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#knight!bucky barnes
navybrat817 · 7 months
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Hello, sweet Navy! 💙
I had a thought about our sweet knight!Bucky and his princess. What would she do if she caught him sneaking a pretty wild flower in her room, laying it on her pillow? Would she call him out or keep that sweet little moment to herself? 🥺
I love them!
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AHH! I love this so much. ❤️
For a man of Bucky's size, it's amazing how he can move around so quietly. It's one of the things that makes him such a great knight for you. Stealthy, quick, lethal, it's almost easy for him to eliminate anyone threatening you. That stealth also makes it easy for him to slip in and out of your room.
He waits until you're in the bathroom before he goes in, lightly moving across the room to place the flower on your pillow. His mother told him the best kind of flowers for loved ones were given just because. And that was just it. Today wasn't a special occasion or a holiday. He merely saw it and thought of you.
Vibrant and beautiful.
He smiles to himself before he feels someone watching him. Not just anyone. He knows the weight of that look. It's from his princess.
You don't speak when you step out of the bathroom and meet his gaze. Neither does he. You do, however, give him a kind smile. One that makes his heart beat faster in his chest.
Without breaking eye contact, he wordlessly bows before he leaves as swiftly as he entered. There's no need for him to make a big deal or spectacle over giving you something so simple. It's just a pretty flower.
Except it isn't. Not to you.
He somehow isn't surprised when he sees the similar wildflowers in a vase later at lunch, but he is touched. They had never been in the palace before today. His gaze remains on you as you select a flower and bring it close to inhale the sweet scent. He watches as you cut the stem with a knife and ignore a few looks since that wasn't exactly etiquette, which almost makes him smile.
You're as bold as the flower he gave you.
What he doesn't expect is for you to stand and go to him, so he holds his breath as you get close. A moment passes as you look into his eyes and tuck the flower into his left breast pocket. He swears he sees love in your stare. You turn and go back to your seat as he touches his pocket with care, as if you hadn't affected him in the slightest. He knows he'll have the flower pressed so he can keep it forever.
You plan to do the same with yours.
And maybe, just maybe, if he can one day marry you, those will be the same flowers at your wedding.
*****
Love and thanks! ❤️
303 notes · View notes
fandoms-writings · 11 months
Text
Adoring Fool
Part 1
Pairing: knight!bucky barnes x queen!reader
Word Count: 7.7K (don’t come at me, y’all voted for this to be a long one)
Summary: Sir James competes in the annual tourney every year, always winning in your name. But with how things have been the past couple weeks, his heads not quite in the game, not with the decision he’d made regarding his feelings for you - and the mystery person you mentioned courting. 
Warnings: smut 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI, katoptronophilia (sex involving a mirror), fingering, p in v sex, angst, minor injury, hurt/comfort, bucky is dense but so is reader a little bit, bucky and reader are emotional messes, forgive me for anything that doesn't line up with historical accuracies - i took a lot of creative liberty with this one. I will include a divider where the smut begins for those of you who do not wish to read it. 
A/N: Thank you so so so much to my friend @perdidosbucky-yyo​ for talking with me on this and bouncing around ideas with me and for helping me bring these two to life and for beta reading it! I love youuuuu <3 
Series Masterlist || Bucky Masterlist || Main Masterpost
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The kingdom was busy recently, bustling with constant energy as everyone worked to ready for the Annual Tourney being held in your name. Townsfolk and servants alike had spent days readying the south field for the events and the town was decorating itself in the kingdom's colors as they prepared for the fair that would follow. 
Usually, plenty of visitors meant that James was as near as ever, always keeping close just in case. But you hadn't seen much of him. 
Steve had taken over most of his shifts during the day, and they'd switch around supper time. You'd asked him after the second day where he had been and he'd claimed he was training for the tourney. You missed having him near, talking and eating with him throughout the day, but he fought in the tourney every year. He fought in your name, for your honor - and won every year - so you didn't argue against him. 
However, you couldn't help but feel something was wrong. You knew he was training, you'd walked past the training grounds enough times to see him with your own two eyes, so it wasn't that. 
Rather, it was the way he carried himself. 
He didn't speak too much anymore and when he did, his tone was clipped, cold even. It'd grown difficult to carry a conversation with him without feeling like you were prying too much or without feeling desperate, so you'd let whatever exchange you were having die. You weren't sure what happened to make him so drastically change, but it was like he wasn't your James anymore, your Jamie. 
You knew it had to do with what you'd told him at the gala a few weeks ago, but you didn't expect him to pull away from you like he had. So, even though you'd said you'd tell him, and you have had a few moments where you could have said something - where you wish you felt like you could - but you didn't want to anymore. Not until he was himself again. 
You'd hoped that this tourney would do just that. Maybe after he let off some steam in the one on one combat he always competed in, he'd be back to normal. You'd even caught him in the halls early that morning, stopping him to wish him luck. He'd returned your wish with a glance and a small smile, looking down as he grew bashful like he always did. It filled you with a certain confidence that things were on the mend. 
However, there was one thing that made that hope short-lived. 
As per tradition, before each of the games commenced, the knights were given a moment of time to request the favor of whom they wished. They usually asked the ladies of the visiting houses, the women accepting and tying their fabric token to the knight's arm or the hilt of their sword. 
When it came to James's turn, he sat atop his armored horse, Bandit, his helmet under his arm and his hair pulled back and tied in a low bun as he rode up to the stands. Your back straightened and your grip on your token tightened - he always asked for your favor, everyone knew it and it was why no one else dared to try to ask for it before he had the chance. This year, thinking that maybe this could be a chance to lift his spirits, you'd put a lot of work into it. 
You'd embroidered flowers from the gardens that you two walked through on a weekly basis, making sure to include the ones he would always pick for you. You watched as he pulled Bandit's reins to stop him, the gray horse shaking his head, making his tourney armor rattle. 
He glanced up at you, but it was fleeting as his eyes shifted to the seat next to you, and your heart stopped. 
"Lady Natalia," he greeted her. You couldn't pull your eyes off of him as she, and every one of your other ladies, fell silent. "It would be an honor to have your favor on this day." 
With that, your heart sunk through the floor, buried under the stands you and your ladies perched upon. You swallowed around the sudden lump in your throat. 
"Um," She looked at you and you tore your eyes from his form. You glanced at her, giving her a small nod. It would be rude for her to deny him, and you weren't so pretentious to deny him asking someone who was not you. She looked back to him with a nod before standing and walking to the edge of the stands. She held her token out and once he closed the distance and offered the hilt of his sword, she tied the fabric there, the vibrant red a clash against his black armor. 
Natalia took her seat next to you with a somber look in her eyes. She wouldn't look at you as she sat, holding her hands in her lap as she picked at her nails. 
She knew how you felt about your knight, she was one of the few who did. You trusted her, and you also knew that had you not given her the go ahead, she wouldn't have accepted his request. Reaching over, you gently grabbed her hand and pulled it into your lap, making her look at you. 
"I'm so sorry," She whispered and all you could do was give her a small smile. 
"It's alright, don't you fret over it one bit," You replied, stroking her face with your knuckles and she nodded, squeezing your hand before you looked back up to see James turning to ride to the sidelines where he would wait for the event he was participating in to start. 
The next knight, Sir Victor Creed, rode in and stopped at the same spot James had. He and his brother, Sir James Howlett, were well known through the kingdoms. Two brothers refusing to go anywhere without the other, never wavering in their duties and no matter the circumstances, always returning home in one piece. The Sabertooth and The Wolverine were names given to them by their brothers in arms. 
"Your majesty," His voice was rough and clear, but gentle as he greeted you, bowing his head slightly, "Would you grant me your favor on this day?" 
You glanced down to the embroidered token in your lap, twisting it between your fingertips before a hand entered your view. You looked over to see Natalia reaching for the token. You let her take it from you, replacing it with a spare. It was sage green, matching your dress, and had a simple pattern along the corners in gold. Bless her for coming prepared. You gave her a smile and a nod before standing, walking to the edge of the stands. 
Victor gave his horse a nudge with his heels and met you at the edge with a soft smile, his gray eyes shining with pride in the sun. You placed your hand in his large outstretched one, allowing him to grasp your fingers and bow his head. He leaned forward, gently placing his lips over your knuckles, as he did any time he greeted you, though it was rare you two saw each other. 
He reached for his sword, holding it by the blade so you could tie the token on the hilt. 
"It's not every day anyone gets the chance to ask for your favor, your grace," He stated, watching your hands leave the fabric. "I had to seize the opportunity." 
You granted him a smile, "Indeed you did," You held your hands in front of you, "I wish you luck, Sir Victor."
He smiled back, his eyes crinkling, "Thank you, your grace. I will not dishonor you." 
You nodded, dismissing him. He sent a smirk your way before turning his horse and moving to wait beside your James. He was looking at you, having just watched your interaction with Victor, the scowl on his face prominent. 
Your smile slipped, your lips resting in a straight line before you turned to walk back to your seat. Two could play in this game. If he didn't want anything to do with you - fine. You could keep to yourself. You'll go back to the way you were when he first arrived at your castle when your father was still king. 
Silent, and uninterested. 
~
Remaining detached grew difficult when James's event started.
He always participated in the hand to hand, one on one combat, every year. And every year, he won, easily. 
This year was different though. 
He was put against Sir John Walker, a selfish and arrogant knight. You knew James could beat him, he was more experienced, more aware of his surroundings and less focused on how he looked. He took his time analyzing his opponents instead of just rushing in blind. 
But something was wrong. 
James had been caught off guard more times than you'd ever seen happen before.
You couldn't really see him as he fought, the visor covering his face, masking any identifying features. But you could see in his movements that he was distracted. He was slow, sluggish in his blocks and counters. He'd taken a few hits to the side and the head and though their swords were often dulled for these events to prevent catastrophe, they still had the potential to do some significant damage. 
Sitting on the edge of your seat, you clutched Natalia's hand in yours as you worried the skin of your lip between your teeth. The sound of the wooden shield in Sir John's hands cracking against your James's armor rang through the air and it took everything in you to not stand from your seat.
The wood splintered and scattered in multiple pieces along the dirt floor as James used his sword to keep himself from falling past his knees, his helmet rolling along the floor when it slipped from his head. Droplets of blood falling and sinking into the dirt. John raised what little shield remained strapped to his arm and looked out at the crowd - all of whom were shocked to see your usual champion on the floor.
James glanced up to you, expecting to see you distracted, not even watching his match. He hadn't looked your way the whole time, trying to not pay you any mind but failing as thoughts of you tying that damn token around Victor's sword flooded his mind. But now, as he finally locked eyes with you, and saw the fear pouring from your expression, his heart clenched. 
Your eyes were wide, Natalia next to you holding you down - keeping you from making a scene, and even from where he was kneeled in the dirt, he could see your lips practically bleeding from you chewing them. When you realized he was looking at you, your eyebrows pinched together and your lips were forming silent words. 
He couldn't tell if he couldn't hear you because of the roaring of the audience, the ringing in his ears, or if you were just silently mouthing his name, though he doubted it with the state you were in. Once he realized it was his name you were calling, that you were pleading, and he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks - he was back in the fight. He couldn't let you watch him lose. He wouldn't let that happen, not when it clearly upset you as much as it did. He quickly decided that he may not be able to love you in the way he wanted, but he'd always fight for you. 
He glanced above him, seeing John assuming victory and took his chance. Swiping his arm with his shield attached out, he knocked John's legs out from under him, knocking him to the floor. James threw down his sword, and wrestled John in the dirt, knocking the side of his visorless helmet with the band of steel around his shield. 
That hit gave him another moment to overpower John, straddling his chest and pressing his knees into his arms, pinning him to the dirt. Before John could try and get some leverage, James shifted his shield to rest against his opponent's neck. 
"Yield," he gritted out between his teeth. John sneered, trying to wiggle free of James's body, refusing to give up. 
James pulled his shield back, knocking his fist into the side of John's helmet, stunning him before he ripped the helmet off. He pushed the shield into John's throat again, knocking his head into the dirt. 
"I said yield," James said again, watching as John tried to remain fierce, even as the fight left his eyes. 
Soon, John's body relaxed, his blade falling from his hands as he looked away from James - yielding. With a heavy breath, his body relaxed and he stood, pulling John up with him, though he could tell his opponent didn't want the help. 
When James looked back up to where you were seated, he was hoping to find you relieved. No more worry in your features and maybe even happy he won. All his eyes found was your empty seat.
~
"Leave us, please," You announced in a gentle manner once you pushed your way into the infirmary. The staff working around James didn't need to be told twice, or who you were referring to. They saw the way your eyes locked on to his slouched figure sitting on the cot and they rushed past you, out the door in a frenzy. The wrap on James's head was seeping through with red from the wound that Sir John gave him, but he made no move to fix it. 
You stood still, watching, waiting for him to look up at you. When he wouldn't, and you'd been waiting too long to be appropriate, you released a heavy breath through your nose. 
"You aren't even going to say hello?" You muttered, your confidence shrinking. You'd never had him blatantly ignore you like this, you weren't sure what to do, what to say. It left an odd feeling in your chest you weren't used to - one you didn't like. 
He sighed, lifting his gaze to meet yours and you had to keep from stepping away from him. He didn't look like himself, not like how you'd come to know him. He looked like he did when he first was assigned to you. Stone-cold, emotionless, only ever thinking about the task at hand and not wanting to talk to you regardless of how often he was with you. 
You didn't think you'd ever see him revert back to that, to see it again after so many years was startling. 
"Hello, your grace," He gruffly said, his voice the only indication that he was still the James you knew. He was just hiding. 
"What's going on with you?" You asked, still in the same spot. You had a feeling that if you were to try to get closer, he'd back away, and you didn't want to feel the hurt that would bring. 
"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about, your grace," He feigned innocence and you scoffed. 
"Don't do that," You started, "Don't pretend as if you haven't been avoiding me for weeks. As if you haven't been lying to me." 
