, put them on and follow our orders before we push you out of that window."

Bucky simply nods, well aware that his charms aren't going to work well with the women standing in front of him. He stumbles over his feet once more as he pushes his legs in his pants and carefully steps over the windowsill and into the cold air. It sends a shiver down his spine. He doesn't know how his limbs move him down the walls of the castle but he thanks whoever built the castle so poorly, the bricks that stick out big enough for his feet to balance on and Bucky doesn't know how he manages to set foot back on solid ground without panicking. He's down and he swallows the lump in his throat once more as he lays his eyes upon the two unconscious men near him, the army his father had gathered over the years.

"Don't worry, they'll live." The brunette surprises Bucky as she too steps down, surprisingly elegant "a broken nose maybe but nobody ever died of that."

Bucky chuckles nervously and shakes his head "not that I'm aware but–" his sentence is cut short when a small hand wraps around his arm rather tight and almost painful and yanks him away, once again making him stumble over his feet as the red-head drags him through the chaos in the village; the screaming wives, crying children, the yelling if men fighting back and the piles of dead and unconscious men. The smell of gunpowder fills his nostrils– his kingdom destroyed before he even has the chance to take his fathers place.

But he doesn't have much time to think about that or anything at all, his eyes are glued to the sight of a ship just a few meters from the docks getting bigger and bigger with each tug of his arm– he hasn't seen a real pirate ship in all the years he's roamed this earth– his eyes widen as the end of the dock seems to be getting too close but before he can even say another word, he's pulled off into the cold water, knocking the air out of his lung, bucky quickly swims up the the surface and gasps for air. Offended and annoyed.

"Swim Barnes," he's shoved forwards by one of the women once again

"Do you even know who I am?" Bucky scoffs in annoyance "this is not how you treat a king."

"These sharks don't care who you are, I'd get swimming if I were you." The brunette says and for the first time upon meeting, bucky sees her lips turn into a wicked smile.

Heavy, water filled boots thud against the wooden deck, clothes dripping and sticking against every part of your body, bandana heavy on your head but you don't mind, the jump into the sea something refreshing, giving your clothes a quick wash and removing the dirt from your face– a dip into the water was a must of once in a while.

You adjust your sword that hangs loosely from its holster and stroll along the side of your ship, watching the little dots floating in the sea becoming clearer as they get closer. The war in the background slowly dies as your ladies come dripping back on board one by one and without any order from you, start to prepare the ship for an easy escape.

Captain. You earned that title years ago. Gained the trust and respect of the crew as just a mere teenager on board the golden rose as the only daughter of the well known Captain y/l/n. Following in his footsteps the day he died, the ship, the crew and the title had been gifted to you that same day. Captain y/n. And though your crew had changed in the last few years, your fleet consisting of ladies only, they all one by one trusted you with their lives.

"Avelyn is on her way with the prince, captain, they'll be here shortly," one of your ladies states as she moves around the ship in a hurry.

You simply nod and let your eyes roam back to the dark open waters, the last few crew members swimming their way back and climbing up the vessel that had become your home.

The Golden Rose, the place where your parents had welcomed you years back and the place where you'd take your last breath. Years you've spend on the decks of the massive ship, nagged your father's crew with your endless mischievous acts, where you climbed the masts and high up in the crows nest whenever you were in trouble, a place where you learned to swim even before you knew how to walk, where you learned how to wield a sword and fire a gun, the place where you grew up, the place that carried you through the bad and the good. Your vessel, your home, you're Golden Rose.

"No– I don't accept this," your gaze, along with that of the crew landing on the soaked man climbing on board "my father will hear about this– I want to speak to the captain."

Struggling to get on his feet, the man stands up straight, bewildered and out of breath. James Buchanan Barnes you suppose, he isn't one of your crew at least. His eyes wander over the large group of people.

"Where are the men and where's the captain– put me back on land– you there!"

You follow his gaze as he point to the only man on board, the broad and tall steve rogers, the man you'd befriended when your mother had taken you of the ship to grow up on land with children alike after your father had passed away and she no longer wanted a life on the strong waves.

"You must be the captain!" Bucky says proudly as if he'd found the missing piece to a puzzle he'd been working on for years but the smile on his face falters quickly when the silence is replaced by loud laughter from every soul on board "What, what's so funny?"

"I'm not the captain, mate." Steve chuckles.

"Well where is he then, he and I have to have a word."

"You want to have a nice cup of tea with that, some rum perhaps?"

The corners of your lips tug into a grin as Bucky slowly turns around to meet your eyes and looks you up and down, not so subtle, and keeps his gaze on your breasts a little longer before they meet your gaze again. He blinks in surprise, lips slightly parted as a fish gasping for air as he tries to find the right words– you can hear the gears turn in his head. You wink before tearing your eyes off the man your girls had captured just moments ago and turn to your crew.

"Hoist the color and bring a spring upon ‘er, let's sail her back onto sea– we're going home!"

"Aye captain!"

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #prince!bucky

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beananacake · 9 months

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My Crown Upon Your Head (Ch. 2)

Prince!Bucky Barnes x Reader

WC: 4.9K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She paused in her ministrations, looking at you once more with her green eyes, before returning to her task. “I was from Sokovia,” she said simply.

Was. Such a simple word but it conveyed a thousand griefs. You knew of Sokovia, of the disaster that had been wrought by powerful countries at war. Sokovia was not at fault for existing in between two quarrelling nations. It was unfortunate to have been in the middle of it all. It had been all too sudden; the call for war happened unexpectedly that they had not amassed an army in time to defend themselves. It was the decimation of its capital city of Novi Grad that had put an end to the existence of such small but promising land.

“Forgive me.” You touched Wanda’s hand, squeezing it gently to convey your sympathies. “I would not have asked if I had known.”

“It is of little consequences now. My home is now here, in Brookland. To work for the kingdom is an honor, miss.”

You smiled gently. “Our monarchs are kind and just.”

“Yes. Most especially the queen, may her soul rest.” She hummed a regret-filled sound. “When she died, the whole kingdom was devastated. Since then, the king had been in poor health. He is worried for the kingdom’s future should he soon follow his wife.”

You let her dry you and bring your chemise before you pressed on with more of your questions.

“Is the prince incapable of ruling?” you asked as you adjusted the cotton garment against your body.

You had known princes were schooled into being future monarchs since their infancy. Perhaps Prince James was otherwise engaged in other matters, especially in that of being a soldier.

