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An arranged marriage with duke's illegitimate son!bucky
Summary: In a medieval kingdom where magic and political intrigue are woven into the fabric of society, Y/N, the youngest daughter of a noble Earl family, finds herself in an arranged marriage to James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke. Known as the Winter Soldier, Bucky's reputation as a monster in war had instilled anxiety into Y/N's heart. But that fear quickly begins to crumble when she discovers that her husband is not the brutal figure society depicts him to be.
Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)
Words: 8.1k++
Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader
Warnings: fantasy/medieval au, i did not write this with much knowledge of fantasy nor medieval lore. I write it solely for plot and the couple dynamic lmao. if you're expecting full blown fantasy novel; this ain't it, man. anyways, 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, loss of virginity, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint), marking kink (i think), soft fluffy smut, a wee bit of dirty talk. soft!reader and even softer!bucky. (idk what else, so tell me if there's something i miss.)
P/S: This is the fic for an idea I had earlier this year. The first chapter will only cover the original post but what happens next is something you will need to look forward on the upcoming chapters. Enjoy your read!
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Y/N stood in front of the grand mirror in her chamber, her reflection staring back at her with wide, fearful eyes. The delicate lace of her wedding dress was the opposite of the twisting anxiety in her stomach. Today, she was to marry James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke of the kingdom, a man labelled to be more beast than human.
He was known as the Winter Soldier, a title whispered with both fear and awe. Tales of his gruesome feats in battle, his merciless brutality, and his cold, metal arm was deemed as a horror story for the children in the kingdom. People spoke of him as a monstrous weapon, a beast moulded by the Emperor to do his bidding without question or hesitation.
Y/N had heard the stories many times before; and it has always been a hushed conversation that floats around whether a ballroom of a gala, or at the tables of the garden parties, sometimes even in between the racks of books in the library. T
hey always painted a picture of a man who lived only for war, devoid of humanity.
She couldn't help but let these tales feed her imagination. What kind of man was he truly? Did he revel in the violence, or was he a prisoner to his fate? Y/N shuddered at the thought, her heart heavy with fear and uncertainty.
Her father, the Earl, had made it clear why she needed to marry him. It was a political manoeuvre, a strategic alliance to strengthen their family's position. The duke, Bucky's father, wielded considerable power, and their union would bring the Earl closer to the heart of the kingdom's influence.
And when he heard that the duke was looking for a wife for his bastard son, he knew that she would be perfect. That was when Y/N, the youngest daughter, became the pawn in this game. Her father's ambitions certainly outweighed any consideration for her feelings or desires.
Y/N had always longed for a marriage of love, a dream she clung to despite her circumstances. She was a hopeless romantic through and through; much like her late mother. She remembered the nights when her mother would read to her and her siblings, spinning tales of prince charming and valiant heroes.
The fire crackled warmly in the hearth as her mother’s soothing voice filled the room. Y/N and her siblings, her older brother Eric and sister Clara, lay tucked under blankets, their eyes wide with wonder.
"And then the prince, with a heart full of love, swept the princess into his arms, vowing to protect her forever," her mother read, her voice a melodic whisper.
Y/N, her eyes sparkling with innocence, declared, "When I grow up, I want to marry a prince charming too!"
Clara, ever the practical one, nodded in agreement. "Me too! He has to be brave and kind."
Eric, being a little boy, scrunched his nose in distaste. "I don’t want to get married. I want to be a knight!"
Their mother chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Y/N’s forehead. "It does not matter if he is a prince charming or a humble knight. As long as you marry the one you love, that is what truly matters."
Y/N's heart ached at the memory. How she wished her mother were still here to guide her through this terrifying day. The gentle knock on the door brought her back to the present.
"Lady Y/N, it’s time," one of the maids said softly.
Y/N took a long and deep breath, smoothing down the fabric of her dress. She followed the maid down the corridor, her mind a swirl of emotions. Reaching the grand doors of the church, her father waited for her.
"Remember, Y/N," he said, his voice stern. "Do not mess this up. Just endure it. And you'll be fine. This is the most useful you can be to our family."
Her heart sank further; yet she nodded obediently.
Compared to Y/N, her elder brother, a celebrated swordsman, and her sister, a master in the art of business, had always outshone her in their father's eyes. Y/N's talent with languages; ancient and modern – was seen as a useless skill, something that brought no tangible benefit to the family.
Her father had never been cruel when she was younger but everything changed when her mother died. In fact, everyone in the family had lost a piece of their soul when she left. Now, his lack of affection only increases the number of scars on her heart.
The doors opened, revealing the crowds of high-ranking nobles; who were mostly strangers – staring at her. Some were judging her; some pitied her. She reminded herself that she was doing this for her family, for the greater good. But the little girl inside her who dreamed of prince charming certainly felt a pang of sorrow.
As she walked down the aisle, her legs trembled, and her hands shook so violently that she had to clasp them together to steady herself. From afar, she saw the silhouette of the man she was destined to marry. His tall and huge figure stood out compared to anyone in the hall. As she got closer, she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, too afraid to look up at her husband-to-be.
When she finally reached the altar, the priest began the ceremony. His speech was long and dragging, giving Y/N too much time to entertain her growing curiosity that she dared to glance up at the man next to her. Even from behind the veil, she could see his towering and broad-shouldered build, his presence commanding the room. His long hair was slightly untamed, and a scruffy beard framed his face. His metal hand, glinting in the sun that leaked through the church’s windows, was a jarring reminder of the rumors that surrounded him.
There were no heartfelt vows to recite to each other; only their promise of "I do" was exchanged. And that was the first time Y/N heard his voice. It was deep and resonant, sending a shiver down her spine; but there was a certain warmth in it that contrasted sharply with his fearsome reputation.
When the priest announced their union and Bucky lifted her veil, Y/N was struck by the unexpected gentleness in his eyes. They were a brilliant, mesmerizing blue, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. Bucky's eyes softened as he looked at her, his gaze tender and almost reverent. Slowly, he placed one hand gently around her waist, pulling her slightly closer. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle against her skin.
Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as he leaned in, her breath catching in her throat. When his lips met hers, they were soft, warm, and so unexpected. She could smell his cologne; an earthy, woodsy scent mixed with a hint of something fruity; like peaches or tangerines. It made her head spin and her heart jumped all at the same time.
The kiss was gentle and unhurried, very much differs to the forceful gesture she had feared. As he pulled away, Y/N found herself blinking slowly, her cheeks flushed and her fear momentarily replaced by confusion and a surprising awe. She was caught off guard by the tenderness of his touch, the way his lips had brushed against hers so gently.
Could the rumors about him be wrong?
"I’m sorry if I startled you," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I hope I didn’t scare you, my dear."
Y/N blinked slowly, trying to process the sudden shift in her emotions. The fear that had gripped her so tightly seemed to dissipate, replaced by a confusing mix of relief and intrigue. Her hands, which had been trembling, now rested at her sides, feeling strangely steady. Her eyes met his, and she could see softness in his gaze that contradicted the harsh rumors she had heard.
“I—no, you didn’t scare me,” she managed to say; her voice barely more than a whisper. She took a deep breath, her cheeks getting warmer as she processed the endearment he just called her. On the other hand, her mind was racing as she tried to reconcile the man in front of her with the fearsome figure of the Winter Soldier.
Bucky’s eyes mellowed even further, his gaze glazed with a tenderness that seemed to pierce through the weight of the room. A warm smile spread across his face, and he held her gaze with a comforting assurance.
“Good,” he said, his voice carrying a gentle affection. “I’m glad to hear that.”
The reception that followed was a blur of faces and polite conversation. Y/N moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations and well-wishes, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky than the rumors suggested. Every time she caught his eye, he gave her a small, reassuring smile that made the butterflies inside of her go wild.
As the evening drew to a close, they were escorted to one of the Emperor’s palaces, a grand and opulent residence that was to serve as their temporary home before they traveled north to Bucky’s territory. The palace, with its lavish furnishings and golden accents, seemed to mock the uncertainty Y/N felt. She had been assigned a chamber to prepare for the night, and the palace maids were bustling around her, helping her into a set of elaborate, far-from-modest lingerie.
The palace’s maids’ whispers and side glances did nothing to ease her growing anxiety. Their condescending tones and occasional snickers were laced with cruel speculation about how roughly Bucky would treat her. The more Y/N overheard, the more her apprehension grew. Despite the gentleness Bucky had shown her earlier, she found herself doubting its sincerity.
Could he really be the caring husband he appeared to be, or was it all just an elaborate show?
The maids finally left, their laughter fading down the hallway, leaving Y/N alone in the grand chamber. Her heart raced, and cold sweat formed at her brow as she sat quietly on the edge of the ornate bed. She kept her gaze firmly on the floor, her hands fidgeting in her lap. The room felt enormous, its sheer size heightening her sense of isolation and dread.
The door creaked open, and Bucky entered the room. Y/N’s heart nearly stopped as she heard the heavy, measured footsteps approaching. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, her body tense and her mind a swirl of panic and unease. She almost held her breath entire when she felt the slight indentation of the mattress beside her.
“Y/N,” Bucky’s voice was soft and coaxing, a distinct difference to the coldness she was expecting. “Look at me.” He continued. She hesitated momentarily; torn between obeying and disobeying but ultimately decided to raise her eyes to meet his.
The sight of him; his upper body bare, revealing a tapestry of scars and the stark metal of his prosthetic arm; made her breath hitch. Her eyes traced the lines of his faded wound, particularly the jagged marks where his shoulder met his metal arm. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow and concern. Her fingers, almost of their own accord, reached out to trace the contours of his chest and shoulder.
Bucky let the innocence of her touch to trace the most tainted parts of him; however noting her trembling eyes, he misunderstood her apprehension. “I want you to know, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle, “that I will never hurt you. You are safe with me.”
Y/N shook her head, her heart aching. She felt an unexplainable pain growing in her chest as she gazed at him. Her fingers still lightly touching his scars; her eyes, full of unshed tears, silently asked a question she was too afraid to voice. “Does it still hurt?” she wanted to ask, her expression betraying her concern.
Bucky’s eyes sparkled with affection, and he took her hand in his, holding it tenderly against his chest. “Don't worry. It does not hurt anymore,” he said with a reassuring smile.
The connection between them was electric, charged with a deep, unspoken understanding. Bucky’s gaze was steady and filled with a depth of unspoken emotion that took Y/N’s breath away. “I know this is difficult for you, Y/N,” he said, his voice laden with sincerity. “But I promise, I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”
His words and the way he looked at her left Y/N feeling both comforted and overwhelmed. For the first time since their wedding, she felt a genuine, flickering hope that maybe, just maybe, their marriage could become something more than a mere political arrangement. Bucky’s assurances, his gentleness, and the tenderness in his eyes began to dissolve the fears she had harboured since the beginning of their union.
As they sat there, the weight of the night’s expectations seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile but growing trust. Y/N had entered this marriage with a sense of duty, convinced that she would have to endure the consummation of their union as a matter of obligation. But Bucky’s tenderness, his understanding, and the sincere reassurance he had given her began to change her perspective.
The idea of fulfilling her marital duty had initially felt like a burden she had to bear. She had steeled herself to face it with resignation, convinced that it was merely another part of her role in this arranged marriage. But now, she found herself reconsidering. The idea of being with him no longer felt like an obligation but a possibility of something more profound and intimate.
Y/N hands softly toyed with the delicate strings of her sheer lingerie, pulling it softly as her doe eyes signalled her husband of her intention. Bucky, sensing the shift in her demeanor, looked into her eyes with a mixture of concern and affection. “Are you sure, my dear?” he asked softly. “I want you to feel safe with me and not afraid of me.”
Y/N’s heart fluttered as she met his gaze, her own eyes reflecting the depth of her emotions. “I am,” she said with quiet conviction. “I feel safe with you, James”
Bucky's hand naturally went to brush her hair behind her ear, “It’s Bucky, my dear,” he corrected softly.
“Hmm?” she asked, slightly puzzled.
He chuckled warmly. “You can call me Bucky from now on. It’s a nickname only a selected few who I trust and love knows.” Her eyes sparkled at his choice words; trust and love.
“Bucky…” she tested the name on her tongue, the syllables feeling strangely intimate. Upon hearing his name from her lips, Bucky’s heart swelled, almost bursting from his ribcage. He hummed in approval, “That's right, my dear. I’m your Bucky.”
His reassuring smile grew wider, his calloused thumb gently stroke her cheek causing a shiver to strum all over her nerves; sending an emerging desire. One she had not fully acknowledged until now. The way he looked at her, the pure and raw endearment in his eyes, and the softness of his touch stirred something deep within her.
As the moments passed, Y/N realised she wanted this. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, to explore the warmth of his hands, to connect with him on a level she had longed for. The yearning for his touch, which had been dormant under layers of fear and uncertainty, now surged forward with undeniable intensity.
Without fully understanding why, Y/N found herself leaning closer to him, her breath coming in soft, eager gasps. She whispered, her voice barely audible but full of longing, “Bucky, please.”
Bucky’s expression softened, and a tender light filled his blue eyes, “May I?” he asked, his voice low and gentle as he held out his hand. There a shy hesitation before she finally placed her hand in his.
With a gentle but firm pull, Bucky lifted her onto his lap, his careful hands beginning the process of undressing her. Each movement was full of care, yet almost deliberate, as he slowly removed her dress, leaving her in nothing but the flimsy lace piece covering the sacred area between her thighs.
Bucky's eyes roamed over her bare skin, admiration clear in his gaze. Y/N could feel the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes traced every curve and contour of her body. The intensity of it made her feel both vulnerable and cherished, a potent combination that sent pleasurable shivers all over her body.
Seeing the hunger in his blue eyes, she felt the warmth of his body and caught the scent of him; the same once she noticed at the church; warm and comforting. Her breath quickened, and she found herself unsure of what to do or where to place her hands, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.
Noticing the subtle panic, Bucky reached for her hands and guided them through the thick strands of his long hair. “You can touch me as you please, my dear,” he whispered, his voice soothing as he reassured her. He leaned in to kiss her bare shoulder, then moved up to her neck, along her jaw, leaving a trail of warmth on her skin.
Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, the softness surprising her. The intimacy of the moment, combined with his gentle kisses, began to dissolve the last remnants of her anxiety. The feel of his lips on her skin was electrifying, each kiss sending waves of sensation she never felt before.
Bucky’s hands, still careful and tender, caressed her back, drawing her closer to him. Her breath hitched as he kissed the valley of her breasts; soft gasps escaping her lips as Bucky begins to lick and sucked on her delicate skin; likely trying to mark his claim on her.
Every touch and little kisses he left sent shivers straight to her already dripping core. And by the time his lips grazed her nipple, her body jerked forward; in response, unintentionally dragging her aching pussy against his thick thigh.
His lips latched around her right nipples as he licks and sucks the hardening skin; lapping at it as if he was feeding from her. The sensation was overwhelming, yet she found herself leaning into his touch, her body responding to his gentle ministrations. The grip on his hair grew tighter as the strings of moans poured out her lips.
Bucky’s large hands find their place on her hips, guiding her to gently rut on his thigh. Trusting him, she followed his lead as he continue to grind her clit through the thin fabric she was wearing; introducing the sweet friction in on her core. Bucky pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his expression filled with a mixture of subtle affection and desire. “You’re doing wonderfully, my dear. Can feel your pussy leaking on me. Do you feel good?” he murmured as he dipped back to kiss her neck.
Oh, he was filthy with his choice of words but surprisingly she was not mad about it. In fact she didn’t even notice the whimpers purring in her throat upon hearing those sinful words.
It was as if Bucky recognized that needy sound she made; it caused a smile to spread on his lips. She can feel it grow against the skin in between her breasts, “My my, is my sweet wife feeling needy right now?” he teased playfully as he effortlessly lifted her up and laid her down on their bed.
Placing himself in between her soft thighs, his lustful gaze trained on her naked body; he admired the marks he has left on her breasts, the wet patch on the flimsy fabric covering her cunt, and the way her breath shuddered when he teasingly grind his harden cock against her.
Y/N can feel the contrast of his hands on her thigh, one warm, one cold. Her eyes drew her attention from his hands to his gorgeous face. Oh, the pure unfiltered lust in his eyes was pulling her in so effortlessly; seducing her to submit her body and soul to him completely. Shying away from his stare, she dragged her view down to his chiselled jaw, his broad chest then slowly to his beautiful abs.
She admired his body as much as he did of hers.
But what was more prominent out of all, was the way she could feel his erection throbbing against her heat. Blood went rushing towards her face when Bucky guided her hips against the confinement of his cock, which in response; causing her hands naturally found their way to cover her face in embarrassment.
A deep chuckle bubbled from Bucky’s throat; he found her reaction to be absolutely endearing. He leaned down towards her, one hand holding himself up and another tenderly pulling her hands away, then drawing it close to his chest, right against his beating heart.
Having nowhere to run, Y/N’s teary eyes drowned in his ocean blues, “Don’t hide from me, dearest.” He peppered a delicate kiss on her forehead, then on her nose, then on her cheek. She could feel the prickly sensation of his beard grazing on her skin. It was ticklish and a little bit painful and yet weirdly enough, it felt good that it naturally made her want to nuzzle it more.
But before she could, Bucky’s lips were already making their way down to her stomach. Her body responds to how soft his lips trailing down; and further down until she could feel them on her clothed core. A surprised yelp fell from her lips as he tore the last piece of clothing from her.
“Now, hands away from your face, my dear. I want to see that beautiful eyes of yours when I eat your sweet pussy.” his voice was honeyed when he made himself comfortable in between her thighs. His hands reached upwards to intertwine both of her hands with his own; acting as a restraint to restrict her from covering her face.
Y/N almost sat up upon hearing his words, “Eat what now?”, the question she had in mind was unable to be vocalised; due to her confusion. Prior to marriage, she had learned about sex and its purpose in her marital studies. Unbeknownst to her, the knowledge she had was few and limited for academic purposes only. Which means there were only the few illustrations of penetration depicted in books and the process of how children are bred as a result of it.
So what does he mean when he said those words? While she was still lost and confused, Bucky on the other hand was in his own world; completely and utterly transfixed on the glistening need of her cunt. She was dripping wet; the juices covering her slits perfectly; her scent was intoxicating and if it weren’t for the fact that this is her first time, Bucky would’ve ate her like a man starved of touch. But, he can’t do that. Not tonight. He wanted to be gentle; to cherish her, to love on her.
Seeing the darkened clouds in his eyes as he stared at her private, Y/N braved herself to ask, “What are you– ohh hmmm” her sentence ended up transforming into a toe curling moan as she felt Bucky’s wet tongue flattened across her weeping core. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he dragged her clit into his mouth and sucked. He strummed her clit with his tongue, causing her to arch her back and he took the opportunity to push his face further into her cunt; licking and sucking quite the literal soul out her.
It felt amazing but her self-consciousness won the battle in her head, she let out a whimpering plea, “Buc--bucky st-stop. That’s dirty.” as she gripped on his hands, trying to escape from his grip. Bucky growled against her in response to her futile protest. The sweet vibration only caused her pleasure all over her fluttering core.
When Bucky pulled away for a moment; it caused her to feel a sense of loss. “It’s not dirty, my dear. In fact, it’s so sweet.” His lips moved to kiss on her inner thigh, murmuring against her skin as he left yet more of his marks on her, “So fucking sweet.” He releases his right hand from hers, just to rub his thumb on her clit, slowly dragging it in between her slit; smearing her wetness all around her throbbing bundle of nerves. Her thighs trembled to the sensation of his rough movement of his thumb and a string of shaky mewls fell out of her.
“But..” she tried to protest but immediately stopped when Bucky brought his soaked thumb to her mouth. Her lips were wet from how he gently smeared the juices on her, “Taste yourself.” He lured her softly. Hesitation glints in her eyes as her cheeks redden. Bucky’s eyes grew tender at her watery ones, he whispered lowly, “Sweetheart, do you trust me?”
She does; but she does not trust her own voice to not come out sounding like a needy moan, so she simply nodded. Bucky’s pink lips spread into a smile, “Good girl. Now, open up.” he coaxed lovingly.
Y/N opened her mouth as she was told and let Bucky slip his thumb inside; he was not shy to smother her juices across her tongue, coaxing her to suck on it. To get a taste of what he was having. “It’s sweet”, she thought to herself. A muffled moan purred in her throat at the thought of her husband enjoying the taste of her.
Bucky smirk grew at her reaction, “Tastes good huh, sweetheart?” he pulled his thumb away, leaving her nodding to his question. “Now are you going to let me enjoy your pussy?” his brow quirked when he tilted his head to the side. How can she deny him now? Her eyes glazed with need as she replied, “Yes, please”.
Her mouth falls open in anticipation as a low moan creeps up her throat. Bucky’s tongue slips past her folds, she watched him between her legs, savouring her pussy with his unfiltered groans vibrating against her sensitive spot. Breathless moans and incoherent pleads fall from her mouth as the soft and firm tip of his tongue circled her swollen pearl and flicked it. Bucky’s hands went to her hips, guiding it in time with her own movements, giving her partial control to set the pace.
“Buckyyyy.” She gasped as she alternated between wanting to push his head away or keep him in place. Meanwhile, the man in between her thighs had lost himself; consumed by pure desire the more he drank from her cunt. His tongue moved faster against her clit when he noticed the beat of her throbbing cunt increased. She was going to come. He was sure of it.
The way that she was practically creaming on his tongue drove him near feral. He kept lapping at her juices as if it was the sweetest honey he ever tasted; fuck he even sucked her clit in hopes to force out more of her nectar to leak; then he’d lap on it again.
The sweet cycle had pushed Y/N over the edge, her eyes rolling back as pleasure and her hips slightly lifted as pleasure surges through her veins.“Oh oh Bucky please please.” She didn’t what she was begging for as she chanted his name. “I’m gonna, ‘m gonna–“ her words died as she squealed; her body trembling in pleasure.
His tongue moved faster against her clit; her cum was dripping out of her; coating his beard but his frantic licks didn’t stop even when she continue to gush on his tongue.
“Bucky please, sensitive..” It was too much; her orgasm, her swollen clit, his tongue. Everything.
Unfortunately for her, Bucky was far gone to stop now. He had the taste of her cum, now he wants nothing more than to have it again. Despite her protest, Bucky held her hip down, interlocking his hands across her stomach to keep her in place and continue to lick and suck on her overstimulated cunt.
Her whiny pleas didn’t come across as a sign for him to stop; instead it kept him going causing him to bury his face further in between her legs. His cock continued to throb in his pants, probably leaking with so much pre-cum and in need of some sort of relief but he ignored it. He wants nothing more than for Y/N to cum on his tongue again.
And that is exactly what happened next.
The moment she fell over the edge, Bucky pushed her even harder against him as her whole body spasmed. He maintained his pace on lapping up at her all throughout her high as her hands went from his hair to the headboard, trying to hold her limp body upright. Y/N took a moment to gather herself together, panting heavily as she regained their senses; while Bucky was swift to pull his pants off and throw it to the side.
He grabbed on her hips, holding her firmly in place as his heavy leaking cock nestled between her aching pussy. “Are you sure about this, my dear?” his hot breath fanning against her neck as he gently ruts into her heat. Even though Bucky can see the darken lust in her eyes, he still wanted to make sure that she was sure of her decision.
Y/N’s heart swelled at his concern, and she found herself smiling, a genuine smile that reflected the warmth she felt inside. She pulled him closer and kissed him, pouring all her newfound trust and affection into the kiss. “Yes, Bucky. I am very sure. ”
Bucky quickly responded with equal passion, his tongue slipped in between her lips; exploring the warmness of her mouth, the softness of her tongue. Their muffled moans filled the silenced room, his hands moved to caress her sides, drawing her even closer before breaking away from the heated kiss.
Resting his forehead on hers, his eyes trained on her beautiful face; not wanting to miss his chance to witness the pleasure contorting on her expression. He nudges her clit first, rubbing it slow and sensual before trailing down to her entrance. Gradually, he inches closer, he pushes in and through the tightness of her sacred channel.
Delving impossibly deep, her tightness wrapped around his thick cock until the tip of him reached the deepest parts of her. The sudden feeling of fullness on her untainted pussy caused her to experience both pain and the delightful sensation inside her. The ecstasy of being so knitly connected to each other caused both of them to simultaneously let out moans and groans of raw pleasure.
Bucky waited for her to adjust to his size; leaning down to pamper her with the softest kisses and praises that tears started to swell in her eyes. It was as if Bucky knew exactly what she wanted to hear, how she wanted to be treated and what makes her feel good.
“You’re doing so good, my dear.”
“Look at how perfect your pussy’s taking my cock. So perfect.”
“Made for me aren’t you, sweetheart?. Made to be loved by me, made to be stuffed full of my cock.”
“I promise you’ll be safe with me, Y/N. Always.”
When Y/N finally gave him the permission to move, Bucky kissed her pouty lips and murmured sweetly, “Thank you, my dear.” His hands travelled to find her ankle; which he then gently prop her calf over his broad shoulder. He started pumping in and out slowly, letting her get used to the friction.
Bucky couldn’t help but to groan out to the feeling of her wet hole gripping his cock ever-so-tightly. It was slippery and dripping, that he almost completely slid out of her. Gripping her closer he continue ramming himself back in, deeper, harder; sliding in and out of her at an even pace. Each force of his cock causing her body to jerk in ecstasy; hitting that good spot in her so perfectly.
“S-shit, sweetheart,” he moans deep and heavy as he felt her pussy tightening around him. His metal hand slid in between them and his thumb hones in on her clit. The coldness of his finger made her jolt at first but when he proceeded to rub and pinch on it, everything suddenly started to feel too intense; so incredibly good.
With his fingers assaulting her clit, each thrust of his cock and every deep guttural moan and groan coming from Bucky, she felt her release was growing closer. Bucky also started thrusting faster and harder; he knew he was about to come. Especially when he can feel how much pre-cum has been leaking inside her.
He leaned and rested his forehead on hers, his needy ruts became more and more irregular when her pretty doe eyes looked up at him, “Cum for me, my dear.” his lips brushed against Y/N’s as he coaxed her to her sweet release. His thrusts got harsher and deeper and the friction of his metal finger working on her clit got her cunt to frantically tremble around him, “I wanna feel you milk my cock, sweetheart. Then, I’m gonna my pump cum inside you until you’re leaking.”
Although his words were debauched to no end, however Y/N could sense his genuine affection for her. She felt his sincerity in the way he looked at her, in the way he held her, in the silenced gaze they shared. Overwhelmed with pleasure, her nails dragged across Bucky’s back as she moaned and screamed out his name; letting the high took over her body.
“Fuck,, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum!” groaned as he took in the sound of her pleasured mewls. He ruthlessly grinds into her, savouring the feeling of her cunt tightened around him. With one last rut, he thrust his cock, balls deep inside and let his warm white strings filling her up to the brim. His cock twitches in her fluttering cunt, his legs tensing with every small grind he makes, groaning lowly at her as he bites down on her shoulder, almost drooling on her as he emptied himself completely into her.
Y/N continued to let out strings of soft moans as he pulled out from her leaking cunt; all swollen and sensitive. While she thought she could finally catch some breaths, she didn’t notice the way Bucky was biting on his lip at the sight of his cum dripping out of her, or how his hands lazily tugging on his now hardened cock.
“Dearest?” Bucky hovered above her as he cradled her by her flushed cheeks. She smiled sweetly as she leaned to his touch, “Yes, Bucky?”, she was anticipating him to utter more of those soft words and praises to her; but instead his lips curled into a devilish grin when he slid his cock back into her, immediately pulling a long sinful mewl of his name from her. Bucky hummed approvingly in response; he gently brushed his lips against hers, “May I fill you up again?”
As the morning sun streamed through the windows, Y/N slowly stirred awake. She reached out, instinctively searching for the warmth of her husband beside her, but found the space empty. A pang of loneliness touched her heart, but it was quickly replaced by curiosity when she saw a bouquet of bluebells, her favourite flower, placed delicately on the bedside table.
Next to the bouquet was a note. With a small smile, she picked it up and began to read.
"My Dearest Y/N,
I hate to leave you alone this morning, but I must ensure our journey home is smooth and safe. I trust you slept well, and I promise to return to your side as soon as I can.
Yours always,
Bucky"
The words written on the note were filled with sincerity and reassurance that made her heart flutter. She smiled, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she wondered how he knew bluebells were her favourite.
Just as she was lost in thought, the door opened, and the palace’s maids entered the room. Their faces were a mixture of curiosity and impatience, clearly expecting to see a frightened and bruised young bride.
However, when they saw Y/N's skin, they temporarily froze in their spots. Her skin was indeed bruised, but each one of them recognized the marks for what they were: love marks, not signs of harsh abuse that they were expecting. The traces of Bucky's possessive love were prominent all over her neck, chest, and inner thighs, leaving Y/N blushing as the maids, too, found themselves flushed with embarrassment.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” one of the older maids muttered under her breath, her tone laced with irritation. Another maid, with a more condescending sneer, huffed. “Looks like we lost the bet, ladies. Who would have thought the beast could be so... tender?”
Y/N’s cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and pride. She could feel their resentful glances and knew they were not pleased with the outcome. The marks on her body were a testament to the affection and desire Bucky had shown her, and despite the initial fear, she now wore them as symbols of the unexpected bond they had begun to forge.
The head maid, who had been the most vocal the night before, now seemed to handle her with an edge of bitterness. The other maids, who had been so quick to judge, were now silent, their eyes wide with resentment.One of the younger maids, braver than the rest, couldn’t hide her frustration. “Well, my lady, I suppose you’re alright, then?” she asked, her voice barely masking her disappointment.
Y/N looked at her, considering the appropriate response. If it was up to her, she ought to punish every single one of them for not knowing their place. Unfortunately, they were not her maids to begin with, but the palace's staff. Otherwise, she would likely fire each one of them.
The memory of Bucky’s affection and care filled her heart, leaving no room for anger or resentment. The warmth of his embrace and the gentle way he had treated her made the maids' behaviour seem petty and insignificant.
She could still feel the lingering touch of his lips on her skin, the way his hands had caressed her so delicately, and the sound of his reassuring voice. Her body was still tingling with the remnants of the previous night's intimacy. Her skin bore the marks of his love, not of brutality, and each bruise was a testament to the passion they had shared. It was completely different to the vile expectations of the maids.
A small smile playing on her lips despite the blush that still coloured her cheeks. "Yes," she said softly, "I am quite alright."
The maids exchanged annoyed glances, their expressions a mix of frustration and disbelief. Their muttered disappointments were tuned out as Y/N focused on the lingering warmth from the night before.
She couldn't hear a single thing except her heart beating to the thought of her husband. She missed him already. Who would’ve thought she’d be swooning for him so soon?
She found herself yearning for his presence, the comfort of his touch, and the sound of his reassuring voice. The memory of his gentle kiss and tender words lingered in her mind yet again, making her heart flutter.
As the maids continued their work, Y/N hoped they would at least perform their duties well enough to cover up for their childish behaviour. She wanted to be ready to see Bucky, to greet him with the same warmth and affection he had shown her. Despite their rudeness, she resolved to focus on the positive, cherishing the newfound bond with her husband.
Bucky stood at the head of the table, his stern expression and commanding presence filling the room. He was reviewing the logistics of their journey home, his voice cold and decisive as he issued instructions to his knights. His trusted knight, Sam, was detailing the possible hotspots for bandits they might encounter along the way.
"We'll likely face trouble here," Sam said, pointing to a spot on the map. "We should send some of our best men ahead to clear the path."
"Agreed," Bucky responded, his tone unyielding. "Deploy the knights in advance. Ensure the path is secure before we proceed."
Sam nodded and continued outlining the plan. He paused, expecting Bucky to reconfirm, but noticed a change in his leader's face. The harsh lines softened, his eyes filled with a tender warmth, as he stared intently at something across the room. Before Sam could look or utter a word, Bucky turned and walked away with determination.
Sam followed Bucky's gaze and understood immediately. "Ah, that's why," he muttered to himself as he watched Bucky approach Y/N. The change in Bucky’s demeanour was striking. He moved with a grace and warmth that was at odds with his usual stern and imposing presence.
Bucky’s eyes softened as he took in the sight of Y/N. He admired her beauty with a gaze filled with awe and adoration. The way he looked at her was as if he was seeing a vision he had longed for, a rare and precious gem that had finally come into his life.
As he extended his hand toward her, a gesture usually seen as etiquette but now entirely with different meaning, especially with the hearts bursting our of his blue eyes. Y/N’s face lighting up with a shy smile, took his hand; almost too eagerly. Bucky's fingers closed gently around hers, his touch tender and reassuring. The contrast between his usual, fearsome reputation and the gentle way he interacted with her was profound, making it clear that his feelings for Y/N were deeply genuine.
Bucky kissed the back of her hand, his lips softly caressing her knuckles. "My dear," he greeted her, using the endearment he had chosen when they first met at the altar.
The scene seemed like it was pulled raw from a romance novel that the surrounding staff and knights simply watched in shock and awe. "Did he just..." one knight whispered, eyes wide. "Called her 'my dear'?" another finished, equally stunned.
Sam, who had witnessed firsthand the monstrous side of Bucky in war, found himself in a state of utter disbelief, jaw dropped loose. He had seen Bucky’s sword painted blood-red, his face splattered with the gore of countless enemies. The Winter Soldier was a force of nature on the battlefield, his brutal efficiency leaving a trail of carnage in his wake. Sam recalled the sight of Bucky’s cold, unyielding eyes as he cut through foes without hesitation, his armor and weaponry gleaming with the blood of those who dared oppose him.
And yet, here he was, the same man who had struck terror into the hearts of many, now standing before Y/N with a tenderness that seemed unimaginable. Sam could hardly believe his eyes. The disparity was pronounced and bewildering. Bucky’s expression was soft, his movements gentle as he held Y/N’s hand in his.
“I’ve missed you,” Y/N said softly, her eyes shining with affection. She truly did, it would be a lie that she didn’t felt the ache in her heart when she woke up alone that morning. The emptiness beside her had felt profound. The bed still carried his scent, a lingering warmth that whispered of his recent presence. Even though the separation had been brief, as evidenced by the thoughtful note and the bouquet of her favourite flowers he had left behind, the loneliness she felt was palpable. His absence, however fleeting, had created a void that left her feeling incomplete.
Bucky’s heart seemed to burst with emotion. He couldn't care less about the gawking staff surrounding them as he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. She initially froze, caught off guard and embarrassed, but soon melted into his kiss with a blossoming confidence.
As their lips met, memories of their tender and passionate night together surged through Bucky's mind. The way she moan his name, the taste of her cum, the tightness of her pussy gripping on his cock, the way his cum leaked out of her, every single sinful scene replayed in head; infinitely. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and he found himself nearly losing control. Reluctantly, he pulled back from the kiss, his breath uneven and his gaze filled with an unspoken hunger.
"God, what should I do with you, hmm, sweetheart?" Bucky whispered, his voice laced with seduction as he continued to place gentle kisses along her cheeks and jaw. His lips brushed softly against her skin, whispering how much he had missed her and expressing a wistful desire to stay wrapped in the warmth of their shared bed just a little longer.
Y/N’s soft giggle rang out as she felt the roughness of his stubble against her delicate skin. The sound was like music to Bucky's ears, brightening his mood and filling him with a profound sense of joy. Despite the joyful exchange, he reluctantly ended the sweet torment, his kisses lingering just a moment longer before he pulled away.
“We should be ready to begin our journey shortly,” Bucky said, his tone shifting to a more practical note when e turned to Sam, who had approached during their moment of intimacy.
“Y/N, this is Sam Wilson, he is one of my trusted knights.” Bucky introduced, his gaze shifting to his wife. Sam gave a respectful nod to Y/N, a hint of surprise still evident in his expression from witnessing Bucky's affectionate display. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Y/N.”
Y/N smiled warmly at Sam, appreciating the introduction. “The pleasure is mine, Sir Wilson.”
Sam, sensing that the formality was unnecessary given their imminent interactions, decided to ease the situation. “Just Sam, my lady,” he said with a friendly tone. Y/N repeated his name with a touch of amusement. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sam.”
Bucky, observing the growing camaraderie between his wife and his trusted knight, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of protectiveness. The easy familiarity between them seemed a bit too casual for his liking. His eyes narrowed slightly as he gave Sam a warning look. “Watch it, Wilson.”
Sam, not missing a beat, chuckled at Bucky’s protective demeanour. “What’s the matter, my lord? Can’t handle a bit of friendly conversation?”
Y/N, noticing the playful tension and Bucky’s slight irritation, couldn’t help but laugh. The contrast between Bucky’s usually soft demeanour that Y/N had witnessed and his current protective stance were both endearing and amusing. Her laughter lightened the mood, making Sam’s teasing even more enjoyable.
Bucky's stern gaze softened as he watched Y/N’s laughter, though his protective instinct remained palpable. Steering the conversion back to the preparations, he allowed a faint smile to tug at the corners of his mouth despite his earlier warning.
“I trust you can escort my wife to the carriage,” Bucky said, his voice serious but tinged with a hint of a smile. “However, I expect you to maintain proper distance and adhere to these additional guidelines.” He paused, ensuring his words were clear. “No unnecessary physical contact or overly familiar behaviour. And if you could, avoid any casual conversations that might be misinterpreted.”
Sam looked at Bucky in disbelief, shaking his head with a bemused expression. “Seriously, Barnes? You’re laying down rules for me to keep my distance from your wife now?”
Bucky’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Consider it a precaution. I’d rather not have any misunderstandings.” Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes as he complied. “Understood. I’ll make sure to follow your... guidelines.”
Y/N watched the exchange with amusement, her earlier shyness melting away into a warm appreciation for Bucky’s protectiveness. The scene, tinged with a touch of comedy, only deepened the connection between them.
Bucky, intent on making a point to Sam while expressing his affection, pulled Y/N close and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. The gesture was both intimate and deliberate, a subtle yet clear indication to Sam that she belongs to Bucky. “I’ll join you shortly, my dear,” Bucky said softly, his voice filled with warmth as he gazed into her eyes.
Sam, unimpressed by Bucky’s display, rolled his eyes at the seemingly childish antics. “This way, my lady,” he said with a hint of impatience. Y/N nodded in agreement but paused before turning her back on Bucky. With a loving smile, she whispered, “I’ll see you later,” before following Sam.
Bucky watched as Sam guided Y/N away, his gaze lingered with a mix of affection and something much deeper; an unspoken sadness. As their silhouettes walked further and further away from his sight, a sombre glaze settled over his eyes.
Beneath the surface of his composed exterior, his heart ached; the was a silent reflection of a pain he had hidden deep within his heart. It was a lingering sorrow that had shadowed him ever since he stood at the altar, the weight of unvoiced grief clinging to him as he gazed at his future bride.
Part II >> (coming soon)
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: Wondering why he was in the feels at the end? We’ll know it soon enough. I’ll see you in the next parts! Thank you for reading!
An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.
Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)
Words: 5k++
Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader
Warnings: 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, gore, blood, violence, short yet emotional smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, overall low intensity angst with a bittersweet ending.
A/N: i want to thank all of you for taking some of your precious time to read my fic, i really appreciate it! this is the last installment of the main series, i hope you enjoy your time.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Standing at the altar, Bucky’s heart pounded loudly; excitement and sorrow interlaced within his being. The weight of Y/N’s death still haunted him; every time he closed his eyes, those horrifying images conquered his mind.
But today, this very moment, he had been given another chance. The conflict within him was fierce; he was determined to protect her this time, to keep them safe no matter the cost. His mind raced with plans and contingencies, but all his thoughts were interrupted when the church doors opened.
As the crowd rose to their feet, for a moment, everything else ceased to exist. Y/N walked toward him, each step amplifying the intense storm swirling inside him. She was more beautiful than he remembered, more radiant than he ever thought possible. In the past, he had been unfamiliar with the nuances of his emotions, but now, with his heart fully opened, he was consumed by an all-encompassing love.
The urge to rush to her, to pull her into his arms and never let go, was almost unbearable, but he forced himself to remain composed, to hold onto the control he needed.
As she walked down the aisle, he felt like his chest was on fire; it was almost overwhelming. Memories of their past life together flashed before his eyes, a painful reminder of what he had lost and what he was determined to save.
And as Bucky lifted her veil, he couldn’t focus on anything else; the sight of her, so radiant and beautiful, so close, so real.The delicate fabric framed her face, accentuating the soft curve of her cheeks, the gentle arch of her brows, and the deep, soulful eyes that had captivated him from the moment they met.
When her eyes met his, he saw something unexpected in their depths; an innocence and trust that made his heart ache. He felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility to protect this woman, not just from the dangers of what lies ahead in their future but also beyond this earth; heaven or hell, it does not matter.
Bucky gently placed a hand on her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the pristine fabric of her dress. His other hand cupped her cheek, the touch both tender and deliberate. The sight of her up close, the feel of her under his touch, was both too much and not enough.
He leaned in and his heart raced vigorously in the trepidation of the chance that he might lose her again. But when his lips met hers, he was completely engulfed by immense euphoria. The happiness of being able to hold her again, to share this moment of tenderness, was so much stronger than the anxiety that hounded his mind. As he pulled away, he saw her blinking slowly, her cheeks flushed and her eyes filled with confusion and awe.
To be able to see such a sight again was a blessing; Bucky thought he had lost it forever. His chest seemingly expanded to accommodate the hope and determination filling the space within his ribcage. To ensure that this time, things would be different. He had longed for this moment, to have her in his arms again, and now that it was real, it was even more profound than he had imagined.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” he said softly, his voice carrying the depth of his emotions. “I hope I didn’t scare you, my dear.” The reassurance in his tone was genuine, a reflection of his own relief and longing.
“I—no, you didn’t scare me,” she managed to say; her voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes softened as he adored the tint of pink on her cheeks, “Good,” he added, his gaze tender and full of warmth. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Bucky’s nightmare was a relentless torture decorated with anguish and despair. And it was always the same series of events. Him riding through the frozen landscape, the biting cold of the snow searing through his worn leather boots. The icy wind howled around him, matching the torment that gripped his heart. The landscape blurred as he navigated the bloodied halls of their home, a once serene space now stained by violence and death.
Him, stumbling into their shared bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw her; Y/N’s body, brutally maimed and lifeless. The sight of his child, still and cold, was a dagger to his soul. The room was a horrifying tableau of shattered dreams and crushed hopes. His cries of despair echoed in the empty corridors of his mind, the reality of the scene blending with his deepest fears.
