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beananacake · 8 months

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My Crown Upon Your Head (Ch. 2)

Prince!Bucky Barnes x Reader

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

WC: 4.9K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wanda laced your stays as she replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, dear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mein Gott!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His question oozed incredulity and judgement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At that, James laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

James had momentarily forgotten his friend was present.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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subwaysurf45 · 2 years

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The Time of the Prey (1)

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

Pairing: Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: nothing much, fluff and setting the scene

Series Masterlist II Series Playlist

Smile and nod.

You crouched in front of your trunk and gently placed the clothes you were taking on the trip in, pushing them down to make room for the other dresses you were also packing. The rain pattered against your window as you hummed a tune, though you can’t remember where it was from, it seemed to be the song you hummed most often.

The trunk was made of strong wood with brass hinges and locks, it had been dented and repaired a few times due to your clumsiness. The brass isn’t as strong as gold, you found this out from comparing it to your old sister’s trunk she took on trips; if Natasha, your older sister, would dent the trunk she’d immediately get a new one rather than repair it.

Natasha’s room was also bigger than yours, she had more windows and more vanity space. She had two handmaids as well, which was two more than you. Right now, as you packed she was most likely sitting on her chair and telling her maids what to bring and where to put it, not even lifting a finger. Natasha was most likely sitting with her back straight, holding a mirror as she brushed her red hair. Or she was squealing like a child over another letter from her future husband, Prince Steve.

The door flew open, “let me read you this!” Natasha had run in and jumped on your bed, “it’s a letter from Prince Steve, he’s so excited to see me tomorrow!”

You looked up and smiled at her, nodding your head.

“Well,” Natasha whispered, “can I read it?’

“Sure,” you sighed and continued packing your things.

“My dearest, Natasha- ugh, he’s such a prince,” she gasped, “anyways, my dearest, Natasha. As you know tomorrow is an important day for the two of us, we will finally meet. I receive and read your letters almost every other day, they are the height of my waking moments, but I feel as though nothing will compare to how I’ll feel when I finally see you tomorrow. I’ve been sent small paintings of you and you’ve described what you look like, your red hair will flow like water as we run to each other, I’ll finally feel your warm embrace which is all I’ve ever wanted.” Natasha took a deep breath, “and he finishes with: I’ve been dreaming about this day since I was a child, I can not fathom that this will be true, but I can’t wait to spend my life with you- he’s so poetic…” Natasha sighed and stretched out on your bed, almost as if that letter had taken her breath away in the literal sense.

“That’s a very lovely letter, sister,” you nodded as you finished putting in your clothes.

“When will you marry?” Natasha asked as she sat up, “we are only three years apart and you are of age, what is taking so long?”

“Well, Natasha,” you sighed and sat back on your calves, “mother can only do so much, she is spending her time on you because you are the oldest, I don’t know when I’ll get married but it’s not like it’s going to matter.”

“It will matter,” Natasha scowled, “it will matter to you but not the public.”

“Our entire existence is for the public, Natasha,” you were beginning to get aggravated, “I was not born out of love, I was born out of politics. Knowing that I must do the same makes me sick,” you crossed your arms.

“I find it romantic,” Natasha whispered, “I can’t wait to be a mother and marry Prince Steve, one day I’ll be the queen of Shieldshire,” her eyes drifted away as she daydreamed.

“It’s a mouthful,” you muttered.

“Well, you are obviously sour,” Natasha stood and walked to her door, “I’ll just go talk to mother about princess things because it is obvious you don’t want to be one,” she turned on her heel and quickly left, closing the door behind her.

“Glad someone notices,” you rolled your eyes before closing the truck. Being unladylike was something of a specialty for you, over your life you had found ways to do it behind your mother’s back but still in front of Natasha so she’d lose her temper.

Though your room was small with a window you managed to capitalize on the space on the walls. Your art hung everywhere around your room, with different size canvases and different ways of art filling the space. You had sculpted the head of someone from a sketch you drew, it was the hardest piece but the most fulfilling. Paintings of lakes on royal grounds, the queen’s guard, and the massive ballrooms filled with different people were scattered everywhere. You had made sure to make room for a small palette and canvases, taking out a few dresses which didn’t matter to you.

Tensions were high throughout the royal families, Shieldshire and the Southlands- your land and Prince Steve’s lands -were not fighting at all, the two families that ruled had been allies for years on end, always a safe bet to marry into each other’s family. There hadn’t been a wedding between the Southlands and Shieldshire in many generations, there had been other politics to be taken care of. But Hydra’s Hill and Red River were about to start a war, whispers travelled through every meeting that took place in the throne room at Southlands, you had always been the one to fill Natasha in later.

You didn’t know if it was a land dispute between the two smaller kingdoms or something else that had never been explained before. All you knew was that Red River and Hydra’s Hill never liked one another, never married into each other, and never liked how the little land they had shared a border. There had always been tension but with the number of allies and weddings happening you knew everything was about to snap.

That was why Natasha was going to marry Prince Steve, not because they will fall in love.

But because Shieldshire can provide food to the common folk if a war breaks out.

And Southlands can provide an army.

********

“Thank you,” you muttered to the driver of the carriage as you stepped in, your mother and Natasha were You could hear the two horses that were going to pull the carriage getting antsy, they were stomping their hooves and making the occasional sound. It was a very hot spring day, out of the ordinary for the season but it meant that summer was close. Natasha would get married in late summer, it had always been her favourite time of year. Through the open windows, you could see the buds beginning to show on the trees around the courtyard, you watched as a light breeze moved the thin branches.

“Let’s go!” Natasha cheered as she jumped into the carriage.

“Natasha,” your mother, Lady Melina, scolded as she stepped in, “you can’t be this unladylike when you’re meeting Prince Steve.”

“Sorry mother,” Natasha muttered.

“Y/N,” your mother looked at you, “did you pack your easel and canvases?”

“Yes,” you nodded, you hadn’t packed all of it.

“I got you that trunk for your art supplies, why is it not in the back of the carriage?” Your mother knew that you never wanted to be a princess, she was happy you had fallen so in love with art. She had told you once it was always easier to raise someone who didn’t know they were a princess rather than one who did; though Natasha was her favourite, you were easier to raise.

“There wouldn't be enough room,” you said it like that was common knowledge, shaking your head a little.

“There’s room back there, I’m not bringing a lot.” Lady Melina got the driver's attention, “check the back to see if there’s room, please.”

“There isn’t,” the driver shook his head, “it was hard to close it, there’s a lot of baggage back there, Lady Melina.” the driver walked away with a bow, and soon the carriage began to move.

“How much did you pack?” your mother turned to Natasha, “I hope you know all your gifts will be fabric and dresses, you could have packed nothing and you would have a full wardrobe by the end of the week.”

“I love all my dresses,” Natasha said as she played with her hair, “I couldn’t leave some behind.”

“Yes you could have,” your mother gently smacked her thigh, “very few people are going to gift Y/N anything, you know this,” you didn’t think your mother would get so upset, “art is her favourite thing, you could have left room for her.”

“Mother,” you sighed, “it’s fine.”

“That’s very selfish, Natasha.” your mother rolled her eyes and looked out the window.

You were sitting on your own on one bench, and your mother and Natasha were sitting across from you. No one was talking after your mother’s scolding, you really didn’t think it was that big of a deal because it wasn’t the first time Natasha only thought about herself, she was your big sister who grew up with a spotlight on her, she wanted to keep on her and you couldn’t blame her.

As the country land passed by, you found yourself tuning out the muttered conversation between Natasha and your mother, Natasha had asked a question which lead to a civil conversation. There were a few farms as you passed, people recognized a royal carriage and waved as you passed, and you leaned out the window and waved back.

The driver leaned over, “there’s a farmer up ahead with food, should I stop?”

“Yes!” you yelled, turning around to see the driver.

The carriage came to a stop and you leaned out the window, waving the farmer over.

“H-hello, your royalty,” he was very shy and his daughter was hugging his leg, “we heard you were coming down this path, I-I have some fruits if you’d like?” he held up a small basket, “you don’t need to take any, just thanks for all you’ve for us folk on the farms, thank you, Lady Melina.” your mother was the one who made the laws for your kingdom.

“Of course,” she smiled and took the basket into the carriage, “thank you for your hard work, sir.”

You and Natasha smiled, you leaned over and looked at the small girl who was still very shy, “what’s your name?”

She slowly looked up, “m-my name is Betty.”

My grandmother, you thought, “such a pretty name.”

Soon enough you were back on the road, making your way to Shieldshire with food to keep you all awake. You sketched in the book you brought in the carriage, trying to capture the budding trees and clouds in the sky. Your mother was stitching while Natasha sat and was still with only her hands rubbing one another.

You knew she was nervous, her time writing to Prince Steve was over and now she had to meet him in real life, which would make anyone nervous.

“So, Natasha,” you placed your book down, “what colour do you think the curtains in your room will be?” it was a very specific question but making her think about something else while relating it back to the castle would calm her down.

She just looked at you for a moment, “maybe a dark red?” she asked, “I will have to see what the inside looks like, if it’s a light grey stone then it will be dark red but if it’s dark grey stones than I don’t know what it would be, they shouldn’t have too many darks.”

“But you will like it all the same,” your mother chimed in.

“We know,” you spoke for Natasha, “she will love everything, Natasha is beyond excited, the colour of the curtain won’t make her run back to the carriage, I’m just…” you twirled your hand around to try and find the word, “distracting her from being stressed out, mother.” you quickly glanced at Natasha and she nodded towards you with a smile, she might be a hassle but she was still your sister.

As the castle began to show on the horizon Natasha became extremely nervous, constantly asking if any hairs were out of place or if her makeup had smudged anywhere. You stayed calm, telling her she was beautiful as always. Your mother stayed composed as well, sitting there like nothing was happening.

When the carriage turned into the courtyard you leaned over and grabbed Natasha’s hand, “you’ll make a great wife, Natasha, Prince Steve is lucky to have you.”

Natasha nodded, a smile growing on her face. Before the carriage stopped Natasha jumped out of the car, running with her arms wide to meet the man who stood at the top of the steps. He was also running down to meet her, a smile wide on his face. When they met they embraced for a while, swaying in the middle of the massive staircase to their castle.

With the number of letters Natasha had read to you, Prince Steve was a pretty decent match to his descriptions. He was taller than her with short blond hair that curved to one side at the front, you could see his blue eyes from the carriage. He was dressed in his nicest clothes, a heavily detailed tunic with form-fitting pants as well.

As you opened the carriage door your mother grabbed your wrist, “I know you are younger than her,” she spoke quietly, “but you are wiser, I also know you do not wish to participate in the…political act of getting married,” she looked out the window again to see Natasha and Prince Steve waiting for the two of you, “just tell me if anyone meets your eye.”

You smiled and nodded before getting out of the carriage, helping your mother out as well. Both of you took your time as you walked up the step, your hands gently holding your skirt up to make sure you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of Natasha’s suitor.

“Lady Melina,” Prince Steve slightly bowed his head, “it is beyond a pleasure to finally meet you and your daughter. And you, Princess Y/N.”

“The honour is mine,” you spoke as if it was second nature; because it was.

As the Prince talked you looked around the setting, seeing six knights standing by the entrance, three on either side. They all had their helmets off and did not wear armour, just their sword on their belt. The only reason you knew they were knights was that they wore chainmail over a tunic with the family crest on it, an eagle. After scanning the knights once you looked at the height and intricacy of the castle, seeing its massive towers and flag.

You didn’t look for too long because the hair on the back of your neck stood up, the feelings of eyes on you weren’t new, but the intensity of the stare was. You looked over your shoulder to see the carriage driver working with the servant of Shieldshire to bring in the many trunks your sister had packed, when you looked forward again your mother had her arm out, a sign for you to take it.

“Are you alright?” she whispered as Natasha and Prince Steve walked in front of them.

“Yes,” you patted her hand, “don’t worry about me.”

Before you walked into the castle the feeling intensified, your eyes feeling the tug to look to your left. You had finally found the source, the third knight was looking at you. When he noticed you spotted him the knight slowly blinked and bowed his head, a gentle hello. You did the same and couldn't help but smile a little.

The knight stood tall, his long brown hair falling to his shoulders. His eyes were like crashing waves, pulling you in. you didn’t get a good look at his face but you saw enough to know he was your type, strong and beautiful. When you looked over your shoulder before the door closed you caught his eyes again, this time he had a smirk on his face before you looked at him.

When you looked forward a gasp left your body without thinking. The castle was grand and beautiful, you had always known your castle was on the smaller side but compared to this beast of a building your home looked like a shack.

The first and main room you walked into was open, there were benches everywhere with people walking around. It seemed as though common folk of the higher class could come and go as they please, there were knights at every corner and doorway. The walls were textured and carefully placed with light grey stones, as you walked around the outside of the common room your hand felt the wall as you looked up to the tremendously high ceiling. Each window in the common room was made of different shards of stained glass, casting colourful shadows below it. As you walked on the reflection of the ground a laugh escaped your lips, no one was paying attention to you so you jumped from each chunk of red reflection to another. There were red, blue, green, and yellow shards placed together to make an oval window.

Most of the guards stayed in the common room once you passed through the threshold to the royal areas. Each room seemed to be larger than the one before, the throne room was massive.

“Weddings, funerals, any celebration is held in here,” Prince Steve said as he looked at Natasha, “most of the space goes unused but when there is something to celebrate we seem to feel squeezed.”

“I bet it will feel that way when we marry,” Natasha said to Prince Steve, “so many people,” she gasped to herself. “Can't you believe it, Y/N?” she turned to ask you but you were elsewhere, still in the same room as Natasha but your mind had wandered.

“Y/N,” your mother scolded, “listen to your sister.”

“Sorry, mother,” you bowed slightly and looked at Natasha who repeated what she said, “yes, your wedding will be grand, I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle.”

When Natasha looked content with your answer you went back to looking at the small details of the room, I could paint this, you thought to yourself. Though most of the flooring was grey and stone you found everything was so different. The floor was sleek and had such shine you thought they were wet, the walls were still textured you bet you could paint the way they felt. Behind the golden throne, there were three massive stained glass windows, casting colourful light everywhere in the open space.

“The windows-” you began to ask but found no one was listening, your mother and sister were walking towards the throne and the knights followed Prince Steve and Princess Natasha.

“What were you saying?” a voice came from behind you.

You turned around to see the same knight who smiled at you before, his chain mail slightly rustling as he leaned down to whisper. When he was up close you could see a few scars on his face, one ran right above his eyebrow. His smile was shining, you could see his slightly crooked teeth.

“The stained glass,” you pointed around, “it’s beautiful.”

“Yes it is,” he nodded and stood tall, “they’re all around the castle, your chambers will have a window.” he walked with the group, “you are Princess Natasha’s younger sister, am I correct?”

“Yes I am,” you slightly bowed, it was second nature. “You are, Ser…?”

“James,” he quickly filled in the question, “Ser James.”

“I am Y/N,” you smiled at him, looking forward for a second to make sure you were still with the group.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Princess Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you looked down for a moment, his gaze was too intense.

You walked with the group as Prince Steve showed off the rest of the castle, eventually, he and Natasha broke apart from the group and left their handmaids and knights to escort you and your mother to their quarters. Two knights left and walked with Prince Steve and Natasha, two went with your mother, Ser James was the only one left with you; as well as a handmaid.

“Wait here, I'll find another guard,” James was about to walk away but you quickly stopped him, grabbing his wrist.

“I don’t need an escort, I’ll be fine with you and…” you looked at the handmaid.

“Bellona,” she squeaked.

“Bellona,” you repeated, “I’m awfully tired and I want to explore.”

Ser James just nodded his head and began to walk in an opposite direction than where your mother or Natasha went, he took a few turns before heading up the stairs. Bellona was walking behind you and Ser James was in front of you, he kept looking back to make sure you were still with him.

When you reached your room he opened the door for you, letting you walk in and take in the room. It was bigger than the one at home, the first thing you noticed was the stained glass window. You quickly walked up to it and pressed your hand against the blue shard, and then the yellow, and then the green.

“They really are everywhere,” you whispered.

“I do not lie,” Ser James took a step in.

“I never said you did,” you turned around a smirked, “why don’t you Knights wear normal shiny armour all the time?”

“Because,” Ser James shrugged, “Shieldshire is very…relaxed when it comes to formality, if we were being attacked I would be ready in less than five minutes.”

“But what if five minutes is too long?” you walked over to him, taking your sketchbook from Bellona who picked it up from the carriage.

“Then I will be dead,” Ser James looked above your head, checking the room, “I would have died in honour of the castle.”

“And you’re okay with that?” you asked, wondering how someone could.

“You don’t need to know that answer,” his eyes flicked down to you, “are you satisfied with the room, Princess?” his tone had turned sharp, you had been royal all your life and you knew when someone turned to extra formality they were upset.

“I-” you placed a hand on your chest, “I’m sorry, I said too much.” you shook your head, “I shouldn’t have asked that, my apologies, Ser James.”

“That’s alright,” he tilted his head to look down at you, “you’re forgiven,” but you didn’t know for sure, “the rest of your baggage will be brought up soon, is there anything else you need?”

“Just need to make sure you aren’t mad?” you asked slowly, trying to break out a smile to see if he will copy you.

A breathy laugh escaped his lips, his eyes travelled up and around before coming back down to you, “do not worry yourself, I am not cross,” you giggled at the word ‘cross’, “what?” he laughed, showing the creases near his eyes.

“You sound like my mother,” you laughed.

“She’s one scary woman,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, his face dropped, “don’t tell her I said that, please.”

“Let's just act this like conversation never happened, I didn’t step on your toes and you didn’t insult my mother, agreed, Ser James?” you stuck out your hand.

“Agreed, Princes Y/N,” he took your hand and shook it, “and you don’t need to have the Ser, by the way, call me Bucky.”

“Then don’t call me Princess,” you tilted your head to the side.

All he could do was give a bashful smile, “have a nice night, Princess Y/N.”

“And you, Ser James.”

