Feb 12
king bucky 🤩
i might like this one more than the last one
ib “so, this is love?” by @superbassbuck
seen from China
seen from Switzerland
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from Ireland
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from Italy
seen from Switzerland
seen from Türkiye
seen from Switzerland
seen from Malta
seen from China
seen from Switzerland
seen from Canada
seen from China
seen from Switzerland
seen from China
seen from Malta
king bucky 🤩
i might like this one more than the last one
ib “so, this is love?” by @superbassbuck
Out Of Mud You Rise ~ Chapter 2 of 7
Pairing James Bauchan Barnes (no use of Bucky) X you, the reader (you're smaller than James, eyes change color, longish hair, and immortal)
Summary: Their world is burning, the land stripped to nothing. James has taken the one peaceful people and shaped their hurt and pain into a weapon. He is the one at the front when he is struck down. Their only hope lies in the hands of an immortal swamp witch.
Warning: War torn lands, mentions of original people being killed, gore, blood, death (no mc), battlefields, amputation, necromancy, mind control, monsters, gods, demons, some scaralgious conotations, mentions of wounds in detail, medical care, witchcraft, magic, made up lands and languages, brief breaking of the 4th wall, inaccuraties cause it's made up, suggestive content, probably other things I missed.
This is for the lovely @artficlly ~Art's Mood Board Event~, which you can find there
Dividers: @pixopix
Previous ~ Masterlist ~ Next
You want to scream, or turn him into a toad and throw him over the edge of the river. At least he had made a choice. Goddamn humans, always waxing poetically about being some prophetic something or another. If there was anything you’d learned from being alive this long, it is that the only prophets were the ones with sick brains. Usually, they’d gather enough idiots to make the prophecy come true by sheer force.
Grabbing his hand, you unceremoniously drag back out to the river, feeling the rocks and sand beneath your bare feet. Not paying attention to how large or strong his hold was at all. You let the current guide you, working against it until you feel for the spot. The dark, wet feel of clay under your toes. Home.
Turning to the man, you grab his stupidly broad shoulders and plant him directly in the middle of the clay. Taking a breath, you push on his shoulders. James’ face scrunches as he realizes he is starting to sink. The muscles in his shoulders flex, his arms reaching for you, but now trying to push you away.
“What are you doing?” James cries out, suddenly starting to fight against you as he sinks up to his thighs. Blue eyes flaring with fear.
You can’t help the flustered huff, keeping a firm hold of him. “The more you fight it, the worse it’s going to be. Take a deep breath.”
The man gasps for air as you submerge him. He squirms for another moment, and you continue to push. Feeling him thrash as his head hits the clay. It was never easy the first time someone got dragged back into their realm. Nothing like having to eat dirt to live. You felt a pop and then dove forward, your hand felt for your mud, the one that was so familiar it might as well have been your own blood.
Pushing at it, you move headfirst, feeling your lungs get clogged with soil; it would only be a moment. As you kept breathing, you felt a pop as you ruptured through the clay. Soon you’d be out. The light guided the way as your body dissolved into the new realm. Your whole body tingled like you had been frozen and were now thawing.
Taking a breath, you drag your slimy form onto the walkway. Changing so fast was taxing. Groaning, you try to remember what it felt like to be human. Two arms, two legs, with five fingers and toes. Covered in a linen dress you'd made over the winter. Hair. Humans love their hair. Shuddering as all the limbs start to click and pop back into place. It would have made a disturbing sound, but you were used to it. Used to making your body presentable.
Your chest heaves, vomiting up a mass of clay. Exhaustion is pulling at you. Taking a few more breaths, you crack our body into a more presentable form. Normally, you'd take a moment to rest and gather strength; instead, you had a King to save. Grunting, you flick off the duck weed like goo and roll your shoulder. Alpine is standing at the doorway, looking at you. She gives a little meow and walks back inside. Little shit was making fun of you.
“Well, nice to see you too,” You huff, feeling the weight of changing so many times in such a short period. Holding yourself up by one of the wharf posts, you work to cough up the rest of the clay. Making sure your lungs were functioning.
Stumbling inside, you find James still lying out on the table, his eyes slightly open. You walk over to him, surprised to see his eyes follow you. You go to his side first to look at the packed wound; it didn't look nearly as bad as before. The spot where the reed was had completely healed. You check his cleaned-up amputated arm. Having had to cut it back another several centimetres so that you could make a neat closure. Something that should heal with minimal lasting pain. An uneven amputation would have issues; you hoped this wouldn't be too bad.
“You awake?” You ask, staring down at him. He blinks a few times, coughing up a small amount of clay. “Gonna take that as a yes.”
Moving, you grab a cup and some fresh water to bring to him. You help him take a couple of sips before putting the mug down. Then you go and grab a soft blanket you’d made out of fabric you bought at the market. Lifting his head, you place it underneath him.
“Your throat might be sore. It’s been a few days, and I could only give you a little water.” You explain, grabbing your earpiece to check his heart and lungs. “Lungs and heart are sounding better.” Walking around the table, you take a look at the packed wound. It would need to be changed again tonight.“This is healing, but you aren’t out of the woods yet.”
“Am I alive?” James coughs, his voice rough and deep from lack of use. You hand him more water, he takes several hungry sips.
“For now, yes, you are alive.” You reply, raking a towel to wipe the clay away. That should have been the last of it. Only his spirit, or energy form, had been in the river, meaning only residual clay came back.
James’ blue eyes blinking and adjusting to the light. You realize that you'll need to find him some clothes, as he is currently nude. Not that you'd complain. He was very nice to look at, for a human. Broad shoulders, well-formed arm, thick thighs, you'd always had a thing for fighters.
“Slow down. Don’t drink it too fast, you’ll shock your system.” You pull the cup away, he glares at you but sits up further. You try not to watch the way his stomach flexes, and the barely there modesty cloth shifts lower. “You’re welcome, by the way, for dragging you back from the dead. Thank you for not fighting too hard.”
“That actually happened?” James’ coughs some more, eyes looking around the room. You hastily grab a blanket to cover him, but the man didn’t seem to realize that he was undressed. “This place is real?”
You nod your head, looking away. “Yeah, it was all real. Your-” You gesture up and down his body. “Essence, energy, spirit, whatever you want to call it. What makes you, you. Got sent across, but I brought you back.”
“What are you?” James asks, trying to sit up further, he cringes as his chest spasms. The bruising there was still dark and would have been uncomfortable. His remaining hand held the blanket around him.
“Most just call me a Witch,” You shrug, as Alpine stretches and lies in the sunshine on a pile of books. Seemingly happy to finally rest knowing that the person who fed her was alive. The name ‘witch’ didn't bite as much when it was said without a curse behind it. You really should have turned Rogers back into the scrawny form he'd been originally.
“Most Witches don’t bring spirits back from the dead.” James replies, no venom in his voice. He had moved to sit on the edge of the table, stretching his legs and feet. That you were not staring at.
He was right, witches generally did healing, potions for curing poisons, wards to keep handsy neighbours away, not raise the dead. No, that was reserved for things like you, things that didn’t have names in languages that existed anymore. Things that had been around before these hairless rockmen were fighting wars. Creatures like you would be around long after they had all destroyed this world. You were as old as the soil itself, something that was hard to explain simply.
“Do you need a name? Or can we just go by Witch?” You ask, hand on your hip as you mix up a few of your oils with some dried herbs. Grabbing fabric to change the packing under his arm.
“Just would like to know who to thank,” James says softly. His long, dark hair covers his face. For someone of importance, he wasn’t an asshole; he seemed to actually care. It took you by surprise; everything about him had.
You give him your name, not your full one, that would be too much, but it was something. He nods, moving to lie back down. Looking over at his left arm, he lifted the stump, taking in the stitching. It wasn’t your best work, but it won’t leave a raised scar.
“Weird. I can still feel it, like it’s there.” He says, moving it around. The cattail root, mixed with your yarrow salve, had started to heal it. That and your own magic worked into it, you'd promise his men a healed man, and you'd stick by your word.
“That's actually good.” You come over and place your wrist on his head to gauge his temperature. Keeping his body temperature stable would be important over the next few days. “Going to try and get you a new arm.”
His brows crease, blue eyes finding yours. “A new arm?”
A grin spreads across your face, “Something like that.”
Stark stood at the edge of the wards, arms crossed, robes rucked up just enough that they didn’t touch the walkway. His hat was oversized, typical; his beard trimmed perfectly. Behind him, a donkey stood still with two large sacks over its sides. The man refused to ride anything four-legged. He’d rather slug through four feet of mud than make that excursion. The man was the embodiment of drama.
You stop just a few meters from him, wondering if the old goat would cross the lines or not. He smirked and rolled his eyes. Walking back over to his pack animals, he flipped open the bag and pulled out what you had been waiting for.
“Come on. You old hag. Open up. You know I can’t do anything once I pass these.” He huffs, putting the items back into the sack. “Plus, the donkey could use something to eat.”
Fingers coming up, you turn off the wards, letting the man cross them. “Nice to see you too, Stark.”
He cringes at the name. “God, please just call me Tony.”
“Tony? Changed it, again?” You tease, taking the lead for the donkey and walking her down the path. Tying her to a post that already had a small bale and a bucket of water waiting for her.
“Ask the writer, they keep shoving me into stories,” Tony grumbles as he digs out his stuff from the packs. “Not my fault, they gave me this name. Stark just feels so formal. Yuck.”
You look around the place, expecting to see someone else. Turning back to the wizard, “How many of those mushrooms are you eating? I told you only a nail full at a time.”
He snorts before heading towards your home. “I’ll explain when they switch p-o-vs. I am a minor character, at least in this one.”
Still confused, you follow him inside. You had taken the time to clean the place up, rows and rows of bottles now line your south window. Oil and herbs are soaking in the sunlight. The tables were cleared, and even several chairs were clean. One had the King himself, James, sitting at the edge. A bowl of soaked grains and fruit jam.
You'd cleaned his clothes, patching any holes, so that he had something to wear. The shirt had been a loss, so you'd had to make one on the fly. It was a mismatch of two of your own shirts, but it did the job. You won't have minded him wandering around shirtless, but it was only spring, and you didn't want him to lose his nipples.
“James, this is Sta-Tony.” You sigh as Tony comes in and lays his bag of stuff on one of the free tables without preamble. Stretching and taking in the place, hands not quite touching some of the vials. He carefully removes his ridiculous hat, placing it with his things.
“So you’re the so-called King? Huh.” Tony looked James up and down. “Don’t look like any noble I've seen.”
James stood, and Tony took a step back. It was hard to tell from how he had been sitting, but the man was large, imposing, and easily filled the space. He walks towards Stark, hand out, in a friendly gesture.
“I am only a King, ‘cause my people call me one.” He says, holding Tony's shifting eyes. Tony looks at his hand like he’d lit himself on fire. Almost making a disgusted face, but schooling it quickly.
“Ah. Well. That is something new.” Tony sighs and walks back over to his bags. Dragging out sheets of metal and laying them carefully on the ground. “Didn't think we would have democracies for a few thousand years.”
You snort and hand the man some tea, “Elderberry, and verbena, with some honey.”
“You are way too sweet,” Tony replies sarcastically. He continues through the bags and starts removing spools of gold and copper. Along with a large selection of tools and a small anvil.
James comes over and looks at it. He takes one piece that looks like an elbow and holds it up to his own hand. “Is this a new arm? Of metal?”
Tony snatches it away from him and sets it down. “Judging by the size of you, I am going to have to make some adjustments. It isn’t straightforward, but by the time I am done. You will have a new arm, and I will have a nice sack of gold.”
“Can I watch you work?” James asks, dragging a chair over. You snort at the look of horror on Tony’s face. The King didn't seem to notice, either that or he didn't care.
“Well, you’re royalty-ish, so I guess so,” Tony states as he pulls out a few other metal rods. He leans down and looks at James’ armor, he holds it up and runs a finger over it. “Black and gold. Good, I can match that.”
You didn’t fully understand how Tony’s ‘magic’ worked, but you do know he was the best metal smith in the world. This wasn’t the first time he’d made human parts from metal. He was skilled and expensive. You didn’t trust him as far as you could throw him, but you knew he was the only one who could help you and James. Which is why you'd called him as soon as Rogers and Sam had left.
In three nights, the soldiers would be back for their King. The King who had died and suffered more than you could imagine. He’d needed to be as whole as possible if he was going to have any chance at winning whatever war they were fighting. Something swirled in your stomach, a pull you had been ignoring. Now was not the time.