Wanda laced your stays as she replied.

“Prince James is very capable, miss. However, the king has stipulated that the kingdom be ruled by a king and a queen. He has to marry before he ascends the throne.” She passed you a modesty petticoat and, once worn, fastened a heavy hoop skirt around your waist.

Of course. It was the very reason you were called for, after all. Your presence had been a great hindrance to the future of the kingdom. With you still legally wed to the prince, he would not be able to marry the Grand Duke’s niece.

“Does he have a bride he wishes to wed?” you asked, bobbing as she brought another two more petticoats and the outer skirt overhead. “Are your privy to that information?”

Any woman, noble or not, would be curious about the future queen of the kingdom. Even one married to said prince.

“The Grand Duke’s niece, miss. It is said she is a Princess from Russia.”

A princess. It was now truly understandable why the Grand Duke was irate with you. Who else was a better match for the prince than a princess?

The butterflies in your stomach fluttered as you remembered James’s intense gaze. He had looked over at you appreciatively even in your disheveled state, and you had reacted in a way that had only been shown in Shakespeare’s comedies. There was a flutter of excitement that coursed through you at the sight of his appraising eyes—heady, potent, foreign; it made you feel silly. You knew you were flustered when you had looked at him, felt the heat rise and color your cheeks, and you made an utter fool of yourself by giving an ungraceful curtsy. You were often calm and collected in the face of royalty, always poised and proper, and in that moment, you stumbled. All because of your husband.

Oh, dear.

You needed to stop calling him thus, even in your thoughts. The king would have you punished if he ever caught you referring to the prince as your husband.

Wanda rearranged the many petticoats under your skirt before running a flat palm down to keep it in place. She took a similarly colored bodice and fastened its buttons at your back. You faced the mirror and stifled a gasp when you saw your reflection. The dress was a confection of delicate lace and beautiful pink silk taffeta. The bodice was left bare, save for the intricately made neckline. Seed pearls and violet-hued gemstones were sewn with gold thread in elegant, floral motifs across your chest. Lace as delicate as a spider’s web cascaded just beneath it, fluttering at the slightest touch of the wind. Short, puffed sleeves of the same pink taffeta and cream-colored lace were gathered with a delicate pink bow on your arm. The layers of flounce that encircled the skirt may have dated the dress to the fashion of the yesteryears but it did not diminish the inherent beauty. It was simple yet opulent; it was a testament of Brookland’s quiet riches. And it fit perfectly as though it was made for you.

“Oh, how beautiful,” you gushed. It was a dress fit for a royal. “But I feel I am not fit to wear it. Such a dress would be missed by its owner. I am perfectly fine to receive a simple frock.”

“The late queen did not have much simple dresses, miss,” Wanda remarked as she bent down to fasten your shoes.

“I beg your pardon?” You must have misheard. Surely, the palace would not have lent you a gown from the late queen’s personal closets. “You mean to tell me this belonged to Queen Winnifred?”

“Yes, miss. Our Sunday’s bests are not fit to be worn to a receiving of the Duke of Queensfield, and the Head Housekeeper’s dresses would not have fit you properly without being taken in. This dress seemed the most fitting to present to you.” Your maid replied innocently.

Of course. If only your trunks had arrived during your bath, you would have a choice of dress albeit not as elegant as the one you were in. It is only a matter of clothing, Y/N. Princess Shuri had even lent her ceremonial robes to me when I needed them, you thought to yourself. Yes. There was no need for you to worry overmuch with your appearance. In the meantime, you would relish the feel of wearing Brookland’s fineries on your body.

“The Grand Duke, he is not a Brook,” you said when you sat before your vanity.

Wanda had insisted to style your hair and you agreed, knowing a simple plait would not be appropriate for meeting the prince’s cousin.

“No, miss. He was a part of the Sokovian nobility.” Wanda replied as she combed and pinned your hair.

“I see. Was he the highest ranking official who had been exiled here?”

“I do not think so. Although, he had been the only one who wished to serve the king.”

It was no wonder why his niece had been chosen as the prince’s bride. If the saying was true—that the Sokovians were unfailingly loyal—then the king could not have chosen a better future queen for the kingdom. It was another reason why you must divorce the prince as soon as you can.

You dismissed Wanda when she had finished with your hair but not before thanking her for her help. You strode out of your room with a new sense of purpose. Any book on the politics of the kingdom would be a great help to you and to this predicament you put yourself in. The palace library would have housed these scholarly books you needed.

You had a vague memory of where the library was, supposing it hadn’t been moved in the last twenty years since you had been here. You recalled it being situated near the gardens on the east of the grand staircase, with ornate double doors of gold gilding. Portraits of the current royal family and ones of the prince should be hung on either side of its entryway. You went down the grand staircase and headed right, smiling politely at the stunned footmen who hastily opened the doors to the library for you.

The scent of wood and books assaulted your nose before you saw the richly decorated library. Dark oak shelves were teeming with books of all shapes and sizes and it reached up to the grandly decorated ceilings. There were murals of heavenly bodies painted on the dome, of vibrantly colored scenarios that told of religious histories and Brookland’s myths and legends, and each panel was artfully done as the next one. Arched windows with views of the palace gardens gave ample lighting to the otherwise dark room. In the middle of it all lay two opulently carved long tables; each bearing candles, sheafs of paper, and writing materials. A mezzanine wrapped around the room; the shelves on it housing even more volumes. At the opposite side, a cavernous marble fireplace blazed generously.

On any other time, you would have perused every title of the books held within but for now, you settled for any book on Brookland’s laws and constitution. You walked over to the section of the library where you assumed housed those books and, pulling out one on the subject of constitution, settled by a window as you started to read.

You were not educated much in Brookland’s laws but you knew that the volume you were reading had been outdated, evidenced by a passage saying that land disputes must be settled with blood through fisticuffs to the death. It was barbaric and antiquated and it made you go to the mezzanine to find another book that may have held the answers you were looking for.

A tome on matters regarding matrimony caught your eye and you pulled it out. It was dated to the last century but still, it was recent enough for you to study. You opened it to the contents table and scanned its pages as you slowly came down the spiral steps.

“Mein Gott!”

A rustle of papers made you look up and to the eyes of Grand Duke Zemo. He stared at you in alarm, his skin turning a deathly pale that you had not realized was possible for someone of his complexion. His mouth was hung open in shock and his hands trembled as the papers wafted from them.