When the door closed and you were left alone in your room, Bellona was nowhere to be found, you twirled around for a moment, letting out all the feelings you were trying to keep hidden in front of James. He was a very attractive man and when he talked to you it sent shivers down your spine, he looked at you in a way no one had; he actually saw you.

After jumping up and down a few times with a squeal you jumped onto the large bed in your room, hugging yourself as you closed your eyes and replayed the conversation again. His smile and his laugh, the way he held your hand when he shook it. Part of you wanted to run and tell Natasha but you also knew she was probably drooling after her actual suitor.

Your room had light stone walls without any curtains because the stained glass deflected some of the light. The bedding was a light yellow colour with poles sticking upon each of the four corners of the bed, holding up a cover on your bed which had light yellow hanging off of it; giving you some sort of cover if you chose to let it fall to the ground. Your clothes hadn’t been brought up but they would go in the large cabinet which would be your closet, there were already three dresses waiting for you; Natasha probably had ten waiting for her. The vanity was a sleek piece of wood that looked to be stained to make it look darker, there was a mirror with a very intricate gold frame. A few makeup products sat on the desk as well as a hairbrush.

“Here are your things, Princess Y/N,” someone had walked in with your trunk, “I was told to let you know your art supplies are in transport now, Lady Melina asked me to tell you,” you nodded as you opened the trunk, “there are also shoppes and vendors very close to the castle walls if you so chose to see them.”

“Will I need to be accompanied?” you asked.

“No,” he shook his head, “the vendors are close enough you would be in a guard's eyesight all the time if you’d like a guard with you and I can arrange that.”

“I’ll be fine, thank you though,” you smiled.

“Of course, Princess Y/N.”

When he left you fell back on your head, falling hard enough that the silk of the left side of the canopy fell down and touched the ground. You knocked the others down and laid on your bed in your own little world, holding your hands to your chest as you went back to thinking about Ser James. A smile slowly grew on your lips as you thought of what your mother said.

“Just tell me if anyone meets your eye.”

EPISODE 2

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thesugarclubs-blog · 10 months

Text

Love In The Dark - AU Bucky Barnes x OC

warnings: fantasy au, prince james "bucky" barnes, he hates everyone but her, he falls first, OC works in his palace, rude comments to staff, smut, 18+

word count: 8k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1358436681-love-in-the-dark-davina

Masterlist

“Follow,” the old maid demanded of Davina who scurried behind her in old flats that barely comforted her from the cobblestone beneath. “Do not fall behind on your chores, do you understand girl? Speak!” She barked before Davina could find her voice. “You won’t last a week,” the old woman pushed her through a small wooden door into a massive brick-and-mortar kitchen.

“You’ll work here for the time being,” she looked over at Davina with disgust, and for good reason. Her blonde hair seemed ashen, laced with dirt and plaited back and tied with whatever string she could find. Her skirts were drafty and her blouse was ill-fitting but she was clothed and ready to work for the coin.

“You do not address the king, you do not leave the kitchen unless instructed by my hand,” the maid warned, “and for your own sake do not make yourself known to the Prince. He has a temper.”

“A temper?” Was Davina’s only question when she finally spoke.

“I will speak no further on the matter, heed my warning and mind yourself,” she rumbled up her skirts in her withered old hands and scurried like a mouse from the humid kitchen.

The blonde sucked in a deep breath as she watched the older maid rush up the stone stairs and disappear through a door. From behind her, she could hear the bustling kitchen, the smell of onions and game cooking wafted around. Davina's nerves settled in her stomach and as she spun around to get to work, she jumped backward, startled.

"Watch it!" One of the cooks shouted as they moved around her to slide a hot pan onto the plating surface.

"Sorry," Davina mumbled, waiting for another second before stepping into the scene.

"You, new girl, get those plates in the warmer! The king will have our heads if dinner’s cold," The woman barked, moving around to continue chopping.

She nodded sharply, taking the heavy stack of ceramic plates in her arms and heading to the warmer. Davina kneeled slowly in front of it, focusing her mind on settling her quick breaths as she placed the plates on the cold floor beside her.

The last thing she wanted to do was drop something on her first day, it would certainly make it her last and she couldn’t take that risk.

She opened the warmer door and placed the plates carefully inside it. When she closed it, she let her hand fall to the ornate iron legs on which it stood, admiring the work and detail put into the paws.

She had an affinity for the small wonders of the world. The details that no one took to notice or care for. Someone had hand-crafted the legs of the massive warmer with feathered swirls and filigree.

“Keep moving,” she was ordered by another voice. It didn’t take long until the sweat was pouring down her neck between her breast and shoulder blades.

“Run this out to the dining room,” a gruff-looking male servant shoved a pitcher of wine into her sore arms.

“But—” she tried to protest and explain that she wasn’t to leave the kitchen but before she could. The man had disappeared back to work near the hot stove.

Davina furrowed her brows and stared between the pitcher of wine and the stone staircase that led up to the main house. She was meant to be a kitchen servant, helping the cook and washing dishes, not seen by any one of the upstairs maids or especially not the royal family. But at this moment, there was no one she could protest that to and in the mere moments she'd been in the palace, it was evident that the family hated waiting for things.

With a sharp inhale, she balanced the pitcher in both her hands to ensure it didn't spill and made her way up the staircase. Surely someone up there could help her find the dining room, even if she just had to follow one of the other staff members.

"Okay Davina, you can do this, just keep your head down and look like you've been here forever," she muttered to herself, taking each step slowly and carefully.

The moment she entered the stretch of hallway from the servant's staircase, she felt like she was in a completely different building. Rough stone and creaking wood became intricate designs painted on smooth walls and richly colored woolen carpets on polished floors. Flickering flames lined the hall, and as she followed them down they led to two large wooden doors.

“That must be it,” she murmured to herself as faint voices drifted from that same direction.

Davina straightened her back and made her way with quick quiet steps. She wanted to deliver the wine and get back where she belonged without trouble. But it seemed that was too good to be true.

“What are you doing out here?” The same old maid who had taken her to the kitchens appeared beside her, seemingly out of thin air. “You are to use the stairway that leads directly to the dining hall if you are serving, and I believe I gave you strict instructions not to leave the kitchens.”

“I—I didn’t… I,” Davina stammered, clutching the pitcher to her chest.

“Careful, foolish girl, you’ll crack the pitcher squeezing it like that!” The maid snapped, gripping Davina by the upper arm and spinning her to face the wall.

Davina’s confusion quickly abated as the old maid drew back one of the wall hangings to reveal a hidden door, which she opened and shoved Davina towards.

“Servants travel in the servants’ corridors. We don’t want the likes of you cluttering up the hallways,” she snapped, before stalking away.

Tutting her frustration and wondering why the old maid wasn’t using the servants’ corridors herself, Davina entered the dimly lit walkway and shut the door behind her. It ran parallel to the hallway she had walked down and not too far along was a nondescript wooden door that looked as if it should open into the same room as the large double doors she had spied before.

She steadied her nerve and entered the room, careful to keep it against the wall as she made her way to the long table holding the desserts and fruits until it was time to serve.

She had never been in such a room before. Ceilings so high she needed to crane her neck to see the ornate designs of the crystal chandelier that hung from the vaults. The room was draped in rich, dark green wallpaper that Davina could only assume was more expensive than anything she had ever touched.

“Wine,” a voice snapped from behind her and she was sucked back from her daydream to the loud room. Plush royals picked at their meals while a shrill violin played melancholy music in the corner. The violinist wore a tight smile that felt painful to look at.

“Are you daft?” The voice said again causing Davina to focus. A horribly skinny woman in a pleaded bright yellow gown barked at her. “Wine, now.” She tapped a long, feeble-looking finger against her crystal goblet.

Davina chewed on the inside of her cheek and nodded softly once. She knew she was way out of her depths here, but who was she to say no to one of the royal families? Pinning her shoulders back, she took careful steps towards the table, allowing her gaze to drift around the table as she did.

Taking an inventory of everyone who sat in front of her, she didn't want to be the person who messed up on the names of the royals. King James sat at the head of the table as usual, with Queen Winnifred at the other end. On either side sat another couple, the skinny woman and a man who she assumed was said woman's husband. Finally, there was a younger girl, a brunette in a violet dress, who was paying no attention whatsoever to the dinner but instead, had her gaze fixed on one of the servicemen that stood along the wall.

Her eyes drifted over and she was met with the piercing blue stare of Prince James "Bucky" Barnes, who rather than paying attention to the girl he was supposed to, had his eyes narrowed at Davina, watching her carefully as she moved around the table.

With a sharp intake of breath, Davina turned her head, trying to focus on her task. She could still feel Prince James’ eyes on her, and it took everything in her not to respond to the pull of his gaze.

The woman holding her goblet tutted, clicking her teeth as Davina hurried around to her seat.

“Where is your sense of urgency, girl? I’m parched here!”

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Davina murmured, “it’s my first day.”

She regretted uttering the excuse the moment it left her lips as the woman scoffed and turned to Prince James.

“I take it you’ll be doing an overhaul of the servants once you’re king, James? It’ll be needed.”

The Prince made no comment that Davina could hear and she dared to look at him once more. She wished she hadn’t as she saw his full lips Prince twist in a snarl of derision and his jaw clenched tightly as he turned his attention away from her and focused on the younger girl next to him.

He leaned over and whispered something in her ear, his eyes flashing with devilry as the girl burst into peals of laughter.

“Show some decorum, Rebecca,” the Queen hissed, glaring at her child.

“Sorry Mother,” the Princess replied demurely, trying to rein in her smile.

The wine poured into the goblet carefully despite Davina's shaking hands and she was able to find her spot against the wall once again, cradling the pitcher like it might protect her from the ill intent and dirty stares of the family. Her attention still carefully and quietly focused on the Prince and Princess, who seemed to have their own quiet language that no one else paid much attention to.

She cracked a small smile as the Prince pushed around his food on his plate to resemble a messy, gravy-covered painting that could have been a pig but Davina wasn't sure until Rebecca began laughing again and the King turned beet red as the Prince cast a devilish smirk across the table.

"You two will be the ruin of this family," the king muttered beneath his labor breathing.

"James, please," The queen gritted her teeth, setting her fork down, "Do not start this again"

Davina cast her eyes down into the pitcher, attempting to tune out the conversation that she expected to transpire, afraid she would hear something that she wasn't supposed to. When working for families of higher positions, there was always topics you would overhear and information that was meant to be kept between family members. Most servants would just push it away or discuss it amongst themselves, but it was never on day one that conversations of this stature were witnessed.

"No father, please, continue," Prince James grinned dramatically, "I for one love hearing how Becca and I are going to ruin this realm,"

Davina swallowed hard. It was the first time she actually heard the prince speak. His voice was deep but melodic. Playful.

She stayed in place as the family began to bicker. “James, don’t start,” the queen warned once more. “I do not want more china broken.”

The temper thing seemed true then, Davina thought as her gaze flitted to the prince. She lingered on his jaw, stubbled and tight as it clenched, and then dragged it upward to stormy eyes.

Stormy eyes landed on her, and Prince James furrowed his brow curiously. Davina couldn’t look away this time, transfixed on the way he was staring her down, his dark face framed by long hair.

She swallowed thickly, having to force herself to stop the inappropriate staring when James grunted and scraped his chair back from the table.

“I’m no longer hungry,” he stated, before turning to his younger sister, his voice suddenly a little softer as he continued, “I’ll be in the library, little butterfly if you wish to lose at chess again.”

“I only lose because you cheat, Bucky!” Princess Rebecca called after him as he left the table, much to the clear chagrin of their parents.

Davina could feel the air in the room grow tense as dinner came to a close and the family scattered among the castle walls. Davina finished what chores she had and walked home in the darkness. As the weeks turned to a month Davina settled into her responsibilities but her curiosity for the Prince never faded.

Smoothing down her dress, Davina made her way once more through the stone hallways of the palace. It was a warm summer's day, and she was thankful to be in the wing of the palace that had open hallways into the gardens.

As she walked, soft grunts echoed through the air and when the sight of Prince James came into her view, she stopped in her tracks. He was training outside today, moving swiftly as if he were dancing around his sparing instructor. Beads of sweat dripped down his throat to his chest, and his tanned skin glimmered under the sunlight, making the ocean blue of his eyes stand out that much more.

James parried a blow, blocking an incoming attack from the side, then swung his sword as he swiftly moved his feet in the opposite direction.

He was… beautiful. Davina hid in the shadows, hoping no one could see her as she watched every move the prince made.

He’s brilliant.

She could almost see the calculations he was making in his head, eyes moving fast as he accurately predicted his opponent’s next moves.

Lifting his sword, his muscles tensed as he snarled and brought it down with a mighty clash, metal to metal. Davina’s stomach swooped at the pure strength behind James’ movements, he was sculpted like the statues of the castle, a work of art.

Lost to her reverie, she was spooked by the clearing of a throat behind her.

“You’re not the first maid to stare at my brother and you certainly won’t be the last, not that I understand the reasons why,” the young Princess announced imperiously with a look of thinly veiled disgust.

“Your Highness…” Davina dropped a curtsey and bowed her head. “I wasn’t…I mean, I’m not…”

“If you say so,” Princess Rebecca smirked cheekily, her arms folded across her chest.

Davina stared at her feet, not wanting to admit that maybe she had been admiring the Prince. Even if the Princess was younger than her she was still a member of the royal family. Oh god, she was going to get in trouble for this, wasn't she?

"Ugh, ew!" Davina glanced up, only to see the Princess' nose wrinkled in disgust as she looked her over. "Don't servants bathe? You stink!"

The younger girl whirled around without another word, striding away with the imperious air that was typical of her station, leaving Davina feeling hurt and embarrassed. It wasn't her fault that she had no private place to bath where she lived.

"You kind of do," the Prince's low voice came from behind her, making her jump.

The hair on the back of Davina's neck stood on end as she slowly turned on her heel to face the Prince. Despite the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks she curtsied muttering a soft "Your Highness" before standing straight, taking a step back from his large frame.

Ocean blue eyes narrowed at her for a moment, "My sister, as brash as she is, is right. You need a bath." His words sent a burning sensation behind her eyes as she tried to hold back the tears from feeling the humiliation climbing through her veins.

"Yes sir," She said softly ignoring the shakiness in her voice.

He studied her once more before glancing behind him into the courtyard then up and down the hallways. Her eyes followed his own, finding themselves completely alone. Silence drifted between them before he glanced back at her, his eyes roaming her features as he took a step towards her and lifted his hand. Every muscle in her body tensed as the Prince's thumb brushed over her cheekbone wiping away at the smudge of dirt she had seen this morning but forgot to wipe away herself and watched as the blue in his eyes disappeared with something other than disgust.

Davina's breath shuddered while his hand lingered on her skin almost burning her with curiosity and a feeling in her belly that she should not be having for the Prince.

"There's a bath house for the servants on the edge of the grounds," He said, his voice huskier than before, "Use it. If you are told not to by any of the other maidens, you direct them to me."

Just as quickly as his fingers had found her skin, they were gone. His gaze lingered on her for a moment more before he turned and moved down the corridor, letting Davina force the breath she was holding out through her mouth.

She sighed to herself before going about the rest of her chores for the day in silence. When dusk came, she found the bathhouse that the Prince spoke of. It felt nice to be able to soak in the flowing water and to use the bath oils and hard goat's soap that she found.

Clean and dressed in a new hand-me-down shirt and skirt from an older maid, Davina took her small dinner in the servant's quarters before beginning her evening duties.

The breakfast for tomorrow morning needed preparing, bread dough to be proved and fruits to be soaked in syrup.

The small wooden clock on the mantle told her she was running behind and she hurried to the kitchens, blonde hair flying behind her as she fumbled to tie it back with ribbon. In her haste, she skipped the servant staircase, the castle was quiet and she doubted there would be anyone around to berate her now.

Past the great hall, left at the garden room and— oof

The library door swung open and she collided, hard and fast with the broad body of the prince, clad in soft cotton undergarments.

“Oh…oh my…I’m…your Highness!” Davina stammered, dropping into the lowest curtsey she could manage.

Her face blazed with embarrassment as she remained frozen, her head bowed as her hair slowly slid back out of the poorly-tied ribbon and pooled like satin around her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I think perhaps I share some of the blame here,” the Prince rumbled. “Are you hurt?”

Davina looked up, surprised to hear what almost sounded like kindness coming from the usually closed-off Prince.

"Oh, ah, yes, I'm fine, your majesty," She curtsied again, her cheeks hot, "I should have taken the servant's hall, I am so sorry. It won't happen again."

"It's fine, there's no one else around," He murmured. She looked up, hesitating to meet his gaze. He was studying her intently, though what his thoughts may have been she couldn't tell, "You used the bathhouse, I take it?"

"Yes, thank you, sir."

"Hmm," For the second time that day, he reached out, but this time his fingers trailed the collar of her shirt. She struggled not to make a sound when he touched her neck, just barely before his hand dropped away completely.

"What was your name again?" He asked.

"Davina, your royal highness."

She watched as his tongue jutted out over his bottom lip. His plump pink lips glistened under the low light coming from the library after the action causing her breath to hitch in her throat.

“Please,” his voice low and raspy, “just Bucky. I detest the formalities.”

Davina felt the heat creeping slowly up her neck, “Oh, I couldn’t possibly.”

“Just between us,” he stated, tilting his head down slightly, a stray curl falling across his forehead as his eyes searched hers.

Her fingers itched with the urge to push the curl from his face. Realizing he had gone quiet, her eyes peeled from the soft tendril down to his blue eyes. "Of course...Bucky."

The name felt foreign to her lips, almost forbidden, and sparked something in her belly as he shifted in his boots, the corner of his mouth quirked up as he watched her.

"Do I make you nervous, Davina?" He asked in a hushed gravely tone that sent goosebumps up her skin despite the corridor being warm and humid from the night air. Bucky took a step towards her, closing the little distance between them.