His body jerked violently as he jolted awake, the sudden shift from the nightmare to the waking world leaving him disoriented and breathless. The line between a mere dream and reality was blurred, the remnants of his terror clinging to him like a shroud.
He fumbled through the darkness, his mind racing as he struggled to grasp where he was. The echoes of his terror still haunted him, a grim reminder of the fragility of their happiness.
“Bucky?” Her voice, soft and uncertain, cut through his haze of panic. He blinked rapidly, struggling to focus.
“Y/N?” His voice was a whisper, fragile and filled with a tormented confusion. Seeing her was almost like a divine intervention, a moment of disbelief at her presence. He stared at her, trying to reconcile the vibrant, alive woman before him with the haunting vision he had just escaped.
Her presence was a stark contrast to the lifeless image burned into his mind. Seeing her breathing, speaking back to him, felt like a dream that will never come true.
Not wasting any time dwelling, his body surged forward, enveloping her in a gripping yet desperate embrace. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice trembling with the raw intensity of his emotions. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his grief and dread pouring out in the hidden agony.
The truth of his nightmare and the burden of his misery weighed heavily on him, almost impossible to bear; at least not alone. The words he wanted to speak were trapped within him, their pressure making it hard to breathe, let alone articulate his pain.
Bucky took refuge in his wife’s arm, focusing on the feeling of her hands moving soothingly up and down his back. “I’m here,” she whispered softly. “I’m here, Bucky.” Her presence was grounding; holding him tight in a reality that felt too fragile to trust.
The night was still and intimate, and Bucky’s need for her overwhelmed him. Their connection deepened as he made love to her, each touch, each kiss a frenzied affirmation of the life they still shared; a way to anchor himself to the truth of their love amidst the chaos of his dreams.
In the opulent chamber, Bucky stood like a silent sentinel, his form partially obscured by the shadows cast from the full moon behind him. The eerie silhouette of his shadow filtering through the large, arched window. The room was a luxurious display of wealth and power, adorned with velvet drapes and golden accents.
Despite the grandeur, the atmosphere was chilling, accentuated by the presence of Bucky in his Winter Soldier attire: a black mask, heavy boots, and a sleek, tactical uniform that made him appear as if he were more machine than man.
He moved with the ghostly grace of a predator, each step intentional and calculated as he approached the enormous bed at the centre of the room. The Emperor lay sprawled beneath an elaborate canopy, his slumber seemingly undisturbed by the chaos outside his lavish walls. It was almost laughable to Bucky that such a cruel ruler, whose hands were stained with countless deaths, could rest so easily, untouched by the spectres of guilt that should have plagued him.
Bucky’s gaze was unfeeling as he surveyed the sleeping figure. The Emperor's peaceful expression was a dichotomy to the turmoil that simmered beneath Bucky’s cold exterior. His presence, unmoving and imposing, made the room feel colder, his eyes devoid of warmth or emotion.With the steely void in his mind, his purpose clear as he stalked closer, each step making the heavy boots sound like distant thunder.
The Emperor stirred, his eyes fluttering open to the sight of Bucky standing at the foot of the bed. For a moment, there was confusion in the Emperor’s eyes, quickly replaced by a smirk. "I don't remember calling for you, soldier," he said, his tone half-joking, half-curious.
This was not the first visit at such ungodly hours for Bucky. Often the Emperor would call upon him to send him out on clandestine missions or covert operations.
Bucky’s unresponsive silence made the Emperor uneasy, a subtle crack in his facade of control. As Bucky’s form loomed closer, his eyes glinted with an icy determination that cut through the darkness like a blade. The realisation of the danger crept into his expression as Bucky reached the side of the bed.
Before the Emperor managed to call out for help, Bucky’s metal hand shot out, encircling the Emperor's throat with a grip of iron. His eyes widened in shock, "What is the meaning of this?" he croaked, his voice strained as he struggled against the unyielding grip.
Bucky’s voice was a low, menacing growl. "Why did you kill them?" he demanded. The Emperor’s face twisted into a mask of genuine confusion. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” he said, his voice strained with bewilderment.
Eyes burning with an intensity that spoke of old wounds and unending fury, Bucky was in a trance-like state. His mind focused on the Emperor as the embodiment of the callousness that had devastated his life. To him, it mattered so little whether this version of the Emperor had committed the heinous acts or not. The knowledge that past him had once inflicted such horrors was enough to ignite Bucky’s rage.
“My wife,” Bucky growled, his voice cutting through the Emperor’s confusion with chilling clarity. The Emperor’s eyes widened further, a flicker of fear beginning to replace his initial disbelief. “Why did you kill her?,” Bucky continued, his tone carrying the heaviness of an unspoken pain.
The Emperor’s expression remained in a genuine concern, though it did little to mask his growing foreboding. “I never ordered anyone to lay hands on her,” he insisted, his voice cracking with a hint of desperation. “I would have remembered something like that.”
Bucky’s gaze remained unwavering, his anger as fiery as ever. The Emperor’s words, though spoken with a semblance of sincerity, only fueled Bucky’s fury. It wasn’t merely about this specific Emperor’s actions; it didn’t even matter if he had not done the deed yet.
It was about the realisation that such brutality happened once before. Much more atrocious to know that it had been sanctioned by someone in a position of power. The sense of betrayal ran deep, rooted in the knowledge that the cruelty was a part of a larger, systemic evil that had haunted Bucky’s past.
As the Emperor tried to reason with him, his terror and desperation were transparent. "I would never harm your wife," he protested weakly, his voice trembling with an echo of dismay. Bucky’s mind flashed with ghastly memories; the cold snow he rode through, the bloodied halls leading to their shared bedroom, the image of Y/N’s body maimed, his child lifeless. The horrific images fueled his rage.
"Oh, but you will." Bucky hissed, his anger boiling beneath the surface. His free hand drew a blade, the steel glinting with deadly intent. The Emperor's eyes were wide with horror; his pleas of defence were simply a string of meaningless words lost in the wind as Bucky’s resolve hardened.
With a swift, adept motion, the blade struck through the man’s throat. The Emperor gurgled; blood bubbling from the wound as his eyes widened in shock. Bucky’s face remained impassive, his cold eyes reflecting no mercy. He plunged the blade deeper, the Emperor’s feeble attempts to grasp Bucky’s arm proving futile.
Unfortunately for him, the first strike was not enough to quench the rage that burned within Bucky. He pulled the blade out and struck again. Again and again, the knife met its target, each jab driven by the anguish of countless painful memories. The bed beneath them soaked with the colour of crimson, the luxurious chamber now marred by the blood of its cruel occupant. The room filled with the grotesque sound of a life being extinguished, a gruesome symphony that echoed Bucky’s inner anarchy.
Bucky stood over the fallen ruler, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. As the adrenaline faded, Bucky’s vision suddenly began to blur, the edges of the room dimming into darkness. The world seemed to contract into a tunnel of darkness until a voice cut through the haze. “You really have to be that… brutal?” The voice was calm, yet filled with an air of reproach.
With his sight suddenly altered, Bucky turned towards the sound; the silhouette was unclear in his clouded vision, however he recognized the voice. “Steve,” he called out, his voice a low rasp.
Steve, the crown prince, stood in the doorway, his expression was weaving traces of concern and resignation. He took a step forward, the dim light catching the determination etched in his features. Tomorrow, he would be the new emperor, a role thrust upon him by necessity and circumstance.
Although Steve was one of the emperor’s blood; his only living male heir. His mother was not the empress but one of the many wives the emperor had taken. In the emperor's eyes, this made Steve unworthy of the crown, despite his lineage. This disdain had placed Steve in a precarious position, viewed as a threat rather than a successor.
In the past, Bucky and Wanda had seen Steve meet a tragic end, assassinated by the devout followers of the Emperor who refused to relinquish power. This time, Bucky and Wanda had approached Steve with a plan to overthrow the throne.
While withholding the truth of their origins, they convinced him to claim the crown for his own, knowing the kingdom already favoured him. The real challenge lay with the noble families, whose support was crucial. Over the past few months, Steve had skillfully manoeuvred through the intricate web of politics, winning their allegiance.
Meanwhile, Wanda had been executing a 'clean-up' operation at the magic tower, ensuring no loyalists of the emperor remained. By the time Bucky entered the emperor’s chambers, all potential threats had been neutralised. Soon, the kingdom would surely hear news of the youngest female master of the tower reigning in power.
“Hey, Buck. You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm. Steve noticed the way Bucky’s eyes seemed to glaze over, staring into nothingness. Concern etched into his features, he took a step closer. Bucky blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his vision, but the blurriness persisted, leaving him disoriented.
As Bucky’s vision began to clear, he saw Steve’s concerned blue eyes staring back at him. “Yeah, just…” Bucky shoved his hand into his pocket, retrieving the teleportation stone given to him by Wanda prior to the mission. His gaze fixed on the shimmering stone, the weight of his debt to the ancient magic pressed heavily on his mind; knowing the time to pay for it was drawing near. “…just missing my wife.”
Steve watched, a silent understanding passing between them. Bucky crushed the stone in his hand, the stone's magic activated with a flash of deep red light, enveloping Bucky in its embrace, swallowing him into the abyss and back to his home, to Y/N.
Moments later, the warmth and chaos of the Emperor’s chambers vanished as the cold night air hit him as Bucky found himself on the balcony of his home. Through the transparent glass, he could see his room bathed in a faint light. Inside, Y/N was reading by the soft glow of a night lamp. The sudden swoosh of Bucky’s arrival drew her attention, and she lifted her gaze from the book to the source of the sound. Her eyes widened as she saw the dark silhouette standing on the balcony.
"Hello?" she called out softly, her voice quivering with fear. She set her book aside and stood up, her silk nightdress flowing around her like a whisper of moonlight. She walked to the balcony door, the rhythm of her heart quickened as anxiety creeped in.
As the door opened, the cold wind tickled a shivering goosebumps on her skin. She looked up at the man, her eyes widening in surprise and anxiousness. Bucky, on the other hand, remained still; his mask and dark attire made him look as if he were a ghost from her nightmares. His eyes, however, were unmistakable. The familiar blue gaze met hers, and she recognized him instantly.
Y/N’s initial fear melted away as she stepped closer towards him, "Why are you out here in the cold, love?" she asked gently, standing only inches from his foreboding self. The distinction between them was hardly difficult to spot: her soft, fragile appearance in her silk nightdress against his imposing, almost monstrous form in his combat gear.
Bucky stayed silent, his eyes trained on her as if trying to memorise every feature, every delicate line of her face. She reached up, her fingers slightly trembling to the cold, gently removing his mask. The emotionless facade that he put up crumbled almost instantly, his eyes softened as she smiled up to him. Her hand reached up to cup his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble, "Come inside," she urged softly. "You're freezing."
He didn’t argue as he allowed himself to be led into the warmth of their room. Y/N’s hands moved with gentle resolution. As they reached the side of their bed, she began undressing him from his harsh, restrictive attire down to his shorts and sat him on the mattress behind him. She traced the scars on his body, each one a testament to the battles he had fought, and her fingers made their way up to his stubbled jaw, cupping his cheek tenderly.
"Bucky… you look so troubled." She noticed. "What's wrong, my love?" her voice filled with concern. She came to his side, sitting close as she spoke softly, “Tell me,” her eyes searched within his, “...please?”
Bucky took a deep breath, his heart heavy with the burden of the truth he was about to reveal. "Y/N," he began, his voice slow, as if he was afraid, "This... this isn't our first time living through this. Our marriage, our life together, it was supposed to be different.”
Everything that had been haunting him for the past months spilled out for Y/N to consume. He spoke of the first time he stood at the altar, the way he was clumsy and rough the first time he touched her, their awkward moments, and the ups and downs that became the foundation of their budding romance.
He told her about her pregnancy, the joy he felt from it, how she glowed with happiness, and the dreams they had for their child. He recounted his request for retirement, wanting to leave his life as a weapon behind to be with his family, to protect and cherish them.
But then he spoke of the horror that shattered his world. How he found her dead with their child, both victims of the Emperor’s cruelty. He described the devastation, the unbearable pain, and the crushing sense of failure. He had lost them both, and his heart had been torn apart. "I lost you once before. You and our child," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
Bucky continued, his words pouring out in a rush. He spoke of Wanda, how she had given him a chance to come back, to change things, to save her, to save them. He told her about the sacrifices, the battles fought in the shadows, and the relentless drive to protect her and their unborn child. He described the nightmares that haunted him, the fear of failing again, and the desperate hope that this time, things would be different.
Yet, as he bared his entire soul to her, Bucky kept one critical detail shrouded in silence. He did not mention the true cost of altering time, the personal price he had to pay for this chance at redemption. The burden of that price, the debt to ancient magic that had exacted a toll on him, remained untold, a hidden weight that he bore alone. At least for now.
Y/N was silent, her mind racing to comprehend the enormity of his confession. It sounded impossible, yet there was a sincerity in Bucky's voice, a pain that was all too real. She thought back to the subtle hints in his behaviour, the way he seemed to know her so intimately, as if he had known her for a lifetime. She remembered the moments when he would finish her sentences, anticipate her needs before she even voiced them, and the way he looked at her with such profound love and fear, as if he was afraid she would disappear.
Tears welled up in Bucky’s eyes as he reached for her hand, holding it tightly. “It’s true, Y/N. Every word. I’ve lived through this nightmare, and I couldn’t bear to lose you again.” However, Y/N’s silence scared him. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, terrified that she would reject his story, reject him. Bucky's tears fell freely now, landing on her skin like tiny droplets of despair. "Say something, please," he begged, his voice choking with emotion.
Y/N’s mind and heart were in turmoil, but something deep within her, something in her soul, told her to put her faith in him. Just like that, she believed him. Her heart ached at the thought of the pain he must have endured. She cupped his face in her hands, her eyes searching in his ocean blues. “I’m so sorry for leaving you so soon, love,” she said softly, not knowing why her voice broke..
Bucky’s reaction was immediate. His eyes widened with relief, his tears flowing even more; raw and unfiltered. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if afraid she would vanish. “Y/N” he whispered against her hair, his voice was a sound of agony and respite.
Y/N’s own tears fell as she held him close. She didn’t fully understand the mechanics of time or the magic that had brought him back, but she knew one thing: she loved this man with all her heart, and she would do anything to ease his pain.
“Thank you for saving me.” she echoed, her voice soft but firm.
Their tears of sorrow began to shift into a more tender, fervent connection as their need for each other deepened. Bucky’s lips found Y/N’s in a searing, passionate kiss. Their tears mingled and cascaded down their cheeks as they lost themselves in the embrace. Each touch, each kiss, was imbued with an urgency to reaffirm their bond and erase the pain that had haunted him.
Every piece of clothes were thrown aside; discarded in their frantic desire to be closer. Bucky’s touch grew more intimate; hands moved to pin Y/N's hands above her head, pressing her wrists gently but firmly into the bed. His eyes, dark with desire and love, bore into hers.
“Let me see you, my dear. Please, let me see all of you,” Bucky whispered, his voice trembling with emotion as he removed his hands from her wrists, roaming over Y/N’s body. His touch is a mix of reverence and desperation. He explored the curve of her waist, the gentle slope of her hips, and the soft, supple skin that felt like a lifeline to him.
He trailed his lips down Y/N’s neck, savouring the softness of her skin, leaving a trail of heated kisses. His breath warmed her as he explored her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, and lower, where his lips brushed against the delicate curve of her breasts. Each kiss was a worshipful caress, a testament to his adoration and need for her.
A simple nudge of his hips and Bucky sinks in, breathes caught in the air when he starts to move; “You feel so good, so tight around me.” His thrusts were slow, sensual yet deliciously deep. “I love you so much,” his declaration spread warmth all over heart, filling up every space possible; much like his huge, throbbing cock to her cunt. So full, so good. While he rocked his hips, Bucky’s lips trailed delicately on her cheek, “My dearest” he murmured watching the tears fall from the corner of her eyes, “My everything”.
Y/N, feeling the intensity of his love and the raw need in his embrace, responded with equal fervour. Her hands ardently moved over his broad shoulders and down his back, feeling the contours of his muscles tense and relax under her touch. She could sense the urgency in his movements, the way he clung to her as if she were his salvation.
Bucky’s calloused fingers slipped downwards, reaching to where their bodies were most connected. He found a grounding pleasure as he swirled soft circles on her sensitive clit; rubbing it the way he knew she loved. Y/N leaned into his touch, her body responding to his every movement. Her breaths came in short, heated whimpers as Bucky’s hands continued their exploration, his fingers grazing over her sensitive skin with a mix of tenderness and hunger.
Creating a slight distance between them, Bucky leaned back and revelled in the sight of her; what a view she was.
Her hair was messy in the most beautiful way, cascading around her face like a halo. Her hands gripped the sheets behind her, knuckles white, grounding herself in the intensity of the moment. Her body arched gracefully, a perfect curve that pushed her hips toward his in a silent plea for more. His fingers; now wet with her slick, continued to rub tight circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“There she is. So pretty for me, so fucking gorgeous,” Bucky murmured lowly, his voice filled with desire and awe.
“Bucky, please,” she whispered, her voice a plea, her legs around his waist tugging him closer.
Bucky found her shy desperation was seductive yet so innocently pure. “God, how am I so fucking lucky?” Bucky’s breath shuddered as he felt the way her pussy clenched in protest of his delay; his voice heavy with emotion as he moved against her, his eyes locked onto hers. The raw need in her voice, the way her body responded to his touch, made his heart swell with unrestrained desire.
The metal of his left hand found their way to her hips, guiding her with a gentle yet insistent touch as his fleshed finger worked on her clit. Despite the hard and hasten pace of his thrusts, their movements were synchronised, each grind was a need to chase that height of ecstasy.
The room was filled with their whispered breaths, their shared moans of pleasure, and the undeniable proof of their love. Their connection transcended the physical, reaching into the depths of their souls, reaffirming the bond that had defied time and fate.
“I love you so much, Y/N,” Bucky whispered, his voice raw and filled with affection as he held her close, their hearts beating in perfect harmony.
“I love you, too, Bucky.” she replied, her voice trembling with the intensity of her feelings.
As they reached the peak of their high, their cries of passion were mingled with their whispered promises of devotion. Every touch was a declaration, every kiss a vow to never be separated again, and every warmth filling inside her was a possible gift of a future they looked forward to.
Afterward, they lay entwined, their breaths slowly returning to normal, the room filled with a quiet sense of contentment and amour. Compared to prior, this time, their touch was gentle, almost innocent compared to the fervent passion earlier. They held each other, caressing skin, savouring the quiet moments of closeness. Bucky felt at ease, a sense of peace washing over him that he hadn’t felt in what seemed like lifetimes.
Bucky’s perspective was filled with the sight of Y/N. He drank in every detail, from the curve of her lips to the softness of her cheeks, to the way her eyes sparkled even in the dim light. Her skin was a beautiful contrast to his own, delicate and smooth; pure and untainted. He traced his fingers lightly over her features, committing them to memory with a sense of awe and gratitude.
She yawned as fatigue creeped in, snuggling closer, tighter. Bucky brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “You should sleep, sweetheart.” he whispered softly. Y/N smiled, her eyes already half-closed. “See you in the morning?” she murmured, her voice laced with drowsiness.
At that moment, Bucky’s vision began to blur again; worse than before. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear it, but the edges of his sight remained dark and unfocused. He felt a pang of fear but pushed it aside. The time had come, he realised. He kissed her forehead gently, revelling in the feel of her skin against his lips. “See you in the morning, my dear,” he replied, his voice steady despite the growing darkness in his vision.
He smiled down at her as she snuggled, his heart filled with joy and serenity. Bucky held onto her tightly, cherishing the moment, knowing that no matter what happened, their love had conquered time itself. He marvelled at the fact that against all odds, he had saved the woman he loved, and nothing could take that triumph away from him. In the end, even with his eyes still wide open, he let the encroaching blackness take over, surrendering to the inevitable with a heart full of love and a soul finally at peace.
End.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: we have reached the end of the journey, i am sorry if you feel like the story is a bit rushed; i am not capable to commit more than 3 chapters, otherwise this will ended up being in a hiatus. i, however, can consider writing oneshots for this au somewhere in the future. meanwhile, leaving your comments behind would definitely make me happy!
ngl i cried a little while writing the last few paragraph 😭
AND YOUUU THANK YOUUU for always coming back and read my fics and comment and reblog and omg i love you. thank you! glad to know you enjoyed this fic too!
An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.
Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)
Words: 5k++
Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader
Warnings: 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, gore, blood, violence, short yet emotional smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, overall low intensity angst with a bittersweet ending.
A/N: i want to thank all of you for taking some of your precious time to read my fic, i really appreciate it! this is the last installment of the main series, i hope you enjoy your time.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Standing at the altar, Bucky’s heart pounded loudly; excitement and sorrow interlaced within his being. The weight of Y/N’s death still haunted him; every time he closed his eyes, those horrifying images conquered his mind.
But today, this very moment, he had been given another chance. The conflict within him was fierce; he was determined to protect her this time, to keep them safe no matter the cost. His mind raced with plans and contingencies, but all his thoughts were interrupted when the church doors opened.
As the crowd rose to their feet, for a moment, everything else ceased to exist. Y/N walked toward him, each step amplifying the intense storm swirling inside him. She was more beautiful than he remembered, more radiant than he ever thought possible. In the past, he had been unfamiliar with the nuances of his emotions, but now, with his heart fully opened, he was consumed by an all-encompassing love.
The urge to rush to her, to pull her into his arms and never let go, was almost unbearable, but he forced himself to remain composed, to hold onto the control he needed.
As she walked down the aisle, he felt like his chest was on fire; it was almost overwhelming. Memories of their past life together flashed before his eyes, a painful reminder of what he had lost and what he was determined to save.
And as Bucky lifted her veil, he couldn’t focus on anything else; the sight of her, so radiant and beautiful, so close, so real.The delicate fabric framed her face, accentuating the soft curve of her cheeks, the gentle arch of her brows, and the deep, soulful eyes that had captivated him from the moment they met.
When her eyes met his, he saw something unexpected in their depths; an innocence and trust that made his heart ache. He felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility to protect this woman, not just from the dangers of what lies ahead in their future but also beyond this earth; heaven or hell, it does not matter.
Bucky gently placed a hand on her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the pristine fabric of her dress. His other hand cupped her cheek, the touch both tender and deliberate. The sight of her up close, the feel of her under his touch, was both too much and not enough.
He leaned in and his heart raced vigorously in the trepidation of the chance that he might lose her again. But when his lips met hers, he was completely engulfed by immense euphoria. The happiness of being able to hold her again, to share this moment of tenderness, was so much stronger than the anxiety that hounded his mind. As he pulled away, he saw her blinking slowly, her cheeks flushed and her eyes filled with confusion and awe.
To be able to see such a sight again was a blessing; Bucky thought he had lost it forever. His chest seemingly expanded to accommodate the hope and determination filling the space within his ribcage. To ensure that this time, things would be different. He had longed for this moment, to have her in his arms again, and now that it was real, it was even more profound than he had imagined.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” he said softly, his voice carrying the depth of his emotions. “I hope I didn’t scare you, my dear.” The reassurance in his tone was genuine, a reflection of his own relief and longing.
“I—no, you didn’t scare me,” she managed to say; her voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes softened as he adored the tint of pink on her cheeks, “Good,” he added, his gaze tender and full of warmth. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Bucky’s nightmare was a relentless torture decorated with anguish and despair. And it was always the same series of events. Him riding through the frozen landscape, the biting cold of the snow searing through his worn leather boots. The icy wind howled around him, matching the torment that gripped his heart. The landscape blurred as he navigated the bloodied halls of their home, a once serene space now stained by violence and death.
Him, stumbling into their shared bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw her; Y/N’s body, brutally maimed and lifeless. The sight of his child, still and cold, was a dagger to his soul. The room was a horrifying tableau of shattered dreams and crushed hopes. His cries of despair echoed in the empty corridors of his mind, the reality of the scene blending with his deepest fears.
His body jerked violently as he jolted awake, the sudden shift from the nightmare to the waking world leaving him disoriented and breathless. The line between a mere dream and reality was blurred, the remnants of his terror clinging to him like a shroud.
He fumbled through the darkness, his mind racing as he struggled to grasp where he was. The echoes of his terror still haunted him, a grim reminder of the fragility of their happiness.
“Bucky?” Her voice, soft and uncertain, cut through his haze of panic. He blinked rapidly, struggling to focus.
“Y/N?” His voice was a whisper, fragile and filled with a tormented confusion. Seeing her was almost like a divine intervention, a moment of disbelief at her presence. He stared at her, trying to reconcile the vibrant, alive woman before him with the haunting vision he had just escaped.
Her presence was a stark contrast to the lifeless image burned into his mind. Seeing her breathing, speaking back to him, felt like a dream that will never come true.
Not wasting any time dwelling, his body surged forward, enveloping her in a gripping yet desperate embrace. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice trembling with the raw intensity of his emotions. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his grief and dread pouring out in the hidden agony.
The truth of his nightmare and the burden of his misery weighed heavily on him, almost impossible to bear; at least not alone. The words he wanted to speak were trapped within him, their pressure making it hard to breathe, let alone articulate his pain.
Bucky took refuge in his wife’s arm, focusing on the feeling of her hands moving soothingly up and down his back. “I’m here,” she whispered softly. “I’m here, Bucky.” Her presence was grounding; holding him tight in a reality that felt too fragile to trust.
The night was still and intimate, and Bucky’s need for her overwhelmed him. Their connection deepened as he made love to her, each touch, each kiss a frenzied affirmation of the life they still shared; a way to anchor himself to the truth of their love amidst the chaos of his dreams.
In the opulent chamber, Bucky stood like a silent sentinel, his form partially obscured by the shadows cast from the full moon behind him. The eerie silhouette of his shadow filtering through the large, arched window. The room was a luxurious display of wealth and power, adorned with velvet drapes and golden accents.
Despite the grandeur, the atmosphere was chilling, accentuated by the presence of Bucky in his Winter Soldier attire: a black mask, heavy boots, and a sleek, tactical uniform that made him appear as if he were more machine than man.
He moved with the ghostly grace of a predator, each step intentional and calculated as he approached the enormous bed at the centre of the room. The Emperor lay sprawled beneath an elaborate canopy, his slumber seemingly undisturbed by the chaos outside his lavish walls. It was almost laughable to Bucky that such a cruel ruler, whose hands were stained with countless deaths, could rest so easily, untouched by the spectres of guilt that should have plagued him.
Bucky’s gaze was unfeeling as he surveyed the sleeping figure. The Emperor's peaceful expression was a dichotomy to the turmoil that simmered beneath Bucky’s cold exterior. His presence, unmoving and imposing, made the room feel colder, his eyes devoid of warmth or emotion.With the steely void in his mind, his purpose clear as he stalked closer, each step making the heavy boots sound like distant thunder.
The Emperor stirred, his eyes fluttering open to the sight of Bucky standing at the foot of the bed. For a moment, there was confusion in the Emperor’s eyes, quickly replaced by a smirk. "I don't remember calling for you, soldier," he said, his tone half-joking, half-curious.
This was not the first visit at such ungodly hours for Bucky. Often the Emperor would call upon him to send him out on clandestine missions or covert operations.
Bucky’s unresponsive silence made the Emperor uneasy, a subtle crack in his facade of control. As Bucky’s form loomed closer, his eyes glinted with an icy determination that cut through the darkness like a blade. The realisation of the danger crept into his expression as Bucky reached the side of the bed.
Before the Emperor managed to call out for help, Bucky’s metal hand shot out, encircling the Emperor's throat with a grip of iron. His eyes widened in shock, "What is the meaning of this?" he croaked, his voice strained as he struggled against the unyielding grip.
Bucky’s voice was a low, menacing growl. "Why did you kill them?" he demanded. The Emperor’s face twisted into a mask of genuine confusion. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” he said, his voice strained with bewilderment.
Eyes burning with an intensity that spoke of old wounds and unending fury, Bucky was in a trance-like state. His mind focused on the Emperor as the embodiment of the callousness that had devastated his life. To him, it mattered so little whether this version of the Emperor had committed the heinous acts or not. The knowledge that past him had once inflicted such horrors was enough to ignite Bucky’s rage.
“My wife,” Bucky growled, his voice cutting through the Emperor’s confusion with chilling clarity. The Emperor’s eyes widened further, a flicker of fear beginning to replace his initial disbelief. “Why did you kill her?,” Bucky continued, his tone carrying the heaviness of an unspoken pain.
The Emperor’s expression remained in a genuine concern, though it did little to mask his growing foreboding. “I never ordered anyone to lay hands on her,” he insisted, his voice cracking with a hint of desperation. “I would have remembered something like that.”
Bucky’s gaze remained unwavering, his anger as fiery as ever. The Emperor’s words, though spoken with a semblance of sincerity, only fueled Bucky’s fury. It wasn’t merely about this specific Emperor’s actions; it didn’t even matter if he had not done the deed yet.
It was about the realisation that such brutality happened once before. Much more atrocious to know that it had been sanctioned by someone in a position of power. The sense of betrayal ran deep, rooted in the knowledge that the cruelty was a part of a larger, systemic evil that had haunted Bucky’s past.
As the Emperor tried to reason with him, his terror and desperation were transparent. "I would never harm your wife," he protested weakly, his voice trembling with an echo of dismay. Bucky’s mind flashed with ghastly memories; the cold snow he rode through, the bloodied halls leading to their shared bedroom, the image of Y/N’s body maimed, his child lifeless. The horrific images fueled his rage.
"Oh, but you will." Bucky hissed, his anger boiling beneath the surface. His free hand drew a blade, the steel glinting with deadly intent. The Emperor's eyes were wide with horror; his pleas of defence were simply a string of meaningless words lost in the wind as Bucky’s resolve hardened.
With a swift, adept motion, the blade struck through the man’s throat. The Emperor gurgled; blood bubbling from the wound as his eyes widened in shock. Bucky’s face remained impassive, his cold eyes reflecting no mercy. He plunged the blade deeper, the Emperor’s feeble attempts to grasp Bucky’s arm proving futile.
Unfortunately for him, the first strike was not enough to quench the rage that burned within Bucky. He pulled the blade out and struck again. Again and again, the knife met its target, each jab driven by the anguish of countless painful memories. The bed beneath them soaked with the colour of crimson, the luxurious chamber now marred by the blood of its cruel occupant. The room filled with the grotesque sound of a life being extinguished, a gruesome symphony that echoed Bucky’s inner anarchy.
Bucky stood over the fallen ruler, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. As the adrenaline faded, Bucky’s vision suddenly began to blur, the edges of the room dimming into darkness. The world seemed to contract into a tunnel of darkness until a voice cut through the haze. “You really have to be that… brutal?” The voice was calm, yet filled with an air of reproach.
With his sight suddenly altered, Bucky turned towards the sound; the silhouette was unclear in his clouded vision, however he recognized the voice. “Steve,” he called out, his voice a low rasp.
Steve, the crown prince, stood in the doorway, his expression was weaving traces of concern and resignation. He took a step forward, the dim light catching the determination etched in his features. Tomorrow, he would be the new emperor, a role thrust upon him by necessity and circumstance.
Although Steve was one of the emperor’s blood; his only living male heir. His mother was not the empress but one of the many wives the emperor had taken. In the emperor's eyes, this made Steve unworthy of the crown, despite his lineage. This disdain had placed Steve in a precarious position, viewed as a threat rather than a successor.
In the past, Bucky and Wanda had seen Steve meet a tragic end, assassinated by the devout followers of the Emperor who refused to relinquish power. This time, Bucky and Wanda had approached Steve with a plan to overthrow the throne.
While withholding the truth of their origins, they convinced him to claim the crown for his own, knowing the kingdom already favoured him. The real challenge lay with the noble families, whose support was crucial. Over the past few months, Steve had skillfully manoeuvred through the intricate web of politics, winning their allegiance.
Meanwhile, Wanda had been executing a 'clean-up' operation at the magic tower, ensuring no loyalists of the emperor remained. By the time Bucky entered the emperor’s chambers, all potential threats had been neutralised. Soon, the kingdom would surely hear news of the youngest female master of the tower reigning in power.
“Hey, Buck. You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm. Steve noticed the way Bucky’s eyes seemed to glaze over, staring into nothingness. Concern etched into his features, he took a step closer. Bucky blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his vision, but the blurriness persisted, leaving him disoriented.
As Bucky’s vision began to clear, he saw Steve’s concerned blue eyes staring back at him. “Yeah, just…” Bucky shoved his hand into his pocket, retrieving the teleportation stone given to him by Wanda prior to the mission. His gaze fixed on the shimmering stone, the weight of his debt to the ancient magic pressed heavily on his mind; knowing the time to pay for it was drawing near. “…just missing my wife.”
Steve watched, a silent understanding passing between them. Bucky crushed the stone in his hand, the stone's magic activated with a flash of deep red light, enveloping Bucky in its embrace, swallowing him into the abyss and back to his home, to Y/N.
Moments later, the warmth and chaos of the Emperor’s chambers vanished as the cold night air hit him as Bucky found himself on the balcony of his home. Through the transparent glass, he could see his room bathed in a faint light. Inside, Y/N was reading by the soft glow of a night lamp. The sudden swoosh of Bucky’s arrival drew her attention, and she lifted her gaze from the book to the source of the sound. Her eyes widened as she saw the dark silhouette standing on the balcony.
"Hello?" she called out softly, her voice quivering with fear. She set her book aside and stood up, her silk nightdress flowing around her like a whisper of moonlight. She walked to the balcony door, the rhythm of her heart quickened as anxiety creeped in.
As the door opened, the cold wind tickled a shivering goosebumps on her skin. She looked up at the man, her eyes widening in surprise and anxiousness. Bucky, on the other hand, remained still; his mask and dark attire made him look as if he were a ghost from her nightmares. His eyes, however, were unmistakable. The familiar blue gaze met hers, and she recognized him instantly.
Y/N’s initial fear melted away as she stepped closer towards him, "Why are you out here in the cold, love?" she asked gently, standing only inches from his foreboding self. The distinction between them was hardly difficult to spot: her soft, fragile appearance in her silk nightdress against his imposing, almost monstrous form in his combat gear.
Bucky stayed silent, his eyes trained on her as if trying to memorise every feature, every delicate line of her face. She reached up, her fingers slightly trembling to the cold, gently removing his mask. The emotionless facade that he put up crumbled almost instantly, his eyes softened as she smiled up to him. Her hand reached up to cup his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble, "Come inside," she urged softly. "You're freezing."
He didn’t argue as he allowed himself to be led into the warmth of their room. Y/N’s hands moved with gentle resolution. As they reached the side of their bed, she began undressing him from his harsh, restrictive attire down to his shorts and sat him on the mattress behind him. She traced the scars on his body, each one a testament to the battles he had fought, and her fingers made their way up to his stubbled jaw, cupping his cheek tenderly.
"Bucky… you look so troubled." She noticed. "What's wrong, my love?" her voice filled with concern. She came to his side, sitting close as she spoke softly, “Tell me,” her eyes searched within his, “...please?”
Bucky took a deep breath, his heart heavy with the burden of the truth he was about to reveal. "Y/N," he began, his voice slow, as if he was afraid, "This... this isn't our first time living through this. Our marriage, our life together, it was supposed to be different.”
Everything that had been haunting him for the past months spilled out for Y/N to consume. He spoke of the first time he stood at the altar, the way he was clumsy and rough the first time he touched her, their awkward moments, and the ups and downs that became the foundation of their budding romance.
He told her about her pregnancy, the joy he felt from it, how she glowed with happiness, and the dreams they had for their child. He recounted his request for retirement, wanting to leave his life as a weapon behind to be with his family, to protect and cherish them.
But then he spoke of the horror that shattered his world. How he found her dead with their child, both victims of the Emperor’s cruelty. He described the devastation, the unbearable pain, and the crushing sense of failure. He had lost them both, and his heart had been torn apart. "I lost you once before. You and our child," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
Bucky continued, his words pouring out in a rush. He spoke of Wanda, how she had given him a chance to come back, to change things, to save her, to save them. He told her about the sacrifices, the battles fought in the shadows, and the relentless drive to protect her and their unborn child. He described the nightmares that haunted him, the fear of failing again, and the desperate hope that this time, things would be different.
Yet, as he bared his entire soul to her, Bucky kept one critical detail shrouded in silence. He did not mention the true cost of altering time, the personal price he had to pay for this chance at redemption. The burden of that price, the debt to ancient magic that had exacted a toll on him, remained untold, a hidden weight that he bore alone. At least for now.
Y/N was silent, her mind racing to comprehend the enormity of his confession. It sounded impossible, yet there was a sincerity in Bucky's voice, a pain that was all too real. She thought back to the subtle hints in his behaviour, the way he seemed to know her so intimately, as if he had known her for a lifetime. She remembered the moments when he would finish her sentences, anticipate her needs before she even voiced them, and the way he looked at her with such profound love and fear, as if he was afraid she would disappear.
Tears welled up in Bucky’s eyes as he reached for her hand, holding it tightly. “It’s true, Y/N. Every word. I’ve lived through this nightmare, and I couldn’t bear to lose you again.” However, Y/N’s silence scared him. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, terrified that she would reject his story, reject him. Bucky's tears fell freely now, landing on her skin like tiny droplets of despair. "Say something, please," he begged, his voice choking with emotion.
Y/N’s mind and heart were in turmoil, but something deep within her, something in her soul, told her to put her faith in him. Just like that, she believed him. Her heart ached at the thought of the pain he must have endured. She cupped his face in her hands, her eyes searching in his ocean blues. “I’m so sorry for leaving you so soon, love,” she said softly, not knowing why her voice broke..
Bucky’s reaction was immediate. His eyes widened with relief, his tears flowing even more; raw and unfiltered. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if afraid she would vanish. “Y/N” he whispered against her hair, his voice was a sound of agony and respite.
Y/N’s own tears fell as she held him close. She didn’t fully understand the mechanics of time or the magic that had brought him back, but she knew one thing: she loved this man with all her heart, and she would do anything to ease his pain.
“Thank you for saving me.” she echoed, her voice soft but firm.
Their tears of sorrow began to shift into a more tender, fervent connection as their need for each other deepened. Bucky’s lips found Y/N’s in a searing, passionate kiss. Their tears mingled and cascaded down their cheeks as they lost themselves in the embrace. Each touch, each kiss, was imbued with an urgency to reaffirm their bond and erase the pain that had haunted him.
Every piece of clothes were thrown aside; discarded in their frantic desire to be closer. Bucky’s touch grew more intimate; hands moved to pin Y/N's hands above her head, pressing her wrists gently but firmly into the bed. His eyes, dark with desire and love, bore into hers.
“Let me see you, my dear. Please, let me see all of you,” Bucky whispered, his voice trembling with emotion as he removed his hands from her wrists, roaming over Y/N’s body. His touch is a mix of reverence and desperation. He explored the curve of her waist, the gentle slope of her hips, and the soft, supple skin that felt like a lifeline to him.
He trailed his lips down Y/N’s neck, savouring the softness of her skin, leaving a trail of heated kisses. His breath warmed her as he explored her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, and lower, where his lips brushed against the delicate curve of her breasts. Each kiss was a worshipful caress, a testament to his adoration and need for her.
A simple nudge of his hips and Bucky sinks in, breathes caught in the air when he starts to move; “You feel so good, so tight around me.” His thrusts were slow, sensual yet deliciously deep. “I love you so much,” his declaration spread warmth all over heart, filling up every space possible; much like his huge, throbbing cock to her cunt. So full, so good. While he rocked his hips, Bucky’s lips trailed delicately on her cheek, “My dearest” he murmured watching the tears fall from the corner of her eyes, “My everything”.
Y/N, feeling the intensity of his love and the raw need in his embrace, responded with equal fervour. Her hands ardently moved over his broad shoulders and down his back, feeling the contours of his muscles tense and relax under her touch. She could sense the urgency in his movements, the way he clung to her as if she were his salvation.
Bucky’s calloused fingers slipped downwards, reaching to where their bodies were most connected. He found a grounding pleasure as he swirled soft circles on her sensitive clit; rubbing it the way he knew she loved. Y/N leaned into his touch, her body responding to his every movement. Her breaths came in short, heated whimpers as Bucky’s hands continued their exploration, his fingers grazing over her sensitive skin with a mix of tenderness and hunger.
Creating a slight distance between them, Bucky leaned back and revelled in the sight of her; what a view she was.
Her hair was messy in the most beautiful way, cascading around her face like a halo. Her hands gripped the sheets behind her, knuckles white, grounding herself in the intensity of the moment. Her body arched gracefully, a perfect curve that pushed her hips toward his in a silent plea for more. His fingers; now wet with her slick, continued to rub tight circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“There she is. So pretty for me, so fucking gorgeous,” Bucky murmured lowly, his voice filled with desire and awe.
“Bucky, please,” she whispered, her voice a plea, her legs around his waist tugging him closer.
Bucky found her shy desperation was seductive yet so innocently pure. “God, how am I so fucking lucky?” Bucky’s breath shuddered as he felt the way her pussy clenched in protest of his delay; his voice heavy with emotion as he moved against her, his eyes locked onto hers. The raw need in her voice, the way her body responded to his touch, made his heart swell with unrestrained desire.
The metal of his left hand found their way to her hips, guiding her with a gentle yet insistent touch as his fleshed finger worked on her clit. Despite the hard and hasten pace of his thrusts, their movements were synchronised, each grind was a need to chase that height of ecstasy.
The room was filled with their whispered breaths, their shared moans of pleasure, and the undeniable proof of their love. Their connection transcended the physical, reaching into the depths of their souls, reaffirming the bond that had defied time and fate.
“I love you so much, Y/N,” Bucky whispered, his voice raw and filled with affection as he held her close, their hearts beating in perfect harmony.
“I love you, too, Bucky.” she replied, her voice trembling with the intensity of her feelings.
As they reached the peak of their high, their cries of passion were mingled with their whispered promises of devotion. Every touch was a declaration, every kiss a vow to never be separated again, and every warmth filling inside her was a possible gift of a future they looked forward to.