You quickly executed a curtsy to the surprised man. “Your Grace.”

“Wie konntest du hier sein? Du bist tot!”

His eyes were wide and unseeing; his gaze passed right through you.

“Are you all right, Grand Duke?” You asked worriedly.

You stood there, unmoving; afraid that suddenly doing so would spook the already-terrified man. It had been some time before a noise disturbed the eerie silence of the library. The loud cracking of the fireplace from behind you effectively shook him from his stupor.

He blinked in rapid succession, the glazed look in his eyes vanishing as he saw you. Color returned to his cheeks until they were tinted an angry shade of red. “I thought I had seen Queen Winnifred.” He whispered harshly.

“Forgive me.” You said, although you did not know why. It only seemed to be the appropriate response at the moment. You flattened a hand down the front of your dress. “My trunks had not arrived and the Head Housekeeper had offered for me to wear Her Majesty’s dress.”

He stared openly at you, his sharp eyes roaming about your figure. Gooseflesh prickled at the trail his eyes left on your skin. He finally turned away to pick at his fallen items and you stood there awkwardly, waiting for him to dismiss you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked instead as he placed his items on the table.

“I was hoping to find something to read, Your Grace.” you replied, watching as he lit a candle. “There was a book on the constitution of Brookland—”

He raised a disbelieving brow as he glanced at you. “First, you marry the prince and now, you wish to learn more about the laws of the land?”

His question oozed incredulity and judgement.

“What shall be next? You will turn us out of the palace?” He scoffed. “Do not fancy yourself helping us out of this problem. You have made one mistake already, girl. God knows you would be creating another one for me to solve.”

You kept silent. It was unjust of him to think of you so, especially when you and he were towards the same goal. You did not want to remain married to the prince for long—heaven knows you were not brought up for such a task—but Grand Duke Zemo did not have to be nasty in his refusal of your help.

“Find some light reading,” he said. “Girls like you cannot comprehend the legislations of the land. There is a book on flowers that I find befits someone of your stature.”

You gave a polite but strained smile. A string of explanations sat at the tip of your tongue but you withheld it. It was futile to argue with the man, much more when he yielded power over you.

“Thank you, Grand Duke.” You replied shortly. “If you could point me to the direction of those books, I would be happy to take one.”

“Such impudence,” he murmured before grudgingly pointing at one corner of the room.

Taking the heavy tome, you replaced it before heading towards the section of the botany books. There was an array of them, all of botany but of different subjects. You also saw the different languages of the books, more artfully designed than the others. The foreign books appeared untouched, the gold foil of the titles still complete and glinting in the sun.

There was a section of German books and you plucked one out of the many unblemished volumes. You also took two sheets of paper and a pencil from the table when you descended.

“I shall bid you good day, Your Grace.” You curtsied in his general direction. He waved his hand at you dismissively and it cued you to leave the awful man alone.

In the very least, you knew where the library was located. The book about the laws of the land would have to wait. This book on botany, however it came to your possession, looked interesting. You were conversant in many a language, reading this German book would not pose a problem. It would keep you occupied while you waited for your trunks to arrive.

…

From his window, James watched as you emerged to the garden.

If he were honest with himself, he would say he was disappointed that you weren’t wearing your breeches and shirt anymore and that he could not admire your shapely figure but with the dress you had now donned, there was no mistaking the contours of your body. He had not had this visceral reaction to the Princess Natasha’s portrait, but then again, he had not seen her in the flesh. You, however, he had seen and admired. There was no mistaking what a great beauty you were and he would be blind to deny such visible truth to himself.

He could not find it in him to be angry with you. It was a peculiar situation you both had gotten into, the innocent intentions and legally binding contracts. His memory of you had rang clear in his head by the time he finished speaking with his father; he remembered your hope for a friendship with him, your eagerness in trying to copy your father’s way of sealing such relationships, and the way you were excited when you both had—unintentionally—sealed each other’s fate. It was simply laughable and not worth getting furious over, unlike his father and the Grand Duke Zemo.

With a renewed sense of vigor, James headed towards the garden. The ledgers had become awfully boring and the numbers had started to swim before his eyes. He had not even touched the missives that had piled on his desk lest he misunderstand important matters. This is a much needed reprieve, he convinced himself. I will do better once I have taken a stroll in the gardens.

He was determined to get to know you, that much was true. Even if you were not to remain married for long, he was eager to learn more about you. King George had said that you had traveled to different kingdoms and territories with your diplomat father and had lived in those places for nearly all your life. You were foreign as much as you were a Brook; that in itself was fascinating to him. Among other things, that is.

“Your Royal Highness, I suppose the reason for your rushing is so we can train,” came an amused, sarcastic voice behind him.

James stopped and turned towards its source. Samuel Wilson, the Captain of the Royal Guards, walked towards the prince with an air of equal parts amusement and frustration.

“Whyever would you think otherwise?” James asked, a brow quirked at the obvious jape.

“You have been avoiding all my attempts at getting you to train.” remarked Sam. “Is it so hard to pick up your sword again? You had not been the same since the battle in Sokovia. A little movement should take away the laziness in you.”

“I had not been evading you and I am not lazy. I have had other important matters to attend to.” The prince exited the building with Captain Wilson trailing behind him. “And besides, don’t you tire of losing to me?”

Where were you? James thought as he scanned for you in the gardens. You could not have moved so quickly in the short time he went down to find you.

“I have never lost to you. I was simply bolstering your already inflated ego. And if you’re looking for the mysterious miss, she’s due west.” Sam said.

“I am not looking for her,” James replied hastily, much to his chagrin.

“Of course,” Sam said in a false grave tone. There was an unmistakable knowing grin in his words.

“I am not,” insisted James but approached you anyway.

He did not want to disturb your peace. You were poring over a book on the table while your hands were busy over a piece of paper. Scribbling, perhaps? he thought to himself as he watched you.

“I shall go and introduce myself.” Sam told him as he strode on ahead.

James followed behind him, taking on an impassive air so he did not seem overeager as he approached you. It had been a while since he last felt this way about a woman. It had been with Dolores—Dottie, as how he came to know her. She was an interesting character; ambitious for a mere daughter of a seamstress but wise beyond her years. A pity it was that he could not continue his friendship with her; the call for war drove the two of them apart. As he fought, she had gotten married. James was rightly heartbroken but he knew it would not have stood against his father. Princes married with royals, as was the custom.