Suddenly her throat felt very dry as if every ounce of air had been sucked out of her lungs, "N-no, of course not, I've just -" Davina cleared her throat and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, "I've heard stories," she admitted, finding herself unable to take her blue eyes off of his.

"Stories..." Bucky repeated, a small glimmer of a smirk appeared on his lips and his head tilted to the side as he watched her, "You've not worked here long, have you?"

"Nearly a month," She answered, still trying to hide the small shake in her voice as she took a step backward.

The prince hummed, nodding once and following her backward step with a move forward, staying close to her as his eyes traced her features. Davina was gearing up to hear cruel words drip from his lips as he bashed her for her stupidity. Despite being allowed to call him by his nickname, there was no way she could have prepared for his next words.

"I knew I couldn't be so blind as to miss someone so beautiful working in my palace," He rasped, reaching out to brush a stray piece of blonde hair off her shoulder.

Davina furrowed her brows and took in a sharp breath, "You... you think I'm beautiful?"

“Enchanting, really,” Bucky murmured softly, twisting a strand of her hair around his fingers.

Davina’s breath hitched, her gaze leaving his momentarily to trail the length of his body.

“Forgive me, Davina. I am in battle garments so often, I like to dress down most evenings. I usually stay in my rooms and don’t expect to bump into anyone.”

He peered at her through his dark lashes, blue eyes glistening as his cheeks flushed a soft pink. To see the Prince blush was a surprise.

“It was unexpected, I admit,” she replied, lightness in her voice.

His mouth opened and then closed, as if he wanted to say something but then decided against it. He tried again,

“Do you…read?” He asked, gesturing with his head towards the doorway he’d appeared through.

The tone of his question sparked something in Davina and she felt indignance rise within her.

“Do I read?” She blustered. “Why? Do you think one in a lowly station such as I am not educated? Because I am new here? Because that wretched old chief maid worked me so hard I hadn’t even had time to bathe?!”

Davina’s hands landed on her hips, her eyes blazing.

“Of course, I can read you arrogant ass!”

For a moment the Prince looked taken aback, instead of Davina being the one who was flustered, it was him floundering.

"I didn't mean - " he stopped abruptly and then laughed, his eyes crinkling slightly at the edges while his nose wrinkled up with the smile. "Forgive me, Davina, I didn't mean to imply you had no education. I meant, rather, to ask if you wanted to see the library?"

Who was this man and what had he done with Prince James?!

A shuffling at the end of the hallway startled them both before Davina could form a response. Headed straight for them was the very same wretched old maid she'd mentioned a moment earlier.

"Shit," she cursed quietly, before remembering who she was with. Her hand flew to her mouth, hoping neither the prince nor the maid had heard her.

Before she could think of a reasonable explanation to be caught with the Prince in a dark corridor, his hand grasped her waist as he shuffled to the side.

Davina was stunned- mostly from fear, but partially from the firm grasp he held through the thick fabric of her skirts. He had placed his body between hers and the old maid, who was just a few feet away from them now. Her heart lept to her throat.

“My lord, please forgive the new girl, she’s not right in the head-“ Bucky stepped forward just as the old maid approached with an outstretched hand, poised to slap Davina.

“How dare you speak about my staff in such a manner?” He practically hissed at her. The old maid shrunk at his sharp tone, her hand returning to her waist to smooth her apron.

“Your grace, I’m sorry,” she curtsied. Davina could see the old maid shaking as she averted her eyes. A part of her felt sympathy for a split second - this was another human, after all. And they both were only in this hallway because they served the man standing between them, and his entire royal bloodline.

She wanted to take comfort in the fact that Bucky seemed to be protecting her, but she also couldn’t ignore the fact that he was royalty and she was a mere handmaid.

“I’ll make sure she is punished and-“

Bucky cut the old maid off again. “You will do no such thing, wench,” he spat at her. She shrunk even closer to the floor as Davina started to actually revel in the verbal lashing he was delivering.

They may both be servants, but this woman was unnecessarily wretched.

"Return to your duties, Miss Davina serves me and only me from this night forward." Bucky turned his nose up with his words. His hand squeezed her side when she tensed next to him.

The old maid stood straight once more, her eyes bulging from her skull, "Your Highness, that's not--"

Davina froze once again, her gaze daringly flickered between the two of them just long enough to catch his brow raise and the slight tilt of his head.

"I will not repeat myself again." His words were harsh and firm with warning. The old maid bowed her head once before turning on her heel and away from them.

She felt herself let out a breath before stumbling out of his grasp, "You didn't need to do that." Davina hissed gently, "I shouldn't have been here."

Bucky turned back towards her, his fists clenching at his sides and a hard look plastered over his face. "That old maid has been bitter since I was a child and she abuses what little reign she has on the rest of the servants and clearly more-so you, so yes Davina, I did." She stared up at him, not believing the words she was hearing as his face softened and he reached for the large bronze handle of the Library door, "I'd like to get to know the maiden who will be mine from now on unless you'd like to return to the servants quarters."

The butterflies in her chest exploded and she wasn't sure if his words had a second meaning or not, but the corners of his mouth quirked up again softly creasing the corners of his eyes and showing her a different side of the rumored mean prince.

Davina cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her neck. She could still feel his hand at her waist. "If... If you want to show me the library, I wouldn't be opposed, sir."

There were rooms in the castle where servants weren’t permitted to enter unless working directly with a member of the family or under extraordinary circumstances. Sleeping quarters, private offices, and, Davina had been disappointed to learn, the library.

So given the opportunity now, as Bucky tucked her hand snuggly into the crook of his elbow, she was giddy to see the large collection of books she’d heard talk of.

“Oh, this is glorious!” She beamed as Bucky guided her into the room, letting her go to close the heavy doors behind them with a loud thunk.

Davina’s heart thundered against her rib cage as she turned to see Bucky watching her take it in, his expression soft. She was truly alone with the prince now, and he was looking at her like she was some creature from heaven.

“It is quite. I always felt there was something missing though, with the room.” He paused and took a large stride towards her, absentmindedly fixing an upturned frill on the shoulder of her shirt. “But I think I just found it.”

Her breath hitched slightly at his closeness, her senses becoming overwhelmed by the new environment. The light in the library was dim, with oil lamps turned down low and the fire in the grate almost at embers. The smell of woodsmoke, leather, and old paper permeated the air, combined with a scent that was so distinctly…royal.

“No one really takes care of them anymore,” he murmured, stepping up behind her. “They keep it clean and tidy but the books are so…neglected.”

“I’d look after them,” Davina breathed. “I’d organize them and make sure they were treated properly, the books,” she clarified.

“I thought you might,” Bucky hummed, his fingers moving from her shoulder to rest against the side of her neck, his thumb tracing small circles against her shoulder blade.

Davina was practically dizzy at the slightest sign of affection from this man. She so desperately wanted to arch her back into him but she couldn’t possibly be so forward, not after he offered her such a generous opportunity.

Gratitude bloomed in her chest as she realized the gravity of what happened here. She suddenly spun around to face him. Bucky’s eyes widened in shock as she stared up at him through her lashes. His hands fell to his sides, but she reached forward and grasped them with her own.

“Your grace, thank you so much for what you did back there. Thank you for- this library is-“

She was overwhelmed by the kindness the Prince was showing her. This was the most human she had felt in a month. Tears welled in her eyes and she sniffed, willing them to dry up and save her a lifetime of embarrassment.

Just as a tear escaped and rolled down her cheek, Bucky reached up and wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. She choked down a sob as he grasped her chin and pointed her gaze toward him. He towered above her.

“You have nothing to thank me for.” He was being so gentle with her, but his tone was firm. She didn’t feel the need to question further.

He gathered her hands against his chest and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. She felt comfortable for the first time since she came to be part of the royal service.

“I meant it when I said you were mine now, you know.”

She brought her lip between her bottom lip, her eyes glued to his as the rest of her body melted into the warmth of his own. Though the doubts about their statuses still lingered in the back of her mind.

"I'm just a maiden..." Davina whispered, "And you...are a-"

She gasped as his lips slotted over her own, silencing her. His hand slid from her lower back up to the nape of her neck, holding her firmly against him as a whimper left her lips. Bucky pulled back gently, just far enough that she could see his eyes as she breathlessly finished her thought, "Prince."

"Tell me, Davina," he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. "Have I ever given you the impression that I am concerned with stations?"

She swallowed tightly, still dizzy from the kiss but Bucky's hands wrapped around her neck tighter keeping her eyes on him as she collected her thoughts. His rings felt cool against her flushed skin.

"Certainly not," she huffed, finally able to catch her breath, "but I may need more convincing your majesty."

James grinned down at Davina, his eyes dark in the dimly lit room. "Oh really? What could I possibly do to convince you, my Davina? " He slowly began backing them up towards a bench against the far wall, out of sight. "Another kiss? Or would my beautiful maiden want something... more?"

The word was a hushed, low rumble against her ear and Davina swore her heart was pounding so hard, Bucky could surely hear it. She drew back with a raised eyebrow as she tried to steel her nerves.

“Surely you have more decorum than to take a maid in the library, your majesty?”

Bucky laughed, rich and echoing in the vast room.

“Oh, my sweet Davina. We have much to learn about each other, but you know I possess little decorum. Especially around a maiden as intoxicating as you.”

He dipped his head then, brushing the cool tip of his nose up the line of her neck and pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive spot just below her ear. Davina gasped as Bucky suckled lightly at her skin.

“Then I want more,” she breathed.

“Perfect,” he murmured against her skin, trailing his lips across her jaw and back to her mouth.

Davina flushed at the soft whine that escaped her throat, but it only served to spur the Prince onwards. Bringing his hands up to cradle her face he kissed her once more, capturing her top lip with his before deepening their contact and pulling her flush against him.

The heat radiating from his body made her overly conscious of his state of undress, clad as he was in only the soft cotton chemise and shorts he must sleep in.

"M-my lord," she gasped when his lips trailed across her cheek and he nipped her earlobe.

"Mmm, Davina," The prince growled, "I told you to call me Bucky."

They sank to the bench, Bucky caging her below him, but he paused, his eyes searching hers instead of continuing his affections. "Are you sure you want this?"

Davina blinked rapidly, "What?"

"Do you want this? Me?" He asked, before clarifying the question further, "I'm not interested in forcing this on you, no matter what my reputation may suggest otherwise."

She nodded her head, staring into his eyes. The blue of his eyes was only slightly visible, his pupils overtaken with lust.

“Words, Davina,” he chided lightly. She craned her neck to reach his lips but he pulled away slightly. She could still feel his breath against her skin.

“Please,” she breathed. “I want you.” She desperately needed to close the gap between them.

Bucky chuckled slightly as he started suckling her jawline. She moaned and arched her back up from the hardwood of the bench.

“Let me make you mine, little dove.”

"You already did," gasped as his fingers trailed along her side, tugging at the soft cotton until she felt the tips of them on her skin.

He smiled against her skin, moving from her jaw to the column of her neck, to the soft spot between her collarbone and neck, "but to hear you say it," Bucky rasped lifting his head as his hand palmed her breast, "is far more pleasing."

He rolled her nipple through his forefinger and thumb, the coolness from his rings sending jolts straight to her nerves as the fire began to burn in her belly. Davina smiled, combing her fingers through his long hair, pushing back the waves from his eyes, "Then please, make me yours."

Bucky's fingers made quick work of the laces at her breasts before shucking the camisole from her body and leaving her on display. Davina leaned against the bench on her elbows, propping herself up as Bucky sat back, lifting his own tunic from his torso.

Davina looked around, tempted to cover herself in fear of being caught in such a public space but the prince caught her hands before she could do so, clicking his teeth together in a disapproving sound. "I want to see you," he whispered in a tone that sent a spark coursing through her body to her toes. "All of you," his fingers tangled into the hem of her skirt, and tickled a line across her stomach. "May I?"

"Please Bucky," Davina whined, her hips instinctively bucking softly towards him.

Bending down, he placed light kisses down her torso as his fingers tugged her skirt and undergarments down her legs. Sitting back up, he haphazardly threw her bottoms into the dark of the library and grasped her calf in his hand, running his lips over the skin of her ankle and up her leg.

"Gods you're gorgeous," he rasped, peering down at her with a wicked smirk on his lips.

She whimpered softly, surprised that she'd even made the sound. The look on his face made her melt against the wood of the bench she rested against. He wanted her. Her.

Davina reached out with one hand, wanting to be able to touch any part of him that she could reach. "Bucky..."

Slowly, torturing her with each kiss that he pressed against her calf, Bucky moved up her leg. Each time his lips met her skin she whimpered, the heat building in her the closer he got to her hips.

"Is this okay?" He asked. He hadn't taken his eyes from hers, and she could see the fire burning in their depths. Despite experiencing this firsthand, Davina was still having trouble believing that a Prince was interested in a simple maid like herself.

"Yes?" She said, not entirely certain what he meant.

He smirked, pressing another kiss against the tuft of hair between her legs, fingers tickling along the soft skin of her thighs, "One of my greatest pleasures, Davina," He rasped, "Is feasting on the sweet nectar that comes from here."

His fingers pushed between her folds, making her gasp, and then dragged them up, circling her sensitive nib once before he pulled them away. Davina whined at the loss while he popped the soaked digits into his mouth. Bucky groaned deeply, "Fuck, you taste heavenly. Let me have more?"

“Gods yes,” She breathed, her heart hammering against her chest as his eyes bore into hers. Lust and adoration swirled into one, taking over his sea of blue.

“Please, Bucky”

His plump lips curled into a soft smirk at the sound of her pleas only fueling the fire inside of her.

“As you wish, my sweet.”

His sentence was a whisper against her center, just barely finished before he licked a stripe through her wet folds. Davina’s head fell back at the contact, a moan slipping from her lips as he circled her throbbing nub with the tip of his tongue. His fingers dug into the supple skin of her thighs as she bucked her hips into his lips.

His fingers slipped gently between her folds. He continued circling her clit with his tongue- it felt like he was spelling out a prayer with his tongue, treating her body with the utmost reverence.

Davina couldn’t stop her hips from lifting up from the bench. The coil in her belly wound tighter and tighter- “More,” she choked out.

He sped up his prayer, moaning into her cunt. In a haze, she took his hand from her thigh and placed his hand at the column of her throat. He pulled away from her with a whine, his fingers still lingering at her entrance.

Bucky’s eyes widened before he carefully placed his fingers around her neck. He applied no pressure to her throat, just resting his hands against her as he gazed up at her from between her legs.

“Do you still want more?”

Davina nodded, head spinning as she almost immediately felt slight pressure from his grasp on her throat. She wasn’t going to last much longer, especially as the cool of his rings soothed her burning skin.

He ducked his head back down and lapped at her clit while driving two fingers deep inside her. He didn't apply any more pressure at her throat, just enough so her cry was muffled as the coil inside her snapped. Waves of ecstasy crashed down upon her. Her hips bucked against him as he moaned against her, the lower half of his face slick with her arousal.

Davina's body shuddered through the pleasure, her lids heavy as she peered down at Bucky who was nipping at her inner thighs. His freehand had disappeared between them and she could make out the faint gesture of him stroking his length as he lifted his lips from her.

"You're the sweetest thing I've ever tasted Dove," his voice was raspy and dark as he moved the hand around her throat to cup the side of her neck and moved to hover over her, "Where has this cruel world been hiding you?" Bucky muttered rolling his hips gently against her own as he settled his weight on her. The pressure ceased the gentle vibration of her body as her fingertips dug into the muscles of his shoulders.

She knew the question was rhetorical but she couldn't help the words as they fell from her lips, "in your family's shadow."

His brows furrowed for a moment before his lips pressed to hers, "You're filled with too much light to be kept in the shadows my darling."

That familiar burning sensation behind her eyes returned as he slid his knee between her thighs, nudging them apart gently as he peppered her face and neck with slow soft kisses, "Bucky," she whined in a whisper until she felt the head of his cock nudge at her entrance and a small gasp left her.

He lifted his head again, tangling his fingers into her hair, "Be my light Davina, please."

Davina's blue eyes searched Bucky's in the dim light of the library, almost waiting for herself to wake up from this perfect dream. Of all the people she thought would fall for her, a prince was never in her mind. The soft touch of Bucky's lips against her skin made her mind spin in the best way possible.

"I'm yours, Bucky," she whispered into the darkness, "I'm all yours,"

Bucky took in a sharp breath as he moved to capture her lips with his own as he pushed himself inside her, swallowing her moan. As he bottomed out, his hips stilled, feeling Davina wince, and clench around him. His lips shifted to pepper her cheeks with soft, wet kisses, trailing his hand down her body, and finding its home on her hip.

He pulled back just enough to catch her gaze, with a furrowed brow as he searched her face, "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

Davina nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck and tangling her fingers into the small curls at the base of his neck, "I'm okay, I promise. You can move, Bucky,"

With another breath and a soft kiss to her lips, Bucky pulled out of her and pushed back in slowly, taking his time to relish in every inch of her body as his blue eyes locked with hers in the warm dim light of the candles.

He watched as Davina's back arched in a beautiful bowing motion, making him smile. "Gods, you are so beautiful." Bucky lowered his head to kiss between her breasts as he slowly thrust repeatedly into her body, listening to her soft whines and moans.

Davina gripped onto the hair at the back of his head, already feeling the coil in her body slowly beginning to tighten again. "Bucky... please... faster please."

Bucky pulled back slightly, thrusting back into her with force, filling her to the brim. His hips began moving faster, hip bones digging into hers surely leaving bruises in their wake.

The feel of his length inside of her coupled with his warm breath against her skin and praises sent Davina into a frenzy. Electricity shot through her nerves and she pressed her lips to his shoulder trying to conceal her moans.

"Let go for me Davina," He groaned, his hips stuttering as he buried his face into her neck, "I have you."

His words sent her over that edge, clawing at his back as she sank her teeth into the skin on his shoulder not hard but to keep herself from screaming his name in the expanse of the library. Her body tightened, the rubberband in her stomach snapped and her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him to her.