Afterward, they lay entwined, their breaths slowly returning to normal, the room filled with a quiet sense of contentment and amour. Compared to prior, this time, their touch was gentle, almost innocent compared to the fervent passion earlier. They held each other, caressing skin, savouring the quiet moments of closeness. Bucky felt at ease, a sense of peace washing over him that he hadn’t felt in what seemed like lifetimes.
Bucky’s perspective was filled with the sight of Y/N. He drank in every detail, from the curve of her lips to the softness of her cheeks, to the way her eyes sparkled even in the dim light. Her skin was a beautiful contrast to his own, delicate and smooth; pure and untainted. He traced his fingers lightly over her features, committing them to memory with a sense of awe and gratitude.
She yawned as fatigue creeped in, snuggling closer, tighter. Bucky brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “You should sleep, sweetheart.” he whispered softly. Y/N smiled, her eyes already half-closed. “See you in the morning?” she murmured, her voice laced with drowsiness.
At that moment, Bucky’s vision began to blur again; worse than before. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear it, but the edges of his sight remained dark and unfocused. He felt a pang of fear but pushed it aside. The time had come, he realised. He kissed her forehead gently, revelling in the feel of her skin against his lips. “See you in the morning, my dear,” he replied, his voice steady despite the growing darkness in his vision.
He smiled down at her as she snuggled, his heart filled with joy and serenity. Bucky held onto her tightly, cherishing the moment, knowing that no matter what happened, their love had conquered time itself. He marvelled at the fact that against all odds, he had saved the woman he loved, and nothing could take that triumph away from him. In the end, even with his eyes still wide open, he let the encroaching blackness take over, surrendering to the inevitable with a heart full of love and a soul finally at peace.
End.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: we have reached the end of the journey, i am sorry if you feel like the story is a bit rushed; i am not capable to commit more than 3 chapters, otherwise this will ended up being in a hiatus. i, however, can consider writing oneshots for this au somewhere in the future. meanwhile, leaving your comments behind would definitely make me happy!
Oh, my heart! 😫 I know you can't just go around messing with the space/time continuum, that there are consequences. But damn! Maybe just not for these two? 😭
I AM SO SORRY FOR MY TENDIES LEAVING A FIC WITH AN OPEN ENDED ENDING LIKE THAT 😭😭😭But I am glad you stick to the end of the story. I hoped you enjoyed your time reading it! 💖
An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.
Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)
Words: 5k++
Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader
Warnings: 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, gore, blood, violence, short yet emotional smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, overall low intensity angst with a bittersweet ending.
A/N: i want to thank all of you for taking some of your precious time to read my fic, i really appreciate it! this is the last installment of the main series, i hope you enjoy your time.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Standing at the altar, Bucky’s heart pounded loudly; excitement and sorrow interlaced within his being. The weight of Y/N’s death still haunted him; every time he closed his eyes, those horrifying images conquered his mind.
But today, this very moment, he had been given another chance. The conflict within him was fierce; he was determined to protect her this time, to keep them safe no matter the cost. His mind raced with plans and contingencies, but all his thoughts were interrupted when the church doors opened.
As the crowd rose to their feet, for a moment, everything else ceased to exist. Y/N walked toward him, each step amplifying the intense storm swirling inside him. She was more beautiful than he remembered, more radiant than he ever thought possible. In the past, he had been unfamiliar with the nuances of his emotions, but now, with his heart fully opened, he was consumed by an all-encompassing love.
The urge to rush to her, to pull her into his arms and never let go, was almost unbearable, but he forced himself to remain composed, to hold onto the control he needed.
As she walked down the aisle, he felt like his chest was on fire; it was almost overwhelming. Memories of their past life together flashed before his eyes, a painful reminder of what he had lost and what he was determined to save.
And as Bucky lifted her veil, he couldn’t focus on anything else; the sight of her, so radiant and beautiful, so close, so real.The delicate fabric framed her face, accentuating the soft curve of her cheeks, the gentle arch of her brows, and the deep, soulful eyes that had captivated him from the moment they met.
When her eyes met his, he saw something unexpected in their depths; an innocence and trust that made his heart ache. He felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility to protect this woman, not just from the dangers of what lies ahead in their future but also beyond this earth; heaven or hell, it does not matter.
Bucky gently placed a hand on her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the pristine fabric of her dress. His other hand cupped her cheek, the touch both tender and deliberate. The sight of her up close, the feel of her under his touch, was both too much and not enough.
He leaned in and his heart raced vigorously in the trepidation of the chance that he might lose her again. But when his lips met hers, he was completely engulfed by immense euphoria. The happiness of being able to hold her again, to share this moment of tenderness, was so much stronger than the anxiety that hounded his mind. As he pulled away, he saw her blinking slowly, her cheeks flushed and her eyes filled with confusion and awe.
To be able to see such a sight again was a blessing; Bucky thought he had lost it forever. His chest seemingly expanded to accommodate the hope and determination filling the space within his ribcage. To ensure that this time, things would be different. He had longed for this moment, to have her in his arms again, and now that it was real, it was even more profound than he had imagined.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” he said softly, his voice carrying the depth of his emotions. “I hope I didn’t scare you, my dear.” The reassurance in his tone was genuine, a reflection of his own relief and longing.
“I—no, you didn’t scare me,” she managed to say; her voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes softened as he adored the tint of pink on her cheeks, “Good,” he added, his gaze tender and full of warmth. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Bucky’s nightmare was a relentless torture decorated with anguish and despair. And it was always the same series of events. Him riding through the frozen landscape, the biting cold of the snow searing through his worn leather boots. The icy wind howled around him, matching the torment that gripped his heart. The landscape blurred as he navigated the bloodied halls of their home, a once serene space now stained by violence and death.
Him, stumbling into their shared bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw her; Y/N’s body, brutally maimed and lifeless. The sight of his child, still and cold, was a dagger to his soul. The room was a horrifying tableau of shattered dreams and crushed hopes. His cries of despair echoed in the empty corridors of his mind, the reality of the scene blending with his deepest fears.
His body jerked violently as he jolted awake, the sudden shift from the nightmare to the waking world leaving him disoriented and breathless. The line between a mere dream and reality was blurred, the remnants of his terror clinging to him like a shroud.
He fumbled through the darkness, his mind racing as he struggled to grasp where he was. The echoes of his terror still haunted him, a grim reminder of the fragility of their happiness.
“Bucky?” Her voice, soft and uncertain, cut through his haze of panic. He blinked rapidly, struggling to focus.
“Y/N?” His voice was a whisper, fragile and filled with a tormented confusion. Seeing her was almost like a divine intervention, a moment of disbelief at her presence. He stared at her, trying to reconcile the vibrant, alive woman before him with the haunting vision he had just escaped.
Her presence was a stark contrast to the lifeless image burned into his mind. Seeing her breathing, speaking back to him, felt like a dream that will never come true.
Not wasting any time dwelling, his body surged forward, enveloping her in a gripping yet desperate embrace. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice trembling with the raw intensity of his emotions. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his grief and dread pouring out in the hidden agony.
The truth of his nightmare and the burden of his misery weighed heavily on him, almost impossible to bear; at least not alone. The words he wanted to speak were trapped within him, their pressure making it hard to breathe, let alone articulate his pain.
Bucky took refuge in his wife’s arm, focusing on the feeling of her hands moving soothingly up and down his back. “I’m here,” she whispered softly. “I’m here, Bucky.” Her presence was grounding; holding him tight in a reality that felt too fragile to trust.
The night was still and intimate, and Bucky’s need for her overwhelmed him. Their connection deepened as he made love to her, each touch, each kiss a frenzied affirmation of the life they still shared; a way to anchor himself to the truth of their love amidst the chaos of his dreams.
In the opulent chamber, Bucky stood like a silent sentinel, his form partially obscured by the shadows cast from the full moon behind him. The eerie silhouette of his shadow filtering through the large, arched window. The room was a luxurious display of wealth and power, adorned with velvet drapes and golden accents.
Despite the grandeur, the atmosphere was chilling, accentuated by the presence of Bucky in his Winter Soldier attire: a black mask, heavy boots, and a sleek, tactical uniform that made him appear as if he were more machine than man.
He moved with the ghostly grace of a predator, each step intentional and calculated as he approached the enormous bed at the centre of the room. The Emperor lay sprawled beneath an elaborate canopy, his slumber seemingly undisturbed by the chaos outside his lavish walls. It was almost laughable to Bucky that such a cruel ruler, whose hands were stained with countless deaths, could rest so easily, untouched by the spectres of guilt that should have plagued him.
Bucky’s gaze was unfeeling as he surveyed the sleeping figure. The Emperor's peaceful expression was a dichotomy to the turmoil that simmered beneath Bucky’s cold exterior. His presence, unmoving and imposing, made the room feel colder, his eyes devoid of warmth or emotion.With the steely void in his mind, his purpose clear as he stalked closer, each step making the heavy boots sound like distant thunder.
The Emperor stirred, his eyes fluttering open to the sight of Bucky standing at the foot of the bed. For a moment, there was confusion in the Emperor’s eyes, quickly replaced by a smirk. "I don't remember calling for you, soldier," he said, his tone half-joking, half-curious.
This was not the first visit at such ungodly hours for Bucky. Often the Emperor would call upon him to send him out on clandestine missions or covert operations.
Bucky’s unresponsive silence made the Emperor uneasy, a subtle crack in his facade of control. As Bucky’s form loomed closer, his eyes glinted with an icy determination that cut through the darkness like a blade. The realisation of the danger crept into his expression as Bucky reached the side of the bed.
Before the Emperor managed to call out for help, Bucky’s metal hand shot out, encircling the Emperor's throat with a grip of iron. His eyes widened in shock, "What is the meaning of this?" he croaked, his voice strained as he struggled against the unyielding grip.
Bucky’s voice was a low, menacing growl. "Why did you kill them?" he demanded. The Emperor’s face twisted into a mask of genuine confusion. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” he said, his voice strained with bewilderment.
Eyes burning with an intensity that spoke of old wounds and unending fury, Bucky was in a trance-like state. His mind focused on the Emperor as the embodiment of the callousness that had devastated his life. To him, it mattered so little whether this version of the Emperor had committed the heinous acts or not. The knowledge that past him had once inflicted such horrors was enough to ignite Bucky’s rage.
“My wife,” Bucky growled, his voice cutting through the Emperor’s confusion with chilling clarity. The Emperor’s eyes widened further, a flicker of fear beginning to replace his initial disbelief. “Why did you kill her?,” Bucky continued, his tone carrying the heaviness of an unspoken pain.
The Emperor’s expression remained in a genuine concern, though it did little to mask his growing foreboding. “I never ordered anyone to lay hands on her,” he insisted, his voice cracking with a hint of desperation. “I would have remembered something like that.”
Bucky’s gaze remained unwavering, his anger as fiery as ever. The Emperor’s words, though spoken with a semblance of sincerity, only fueled Bucky’s fury. It wasn’t merely about this specific Emperor’s actions; it didn’t even matter if he had not done the deed yet.
It was about the realisation that such brutality happened once before. Much more atrocious to know that it had been sanctioned by someone in a position of power. The sense of betrayal ran deep, rooted in the knowledge that the cruelty was a part of a larger, systemic evil that had haunted Bucky’s past.
As the Emperor tried to reason with him, his terror and desperation were transparent. "I would never harm your wife," he protested weakly, his voice trembling with an echo of dismay. Bucky’s mind flashed with ghastly memories; the cold snow he rode through, the bloodied halls leading to their shared bedroom, the image of Y/N’s body maimed, his child lifeless. The horrific images fueled his rage.
"Oh, but you will." Bucky hissed, his anger boiling beneath the surface. His free hand drew a blade, the steel glinting with deadly intent. The Emperor's eyes were wide with horror; his pleas of defence were simply a string of meaningless words lost in the wind as Bucky’s resolve hardened.
With a swift, adept motion, the blade struck through the man’s throat. The Emperor gurgled; blood bubbling from the wound as his eyes widened in shock. Bucky’s face remained impassive, his cold eyes reflecting no mercy. He plunged the blade deeper, the Emperor’s feeble attempts to grasp Bucky’s arm proving futile.
Unfortunately for him, the first strike was not enough to quench the rage that burned within Bucky. He pulled the blade out and struck again. Again and again, the knife met its target, each jab driven by the anguish of countless painful memories. The bed beneath them soaked with the colour of crimson, the luxurious chamber now marred by the blood of its cruel occupant. The room filled with the grotesque sound of a life being extinguished, a gruesome symphony that echoed Bucky’s inner anarchy.
Bucky stood over the fallen ruler, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. As the adrenaline faded, Bucky’s vision suddenly began to blur, the edges of the room dimming into darkness. The world seemed to contract into a tunnel of darkness until a voice cut through the haze. “You really have to be that… brutal?” The voice was calm, yet filled with an air of reproach.
With his sight suddenly altered, Bucky turned towards the sound; the silhouette was unclear in his clouded vision, however he recognized the voice. “Steve,” he called out, his voice a low rasp.
Steve, the crown prince, stood in the doorway, his expression was weaving traces of concern and resignation. He took a step forward, the dim light catching the determination etched in his features. Tomorrow, he would be the new emperor, a role thrust upon him by necessity and circumstance.
Although Steve was one of the emperor’s blood; his only living male heir. His mother was not the empress but one of the many wives the emperor had taken. In the emperor's eyes, this made Steve unworthy of the crown, despite his lineage. This disdain had placed Steve in a precarious position, viewed as a threat rather than a successor.
In the past, Bucky and Wanda had seen Steve meet a tragic end, assassinated by the devout followers of the Emperor who refused to relinquish power. This time, Bucky and Wanda had approached Steve with a plan to overthrow the throne.
While withholding the truth of their origins, they convinced him to claim the crown for his own, knowing the kingdom already favoured him. The real challenge lay with the noble families, whose support was crucial. Over the past few months, Steve had skillfully manoeuvred through the intricate web of politics, winning their allegiance.
Meanwhile, Wanda had been executing a 'clean-up' operation at the magic tower, ensuring no loyalists of the emperor remained. By the time Bucky entered the emperor’s chambers, all potential threats had been neutralised. Soon, the kingdom would surely hear news of the youngest female master of the tower reigning in power.
“Hey, Buck. You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm. Steve noticed the way Bucky’s eyes seemed to glaze over, staring into nothingness. Concern etched into his features, he took a step closer. Bucky blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his vision, but the blurriness persisted, leaving him disoriented.
As Bucky’s vision began to clear, he saw Steve’s concerned blue eyes staring back at him. “Yeah, just…” Bucky shoved his hand into his pocket, retrieving the teleportation stone given to him by Wanda prior to the mission. His gaze fixed on the shimmering stone, the weight of his debt to the ancient magic pressed heavily on his mind; knowing the time to pay for it was drawing near. “…just missing my wife.”
Steve watched, a silent understanding passing between them. Bucky crushed the stone in his hand, the stone's magic activated with a flash of deep red light, enveloping Bucky in its embrace, swallowing him into the abyss and back to his home, to Y/N.
Moments later, the warmth and chaos of the Emperor’s chambers vanished as the cold night air hit him as Bucky found himself on the balcony of his home. Through the transparent glass, he could see his room bathed in a faint light. Inside, Y/N was reading by the soft glow of a night lamp. The sudden swoosh of Bucky’s arrival drew her attention, and she lifted her gaze from the book to the source of the sound. Her eyes widened as she saw the dark silhouette standing on the balcony.
"Hello?" she called out softly, her voice quivering with fear. She set her book aside and stood up, her silk nightdress flowing around her like a whisper of moonlight. She walked to the balcony door, the rhythm of her heart quickened as anxiety creeped in.
As the door opened, the cold wind tickled a shivering goosebumps on her skin. She looked up at the man, her eyes widening in surprise and anxiousness. Bucky, on the other hand, remained still; his mask and dark attire made him look as if he were a ghost from her nightmares. His eyes, however, were unmistakable. The familiar blue gaze met hers, and she recognized him instantly.
Y/N’s initial fear melted away as she stepped closer towards him, "Why are you out here in the cold, love?" she asked gently, standing only inches from his foreboding self. The distinction between them was hardly difficult to spot: her soft, fragile appearance in her silk nightdress against his imposing, almost monstrous form in his combat gear.
Bucky stayed silent, his eyes trained on her as if trying to memorise every feature, every delicate line of her face. She reached up, her fingers slightly trembling to the cold, gently removing his mask. The emotionless facade that he put up crumbled almost instantly, his eyes softened as she smiled up to him. Her hand reached up to cup his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble, "Come inside," she urged softly. "You're freezing."
He didn’t argue as he allowed himself to be led into the warmth of their room. Y/N’s hands moved with gentle resolution. As they reached the side of their bed, she began undressing him from his harsh, restrictive attire down to his shorts and sat him on the mattress behind him. She traced the scars on his body, each one a testament to the battles he had fought, and her fingers made their way up to his stubbled jaw, cupping his cheek tenderly.
"Bucky… you look so troubled." She noticed. "What's wrong, my love?" her voice filled with concern. She came to his side, sitting close as she spoke softly, “Tell me,” her eyes searched within his, “...please?”
Bucky took a deep breath, his heart heavy with the burden of the truth he was about to reveal. "Y/N," he began, his voice slow, as if he was afraid, "This... this isn't our first time living through this. Our marriage, our life together, it was supposed to be different.”
Everything that had been haunting him for the past months spilled out for Y/N to consume. He spoke of the first time he stood at the altar, the way he was clumsy and rough the first time he touched her, their awkward moments, and the ups and downs that became the foundation of their budding romance.
He told her about her pregnancy, the joy he felt from it, how she glowed with happiness, and the dreams they had for their child. He recounted his request for retirement, wanting to leave his life as a weapon behind to be with his family, to protect and cherish them.
But then he spoke of the horror that shattered his world. How he found her dead with their child, both victims of the Emperor’s cruelty. He described the devastation, the unbearable pain, and the crushing sense of failure. He had lost them both, and his heart had been torn apart. "I lost you once before. You and our child," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
Bucky continued, his words pouring out in a rush. He spoke of Wanda, how she had given him a chance to come back, to change things, to save her, to save them. He told her about the sacrifices, the battles fought in the shadows, and the relentless drive to protect her and their unborn child. He described the nightmares that haunted him, the fear of failing again, and the desperate hope that this time, things would be different.
Yet, as he bared his entire soul to her, Bucky kept one critical detail shrouded in silence. He did not mention the true cost of altering time, the personal price he had to pay for this chance at redemption. The burden of that price, the debt to ancient magic that had exacted a toll on him, remained untold, a hidden weight that he bore alone. At least for now.
Y/N was silent, her mind racing to comprehend the enormity of his confession. It sounded impossible, yet there was a sincerity in Bucky's voice, a pain that was all too real. She thought back to the subtle hints in his behaviour, the way he seemed to know her so intimately, as if he had known her for a lifetime. She remembered the moments when he would finish her sentences, anticipate her needs before she even voiced them, and the way he looked at her with such profound love and fear, as if he was afraid she would disappear.
Tears welled up in Bucky’s eyes as he reached for her hand, holding it tightly. “It’s true, Y/N. Every word. I’ve lived through this nightmare, and I couldn’t bear to lose you again.” However, Y/N’s silence scared him. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, terrified that she would reject his story, reject him. Bucky's tears fell freely now, landing on her skin like tiny droplets of despair. "Say something, please," he begged, his voice choking with emotion.
Y/N’s mind and heart were in turmoil, but something deep within her, something in her soul, told her to put her faith in him. Just like that, she believed him. Her heart ached at the thought of the pain he must have endured. She cupped his face in her hands, her eyes searching in his ocean blues. “I’m so sorry for leaving you so soon, love,” she said softly, not knowing why her voice broke..
Bucky’s reaction was immediate. His eyes widened with relief, his tears flowing even more; raw and unfiltered. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if afraid she would vanish. “Y/N” he whispered against her hair, his voice was a sound of agony and respite.
Y/N’s own tears fell as she held him close. She didn’t fully understand the mechanics of time or the magic that had brought him back, but she knew one thing: she loved this man with all her heart, and she would do anything to ease his pain.
“Thank you for saving me.” she echoed, her voice soft but firm.
Their tears of sorrow began to shift into a more tender, fervent connection as their need for each other deepened. Bucky’s lips found Y/N’s in a searing, passionate kiss. Their tears mingled and cascaded down their cheeks as they lost themselves in the embrace. Each touch, each kiss, was imbued with an urgency to reaffirm their bond and erase the pain that had haunted him.
Every piece of clothes were thrown aside; discarded in their frantic desire to be closer. Bucky’s touch grew more intimate; hands moved to pin Y/N's hands above her head, pressing her wrists gently but firmly into the bed. His eyes, dark with desire and love, bore into hers.
“Let me see you, my dear. Please, let me see all of you,” Bucky whispered, his voice trembling with emotion as he removed his hands from her wrists, roaming over Y/N’s body. His touch is a mix of reverence and desperation. He explored the curve of her waist, the gentle slope of her hips, and the soft, supple skin that felt like a lifeline to him.
He trailed his lips down Y/N’s neck, savouring the softness of her skin, leaving a trail of heated kisses. His breath warmed her as he explored her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, and lower, where his lips brushed against the delicate curve of her breasts. Each kiss was a worshipful caress, a testament to his adoration and need for her.
A simple nudge of his hips and Bucky sinks in, breathes caught in the air when he starts to move; “You feel so good, so tight around me.” His thrusts were slow, sensual yet deliciously deep. “I love you so much,” his declaration spread warmth all over heart, filling up every space possible; much like his huge, throbbing cock to her cunt. So full, so good. While he rocked his hips, Bucky’s lips trailed delicately on her cheek, “My dearest” he murmured watching the tears fall from the corner of her eyes, “My everything”.
Y/N, feeling the intensity of his love and the raw need in his embrace, responded with equal fervour. Her hands ardently moved over his broad shoulders and down his back, feeling the contours of his muscles tense and relax under her touch. She could sense the urgency in his movements, the way he clung to her as if she were his salvation.
Bucky’s calloused fingers slipped downwards, reaching to where their bodies were most connected. He found a grounding pleasure as he swirled soft circles on her sensitive clit; rubbing it the way he knew she loved. Y/N leaned into his touch, her body responding to his every movement. Her breaths came in short, heated whimpers as Bucky’s hands continued their exploration, his fingers grazing over her sensitive skin with a mix of tenderness and hunger.
Creating a slight distance between them, Bucky leaned back and revelled in the sight of her; what a view she was.
Her hair was messy in the most beautiful way, cascading around her face like a halo. Her hands gripped the sheets behind her, knuckles white, grounding herself in the intensity of the moment. Her body arched gracefully, a perfect curve that pushed her hips toward his in a silent plea for more. His fingers; now wet with her slick, continued to rub tight circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“There she is. So pretty for me, so fucking gorgeous,” Bucky murmured lowly, his voice filled with desire and awe.
“Bucky, please,” she whispered, her voice a plea, her legs around his waist tugging him closer.
Bucky found her shy desperation was seductive yet so innocently pure. “God, how am I so fucking lucky?” Bucky’s breath shuddered as he felt the way her pussy clenched in protest of his delay; his voice heavy with emotion as he moved against her, his eyes locked onto hers. The raw need in her voice, the way her body responded to his touch, made his heart swell with unrestrained desire.
The metal of his left hand found their way to her hips, guiding her with a gentle yet insistent touch as his fleshed finger worked on her clit. Despite the hard and hasten pace of his thrusts, their movements were synchronised, each grind was a need to chase that height of ecstasy.
The room was filled with their whispered breaths, their shared moans of pleasure, and the undeniable proof of their love. Their connection transcended the physical, reaching into the depths of their souls, reaffirming the bond that had defied time and fate.
“I love you so much, Y/N,” Bucky whispered, his voice raw and filled with affection as he held her close, their hearts beating in perfect harmony.
“I love you, too, Bucky.” she replied, her voice trembling with the intensity of her feelings.
As they reached the peak of their high, their cries of passion were mingled with their whispered promises of devotion. Every touch was a declaration, every kiss a vow to never be separated again, and every warmth filling inside her was a possible gift of a future they looked forward to.
Afterward, they lay entwined, their breaths slowly returning to normal, the room filled with a quiet sense of contentment and amour. Compared to prior, this time, their touch was gentle, almost innocent compared to the fervent passion earlier. They held each other, caressing skin, savouring the quiet moments of closeness. Bucky felt at ease, a sense of peace washing over him that he hadn’t felt in what seemed like lifetimes.
Bucky’s perspective was filled with the sight of Y/N. He drank in every detail, from the curve of her lips to the softness of her cheeks, to the way her eyes sparkled even in the dim light. Her skin was a beautiful contrast to his own, delicate and smooth; pure and untainted. He traced his fingers lightly over her features, committing them to memory with a sense of awe and gratitude.
She yawned as fatigue creeped in, snuggling closer, tighter. Bucky brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “You should sleep, sweetheart.” he whispered softly. Y/N smiled, her eyes already half-closed. “See you in the morning?” she murmured, her voice laced with drowsiness.
At that moment, Bucky’s vision began to blur again; worse than before. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear it, but the edges of his sight remained dark and unfocused. He felt a pang of fear but pushed it aside. The time had come, he realised. He kissed her forehead gently, revelling in the feel of her skin against his lips. “See you in the morning, my dear,” he replied, his voice steady despite the growing darkness in his vision.
He smiled down at her as she snuggled, his heart filled with joy and serenity. Bucky held onto her tightly, cherishing the moment, knowing that no matter what happened, their love had conquered time itself. He marvelled at the fact that against all odds, he had saved the woman he loved, and nothing could take that triumph away from him. In the end, even with his eyes still wide open, he let the encroaching blackness take over, surrendering to the inevitable with a heart full of love and a soul finally at peace.
End.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: we have reached the end of the journey, i am sorry if you feel like the story is a bit rushed; i am not capable to commit more than 3 chapters, otherwise this will ended up being in a hiatus. i, however, can consider writing oneshots for this au somewhere in the future. meanwhile, leaving your comments behind would definitely make me happy!
OMG LOVELYYYY I SO SORRY FOR YOUR HEART. But I am thankful that you enjoyed the fic🤍💖 And yes, will definitely revisit this au someday in the future~ Glad you stopped by! 😘💕
An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.
Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)
Words: 5k++
Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader
Warnings: 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, gore, blood, violence, short yet emotional smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, overall low intensity angst with a bittersweet ending.
A/N: i want to thank all of you for taking some of your precious time to read my fic, i really appreciate it! this is the last installment of the main series, i hope you enjoy your time.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Standing at the altar, Bucky’s heart pounded loudly; excitement and sorrow interlaced within his being. The weight of Y/N’s death still haunted him; every time he closed his eyes, those horrifying images conquered his mind.
But today, this very moment, he had been given another chance. The conflict within him was fierce; he was determined to protect her this time, to keep them safe no matter the cost. His mind raced with plans and contingencies, but all his thoughts were interrupted when the church doors opened.
As the crowd rose to their feet, for a moment, everything else ceased to exist. Y/N walked toward him, each step amplifying the intense storm swirling inside him. She was more beautiful than he remembered, more radiant than he ever thought possible. In the past, he had been unfamiliar with the nuances of his emotions, but now, with his heart fully opened, he was consumed by an all-encompassing love.
The urge to rush to her, to pull her into his arms and never let go, was almost unbearable, but he forced himself to remain composed, to hold onto the control he needed.
As she walked down the aisle, he felt like his chest was on fire; it was almost overwhelming. Memories of their past life together flashed before his eyes, a painful reminder of what he had lost and what he was determined to save.
And as Bucky lifted her veil, he couldn’t focus on anything else; the sight of her, so radiant and beautiful, so close, so real.The delicate fabric framed her face, accentuating the soft curve of her cheeks, the gentle arch of her brows, and the deep, soulful eyes that had captivated him from the moment they met.
When her eyes met his, he saw something unexpected in their depths; an innocence and trust that made his heart ache. He felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility to protect this woman, not just from the dangers of what lies ahead in their future but also beyond this earth; heaven or hell, it does not matter.
Bucky gently placed a hand on her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the pristine fabric of her dress. His other hand cupped her cheek, the touch both tender and deliberate. The sight of her up close, the feel of her under his touch, was both too much and not enough.
He leaned in and his heart raced vigorously in the trepidation of the chance that he might lose her again. But when his lips met hers, he was completely engulfed by immense euphoria. The happiness of being able to hold her again, to share this moment of tenderness, was so much stronger than the anxiety that hounded his mind. As he pulled away, he saw her blinking slowly, her cheeks flushed and her eyes filled with confusion and awe.
To be able to see such a sight again was a blessing; Bucky thought he had lost it forever. His chest seemingly expanded to accommodate the hope and determination filling the space within his ribcage. To ensure that this time, things would be different. He had longed for this moment, to have her in his arms again, and now that it was real, it was even more profound than he had imagined.
“I’m sorry if I startled you,” he said softly, his voice carrying the depth of his emotions. “I hope I didn’t scare you, my dear.” The reassurance in his tone was genuine, a reflection of his own relief and longing.
“I—no, you didn’t scare me,” she managed to say; her voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes softened as he adored the tint of pink on her cheeks, “Good,” he added, his gaze tender and full of warmth. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Bucky’s nightmare was a relentless torture decorated with anguish and despair. And it was always the same series of events. Him riding through the frozen landscape, the biting cold of the snow searing through his worn leather boots. The icy wind howled around him, matching the torment that gripped his heart. The landscape blurred as he navigated the bloodied halls of their home, a once serene space now stained by violence and death.
Him, stumbling into their shared bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw her; Y/N’s body, brutally maimed and lifeless. The sight of his child, still and cold, was a dagger to his soul. The room was a horrifying tableau of shattered dreams and crushed hopes. His cries of despair echoed in the empty corridors of his mind, the reality of the scene blending with his deepest fears.
His body jerked violently as he jolted awake, the sudden shift from the nightmare to the waking world leaving him disoriented and breathless. The line between a mere dream and reality was blurred, the remnants of his terror clinging to him like a shroud.
He fumbled through the darkness, his mind racing as he struggled to grasp where he was. The echoes of his terror still haunted him, a grim reminder of the fragility of their happiness.
“Bucky?” Her voice, soft and uncertain, cut through his haze of panic. He blinked rapidly, struggling to focus.
“Y/N?” His voice was a whisper, fragile and filled with a tormented confusion. Seeing her was almost like a divine intervention, a moment of disbelief at her presence. He stared at her, trying to reconcile the vibrant, alive woman before him with the haunting vision he had just escaped.
Her presence was a stark contrast to the lifeless image burned into his mind. Seeing her breathing, speaking back to him, felt like a dream that will never come true.
Not wasting any time dwelling, his body surged forward, enveloping her in a gripping yet desperate embrace. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice trembling with the raw intensity of his emotions. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his grief and dread pouring out in the hidden agony.
The truth of his nightmare and the burden of his misery weighed heavily on him, almost impossible to bear; at least not alone. The words he wanted to speak were trapped within him, their pressure making it hard to breathe, let alone articulate his pain.
Bucky took refuge in his wife’s arm, focusing on the feeling of her hands moving soothingly up and down his back. “I’m here,” she whispered softly. “I’m here, Bucky.” Her presence was grounding; holding him tight in a reality that felt too fragile to trust.
The night was still and intimate, and Bucky’s need for her overwhelmed him. Their connection deepened as he made love to her, each touch, each kiss a frenzied affirmation of the life they still shared; a way to anchor himself to the truth of their love amidst the chaos of his dreams.
In the opulent chamber, Bucky stood like a silent sentinel, his form partially obscured by the shadows cast from the full moon behind him. The eerie silhouette of his shadow filtering through the large, arched window. The room was a luxurious display of wealth and power, adorned with velvet drapes and golden accents.
Despite the grandeur, the atmosphere was chilling, accentuated by the presence of Bucky in his Winter Soldier attire: a black mask, heavy boots, and a sleek, tactical uniform that made him appear as if he were more machine than man.
He moved with the ghostly grace of a predator, each step intentional and calculated as he approached the enormous bed at the centre of the room. The Emperor lay sprawled beneath an elaborate canopy, his slumber seemingly undisturbed by the chaos outside his lavish walls. It was almost laughable to Bucky that such a cruel ruler, whose hands were stained with countless deaths, could rest so easily, untouched by the spectres of guilt that should have plagued him.
Bucky’s gaze was unfeeling as he surveyed the sleeping figure. The Emperor's peaceful expression was a dichotomy to the turmoil that simmered beneath Bucky’s cold exterior. His presence, unmoving and imposing, made the room feel colder, his eyes devoid of warmth or emotion.With the steely void in his mind, his purpose clear as he stalked closer, each step making the heavy boots sound like distant thunder.
The Emperor stirred, his eyes fluttering open to the sight of Bucky standing at the foot of the bed. For a moment, there was confusion in the Emperor’s eyes, quickly replaced by a smirk. "I don't remember calling for you, soldier," he said, his tone half-joking, half-curious.
This was not the first visit at such ungodly hours for Bucky. Often the Emperor would call upon him to send him out on clandestine missions or covert operations.
Bucky’s unresponsive silence made the Emperor uneasy, a subtle crack in his facade of control. As Bucky’s form loomed closer, his eyes glinted with an icy determination that cut through the darkness like a blade. The realisation of the danger crept into his expression as Bucky reached the side of the bed.
Before the Emperor managed to call out for help, Bucky’s metal hand shot out, encircling the Emperor's throat with a grip of iron. His eyes widened in shock, "What is the meaning of this?" he croaked, his voice strained as he struggled against the unyielding grip.
Bucky’s voice was a low, menacing growl. "Why did you kill them?" he demanded. The Emperor’s face twisted into a mask of genuine confusion. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” he said, his voice strained with bewilderment.
Eyes burning with an intensity that spoke of old wounds and unending fury, Bucky was in a trance-like state. His mind focused on the Emperor as the embodiment of the callousness that had devastated his life. To him, it mattered so little whether this version of the Emperor had committed the heinous acts or not. The knowledge that past him had once inflicted such horrors was enough to ignite Bucky’s rage.
“My wife,” Bucky growled, his voice cutting through the Emperor’s confusion with chilling clarity. The Emperor’s eyes widened further, a flicker of fear beginning to replace his initial disbelief. “Why did you kill her?,” Bucky continued, his tone carrying the heaviness of an unspoken pain.
The Emperor’s expression remained in a genuine concern, though it did little to mask his growing foreboding. “I never ordered anyone to lay hands on her,” he insisted, his voice cracking with a hint of desperation. “I would have remembered something like that.”
Bucky’s gaze remained unwavering, his anger as fiery as ever. The Emperor’s words, though spoken with a semblance of sincerity, only fueled Bucky’s fury. It wasn’t merely about this specific Emperor’s actions; it didn’t even matter if he had not done the deed yet.
It was about the realisation that such brutality happened once before. Much more atrocious to know that it had been sanctioned by someone in a position of power. The sense of betrayal ran deep, rooted in the knowledge that the cruelty was a part of a larger, systemic evil that had haunted Bucky’s past.
As the Emperor tried to reason with him, his terror and desperation were transparent. "I would never harm your wife," he protested weakly, his voice trembling with an echo of dismay. Bucky’s mind flashed with ghastly memories; the cold snow he rode through, the bloodied halls leading to their shared bedroom, the image of Y/N’s body maimed, his child lifeless. The horrific images fueled his rage.
"Oh, but you will." Bucky hissed, his anger boiling beneath the surface. His free hand drew a blade, the steel glinting with deadly intent. The Emperor's eyes were wide with horror; his pleas of defence were simply a string of meaningless words lost in the wind as Bucky’s resolve hardened.
With a swift, adept motion, the blade struck through the man’s throat. The Emperor gurgled; blood bubbling from the wound as his eyes widened in shock. Bucky’s face remained impassive, his cold eyes reflecting no mercy. He plunged the blade deeper, the Emperor’s feeble attempts to grasp Bucky’s arm proving futile.
Unfortunately for him, the first strike was not enough to quench the rage that burned within Bucky. He pulled the blade out and struck again. Again and again, the knife met its target, each jab driven by the anguish of countless painful memories. The bed beneath them soaked with the colour of crimson, the luxurious chamber now marred by the blood of its cruel occupant. The room filled with the grotesque sound of a life being extinguished, a gruesome symphony that echoed Bucky’s inner anarchy.
Bucky stood over the fallen ruler, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. As the adrenaline faded, Bucky’s vision suddenly began to blur, the edges of the room dimming into darkness. The world seemed to contract into a tunnel of darkness until a voice cut through the haze. “You really have to be that… brutal?” The voice was calm, yet filled with an air of reproach.
With his sight suddenly altered, Bucky turned towards the sound; the silhouette was unclear in his clouded vision, however he recognized the voice. “Steve,” he called out, his voice a low rasp.
Steve, the crown prince, stood in the doorway, his expression was weaving traces of concern and resignation. He took a step forward, the dim light catching the determination etched in his features. Tomorrow, he would be the new emperor, a role thrust upon him by necessity and circumstance.
Although Steve was one of the emperor’s blood; his only living male heir. His mother was not the empress but one of the many wives the emperor had taken. In the emperor's eyes, this made Steve unworthy of the crown, despite his lineage. This disdain had placed Steve in a precarious position, viewed as a threat rather than a successor.
In the past, Bucky and Wanda had seen Steve meet a tragic end, assassinated by the devout followers of the Emperor who refused to relinquish power. This time, Bucky and Wanda had approached Steve with a plan to overthrow the throne.
While withholding the truth of their origins, they convinced him to claim the crown for his own, knowing the kingdom already favoured him. The real challenge lay with the noble families, whose support was crucial. Over the past few months, Steve had skillfully manoeuvred through the intricate web of politics, winning their allegiance.
Meanwhile, Wanda had been executing a 'clean-up' operation at the magic tower, ensuring no loyalists of the emperor remained. By the time Bucky entered the emperor’s chambers, all potential threats had been neutralised. Soon, the kingdom would surely hear news of the youngest female master of the tower reigning in power.
“Hey, Buck. You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm. Steve noticed the way Bucky’s eyes seemed to glaze over, staring into nothingness. Concern etched into his features, he took a step closer. Bucky blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his vision, but the blurriness persisted, leaving him disoriented.
As Bucky’s vision began to clear, he saw Steve’s concerned blue eyes staring back at him. “Yeah, just…” Bucky shoved his hand into his pocket, retrieving the teleportation stone given to him by Wanda prior to the mission. His gaze fixed on the shimmering stone, the weight of his debt to the ancient magic pressed heavily on his mind; knowing the time to pay for it was drawing near. “…just missing my wife.”
Steve watched, a silent understanding passing between them. Bucky crushed the stone in his hand, the stone's magic activated with a flash of deep red light, enveloping Bucky in its embrace, swallowing him into the abyss and back to his home, to Y/N.
Moments later, the warmth and chaos of the Emperor’s chambers vanished as the cold night air hit him as Bucky found himself on the balcony of his home. Through the transparent glass, he could see his room bathed in a faint light. Inside, Y/N was reading by the soft glow of a night lamp. The sudden swoosh of Bucky’s arrival drew her attention, and she lifted her gaze from the book to the source of the sound. Her eyes widened as she saw the dark silhouette standing on the balcony.
"Hello?" she called out softly, her voice quivering with fear. She set her book aside and stood up, her silk nightdress flowing around her like a whisper of moonlight. She walked to the balcony door, the rhythm of her heart quickened as anxiety creeped in.
As the door opened, the cold wind tickled a shivering goosebumps on her skin. She looked up at the man, her eyes widening in surprise and anxiousness. Bucky, on the other hand, remained still; his mask and dark attire made him look as if he were a ghost from her nightmares. His eyes, however, were unmistakable. The familiar blue gaze met hers, and she recognized him instantly.
Y/N’s initial fear melted away as she stepped closer towards him, "Why are you out here in the cold, love?" she asked gently, standing only inches from his foreboding self. The distinction between them was hardly difficult to spot: her soft, fragile appearance in her silk nightdress against his imposing, almost monstrous form in his combat gear.
Bucky stayed silent, his eyes trained on her as if trying to memorise every feature, every delicate line of her face. She reached up, her fingers slightly trembling to the cold, gently removing his mask. The emotionless facade that he put up crumbled almost instantly, his eyes softened as she smiled up to him. Her hand reached up to cup his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble, "Come inside," she urged softly. "You're freezing."
He didn’t argue as he allowed himself to be led into the warmth of their room. Y/N’s hands moved with gentle resolution. As they reached the side of their bed, she began undressing him from his harsh, restrictive attire down to his shorts and sat him on the mattress behind him. She traced the scars on his body, each one a testament to the battles he had fought, and her fingers made their way up to his stubbled jaw, cupping his cheek tenderly.
"Bucky… you look so troubled." She noticed. "What's wrong, my love?" her voice filled with concern. She came to his side, sitting close as she spoke softly, “Tell me,” her eyes searched within his, “...please?”
Bucky took a deep breath, his heart heavy with the burden of the truth he was about to reveal. "Y/N," he began, his voice slow, as if he was afraid, "This... this isn't our first time living through this. Our marriage, our life together, it was supposed to be different.”
Everything that had been haunting him for the past months spilled out for Y/N to consume. He spoke of the first time he stood at the altar, the way he was clumsy and rough the first time he touched her, their awkward moments, and the ups and downs that became the foundation of their budding romance.
He told her about her pregnancy, the joy he felt from it, how she glowed with happiness, and the dreams they had for their child. He recounted his request for retirement, wanting to leave his life as a weapon behind to be with his family, to protect and cherish them.
But then he spoke of the horror that shattered his world. How he found her dead with their child, both victims of the Emperor’s cruelty. He described the devastation, the unbearable pain, and the crushing sense of failure. He had lost them both, and his heart had been torn apart. "I lost you once before. You and our child," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
Bucky continued, his words pouring out in a rush. He spoke of Wanda, how she had given him a chance to come back, to change things, to save her, to save them. He told her about the sacrifices, the battles fought in the shadows, and the relentless drive to protect her and their unborn child. He described the nightmares that haunted him, the fear of failing again, and the desperate hope that this time, things would be different.
Yet, as he bared his entire soul to her, Bucky kept one critical detail shrouded in silence. He did not mention the true cost of altering time, the personal price he had to pay for this chance at redemption. The burden of that price, the debt to ancient magic that had exacted a toll on him, remained untold, a hidden weight that he bore alone. At least for now.
