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fandoms-writings · 1 year

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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

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.

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."

As always, thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are all very much appreciated.

If you liked the story, please consider checking out my Ko-Fi

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steveandbuckysdaughter · 4 months

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Personal review regarding what if…? season 2 episode 8 (spoilers)

No ok, I must admit, the episode was good in some aspects.

Wanda was majestic. Loki and Scott were hilarious and I loved every single moment with them.

Thor was amazing, dark and serious out of loss but still enjoyable, and the crumbs of his relationship with Hela were very nice.

I’ve actually liked Tony for the very first time in my life, probably because I tend to like him a lot more in AUs and fanfictions than I do in the normal timeline.

And then… there were those two.

I will never comprehend why marvel wants Steve to be so dependent on Peggy. And I will never comprehend why, to make him interact with her, they have to destroy or sideline every other relationship he has built, or make his character flat.

Bucky being friends with Scott was amazing, but the fact that him and Steve interacted like two times was extremely disappointing. You’d expect “best friends in every universe”, if you dislike the romantic pairing so much, to acknowledge themselves for more than a few scenes, in only one of which they’re in frame together (Bucky was literally 😐 while his best friend disappeared, come on now).

And the storyline about Peggy coming from another world to save the universe was just… Mbah. It could’ve been executed in another way without including her and it still would have made sense. It really feels like a Y/N insert.

Seeing literally any other character was so good, so fun, and they had to ruin it this way, making Peggy once again the self insert and girlboss she didn’t need to be.

Plus, forgive my constant complaining, but it’s extremely infuriating how all of Steve’s friends were eliminated to put the focus solely on Peggy. Where’s Sam? Where’s Nat? Where’s Clint? It’s not an underrated friendship we’re talking about, a big chunk of the fandom loves the cap quartet or team cap, and after civil war it would have been nice to see them interact, especially after its popularity and popular demand. Outlaw team cap would have been glorious, a good chance to bring back many characters who aren’t here anymore in the right way, and involve characters that are rarely involved in What if in the storyline, for a change.

The treatment of Sam in this series particularly angers me, and even more so in this episode. I understand not involving him in other storylines, but Sam was a big part of CATWS and he wasn’t even in the episode centered on that film. What, because Steve met him while running he can’t be introduced in any other way? And oh, there’s no excuse for this episode. If there was one episode they could have placed Sam in, it was this one. Sam was there in infinity war, where the mess happened, and he should have been with the other avengers in this one.

If marvel wanted to involve someone from another universe so bad, it should have been a Captain America Sam from another universe. Can you imagine the poetry of seeing Steve and Nat again after endgame? Can you imagine having closure with them both, and having fun in the process? It would have been so great.

Another great storyline without involving characters from other universes would have been one where Steve, who touched the time stone, accidentally brought everyone in the past, and he was the only one to remember it. And to go back and prevent everyone’s distraction, he had to recruit the avengers, who don’t know him and don’t trust him but that in the end become his friends and companions. It would have been so interesting to see the original avengers involved in something different from being some side characters or extras in the one woman show that seems to be What if, constantly centered around the same bland, one dimensional reimagined side character. Peggy’s blandness is so obvious in these episodes (aside for some random remarks that made me smile) that literally everyone who’s involved directly with her must be bland like her, otherwise risking to overshadow her.

I don’t think I was supposed to cringe and look away as much as I did during Steggy’s forced scenes, but I did. If they had to force Steggy and Peggy down our throats, at least they could have done something different from the same bland and boring storyline as always. I wouldn’t be as mad as I am now if Peggy and Steve’s relationship wasn’t as bland. I would have preferred an enemies to lovers type of twist or change, where Steve doesn’t trust Peggy and struggles with her because he sees in her a different version of the Peggy that died in that universe. But noooo, god forbid, let’s go with the same old song.

An episode five or ten minutes longer with a better, avengers-centric or Steve-centric storyline would have been much better than what we got.

And given that this was my most anticipated episode, I was very disappointed by it. I hope for the next seasons, if there’s other ones, Marvel will listen to the general complaint regarding Peggy and will give her a break. I don’t think any of the original avengers or relevant MCU characters made as much appearances as Peggy, and being a main focus in four episodes out of nine is ridiculous.

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holylulusworld · 1 year

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Before you (6)

Summary: King Steven Grant Rogers once was a good king and a gentle alpha. Now he’s a cruel shadow of his former self. Can he find the light again?

Pairing: King(Alpha)!Steve Rogers x Maid(Omega)!Reader

Characters: Knight Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes

Warnings: angst, language, grumpy and loud Steve, Bucky is the best (soft Bucky is a warning, okay), mentions of loss of loved ones, undefined age gap, a hint of fluff, true mates, a/b/o, scenting, Steve is a little possessive in this…

Before you masterlist

<< Part 5

“Steve! BROTHER! Open the door,” you flinch as it seems that Bucky wants to tear the door down with his bare hands. “If you hurt her, you’ll regret it. She’s your true mate.”

“Bucky, stop this immediately or you’ll end up in the dungeon. I swear if you threaten my claim, you are no longer my brother,” Steve warns.

There is a commotion behind the door, and then silence.

“He-he means well, my king,” whimpering in fear you look up at Steve. “Please don’t punish him. He pities me. Please.”

“You’ve got a soft spot for my brother,” he grits his teeth. “How far did he go? Did he touch you?”

“What? He wouldn’t…no. Your brother is a good man. All this time he tried to help me, my king. I swear on my father’s grave,” you sniffle. “Please…”

“A good man,” he huffs. “Unlike me?” The king questions. He waits for you to protest but you press your lips into a thin line. “I wasn’t always like this. Hard. Cold. Careless.”

“I don’t know you, my king,” you drop your gaze. “You’re a king. You have all the right to treat me like…this.”

“Look at me,” it’s an alpha command and your head immediately snaps upward. “I promised to keep you safe, and I will. No one will ever hurt you again or break your heart.”

“It’s too late for that.”

Steve swallows thickly as you start trembling. “Why’s that?”

“My family is gone,” you whimper. “And the only boy I ever loved forgot about me.” You give him a sad smile. “Promises are meant to be broken, my king. I don’t know if yours are meant to be kept.”

“My love,” your eyes round as he steps closer to cup your cheek with his right hand. “I never forgot about you. And I never wanted to break my promises. My father has forbidden me to come back to you. One day, he said you died in the fire with your family.”

“I-I don’t understand,” you press your hands weakly against his chest. “What is the meaning of your words, your highness.”

“Do you remember the horseshoe? I gave it to you,” he speaks as softly as he can. It’s hard to control his emotions after he got to know about Peggy’s betrayal.

“Horseshoe.”

Your heart wildly beats in your chest. This can’t be. No.

“You still have it.”

“A boy named Grant gave it to me, my king. I would remember being friends with a king.”

“A crown prince, my love,” he whispers lowly. Steve leans closer to sniff at your neck. “My name is Steven Grant Rogers. King of Brooklyn. My father wanted me to hide that I am the crown prince back then. So, I used my middle name.”

“No—no,” you cry. “My friend was a good person. He would’ve never treated people like you do. Grant was kind and so nice. He gave me my first kiss…my only kiss.”

“I never forgot about our kiss,” Steve tries to bring you into his arms but you fight him. A king can take whatever he wants, but you won’t give in without a fight. Your innocence is all you’ve got left.

“You’re not him,” he wins. You end up in his arms, your face pressed into his chest. You are forced to scent the king and feel his warmth. “You can’t be him. He would’ve saved me. Grant will come for me one day. I know it.”