His brows pinched at your suggestion and he shook his head, "I have not lied to you, your - "
"Stop." You cut him off, now refusing to stay still as you stepped towards him. "Stop saying 'your grace'.  And don't tell me you weren't lying." 
He took a moment to answer, but still, he denied it. 
"I apologize, I'm not sure I'm following. I have not lied to you." He held his ground and you stopped in your tracks just two feet away. 
"Oh you haven't?" You asked. "Then why did you almost lose?" His face paled at your question. "Yeah, you know what I'm talking about, don't you?" 
"Your gra - "
"I said to stop it with that." You took another step forward as you let the anger slip away, sorrow taking its place in your words and your features. "What on earth has gotten into you, Jamie? You tell me you're not around because you're training for the tourney, and then you fight like that? Sloppy, unorganized. I didn't see any real effort from you until the end. So don't tell me you've been training the whole time you've been missing." 
He looked back down to the ground, and you took the moment to take another step towards him, keeping your hands to yourself even if you wanted to reach out to touch him. To feel his gloved hands, the metal of his chain mail, or finally feel the skin of his face and the scruff of his growing beard as you hold him between your hands. 
"Jamie," You said, getting him to look back up to you, "What's wrong?" 
He took a breath, looking down before he stood, towering over you but seeming so small at the same time. You were ready to talk about whatever was bothering him, get him back to normal. Whatever it was, you would fix it. 
But when his voice finally filled the room, your heart sunk to the floor. 
"Your grace, I would like to request a transfer of post." 
It was as if time stopped.
Surely, he didn't mean it. He was just jesting, he had to be. He'd been by your side for over five years now. He was the only one you trusted with your life the way you did. He was supposed to be your friend. 
"I'm sorry?" You asked. Maybe you just heard him wrong. He'd tell you he was just exhausted. That he just needed rest and that he'd be back to normal in the morning. He had to. 
"I would like you to reassign me. To the outer walls." Your lungs vacated the air that occupied them and you had to root yourself to your spot before you stumbled. You never thought he'd ever ask to leave your side. 
"No." You said, fighting the growing lump in your throat and pain in your chest. "Not without reason." 
He stared back, eyes wide as he tried to come up with something, anything, to get what he was asking. When he couldn't come up with an answer, you shoved down the hurt in your chest and stood tall, craning your neck to look up at him. 
"You are the only one I trust the way I do. You've been by my side for over five years, Jamie," You tried not to cringe at the strain - the pain - in your voice, instead choosing to push forward. "I will not reassign you unless you have a proper reason to request it in the first place. I will not place my well-being in someone else's hands, someone who hasn't earned it the way you have." 
"Please, your grace," he whispered, his own voice straining and barely audible. "Reassign me." 
Your face contorted in frustration as you turned from him, pacing the room unable to stand so close while he shattered your heart. 
"I will not reassign you," You watched him as you crossed the room. "I would never see you again, Jamie. You would go off to one of the watches on the border and I'd never see you again." 
You stopped at one of the empty cots, dragging your fingers along the surface, the tremble in your fingers making you ball your fist at your side instead as you turned to face him. 
"You don't wish to be by my side anymore," You muttered. "Is that it?"  
"That's not. . ." He sighed as he looked down, unable to finish his words. 
"Then what is it?" You asked, "Because, though it would pain me to not have you near, to watch you go off and possibly never return," You paused your willpower diminishing as you stared up at him, "I will grant it to you if you can just tell me why." 
"I. . ." He started, his jaw falling open as his voice evaded him. 
You scoffed, the pain in your heart becoming too much to bear. "You have until sunrise to bring me an answer. Otherwise," You closed the distance, getting nose to nose, "You will stay in your position for as long as I deem fit." 
You turned on your heel, walking out the door, leaving him on his own.
He didn't chase you. He didn't even call your name. 
Maybe it was time you let him go. 
~
James stood outside your chamber doors, staring at the swirling grain in the wood, trying to gather the courage to knock. 
He'd spent supper in the dining halls watching you on your throne with your ladies surrounding you - comforting you. He could tell by the nasty looks Lady Natalia was sending his way that she knew what had happened. 
And he couldn't blame her. 
He knew his request would pain you, that it would hurt. But he'd decided that he needed to be stationed away from you. He didn't know if he could handle seeing you with your mystery courter, and he would rather save himself the pain of finding out. 
He could hardly watch your interaction with Victor, the bastard having won all of his events and, since he had your favor,  was also seated next to you at supper. He had to watch as Victor smiled at you, flirted with you. He knew Victor would never appreciate it like he should, never truly understand what an honor it is to be the center of your attention. 
James knew you wouldn't take his request well, you were friends, but he never should've allowed your relationship to become even that. It was improper. Negligent.
So, here he stood, struggling to gain the strength to hit his fist against the wood. 
The rest of the castle was almost silent, other than the occasional stirring of the overnight servants cleaning up after the festivities from earlier. He glanced at the windowsill, the night air bringing a chill as he watched the stars. 
He was running out of time. If he didn't come up with a reason for you to send him away soon, he'd be stuck watching you wed someone else. Someone not himself. 
It wasn't like you could marry him anyways. He was just a knight. You were a queen. It would be unbecoming for you to not wed a noble, or someone of royal descent. 
He couldn't lie to you though - you were always too good at reading through his fibs, he was an open book to you. Any time he tried to give you even the slightest lie, you'd catch on and call him out on it - which made it hard to give you surprises. 
Maybe if he told you the truth, you'd be empathetic enough to let him go. 
It was his only hope, and he needed to do it before he lost his prowess. 
James's knock against the wood and the clang of his armor echoed off the stone walls through the corridor and his heart leapt into his throat as he waited for your response. 
It wasn't long before the door opened to reveal Lady Natalia, scowling at him like she had been all night. 
"Oh," She said with pursed lips, "It's you." 
"Let him in, Natalia," Your strained voice came from beyond the threshold and James watched as your lady's shoulders sagged. "And head to bed, I'll see you in the morning." 
Natalia turned and curtsied, "Yes, my lady." She ducked around James, but not before eying him down with a fierce look, and took her leave down the hall. If looks could kill, he'd be six feet under by now, just by her eyes alone. 
"Are you going to just stand there all night," you called, "Or are you going to come give me your reason?" 
He swallowed his nerves, stepping past the door and closing it behind him. 
Your chambers were dimly lit with candles placed on your hearth and windowsills and tables. Perched on the lounge by the large window, you were facing the stars, just as he had been a moment ago. 
"Your grace," He greeted, stiff in his movements to walk towards you, trying not to bump into anything, or break something. He'd never been in here, and he didn't want to leave you hurt and with a broken piece of possible sentiment. 
"Do you have your reason?" You asked, the shortness in your tone sending a wave of sorrow through James's chest. He knew he didn't deserve your friendliness anymore. Your warm and welcoming voice. He deserved the coldness you were greeting him with, he knew that. 
"I do," He quietly said, watching as you turned your head to slightly face him. And though the circumstances were anything but pleasurable, he was still in awe of the beauty you held, the side profile of your features causing him to pause. 
Could he really go another day without seeing you again?
"Well?" You asked, shooting your eyes to his, "What is it?" 
He took a moment to take you in, the way you were poised on the lounge, facing him only the slightest. Your feet were tucked under you, one of your arms thrown over the back of the lounge and resting on the windowsill. You'd rid yourself of your dress from earlier, the bodice and large skirt surely thrown in some grand closet of yours. You were in a simple nightgown now, the white of the thin fabric catching the light from the candles. 
A flush crept up his neck and across his cheeks as he realized this was the first time he'd seen you like this. He expected you to somewhat have a more presentable attire on and he averted his eyes from you, clearing his throat. 
"Forgive me, your grace," He paused, almost on instinct, expecting you to argue against the title he greeted you with, but nothing came. "I was not expecting you to be so. . . underdressed." 
"Have you never seen a woman in a nightgown?" There was no emotion in your voice, no sarcasm, no teasing. The guilt built in his chest as he tipped his head. 
"I have, your grace," He answered, staring at the stone in the wall. 
"Then stop being a prude and look at me when you're speaking to me." He'd never had such authority dripping from your voice pointed at him. It was odd, the feeling it left in his chest as he obliged, turning his gaze back to you. 
You'd turned to face him fully now, one of your legs still tucked under you and the other stretched out to the floor. Your arms both thrown over the back of the lounge, the scowl still present on your face, though it was cast in shadow. 
"I wish for you to reassign me," He started, trying to keep his words as steady as he could - steadier than he felt. "Because I cannot watch you court someone who does not deserve you, your grace." 
Silence filled the room as he waited for your response. When his hand started shaking, he rested it on the hilt of his sword, wrapping his fingers around the metal. 
"What do you mean?" You asked, all hostility gone from your words, catching him by surprise. "Watch me court someone? Who am I courting?" 
Who? Why would you ask such a question? Surely, you knew. You'd told him yourself that someone already held your heart in their hands. 
"Back at the gala," he recounted, trying his best to keep his emotions at bay, "You mentioned someone already having your heart. I cannot stay by your side and watch you court them, should you decide to." 
You were still for a moment, eyeing him, as he tried not to rock on his feet, waiting for you to say something. 
Soon, you let out a sad laugh, reaching for your cup of wine from the table and taking a sip. You stood, walking toward him with the cup in your hand. It was only when you were close enough for him to smell the wine on your breath did he notice the red of your eyes - the sadness that filled them. 
"Tell me, James, what is the reason you want to leave me?" You whispered, setting the cup down on the hearth without so much as shifting your gaze.
He swallowed, trying to ignore the way he wanted to get lost in your eyes, no matter how sad they were, no matter how much guilt built in his chest like water behind a dam, threatening to crack and shatter the stone. How he wanted to reach out and hold you and apologize for making you upset. 
"Because, your grace" He muttered, matching the softness of your own tone, "The feelings I bear for you are no longer befitting of my station." He stated, watching your features soften and your eyes start glistening. "From the bottom of my heart, I adore you." 
A sigh left your lips, the smell of wine and fruits flooding James's senses being the only warning of you closing the distance between the two of you. 
His eyes widened at the feeling of your bitten lips on his and your hands pulling him down by the breastplate of his armor. It was over before he had a chance to react and he stared down at you, the pieces slowly starting to click together.
"You're such a fool," You whispered, letting go of his armor and walking back to your lounge.
He followed you, standing near your now seated figure. "Your grace?" 
"Stop calling me that," You looked up to him, the light from the moon shining off the tears that now streaked down your cheeks. "You never let me tell you the rest," you muttered, "You've been hiding from me, avoiding me for weeks." You gave him a sad smile when the realization dawned on him. "It's you." 
A deep breath escaped his lungs in a huff, as he stared at you. Surely he misheard you, he thought, you couldn't have said that. But the next words from you proved him wrong. 
"I was talking about you." 
At your admission, his resolve crumbled and he fell to his knees before you and closed his eyes, hanging his head. He had asked to leave. You were going to let him. He was going to leave you here when you were in love with him as he was you. He never would've seen you again. 
Your voice calling out for him made him lift his head and open his eyes and only then did he realize how close he was to you. You were seated on the edge of the lounge cushion as you watched him, the tiniest bit of hope flickering in your eyes. His breath stuttered as he tried to gain his voice. 
"I - " He started, the dam in his chest cracking, starting to break. He reached for your hands, slowly in case you pulled away, grasping them in his own when you didn't reel back from him. He leaned forward, resting his head in your lap, letting the smell of you calm him. "I'm so sorry, your grace." 
You gave his hands a squeeze and leaned forward, your lips resting on his temple. "As am I."
You remained like that for a moment, eventually pulling your hands from his to wrap around his head, his hands moving to hold your legs, the tremble evident in his hold. When you sat up, pulling back, he lifted his head from your legs, looking up at you. Your eyes were full of hope as you giggled and smiled, cupping his cheeks with your hands. 
"We're both fools aren't we?" You asked, and he couldn't stop the lighthearted feeling that filled his chest, making him laugh with you. 
"I suppose we are." He gripped your hips through your nightgown, ignoring the heat that rose to his cheeks when he finally took notice of your position. And just how thin your gown was.
He was so close to touching you, to actually touching you. To feel your skin against his. Your hands on his face, tracing the wound on his forehead didn't count for him. He wanted to feel you between his hands. 
"Can we take off this bulky stuff?" You whispered, pulling on the breastplate of his armor. He nodded, moving to unbuckle the straps when your hands met his. "I'll do it." You muttered, and he lowered his hands. 
Your fingers brushed against him as you undid the buckles and he caught the pieces before they landed on your feet. You attempted to lift the chain mail over his head, but it was heavier than you expected and he took over. After peeling away the layers of leather, he was left in just his undergarments and a flush on his cheeks. 
Ever since you'd pulled his gloves off, he'd kept his hands to himself, nervous in a way he'd never experienced before. Your hands found their place on his shoulders, one of your hands reaching back to thread through his hair and he sighed at the contact. 
When he still hadn't reached for you, you reached down, grabbing one of his hands and putting your cheek in it. His breath hitched at the feeling of your soft skin against his, the way you delicately traced his knuckles as he mapped your face with the tips of his fingers, trying to record all of it to memory. 
He'd almost lost this chance with you. Had he come up with a believable excuse for leaving, he never would've gotten to feel you like this. To be this close enough to pick up on the floral smell in your hair. To feel your hand pulling him closer, gripping the hair at the base of his skull. To taste the wine on your tongue when your lips met his. 
He craned his neck up to reach you, sighing into your mouth and gripping the side of your face. Moving his hand to wrap around your lower back, he pulled you to the edge of the lounge cushion, groaning when your legs wrapped around his waist. 
He pulled away when he absolutely couldn't breathe anymore, resting his forehead against yours, "I'm so sorry," He muttered again, opening his eyes to find yours already on him. He knew he'd already apologized, but he needed to say it again. 
"It's alright," you whispered, "I wasn't really going to let you go." His lips broke out in a smile as a wet laugh erupted from his chest.
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Your hands moved to his face, wiping away the wetness there before you pulled him back in. There was more of a desperation in his movements now - needing to be closer to you, to feel every inch of you - you'd given him a taste and now he needed more. 