Y/N was silent, her mind racing to comprehend the enormity of his confession. It sounded impossible, yet there was a sincerity in Bucky's voice, a pain that was all too real. She thought back to the subtle hints in his behaviour, the way he seemed to know her so intimately, as if he had known her for a lifetime. She remembered the moments when he would finish her sentences, anticipate her needs before she even voiced them, and the way he looked at her with such profound love and fear, as if he was afraid she would disappear.
Tears welled up in Bucky’s eyes as he reached for her hand, holding it tightly. “It’s true, Y/N. Every word. I’ve lived through this nightmare, and I couldn’t bear to lose you again.” However, Y/N’s silence scared him. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, terrified that she would reject his story, reject him. Bucky's tears fell freely now, landing on her skin like tiny droplets of despair. "Say something, please," he begged, his voice choking with emotion.
Y/N’s mind and heart were in turmoil, but something deep within her, something in her soul, told her to put her faith in him. Just like that, she believed him. Her heart ached at the thought of the pain he must have endured. She cupped his face in her hands, her eyes searching in his ocean blues. “I’m so sorry for leaving you so soon, love,” she said softly, not knowing why her voice broke..
Bucky’s reaction was immediate. His eyes widened with relief, his tears flowing even more; raw and unfiltered. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if afraid she would vanish. “Y/N” he whispered against her hair, his voice was a sound of agony and respite.
Y/N’s own tears fell as she held him close. She didn’t fully understand the mechanics of time or the magic that had brought him back, but she knew one thing: she loved this man with all her heart, and she would do anything to ease his pain.
“Thank you for saving me.” she echoed, her voice soft but firm.
Their tears of sorrow began to shift into a more tender, fervent connection as their need for each other deepened. Bucky’s lips found Y/N’s in a searing, passionate kiss. Their tears mingled and cascaded down their cheeks as they lost themselves in the embrace. Each touch, each kiss, was imbued with an urgency to reaffirm their bond and erase the pain that had haunted him.
Every piece of clothes were thrown aside; discarded in their frantic desire to be closer. Bucky’s touch grew more intimate; hands moved to pin Y/N's hands above her head, pressing her wrists gently but firmly into the bed. His eyes, dark with desire and love, bore into hers.
“Let me see you, my dear. Please, let me see all of you,” Bucky whispered, his voice trembling with emotion as he removed his hands from her wrists, roaming over Y/N’s body. His touch is a mix of reverence and desperation. He explored the curve of her waist, the gentle slope of her hips, and the soft, supple skin that felt like a lifeline to him.
He trailed his lips down Y/N’s neck, savouring the softness of her skin, leaving a trail of heated kisses. His breath warmed her as he explored her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, and lower, where his lips brushed against the delicate curve of her breasts. Each kiss was a worshipful caress, a testament to his adoration and need for her.
A simple nudge of his hips and Bucky sinks in, breathes caught in the air when he starts to move; “You feel so good, so tight around me.” His thrusts were slow, sensual yet deliciously deep. “I love you so much,” his declaration spread warmth all over heart, filling up every space possible; much like his huge, throbbing cock to her cunt. So full, so good. While he rocked his hips, Bucky’s lips trailed delicately on her cheek, “My dearest” he murmured watching the tears fall from the corner of her eyes, “My everything”.
Y/N, feeling the intensity of his love and the raw need in his embrace, responded with equal fervour. Her hands ardently moved over his broad shoulders and down his back, feeling the contours of his muscles tense and relax under her touch. She could sense the urgency in his movements, the way he clung to her as if she were his salvation.
Bucky’s calloused fingers slipped downwards, reaching to where their bodies were most connected. He found a grounding pleasure as he swirled soft circles on her sensitive clit; rubbing it the way he knew she loved. Y/N leaned into his touch, her body responding to his every movement. Her breaths came in short, heated whimpers as Bucky’s hands continued their exploration, his fingers grazing over her sensitive skin with a mix of tenderness and hunger.
Creating a slight distance between them, Bucky leaned back and revelled in the sight of her; what a view she was.
Her hair was messy in the most beautiful way, cascading around her face like a halo. Her hands gripped the sheets behind her, knuckles white, grounding herself in the intensity of the moment. Her body arched gracefully, a perfect curve that pushed her hips toward his in a silent plea for more. His fingers; now wet with her slick, continued to rub tight circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“There she is. So pretty for me, so fucking gorgeous,” Bucky murmured lowly, his voice filled with desire and awe.
“Bucky, please,” she whispered, her voice a plea, her legs around his waist tugging him closer.
Bucky found her shy desperation was seductive yet so innocently pure. “God, how am I so fucking lucky?” Bucky’s breath shuddered as he felt the way her pussy clenched in protest of his delay; his voice heavy with emotion as he moved against her, his eyes locked onto hers. The raw need in her voice, the way her body responded to his touch, made his heart swell with unrestrained desire.
The metal of his left hand found their way to her hips, guiding her with a gentle yet insistent touch as his fleshed finger worked on her clit. Despite the hard and hasten pace of his thrusts, their movements were synchronised, each grind was a need to chase that height of ecstasy.
The room was filled with their whispered breaths, their shared moans of pleasure, and the undeniable proof of their love. Their connection transcended the physical, reaching into the depths of their souls, reaffirming the bond that had defied time and fate.
“I love you so much, Y/N,” Bucky whispered, his voice raw and filled with affection as he held her close, their hearts beating in perfect harmony.
“I love you, too, Bucky.” she replied, her voice trembling with the intensity of her feelings.
As they reached the peak of their high, their cries of passion were mingled with their whispered promises of devotion. Every touch was a declaration, every kiss a vow to never be separated again, and every warmth filling inside her was a possible gift of a future they looked forward to.
Afterward, they lay entwined, their breaths slowly returning to normal, the room filled with a quiet sense of contentment and amour. Compared to prior, this time, their touch was gentle, almost innocent compared to the fervent passion earlier. They held each other, caressing skin, savouring the quiet moments of closeness. Bucky felt at ease, a sense of peace washing over him that he hadn’t felt in what seemed like lifetimes.
Bucky’s perspective was filled with the sight of Y/N. He drank in every detail, from the curve of her lips to the softness of her cheeks, to the way her eyes sparkled even in the dim light. Her skin was a beautiful contrast to his own, delicate and smooth; pure and untainted. He traced his fingers lightly over her features, committing them to memory with a sense of awe and gratitude.
She yawned as fatigue creeped in, snuggling closer, tighter. Bucky brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “You should sleep, sweetheart.” he whispered softly. Y/N smiled, her eyes already half-closed. “See you in the morning?” she murmured, her voice laced with drowsiness.
At that moment, Bucky’s vision began to blur again; worse than before. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear it, but the edges of his sight remained dark and unfocused. He felt a pang of fear but pushed it aside. The time had come, he realised. He kissed her forehead gently, revelling in the feel of her skin against his lips. “See you in the morning, my dear,” he replied, his voice steady despite the growing darkness in his vision.
He smiled down at her as she snuggled, his heart filled with joy and serenity. Bucky held onto her tightly, cherishing the moment, knowing that no matter what happened, their love had conquered time itself. He marvelled at the fact that against all odds, he had saved the woman he loved, and nothing could take that triumph away from him. In the end, even with his eyes still wide open, he let the encroaching blackness take over, surrendering to the inevitable with a heart full of love and a soul finally at peace.
End.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: we have reached the end of the journey, i am sorry if you feel like the story is a bit rushed; i am not capable to commit more than 3 chapters, otherwise this will ended up being in a hiatus. i, however, can consider writing oneshots for this au somewhere in the future. meanwhile, leaving your comments behind would definitely make me happy!
An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.
Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end) (August, 4th)
Words: 6.4k++
Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader
Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, sprinkles of fluff, death, blood, violence, a truck load of angst, heartbreak, and honestly… just raw pain. so, i'd say grab a box of tissue or a shoulder to cry on, just in case.
A/N: i am sorry for what is about to happen in this chapter. but, please know that I love you. and oh, did i mention that release date is based on my local time zone (UTC+08:00)? anyway, I hope you enjoy your time.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Y/N was stirred awake from her dreamless sleep by none other than the restless movements on the shared bed. Blinking her eyes open, the dim light from the moon intruded her sight; her blurry vision glanced across the room, the light casted a pale glow on the surface. On her side, Bucky was tossing and turning; his face contorted in utter distress. His muscular body was taut, sweat glistening on his skin. His breaths came in harsh, uneven gasps, and his hands clutched on the sheets as if he were holding on for dear life.
“Please, no, please,” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with desperation. Y/N’s heart ached at the sight of him in such torment. Reaching out, her hands gently touching his arm. His skin was clammy and hot, his muscles twitched under her fingertips. She could feel the frantic pulse under his skin, the erratic rhythm mirroring the chaos in his mind.
“Bucky,” she called softly, her voice laced with concern. “Bucky, wake up.” She sat up and leaned over him. Her hand moving to his sweaty scalp; caressing through his hair, gentle and soothing. “It’s okay, Bucky. You’re okay. Please, open your eyes.”
Bucky’s body jerked as he jolted awake causing his wife to startle at his sudden movement. His eyes wide and unfocused as the salty tears spilled from the corners. His haunted gaze stared into the void, his chest heaving, body shivering. He seemed disoriented, his heart pounding so loudly that it drowned out the world around him. Y/N’s voice, however, managed to pierce through the ringing in his ears.
Her words were like a lifeline, a beacon in the darkness of his mind. Each gentle whisper seemed to pull him further from the grip of his nightmare, grounding him back in the reality where he was safe and loved. She repeated his name, each utterance calm and reassuring, hoping to anchor him to the present. “Bucky?”, her tone soft; filled with worry.
He blinked, finally able to see her. “Y/N?” His voice sounded small and broken compared to his large and seemingly powerful build. It was a voice filled with vulnerability, a voice that seemed almost alien coming from someone who is usually so strong. His eyes, typically so steely and determined, were now wide and clouded with fear and confusion; lingered with trails of terror from whatever it was he saw behind his closed eyes.
It pained her to see him like this, reduced to a shadow of the man she knew. The dissonance between his imposing physique and the fragility in his voice was contradicting, making her heart ache for him even more. “Yes, Bucky. It’s me,” she replied gently, her hands delicately traced his clenched fists; drawing meaningless circles around his knuckles.
For a moment, he simply stared at her, as if he couldn’t believe she was real; sitting so close for him touch. Her bare skin glistened underneath the moonlight. The soft pink of her cheeks and lips, the bright gleam of her eyes; it made her look ethereal, almost otherworldly. An epitome of warmth and light; she looked so… alive.
Within seconds, without warning, Bucky’s body surged forward, engulfing her in a fierce embrace. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice trembling as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His body shaking with silent sobs. She could feel his breath, hot and ragged against her skin, each exhale filled with a depth of emotion that he rarely displayed.
She held him tightly, her hands running soothingly up and down his back. “I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m here, Bucky.” Her heart ached for him, for the pain that he was obviously carrying alone. Her thoughts raced, wondering what kind of demons were haunting his dreams, what kind of pain he was enduring. She felt a fierce protectiveness grew within her, a desperate need to comfort and shield him from whatever it was that tormented him. Each sob that wracked his body seemed to pierce her own heart, deepening her resolve to be his strength.
Bucky’s body trembled with suppressed sobs, as she continued to stroke his hair, whispering soothing words until his breathing began to steady and his tears slowed. She could feel the tension slowly leaving his body, his muscles relaxing under her touch.
Her whispers were a constant reassurance, a reminder that he was not alone, that she was there. Each stroke of her hand, each soft word, was a promise of her unwavering support and love. She could feel him clinging to her, as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.
As Bucky reluctantly pulled away from her arms, she looked up at his broken state; noting the redness in his eyes and nose, the tear stains on his scruffy cheeks, “What’s wrong, my love?” she asked softly, wiping away the remaining tears flowing. Her voice was gentle, but her eyes were filled with determination.
It had been a few months into their marriage, and the seasons had changed since Y/N had first arrived at Bucky’s mansion. The cold, snowy landscape of winter had gradually given way to the bloom of spring, and with it, the promise of new beginnings.
In those early days, Y/N’s feelings for Bucky had been built on a foundation of simple trust. As his wife, she had expected to offer support and loyalty, and in return, she hoped for a stable companionship. Yet, it didn't take long for those initial feelings to deepen into something far more profound.
She had been drawn to his warmth and the vulnerability he rarely showed to others. It was in the quiet moments, when they were alone, that she began to see a different side of him. Far from the heinous rumours people blatantly consume; a side that was not just a fierce protector, but also a man capable of deep affection.
Yet, amidst the beauty of their budding romance, one thing had remained constant: Bucky's nightmares. They were not as frequent as they had been at the start, but they were consistent, recurring often enough to disrupt their otherwise peaceful nights.
Y/N had grown accustomed to waking in the middle of the night to find him thrashing in his sleep, his brow furrowed in anxiety, his breaths sounding fractured, his skin sticky with sweat. However, she had never seen him like this; tears freely fell from his eyes, looking so fragile and broken. It was both heart-wrenching and humbling to witness. She worried about him, about the torment he seemed to carry within him. She longed to understand the source of his pain, to be his support system even for a little bit.
She continued to gently probe him to tell her the truth; to share his darkness only for him to shake his head, tears filling up yet again as he unwilling to put his pain into words. Instead of speaking out, he leaned in and kissed her deeply, his lips conveying a need that went beyond physical desire. His hands caressed her bare skin, tender and fervent, as if seeking solace in her touch. Each kiss was a wordless plea, a desperate attempt to find comfort and reassurance in the only way he knew how. His touch conveyed an urgent need, a gentle exploration that spoke of his love and longing for her. The desperation in his kiss was clearly evident, a tangible manifestation of the torment he was trying to escape.
Y/N responded with equal tenderness, understanding that this moment was about comfort and connection, not lust. She understood that he needed this, and though she longed to know what was haunting him and hoped to share his burden, however, she respected his silence. It was his story to tell after all, so for now she’ll let him hold her. To have their bodies entwined the way he wanted; to let him have the relief he so hopelessly craved for.
Bucky’s love was passionate yet filled with love that she felt tears pricking at her own eyes. She sensed the depth of his emotions; in each thrust into her heat, in every trembling whisper of “i love you”s, every drop of his warmth spilling into her. She could feel the weight of his sorrow, the intensity of his need for her. Her heart swelled with deep affection, her own tears mixing with his as they clung to each other. She wanted to take away his pain, to be his sanctuary in this moment of vulnerability.
Y/N sat in the sunlit parlour, the soft rays of the morning sun casting a golden hue over the elegant room. Her fingers traced the delicate patterns on her teacup, her thoughts drifting as she absently stirred her tea. Across from her, Wanda sipped her tea with a relaxed smile, her demeanour calm and inviting. Despite the serene setting, Y/N’s mind was occupied with the troubling events of the previous night.
Wanda’s eyes, sharp and perceptive, caught the distant look on Y/N’s face. She tilted her head slightly, her tone teasing yet concerned. “What’s on your mind, Y/N? Has Bucky been bullying you again?” The playful tone was intended to lighten the mood, but Y/N’s thoughts were remained dark.
A soft laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, and she shook her head, a genuine smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. “No, far from it. Bucky has always been a sweetheart, you know that.” she replied, her voice warm with fondness as her thoughts wandered back to her husband.
Wanda scoffed softly, “If making you walk weird every morning is not bullying to you, I don’t know what is.” She was quick with her wit of banter. Y/N shook her head as her cheeks glowed with a pinkish shade. Her memories meandered to the time when she had first settled into their new home in the northern region.
The shift from the bustling capital to this colder, more serene landscape had been a significant change, but one she embraced with open arms. It was the beginning of winter, and the snow painted the landscape in a pristine blanket of white. The gentle snowflakes drifted down, and beneath the thin layer of snow, resilient flowers continued to bloom. The contrast was beautiful and invigorating; a sense of peace and tranquillity engulfed her.
She remembered her first days in the sprawling mansion, its grandeur both overwhelming and exhilarating. The staff members, a group of dedicated and welcoming individuals, had eagerly guided her through her new responsibilities as the lady of the mansion. Mrs. Lane, the head maid, had taken special care in introducing Y/N to the intricacies of managing such a vast estate. From the daily routines to the ceremonial duties, Mrs. Lane’s patience and kindness made Y/N’s transition smoother. She recalled the staff’s warm demeanour, their smiles and nods of approval as they showed her the ropes, their hospitality making her feel right at home.
Bucky, too, had been noticeably livelier since she had arrived. The maids, even the knights, frequently mentioned how their lord seemed more cheerful in the days when she was around. Y/N took pride in their acknowledgement, feeling that her presence had brought a positive change to their household fluttered her heart. The compliments and the warmth from those around her were affirmations that she was settling in well and that her husband was happy.
And then there was that one particular evening, as she and Bucky walked through their garden. The sun was setting behind them, the air was crisp, and the snow-covered grounds sparkled in the last remaining light of the winter sun. As they strolled hand in hand, Bucky’s touch was the source of relief against the chill of the season. He led her to a secluded spot under a snow-laden tree, a favourite place of hers that had become a sanctuary for quiet moments. There, he presented her with a small, intricately wrapped box. Its paper adorned with delicate patterns that caught the fading light.
Y/N’s heart fluttered with anticipation as she carefully unwrapped the box. Inside lay a pen, and as soon as her eyes fell upon it, she recognized it instantly. The pen was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, unlike anything she had ever seen. Its barrel was made of a rare, silvery metal that seemed to shimmer with its own light, reflecting a rainbow of hues with each movement. Intricate patterns were etched into the surface, forming an elegant design that was both enchanting and sophisticated. The cap of the pen was adorned with a small, iridescent gemstone that captured and held the light, casting a soft, magical glow.
Her eyes widened in recognition and delight. “Is this…,” she breathed, her voice filled with awe and disbelief. “I.. I never imagined I’d actually own one.”
Her fingers traced the elegant curves of the pen; heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and wonder. The pen was more than just a beautiful object; it was a tool of her craft. Its smooth, balanced design promised an effortless writing experience, and the magical quality of the pen added a touch of enchantment to her translations and writings. It was an instrument that would transform her passion for ancient languages into something even more special. The rare, magical properties of the pen would make her translations come alive, imbuing her work with a subtle, otherworldly grace.
Bucky smiled, his eyes brighten with a blend of affection and a knowing gaze as he recognized the sparkle in her eyes, “I’m glad you like it,” he said, his tone was gentle.
Her curiosity piqued as she asked, “How did you know?”, her voice a mixture of wonder and intrigue. “I never told you about this pen before.” Y/N's mind raced as she tried to recall if she had ever mentioned it in passing or left any clues that Bucky could have picked up on. She couldn't think of a single instance. This pen had been a private dream of hers, a wish she had never shared with anyone.
Bucky’s smile was warm, though his eyes carried a hint of enigmatic depth. He took her hand and wrapped it around his arm. “Maybe I’ve been paying attention,” he said with a hint of playful mystery. “Or maybe I just know you better than you think.”
There was a depth in his eyes, a flicker of something significant that Y/N couldn’t quite place; an intensity that suggested an understanding beyond the ordinary. It was as if somehow he managed to delve into her innermost thoughts and desires, uncovering a secret she had kept even from herself. The pen, though exquisitely beautiful, seemed to hold an unspoken meaning; a connection that went beyond the surface.
Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion as she gazed at Bucky, realising just how much he meant to her. His gift was not just a luxury; it was a symbol of their growing intimacy. It was a reminder that Bucky had been attentive; that he had taken the time to understand and appreciate her in ways she had never imagined. Their relationship had started with hesitancy and uncertainty, a tentative dance around each other’s flaws and reputation. Now over time, he had become her rock, her constant companion, and the person she loved more deeply than she ever thought possible.
As her focus returned to the present, Wanda’s voice cut through Y/N’s reflections. “Then what’s bothering you?” Wanda asked, her tone shifting to a more serious note.
Y/N's thoughts then drifted to the moment she met Wanda.
It had been an unexpected yet delightful encounter, filled with a sense of destiny. Wanda was a powerful witch from the magic tower, renowned for her skills and wisdom. Despite her young age, she was considered a prodigy, the youngest ever to hold such a prestigious position.
She had met Wanda through Bucky, and their bond had been immediate. Both women shared a deep fascination with ancient languages, and their mutual interest had led to a close friendship. They spent countless hours together, deciphering old grimoires and delving into the intricacies of forgotten tongues.
Though they had only recently come together, Y/N felt an odd sense of familiarity with Wanda, as if their connection had roots extending beyond the present. It was a rare and cherished connection for Y/N, one that made her feel even more at home in her new life.
“Y/N,” Wanda said, her voice firmer this time, “Snap out of it. I’m serious. What’s troubling you?”
She set her teacup down, her expression growing solemn. “Bucky has been having nightmares,” she began, her voice tinged with worry. She recounted the restless nights, the desperation in Bucky’s voice, and how he had clung to her, unable to let go.
Wanda listened intently, her silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. there was sense that she knew more than she was letting on, but Wanda’s demeanour remained calm and collected. “Maybe it’s just the memories from the war taking their toll,” Wanda suggested softly, though her eyes harbouring a deeper understanding.
Y/N’s heart ached at the thought. Maybe it was; maybe it was just the souls he had slain coming back to haunt him; but something in her guts says otherwise. She could sense that this wasn’t just a recurrence of old wounds. Because sometimes, when Bucky awoke from these terrors, she could hear him muttering her name, his voice barely above a whisper; laced with despair. And then it always ended up with Bucky burying his cock deep inside her as he held her close for the rest of the night, clinging to her as if she were his anchor in a storm.
She continued to explain things that did not add up to Wanda’s theory, “And each time these nightmares haunt him, he ends up…” she hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “...ho-holding me for the rest of the night; refusing to let me go,” she explained, her voice threaded with genuine frustration and concern. It was as though his need to hold her was an instinctive response to stave off the terror that plagued his dreams.
Wanda’s eyes twinkled with a hint of playful exasperation. “Oh so you’re bragging to me now? That your husband loves you so much he won’t let you leave the bed?” Her comment, though seemingly light-hearted, carried an undercurrent of truth. In hindsight, it simply might have sounded like jealousy from an unmarried woman but especially to Y/N, who failed to see Wanda’s words as more than just playful teasing , the hidden meaning went unnoticed.
Her cheeks tingled with a deep blush; her laugh was a sound of an underlying embarrassment. “No, it’s not like that!” she protested flusteredly.
Wanda’s laughter was light and carefree, hiding the subtle shift in the atmosphere. “Well, it certainly sounds like it. But seriously, if Bucky’s having nightmares, it’s probably remnant of what he had gone through in the wars he fought. Men like him carry those scars deeply,” Wanda said, her voice softening with a note of empathy.
As they continued to enjoy their tea, Y/N tried to shake off the lingering unease. Wanda’s teasing and their shared laughter provided a temporary respite from her worries. But as she looked at her friend, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky’s nightmares than the memories of the war. For now, though, she let Wanda’s playful banter and their camaraderie soothe her, even if only for a little while.
Bucky stood in the dimly lit room, the soft hum of a nearby lamp casting long shadows against the walls. The air was thick as the cold of the night mingled with the lack of warmth in his eyes. On a heavy wooden table in front of him lay a collection of weapons, each one meticulously arranged in a precise order. The blades, all different in shape and size, gleamed menacingly in the dull light, their sharp edges catching the faint glint of the lamp’s glow.
Carefully inspecting the weapons in front of him, his fingers running over the smooth steel with a precision that bordered on obsession. He picked up a particularly long and slender dagger. And as he turned the blade in his hand, the metal caught the light and cast a cold, eerie reflection of his face. It was a haunting image; his eyes, usually a clear, expressive blue, were now shadowed and distant, their depths hollow and impenetrable. There was a deadness to them that spoke of countless battles fought and horrors witnessed. His face was a mask of stoicism, but beneath the surface, there was a storm raging, a maelstrom of past regrets and unresolved anger.
Bucky’s grip around the handle was tight, his knuckles white with the intensity of his hold. The veins in his hands stood out prominently, a stark contrast to the smooth, polished steel of the weapon. Each knife was a reminder of the skills he had honed, the battles he had fought, and the assassinations he had carried out.
He moved to another knife, a small throwing blade with a wickedly sharp edge, he tested its balance with a practised flick of his wrist. The blade spun through the air with a deadly precision before landing with a soft thud into a luxurious painting hung against the wall. His eyes followed its path, and for a moment, a flicker of anger flashed across his face.
Suddenly, a figure materialised from the shadows, revealing itself with a slight shimmer. Wanda had been there all along, invisible, her presence unnoticed until now. She stepped into view with a wry smile as she glanced at the knife that had embedded itself dangerously close to her. “Whoa, didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that,” she said, her tone a mix of surprise and light-heartedness.
The room was silent for a while, only the faint sounds of Bucky’s movements carried through. He was deeply engrossed in his fortitude, his concentration absolute, a far stretch to the gentle, affectionate man he was whenever Y/N's near. In this moment, Bucky was a figure of intense focus and grim determination. His silence was punctuated only by the clatter of knives and the soft hiss of steel slicing through the air as he continued to hone his weapons.
Wanda observed him with a mix of respect and concern. The light-hearted air that usually surrounded her had vanished, replaced by a more sombre and serious demeanour. She approached quietly, her footsteps barely making a sound on the floor. As she neared, her voice broke the oppressive silence. “Everything’s ready for the mission,” she said, her tone was devoid of the usual playfulness. Her words were carefully measured and the gravity of the situation reflected in her gaze.
Bucky didn’t look up, his hands moving with grace as he continued to arrange his arsenal. “I’m almost finished,” he replied tersely, his voice betraying no hint of emotion. His focus was unwavering, his mind wholly consumed by the mission that lay ahead. The weight of his resolve was palpable, filling the room with an air of silenced tension.
Wanda’s expression softened slightly as she watched him. She understood the depth of his commitment and the toll it took on him. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know?,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a note of gentle concern.
Bucky’s jaw tightened, suddenly remembering the brutal betrayal that had led him to this predicament in the first place. The memory of the past; that fateful decision and the ancient magic that brought him back to this very moment, surged through his mind.
The night was alive with chaos as Bucky rode with frantic urgency, the pounding of hooves on the snow-covered ground mingling with the roar of a storm that mirrored the tempest in his heart. His breath came in sharp, visible gasps as he urged his horse to greater speeds, each beat of its powerful legs seeming to push him closer to the nightmare he feared. The familiar landscape of his northern estate was barely visible through the blizzard, the swirling snowflakes obscuring his vision and adding to the mounting dread.
His mind raced, his thoughts a blur of fear and desperation. “No, please, no,” he muttered under his breath, the words a futile plea against the encroaching darkness. The relentless clamour of battle reached his ears, a discordant symphony of clashing steel and anguished cries that only heightened his anxiety.
As he neared the mansion, the sight that greeted him was one of utter devastation. Smoke billowed from the once-pristine home, and the sounds of combat grew louder, more intense. Bucky's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the urgency to reach his wife. He dismounted quickly, his boots sinking into the snow as he sprinted toward the entrance.
The once-beautiful halls of the mansion were now a scene of utter carnage. The rich tapestries were torn, their vibrant colours now marred by bloodstains. Bodies of servants and knights alike, lay scattered, their lives snuffed out like candles in the winter wind. The floor was slick with a dark, ominous red, and the walls bore the marks of a brutal struggle. Bucky’s gaze was steely, his rage a palpable force that seemed to drive him forward, each step a grim determination to find his wife.
His hands tightened around the hilts of his weapons, the familiar weight of his knives and sword was a small comfort in the midst of the chaos. With each enemy he encountered, his movements were swift and lethal, the precision of his attacks was such a visible difference to the disarray around him. The flashes of steel and the sharp cries of the dying filled the air, but Bucky’s focus was singular. He barely registered the battle around him, his mind a relentless drive toward that one singular goal: Y/N.
Finally, he reached the door to their private quarters. It was ajar, hanging precariously on its hinges. Bucky pushed it open with a forceful shove, his breath catching in his throat at the sight that met him. The room was eerily silent, save for the soft, steady sound of the cold wind outside. His eyes swept the room, a chilling realisation dawning as he took in the scene.
There, amidst the wreckage, lay Y/N, her once-beautiful form now crumpled on the floor. Her delicate back was marred by a series of gaping wounds, the result of a brutal assault. The sight of her lifeless body, curled protectively on the bloody floor, sent a jolt of horror through Bucky. Tears sprang to his eyes, blurring his vision as he stumbled forward, each step heavy with dread and despair.
As he drew closer, the true extent of the tragedy revealed itself. Y/N’s arms were wrapped tightly around something; a small, fragile bundle. His heart clenched painfully as he realised what it was. With trembling hands, he gently pried the baby from her cold embrace, his fingers barely able to grasp the tiny form. The baby was motionless, the silence of its little body a crushing blow to his already shattered soul.
“No, no, no,” Bucky’s voice was a desperate whisper, choked with indescribable grief. He cradled Y/N against his chest, his tears falling freely now as he held the lifeless bodies of both her and their child. His sobs were raw, guttural, the sound of a man who had lost everything. The weight of their deaths was unbearable, a suffocating agony that seemed to crush his very spirit.
As he held her, a torrent of emotions surge through him: anguish, disbelief, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. His world had come crashing down, and the weight of his misery was almost unbearable, his tears fell from the blue of his eyes, “Please, please.” His breaths came in shaky, tortured gasps, as his quivering hands cupped her pale cheeks, “Open your eyes, my dear. I beg of you.” Her closed eyes remained stubbornly shut, unaffected to his hopeless pleas. The stillness of her form was a cruel reminder of those tender mornings when she would pretend to sleep just a little longer, feigning ignorance to his gentle kisses as he tried to rouse her
His hands moved to caress his child, the tiny body so still and unresponsive. The weight of his grief rendered him speechless, unable to utter a single word through the crushing pain. The absence of the high-pitched chortles and shrieks, the silence that echoed back at him, was a devastating reality to the lively sounds he had grown accustomed to. The baby, who had always responded to his touch with joy and curiosity, now lay motionless.
His heart shattered with the brutal realisation that this was not merely the loss of his beloved wife but also the crushing end to the life of their child. The sight of Y/N’s bloodied form and the lifelessness of their child were etched into his mind, a haunting image that would never fade.
Bucky’s and Y/N’s relationship had not started with ease. In their first lives, the beginning of their marriage was awkward; Bucky’s rough edges clashing with her gentle spirit. He had not known how to be tender, how to navigate the complexities of human emotion. Months were the time that Y/N's eyes would look up at him with evident fear and Bucky’s cold exterior unable to convey his true feelings.
But his wife, his dearest, with her unwavering patience and kindness, had been a constant light in his life. She had shown him what it meant to be human, to be gentle and caring. Despite his monstrous past, she had embraced him with an acceptance that was both humbling and transformative.
Their early days together were marked by a series of stumbles and missteps. Bucky’s attempts at intimacy often fell short, his rough touch and brusque mannerisms was the polar opposite to Y/N’s softness. Yet, her constant presence was a soothing wave to his soul. Over time, their awkward interactions gave way to a profound connection. Her warmth and understanding had nurtured a deep-rooted trust between them.
Bucky had fallen in love with her in a way that he had never thought possible, his heart swelling with a happiness that was both new and overwhelming.
And when the news of her pregnancy travels to his ears, Bucky’s joy had been boundless. He vowed to protect them both with everything he had, to shield them from harm and create a future filled with love and security. The dream of their family, of a life together with their child, was a beacon of hope amidst the shadows of Bucky’s past.
As the arrival of his firstborn got closer and closer, Bucky was determined to embrace this new chapter and leave the violence behind; so he approached the Emperor with a request to retire. He sought the reward for his years of service; an end to the wars and a chance to build a peaceful life with his family. But the Emperor, a man consumed by greed and a desire to retain his most powerful weapon, refused his request outright.
Bucky, fueled by the righteous fury of a man protecting his family’s future, resorted to threats. The Winter Soldier’s formidable reputation, sharpened by years of brutal efficiency, made the Emperor cower in fear. Terrified of his own creation, the Emperor reluctantly agreed to grant Bucky his only wish; but only under the condition that he would win one last war for him.
Bucky, driven by his desire to secure a safe future for Y/N and their child, agreed to the terms.
As the cruel fate had written, the Emperor’s promise was a deceitful trap.
While Bucky was away fighting the final battle, the Emperor’s true intentions were revealed. Viewing Y/N and their newborn child as distractions; potential threats to his plans and Bucky’s dedication. So he sought out to send his troops to Bucky’s estate. Their mission was clear: remove the ‘distraction,’ the family that Bucky had sworn to protect. The Emperor’s greed and paranoia had led him to a treacherous betrayal.
Now, that dream of a peaceful future with Y/N and their child lay shattered before him, replaced by the devastating reality of their deaths. The promise of safety and love was obliterated by the cruel hand of betrayal, leaving Bucky with nothing but the hollow weight of his ruined dreams.
In a heart-wrenching moment, Wanda appeared out of thin air, collapsing to the floor, her own form battered and bloodied. She had fought valiantly, protesting against the Master of the magic tower who had conspired with the Emperor. The same Master who had helped remove the magical protection Wanda had placed around Y/N and the baby, a gift she had bestowed as a token of becoming the child's godmother.
The battle had taken its toll on her, yet the sight of Y/N’s and the baby’s unnatural stillness pained her more than any wound maiming her own body. In her dying breath, Wanda dragged herself toward Y/N, who lay silently in her husband’s arms. Her eyes filled with sorrowful determination as he gripped Bucky’s collar, “Are you willing to do anything to save her?”
Bucky was a man lost in a sea of agony, drowning in raw sorrow and overwhelming despair. His world had crumbled around him, leaving him numb and detached from reality. He could scarcely comprehend the magnitude of his loss, the emptiness that now consumed his heart. His vision blurred with tears, he could barely focus on Wanda’s words, the weight of his devastation pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket.
Wanda’s grip tightened, her eyes pleading as she uttered, “Dammit Bucky, answer me! Will you?!”
Bucky’s gaze fell on the soulless forms of his beloved wife and child in his arms. He imagined the light of their eyes shining once more, the sound of their voices filling the silence that had taken over. As he envisioned the warmth and laughter that had once been a part of his life, a wave of fierce determination washed over him. His eyes burned with a fierceness, a resolve that was born of immense grief and love. He nodded with resolute certainty, his jaw set in grim determination.
Wanda smirked triumphly; there was a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes as if she knew what the future held for them. “Now go and kill that fucking bastard,” she commanded, her voice strained but resolute.
The world around Bucky seemed to warp and dissolve as her magical chants echoed in his mind; the room, the blood, and the bodies fading away. Just before everything vanished, Bucky leaned down to place a kiss on Erica's lips and the baby's cheek, a silent vow to return and save them. Tears fell from his eyes, mingling with the blood on their skin. He whispered, "I promise, I'll come back for you."
It was as if the world was turned upside down as he was pulled backward through time. The blizzard outside was replaced by the heat of a summer battlefield, the familiar chaos of combat giving way to the eerie silence of a different kind of conflict.
Bucky’s breath came in ragged gasps as he surveyed the new surroundings, the scent of human flesh burning and the sounds of distant artillery woke him to a reality he thought he would never see again. His heart still raced, the pain of his loss a constant weight in his chest.
The memories of Y/N’s cold body and their child’s stillness haunted him, more than the bodies of corpses piling in front of him. The remnants of that heart-wrenching image was fresh in his mind. His gaze hardened as he realised where he was; he was no longer in the wreckage of his home but back in the midst of a war he once fought long before. In fact, exactly a few months until he is to be wed to Y/N.
As he took in his surroundings, Bucky felt a chilling sense of déjà vu, a haunting awareness that he was being thrust back into a time when the stakes were high and lives hung in the balance. The agony of losing his wife and their child was now a burning ember in his heart, driving him forward with a renewed sense of purpose and a determination to change the course of fate. And this time his mission was not to win the war but to put an end to the emperor's life.
“No. I have to do this alone.” His determination was a wall of resoluteness.
Wanda felt a deep ache in her heart for the burden he carried. She knew that the weight of his mission and the pain of his loss were almost unbearable. She thought about the fact that all of this might not even happened if not for Y/N’s discovery in their first lives.
After translating one of Wanda’s old grimoires; Y/N discovered an ancient forbidden magic where the ability of manipulating time is not a myth but actually a reality. Though she had been sceptical of its possibilities, Wanda on the other hand was convinced.
Since then, Wanda had been experimenting with time, first testing it on objects. Shredded paper reconstructed back to its original shape, and slowly she cast it on a wilted flower, bringing it back to when it bloomed. In time, Wanda learned the possibility of the magic to turn back time for more than just small things, but only at a price.
Dabbling with the magic to such an extent would mean to lose the most important trait of a person, something deeply tied to their identity or purpose. For each individual, this trait was different, and the magic demanded a unique sacrifice based on what they valued most. That was why Wanda had asked Bucky if he was willing to do anything to save Y/N.
Agreeing to it, Bucky would have to sacrifice his sight. His vision was essential not only for his prowess in battle but also for the simple yet immense joy of seeing his loved ones; Y/N and their child.
Losing his sight meant relinquishing his ability to protect them with the sharp precision he had always relied on. No longer would he be able to look into their eyes and see the warmth that sparked his every day. He would miss the simple joy of seeing his wife's pink cheeks flushed when he kisses her or the radiant beauty of her smile lighting up a room.
He wouldn’t be able to watch his child’s milestones; first steps, the way they would grow and change over time. He’d miss the subtle shifts in their expressions, the silent conversations shared through glances, and the small, fleeting moments that paint a vivid picture of their development.
That was the sacrifice he needed to make to save them.
Wanda had explained that the loss of his sight would occur gradually over time, not instantaneously. She reassured him that she would find a way to prevent it or at least mitigate its impact.
Bucky stayed quiet, contemplating the gravity of his decision, the weight of his sacrifice pressing heavily on his mind. “We can worry about that later.”
Then he diverted the conversation, “What did you say that time? Oh, ‘Go and kill that fucking bastard’?” A wicked smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.
Wanda’s eyes flashed with unwavering determination. “And I meant every single word.”
Part III >> (coming soon: August 4th)
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: yes, i have been reliving this pain in my head ever since i posted that blurb earlier this year :) also, i tried really hard to hide the time-travel aspect until we reach bucky's flashback. i really hope it was conveyed well for you guys to understand what happened. anyways, please leave me the crumbs of your thoughts on this chapter for me to read. thank you so much! i'll see you in a few days.
An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.
Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end) (August, 4th)
Words: 6.4k++
Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader
Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, sprinkles of fluff, death, blood, violence, a truck load of angst, heartbreak, and honestly… just raw pain. so, i'd say grab a box of tissue or a shoulder to cry on, just in case.
A/N: i am sorry for what is about to happen in this chapter. but, please know that I love you. and oh, did i mention that release date is based on my local time zone (UTC+08:00)? anyway, I hope you enjoy your time.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Y/N was stirred awake from her dreamless sleep by none other than the restless movements on the shared bed. Blinking her eyes open, the dim light from the moon intruded her sight; her blurry vision glanced across the room, the light casted a pale glow on the surface. On her side, Bucky was tossing and turning; his face contorted in utter distress. His muscular body was taut, sweat glistening on his skin. His breaths came in harsh, uneven gasps, and his hands clutched on the sheets as if he were holding on for dear life.
“Please, no, please,” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with desperation. Y/N’s heart ached at the sight of him in such torment. Reaching out, her hands gently touching his arm. His skin was clammy and hot, his muscles twitched under her fingertips. She could feel the frantic pulse under his skin, the erratic rhythm mirroring the chaos in his mind.
“Bucky,” she called softly, her voice laced with concern. “Bucky, wake up.” She sat up and leaned over him. Her hand moving to his sweaty scalp; caressing through his hair, gentle and soothing. “It’s okay, Bucky. You’re okay. Please, open your eyes.”
Bucky’s body jerked as he jolted awake causing his wife to startle at his sudden movement. His eyes wide and unfocused as the salty tears spilled from the corners. His haunted gaze stared into the void, his chest heaving, body shivering. He seemed disoriented, his heart pounding so loudly that it drowned out the world around him. Y/N’s voice, however, managed to pierce through the ringing in his ears.
Her words were like a lifeline, a beacon in the darkness of his mind. Each gentle whisper seemed to pull him further from the grip of his nightmare, grounding him back in the reality where he was safe and loved. She repeated his name, each utterance calm and reassuring, hoping to anchor him to the present. “Bucky?”, her tone soft; filled with worry.
He blinked, finally able to see her. “Y/N?” His voice sounded small and broken compared to his large and seemingly powerful build. It was a voice filled with vulnerability, a voice that seemed almost alien coming from someone who is usually so strong. His eyes, typically so steely and determined, were now wide and clouded with fear and confusion; lingered with trails of terror from whatever it was he saw behind his closed eyes.
It pained her to see him like this, reduced to a shadow of the man she knew. The dissonance between his imposing physique and the fragility in his voice was contradicting, making her heart ache for him even more. “Yes, Bucky. It’s me,” she replied gently, her hands delicately traced his clenched fists; drawing meaningless circles around his knuckles.
For a moment, he simply stared at her, as if he couldn’t believe she was real; sitting so close for him touch. Her bare skin glistened underneath the moonlight. The soft pink of her cheeks and lips, the bright gleam of her eyes; it made her look ethereal, almost otherworldly. An epitome of warmth and light; she looked so… alive.
Within seconds, without warning, Bucky’s body surged forward, engulfing her in a fierce embrace. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice trembling as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His body shaking with silent sobs. She could feel his breath, hot and ragged against her skin, each exhale filled with a depth of emotion that he rarely displayed.
She held him tightly, her hands running soothingly up and down his back. “I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m here, Bucky.” Her heart ached for him, for the pain that he was obviously carrying alone. Her thoughts raced, wondering what kind of demons were haunting his dreams, what kind of pain he was enduring. She felt a fierce protectiveness grew within her, a desperate need to comfort and shield him from whatever it was that tormented him. Each sob that wracked his body seemed to pierce her own heart, deepening her resolve to be his strength.
Bucky’s body trembled with suppressed sobs, as she continued to stroke his hair, whispering soothing words until his breathing began to steady and his tears slowed. She could feel the tension slowly leaving his body, his muscles relaxing under her touch.