"Bucky please," she begged him as his movements became erratic, his breath somehow hotter against her skin. He lifted his head, and a small ring of blue around his pupils glowed in the dim light before his lips crashed against her own, swallowing their groans with his release and sending her over the cliff with him once more.

As Bucky's hips stilled, the two of them collapsed onto the wooden bench beneath them. The coolness of the wood on Davina's back was a contrast to her hot sticky skin. She took comfort, nuzzling herself into Bucky's arms, his touch becoming light and gentle as he pressed soft kisses into her messy blonde waves.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" He rasped, trailing his fingers down Davina's arm and entangling their fingers together before bringing her hand up to his lips.

Davina hummed and let out a deep breath, smiling softly up at the prince as she met his eyes, "I'm perfect," she whispered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"I hope you know I meant every word," Bucky stated, keeping his blue eyes locked with hers, "Everything I said to you, it wasn't just to get you into my bed. I meant it, Davina."

Her bottom lip found a home between her teeth as she took in his words. The thought had crossed her mind, that he was just being sweet to her for this but there was something about the way he looked at her, the way his touch felt against her skin that pushed that thought away.

"I believe you, Bucky," she answered finally, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

Bucky sighed deeply, moving his gaze down to their hands as he played with her fingers, the soft hint of his real smile danced at the corners of his lips, "I didn't want this life," he finally said, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "The kingdom, the responsibility, becoming my father... It's not me. And yet, despite my best efforts, the rumors around the palace of my temper is just history repeating itself," his blue eyes moved back to meet Davina's, looking down at her through tired eyes, "But the past few weeks, having you around, everything felt different. The air in the palace was suddenly clear and every room I saw you in was someone brighter, but I could never find the opportunity to approach you. That old hag or someone from my family was always lurking about..."

"I'm here now, your majesty," Davina teased, bringing a soft laugh from his lips.

"Yes you are, my beautiful light in all of this darkness," Bucky leaned down and captured her lips with his.

Davina pulled back, resting their foreheads together, she brushed the tips of their noses together lightly, "Always," she whispered.

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pellucid-constellations · 2 years

Text

A Correspondence of Obligation - Eight

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

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

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Angst, a bit of fluff, cannon-level violence, a very distraught protective bucky (sorry!)

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

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

You painted him often.

In the morning, when you got to see the way the rays reflected upon the planes of his face and lit him up. Gentle. Ethereal. With no rush or concern for the time of day because it was simply the beginning.

In the afternoon—quick brushstrokes, always in a hurry. The colors were purple and blue and red. They were blurred together to replicate the way his lips felt as he passed you in the corridors and sought you out after meetings. Images of the afternoon were more abstract and less cohesive; they were how you felt after the brief rendezvous you were granted during busy days.

In the night. In the night… starlight was the easiest to paint, but only because of him. Rippling waters and branches weighed down by the moon; boots lost in knee high grass and layers of your gown lost in the heat of the balmy air. You painted him most at night, even when he could be found nowhere on the canvas.

And he must have been able to tell, because with each painting you showed him, he kissed you just a little bit harder. He would let his eyes trail over each of your decisions, the brushstrokes touched by light reflecting off of spun glass, and he would smile at you as if you had given him some gift he could never repay. As if he hadn’t been the one to give you the tools and the joy to create such things.

You wished he would take a step back and see the truth behind your paintings—the love.

There were occasions where you almost said it out loud; every time the words fell from his lips first, or in instances where the laughs escaping you were so attached to the feeling that to not tell him you loved him seemed an impossible feat.

But you didn’t—hadn’t yet. And you wanted to, so bad.

You wanted to watch the way his eyes would widen and feel the pads of his fingers as he brushed them against your face. You knew he would laugh and that it would be so breathless that the sound would drift past your ears and melt into you, warm you. You wanted him to kiss you, feeling loved.

You were waiting for the perfect time.

You wished you had just said it sooner.

“I won’t be in the room with you, I have to train the squires with the knighting so close. But the prince will be beside you the entire time, and Steve will be there as well. I asked him—”

“Natasha.”

“—to be sure to keep an eye on you. Of course, he agreed. Was rather annoying about it actually.” Your lady-in-waiting ripped the brush through your hair with an unrelenting flick of her wrist. “He said ‘well obviously, Natasha. She is my family after all’. As if I was some dimwit. I swear—”

“Natasha, please.”

“—he acts as if I’m being overbearing. Like you weren’t just tossed about in some forest and held hostage. I want to strangle him sometimes—”

You twisted in the plush armchair, removing the brush from her grip with raised brows. She snapped her mouth closed and pressed her lips together as you turned back around and met her eyes in the mirror.

“Ow,” you remarked, reaching up to instead hand her the flowers she planned on weaving into your small headpiece. “I wanted to leave my hair attached to my head for this luncheon, but if you have something else in mind, please let me know.”

Natasha grimaced, sheepishly taking a more delicate approach to your look. “I’m sorry. You know I get carried away when I’m worried.”

You sighed, sending her a smile in the mirror that she replicated with an unsure look. There was no need for her to be as worried as she was; this lunch was a simple one. There would be local diplomats and noblemen and some of the more prominent shop owners from the kingdom. It was your gentle reintroduction to court, paired with small sandwiches and chilled tea. It wasn’t as if you were going to faint from overexertion; you had been clear of bed rest for well over a month.

Not that Natasha cared, with all of her mother hen tendencies.

“Natasha, you know better than most that the prince would have me out of the room if he even presumed I was uncomfortable,” you assured. “Between the two of you, I’m surprised I’m allowed to converse with anyone that hasn’t gone through some inspection.”

She sent you a pointed look. “You watched yourself get dragged up from the ground with a knife at your back and then get back to me.”

Guilt bloomed within you, making you bite at your lower lip to keep from blurting out an apology; she had chastised you for as much several times since the attack. Still, it was hard not to find blame when your friends were plagued with so much worry.

“Well, with all of the training I’ve been doing, I’m sure something like that won’t happen again.”

Natasha set your hair into place and leaned down, squeezing your shoulder as she smirked, “Your training with me is beneficial. Not so sure about the time you spend on the grounds with the prince, however.”

Heat crept up your neck at her teasing, embarrassment battling with the pride you felt at your progress. It had only taken about three weeks of healing for Natasha to agree to train you again. You’d gotten quite proficient in the bow since then, but Steve loved to remind you that that statement only applied when the targets were stationary. You also loved to remind Steve that you would have the power to banish him in just a few weeks.

That usually shut him up, but not before all of his laughing got you ten extra push ups from Natasha. Steve’s teasing was getting you into immaculate shape.

Getting Bucky to agree to take you to the training grounds took a bit more persuasion, but after many pleas and multiple promises to take it easy, you were able to show him everything Natasha had taught you. For about ten minutes.

Every time you found yourself “training” with Bucky, that was how long the productiveness lasted—ten minutes. Not that you were complaining; spending an hour outside with Bucky, the smell of fresh grass bright in the temperate air, was priceless. It meant no eyes and no responsibilities, and it meant freedom, even for a little while.

Well—it meant no eyes until Natasha came down to ensure the troops were taking their break at the appropriate time.

“Tell me how to do it again, once more.”

“Bucky, you are being facetious. You know how to string a bow.”

“I truly have forgotten, princess. Once more, for my benefit.”

You giggled, the sound rustling the branches of cherry blossom trees as the wind followed close behind. You pretended to glare at him, squinting in the sun and catching the slightest hint of his spiced citrus past the floral breeze. The pants you had on braved the weather, but your hair was not so lucky.

“You are such a terrible liar,” you accused. The bow in your hand swayed as your arm did.

“Perhaps I am,” he admitted, stepping forward to slip the wood from your fingers. “A truth, then—I do know how to string a bow.”

“See!”

“But I much prefer to listen to you explain it.” He dropped the bow, hand coming below your chin, thumb pressing into your bottom lip. “And I do love watching the way your mouth forms the words.”

You let out a shaky breath, speechless at being so close even though you had kissed him countless times before. He leaned forward, pressing your foreheads together but refusing your lips the feel of his own; you’d have to work for that, it seemed.

“Are you going to teach me then, my love?”

A breath in. A pass of your tongue across your bottom lip. “You should first hold the riser straight to ensure that your bow is the right fit for you.”

Bucky hummed, eyes never leaving your lips as you spoke. His hands came down to press your hips forward, seeking as much contact as he could find.

“You should—you should hook the bottom loop of the string around the bottom of the bow.”

“How will I know it’s the bottom?” he breathed, lips brushing yours as he spoke. Your stomach burned at the contact. His grip tightened on your hips.

“Shorter…” you began, the rest of your sentence lost somewhere between Bucky’s lips and the corner of your mouth. But he urged you to go on, nudging his nose to yours. “Shorter finger guards should be on top.”

“And then what?”

You were sure this was some kind of torture; he was teasing you, pressing his lips to your cheeks and your jaw. And all you could do was try not to melt in his arms and recite the steps to some arbitrary thing. Truthfully, it wasn’t arbitrary, but right now, everything other than him felt as if it was.

Bucky took your brief pause as a forgetful stint, sliding one of his hands up your back until it cupped the back of your neck.

“Where should you step after the bottom is strung, darling?” he whispered.

“Through… through the bow and string while—”

His lips tasted like sweet rose water and lemons and laughter. He kissed you and put you out of your misery, halting your poor excuse for a lesson with urgency and pressing desire. And you kissed back with just as much fervor, hands coming up to rest against the stubble of his cheeks.

But that wasn’t enough—it never was. So Bucky brought a hand between your shoulder blades and lowered you down until grass tickled at your neck and made the air sweeter. He encased your head with his arms until even that was bothering him as well, one hand coming down to grip your waist as you laid in the grass.

He kissed you harder until a smile was found between lips. Until you were both breathless but neither of you had any intentions of pulling away. You were about two seconds from pushing him into the grass—an act that surely would have shocked him—when the sound of a clearing throat shot you out of your adrenaline.

“Your Highnesses.” Natasha’s amused tone had you pushing a reluctant Bucky into the grass after all, but for an entirely different reason.

“Natasha!” you greeted, dusting yourself off as you stood. “I was just—I was just showing the prince how I am with the bow.”

Natasha threw her gaze over to the very disheveled prince, still unapologetically in the grass and smiling up at her. She raised a brow at him, gave a small nod in greeting, and then turned back to you with a smirk.

“That looked to be exactly what you were doing.”

The burn in your cheeks and up your neck increased as you remembered the afternoon that followed that day, all of the questions and remarks as Natasha readied you for bed. But you would take them all over again if it meant that the lightness Bucky gave you would linger as it did that day. The love was worth all of the teasing.

“I don’t know, Natasha,” you called out as she sorted through your jewelry. “Maybe I have become advanced and you just don’t know it because you’ve been spending all your time with those squires.”

She fitted pearls around your neck as she scoffed. “It is more likely that the prince appointed me as their trainer so that he could have more time making you ‘advanced’ in place of me.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, pushing out of the chair and rounding its back to grab Natasha’s hands in both of yours. She narrowed her eyes, but that was vastly overshadowed by the smile that played at her lips. You gave her fingers a small squeeze, one she reciprocated with ease.

“Thank you, Natalia, truly,” you spoke lowly, her name from childhood thick in your voice. “You’ve gotten me through so much. Through everything.”

She shook her head, biting the inside of her cheek and looking to the ceiling in feigned nonchalance. But you knew what it really meant; you were seconds away from doing the same yourself.

“Are you about to ask me to hide you away in the woods again?” she jested, voice heavy with an unshed happiness.

The laugh you shared with her echoed to your windows, filling your room with a sound that would have been frowned upon back in Hyland. But you weren’t in Hyland anymore, and you never would be.

Natasha spoke again. “I would do much more than teach you how to shoot a bow.”

You bit your lip, ready to tear up and throw her into a hug, when a knock at your door stopped you in your tracks.

“Time for your fancy lunch then,” she said, drawing out the words with a playful brow.

She got the hug anyway, and maybe a few tears.

On the other side of the door was a patient Steve, his hands held behind his back as he tried to make conversation with Sir William at his post. Your guard was obviously disinterested in the small talk, his face impassive and his words monotone, but you were there soon enough to save him from your cousin.

Steve looked dashing, as usual; an embodiment of spring with his light features and healthy glow. His blonde hair looked vibrant as it slipped past his forehead, just a tad bit overgrown. His smile was bright as you greeted him and took his arm in the hall.

“Are you excited?” he beamed, nudging you slightly as you walked to the dayroom.

You sent him a confused smile. “For lunch? I mean, sure, but I would much rather prefer something intimate.”

“No, not lunch,” he rolled his eyes. “For the wedding. It’s almost here. Buck won’t shut up about it.”

Your grip on Steve’s arm tightened, nerves and elation twisting within your chest. Just a fortnight and you would be married. Everything would be official and you would be queen, but more than that, you would be Bucky’s.

The thought used to scare you; the idea of belonging to a man you didn’t know was so heinous before, but that was because of expectations forced upon you from childhood. In truth, you weren’t going to belong to Bucky. On paper, the law would proclaim you did; there was no way to escape such a system in your current position. But Bucky would never act upon his power. In his mind, the thought would be nonexistent.

Your nerves, instead, sprouted from the title you would gain from your union, not from Bucky.

When Steve bent his neck to inspect your pregnant pause, you were quick to formulate an answer. “Of course I’m excited,” you whispered. The ocean to the west crashed beyond the arches you passed. “This land is vast and plentiful. I am grateful to be its queen.”

Steve let out a humorless laugh. “What a lovely, trained, answer.” His tone was accusing as he stopped you in front of the ornate doors of the dayroom. “Tell me the truth, y/n. Before we go in there and you have to use all those words that Lady Austeen ingrained in that big head of yours.”

You slapped his chest with a scoff. “You are rude. And nosy.”

“I only worry about you. As does Natasha, although you seem to answer her questions more willingly.”

“She doesn’t insult me when she asks them!”

Steve’s smile was soft as he raised a brow. “Insulting you is part of my job description.”

Glasses clinked and violins created a gentle song just beyond the doors, and you took a breath, enjoying the simple comfort of family before having to greet so many others. Your dress swayed as you shifted your weight between your feet, the green silk shimmering and delicately draping at your shoulders.

“Sometimes… I just worry that being queen will be too much for me. I’m not ruthless. I won’t kiss another’s betrothed for my own benefit. And you saw what it did to my mother. If I am not able to withstand the pressure, it won’t just be myself I let down.”

The playfulness on Steve’s face sobered up quickly, leaving behind a sincere expression and hands that rested on your shoulders. His “father look”, you liked to call it, and he did it quite well.

“Hey, there’s no law in place that states you need to be brutal to be a leader. There’s respect in kindness. These people—they already love you. They aren’t looking for a malicious queen to take over regions. If you haven’t noticed, that’s not going so well for Sharon.” Steve paused, squeezing your shoulders as he took a breath. “And your mother… there are things we still don’t know, things we will never be told. The king was so secretive and unfair to you, but you have to know that you won’t end up like your mother. Bucky would never let that happen. I would never let that happen.”

There was an ugly truth hidden behind Steve’s words. You were so young when your mother died, and that left any questions about her thwarted and banned. You never got to learn what illness had taken her, or why your father took it so hard. All you had were the remnants of your court and the rules that followed her as she passed.

You’d be lying if you said her death had no connection to your nerves; being queen was a heavy weight to bear, and you had little example to go off of.

But you had Bucky now, and you had Brookshire. Things would be different.

Steve’s eyes were stuck flitting between yours as you finally spoke. “I know you wouldn’t,” you smiled, easing the tension in the hall. “You’re too headstrong to let me wither away.”

He huffed out a laugh and pressed a kiss to your hair, jerking his head to the door and letting you straighten yourself out before entering the room. Bucky spotted you immediately, putting an end to whatever conversation had him tied up by the balcony.

His grin was terribly endearing as he carded his fingers through his hair and met you at the doors. He placed a hand on the small of your back and kissed your cheek, clapping Steve on the shoulder with the firm grip of his right hand.

“Steve,” he greeted, eyes shining. “Thanks for escorting her. The noblemen never leave my side at these things.”

Steve returned the prince’s gesture and parted after a few fond exchanges, heading straight for the refreshment table where he was greeted by shop owners and plenty of conversation. You smiled as you watched him, relishing in Bucky’s touch as he dragged it up and down your spine. His lips back on your cheek had you finally turning to greet him, a perfect picture of comfort settled onto his face.

“Hello, my love.”

You couldn’t hide your smile as you exchanged your own greeting, and you suddenly found it rather annoying that you were in a room full of people. Your cousin’s boisterous laugh reminded you of such, and you were spouting off the question that had been running through your mind during your walk in the hall.

“Why did Steven escort me here? I know where the dayroom is well enough.”

Bucky knocked his head back in feigned regret. “You caught me,” he groaned. “I asked him to. I wanted to make sure you were… warmed up—so to speak—for the questions all these men might ask.”

“Oh? So you are the reason I had to endure such a serious conversation before my first ‘no pressure’ appearance in court?” you teased.

He bit into his bottom lip when you cocked your head to the side, both accusing and grateful. It had been some time since you were last grilled by the people of the kingdom, and getting all of your nerves out with Steve instead of one of the nobles was preferable.

“Is our marriage such a serious conversation, darling?”

You laughed and shook your head, the response lost on your lips as a stocky man with dark hair cleared his throat. You turned away from Bucky, but the prince was sure to leave his hand pressed to your back.

“I am sorry to interrupt, Your Highnesses,” he apologized, a slight bend in his waist as he bowed.

Bucky was quick to interrupt. “It’s not a problem at all, Wong. Allow me to introduce you. Princess, this is Wong, library and archive manager in Brookshire. Wong, this is my princess—”

“Surely I know who your princess is by now, Your Highness. In fact, with all of her art gracing the halls of the library, we might as well give the building her namesake.”

You gaped—completely improper given the company—and blinked up at Bucky. Your art? Why on earth would anything you made leave this castle, let alone be hung in public places? Bucky looked down at you with an unsure smile, his fingers now fidgeting with the material of your dress.