James sat up straighter, letting Tony work on him. He’d remove his shirt so that the man had access to his body. The man had several long pieces of cloth that he was wrapping around the stump of his left arm. Muttering to himself about scaring and whether it would swell. James was just surprised that it was completely healed. He had never seen wounds heal like they did under her hands. It had something to do with the Healer, the herbs she used, the words she muttered. She was always muttering something when she would check him over. Sometimes he'd catch green pollen-like power floating around her and then over his skin. The power she had, mended skin, bounded veins, made hearts pump. It was like nothing he had ever seen.
Tony brings over some of the metal pieces and starts to slot them onto his stump. The man marking and adjusting, the Healer stoking the fire as pieces of the metal are put beside it to warm up. He couldn’t help but watch her. She moved effortlessly around the place, rotating the jars, squeezing the oils, and mixing spirits. Everything she did was necessary. The whole place was chaos, but ordered chaos. She knew where everything was, and exactly when she needed it.
The cat, who slept on him nightly, moves around the place, always looking for a fresh sunspot. The feline was as white as snow and moved with as much grace as its owner. Eyes are always watching everything. He had taken great comfort every night to have the purring feline with him. Something told him the cat had its own magic.
“You’re a sorcerer?" James asks as Tony fits the top of the metal on. Murmuring as it tingles around the stump. It felt like it was already a part of him, the metal feeling closer to skin.
“Wizard,” Tony replies, leaving the piece there. James looks at it with shock when it stays in place. He moves his remnant limb, watching as the metal stays exactly where Tony had left it.
“You taught yourself how to do this?” James keeps asking, flexing the metal, watching it bend with his bicep and moves the same as his right.
Tony sighs as he holds up what looks like an elbow joint. “Something like that. Learning to connect with magic isn’t something easily explained.”
Looking over at the Healer as she holds up a large pottery jar, mixing it around with a wood spoon. “What about you? Did you also teach yourself?”
Turning towards him, he watches her eyes flicker different colors, as she places the jar on the table. “I am older than most magic. I was created with it in me. Similar to a sorcerer, but I am not that either.”
She tended to answer like that when it came to anything personal. He wasn’t certain if she had forgotten her beginning or didn't wish to explain it. There was never a direct answer or explanation, and yet he never got the sense that she saw him as less than.
“You’re older than him?” James decides to ask, looking between the two of them. Tony looked like he could be her father, with grey streaks in his hair, skin worn by time.
Tony rolls his eyes as he adds the elbow joint in; it flexes the same as the other metal. “She’s immortal and can mold herself into any form. Must be nice. I just have an extended life.”
“Extended life,” James says out loud, as he keeps flexing and moving his left arm as it’s built. The elbow moved and clicked around; it felt heavy, but not unwieldy. “Because of the magic? Energy you weld?”
“You really don’t know much about this stuff? I’ll let her explain it later,” Tony sighs, as he pops all the pieces off. “I am going to have to meld some of this to your skin. Which isn't going to be fun. Can you help with that, oh immortal one?”
The Healer walks over and looks at the pieces; her hands run over them. Fingertips following the swirls of gold gently. Tony watches her carefully. She walks over and grabs different herbs, putting them in a basket. Then opening up a few books and runs her fingers over the words, tracing them. She puts it all on a small stool and drags it over to them.
Looking at James, her eyes shift to a natural color, a calming wave washing over him. “This is going to hurt. We are going to connect the metal to your skin. It will be a permanent fixture.”
“I’ve endured pain,” James replies, as she starts to rub some cream onto his upper body. Her hands work easily over the flesh, fingers tips rough from work, he could get used to her touching him.
“Trust me, buddy, this is gonna suck.” Tony grimaces as the healer goes up over James’ shoulder and down over his back. Lifting his nub to go under his arm, he grimaces as it tickles.
“I am putting numbing cream on. I am going to mix some herbs to help with the pain.” She keeps moving, handing him a wood spoon with thick liquid. He’s given up on asking what they are and just takes it. He won’t have known most of the names anyway. “I’d knock you out, but your heart cannot take anymore of the herbs I've used.”
Tony holds up several pieces, mapping them out onto his skin, using charcoal to outline where each piece will go. Both of them mutter to themselves as James watches them start to piece it together. There are several pieces, one placed over his shoulder, one up across his collarbone, then one down over his pectoral muscle and up under his armpit. It fits similar to armor, and moves like his muscles and skin.
“This is going to go into my skin?” He asks, right hand coming up to touch the skin, realizing this would be the last time he’d touch it. The skin had started to tingle as he rubbed it; he couldn’t feel his fingers touching the spot.
The healer crushes some herbs and mixes them with water, giving him the second dose of herbs. They taste bitter on his tongue. “We are going to bond the metal with your skin and muscle tissue. The arm Tony has built will need the extra support; this will provide that.”
“I am going to heat the metal, and our lovely swamp critter here will bond it to the tissue,” Tony explains as he picks up the first place. “I need you to try and hold as still as possible. You understand this is permanent?” He asks again.
James took several breaths, already feeling the slight dizziness from the herbs that the healer had given him. He nods his head and relaxes his shoulders. Forcing his mind to go blank.
“Yes, I understand,” James tries to keep his face neutral. “Well, let's not waste time.” He swallows and prepares for it to start.
You regret not opening the windows as soon as it started. The smell of burnt flesh starts to fill the place, and you’re shocked that James barely flinches. His eyes water and his teeth grind, but there is no sound. Reaching over, you grab a piece of thick leather and tell him to bite down on it. The last thing you want to do is fix broken teeth.
Tony is murmuring words that mix with your own, your fingers working over each piece of skin and metal. More tears drip down James’ face as he bites hard against the cloth. His body starts to shake from the pain. Even with the dose of herbs you gave him, the agony of burning metal against flesh is one of the worst things. They finish the front and move to the back. Working as fast as possible to get it done, and not kill him at the same time.
“Please.” James gasps, gently reaching for your wrist. His strong hand barely grabs, just enough for you to pause. “Just a moment.”
“Breath,” You tell him, words of soothing coming out. In your mind, you visualize the muscles and skin forming around the metal. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. We are halfway.”
James flinches, but breathes, Tony holding up the next piece of metal. Sweat has broken out across his body; if they didn’t keep going, he’d go downhill. You meet Tony's gaze, he nods, and starts to speak.
“We are going to keep going. Let it out, scream.” You urge him and nod to Tony. “Don't hold it in, James. Your body will go into shock if you do.”
Moving behind him, you start to bond the metal with the flesh. James screams. Your heart clenches in your throat, wondering if you’d made the right decision to do this to him. Both of you and Tony work as fast as possible, fitting the pieces together. The smell is awful, and his cries are just as bad. Soon, the shoulder pieces are done, then you lift up and do under his arm. It is only a few pieces, but it’s an area that is sensitive. James tries to hold still, but his body is trying to move away. Shaking and trembling with each strike, the skin was bubbling and fusing together.
“Hold on,” Tony says, as he links the last piece, his magic snapping and crackling around both of them.
Your words flow out of you, swirling around the metal and flesh. Trying to quell the rising discomfort that is ebbing out of James. At the same time, you are making sure his muscles, tendons, and veins are intact and will function with the metal.
“I can’t,” James cries, his voice raw from screaming. “Please, no more.”
You finish the words, and Tony moves away, your hands keep moving. Reaching for salves, you carefully start to dab them on to the burns, lacing them with healing and cooling powers. James shudders with each touch, leaning forward, nearly doubling over with the pain. His head resting against your shoulder as he pants, his skin slick with sweat, his human hand resting on your hip. You don't move him, letting him take comfort where he can.
“There we go, done.” You say, mixing comforting and calming words into your voice. The magic comes out of you as naturally as you breathe, spinning around with green light.
Tony watches, moving around James, taking in the scars and how each piece fits. “You do amazing work. There will barely be any scarring; it’s going to move flawlessly.”
You reach for James hand, squeezing it, before letting it go. Moving around to grab a blanket, water, and some bread. “Here. Drink first, then eat.”
James takes a sip of water as you drape the blanket around his shoulders. He still trembles as he drinks, his hand shaking. Tony stands back near the fire molding more metal, banging and clicking away.
“Now, you’re going to go and lie down on the bed for a while. Let Tony finish the last half of your arm.” You direct him, James just nods. He stands, and you keep one hand against his side; you are surprised he doesn’t collapse from the pain. “You did well, James. That’s not an easy thing to go through.”
You grab a towel and carefully wipe his face, caught off guard when he leans into the touch of your hand. Despite his size and status, he is still a man. Following him, you help him lie down and cover him, putting water and more bread near him. For a moment, you want to reach forward and touch him, comfort him. Choosing to move away instead, things did not need to be anymore complicated.
Tony looks up, a knowing look flashing in his eyes. “You did excellently. Best I’ve seen when it comes to flesh and death. How many has this been now? A dozen? Two?”
A snort leaves you as you go and turn more jars, opening a few windows, adjusting things, closing books, and petting Alpine. Not thinking about how he looked at you, how his blue eyes watched your every move. How his screams would echo in your mind for days and nights. Usually, this didn’t bother you; you’d meld metal with flesh many times. There was just something about him. Something different.
You go and sit, opening an old text and thumbing through the pages. Grounding your mind. Humans were not something you touched, not something you messed with. That path never did well; you’d lived long enough to know that.
“Don’t tell me, the great swamp hag of the north is getting soft.” Tony murmurs, coming to sit across from you. Fingers carefully pushing and molding what will eventually become fingers.
Your eyes flick up to his, “Don’t test me, Stark. You may be past my wards, but that doesn't stop me from feeding you to Alpine.”
He snarled a little at the name, looking over at James, who seemed to have fallen asleep. “He’s an Origin of this land. These people are-” He trails off, as he finishes one digit, before staring at you. “-different. Most humans would have crumbled under that much pain.”
“Yes, they are. They’ve been working on removing the Southern plague. Their rot has seeped deep into the soil,” You reply while continuing to read the book. “They’ve done well too.”
“I’ve seen it, turning barren land into fertile soil again,” Tony remarks, watching you closely. He had a nasty habit of being nosy. “Almost like they carry magic in their blood. What other human can manipulate things without realizing it?”
Your eyes flick up to him, hearing the tone he uses. “They do, they just call it wisdom, gifts, they don’t even know that they naturally have magic to heal the earth. And I am not going to be the one to explain it.”
Tony clicks his tongue, looking around the place. “That why you’ve stayed here so long? Putting down roots? Because they live longer, closer to our kind.”
“I am the only one of my kind, you know that. Besides, the realms are connected here; I can go where I please and be back before my last meal.” You state, going back to reading. “And people leave me alone.” Fingers clicking, you flick soot onto his nose. “I am not interested in anything more.”
“Hmmm, really? Nothing to do with the tall, broad, starey? Or maybe you preferred the blonde?” Tony pokes, he always does, wiping the soot from his nose with a huff.
“I am helping cause they pay me, gold is still the standard currency, for now.” You state, looking over to James, you’d need to wake him soon. The arm needed to be completed and tested before his men came back.
“Right. Just for the money.” Tony inspects his nails. “Guess we aren’t that much different.”
The words bite, and you shrug them off; you weren’t going to take his bait. Stark had a habit of wagging his tongue all over this gods forsaken soil. You didn't need anyone looking for weaknesses.
Next Chapter
Author's note: I am not sure why, but Tony just had to break the fourth wall. He will appear in other medieval-style stories that are coming. I wanted to come up with a believable but magical way of giving King James his arm. Everyting come with a cost, and that cost was pain.
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Yours to Claim
King!Bucky x reader
Warnings: angsty, SMUTT, flufff, Arranged marriage, virginity loss, marriage consummation, bit of bleeding, King Bucky is a sexy, loving, protective warning.
You stood in your new chambers, fidgeting with the lace of your dress, eyes flickering to the various pieces of art work that decorated the walls; moments earlier you had signed your life away to a man you had never met before in exchange for an alliance over war.
A promise of peace if the two kingdoms united; an easy fix at no one’s expense.
Except yours.
You flinched at the sound of the door clicking shut, the king, and now your husband, silencing the hushed whispers on the other side before making his way over to you. Even if his advisors and servants were now quiet, you knew at least one would be lingering around the door way, listening.
Waiting.