"Have you ever," you muttered in between kisses, "lay in a queen's bed?" 
"Never," his words swallowed by your lips. 
You smirked against his lips, tightening your legs around his waist. "Let us go then."
He wrapped his hands under your thighs, slowly standing and taking you with him. He stumbled a bit, trying to find your bed with you occupying his line of sight, but eventually his knees knocked the side of it, the soft covers tickling his skin as he leaned over, resting you on top. 
His hands started to wander over your gown and without breaking away from him, your hands grabbed his and placed them under the fabric, finally getting him to touch your skin, pulling a groan from deep in his chest. His hands mapped your body, every dip and curve, branding the feeling of your soft skin into memory. 
Your hands reached under his shirt, your fingers gripping bits of his muscle as they traveled up, pushing the fabric out of your way. You pushed him back, making him straighten his back and remove his shirt. 
Your hands stilled over his skin and when he looked down to you, your eyes were locked on to his ribs. Your fingers gently traced the outline of the bruising there, one of the many consequences of his sloppiness in his battle with John. He sucked in cool air when your lips grazed his skin, pressing kisses to the bruising before looking back up to meet his gaze. 
You gave his waist a small push, and he backed up to let you stand, too caught in your tenderness to refuse you. Allowing you to push him and maneuver him how you wanted him, the backs of his legs hit the bed and he sat on the plush surface. 
"Get up there," You smiled at him and he nodded, quickly shifting up to the back of your bed. 
You joined him, straddling his hips, but refusing him your lips. He went to ask - to beg really - to let him taste your tongue again but  the words died on his tongue as your arms wrapped around you, grabbing the sides of your gown. The air was sucked out of his lungs as you pulled the fabric up and over your head, dropping it off the side of the bed. 
It was like his brain stopped working, seeing you like this, completely bare and hovered over him. The way the candlelight caught the edges of your skin, lighting you in a soft silhouette, but still giving enough light to where he could see you. The gaze you held on him, it held him there like an obedient hound but he didn't mind at all. He liked being under your control. 
He was knocked from his stupor when you placed your hands on his chest, rolling your hips into his, your lips parting to allow a sinful whine to fill his ears. 
He reached forward, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him, pressing your hips roughly into his as he sat up, capturing your lips with his own. Your arms snaked around his neck as his hand shifted between the two of you, his thumb brushing small circles over your clit, making you gasp against his mouth. 
He snuck his hand lower, between your legs, his fingertips tracing along the edges of your folds, gathering the slick there.
"Is this all for me?" He muttered, letting you suck his tongue into your mouth as you nodded. You pushed your hips into his hand and he groaned, dragging his fingers through your folds, prodding at your entrance. 
He sunk two digits in, cooing at the whine that left your lips. His other hand reached up to wrap around the back of your neck and pulled you off his mouth so he could see you. The way you fought to keep your eyes open, your jaw slack as you grinded on his fingers. 
He curled his fingers, finding that soft spot that had you keening in his lap and he grinned, holding you as still as he could while his fingers pumped in and out of you. He'd never seen you so vulnerable and he knew he wasn't going to be able to get enough of it.
He grinned against your cheek as you moved to bite at his neck, finally moving out of his direct line of sight, and what he saw made his cock twitch. 
Set up in front of your bed, was your dressing table, the mirror open. He could see the lines of your back as you circled your hips against his hand, the bend in your legs and the curve of your ass - it gave him an idea.
He pulled you from his neck and pulled his fingers from your cunt, your whine at the loss, making him chuckle. He kissed your lips again before telling you, "Turn around for me?" The look that passed through your eyes told him you knew what he was suggesting - and you wanted it. 
You pulled him in for one more press against your lips, your tongues gliding against each other for just a moment before you pulled away. Throwing your leg over his knees, you turned around, watching him behind you through the mirror as he shifted to follow you. The bed dipped under his weight as shifted, ridding himself of his trousers before he moved to his knees, coming up behind you, eyes locked on yours through the reflection. 
His hand wrapped around your front, cupping your breast, pinching at your nipple as his lips met your neck. He sucked on the soft skin there, taking a moment to bask in the sound that left your lips before pushing you down into the blankets, his hand remaining between your shoulder blades as he looked down to your core. It was glistening and he couldn't help but drag his fingers through it again. 
Your body flinched as you moaned at the little contact he was giving you. "Please, Jamie." 
Your begging sent chills down his spine. You never begged. Not for anything. 
To be granted the space to hear you do that, made him feel stronger than any suit of armor or handcrafted blade ever could. 
Pulling you by your hips back to his, he sighed when his cock slid against your folds through your slick, watching you arch your back. He repeated the movement just two more times before the head of his member caught your entrance. 
"Oh, fuck," his breath shuddered as he watched your cunt suck him into your heat. He wanted to watch as he sunk all the way in, but the deliciously loud moan you let out had him raising his gaze to see your reflection. 
Your back arched, your face in the blankets as you reached out for purchase on one of them, gripping it with white knuckles. 
The sight alone could bring him over the edge, but then that would leave you and he couldn't have that. 
Using his knees, he moved your legs further apart so he could lean over you, the new angle pulling another keen from your chest. Resting his weight on his right arm, he reached around to grab your breast, rolling the sensitive bud of your nipple between his fingers.
When he started rocking his hips into yours, he didn't expect you to push them back against him, meeting his thrusts and pulling sounds out of his throat to match yours. Releasing your breast, he moved to slide his hand up your arm, grabbing your wrist and leaning down to suck on the skin of your shoulder. 
When you started begging again, chanting please, please, don't stop, please over and over again into the blankets, he knew you were close and allowed himself to drown in your pleas just once more before giving you what you wanted. 
His hand left your hip, diving down to circle your clit as his other reached for your chin, tipping your head up so he could see your face in the reflection. 
"Let me see your eyes," He muttered into your neck, watching your eyes flutter open, "there we go." 
Your eyes widened when his fingers quickened their circles over your clit. And he knew he was hitting the right spot when your jaw slackened and your arms tensed. 
"C'mon, your grace," His lips brushed against your ear, "I wanna see you when you cum." 
That was all it took for your body to seize up, a shout leaving your lips as your cunt gripped him and he had to catch himself so he didn't crush you. His fingers kept circling your clit and he didn't stop his pounding into you until you were crying out again, a second orgasm quickly taking over your body. 
"There you go," he grunted, thrusting just a few more times before he quickly pulled himself from you, your whine making him wish he could stay inside you. He gripped his cock, giving it a few tugs before he released himself on your back, trying to quiet his moan as much as he could. He didn't know if you wanted anyone in the castle knowing and he wasn't about to make that decision for you. 
Your body was slack against the bed, and when he looked up to your reflection, he found your eyes already on him - like they always were. A heat took his cheeks but he refused to look away from you, especially when you gave him that lazy smile and giggle. His lips split into a grin as he joined your soft laughter, moving out from behind you and helping you unbend your legs, laying on your stomach. 
You pointed him to the wash bin where there was a damp cloth from your bath earlier. And after getting you cleaned up and resituated in your bed, he sat on the edge, wishing he could stay. 
But he didn't want to start any gossip around the castle.  
You tugged on his arm, "What's wrong?" 
"I should go," he muttered, reaching for your face, "Don't want the castle finding out do you?" 
Your brows pinched as you sat up and wrapped your hands around his head, "James, you better get in this damn bed." 
His eyes widened, "Are you sure? I'm supposed to be guarding you." 
"And what better place to do that than by my side." 
He sighed and nodded, crawling in next to you, sighing at the softness of your bed. He'd been too preoccupied moments ago to notice how nice it was, but compared to his bed in the barracks, this was heaven on earth. 
"I have something for you," You muttered before you reached over to the side table, turning back around with a little folded up cloth. You placed it in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it. "This was supposed to be my token for you," You started, pulling your hands to rest in your lap, "before you asked Natalia for hers."
The guilt started to grow in his chest again as he unfolded the fabric, revealing embroidery of some very familiar flowers. Your initials were in the corner, the way they were stitched telling him you made it by hand. 
"Your grace,"  He muttered, "I don't deserve this." 
"I get to decide that," You whispered back, leaning over him, lightly pressing your lips to his. "You carry that with you, so you don't forget." 
"Forget what?"
"That I adore you as well."
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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year
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the eflorr trilogy
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warnings: fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, violence, explicit sexual content
info about the world | maps | pinterest board | playlist
masterlist | join my taglist
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fused with the foe
king!steve rogers x princess!reader, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, total word count is 18k
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE (30/3-24)
CHAPTER FOUR (6/4-24)
CHAPTER FIVE (13/4-24)
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the wistful wyvern
knight!bucky barnes x knight!reader, ex-friends to lovers, forced proximity
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
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soot and sparks
blacksmith!peter parker x farmer!reader, friends to lovers  
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
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© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble
626 notes · View notes
subwaysurf45 · 1 year
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The Time of the Prey (6)
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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: 3k
Warnings: ANGST, violence, whipping, descriptions of injuries, near death
Series Masterlist      II      Series Playlist
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The chamber was still dark and grimy, the exact same position from before did not change your point of view but rather highlighted everything dirty about where you were being held. Rats would scramble across the floor and somehow disappear in thin air, you never knew where they went. With a lack of food and water, you tried to convince yourself half of the things you were seeing were just hallucinations from being sleep deprived and malnourished. 
Today was the day you were going to break out, you knew it. There was this pit in your stomach that told you so, at least you hoped that’s what your body was telling you. 
The sound of the dungeon door opening didn’t affect you anymore, you wouldn’t pretend to sleep or act small. Now, your eyes watched the stairs as the man made his way down to greet you, there was no more timidness in you. 
“We’re leaving this room today,” he muttered to himself, going to your ties and loosening them. 
At this moment you knew you could fight him off and run out of the castle, but in reality that wouldn’t work. There would be too many guards to get through, you were deep in the middle of the castle and needed to wait until you were closer to the perimeter. There was also the thought of gaining trust, if you didn’t try to sprint right away the man would be kinder to you and not hold your chains too tightly. 
“May I ask what we are doing?” you peered over your shoulder to look at him, you were getting the sense he didn’t like where he was taking you. 
“I don’t agree with the Crown’s methods sometimes,” he spoke quietly as he walked your shaky legs to the stairs, “they are too cruel, you’re not even from Red River and we are treating you this way.” it took a long time for you to get up all the stairs. 
“So what are we doing?” you asked out of breath.
“Sending a message, Princess.” was all he said, not answering any more questions as he walked you closer to a door with two guards standing on either side. 
When the door opened and the light poured in your body physically cringed, the brightness was too much for your eyes that had fully adjusted to the dark dungeon. The man kept walking with you but you had yet to gain your bearings, stumbling and trying to see where you were going. With your vision lost, your hearing tuned up, picking up the sounds of cheers and screams, they were happy and almost excited. 
“Is this a beheading?” you asked no one in particular. 
“No, but close.” 
When your eyes fully opened, the scene you were greeted with was the many faces of Hydra’s Hill, they had fruits in their hands, ready to throw. You looked off the stage to see the worn down houses and poor living conditions, there were stray dogs who were strictly skin and bone running around; their bodies matched their owners. It was an angry crowd, unbrushed teeth flashed at you as they screamed. 
When you looked over your shoulder you saw a pole standing in the middle of the stage, a hooded man standing beside it. Before you could ask another question hands were on you, pushing you and tying you up to the pole, causing the screams to erupt even louder. 
Your nerves were boiling up, choking you from the inside and making it harder to breathe. As royalty you knew of many public whippings, you always voted against punishment like that so you never watched but Natasha would have to be there for someone to back the Crown. Your legs shook as you stood there, head pressed against the pole so you didn’t know when it was coming. 
“Ladies and gentlemen!” a voice yelled, “welcome,” he paused, “today we have a very special show for you all, may I introduce Princess Y/N!” he called and the crowd yelled again, this time you felt tomatoes and other liquidly vegetables hitting you. “I know, I know it’s a lot…we haven’t had a public whipping of royalty in years, let me tell you,” his voice was so painfully charismatic, he walked around to meet your point of view, “and might I add our first royal whipping of a princess, how about that?” he winked. 
He was Brock Rumlow, the Hydras had ruled Hydra’s Hill for years. Brock was a bastard boy, born out of wedlock and from a normal lady of the court. If he was born in wedlock he’d be named Brock Hydra but Rumlow was the bastard’s name, given to any and all people born from cheating and fornication. Though technically Brock was a Prince he would never have that title, but he acted like he did. 
“I don’t want to keep you all waiting,” he turned back to the crowd, “this is no punishment to Princess Y/N, she’s done nothing wrong, this is simply a message…a message to not fuck with the Hydras!” he screamed and you couldn’t see them but you felt another wave of objects being thrown at you. “Let the message begin.” 
He walked away and sat in his chair, no other family member was there to watch. The hooded man approached you and stood in your line of vision first, you could see his grey eyes staring at you. When he walked away your sense of what was happening left you completely, you were staring at planks of wood on a door and relied only on your hearing. It scared you to feel hands grasp the top of the back of your dress and tug, it only took one pull for it to rip down your back and give the maester open ground to work with. When the whip was picked up the screams started again, you knew it was coming and closed your eyes. 
You did not brace for impact, you did not begin to cry, you did not flinch at the slightest sound. All you thought of was your father, the large man smacking you at random, it always caught you so off guard so you grew used to the surprise. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, that was all you were going to give them. 
The initial impact was numb to you, but the sting afterwards felt like molten lava being poured down your back. The crack of the whip came after the feeling, your brows pinched for a moment before letting you. You did not scream, the only reaction was the blood falling down your back. The whip cracked again and a small peep fell from your lips but no one heard, you quickly pressed down harder on your bottom lip. 
Brock stood in front of you, leaned down to meet your eyes, “give me a tear, why don’t you?” he smirked, “maybe a plea for mercy or forgiveness, huh?” his hand reached out and cupped your cheek, making you give more of a disgusted reaction than the torure. His hands were coarse and rough, nothing like James’. 