You snapped your gaze back to Wong. “I’m.. I’m sorry, I just didn’t realize—”

“Oh, please, princess, do not take my comment the wrong way. We love your art. The library was so dull before—all stuffy and beige. Every time the prince brings one of your works we spend the evening clearing off a spot on the wall. The students love it.”

“Thank you,” you breathed, still too shocked to form anything coherent.

“No, thank you. That is why I came by this afternoon, to thank you. Well… I also wanted to wish you well. I heard there is still no word on the people that attacked you. The town just outside the castle was devastated when we were told what happened. And so close to your wedding as well.”

There it was—another ugly truth. After weeks of questioning, it became extremely clear that Roger, one of the lesser mercenaries that had attacked you, knew nothing of the people that employed him. He knew that he was employed, but that was about the extent of it.

You had caught Bucky tugging at his hair one too many times to assume any better outcome had arisen, and it wasn’t too long ago that he finally admitted the truth to you. It had taken a lot of coaxing, but the words had echoed in your brain for the remainder of that night.

We have no idea who wants you. No idea. I won’t lock you up in this castle but it is eating away at me, princess.

You hadn’t slept well that night. Bucky hadn’t either. The both of you spent hours on his balcony instead, mapping out stars in a warm breeze, wrapped in each other and trying to forget.

But it was always looming there, and now it was front and center once again.

“Thank you, Wong,” Bucky covered for you, your silence incredibly loud. “The search is still out.”

“It was nice to meet you,” you managed, calling out before he could part. Wong presented you with another bow and a smile, this one a touch more strained.

“I wish he hadn’t brought that up,” Bucky murmured, voice turned down to you.

You pressed a hand to the lapel of his jacket, smoothing it out and trying to redirect. “Which part? The attack, or the fact that Brookshire apparently has so many of my paintings that they are about to rename a library in my honor?”

Bucky cringed for a moment, closing his eyes as a breeze passed through the dayroom. The violins were still in full swing in the corner, the sandwiches still towered high upon trays and the tea still fresh with ice. You had hardly made your way around the room, but the atmosphere was still lovely where you stood.

“Are you truly angry about that, princess?” Bucky finally got out, sliding his gaze to you as you smiled at a group of diplomats passing by. “Because I really only sought to show the world your talent. You would have been satisfied keeping all of those works piled up in your paint room and the library had requested art. The kingdom appreciates beauty, and to have their queen—”

“Can you show me?”

Bucky paused. “I’m sorry?”

“The library,” you clarified. “Can you show me?”

The violins picked up, livening the room and causing every conversation to get louder; almost imperceptibly, but it was still there. You could see Wong close to the group of strings, talking animatedly with his hands to get his point across.

“I’m sure I could have that arranged, darling. We haven’t left the castle since—”

“—since the attack,” you finished. You turned to face him fully, grabbing his forearm with hopeful eyes. “Let’s go see the library. It’s just beyond the castle, isn’t it?”

It would be the perfect place. In a room surrounded by variations of him—in the morning, the afternoon, the night—all carried by his hands and brought out to show the world. Because he was proud of you. Because he loved you.

Your wedding was just weeks away, and you hadn’t said it back.

It would be the perfect place.

“Now?” Bucky emphasized, looking around the room as a roaring laugh boomed from an archway. One of the trays clanked against a crystallized glass bowl, the sound resonating against the walls.

“Now, Bucky. Please,” you pleaded.

His resolve dissipated the second you looked up at him like that, your fingers tugging at his sleeve with impatience. You could tell by the way his face softened; by the way he covered your hand with his own, the warmth combating the excitement rushing through you. This would be the perfect time, the perfect day, the perfect place.

“Darling, we are in a room full of our court. We can’t just leave.”

You ignored the spark you felt from the word our. “This is the perfect time to leave. No one expects us anywhere else, and since Wong, no one has come within ten feet of us. They are all too busy discussing matters of their farms and their shops. We are simply ornaments at this point.”

Bucky seemed to weigh his options carefully as a heavy wave crashed beyond the walls. A seagull cried as well, but it was hard to hear over the music. You could only make out the end of its call.

“Okay, yes. Fine,” he conceded, quick words spoken against your cheek as he kissed it and expertly ushered you to the door. “But I’ll have to meet you at the stables. We can’t leave at the same time.”

You nodded your head enthusiastically when your back met the door. He glanced over his shoulder to survey the room, but only Steve seemed to notice your not-so-subtle getaway, his head shaking fondly as he listened to shop owners continue on. Your giggle was met with Bucky’s hand on your stomach, gently pushing you through the door.

“Okay, go! I love you, go,” he whispered, and then you were a joyful mess in the hall.

You brought your hand up and pressed your fingers to your mouth, taming your smile before heading down to the stables. It was nearly impossible; with the lightness in your gait, your dress trailing at the tops of your feet with a gentle ease, it would be so easy to spot your unrelenting emotions.

But it didn’t matter. Everyone in the court could see the happiness coming off of you in waves and you wouldn’t care.

Only they didn’t see; no one saw, because no one was in the hall. There were no guards at your door when you passed it, no visitors of the court bowing to you by balconies or archways. No staff could be found going in and out of rooms and no children ran beyond their mothers’ skirts.

There was no one. It was…eerie.

A loud boom startled you out of the stupor you had fallen into, finally getting your feet to move. You had stopped by the kitchens, a far cry from the stables. But the boom was the least of your worries, because the horns started.

Blaring and incessant and close; the horns sounded off from the towers stacked on top of you, and you knew what they meant.

Find a guard. Run. Do anything other than stand in one place and get yourself killed.

Your feet made the decision for you before your mind could, sending you hurtling back to the dayroom, back to Bucky. Footsteps could be heard in the distance now, and you weren’t sure if the heavy boots sounded like Brookshire’s guard, or if they meant something else.

The guard. It had to be the guard, because your mind couldn’t fathom anything else.

Breathing got harder the faster you ran, panic stealing what little air you could take in. You needed to get to Bucky; Natasha was too far away on the training grounds. But Natasha was out in the open as well, leaving her exposed to so many possible attacks. Now your mind was reeling as your body struggled, and there wasn’t enough adrenaline in the world to tame both.

You rounded a corner as you heard it.

“Princess! Princess, please. Where are you?”

You opened your mouth to scream back at him, when the sound was muffled by leather. A leather palm, leather fingers; the same leather wrapping around your middle and dragging your thrashing body away. You kicked and let out unheard words until the sun was dimmed, and you were in a space between walls.

Whoever this was knew the castle well.

Whoever this was didn’t let you go as they dragged you through the tunnels you didn’t know existed.

You couldn’t hear Bucky anymore. You could barely hear the horns.

“This is going to be real easy for you if you just shut up and get in the carriage, got it, princess?”

Their voice was deep and gravely, thick with an accent you didn’t recognize. You thrashed again in their arms, unrelenting even though it just made them tighten their hold. A tutting in your ear made you recoil.

“They told me you weren’t going to be easy.”

Light assaulted your eyes as the wall gave way to some back entrance of the castle. They must get deliveries here; it was hidden, shrouded with ugly twigs and snarling vines. The scene made you feel ill. You were one step closer to being taken, the same position you were in just weeks ago. How had it come to this so quickly? How had the perfect image if your afternoon been ripped to shreds so suddenly?

You didn’t have time for questions, only actions. You jutted your elbow out to meet your captor’s stomach, taking them by surprise as they doubled over. Their hand came next, your grip coming up to twist their wrist until they released your mouth as well. You could hear their annoyed hiss as you ran to the wall, hands skimming over every stone.

Where was the way back in? The gated entrance to wherever this was impossible to reach unless you wanted this man to chase you, and he would certainly win. Each stone set another weight in your stomach as you passed it with shaking fingers, trying so desperately to find what he had.

He recovered before you had the chance to cry in frustration, the cruel grip back around your body.

“Stop!” you screamed, hands reaching out to the cold stone. “Please, we’ll give you more than whatever they have. Anything you want.”

His chuckle was dark. “I’m not getting paid for this. Consider it loyalty.”

The carriage came into view then, its less than polished exterior blurred by your tears. Your captor kicked at your heels when you dug your feet in the ground, and an amused sound came from the back of his throat at your effort.

But the carriage was nothing compared to what came next, Bucky’s form being dragged up by two men sending you into a panic.

“Not him! Just me, you don’t need to take him,” you pleaded. The sound of your voice made the prince’s seething remarks toward the men halt, his head snapping to you with an unmatched speed.

The man at your back sounded annoyed, almost letting out a yawn as he said, “We are not allowed to hurt the prince… unfortunately. He just gets to watch. Direct orders.”

Bucky yanked away from the men to avail, his eyes wild as he marked every point in which the man held your body.

“Let her go or I swear to god I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” the man on his right taunted, pulling him back just to show him he could. “You’ll nothing. Be thankful you even get to see her leave.”

Yelling from a top floor of the castle erupted, and a small spark of hope shot through you. It was quickly put out when your feet were moving again, dragging you into the dilapidated carriage long before anyone could make it down the many castle steps.

Bucky’s voice came out broken as he promised, “I’ll find you, y/n. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

His words were so different from the ones he had shared in the hall, just moments ago.

Okay, go! I love you, go!

You’d remember those, wherever you went—the laughter and the lightness, and Bucky without his voice coated in tears.

“Look at me, my love. I beg of you.” You hadn’t even realized your eyes were closed. You opened them to find you were passing him. “I love you,” he said, his cheeks glistening. “I love you and you’re going to be okay, alright? I’m going to find you. I won’t rest until your back home.”

And maybe it was because of the possibility that you’d never see him again. Maybe it was because of the heavy tears making tracks down both of your faces. Maybe it was just the pain blooming along your arm where the man held you that made you say it.

Either way, the I love you that fell from your lips sounded nothing like it had in your daydreams.

Bucky thrashed against the men even harder, stringing curses and threats as your head was shoved into the nondescript cab. He promised death and pain and everything you knew he could deliver, if he only had the freedom to do so.

“You bastards,” he choked out, the anger lost to pain. “If you hurt her I will hunt you down and make you wish you were dead. Don’t touch her!”

The horses shook when his screaming stopped, but that only made your tears fall even harder.

The man sitting across from you rattled the carriage and simply scoffed. “We didn’t kill him. God, are you royals always so dramatic? Feels like this in every court.”

The horns started up again, and you could hear yelling past the creek of a rusty gate—footsteps marching with a heavy haste. But you were past anyone’s eyesight, and with the prince unconscious on the ground, he would take precedence.

That was fine. All you could focus on was the man’s last few words as you stared down at the ripped emerald green on your thigh.

In every court.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #prince Bucky #sebastian stan #royal AU

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buckgasms · 2 years

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I love ALL of your work!! So...can i think i have an idea that I'd like to read about😌

What about arranged marriage!to Bucky, where y'all don't like each other at first but then you slowly build a close relationship? I'm also thinking some angst, or maybe even hate sex at first and then when the time progresses, them falling in love and having more passionate, intimate sex😍😍

Hello sweet Nonnie ❤️ yes this sounds amazing! I decided to put it with the Royalty AU for the 2k celebration I hope that's ok! Thanks so much for your kind words ☺️❤️😘

Warnings: angry sex, arranged marriage, pregnancy mention, mostly just soft 🫶🏻

- Maybe you have known Bucky since childhood when you were betrothed and you never got on.

- Everytime you met at parties and balls you would have to dance with him and sit near him to appease the people watching.

- But you would spend the whole time bickering and poking holes at each other and being rude but smiling and kissing hands and cheeks all the time.

- Neither of you are thrilled about the wedding but Bucky had to admit you looked beautiful in your dress. He wasn't going to tell you that though.

- And you would never tell him how handsome he looked in his suit, hair slicked back and eyes like the ocean....

- No, that was none of his business...

👑

- Despite tradition, you didn't consummate the marriage for a while after your wedding.

- You did share a bed, which was challenging enough.

- You stole blankets, he snored, you talked in your sleep, he wouldn't stay on his side of the bed....

👑

- The first time you had sex it was actually chaos.

- You were having a huge fight. Shouting at each other all the way from the ballroom to the bedroom.

- You slammed the door and said "fuck you" and he threw his jacket across the room and said "you wish".

- Then it was basically a game of chicken. You both stripped off bit by bit, glaring at each other.

- When his pants came off you smirked at his cock, internally sweating at how good it looked. But you weren't to be outdone.

- You dropped your underwear to the floor and stood in front of him, eyebrows raised in a "are you going to do something or not?" face.

- Then he's on you, pressing you up against the door and kissing you so angrily and you biting his lip and digging your nails into the soft skin of his back.

- You push him to the bed, he drags you with him. You both fight to be on top but he wins eventually.

- His kisses are.... Good 🤌🏻

- You don't want to admit it but my god he knows what he's doing. You tell yourself you don't care if you enjoy it. He should be pleasing you and making you feel good... You'd earned it.

- He teased you though, whispering dirty things at you:

- "Didn't know my wife was such a slut"

- "Been dying for this haven't you?"

- "Listen to you...so fucking needy"

- You told him to shut his mouth and fuck you already, so he did.

👑

- After that your relationship changed a little.

- Because neither of you could deny that you were definitely compatible in one way.

- A simple hate fuck had lasted all night long, and at some point you were just kissing and touching each other before going at it again.

- Nothing had been said but the air between you had changed.

- You snapped less. He smiled at you more. When you sat together there was less mocking and when you danced you actually enjoyed each others company.

- Not always though.

- You still had huge fights, but they always seemed to end the same.

- Bucky and you fucking each other like angry rabbits until you'd calmed down again.

👑

- I wonder if something big has to happen before you can both admit you are in love with each other?

- Maybe thanks to all the fucking you realise you are pregnant?

- You're crying your eyes out because you are scared shitless, you think your husband hates you, it's all just too scary.

- And then Bucky appears, he's smiling at first until he sees you crying and he kinda forgets himself and strides over pulling you into his arms and holding you while you have your meltdown.

- When you finally calm down he brings you to sit on his lap in a little window seat, the sunlight shining down on you both like a reinassance painting.

- When you tell him you're pregnant he flushes, fear and joy running through his body.

- But then you tell him how you think he hates you, and he feels awful.

- He pulls your face towards his and strokes your soft cheeks with his fingers.

- "I don't hate you, you silly thing.... I love you..."

- You sniffle and hiccup before you look up at him and smile.

- "Really?"

- He laughs and leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, which you return happily, clinging to his shirt and pulling him into you.

👑

- From then on, your nightly sessions become gentler, slower and even better than before.

- You spend the nights exploring each others bodies, kissing everything, touching whatever you can reach.

- "God you're so perfect"

- "Take me so well, fucking made for me"

- "Gonna keep you like this all the time"

- Even his whispers become softer and sweeter, but they still drive you crazy.

- You wail and whine for him, run your hands over his body and pull him down for kisses and bites.

- The quiet moments in the night are filled with giggles and kisses.

👑

- Afterwards, everyone would say they knew all along that you loved each other. Maybe you did, but you were happy that you'd reached that in your own time...

👑👑👑

#2k celebration #darling nonnie #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky headcanon #royal bucky #prince bucky #royal au

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m4tthewmurd0ck · 2 years

Text

𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ~ 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎! 𝙱𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚡 𝙱𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚛! (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎) 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚃𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚂

~ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖

~ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

~ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

~ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

~ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

~ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

~ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗

if you’d like to be added to the tag list, let me know either in a comment, message, or my ask! mention the title or just a character name if you’d like to be tagged in everything written for them!

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thornsnvultures · 2 years

Text

set a flame ♡

Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader x Steve Rogers

Summary: Having to hide your relationship because of your status as a commoner, you and Prince James "Bucky" Barnes meet in secret in an old hunting cabin far from the rest of the world. Except, of course, from Sir Steve Rogers, a loyal knight and Bucky's best friend.

Words: 3k

Warnings: secret relationship, threesome, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering (f receiving), knife kink, some body descriptions (plus size reader)

a/n: took some inspiration from the prompts for @buckysbirdie 's ice cream shop writing challenge & @fineanddandy 's 3k/35 3s birthday collection. title from altar by kehlani which I listened to a lot while writing this. moodboard by me, divider by @firefly-graphics

@historygeekfics 💝

unbeta'd and edited by me, so if you see any mistakes, no you didn't :)

18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI. IF YOU INTERACT AND YOU DON’T HAVE YOUR AGE VISIBLE ON YOUR BLOG YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. 18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI.

"You're here."

A sudden rush of hair fills your lungs, your body tenses all over when you hear your prince's voice.

"Bucky."

With cautious footsteps his broad form leaves the rotted doorway of the ancient cottage and approaches you slowly like he would a wounded deer.

It would be comical if you didn't feel as frightened as you do. Like you could spook or do any harm at all this beast of a man in front of you.

"My love."

Your breath shudders from your chest as he reaches a hand out to you, opening his arms enough for you to run to them, to fit in between them like you belonged there.

The furs that line his cloak have trapped in the heat from the castle, saving them so Bucky could gift them to you now as you nuzzle in close to his chest.

With a sigh from your lips Bucky finally relaxes.

"I'm sorry I took so long, my love. Why did you not open the hearth? It's freezing in here."

You look up from his chest to where his brow is furrowed.

"I didn't want to start the smoke early and draw attention to our location. Hiding hasn't been easy of late, you know that."

Bucky only grunts and presses a kiss to your head. He pulls his cloak from his shoulders and wraps you in the luxurious velvet and furs.

His arms are as thick as the logs he throws into the hearth. You watch as he rolls his sleeves and stacks them just so before lighting the kindling. It takes a few moments for the fire to really get going. Once Bucky's satisfied he comes to you, lightly coated in soot, lifts you and places you on the bedroll situated on the floor by the fire.

"Better?"

With his big body sandwiching you between him and the flames?

"Much. Thank you."

His thick fingers draw away the hair that rests at the nape of your neck. A light press of his lips has a shudder running down your body all the way to your toes until they're curling in your shoes.

"I've missed you, my love."