You still hadn’t seen him properly, having kept your gaze down to mask the tears that had threatened to fall throughout the ceremony. To your surprise, he didn’t drag you to bed like you expected; instead he strode past and removed some of the many layers he wore for the ceremony before standing in front of you again.
“I hope everything's been to your liking princess-” You were caught off guard with his question, your eyes flicking up, surprised to find soft blue ones looking down at you. “-and that you’ll be happy here”
He cared about your happiness?
You nearly scoffed at the thought but his voice was sincere, not a hint of malice found. You hadn’t noticed before but he had a handsome face; a beautifully carved jaw under his his dark beard, delicately sharp nose, soft pink lips and if you looked for a moment to long, you’d get lost in his eyes.
Shaking the thought away you focused back to the matter at hand. It had to happen one way or another. You agreed to this for your kingdom, there was no point in having second thoughts now.
“They’ll be expecting us to...” Your voice trailed off, glancing off to the side at the large bed that was set in the middle of the spacious room, soft silken sheets and thick lush pillows neatly arranged by the castle maids. You knew how this worked. Love and affection didn’t matter, your marriage wouldn’t be considered legitimate until...
And if you didn’t-
One day you were living your life, preparing for the day you’d have the throne and now you were here.
To be seen in a way no one else ever had.
Touched in places no one dared lay their hands on.
You were now his property.
You tried to push the anxiety that started to claw at your mind, making your way over to the bed and sitting up right as you were taught, waiting for the man you were now tied to, to consummate the marriage. Your breath hitched as you felt the bed dip down beside you from where the king sat, surprised to feel his warm hand gently lay on top of yours, giving you a comforting squeeze.
“Princess we don’t have t-
“I want to” you tried to sound confident but your voice wavered, your breath hitching again when he tilted your chin to look at him, your eyes struggling to hold his gaze.
“This is my kingdom” he said with a firmness that was not directed at you but rather towards the distain he had for the rules that had put you in such a position in the first place, “I’d never force you to do anything, princess” The slight growl in his voice made your heart skip a beat; yet again, there was only sincerity in his words.
However, it was far more complicated for you.
You didn’t want to fail the very duties that had been instilled in you from the day you were born, not wanting the sacrifice you made for your family to go to in vain if anyone dared question the fulfilment of your wedding night.
“I want this” You looked directly at him with confidence but your eyes gave away your vulnerability.
“Then I’ll make it good for you, pretty one” He murmured, the pulse in your veins quickening when his hands came to cup your cheek as he moved you to lay down on his bed. He carefully tugged at the ribbons of your corset, freeing you from the constricting garment and tossing it aside before slipping off the rest of your dress. You felt exposed, lying bare against the cool sheets while he undressed himself; you couldn’t help but glance over at his toned body as he discarded his own clothes, corded muscles running under tan skin, scars from battle decorating his body
The worst was the scarring along his left shoulder, angry jagged lines running from his neck to his shoulder blade, some of the scars extending to his chest and arm. There were divots in his skin from where the cuts ran deeper than others.
It made him beautiful.
You looked away as his pants fell around his ankles leaving him in his all naked glory, feeling hot under his gaze. You instinctively squeezed tightly together, arms draped across your naked chest to cover your modesty. Your eyes were trained on the tapestry that was hung across the room, biting your lip when you felt him crawl onto the bed, kneeling before you, his knees on either side of your legs, bare skin touching yours.
“You’re allowed to look, princess” The king smirked at your flustered state, “I belong to you just as much”
You swallowed thickly, flicking your eyes back to him, involuntarily gripping the sheets finally seeing all of him from his long dark hair falling in waves to his shoulders, his frame broad and solid. A shiver ran down your spin as you continued to trail your eyes further down to his thick length, veins running along the shaft, curved towards him.
You were confused as he moved to lay down beside you, having expected him to lie on top instead but he didn’t; instead he kept his eyes locked with yours, moving your arm to uncover your breasts. You held your breath as he laid them aside, your nipples peaking against the cool air, still waiting for him to shove your legs apart and take what he wanted.
“You’re sure, princess?” He whispered, his face by yours, letting his warm hand rest on your tensed stomach, humming when you hesitantly nodded.
You bit a gasp as his fingers trailed down your body, coaxing your thighs apart, softly caressing the sensitive flesh as you tried to squeeze your legs together. He let out a soft chuckle, moving your thighs apart again, your eyes growing wide when his fingers dipped into your folds, smearing the slick that started to pool between your legs.
“I- you shouldn’t-” You didn’t understand what he was doing, your mind reeling when he moved his fingers close to where you were more sensitive, making it harder for you to control the noises that wanted to slip through.
“I should know every part of my wife” He trailed his fingers back up, watching you intently, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk when he brushed over your swollen bundle of nerves, a gasp escaping you when he pressed his fingers tips against it, “Her most sacred places”
Your breaths quickened, your walls quivering with need, a feeling you had never experienced before, already melting into the pleasure he was giving you.
“I made a promise to take care of you” he started to rub soft circles around your clit, humming and the moan you tried to bite back, your lip caught between your teeth. He pulled his hand away from your soaked cunt, his thumb still glistening with your arousal tugging down on your lip making you gasp.
“You don’t ever have to silence yourself with me princess” His voice dropped an octave, jaw clenched, the meaning behind his words deeper than wanting to hear how pretty you sounded as he pleasured you. He caressed down your body till he found your clit again, rubbing you with such care, building a steady rhythm that had all your nerves lit on fire. A coiling pleasure wound tighter and tighter with each stroke of his fingertips.
“You’re the softest thing I’ve ever touched” His hands had seen war, violence and bloodshed, scars and callouses evidence of his bravery and fierce loyalty to his kingdom.
And now to you.
“Such softness deserves to be loved” he whispered, dipping his head down to your chest, taking your nipple between his lips, gently suckling while continuing to rub slow deliberate circles around your clit. “And worshipped”
Your body moved on its own, your thighs spreading apart, giving him more access to you, your back arching off the bead, needy moans and whimpers filling the room as he switched to your other breast.
“Ooh-it feels-mmphh-” You couldn’t formulate words, hands blindly gripping at the sheets, squirming as he rubbed faster, a fiery pleasure starting to crawl down your spine. You could feel his hard length press against your thigh, your fingers twitching to wrap around him and soothe the ache of his swollen cockhead, his pink tip wet and leaking. He noticed your gaze flick down before looking away, loving your sweet innocence.
“You’re allowed to touch me, princess” He murmured against your cheek, taking your hand, trailing it between your bodies, moving it to wrap around his thick length. He moved your hand along his velvety shaft, his cock hard and throbbing against in your soft palm, “Every part of me is yours now too”
You let out a whimper, hesitantly dragging your hand up and down, learning to build a rhythm he seemed to respond to, listening to the low grunts and groans he made when you twirled your hand around the tip before stroking all the way back down to the base.
“Is-is this okay” Had he not been right beside you, he would have missed the whisper of your voice, a smile gracing is lips as you awaited his answer.
“Of course, princess” James rubbed tighter circles around you, determined to get you make you shatter in pleasure before taking you apart all for himself, wanting every intimate moment you spent with him pure bliss for you. You signed your life to him; he was going to cherish that in every way possible.
“oh-please-p-please!” Your eyes rolled back, your clit swelling as warmth began to spread throughout your body, the coil ready to snap, just a bit more- “Please-” You didn’t even know what you were begging for, your body chasing the building pressure that was holding you right over the edge. You found yourself tugging and stroking him faster, coaxing him to move closer, guiding him to where you needed him most, your cunt clenching, making a mess all over the sheets. His hips rutted in your hand as he slotted himself between your legs, keeping his body weight off you, propped on one arm as he lay above you.
“Please?” Your eyes were glassy, skin hot, a concoction of nervousness, excitement, lust and desire coursing through you as you moved your hands to grip onto his thick shoulders.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” His hand softly petted your hair, eyes swimming with concern, the blunt tip of his cock throbbing against your leaking cunt.
“Take me” you whispered, feeling your heart rate quicken when he reached down between your bodies to line himself up, pressing against your entrance. You whimpered, letting your nails dig into his skin at the burn, feeling his the tip of his cock push into you, stretching your tight cunt apart.
“Shhhhh” He cooed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he pushed in further, trailing kisses down your nose to your lips, your grip nearly breaking the skin on his back. “I won’t hurt you princess”
You could feel his back muscles tense, focused on filling you slowly, finally joining together in a way that made you husband and wife.
“J-James” You didn’t even consider that you’d called him by his named instead of title, too lost in the feeling of him claiming you, hot pain and pleasure radiating through your body at the foreign sensation.
“I know, I know” he nodded against your neck, his cock splitting you open further, wider at the base. “Breathe, breathe, I have you” He could feel your pussy flutter and squeeze his length, trying to accommodate for his girth. He pulled away from your neck to brush the hairs that clung to your forehead, his thumb gently smoothing the crease between your brows.
“Look at me princess” he whispered against your lips as your cracked your eyes open, the sting slowly melting when you got lost under his blue gaze. He kissed your temple, lips pressed against your skin, your own nails clawing into his back as he fully sheathed himself inside you.
“May I?” He asked, giving you time to adjust to the feeling, only beginning to slowly rock his hips when you nodded, your legs moving to wrap around his waist, thighs squeezing his tapered waist.
“Feels-good” You let out a breathy moan, your legs trembling as he barely pulled out, pressing his cock in as deep as it would go, pushing you into the mattress. You clung around his body as he let his weight drop on you, keeping you covered under him while moving faster, his hand coming to lace with yours.
“So good to me” He rasped, squeezing your hands in his, moaning when he felt your pussy pull him right back in every time he pulled away. It was like you were made for him, every curve and dip of your body molded perfectly with his, your tight wet heat swallowing him entirely, taking every inch he was willing to give you. “You’re mine now”
“No one’s ever going to hurt you princess” His eyes hardened making your cheeks heat up under his protective gaze, dark hair falling around you in a curtain of intimacy. Your family may have married you off to bring peace to the land but he was not going to use that to his advantage to use you. He would take care of you and treat you like the queen you were, protecting his newest most prized treasure. You mewled against his lips, a stray tear slipping past your eyes, his lips kissing them away, a stark contrast to the way his cock was hitting deeper in your cunt, kissing your cervix as he fucked into you.
“I promise” he kissed your wrist, before pinning it against the mattress beside your head, thrusting faster, your moans loud enough to let the next kingdom over know you were at your husbands complete mercy in the most intimate and primal way possible.
“James-James-please-I” Your chest was pressed against his, eyes pleading for your release. He groaned, angling his hips to rub sensitive spot deep inside you making you see stars, spots starting to cloud your vision, the band ready to snap again. He panted, working his hips faster, rolling them, coaxing you further and further to the edge. He could feel his own orgasm ready to burst, gritting his teeth, determined to take care of yourself before giving into his own.
“Let go my princess, let go for me, I have you”
“JAMESS”
He held you tightly as you fell apart on his cock, moaning at the sting of your nails dragging down his body. Your cunt milked and squeezed him, desperate for him to give you everything drop he had. He wrapped his arms around your body, tucking his face against your neck, sinking his teeth into your soft flesh, unable to hold back when he felt your hands card through his hair, softly grazing his scalp before giving it a gentle tug.
“Let-let go for me” You whispered softly in his ear, wanting him to know you accepted him just as much as he accepted you, needing him to understand you saw him as your husband, not just your king. “My James”
“My princess” He groaned against your skin, pushing himself as deep as your body would allow, hot spurts of his seed filling you till it dripped onto the sheets. He continued to softly rut into you, riding through both your highs until he was spent, his cock beginning to soften inside you.
“I have you, I have you angel” He whispered, rubbing up and down your back, his nose buried in your hair, kissing down the column of your neck to your shoulders. “Do you feel alright”
You whimpered at the loss of him as he pulled out, a dull soreness beginning to settle between your legs. Your eyes grew wide at the dots of red that stained the sheets, pouting when you felt a loss of warmth as your husband sat up.
“Lie down angel” He cooed, moving you to lay on his side of the bed and tucking you under the plush sheet before swinging his long legs to the edge of the bed. You reached out for him, your fingers softly grasping at his wrist, wanting to feel him hold you when you felt so vulnerable.
“But-”
“I’m going to take care of your princess. I told you, you’re mine now. Mine to care for” He made his way over to the water that was set aside in the room, dipping a clean cloth to dampen it before making his way back over to you. He carefully wiped you down, between sweet words of how he’d forever put you first, a vow he made when he agreed to marry you. He wiped away the tears that spilled down your cheeks before getting up again to toss away the cloth.