“Y/N, I’m here. I would’ve come for you. I didn’t know you are still alive. I swear,” he sniffs as you wiggle in his grip. “Please, Y/N. I still go the flower you gave me.”

You stop wiggling and lift your head. “What kind of flower?”

He smiles now as you place your hands flat against his chest. “I’ll tell you if you stop fighting me.”

“I-“ you nod, but cautiously watch Steve. He lets go of you to walk toward his bed. He kneels to look under the bed and gets a small golden chest out. “What’s this?”

“My treasure,” he places the chest onto the bed and opens it. “Look,” Steve gets a small book out. He opens the book to show you a pressed flower, hidden in the middle of the book. “It’s a daisy.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. This can’t be. No. The king cannot be the boy you loved for so long.

“No. What happened to you? How can you be like this?”

“I lost everything when my father told me you died in that fire,” he carefully closes the book again. “Peggy became my queen, even though, I only ever wanted you to become mine.”

“She died,” you softly say. “I heard it from Bucky. He said something along the lines when I took care of her horse.”

“It’s not her horse,” he grits out. “She said it’s hers, but it wasn’t,” Steve says. “I asked my father to get it from your father before all of this happened. I wanted to gift it to you. She took it away from you. Peggy stole your place by my side with lies and her treacherous words.”

“It never was my place,” you step toward the door. “Even if you are Grant, you are not the man I had hoped you’ll become.” You sniff. “My king, you know that a maid cannot take a queen’s place. You and that woman were meant to be. Not us.”

“Please don’t say this,” he begs. His eyes fill with tears as you reach for the doorknob. “We were always meant to be, omega. No one can stop an alpha from claiming his true mate. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“Not hours ago, you wanted me gone.”

He flinches as something hits the door from the other side. You shriek and fall to your knees to crawl away. “Y/N.”

Steve runs toward you. He goes down on his knees to wrap his body around your trembling form.

“STEVE!” the door finally bursts open, and a very angry Bucky, followed by Samuel storms into the room. “Where? What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Steve mutters. “You just destroyed my door.”

“I thought…I mean,” Bucky huffs as you cling to his brother’s body. You hide your face in his chest, crying as you are scared to hell and back. “You didn’t hurt her.”

“Of course not,” Steve bites back. “I told you to read Peggy’s diary and leave us alone. I need to talk to Y/N and explain a few more things.”

“Did you already tell her?” the brunette lifts a brow as his brother sighs deeply. “I guess things didn’t go well?”

“She doesn’t believe me, Bucky. I got the flower and all,” the king whispers. “What else can I do to make her believe that I’m Grant, the boy who fell in love with her so many years ago?”

“Steve let’s be honest. You treated her like the worst since you met her for the first time,” Bucky tries to make his brother see that you won’t be able to forgive the king so easily. “I told you that she’s special.”

“I know,” Steve gently rocks you in his arms. “You must read the diary, Bucky. I need to talk about it with someone. Peggy betrayed me, brother.”

“I asked Lord Barton and Samuel to find out more about Rumlow, and the knights attacking Y/N’s family that night.”

“Good. I want him in the dungeon. He’ll pay for what he did,” Steve runs one hand up and down your back. “Can you leave me alone with Y/N for a little longer? Maybe find someone to take care of the door.”

“Steve, I think you should leave Y/N alone for a while. It’s a lot to take in,” you lift your head to look at the kind brunette. “She can sleep in one of the spare chambers next to yours.”

“No,” you whine as Steve wraps his arms tighter around your body. “She must stay here. We don’t know if one of Peggy’s allies will go after her. No one can take her away from me ever again.”

“Brother you need to calm down. You’re scaring her. It’s no good to let your alpha take over at the moment,” Bucky tries again. “I want you to tell me what this is all about. Rumlow. Peggy. The fire.”

“You need to read the diary, Bucky. We will talk after you read it,” Steve nuzzles his nose in your hair to inhale your scent deeply. “She’s still scared.”

“Of you.”

“No! She’s not scared of me,” the king talks back as you start to squirm in his hold again. “She cannot be scared of me. I finally found her again after believing I lost her five years ago.”

Bucky reluctantly leaves the room to find someone to take care of the door and read the diary. “Steve, be gentle. Y/N is a blooming flower, don’t pick her too soon.”

“I’ll wed her first,” Steve mutters under his breath. “She’s going to be a queen and I’ll treat her like one. I won’t steal her innocence without making her, my wife.”

Bucky clears his throat at Steve’s words. “That’s not what I meant, Steve. I wanted you to be careful and not yell at her again.”

“Oh Steven,” Bucky closes the diary. He wipes a single tear off his cheek. “How could she do this to you and Y/N? I knew she was a treacherous snake, but this is unforgivable.”

He sighs deeply. What else can he do? One moment his brother wants to chase you away, and the next he’s talking about marriage and making you his queen.

“I will make sure you’ll not hurt Y/N. If your heart’s not in this, I’ll bring her away from here…”

“I want to go,” you press the bundle with your belongings to your chest. “I don’t belong here, my king. Please let me go.”

“Y/N, I know you don’t believe me, but I’m Grant,” he carefully approaches you. “How can I convince you?”

“You can’t be him,” stubbornly shaking your head you step back as Steve gets closer. “How could you change so much?”

“I lost you and my father forced me to marry Peggy. She died during childbirth,” he shrugs. “Peggy was all I had left after my father passed away. I was suddenly a king, and she was my salvation. Or so I thought.”

You remain silent and look away.

“She died, and my son didn’t live longer than a few days. I felt like the world betrayed me and turned my back on my people, even my brother,” Steve sniffs. “Peggy’s death opened old wounds. Wounds that never healed.”

“You can’t be him,” you repeat.

“Maybe you’re right. I’m not the Grant you used to know,” he takes another step toward you. “But there is still the young man falling in love with you inside of me. Can you help me find him again?”

“I’m only a maid, my king,” you glance at Steve. Your heart aches at the sadness in his eyes. He’s barely a shell of the young man you used to know. “How could I help you?”

Before you (7)

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #alpha!steve rogers #king!steve rogers #Before you (6)#king!steve x peasant!reader #king!steve x reader #king!steve rogers x maid!reader #a/b/o #medieval au #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months

Note

In Tapestry what if the reader went with Bucky, would he have let her? Or what if she had asked him to stay?

Let Us Be Away

Note: thanks in advance for any feedback you have. This is a bit shorter but I like it <3

“Take me with you,” you whisper as you lay beside him, the warmth and dampness of your intertwined bodies clouds around you.

“I cannot, you know that,” he looks at you, dragging his thumb along your cheek, “he would never let you–”

“I wasn’t asking. You or him,” you insist as you twist your body, hooking your leg into his, “he needn’t know. Wherever we go, we won’t go as us. Not as a queen or a lord. Just as lovers. As we should be.”

“He would find us–”

“And? I’d rather however long we could get together than a lifetime apart,” you breathe, hovering just before his lips, “or would you have me be unhappy? Abandon me to him?”

“I would have you alive,” he turns his head before you can kiss him.

“And if one day came, when we’re apart, and I cannot live any long without you?”

“Do not speak of it,” he grabs your hand and clutches it to his chest. “I couldn’t think of it.”

“And if it is not my choice? If he finds another, as he is want to do, and I take Eleanor’s place. I kneel at that block at his behest–”

“No,” he croaks, “no, I cannot dream of it–”

“But you’ve seen it. We both have. Infatuation cannot last.”