The scrape of his stubble rubs against your tender flesh as he whispers into your neck.

"I've missed you too. Why did it take you so long to come to me tonight?"

Bucky's hand leaves your hair to tug on your shoulder, wordlessly asking you to turn to lay on your back, to face him.

The moonlight sneaking through the windows of the cabin only partially illuminates his face, shining on the sharp crystal blue of his eyes.

"What is it, my prince?"

Bucky doesn't answer. Those eyes continue to search your face, run the length of your nose to land on your plush lips. You can feel his desire pulsing through him as the two of you lie under his cloak. His body shifting closer, clinging to you like a second skin. The tip of his pink tongue swipes out against his full bottom lip and you want so badly for him to kiss you.

And like he's reading your mind, your prince does.

Soft and gentle at first, morphing into a deep claiming of your mouth. A man starved, filling you with his tongue, taking your own into his mouth.

"Bucky," you gasp. "My love, please."

He groans, trailing kisses down your jaw as his hand moves to your breast. The thin fabric of your dress is easily torn, pulled apart by your beast in search of your pert nipples.

Bucky finds them with his fingers first, tugging them till they're firm and aching as he grinds his own hardness into your hip.

You're not sure if he's aware he's doing it but his gasps into the curve of your neck only spur more wetness to leak from your core.

The rasp of his fingers against your breast are soon soothed by his laving tongue, hot and wet in the cool air.

"Yes! Bucky," you gasp as he grabs handfuls of your breasts, squeezing them together to lick from one nipple to the other. He groans, smothering his face in your softness, nipping and sucking at your breasts, marking them as his.

Strands of chestnut brown fall free from the bun tied at the nape of his neck as you tug on his hair, the loose tendrils tickling your skin.

"My prince, please. I need you. Touch me, please," you beg and beg, babbling from pleasure. But Bucky doesn't say a word. He feasts from your tits like a babe, suckling and groaning.

Your pleading turns incoherent as he climbs atop you. His length now pressing at the apex of your thighs, pressing into the barrier of your skirts like he's trying to dig you out of their depths.

The heat in your womb builds, churning, making your head spin until the damn breaks and your screaming, spasming against Bucky's overbearing form pressing you into the floor.

"That's it. That's it, my love. Fuck, you're so beautiful."

When the molten waves finally subside you're gasping for air, chest exposed and heaving under your prince's watchful eye.

"An angel. A gift from the heavens."

You see a flash of silver on your left, almost imperceptible through your half-lidded, hazy eyes. But you know from the swift sounds of tearing and the cool slide of metal against your skin that Bucky's drawn his dagger and sliced clean through the middle of your dress to your skirts. Your eyes snap open, taking in the shocking sight of his sharp dagger laying on your soft tummy as he works to slide off the remnants of your dress. The hilt of the blade lies between your breasts, waiting near your heart for its owner to pick it up once again.

"Did you have to ruin my dress though?"

"I'll buy you three more," Bucky leans down to kiss you, once again taking his dagger in hand and twirling it in his nimble fingers before sheathing it. "Better ones even, if you'd like."

"That's not the point," you huff, mourning the loss only briefly before you're imaging wrapping yourself in furs that match Bucky's own. Making a statement to whom you belong.

"Oh, but you look so pretty when you pout," Bucky taps your lower lip. His thick finger pulls it down the slightest bit and you're already opening your mouth wide, inviting him inside.

Your prince slides his finger down your tongue, filling you slowly until he tickles the back of your throat making you gag.

He chuckles, watching how your eyes flutter, how your breathing changes, goes deeper.

"My angel. My love. Come to me."

Bucky kneels over you, watching you watch him as he pulls down his trousers. His thick, oozing length bobs over you before he sits down on the furs, patting his lap for you to come sit.

The furs are soft and forgiving on your knees as you crawl towards him. Your eyes stay on his cock as he circles the base, giving himself a squeeze then stroking long and languid up his length.

Thinking he means for you to ride him you move to straddle him, wrap your thick thighs around his waist, but he stops you.

"No, my love," he doesn't stop stroking his cock as he speaks. You tilt your head, suddenly confused. Did he not...want you anymore? Surely that couldn't be the case. Not after what the two of you just shared. Especially not with his current...predicament in hand.

Bucky's free hand cradles your face, his eyes searching yours.

"What would you think about Sir Steven joining us tonight?"

You freeze. Your stomach flips back and forth. Your heart's suddenly racing, threatening to break free from your chest.

"S-sir Steven?"

"I see how you look at him, my love. How you clench your thighs together when he smiles at you. How you giggle like a schoolgirl when he speaks to you."

You sputter in shock.

"Bucky, I -- I don't know what to say."

Bucky chuckles and lifts your head to kiss you. Your eyes, which had been unable to meet his own, close and you lose yourself for a moment in the sweet softness of his lips.

"I understand, angel," he smiles into your lips. "I wouldn't have brought it up if I didn't trust either of you. Sir Steven is my right hand, my best friend. And you, my love, are my everything."

You shook your head, not believing for a moment. Like this was a trap, a trick, too good to be true. The idea of both of these men caring for you...loving you. It was almost too much to bear.

"He's so desperate for a taste of you, my love," Bucky whispers into your ear. "He hungers for your sweet cunt. After all these months standing guard outside this cabin. Hearing me ravage you, treasure you, take you apart, while he can do naught but stand and wait and listen."

Your core clenches, pulses with need as Bucky speaks. You knew in the back of your mind that Steve was out there, had to be in order to protect his prince, but the fact that he was listening, lusting after you silently in the dark. It thrilled you. And it terrified you.

You were thoroughly embarrassed and unsure if you could look Steve in the eye again knowing what you knew now, even though it shouldn't come as a surprise.

"What do you say, my love? One word and he'll be here. Or another and we'll never speak of it again. Either way, know I love you. I always will."

Bucky's so serious it hurts. His eyes never leave yours as he speaks, forcing you to look, to know that he means it. He refuses to let you hurt or to let this come between the two of you.

"Yes. Yes, Bucky."

Your prince smiles at you and captures your mouth once more.

"I want to make you feel good, angel. So good."

"You do, Bucky. You will."

"And so will he."

Bucky calls for Steve then and as he walks through the door you're reminded by the chill that you're on your knees, completely bare. You scramble to cover yourself with the tattered remains of your dress.

"No, my love," Bucky stops you, tweaks a bare nipple as he kisses you. "Show him. You're too beautiful a gift to hide away."

Steve sends a small smile your way, kind as always as you meet his gaze.

Slowly, Steve removes his coats and his weapons, keeping them within reach just in case. He approaches you much like Bucky did earlier, as if he's afraid to spook you.

You don't know what to say to this man. Even broader than Bucky in some ways and just as powerful a force. The prince's study blade, always by his side.

Thankfully Steve speaks first.

"May I...kiss you?"

He's kneeling before you, still in his shirt and trousers. The only sound in the cabin besides your breathing and the blood rushing past your ears is the slick sound of Bucky stroking his cock.

With that oddly grounding sound at your back, you find the strength to nod your head. Because you do, God, you do want this.

Steve takes your head in has hands, large and warm like Bucky's, swallowing you up in their care, and he kisses you.

His beard is grown out, not stubbled like Bucky's, but softer on your cheeks and chin as he presses close. Not devouring but tasting, savoring like you're his last meal.

You have to force yourself to stop comparing the two men. The differences between their touch, their tastes, stand out but so do their similarities. And when you have them both here, ready to devour you whole, any time spent pondering instead of soaking up their affections would be a waste.

Steve's kisses grow more urgent, his hands find your waist and travel up your curves to cup your breats. They're sensitive from Bucky's earlier ministrations, tender in spots from love bites and bruises sucked into your skin.

"Jesus, Buck. What were you trying to do, maul the poor girl?," Steve jests to his friend over your shoulder. You can't help but laugh into his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt.

"That little hellcat in your arms has done worse to me before, believe me."

"Oh now I'm a hellcat, my love? What happened to me being your angel?"

Bucky grins and curls his fingers in the air, calling you forth.

"Then show me. Show me how good you are and come swallow my cock."

You gulp and nod, crawling back to Bucky on your knees. You can feel Steve's eyes on you as your hips sway.

"Fuck. Look at you," Steve groans as you bend down and take Bucky into your mouth.

Your prince feels hot and heavy on your tongue. A thick, veiny mouthful that takes a few moments to adjust to a you work up and down his length. Bucky groans, resting a hand in the back of your head, not pressing, just holding you there, keeping you on his cock.

Behind you, you hear the rustle of trousers being removed and slick sound of Steve working his hand over his cock.

You groan around Bucky's length, the idea of Steve watching you take Bucky down your throat making your slit weep, your juices running down your thigh.

Feeling more confident, more brazen, you lift up on your knees, spreading them and arching your back so Steve can see... all of you.

Your knight groans and his hand picks up speed as he watches your dripping, clenching cunt.

"Touch her, Stevie. Go ahead."

Bucky's voice is deep, relaxed, when he speaks. It sends a shudder rushing through you. You'd beg Steve to touch you now if your mouth wasn't full.

Expecting a tentative hand on your back side or finger on your folds, you're shocked and unprepared when you instead feel Steve run his tongue flat up your cunt. From your clit your hole, he licks a wide stripe, collecting your slick on his tongue.

"Oh, fuck! Steve," you gasp, pulling off of Bucky's cock. Your hand works overt his length as you cry out. Steve's wonderful, perfect mouth is sucking on your clit, your folds, savoring every inch of your cunt.

With one thumb he spreads your inner folds open and moves in close to spear your cunt with his tongue. The thick muscle penetrating your walls with an unbelievable hunger.

Bucky was right. Steve desperately wants to completely devour you.

Feeling neglected, even though he loves watching your face contort in pleasure, Bucky takes you by the hair and shoves your mouth back down over his cock.

You jolt in surprise but immediately get back to it, working him over with you mouth and fist, making sure to occasionally tug on his spit slick sac as well. It tightens under your fingers and you know Bucky's close. His legs, shaking as you take him deeper and deeper.

Steve's relentless behind you, still fucking you with his tongue, lapping up every bit of you he can reach. You can hear him still frantically stroking his cock as he feasts from your dripping center.

"Fuck, that's it, angel. Suck me dry."

You take Bucky's cock as far as you can, your nose just brushing the hair at his base, as he shoots molten hot down your throat.

"Fuck!"

Bucky pulls you off his cock and up to capture your lips in a hungry kiss, groaning into your mouth as he tastes himself in your tongue.

Behind you Steve replaces his tongue with two thick fingers and it's only after a few pumps that you're screaming, coming all over his hand and dripping on the furs beneath you.

Seconds after you crumple into Bucky's lap, completely spent, Steve's growling, jerking his cock over your ass, and coating your backside with his hot seed.

"Fucking hell, angel."

Bucky pulls your limp body up for another kiss then turns your head to face Steve. The blond kisses you, licking away some of Bucky's cum from your chin that dribbled out.

Bucky lays you down, curls you up in his side as his knight cleans your backside with some fabric from your dress. The poor garment has seen too much tonight.

Once Steve has finished he goes to dress again, to return to his post outside.

"Stevie."

His head whips around to look at you, halfway done lacing up his trousers.

"Stay. Please. For a little while?"

Steve looks from you to the door and back again, unsure.

"Your prince orders you to stay," Bucky mumbles, already starting to fall asleep.

"Oh, shut up, Buck."

You giggle as you reach out for Steve, your lovely, golden-tongued knight. Pulling him into the warm furs in front of you with Bucky lightly snoring at your back.

Steve is hesitant, shy almost, like you were before he dove his face into your private bits.

"Thank you, Stevie."

"Well, what the prince says goes," he shrugs.

"No. For keeping us safe. For keeping our secret safe," you raise your hand to his strong chest, feeling his heart beating a strong, steady rhythm under your palm. "It's hard, loving someone quietly like this. Hiding it when you know it could be taken away. So...thank you. For keeping us safe. And for loving us too."

Steve sucks in a breath, like he thought you didn't know, couldn't see how he felt. You saw it when he looked at Bucky too. You knew how they cared for each other.

"Until tonight I thought I might've been imagining things. Thinking that maybe we didn't all feel the same. That you didn't feel the same. So I ignored it. Until Bucky asked me if I would let you in. I thought I was hiding it so well, how much I care for you. But Bucky could see it, could see that I care for you as much as I do for him."

Steve stared at you in awe.

"Bucky's a fool if he thinks this is going to be a one time thing," you smile at Steve, biting your lip and trying not to laugh and wake the oaf behind you.

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sebastianstansqueen · 1 year

Text

Run

A/N: Um came up with this today, tell me what you think, i hope you all like it, feedback is always appreciated, if you want to be Tagged, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open.

Wordcount: 1,469

Warnings: Slight angst, I think thats it.

Masterlist // Tagglists

Taglist: @cherryblossomsky - @babylooneytoonz - @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond - @leyannrae - @avengerlex - @pineprincess - @nik2writes - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08 - @scxrletrecsmarvel

The dark night sky with the moon and all the stars shining down at you, as dirt and leaves gather beneath your feet, you run for the docs to make your escape from your life. When there you walked to the end of the large pier and boarded a large ship.

Ten Years Later

You stood looking out at your sea, now known as the captain of all seven seas, and a few other names, no one entered any water without your permission, not even royal ships. But today was a rare occasion where you see a ship with royal colors and a crest on the side that you didn’t remember signing a permission letter for. “Head for it.” You told one of your men. When this would happen you’d ransack the ship, take everything, kill someone as a warning and send the most important person back, as a way to warn them but not declare war.

They tried to fight but it didn’t work out, your men brough two men on the ship where they had them kneel in front of you. “Don’t you know that these are my waters?” You asked, liking a flair for the dramatic.

They took the bags from over their heads, they were both equally handsome. “Don’t we have the right to sell the sea of our land?” The one with light hair and blueish green eyes asked.

“Your land, the sea is my land, you don’t touch my borders, I don’t touch you.” You explained, it was knowledge to almost everyone.

“Please don’t hurt us, I’m prince James Barnes, we mean no harm, and we didn’t know.” The other man told you.

“James, who is your friend here, to that of your family?” You questioned.

Both men stiffened. “He's a royal advisor.” James answered you.

“Don’t worry James, your friend will be my warning, I don’t want to start a war, I just want to send a warning.” You pulled out your sword and held it under the blond’s chin.

“Take me instead.” James interjects.

You looked at him. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, your highness.”

“Take me as a prisoner.” Was his response.

You thought for a moment, contemplating the idea, you looked to one of the crew members for their thoughts on it, she shrugged at you. “I want to go see the king and queen myself.” You stated. “Sail for the docs.” You demand.

“What are you going to do to us?” The blond inquired.

You looked at the men. “We're going to see your king and queen about this deal.” You left them there heading to your quarters on the ship, getting in something less for plundering and pillaging.

Your first mate, Natasha came to talk as you got dressed. “What if they recognise you?” She hissed.

“They won't, I'm sure of it, I've never heard of the Barnes family, even then, so they shouldn’t know me.” You sighed as you tried tightening your outer corset. Over your shirt and skirt, you sheathe your sword and step out.

“What if they do and take you back?” She asked you.

“Then you know where to find me, and take me back as captain.” You replied making sure your hat was on correctly. “You're gonna die of worry if you don’t stop now, it’s never happened and it won’t happen. Now, let's go meet this King and Queen.” With the advisor and prince in hand you with some of your crew made your way to the castle.

You got in the walls easily because of the man, and then were led to the throne room. “What is going on here?” The king’s voice boomed over the room.

“Your son trespassed on my waters, with his advisor, I don’t seek war, but I seek some form of repayment.” You replied not bowing or anything.

“I didn’t believe you're the pirate queen?” The king's brows furrowed. “I thought you were a myth.”

“I prefer captain of the seven seas, but that's one of them, and, no I'm very real.” You smirked. “However your son doesn't seem to want me to hurt the dear secretary, he offered me himself but killing or just taking him would start that war I told you about.”

“We won’t let you hurt him nor our secretary.” The Queen said.

“I need something, in return, so that this doesn't happen again.” You hiss out.

The king rolled his eyes. “We don’t listen to pirates, you are going to be lucky to keep your head in contact.”

You pulled out the sword. “I may not want war but I will start it.” You held it at the prince’s throat. “So, give me gold or I'll kill your boy.”

The king sighed. “Fine, how much do you want?”

“Fifty thousand gold pieces.” You demand.

The king grumbled and nodded for someone to grab it, once it was all counted for in front of you, a victorious smile broke out on your lips. “If I find out you go onto my sea again without my signed permission, I’ll kill all of you.” You warned.

“And how will you know?” The king asked.

You smirked. “I have my ways, I am the captain of the seven seas after all.”

After that, Bucky had become enamored by you, and that grew the concern of Steve. “You won’t see her again.”

“I will, if I go back to sea.” Bucky smirked.

“She’ll kill you and me and your family.” The blond warned.

Bucky looked at him. “She won’t.”

During those same weeks Natasha noticed you were off as well, always seeming to day dream. “What the hell are you doing?” She asked as you were off somewhere in your mind.

“Nothing, why?” You asked.

She glared at you. “No, you’re off somewhere else when you need to be here.”

“I am here.” You rolled your eyes.

She shook her head. “You're thinking of the stupid prince.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ve got no time for prince’s.” You huff as you ready the ship for the south.

Word spread soon to you that Prince James had been setting sail everyday, and you weren’t about to let that be, so you made your way back. Surely enough you saw the ship, and him, so you got him back in your grasp. “Do you think I am a lire?” You hissed.

“I think you're an honest woman, you came back after all.” He shrugged.

Your brows furrowed. “So you're an idiot, I thought Princes were literate.”

“I am literate, but I also know that if I got you to come back I would see you again.” He admitted.

“So you would have your family and yourself killed to see me again?” You asked.

“I want to go with you, I want to see the world.” He explained.

You shook your head. “Then see it, I’ll give my permission.”

“Not on a royal boat, with men who have to go with me, I want to see you on your boat.”