Her whispers were a constant reassurance, a reminder that he was not alone, that she was there. Each stroke of her hand, each soft word, was a promise of her unwavering support and love. She could feel him clinging to her, as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.
As Bucky reluctantly pulled away from her arms, she looked up at his broken state; noting the redness in his eyes and nose, the tear stains on his scruffy cheeks, “What’s wrong, my love?” she asked softly, wiping away the remaining tears flowing. Her voice was gentle, but her eyes were filled with determination.
It had been a few months into their marriage, and the seasons had changed since Y/N had first arrived at Bucky’s mansion. The cold, snowy landscape of winter had gradually given way to the bloom of spring, and with it, the promise of new beginnings.
In those early days, Y/N’s feelings for Bucky had been built on a foundation of simple trust. As his wife, she had expected to offer support and loyalty, and in return, she hoped for a stable companionship. Yet, it didn't take long for those initial feelings to deepen into something far more profound.
She had been drawn to his warmth and the vulnerability he rarely showed to others. It was in the quiet moments, when they were alone, that she began to see a different side of him. Far from the heinous rumours people blatantly consume; a side that was not just a fierce protector, but also a man capable of deep affection.
Yet, amidst the beauty of their budding romance, one thing had remained constant: Bucky's nightmares. They were not as frequent as they had been at the start, but they were consistent, recurring often enough to disrupt their otherwise peaceful nights.
Y/N had grown accustomed to waking in the middle of the night to find him thrashing in his sleep, his brow furrowed in anxiety, his breaths sounding fractured, his skin sticky with sweat. However, she had never seen him like this; tears freely fell from his eyes, looking so fragile and broken. It was both heart-wrenching and humbling to witness. She worried about him, about the torment he seemed to carry within him. She longed to understand the source of his pain, to be his support system even for a little bit.
She continued to gently probe him to tell her the truth; to share his darkness only for him to shake his head, tears filling up yet again as he unwilling to put his pain into words. Instead of speaking out, he leaned in and kissed her deeply, his lips conveying a need that went beyond physical desire. His hands caressed her bare skin, tender and fervent, as if seeking solace in her touch. Each kiss was a wordless plea, a desperate attempt to find comfort and reassurance in the only way he knew how. His touch conveyed an urgent need, a gentle exploration that spoke of his love and longing for her. The desperation in his kiss was clearly evident, a tangible manifestation of the torment he was trying to escape.
Y/N responded with equal tenderness, understanding that this moment was about comfort and connection, not lust. She understood that he needed this, and though she longed to know what was haunting him and hoped to share his burden, however, she respected his silence. It was his story to tell after all, so for now she’ll let him hold her. To have their bodies entwined the way he wanted; to let him have the relief he so hopelessly craved for.
Bucky’s love was passionate yet filled with love that she felt tears pricking at her own eyes. She sensed the depth of his emotions; in each thrust into her heat, in every trembling whisper of “i love you”s, every drop of his warmth spilling into her. She could feel the weight of his sorrow, the intensity of his need for her. Her heart swelled with deep affection, her own tears mixing with his as they clung to each other. She wanted to take away his pain, to be his sanctuary in this moment of vulnerability.
Y/N sat in the sunlit parlour, the soft rays of the morning sun casting a golden hue over the elegant room. Her fingers traced the delicate patterns on her teacup, her thoughts drifting as she absently stirred her tea. Across from her, Wanda sipped her tea with a relaxed smile, her demeanour calm and inviting. Despite the serene setting, Y/N’s mind was occupied with the troubling events of the previous night.
Wanda’s eyes, sharp and perceptive, caught the distant look on Y/N’s face. She tilted her head slightly, her tone teasing yet concerned. “What’s on your mind, Y/N? Has Bucky been bullying you again?” The playful tone was intended to lighten the mood, but Y/N’s thoughts were remained dark.
A soft laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, and she shook her head, a genuine smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. “No, far from it. Bucky has always been a sweetheart, you know that.” she replied, her voice warm with fondness as her thoughts wandered back to her husband.
Wanda scoffed softly, “If making you walk weird every morning is not bullying to you, I don’t know what is.” She was quick with her wit of banter. Y/N shook her head as her cheeks glowed with a pinkish shade. Her memories meandered to the time when she had first settled into their new home in the northern region.
The shift from the bustling capital to this colder, more serene landscape had been a significant change, but one she embraced with open arms. It was the beginning of winter, and the snow painted the landscape in a pristine blanket of white. The gentle snowflakes drifted down, and beneath the thin layer of snow, resilient flowers continued to bloom. The contrast was beautiful and invigorating; a sense of peace and tranquillity engulfed her.
She remembered her first days in the sprawling mansion, its grandeur both overwhelming and exhilarating. The staff members, a group of dedicated and welcoming individuals, had eagerly guided her through her new responsibilities as the lady of the mansion. Mrs. Lane, the head maid, had taken special care in introducing Y/N to the intricacies of managing such a vast estate. From the daily routines to the ceremonial duties, Mrs. Lane’s patience and kindness made Y/N’s transition smoother. She recalled the staff’s warm demeanour, their smiles and nods of approval as they showed her the ropes, their hospitality making her feel right at home.
Bucky, too, had been noticeably livelier since she had arrived. The maids, even the knights, frequently mentioned how their lord seemed more cheerful in the days when she was around. Y/N took pride in their acknowledgement, feeling that her presence had brought a positive change to their household fluttered her heart. The compliments and the warmth from those around her were affirmations that she was settling in well and that her husband was happy.
And then there was that one particular evening, as she and Bucky walked through their garden. The sun was setting behind them, the air was crisp, and the snow-covered grounds sparkled in the last remaining light of the winter sun. As they strolled hand in hand, Bucky’s touch was the source of relief against the chill of the season. He led her to a secluded spot under a snow-laden tree, a favourite place of hers that had become a sanctuary for quiet moments. There, he presented her with a small, intricately wrapped box. Its paper adorned with delicate patterns that caught the fading light.
Y/N’s heart fluttered with anticipation as she carefully unwrapped the box. Inside lay a pen, and as soon as her eyes fell upon it, she recognized it instantly. The pen was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, unlike anything she had ever seen. Its barrel was made of a rare, silvery metal that seemed to shimmer with its own light, reflecting a rainbow of hues with each movement. Intricate patterns were etched into the surface, forming an elegant design that was both enchanting and sophisticated. The cap of the pen was adorned with a small, iridescent gemstone that captured and held the light, casting a soft, magical glow.
Her eyes widened in recognition and delight. “Is this…,” she breathed, her voice filled with awe and disbelief. “I.. I never imagined I’d actually own one.”
Her fingers traced the elegant curves of the pen; heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and wonder. The pen was more than just a beautiful object; it was a tool of her craft. Its smooth, balanced design promised an effortless writing experience, and the magical quality of the pen added a touch of enchantment to her translations and writings. It was an instrument that would transform her passion for ancient languages into something even more special. The rare, magical properties of the pen would make her translations come alive, imbuing her work with a subtle, otherworldly grace.
Bucky smiled, his eyes brighten with a blend of affection and a knowing gaze as he recognized the sparkle in her eyes, “I’m glad you like it,” he said, his tone was gentle.
Her curiosity piqued as she asked, “How did you know?”, her voice a mixture of wonder and intrigue. “I never told you about this pen before.” Y/N's mind raced as she tried to recall if she had ever mentioned it in passing or left any clues that Bucky could have picked up on. She couldn't think of a single instance. This pen had been a private dream of hers, a wish she had never shared with anyone.
Bucky’s smile was warm, though his eyes carried a hint of enigmatic depth. He took her hand and wrapped it around his arm. “Maybe I’ve been paying attention,” he said with a hint of playful mystery. “Or maybe I just know you better than you think.”
There was a depth in his eyes, a flicker of something significant that Y/N couldn’t quite place; an intensity that suggested an understanding beyond the ordinary. It was as if somehow he managed to delve into her innermost thoughts and desires, uncovering a secret she had kept even from herself. The pen, though exquisitely beautiful, seemed to hold an unspoken meaning; a connection that went beyond the surface.
Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion as she gazed at Bucky, realising just how much he meant to her. His gift was not just a luxury; it was a symbol of their growing intimacy. It was a reminder that Bucky had been attentive; that he had taken the time to understand and appreciate her in ways she had never imagined. Their relationship had started with hesitancy and uncertainty, a tentative dance around each other’s flaws and reputation. Now over time, he had become her rock, her constant companion, and the person she loved more deeply than she ever thought possible.
As her focus returned to the present, Wanda’s voice cut through Y/N’s reflections. “Then what’s bothering you?” Wanda asked, her tone shifting to a more serious note.
Y/N's thoughts then drifted to the moment she met Wanda.
It had been an unexpected yet delightful encounter, filled with a sense of destiny. Wanda was a powerful witch from the magic tower, renowned for her skills and wisdom. Despite her young age, she was considered a prodigy, the youngest ever to hold such a prestigious position.
She had met Wanda through Bucky, and their bond had been immediate. Both women shared a deep fascination with ancient languages, and their mutual interest had led to a close friendship. They spent countless hours together, deciphering old grimoires and delving into the intricacies of forgotten tongues.
Though they had only recently come together, Y/N felt an odd sense of familiarity with Wanda, as if their connection had roots extending beyond the present. It was a rare and cherished connection for Y/N, one that made her feel even more at home in her new life.
“Y/N,” Wanda said, her voice firmer this time, “Snap out of it. I’m serious. What’s troubling you?”
She set her teacup down, her expression growing solemn. “Bucky has been having nightmares,” she began, her voice tinged with worry. She recounted the restless nights, the desperation in Bucky’s voice, and how he had clung to her, unable to let go.
Wanda listened intently, her silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. there was sense that she knew more than she was letting on, but Wanda’s demeanour remained calm and collected. “Maybe it’s just the memories from the war taking their toll,” Wanda suggested softly, though her eyes harbouring a deeper understanding.
Y/N’s heart ached at the thought. Maybe it was; maybe it was just the souls he had slain coming back to haunt him; but something in her guts says otherwise. She could sense that this wasn’t just a recurrence of old wounds. Because sometimes, when Bucky awoke from these terrors, she could hear him muttering her name, his voice barely above a whisper; laced with despair. And then it always ended up with Bucky burying his cock deep inside her as he held her close for the rest of the night, clinging to her as if she were his anchor in a storm.
She continued to explain things that did not add up to Wanda’s theory, “And each time these nightmares haunt him, he ends up…” she hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “...ho-holding me for the rest of the night; refusing to let me go,” she explained, her voice threaded with genuine frustration and concern. It was as though his need to hold her was an instinctive response to stave off the terror that plagued his dreams.
Wanda’s eyes twinkled with a hint of playful exasperation. “Oh so you’re bragging to me now? That your husband loves you so much he won’t let you leave the bed?” Her comment, though seemingly light-hearted, carried an undercurrent of truth. In hindsight, it simply might have sounded like jealousy from an unmarried woman but especially to Y/N, who failed to see Wanda’s words as more than just playful teasing , the hidden meaning went unnoticed.
Her cheeks tingled with a deep blush; her laugh was a sound of an underlying embarrassment. “No, it’s not like that!” she protested flusteredly.
Wanda’s laughter was light and carefree, hiding the subtle shift in the atmosphere. “Well, it certainly sounds like it. But seriously, if Bucky’s having nightmares, it’s probably remnant of what he had gone through in the wars he fought. Men like him carry those scars deeply,” Wanda said, her voice softening with a note of empathy.
As they continued to enjoy their tea, Y/N tried to shake off the lingering unease. Wanda’s teasing and their shared laughter provided a temporary respite from her worries. But as she looked at her friend, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky’s nightmares than the memories of the war. For now, though, she let Wanda’s playful banter and their camaraderie soothe her, even if only for a little while.
Bucky stood in the dimly lit room, the soft hum of a nearby lamp casting long shadows against the walls. The air was thick as the cold of the night mingled with the lack of warmth in his eyes. On a heavy wooden table in front of him lay a collection of weapons, each one meticulously arranged in a precise order. The blades, all different in shape and size, gleamed menacingly in the dull light, their sharp edges catching the faint glint of the lamp’s glow.
Carefully inspecting the weapons in front of him, his fingers running over the smooth steel with a precision that bordered on obsession. He picked up a particularly long and slender dagger. And as he turned the blade in his hand, the metal caught the light and cast a cold, eerie reflection of his face. It was a haunting image; his eyes, usually a clear, expressive blue, were now shadowed and distant, their depths hollow and impenetrable. There was a deadness to them that spoke of countless battles fought and horrors witnessed. His face was a mask of stoicism, but beneath the surface, there was a storm raging, a maelstrom of past regrets and unresolved anger.
Bucky’s grip around the handle was tight, his knuckles white with the intensity of his hold. The veins in his hands stood out prominently, a stark contrast to the smooth, polished steel of the weapon. Each knife was a reminder of the skills he had honed, the battles he had fought, and the assassinations he had carried out.
He moved to another knife, a small throwing blade with a wickedly sharp edge, he tested its balance with a practised flick of his wrist. The blade spun through the air with a deadly precision before landing with a soft thud into a luxurious painting hung against the wall. His eyes followed its path, and for a moment, a flicker of anger flashed across his face.
Suddenly, a figure materialised from the shadows, revealing itself with a slight shimmer. Wanda had been there all along, invisible, her presence unnoticed until now. She stepped into view with a wry smile as she glanced at the knife that had embedded itself dangerously close to her. “Whoa, didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that,” she said, her tone a mix of surprise and light-heartedness.
The room was silent for a while, only the faint sounds of Bucky’s movements carried through. He was deeply engrossed in his fortitude, his concentration absolute, a far stretch to the gentle, affectionate man he was whenever Y/N's near. In this moment, Bucky was a figure of intense focus and grim determination. His silence was punctuated only by the clatter of knives and the soft hiss of steel slicing through the air as he continued to hone his weapons.
Wanda observed him with a mix of respect and concern. The light-hearted air that usually surrounded her had vanished, replaced by a more sombre and serious demeanour. She approached quietly, her footsteps barely making a sound on the floor. As she neared, her voice broke the oppressive silence. “Everything’s ready for the mission,” she said, her tone was devoid of the usual playfulness. Her words were carefully measured and the gravity of the situation reflected in her gaze.
Bucky didn’t look up, his hands moving with grace as he continued to arrange his arsenal. “I’m almost finished,” he replied tersely, his voice betraying no hint of emotion. His focus was unwavering, his mind wholly consumed by the mission that lay ahead. The weight of his resolve was palpable, filling the room with an air of silenced tension.
Wanda’s expression softened slightly as she watched him. She understood the depth of his commitment and the toll it took on him. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know?,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a note of gentle concern.
Bucky’s jaw tightened, suddenly remembering the brutal betrayal that had led him to this predicament in the first place. The memory of the past; that fateful decision and the ancient magic that brought him back to this very moment, surged through his mind.
The night was alive with chaos as Bucky rode with frantic urgency, the pounding of hooves on the snow-covered ground mingling with the roar of a storm that mirrored the tempest in his heart. His breath came in sharp, visible gasps as he urged his horse to greater speeds, each beat of its powerful legs seeming to push him closer to the nightmare he feared. The familiar landscape of his northern estate was barely visible through the blizzard, the swirling snowflakes obscuring his vision and adding to the mounting dread.
His mind raced, his thoughts a blur of fear and desperation. “No, please, no,” he muttered under his breath, the words a futile plea against the encroaching darkness. The relentless clamour of battle reached his ears, a discordant symphony of clashing steel and anguished cries that only heightened his anxiety.
As he neared the mansion, the sight that greeted him was one of utter devastation. Smoke billowed from the once-pristine home, and the sounds of combat grew louder, more intense. Bucky's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the urgency to reach his wife. He dismounted quickly, his boots sinking into the snow as he sprinted toward the entrance.
The once-beautiful halls of the mansion were now a scene of utter carnage. The rich tapestries were torn, their vibrant colours now marred by bloodstains. Bodies of servants and knights alike, lay scattered, their lives snuffed out like candles in the winter wind. The floor was slick with a dark, ominous red, and the walls bore the marks of a brutal struggle. Bucky’s gaze was steely, his rage a palpable force that seemed to drive him forward, each step a grim determination to find his wife.
His hands tightened around the hilts of his weapons, the familiar weight of his knives and sword was a small comfort in the midst of the chaos. With each enemy he encountered, his movements were swift and lethal, the precision of his attacks was such a visible difference to the disarray around him. The flashes of steel and the sharp cries of the dying filled the air, but Bucky’s focus was singular. He barely registered the battle around him, his mind a relentless drive toward that one singular goal: Y/N.
Finally, he reached the door to their private quarters. It was ajar, hanging precariously on its hinges. Bucky pushed it open with a forceful shove, his breath catching in his throat at the sight that met him. The room was eerily silent, save for the soft, steady sound of the cold wind outside. His eyes swept the room, a chilling realisation dawning as he took in the scene.
There, amidst the wreckage, lay Y/N, her once-beautiful form now crumpled on the floor. Her delicate back was marred by a series of gaping wounds, the result of a brutal assault. The sight of her lifeless body, curled protectively on the bloody floor, sent a jolt of horror through Bucky. Tears sprang to his eyes, blurring his vision as he stumbled forward, each step heavy with dread and despair.
As he drew closer, the true extent of the tragedy revealed itself. Y/N’s arms were wrapped tightly around something; a small, fragile bundle. His heart clenched painfully as he realised what it was. With trembling hands, he gently pried the baby from her cold embrace, his fingers barely able to grasp the tiny form. The baby was motionless, the silence of its little body a crushing blow to his already shattered soul.
“No, no, no,” Bucky’s voice was a desperate whisper, choked with indescribable grief. He cradled Y/N against his chest, his tears falling freely now as he held the lifeless bodies of both her and their child. His sobs were raw, guttural, the sound of a man who had lost everything. The weight of their deaths was unbearable, a suffocating agony that seemed to crush his very spirit.
As he held her, a torrent of emotions surge through him: anguish, disbelief, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. His world had come crashing down, and the weight of his misery was almost unbearable, his tears fell from the blue of his eyes, “Please, please.” His breaths came in shaky, tortured gasps, as his quivering hands cupped her pale cheeks, “Open your eyes, my dear. I beg of you.” Her closed eyes remained stubbornly shut, unaffected to his hopeless pleas. The stillness of her form was a cruel reminder of those tender mornings when she would pretend to sleep just a little longer, feigning ignorance to his gentle kisses as he tried to rouse her
His hands moved to caress his child, the tiny body so still and unresponsive. The weight of his grief rendered him speechless, unable to utter a single word through the crushing pain. The absence of the high-pitched chortles and shrieks, the silence that echoed back at him, was a devastating reality to the lively sounds he had grown accustomed to. The baby, who had always responded to his touch with joy and curiosity, now lay motionless.
His heart shattered with the brutal realisation that this was not merely the loss of his beloved wife but also the crushing end to the life of their child. The sight of Y/N’s bloodied form and the lifelessness of their child were etched into his mind, a haunting image that would never fade.
Bucky’s and Y/N’s relationship had not started with ease. In their first lives, the beginning of their marriage was awkward; Bucky’s rough edges clashing with her gentle spirit. He had not known how to be tender, how to navigate the complexities of human emotion. Months were the time that Y/N's eyes would look up at him with evident fear and Bucky’s cold exterior unable to convey his true feelings.
But his wife, his dearest, with her unwavering patience and kindness, had been a constant light in his life. She had shown him what it meant to be human, to be gentle and caring. Despite his monstrous past, she had embraced him with an acceptance that was both humbling and transformative.
Their early days together were marked by a series of stumbles and missteps. Bucky’s attempts at intimacy often fell short, his rough touch and brusque mannerisms was the polar opposite to Y/N’s softness. Yet, her constant presence was a soothing wave to his soul. Over time, their awkward interactions gave way to a profound connection. Her warmth and understanding had nurtured a deep-rooted trust between them.
Bucky had fallen in love with her in a way that he had never thought possible, his heart swelling with a happiness that was both new and overwhelming.
And when the news of her pregnancy travels to his ears, Bucky’s joy had been boundless. He vowed to protect them both with everything he had, to shield them from harm and create a future filled with love and security. The dream of their family, of a life together with their child, was a beacon of hope amidst the shadows of Bucky’s past.
As the arrival of his firstborn got closer and closer, Bucky was determined to embrace this new chapter and leave the violence behind; so he approached the Emperor with a request to retire. He sought the reward for his years of service; an end to the wars and a chance to build a peaceful life with his family. But the Emperor, a man consumed by greed and a desire to retain his most powerful weapon, refused his request outright.
Bucky, fueled by the righteous fury of a man protecting his family’s future, resorted to threats. The Winter Soldier’s formidable reputation, sharpened by years of brutal efficiency, made the Emperor cower in fear. Terrified of his own creation, the Emperor reluctantly agreed to grant Bucky his only wish; but only under the condition that he would win one last war for him.
Bucky, driven by his desire to secure a safe future for Y/N and their child, agreed to the terms.
As the cruel fate had written, the Emperor’s promise was a deceitful trap.
While Bucky was away fighting the final battle, the Emperor’s true intentions were revealed. Viewing Y/N and their newborn child as distractions; potential threats to his plans and Bucky’s dedication. So he sought out to send his troops to Bucky’s estate. Their mission was clear: remove the ‘distraction,’ the family that Bucky had sworn to protect. The Emperor’s greed and paranoia had led him to a treacherous betrayal.
Now, that dream of a peaceful future with Y/N and their child lay shattered before him, replaced by the devastating reality of their deaths. The promise of safety and love was obliterated by the cruel hand of betrayal, leaving Bucky with nothing but the hollow weight of his ruined dreams.
In a heart-wrenching moment, Wanda appeared out of thin air, collapsing to the floor, her own form battered and bloodied. She had fought valiantly, protesting against the Master of the magic tower who had conspired with the Emperor. The same Master who had helped remove the magical protection Wanda had placed around Y/N and the baby, a gift she had bestowed as a token of becoming the child's godmother.
The battle had taken its toll on her, yet the sight of Y/N’s and the baby’s unnatural stillness pained her more than any wound maiming her own body. In her dying breath, Wanda dragged herself toward Y/N, who lay silently in her husband’s arms. Her eyes filled with sorrowful determination as he gripped Bucky’s collar, “Are you willing to do anything to save her?”
Bucky was a man lost in a sea of agony, drowning in raw sorrow and overwhelming despair. His world had crumbled around him, leaving him numb and detached from reality. He could scarcely comprehend the magnitude of his loss, the emptiness that now consumed his heart. His vision blurred with tears, he could barely focus on Wanda’s words, the weight of his devastation pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket.
Wanda’s grip tightened, her eyes pleading as she uttered, “Dammit Bucky, answer me! Will you?!”
Bucky’s gaze fell on the soulless forms of his beloved wife and child in his arms. He imagined the light of their eyes shining once more, the sound of their voices filling the silence that had taken over. As he envisioned the warmth and laughter that had once been a part of his life, a wave of fierce determination washed over him. His eyes burned with a fierceness, a resolve that was born of immense grief and love. He nodded with resolute certainty, his jaw set in grim determination.
Wanda smirked triumphly; there was a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes as if she knew what the future held for them. “Now go and kill that fucking bastard,” she commanded, her voice strained but resolute.
The world around Bucky seemed to warp and dissolve as her magical chants echoed in his mind; the room, the blood, and the bodies fading away. Just before everything vanished, Bucky leaned down to place a kiss on Erica's lips and the baby's cheek, a silent vow to return and save them. Tears fell from his eyes, mingling with the blood on their skin. He whispered, "I promise, I'll come back for you."
It was as if the world was turned upside down as he was pulled backward through time. The blizzard outside was replaced by the heat of a summer battlefield, the familiar chaos of combat giving way to the eerie silence of a different kind of conflict.
Bucky’s breath came in ragged gasps as he surveyed the new surroundings, the scent of human flesh burning and the sounds of distant artillery woke him to a reality he thought he would never see again. His heart still raced, the pain of his loss a constant weight in his chest.
The memories of Y/N’s cold body and their child’s stillness haunted him, more than the bodies of corpses piling in front of him. The remnants of that heart-wrenching image was fresh in his mind. His gaze hardened as he realised where he was; he was no longer in the wreckage of his home but back in the midst of a war he once fought long before. In fact, exactly a few months until he is to be wed to Y/N.
As he took in his surroundings, Bucky felt a chilling sense of déjà vu, a haunting awareness that he was being thrust back into a time when the stakes were high and lives hung in the balance. The agony of losing his wife and their child was now a burning ember in his heart, driving him forward with a renewed sense of purpose and a determination to change the course of fate. And this time his mission was not to win the war but to put an end to the emperor's life.
“No. I have to do this alone.” His determination was a wall of resoluteness.
Wanda felt a deep ache in her heart for the burden he carried. She knew that the weight of his mission and the pain of his loss were almost unbearable. She thought about the fact that all of this might not even happened if not for Y/N’s discovery in their first lives.
After translating one of Wanda’s old grimoires; Y/N discovered an ancient forbidden magic where the ability of manipulating time is not a myth but actually a reality. Though she had been sceptical of its possibilities, Wanda on the other hand was convinced.
Since then, Wanda had been experimenting with time, first testing it on objects. Shredded paper reconstructed back to its original shape, and slowly she cast it on a wilted flower, bringing it back to when it bloomed. In time, Wanda learned the possibility of the magic to turn back time for more than just small things, but only at a price.
Dabbling with the magic to such an extent would mean to lose the most important trait of a person, something deeply tied to their identity or purpose. For each individual, this trait was different, and the magic demanded a unique sacrifice based on what they valued most. That was why Wanda had asked Bucky if he was willing to do anything to save Y/N.
Agreeing to it, Bucky would have to sacrifice his sight. His vision was essential not only for his prowess in battle but also for the simple yet immense joy of seeing his loved ones; Y/N and their child.
Losing his sight meant relinquishing his ability to protect them with the sharp precision he had always relied on. No longer would he be able to look into their eyes and see the warmth that sparked his every day. He would miss the simple joy of seeing his wife's pink cheeks flushed when he kisses her or the radiant beauty of her smile lighting up a room.
He wouldn’t be able to watch his child’s milestones; first steps, the way they would grow and change over time. He’d miss the subtle shifts in their expressions, the silent conversations shared through glances, and the small, fleeting moments that paint a vivid picture of their development.
That was the sacrifice he needed to make to save them.
Wanda had explained that the loss of his sight would occur gradually over time, not instantaneously. She reassured him that she would find a way to prevent it or at least mitigate its impact.
Bucky stayed quiet, contemplating the gravity of his decision, the weight of his sacrifice pressing heavily on his mind. “We can worry about that later.”
Then he diverted the conversation, “What did you say that time? Oh, ‘Go and kill that fucking bastard’?” A wicked smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.
Wanda’s eyes flashed with unwavering determination. “And I meant every single word.”
Part III >> (coming soon: August 4th)
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: yes, i have been reliving this pain in my head ever since i posted that blurb earlier this year :) also, i tried really hard to hide the time-travel aspect until we reach bucky's flashback. i really hope it was conveyed well for you guys to understand what happened. anyways, please leave me the crumbs of your thoughts on this chapter for me to read. thank you so much! i'll see you in a few days.
An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.
Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end) (August, 4th)
Words: 6.4k++
Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, sprinkles of fluff, death, blood, violence, a truck load of angst, heartbreak, and honestly… just raw pain. so, i'd say grab a box of tissue or a shoulder to cry on, just in case.
A/N: i am sorry for what is about to happen in this chapter. but, please know that I love you. and oh, did i mention that release date is based on my local time zone (UTC+08:00)? anyway, I hope you enjoy your time.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Y/N was stirred awake from her dreamless sleep by none other than the restless movements on the shared bed. Blinking her eyes open, the dim light from the moon intruded her sight; her blurry vision glanced across the room, the light casted a pale glow on the surface. On her side, Bucky was tossing and turning; his face contorted in utter distress. His muscular body was taut, sweat glistening on his skin. His breaths came in harsh, uneven gasps, and his hands clutched on the sheets as if he were holding on for dear life.
“Please, no, please,” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with desperation. Y/N’s heart ached at the sight of him in such torment. Reaching out, her hands gently touching his arm. His skin was clammy and hot, his muscles twitched under her fingertips. She could feel the frantic pulse under his skin, the erratic rhythm mirroring the chaos in his mind.
“Bucky,” she called softly, her voice laced with concern. “Bucky, wake up.” She sat up and leaned over him. Her hand moving to his sweaty scalp; caressing through his hair, gentle and soothing. “It’s okay, Bucky. You’re okay. Please, open your eyes.”
Bucky’s body jerked as he jolted awake causing his wife to startle at his sudden movement. His eyes wide and unfocused as the salty tears spilled from the corners. His haunted gaze stared into the void, his chest heaving, body shivering. He seemed disoriented, his heart pounding so loudly that it drowned out the world around him. Y/N’s voice, however, managed to pierce through the ringing in his ears.
Her words were like a lifeline, a beacon in the darkness of his mind. Each gentle whisper seemed to pull him further from the grip of his nightmare, grounding him back in the reality where he was safe and loved. She repeated his name, each utterance calm and reassuring, hoping to anchor him to the present. “Bucky?”, her tone soft; filled with worry.
He blinked, finally able to see her. “Y/N?” His voice sounded small and broken compared to his large and seemingly powerful build. It was a voice filled with vulnerability, a voice that seemed almost alien coming from someone who is usually so strong. His eyes, typically so steely and determined, were now wide and clouded with fear and confusion; lingered with trails of terror from whatever it was he saw behind his closed eyes.
It pained her to see him like this, reduced to a shadow of the man she knew. The dissonance between his imposing physique and the fragility in his voice was contradicting, making her heart ache for him even more. “Yes, Bucky. It’s me,” she replied gently, her hands delicately traced his clenched fists; drawing meaningless circles around his knuckles.
For a moment, he simply stared at her, as if he couldn’t believe she was real; sitting so close for him touch. Her bare skin glistened underneath the moonlight. The soft pink of her cheeks and lips, the bright gleam of her eyes; it made her look ethereal, almost otherworldly. An epitome of warmth and light; she looked so… alive.
Within seconds, without warning, Bucky’s body surged forward, engulfing her in a fierce embrace. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice trembling as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His body shaking with silent sobs. She could feel his breath, hot and ragged against her skin, each exhale filled with a depth of emotion that he rarely displayed.
She held him tightly, her hands running soothingly up and down his back. “I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m here, Bucky.” Her heart ached for him, for the pain that he was obviously carrying alone. Her thoughts raced, wondering what kind of demons were haunting his dreams, what kind of pain he was enduring. She felt a fierce protectiveness grew within her, a desperate need to comfort and shield him from whatever it was that tormented him. Each sob that wracked his body seemed to pierce her own heart, deepening her resolve to be his strength.
Bucky’s body trembled with suppressed sobs, as she continued to stroke his hair, whispering soothing words until his breathing began to steady and his tears slowed. She could feel the tension slowly leaving his body, his muscles relaxing under her touch.
Her whispers were a constant reassurance, a reminder that he was not alone, that she was there. Each stroke of her hand, each soft word, was a promise of her unwavering support and love. She could feel him clinging to her, as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.
As Bucky reluctantly pulled away from her arms, she looked up at his broken state; noting the redness in his eyes and nose, the tear stains on his scruffy cheeks, “What’s wrong, my love?” she asked softly, wiping away the remaining tears flowing. Her voice was gentle, but her eyes were filled with determination.
It had been a few months into their marriage, and the seasons had changed since Y/N had first arrived at Bucky’s mansion. The cold, snowy landscape of winter had gradually given way to the bloom of spring, and with it, the promise of new beginnings.
In those early days, Y/N’s feelings for Bucky had been built on a foundation of simple trust. As his wife, she had expected to offer support and loyalty, and in return, she hoped for a stable companionship. Yet, it didn't take long for those initial feelings to deepen into something far more profound.
She had been drawn to his warmth and the vulnerability he rarely showed to others. It was in the quiet moments, when they were alone, that she began to see a different side of him. Far from the heinous rumours people blatantly consume; a side that was not just a fierce protector, but also a man capable of deep affection.
Yet, amidst the beauty of their budding romance, one thing had remained constant: Bucky's nightmares. They were not as frequent as they had been at the start, but they were consistent, recurring often enough to disrupt their otherwise peaceful nights.
Y/N had grown accustomed to waking in the middle of the night to find him thrashing in his sleep, his brow furrowed in anxiety, his breaths sounding fractured, his skin sticky with sweat. However, she had never seen him like this; tears freely fell from his eyes, looking so fragile and broken. It was both heart-wrenching and humbling to witness. She worried about him, about the torment he seemed to carry within him. She longed to understand the source of his pain, to be his support system even for a little bit.
She continued to gently probe him to tell her the truth; to share his darkness only for him to shake his head, tears filling up yet again as he unwilling to put his pain into words. Instead of speaking out, he leaned in and kissed her deeply, his lips conveying a need that went beyond physical desire. His hands caressed her bare skin, tender and fervent, as if seeking solace in her touch. Each kiss was a wordless plea, a desperate attempt to find comfort and reassurance in the only way he knew how. His touch conveyed an urgent need, a gentle exploration that spoke of his love and longing for her. The desperation in his kiss was clearly evident, a tangible manifestation of the torment he was trying to escape.
Y/N responded with equal tenderness, understanding that this moment was about comfort and connection, not lust. She understood that he needed this, and though she longed to know what was haunting him and hoped to share his burden, however, she respected his silence. It was his story to tell after all, so for now she’ll let him hold her. To have their bodies entwined the way he wanted; to let him have the relief he so hopelessly craved for.
Bucky’s love was passionate yet filled with love that she felt tears pricking at her own eyes. She sensed the depth of his emotions; in each thrust into her heat, in every trembling whisper of “i love you”s, every drop of his warmth spilling into her. She could feel the weight of his sorrow, the intensity of his need for her. Her heart swelled with deep affection, her own tears mixing with his as they clung to each other. She wanted to take away his pain, to be his sanctuary in this moment of vulnerability.
Y/N sat in the sunlit parlour, the soft rays of the morning sun casting a golden hue over the elegant room. Her fingers traced the delicate patterns on her teacup, her thoughts drifting as she absently stirred her tea. Across from her, Wanda sipped her tea with a relaxed smile, her demeanour calm and inviting. Despite the serene setting, Y/N’s mind was occupied with the troubling events of the previous night.
Wanda’s eyes, sharp and perceptive, caught the distant look on Y/N’s face. She tilted her head slightly, her tone teasing yet concerned. “What’s on your mind, Y/N? Has Bucky been bullying you again?” The playful tone was intended to lighten the mood, but Y/N’s thoughts were remained dark.
A soft laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, and she shook her head, a genuine smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. “No, far from it. Bucky has always been a sweetheart, you know that.” she replied, her voice warm with fondness as her thoughts wandered back to her husband.
Wanda scoffed softly, “If making you walk weird every morning is not bullying to you, I don’t know what is.” She was quick with her wit of banter. Y/N shook her head as her cheeks glowed with a pinkish shade. Her memories meandered to the time when she had first settled into their new home in the northern region.
The shift from the bustling capital to this colder, more serene landscape had been a significant change, but one she embraced with open arms. It was the beginning of winter, and the snow painted the landscape in a pristine blanket of white. The gentle snowflakes drifted down, and beneath the thin layer of snow, resilient flowers continued to bloom. The contrast was beautiful and invigorating; a sense of peace and tranquillity engulfed her.
She remembered her first days in the sprawling mansion, its grandeur both overwhelming and exhilarating. The staff members, a group of dedicated and welcoming individuals, had eagerly guided her through her new responsibilities as the lady of the mansion. Mrs. Lane, the head maid, had taken special care in introducing Y/N to the intricacies of managing such a vast estate. From the daily routines to the ceremonial duties, Mrs. Lane’s patience and kindness made Y/N’s transition smoother. She recalled the staff’s warm demeanour, their smiles and nods of approval as they showed her the ropes, their hospitality making her feel right at home.
Bucky, too, had been noticeably livelier since she had arrived. The maids, even the knights, frequently mentioned how their lord seemed more cheerful in the days when she was around. Y/N took pride in their acknowledgement, feeling that her presence had brought a positive change to their household fluttered her heart. The compliments and the warmth from those around her were affirmations that she was settling in well and that her husband was happy.
And then there was that one particular evening, as she and Bucky walked through their garden. The sun was setting behind them, the air was crisp, and the snow-covered grounds sparkled in the last remaining light of the winter sun. As they strolled hand in hand, Bucky’s touch was the source of relief against the chill of the season. He led her to a secluded spot under a snow-laden tree, a favourite place of hers that had become a sanctuary for quiet moments. There, he presented her with a small, intricately wrapped box. Its paper adorned with delicate patterns that caught the fading light.
Y/N’s heart fluttered with anticipation as she carefully unwrapped the box. Inside lay a pen, and as soon as her eyes fell upon it, she recognized it instantly. The pen was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, unlike anything she had ever seen. Its barrel was made of a rare, silvery metal that seemed to shimmer with its own light, reflecting a rainbow of hues with each movement. Intricate patterns were etched into the surface, forming an elegant design that was both enchanting and sophisticated. The cap of the pen was adorned with a small, iridescent gemstone that captured and held the light, casting a soft, magical glow.
Her eyes widened in recognition and delight. “Is this…,” she breathed, her voice filled with awe and disbelief. “I.. I never imagined I’d actually own one.”
Her fingers traced the elegant curves of the pen; heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and wonder. The pen was more than just a beautiful object; it was a tool of her craft. Its smooth, balanced design promised an effortless writing experience, and the magical quality of the pen added a touch of enchantment to her translations and writings. It was an instrument that would transform her passion for ancient languages into something even more special. The rare, magical properties of the pen would make her translations come alive, imbuing her work with a subtle, otherworldly grace.
Bucky smiled, his eyes brighten with a blend of affection and a knowing gaze as he recognized the sparkle in her eyes, “I’m glad you like it,” he said, his tone was gentle.
Her curiosity piqued as she asked, “How did you know?”, her voice a mixture of wonder and intrigue. “I never told you about this pen before.” Y/N's mind raced as she tried to recall if she had ever mentioned it in passing or left any clues that Bucky could have picked up on. She couldn't think of a single instance. This pen had been a private dream of hers, a wish she had never shared with anyone.
Bucky’s smile was warm, though his eyes carried a hint of enigmatic depth. He took her hand and wrapped it around his arm. “Maybe I’ve been paying attention,” he said with a hint of playful mystery. “Or maybe I just know you better than you think.”
There was a depth in his eyes, a flicker of something significant that Y/N couldn’t quite place; an intensity that suggested an understanding beyond the ordinary. It was as if somehow he managed to delve into her innermost thoughts and desires, uncovering a secret she had kept even from herself. The pen, though exquisitely beautiful, seemed to hold an unspoken meaning; a connection that went beyond the surface.
Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion as she gazed at Bucky, realising just how much he meant to her. His gift was not just a luxury; it was a symbol of their growing intimacy. It was a reminder that Bucky had been attentive; that he had taken the time to understand and appreciate her in ways she had never imagined. Their relationship had started with hesitancy and uncertainty, a tentative dance around each other’s flaws and reputation. Now over time, he had become her rock, her constant companion, and the person she loved more deeply than she ever thought possible.
As her focus returned to the present, Wanda’s voice cut through Y/N’s reflections. “Then what’s bothering you?” Wanda asked, her tone shifting to a more serious note.
Y/N's thoughts then drifted to the moment she met Wanda.
It had been an unexpected yet delightful encounter, filled with a sense of destiny. Wanda was a powerful witch from the magic tower, renowned for her skills and wisdom. Despite her young age, she was considered a prodigy, the youngest ever to hold such a prestigious position.
She had met Wanda through Bucky, and their bond had been immediate. Both women shared a deep fascination with ancient languages, and their mutual interest had led to a close friendship. They spent countless hours together, deciphering old grimoires and delving into the intricacies of forgotten tongues.
Though they had only recently come together, Y/N felt an odd sense of familiarity with Wanda, as if their connection had roots extending beyond the present. It was a rare and cherished connection for Y/N, one that made her feel even more at home in her new life.
“Y/N,” Wanda said, her voice firmer this time, “Snap out of it. I’m serious. What’s troubling you?”
She set her teacup down, her expression growing solemn. “Bucky has been having nightmares,” she began, her voice tinged with worry. She recounted the restless nights, the desperation in Bucky’s voice, and how he had clung to her, unable to let go.
Wanda listened intently, her silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. there was sense that she knew more than she was letting on, but Wanda’s demeanour remained calm and collected. “Maybe it’s just the memories from the war taking their toll,” Wanda suggested softly, though her eyes harbouring a deeper understanding.
Y/N’s heart ached at the thought. Maybe it was; maybe it was just the souls he had slain coming back to haunt him; but something in her guts says otherwise. She could sense that this wasn’t just a recurrence of old wounds. Because sometimes, when Bucky awoke from these terrors, she could hear him muttering her name, his voice barely above a whisper; laced with despair. And then it always ended up with Bucky burying his cock deep inside her as he held her close for the rest of the night, clinging to her as if she were his anchor in a storm.
She continued to explain things that did not add up to Wanda’s theory, “And each time these nightmares haunt him, he ends up…” she hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “...ho-holding me for the rest of the night; refusing to let me go,” she explained, her voice threaded with genuine frustration and concern. It was as though his need to hold her was an instinctive response to stave off the terror that plagued his dreams.
Wanda’s eyes twinkled with a hint of playful exasperation. “Oh so you’re bragging to me now? That your husband loves you so much he won’t let you leave the bed?” Her comment, though seemingly light-hearted, carried an undercurrent of truth. In hindsight, it simply might have sounded like jealousy from an unmarried woman but especially to Y/N, who failed to see Wanda’s words as more than just playful teasing , the hidden meaning went unnoticed.
Her cheeks tingled with a deep blush; her laugh was a sound of an underlying embarrassment. “No, it’s not like that!” she protested flusteredly.
Wanda’s laughter was light and carefree, hiding the subtle shift in the atmosphere. “Well, it certainly sounds like it. But seriously, if Bucky’s having nightmares, it’s probably remnant of what he had gone through in the wars he fought. Men like him carry those scars deeply,” Wanda said, her voice softening with a note of empathy.