He’s quiet. He cradles your head and kisses your forehead. He lays back and closes his eyes.

“Where would we go?” He asks at last.

You smile and rest your chin on his shoulder.

“To a village, somewhere,” you suggest, “we would work the fields, as those on my father’s hold do. And when we have children, well, I will sew their clothing from the sheep’s wool. You know I am quite talented with a needle…”

“How many?” He tickles your naked back.”

“How many?” You echo.

“Children.”

“We shall see, as many as we can have,” you avow.

“I would like daughters. Pretty as their mother,” he says, “and so I pray, as sharp-witted.”

#tapestry #drabble #what if #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mcu #marvel #winter soldier #medieval au #au

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artficlly · 9 months

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lady of the ghosts [chapter 8]

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

Pairing: king!bucky x lady!reader

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

Word Count: 3.5

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

chapter masterlist | main masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We definitely are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t answer my question.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is a new feeling growing in your gut.

Hope.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist | @liter4ti @just-someone11 @champagnejoker @scooobies @queerqueenlynn @fanfictionjunkie1112 @themotherof10 @diaries-of-a-hopelessromantic @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @riffstorm

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes series #james bucky barnes #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel #royalty au #medieval au #fantasy au #lady of the ghosts

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betterthanworse · 1 year

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The Baron offers redemption, but his eyes are too cunning to take him at his word. The Soldier suspects he has unwittingly aligned himself with an entirely different kind of God.

#a medieval bucky set in the colonial era #tfw your fanfic ideas are too ambitious so u make fanart of it instead #loosely based off *that* scene in tfatws #someone write this plz #helmut zemo #baron zemo #winterbaron #winter soldier #bucky barnes #mcu #fanart

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foxgloveprincess · 4 days

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Hi! I'm obsessed with your Avengers Pantheon stuff... I thought I'd check on Steve and Bucky today... How are they and their captive lil pet doing?

Thank you so much! Steve and Bucky are doing quite well. Their pet? She’s adapting.

A Little Ficlet for Another Taste of Devouring Rush

Warnings: Dark (Soft Dark Stucky), Medieval(ish) AU, Polytheistic/Pagan Beliefs, Mythology, Yandere Behavior, Obsession, Possessiveness, Endless Hallways, Invisible Servants, Captivity (she calls them her masters), Dubious Consent, Smut (Vaginal Penetration, Nipple Play, suggestion of Somnophilia), Innocence Kink, Pet Names (sweet, blossom). Minors do not interact (18+).

What is morning when the sun and moon don’t rise upon the horizon? Without time, I cannot know for how long I’ve been kept. From the moment I wake to the moment I sleep, my life stretches endlessly.

I rise from the cushion of my bed. No ache, no pain. Only memories illuminated in my mind’s eye, finding their brethren in previous passions. My masters, the Righteous Captain and the Freed Soldier, meticulous in their endeavor of pleasure. Three bodies joining over and over in writhing lust and satisfaction. My purity plundered. Drunk on joy, lust, bliss. A divine communion of worship and reverence shared between mouths and tongues and bodies. Until I succumb to exhaustion and the cycle begins again like the seasons.

My feet weave a path about columns, naked body no shame. My previous life in The Broken Beast dispelled me of such notions long ago. But now, as I wander, phantom hands drape silk over my frame. A luxurious fabric unblemished by the touch of mortal man.

The servants covering my modesty spirits upon the breeze. Invisible to the eye, yet attentive to my every step, providing anything required by my whims or their judgement. They clothe me in fine garments, a protection of my virtue. They provide a tray of food and drink upon a small table, an offering for my strength. My indulgence their design.

I sigh and turn down another corridor. However time passes in the Land Beyond, I spend it wandering the halls of the vast castle of my masters. Every inch of space bedecked in opulence, art and offerings dazzling the eye. To think of my attempt to appeal to them, a simple sachet full of herbs, a shard of glass and a pebble, so paltry in comparison. When true masterpieces line their walls and stretch to the highest heights. Beyond what the eye can see and hidden by clouds. No ceiling to limit the display of grandeur and beauty.

My fingers pluck a morsel from a tray, a bite of boar dripping with black sauce. Another bite passes my lips before I continue on, weaving through familiar passageways and exploring my grand prison. Kept inside, I do not even know whether anything exists without. The crash of the river upon its shore my only indication of something beyond these walls.

With a turn down another passage and another, I pick up a new piece of boar to consume. My fingers stick with the sweet, spiced sauce left by my grazing. An echo of my name floats upon a breeze. A kiss of wind brushes against my cheek as I turn to greet my caller. A hand wraps about my wrist and draws me back.

I fall against a sturdy chest. Plush lips wrap about my sticky fingers. A hum rumbles in their throat.

“Hello, my sweet,” Steve greets from behind. My head turns to return the address, his shoulder leaning against the wall. A smile tilts his lips, his form relaxed and hands upon his belt. My other master, James, holds me in the cradle of his arms, tongue dancing over my fingertips.

The Soldier pulls back, releasing my wrist to let my hand fall limp at my side. “We missed you.”

“Did you miss us?” Steve asks, prompting a reply in their favor.

“Of course,” I demure. My bones engrained with the graces of my training. I spin to greet James readily, wrapping my arms about his neck and cooing sweetly as he buries his face in the crook of mine. “I was trying to bide my time by searching for the gardens.”

The affection borne of our lingering connection, unable to stifle my true feelings toward the lords behind the curtain, the men before me now. Still my captors, murderers. Swept away by them, forced to abandon my family for their safety. Everything falling to their feet, nothing restrained. A mistake, Melinda once said, not to keep something for myself. I thought myself unable to forgive them their many crimes. Until I did.

Steve stalks forward, pushing away from the wall, and tucks a finger beneath my chin to meet my eye.

“Gardens?”

“Or perhaps the riverside?” I continue on smooth, dulcet tones, “with all the beauty surrounding you here, I only thought it might be just as lovely.”

“There’s nothing for you outside our walls,” James grumbles against my skin. His arms pressing tighter, a remonstrance.

“What he means,” Steve says at the mournful tilt of my brow and the hitch of my breath, “is that outside our home, we cannot protect you. You would be vulnerable to any passing beast.”

“Oh.” The sound whooshes past my lips on a disappointed sigh. “I understand.”

Steve’s lips capture mine, an indulgent kiss. I sink into him, knees weak from his attentions. He pulls a breath away to suggest, “Let us take your mind away from such distracting thoughts.”

His whisper shivers down my spine and ignites fiery passion between my thighs. The lick of temptation leaving me defenseless against them. I meet the Captain’s piercing gaze and nod. Ready, as ever, to yield to their insatiable appetites.

James entwines his fingers with mine, palms kissing as he leads me down the hallway. Around only one corner, and we stand before my room. The corridors twisting and reforming to hasten our trek. Miraculous and astounding.

The door stands open. Just as I left it. Lace and the thinnest gossamer draped from the ceiling. Cushions line the floor. Colorful lanterns sparkle above. A fanciful world imitating the nights I sat behind my curtain enticing the eye of suitors, my virginity Aida’s prized gem.

Kisses trail over my neck and shoulders. Two sets of lips forging their own paths across my flesh. I seek their touches in turn. Fingers carding through hair and soft sounds spilling past my lips. The fabric covering my frame puddling on the floor. Whisked away from my feet by phantom hands.