You scoffed and shook your head again. “Nope, I’m not taking you with me, I’d get killed and then you, goe back home, this is your last chance.”

You left again, and the man reminded you in your mind you kept watch over the sea around the kingdom incase of the stupid prince decided to go back at sea, one night you left the boat, and went to land. Where James waited, the two of you had been sending letters. “Who are you really captain of the seven seas?” He asked you that night.

“I can’t tell you that James.” You spoke softly.

He looked down at you as you both laid in the sad looking up at the moon and stars similar to the one all those years ago when you ran. “Why not, you know I don’t want to harm you.”

“It's more than you hurting me, if I tell you, if I tell you I don’t know if you’ll tell your parents.” You sighed.

“They don’t know we’re even here. You could take me tonight and they wouldn’t know who did it.” He cupped your cheek.

“I’d be the first they’d look into.” You smirked.

He shook his head. “I won’t tell them who you are.”

You gave in. “I’m Y/n Y/l/n, my official title is princess of Asland, I-”

“Ran away ten years ago.” He finished. “I’ve heard all about you, why did you run?”

“I didn’t want to be like my mother and her mother and so on, unhappy, not free, I’ve never returned and never will.” You shook your head.

“What if someone goes to sea there?” He asked.

“I don’t bother, I have someone else take care of it.” You replied. “I have a plan for everything.”

#bucky x reader #prince bucky #pirate!bucky x reader #Prince!bucky x Pirate!reader #bucky x you #bucky x yn #royal!bucky #royal!reader #bucky barnes royalty au #bucky barnes #marvel #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky x reader royal au #bucky x reader oneshot

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dysfunctionalmaki · 4 months

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Say My Name

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You work all around at the local country club, to your advantage you flirted and used your beauty to get what you want, though with this certain woman your own way can't seem to work.

Warning: This work contains smut and foul language, minors DNI!!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

“Oh god—” You could just feel this woman's grip on your hair the more you burrowed your face in between her legs, she was begging, aching, and pleading to cum. Looking up to this beautiful older woman, you can't help but smirk at the fact that she's practically wrapped around your fingers. Who knew that the powerful business owner Diana Prince was such an obedient woman towards you, years younger than her and let alone the waitress at the local country club.

You made yourself busy as you focused on working your tongue against her clit, flicking the wet muscle against it, holding both her legs as they involuntarily jerked with your motions, hearing her loud moans, heavy breathing you knew she was close. “Please, baby… please make me cum…” she begged once more and you decided to be kind, letting go of her legs you went on to reach both your hands up to her breasts. Fondling them as you devoured her pussy, mouth pressed against it, giving short licks on her nub before sucking on it every now and then. Finally, Diana hit her zenith, cumming against your mouth, just how she always liked you made sure to lap up every single drop of her juice.

Helping her ride off her high, once she actually finished you slowly backed up, then she looked at you with her hazy eyes. “Great job as always, Y/N.” she complimented, you can't help but shrug with an evident smile on your face. “I make sure to do my best, Ms. Prince.” you teasingly say before sitting up, so you could prepare to clean her up. “Is this how you're going to live out your early 20s? Eating pussies and serving martinis for a living?” Diana asked as she watched you make your way into the bathroom. “That… That doesn't sound so bad.” you say loud enough from the bathroom.

Cleaning up your face before heading back into the bedroom with a small washcloth, you went to sit on her side of the bed, then you headed to clean her up after eating her out to both your heart's delight. Once you cleaned her up to her satisfaction, Diana sat up for a moment and reached for something from her handbag, taking out a cheque then she went on to write down the amount she's giving you and her signature on where it's needed. “Here, buy yourself something nice. You deserve it, no man can bring me that orgasm you just gave me.” Diana says with a sigh, you take the paper as you read what it's worth, your eyes widen then you look at the older woman. “What? No one's ever given you that much?” you shook your head. “I usually get 500…” it came out as a whisper from you. “Well, 5 grand's a lot compared to that.” she added.

“Now… come here and let me kiss the mouth that made me cum so good.” she purrs and you weren't going to deny that when you're just handed five thousand dollars, you could feel how needy her kisses were and you made sure to give what she needs. Her tongue swirling against yours, soft groans and moaning against your lips when you brought your hands back to her breasts to gently fondle and lightly pinch her sensitive nipple. With that happening, it was safe to say that you stayed the whole night in her condominium at the city, as the morning came she was gone and left a note on the side table.

“I’ll be gone for a whole week, I'd be a fool if I assume you aren't going to be in between someone's legs in a day or two, just make sure you'll be here at the same time next week.

Diana”

You went to take the note and place it in your bag, taking a shower in her bathroom then you went on to leave the building. You immediately check your cell to text your friend Yelena, telling her all the details of the sex and how much you earned after it. Getting into a taxi you asked to be dropped off at the Stark Country Club, you'd be a fool to quit your job even if you earned five grand in one night. As you got there, you quickly changed into your uniform, a polo shirt that hugged your figure perfectly and some short shorts that showed off your perfectly maintained legs.

It was no doubt that you're a head turner for men and women in the club, the older gentlemen would even ask you out for a drink every now and then but the women? They aren't as obvious as the men but they sure have imaginations and thoughts probably even dirtier than most.

“So, Prince is that rich?” You hear your friend's voice from behind while you are taking the orders and placing them on a tray. “I mean probably? Nobody just casually hands out that kind of cash.” you say to Yelena while waiting for the other meal since your dear customer asked for all the food to be served at the same time. “As good as it sounds, I don't think the whole sexcapade is my thing.” Yelena says before helping you with another tray, you both put on your pretty smiles when you served the meal to the customers and when it's just the two of you again the conversation started once more.

“I mean it's okay, we earn a fair day's pay after a fair day's work, the whole sexcapade thing is just a sideline… or–” “For your pleasure” Yelena finished your sentence. “Yes, for my pleasure.” you say with a sigh. Yelena left the conversation since she had more tables to serve and you're stuck at the lobby to accommodate more people to have drinks and some finger food. Until a certain group of older women walked in, there are two redheads and a blonde, you stared at them for a moment until you didn't realize you were holding eye contact with one of them.

“Oh- Hi! Welcome to Stark Country Club, how can I assist you today?” You put on your pretty smile that usually works on older men but these women seemed unfazed… Well, you just didn't notice the redhead at the back. “Hi, dear, call me Natasha or whatever, we would just like a couple of drinks before we get to the golf course, is that alright? Your choice, give us what's best.” The redhead at the front said before walking with her friends on one of the tables, you hear them gossiping as they left but you couldn't decipher what they were saying at all.

You walked towards the bar and Bucky the bartender looked at you with his brow raised. “That's your potential foursome?” He teasingly asked and you can't help but roll your eyes. “Hey, don't blame me, rumors get around here.” Bucky defended himself. “Whatever I do I make sure to do it outside my work.” you say before looking at the menu to choose what drink they should have. “They're asking for three scarlet cocktails.” it was house special and you've had a couple of regulars who would order this drink from time to time.

When Bucky finished making the drink you set it on the tray before making your way towards the three women, you did notice the blonde one was eyeing you but you paid no mind to it, you were struck with the quiet redhead who was just scrolling through her phone while waiting for the drinks. As you arrived at their table, Natasha smiled at you and you made sure to smile back, placing their drinks on the table. You were about to leave until Natasha spoke up. “Wait, I was wondering if you know someone named Yelena working here?” she asked then you bit the inside of your cheek unsure of what to answer since she's technically a stranger.

“Oh, I'm no creep I promise, she's my younger sister.” She took her phone and showed a photo of her and your best friend, after that it was shown that you nodded your head. “She does work here, would you like me to call her for you?” and the redhead shook her head. “No, no, she's working and I don't really want to bother her, just trying to see how she's doing.” Natasha says which made her friends look at her. “I'm sorry to interrupt the conversation but you look really pretty.” The blonde commented and you can't help but blush a little before saying thank you.

When you tried to steal a glance from the quiet redhead, your eyes locked with her for a moment since she's off her phone, all she did was smile at you and sure as hell your breath was taken away. You said your usual line “If you need me just give me a holler.” And they simply smiled with a nod to acknowledge you. Making a beeline back to your station, Yelena passed by and she stopped in front of you. “Don't tell me that's who I think it is.” your friend commented before looking behind you once more. “If you meant your sister, she's hot… so are her friends.” Yelena practically glared at your comment then she looked once more to confirm who the people are with her sister.

“She’s with her college friends, Carol the blonde one and Wanda the other redhead.” Yelena said then you nodded your head. “So… what are the possibilities if I hit on your sister?” you asked and she lightly smacked your arm. “No.” she simply says before getting back on track on doing her job. You were just standing on your station and occasionally serving other customers every now and then, until you felt the need to use the comfort room. Making your way towards it, you check if the stalls had people then you went to fix yourself, checking if your hair still looked good, your makeup still on, and as you were applying your lipgloss someone walked in.

You paid no mind to it until you noticed the reflection on the mirror, it is Wanda. She stood next to you and did the same, she was touching up her light make-up, and there's just this awkward wall between you two. “Sorry if my friend Carol made that comment.” she simply says then you looked at her. “Oh, it's okay, it's just a simple compliment it wouldn't hurt anyone.” you responded happily then she smiled at you. “Well, for what is worth she isn't lying at all.” Wanda commented. The sudden compliment somehow made you blush, you were used to receiving compliments so why are you blushing when this woman just gave you one?

“I can say the same, Miss…?” You look towards the redhead, she finishes applying her lipstick and she looks right back at you. “No need for formalities, it's Wanda, Wanda Maximoff.” She introduces herself before holding her hand out, you took it with yours and you shook her hand. “Now, I think I've got a reason to come here every now and then… Y/N.” she says with a smirk when she looked at your nameplate, she went to leave first and gave you a wink before closing the door. Looking once more in the mirror you were more than surprised with the encounter, sure it was awkward but that woman was something else.

#wanda maximoff x reader #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #black widow #yelena belova #smut #diana prince #wonder woman #elizabeth olsen #marvel #bucky x reader #alternate universe #au #dysfunctionalmaki

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itneverendshere · 2 years

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out of time ― bucky barnes au! (one shot!series)

warnings: lots and lots of angst;

part ii & iii: as it was; runaway

They told me I needed to disappear.

They told me I deserved it. They talked about it like it was easy. A simple gunshot. A drop of poison, invisible in my bloodstream. They said they would do it, for their kingdom, for my sanity. They said it would help me breathe again, and because I couldn't breathe, I believed them.

But none of them saw the look in his eyes or the way he tried to hold onto me as I slipped away. None of them cared; none of them heard me sobbing. I did deserve it, and it had been easy disappearing. But I still can't breathe.

Even though we bled the same blood, his always held more meaning behind it, power. His held the meaning of royalty, of a leader and ruler, meant to protect his people, their peace, and shower his kingdom with victories.

My Bucky―James, was raised at birth for the throne and his power.

Not for me, a mere commoner, a maid.

"I told you I'm bad."

I see the reflection of my broken will dancing in his eyes. I look down, remembering everything I desperately tried to forget, I refuse to listen to my thoughts, their shouts, the blade of their words cut through me.

"I loved you." His lips still twist in the same way I loved.

Still love.

"You shouldn't."

I can see it. How he hates me, my lies, and gentle touch. He flinches away.

"Don't you ever think you have the right to touch me." His hand twist into a fist before he holds it behind his back. He’s repulsed by the simple idea of my touch.

"I had to go James,” He clenches his defined jaw, "I did not mean to hurt you."

You want to scream. They made me do it! I was trying to protect you!

I wish, so strongly, almost carelessly, that he’s still able to read my mind, to perceive me as I am. There was always more to me than what I led on.

But he can’t see me anymore, I’ve become nothing but a misleader in his eyes, a stranger.

"You betrayed me, you let me believe we had a chance. I fought for you; I would’ve left everything for you!” His entire body shakes, “You made me fight my soldiers, almost murder tens of innocents!"

He is the heir to an empire. His marriage to someone else was long arranged, before his birth, before the throne, and before me. Our love was doomed from the beginning. I watched them pull him away a little more every single day. I knew I would never be his, not fully, but I chose to be naïve and trust that destiny had great plans for us.

"I had no other choice,” My voice trembles with all the emotions I’m fighting to keep at bay. This is my doing. I can’t blame him, him who was mine years ago, would still be mine if I wasn’t a coward.

“You left,” He antagonizes me, “You ran away, and yet, I still couldn’t live or breathe for fifteen fucking minutes when you were not around. So, you tell me, who cared more here?”

I remember how when we were both children, we used to play in the corners of the palace gardens, I remember his kindness, how he said he loved me at the mere age of sixteen, how he kissed me so quickly in the quiet of his chambers.

“How can you stand here and belittle me with your lies?” His voice breaks mid-sentence, but he holds the tears from falling.

Although my heart is no longer beating and my inside bleeds red for him, I give a small smile.

Despite everything, I’d never change my decision. I did what I had to do, to protect both of us. That didn’t change the fact he would always be the love of my life.

“I’m always going to love you, James, you're all I’ve known my entire life.”

My body releases a breath I didn’t know was being held. I feel it, right here, the fear of losing him all over again, watching him slip through my grip petrified me.

He had the most lit-up and reflective eyes, so emotional it hurt and cut deeply.

“I was always yours, you were never mine. I was never the right one for you, we knew it all along, we just…pretended.”

“It’s been seven hundred and fifty-three days since you left,” He leans in, his cologne hitting me as his eyes into my soul, “Seven hundred and fifty-three days I spent picturing your face, every breath I took was filled with the pain of knowing I would never be able to hold you again. And now, you return? Is this some sick game to you?”

His fingers dig into my waist as I hunt for the reason behind my weakness. His furious, beautiful, eyes draw into a deep scowl, pressing his forehead to mine, and my heart races faster than it ever has before.

So close, yet so far.

“I hate you, and yet I don’t.” His lips brush against my mouth softly, and a tear slips out of my eye.

My palms fist at my sides, a mix of desire, longing, and anger boiling under my blood, “You should hate me.”

Time stops, it feels like the universe is collapsing on top of my chest, and it seems impossible to tell the beginning and the end apart.

“I don’t. I can’t, not with a single fiber in my body can I make myself hate you.” And just like that, he pushes himself away from me, waking up from whatever daze he was in before, as if we never happened. Bucky stalks his way out of the room, banging his fist on the door on his way out, but before he steps completely out, he looks back at me, giving me one last command.

“Whatever your business here is, make it quick. You left once, I’m certain you’ll have no problem doing it again.”

As soon as his sturdy legs carry him along the hallways with fast, long, footsteps, I slowly sink to my knees, watching my doom drown me, pulling me down to where the world ends.

_______________________________________________

felt like writing something for my man bucky while listening to some Spotify playlists🤪 I really liked this? not planning on turning into a fic because i do not possess such talent but i might write more parts to it if anyone’s interested i guess.

If you’re checking to see if I’ve updated my sunghoon fic…no😭 the day will surely come but im currently with no ideas for the next chapter😭 so bare with me!

#bucky blurb #bucky oneshot #prince bucky #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky headcanon #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky angst #lovers to strangers

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queers-gambit · 7 months

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Clingy Baby collection masterlist

a collection of varying muses labeling Reader as "clingy".

got another idea for being clingy? lemme hear it! requests CLOSED

requesting rules and masterlist

mostly hurt and comfort, some angst some sequels are being fleshed out

God's Plan

your boyfriend carries the worst parts of his job home, bringing to life one of your deepest-seeded insecurities. >>> or when a fight breaks out with your boyfriend, you're called clingy to your face.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader

word count: 3.1k+

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

🎭 drama 🥺 hurt 🚫 no REAL comfort 🙊 general language and content warning 🍄 toxic relationship

read here

part two: Two to Tango

the aftermath of Carmy's words seem to rattle him more than you.

word count: 5.4k+

🎭 drama ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 💔 small angst 🧸 small fluff ☠️ discussion of deceased family member 🙊 general language and content warning 💣 relationship angst 🔏 barely edited

read here

Curiosity Killed The Cat

few weeks after rescuing you from a kidnapper, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become. >>> or you overhear your boyfriend call you clingy to his friends.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

word count: 5.1k+

fandom masterlist: Marvel

🎭 drama ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🦋 modern AU 💸 mafia AU 🙊 general language and content warning 🥊 brief depiction of physical violence and / or aggression 🫠 description of self-destruction 🔏 barely edited

read here

You Might Think It's Foolish

meeting your boyfriend's family for the first time creates anxiety, so, you stick to his side. at dinner, his mother calls out your clinginess - and Aemond doesn't defend you. >>> or when someone else calls you clingy and he doesn't defend you / agrees with them.

pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

word count: 3.1k+

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

🎭 drama 💔 angst 🥺 hurt 🚫 no comfort 💣 relationship angst 🐝 stand alone 🙊 general language and content warning 🐍 toxic family 🍄 toxic relationship...? 🔏 barely edited

read here

Not All That Glitters is Gold

during your engagement dinner, you learn from your fiancé's niece that he hold choice words about you. >>> or when you find out he's been talking behind your back; calling you clingy. it comes to light during a public outing.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

word count: 3.1k+

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

🎭 drama 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 💣 relationship angst ⏳ AU timeline 🙊 general language and content warning 🔏 barely edited

read here

Save Me From Myself

in a moment of unparalleled anger, you learn what Joel really thinks of you.

request: Can i request joel miller for the clingy baby series!! Maybe they were traveling together w ellie and she clings to him bc he always kept her safe until he calls her clingy one day.

pairing: Joel Miller x female!reader

word count: 1.9k+

fandom masterlist: The Last of Us

⚠️ mild spoilers 🙊 general language warning 🥺 hurt 🚫 no comfort 💔 mild angst ❗️ short fic!

read here

requesting rules and masterlist

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crazyunsexycool · 3 months

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You should see me in a crown

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

Prince!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Modern royalty AU

You were a princess.

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

And you would.