He caught a glance of himself in the mirror, his skin now decorated with new marks left by you, a proud smirk gracing his lips, happy to add a scar, this battle being his favorite one of all.
The one to your heart.
One he’d have to earn with patience and love, this night being the first of many.
“The sheets-” You blinked up at him as he slipped between the covers, pulling you to his chest, cocooning you in his warmth.
“Will be for my eyes only” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, deciding he’d only allow your ladies in waiting to ever enter the chambers, ones that were loyal to you and that you trusted. “You’ll be safe with me”
You relaxed in his hold, closing your eyes and falling asleep to the steady beat of his heart, the anxieties that clawed at your chest disappearing into the night, your heart melting for the man you now were honored to call yours.
The king.
Your James.
Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyess @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @kingfleury @peaches1958 @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @xnorthstar3x @kryoee7 @alina02 @gh0stgurl @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club @eralen @perdidosbucky-yyo @clqrosmgc @buckybarnessweetheart @pandaxnienke @manyfandomsfanvergent
King of thorns and steel
🧊Pairing: King!Bucky Barnes x Demon!Reader 👑Genre: Dark Fantasy, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn 🔥 Warnings: violence, power dynamics, implied trauma, slow burn, language, enemies to lovers tension 📜 Summary: A demon-born thief. A brutal king. A court full of secrets. You infiltrated Ardenshade with a single goal — steal the crown’s greatest magical relic. But instead, you've caught the interest of the man who wears it.
💬 Notes: This is a slow burn dark fantasy AU with palace intrigue, magic lore, and Bucky being a dangerous, touch-starved menace. Think throne rooms, stolen glances, and enemies dancing too close. I write from second person as i hate using y/n, its a female reader intention, the character is already decided
🫀Rating: Teen for now - may become Mature later on
The flickering torchlight casted gold across the marble floors as you knelt. Your armor ill fitting but convincing. You keep your head down in formality, but you didn't belong, not in here, not as a guard standing in front of the king.
You were a child of darkness, a creature casted out by all - the kind of being mothers whispered warnings about to their children.
The castle of Ardenshade, covered in dark thorns, ruled by a king with a metal fist. The castle stood tall, ruling over the obsidian streets that were almost as tricky as a maze. This kingdom, untouched by the wars flame was ruled by the king James "Bucky" Barnes, the king of thorns and steel - not for the crown he wore, nor for the metal hand he had, but for the blood he bled to keep it.
The kingdoms strengths didn't lie in its walls, alliances or armies, but in its legacy - a lineage of rulers forged in war, their wills steeled by betrayal and sacrifice.
The people speak in hushed tones of the metal arm of their king, a symbol as much of a power as of the blood he bears. Here, strength is survival, and survival demands ruthlessness.
The kings voice, cold and commanding fills the great hall as he descends from his throne. You all rise with practiced perfection.
"State your name and allegiance. Let the royal court know whose loyalty they command."
One by one guards speak up. When it comes to you, you say it with practiced steadiness, this wasn't the first time, you've practiced this many times before, you have been standing here for a long while, lying, covering it all up.
But never in front of the royal court. Not in your countless veil changings.
You clutched your name like a lifeline, despite the weight it bears.
But the kings eyes narrow, his brows furrowing with confusion, he has heard the name several times before, but in the moment, it was like he never has.
"i do not recall that name among my sworn,"
He says, slow, deliberate.
A hush falls over the room, as if the very air held its breath.
The curse - the cruel fate of every demon, to be forgotten. there was an old saying, "To strip a name, is to erase ones soul"
You feel the weight of the glances, like invisible chains, Kings gaze strong and unyielding, but you don't falter, you don't give in, you just hold your stance.
The king steps closer to you, eyes dark and unreadable
"Names are power," he murmurs "Yet yours... Slips though my memory like smoke"
Bucky studies you with unyielding intensity
"I know your face, you've stood before me for the last veil changings... Strange i don't ever recall your name..."
He looks at you for a while longer, studying you, waiting for some sort of reaction, before stepping back and walking to his throne once again.
There were no more words spoken for a moment, his gaze didn't give away any suspicion of you. As if he had brushed it off already, or maybe, just maybe the first seed of doubt in who you truly are has planted itself in his mind, and you just became a part of a long cat and mouse game.
Beyond the stars (Royal AU)
Summary: She’s a queen who only loved and hoped to be loved.
Pairings: King!Steve x Queen!reader x King!Bucky
Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+, historical inaccuracies, angst, mentions of death, character death, mentions of blood, treason, angst, violence, mentions of manipulation
Word count: 4,321~
A/n: Inspired by the song the one that got away. I made a playlist, y’all might want to listen to it while reading. I hope you like it. This is not beta’d, all mistakes are my own.
The hall towards your chamber was empty, too empty, and too quiet for a Queen who’s wed to two Kings. You held your head high with no fear, only dropping that façade for a moment, letting your shoulders drop; your head hung low as the anxiety came out in the process. You stopped, feeling your whole body tremble.
You were sure you’d fall down the floor but held your ground, leaning against the wall to keep your body upright. A sigh came out of your mouth, placing a hand against your head almost as if you caught a headache.
You knew what awaited at the end of the hall. Your ladies-in-waiting are nowhere to be seen.
You scanned the surroundings. “There are no guards,” it came out a whisper. You were prepared for this, aware of the consequences. You swore you were, and yet here you are, clutching your dress for dear life, swallowing hard to ease your growing fear.
There’s no doubt about it. You were caught. The crime is exposed, and you were afraid, but you can’t let them see through that, can you? No. You can’t afford to let them see the fear on your face, yet you still felt it crawling onto your skin.
You stared at your trembling hand, admitting to yourself what you’re afraid of. Afraid to see the betrayal written across their eyes, afraid to die.
Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself to stop trembling, letting out a few more breaths and allowing to void your face of any emotion.
Putting aside the fear, you held your head up high again. This time, you strode like you have nothing to lose, nothing to fear. Like you still have the power to wield against all those who dared to oppose you.
Knowing what’s at the end of the hall, you walked with no care. You’re still the queen, and they shall at least have the respect not to drag you to the dungeon and wait until you calmly stood before them. As your palm touched the walls and the memories came flooding back.
~~
The first time you met them was during that victory feast, a war they won. A war that the council didn’t expect the Kings to come back from, and yet they hid that surprise by preparing a week-long feast and a coronation for the two Princes, now Kings.
With your father being a powerful Duke who’s loyal to the crown, you were present. The Duke showed no fear, he flaunted to everyone that he’s fully supporting the newly crowned Royals.
You weren’t sure how the rumors spread, but it’s already out there, the stories of Steve and Bucky betrothed to you. It’s normal for people to assume that because your father worked closely with the royals and you are the only daughter he has.
You weren’t paying attention to the rumors even if you were being asked, swiftly moving the conversation into another one despite loving the idea of the rumor. If only it became true.
It couldn’t be helped but reach their ears as it slipped your father’s tongue asking if you were hiding the relationship, and making it known to the two Kings that he has no problem with it. “There’s no need to keep it hidden, my Kings,”
The Kings, Steve and Bucky, took that opportunity to make it real, to get to know the woman famous for being demure, almost perfect. In their eyes you’re perfect. They needed that—need you to rise in ranks—power.
Both men knew you had felt something for them. Love, perhaps, and they couldn’t help but smile as you desperately try to cover it up. The subtle glances, the small smiles you sent their way, the way your eyes widen every time one of them caught you staring, or how you linger a little longer around your father to chime in the conversation with them. “She’s good at masking it, pretending like it’s no more than a small interaction,”
“Yet, it meant a lot to her,”
“You can’t miss that proud look or the way her lips curl up, Steve.” Bucky shrugged.
Steve took a swig from his goblet, humming in agreement. They had been watching you for a while now since the rumors reached their ears, and they knew they couldn’t reciprocate your love for them, but they could use that for their benefit. It isn’t good, but you’re strong enough to hold your own—to be their queen.
The look they shared and the smirk Bucky sent towards Steve had him groaning, watching as the other King walked towards you with purpose. Of course, Bucky is impatient. Steve took another sip from his goblet before placing it down as eyeing you with Bucky now standing right beside you. You’re perfect for the both of them.
“It’s pleasing to meet the famous young duchess,” It was Bucky who you first met. His icy blue eyes felt like they could see right through you.
“Your majesty,” you greeted, lowering your head before meeting his eyes which had Bucky smiling wide. He knew you’d have no fear to meet his eyes. Strong enough for us, confident to take on the responsibility. He thought. He didn’t know that that trait of yours would also bring you down.
Bucky waved his hand and showed you that charming smile of his. No, you weren’t obsessed but smitten, and you’re not going to lie that you did like him—them.
You can probably call it to love if you consider the fact that you took the time to study anything about war to join their conversation. You didn’t mind the way your father looked at you in confusion or how amused Steve and Bucky were about you. You’re responsible for your own actions, you shall take the consequences for yourself not letting others involved.
You were ready to do just about anything for them, even if you couldn’t have them. You’re satisfied with small interactions. After all, they’re Kings, and even if your title allows you to be one of the suitable women worthy of the title queen, you weren’t sure if they’d bat an eye to look at you. Can’t you bring your hope up?
“May I have this dance?”
“Of course, my King,” Bucky wasted no time to grab your waist and lead you to dance. His hands gently placed on your back guide you to move. You blinked trying to wake yourself up, thinking this isn’t real.
As if he heard you, Bucky began saying, “this is real, Lady (Y/N),” you were sure that the moment you heard your name fell off his lips had you swooned. He knows your name. Does King Steve know my name too? The small gasp that escaped your lips had his curl up in a smirk.
The way Bucky looked at you felt intimate like he’s not interested in anything but you. Behind the soft and gentle expressions he’s showing you was a ruthless man everyone feared. The thought of them having no power and control over the council or the castle seems like a lie.
When the music changed, you faced the other king with the golden hair. You were sure his careful smile towards you was out of respect. The next thing that came out of his mouth almost made you stumble, if not for Bucky, whose hand was still holding you by your elbow.
“If it isn’t our betrothed, Lady (Y/N),” the eyes of every lady at the ball gawking in surprise. What he said quickly spread, and in no time, the rumor became true. You had to pinch yourself to see if this was a dream secretly. It wasn’t. The heat that rushed to your cheeks made the golden king chuckle.
When Bucky reached out to give him your hand, Steve took it and gently brought it to his lips. He did it all while looking at you. The flustered face you made was making his heart sing. Bucky smirked to your side.
“It wouldn’t be rude to steal your dance right after King Bucky?” all you could do was nod as Steve held your hand to dance right at the center of the ballroom.
The dance felt magical. He looked at you like nobody existed except you, him, and Bucky.
It was after the dance when your father grinned at you from ear to ear and the whole place buzzed with whispers and claps that you knew. You realized why it happened. The rumors are now true; It wasn’t a lie. They didn’t have power, and they needed you to get that. Maybe you’re a fool or obsessed by this time, and you didn’t want to admit it, but you’re not upset despite knowing why they had to do that.
So they made the other rumor true. You became the King's betrothed. The courting process came late, but they started it after Steve's announcement.
You were sure that the moment Bucky started the courting process and Steve followed suit, that you craved their love more than you should even when you knew why they did that, the hope still came alive. There’s a hope they’d feel the same way you do towards them to you. It was the start.
~~
They’re transferring you to the dungeon whether you like it or not. And you just knew. That at the end of the hall stood knights waiting for you to get out.
You’re unified for power in the guise of love—there’s no love. Behind the palace walls, it’s a battle for survival.
Left alone after the wedding, Steve and Bucky never visited unless it’s something for your father, a warning, or a problem that needs to be taken care of.
The warmth and the hope during the courting process are gone. They made it clear that they felt nothing other than it being a marriage of convenience. Steve and Bucky had to do it. They had to do it. You repeated in your head. They may have treated you slightly different than the others, but it was nonetheless a ruse.
The struggle to keep the throne is going, and the Kings are on the losing side. The coldness you felt since the day you got married turned into envy.
You envy your past self where they used to care for you and shower you with affection, feigned affection. Despite knowing it’s all for a show, you loved it.
The hands that were once touching the wall fell to your side as you reached the end of the hall. There stood the knights blocking the way, making sure there was no other exit for you to run off.