My masters lead me to my bed, guiding my body to recline upon the plush cushion. Their devotion floods my body until I drown. The pinching pain of my deflowering forgotten in the heady rush that consumes. Their love an endless wave that does not recede. Their touch a scorching fire.

Sweat dots my skin. Lips parted on hungry breaths. Eyelids fluttering with euphoria. Steve parts me around his glorious cock and fills me to my limit. James’s hands plucking at the tender buds of my breasts. I moan and writhe between their bodies. Flush with their warmth. Defiled and debauched, exhaustion tickles at the border of my consciousness. My nails bite into their flesh, dragging myself away from the tempting precipice of slumber.

“Rest,” Steve croons into my ear, a kiss trailing my cheekbone to my lips. His hips continuing their exquisite drive.

My head tips back, another wave of ecstasy rushing through my veins. I choke on a gasping cry. Hips bucking in tandem with those plundering my body.

“We will tend to you as you sleep, dear blossom,” James promises.

His sweet words lull me deep into the darkness. My eyes close and I nestle into their embrace. Their hands and lips and pleasure continuing, even as I am lost to them. A new cycle dawning in my eternal existence.

#stucky x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #medieval au #mythology au #polytheistic au #dark #dark fic #dub con #tw dub con #the avengers pantheon #✨rachel replies✨#brasspistol

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avecra · 2 years

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A Change In Duty - Masterlist

series summary: Change has been no stranger to you your entire life. So, when the dear friend that you work for engages to a King and requests you to accompany her to her new home, you are beyond happy; a perfect way to start a new change in your life. In the Northern Lands is where you meet Natasha’s fiance, King Steven and right hand man Captain James Barnes, who takes an affinity to you quickly, though you are hesitant to trust him. As the months go by, you find yourself swiftly falling for the knight. But when a familiar darkness begins to loom over the kingdom, you won’t hesitate to uphold the duty to your royals to protect them. And Captain Barnes will do anything to ensure the safety of the Queen’s Lady.

pairing: knight!bucky x lady!reader (medieval au)

series warnings: canon level violence, romance, angst, period-typical misogyny, mentions/references to abuse, protective!bucky is backkkk, hurt/comfort, fluff, knight!bucky because hes a warning

* set in a separate time than this one shot. they have similarities, but have no correlation whatsoever.

a/n - my obsession with knight!bucky is unhealthy :'), i will be posting wednesdays every other week

CURRENTLY ON HIATUS

❧ One

❧ Two

❧ Three

❧ Four

❧ Five

❧ Six

❧ Seven

❧ Eight

❧ Nine

❧ Ten

❧ Eleven

❧ Epilogue

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes story #medieval au #knight!bucky

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sjsmith56 · 6 months

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A New World - Chapter 1, Lord Buchanan

Summary: A modern young woman suddenly finds herself in a strange medieval world. As an unaccompanied woman she requires the protection of a man to survive, finding it in the enigmatic and handsome Lord Buchanan.

Length: 4.8K

Characters of note: Ileana (named female character described as chestnut haired), Lord Buchanan (that world’s version of James Buchanan Barnes)

Warnings: Assault of female character, threat of violence, courtly language (of a sort), formal language (of a sort), description of preparing a hunted animal for food (it was either that or go hungry).

Author’s notes: Inspired by the photo edits of Instagram artist nixakimbo this story can be found in its entirety on Wattpad and AO3, under my username SJSmith56. It is a complete fantasy concept that initially was supposed to be a “bodice ripper” so just enjoy the ride. It was a lot of fun to write. Series masterlist to come.

🗡️

Ileana looked at her closet trying to figure out what to wear for this blind date. She had only agreed because she trusted her friend Haydn not to set her up with someone like Jeremy. That relationship had ended badly when she came home from work one morning to grab her forgotten laptop and she had found him in bed with a waitress from the diner where they ate Saturday morning breakfasts. Pulling her suitcases from the closet she had thrown everything in there while he tried to convince her the girl meant nothing. Meanwhile the poor girl looked like she would rather be anywhere but naked in a bed watching the guy she just slept with say she meant nothing. Over the next few weeks Ileana had stayed with Haydn in her spare room until she found her own place, a small one bedroom flat. Haydn's boyfriend Sam had convinced her to set up the blind date with his friend Bucky. Who named their son Bucky?

She stopped and took a breath, realizing she was over thinking it again. Bucky could be a nickname. Haydn said he was attractive if a little brooding and being friends with Sam meant that he likely had manners as Sam wouldn't hear of a man mistreating a woman. Finally Ileana pulled out a lacy white top to go over her camisole and a longer lacy black skirt. Pulling on her black boots she was satisfied that she looked acceptable. Feminine but confident. Grabbing her coat and purse she ran out and tried to hail a cab. She didn't want the guy to pick her up so she said she would meet them at the restaurant. Now she was running late and it was at least a twenty minute walk. No cabs stopped for her so she started walking.

About ten minutes into the walk Ileana became aware of footsteps behind her. Grasping her purse tighter she crossed to the other side of the road at the next corner. The footsteps followed her. Turning the following corner after that they still followed her. Seeing a convenience store up ahead she ducked in and went to the back. Peeking over the rack she saw a man in a black hoodie with a green hood walk by peering in. For the briefest of moments she thought he saw her but he kept walking.

"Now what do I do?" said Ileana to herself. "He could be waiting around the corner for me."

She dialled Haydn on her cell phone. "Hey, could you ask Sam to come and get me? I couldn't get a cab and started to walk. There's a guy following me. I'm at a convenience store on Maple and First."

"We were wondering what was keeping you," said Haydn. "Hold on."

She could hear Haydn talking to Sam. There was another voice, male, soft but definitely sexy.

"Bucky will come and get you," said Haydn. "He said don't leave the store. You'll know him as he's wearing a dark blue suit with a navy shirt, no tie. His hair is longer and he has a beard. Very, very handsome."

Ileana hung up and browsed the aisles. She nodded at the clerk who after a few more minutes asked if she was going to buy anything.

"I'm just waiting for a friend," she said defensively.

"No loitering," he replied pointing at a sign beside the door. "Sorry, you'll have to wait outside."

She tried buying something but the clerk refused to ring it through and ordered her out. Stepping out into the night air she felt exposed and tried to stay as close to the door as possible but the clerk kept giving her dirty looks. With a sigh she moved away from the door and into the shadows.

"You have a light?" said a voice next to her.

Turning Ileana saw it was the man in the black hoodie with a green hood. He smiled a dirty smile at her and looked her up and down.

"Sorry, I don't smoke," she replied and walked back towards the door.

"Hey, don't go turning your back on me," he said with an edge. "Talk to me. I can be nice."

"Please, I don't want any trouble," she said over her shoulder. "I'm just waiting for a friend."

Before she left the shadow he put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back.

"Come with me now or I'll hurt you," he said, showing the knife he held in one hand.

Before she could react he gripped her wrist hard and started dragging her to the side of the building. She pulled herself away and fell backwards, hitting her head on the sidewalk. Her head felt like a bell had been rung inside her head. Within seconds Ileana was aware of nothing.

******

She felt someone fumbling at her chest and realized someone was feeling her up. Opening her eyes she slapped away the hand on her breast. Two grimy looking men in black and green clothing were bent over her, one feeling her breasts the other lifting her skirt.

"Get off of me," she yelled, kicking at them. "Help! Help!"

They laughed and kept going. Tearing her top and camisole off of her the first one said he would hold her down while the second one had a go. In desperation she began biting and received a punch to the head for her trouble. Just as the second was about to uncover himself she heard a horse snort and the sound of someone jumping to the ground. A metallic sound followed like the sound of a sword being pulled out of it's sheath.