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

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

#you should see me in a crown series #prince!bucky barnes #prince!bucky #modern royalty au #Prince!bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky Barnes series #Bucky Barnes au #Bucky Barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes angst #Bucky Barnes smut #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x female!reader

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missmorwen · 23 days

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\o/

Thunderbolts 2023 #4

#buckynat #winterwidow #thunderbolts 2023 #wednesday spolers #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #alpine #black widow #winter soldier #otp otp otp #his one true love #bucky really said fuck kot and his alien princes

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pellucid-constellations · 2 years

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A Correspondence of Obligation - Nine

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

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Angst, Bucky is upset in his POV™️, reader is going through it, we are all going through it

a/n: This is a tiny bit late, so thanks for sticking with me! I appreciate feedback so much, let me know what you think! Thank you for reading ♡♡

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A bleariness had taken over your senses. You knew you were in a room with four walls and a window that overlooked something, but the ringing in your ears made it hard to discern what exactly that was. It was a ringing that you knew stemmed solely from panic.

It was frustrating to admit that you had given into everything. The men of this castle moved you somewhere, and you went. They told you to stay put, and you did. At least you had been able to catch that you were in a castle at this point; survival meant being meek, but keeping your eyes steady, just as Natasha had taught you.

Bucky’s last words kept rolling through your head in an uncomfortable way, making you feel nauseous as you tried to calm yourself in this bleak room. He said he would find you, but that was moments before he was rendered unconscious in some back loading yard of the castle.

Your castle—if you ever got the chance to go home again.

You knocked your head back against solid stone, willing your thoughts to quiet and urging the breath in your body to calm. Every once in a while, there were footsteps on the other side of your door. They never stopped, but they lingered with a lightness.

It was unnerving and comforting at the same time; a stranger providing a pattern.

By the time the door finally clicked open, you were sure it had been hours. The sun that had been high in the sky was completely dimmed, and any warmth you had felt at the luncheon had vanished. But you weren’t in Brookshire anymore, so that was to be expected; there was a special sort of warmth there that felt irreplicable.

It was a maid that entered. She wore a long wool gown, common for castle staff, and her hair was covered by a nondescript cloth. You brought your knees up to your chest upon her arrival, seeking an impossible comfort. She kept her back to you as she set a tray with bread and water by the window, and then, like the footsteps beyond your door, she lingered.

You held your breath. She held her hands behind her back.

Was this some intimidation tactic? You were already being held, and you were positive a ransom had been sent out at this point—from wherever you were. There was no need to scare you into compliance when you were so obviously the one at a disadvantage. But the maid still stayed.

Until she turned.

There was a small sense of recognition that flickered through you; something about her eyes made you narrow your own—a kindness that embodied them, even when she wasn’t smiling. You felt as if you could almost place her, but the ever-present terror in your body was making it too difficult.

The maid cleared her throat, sounding as if she was struggling. “Princess Y/n,” she spoke, a quiver in her tone. “Do you know where you are?”

“I do not.” Your words came out like sandpaper—broken and coarse.

“Are you hurt?”

Your head was throbbing and your body was so tired, but those facts were hardly pressing. Instead of being truthful, you gritted out, “Why would you care if I was hurt?”

The woman before you paused, her knuckles turning white as she wrapped her hands into fists. She took a deep breath as if to steady herself, but it didn’t last long; heavier footsteps in the hall had her shaking her head in desperation.

“Has it truly been so long? Do you not know who I am?”

You shifted on the ground. The new stone was cold beneath you.

“I don’t even know where I am,” you shot out, keeping your voice low, fearing those in the hall even when the person before you was still unknown. “I have only been to two kingdoms in my life and neither of them were here. I do not believe you know me.”

The maid kneeled before you. “I know where you have been. I know because I have been tracking your movements since you were a girl. Y/n… think about this. Remember me.”

She reached out to touch you, and you flinched back with a force. The hurt on her face was vastly misplaced, but something about it made your chest ache. In this strange place with so many variables against you, this maid was making you feel guilty. So you slid your palm back against your knee, and you allowed her to brush her fingers against your knuckles.

It wasn’t instant; the feeling of her skin against yours was simply tactile at first. It would have almost been comforting if you were in any other situation. But then you looked up, and she did too, and you were struck with such an unimaginable rush of something in your chest.

It wasn’t pain, but it certainly wasn’t happiness. It was simply a memory—the act of remembering—and it was so all-consuming that you were sure there was nothing stronger.

“Mother?”

The whisper-like call was lost to a rustle of cloth and gasps and palms against stone. She hugged you, and there was never anything more comforting or more confusing.

“I don’t—I don’t understand,” you stammered, tears in your waterline that refused to fall. “You were… you died. You were ill. Father mourned you. I mourned you.”

Your head was taken between shaking hands, the maid—your mother—pulling back to look you in the eye. “He mourned my leaving, but it had to be done. We had to protect you.”

You gaped. “From what?”

She sighed, a hopeless look blooming across her face. She glanced back at the door with a rushed patience and you knew she wasn’t supposed to be here; that there was a rule she was breaking and that it would spell far worse than an empty room with stale bread.

You gripped her wrist as she spoke quickly. “There has been a war brewing for countless years, tensions teetering on the brink of chaos. Queen Sharon’s mother was not… well. She sought power beyond her grasp and created armies in the image of that. Left her people to suffer while her men became ungovernable on the battlefield, ruthless. The only way we could placate her was by offering a bargaining chip.”

You blinked, hard, shaking your head at an alarming rate. There was no time to slow down—no time to let any of this information sink in—and it was dizzying.

“She asked for you, as the heir. Promised that she would take you,” your mother admitted, eyes watering. “But there was never a world in which I would let that happen. Nor your father. I came instead, but the loss of a ruler made Hyland weak, so your father turned to Brookshire—as a safe haven for you.”

“Father—father hates me. That is why he sent me away,” you got out, the only thing that made sense in this conversation. But something else made sense, a connection in your mind. “Am I in Madripoor?”

“You are. Queen Sharon broke our treaty by taking you.”

“Treaty?”

There wasn’t time; your mother knew that. The footsteps in the hall were growing more frequent, and she had come in here for a reason that did not involve explaining her apparent survival. She smoothed a hand down your head, gave you a longing look, and set back on track.

“I will get you out of here,” she whispered, forehead pressed to yours. “The queen will come up after a meeting with her advisors, and I will be waiting for her departure. She doesn’t want to kill you, she just wants your kingdom. If I get you to the forest line in the night, there is very little chance she will waste resources trying to find you.”

“Come with me,” you pleaded, grappling at her arms.

She shook her head, a small smile pressed upon her lips. “That would be too obvious, darling.” The endearment sent several pangs through your heart, each for a different reason. “Let me get you out… get you back home.”

“I cannot go back to Hyland.”

“I wasn’t talking about Hyland.”

A crash in the hall—armor, most likely a knight dropping his sword. But it was enough to set your mother into action. She stood from her place on the ground and sent you one last watery smile, bringing her hand to cover her mouth as you stared up at her, breathless. You went to speak again, but she was taking steps back before you could form a thought, saving the both of you from more pain.

And then she was gone.

You stared down at your hands, unable to fathom anything that had happened within the last day. It was all in your head but none of it was registering—not your location, your mother, your fate.

You had been so sheltered, only learning about Madripoor once you got to Brookshire. Your father had kept you within the castle walls and you thought it was out of disdain, that he wished by some fate that you had been taken instead of your mother. But your mother was alive, and he helped send her away. For you.

Every instance in which he hadn’t let you leave, every cruel thing he did to keep you at a distance, it was still aching, but part of it made sense. God, did Steve know? Did Natasha?

Your head was starting to throb again, and so you thought of Bucky instead. You stood up in the otherwise empty room, and you thought of Bucky and the room he had made for you. The vines and the ivy and the way the sun reflected on art; you thought about his hands and their warmth against your cheeks when he kissed you.

It was simple to think of him, even as your feet began to sting from your pacing across the stone; it was simple because, as you came to realize, loving Bucky was the easiest thing you’d had to do.

The door creaked again, this time with a force that sent the knob into a supporting wall. You stopped pacing, or more accurately, your feet froze into the stone.

You hadn’t seen Sharon since that day in Bucky’s room, so to have her standing in front of you, looking disinterested as she held you in this room—jarring was not able to cover it.

“I am going to keep this brief,” she snapped, arms crossed in the doorway. “You are here until someone from Brookshire arrives. Then, and only then, will you be released. To Hyland, where you will announce that your engagement has been called off.”

“Do you love him?”

The words sounded foolish coming from your lips; they sounded young and naive as you uttered them in a room meant to be unfamiliar and cruel. You were reminded as much as Sharon scoffed at you, raising a brow.

“Of course I do not love him. And if you were smart—if you were ambitious and a ruler—you wouldn’t be focusing on such trivial matters.”

You searched her face, taking half a step toward her. “There are other ways to rebuild a kingdom, Sharon. You do not need to do this, it could mean war.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you know of my kingdom? A rebuild,” she scoffed. “We do not need to rebuild.”

The door slammed with her exit. It took only a few minutes before you heard footsteps again. This time, they lingered.

He woke with a start.

Gasping for breath and filled with a panic he couldn’t place, Bucky grabbed at the sheets beneath him. There were voices in the room and he knew them—Steve, a few of the knights he kept close. He blinked to clear his vision, and confirmed as much.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve asked. Bucky’s head throbbed.

He must have had too much wine last night; there was no other explanation for the raging headache rolling through him.

“I am fine,” Bucky huffed, bringing a hand up to lace his fingers through his hair—to tug at the roots and relieve the pressure there.

It struck him as odd that there were so many people in the room, apparently waiting for him to rise. It took him another moment to realize how odd it was that he was in his own bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he woke and you weren’t beside him.

Another moment, and he stood with an unbalanced fear.

“Y/n,” he shook, hands flexing at his sides. “There were—there were people in the castle.” He shot his gaze up to Steve, already crumbling at the harrowed expression on his face. “Steve… where is she?”

But Bucky already knew, because if you were home, Steve would have been with you. The only thing giving him an inkling of hope was the fact that Natasha wasn’t in the room.

Steve took a step toward Bucky, giving the prince a clearer view of the redness in his eyes. “We don’t know.”

“You don’t—?” Air was forced from his chest and Bucky fought the urge to yank his shirt from his skin to find comfort. “What do you mean you don’t know? How long was I out?”

One of the knights behind Steve shifted, his armor clinking against itself and ringing in the silence of the room. This was torture; absolute, unbearable torture and everything felt amplified. Bucky could hear himself breathing and feel his pulse beneath his skin. He couldn’t stop shaking his head and it was rattling his brain. They didn’t know where you were.

“A few hours at most, Your Highness.” Sir Charles finally broke the silence. “We have many guards out tracking the directions past the castle. It shouldn’t be long before we find their destination.”

“How have we not found it yet? They took a carriage, there would be tracks.”

Steve spoke this time. “We found the tracks, but we think they were throwing us off on purpose—sending their horses down random trails on their way here. Natasha is out there verifying the direction. She thinks…”

“What does she think?” Bucky snapped. His throat felt as if it were closing in on itself.

“She thinks they are headed for Madripoor.”

The prince took a step back, and then another. He backed up until his legs were prone to the side of the bed once more, but he didn’t sit. He couldn’t. His mind was racing and his fingers were tingling from the blood rushing down the veins in his arms.

“This is political then,” Bucky confirmed, but the fact did little to calm him. “Can we verify that this was connected to the first attack?”

Steve paused at the unsteady nature of Bucky’s voice. “There is a meeting with the heads of state in just a few minutes. We can pose any questions there and—”

“Can we verify—” Bucky seethed, mad at the world “—that this was connected to the first attack?”

“We can’t. The first one was a band of hired mercenaries. This was more strategized. It’s possible that they were from this same source, but we can’t know.”

Steve’s words were each a sharp pain in Bucky’s head. If they had been connected, at least he would have known that you weren’t being attacked from multiple sides. A political ploy was a nasty thing, but it was relatively safe; it had an end and it had its means. Everything else was more dangerous.

Bucky white-knuckled the bedpost, his head still pulsing and his emotions still reeling. “You said there was a meeting?” he asked, words gritted between his teeth.

A lower knight spoke up from the back of the room. “There is, Your Highness. All information gathered on the search will be discussed there.”

Bucky felt his stomach plummet. He had been to meetings like that in the past, with important men sitting at a table, discussing others' lives like they were trivial. But this was you; you were going to be a topic of conversation, a meeting plan scribbled into parchment.

They would probably have your itinerary for the day at the center of the table, and Bucky would have to look at what you had planned after lunch. He would have to look at everything you were going to cancel just so he could take you to that damn library and kiss you in between the shelves. Because that’s the only reason he had agreed so readily.

He had been selfish and now you were gone, becoming a simple political conversation in your wake

A bout of nausea swept through his gut, and Bucky had to close his eyes before he passed out again.

“I am not wasting time on a meeting,” he dismissed, finally looking Steve in the eye. “You know how those meetings go. I will not sit at that table while they discuss how many troops we should send out to save my wife’s life.”

The knight in the back shifted uncomfortably, meekly getting out, “Prince James, you know we all want the princess back, but the king’s proceedings have to come first. Your father still has ruling power until your wedding at the end of the month.”

“There won’t be a wedding if she’s dead, will there?”

The icy bite of his tone had Steve straightening out with a narrowed gaze. Bucky knew he was being harsh, but it was the reality, and he wasn’t going to sit around and hope for the best while contracts and plans were signed at a long table. Court proceedings could burn if it meant your safety.

“What’s your plan?” Steve asked, a hardness in his voice that had Bucky briefly questioning the duke’s training background.

“I want Natasha to report here as soon as she gets back. I need every piece of information she has and I need it before she goes into that meeting,” Bucky instructed, eyes shooting to Sir William in expectation. The knight was out of the room in the blink of an eye. “I’ll take a horse. There can’t be too many of us or they will consider that an attack on their court and then we will have an even larger problem on our hands.”

Bucky strode over to the cabinet by his window, pulling out swords and chain mail as he spoke. “Natasha will stay behind to attend the meeting and tell the advisors I am still incapacitated. It will be hours before they act on anything. I hope to have her back before then.”

The metal rattled in Bucky’s hands as he prepared for something he could barely fathom. He had no idea what state you would be in, nor how difficult it would be to get you out, but he didn’t care. He would fight until his arms ached if it meant getting you to safety. The repercussions could come later.

“Buck, you should know something,” Steve called, lingering behind Bucky with reproach.

The prince turned in an instant, features pinched as he nearly choked out, “What? What else could there be?”

He had already lost you; Bucky wasn’t sure if there was anything else that mattered.

“I was in the throne room while they were preparing for the proceedings. They were talking about some treaty between Madripoor and Hyland. I couldn’t make out most of what they were saying, but it sounded like even the advisors didn’t know what it entailed.”

“What are you implying, Steve?”

“Nothing, I don’t know,” Steve groaned, the wetness in his waterline reflecting candlelight. “I just—I’ve known that girl my entire life, Bucky. What if we get there and they pull some rank on us that we don’t know about and she has to stay? I’ve never even heard rumors about a treaty between Hyland and Madripoor.”

Bucky’s expression went from panicked to serious, the hardness in his jaw becoming apparent. He secured his blade by his belt and stood before Steve, clapping a hand on his shoulder that spelled out more than words could.

“I don’t give a damn about any treaty in any capacity. The second she stepped foot in this court she stopped being some pawn to be moved around. I love her and I know you do as well. She comes home.”

Steve offered him a smile, one that Bucky replicated even though neither of them reached their eyes. They shared a stiff nod as well, and Steve went to give orders to the few remaining knights as Bucky anxiously prepared for Natasha’s arrival—granted, that she even returned to this room at all; there was always the chance that she would do things the proper way and go to the advisor’s meeting. Bucky seriously doubted that.

He swiped his thumb along the handle of his sword, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited. The engraving in the metal gave his finger a ridge to focus on, something concrete he could feel as the rest of him spiraled. He looped his thumb along the letters as Steve ordered a knight to prep in the stables. He mouthed the name as the door finally opened from the hall.

You were a comfort, even when you weren’t there; your initials, always in his palm, something concrete.

“They went to Madripoor,” Natasha confirmed, not even sparring a hello as she bounded into the room. “Ditched the carriage halfway but I saw the crest on one of the seats. And the tracks—although confusing—line up with that.”

Bucky only took a moment to register the information, sharing the plan he had formulated with Natasha the second she stopped speaking. He watched as her face morphed from hardness, to hope, to a baffled anger.

“Like hell I’m not going.”

“Natasha—” Steve started, but she threw up a hand before he could continue.

“You really expect me to sit back in this castle while she’s out there? Make Steve stay.”

“Steve didn’t go on the search,” Bucky reasoned, itching to get to you now that the location was clear. “We need you to stay behind so they don’t know to stop us. Natasha—” he interrupted her as she took in a breath to argue, grabbing her arms with a pleading look. “—we need you to stay here. I swear to you, I will bring her back.”

She furrowed her brows as her mouth twisted into an uncomfortable grimace. Bucky watched as she wrapped her hands around her hips and looked up to the ceiling for a long, painful second, before she sighed. Her next look was unforgiving—straight at Bucky as if she were seeing through him.

“Bring her back.”

“If it’s the last thing I ever do,” he confirmed.

Natasha didn’t stick around for parting words or further plans; she was out the door after another scathing look at no one and off to do her duty even though it was the last thing on her mind. Bucky didn’t stick around either. After a quick look out into the hall, he was out the door and in the stables with a hard set plan.

It was all he could do to not look at the barn cat that swatted at his boots when he went to his horses side. Alpine, you had named him, and Bucky had to apologize profusely to the stable hands that never agreed to a pet. But you had fallen in love with the damn thing the second it made its way onto the hay covered ground, and so he did as well.

Now he was just a reminder that you were gone.

Bucky kicked up onto his horse as the cat stared up at him.

She’ll be back, he wanted to assure, but Bucky could hardly predict the future.

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