“Sam Wilson, Captain of the Royal Guards, at your service.” Sam said as he bowed before you.

Against the backdrop of the high summer sun and the palace garden blooms, you appeared resplendent.

“Good day, Captain Wilson.” You smiled gently. You turned to James and curtsied. “Your Royal Highness.”

The wind tousled at your carefully coifed hair. Lemon and lavender, he thought as he caught a whiff of your scent.

James cleared his throat, which had become uncommonly tight. “Sam, this is Miss Y/N. She is my father’s guest.”

“Miss Y/N,” Sam repeated. He took your hand in his and placed a kiss atop it.

“I’ve heard stories of your triumphs in the war.” You told Sam, a polite smile gracing your face. “It must be quite a task to be commanding so many soldiers in the battlefield.”

“It is no simple feat. Prince James wishes he could command the army as I have,” Sam said with a sly grin.

James rolled his eyes. Disparity of their classes aside, Sam often jested with the prince and vice versa. But even if he and the captain were close friends, he had not told the captain as to why you were present in the palace. He knew it would do more harm than good to tell him of your relationship with each other. His father had been adamant that he divorce the two of you quietly so he could push through with James’s wedding to the Princess Natasha.

“I do not wish to command them, Sam. I do.” James said as he puffed his chest out with pride.

You snickered, then promptly apologized when both men turned to you with equally surprised looks.

“Oh, do forgive me. I do not recall ever seeing such a display of bravado since a proud young panther pounced at the older, more worldly one for a piece of food in Wakanda.” You rambled, a rosy tint rising on your cheeks.

At that, James laughed.

Any person would have cowered at the sight of the prince and the captain of the Royal Guards but not you. You were natural and you spoke your mind with such ease that it made him admire, as well as envy, you. There was no pretense or false modesty about you and it was refreshing for him to see that you weren’t one to fall at his feet and wax poetic about his title or his dashing good looks.

“And who won?” Sam asked, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“One panther or another. I did not stay long enough.” You told him, adopting a serious mien. “Otherwise, I would have been their next meal.”

James smiled deeply. Your wit was sharp. It was a rarity these days. Most often, he was faced with a bumbling fool or a stammering twit.

You were also a proficient artist, he remarked, as he took in the array of papers on the table. You were sketching the flower that was on your book, halfway done by the looks of it. And intelligent as well, he silently mused as he saw the language of the book. He knew not many other people who had studied German; it was arduous language and was commonly taught to the children of noblemen and royalty. Most certainly it was not taught to the common folk.

Every little thing he uncovered about you made him all the more curious.

“You study plants?” James asked as he motioned to your sketch. And a remarkable one at that, he thought approvingly.

You cast a furtive grimace at its direction. “Oh, no. The Grand Duke suggested that I read a book on flowers because it befits me instead of taking the book I was intending to read.”

He raised a brow at that. Zemo may appear hawkish but the man was as meek as a church mouse. “And what was it that you wanted to read?”

When you caught a rosy lip between your teeth as you hesitated, it was a surprise that he did not catch on fire on the spot at the heat that coursed through him.

“I was reading about the constitution and the laws of the land, Your Royal Highness.” you said after a moment’s hesitation.

“Whatever for?” Sam asked. “If you do not mind my asking.”

James had momentarily forgotten his friend was present.

You turned your attentions to the Captain, hesitance still marring your face. “My… friend desires to learn of the grounds of separation. She is convinced she isn’t a fit match for her husband.”

“If I may inquire, why is the lady convinced she is not suit for her husband?”

“For one, her husband is so above her in stature. It is an unusual marriage, if I dare say so, Captain.” Your eyes met James’s as you went on. “They had unmistakably signed a marriage contract and had been bound since.”

There was uncertainty in your eyes as you looked at him. In anticipation for my reaction? James wondered. Your offense was great in King George’s eyes but to him, it was comical. Absurd and laughable. If Sir William Shakespeare were alive and present, he would have another comedy in his hands.

But it was a matter between you and him. Sam need not hear nor know of it.

“Yes, highly unusual.” Sam remarked. “But no matter. Should you wish to return to the library, I am certain His Royal Highness would be of great help to you.”

The prince nodded, hiding his surprise at being mentioned by his friend. “Yes, of course.” He leaned in towards you, a secret smile on his face. “Although, I must warn you, the language the laws were written in are not in German. Most are in Latin.”

You smiled and a dimple sank into your cheek. “It is no matter. So long as all of them are not wholly in Latin, then I think I shall understand it.”

James found himself mesmerized; his eyes trained on your lips for longer than what was allowed. They were petal-like, soft, and fresh.

“I’m afraid I must excuse myself.” Sam said suddenly. “I do not think Prince James would be coming with me to practice his swordplay so I shall leave him in your hands.”

“Oh.” You said, surprised, and turned to the Captain. “I’ve no intention of stealing him from his training, Captain.”

“And I believe he has no intention of coming to it.” Sam said wryly. He took your hand and bowed over it. “It was a pleasure to have met you, Miss Y/N.”

You smiled. “The pleasure is all mine, Captain Wilson.”

As Sam vanished behind the doors, James turned to you.

“Shall we take a turn about the gardens, Miss Y/N?”

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holylulusworld · 9 months

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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

#bucky barnes #nick fowler #Not a queen (8)#prince!nick #prince!bucky #modern royalty au #dystopian au #bucky barnes x reader #nick fowler x reader

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itneverendshere · 2 years

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as it was ― bucky barnes au! (one shot! series)

warnings: fluff; soft!bucky; man is literally so in love it hurts; ANGST!!!

part i and iii: out of time; runaway

I stand there, hair flying about in the wind. My chemise is thin and doesn't serve as much of a barrier against the cruel, cold winds that seem to prick my body all over. I stand and stare. My eyes take in the red-tinged sky as the sun sinks and dies, the trees a shade of blood.

How fitting, I think bitterly. That’s all I’m known as now.

The pawn.

And I am bitter and poisoned and vengeful. I still remember the words said to me years ago. Everything comes at a cost.

I paid, it cost me dearly, but it was necessary. There were times I might have regretted the path I took; times I wished I could go back in time. I sometimes wished I could forget all that it took to get where I am, memories are part of my punishment. Memories that would, can never be erased, but will serve as a reminder.