“Never,” you gritted out right before the whip struck you again. 
“Come on,” he pouted, “Ser James is not here to save you, dear, there’s no need to hold on, he’ll probably never come, just give in and give my people a show.” 
“Never,” you said again, “you will never pull a scream or a tear from me, do you understand?” a sadistic smirk appeared on your face, “when I escape these chains and find my will to fight again I will hunt you down myself and tear your body a-” the whip came again, your body was getting weaker, “a-apart, slowly but surely I will feed your limbs to my dogs and use your blood as paint, my p-picture will be a portrait of your f-fff-fucking head on a spike, I’ll send it to your father and whore mother you fucking bastard.” you did not raise your voice, the energy to do so had left you already. Seeing the look on Brock’s face was enough to keep you conscious, he was red and livid, almost shaking as he stood there. 
The whip went rogue and the force of it caused the chains to break, you acted like nothing happened and no one noticed. There was a break in the whippings for a moment. 
This was your moment. 
You did not know what it looked like behind you now, but you turned around anyways, dodging the maester and running off the stage, shoving and pushing the shocked common folk. None of them knew what to do, you kept running. The group became more dispersed and people who reached out to grab you were too late, you sprinted, feeling rocks and wood splinter into your feet but you didn’t care. Your dress was bunched up in your hands as the wind blew your hair back and helped you see where you were running to. 
After turning into the small straw houses you leaned back against a wall and pressed flat against it, feeling your open wounds sting as they touched the straw. Your heart beat rang in your ears, it was easier to breathe because your corset was ripped but the stinging did not go away. You knew you needed to keep moving, they would catch up to you and find you. 
Before you could move any further the sound of barking caught your attention, it was a black dog, weak and frail. You raised your hand and held it out for it to smell, waiting to gain its trust. 
“Hello,” you whispered, “what’s your name, little guy?” there was no collar or chain, it was a stray. “Do you know how to get out of here?” once it smelt your hand and bowed his head to begin to pet it, getting under its chin and behind the ears. You saved a small portion of your bread everyday to make sure you ate something on the days they decided to not give you food, slowly, you held it out and the dog took it quickly. “Forest?” you asked and the dog tilted his head, “forest time?” the dog barked again and began to walk. 
You followed slowly and carefully, looking both ways and behind your back to make sure no one was following you. The dog walked at a fast pace, obviously wanting time in the forest, you didn’t know why that word meant too much to it but you didn’t care, as long as you got out of there as fast as possible. 
As you passed through you saw families sitting in their small huts, children red and riddled with sickness. The sewage was dumped through the streets of the pooest people, a constant filter of grey covered the entire kingdom, you knew this was Flea Bottom, the poorest section of any kingdom. 
There were very few stands for food around, just bread on the ground and nothing else. The children and adults looked melnourished and angry, almost as if a revolution was starting to begin. 
“You look lost, my dear,” an old women approached you, clutching a basket firml in her hand.
You made sure she could not see your back, you quickly fixed your dress as well, “I’m visiting family here, that is all.” 
“Your family lives down here?” she questioned, “that dress says otherwise,” her eyes focused on your face for a moment, looking past all the grime and dirt she was quick to figure it out, “follow me, dear, bring that dog with you,” she quickly turned and began to walk away. 
After looking over your shoulder you followed, taking caution to not stand too close, you didn’t know if there was a guard ready to snatch you up again, the old lady turned and twisted through the huts, waving hello at people sitting outside. Once she got to her hut she quickly ushered you, looking around to see if anyone saw. 
“Alright,” she locked her door, “let me see those wounds.” 
“I can not accept the help,” you held your hands out, “I must get going- back to my family I’m visiting-”
“Princess y/n, second born daughter of Lady Melina, offspring of the great King Alexie, a troubles man might I add, but a great King of the Southlands, am I correct?” she sat across from you at her table, hands folded together. 
“Yes,” you lowered your head. 
“I may be old, dear, but I am not blind,” she stood again, “and for that reason, if an old woman like myself can spot you, so can the guards…we must change you before you hit the wall, they’ll pick you apart easily, let me look in my room.” she walked through a passageway. 
“I can not accept a dress, ma’am, that is too much,” you stood and followed her. 
“Don’t worry,” she held out a very beige and very boring dress, “it’s my least favourite, the kind where I do not mind if you spill blood on it- speaking of which let me grab my medicine.” 
“You have medicine down here?” you asked as you followed her. 
“I stole it,” she admitted openly, looking over her shoulder, “I’ve long enough that my taxes have already paid for it, especially here.” 
“I’ve heard the common folk are unhappy with the government here,” you remembered hearing that when you sat in at a meeting at home. 
“Unhappy?” she repeated, placing both hands on you to sit you down again, “we are furious, we’ve got no food or clean water, the amount of stillborns we’ve had is ridiculous and it seems everyone is dying, I won’t be surprised if I’m gone in a fortnight,” she placed some ointment on the table, a thick paste, “this will help.” 
It was cool when it touched your back, soothing the burning feeling of infection, you stared at her small hut as she helped you, looking at the rotten fruit on her table and very dirty looking water in her sink. Sewage seeped in from under her door, one that didn’t fit right on its hinges. 
“Are you happy here?” you asked quietly. 
She didn’t respond, “I will be dead soon, the afterlife is where I can see my lover and my mother again, for that reason alone I am happy, because I know soon it’ll be my end and into a new life with the people who I love so dearly,” she whispered as she worked, “but my daughter is not happy, and my grand daughter isn’t either, both leading the silent revolution.” 
“Silent?” you asked, looking over your shoulder but feeling her pushing your head straight again. 
“Yes,” the old lady whispered again, “they do not know who is a spy and who is real, it’s almost as if the government can read their thoughts, we call them the Thought Police, for some reason they find out who is a revolutionary extremely fast, but my girls will be happy to die for their cause, I know they are.” 
Her hands pulled away from your back and she walked around the table to see you, “you look thin, deathly thin, may I give you food to take with you?” she picked up a rotten apple, and you saw a worm crawl out of it. 
“I’ve already overstayed my welcome, I think, your hospitality has been wonderful, gratitude to you and your family,” you picked up the dress and quickly changed, feeling the itchy fabric up against your skin. “I must be on my leave.” 
The old lady stood there with her arms crossed, “high royals speak another langue, I tell you something,” she shook her head with a smile, “you seem to cram every word into these sentences when in reality you could have said no thanks, see you later…” she giggled to herself, “I guess that’s just the class divide, oh well.” 
“It’s how I was taught,” you bashfully looked at the ground, “I will say before I see you later,” you both giggled, “my advice is to leave for a while, Shieldshire is coming for war, I know they are, if you want to continue this revolution then you should leave and come back once the city has fallen,” your hand picked up her cold one, “so you don’t fall with it.” 
The old lady pushed her hair out of her face before placing her other hand on top of your, “my father was a captain of a ship, he took many people over from the Eastern Side to the New Land, where we stand right now,” her eyes flickered between yours, “after five trips his boat was shot down, a captain always goes down with the ship,” she could the sadness in your eyes, “but if this ship holds and the captain walks the plank, we will have to ruler or king given to us through blood, simply a vote of the people.” 
“A vote of the people sounds nice,” you couldn’t help but smile at her bravery, her strength, “what is your name?” 
“I don’t have one,” it came out as a whisper, “no one does, Princess Y/N.” 
The black dog was still outside the hut when you opened the door, the dirt and grime matched the new dress you were wearing. As you walked around no one looked at you, thinking you were one of them. 
Right before you were about to hit the wall you saw a guard round the corner, for a moment you were going to run but you stayed calm. Nodding at him and walking right past him, he didn’t say a thing or even regard you for that matter, you knew you could get out of here. 
When you hit the wall you looked over your shoulder for a final time before looking down to see the dog on the other side, it had crawled under a hole it had made over the course of years. With the semi-open wounds on your back you knew it wasn’t a great idea but at this point there was no way out. So you crawled, the wooden wall caught a few pieces of your dress and scrapes on your back, making you have to stop and breathe. 
“I’m out,” you whispered to yourself, turning around and seeing the wall, “I’m…” you couldn’t wait and appreciate your escape, you needed to run. 
Your bare feet pounded hard against the grass which quickly turned into forest, Hydra’s Hill was not known for it’s lumber so the trees were very close together, after five seconds of running you could not see the castle behind you. All you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears and the sound of you dress ripping against the exposed roots and thrones, your back screamed as the cuts tried to close but were quickly reopened again. 
The dog you had acquainted was no longer beside you, it must hace turned around or not dared venture into the forest. When your body felt like giving out you pushed a little harder, screaming in agony as you ran, yo ucould not hear anyone chasing you but the thought of going back there made you move your feet a little faster. The smell of blood was everywhere, you could feel it falling down your back and getting between your toes as the sticks and branches cut your foot. 
You hadn’t seen it because of the vast amount of leaves covering the forest floor but there was an exposed root, your foot caught it and it felt like you flew forward. With your hands out to brace your fall you still hit the ground hard, scraping your knees as well. 
“Get up,” you grunted to yourself, “get…” in your mind you could hear the voice of your father, looking down at you in this situation, he’d smack you up the head and keep walking without you, calling out the rudest things to get you to sit up. A wave of exshation slowly rolled over you, you didn’t notice your eyes were closed. 
Dirty fingers gripped the earth in attempts to stand but there was nothing you could do to move, you were simply too tired. All you could do was shift so you were sitting against a tree, content with dying there. The sun was beginning to set, you could see a few stars out already. Probably the same stars Bucky would be looking at. 
Tears began to fall, “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, “I’m so sorry, James, really I am…” your mind created a nightmare, visions of him finding you dead in the forest, how he would fall to his knees in agony, screaming enough to cause an earthquake, “please…” you sobbed, “forgive me,” your eyes looked at the dim stars that would be bright in an hour; you didn’t have an hour. “B-Bucky,” his name tumbled from your lips, you could almost see him, the blurry figure, his hair, his eyes, his smile, “James,” you whispered.
“Hello my love,” his voice sounded different, “I’m right here.” 
“I’m hallucinating, aren’t I?” as tears clouded your visions and the trees around you the picture of Bucky was crystal clear, “forgive me, please,” you cried. 
“Always,” he moved closer, you could feel him touching your hand, “close you eyes, all is forgiven, my love.” 
“I wanted-” you cut yourself off with a cough, seeing the blood speckle on your hand, “I was going to marry you someday, run away with you, and live the life my mother wanted for me,” a sad smile appeared on your face and he copied, “I never liked the idea of marriage, until I met you, you made me love to feeling of being loved, you made me so happy,” your hand reached out but you could not feel him, the ghost of him looked at your hand and placed his around it, if he did or didn’t you wouldn’t be able to tell with closed eyes. 
“We’ll marry tomorrow, alright?” het ilted his head with a smile, “my bride need hers beauty sleep, close your eyes and, I’ll go find a wedding band for you.” 
“Perfect,” your eyes had fallen closed, the feeling of sleep washing over you, “I’ll wear my mother’s dress.” 
The last words you heard before being consumed by darkness was right against your ear, “and you’ll look beautiful in it, Lady Y/N.” 
NEXT EPISODE
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Thanks for all the love and reading, if you enjoyed don’t be afraid to reblog!
- Rambo <3
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Second request:)
Same pairing as the last <3
Promot 3 & 22
Trope 4 and any AU you want loves, thank you! ✨
What's Mine is His
Knight!Bucky Barnes x princess!reader x prince!Loki
King Rogers has announced that his little sister will marry the feared Prince Loki of Asgard, there was many who had taken issue with it, including her personal knight.
Warnings: cheating?, arranged marriage, forbidden love, secret relationship, smut, implied threesome, misogynistic views, possessive!Loki and Bucky, breeding kink, Loki wants to kill Bucky and visa versa, death threats, blood
WC: 1.2k
Minors DNI
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3: “Can he fuck you like this?” 22: “Let’s break the bed tonight.” 4: Forbidden love 4: Royal
1000 Follower Celebration
The halls of the palace were finally quiet after a day of chaos, allowing Prince Loki to slip unnoticed from the guest chambers he had been placed in upon his arrival. He had changed out of his green and gold armour and was now instead had donned a simple white shirt and black trousers, letting his raven hair tumble down the back of his neck.
It had been an eventful day to say the least. Loki smirked as he recalled the absolute horror on the court’s faces when King Steve told them of his intention to finally marry off his precious little sister. Many had competed for the honour of her hand in marriage, the strongest warriors and smartest minds through all the kingdoms had come and gone in an effort to woo over the young princess. But all had failed.
And now, she was being given over to the terrifying black prince of Asgard in an effort to build stronger relations between them. The loudest shout of protest in the room had been that of her personal knight, James Barnes. Bucky, as he was more commonly known, detested the Silver Tongue. He knew of the prince’s whoring ways, going through many partners, sometimes all in a single night. He even seduced Queen Agatha who was notorious for maiming men for just looking at her lustfully.
Bucky knew Loki would destroy the princess, corrupt her pure soul, and steal her away from him them forever. He would lock her away in some dark tower, never to be seen again. “This is an outrage! Her highness has had many more qualified suitors! Even King Anthony would be a better fit!” 
“Enough!” Steve bellowed, slamming his fist on the arm of his throne, making everyone freeze. “The princess has gone too long without being wed and tensions with Asgard have been rising since King Odin’s death. She has consented to the match, knowing full-well what it entails. The wedding will take place in a week's time. Make your peace with it Sir Barnes.” 
Princess Y/N was renowned for her timeless beauty, plump curves that somehow exuded both innocence and raw sensuality. And she belonged to him. So why not claim his prize a little bit early, he was sure she would fall easily into his arms like so many before her. As he carefully snuck through the extravagant castle, Loki’s mind conjured up images of the princess on her knees before him swallowing his cock, of her on her back, begging for his seed, of how beautiful she would look covered in bruises and bites, a silver collar with his name engraved on it, hanging from her delicate neck.