"Leave the lady alone," said a man's voice and the two men stopped fearfully, looking back at the intruder.

"M'lord," said the first one. "We found the lady like this and were just tending to her."

"I doubt that," said the swordsman. "I heard her cry for help. Now stand up or I will run you both through this moment."

Ileana clutched her tattered blouse to her chest and sat up as the two men stood and faced the swordsman. He was tall, dark haired with a beard and wore a suit of blue leather with a dark blue tunic underneath. His breathing was heavy as if he struggled to keep his temper with the two men. He had a second sword attached to a belt that hung lower and she got the feeling he could fight with either hand or both. As the two would-be rapists grovelled before him he looked directly into her eyes with his stunning blue eyes.

"Are you injured?" he asked. "Lady...?"

"Ileana," she replied. "No, but they have destroyed my blouse and my undergarments."

He nodded and turned his attention back to them. "I should dispatch you both to your maker," he said. "It is within my rights as lord of these lands to do so. However the lady is not injured and I do not wish her to witness what I really want to do to you. Both of you are banished from my lands. If I see either of you here again I will execute you summarily. Begone with you."

He dismissed them and watched as they trudged away before sheathing his sword. Going to his horse, a black giant of a horse with the longest mane Ileana had ever seen he opened a saddle bag and brought out a white shirt.

"I'm not in the habit of carrying ladies clothing with me but you should be able to wear my nightshirt," he said, handing it to her then turning his back so she could put it on.

It was soft and silky. She marvelled at its feel as she slipped it over her head. There were no buttons and it did expose quite a bit of cleavage but it covered her and that is what was important.

"Thank you sir," she said.

He turned and looked her over. "Lord Buchanan," he said bowing. "At your service."

She offered her hand and he helped her up from the ground. Keeping her hand in his he touched it briefly with his lips.

"You are not of this world," he stated. "Your clothing is from a future world. How did you find yourself here?"

"You know of future worlds?" she asked puzzled. "You don't seem surprised."

"It happens," he replied, shrugging slightly. "How did you come here?"

"I was attacked by a man and pulled away," she answered. "I hit my head and blacked out. When I came to those two were pawing over me."

He nodded. "We receive "visitors" in various ways," he said. "Sounds like once you come to in your own world you will return to it. In the meantime I will take you into my care. These woods can be dangerous for an unaccompanied woman. There is one problem. I am one day into a tour of my lands and I must continue on or risk others attempting to seize them. There are holders we will come across tomorrow that you may stay with or you may continue with me. The accommodations will be very basic but I assure you that even if we share a bed I will honour your chastity. That is my word as Lord of these lands."

He looked at her with all sincerity and she found herself trusting him and his word. He motioned for her to come closer to his horse and he calmed the horse when it snorted at her.

"Magnus, be kind to the lady," he said softly. "She will ride with us for a time and you must be a gentleman to her."

He reached into another saddle bag and brought out a carrot. Breaking it in half he gave one piece to Ileana and showed her how to hold it on her flat palm. Magnus lowered his head over her hand and took it gently from her. She reached out and stroked his cheek and he leaned into her touch.

"He likes you," said Buchanan with a smile. "He is very particular. You should be honoured."

"I am," she said. "He is magnificent."

"Here, you give him another piece," he said, placing the second piece into her hand.

Magnus took it gently and again leaned into her touch as she stroked his cheek. Lord Buchanan offered her his help to mount the large horse. Then he mounted behind her and took the reins. His closeness unnerved her at first and she found it hard not to lean into him. He must have noticed because he smiled before he spoke.

"You can lean into me if it is more comfortable for you," he said. "The closer we are the more comfortable a ride it will be. It's been a while since I had a woman ride...with me. I will protect you from falling."

She caught the hesitation in his voice and realized he almost said something entirely different. It was her turn to smile that she had obviously had an effect on him. She did lean into him and found she liked how his body also leaned into hers as he rode. She looked at his clothing and saw how finely the pieces were made even though they were made for life on the road. He wore dark leather gloves and she was almost overcome by a desire to see his hands on her. Dismissing the thought she looked up at him for a moment and he smirked.

"Keep your eyes forward, Lady Ileana," he said. "Or you may find yourself on your arse on the ground. A sudden turn is all that is needed to throw one of us off."

As if to prove his point Magnus stopped dead and they both were wrenched from the comfort of their position.

"What is it, Magnus?" he asked, suddenly looking around. "What do you sense?"

The horse snorted and pawed the ground. Lord Buchanan switched the reins to his left hand and turned the horse in a circle, trying to see what had spooked his horse. He put one arm around her.

"When I tell you I want you to lean forward," he said closely to her ear. "Bend forward as closely to Magnus as you can. Grasp his mane firmly if you must to keep on."

An unnatural sound from some creature nearby broke the silence and she could feel his body tense as he gauged when to make his move.

"Now," he said loudly, as he dug his heels into Magnus' flank. "Magnus, go!"

Ileana leaned forward grasping the horse's mane as it leaped straight into a gallop. Buchanan leaned over her as he spurred his horse on away from the danger. After several minutes at a full gallop he allowed the horse to slow down and finally to a stop. Magnus' sides were heaving and Buchanan jumped off to the ground, taking his horse's head in his hands and touching his forehead to the great black beast's forehead.

"Good boy, Magnus," he said, softly. "You flew us away from danger. My brave steed."

He began to walk, leading the horse along the path.

"Should I get down?" asked Ileana but he waved her away. "Please, let me walk with you."

He stopped and helped her down. She walked beside him, glad she still had her boots on. His pace was steady as was his manner of walking. He seemed like a man sure of himself. He looked down on her and cleared his throat.

"Tell me about yourself, Lady Ileana," he said. "I understand the women of future worlds work instead of staying strictly in the home looking after their children. Your husband's all approve of this?"

"I'm not married," she said, "but many husbands do approve. Some even stay at home looking after the children while their wives work."

He scoffed. "That does not seem right to me," he said. "To expect a wife to toil away in factories or sweatshops while he enjoys the laughter of small children is criminal.”

"How much do you know about future worlds?" asked Ileana, wondering what he really knew.

"The Sorceress has told us of great factories that bellow smoke and flame while workers toil inside in the heat making great metal poles to build tall buildings that soar into the sky," he said. "Or the merchants of food gathered under one large roof, with tables and shelves laden with every food one could ever want. What is it that you toil at instead of bringing children into the world?"

"I work in a creative space," she said, trying to figure out how to say she designed websites to a medieval man. "We have the ability to search for information from a device we hold in our hand. I help create that information, how it looks, much like an illuminated manuscript in a book is bright and eye catching. What I create must be colourful and attractive."

He raised his eyebrows, then gave her an answer she wasn’t expecting. "Would that be on the internet?" he asked. "The Sorceress has told us of it but I find it hard to believe."

"It is," she said. "The internet is like a library you can hold in the palm of your hand but it holds the information of the entire world in it."

"You would rather do that than be a mother," he stated.

"I didn't say that," she said. "I do wish to be a mother but I need a husband first. Some women go ahead without a husband but I would rather have someone in my life than try without. My mother divorced my father when I was a child and it was hard for both of us making a go of it without him."

"Divorce?" he said. "Women can divorce? In this world only the husband can divorce if the wife is unfaithful or doesn't produce a son."