“Don’t look,” My best friend whispered in my ear. She stood in front of me, blocking the view of his perfect silhouette, not that I needed to see him remember every single shape and turn of his body.

“Behave!” she whispered to me, quickly scanning the area for any stray stares.

I glanced at her from the corner of my eyes, more focused on what was behind her. I could easily hear his deep chuckle from where we were standing even though he was in the opposite corner of the rose garden.

“I’m serious!” She scolded, snapping you out of your trance. How long had I been peering over her shoulder? She grabbed my shoulder to steady my shaking figure.

“It’s been years, when did you lose the ability to pretend you don’t love him?” She held me in her arms, but my eyes were still locked on him, never leaving his face for even a moment.

Bucky captured my soul before I even understood what love meant, and this was a difficult trap for anyone to free me from. I was very much aware of the consequences, since the day he kissed me, but all worries were carelessly thrown out the window every time I saw him.

I remembered the first time he told me he loved me. I was a crying mess, judgmental looks and dark thoughts getting the best of me, and he was just holding me, keeping me safe. Assuring me that no harm would ever come to me.

I was half asleep in his strong arms when he said it.

The three words.

Those amazing and complicated words traveled down my entire body like a shiver. He said it so quietly, I wasn’t even sure if I had heard him correctly. I remember feeling like my heart could burst because he deserved more than me, he was worthy of the finest things in the world, and I couldn’t give it to him even though I loved him too.

Bucky was the person I fell in love with over and over and…over again. He would always be, for the rest of my life. Even if he decided I wasn’t enough.

“It's almost time to go back," He whispered against my skin, but I simply held his soft hands tighter. I never wanted to leave the rose garden. I would make it last forever if I could.

"Is it selfish," I began slowly. "To want to keep you? To stay here, never share you, and just be happy?"

He held me so tightly I could feel his heartbeat against my cheek, my arms growing numb from wanting this embrace to last.

Bucky’s lips caressed my temple, soft words coming right after "It's never selfish to wish for happiness, sweets. Why would you think that?"

"Because I don't exist in your world. I know that...We know that." I had to take a deep breath past the lump in my throat. Every time the subject came up, I tried so hard not to cry, "You have a story lined up for you. An entire life."

Bucky was a god, a prince, the epitome of royalty, and I was nothing.

The difference was too evident and, what’s worse is that I could not change it. He was my damnation, and I crossed the bridge knowing.

"You make me happy,” He held my cheek in his hand. So warm.

“But I was never meant to be your happiness. Even if you'll always be mine."

His gentle kisses made their way across my face, my lips as their destination. He was always ever so enchanting; it always made me want to kiss him senselessly. I feel his love in each one of them.

“It’s been you since the moment I met you. It was you then, it’s you now and it’s going to be you forever, it doesn’t matter if I’m sleeping, running through a field filled with war. You are everywhere and you are everything.”

I couldn't control the tears that blurred my vision and made the words impossible to take in any longer. My hand reached up to his head and delicately stroked his face, eyes squeezed shut to avoid the inevitable tears brimming to the surface.

We stayed silent for a moment longer before his breathing hitched as his stormy blue eyes searched my face for any signs of regret. Bucky’s hand reached under my chin and pushed it upwards, so my face was right there, so close to his own. My eyes fluttered open as a brackish tear fell from my clouded eyes.

“I don’t want to lose you,” I mumbled, words coming out a sorrow-filled whisper as my chin trembled and my breathing grew ragged.

“I’m going to fight for you, until my very last breath.” He responded in a soft whisper, his face despite being contorted in an expression of sorrow, looked beautiful. He was the most beautiful being I’d ever seen. I nodded and bowed my head as his hand slipped from her chin and mine fell from his face.

“It will always be you.”

__________________________________________________________

this is a series of one shots based on this one dream I had, you can read the first one here:

#bucky oneshot #bucky blurb #bucky fluff #prince!bucky #prince au #prince bucky #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #lovers to enemies #bucky angst

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pellucid-constellations · 2 years

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A Correspondence of Obligation - Seven

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Princess!Reader (Royal AU)

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Nightmares, a bit of angst, soft protective Bucky :)

a/n: I appreciate feedback so much, let me know what you think! Thank you for reading ♡♡

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

You woke with a start, forehead chilled by the night breeze, chest heaving with labored breaths. It took a moment for you to ground yourself and collect the scene. Your sheets, the window Bucky had left ajar, the book he had been reading propped up on your side table; all proof that you were home and that you were safe.

Two weeks ago, you would have woken up worse. You would have been screaming and inconsolable and confused, and Bucky would somehow get to you before your guard could. He would shoulder your door open and take your panicked features between his hands, whispering reassurances that your mind was too frenzied to even comprehend.

The next morning, Natasha would tell you that she had made it into your room as well, but that her presence was hardly noticed. Your face would heat as she described the prince backed up against your headboard, his arms around you and his lips constantly brushing your head. Of course, you remembered all of that, but there was always a hint of embarrassment when it came to showing so much vulnerability.

Tonight was different, however. You could tell by the missing ache in your throat that you hadn’t woken up screaming, and regaining your bearings took seconds instead of minutes. It was a small kind of victory, but it also meant that Bucky wouldn’t come back to your room for the night.

You had fallen into a sort of routine with him ever since that first night. He would visit you after dinner with a candle and a book, suggesting that the words would put your mind at ease and allow you to sleep. He always stayed until you were heavy against his shoulder, but he never slept in your room. A pointless act, really, given that he was back beside you in just a few short hours, his voice lulling you back into a fitful slumber.

You figured he must’ve been annoyed after so many nights of the same, but when you had asked him as much—on one of the nights he had thought to throw the window open after your breathing had evened out—he looked appalled.

“Of course not. Why would you say that?”

You let out a shuddering sigh, Bucky’s heartbeat a soothing lullaby beneath your ear. “I wake you up so often. It must feel like a burden when I was hardly even injured that night.”

You felt Bucky’s neck crane from above you, his grip around your shoulders tightening. “You witnessed death, y/n. You were taken and men died around you—on top of you. I do not fault you for the way you are coping with that. I will come to your room every night if that’s what needs to be done.”

“But you have witnessed death,” you whispered, fiddling with the material of Bucky’s nightshirt. “You have witnessed far more than I ever will, and still, I am the weak one.”