So caught up in his imagination, the prince didn’t notice the harsh sound of slapping skin as he approached her chambers. “Fuck, fucking take it princess.” A deep voice growled out from behind the dark wooden door, making Loki pause.
“Please!” That was definitely the princess’s voice but it sounded broken, tinged with tears. “This is my pussy isn’t it princess.” “Yes! Yes!” She cried, her cries being cut off by a harsh slap. “Can he fuck you like this? Can he make you feel this good?” 
Loki’s green eyes widened as she screamed a resounding “No!”.  Carefully, he turned the handle and cracked open the door, sucking in a breath at the sight before him.
The princess was on her hands and knees, her face pushed into a satin pillow, another below her ample hips as Bucky plowed into her, his thick cock already soaked with her juices. Their coupling was downright savage, the Knight seemingly laying a claim to her. “J-Jamie please!” His blue eyes darkened and his lip turned up in a vicious snarl. 
“Please what princess.” He growled, pinning her down by the back of her neck and bending over her, his incredibly muscular body pressing tightly to her soft one. “Lemme cum!” She sobbed, fat tears falling down her full cheeks, wetting the pillow. “No.” He answered and picked up his pace, slamming into her now and Loki had no doubt that he was bashing the entrance to her womb.
Anger and arousal curled in his gut at his bride being violated by a lowly knight. His fingers curled around the small blade he kept hidden on him at all times, fully prepared to eliminate the man that had taken what is rightfully his. 
“What if I finished inside you huh princess? What if I get you round with my children before that bastard? You never let me fill you with my seed, always making me pull out. But now, you won’t be able to. Because you’re mine, all mine, forever, even if you do marry him.” Bucky’s long brown hair hung over his face, as he pounded downwards, forcing all of his length in her quim.
Loki could see, even from this distance, the way her muscles spasmed and her back bowed, both attempting to run from the pleasure and embrace it. “‘M yours!” “That’s right princess, all mine.” He punctuated each word with a powerful thrust that pushed her towards the end of the bed so she was now splayed out beneath the knight, forced to take everything he was giving her. 
“I suggest you remove yourself from my bride before you find yourself in a shallow grave.” Y/N gasped and tried to pull away from her lover, her e/c eyes now sparkling with tears of fear instead of ecstasy. But Bucky didn’t relent, instead his hands held her wide hips even tighter and pulled her plump ass back into his pelvis and kept her there, his cock buried entirely inside her.
“She’s not yours. She will never be yours, your highness.” Loki’s jaw clenched tightly and he stepped forward. With a quick glint of silver, his dagger was pressed against the knight’s throat. “Rethink that, boy.” But James just chuckled and leaned into the blade, the sharp metal nicking his white skin. “She has been mine for years, what makes you think that you will ever best me. I know her body better than she does.”
Y/N whimpered when he emphasised his point with a targeted thrust to the sensitive ball of nerves within her. A glint in the swirling green of his eyes took Bucky off his guard for only a moment before he steeled his expression once more. “A challenge then, whosoever brings the princess the most pleasure gets to keep her.“
Loki stepped back for a moment and reached up to remove his shirt, exposing his lean torso to the pair, and then unlacing his trousers. “I will still marry her, but if you win, I will never lay with her, you will father all of her children, be her husband in everything but the law. If I win, however, which I have no doubt I will, you must watch as I take your precious love every night until my heir has been planted in her womb.” 
“W-wait.” She tried to interrupt but was quickly silenced by another brush of Bucky’s thick cock against her g-spot. “Fine then. I accept. Show me what you’ve got, your highness.” “Oh I plan to.” He strutted towards them, letting his pants fall to the floor as he reached them. “Let’s break the bed tonight.”
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vellicore · 1 year
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So I sneak out to the garden to see you We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew
Knight!Bucky x Princess Moodboard 
Made for @the-slumberparty’s Wednesday week 1 challenge. 
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griff-us · 1 year
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TITLE: Can't Pretend
PART: Two | Previous WORD COUNT: 2,727 NEXT: TBA | Around Nov. 1st PAIRING: Knight!Bucky/Princess!Reader (Black Reader)
WARNINGS: Violence, character death, gore, depictions of violence and death. Smut, eventually. Drama. Mentions of syphilis. Run-of-the-mill toxic masculinity. I will update as needed.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
SUMMARY: A bastard knight. An heir to a throne. Both forced to abide by the rules of their station---the roles they were born into. Will they be able to maintain the flames of their love, or be burned by them?
NOTES: Thank you all so much for the comments and reblogs on the last part! It really gave me the strength to power through crazy work weeks and being sick to get this written and out. I hope you enjoy! Come chat with me about the fic if you'd like, and reblogs are always super appreciated!
A languid fire licks the salted stone of its hearth confines; shadows wriggle against rug-adorned walls and idle chatter fills the room. Servants pace the space with offerings of, wine, water, and bits of food. The daily council meetings have become a recent responsibility for Y/N. As heir to the throne, she must be savvy in the ways of ruling, and these grueling meetings of men thirsty for war is no different. It has become less about governing the realm, but rather the people her father has entrusted to run it. Old men so stuck in their ways. Exhausting.
            Two heavy-set doors creak open, and through them, Y/N enters. Golden fabric trails not far behind her; tight ringlets of hair bounce at her shoulders. All rise, their heads bowed, as customary. She floats silently across the room, sure to hold eye contact with each man she passes. They look down on you, my daughter. Do not let them. That is what her father had told her so many years ago. Funny indeed, how the man always seemed to be right about the way of things.
            “Gentleman.” A dismissive tone; a signal for them to be at ease. “Ser Samuel, please---” Y/N extends a single hand across the table as she eases into her seat. “---indulge us in the reports of our borders.”
            A tall, wide man stands from his chair. With no hair to be seen on his head, the glow of the fire shines dully off his darkened skin. Stubble creeps into his cheeks, no doubt the man has had little time to shave while ensuring the borders of the kingdom are kept safe. “Thank you, Your Royal Majesty.” Samuel clears his throat, looking then to the many men that surround the table. “The southern, eastern, and western borders are secure. Our treaties and tariffs hold well with little insubordination on the matter. For all accounts and purposes, things are peaceful…for the moment.” The surrounding men bang the tabletop with hoops, and hollers of HERE HERE. But they cease the moment Y/N raises a hand.
            “You all forget our northern border. What of the situation there?” so like the council to withhold information. A smart enough plan when dealing with the king. In his older years, the man has come to crave war the old days- and has been known to lose his temper when given news he finds distasteful. Often without a thought for the cost. Y/N would keep their lands, peoples, and coffers safe if possible.
            “The north—” Samuel blanches, gaze shifting to Y/N with a worried sort of look.
            “Well, Ser Samuel?”
            “The North---”
            “Is full of nothing but savages, ma’am!” Another bolsters from his seat, the legs of it screeching against the stone floor. Y/N tilts her head curiously.
            “Pardon, Mister Hammer?” the man seems to remember his place, head bowing slightly as if to apologize. Y/N regards him with a keen eye. Justin Hammer has been less than a proper ally to the throne in his time spent in her father’s council. Greedy for war, due to his steak in most of the armories in the kingdom, Y/N has no doubt his thirst for war with the northern realm is driven by greed.
            “I only mean to say that the northern people are a simple lot. For all the trouble they cause us a simple excursion with enough fortifications---”
            “Fortifications bought from who, I wonder, Mister Hammer?” Y/N can’t help the smile that blossoms across her lips. The room quiets then as a few others stifle their laughs. Hammer apologizes and quickly takes his seat again.
            “As it were, gentlemen, war is not on the table. While our coffers are stable, I would like to see them fluffed, not drained.” Idle murmurings of agreement sound around the room, and Y/N stands. “Ser Samuel, I would like daily reports of the issues that seem to plague us from the northern realms. Keep a keen eye on their movements and inform me immediately of anything…out of the ordinary. Am I clear?”
            “Yes, Your Royal Majesty,” Samuel calls from the end of the table, a fist slammed to his chest, over his heart, in a salute.
            “As for the rest of the kingdom, I would like copies of reports from each of you daily as well. And gentlemen…” Y/N pauses to ensure each man in the room has given her full attention. “I do not care for lies. Be honest in your reporting. I can not fix a problem if I am left unaware of it, am I clear?”
            Murmurs of acknowledgment sound clear, and Y/N nods.
            “I am glad we understand one another.”
-------
Back in her room, Y/N deflates. Slippers are kicked to the corner, hair pins tossed atop the vanity, and the ties of her correct loosened. Council meetings were always just as stressful as they were tiring. Most attempts to rally the men behind her cause and concerns are met with overly embellished explanations as to the true nature of things. Idiots, she thinks. As though she were not the daughter of a wartime king. Trained to defend herself, hand er kingdom. As though she were not the firstborn forced to ensure endless lectures on warfare, and politics.
            Y/N groans, crossing the space of her room in search of her wine carafe. Seldom does she partake in drink, but days such as today call for one. In her focused search, Y/N nearly misses the skewed rug just by her bed. Its edge had folded over itself, the entire thing crooked on the floor. A single brow cocks high, eyes scanning the space.
            “I suggest you come from your hiding spot. I’ve little patience today.”
            A creak in the floorboard prompts her to turn, and from behind the wardrobe, a familiar frame creeps from the shadows.
            “Ser James, this is rather inappropriate.”
            The man grins, and her stomach is suddenly a fluttering mess. James eases closer, eyes taking in her unkept state. He wonders if he is the only man to ever see her in such a state. “Come, princess. How many times had I snuck my way to your rooms before?”
            “When we were children, it was excusable. You’re lucky the guard on duty didn’t catch you.”
            “He did. Ser Steven and I are childhood friends, remember?” James shoots back with a proud little smirk.
            “Yes. Of course. Well, make yourself comfortable then.” Y/N motions to the small table at the center of the room where she typically takes her meals. Ser James nods, his massive frame nestled tight in the rather small wingback chair. Y/N sits across from him and pushes a glass his way.
            “You look upset.” He notes while she pours him his own glass of wine.
            “Council.”
            “Hmm.” James hums, fingers rifling through the basket of cheeses, fruits, and cured meats between them. “Yes, Samuel mentioned meetings have been…tense, as of late.” Y/N nods and tucks her feet under her bottom. She watches while he snaps a few heavy grapes from their vines. He sits in his usual dress, black leather, and gray linens. No armor, only a small dagger strapped to his thigh. No doubt there are several more.
            “They refuse to tell me the truth half of the time. Samuel even tends to sugarcoat his reports with me. And do not get me started on Mister Hammer!” Y/N tosses her hands up. To hell with the lot of them.
            “Hammer is a scoundrel, a snake.” James eases back in his seat while boot-clad feet thud against the tabletop. Y/N frowns, leaning forward to shove them off.
            “I could say the same for you, my knight.”
            James grins, as though he were proud of himself. And in a way, he is. It is difficult to pry affection from Y/Ns lips. It had not always been so. He can remember when they were younger, the way in which they so fervently cared and craved one another. Stolen kisses behind tapestries, long strolls through the gardens.
            “You forget, I was born in a barn.”       
            “Yes, how could I forget.” Y/N plucks her cup from the table and drinks in earnest. As if the swirling red liquid may help clear her mind some.
            “I know it sounds unfair, my lady, but you will have to prove yourself to them. They will not truly respect you until then.” James offers the best advice he can give, and the kind he knows will work. After all, he would know the turmoil of earning respect among peers and superiors as a bastard knight.
            “You are beginning to sound like my father, Bucky.”
            “I should certainly hope not.”
            A small laugh bubbles from Y/N lips and James falls into a comfortable silence as the two of them enjoy their drink and watch the clouds float by against a hazy blue sky. It is times like this that Y/N missed the most. Idle moments spent with Ser James. Neither of them needed to speak much, perhaps the occasional discussion of news within the kingdom or the adventures of their day. But to sit in silence, comfortable in herself, in her body---not a moniker of authority or an image of the crown. But, entirely herself. Such a thing brings a sense of comfort and peace Y/N has not known since his departure from court all those years ago.
            “What are you thinking about?” James asks rather suddenly. Y/N does not move her gaze from the window; instead, she shrugs, the point of her chin resting in the center of her upturned palm.
            “That I have missed this.”
            James hums in agreement reaching across the table to grip her hand. His thumb rubs gentle circles into the skin of her knuckles. Y/N does not falter, nor pull away. Instead, she remains still, eyes slotting shut at the contact. When had she become so touch-starved?
            “I have missed you, Y/N.”
            “I know.” A moment of silence. “I have missed you too.”
-------
“How do you find them, the members of my council?” the King lounges against fluffed pillows and heavy knit blankets in the gardens. The same place Y/Ns mother had spent much of her time before her passing. She can remember digging the brick-lined beds for a patch of daisies. This place, with gravel paths, bright and lively flowers from across the kingdom, and waning willow trees, holds peace for both father and daughter. Y/N approaches with a sigh before taking a seat on a single stone bench by the king.
            “Old, and crotchety.”
            This wrings a chortle from the king; not before he falls into a fit of coughs. Y/N watches with a creased brow. The king has fallen ill over the past year; a disease that attacks one mind, and body. He will wither away to a liability, is what the doctors had told Y/N. His ailment is known as the kind to drive kings into madness. And yet, no one in the realm, or those beyond, know what to do. To call for his quiet, and merciful removal, is nothing short of treason. But, to allow him to spin the kingdom into mayhem….
            “They attempt to withhold information from me. They think me simple.” Y/N continues, leaning forward to pour her father another cup of tea. He nods, jaw set.
            “They will, even when you take the throne.” A long pause settles between the two as the king gulps hungrily at his tea. Y/N watches, her eyes drawn to the wrinkled and thinned skin of his hands. She can remember the brilliant, valiant, and fair man he had once been when she were younger. A model king. A benevolent ruler. Years of war, stress, and the loss of his beloved wife have soured his soul.
            “And what of that bastard you chose to knight, hm? I see he has returned to my court.”