As they continued to enjoy their tea, Y/N tried to shake off the lingering unease. Wanda’s teasing and their shared laughter provided a temporary respite from her worries. But as she looked at her friend, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky’s nightmares than the memories of the war. For now, though, she let Wanda’s playful banter and their camaraderie soothe her, even if only for a little while.
Bucky stood in the dimly lit room, the soft hum of a nearby lamp casting long shadows against the walls. The air was thick as the cold of the night mingled with the lack of warmth in his eyes. On a heavy wooden table in front of him lay a collection of weapons, each one meticulously arranged in a precise order. The blades, all different in shape and size, gleamed menacingly in the dull light, their sharp edges catching the faint glint of the lamp’s glow.
Carefully inspecting the weapons in front of him, his fingers running over the smooth steel with a precision that bordered on obsession. He picked up a particularly long and slender dagger. And as he turned the blade in his hand, the metal caught the light and cast a cold, eerie reflection of his face. It was a haunting image; his eyes, usually a clear, expressive blue, were now shadowed and distant, their depths hollow and impenetrable. There was a deadness to them that spoke of countless battles fought and horrors witnessed. His face was a mask of stoicism, but beneath the surface, there was a storm raging, a maelstrom of past regrets and unresolved anger.
Bucky’s grip around the handle was tight, his knuckles white with the intensity of his hold. The veins in his hands stood out prominently, a stark contrast to the smooth, polished steel of the weapon. Each knife was a reminder of the skills he had honed, the battles he had fought, and the assassinations he had carried out.
He moved to another knife, a small throwing blade with a wickedly sharp edge, he tested its balance with a practised flick of his wrist. The blade spun through the air with a deadly precision before landing with a soft thud into a luxurious painting hung against the wall. His eyes followed its path, and for a moment, a flicker of anger flashed across his face.
Suddenly, a figure materialised from the shadows, revealing itself with a slight shimmer. Wanda had been there all along, invisible, her presence unnoticed until now. She stepped into view with a wry smile as she glanced at the knife that had embedded itself dangerously close to her. “Whoa, didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that,” she said, her tone a mix of surprise and light-heartedness.
The room was silent for a while, only the faint sounds of Bucky’s movements carried through. He was deeply engrossed in his fortitude, his concentration absolute, a far stretch to the gentle, affectionate man he was whenever Y/N's near. In this moment, Bucky was a figure of intense focus and grim determination. His silence was punctuated only by the clatter of knives and the soft hiss of steel slicing through the air as he continued to hone his weapons.
Wanda observed him with a mix of respect and concern. The light-hearted air that usually surrounded her had vanished, replaced by a more sombre and serious demeanour. She approached quietly, her footsteps barely making a sound on the floor. As she neared, her voice broke the oppressive silence. “Everything’s ready for the mission,” she said, her tone was devoid of the usual playfulness. Her words were carefully measured and the gravity of the situation reflected in her gaze.
Bucky didn’t look up, his hands moving with grace as he continued to arrange his arsenal. “I’m almost finished,” he replied tersely, his voice betraying no hint of emotion. His focus was unwavering, his mind wholly consumed by the mission that lay ahead. The weight of his resolve was palpable, filling the room with an air of silenced tension.
Wanda’s expression softened slightly as she watched him. She understood the depth of his commitment and the toll it took on him. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know?,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a note of gentle concern.
Bucky’s jaw tightened, suddenly remembering the brutal betrayal that had led him to this predicament in the first place. The memory of the past; that fateful decision and the ancient magic that brought him back to this very moment, surged through his mind.
The night was alive with chaos as Bucky rode with frantic urgency, the pounding of hooves on the snow-covered ground mingling with the roar of a storm that mirrored the tempest in his heart. His breath came in sharp, visible gasps as he urged his horse to greater speeds, each beat of its powerful legs seeming to push him closer to the nightmare he feared. The familiar landscape of his northern estate was barely visible through the blizzard, the swirling snowflakes obscuring his vision and adding to the mounting dread.
His mind raced, his thoughts a blur of fear and desperation. “No, please, no,” he muttered under his breath, the words a futile plea against the encroaching darkness. The relentless clamour of battle reached his ears, a discordant symphony of clashing steel and anguished cries that only heightened his anxiety.
As he neared the mansion, the sight that greeted him was one of utter devastation. Smoke billowed from the once-pristine home, and the sounds of combat grew louder, more intense. Bucky's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the urgency to reach his wife. He dismounted quickly, his boots sinking into the snow as he sprinted toward the entrance.
The once-beautiful halls of the mansion were now a scene of utter carnage. The rich tapestries were torn, their vibrant colours now marred by bloodstains. Bodies of servants and knights alike, lay scattered, their lives snuffed out like candles in the winter wind. The floor was slick with a dark, ominous red, and the walls bore the marks of a brutal struggle. Bucky’s gaze was steely, his rage a palpable force that seemed to drive him forward, each step a grim determination to find his wife.
His hands tightened around the hilts of his weapons, the familiar weight of his knives and sword was a small comfort in the midst of the chaos. With each enemy he encountered, his movements were swift and lethal, the precision of his attacks was such a visible difference to the disarray around him. The flashes of steel and the sharp cries of the dying filled the air, but Bucky’s focus was singular. He barely registered the battle around him, his mind a relentless drive toward that one singular goal: Y/N.
Finally, he reached the door to their private quarters. It was ajar, hanging precariously on its hinges. Bucky pushed it open with a forceful shove, his breath catching in his throat at the sight that met him. The room was eerily silent, save for the soft, steady sound of the cold wind outside. His eyes swept the room, a chilling realisation dawning as he took in the scene.
There, amidst the wreckage, lay Y/N, her once-beautiful form now crumpled on the floor. Her delicate back was marred by a series of gaping wounds, the result of a brutal assault. The sight of her lifeless body, curled protectively on the bloody floor, sent a jolt of horror through Bucky. Tears sprang to his eyes, blurring his vision as he stumbled forward, each step heavy with dread and despair.
As he drew closer, the true extent of the tragedy revealed itself. Y/N’s arms were wrapped tightly around something; a small, fragile bundle. His heart clenched painfully as he realised what it was. With trembling hands, he gently pried the baby from her cold embrace, his fingers barely able to grasp the tiny form. The baby was motionless, the silence of its little body a crushing blow to his already shattered soul.
“No, no, no,” Bucky’s voice was a desperate whisper, choked with indescribable grief. He cradled Y/N against his chest, his tears falling freely now as he held the lifeless bodies of both her and their child. His sobs were raw, guttural, the sound of a man who had lost everything. The weight of their deaths was unbearable, a suffocating agony that seemed to crush his very spirit.
As he held her, a torrent of emotions surge through him: anguish, disbelief, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. His world had come crashing down, and the weight of his misery was almost unbearable, his tears fell from the blue of his eyes, “Please, please.” His breaths came in shaky, tortured gasps, as his quivering hands cupped her pale cheeks, “Open your eyes, my dear. I beg of you.” Her closed eyes remained stubbornly shut, unaffected to his hopeless pleas. The stillness of her form was a cruel reminder of those tender mornings when she would pretend to sleep just a little longer, feigning ignorance to his gentle kisses as he tried to rouse her
His hands moved to caress his child, the tiny body so still and unresponsive. The weight of his grief rendered him speechless, unable to utter a single word through the crushing pain. The absence of the high-pitched chortles and shrieks, the silence that echoed back at him, was a devastating reality to the lively sounds he had grown accustomed to. The baby, who had always responded to his touch with joy and curiosity, now lay motionless.
His heart shattered with the brutal realisation that this was not merely the loss of his beloved wife but also the crushing end to the life of their child. The sight of Y/N’s bloodied form and the lifelessness of their child were etched into his mind, a haunting image that would never fade.
Bucky’s and Y/N’s relationship had not started with ease. In their first lives, the beginning of their marriage was awkward; Bucky’s rough edges clashing with her gentle spirit. He had not known how to be tender, how to navigate the complexities of human emotion. Months were the time that Y/N's eyes would look up at him with evident fear and Bucky’s cold exterior unable to convey his true feelings.
But his wife, his dearest, with her unwavering patience and kindness, had been a constant light in his life. She had shown him what it meant to be human, to be gentle and caring. Despite his monstrous past, she had embraced him with an acceptance that was both humbling and transformative.
Their early days together were marked by a series of stumbles and missteps. Bucky’s attempts at intimacy often fell short, his rough touch and brusque mannerisms was the polar opposite to Y/N’s softness. Yet, her constant presence was a soothing wave to his soul. Over time, their awkward interactions gave way to a profound connection. Her warmth and understanding had nurtured a deep-rooted trust between them.
Bucky had fallen in love with her in a way that he had never thought possible, his heart swelling with a happiness that was both new and overwhelming.
And when the news of her pregnancy travels to his ears, Bucky’s joy had been boundless. He vowed to protect them both with everything he had, to shield them from harm and create a future filled with love and security. The dream of their family, of a life together with their child, was a beacon of hope amidst the shadows of Bucky’s past.
As the arrival of his firstborn got closer and closer, Bucky was determined to embrace this new chapter and leave the violence behind; so he approached the Emperor with a request to retire. He sought the reward for his years of service; an end to the wars and a chance to build a peaceful life with his family. But the Emperor, a man consumed by greed and a desire to retain his most powerful weapon, refused his request outright.
Bucky, fueled by the righteous fury of a man protecting his family’s future, resorted to threats. The Winter Soldier’s formidable reputation, sharpened by years of brutal efficiency, made the Emperor cower in fear. Terrified of his own creation, the Emperor reluctantly agreed to grant Bucky his only wish; but only under the condition that he would win one last war for him.
Bucky, driven by his desire to secure a safe future for Y/N and their child, agreed to the terms.
As the cruel fate had written, the Emperor’s promise was a deceitful trap.
While Bucky was away fighting the final battle, the Emperor’s true intentions were revealed. Viewing Y/N and their newborn child as distractions; potential threats to his plans and Bucky’s dedication. So he sought out to send his troops to Bucky’s estate. Their mission was clear: remove the ‘distraction,’ the family that Bucky had sworn to protect. The Emperor’s greed and paranoia had led him to a treacherous betrayal.
Now, that dream of a peaceful future with Y/N and their child lay shattered before him, replaced by the devastating reality of their deaths. The promise of safety and love was obliterated by the cruel hand of betrayal, leaving Bucky with nothing but the hollow weight of his ruined dreams.
In a heart-wrenching moment, Wanda appeared out of thin air, collapsing to the floor, her own form battered and bloodied. She had fought valiantly, protesting against the Master of the magic tower who had conspired with the Emperor. The same Master who had helped remove the magical protection Wanda had placed around Y/N and the baby, a gift she had bestowed as a token of becoming the child's godmother.
The battle had taken its toll on her, yet the sight of Y/N’s and the baby’s unnatural stillness pained her more than any wound maiming her own body. In her dying breath, Wanda dragged herself toward Y/N, who lay silently in her husband’s arms. Her eyes filled with sorrowful determination as he gripped Bucky’s collar, “Are you willing to do anything to save her?”
Bucky was a man lost in a sea of agony, drowning in raw sorrow and overwhelming despair. His world had crumbled around him, leaving him numb and detached from reality. He could scarcely comprehend the magnitude of his loss, the emptiness that now consumed his heart. His vision blurred with tears, he could barely focus on Wanda’s words, the weight of his devastation pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket.
Wanda’s grip tightened, her eyes pleading as she uttered, “Dammit Bucky, answer me! Will you?!”
Bucky’s gaze fell on the soulless forms of his beloved wife and child in his arms. He imagined the light of their eyes shining once more, the sound of their voices filling the silence that had taken over. As he envisioned the warmth and laughter that had once been a part of his life, a wave of fierce determination washed over him. His eyes burned with a fierceness, a resolve that was born of immense grief and love. He nodded with resolute certainty, his jaw set in grim determination.
Wanda smirked triumphly; there was a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes as if she knew what the future held for them. “Now go and kill that fucking bastard,” she commanded, her voice strained but resolute.
The world around Bucky seemed to warp and dissolve as her magical chants echoed in his mind; the room, the blood, and the bodies fading away. Just before everything vanished, Bucky leaned down to place a kiss on Erica's lips and the baby's cheek, a silent vow to return and save them. Tears fell from his eyes, mingling with the blood on their skin. He whispered, "I promise, I'll come back for you."
It was as if the world was turned upside down as he was pulled backward through time. The blizzard outside was replaced by the heat of a summer battlefield, the familiar chaos of combat giving way to the eerie silence of a different kind of conflict.
Bucky’s breath came in ragged gasps as he surveyed the new surroundings, the scent of human flesh burning and the sounds of distant artillery woke him to a reality he thought he would never see again. His heart still raced, the pain of his loss a constant weight in his chest.
The memories of Y/N’s cold body and their child’s stillness haunted him, more than the bodies of corpses piling in front of him. The remnants of that heart-wrenching image was fresh in his mind. His gaze hardened as he realised where he was; he was no longer in the wreckage of his home but back in the midst of a war he once fought long before. In fact, exactly a few months until he is to be wed to Y/N.
As he took in his surroundings, Bucky felt a chilling sense of déjà vu, a haunting awareness that he was being thrust back into a time when the stakes were high and lives hung in the balance. The agony of losing his wife and their child was now a burning ember in his heart, driving him forward with a renewed sense of purpose and a determination to change the course of fate. And this time his mission was not to win the war but to put an end to the emperor's life.
“No. I have to do this alone.” His determination was a wall of resoluteness.
Wanda felt a deep ache in her heart for the burden he carried. She knew that the weight of his mission and the pain of his loss were almost unbearable. She thought about the fact that all of this might not even happened if not for Y/N’s discovery in their first lives.
After translating one of Wanda’s old grimoires; Y/N discovered an ancient forbidden magic where the ability of manipulating time is not a myth but actually a reality. Though she had been sceptical of its possibilities, Wanda on the other hand was convinced.
Since then, Wanda had been experimenting with time, first testing it on objects. Shredded paper reconstructed back to its original shape, and slowly she cast it on a wilted flower, bringing it back to when it bloomed. In time, Wanda learned the possibility of the magic to turn back time for more than just small things, but only at a price.
Dabbling with the magic to such an extent would mean to lose the most important trait of a person, something deeply tied to their identity or purpose. For each individual, this trait was different, and the magic demanded a unique sacrifice based on what they valued most. That was why Wanda had asked Bucky if he was willing to do anything to save Y/N.
Agreeing to it, Bucky would have to sacrifice his sight. His vision was essential not only for his prowess in battle but also for the simple yet immense joy of seeing his loved ones; Y/N and their child.
Losing his sight meant relinquishing his ability to protect them with the sharp precision he had always relied on. No longer would he be able to look into their eyes and see the warmth that sparked his every day. He would miss the simple joy of seeing his wife's pink cheeks flushed when he kisses her or the radiant beauty of her smile lighting up a room.
He wouldn’t be able to watch his child’s milestones; first steps, the way they would grow and change over time. He’d miss the subtle shifts in their expressions, the silent conversations shared through glances, and the small, fleeting moments that paint a vivid picture of their development.
That was the sacrifice he needed to make to save them.
Wanda had explained that the loss of his sight would occur gradually over time, not instantaneously. She reassured him that she would find a way to prevent it or at least mitigate its impact.
Bucky stayed quiet, contemplating the gravity of his decision, the weight of his sacrifice pressing heavily on his mind. “We can worry about that later.”
Then he diverted the conversation, “What did you say that time? Oh, ‘Go and kill that fucking bastard’?” A wicked smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.
Wanda’s eyes flashed with unwavering determination. “And I meant every single word.”
Part III >> (coming soon: August 4th)
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: yes, i have been reliving this pain in my head ever since i posted that blurb earlier this year :) also, i tried really hard to hide the time-travel aspect until we reach bucky's flashback. i really hope it was conveyed well for you guys to understand what happened. anyways, please leave me the crumbs of your thoughts on this chapter for me to read. thank you so much! i'll see you in a few days.
An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.
Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end) (August, 4th)
Words: 6.4k++
Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, sprinkles of fluff, death, blood, violence, a truck load of angst, heartbreak, and honestly… just raw pain. so, i'd say grab a box of tissue or a shoulder to cry on, just in case.
A/N: i am sorry for what is about to happen in this chapter. but, please know that I love you. and oh, did i mention that release date is based on my local time zone (UTC+08:00)? anyway, I hope you enjoy your time.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Y/N was stirred awake from her dreamless sleep by none other than the restless movements on the shared bed. Blinking her eyes open, the dim light from the moon intruded her sight; her blurry vision glanced across the room, the light casted a pale glow on the surface. On her side, Bucky was tossing and turning; his face contorted in utter distress. His muscular body was taut, sweat glistening on his skin. His breaths came in harsh, uneven gasps, and his hands clutched on the sheets as if he were holding on for dear life.
“Please, no, please,” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with desperation. Y/N’s heart ached at the sight of him in such torment. Reaching out, her hands gently touching his arm. His skin was clammy and hot, his muscles twitched under her fingertips. She could feel the frantic pulse under his skin, the erratic rhythm mirroring the chaos in his mind.
“Bucky,” she called softly, her voice laced with concern. “Bucky, wake up.” She sat up and leaned over him. Her hand moving to his sweaty scalp; caressing through his hair, gentle and soothing. “It’s okay, Bucky. You’re okay. Please, open your eyes.”
Bucky’s body jerked as he jolted awake causing his wife to startle at his sudden movement. His eyes wide and unfocused as the salty tears spilled from the corners. His haunted gaze stared into the void, his chest heaving, body shivering. He seemed disoriented, his heart pounding so loudly that it drowned out the world around him. Y/N’s voice, however, managed to pierce through the ringing in his ears.
Her words were like a lifeline, a beacon in the darkness of his mind. Each gentle whisper seemed to pull him further from the grip of his nightmare, grounding him back in the reality where he was safe and loved. She repeated his name, each utterance calm and reassuring, hoping to anchor him to the present. “Bucky?”, her tone soft; filled with worry.
He blinked, finally able to see her. “Y/N?” His voice sounded small and broken compared to his large and seemingly powerful build. It was a voice filled with vulnerability, a voice that seemed almost alien coming from someone who is usually so strong. His eyes, typically so steely and determined, were now wide and clouded with fear and confusion; lingered with trails of terror from whatever it was he saw behind his closed eyes.
It pained her to see him like this, reduced to a shadow of the man she knew. The dissonance between his imposing physique and the fragility in his voice was contradicting, making her heart ache for him even more. “Yes, Bucky. It’s me,” she replied gently, her hands delicately traced his clenched fists; drawing meaningless circles around his knuckles.
For a moment, he simply stared at her, as if he couldn’t believe she was real; sitting so close for him touch. Her bare skin glistened underneath the moonlight. The soft pink of her cheeks and lips, the bright gleam of her eyes; it made her look ethereal, almost otherworldly. An epitome of warmth and light; she looked so… alive.
Within seconds, without warning, Bucky’s body surged forward, engulfing her in a fierce embrace. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice trembling as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His body shaking with silent sobs. She could feel his breath, hot and ragged against her skin, each exhale filled with a depth of emotion that he rarely displayed.
She held him tightly, her hands running soothingly up and down his back. “I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m here, Bucky.” Her heart ached for him, for the pain that he was obviously carrying alone. Her thoughts raced, wondering what kind of demons were haunting his dreams, what kind of pain he was enduring. She felt a fierce protectiveness grew within her, a desperate need to comfort and shield him from whatever it was that tormented him. Each sob that wracked his body seemed to pierce her own heart, deepening her resolve to be his strength.
Bucky’s body trembled with suppressed sobs, as she continued to stroke his hair, whispering soothing words until his breathing began to steady and his tears slowed. She could feel the tension slowly leaving his body, his muscles relaxing under her touch.
Her whispers were a constant reassurance, a reminder that he was not alone, that she was there. Each stroke of her hand, each soft word, was a promise of her unwavering support and love. She could feel him clinging to her, as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.
As Bucky reluctantly pulled away from her arms, she looked up at his broken state; noting the redness in his eyes and nose, the tear stains on his scruffy cheeks, “What’s wrong, my love?” she asked softly, wiping away the remaining tears flowing. Her voice was gentle, but her eyes were filled with determination.
It had been a few months into their marriage, and the seasons had changed since Y/N had first arrived at Bucky’s mansion. The cold, snowy landscape of winter had gradually given way to the bloom of spring, and with it, the promise of new beginnings.
In those early days, Y/N’s feelings for Bucky had been built on a foundation of simple trust. As his wife, she had expected to offer support and loyalty, and in return, she hoped for a stable companionship. Yet, it didn't take long for those initial feelings to deepen into something far more profound.
She had been drawn to his warmth and the vulnerability he rarely showed to others. It was in the quiet moments, when they were alone, that she began to see a different side of him. Far from the heinous rumours people blatantly consume; a side that was not just a fierce protector, but also a man capable of deep affection.
Yet, amidst the beauty of their budding romance, one thing had remained constant: Bucky's nightmares. They were not as frequent as they had been at the start, but they were consistent, recurring often enough to disrupt their otherwise peaceful nights.
Y/N had grown accustomed to waking in the middle of the night to find him thrashing in his sleep, his brow furrowed in anxiety, his breaths sounding fractured, his skin sticky with sweat. However, she had never seen him like this; tears freely fell from his eyes, looking so fragile and broken. It was both heart-wrenching and humbling to witness. She worried about him, about the torment he seemed to carry within him. She longed to understand the source of his pain, to be his support system even for a little bit.
She continued to gently probe him to tell her the truth; to share his darkness only for him to shake his head, tears filling up yet again as he unwilling to put his pain into words. Instead of speaking out, he leaned in and kissed her deeply, his lips conveying a need that went beyond physical desire. His hands caressed her bare skin, tender and fervent, as if seeking solace in her touch. Each kiss was a wordless plea, a desperate attempt to find comfort and reassurance in the only way he knew how. His touch conveyed an urgent need, a gentle exploration that spoke of his love and longing for her. The desperation in his kiss was clearly evident, a tangible manifestation of the torment he was trying to escape.
Y/N responded with equal tenderness, understanding that this moment was about comfort and connection, not lust. She understood that he needed this, and though she longed to know what was haunting him and hoped to share his burden, however, she respected his silence. It was his story to tell after all, so for now she’ll let him hold her. To have their bodies entwined the way he wanted; to let him have the relief he so hopelessly craved for.
Bucky’s love was passionate yet filled with love that she felt tears pricking at her own eyes. She sensed the depth of his emotions; in each thrust into her heat, in every trembling whisper of “i love you”s, every drop of his warmth spilling into her. She could feel the weight of his sorrow, the intensity of his need for her. Her heart swelled with deep affection, her own tears mixing with his as they clung to each other. She wanted to take away his pain, to be his sanctuary in this moment of vulnerability.
Y/N sat in the sunlit parlour, the soft rays of the morning sun casting a golden hue over the elegant room. Her fingers traced the delicate patterns on her teacup, her thoughts drifting as she absently stirred her tea. Across from her, Wanda sipped her tea with a relaxed smile, her demeanour calm and inviting. Despite the serene setting, Y/N’s mind was occupied with the troubling events of the previous night.
Wanda’s eyes, sharp and perceptive, caught the distant look on Y/N’s face. She tilted her head slightly, her tone teasing yet concerned. “What’s on your mind, Y/N? Has Bucky been bullying you again?” The playful tone was intended to lighten the mood, but Y/N’s thoughts were remained dark.
A soft laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, and she shook her head, a genuine smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. “No, far from it. Bucky has always been a sweetheart, you know that.” she replied, her voice warm with fondness as her thoughts wandered back to her husband.
Wanda scoffed softly, “If making you walk weird every morning is not bullying to you, I don’t know what is.” She was quick with her wit of banter. Y/N shook her head as her cheeks glowed with a pinkish shade. Her memories meandered to the time when she had first settled into their new home in the northern region.
The shift from the bustling capital to this colder, more serene landscape had been a significant change, but one she embraced with open arms. It was the beginning of winter, and the snow painted the landscape in a pristine blanket of white. The gentle snowflakes drifted down, and beneath the thin layer of snow, resilient flowers continued to bloom. The contrast was beautiful and invigorating; a sense of peace and tranquillity engulfed her.
She remembered her first days in the sprawling mansion, its grandeur both overwhelming and exhilarating. The staff members, a group of dedicated and welcoming individuals, had eagerly guided her through her new responsibilities as the lady of the mansion. Mrs. Lane, the head maid, had taken special care in introducing Y/N to the intricacies of managing such a vast estate. From the daily routines to the ceremonial duties, Mrs. Lane’s patience and kindness made Y/N’s transition smoother. She recalled the staff’s warm demeanour, their smiles and nods of approval as they showed her the ropes, their hospitality making her feel right at home.
Bucky, too, had been noticeably livelier since she had arrived. The maids, even the knights, frequently mentioned how their lord seemed more cheerful in the days when she was around. Y/N took pride in their acknowledgement, feeling that her presence had brought a positive change to their household fluttered her heart. The compliments and the warmth from those around her were affirmations that she was settling in well and that her husband was happy.
And then there was that one particular evening, as she and Bucky walked through their garden. The sun was setting behind them, the air was crisp, and the snow-covered grounds sparkled in the last remaining light of the winter sun. As they strolled hand in hand, Bucky’s touch was the source of relief against the chill of the season. He led her to a secluded spot under a snow-laden tree, a favourite place of hers that had become a sanctuary for quiet moments. There, he presented her with a small, intricately wrapped box. Its paper adorned with delicate patterns that caught the fading light.
Y/N’s heart fluttered with anticipation as she carefully unwrapped the box. Inside lay a pen, and as soon as her eyes fell upon it, she recognized it instantly. The pen was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, unlike anything she had ever seen. Its barrel was made of a rare, silvery metal that seemed to shimmer with its own light, reflecting a rainbow of hues with each movement. Intricate patterns were etched into the surface, forming an elegant design that was both enchanting and sophisticated. The cap of the pen was adorned with a small, iridescent gemstone that captured and held the light, casting a soft, magical glow.
Her eyes widened in recognition and delight. “Is this…,” she breathed, her voice filled with awe and disbelief. “I.. I never imagined I’d actually own one.”
Her fingers traced the elegant curves of the pen; heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and wonder. The pen was more than just a beautiful object; it was a tool of her craft. Its smooth, balanced design promised an effortless writing experience, and the magical quality of the pen added a touch of enchantment to her translations and writings. It was an instrument that would transform her passion for ancient languages into something even more special. The rare, magical properties of the pen would make her translations come alive, imbuing her work with a subtle, otherworldly grace.
Bucky smiled, his eyes brighten with a blend of affection and a knowing gaze as he recognized the sparkle in her eyes, “I’m glad you like it,” he said, his tone was gentle.
Her curiosity piqued as she asked, “How did you know?”, her voice a mixture of wonder and intrigue. “I never told you about this pen before.” Y/N's mind raced as she tried to recall if she had ever mentioned it in passing or left any clues that Bucky could have picked up on. She couldn't think of a single instance. This pen had been a private dream of hers, a wish she had never shared with anyone.
Bucky’s smile was warm, though his eyes carried a hint of enigmatic depth. He took her hand and wrapped it around his arm. “Maybe I’ve been paying attention,” he said with a hint of playful mystery. “Or maybe I just know you better than you think.”
There was a depth in his eyes, a flicker of something significant that Y/N couldn’t quite place; an intensity that suggested an understanding beyond the ordinary. It was as if somehow he managed to delve into her innermost thoughts and desires, uncovering a secret she had kept even from herself. The pen, though exquisitely beautiful, seemed to hold an unspoken meaning; a connection that went beyond the surface.
Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion as she gazed at Bucky, realising just how much he meant to her. His gift was not just a luxury; it was a symbol of their growing intimacy. It was a reminder that Bucky had been attentive; that he had taken the time to understand and appreciate her in ways she had never imagined. Their relationship had started with hesitancy and uncertainty, a tentative dance around each other’s flaws and reputation. Now over time, he had become her rock, her constant companion, and the person she loved more deeply than she ever thought possible.
As her focus returned to the present, Wanda’s voice cut through Y/N’s reflections. “Then what’s bothering you?” Wanda asked, her tone shifting to a more serious note.
Y/N's thoughts then drifted to the moment she met Wanda.
It had been an unexpected yet delightful encounter, filled with a sense of destiny. Wanda was a powerful witch from the magic tower, renowned for her skills and wisdom. Despite her young age, she was considered a prodigy, the youngest ever to hold such a prestigious position.
She had met Wanda through Bucky, and their bond had been immediate. Both women shared a deep fascination with ancient languages, and their mutual interest had led to a close friendship. They spent countless hours together, deciphering old grimoires and delving into the intricacies of forgotten tongues.
Though they had only recently come together, Y/N felt an odd sense of familiarity with Wanda, as if their connection had roots extending beyond the present. It was a rare and cherished connection for Y/N, one that made her feel even more at home in her new life.
“Y/N,” Wanda said, her voice firmer this time, “Snap out of it. I’m serious. What’s troubling you?”
She set her teacup down, her expression growing solemn. “Bucky has been having nightmares,” she began, her voice tinged with worry. She recounted the restless nights, the desperation in Bucky’s voice, and how he had clung to her, unable to let go.
Wanda listened intently, her silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. there was sense that she knew more than she was letting on, but Wanda’s demeanour remained calm and collected. “Maybe it’s just the memories from the war taking their toll,” Wanda suggested softly, though her eyes harbouring a deeper understanding.
Y/N’s heart ached at the thought. Maybe it was; maybe it was just the souls he had slain coming back to haunt him; but something in her guts says otherwise. She could sense that this wasn’t just a recurrence of old wounds. Because sometimes, when Bucky awoke from these terrors, she could hear him muttering her name, his voice barely above a whisper; laced with despair. And then it always ended up with Bucky burying his cock deep inside her as he held her close for the rest of the night, clinging to her as if she were his anchor in a storm.
She continued to explain things that did not add up to Wanda’s theory, “And each time these nightmares haunt him, he ends up…” she hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “...ho-holding me for the rest of the night; refusing to let me go,” she explained, her voice threaded with genuine frustration and concern. It was as though his need to hold her was an instinctive response to stave off the terror that plagued his dreams.
Wanda’s eyes twinkled with a hint of playful exasperation. “Oh so you’re bragging to me now? That your husband loves you so much he won’t let you leave the bed?” Her comment, though seemingly light-hearted, carried an undercurrent of truth. In hindsight, it simply might have sounded like jealousy from an unmarried woman but especially to Y/N, who failed to see Wanda’s words as more than just playful teasing , the hidden meaning went unnoticed.
Her cheeks tingled with a deep blush; her laugh was a sound of an underlying embarrassment. “No, it’s not like that!” she protested flusteredly.
Wanda’s laughter was light and carefree, hiding the subtle shift in the atmosphere. “Well, it certainly sounds like it. But seriously, if Bucky’s having nightmares, it’s probably remnant of what he had gone through in the wars he fought. Men like him carry those scars deeply,” Wanda said, her voice softening with a note of empathy.
As they continued to enjoy their tea, Y/N tried to shake off the lingering unease. Wanda’s teasing and their shared laughter provided a temporary respite from her worries. But as she looked at her friend, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky’s nightmares than the memories of the war. For now, though, she let Wanda’s playful banter and their camaraderie soothe her, even if only for a little while.
Bucky stood in the dimly lit room, the soft hum of a nearby lamp casting long shadows against the walls. The air was thick as the cold of the night mingled with the lack of warmth in his eyes. On a heavy wooden table in front of him lay a collection of weapons, each one meticulously arranged in a precise order. The blades, all different in shape and size, gleamed menacingly in the dull light, their sharp edges catching the faint glint of the lamp’s glow.
Carefully inspecting the weapons in front of him, his fingers running over the smooth steel with a precision that bordered on obsession. He picked up a particularly long and slender dagger. And as he turned the blade in his hand, the metal caught the light and cast a cold, eerie reflection of his face. It was a haunting image; his eyes, usually a clear, expressive blue, were now shadowed and distant, their depths hollow and impenetrable. There was a deadness to them that spoke of countless battles fought and horrors witnessed. His face was a mask of stoicism, but beneath the surface, there was a storm raging, a maelstrom of past regrets and unresolved anger.
Bucky’s grip around the handle was tight, his knuckles white with the intensity of his hold. The veins in his hands stood out prominently, a stark contrast to the smooth, polished steel of the weapon. Each knife was a reminder of the skills he had honed, the battles he had fought, and the assassinations he had carried out.
He moved to another knife, a small throwing blade with a wickedly sharp edge, he tested its balance with a practised flick of his wrist. The blade spun through the air with a deadly precision before landing with a soft thud into a luxurious painting hung against the wall. His eyes followed its path, and for a moment, a flicker of anger flashed across his face.
Suddenly, a figure materialised from the shadows, revealing itself with a slight shimmer. Wanda had been there all along, invisible, her presence unnoticed until now. She stepped into view with a wry smile as she glanced at the knife that had embedded itself dangerously close to her. “Whoa, didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that,” she said, her tone a mix of surprise and light-heartedness.
The room was silent for a while, only the faint sounds of Bucky’s movements carried through. He was deeply engrossed in his fortitude, his concentration absolute, a far stretch to the gentle, affectionate man he was whenever Y/N's near. In this moment, Bucky was a figure of intense focus and grim determination. His silence was punctuated only by the clatter of knives and the soft hiss of steel slicing through the air as he continued to hone his weapons.
Wanda observed him with a mix of respect and concern. The light-hearted air that usually surrounded her had vanished, replaced by a more sombre and serious demeanour. She approached quietly, her footsteps barely making a sound on the floor. As she neared, her voice broke the oppressive silence. “Everything’s ready for the mission,” she said, her tone was devoid of the usual playfulness. Her words were carefully measured and the gravity of the situation reflected in her gaze.
Bucky didn’t look up, his hands moving with grace as he continued to arrange his arsenal. “I’m almost finished,” he replied tersely, his voice betraying no hint of emotion. His focus was unwavering, his mind wholly consumed by the mission that lay ahead. The weight of his resolve was palpable, filling the room with an air of silenced tension.
Wanda’s expression softened slightly as she watched him. She understood the depth of his commitment and the toll it took on him. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know?,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a note of gentle concern.
Bucky’s jaw tightened, suddenly remembering the brutal betrayal that had led him to this predicament in the first place. The memory of the past; that fateful decision and the ancient magic that brought him back to this very moment, surged through his mind.
The night was alive with chaos as Bucky rode with frantic urgency, the pounding of hooves on the snow-covered ground mingling with the roar of a storm that mirrored the tempest in his heart. His breath came in sharp, visible gasps as he urged his horse to greater speeds, each beat of its powerful legs seeming to push him closer to the nightmare he feared. The familiar landscape of his northern estate was barely visible through the blizzard, the swirling snowflakes obscuring his vision and adding to the mounting dread.
His mind raced, his thoughts a blur of fear and desperation. “No, please, no,” he muttered under his breath, the words a futile plea against the encroaching darkness. The relentless clamour of battle reached his ears, a discordant symphony of clashing steel and anguished cries that only heightened his anxiety.
As he neared the mansion, the sight that greeted him was one of utter devastation. Smoke billowed from the once-pristine home, and the sounds of combat grew louder, more intense. Bucky's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the urgency to reach his wife. He dismounted quickly, his boots sinking into the snow as he sprinted toward the entrance.
The once-beautiful halls of the mansion were now a scene of utter carnage. The rich tapestries were torn, their vibrant colours now marred by bloodstains. Bodies of servants and knights alike, lay scattered, their lives snuffed out like candles in the winter wind. The floor was slick with a dark, ominous red, and the walls bore the marks of a brutal struggle. Bucky’s gaze was steely, his rage a palpable force that seemed to drive him forward, each step a grim determination to find his wife.
His hands tightened around the hilts of his weapons, the familiar weight of his knives and sword was a small comfort in the midst of the chaos. With each enemy he encountered, his movements were swift and lethal, the precision of his attacks was such a visible difference to the disarray around him. The flashes of steel and the sharp cries of the dying filled the air, but Bucky’s focus was singular. He barely registered the battle around him, his mind a relentless drive toward that one singular goal: Y/N.
Finally, he reached the door to their private quarters. It was ajar, hanging precariously on its hinges. Bucky pushed it open with a forceful shove, his breath catching in his throat at the sight that met him. The room was eerily silent, save for the soft, steady sound of the cold wind outside. His eyes swept the room, a chilling realisation dawning as he took in the scene.
There, amidst the wreckage, lay Y/N, her once-beautiful form now crumpled on the floor. Her delicate back was marred by a series of gaping wounds, the result of a brutal assault. The sight of her lifeless body, curled protectively on the bloody floor, sent a jolt of horror through Bucky. Tears sprang to his eyes, blurring his vision as he stumbled forward, each step heavy with dread and despair.
As he drew closer, the true extent of the tragedy revealed itself. Y/N’s arms were wrapped tightly around something; a small, fragile bundle. His heart clenched painfully as he realised what it was. With trembling hands, he gently pried the baby from her cold embrace, his fingers barely able to grasp the tiny form. The baby was motionless, the silence of its little body a crushing blow to his already shattered soul.
“No, no, no,” Bucky’s voice was a desperate whisper, choked with indescribable grief. He cradled Y/N against his chest, his tears falling freely now as he held the lifeless bodies of both her and their child. His sobs were raw, guttural, the sound of a man who had lost everything. The weight of their deaths was unbearable, a suffocating agony that seemed to crush his very spirit.
As he held her, a torrent of emotions surge through him: anguish, disbelief, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. His world had come crashing down, and the weight of his misery was almost unbearable, his tears fell from the blue of his eyes, “Please, please.” His breaths came in shaky, tortured gasps, as his quivering hands cupped her pale cheeks, “Open your eyes, my dear. I beg of you.” Her closed eyes remained stubbornly shut, unaffected to his hopeless pleas. The stillness of her form was a cruel reminder of those tender mornings when she would pretend to sleep just a little longer, feigning ignorance to his gentle kisses as he tried to rouse her
His hands moved to caress his child, the tiny body so still and unresponsive. The weight of his grief rendered him speechless, unable to utter a single word through the crushing pain. The absence of the high-pitched chortles and shrieks, the silence that echoed back at him, was a devastating reality to the lively sounds he had grown accustomed to. The baby, who had always responded to his touch with joy and curiosity, now lay motionless.
His heart shattered with the brutal realisation that this was not merely the loss of his beloved wife but also the crushing end to the life of their child. The sight of Y/N’s bloodied form and the lifelessness of their child were etched into his mind, a haunting image that would never fade.
Bucky’s and Y/N’s relationship had not started with ease. In their first lives, the beginning of their marriage was awkward; Bucky’s rough edges clashing with her gentle spirit. He had not known how to be tender, how to navigate the complexities of human emotion. Months were the time that Y/N's eyes would look up at him with evident fear and Bucky’s cold exterior unable to convey his true feelings.
But his wife, his dearest, with her unwavering patience and kindness, had been a constant light in his life. She had shown him what it meant to be human, to be gentle and caring. Despite his monstrous past, she had embraced him with an acceptance that was both humbling and transformative.
Their early days together were marked by a series of stumbles and missteps. Bucky’s attempts at intimacy often fell short, his rough touch and brusque mannerisms was the polar opposite to Y/N’s softness. Yet, her constant presence was a soothing wave to his soul. Over time, their awkward interactions gave way to a profound connection. Her warmth and understanding had nurtured a deep-rooted trust between them.
Bucky had fallen in love with her in a way that he had never thought possible, his heart swelling with a happiness that was both new and overwhelming.
And when the news of her pregnancy travels to his ears, Bucky’s joy had been boundless. He vowed to protect them both with everything he had, to shield them from harm and create a future filled with love and security. The dream of their family, of a life together with their child, was a beacon of hope amidst the shadows of Bucky’s past.
As the arrival of his firstborn got closer and closer, Bucky was determined to embrace this new chapter and leave the violence behind; so he approached the Emperor with a request to retire. He sought the reward for his years of service; an end to the wars and a chance to build a peaceful life with his family. But the Emperor, a man consumed by greed and a desire to retain his most powerful weapon, refused his request outright.
Bucky, fueled by the righteous fury of a man protecting his family’s future, resorted to threats. The Winter Soldier’s formidable reputation, sharpened by years of brutal efficiency, made the Emperor cower in fear. Terrified of his own creation, the Emperor reluctantly agreed to grant Bucky his only wish; but only under the condition that he would win one last war for him.
Bucky, driven by his desire to secure a safe future for Y/N and their child, agreed to the terms.
As the cruel fate had written, the Emperor’s promise was a deceitful trap.
While Bucky was away fighting the final battle, the Emperor’s true intentions were revealed. Viewing Y/N and their newborn child as distractions; potential threats to his plans and Bucky’s dedication. So he sought out to send his troops to Bucky’s estate. Their mission was clear: remove the ‘distraction,’ the family that Bucky had sworn to protect. The Emperor’s greed and paranoia had led him to a treacherous betrayal.
Now, that dream of a peaceful future with Y/N and their child lay shattered before him, replaced by the devastating reality of their deaths. The promise of safety and love was obliterated by the cruel hand of betrayal, leaving Bucky with nothing but the hollow weight of his ruined dreams.
In a heart-wrenching moment, Wanda appeared out of thin air, collapsing to the floor, her own form battered and bloodied. She had fought valiantly, protesting against the Master of the magic tower who had conspired with the Emperor. The same Master who had helped remove the magical protection Wanda had placed around Y/N and the baby, a gift she had bestowed as a token of becoming the child's godmother.
The battle had taken its toll on her, yet the sight of Y/N’s and the baby’s unnatural stillness pained her more than any wound maiming her own body. In her dying breath, Wanda dragged herself toward Y/N, who lay silently in her husband’s arms. Her eyes filled with sorrowful determination as he gripped Bucky’s collar, “Are you willing to do anything to save her?”
Bucky was a man lost in a sea of agony, drowning in raw sorrow and overwhelming despair. His world had crumbled around him, leaving him numb and detached from reality. He could scarcely comprehend the magnitude of his loss, the emptiness that now consumed his heart. His vision blurred with tears, he could barely focus on Wanda’s words, the weight of his devastation pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket.
Wanda’s grip tightened, her eyes pleading as she uttered, “Dammit Bucky, answer me! Will you?!”