Your ladies-in-waiting by their side, getting ready to strip every jewelry, every garment that would scream queen. The girls stepped closer, hesitant, but they had to move. You smiled to assure your ladies-in-waiting.
“It’s alright,” you mouthed, and they started by removing your necklace and then the rings that adorn your fingers.
It reminded you of why you were brought in. You have to help them gain control and win the battle of power. Now they’re closer to it because of you, and you’re not needed anymore. You knew that from the very start, you knew it’s all for recognition. Still, you couldn’t help but fall in love even the smallest gesture from them got you bewitched.
Smitten, they would say, and you couldn’t help but resent them for not loving you back; for not letting it evident that they love you, but they had to act that way.
The crown was the last piece taken off your body. Steve appeared along with Bucky at the entrance. The golden hair shines through the sun, a complete contrast to the other king. You looked on blankly with complete expertise of showing no emotion. It’s inevitable to learn the moment you decide to walk your path.
“Anything you want to plead to?” You know it’s Steve who asked you and yet the fluttering on your stomach that you always feel whenever he speaks was gone.
“Nothing? Well then, put the—“ Steve’s annoyance was cut short when you took a step forward. One of the knights raised his sword and pointed it at you. You didn’t care.
“Leave the ducal house out of this. It’s my plan alone. No one’s involved but the council and me,” what came out of your mouth was true, and the dismissive tone made Bucky clench his jaw.
You were going without a fight, and he hated it. He hated that you willingly admitted to everything. They almost had it. They almost had it; why does it have to be you? The tick of his jaw and the squint of his eyes showed how angry he was.
There’s nothing left for them to uncover. All they need to do was put you in the dungeon and wait until your sentence.
You’re only a woman in love, a woman who gave to the whispers of traitors, of greedy council members—a woman who stupidly allowed herself to become blinded and be a puppet. You tried to correct your wrongs when Bucky started to show you affection.
They reciprocated the love you were giving them. Almost a promise that at the end of this battle, you’d be spoiled, and they wouldn’t let a single person hurt you.
You tried to leave hell when Steve gave you a ring, a symbol of trust, of binding.
It was true, what your father told you. All thrones come with a cost. Something will be lost if you let even a small amount of weakness out and that you did.
They’re beginning to show you they care. That it’s more than a ruse, more than a political marriage, they love you. The slightest control they have, and they start showing you signs that you’d stay by their side for the rest of your life. Steve and Bucky’s rise in power was evident, and they’re slowly getting it, and you didn’t wait for them.
You blinded yourself with your greed for their love to wait for them. You had become a puppet, and you couldn’t bring back the control you once had.
Even when they knew they couldn’t—shouldn’t lead you on, they also couldn’t stop themselves from loving you. They couldn’t stop but show subtle affections hidden in the form of giving you gifts.
Sometimes when Steve couldn’t refrain himself from seeing you, he’d be informing you of a problem that needed to be passed to your father to know how you’re doing. It’s easy to fall for you. You’re everything they needed and wanted. They loved you from afar, and Bucky knew he needed the power to protect you. Steve knew that too so they chose to leave you alone than to get you even more involved than they think you already are.
There were days where they’d never visit you at all, while some are as full of warmth as they do.
You can’t fall off your chair and lose the trust you’re slowly gaining because, at last, your love reciprocated.
If it weren’t for the assholes who got you shackled, you wouldn’t be here.
The dungeon you were situated in isn’t made to let you be comfortable. It’s only fitting that it wasn’t.
Both of them missed the signs, and that’s what annoyed Steve the most.
As the sound of metal clacked, you realized it wasn’t the dungeon closing. It’s you put in chains. With only two knights posted by the door, the candles lighting the hall didn’t reach yours. Unable to distinguish the time, you decided to sit there silently until you fell asleep.
The sound of footsteps made you open your eyes. The metal that met the cold floor, you recognized. You didn’t ask how many hours or days it has been since you’ve been placed in the dungeon. You knew it must’ve been a few days by now.
Instead, you waited until the footsteps stopped in front of your cell. You knew who it was by the sound of their steps. Even with your eyes closed, you could tell who’s who: the one who’s always wearing the armor and the one in the finest robes.
“(Y/N),” You looked up at the two kings with the most beautiful ocean eyes you’d never get tired looking at. One with a bit of green in it and the other pale as the ice.
“We’re what cannot be,” Bucky’s words rang in your ear for a long time. They went quiet—unmoving, just watching you.
Bucky tried to save you, tried to bargain for your life, but the rest of the council didn’t want to. He felt as if it was their fault for not protecting you enough.
The words went right through your chest like a stake. You stopped yourself from saying more. We’re what cannot be. Right, because we’ll end up using each other for power, and yet, we end up hurting each other because of love. The one thing we shouldn’t have crossed.
“Marrying you became our greatest mistake.”
What you heard next took a lot of strength to carry on your shoulder. If words could make a wound, it will leave a large one. Those words weren’t easy to accept. You made no move to stand, but your gaze never faltered. You stared, not giving them the satisfaction to see hurt in your eyes. Except for the lone tear that fell before you could stop it, hoping none of them noticed. You’re a queen, their Queen. You’re strong. Even today, Steve believes in it, his queen is strong, but he couldn’t stand not seeing a single hurt on your face. He stared right at you in hopes of seeing something, anything in your eyes.
With a clenched fist and expressionless face, you spat, “and loving the both of you is mine.”
The moment that escaped your lips, betrayal, and disbelief that flashed in their eyes didn’t escape your sight. Even the slightest hint of pain didn’t go past your eyes. If they could leave a wound on you, so would you.
A small smile spread on your lips as you saw their reaction, and that one didn’t escape Bucky.
Steve, ready to kill the two knights posted by the door with all that anger and hurt his eyes showed, had to clench his fist to stop himself from doing so. The disbelief he felt when you said that was too much for him to handle. He wanted to drag you from the dungeon and up their chamber to show you how much of it wasn’t a mistake. He wanted to let you escape.
Steve had to stop himself from doing that. The grip he had on his sword became too tight that it shook. Even the way Steve clenched his jaw, you could see. Every move they make you catch.
Bucky clicked his tongue and moved his sword to his other hand. He’s anxious and hurt from the words that fell from your mouth, but the smile you tried to hide put him at ease. To him, you smiling means you were only trying to get on their nerves. Yet, the pain was still there. It’s as if his heart’s ripped out of his chest.
He frowned a moment after. The sting he felt when he realized you regret loving them was too much. They never said loving you was a mistake, not like you would know. It would never come across them to think that way.
Good God, did you want to take your words back, but what’s done is done. What’s said is said.
You didn’t regret loving them. Goodness, you never did. You regret letting others use you as a means to get to them. It was a mistake; showing people how much you love both of them was the mistake. They succeeded in using that against you. Turning you into a puppet, and you let it happen. Fool.
“I—“ you never let Steve finish and instead said, “don’t cry when I’m gone. Kings don’t weep nor mourn when villains fall, they rejoice,” you stated with the unspoken words rang in the air. You have to, even it hurts.
You held the urge to say; I loved you, I still love you, Bucky bit his lips and averted his gaze. It’s time to let go. You can’t stay.
You sided with them, became the unknown source of information to right the wrongs. But that’s something they’d never know, and you would like to keep it to your grave, what you gave up to save them and the kingdom they love so much.
They gained control, and you lost yours. You became the obstacle people had to go through before they get to your Kings. You had to look strong, pretend to be strong.
In the end, you lost, but that’s better than them losing. Steve and Bucky have to kill you to prove a point. They had to. It’s a show of power. It’s a step to finally purging the council, ridding of the rats.
After all, you worked behind Steve and Bucky’s backs. You tried to control them, take charge, stop them from gaining the power they so wanted, kill them, and try to bring them down. You were even using some of the essential people in their life. You spilled too much blood and were about to spill theirs. Greed almost leads you to make the greatest mistake of your life. It’s treason.
With you gone, HYDRA will fall with no other person to hold on to as Bucky and Steve wield full power. Their hard work will not be for naught.
Your past actions cannot be covered up for as long as you’re not making any moves to do so. Even if you tried—attempted to, you didn’t. You didn’t because you gave yourself to the council of HYDRA willingly, in hopes that, maybe, your marriage isn’t purely political. Blinded by the fact they weren’t in love as you are, you knew it was your fault. Everything is your fault, but surely you had corrected some by giving Steve and Bucky what they have now, something they earned, and you passed.
You didn’t bother to cover up your tracks. All those drops of blood that you spilled were out in the open. All the corruptions were purposely not covered because if you did, your Kings would be the ones in your place now, and the kingdom would fall under the council of HYDRA’s control.
“It’s time, your majesties,” one of the guards told them. Bucky immediately turned to leave as Steve watched you get hauled out of the dungeon.
Bucky couldn’t watch you get dragged out. He would immediately kill those who tried to get their hands on you, and he knew he couldn’t do that.
You were brought to the edge of the forest, along the field where the river separates the whole kingdom from the castle. As you knelt on the grass, the cold breeze made you shiver, and the thin clothes did nothing to make the cold less.
Branded as a traitor and asked to run, up you did. You ran until your lungs burned. You ran as if it could free you as if it would change anything. You ran until your feet bled. You ran until your whole being gave up running and then stopped when you stumbled down when your legs no longer functioned.
You were the prey stalked by predators, and there’s no escape no matter where you run.
Bucky stopped in front of you first, holding the sword, “must we do this, Steve?” he asked. You didn’t lookup. You cannot recover from the shock you felt when you heard what Bucky said.
“Yes,” his sorrow can be felt through the bones. They’re the ones who’ll wield the sword and bring you to your death.
They’re going to watch you fall, and they’re going to feel the weight of your life in their hands for the rest of their life. No. That’s too much. Can’t it be another knight? Can it be not you? You wanted to say, but the words didn’t escape your lips.
You didn’t know you were trembling until Bucky crouched to your level. “My queen,” he called. Despite his cold demeanor, Bucky treated you with so much care. His eyes expressed it too much that it hurt to see.
Steve stood holding a dagger. It’s the dagger you gave him as a gift. He’s using it. You closed your eyes hard.
When you opened them again, it was met with two sets of eyes with the bluest of all blues that you love. At least you get to die seeing them. You grit your teeth in hopes that it’ll make you stop shaking.
You swallowed once and then twice before speaking, your voice hoarse, “if we weren’t in this world, in this universe, if we weren’t in opposing sides, would you have sided with me? Helped me? Loved me?” you had to hear it. You had to. Even when your face betrayed no emotion, your voice says otherwise; the fear, the hurt, the longing, it’s all there, and it broke Steve and Bucky to hear it.
“Yes. It’s always a yes, my queen.”
“We’d make sure to protect you the next time we meet,”
“I love you,”
“I love you” was the last thing you heard before you felt the cold blade against your neck and saw the pained look they had. Your whole head blank, preparing for the strike.
You didn’t notice how Steve stopped Bucky as he raised his sword or how Bucky shook his head in response to that.
They have to carry that guilt. Maybe in another life, you’d all be lucky and live happily. Another wish you hoped would come true.
You tried to smile; you did. You even wanted to say it’s alright and tried to hold their face as they kneeled before you: Bucky’s tear and Steve’s touch.
But you don’t know if you ever did it, or it was all an illusion your head was making because the next thing you felt was cold. It was freezing, as if you were submerged in cold water. Finally, it’s all done.
Hey boo. I see your requests are open and I would love another medieval Bucky if you're vibing. Maybe something simple like Bucky cornering our reader in the corridor during a banquet and taking advantage of the distraction of the celebrations? Anyways, love you and your wonderful work.
❝ Forbidden Fruit
summary: as you mourn for the love of your life, unbeknownst to you, you catch the king’s eye.
pairings: dark king!Bucky x black!reader / former village witch!Wanda Maximoff x black!reader
Warnings: dub non-con, murder, choking, breeding .. ya know the whore vibes.
A/N: Requested by Roo, aka my wife — historical smut is our mutual kink. <3 another medieval Bucky?! Fuck yes. I’m drooling right now. And dark medieval Bucky?! A fucking wet dream. I hope you enjoy this, Roo. I wrote it with love. <3
p.s. I was listening to this medieval cover of Creep, and it just fit the mood for me. Medieval covers of modern songs is my JAM. P.s.s. I haven’t written in over two years so sorry if I’m rustyyyy <33
(Creep medieval cover)
Do Not Repost My Works!