            Y/N blanches. The topic of Ser James was a foul one for the king. Each one of their conversations of the man turned into screaming matches until the King had him sent away. Married off to another. Y/N tilts her head as eyes suddenly find much more interest in the leaves above them.
            “I haven’t seen him.”
            “Lies.” The king hacks another brutal cough and dabs at the corners of his mouth with a blood-specked cloth. “I was told he had snuck into your rooms—"
            “Father---”
            “NO.” the man bellows, more coughs wracking his thinned frame. “I stood by when your childhood fantasies were just that, fantasies. You turned tail and knighted a bastard stable boy in hopes his new station would make marriage any less…. undignified!”
            Y/N stands, a frown pressed to her lips. “And what of it father? There was no issue when you married mother. Half of the realm knew of her occupation; a—”
            “Don’t you dare, Y/N.”
            “a common whore!”
            Y/N watches as her father’s eye all but bulges from his skull; features darken, and he struggles to rise from his seat. “You will not see him again!” the king sputters, voice hoarse and breath heavy as he attempts to catch it. “You will not speak of him, see him, or look at him. I’ve enough of this, child! You will wed whom I command and take my throne with dignity, not some bastard whoreson stable boy! I command it!” Y/N watches her father’s fit with wide eyes, and her hands remain clenched by her sides. It is unfair, like everything else in life. Destined, no, doomed to wield a power she never wanted. Doomed to marry whatever man her father deems fit. Tears prick the corners of Y/N eyes. Head bows, a stiff acknowledgment, before she turns sharply on her heels and marches back toward her rooms.
-------
A young boy dashes through wide corridors packed with nobles and servants. Lit lanterns cast irregular shadows against the walls as the sun sets. Many call after him, fists shaking in anger, their calls of displeasure echoing off of the stone. He ignores them, a single parchment clutched within his palm much like an animal in a death throw. He pushes his legs faster, harder until it feels as though his heart may burst at any moment. There is little time to stop and catch his breath, the urgency is too great.
            Ser Samuel had not told him of the letter’s content, only that he was to go straight to the king and rest for no one, not even himself. The boy remembers the severity on Ser Samuels’s face; the way his brows dipped in concern.
            “Come another day, boy. The king dines with a select few tonight.” A guard orders from his post at the door of the great hall. The boy sucks in a massive breath.
            “I have urgent news from the northern border, Ser Samuel sent me with his sigil.” He produces a single coin stamped with a hawk. The guards look between them before opening the door. The errand boy staggers into the room, and the band that had been playing a marry tune dies off. The nobles present go quiet, and all look to the intrusion.
            “What is the meaning of this?!” the king bellows from his place at the head of the table. Y/N stands, a gentle hand upon her father’s shoulder. She surveys the room before nodding to the boy.
            “Explain yourself, young one, with haste.”
            “The north---” he heaves, unable to speak while waving about the parchment in his hands. Y/N advances quickly, her skirts held in each hand while she speedily ascends the staircase. Nimble fingers pry the paper from the boy’s hands, and she ushers for the servants to bring him water before cracking the wax seal and reading.
            “Well, daughter?” the king calls from his perch, and for a moment, Y/N can not find the correct words. Her heart hammers between each rib, an eerie dread pooling in the pit of her stomach.
            “Our northern border has been breached.”
            Gasps and shouts resound. Men begin their chatter, women cling to their husbands, and the room begins to spin around Y/N. The king stands of his own volition, and all quiet in anticipation. Y/N looks to her father, eyes wide, and mouth open. He nods to her, and then to the guards.
            “Gather my council. We are at war.”
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Now that GOT is back... and I'm still not over HoS.
If you have to place every chatacter from HoS in a house which house would they be in.
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Heart of Steel – Masterlist
OK. Wow. Can't tell you how much I love this question...
And just to clarify, I'm sorting them based on how they're written in Heart of Steel – not based on their canon depiction in the MCU.
Princess Y/N of Zamora = House Tully
Prince Anthony of Zamora (aka Tony Stark) = House Lannister
Prince Thor of Asgard = House Baratheon
Prince Loki of Asgard = House Greyjoy
King Steven of Midgard (aka Steve Rogers) = House Stark
Sir James Barnes = House Stark
King T'Challa of Wakanda = House Targaryen
Sir Samuel of Zamora (aka Sam Wilson) = House Mormont
Knights of Howl (aka Howling Commandos) = Kings Guard
Lady Natasha of Midgard = House Martell
Wanda = House Tyrell
Prince Brock of Hydra = House Bolton
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murc0ck · 1 year
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i know he's fictional but i would love nothing but to devour that man
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navybrat817 · 2 years
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Cordially Invited
Pairing: Modern Knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Female Reader Summary: You're in need of a date for an upcoming wedding. Word Count: Over 1.9k Warnings: Pining, flirting, slight feels (it's me okay), could be considered fake dating (or is it? 😏), protective Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?), future smut. A/N: Again, I need another AU like a hole in the head, but here we are. @11thstreetvigilante, thank you for letting me scream about this. ❤️ Beta read by the beautiful @whisperlullaby (thank YOU as well!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by Nix, divider by @firefly-graphics and moodboard and banner by yours truly.
Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications and please reblog or comment as it means the world!
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Modern royalty is both a wondrous and strange concept. As the only child of the King and Queen of Brooklyn, your parents raised you with a blend of tradition and modernization. They taught you to speak your mind while stressing to follow certain customs. You did your best to make them proud. 
The picture-perfect princess.
Except, you didn't have a prince by your side.
“Something wrong, your highness?”
You turned in your chair to look at your personal knight, James “Bucky” Barnes. Standing tall at 6’4” with a muscular build, he served as your bodyguard when he wasn’t fighting for your father. Like his father before him. You worried in the beginning that he’d resent you for having to be your personal guard, but he took his duties seriously. He watched over you as if it was an honor to do so. Though he intimidated most because of his size and strength, he displayed kindness toward you. He quickly became one of your closest confidants.
A knight in name, but a prince in my heart. 
“Nothing to concern yourself with.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, not moving from his spot in the left corner of your large bedroom. It was the perfect vantage point for him to see your window, the door, and you. “You dismissed your ladies for no reason, you’re not dressed for the day, and you’ve been staring at that invitation for the better part of an hour.”
You turned back toward your vanity and picked up the ornate invitation with a sigh.
Her Majesty Queen of Waverly requests the pleasure of your company at the Marriage of His Royal Highness Prince Clinton of Waverly with Her Royal Highness Princess Natalia of Volgograd.
You RSVP’d to Clint and Natasha’s wedding weeks ago and said you would bring a plus one because that was the expectation. Your parents asked every day since the invitation arrived who you planned to have on your arm. They gave you the option of choosing instead of making the decision themselves. With the wedding around the corner, you were running out of time.
“I still haven't chosen a date and my parents want an answer today."
"Forgive me for saying so, but you have been dodging the King and Queen's question."
"I know, I know. They're already disappointed that I've dragged this out."
Just like they're probably disappointed that they didn't arrange a marriage for me once I was old enough to wed. 
"I highly doubt you could do anything to disappoint them or anyone else. You’re Brooklyn’s beloved princess through and through," he said. 
Blood rushed to your cheeks as you set the invitation down. His praise felt good. "Thank you, Bucky. But why do I have to bring someone?” 
"Tradition," he replied, crossing his arms. “You know, I figured the princes would be knocking down your door at the chance to be your plus one.”
“As if you’d let them get close enough to ask,” you said. "You don't even let Sir Steven near me and he's your best friend."
As your knight, one of Bucky's duties was to keep you safe from any possible threats. He took it to the extreme. If anyone got within a few feet of you, he was there to keep them away. Most didn’t try to speak to you once they caught a glimpse of him.
“It is my job to protect you,” he reminded you. “Especially from handsy princes.”
"Does that include Prince Nicholas?" 
Bucky's jaw twitched as he nodded. It was a bit of a low blow to mention Nick’s name considering your knight couldn’t stand him. The prince was one of the few men not afraid of him. 
"Especially Prince Nicholas," he grumbled, not hiding his disdain for the man. "What gift did he send you last week?"
"An emerald necklace. I almost felt bad sending it back."
"Insulting. Doesn't he know diamonds are a girl's best friend?" 
You narrowed your eyes at him in the mirror, which made him chuckle. The sound sent a jolt between your thighs. Between that and the earlier praise, you prayed he didn’t notice how it affected you. Your knight was not only brave and trusting, but so handsome. Staring into his eyes was like getting lost at sea. Too many nights, you imagined how silky the brown strands of his hair would feel against your fingers. 
And how the scruff on his chin would feel between your legs.
“Emeralds, diamonds, it doesn't matter. You don’t let any man get close enough to give them to me themselves,” you muttered to distract yourself from getting aroused. “Some days I wonder if you take pleasure in making sure I’m alone.”
Bucky frowned as he unfolded his arms. “You think I want you to be alone?”
"You tell me. My parents want me to wed eventually, but how will that happen if you won't let any suitors near me?" you asked, toying with one of your makeup brushes to keep your hands busy. “Or are you punishing me for constantly being on babysitting duty?"
"I'm sure the right man can court you without being in close proximity to you," he said, even though he didn't sound pleased. "And we both know I want to watch over you, so why are you trying to pick a fight with me?”
You looked away, embarrassed. You had no reason to speak to him like that. But how could you admit that you didn’t want any suitors when you had him right in front of you? He wasn’t just your knight, he was everything to you. It upset you to think he didn't want you. It scared you more that he’d resign from his duties to settle down and have his own family. You didn't want that day to come.
Is it selfish that I want him forever by my side?
“I’m not trying to pick a fight,” you said, turning in your chair to face him. “And you know I don't care about any suitors. I'm just frustrated."
That includes being sexually frustrated and the toy I named after you is calling my name. 
"I'm glad you don't care about those suitors because if you married one soon, I might be out of a job."
"You're stuck with me no matter what," you smiled. "I'm sorry for being rude."
“Give me a hug, princess, and I’ll forgive you,” he said as he held out his arms.
“No,” you said, but you were already on your feet. The robe you wore didn't do much to cover your body and you wondered if you imagined the hunger in his eyes. “I don’t think you deserve a hug.”
He placed his left hand over his chest, which drew your attention to it. He lost his left arm in battle years before and the kingdom had a state of the art metal prosthetic fashioned for him. To some, it was a sign of sacrifice and bravery. It showed you that he was a fighter and survivor. 
“You wounded me with your words and you’re hurting me more by denying me a simple request.”
You fought to keep from smiling as you walked toward him. Knowing that he wanted to touch you, even in an innocent form, was a heady feeling. You wanted his touch, too. You craved it like nothing else.
“I’m only going to hug you because I love you,” you said, wrapping your arms around him once you were close enough. 
He inhaled as he hugged you close and you allowed yourself to melt in his strong embrace. It made you feel safe and cared for. “I love you, too, my princess,” he whispered. 
You closed your eyes and hid your face in his shoulder. Whenever you said you did things for him because you loved him, he always replied that he loved you, too. You dreamt of falling asleep to him whispering that in your ear.
I wish he loved me the way I love him.
“If I could, I'd be your date for the evening."
You lifted your head and pulled free from his arms as you considered his words. You couldn't stop the grin from spreading across your face. Bucky as your date? Why didn't you think of that? 
“What’s that look for?”
"Sir James, would you do me the honor of being my date to the wedding?" 
His eyebrows shot up. "You called me James."
"That should tell you how serious I am."
Please, don't reject me. I'd feel like a fool.
He cleared his throat and you tried not to feel anxious as you waited for his answer. "I’m not a prince.”
“Who said I have to bring a prince? It may be tradition for a princess to have someone on their arm for royal functions, but it should be a person of my choosing. Who better than the man my parents trust with my life?”
“But-” he began before you held up a hand to stop him.
"Isn't it your duty to serve and protect me? Your princess?" you asked.
“It is,” he answered, looking down when you took his left hand in yours.
“Bucky, I’m not just asking you as my knight. I’m asking because I want you to go with me,” you said, your voice soft as he lifted his head to look at you. "There’s no one else I’d rather go with."
You felt a slight burn in your eyes from unshed tears, but you held your head high. If he sensed your vulnerability, he kindly didn't call you out on it. You didn’t want to command him to take you nor did you want to beg.
“But if you don’t want to, I understand. I can ask Prince Nicholas instead.”
Bucky stopped you before you could turn away from him. "You'll do no such thing," he said, bringing your hand to his lips and softly kissing it. “It would be my honor to be your date, your highness."
"Really?" you smiled as he lowered your hand, but didn't let go.
"Only because I love you," he smiled back. 
Your heart raced as you playfully hit his arm, letting your touch linger. "That's my line," you teased, looking over your shoulder to check the time. "Let's go tell my parents."
"You're in your robe," he reminded you as you tried to pull him across the room. "I don't think the other guards need to see you like that."
"I'll change later," you huffed when he planted his feet firmly on the ground. A wall of muscle, he was nearly impossible to move. "Bucky."
You gasped when he gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His enormous hand could crush your bones if he chose to, but the gentle hold reminded you that you were in his care. There was no mistaking the hunger there this time. 
"Get dressed, princess," he gently ordered, his voice deeper than before. 
I'm going to have to change my panties since I'm soaking wet.
"Then we'll tell your parents."
"Yes, Bucky," you whispered as he released you, having to put some distance between the two of you. If you didn't, you'd be too tempted to kiss him. And if you kissed him, you wouldn't be able to stop.
"Good girl," he smirked, moving back to his spot in the corner as you tried to calm your pounding heart. "I'll be right here waiting."
Good girl?
You weren't sure if he was teasing you or trying to rile you up, but you could play, too.
Oh, this wedding is going to be a lot of fun. 
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Let's hope it's nice and easy for them. We'll see how it goes. 😏 Check out Part 2. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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fandoms-writings · 11 months
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Pairing: Knight!Bucky x Queen!Reader
Summary: Sir James Barnes has served at your side for over five years. For five years, he’s silently adored you from behind his metal armor. But what would happen if he could no longer keep it a secret from you? Could you possibly harbor similar affections for him? Afterall, he’s just a knight - you’re the queen. 