Bucky’s gaze fell on the soulless forms of his beloved wife and child in his arms. He imagined the light of their eyes shining once more, the sound of their voices filling the silence that had taken over. As he envisioned the warmth and laughter that had once been a part of his life, a wave of fierce determination washed over him. His eyes burned with a fierceness, a resolve that was born of immense grief and love. He nodded with resolute certainty, his jaw set in grim determination.
Wanda smirked triumphly; there was a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes as if she knew what the future held for them. “Now go and kill that fucking bastard,” she commanded, her voice strained but resolute.
The world around Bucky seemed to warp and dissolve as her magical chants echoed in his mind; the room, the blood, and the bodies fading away. Just before everything vanished, Bucky leaned down to place a kiss on Erica's lips and the baby's cheek, a silent vow to return and save them. Tears fell from his eyes, mingling with the blood on their skin. He whispered, "I promise, I'll come back for you."
It was as if the world was turned upside down as he was pulled backward through time. The blizzard outside was replaced by the heat of a summer battlefield, the familiar chaos of combat giving way to the eerie silence of a different kind of conflict.
Bucky’s breath came in ragged gasps as he surveyed the new surroundings, the scent of human flesh burning and the sounds of distant artillery woke him to a reality he thought he would never see again. His heart still raced, the pain of his loss a constant weight in his chest.
The memories of Y/N’s cold body and their child’s stillness haunted him, more than the bodies of corpses piling in front of him. The remnants of that heart-wrenching image was fresh in his mind. His gaze hardened as he realised where he was; he was no longer in the wreckage of his home but back in the midst of a war he once fought long before. In fact, exactly a few months until he is to be wed to Y/N.
As he took in his surroundings, Bucky felt a chilling sense of déjà vu, a haunting awareness that he was being thrust back into a time when the stakes were high and lives hung in the balance. The agony of losing his wife and their child was now a burning ember in his heart, driving him forward with a renewed sense of purpose and a determination to change the course of fate. And this time his mission was not to win the war but to put an end to the emperor's life.
“No. I have to do this alone.” His determination was a wall of resoluteness.
Wanda felt a deep ache in her heart for the burden he carried. She knew that the weight of his mission and the pain of his loss were almost unbearable. She thought about the fact that all of this might not even happened if not for Y/N’s discovery in their first lives.
After translating one of Wanda’s old grimoires; Y/N discovered an ancient forbidden magic where the ability of manipulating time is not a myth but actually a reality. Though she had been sceptical of its possibilities, Wanda on the other hand was convinced.
Since then, Wanda had been experimenting with time, first testing it on objects. Shredded paper reconstructed back to its original shape, and slowly she cast it on a wilted flower, bringing it back to when it bloomed. In time, Wanda learned the possibility of the magic to turn back time for more than just small things, but only at a price.
Dabbling with the magic to such an extent would mean to lose the most important trait of a person, something deeply tied to their identity or purpose. For each individual, this trait was different, and the magic demanded a unique sacrifice based on what they valued most. That was why Wanda had asked Bucky if he was willing to do anything to save Y/N.
Agreeing to it, Bucky would have to sacrifice his sight. His vision was essential not only for his prowess in battle but also for the simple yet immense joy of seeing his loved ones; Y/N and their child.
Losing his sight meant relinquishing his ability to protect them with the sharp precision he had always relied on. No longer would he be able to look into their eyes and see the warmth that sparked his every day. He would miss the simple joy of seeing his wife's pink cheeks flushed when he kisses her or the radiant beauty of her smile lighting up a room.
He wouldn’t be able to watch his child’s milestones; first steps, the way they would grow and change over time. He’d miss the subtle shifts in their expressions, the silent conversations shared through glances, and the small, fleeting moments that paint a vivid picture of their development.
That was the sacrifice he needed to make to save them.
Wanda had explained that the loss of his sight would occur gradually over time, not instantaneously. She reassured him that she would find a way to prevent it or at least mitigate its impact.
Bucky stayed quiet, contemplating the gravity of his decision, the weight of his sacrifice pressing heavily on his mind. “We can worry about that later.”
Then he diverted the conversation, “What did you say that time? Oh, ‘Go and kill that fucking bastard’?” A wicked smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.
Wanda’s eyes flashed with unwavering determination. “And I meant every single word.”
Part III >> (coming soon: August 4th)
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: yes, i have been reliving this pain in my head ever since i posted that blurb earlier this year :) also, i tried really hard to hide the time-travel aspect until we reach bucky's flashback. i really hope it was conveyed well for you guys to understand what happened. anyways, please leave me the crumbs of your thoughts on this chapter for me to read. thank you so much! i'll see you in a few days.
Time magic? That would certainly explain how well Bucky knew her and about what gifts to give her. He also definitely learned from his past self to make their early marriage all the easier on her. But that also implies they've already made major changes to the timeline.
I really liked your depiction of the price of using this kind of magic. It's not enough to lose something, you have to lose something that affect every part of your life, even your sense of self. Very intriguing!
Hoping that Wanda will actually be able to help mitigate that price.
An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.
Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end) (August, 4th)
Words: 6.4k++
Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, sprinkles of fluff, death, blood, violence, a truck load of angst, heartbreak, and honestly… just raw pain. so, i'd say grab a box of tissue or a shoulder to cry on, just in case.
A/N: i am sorry for what is about to happen in this chapter. but, please know that I love you. and oh, did i mention that release date is based on my local time zone (UTC+08:00)? anyway, I hope you enjoy your time.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Y/N was stirred awake from her dreamless sleep by none other than the restless movements on the shared bed. Blinking her eyes open, the dim light from the moon intruded her sight; her blurry vision glanced across the room, the light casted a pale glow on the surface. On her side, Bucky was tossing and turning; his face contorted in utter distress. His muscular body was taut, sweat glistening on his skin. His breaths came in harsh, uneven gasps, and his hands clutched on the sheets as if he were holding on for dear life.
“Please, no, please,” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with desperation. Y/N’s heart ached at the sight of him in such torment. Reaching out, her hands gently touching his arm. His skin was clammy and hot, his muscles twitched under her fingertips. She could feel the frantic pulse under his skin, the erratic rhythm mirroring the chaos in his mind.
“Bucky,” she called softly, her voice laced with concern. “Bucky, wake up.” She sat up and leaned over him. Her hand moving to his sweaty scalp; caressing through his hair, gentle and soothing. “It’s okay, Bucky. You’re okay. Please, open your eyes.”
Bucky’s body jerked as he jolted awake causing his wife to startle at his sudden movement. His eyes wide and unfocused as the salty tears spilled from the corners. His haunted gaze stared into the void, his chest heaving, body shivering. He seemed disoriented, his heart pounding so loudly that it drowned out the world around him. Y/N’s voice, however, managed to pierce through the ringing in his ears.
Her words were like a lifeline, a beacon in the darkness of his mind. Each gentle whisper seemed to pull him further from the grip of his nightmare, grounding him back in the reality where he was safe and loved. She repeated his name, each utterance calm and reassuring, hoping to anchor him to the present. “Bucky?”, her tone soft; filled with worry.
He blinked, finally able to see her. “Y/N?” His voice sounded small and broken compared to his large and seemingly powerful build. It was a voice filled with vulnerability, a voice that seemed almost alien coming from someone who is usually so strong. His eyes, typically so steely and determined, were now wide and clouded with fear and confusion; lingered with trails of terror from whatever it was he saw behind his closed eyes.
It pained her to see him like this, reduced to a shadow of the man she knew. The dissonance between his imposing physique and the fragility in his voice was contradicting, making her heart ache for him even more. “Yes, Bucky. It’s me,” she replied gently, her hands delicately traced his clenched fists; drawing meaningless circles around his knuckles.
For a moment, he simply stared at her, as if he couldn’t believe she was real; sitting so close for him touch. Her bare skin glistened underneath the moonlight. The soft pink of her cheeks and lips, the bright gleam of her eyes; it made her look ethereal, almost otherworldly. An epitome of warmth and light; she looked so… alive.
Within seconds, without warning, Bucky’s body surged forward, engulfing her in a fierce embrace. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice trembling as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His body shaking with silent sobs. She could feel his breath, hot and ragged against her skin, each exhale filled with a depth of emotion that he rarely displayed.
She held him tightly, her hands running soothingly up and down his back. “I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m here, Bucky.” Her heart ached for him, for the pain that he was obviously carrying alone. Her thoughts raced, wondering what kind of demons were haunting his dreams, what kind of pain he was enduring. She felt a fierce protectiveness grew within her, a desperate need to comfort and shield him from whatever it was that tormented him. Each sob that wracked his body seemed to pierce her own heart, deepening her resolve to be his strength.
Bucky’s body trembled with suppressed sobs, as she continued to stroke his hair, whispering soothing words until his breathing began to steady and his tears slowed. She could feel the tension slowly leaving his body, his muscles relaxing under her touch.
Her whispers were a constant reassurance, a reminder that he was not alone, that she was there. Each stroke of her hand, each soft word, was a promise of her unwavering support and love. She could feel him clinging to her, as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.
As Bucky reluctantly pulled away from her arms, she looked up at his broken state; noting the redness in his eyes and nose, the tear stains on his scruffy cheeks, “What’s wrong, my love?” she asked softly, wiping away the remaining tears flowing. Her voice was gentle, but her eyes were filled with determination.
It had been a few months into their marriage, and the seasons had changed since Y/N had first arrived at Bucky’s mansion. The cold, snowy landscape of winter had gradually given way to the bloom of spring, and with it, the promise of new beginnings.
In those early days, Y/N’s feelings for Bucky had been built on a foundation of simple trust. As his wife, she had expected to offer support and loyalty, and in return, she hoped for a stable companionship. Yet, it didn't take long for those initial feelings to deepen into something far more profound.
She had been drawn to his warmth and the vulnerability he rarely showed to others. It was in the quiet moments, when they were alone, that she began to see a different side of him. Far from the heinous rumours people blatantly consume; a side that was not just a fierce protector, but also a man capable of deep affection.
Yet, amidst the beauty of their budding romance, one thing had remained constant: Bucky's nightmares. They were not as frequent as they had been at the start, but they were consistent, recurring often enough to disrupt their otherwise peaceful nights.
Y/N had grown accustomed to waking in the middle of the night to find him thrashing in his sleep, his brow furrowed in anxiety, his breaths sounding fractured, his skin sticky with sweat. However, she had never seen him like this; tears freely fell from his eyes, looking so fragile and broken. It was both heart-wrenching and humbling to witness. She worried about him, about the torment he seemed to carry within him. She longed to understand the source of his pain, to be his support system even for a little bit.
She continued to gently probe him to tell her the truth; to share his darkness only for him to shake his head, tears filling up yet again as he unwilling to put his pain into words. Instead of speaking out, he leaned in and kissed her deeply, his lips conveying a need that went beyond physical desire. His hands caressed her bare skin, tender and fervent, as if seeking solace in her touch. Each kiss was a wordless plea, a desperate attempt to find comfort and reassurance in the only way he knew how. His touch conveyed an urgent need, a gentle exploration that spoke of his love and longing for her. The desperation in his kiss was clearly evident, a tangible manifestation of the torment he was trying to escape.
Y/N responded with equal tenderness, understanding that this moment was about comfort and connection, not lust. She understood that he needed this, and though she longed to know what was haunting him and hoped to share his burden, however, she respected his silence. It was his story to tell after all, so for now she’ll let him hold her. To have their bodies entwined the way he wanted; to let him have the relief he so hopelessly craved for.
Bucky’s love was passionate yet filled with love that she felt tears pricking at her own eyes. She sensed the depth of his emotions; in each thrust into her heat, in every trembling whisper of “i love you”s, every drop of his warmth spilling into her. She could feel the weight of his sorrow, the intensity of his need for her. Her heart swelled with deep affection, her own tears mixing with his as they clung to each other. She wanted to take away his pain, to be his sanctuary in this moment of vulnerability.
Y/N sat in the sunlit parlour, the soft rays of the morning sun casting a golden hue over the elegant room. Her fingers traced the delicate patterns on her teacup, her thoughts drifting as she absently stirred her tea. Across from her, Wanda sipped her tea with a relaxed smile, her demeanour calm and inviting. Despite the serene setting, Y/N’s mind was occupied with the troubling events of the previous night.
Wanda’s eyes, sharp and perceptive, caught the distant look on Y/N’s face. She tilted her head slightly, her tone teasing yet concerned. “What’s on your mind, Y/N? Has Bucky been bullying you again?” The playful tone was intended to lighten the mood, but Y/N’s thoughts were remained dark.
A soft laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, and she shook her head, a genuine smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. “No, far from it. Bucky has always been a sweetheart, you know that.” she replied, her voice warm with fondness as her thoughts wandered back to her husband.
Wanda scoffed softly, “If making you walk weird every morning is not bullying to you, I don’t know what is.” She was quick with her wit of banter. Y/N shook her head as her cheeks glowed with a pinkish shade. Her memories meandered to the time when she had first settled into their new home in the northern region.
The shift from the bustling capital to this colder, more serene landscape had been a significant change, but one she embraced with open arms. It was the beginning of winter, and the snow painted the landscape in a pristine blanket of white. The gentle snowflakes drifted down, and beneath the thin layer of snow, resilient flowers continued to bloom. The contrast was beautiful and invigorating; a sense of peace and tranquillity engulfed her.
She remembered her first days in the sprawling mansion, its grandeur both overwhelming and exhilarating. The staff members, a group of dedicated and welcoming individuals, had eagerly guided her through her new responsibilities as the lady of the mansion. Mrs. Lane, the head maid, had taken special care in introducing Y/N to the intricacies of managing such a vast estate. From the daily routines to the ceremonial duties, Mrs. Lane’s patience and kindness made Y/N’s transition smoother. She recalled the staff’s warm demeanour, their smiles and nods of approval as they showed her the ropes, their hospitality making her feel right at home.
Bucky, too, had been noticeably livelier since she had arrived. The maids, even the knights, frequently mentioned how their lord seemed more cheerful in the days when she was around. Y/N took pride in their acknowledgement, feeling that her presence had brought a positive change to their household fluttered her heart. The compliments and the warmth from those around her were affirmations that she was settling in well and that her husband was happy.
And then there was that one particular evening, as she and Bucky walked through their garden. The sun was setting behind them, the air was crisp, and the snow-covered grounds sparkled in the last remaining light of the winter sun. As they strolled hand in hand, Bucky’s touch was the source of relief against the chill of the season. He led her to a secluded spot under a snow-laden tree, a favourite place of hers that had become a sanctuary for quiet moments. There, he presented her with a small, intricately wrapped box. Its paper adorned with delicate patterns that caught the fading light.
Y/N’s heart fluttered with anticipation as she carefully unwrapped the box. Inside lay a pen, and as soon as her eyes fell upon it, she recognized it instantly. The pen was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, unlike anything she had ever seen. Its barrel was made of a rare, silvery metal that seemed to shimmer with its own light, reflecting a rainbow of hues with each movement. Intricate patterns were etched into the surface, forming an elegant design that was both enchanting and sophisticated. The cap of the pen was adorned with a small, iridescent gemstone that captured and held the light, casting a soft, magical glow.
Her eyes widened in recognition and delight. “Is this…,” she breathed, her voice filled with awe and disbelief. “I.. I never imagined I’d actually own one.”
Her fingers traced the elegant curves of the pen; heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and wonder. The pen was more than just a beautiful object; it was a tool of her craft. Its smooth, balanced design promised an effortless writing experience, and the magical quality of the pen added a touch of enchantment to her translations and writings. It was an instrument that would transform her passion for ancient languages into something even more special. The rare, magical properties of the pen would make her translations come alive, imbuing her work with a subtle, otherworldly grace.
Bucky smiled, his eyes brighten with a blend of affection and a knowing gaze as he recognized the sparkle in her eyes, “I’m glad you like it,” he said, his tone was gentle.
Her curiosity piqued as she asked, “How did you know?”, her voice a mixture of wonder and intrigue. “I never told you about this pen before.” Y/N's mind raced as she tried to recall if she had ever mentioned it in passing or left any clues that Bucky could have picked up on. She couldn't think of a single instance. This pen had been a private dream of hers, a wish she had never shared with anyone.
Bucky’s smile was warm, though his eyes carried a hint of enigmatic depth. He took her hand and wrapped it around his arm. “Maybe I’ve been paying attention,” he said with a hint of playful mystery. “Or maybe I just know you better than you think.”
There was a depth in his eyes, a flicker of something significant that Y/N couldn’t quite place; an intensity that suggested an understanding beyond the ordinary. It was as if somehow he managed to delve into her innermost thoughts and desires, uncovering a secret she had kept even from herself. The pen, though exquisitely beautiful, seemed to hold an unspoken meaning; a connection that went beyond the surface.
Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion as she gazed at Bucky, realising just how much he meant to her. His gift was not just a luxury; it was a symbol of their growing intimacy. It was a reminder that Bucky had been attentive; that he had taken the time to understand and appreciate her in ways she had never imagined. Their relationship had started with hesitancy and uncertainty, a tentative dance around each other’s flaws and reputation. Now over time, he had become her rock, her constant companion, and the person she loved more deeply than she ever thought possible.
As her focus returned to the present, Wanda’s voice cut through Y/N’s reflections. “Then what’s bothering you?” Wanda asked, her tone shifting to a more serious note.
Y/N's thoughts then drifted to the moment she met Wanda.
It had been an unexpected yet delightful encounter, filled with a sense of destiny. Wanda was a powerful witch from the magic tower, renowned for her skills and wisdom. Despite her young age, she was considered a prodigy, the youngest ever to hold such a prestigious position.
She had met Wanda through Bucky, and their bond had been immediate. Both women shared a deep fascination with ancient languages, and their mutual interest had led to a close friendship. They spent countless hours together, deciphering old grimoires and delving into the intricacies of forgotten tongues.
Though they had only recently come together, Y/N felt an odd sense of familiarity with Wanda, as if their connection had roots extending beyond the present. It was a rare and cherished connection for Y/N, one that made her feel even more at home in her new life.
“Y/N,” Wanda said, her voice firmer this time, “Snap out of it. I’m serious. What’s troubling you?”
She set her teacup down, her expression growing solemn. “Bucky has been having nightmares,” she began, her voice tinged with worry. She recounted the restless nights, the desperation in Bucky’s voice, and how he had clung to her, unable to let go.
Wanda listened intently, her silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. there was sense that she knew more than she was letting on, but Wanda’s demeanour remained calm and collected. “Maybe it’s just the memories from the war taking their toll,” Wanda suggested softly, though her eyes harbouring a deeper understanding.
Y/N’s heart ached at the thought. Maybe it was; maybe it was just the souls he had slain coming back to haunt him; but something in her guts says otherwise. She could sense that this wasn’t just a recurrence of old wounds. Because sometimes, when Bucky awoke from these terrors, she could hear him muttering her name, his voice barely above a whisper; laced with despair. And then it always ended up with Bucky burying his cock deep inside her as he held her close for the rest of the night, clinging to her as if she were his anchor in a storm.
She continued to explain things that did not add up to Wanda’s theory, “And each time these nightmares haunt him, he ends up…” she hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “...ho-holding me for the rest of the night; refusing to let me go,” she explained, her voice threaded with genuine frustration and concern. It was as though his need to hold her was an instinctive response to stave off the terror that plagued his dreams.
Wanda’s eyes twinkled with a hint of playful exasperation. “Oh so you’re bragging to me now? That your husband loves you so much he won’t let you leave the bed?” Her comment, though seemingly light-hearted, carried an undercurrent of truth. In hindsight, it simply might have sounded like jealousy from an unmarried woman but especially to Y/N, who failed to see Wanda’s words as more than just playful teasing , the hidden meaning went unnoticed.
Her cheeks tingled with a deep blush; her laugh was a sound of an underlying embarrassment. “No, it’s not like that!” she protested flusteredly.
Wanda’s laughter was light and carefree, hiding the subtle shift in the atmosphere. “Well, it certainly sounds like it. But seriously, if Bucky’s having nightmares, it’s probably remnant of what he had gone through in the wars he fought. Men like him carry those scars deeply,” Wanda said, her voice softening with a note of empathy.
As they continued to enjoy their tea, Y/N tried to shake off the lingering unease. Wanda’s teasing and their shared laughter provided a temporary respite from her worries. But as she looked at her friend, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky’s nightmares than the memories of the war. For now, though, she let Wanda’s playful banter and their camaraderie soothe her, even if only for a little while.
Bucky stood in the dimly lit room, the soft hum of a nearby lamp casting long shadows against the walls. The air was thick as the cold of the night mingled with the lack of warmth in his eyes. On a heavy wooden table in front of him lay a collection of weapons, each one meticulously arranged in a precise order. The blades, all different in shape and size, gleamed menacingly in the dull light, their sharp edges catching the faint glint of the lamp’s glow.
Carefully inspecting the weapons in front of him, his fingers running over the smooth steel with a precision that bordered on obsession. He picked up a particularly long and slender dagger. And as he turned the blade in his hand, the metal caught the light and cast a cold, eerie reflection of his face. It was a haunting image; his eyes, usually a clear, expressive blue, were now shadowed and distant, their depths hollow and impenetrable. There was a deadness to them that spoke of countless battles fought and horrors witnessed. His face was a mask of stoicism, but beneath the surface, there was a storm raging, a maelstrom of past regrets and unresolved anger.
Bucky’s grip around the handle was tight, his knuckles white with the intensity of his hold. The veins in his hands stood out prominently, a stark contrast to the smooth, polished steel of the weapon. Each knife was a reminder of the skills he had honed, the battles he had fought, and the assassinations he had carried out.
He moved to another knife, a small throwing blade with a wickedly sharp edge, he tested its balance with a practised flick of his wrist. The blade spun through the air with a deadly precision before landing with a soft thud into a luxurious painting hung against the wall. His eyes followed its path, and for a moment, a flicker of anger flashed across his face.
Suddenly, a figure materialised from the shadows, revealing itself with a slight shimmer. Wanda had been there all along, invisible, her presence unnoticed until now. She stepped into view with a wry smile as she glanced at the knife that had embedded itself dangerously close to her. “Whoa, didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that,” she said, her tone a mix of surprise and light-heartedness.
The room was silent for a while, only the faint sounds of Bucky’s movements carried through. He was deeply engrossed in his fortitude, his concentration absolute, a far stretch to the gentle, affectionate man he was whenever Y/N's near. In this moment, Bucky was a figure of intense focus and grim determination. His silence was punctuated only by the clatter of knives and the soft hiss of steel slicing through the air as he continued to hone his weapons.
Wanda observed him with a mix of respect and concern. The light-hearted air that usually surrounded her had vanished, replaced by a more sombre and serious demeanour. She approached quietly, her footsteps barely making a sound on the floor. As she neared, her voice broke the oppressive silence. “Everything’s ready for the mission,” she said, her tone was devoid of the usual playfulness. Her words were carefully measured and the gravity of the situation reflected in her gaze.
Bucky didn’t look up, his hands moving with grace as he continued to arrange his arsenal. “I’m almost finished,” he replied tersely, his voice betraying no hint of emotion. His focus was unwavering, his mind wholly consumed by the mission that lay ahead. The weight of his resolve was palpable, filling the room with an air of silenced tension.
Wanda’s expression softened slightly as she watched him. She understood the depth of his commitment and the toll it took on him. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know?,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a note of gentle concern.
Bucky’s jaw tightened, suddenly remembering the brutal betrayal that had led him to this predicament in the first place. The memory of the past; that fateful decision and the ancient magic that brought him back to this very moment, surged through his mind.
The night was alive with chaos as Bucky rode with frantic urgency, the pounding of hooves on the snow-covered ground mingling with the roar of a storm that mirrored the tempest in his heart. His breath came in sharp, visible gasps as he urged his horse to greater speeds, each beat of its powerful legs seeming to push him closer to the nightmare he feared. The familiar landscape of his northern estate was barely visible through the blizzard, the swirling snowflakes obscuring his vision and adding to the mounting dread.
His mind raced, his thoughts a blur of fear and desperation. “No, please, no,” he muttered under his breath, the words a futile plea against the encroaching darkness. The relentless clamour of battle reached his ears, a discordant symphony of clashing steel and anguished cries that only heightened his anxiety.
As he neared the mansion, the sight that greeted him was one of utter devastation. Smoke billowed from the once-pristine home, and the sounds of combat grew louder, more intense. Bucky's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the urgency to reach his wife. He dismounted quickly, his boots sinking into the snow as he sprinted toward the entrance.
The once-beautiful halls of the mansion were now a scene of utter carnage. The rich tapestries were torn, their vibrant colours now marred by bloodstains. Bodies of servants and knights alike, lay scattered, their lives snuffed out like candles in the winter wind. The floor was slick with a dark, ominous red, and the walls bore the marks of a brutal struggle. Bucky’s gaze was steely, his rage a palpable force that seemed to drive him forward, each step a grim determination to find his wife.
His hands tightened around the hilts of his weapons, the familiar weight of his knives and sword was a small comfort in the midst of the chaos. With each enemy he encountered, his movements were swift and lethal, the precision of his attacks was such a visible difference to the disarray around him. The flashes of steel and the sharp cries of the dying filled the air, but Bucky’s focus was singular. He barely registered the battle around him, his mind a relentless drive toward that one singular goal: Y/N.
Finally, he reached the door to their private quarters. It was ajar, hanging precariously on its hinges. Bucky pushed it open with a forceful shove, his breath catching in his throat at the sight that met him. The room was eerily silent, save for the soft, steady sound of the cold wind outside. His eyes swept the room, a chilling realisation dawning as he took in the scene.
There, amidst the wreckage, lay Y/N, her once-beautiful form now crumpled on the floor. Her delicate back was marred by a series of gaping wounds, the result of a brutal assault. The sight of her lifeless body, curled protectively on the bloody floor, sent a jolt of horror through Bucky. Tears sprang to his eyes, blurring his vision as he stumbled forward, each step heavy with dread and despair.
As he drew closer, the true extent of the tragedy revealed itself. Y/N’s arms were wrapped tightly around something; a small, fragile bundle. His heart clenched painfully as he realised what it was. With trembling hands, he gently pried the baby from her cold embrace, his fingers barely able to grasp the tiny form. The baby was motionless, the silence of its little body a crushing blow to his already shattered soul.
“No, no, no,” Bucky’s voice was a desperate whisper, choked with indescribable grief. He cradled Y/N against his chest, his tears falling freely now as he held the lifeless bodies of both her and their child. His sobs were raw, guttural, the sound of a man who had lost everything. The weight of their deaths was unbearable, a suffocating agony that seemed to crush his very spirit.
As he held her, a torrent of emotions surge through him: anguish, disbelief, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. His world had come crashing down, and the weight of his misery was almost unbearable, his tears fell from the blue of his eyes, “Please, please.” His breaths came in shaky, tortured gasps, as his quivering hands cupped her pale cheeks, “Open your eyes, my dear. I beg of you.” Her closed eyes remained stubbornly shut, unaffected to his hopeless pleas. The stillness of her form was a cruel reminder of those tender mornings when she would pretend to sleep just a little longer, feigning ignorance to his gentle kisses as he tried to rouse her
His hands moved to caress his child, the tiny body so still and unresponsive. The weight of his grief rendered him speechless, unable to utter a single word through the crushing pain. The absence of the high-pitched chortles and shrieks, the silence that echoed back at him, was a devastating reality to the lively sounds he had grown accustomed to. The baby, who had always responded to his touch with joy and curiosity, now lay motionless.
His heart shattered with the brutal realisation that this was not merely the loss of his beloved wife but also the crushing end to the life of their child. The sight of Y/N’s bloodied form and the lifelessness of their child were etched into his mind, a haunting image that would never fade.
Bucky’s and Y/N’s relationship had not started with ease. In their first lives, the beginning of their marriage was awkward; Bucky’s rough edges clashing with her gentle spirit. He had not known how to be tender, how to navigate the complexities of human emotion. Months were the time that Y/N's eyes would look up at him with evident fear and Bucky’s cold exterior unable to convey his true feelings.
But his wife, his dearest, with her unwavering patience and kindness, had been a constant light in his life. She had shown him what it meant to be human, to be gentle and caring. Despite his monstrous past, she had embraced him with an acceptance that was both humbling and transformative.
Their early days together were marked by a series of stumbles and missteps. Bucky’s attempts at intimacy often fell short, his rough touch and brusque mannerisms was the polar opposite to Y/N’s softness. Yet, her constant presence was a soothing wave to his soul. Over time, their awkward interactions gave way to a profound connection. Her warmth and understanding had nurtured a deep-rooted trust between them.
Bucky had fallen in love with her in a way that he had never thought possible, his heart swelling with a happiness that was both new and overwhelming.
And when the news of her pregnancy travels to his ears, Bucky’s joy had been boundless. He vowed to protect them both with everything he had, to shield them from harm and create a future filled with love and security. The dream of their family, of a life together with their child, was a beacon of hope amidst the shadows of Bucky’s past.
As the arrival of his firstborn got closer and closer, Bucky was determined to embrace this new chapter and leave the violence behind; so he approached the Emperor with a request to retire. He sought the reward for his years of service; an end to the wars and a chance to build a peaceful life with his family. But the Emperor, a man consumed by greed and a desire to retain his most powerful weapon, refused his request outright.
Bucky, fueled by the righteous fury of a man protecting his family’s future, resorted to threats. The Winter Soldier’s formidable reputation, sharpened by years of brutal efficiency, made the Emperor cower in fear. Terrified of his own creation, the Emperor reluctantly agreed to grant Bucky his only wish; but only under the condition that he would win one last war for him.
Bucky, driven by his desire to secure a safe future for Y/N and their child, agreed to the terms.
As the cruel fate had written, the Emperor’s promise was a deceitful trap.
While Bucky was away fighting the final battle, the Emperor’s true intentions were revealed. Viewing Y/N and their newborn child as distractions; potential threats to his plans and Bucky’s dedication. So he sought out to send his troops to Bucky’s estate. Their mission was clear: remove the ‘distraction,’ the family that Bucky had sworn to protect. The Emperor’s greed and paranoia had led him to a treacherous betrayal.
Now, that dream of a peaceful future with Y/N and their child lay shattered before him, replaced by the devastating reality of their deaths. The promise of safety and love was obliterated by the cruel hand of betrayal, leaving Bucky with nothing but the hollow weight of his ruined dreams.
In a heart-wrenching moment, Wanda appeared out of thin air, collapsing to the floor, her own form battered and bloodied. She had fought valiantly, protesting against the Master of the magic tower who had conspired with the Emperor. The same Master who had helped remove the magical protection Wanda had placed around Y/N and the baby, a gift she had bestowed as a token of becoming the child's godmother.
The battle had taken its toll on her, yet the sight of Y/N’s and the baby’s unnatural stillness pained her more than any wound maiming her own body. In her dying breath, Wanda dragged herself toward Y/N, who lay silently in her husband’s arms. Her eyes filled with sorrowful determination as he gripped Bucky’s collar, “Are you willing to do anything to save her?”
Bucky was a man lost in a sea of agony, drowning in raw sorrow and overwhelming despair. His world had crumbled around him, leaving him numb and detached from reality. He could scarcely comprehend the magnitude of his loss, the emptiness that now consumed his heart. His vision blurred with tears, he could barely focus on Wanda’s words, the weight of his devastation pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket.
Wanda’s grip tightened, her eyes pleading as she uttered, “Dammit Bucky, answer me! Will you?!”
Bucky’s gaze fell on the soulless forms of his beloved wife and child in his arms. He imagined the light of their eyes shining once more, the sound of their voices filling the silence that had taken over. As he envisioned the warmth and laughter that had once been a part of his life, a wave of fierce determination washed over him. His eyes burned with a fierceness, a resolve that was born of immense grief and love. He nodded with resolute certainty, his jaw set in grim determination.
Wanda smirked triumphly; there was a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes as if she knew what the future held for them. “Now go and kill that fucking bastard,” she commanded, her voice strained but resolute.
The world around Bucky seemed to warp and dissolve as her magical chants echoed in his mind; the room, the blood, and the bodies fading away. Just before everything vanished, Bucky leaned down to place a kiss on Erica's lips and the baby's cheek, a silent vow to return and save them. Tears fell from his eyes, mingling with the blood on their skin. He whispered, "I promise, I'll come back for you."
It was as if the world was turned upside down as he was pulled backward through time. The blizzard outside was replaced by the heat of a summer battlefield, the familiar chaos of combat giving way to the eerie silence of a different kind of conflict.
Bucky’s breath came in ragged gasps as he surveyed the new surroundings, the scent of human flesh burning and the sounds of distant artillery woke him to a reality he thought he would never see again. His heart still raced, the pain of his loss a constant weight in his chest.
The memories of Y/N’s cold body and their child’s stillness haunted him, more than the bodies of corpses piling in front of him. The remnants of that heart-wrenching image was fresh in his mind. His gaze hardened as he realised where he was; he was no longer in the wreckage of his home but back in the midst of a war he once fought long before. In fact, exactly a few months until he is to be wed to Y/N.
As he took in his surroundings, Bucky felt a chilling sense of déjà vu, a haunting awareness that he was being thrust back into a time when the stakes were high and lives hung in the balance. The agony of losing his wife and their child was now a burning ember in his heart, driving him forward with a renewed sense of purpose and a determination to change the course of fate. And this time his mission was not to win the war but to put an end to the emperor's life.
“No. I have to do this alone.” His determination was a wall of resoluteness.
Wanda felt a deep ache in her heart for the burden he carried. She knew that the weight of his mission and the pain of his loss were almost unbearable. She thought about the fact that all of this might not even happened if not for Y/N’s discovery in their first lives.
After translating one of Wanda’s old grimoires; Y/N discovered an ancient forbidden magic where the ability of manipulating time is not a myth but actually a reality. Though she had been sceptical of its possibilities, Wanda on the other hand was convinced.
Since then, Wanda had been experimenting with time, first testing it on objects. Shredded paper reconstructed back to its original shape, and slowly she cast it on a wilted flower, bringing it back to when it bloomed. In time, Wanda learned the possibility of the magic to turn back time for more than just small things, but only at a price.
Dabbling with the magic to such an extent would mean to lose the most important trait of a person, something deeply tied to their identity or purpose. For each individual, this trait was different, and the magic demanded a unique sacrifice based on what they valued most. That was why Wanda had asked Bucky if he was willing to do anything to save Y/N.
Agreeing to it, Bucky would have to sacrifice his sight. His vision was essential not only for his prowess in battle but also for the simple yet immense joy of seeing his loved ones; Y/N and their child.
Losing his sight meant relinquishing his ability to protect them with the sharp precision he had always relied on. No longer would he be able to look into their eyes and see the warmth that sparked his every day. He would miss the simple joy of seeing his wife's pink cheeks flushed when he kisses her or the radiant beauty of her smile lighting up a room.
He wouldn’t be able to watch his child’s milestones; first steps, the way they would grow and change over time. He’d miss the subtle shifts in their expressions, the silent conversations shared through glances, and the small, fleeting moments that paint a vivid picture of their development.
That was the sacrifice he needed to make to save them.
Wanda had explained that the loss of his sight would occur gradually over time, not instantaneously. She reassured him that she would find a way to prevent it or at least mitigate its impact.
Bucky stayed quiet, contemplating the gravity of his decision, the weight of his sacrifice pressing heavily on his mind. “We can worry about that later.”
Then he diverted the conversation, “What did you say that time? Oh, ‘Go and kill that fucking bastard’?” A wicked smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.
Wanda’s eyes flashed with unwavering determination. “And I meant every single word.”
Part III >> (coming soon: August 4th)
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: yes, i have been reliving this pain in my head ever since i posted that blurb earlier this year :) also, i tried really hard to hide the time-travel aspect until we reach bucky's flashback. i really hope it was conveyed well for you guys to understand what happened. anyways, please leave me the crumbs of your thoughts on this chapter for me to read. thank you so much! i'll see you in a few days.
Im shaking! (Sorry English is not my first language). When she called him my love I died!!!!! And the time traveeeeeeeel, omg I was shocked! Amazing, I adore your writing!
An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.
Summary: In a medieval kingdom where magic and political intrigue are woven into the fabric of society, Y/N, the youngest daughter of a noble Earl family, finds herself in an arranged marriage to James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke. Known as the Winter Soldier, Bucky's reputation as a monster in war had instilled anxiety into Y/N's heart. But that fear quickly begins to crumble when she discovers that her husband is not the brutal figure society depicts him to be.
Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end) (August, 4th)
Words: 8.1k++
Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader
Warnings: fantasy/medieval au, i did not write this with much knowledge of fantasy nor medieval lore. I write it solely for plot and the couple dynamic lmao. if you're expecting full blown fantasy novel; this ain't it, man. anyways, 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, loss of virginity, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint), marking kink (i think), soft fluffy smut, a wee bit of dirty talk. soft!reader and even softer!bucky. (idk what else, so tell me if there's something i miss.)
P/S: This is the fic for an idea I had earlier this year. The first chapter will only cover the original post but what happens next is something you will need to look forward on the upcoming chapters. Enjoy your read!
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Y/N stood in front of the grand mirror in her chamber, her reflection staring back at her with wide, fearful eyes. The delicate lace of her wedding dress was the opposite of the twisting anxiety in her stomach. Today, she was to marry James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke of the kingdom, a man labelled to be more beast than human.
He was known as the Winter Soldier, a title whispered with both fear and awe. Tales of his gruesome feats in battle, his merciless brutality, and his cold, metal arm was deemed as a horror story for the children in the kingdom. People spoke of him as a monstrous weapon, a beast moulded by the Emperor to do his bidding without question or hesitation.
Y/N had heard the stories many times before; and it has always been a hushed conversation that floats around whether a ballroom of a gala, or at the tables of the garden parties, sometimes even in between the racks of books in the library.
They always painted a picture of a man who lived only for war, devoid of humanity.
She couldn't help but let these tales feed her imagination. What kind of man was he truly? Did he revel in the violence, or was he a prisoner to his fate? Y/N shuddered at the thought, her heart heavy with fear and uncertainty.
Her father, the Earl, had made it clear why she needed to marry him. It was a political manoeuvre, a strategic alliance to strengthen their family's position. The duke, Bucky's father, wielded considerable power, and their union would bring the Earl closer to the heart of the kingdom's influence.
And when he heard that the duke was looking for a wife for his bastard son, he knew that she would be perfect. That was when Y/N, the youngest daughter, became the pawn in this game. Her father's ambitions certainly outweighed any consideration for her feelings or desires.
Y/N had always longed for a marriage of love, a dream she clung to despite her circumstances. She was a hopeless romantic through and through; much like her late mother. She remembered the nights when her mother would read to her and her siblings, spinning tales of prince charming and valiant heroes.
The fire crackled warmly in the hearth as her mother’s soothing voice filled the room. Y/N and her siblings, her older brother Eric and sister Clara, lay tucked under blankets, their eyes wide with wonder.
"And then the prince, with a heart full of love, swept the princess into his arms, vowing to protect her forever," her mother read, her voice a melodic whisper.
Y/N, her eyes sparkling with innocence, declared, "When I grow up, I want to marry a prince charming too!"
Clara, ever the practical one, nodded in agreement. "Me too! He has to be brave and kind."
Eric, being a little boy, scrunched his nose in distaste. "I don’t want to get married. I want to be a knight!"
Their mother chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Y/N’s forehead. "It does not matter if he is a prince charming or a humble knight. As long as you marry the one you love, that is what truly matters."
Y/N's heart ached at the memory. How she wished her mother were still here to guide her through this terrifying day. The gentle knock on the door brought her back to the present.
"Lady Y/N, it’s time," one of the maids said softly.
Y/N took a long and deep breath, smoothing down the fabric of her dress. She followed the maid down the corridor, her mind a swirl of emotions. Reaching the grand doors of the church, her father waited for her.
"Remember, Y/N," he said, his voice stern. "Do not mess this up. Just endure it. And you'll be fine. This is the most useful you can be to our family."
Her heart sank further; yet she nodded obediently.
Compared to Y/N, her elder brother, a celebrated swordsman, and her sister, a master in the art of business, had always outshone her in their father's eyes. Y/N's talent with languages; ancient and modern – was seen as a useless skill, something that brought no tangible benefit to the family.
Her father had never been cruel when she was younger but everything changed when her mother died. In fact, everyone in the family had lost a piece of their soul when she left. Now, his lack of affection only increases the number of scars on her heart.
The doors opened, revealing the crowds of high-ranking nobles; who were mostly strangers – staring at her. Some were judging her; some pitied her. She reminded herself that she was doing this for her family, for the greater good. But the little girl inside her who dreamed of prince charming certainly felt a pang of sorrow.
As she walked down the aisle, her legs trembled, and her hands shook so violently that she had to clasp them together to steady herself. From afar, she saw the silhouette of the man she was destined to marry. His tall and huge figure stood out compared to anyone in the hall. As she got closer, she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, too afraid to look up at her husband-to-be.
When she finally reached the altar, the priest began the ceremony. His speech was long and dragging, giving Y/N too much time to entertain her growing curiosity that she dared to glance up at the man next to her. Even from behind the veil, she could see his towering and broad-shouldered build, his presence commanding the room. His long hair was slightly untamed, and a scruffy beard framed his face. His metal hand, glinting in the sun that leaked through the church’s windows, was a jarring reminder of the rumors that surrounded him.
There were no heartfelt vows to recite to each other; only their promise of "I do" was exchanged. And that was the first time Y/N heard his voice. It was deep and resonant, sending a shiver down her spine; but there was a certain warmth in it that contrasted sharply with his fearsome reputation.
When the priest announced their union and Bucky lifted her veil, Y/N was struck by the unexpected gentleness in his eyes. They were a brilliant, mesmerizing blue, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. Bucky's eyes softened as he looked at her, his gaze tender and almost reverent. Slowly, he placed one hand gently around her waist, pulling her slightly closer. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle against her skin.
Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as he leaned in, her breath catching in her throat. When his lips met hers, they were soft, warm, and so unexpected. She could smell his cologne; an earthy, woodsy scent mixed with a hint of something fruity; like peaches or tangerines. It made her head spin and her heart jumped all at the same time.
The kiss was gentle and unhurried, very much differs to the forceful gesture she had feared. As he pulled away, Y/N found herself blinking slowly, her cheeks flushed and her fear momentarily replaced by confusion and a surprising awe. She was caught off guard by the tenderness of his touch, the way his lips had brushed against hers so gently.
Could the rumors about him be wrong?