Grief is a strange state of mind. You are alone -- loneliness constricts your soul -- in this world -- a blight of death lingers upon your days.
The stench of a decaying heart oozes from your pores, zombified mulling has become your stature -- living has now become a chore you could no longer bear.
Attempts to find solace in your small garden, or seek tedious conversations with your close confidantes -- Natasha, and Sharon -- in search of comfort -- but it was fruitless. Your soulmate was gone, burned into crisp.
Her brown auburn hair frayed in flames, her blood-curdling screams deafened your ears -- you can still hear her cries at night.
Hog-tied, and bound for a false crime -- the cheers and chants of kill the witch, kill the witch, kill the witch ring like crackling metal cowbells battering your eardrums.
The ashes of a smolder cadaver salvaged into an urn, tucked under your arm, scurrying in the dead of the night to bury her.
Dug a hole deep enough of a familiar grave -- tears watered the disturbed soil, as dirt and grit littered nimble fingers gingerly laid the urn to rest upon the coffin.
Here lies the brave warrior, Pietro Maximoff, a Slovakian immigrant, who died in battle in honor of King Barnes, now reunited in the afterlife with his other-half -- Wanda.
A brother and sister now soaring high among the clouds, two pure souls now cradled in the hands of the almighty Lord -- the heavens have gained another angel.
Putrefying flesh forced to be paraded in stitched elegant cloth crafted by your hands, forced to attend a banquet -- not just a regular fest -- no -- the young princess of the royal Barnes family has been wedded off, Princess Rebecca of Brooklynite now bares the noble title, Queen Rumlow.
The palace erupted in splendor, overwhelming in joyous celebration. The wind band at full swing -- drunk royal allies merrily wailing, and dancing upon the banquet floor.
By default of your entrusted role of handmaiden, and personal dressmaker of the youthful highness -- you were expected to make an appearance.
The atmosphere was flooded by a mouth-watering aroma, platters of cooked meals -- pig head, wild game, smoked fish, roasted peacock, cut steamed vegetables, sweetened desserts, and dried fruit coated in dribbled honey.
The Great Hall is decorated in silk curtains draping on the high windows, never-ending refills of ale, lively minstrels, and troubadours of noble high-regards. King Barnes will go above and beyond of excellent splendor for his sister.
The royal family is seated at the stretched mahogany table at the center of the corridor: King Barnes, his mother Queen Barnes on his right, his sister on his left. Beyond seated next to the aging monarch was the curia regis, himself -- Steven Rogers.
Swathed combed blonde-hair, piercing blues, sharp mighty jaw, magenta and navy color patterns resemble him to be a pampered aristocrat, but he holds himself to be a knight -- ready for the fight of honor.
A bitter taste lingers in your mouth, as you witness Steve shamelessly flirt with Sharon. It hasn’t been nearly a year since his “betrowed” Dutchess Peggy Carter has passed, and now he mingles with her youngest niece.
You often ponder if he used Peggy’s status to gain more of popularity favor, and her wealth? He does prance in fancier clothing -- besides the ones Bucky spoils him with.
You never brought the conversation to Sharon, fearing to offend her, and provoke her mourning of her great aunt. But the tasteless courtship nerves you.
King Barnes cheekily pecks his sweet little sister on the cheek as she sits by his side with a pure grin clasping onto her new husband’s hand -- as you sulk in the farthest corner, distancing yourself from the lively crowds.
If it was left to your decision, you would be isolated in your chambers -- drowning in your tears, and mead. It’s been three full moons since the passing of your lover, and the wound of mourning is still fresh.
You stole a glance at Rebecca, envy’s hideous head rearing -- why couldn’t you be in love? Why has fate -- the heavens -- have forgotten you so? The creamy white fabric sewn, and gracefully stitched draped her magnificently, her natural beauty gleams.
Skin as fresh milk luster within opulent cloth, satin silk embroidered with lace under the cuff. A lace trimming that separates the top of the sleeve from the bottom cuff which is adorned with silver and pearl brooches — as if you captured the twinkling night stars, shooting moonbeams and soft haunting orbs sunlight to fabric.
A sense of pride hummed over you.
At last, you buried the jealousy deep in your shattered cavity, genuinely happy that at least love still prevails.
Mindlessly plucking ripped pieces of fessant off your plate, popping it into your mouth, as the heel of your other palm propped you up by your chin -- hazily staring at the drunken fools berating themselves.
Your other hand flickering with your long braids -- fingers twirling, the curled ends grazing against your chavile.
Your brown orbs scan the room, hazily observing the charade, till you reach back to a giggling Rebecca -- your breath hitched.
Cerulean pools pierce through you, sternly unwavering. Five seats away from you is his Majesty himself, Barnes. Gawking at you intensely, like a wolf sniffing out his prey.
Your eyes widened, frozen in your seat. He lifted his chin up, his hues looking you up and down -- as if he was inspecting you. It made your skin crawl, immediately pulling your gaze from his.
Luckily everyone was drunkenly distracted, unable to see the king making daggers at you -- through your peripheral vision, he’s still staring at you.
Drinking from his goblet, above the rim was his pools peering at you. He finally tore away from you, at the very moment his sister, Rebecca tugged on his arm; hugging him. He caressed her cheek tenderly.
You nervously stand up, your shaky hands rubbing against your gown, drying your clammy sweat into the fabric.
Dashing feet snuck you out of your seat, quiet footfalls snuffed by uproarious chatter, and music. In a flash, you bolted out of the grand hall, exiting through a barren entryway; heading straight for your chambers.
Entirely missing Barnes’ amused grin, and arched brow. - Silence. The corridors were deafening, the only cadence is your nimble feet clicking against the pavement.
Splotches of ignited dimmed carnelian glow against your flesh gleaming a haunting sepia. Fingertips grazing against the stone walls to maintain balance from your tipsy stupor.
Confusion over-rides in your mind, why did King Barnes stare at me? So … intensely? Never has the king been so vehement before -- especially with me. Of all maidens, his attention falls upon me. Why?
Unanswered questions swirl in your head like furious wasps, stinging nerves throb painfully, soothing your temples by your tips, glossy quartz blankly glimpt at the lit torches nailed to the wall -- there she is. A small dark figure dances in the flames, thriving limbs swirl around; she’s in pain.
If you could just grab her, and keep her -- maybe she can sleep on a flower-bed, your own Thumbelina. Your heart aches, desperate fingers slowly try to touch the fire, but blazing heat torment you.
At last, just like before -- you couldn’t save her from her fate. The smoky figure stills, it waves solemnly, and simmers in ashes.
“Do you often stare at fire, my lady?” A husky timbre pulled you out of your trance, flinching at the sudden intrusion. Hot tears slip down your cheeks, quickly wiping it away.
Through blurry vision, shrouded in darkness, is Barnes. “No, your Highness. My apologies, I’ll take my leave now.” Fidgety fingers, and averted eyes, you turn to move away but he caught your elbow.
“Do not apologize, I’m sorry if I offended you.” Barnes pulled your body closer to him, offering a small smile. Both gigantic paws grip your elbows, “No, your Highness. You haven’t offended me.” You meekly spoke, a timid smile, shallow breathing.
“Bucky.” You snapped your head upwards, “Beg your pardon?” You quizzically question him, “I bessek you to call me, Bucky.” You gasped at him, soft shake of the head in refusal. His voice was kind, but it came off as more of a demand.
“Your Hig--” He glared at you, cowering underneath his intense stare, “Bucky, that would be inappropriate of me. It’s not my place.” He shushed you, his knuckles nuzzling your cheek.
“Tis only fair, we’ve known each other for a few years.” The spot where his fingers touched heated, tingling. Traveling the terrain of your face, fingers find refuge in your hair, toying with the silk ribbons woven within the braiding, intently inspecting.
“Rebecca’s gown is magnificent. Your touch is impeccable.” Twirling curled ends pinched between his fingers tips.
“I thank you.” You awkwardly lower your eyes away from him, his finger lifting your chin, “You’ve been crying.” His brows furrow, inspecting your sheen eyes. “Why ales you?” His palm cups your face, lowering his face closer to you, low pants of fear, you tilted your head away from him, a cough to cover the awkwardness.
“Nothing, Bucky.” You finally free yourself from his grasp, the brisk air from the open windows cooling your skin.
Walking towards the stone window, staring at the village located in the distance -- a burnt wooden pillar stood mockingly in the village square. Your facial lines morphed in discomfort, sobs wrecked your chest.
Bucky’s warm palms contrasted your icy skin, twisting you around to face him, “Please do not cry, such a beauty shouldn’t be pained with sorrow.” Bucky’s nose flared, his eyebrows twisted sympathetically. Cupping your cheeks, his thumbs swiping away tears.
Bucky slipped into a trance of adoration. You weren’t like the other noble women who would bleed themselves to achieve pale skin.
He can inquire of a memory of his former flame, Dutchess Dorothy -- who he fondly donned Dot -- who would walk weakly due to losing some blood. When he asked her why would she harm herself, she would tenderly reply, “Beauty is pain, my King.”
But you didn’t have to reach extreme techniques. No, you were a specimen of worldly beauty. “Bucky?” you tried to coax him out of his trance; his dilated eyes, and curled smile sent a shiver down your spine. Your dainty palms hold onto his hands, weak tugs to free your face -- but it is fruitless.
“Your Highness, please release me.” Your timid voice broke his haze, he growled lowly, “I thought I told you to call me, Bucky?” A grin, all teeth.
“My apologies.” Your watery eyes instinctively travel to your right, eyeing the burnt log standing proudly beyond the distance, hiding among the wild trees of the royal acres -- you sniveled a bit. A snort stralted you.
“A fitting punishment for such sorcery.” Bucky sneered, a smug smile as he stared out in the distance. Your eyes snapped back at him. Your nose flared, rage, and grief murking deep in your gut, strangling your spirit.
“I disagree.” Stern, and hardened. “Disagree?” Bucky glared at you, “A witch was among my circle, and you disagree?” Bucky’s hands left your cheeks, gripping your shoulders harshly.
“She wasn’t a witch, but a healing doctor.” You winced, earning a hiss, “You’re hurting me.” You cried, as Bucky towered over you.
His snarling face hairs away from yours, “Hurting you? Not as much as you have hurt me over the few years.” He angrily pleaded, pushing you against a nearby stone wall, his weight pinning you.
“How have I hurt you?” Your confusion befuddles you. Limbs wiggling under his clutch, like a hungry wolf, Bucky’s nose nuzzling your scalp, inhaling his sweet aroma of rosewater, and a twinge of spikenard. He grunted from the deep inhale, you stiffened -- truly terrified.
“Two years of desiring you.” His nose trailing from your hair, to the terrain of your forehead to your nose, heavy breath against your cupid-bow.
“Watching you being tainted by that sinful wench.” His hushed roar makes you whine, shutting your eyes as hot tears trail down your cheeks.
Bucky’s lips hairs-away from yours, “I remember when I first met you, when you were engaged to that local blacksmith, I felt immense rage.” He mumbled against your mouth, “How can a peasant have your hand in promise?”
You trembled in his touch, “--but I broke it off with him--” Bucky cut you off, “Yes! To be with that foul woman!” He nibbled on your chin, “I later saw the signs. I watched you glance at her. Lovingly. Remember the walls see all.” Bucky exhaled as he hovered his mouth over yours, the tip of his tongue tantalizing outward.
“Sneaky fingers reaching for each other. I am your shadow. I see what you do, even when I wasn’t around -- I have even watched you slumber a few times, I touched myself as you slept.”
He inhaled once again deeply with gravel. “I loathed her whenever she slept by you.” You were taken-back at his confession, Bucky leaned into your ear, “I have even witnessed you touch yourself in the dead of the night; you coming undone is such a sight.”
His husky timbre sent shivers down your spine, “I had to be rid of her.” That was the hay that broke the camel back.
Impulsively you bite at his shoulder, your teeth sinking into his flesh, he groaned but not in pain. He growled, “That’s what I love about you, my dove. That fiery bite.” You unlatched your teeth, you squirmed beneath him; he tightened his grip on you.
“You killed her! Why?!” you cried, babbling at your words, “Why Bucky?” Clinging onto the fabric of his silk robe. Tears flood your cheeks, dripping down your chin, Bucky’s unrelenting hands cupped your face once again.
Menacing oceanic meets fearsome brown orbs, brows furrowed -- the glow of fire above ignites upon him, illuminating a crown of malice -- the face of the Devil himself.