When he moved away and sat you up, you were sure it was out of frustration or realization. He must have finally seen where your worries sprouted from and grown tired of your constant needs. But he leaned down to meet your gaze as he sat before you on the bed, and his face showed little of either emotion.

“You are not weak, my love,” he assured, tilting your head up with gentle fingers. “No one should be used to such pain—to death and rage. I pray to god that you never witness more than you already have… that you never become accustomed to its effects.”

Bucky stayed a bit longer on that night, long enough for a delicate morning sun to cast a glow on the lips he pressed to your forehead. You remembered because he was always touched by the moon when he left, and watching his hair lit by a warm amber hue was enough to grant you an extra three hours of peaceful sleep.

You always wished he would wake you up fully when he left, because the few times you had sat up before he reached the door, he had kissed you. Fully. Not a brush on the forehead or the cheek, but a kiss with his hands on your cheeks and a smile on your lips.

That wasn’t to say that Bucky never kissed you. No, it seemed that Bucky spent much of his day looking to do the opposite. He kissed you before meals and under the sconces of the hallway; in the gardens when you looked far away and within yourself, and by the sea when the boats stole your attention. But those were always quick and chastise, as if he couldn’t help but kiss you, even with others so near.

In the privacy of your rooms, before most of the castle was awake, those kisses meant more to you. They spoke of promises and reassurances, deep affection pressed into your skin and meant to stay there—to linger and flourish and provide comfort long after he had left.

God, you loved when he kissed you before he left.

You let out a long breath and ran a hand along your forehead, attempting to calm your racing thoughts even as they strayed toward Bucky. It was a futile attempt; you knew that without him here to press you into sleep, there would be no relief tonight. You supposed that was something you should get used to with the wedding still weeks away.

The curtains fluttered to your right, the breeze inviting as it flowed through your room and met the skin not covered by your quilt. Perhaps you would try to read yourself to sleep with whatever book Bucky left behind.

Truth be told, you had no idea what he brought in each night, content to simply listen to the timbre of his voice and wrap yourself up in the scent of him. Knowing him, he probably brought the most boring literature he could muster up, baring its mundane content in the hopes it would bore you to sleep.

You never got the chance to find out; the moment your fingers brushed the spine, your door creaked. Your sharp inhale was short lived as Bucky made himself seen almost instantly. He gave you a small, comforting smile as he stood a few paces from your bed, hands resting behind his back.

“Did I wake you?” he asked, no louder than a whisper.

You sat up, resisting the urge to beckon him to you; you weren’t in a state of panic, so he didn’t need to be in your bed. That would be illogical. “No, I woke up a few minutes ago.”

His eyes widened a fraction. “I did not hear you—”

“I did not wake up like that,” you comforted, playing with a thread on your blanket. “It wasn’t… pleasant. But it was nothing like it has been. Nothing to worry yourself over.”

You gave him a small smile, one he reciprocated as he shifted the weight between his feet. This was far more stiff than it had been every other night, your lack of hysterics surely the cause. When you were afraid and in need of desperate comfort, Bucky always knew what to do. But this—when you simply wanted him near without a visible cause, without a marriage bed to validate his presence—it was stiff.

Bucky seemed to share the sentiment as he stood there, looking impossibly endearing with his hair askew and his legs restless beneath him.

“Did you… did you have a nightmare? Is that why you came?” you posed, trying desperately not to eye the pillow beside you that he usually occupied.

He simply shook his head. “Nothing like that.”

“Have you not been able to sleep?”

“I can sleep, princess.”

You let out a small huff. “Bucky, you are making this very hard on me.”

“My apologies,” he chuckled. You never got to see his eyes so light at this time of night; they were usually heavy with worry. “I, uh, I don’t usually fall asleep until I know that you are. Ever since that first night, it makes me uneasy to think I could sleep through you needing me.”

You gaped, guilt filling you up until your face scrunched up in disapproval. Bucky loved you, told you that himself, but you hated the thought of him suffering because of you. He was a prince with many duties, and you were causing him to lose even more sleep than you originally thought.

“I assumed I woke you up every night with the screaming. I didn’t know that you…”

He caught the regret in your tone and quickly shot his hands out to wipe away the thought. “No, darling, no. It’s not your fault. Consider this a weakness of mine and not yours. You’ve never asked me to do anything. I can sleep, as I’ve said, but I sleep easier knowing you are alright.”

You worried your bottom lip, but nodded, even with the guilt still creeping through you. He seemed overjoyed that you would give in so quickly, but that was something else you were working on as well: accepting the type of love that Bucky was so persistent in showing you. After many talks and pleading whispers, you had begun to give in—just the slightest bit.

That joy on his face dimmed as another breeze rolled through your room, a reminder of the night, of the darkness beyond the curtains.

“I can see that you are well, though.” He took a small step back. Your heart clenched. “So I will see you in the morning, darling.”

Another step back and he touched the brass handle of your door, eyes still locked on yours because, clearly, he wasn’t going to ask to stay. This was your bedroom, after all, and after the events leading up to your attack, he was still treading lightly around you. He never wanted to take more than he was given, and he certainly didn’t want to push you away due to his own actions.

But after two weeks, you wished he would push again.

“Wait!” you called, and he removed his hand before the word could leave you fully.

“Yes?”

“I am not well.”

He furrowed his brows, apparently not expecting such a blunt answer. “You are not… well?”

You shook your head, reaching for the book on the table and sliding it into your lap. “No, I am not. I think I need you to read again. Perhaps when I fell asleep earlier, my mind was not satisfied with where the story left off.”

The smile on Bucky’s face was full and meant only for you. He removed his shoes by the foot of your bed and shook his head with what you could only assume was fondness, grabbing the book and pressing a kiss to your forehead before slipping under the blankets beside you.

He pulled you close and brushed your hair behind your ear as he stared down at you, filling you with such an indescribable warmth. It was true that you weren’t well before this; there was a strong chance that every night you would have to sleep without Bucky would be a night that you were unwell.

“I think your mind will continue to be disappointed, my love,” he spoke, the words rumbling in his chest and traveling through you. “This is, unfortunately, a rather dull story. I grabbed the first thing on my desk before I came to you earlier, and that just so happened to be my tax log.”

Your face heated, a shy laugh breathed out against his shirt. “Well, then that is why I was so discontent. Why would you bring that to read to me?”

“I did not want to be late.”