Warnings: smut 18+ ONLY (smut will be indicated with a ❂︎), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, flirting. Secret relationship. Each installment will contain it’s own warnings. 
Installments are organized in chronological order. If you have any suggestions, or questions about the pair, please send an ask! It may be turned into a chapter <3
Yes, Your Grace
Adoring Fool  ❂︎
Masked Stranger
If Only for a Moment
Moodboards: 
a little picnic
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marvelgaynesstothemax · 5 months
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subwaysurf45 · 1 year
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The Time of the Prey (9)
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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: 4k
Warnings: sappy stuff (I cried while reading this), fluff and a lot of emotions. 
Series Masterlist      II      Series Playlist
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Your sister’s wedding day. 
Bittersweet was not the right word to fit the situation but it was close, after she got married you would join your mother back at South Lands. You didn’t want to leave, the hospitality was great for the time you were here, minus the part where you stayed at Hydra’s Hill. 
You knew people all around were aware of your kidnapping and how you escaped, apparently, it was a big deal that a woman broke out of a dungeon, the first story of its kind. Rumbles and hushes came around, people changing and making the story bigger than it was. You were prepared to squash anything people said to you about it, it was still a sore spot for you; mentally and physically. 
Your dress covered your entire back, because it was the summer the dresses would be a little lighter and show a bit more skin but your dress made it seem like it was the winter from how it covered you. It was made days before the wedding, Natasha didn’t know about it because she was refusing to talk to you, how the oldest can be the most immature. 
The wedding would take place outside and the dinner afterwards would be in the corridor, the first room you saw when you first arrived what felt like years ago. There had already been tables set up for the countless Lords and Ladies who were about to show up, as the maids worked on setting the tables you walked around and felt the tablecloth, probably imported for the East. the silverware had eagles on the hilt of every fork, knife, and spoon. You always found it funny how heavily branded some kingdoms were, they made sure you remembered their sacred sigil at every corner you turned. 
The flowers moved with the wind, holding shape but also giving into the breeze. They littered the pathway to the place where your sister would be getting married…your sister was getting married. 
Confused was not the right word to fit the situation, you knew she was beautiful and people grew up but you thought you’d be little girls running around the castle all of your life. Though it felt like years ago, and it was, you could still smell childhood. 
Chairs upon chairs filled on either side, ready for all to watch. Your father would not be the one walking Natasha down the aisle, you knew she was upset about that. No one knew who would do it, your mother wouldn’t. 
There were pillars around to hold up a canopy, sheer silk would be protecting their guests from the summer sun burning down on them. It draped in some places and stayed taught in others. Most things were white or grey, making flowers everywhere stand out. It seemed no matter where you looked there would be a flower there to greet you, your fingers couldn’t help but touch them. 
As you walked down the aisle you couldn’t help but feel nothing. There was no longing, want, or even distress about the fact that you didn’t want to do this yourself, you were thinking if you saw your sister get married you would want to as well. But then again, when have you ever wanted to do anything your sister wanted? As you made it to the end and looked back over your shoulder you tried to fill in all the seats with the people you’d met. Trying to picture if this day was about you, maybe in another universe. 
You could see it. In the front sat your mother, back straight with a tear in her eyes. Natasha would be seated off with Steve, and Lords and Ladies would fill in some other spots. At the back would be the old woman, the one with no name, standing next to the black dog that helped you get back to your home. She’d wave at you slowly, thinking you may have forgotten about her. She would find her seat but feel out of place, looking around at everyone who had dressed nicer than her. When your wedding would be over you’d find her and hug her, saying hello to the dog once more. 
Your head turned to where your husband would stand and your heart didn’t change, nothing lurched. Of course, you imagined Bucky there, there was no one else in your mind you could think of to fill that spot. He’d be married in his armour, not many Knights took a wife, they tried to keep their mind clear for battle. You told Bucky that it just dehumanizes them, making them believe no one would miss them if they died. 
“Is it just me,” your mother had snuck up on you, “or do you also feel out of place?” she asked as she sat down in the front row, right where you imagined her. 
“I’ll never be up here,” you looked around, standing in the exact spot Natasha would be in. 
Outsider was not the right word for it, viewing yourself as an outsider would just be an oxymoron. Some royals viewed themselves as outsiders, claiming they couldn’t connect with their people even though they had the power to do just that. 
You sat down beside your mother with a sigh, you’d sit there in hours. Your mother took your hand and placed it in her lap, “have you thought about James and where you want to go?” she did not look at you when she talked, looking where you were standing. 
“I don’t know yet,” you confessed, “I want to run away with him,” a laugh bubbled in your throat, “maybe revoke myself.” 
“I’m jealous,” she laughed. 
“Would you ever remarry?” you asked quietly. 
“Maybe,” Lady Melina smiled at you, “if you are to run away I need someone to run this castle when I’m gone.” 
A soft laugh came from your lips, “I’m intrigued by Hydra’s new way of running their land, a democracy they say.” Your eye did not stop finding new flowers to look at. 
“It will fall before their eyes,” she sighed, “it is the Free Lands now since they have no ruler.” 
“Ah,” you corrected yourself, “the Free Lands will be holding an election sooner or later, it will be history.” 
“Speaking of,” your mother smirked and you knew where this was going, “The Breaker of Chains is not a bad battle title, my dear,” your mother leaned into your side, resting her head on your shoulder. 
“Alright,” you could feel yourself becoming embarrassed. 
“Maybe the Breaker of Chains would run for the Free lands, make peace with the people of Red River and begin a life of not royalty but rekindling.” as your mother spoke your head tilted to the side, listening to all the words she was saying. 
“I am a painter,” you sighed, “the Breaker of Chains is not political bait anymore, mother, I will come home with you and make my impact there, with James.” 
“I see,” she nodded, “well, whatever you do, just know I’ll always be there-your sister wanted me to fetch you,” it was like it popped into her mind, there were things other than Natasha she talked about. 
“It’s been over two weeks,” you said into your lap, “she wants to see me now?” your eyes moved first then your head, looking slowly at your mother who had a sad smile on her face. 
“Y/N…” she sighed, “I-...” the words died on her tongue, “you are not staying here after she marries, she is not coming home after she marries,” your mother wasn’t one to speak in poetry, there was a point, even she couldn’t bare to say it. 
“It'll be more than just a fortnight before I see her again,” the moment of realization washed over you, like a whip rolling along your back. There was the sting, it lingered in your heart as you processed the words. 
Without another word you walked with a purpose, noting talking to anyone as you passed them by. It was easy for you to be unladylike, in fact, it was nice to get into the groove of rolling your eyes and sassing everyone again. There were so many women standing outside of Natasha’s chambers, you pushed past them all and opened the door, seeing Natasha. 
Speechless was not the right word for how you felt, she looked more beautiful than that. Besides, seeing her with the flowers in her hair, a long white dress that was sleek with no ruffles or feathers brought a breath of air back into your lungs. 
“How do I look?” her eyes met yours through the mirror. 
“Like a Princess,” was all you could manage to say, tears welling up in your eyes. “You’re all grown up,” it came wet and bubbly, laughing through the heart-wrenching realization. 
The handmaids left you two alone, it was still. Natasha looked over her shoulder, fully turned when she saw you there by yourself. “Y/N,” she started but then stopped, it looked like her torso began to hover because you couldn’t see her legs as she stood, the dress was too long. “There’s nothing I can say that can excuse what I did,” she whispered and walked towards you, “but I spent my time sitting here and taking in the fact that I am a shitty person to be around,” your lips parted at her swearing. 
“Natasha…” you whispered, “please, this is your wedding day.” 
“I know,” her lip began to tremble, “and I’ve waisted my last two weeks being a child, I’m about to be a queen of some castle, people are going to look up at me, and I am here, having people brush my hair and tell me I am pretty when in reality I want you to ruffle my hair and flick my arm when mother isn’t watching,” tears fell down her face, her shaky hand whipped them away. 
You reached forward and cleared her cheeks, letting yours freely soak in the tears. “You think I’ve been better without you around me?” you laughed through the pain again, “I see you from afar, learning to how to eat like a proper lady, walk like a lady, talk like a lady, and all I think to myself is are you ever going to really need me again?” 
“Sister,” she whispered, she always called your sister that rather than your name. Maybe the term for her meant more than your name, a title given to the one you shared your childhood with, the one you grew up with who was chosen to hold that name. 
“I’ll always need you,” as hard as she wanted to cry, her lips turned into a smile, “but as I stand here I look at you and see a grown woman, I look in the mirror and I see a woman who made many mistakes, and I am sorry, sister.” 
“I forgive you,” it came so quick, like a breath, like a blink of an eye, “I could never truly stay mad at you. Natasha, I know for a fact that you will be happy here and you will live out your long and beautiful life here with the man you love, I will miss you but I also know that you will thrive here, without me.” 
You both knew it was true, when it came to sisters there was always a silent war between the two of you. People on the outside had an easier time comparing you to one another, it didn’t help that you were both so different and yet complemented each other in many ways. Once one of you was removed into your own space where you belonged- sewing classes for Natasha and painting for you -the comparisons were dropped, you were no longer each other’s sister and just yourselves. 
“I have to ask you something,” Natasha pulled you down to sit beside her on her poof, it was easier for the handmaids to work around her like this. 
“Anything,” both hands took hers, squeezing them tightly. 
“Walk me down the aisle?” 
You couldn’t help but gasp at the request, it was involuntary. One hand dropped hers and landed on your heart, lips pursed together. Another wave of tears began to bloom, this time neither of you wiped them away; wanting to see the expression of love on each other’s face. 
“Great Heavens,” you managed to sputter out, “I would love to, it would be my-”
“Just hug me,” she sobbed. 
Fingers gripped at the fabric of each other’s dresses, yearning to show their sorrow for the precious time wasted between the two of them. Every stupid fight was long forgotten, there was nothing that could change the amount of love pouring out between them. Faces hid in each other’s necks, in a year she’d no longer smell like home; she’d smell like her home. 
Shoulders of white and pink dresses began to soak the salty tears, hands petted each other’s heads. The soothing was something you both were good at, Natasha had the touch of a mother since she was born, able to stop you from crying no matter the situation. Tears didn’t halt, you didn’t want them to, the emotion of love would be stronger than any other love in your life. 
“Love,” you whispered. 
“What?” 
“That’s that word that fits this moment,” you placed your chin on her shoulder, “I’ve been struggling to lay an adjective on this day and I found it,” you laughed to yourself and pulled away, holding her shoulders, “love.” 
“That’s what it has always been,” her eyes travelled down to your torso, smiling at the fact you were wearing your corset over your scars, it did irritate but you promised. 
“And always will be,” you were quick to fill in, “I must go and let you finish getting ready, but I will walk you down to aisle-” the breath caught in your throat, “sister, I promise.” 
Nothing else was said as you left, both of you content with the words floating in the air. You placed one foot in front of the other as you looked up to the walls, seeing the bricks laid on top of one another. As you entered the common area again it looked even more dressed up, more things to look at as you walked past each table. 
You could feel this strength begin to build inside your stomach, this energy that hadn’t been used in forever. It was Natasha’s last day as a child and you realized it was yours as well in some respects, you had been viewed as adults and ladies by the court but between one another you both refused to grow up. Now you had to, it was soon to be your job. In the back of your mind, you knew you were the heir to Southlands, that castle was going to be yours, part of you was excited to walk the halls again when you got home. You also knew you would be asking a lot of Bucky to come back with you, he was still in his prime here and you didn’t want to strip that away from him. 
As you walked outside that energy rolled your shoulders back and tilted your head just a little higher, you took off your shoes and walked to the one place where you could have a moment before the wedding would begin. 
The pond was still and quiet, your painting equipment was all packed away and ready to go. You would be leaving with everyone else that was attending the wedding tomorrow, though it would be later in the day after the other houses left. Getting as close as you could without touching mud you sat beside the pond, letting your feet dip into the cold waters. You saw little fish swimming about and lily pads rippling from the gentle movement of your toes in the clear water. 
With your knees up to your chest, you rested your chin on them, watching the small deer through the woods that began after the pond, it really was the perfect backdrop for your painting. 
At the sound of moving grass, you held one hand behind your back to sign, probably Bucky, to keep quiet. When you heard a gasp you knew it was him, “a deer,” he said and slowly crouched beside you, half-dressed because he didn’t want to walk around in the bulky armour which was his outfit for the wedding. 
“Hi,” he whispered, still looking at the deer, “ready for the big day?” 
“Yeah,” you looked up at him, seeing him look at you after the deer ran away. “You scared them off,” you laughed, leaning into him and hugging his arm. 
“Sure I did,” he said with a little hesitation, “look, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” 
“What is it?” you faced him, pulling your toes out from the water. 
“After today,” he paused, “where will you go?” 
A smile crept on your face as you took his hand in yours, “where will we go, I think that is what you meant to say, Bucky.” 
“So I may come with?” a smile shot to his face, eye crinkling, “I would love to see your home after showing you mine, maybe we can decide where we can go after that?” 
“I think that’s a great idea,” you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. 
When you pulled away you stayed close to his face but not uncomfortably close, your eyes shamelessly roamed around his face. A small blush began to bloom as you took in the way his hair framed his face, the little wave at the front shaping his cheekbones and jaw. Your hand cupped his cheek and ran against the coarse stubble that was constantly there, it prickled against the pad of your fingers but you found it relaxing to feel. 
His eyes closed as your hand moved from his beard to his hair, running your nails along his scalp and immediately earning a happy groan. Knowing he was in for a treat he made himself comfortable by laying down and resting his head on your lap, he had said before he loved the way the silk of the dresses felt against his cheek or hand, really whatever was touching your dress. 
Your fingers worked on his scalp, creating patterns but also being unpredictable. You would pick up sections and begin to braid or create a new part in his hair to scratch at much surface area as possible. As you played with his brown hair you noticed the seemingly permanent wrinkles were gone, since you came back his protectiveness increased ten-fold. He wasn’t allowed in your room and you weren’t allowed in his but that didn’t stop him from changing his quarters, getting closer to you and staying up to hear if you’ve had a nightmare or not. 