“I had too, my dove. At first, I was just going to make her spend her days in the dungeon. But then, those -- love letters, promises of running away. It gave me more reason to discard her!” Bucky smashed his lips against yours, all teeth and tongue. Gripping your jaw tightly, forcing you to open wide for his intrusion.
“That whoring wench was going to take you from me!” Bucky’s tongue dove inside your mouth, you gurgled in disgust as his tongue toyed with yours.
“I will burn down the whole kingdom in search of you.” Bucky declared. A wicked kiss of sin. Furious fingers tug at the hem of your dress, nails scrap your flesh as Bucky rips your bodice at the seams; your chest, and belly now exposed to the elements.
Your breasts heave free, and he licks his lips like a rabid dog. “Beautiful.” He mutters as you stand frozen in fear as if roots from the soles of your feet grew within the flooring. Bucky’s hands find your breasts, rubs his thumbs over the nipples, mixing with the cool air bellowing from outside -- your nipples erect.
Your heartbeat thrumming rapidly in your chest, a harsh rhyme matching the muffled cadence from the grand hall. Nibbling your neck, tasting the salt of your skin. Sneaky hands rummage through layers of fabric of your dress; Bucky knelt a bit to bunch your dress upward.
“Please --” You begged, more fresh tears brimming your eyes. “Silence, my love.” Bucky shushed you tenderly. He yanks your hosens, tearing the linen to pieces, exposing your mound. His knuckles glide within your velvet folds, his fingers soaking in your juices. Popping his fingers in his mouth, moaning at yout taste.
“Delicious.” He grumbled. You gain some ounce of confidence, moving your feet to dash out of his grasp, but you fail. You stumble on your feet, as Bucky man-handles you against the wall.
“Stop it!” He barked. Twisting you in his arms, maneuvering you around as your cheek squash against the stone wall. Pinning you with his weight, his chest against your back; his hand wedges between the wall pavement and your stomach.
You try to scream, but he quickly slaps his palm against your lips.
“I shall give you my seed. Let it bloom inside your womb.” Bucky rubbing your exposed belly, his warm breath fanning in your ear, “You will give me an heir.” You whined against his thick fingers squishing your lips shut, hot tears squeeze out shut eyes.
“You should be so grateful.” He hissed, slightly shaking your head by his grip, “Many women have tried to bed me, to gain the gift of carrying my legacy. But they weren’t you -- it’s only been you.” Sloppy kiss on your cheek, a string saliva trailing from his lips. Tiny sobs pull out of you.
With the same palm that was touching your stomach now slithers its way to his undergarments, detaching his robe, so he can have more of a spacious reign. “I can’t wait to feel you, my love. Feel your wetness soak me.” He hissed.
Harshly arching your back towards him with the guide of his hand from your mouth traveling to your pelvis, separating your feet by his. Both his palms cup your ass cheeks, separating to reveal the valley of your gaping asshole to your slit.
Clutching his cock with his thick fingers, stroking it a bit as he hedged the swollen tip against your slick folds. Leaning against you, securing you, Bucky thrusts himself deep.
No hesitation nor preparation for you to adjust to his size. You shrill at his fullness -- thick with girth, and mighty long.
“What a sight you will be swollen with my child. Your breasts --” Quickly groping your tits, “Will carry the nectar of life. Not only will my child fest from you, but so will I.”
You babble incoherently as he plunges. Sobbing at the stretch, hissing as warm liquid slowly trickles down your thighs dripping on the cold floor.
He can’t stop -- but it’s too impulsive, too thrilling. Your face is forced to tilt, facing him, sticky kisses, and moans. Your folds were fluttering, red wine stains his tongue as it plays with yours, husky gruff grunts against your gaped mouth between his fingers.
Moist slick gushing a bit from your pussy, coating his balls that slap against your swollen clit, you involuntarily clench onto him.
“Peach-sweet.” Bucky drinks, slurps your spit. A surge of euphoria surges throughout your body, shame floods you as your subconscious tries to float away to a lighter space.
Limbs go lax as you await the inevitable. An empty stare into his blue daggers, as if he wasn’t even there. Your nails digging into the gravel, futile escape. A sharp thrust against your g-spot made you cry out, breaking the daze of compliance “Don’t. Never try to escape me. You will feel everything I give you.”
A creek of a door halts Bucky’s actions, you try to scream, but Bucky shoves his fingers between your lips. A familiar drunken cackle looms at the end of the hall, “Your Highness --” slurred, and taunting. “--Finally claiming your queen.” Bucky snorts, your eyes close in shame, your immodesty exposed to another gentleman -- but it wasn’t just any gentleman, it was Steve.
Bucky tugs your mouth by his fingers, moving your face to peer in the other direction. You screamed, despite it being muted by Bucky’s digits. Your teary eyes pleading with Steve, but he all but ignores you.
“You couldn’t wait till you got to your chambers.” Steve teased, a grin on his flushed face. A feminine chuckle approach behind Steve, a twirling stumbling body leans on his bicep, “Stevieee…” Appears is Sharon, her face is flushed pink.
“Oh --” She covers her mouth with her dainty fingers, “Well, what an interesting sight.” A knowing smirk on her face, she turns to Steve, “Darling, I feel like --” She stutters, “What’s that Greek chubby winged baby again?” Steve turns to her with an adoring smile.
“The one with the bow and arrow?” She wobbles a bit, fingers sloppily mimicking a shooting arrow; your brows dented in frustration, and confusion at her ignorance of your defilement.
“Cupid, love.” Steve steadies her, she squeals, “Cupid!” Sharon grabs both of Steve’s hands, pulling him along down the hall, she tsks at your fuming eyes. “Y/n, you should be glad. If I haven’t told Bucky about the letters, you would’ve left.”
Your eyes widened at her words, your own friend betrays you. “Alright, Sharon, time to leave the love-birds be. I must take you to my chambers.” Steve guides Sharon by the elbows, wiggling his eyebrows at her.
“Enjoy, punk.” A friendly jeer.
“As always, jerk.” Steve winks at you, as he pats Bucky on the back.
You dry-heave a bit, Bucky removes himself from your lips, shushing you, “Shh. Just enjoy it. Look at them.” Bucky points to the couple fading down the hall. “Steve did everything in his power to be with Sharon. You honestly believe he loved Peggy?”
Your shoulders firm, stiffening by the truth -- “A drop of Hemlock. A little favor from Dr. Banner. To everyone it was a weak-heart, to us” A flair of his wrist, “-- a mercy killing. She was old, and tiring.” Bucky gave you a small kiss on the cheek, stunned as you witness the confession of murder.
“Murderer.” You hiss. Bucky’s eyes hardened, “It’s not my only slaying.” He simpered, he snapped his hips against yours. You wail, bearing his teeth, “How you warm my cock. Soon my bed.”
Furious pasts, your body jolting against him, resuming his torment. As if your body wasn’t on display to his confidante, and your former friend.
A coil is slowly burning, and rolling inside the pit of your belly, no longer to hold back your cries. Teasing, stroking you to a dizzying climax.
Loose hands roaming your body, Bucky’s smug smile at your compliance, a delicious push. Heat blossoms in his eyes, “I love you.” It was breathy, and soft.
Erratic sloppy thrusts, your hips matching his -- reaching for that high, months of no touch. You should be repulsed by his, but just for this moment in time, you can pretend.
“I --” Pretend it's not his hands, a blurry vision of familiar brown locks, a strong Slovakian timbre of sweet whispers, “--I--”. Bucky urges you to say it, “Say it.”His voice hoarse, raw. Sweat beads at his brows.
You don’t hear him -- a kinder voice flows from him, morphing into the woman you mourn, and probably mourn for the rest of your life.
“Let go, moja láska.” Hot tears fall down your face, colliding down your chest. “I love you.” You shrill, you cum violently upon him, spraying the floor and his clothes, your thighs shaking and covered in slick. Bucky roars into his orgasm, painting your walls white.
Kisses on the nape of your neck, scarred, broken. “By fall, you will rule by me. Hopefully by then, you will be carrying my babe.” Bucky hummed, kissing you non-stop. But, you don’t hear him. You just keep hearing the ringing in your ears, the distant fog of Wanda’s voice fading into the darkness.
Gone.
Forever.
unintended | part four
| part four - don’t waste your time or time will waste you |
Pairings: king!bucky x reader | king!steve x twin!sister
Summary: The moment you have come of age, you are being ripped out of the place you call home and into the kingdom of Cydonia ruled by King James, your betrothed. Neither of you pleased with the situation, neither of you being honest. Between fights, snarky remarks and glaring, do you find time to breathe? Is it possible to reconcile or even love one another?
Warnings: slow burn, inaccuracies in term of royal affairs and such,
A/N: i am so so sorry for the delay, but this is pretty long so I hope that makes it ok. this is my entry for @sillyqt 1k writing challenge!! hope you all enjoy!
Dividers by @whimsicalrogers
A few days, that’s all you had until you would officially be the wife of King James and the Queen of Cydonia. There was a part of you that screamed and shouted at you for not enjoying your time unwed. For letting (as they call him) Bucky take your thoughts away from more important things.
The only thing keeping you steady is the fact that your sister would be arriving for the wedding. Her and Steve will attend the ceremony and you can finally have your family together in one place again.
As for today, Bucky has arranged a ride through the woods, but you were sure his mother set it up.
An entourage of guards were riding behind you and Bucky, alongside Sam and Clint. It was the same route you rode through with Clint and you were excited to see the flower field again.
The fresh air bit at your cheeks, leaves rustling above you. Bucky was chatting happily with Sam and Clint looked at you from the corner of his eyes. You knew that he wanted to talk about the ball, about what happened. You were confused.
The trees thinned before you and the flowers peaked through, flowers of every colour. Your chest fell and you breathed through your nose. The scent filling your senses. As soon as you rose through the tall field, sun falling from the sky, slowly, a smile spread across your face.
Bucky came to a stop and a blanket was laid out. You sat next to Clint, reaching forward to pick some flowers and bind them together.
Bucky sat looking at you, sun shining orange and yellow across your figure. You looked peaceful. Flowers laid out before you, eyes fixated on your hands as they connected the different flowers together in your delicate fingers.
You smiled as you finished the flower crown, but instead of putting it atop your head, you turned to Clint placing the flowers on top of his hair. Clint laughed striking poses with the crown making you laugh. You missed it but Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.
You and the others mounted your horses again, taking the cobbled path back to the palace. You were sure that you could never get tired of the sunsets here in Cydonia. For some reason thy are even better than at home.
As the little house came to view a smile broke out on your face, seeing the family out on the front. You saw the girl from a few days ago sitting on the grass. You got off your horse walking towards the house.
You greeted the family, two boys standing off to a distance shyly and with their mouths agape. You were sure that this didn’t happen often, seeing the King so casually riding by. You dismounted your horse, walking up to the little girl. Her smile was unmatched from the first time you’d seen her, the admiration warming your heart.
“When I grow up I want to be a princess!” The little girl exclaimed with excitement.
You smiled, but within you, you were glad that she wasn’t.
You sunk down to your knees, turning the girl around by her shoulders. “You see that?” You pointed to the line of trees cutting the sky, orange and red painting the blue. She nodded her head. “That’s the horizon. Do you know what’s beyond it?” The little girl shook her head ‘no’ and you giggled. “It is your duty to find that out. To ride to the horizons of the world, sail the sea where the sky meets the water, to leave no part undiscovered and to learn what has not yet been learned and protect what needs protecting. To welcome everyone to follow you on your quest who wishes to, and lead them with care and love.”
You turned the girl to face you, tears welling up in your eyes. You ushered to Clint to hand you the flower crown, holding it above her head. “I hereby announce you the princess of the horizon. May you choose your path and widen your horizon.” With that you lowered the flower crown on her head, cheers erupting around you and you bit back the tears threatening to fall. If you could not do it yourself, then you would inspire someone else to do it.
Bucky watched with adoration. He was sure of it, the fact that you tried to give the girl what you don’t have. The freedom to run to the edge of the world with no one chasing after you. To chose your path amongst many and never slow down. Without the heaviness of the crown crushing your weight. Bucky realized that maybe, just maybe you weren’t so different from him, that your dreams sync up in a way.
But there was the tiny problem that you felt nothing for him, you’ve made that very clear Bucky thought.
You rose from your knees, walking to your horse. A tear escaped from yur eyes, but you were quick to catch it. A look back on the family and you saw the girl swirling, a big smile on her face.