Ileana stopped dead. "You're kidding right?" she exclaimed. "A man can be unfaithful but a woman can't? You also know it is the man whose sperm, or seed, which decides if the child is a boy or a girl. If a man doesn't have a son, it's his fault, not hers."

She was angry now. He stood and watched her anger play over her face, amusing him.

"Most men have a wife and several mistresses," he stated. "Only the wife's child is recognized as legitimate. He would have too much respect for his wife to ask her to do some of things he does with his mistresses. As for the other, I find that hard to believe."

"Fuck," she said. "I've been dropped into the paternalist world of hell."

"I'm shocked you would know that word," he said. "You must have been a mistress to know it."

She slapped him, hard. Then she cried and walked away from him. The realization hit him that he had probably insulted her and he ran after her.

"Lady Ileana, please," he said anxiously. "Please forgive me. I forget that your world likely has different beliefs and customs than ours. Obviously the word mistress insulted you and for that I am truly sorry. Please, don't go. I am enjoying your company and I'm learning from you. I would like to know more."

She stopped and looked up at the sky then turned around and faced him. His handsome face was full of regret and he had his hand out in friendship.

"In your world I probably would be seen as a mistress," she said. "I was engaged to be married and for six months we lived together to raise money for the wedding. A month ago I had to run home to pick up my computer for work as I had forgotten it. When I walked in I could hear laughter in the bedroom so I opened the door. There was Jeremy fucking a waitress, a serving maid, in our bed...IN OUR BED. I packed my bags and I left him. I had my heart broken that day. Then today, this evening actually, I was meeting friends and I couldn't get a taxi to the restaurant so I walked. A creep followed me and even though I tried to stay inside a safe space I was told to leave because I was loitering. He attacked me of course and then I woke up here to two scumbags trying to rape me and YOU LET THEM GO! Like it was my fault I woke up in a forest with no idea of how I got here. Now you're giving me all this bullshit about how a woman's place is in the home, having and raising children but if she doesn't produce a son she can be divorced. That's medieval bullshit. I want to wake up. I want to go home back to what is familiar to me. I want..."

She broke down and really started to cry, sinking down to the ground. He kneeled beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. From inside his jacket he produced a silken handkerchief and offered it to her. She wiped her eyes and her nose and slowly calmed down. Then she looked up at him and he suddenly kissed her, gently at first, then firmer and more passionately. He pulled away and stood up, facing away from her.

"Forgive me," he said, loudly. "That was inexcusable of me. I have pledged to honour your chastity and that shouldn't have happened. When we reach the holder's cottage tomorrow I will leave you there and send word to the king to send a carriage for you. Come, we need to ride some more before we reach shelter for the night."

He helped her back onto Magnus, then mounted the horse, took control of the reins and urged the great horse on. Not once did he speak or look at her and he took great care not to lean into her unless he couldn't help it. When they reached their shelter, a small stone hut, he told her to go inside while he tended to the horse. She saw him take the saddle bags down and pull out a handful of horse feed out of one of them, then hand feed it to the horse. He removed the horse's saddle, blanket, and bridle and leaned his forehead against the great horse's forehead.

"Go, find what you need," he said, "but be careful and return here by sunrise, old friend."

He carried everything in then went to find kindling and firewood. Building a pyramid of wood he pulled a flint out of his jacket pocket and struck a knife against it, generating a spark on a piece of dried moss. As it caught he blew on it until it flamed then he placed it into the wood and blew some more until it caught in a rush. Going to the wall he took a bow and a quiver of arrows that hung there.

"I will be back," he said simply. "Keep the fire going but I shouldn't be long."

He came back later with a pheasant and a rabbit. He skinned the rabbit and cleaned it outside. There was a long metal skewer with a handle on the end. Threading the rabbit onto it he then placed it in a bracket over the fire and asked Ileana to turn it while he prepared the pheasant. Taking it outside he plucked it, cut off its feet and head then cleaned its insides out. He gathered up the remains and threw them away from the hut. He threaded the bird onto another long skewer and sat opposite Ileana turning it.

"You seem to know your way around preparing food," she said. "I'm surprised a lord would know this."

"I wasn't always a lord," he said. "I was born in an ordinary family, son of a tenant farmer, then I became a soldier. I became a lord at the pleasure of my king after I helped him reclaim his heritage."

"Who is your king?" she asked.

"Steven of the Broken Lands," he said. "When his kingdom was stolen from him, his old nursemaid smuggled him out of the castle and left him with my father, who had been a soldier with his father before he became a farmer. We grew up as brothers and when he reached manhood we raised an army to recapture his realm from the Mad Titan. It took a long time but we prevailed and he has been king for ten mostly peaceful years. As thanks for our sheltering him and for fighting by his side he made me Lord Buchanan and awarded me my lands. My father lives there still, tending his vegetable garden where he is happiest."

"What is your given name?"

"James Barnes," he said quickly then looked away briefly. "My wife never called me My Lord, she always called me James. When she said it, it sounded like honey coming out of her mouth. My world ended when she died in childbirth and our son joined her six hours later."

"I'm sorry," said Ileana. "You must have loved her very much."

"I did," he replied, looking steadily at her. "I misled you when I said most men have a wife and mistresses. I never wanted mistresses as she was enough for me. We worshipped each other with our hearts, minds and bodies. When I kissed you that was the first time I had kissed a woman in three years."

He looked away towards the door, still open though the darkness loomed. Then he turned back to Ileana and spoke softly.

"You are my Elena," he murmured, his eyes lit up by the flames from the hearth. "Her equivalent from another world. I was attracted to you the moment I saw your face. It's like she is walking with me again. It's unfair to compare you, I know. We will share the bed tonight but I promise on my honour and to the memory of my Elena that I will not violate your trust. It gets cold in these huts at night and we will only have the fire, our body heat and Magnus' saddle blanket to keep us warm. Do you trust me?"

Without hesitation she said yes and he was satisfied with that. Using his knife he pulled a piece of the rabbit off and tasted it. From inside his boot he produced another knife and pulled another piece of the rabbit off and offered it to Ileana. They ate in silence. Ileana thought she would gag at eating it after seeing him skin and clean it but it was tasty and it warmed her up inside. He stood up, then closed and bolted the door, returned to rotate the pheasant. With his knife he cut a piece off and tasted it then took her knife and cut a piece off for her. Like the rabbit it was tasty and warmed her inside. Between the two of them they ate everything until the bones were clean. Gathering them up in his hand he opened a door to a room in the back.

"This is the privy," he explained. "To relieve yourself and to throw our bones into. It's over a cliff so it doesn't attract predators. There is nothing to clean yourself with after so you may want to sacrifice some of your lace skirt if you're so inclined. If you do I would beg some of it myself."

He threw the bones down and closed the door. He went to another corner where there was a sink and showed her the pump. He removed his gloves, jacket and shirt then lifted the handle several times and a stream of clear water came out. He let it pour over his hands then cleaned his face and shoulders. Ileana noticed his lean and muscular body. She also noticed his left arm was badly scarred. He saw what she was looking at and faced her directly so she could see it completely.

"The Mad Titan almost took my arm the day of the final battle," he said. "The King himself saved my life, taking the Mad Titan's head with the help of one of our allies. The Sorceress was able to restore the arm's function but not it's appearance. I have full use of it so for that I am glad."