With every flinch and a quick jolt to grab his hand you could see the shame build on his face, he blamed everything that happened on himself, it was obvious. After one week he wore it on his sleeve, being overprotective and really clingy, making sure he knew where you were and if you were safe at all times. 
Instead of the whip you were greeted with the floor, you had rolled out of bed and landed on your back from a nightmare. Sweat rolled down your back and made your sleeping gown cling to your neck and collar. You were slow to get up, feeling disoriented from not knowing where you truly were for a moment. 
“Y/N,” the door burst open, Bucky was wearing slacks and a tunic, obviously thrown on in a hurry. “Are you alright?” his hand went under your armpits and lifted you up onto your bed, slowly maneuvering you to get you laid down. He hushed and placed his palm on your forehead, “let me get you some water, sweet,” he leaned down to kiss you and all he got was a moan, you were exhausted from waking up on average four times a night. 
Heavy eyes watched him pour a glass from the pitcher left on your vanity by him, he then grabbed and spare rag and pour water on it as well. He came back and got you to sit up to drink, you took no time finishing the cup. After gently laying you back down again he placed the cool towel on your forehead, the temperature was perfect for your boiling skin; equal parts mix of embarrassment and leftover adrenaline. 
“Back to sleep now,” he crouched down to your level and moved the rag to your chest, the feeling was perfect, your eyes fully closed, “I’ll be here, my sweet.” 
“Thank you,” the words ghosted out of your lips. 
Your eyes followed your fingers as you made rows in his hair, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was asleep right now. But there was something in his face, no matter how relaxed he seemed he was always on high alert. There could be leaves crushing under an animal's foot and he’d flinch, a twitch of his eye. 
“I’ve told you before and I’ll say it again,” you twisted your head awkwardly to look at him, “I am here and I am safe, that was the past and there is no need for blame, all it will do is hinder your view for the beautiful days ahead-days with us,” your hand cupped his cheeks and made him look at you.
“I know,” he sighed and looked up at the sky, “I just want you to be safe, you know that, but I know you are strong on your own and so I have all this leftover need to protect you and I feel useless,” his hand clasped together on his abdomen, but he quickly changed that and began stroking one of your arms because you had stopped playing with his hair. 
“It’s been your job to be on guard and to protect people,” a sad smile spread to your face, “and now that you’re with someone who doesn’t need all that protecting I would understand why you feel a little confused. My sister will be gone and it feels as though I’ve lost something that I’ve been with all my life; for me, it is a sister and for you, it is your life,” a laugh fell from between his lips. 
“I’ll get used to it,” he nodded, “that Braker of Chains doesn’t-”
“You don’t start with that,” you laughed and leaned down to kiss him, “you will never call me that again, understood?” you tried to act stern but it came out as giggles as Bucky’s hands found your side, tickling you a little. 
After a while Bucky traded positions with you because he felt bad you had to sit all the time, he made you loosen your corset because no one was around and that your scars needed to breathe. You laid on your back with your head on his thighs, looking up at him with a smile. He would rotate between looking at you and the pond, something would catch his eyes and it would take a while before he remembered a woman laid beneath him. 
“Can I tell you something?” you said, taking one of his hands and laying it on your stomach. 
“Anything, tell me anything,” he smiled as he looked down at you. 
“I’ve been trying to describe this day, I saw all the decorations and my sister’s dress, I even looked at the table I’d be eating at tonight, as I looked around there was this feeling deep within myself I couldn’t describe, it was on the tip of my tongue and I couldn’t spit it out,” he squeezed your hand as you took a moment to breathe, “until I saw my sister and we talked and cried,” Bucky’s eyebrows immediately pulled tight, “happy tears,” he relaxed, “and as I looked at my sister who was about to do the thing she’s always wanted I found the word.” 
“What was it?” a hand pushed some hair out of your face, it wasn’t obstructing your view but you felt it warm your heart. 
“Love,” the word left your lips and you saw it hit his face, slowly causing him to soften his features entirely, “and as I sit here with you the same feeling arises and the same word sits on my tongue, I never thought as a Princess I would be able to say this and mean it,” tears began to gather, “I thought I would live my life miserable with some Prince I have never met and forced to produce heirs and go about my life all sad and dreary,” Bucky smiled and stroked your cheek with his thumb, “but now I look at the man who saved my life, in many ways, and all I can think of is taking you back to the Southlands with me and living the rest of my life with you; the man that I completely love.” 
Your name fell from his lips, and a tear rolled down his cheek and mixed in with yours. He laughed and wiped his face and then yours, trying to keep himself somewhat composed. “As I sit here with the strongest women I know I look back at knighthood and how all I wanted was to lead and protect, but now there is another side of life that I didn’t know could be so peaceful, the loving side and the domesticated side,” you could feel his breathing on your face, his eyes would search to the pond to try and find the words as if they were spelled out with lily pads, “there is nothing more I want from this life than to grow old and grey with you, and to love you completely. I do not need kids or a wedding, all I need is to wake up and say I love you every morning.” 
“And I’ll say I love you every night,” you quickly added. 
FINAL EPISODE
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Thanks for all the love and reading, if you enjoyed don’t be afraid to reblog!
- Rambo <3
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buckrecs · 1 year
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2023 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 2
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masterlist | ✨- fav fics | status - complete
All of them are COMPLETE Series.
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1. Chicken by @delusionalwriterr
Bucky x Reader
You and Bucky Barnes shared a strange relationship with each other and the team was getting tired of it. When a mission goes wrong, will you be forced to admit your feelings for each other or will they remain buried?
2. sweet reverie by @demxters
College!Bucky x Reader
bucky asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend but after what you thought was sweeter than a dream has you facing a harsher reality.
3. The Time of the Prey by @subwaysurf45 ✨
Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader
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. 
4. super rich kids by @traitorjoelite
College!Bucky x Reader
kids with too much money, parties every night, and an incident with your best friend’s brother is just the norm on the upper east side.
5. Bring You Home by @sunflowersoldat ✨
Bucky x Reader
Y/N travels back in time to get Steve’s help for one last mission, but not everything goes as planned.
6. The Colour of Rain by @delaber
Bucky x Reader
On the run from his violent past, Bucky has sought refuge in a small town in Mexico where he enjoys the peace and quiet of not understanding a word of Spanish. A peace that is violently disturbed when he runs into the most annoying woman he has ever met.
7. All The King’s Men by @nastybuckybarnes ✨
Alpha!King!Bucky x Omega!Reader
Your father always said that if it weren’t for your presentation, he’d think you were an Alpha. There’s a reason for that. Growing up in a world where Omegas are treated like garbage, you’ve fought for the respect that you have. Until you’re sold off to an old King desperate for a bride. But you will not lay down and present for your new husband. No, you will fight back.
8. Peaches by @noctumbra
DBF!Bucky x Reader
what they were doing was wrong, both of them knew that. it had to be kept as a secret. not everyone would understand what they have, she knew that much. they’d look at them and see an older man misleading a girl so much younger than him. it wasn’t the thing, though. that had never been the thing. it wasn’t misleading, taking advantage ─whatever they called their situation. it was love. forbidden, not-society-friendly, but love. 
9. Sweet Dreams by @abovethesmokestacks ✨
Bucky x Baker!Reader
Sometimes you start talking with someone, and you realize you share an interest and a wish for a certain supersoldier to be cut som slack. Enter cupcakes.
10. Fuck Up The Friendship by @summerofsnowflakes
Bucky x Reader College AU
Fed up with having your feelings played with you decide to have some fun with a with your friend Steve.
11. A Sweet Old Fashioned Notion by @sidepartskinnyjeans
Bucky x Reader
As the dust settles on the second 'snap' Bucky has been getting to know Brooklyn again. His neighbourhood has changed a lot, but it's changed for you too since you got blipped back. Bucky is still pretty old fashiond at heart, there were things he expected from life, to get married, to have a family. Simple things that seem far away now especially when online dating is so hard. Maybe something more traditional would be good for both of you.
12. Soldier, My Soldier by @cryptidcasanova
Winter Soldier!Bucky x Reader
“I am the writing on the wall, the whisper in the air. Without these things I am nothing. So now, I must shed blood.” He lulled at the base of your throat. “Sweetheart, come with me.”
13. Homesick at space camp by @atlaese
Bucky x Avenger!Reader
dying on a cold spaceship lightyears away from home wasn't what you expected
14. Spirits in the House by @redgillan
Detective!Bucky x Reader
Reader is in a coma after a car accident. Bucky moves into your apartment and find your spirit still hanging around.
15. Sugary Sweet by @all1e23
Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader
Is it all just sugar or something more? 
16. Missing Piece by @likeahorribledream
Bucky x Reader
When Bucky first arrived to the compound, Steve was his only friend and the only person he trusted himself around. That is until Steve introduces him to you, his best friend. Bucky was fascinated by how often you and Steve would hug each other. It had been a very long time since anyone had touched him in such a loving way and it didn’t take long before Bucky found himself craving your touch, but whenever you’d get too close he would flinch as if someone had hit him. His trauma still too fresh a wound for him to be comfortable with someone touching him. Then one day, he finally fights his instincts and let you touch him. He hadn’t realized how truly touch starved he was until he feels the warmth of your skin against his. Something clicks for the both of you in that moment, you had found your missing piece. As long as you were with each other, you were home. You both tried to fool yourselves into thinking you were just friends, really close friends. Friends that needed to be together almost every minute of every day and who needed to hold each other to be able to sleep at night.
17. Metal Arm and Short Skirts by @buckyarchives
Bucky x Doctor!Reader
waltzing in as the new head of the Avenger's medical division, impressing everyone, and... scaring Bucky with your incredibly short skirts. Bucky's having a hard time looking at his arm as anything other than a deadly weapon, and you're more than happy to help him.
18. Scars by @chickenfics ✨
Bucky x Reader Western AU
Running from a past that haunts you and a future that is unsure, the last thing you wanted was to take up with a stranger. Strangers, you'd learned, are almost always more trouble than they're worth. But when dangers from the life you're trying to leave behind get too close for comfort, drastic times call for drastic measures, and the stranger you'd once feared becomes the only person you can trust -- and perhaps the only person you'd call your friend. Now you both just have to make it out alive... 
19. The Color of Blood by @theidiotwhowritesthings
Bucky x Agent!Reader Soulmate AU
In this world, a person didn’t discover color until they locked eyes with their soulmate. As an agent of SHIELD, finding your soulmate was hardly a priority. Especially since you were currently dealing with the shocking discovery that HYDRA had been pulling the strings behind SHIELD actions this entire time. Life was all about timing, and you were about to find out that your timing was absolute shit.
20. Everybody’s Watching Him (But He’s Looking At Her) by @writing-for-marvel
Actor!Bucky x Assistant!Reader
The entire world’s eyes are on movie star Bucky Barnes, what he’s wearing, who he’s dating, even the mystery behind why he needs a prosthetic arm - but Bucky doesn’t care about all that, he’s only got one thing on his mind, you.
21. 27 Dresses by @beccaanne814
Bucky x Reader Modern AU
You are the epitome of “always a bridesmaid, never a bride.” You think you know what love is, but sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of you.
22. Heal by @chucksfavouriteprophet
Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader
For months you managed to distance yourself from Bucky Barnes, the alpha you long for. But one night you have no choice but to comfort him, something which brings out emotions in both of you. Except it also brings out emotions in the Winter Solider, which results in a devastating turn of events that neither of you might be able to come back from.
23. Dangerous Woman by @samthemarvelfan
Bucky x Reader
You know he blames you, but you never thought he’d hate you.
24. Witness Protection by @mymoonagedaydream
Bucky x Reader
You'd only been living in New York for a few weeks when Natasha introduced you to James Barnes, the man who’d change your life forever.
25. Everything’s Better in Westview by @espinosaurusrexex ✨
Bucky x Reader
Bucky and Y/N sneak into Westview to have the perfect life. Away from late Steve and Tony, Vision and Natasha, they let themselves be consumed by suburban magic. To their surprise, however, some of these people aren’t so dead in the town. And there are some other weird things happening that make them question their sanity. But that’s okay, right? ‘Cause everything’s better in Westview.
26. Trying by @moonlight-prose
Bucky x Reader
Bucky Barnes was a new person. He survived a war with Thanos, finally getting rid of his triggers, and losing his best friend. He didn’t think there was anything else to survive. That is until he meets you in a bookstore and you become something he is scared of losing. An old villain has shown himself and suddenly you are the target of a new ploy to bring the Winter Soldier back.
27. unconventional methods by @marvelouslizzie
Bucky x Adult Content Creator!Reader
Bucky Barnes has a big problem: he is too anxious to date and too old school to enjoy porn. But he needs some kind of relief, and he needs it right now. After getting an accidental boner during a mission, Natasha suggests him an application that seems to be exactly what he needs. Will your content solve the problem for him? Or will it create new problems?
28. ephemeral by @aescapisms
Professor!Bucky x Reader
Bucky Barnes fell in love with you, but the universe isn’t all that forgiving.
29. Bulletproof by @amandaoftherosemire ✨
Bucky x Reader College AU
You, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes have been the best of friends since middle school. On top of that, you’ve been in love with Bucky pretty much the whole time. Everything changed after the three of you got to college, however. Over the past couple of years you and Steve have become even closer but things between you and Bucky have been strained since the night he broke your heart. Can anything bring you back together?
30. The Heart is a Deep Ocean by @dreamlessinparis
Bucky x Reader Titanic AU
Titanic was known as the ship of dreams. For you, it was the dream of getting home, or so you thought. From the moment you locked eyes with James Buchanan Barnes, all those dreams changed and your life was never the same.
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ramen-flavored · 8 months
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joelmillers-whore · 5 months
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I can fix— no, no, you don't get it. I'll take him as is. Murder? Grumpy? DILF? Mass murder? I'll fuck him.
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