Soon. Soon you’ll have Julia to confine in.
While you were wrapped up in preparations for the wedding, Bucky was struggling to wrap his mind around the different sides you’ve shown him. He was trying to puzzle together the pieces to get a clear picture of the woman he’d be married to by tomorrow. The one who he’ll build a family with.
Bucky asked himself if that would be possible though. For the past days he’d had this strange feeling every time he’d seen you. The was you walk, talk or laugh with your family. The way you behaved when you’re parents were around was something he’d not seen ever since you arrived.
He walked through the corridors, his shoes echoing through the space. Servants carrying candles and golden candle sticks for the wedding. He roamed these halls like every other day. Bucky wasn’t nervous when he became King. His father ensured that he was well prepared for the day he would take on the throne.
Bucky reached the oak wood doors of his mother’s chambers. As soon as he stepped into the room, his mother embraced him in a hug, her face bright and glowing. There aren’t a lot of times where Winnifred, the Queen mother, looked this gradient. It was said she had the same expression when Bucky was born, her wedding and Bucky’s coronation.
“My Bucky, I’m so proud of you.” Winnifred beamed with excitement. “I’ve been waiting for this day for, oh god, way too long.” She cupped his cheeks with her gloved hands.
“I know, mother.” Bucky smiled weakly, his mothers face falling. She took his hands and guided him to the velvet sofa.
“What’s wrong?”
Bucky exhaled, scrambling his brain for the right words to say. “Why did you chose Y/n?”
Winnifred stared at Bucky, eyebrows furrowed together. “She’s perfect, that’s why.”
“I don’t understand.” Bucky tilted his head, rubbing circles on the back of her hands to soothe her.
Her face relaxed. “On my search of a suitable wife and Queen, I met a lot of princesses. A lot of them from finer families than you could imagine, ones with more wealth than the last, education from the most knowledgeable men, princesses who have been trained to perfection. I even considered her sister Julia.”
Bucky’s lips parted. The thought of marrying your sister was odd.
“But when I spoke to their father, I knew that Y/n was the only choice for you. Sure, they’re not the finest family, or the richest, but Y/n loves to travel just like you. The people love her because of her nature, the way she presents herself. Her knowledge expands beyond textbooks, she lives with a sort of freedom that reminded me a lot of you, dear.” His mother caressed his cheek.
Bucky was running her words in his head again and again. If only he wasn’t such an asshole the fist time he met her, maybe she would’ve fallen in love with him. His mother had all the right reasons to chose you and his big head got in the way.
“Mother, I made a big mistake.”
Your brain was going a mile per hour. Between trying the dress on and deciding what jewellery to chose, you barely got the chance to breathe. You were so wrapped up in your head, you didn’t even notice your mother walking through the door. With your head hanging low to look at the different necklaces, you examined every stone, getting lost in the different colours of the rainbows.
“You look beautiful, darling.” Pepper spoke quietly behind you and you looked over your shoulder. Pepper held her hands over her chest, glossy eyed.
You wrapped your arms around her, afraid that she might disappear. “Thank you.” You drew back, Pepper’s eyes roaming the dress until her eyes met yours again.
“I’m so glad you’re happy. You are, aren’t you?”
“Yes, yes I am.” You said, but you weren’t sure if it was for your reassurance or hers.
“Good, because I brought a special guest for you.”
You heard the door to your chambers close and as soon as you saw the figure moving towards you, you knew it was Julia.
You let go of our mother, throwing yourself in Julia’s arms. Immediately the forset stared running and your cheeks were wet from tears. You never thought you could miss a person this much. Feeling Julia’s body pressed to yours, the scent of her flowery perfume and the satin of her dress brought a sort of comfort to you like nothing else.
With a shaky sob you pulled apart, taking a good look at your twin. Her hair nicely pinned up, a gold crown sitting atop her head and she already looked like the Queen she would soon be.
“Y/n, you have to idea how much I’ve missed you.” Julia spoke, with teary eyes.
“I’ve missed you more.”
Your mother’s cough interrupted your sweet sisterly moment and you followed her eyes to the person standing at the door.
Steve, the King of Thaumasia, smiling brightly at the two of you, but you were suddenly afraid you had disrespected him by not addressing him first. You lowered yourself in a deep curtsy. “King Steve, I apologise.”
“Princess Y/n, no apology needed, I know you were just as eager to see Julia as she was to see you.” He kissed the back of your hand and upon further inspection, you noticed that he was just as handsome as in the portrait, but he could not compare to Bucky. Wait what? “I heard there will be an archery competition later today?”
Your face lit up as soon as the words left Steve’s mouth. “Yes! I will be participating, of course.” Your smile reached your ears at the thought of it. It is tradition in Cydonia to hold a competition in archery. The winner will choose who will be given the title ‘woman of orchids’. In Cydonia it is a great honour to be chosen, as she will represent the love and fertility of the King and Queen.
“No one will stand a chance!” Julia chimed in, making Steve laugh loudly.
“I look forward to it. Now if you excuse me, I’ll see what Bucky’s been up to.” Steve bowed again before taking his leave.
You changed into a ruby coloured dress made by Natasha’s request and you could tell just by the heaviness that shooting for a target will be a disadvantage for you. The pearls around your neck are a nice addition to the deep red, but not exactly something you would pick for archery.
“Nat, do you think I could wear something less extravagant?” You turned on the spot to look at Natasha.
“No, absolutely not! You look fantastic in this dress and I can’t stand seeing you walk around in those striped dresses any longer.” Nat scrunched her nose, waving her hand in front of her face.
“But I know for a fact that I won’t be able to shoot arrows with this on.” You pointed to the skirt of the dress.
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Shoot arrows? You know you won’t participate, do you?”
Your mouth opened and closed. You knew things were different in different kingdoms, but everyone was allowed to participate in tornaments. “Oh, ok.”
You walked off next to Natasha and Clint to the courtyard. From the distance you could see the masses and Bucky, Julia, Winnifred and your parents to the side. You were just as dolled up as they are, but that would stop you from trying to enter.
As you greeted everyone, you sat next to Bucky on the raised platform on cushioned chairs, overlooking the lawn where ten targets were stood a few feet away. All the participants stood on their designated places, getting ready. Your leg was shaking in anticipation and you glanced over to Clint who stood off to the side. The guests from all kinds of backgrounds stood behind the participates, waiting eagerly with their champagne flutes.
There was just one question in your mind and when you turned to Bucky you blurted it right out. “Can I participate, too?”
Bucky was taken aback by your question, but one look to you and he knew that he couldn’t refuse. He could say to just to annoy her, but Bucky knew that that would be counterproductive to his plan, so without hesitation he ordered one of the participants to step down from the competition and gestured for you to take his place.
He watched as you descended the stairs, walking passt all the men staring at you as if they’ve never seen a woman before. It was amusing to Bucky, seeing you walking so confidently and he enjoyed it. Bucky leaned forward watching as you took the bow in your hands as the tournament started.
As soon as the first few arrows flew towards their targets, you knew nobody else stood a chance. Every round after that you proved to the men next to you that you were the best, hitting bullseye every time no matter how far away it was. With the last bow fired, cutting through the air, you knew you had won, but the faces of the guests were still priceless.
“Congratulations to Princess Y/n!” The words left Sam’s mouth and you turned to look at Bucky, your face hurting from the extensive smiling, but you still lowered yourself to curtsy. Sam came forward handing you a flower crown made of different colours and plants. “You may chose you woman of orchids.”
With a few strides you reached the wooden platform, standing in front of Julia. “I hereby chose you, Princess Julia, to be my woman of orchids.” You lowered the flowers on her head. Julia jumped up, hugging you while the people around you erupted in cheers.
From the corner of your eye you saw Bucky standing, clapping, with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. You untangled your arms from around your sister and turned to Bucky. Maybe it was his smile, the proud look on his face, or the feeling of victory, but the urge to kiss that smile off his face was unnerving. Your heart hammered in your chest, taking a step forward. Without thinking much, you got on your tiptoes, placing a gentle and light kiss on his cheek. The look on Bucky’s face was worth the heat crawling up your cheeks as he blinked frantically.
Bucky slowly took the crown from his head, placing it on the cushion with distance in his eyes. Maybe you didn’t resent him as much as he thought. Maybe in the middle of all this you saw what he saw, a partner. Bucky couldn’t make a lot of sense of your sudden affection towards him since you’ve been fairly distant since the ball. Maybe it’s all a show.
A knock on his door pulled him out of the trance like stante and as soon as he saw Steve, relieve washed over him. “Steve, good to see you.”
“Yeah, I feel like now more than ever we have less time for each other.” Steve laughed as he hugged Bucky.
“especially since both of us are getting married.” Bucky poured wine in two goblets, offering Steve one.
“Tomorrow is you big day!” Steve beamed as he sat down on one of the velvet chairs opposite Bucky.
Bucky sighted, turning to look at a portrait of his father. “I just with my bride would be excited too.”
“What do you mean?” Steve scrunched his face. “She seemed pretty happy by your side to me.”
“Well, the thing is we had some... issues.” Bucky looked at his friend, finding nothing but confusion, so he explained everything from the start.
“Bucky, I know you’ve had some issues in the past and with your fathers passing ruling became your number one priority, but you have to understand that it’s not her fault. She has to face the same fate as you.”
Bucky looked down in shame, taking a big swig of wine. “I know. I talked to my mother.”
“That’s not enough.” Steve interrupted him. “You have to talk to Y/n, too. Explain the situation and confess your affection. You have affection for her, do you?” Steve grinned.
“I do, yes. But I’m afraid she doesn’t.
“The only way to find that out is by talking to her. Go to her tomorrow first thing in the morning and clear the air.”
Bucky smiled weakly. “Ok, I will.”
It wasn’t like Bucky was afraid to talk to you, he was afraid of what you would say. The feelings that have manifested were scary to him and to have his heart broken by the one he will marry would only mean unhappiness. And Bucky wasn’t ready to have his heart broken again.
[ next ]
Upon the song of the Nymph, as he sung oh so purely, the creatures of the forest gathered in the patches of sunlight along the babbling brook to listen with silent wonder.
And so did the horse, a king’s stallion proud and tall, galloping through bushes and thicket to venture towards what it could be to make such beautiful sounds. It slowed to a halt at the water’s side, dipping its shiny hooves into the water to nicker a greeting at the man dabbling his feet into the cool liquid. The horse shook its manes, arching its neck to press its trembling nostrils against the golden strands of hair.
“You are sweet,” the nymph spoke, reaching out a hand and running the fingers beneath the horse’s chin, “Where may your rider be?”
As if on cue, the panting broke through the melody of the forest, branches snapping beneath boots and leaves pushed away. A man appeared from the thicket, turning his handsome face left and right and left again. Soon, the eyes, their color like ice through all the green, settling upon the young man by the water.
“Heavens,” the man whispered, as soon as their eyes did cross. He stepped forward, one hand out as if reaching for something he was not quite sure was there.
Steve tilted his head to the side a little, regarding the other with curiosity. He did not get many humans in this forest, especially not this far in. It was not he feared those from the kingdom, he merely often found them to be obnoxious and rude. This man, in his traveler’s clothing and his strong stallion, was a man of status, as much was clear.
Perhaps one of royalty, but he could not be sure.
-^-
Though he was still not certain what exactly James was (’King’ was not a term or role he had ever known himself, living in the forest mostly on his own), he did figured out soon that laying himself into the water-filled tub with his clothes still on was a thing considered strange by the humans of the castle.
Not to mention the apparently ‘wrong’ way he handled most of the utensils and objects that lay scattered around on shelves and in cupboards, some of which he was not supposed to touch, but who even kept track?
In his defense, a fork did look like it would function perfectly as a hairbrush.
|X|
Or: James is a King who decided to venture deeper into the forest. At one point, his horse acts oddly, and runs off. James sets the chase, only to stumble upon what must be the fairest creature he has ever laid eyes upon. The poor thing is covered in dirt, looking as if he had wandered through the forest for far too long, and James does not hesitate a moment to take the young man back to the castle to have him cleaned and cared for.
Steve is a forest nymph singing quietly to himself until a knight’s stallion interrupts him. A man soon follows, one who worries too much about the healthy layer of dirt on his clothes, and the fact Steve lives in the forest. Intrigued by the stranger, Steve comes with him to the castle, and he is amazed by the new world of customs and objects awaiting him.