He stepped back to let Ileana have use of the pump. She stopped and bent over her lace skirt, tearing off the bottom foot of it. She handed him half of the strip. Smiling he dried his face and shoulders with it, his eyes never leaving hers. She raised the handle of the pump until she got a stream of water. Wetting the edge of the lace, she wiped down her face and neck. Then she tore a six inch portion off the lace and used the privy. When she returned he was adding wood to the fire to keep it going all night. The bed was little more than a burlap sack filled with wood chips. He placed the saddle blanket on it, then suggested she get on the wall side of it. He put his shirt on but not his jacket explaining he naturally was warm bodied and didn't want to sweat into the jacket during the night. Ileana faced the wall and he curled up behind her, placing his arms around her. His closeness was disconcerting but he explained their body heat combined should be enough to sleep. Either she was incredibly tired or he was right because she fell asleep within minutes.

For James Barnes, Lord Buchanan, sleep took longer to come. He could smell her dark chestnut hair and the faint scent of perfume from her neck. He wondered if he should have revealed her resemblance to his late wife but it was done and couldn't be taken back. The next morning, after they arrived at the Archer's hut he would leave her there and send the Archer's oldest son to the King for a carriage. She would be safe with the King. For a moment he wondered if the Baron would be at the castle as that could make him change his mind about sending her. For tonight he could pretend it was Elena in his arms during her monthly bleed. That would make it easier to honour his pledge to this strange woman from a future world.

Chapter 2>>

Series Masterlist

Please like, comment or reblog if you liked this chapter.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes au #James Buchanan Barnes au #medieval bucky #bucky with a sword #bucky with a horse

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leehanji · 1 year

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Bucky’s face turned towards him and when he opened his eyes Steve swore he saw starlight glittering in their blue depths. He smiled back, lost in the way the moonlight made Bucky’s skin glow. Bucky’s hand found his on the cool stone railing and his warmth sent shivers down Steve’s spine. “Steve,” he breathed, sliding his thumb across the back of Steve’s hand. “I—“

...Coming soon to an AO3 near you.

Patreon || NSFW

#stucky #steve x bucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #medieval AU #captain america #winter soldier #my art #marvel #mcu #leehanji

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demobatfluffyart · 3 days

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#ai art #medieval au #bucky barnes #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel comics #winter soldier

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fandoms-writings · 1 year

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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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dilfmansion · 8 months

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medieval fantasy au with monster hunter!Steve and werewolf!Bucky that I desperately want to write and pop on ao3

the two of them used to hunt together, before Bucky turned. they were some of the most well-known mercenaries in the country, at least before the accident.

Bucky was swarmed by a pack of werewolves during an ambush and, when the blood cleared from his eyes and he was alone, Steve accepted his death reluctantly. it was a hazard of their job, one he had learned early on he had to be okay with.

it’s not until years later, when Steve is hired to eradicate a werewolf tormenting a small town that he sees Bucky again, even though neither recognizes the other at first.

it’s during a full moon that Steve makes his attack; wolves become frantic when the light hangs heavy in the sky. they make mistakes.

Steve had fought his fair share of werewolves before, during, and after working with Bucky, but nothing like this. the creature was massive, saliva dripping in threads from bloody fangs and white fur streaked with viscera and grime. it was feral. there was no humanity behind its yellow canine eyes, even the last vestiges that the wolves he had seen before had.

he doesn’t even recognize the wolf as Bucky until he manages to wound it. his sword blade through the meat if it’s shoulder. the creature screams, not even a howl, and for just a moment, the shock of digging pain brings the animal out of its trance and Steve sees it. sees him. just a glimpse, barely a difference, but it’s face falls into something more human, more his friend.

as the moon begins to set the werewolf uses Steve’s distraction to escape, eyes flashing back to sick yellow as it moves once again into the thick darkness of the woods, only a trial of blood and a stunned Steve left behind.

thoughts?? ideas?? I’m thirsty for werewolf content and I miss stucky LMAO lmk what you think!! I’ll update on here when I do get around to writing/posting anything to ao3, I’m bearwrites over there :)

#stucky #steve x bucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel #captain america #winter soldier #medieval #werewolf #monster #monsters #fanfic #stucky fic #to write

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holylulusworld · 1 year

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Before you (4)

Title: Before you (4)

Summary: King Steven Grant Rogers once was a good king and a gentle alpha. Now he’s a cruel shadow of his former self. Can he find the light again?

Pairing: King(Alpha)!Steve Rogers x Maid(Omega)!Reader

Characters: Knight Sam Wilson, Peggy Carter (flashbacks), King Joseph Rogers

Warnings: angst, language, grumpy and loud Steve, hurt reader, Bucky is the best (soft Bucky is a warning, okay), sadness, mentions of loss of loved ones, flashbacks, undefined age gap, jealous Steve?

Before you masterlist

<< Part 3

Flashback - around fifteen years ago, the castle, …

“I don’t care about my status,” Steven raises his voice. “I made a promise to myself and Y/N. She’s my chosen bride. I will not break my word.”

“Son, as a king you will have to break a lot of promises. We cannot choose a mate or queen out of love. Peggy of Carter will make a lovely bride.”

“Noooo!” the prince stomps his foot to the ground and angrily glares at his father. It’s the first time he refuses to listen to the king. “I have chosen my bride. There will be no other for me.”

“Steven Grant Rogers, you are the crown prince. Act like one,” the king’s voice booms through the castle. “You’re still a boy, not a man. In a few years, you’ll see things differently.”

“No. I won’t,” the prince crosses his arms over his chest. He shakes his head. “Next time I see Y/N I’ll give her a promise ring.”

“Well then, you will not see her again,” the king says.

Steven’s heart sinks. It feels like something just grabbed his heart and ripped it out of his chest.

Love can be cruel.

A king can be even crueler. Even though, he knows how his son feels.

“You will forget about her soon enough.”

Around five years ago, the castle, shortly before your father’s and brother’s death, …

“Prince Steve, look at you,” Peggy coos as she steps inside the throne room to greet the king and Steve. “You have grown so much.”

“I can say the same about you,” Steve tries to be polite, but today, it’s even harder to put on a brave face.

Once again, his father refused to let the prince visit his one true love. The wild girl that ran with horses and climbed on trees.

He can barely remember her face. It’s been almost ten years since he last saw her. All he remembers is her laughter, and how her lips felt against his trembling ones.

“Your highness, I’m honored to come here for the feast.”

“The pleasure is all ours,” the king softly says but he gives his son a stern look. “My son’s chosen bride must see the castle before the marriage. Right, son?”

“Chosen bride,” Steven splutters. “Father, a word?”

“No, you can’t do this!”

“I already arranged everything, son. Peggy of Carter will become your wife. You were friends with her before you even met that girl,” the king raises his voice. “My decision is final.”

“How can you do this to me?”

“A king must make decisions not everyone will like, Steven. One day, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Now go out there and dance with your queen…”

Steve reluctantly agreed to dance with Peggy after his father threatened to let the girl he loves lock away. “A nice evening. It’s so good to be back.”

“I thought you wanted to marry King Stark,” Steve tries to be nice, but his heart is shattered. All he can think of is the girl he’ll never see again. “Or so I heard.”

“None of the rumors were true,” Peggy coos. “You’ll make such a good king, and devoted husband.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll make you a father soon, and we can-“

Steve stops dancing and drops his hands. He shakes his head. “I can’t pretend that this is what I want. I can’t marry you, Peggy. I’m sorry…”

“Why?” she gasps. “Your Highness. Please tell me why?”

“My heart belongs to someone else…”

Steve runs off, to leave the castle and get to you.