You shook your head in slight disbelief, burrowing further into Bucky’s comfort as he flipped open to a random page. He scanned it, and then glanced down at you in his arms, face softening before returning to the words. It only took a few moments before you spoke up.

“Perhaps we could just sleep? Would that be alright?”

It would mean more if he came and simply rested—if there were no screams or panic or words from a political log. Bucky seemed to understand that, and closed the book with a soft snap. “Of course,” he whispered.

He shifted you, sliding down until the pillows rested beneath his head and his heart rested beneath yours. His arms wound around you and his lips met your hair and you were sure there had never been a feeling more serene than this. The memories that plagued your dreams were still there, but they were set behind the walls that Bucky had formed for you, forged by the solace of his touch.

You weren’t sure how long it took before you began slipping into unconsciousness, your mind battling to hold onto the feelings of the waking world, but before you could completely fall, Bucky spoke against your temple.

“I’d like to show you something tomorrow, if that would be alright? In the morning, because it looks perfect then.”

Your lashes fluttered at the uncertainty lacing his tone, something that had surfaced over the last few weeks. It was as if he was afraid to toe a line with you, always looking for more but never wanting to reach too far—a sharp contrast to the man that would ask for your hand in the gardens and request nighttime conversations in empty hallways. He was trying. You were grateful.

And you still held reservations after everything that happened; still felt a pang within your chest at the images left to linger in your mind. But with each soft look from him, paired with hopeful smiles and gentle touches, you were healing.

“Okay, Bucky,” you agreed, a soft whisper almost lost to sleep. “Wake me when it’s time.”

A smile against your skin was his response, followed by an array of gentle kisses pressed there. Outside, the owls were alone with the moon, soon to be joined by the morning sun and you along with it.

You quickly learned that when the prince said the morning, he meant it. Recently, he had been adamant that you were to sleep as long as you needed, no wake up calls or early morning meetings disrupting the little sleep you were able to catch.

The first morning that rule had gone into effect had been chaotic and almost comical, the frustration held in Bucky’s posture making the throne room tense. It was only two days after the attack, and it was clear it had taken a toll on you.

“Peter,” Bucky chastised, words spoken through gritted teeth. “Please, enlighten me—did you wake the princess for this meeting, or was her highness already up?”

From beside you, Peter swallowed hard. You fought the urge to place a comforting hand on his shoulder; Bucky was so sweet and gentle with you, but you had seen first hand that those acts were not reserved for all. And he certainly didn’t look happy as he pointed his narrowed gaze at the squire.

Peter stuttered. “I, uh—well, your highness, I woke her. But I swear, Prince James, I thought it was needed! I thought she—“

“Tell me, Peter,” the prince posed, a few long, slow steps taken in your direction. “If you were attacked and part of a failed kidnapping ploy, would you enjoy attending a meeting on wheat distribution before breakfast?”

“I… most likely not, Your Highness,” he resigned, head hung.

“And did she not appear tired when you woke her? As if… maybe… the healers had placed her on bedrest?

Peter blanched, his mouth opening and closing and his brow quickly lining with sweat. You swayed a bit beside him, the exhaustion taking over, but not overriding the guilt for causing Peter so much trouble. You brought your hand up to graze the bandage on your head.

Bucky let out a small sigh, finally reaching you and placing a hand on the small of your back. “Do not let it happen again. I won’t hesitate to have Lady Maria assign you chores.”

Peter nodded vehemently, saluted Bucky—a rather odd gesture toward a prince—and shuffled out of the throne room after about ten apologies spoken to the floor in a bow.

The noblemen at the table in the center of the room quickly made conversation as Bucky turned his attention to you, soft eyes scanning your tired features. His hand never left your back, rubbing shapes into your loose gown as you stared up at him.

“You should have told him no,” Bucky reprimanded, but the words held no malice.

“He looked so determined. I couldn’t very well tell him that he was ignoring direct orders when he was so kind as he woke me.”

Bucky raised a brow and pressed forward to guide you to the hall. “You need sleep, darling. Your head—“

“—is not broken,” you finished for him. “I will have to get back to my normal duties soon enough.”

When the doors to the throne room closed behind the two of you, he kissed you. All soft lips and fluttering feelings, he kissed you as if he wanted to remember that you were there. And maybe to make you lose your train of thought as well, his next words saccharine against your mouth.

“Not yet. For me, please. To give me peace of mind.”

You slowly opened your eyes to invite the kindness of his gaze. You were going to agree to go back to your room, anyway, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the earnestness burning back at you.

“I think if you agreed to walk me back, I would be more than willing.”

Bucky kissed you again, short and sweet as he replied, “I would take you anywhere.”

After that ordeal, you always got to sleep until the birds at your window were the ones to make you rise. You were sure Bucky would yell at them too, if he had the means.

But this morning was different; this morning, you felt the first rays of the morning sun across your cheeks, still dim and with little warmth. Bucky was running his fingers along your back in gentle ministrations, whispering your name into incoherent ears. He was waking you, and not by accident, not with the intent to leave right away.

The conversation from the night before resurfaced in your mind. You took a deep inhale. Bucky spoke.

“Good morning, my love.”

You groaned in response, not the least bit regal. He simply chuckled, his hand coming up to the back of your head.

“Would you still like to join me? I can give you a few more hours of rest if you need it.”

You quickly shook your head, dreading the prospect of missing out on something he had planned. He had spent the better part of two weeks sheltering you; this was the first plan he had proposed, and you weren’t about to give that up.

“I will need to call Natasha to help me dress. She is awful so early in the morning—will hold it against me for days,” you mumbled, pushing up to look at Bucky with bleary eyes.

He hummed, fixing the shoulder of the knit he had thrown over you the night before. “What you are wearing is fine. I wouldn’t want your lady to be angry with you.”

“I cannot go walking the halls in my nightgown.”

“You won’t be in the halls.”

“But I will be in my nightgown?” you questioned, an accusatory brow raised at his smirk.

He leaned forward to press a kiss to your brow before standing from the bed. “You will,” he admitted. “I don’t want to lose any light.”

Bucky was back from his room just as you were ready to leave, a robe thrown over your nightgown even though he insisted it would be fine; he could see you in it, but to the rest of the court, you were a royal. And you weren’t too confident in his “no hallways” notion when everything outside of your room required the eyes of guards.

But as soon as Bucky’s feet crossed the threshold of your door, he was guiding you to the back wall. Your face was a picture of confusion when he took his hand from his pocket and let a key dangle from his fingers. You went to reach for it, but Bucky held it back out of view.