He doesn’t see Peggy’s features darken or that she digs her nails into the palms of her hands, drawing blood as she stands in the ballroom, all eyes on her…

___

Now, outside the castle, graveyard, …

“What can I do, my beloved wife,” Steve stands in front of Peggy’s gravestone once again. “She’s the one I told you about. I wanted to marry her, and now…”

“Steve, the doctor said you shall come to your chamber,” Bucky huffs as his brother places a single flower on his wife’s grave. “I know you loved her, but there is a girl you loved too in your bed. She needs you.”

“I have a wife and child to mourn.”

“You sure about the child?” whipping his head toward Bucky, the king snarls. “Just saying, rumors inherit truth sometimes. Peggy came around…a lot.”

“I know you never liked my queen,” Steve is in his brother’s face. He pants heavily, and balls his hands into fists, “but you won’t disrespect her likes this.”

“She was away for a month to visit King Howard and his queen, and a week later she’s pregnant after years of trying?” Bucky grunts. “I know you believe she was pure, but Peggy was far from being a good wife…”

“That girl is a maid. If she’s awake, send her away,” Steve presses his wedding band to his lips.

He can’t give in.

A king must be strong. A king must follow the law. A king must not fall in love with someone he cannot have…

“Easy there, mouse,” Bucky helps you sit up. Your head still hurts, and you can only keep your eyes open for a few moments, but you are awake. At last.

“I-I should go,” you grab Bucky’s hand. “Where’s my bundle? I need to…go.”

You whimper when you catch another alpha’s scent.

“Steve, be nice,” his brother warns as the king enters his chamber. “I’ll bring her to my chambers if I must.”

“Do as you please.”

Steve looks tired and sad. Even sadder than after his wife’s death.

“I’m tired and need sleep. Get her away from me.”

“Your highness,” you weakly say. “I’ll get my clothes and bundle, and I’ll be gone. I won’t return.”

“Where do you want to go?” Bucky sadly asks.

“I will try to find someone I knew before my family died,” you clutch your hands together. “Maybe it’s stupid, but he promised to marry me. He was just a boy, and I don’t think he’ll remember me but—”

“You want to find that boy?” The king chuckles humorlessly.

“Yes.”

“Why? To bother him too,” you flinch at Steve’s harsh tone. “Do you honestly believe he remembers a dirty little maid?”

“I wasn’t always a maid.” You sniffle.

“Steve, stop right there,” Bucky hands you your bundle to calm you. “Everything is still there. I made sure of it, Y/N.”

“T-hank you. I will go now.”

“Your highness,” stumbling into the king’s chamber without knocking, Lord Samuel gasps. He didn’t know about you in his king’s room. “I’m sorry for intruding, but I found this in Lady Sharon’s hands. I knew you were looking for it.”

Sam lowers his head as he offers a book to his king.

“Her diary,” Steve whispers lowly. He was looking for his wife’s diary since she died. One day, it was just gone.

“What did Lady Sharon say?”

“Lady Sharon said that her cousin forgot the diary in her chambers. After her death, it was dear to her. She didn’t want to give it away.”

“Hmm…,” running one hand over his thick beard Steve glances at the diary in his hand. “Do you believe her?”

“No, my king. She was very nervous and tried to hide the diary. Lady Sharon refused to hand it to me at first. I had to threaten to tell you about her behavior to get it.”

“I see.”

You frown. Why would anyone steal the queen’s diary?

Well, that’s none of your concern. All you want is to get out of the castle and find some peace and quiet.

Far away from the king…

Around five years ago, weeks after your father and brother died, the castle, …

“Son, we need to talk,” the king is unusually quiet as he places his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I know we thought differently about the girl you liked so much but—”

“Father? What’s wrong?”

Steve gasps as a single tear runs down his father’s cheek. The prince doesn’t know his father respected your father, even would’ve called him a friend.

“There was a fire, Steven. You know, at the stables,” a cold shiver runs down Steve’s spine as his father squeezes his shoulder. “You got to be strong now, son. I sent my knights to get to know more about the incident. It looks like the girl and her family tried to save the horses and all died…”

“No,” Steve falls to his knees. He hugs himself, crying bitterly as his father crouches down in front of him. “This can’t be, father.”

“It’s what my knights told me, son,” the king sighs deeply. “You can cry for now. But when you leave the room, you got to show strength and grace.”

“Where is she buried? Can I visit her grave?” Steve chokes on his tears.

“I heard that there was nothing left to bury and that no one was there to bury them,” the king sniffs. “I’m sorry, son. If only I let you see her one last time…”

The king gets up. He places his hand on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing it.

The king doesn’t know the knights lied, and that your mother and you survived.

He doesn’t know someone hired his knights to get rid of you and your family…

Now, …

“Where is the king?!”

“He returned to his chamber and gave orders not to be disturbed,” Sam says. “He looked a little tense after he talked to Sharon about the diary.”

“Fuck, little mouse,” Bucky hurriedly runs toward the king’s chambers. He told you to wait for him at the chamber, and now, you are all alone with the king once again.

Ten minutes earlier, the king’s chamber, …

“Why are you still here?”

You whimper as the king, not Bucky enters the chamber. You stand next to the door as the king slams it shut. He locks the door before you can slip out.

“I asked you a question,” he looks down at you with angry eyes. “Mouse, answer me.”

“Bucky said I shall wait here for him,” you shyly reply. “I didn’t want to leave without his allowance. He gave me an order, your highness.”

“Oh, he’s your king now, huh?”

“He’s…”

“Answer your king,” he lifts your chin with his index finger. “You should know, you only got one king, and that’s me.”

“I know, your highness.”

You’re full-bloom panicking as the king snatches the bundle with your few belongings out of your hands. He eyes it warily before throwing it onto his bed.

“I don’t think you know, omega,” a shudder runs through your whole being hearing your presentation leave his lips. “But you’ll know soon enough.”

“You’re the only king I serve.”

You drop your eyes to the ground. “I’m your only king. Your only master,” he mumbles as he leans closer to sniff at your neck. “Do you remain untouched or did anyone dare to put their hands on what’s mine, omega?”

“I-“ you shake your head.

“Steve? Steven?” Bucky hammers against the door. “You need to let her go. It was my fault. I told her to wait for me at your chamber. Please…Steve don’t hurt her.”

“I think he needs to learn how to talk to his king too,” Steve growls. His eyes begin to glow as he cups the back of your neck.

You whimper as he leans closer again. He’s so much taller and scarier up close. His stormy blue eyes look you deep in the eyes as he does something you never expected.

He calls you by your name. “Y/N, I need you to go to the balcony and leave me alone before I lose control.”

“Your highness?” you’re scared and confused but follow his orders the moment he releases you. “Yes, your highness.”

“My king,” he corrects. “You’ll address me with my king from now on.”

He watches you snatch the bundle from his bed before you rush toward the balcony. You take deep breaths to calm your nerves as Steve unlocks the door to leave his room.

“Steve? What did you do? Where is she?” Bucky panics as he cannot see you.

“I need to see it for myself,” Steve dips his head to look at his wedding band. “You’ll tell the doctor to check on Y/N, and, she needs new clothes.”

“What do you need to see? Steve?” Bucky frowns when his brother just stares at the wedding band. “Brother?”

“I need to see what’s left of her home and if she’s the one I left behind. I need to talk to the villagers and find the truth behind all of these lies.”

“Steve, you cannot go to the village. Everyone will recognize you and not tell you the truth.”

“Well then, we will hide our identity and find out if my father lied and what really happened that night…”

>> Part 5

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