“You can have the key,” he started, a smile creeping up on his face at your impatience, “After I show you where to use it.”

You huffed. “Show me then, Prince Know It All.”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head, stepping past you to face the wall next to your window. He ran his hand down the wallpaper a few times, pressing the pads of his fingers into wood that wouldn’t give. You were about to speak up and let Bucky know that the wall had probably had enough of his prodding, when his nail caught a snag in the paper.

He held the strip firmly between his fingers and pulled until a lock was cleared. The key was in its slot before you had time to ask any questions, a door clicking as the wallpaper gave and ripped along the sides. It tore and tore, the sounds reverberating in the air, Bucky cringing with each tug.

“Sorry, I’ll have this fixed,” he mumbled. “In all honesty, this entrance hasn’t been used since I had your room decorated. I wanted it to be a surprise, and it seems they did a wonderful job at hiding it.”

You barely shot him a look, too enraptured by the short hallway coming into view. It wasn’t much—a few burnt out sconces and a bare stone floor—but there was a light casting shapes at the end of that hall, and Bucky’s apologies quickly became background noise.

You took a hesitant step forward, tilting your head to catch any other clues in the space. A memory shot through you at the rigidness of the charcoal walls; walking freely when a castle was asleep, dripping stones leading you to an outlook with a stolen canvas and paints you weren’t allowed to have. Steve, visiting when he had the time, always startling you with the softness of his footsteps within an echoing passage.

A freedom within a cage. A light in an otherwise dim palace.

And now, some semblance of that was being splayed out in front of you in a place you now called home, a far cry from the suffocation of your youth. It confused you and excited you all within the same breath.

“After you, my princess.”

The first step into the passageway was jarring; the next one was a breath of fresh air and awe so deep you felt it in your gut. The dark hall had become a wide-open room, alight with paneled windows and ceilings out to the sky. Plants flourished with vibrate greens and purples, encasing the art along the walls with its vines and its foliage. Spun glass hung from window sills and swayed with the wind as it gently whispered through translucent curtains. The ground was a tiled pale pink, cracks in each of the stones a sign of trade and imports—a sign of Brookshire.

And in the center of the room, by the widest window, in the widest patch of morning sun, was an array of so many things you used to keep hidden. Easels and paint and brushes finer than anything the stable boy in Hyland could have procured; an empty canvas with nothing but opportunities in its stitching, nothing but an invitation.

You stood in the middle of it all and stepped in a slow circle to take it all in. It made sense why Bucky would want to bring you in the morning; with a new sun peeking bashfully between panels and finding the fractures in the tiles with such ease, you were sure a harsher sun wouldn’t have done as much justice. That a place like this was meant for delicate notions and whispers of beauty.

You’d come back at sunset—if you were allowed.

After so much quiet, you jumped as Bucky’s low voice spoke out, “Do you like it?”

“It is truly beautiful,” you replied, much softer than his question. “Whose room is this?”

Bucky furrowed his brow, stepping forward until loose ivy sprung past his shoulder. It bobbed and coiled back into its original shape, and you watched instead of meeting Bucky’s eye.

“Yours.”

You snapped your gaze up, challenging his sincerity with pure perplexity. Yours? It couldn’t be yours; Bucky wouldn’t have had the time to put this together since you got here, especially seeing as it shared a wall with your room. You would have heard something, caught a rumor or felt a sudden change within the castle’s staff as they went to work on the secret.

It had to have belonged to someone else. His mother maybe, or a cousin. Perhaps, it was just a dayroom and Bucky thought it would be a nice place for you to gather your thoughts after so much stress. But you kept searching his eyes, flitting your own between his, and you found no deceit there. He reached for you as you stood dumbfounded, and when his hands met yours, you remembered.

“You should see the room he has set up for you. There is a door that leads to the—”

Steve, showing you around the castle and trying to talk the prince up before you cut off his speech. He could have been talking about something else, somewhere else, but then…

“Meet me in the gardens at dusk. I have something to show you and I promise it will make up for my absences.”

Bucky had spoken those words to you just hours before your world had started ripping apart at the seams. You had forgotten about the aforementioned surprise after everything had happened, but now, standing in this room, you couldn’t help but wonder.

“Before I saw you and Sharon—” Bucky flinched at your words, the slightest blink, a bit harder than the rest “—was this what you wanted to show me?”

He rubbed his thumbs across your knuckles. “Yes. I wanted to show you on your first day here, but Steve advised me against that. I can genuinely thank him for that, I suppose. You might have run away screaming back then.”

“When did you… when did you make this? Why did you?”

“I started right after Steve told me you liked to paint. You still hadn’t answered a single one of my letters, but I assumed you might like a private place of your own once you got here,” he smiled, brushing a hand up to rest on your cheek. “But then you got here and you never asked to paint, and all I knew about you a few weeks in was that you enjoyed our walks around the gardens… they were the only times you looked at peace.

“So I would take the servants’ entrance and fill the room with the plants you stopped by the most. Became quite the gardener if I do say so myself.”

You giggled, covering his hand with your palm. “What were the plants meant to do?” you breathed out.

He leaned forward and pressed a whisper of a kiss to your forehead. “They were an attempt to make you feel the way I do—whenever you are around.”

You could feel the burn of tears behind your eyes, so overwhelmed by the sight of him in this room meant for you, aglow with honey light and dazed, tired features. He was yours, this was yours, and there was so much you wanted to say. You wanted to tell him that you had no idea what love was, but that your stomach flipped every time you saw him; that if there was ever a time something good happened and he wasn’t around to see it, he would be the first to hear it from you; that when he kissed you, your world crashed.

Your throat closed up instead, a few tears escaping onto raised cheeks. You smiled, and Bucky replicated it, almost breathless as he whispered I love you and kissed you as if the world truly was seconds away from coming to an end.

Rushed lips pressed to yours and crimson-tinted glass cast light on corners of the room you would discover later. A cloud passed over the skylight as kisses trailed down to your neck—as hands found purchase in the material of your nightgown and pulled you closer until you were out of breath and weightless.

The entire room simply glowed; you glowed.

It wasn’t until Bucky pulled away—all heavy breaths and lazy smiles—that you remembered a key component of the room. And for the first time in a long time, it excited you.

“Would you like to stay while I paint?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #a correspondence of obligation #prince!bucky

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