"I’m sorry if I startled you," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I hope I didn’t scare you, my dear."
Y/N blinked slowly, trying to process the sudden shift in her emotions. The fear that had gripped her so tightly seemed to dissipate, replaced by a confusing mix of relief and intrigue. Her hands, which had been trembling, now rested at her sides, feeling strangely steady. Her eyes met his, and she could see softness in his gaze that contradicted the harsh rumors she had heard.
“I—no, you didn’t scare me,” she managed to say; her voice barely more than a whisper. She took a deep breath, her cheeks getting warmer as she processed the endearment he just called her. On the other hand, her mind was racing as she tried to reconcile the man in front of her with the fearsome figure of the Winter Soldier.
Bucky’s eyes mellowed even further, his gaze glazed with a tenderness that seemed to pierce through the weight of the room. A warm smile spread across his face, and he held her gaze with a comforting assurance.
“Good,” he said, his voice carrying a gentle affection. “I’m glad to hear that.”
The reception that followed was a blur of faces and polite conversation. Y/N moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations and well-wishes, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky than the rumors suggested. Every time she caught his eye, he gave her a small, reassuring smile that made the butterflies inside of her go wild.
As the evening drew to a close, they were escorted to one of the Emperor’s palaces, a grand and opulent residence that was to serve as their temporary home before they traveled north to Bucky’s territory. The palace, with its lavish furnishings and golden accents, seemed to mock the uncertainty Y/N felt. She had been assigned a chamber to prepare for the night, and the palace maids were bustling around her, helping her into a set of elaborate, far-from-modest lingerie.
The palace’s maids’ whispers and side glances did nothing to ease her growing anxiety. Their condescending tones and occasional snickers were laced with cruel speculation about how roughly Bucky would treat her. The more Y/N overheard, the more her apprehension grew. Despite the gentleness Bucky had shown her earlier, she found herself doubting its sincerity.
Could he really be the caring husband he appeared to be, or was it all just an elaborate show?
The maids finally left, their laughter fading down the hallway, leaving Y/N alone in the grand chamber. Her heart raced, and cold sweat formed at her brow as she sat quietly on the edge of the ornate bed. She kept her gaze firmly on the floor, her hands fidgeting in her lap. The room felt enormous, its sheer size heightening her sense of isolation and dread.
The door creaked open, and Bucky entered the room. Y/N’s heart nearly stopped as she heard the heavy, measured footsteps approaching. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, her body tense and her mind a swirl of panic and unease. She almost held her breath entire when she felt the slight indentation of the mattress beside her.
“Y/N,” Bucky’s voice was soft and coaxing, a distinct difference to the coldness she was expecting. “Look at me.” He continued. She hesitated momentarily; torn between obeying and disobeying but ultimately decided to raise her eyes to meet his.
The sight of him; his upper body bare, revealing a tapestry of scars and the stark metal of his prosthetic arm; made her breath hitch. Her eyes traced the lines of his faded wound, particularly the jagged marks where his shoulder met his metal arm. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow and concern. Her fingers, almost of their own accord, reached out to trace the contours of his chest and shoulder.
Bucky let the innocence of her touch to trace the most tainted parts of him; however noting her trembling eyes, he misunderstood her apprehension. “I want you to know, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle, “that I will never hurt you. You are safe with me.”
Y/N shook her head, her heart aching. She felt an unexplainable pain growing in her chest as she gazed at him. Her fingers still lightly touching his scars; her eyes, full of unshed tears, silently asked a question she was too afraid to voice. “Does it still hurt?” she wanted to ask, her expression betraying her concern.
Bucky’s eyes sparkled with affection, and he took her hand in his, holding it tenderly against his chest. “Don't worry. It does not hurt anymore,” he said with a reassuring smile.
The connection between them was electric, charged with a deep, unspoken understanding. Bucky’s gaze was steady and filled with a depth of unspoken emotion that took Y/N’s breath away. “I know this is difficult for you, Y/N,” he said, his voice laden with sincerity. “But I promise, I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”
His words and the way he looked at her left Y/N feeling both comforted and overwhelmed. For the first time since their wedding, she felt a genuine, flickering hope that maybe, just maybe, their marriage could become something more than a mere political arrangement. Bucky’s assurances, his gentleness, and the tenderness in his eyes began to dissolve the fears she had harboured since the beginning of their union.
As they sat there, the weight of the night’s expectations seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile but growing trust. Y/N had entered this marriage with a sense of duty, convinced that she would have to endure the consummation of their union as a matter of obligation. But Bucky’s tenderness, his understanding, and the sincere reassurance he had given her began to change her perspective.
The idea of fulfilling her marital duty had initially felt like a burden she had to bear. She had steeled herself to face it with resignation, convinced that it was merely another part of her role in this arranged marriage. But now, she found herself reconsidering. The idea of being with him no longer felt like an obligation but a possibility of something more profound and intimate.
Y/N hands softly toyed with the delicate strings of her sheer lingerie, pulling it softly as her doe eyes signalled her husband of her intention. Bucky, sensing the shift in her demeanor, looked into her eyes with a mixture of concern and affection. “Are you sure, my dear?” he asked softly. “I want you to feel safe with me and not afraid of me.”
Y/N’s heart fluttered as she met his gaze, her own eyes reflecting the depth of her emotions. “I am,” she said with quiet conviction. “I feel safe with you, James”
Bucky's hand naturally went to brush her hair behind her ear, “It’s Bucky, my dear,” he corrected softly.
“Hmm?” she asked, slightly puzzled.
He chuckled warmly. “You can call me Bucky from now on. It’s a nickname only a selected few who I trust and love knows.” Her eyes sparkled at his choice words; trust and love.
“Bucky…” she tested the name on her tongue, the syllables feeling strangely intimate. Upon hearing his name from her lips, Bucky’s heart swelled, almost bursting from his ribcage. He hummed in approval, “That's right, my dear. I’m your Bucky.”
His reassuring smile grew wider, his calloused thumb gently stroke her cheek causing a shiver to strum all over her nerves; sending an emerging desire. One she had not fully acknowledged until now. The way he looked at her, the pure and raw endearment in his eyes, and the softness of his touch stirred something deep within her.
As the moments passed, Y/N realised she wanted this. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, to explore the warmth of his hands, to connect with him on a level she had longed for. The yearning for his touch, which had been dormant under layers of fear and uncertainty, now surged forward with undeniable intensity.
Without fully understanding why, Y/N found herself leaning closer to him, her breath coming in soft, eager gasps. She whispered, her voice barely audible but full of longing, “Bucky, please.”
Bucky’s expression softened, and a tender light filled his blue eyes, “May I?” he asked, his voice low and gentle as he held out his hand. There a shy hesitation before she finally placed her hand in his.
With a gentle but firm pull, Bucky lifted her onto his lap, his careful hands beginning the process of undressing her. Each movement was full of care, yet almost deliberate, as he slowly removed her dress, leaving her in nothing but the flimsy lace piece covering the sacred area between her thighs.
Bucky's eyes roamed over her bare skin, admiration clear in his gaze. Y/N could feel the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes traced every curve and contour of her body. The intensity of it made her feel both vulnerable and cherished, a potent combination that sent pleasurable shivers all over her body.
Seeing the hunger in his blue eyes, she felt the warmth of his body and caught the scent of him; the same once she noticed at the church; warm and comforting. Her breath quickened, and she found herself unsure of what to do or where to place her hands, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.
Noticing the subtle panic, Bucky reached for her hands and guided them through the thick strands of his long hair. “You can touch me as you please, my dear,” he whispered, his voice soothing as he reassured her. He leaned in to kiss her bare shoulder, then moved up to her neck, along her jaw, leaving a trail of warmth on her skin.
Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, the softness surprising her. The intimacy of the moment, combined with his gentle kisses, began to dissolve the last remnants of her anxiety. The feel of his lips on her skin was electrifying, each kiss sending waves of sensation she never felt before.
Bucky’s hands, still careful and tender, caressed her back, drawing her closer to him. Her breath hitched as he kissed the valley of her breasts; soft gasps escaping her lips as Bucky begins to lick and sucked on her delicate skin; likely trying to mark his claim on her.
Every touch and little kisses he left sent shivers straight to her already dripping core. And by the time his lips grazed her nipple, her body jerked forward; in response, unintentionally dragging her aching pussy against his thick thigh.
His lips latched around her right nipples as he licks and sucks the hardening skin; lapping at it as if he was feeding from her. The sensation was overwhelming, yet she found herself leaning into his touch, her body responding to his gentle ministrations. The grip on his hair grew tighter as the strings of moans poured out her lips.
Bucky’s large hands find their place on her hips, guiding her to gently rut on his thigh. Trusting him, she followed his lead as he continue to grind her clit through the thin fabric she was wearing; introducing the sweet friction in on her core. Bucky pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his expression filled with a mixture of subtle affection and desire. “You’re doing wonderfully, my dear. Can feel your pussy leaking on me. Do you feel good?” he murmured as he dipped back to kiss her neck.
Oh, he was filthy with his choice of words but surprisingly she was not mad about it. In fact she didn’t even notice the whimpers purring in her throat upon hearing those sinful words.
It was as if Bucky recognized that needy sound she made; it caused a smile to spread on his lips. She can feel it grow against the skin in between her breasts, “My my, is my sweet wife feeling needy right now?” he teased playfully as he effortlessly lifted her up and laid her down on their bed.
Placing himself in between her soft thighs, his lustful gaze trained on her naked body; he admired the marks he has left on her breasts, the wet patch on the flimsy fabric covering her cunt, and the way her breath shuddered when he teasingly grind his harden cock against her.
Y/N can feel the contrast of his hands on her thigh, one warm, one cold. Her eyes drew her attention from his hands to his gorgeous face. Oh, the pure unfiltered lust in his eyes was pulling her in so effortlessly; seducing her to submit her body and soul to him completely. Shying away from his stare, she dragged her view down to his chiselled jaw, his broad chest then slowly to his beautiful abs.
She admired his body as much as he did of hers.
But what was more prominent out of all, was the way she could feel his erection throbbing against her heat. Blood went rushing towards her face when Bucky guided her hips against the confinement of his cock, which in response; causing her hands naturally found their way to cover her face in embarrassment.
A deep chuckle bubbled from Bucky’s throat; he found her reaction to be absolutely endearing. He leaned down towards her, one hand holding himself up and another tenderly pulling her hands away, then drawing it close to his chest, right against his beating heart.
Having nowhere to run, Y/N’s teary eyes drowned in his ocean blues, “Don’t hide from me, dearest.” He peppered a delicate kiss on her forehead, then on her nose, then on her cheek. She could feel the prickly sensation of his beard grazing on her skin. It was ticklish and a little bit painful and yet weirdly enough, it felt good that it naturally made her want to nuzzle it more.
But before she could, Bucky’s lips were already making their way down to her stomach. Her body responds to how soft his lips trailing down; and further down until she could feel them on her clothed core. A surprised yelp fell from her lips as he tore the last piece of clothing from her.
“Now, hands away from your face, my dear. I want to see that beautiful eyes of yours when I eat your sweet pussy.” his voice was honeyed when he made himself comfortable in between her thighs. His hands reached upwards to intertwine both of her hands with his own; acting as a restraint to restrict her from covering her face.
Y/N almost sat up upon hearing his words, “Eat what now?”, the question she had in mind was unable to be vocalised; due to her confusion. Prior to marriage, she had learned about sex and its purpose in her marital studies. Unbeknownst to her, the knowledge she had was few and limited for academic purposes only. Which means there were only the few illustrations of penetration depicted in books and the process of how children are bred as a result of it.
So what does he mean when he said those words? While she was still lost and confused, Bucky on the other hand was in his own world; completely and utterly transfixed on the glistening need of her cunt. She was dripping wet; the juices covering her slits perfectly; her scent was intoxicating and if it weren’t for the fact that this is her first time, Bucky would’ve ate her like a man starved of touch. But, he can’t do that. Not tonight. He wanted to be gentle; to cherish her, to love on her.
Seeing the darkened clouds in his eyes as he stared at her private, Y/N braved herself to ask, “What are you– ohh hmmm” her sentence ended up transforming into a toe curling moan as she felt Bucky’s wet tongue flattened across her weeping core. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he dragged her clit into his mouth and sucked. He strummed her clit with his tongue, causing her to arch her back and he took the opportunity to push his face further into her cunt; licking and sucking quite the literal soul out her.
It felt amazing but her self-consciousness won the battle in her head, she let out a whimpering plea, “Buc--bucky st-stop. That’s dirty.” as she gripped on his hands, trying to escape from his grip. Bucky growled against her in response to her futile protest. The sweet vibration only caused her pleasure all over her fluttering core.
When Bucky pulled away for a moment; it caused her to feel a sense of loss. “It’s not dirty, my dear. In fact, it’s so sweet.” His lips moved to kiss on her inner thigh, murmuring against her skin as he left yet more of his marks on her, “So fucking sweet.” He releases his right hand from hers, just to rub his thumb on her clit, slowly dragging it in between her slit; smearing her wetness all around her throbbing bundle of nerves. Her thighs trembled to the sensation of his rough movement of his thumb and a string of shaky mewls fell out of her.
“But..” she tried to protest but immediately stopped when Bucky brought his soaked thumb to her mouth. Her lips were wet from how he gently smeared the juices on her, “Taste yourself.” He lured her softly. Hesitation glints in her eyes as her cheeks redden. Bucky’s eyes grew tender at her watery ones, he whispered lowly, “Sweetheart, do you trust me?”
She does; but she does not trust her own voice to not come out sounding like a needy moan, so she simply nodded. Bucky’s pink lips spread into a smile, “Good girl. Now, open up.” he coaxed lovingly.
Y/N opened her mouth as she was told and let Bucky slip his thumb inside; he was not shy to smother her juices across her tongue, coaxing her to suck on it. To get a taste of what he was having. “It’s sweet”, she thought to herself. A muffled moan purred in her throat at the thought of her husband enjoying the taste of her.
Bucky smirk grew at her reaction, “Tastes good huh, sweetheart?” he pulled his thumb away, leaving her nodding to his question. “Now are you going to let me enjoy your pussy?” his brow quirked when he tilted his head to the side. How can she deny him now? Her eyes glazed with need as she replied, “Yes, please”.
Her mouth falls open in anticipation as a low moan creeps up her throat. Bucky’s tongue slips past her folds, she watched him between her legs, savouring her pussy with his unfiltered groans vibrating against her sensitive spot. Breathless moans and incoherent pleads fall from her mouth as the soft and firm tip of his tongue circled her swollen pearl and flicked it. Bucky’s hands went to her hips, guiding it in time with her own movements, giving her partial control to set the pace.
“Buckyyyy.” She gasped as she alternated between wanting to push his head away or keep him in place. Meanwhile, the man in between her thighs had lost himself; consumed by pure desire the more he drank from her cunt. His tongue moved faster against her clit when he noticed the beat of her throbbing cunt increased. She was going to come. He was sure of it.
The way that she was practically creaming on his tongue drove him near feral. He kept lapping at her juices as if it was the sweetest honey he ever tasted; fuck he even sucked her clit in hopes to force out more of her nectar to leak; then he’d lap on it again.
The sweet cycle had pushed Y/N over the edge, her eyes rolling back as pleasure and her hips slightly lifted as pleasure surges through her veins.“Oh oh Bucky please please.” She didn’t what she was begging for as she chanted his name. “I’m gonna, ‘m gonna–“ her words died as she squealed; her body trembling in pleasure.
His tongue moved faster against her clit; her cum was dripping out of her; coating his beard but his frantic licks didn’t stop even when she continue to gush on his tongue.
“Bucky please, sensitive..” It was too much; her orgasm, her swollen clit, his tongue. Everything.
Unfortunately for her, Bucky was far gone to stop now. He had the taste of her cum, now he wants nothing more than to have it again. Despite her protest, Bucky held her hip down, interlocking his hands across her stomach to keep her in place and continue to lick and suck on her overstimulated cunt.
Her whiny pleas didn’t come across as a sign for him to stop; instead it kept him going causing him to bury his face further in between her legs. His cock continued to throb in his pants, probably leaking with so much pre-cum and in need of some sort of relief but he ignored it. He wants nothing more than for Y/N to cum on his tongue again.
And that is exactly what happened next.
The moment she fell over the edge, Bucky pushed her even harder against him as her whole body spasmed. He maintained his pace on lapping up at her all throughout her high as her hands went from his hair to the headboard, trying to hold her limp body upright. Y/N took a moment to gather herself together, panting heavily as she regained their senses; while Bucky was swift to pull his pants off and throw it to the side.
He grabbed on her hips, holding her firmly in place as his heavy leaking cock nestled between her aching pussy. “Are you sure about this, my dear?” his hot breath fanning against her neck as he gently ruts into her heat. Even though Bucky can see the darken lust in her eyes, he still wanted to make sure that she was sure of her decision.
Y/N’s heart swelled at his concern, and she found herself smiling, a genuine smile that reflected the warmth she felt inside. She pulled him closer and kissed him, pouring all her newfound trust and affection into the kiss. “Yes, Bucky. I am very sure. ”
Bucky quickly responded with equal passion, his tongue slipped in between her lips; exploring the warmness of her mouth, the softness of her tongue. Their muffled moans filled the silenced room, his hands moved to caress her sides, drawing her even closer before breaking away from the heated kiss.
Resting his forehead on hers, his eyes trained on her beautiful face; not wanting to miss his chance to witness the pleasure contorting on her expression. He nudges her clit first, rubbing it slow and sensual before trailing down to her entrance. Gradually, he inches closer, he pushes in and through the tightness of her sacred channel.
Delving impossibly deep, her tightness wrapped around his thick cock until the tip of him reached the deepest parts of her. The sudden feeling of fullness on her untainted pussy caused her to experience both pain and the delightful sensation inside her. The ecstasy of being so knitly connected to each other caused both of them to simultaneously let out moans and groans of raw pleasure.
Bucky waited for her to adjust to his size; leaning down to pamper her with the softest kisses and praises that tears started to swell in her eyes. It was as if Bucky knew exactly what she wanted to hear, how she wanted to be treated and what makes her feel good.
“You’re doing so good, my dear.”
“Look at how perfect your pussy’s taking my cock. So perfect.”
“Made for me aren’t you, sweetheart?. Made to be loved by me, made to be stuffed full of my cock.”
“I promise you’ll be safe with me, Y/N. Always.”
When Y/N finally gave him the permission to move, Bucky kissed her pouty lips and murmured sweetly, “Thank you, my dear.” His hands travelled to find her ankle; which he then gently prop her calf over his broad shoulder. He started pumping in and out slowly, letting her get used to the friction.
Bucky couldn’t help but to groan out to the feeling of her wet hole gripping his cock ever-so-tightly. It was slippery and dripping, that he almost completely slid out of her. Gripping her closer he continue ramming himself back in, deeper, harder; sliding in and out of her at an even pace. Each force of his cock causing her body to jerk in ecstasy; hitting that good spot in her so perfectly.
“S-shit, sweetheart,” he moans deep and heavy as he felt her pussy tightening around him. His metal hand slid in between them and his thumb hones in on her clit. The coldness of his finger made her jolt at first but when he proceeded to rub and pinch on it, everything suddenly started to feel too intense; so incredibly good.
With his fingers assaulting her clit, each thrust of his cock and every deep guttural moan and groan coming from Bucky, she felt her release was growing closer. Bucky also started thrusting faster and harder; he knew he was about to come. Especially when he can feel how much pre-cum has been leaking inside her.
He leaned and rested his forehead on hers, his needy ruts became more and more irregular when her pretty doe eyes looked up at him, “Cum for me, my dear.” his lips brushed against Y/N’s as he coaxed her to her sweet release. His thrusts got harsher and deeper and the friction of his metal finger working on her clit got her cunt to frantically tremble around him, “I wanna feel you milk my cock, sweetheart. Then, I’m gonna my pump cum inside you until you’re leaking.”
Although his words were debauched to no end, however Y/N could sense his genuine affection for her. She felt his sincerity in the way he looked at her, in the way he held her, in the silenced gaze they shared. Overwhelmed with pleasure, her nails dragged across Bucky’s back as she moaned and screamed out his name; letting the high took over her body.
“Fuck,, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum!” groaned as he took in the sound of her pleasured mewls. He ruthlessly grinds into her, savouring the feeling of her cunt tightened around him. With one last rut, he thrust his cock, balls deep inside and let his warm white strings filling her up to the brim. His cock twitches in her fluttering cunt, his legs tensing with every small grind he makes, groaning lowly at her as he bites down on her shoulder, almost drooling on her as he emptied himself completely into her.
Y/N continued to let out strings of soft moans as he pulled out from her leaking cunt; all swollen and sensitive. While she thought she could finally catch some breaths, she didn’t notice the way Bucky was biting on his lip at the sight of his cum dripping out of her, or how his hands lazily tugging on his now hardened cock.
“Dearest?” Bucky hovered above her as he cradled her by her flushed cheeks. She smiled sweetly as she leaned to his touch, “Yes, Bucky?”, she was anticipating him to utter more of those soft words and praises to her; but instead his lips curled into a devilish grin when he slid his cock back into her, immediately pulling a long sinful mewl of his name from her. Bucky hummed approvingly in response; he gently brushed his lips against hers, “May I fill you up again?”
As the morning sun streamed through the windows, Y/N slowly stirred awake. She reached out, instinctively searching for the warmth of her husband beside her, but found the space empty. A pang of loneliness touched her heart, but it was quickly replaced by curiosity when she saw a bouquet of bluebells, her favourite flower, placed delicately on the bedside table.
Next to the bouquet was a note. With a small smile, she picked it up and began to read.
"My Dearest Y/N,
I hate to leave you alone this morning, but I must ensure our journey home is smooth and safe. I trust you slept well, and I promise to return to your side as soon as I can.
Yours always,
Bucky"
The words written on the note were filled with sincerity and reassurance that made her heart flutter. She smiled, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she wondered how he knew bluebells were her favourite.
Just as she was lost in thought, the door opened, and the palace’s maids entered the room. Their faces were a mixture of curiosity and impatience, clearly expecting to see a frightened and bruised young bride.
However, when they saw Y/N's skin, they temporarily froze in their spots. Her skin was indeed bruised, but each one of them recognized the marks for what they were: love marks, not signs of harsh abuse that they were expecting. The traces of Bucky's possessive love were prominent all over her neck, chest, and inner thighs, leaving Y/N blushing as the maids, too, found themselves flushed with embarrassment.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” one of the older maids muttered under her breath, her tone laced with irritation. Another maid, with a more condescending sneer, huffed. “Looks like we lost the bet, ladies. Who would have thought the beast could be so... tender?”
Y/N’s cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and pride. She could feel their resentful glances and knew they were not pleased with the outcome. The marks on her body were a testament to the affection and desire Bucky had shown her, and despite the initial fear, she now wore them as symbols of the unexpected bond they had begun to forge.
The head maid, who had been the most vocal the night before, now seemed to handle her with an edge of bitterness. The other maids, who had been so quick to judge, were now silent, their eyes wide with resentment.One of the younger maids, braver than the rest, couldn’t hide her frustration. “Well, my lady, I suppose you’re alright, then?” she asked, her voice barely masking her disappointment.
Y/N looked at her, considering the appropriate response. If it was up to her, she ought to punish every single one of them for not knowing their place. Unfortunately, they were not her maids to begin with, but the palace's staff. Otherwise, she would likely fire each one of them.
The memory of Bucky’s affection and care filled her heart, leaving no room for anger or resentment. The warmth of his embrace and the gentle way he had treated her made the maids' behaviour seem petty and insignificant.
She could still feel the lingering touch of his lips on her skin, the way his hands had caressed her so delicately, and the sound of his reassuring voice. Her body was still tingling with the remnants of the previous night's intimacy. Her skin bore the marks of his love, not of brutality, and each bruise was a testament to the passion they had shared. It was completely different to the vile expectations of the maids.
A small smile playing on her lips despite the blush that still coloured her cheeks. "Yes," she said softly, "I am quite alright."
The maids exchanged annoyed glances, their expressions a mix of frustration and disbelief. Their muttered disappointments were tuned out as Y/N focused on the lingering warmth from the night before.
She couldn't hear a single thing except her heart beating to the thought of her husband. She missed him already. Who would’ve thought she’d be swooning for him so soon?
She found herself yearning for his presence, the comfort of his touch, and the sound of his reassuring voice. The memory of his gentle kiss and tender words lingered in her mind yet again, making her heart flutter.
As the maids continued their work, Y/N hoped they would at least perform their duties well enough to cover up for their childish behaviour. She wanted to be ready to see Bucky, to greet him with the same warmth and affection he had shown her. Despite their rudeness, she resolved to focus on the positive, cherishing the newfound bond with her husband.
Bucky stood at the head of the table, his stern expression and commanding presence filling the room. He was reviewing the logistics of their journey home, his voice cold and decisive as he issued instructions to his knights. His trusted knight, Sam, was detailing the possible hotspots for bandits they might encounter along the way.
"We'll likely face trouble here," Sam said, pointing to a spot on the map. "We should send some of our best men ahead to clear the path."
"Agreed," Bucky responded, his tone unyielding. "Deploy the knights in advance. Ensure the path is secure before we proceed."
Sam nodded and continued outlining the plan. He paused, expecting Bucky to reconfirm, but noticed a change in his leader's face. The harsh lines softened, his eyes filled with a tender warmth, as he stared intently at something across the room. Before Sam could look or utter a word, Bucky turned and walked away with determination.
Sam followed Bucky's gaze and understood immediately. "Ah, that's why," he muttered to himself as he watched Bucky approach Y/N. The change in Bucky’s demeanour was striking. He moved with a grace and warmth that was at odds with his usual stern and imposing presence.
Bucky’s eyes softened as he took in the sight of Y/N. He admired her beauty with a gaze filled with awe and adoration. The way he looked at her was as if he was seeing a vision he had longed for, a rare and precious gem that had finally come into his life.
As he extended his hand toward her, a gesture usually seen as etiquette but now entirely with different meaning, especially with the hearts bursting our of his blue eyes. Y/N’s face lighting up with a shy smile, took his hand; almost too eagerly. Bucky's fingers closed gently around hers, his touch tender and reassuring. The contrast between his usual, fearsome reputation and the gentle way he interacted with her was profound, making it clear that his feelings for Y/N were deeply genuine.
Bucky kissed the back of her hand, his lips softly caressing her knuckles. "My dear," he greeted her, using the endearment he had chosen when they first met at the altar.
The scene seemed like it was pulled raw from a romance novel that the surrounding staff and knights simply watched in shock and awe. "Did he just..." one knight whispered, eyes wide. "Called her 'my dear'?" another finished, equally stunned.
Sam, who had witnessed firsthand the monstrous side of Bucky in war, found himself in a state of utter disbelief, jaw dropped loose. He had seen Bucky’s sword painted blood-red, his face splattered with the gore of countless enemies. The Winter Soldier was a force of nature on the battlefield, his brutal efficiency leaving a trail of carnage in his wake. Sam recalled the sight of Bucky’s cold, unyielding eyes as he cut through foes without hesitation, his armor and weaponry gleaming with the blood of those who dared oppose him.
And yet, here he was, the same man who had struck terror into the hearts of many, now standing before Y/N with a tenderness that seemed unimaginable. Sam could hardly believe his eyes. The disparity was pronounced and bewildering. Bucky’s expression was soft, his movements gentle as he held Y/N’s hand in his.
“I’ve missed you,” Y/N said softly, her eyes shining with affection. She truly did, it would be a lie that she didn’t felt the ache in her heart when she woke up alone that morning. The emptiness beside her had felt profound. The bed still carried his scent, a lingering warmth that whispered of his recent presence. Even though the separation had been brief, as evidenced by the thoughtful note and the bouquet of her favourite flowers he had left behind, the loneliness she felt was palpable. His absence, however fleeting, had created a void that left her feeling incomplete.
Bucky’s heart seemed to burst with emotion. He couldn't care less about the gawking staff surrounding them as he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. She initially froze, caught off guard and embarrassed, but soon melted into his kiss with a blossoming confidence.
As their lips met, memories of their tender and passionate night together surged through Bucky's mind. The way she moan his name, the taste of her cum, the tightness of her pussy gripping on his cock, the way his cum leaked out of her, every single sinful scene replayed in head; infinitely. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and he found himself nearly losing control. Reluctantly, he pulled back from the kiss, his breath uneven and his gaze filled with an unspoken hunger.
"God, what should I do with you, hmm, sweetheart?" Bucky whispered, his voice laced with seduction as he continued to place gentle kisses along her cheeks and jaw. His lips brushed softly against her skin, whispering how much he had missed her and expressing a wistful desire to stay wrapped in the warmth of their shared bed just a little longer.
Y/N’s soft giggle rang out as she felt the roughness of his stubble against her delicate skin. The sound was like music to Bucky's ears, brightening his mood and filling him with a profound sense of joy. Despite the joyful exchange, he reluctantly ended the sweet torment, his kisses lingering just a moment longer before he pulled away.
“We should be ready to begin our journey shortly,” Bucky said, his tone shifting to a more practical note when e turned to Sam, who had approached during their moment of intimacy.
“Y/N, this is Sam Wilson, he is one of my trusted knights.” Bucky introduced, his gaze shifting to his wife. Sam gave a respectful nod to Y/N, a hint of surprise still evident in his expression from witnessing Bucky's affectionate display. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Y/N.”
Y/N smiled warmly at Sam, appreciating the introduction. “The pleasure is mine, Sir Wilson.”
Sam, sensing that the formality was unnecessary given their imminent interactions, decided to ease the situation. “Just Sam, my lady,” he said with a friendly tone. Y/N repeated his name with a touch of amusement. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sam.”
Bucky, observing the growing camaraderie between his wife and his trusted knight, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of protectiveness. The easy familiarity between them seemed a bit too casual for his liking. His eyes narrowed slightly as he gave Sam a warning look. “Watch it, Wilson.”
Sam, not missing a beat, chuckled at Bucky’s protective demeanour. “What’s the matter, my lord? Can’t handle a bit of friendly conversation?”
Y/N, noticing the playful tension and Bucky’s slight irritation, couldn’t help but laugh. The contrast between Bucky’s usually soft demeanour that Y/N had witnessed and his current protective stance were both endearing and amusing. Her laughter lightened the mood, making Sam’s teasing even more enjoyable.
Bucky's stern gaze softened as he watched Y/N’s laughter, though his protective instinct remained palpable. Steering the conversion back to the preparations, he allowed a faint smile to tug at the corners of his mouth despite his earlier warning.
“I trust you can escort my wife to the carriage,” Bucky said, his voice serious but tinged with a hint of a smile. “However, I expect you to maintain proper distance and adhere to these additional guidelines.” He paused, ensuring his words were clear. “No unnecessary physical contact or overly familiar behaviour. And if you could, avoid any casual conversations that might be misinterpreted.”
Sam looked at Bucky in disbelief, shaking his head with a bemused expression. “Seriously, Barnes? You’re laying down rules for me to keep my distance from your wife now?”
Bucky’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Consider it a precaution. I’d rather not have any misunderstandings.” Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes as he complied. “Understood. I’ll make sure to follow your... guidelines.”
Y/N watched the exchange with amusement, her earlier shyness melting away into a warm appreciation for Bucky’s protectiveness. The scene, tinged with a touch of comedy, only deepened the connection between them.
Bucky, intent on making a point to Sam while expressing his affection, pulled Y/N close and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. The gesture was both intimate and deliberate, a subtle yet clear indication to Sam that she belongs to Bucky. “I’ll join you shortly, my dear,” Bucky said softly, his voice filled with warmth as he gazed into her eyes.
Sam, unimpressed by Bucky’s display, rolled his eyes at the seemingly childish antics. “This way, my lady,” he said with a hint of impatience. Y/N nodded in agreement but paused before turning her back on Bucky. With a loving smile, she whispered, “I’ll see you later,” before following Sam.
Bucky watched as Sam guided Y/N away, his gaze lingered with a mix of affection and something much deeper; an unspoken sadness. As their silhouettes walked further and further away from his sight, a sombre glaze settled over his eyes.
Beneath the surface of his composed exterior, his heart ached; the was a silent reflection of a pain he had hidden deep within his heart. It was a lingering sorrow that had shadowed him ever since he stood at the altar, the weight of unvoiced grief clinging to him as he gazed at his future bride.
Part II >>
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: Wondering why he was in the feels at the end? We’ll know it soon enough. I’ll see you in the next parts! Thank you for reading!
I love this so much! I love how obviously soft and tender he is towards her. He really would've waited to consummate the marriage if she had requested it.
And those maids are super lucky Bucky wasn't around to hear their comments. 😡
oh god he was so soft i was tearing up when i was writing this chapter 😭🤌🏻✨ and yes the maid were sooo luckyyyyy cause bucky will beheaded them the second they spoke 👹
An arranged marriage with duke's illegitimate son!bucky
Summary: In a medieval kingdom where magic and political intrigue are woven into the fabric of society, Y/N, the youngest daughter of a noble Earl family, finds herself in an arranged marriage to James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke. Known as the Winter Soldier, Bucky's reputation as a monster in war had instilled anxiety into Y/N's heart. But that fear quickly begins to crumble when she discovers that her husband is not the brutal figure society depicts him to be.
Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)
Words: 8.1k++
Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader
Warnings: fantasy/medieval au, i did not write this with much knowledge of fantasy nor medieval lore. I write it solely for plot and the couple dynamic lmao. if you're expecting full blown fantasy novel; this ain't it, man. anyways, 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, loss of virginity, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint), marking kink (i think), soft fluffy smut, a wee bit of dirty talk. soft!reader and even softer!bucky. (idk what else, so tell me if there's something i miss.)
P/S: This is the fic for an idea I had earlier this year. The first chapter will only cover the original post but what happens next is something you will need to look forward on the upcoming chapters. Enjoy your read!
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Y/N stood in front of the grand mirror in her chamber, her reflection staring back at her with wide, fearful eyes. The delicate lace of her wedding dress was the opposite of the twisting anxiety in her stomach. Today, she was to marry James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke of the kingdom, a man labelled to be more beast than human.
He was known as the Winter Soldier, a title whispered with both fear and awe. Tales of his gruesome feats in battle, his merciless brutality, and his cold, metal arm was deemed as a horror story for the children in the kingdom. People spoke of him as a monstrous weapon, a beast moulded by the Emperor to do his bidding without question or hesitation.
Y/N had heard the stories many times before; and it has always been a hushed conversation that floats around whether a ballroom of a gala, or at the tables of the garden parties, sometimes even in between the racks of books in the library. T
hey always painted a picture of a man who lived only for war, devoid of humanity.
She couldn't help but let these tales feed her imagination. What kind of man was he truly? Did he revel in the violence, or was he a prisoner to his fate? Y/N shuddered at the thought, her heart heavy with fear and uncertainty.
Her father, the Earl, had made it clear why she needed to marry him. It was a political manoeuvre, a strategic alliance to strengthen their family's position. The duke, Bucky's father, wielded considerable power, and their union would bring the Earl closer to the heart of the kingdom's influence.
And when he heard that the duke was looking for a wife for his bastard son, he knew that she would be perfect. That was when Y/N, the youngest daughter, became the pawn in this game. Her father's ambitions certainly outweighed any consideration for her feelings or desires.
Y/N had always longed for a marriage of love, a dream she clung to despite her circumstances. She was a hopeless romantic through and through; much like her late mother. She remembered the nights when her mother would read to her and her siblings, spinning tales of prince charming and valiant heroes.
The fire crackled warmly in the hearth as her mother’s soothing voice filled the room. Y/N and her siblings, her older brother Eric and sister Clara, lay tucked under blankets, their eyes wide with wonder.
"And then the prince, with a heart full of love, swept the princess into his arms, vowing to protect her forever," her mother read, her voice a melodic whisper.
Y/N, her eyes sparkling with innocence, declared, "When I grow up, I want to marry a prince charming too!"
Clara, ever the practical one, nodded in agreement. "Me too! He has to be brave and kind."
Eric, being a little boy, scrunched his nose in distaste. "I don’t want to get married. I want to be a knight!"
Their mother chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Y/N’s forehead. "It does not matter if he is a prince charming or a humble knight. As long as you marry the one you love, that is what truly matters."
Y/N's heart ached at the memory. How she wished her mother were still here to guide her through this terrifying day. The gentle knock on the door brought her back to the present.
"Lady Y/N, it’s time," one of the maids said softly.
Y/N took a long and deep breath, smoothing down the fabric of her dress. She followed the maid down the corridor, her mind a swirl of emotions. Reaching the grand doors of the church, her father waited for her.
"Remember, Y/N," he said, his voice stern. "Do not mess this up. Just endure it. And you'll be fine. This is the most useful you can be to our family."
Her heart sank further; yet she nodded obediently.
Compared to Y/N, her elder brother, a celebrated swordsman, and her sister, a master in the art of business, had always outshone her in their father's eyes. Y/N's talent with languages; ancient and modern – was seen as a useless skill, something that brought no tangible benefit to the family.
Her father had never been cruel when she was younger but everything changed when her mother died. In fact, everyone in the family had lost a piece of their soul when she left. Now, his lack of affection only increases the number of scars on her heart.
The doors opened, revealing the crowds of high-ranking nobles; who were mostly strangers – staring at her. Some were judging her; some pitied her. She reminded herself that she was doing this for her family, for the greater good. But the little girl inside her who dreamed of prince charming certainly felt a pang of sorrow.
As she walked down the aisle, her legs trembled, and her hands shook so violently that she had to clasp them together to steady herself. From afar, she saw the silhouette of the man she was destined to marry. His tall and huge figure stood out compared to anyone in the hall. As she got closer, she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, too afraid to look up at her husband-to-be.
When she finally reached the altar, the priest began the ceremony. His speech was long and dragging, giving Y/N too much time to entertain her growing curiosity that she dared to glance up at the man next to her. Even from behind the veil, she could see his towering and broad-shouldered build, his presence commanding the room. His long hair was slightly untamed, and a scruffy beard framed his face. His metal hand, glinting in the sun that leaked through the church’s windows, was a jarring reminder of the rumors that surrounded him.
There were no heartfelt vows to recite to each other; only their promise of "I do" was exchanged. And that was the first time Y/N heard his voice. It was deep and resonant, sending a shiver down her spine; but there was a certain warmth in it that contrasted sharply with his fearsome reputation.
When the priest announced their union and Bucky lifted her veil, Y/N was struck by the unexpected gentleness in his eyes. They were a brilliant, mesmerizing blue, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. Bucky's eyes softened as he looked at her, his gaze tender and almost reverent. Slowly, he placed one hand gently around her waist, pulling her slightly closer. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle against her skin.
Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as he leaned in, her breath catching in her throat. When his lips met hers, they were soft, warm, and so unexpected. She could smell his cologne; an earthy, woodsy scent mixed with a hint of something fruity; like peaches or tangerines. It made her head spin and her heart jumped all at the same time.
The kiss was gentle and unhurried, very much differs to the forceful gesture she had feared. As he pulled away, Y/N found herself blinking slowly, her cheeks flushed and her fear momentarily replaced by confusion and a surprising awe. She was caught off guard by the tenderness of his touch, the way his lips had brushed against hers so gently.
Could the rumors about him be wrong?
"I’m sorry if I startled you," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I hope I didn’t scare you, my dear."
Y/N blinked slowly, trying to process the sudden shift in her emotions. The fear that had gripped her so tightly seemed to dissipate, replaced by a confusing mix of relief and intrigue. Her hands, which had been trembling, now rested at her sides, feeling strangely steady. Her eyes met his, and she could see softness in his gaze that contradicted the harsh rumors she had heard.
“I—no, you didn’t scare me,” she managed to say; her voice barely more than a whisper. She took a deep breath, her cheeks getting warmer as she processed the endearment he just called her. On the other hand, her mind was racing as she tried to reconcile the man in front of her with the fearsome figure of the Winter Soldier.
Bucky’s eyes mellowed even further, his gaze glazed with a tenderness that seemed to pierce through the weight of the room. A warm smile spread across his face, and he held her gaze with a comforting assurance.
“Good,” he said, his voice carrying a gentle affection. “I’m glad to hear that.”
The reception that followed was a blur of faces and polite conversation. Y/N moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations and well-wishes, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky than the rumors suggested. Every time she caught his eye, he gave her a small, reassuring smile that made the butterflies inside of her go wild.
As the evening drew to a close, they were escorted to one of the Emperor’s palaces, a grand and opulent residence that was to serve as their temporary home before they traveled north to Bucky’s territory. The palace, with its lavish furnishings and golden accents, seemed to mock the uncertainty Y/N felt. She had been assigned a chamber to prepare for the night, and the palace maids were bustling around her, helping her into a set of elaborate, far-from-modest lingerie.
The palace’s maids’ whispers and side glances did nothing to ease her growing anxiety. Their condescending tones and occasional snickers were laced with cruel speculation about how roughly Bucky would treat her. The more Y/N overheard, the more her apprehension grew. Despite the gentleness Bucky had shown her earlier, she found herself doubting its sincerity.
Could he really be the caring husband he appeared to be, or was it all just an elaborate show?
The maids finally left, their laughter fading down the hallway, leaving Y/N alone in the grand chamber. Her heart raced, and cold sweat formed at her brow as she sat quietly on the edge of the ornate bed. She kept her gaze firmly on the floor, her hands fidgeting in her lap. The room felt enormous, its sheer size heightening her sense of isolation and dread.
The door creaked open, and Bucky entered the room. Y/N’s heart nearly stopped as she heard the heavy, measured footsteps approaching. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, her body tense and her mind a swirl of panic and unease. She almost held her breath entire when she felt the slight indentation of the mattress beside her.
“Y/N,” Bucky’s voice was soft and coaxing, a distinct difference to the coldness she was expecting. “Look at me.” He continued. She hesitated momentarily; torn between obeying and disobeying but ultimately decided to raise her eyes to meet his.
The sight of him; his upper body bare, revealing a tapestry of scars and the stark metal of his prosthetic arm; made her breath hitch. Her eyes traced the lines of his faded wound, particularly the jagged marks where his shoulder met his metal arm. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow and concern. Her fingers, almost of their own accord, reached out to trace the contours of his chest and shoulder.
Bucky let the innocence of her touch to trace the most tainted parts of him; however noting her trembling eyes, he misunderstood her apprehension. “I want you to know, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle, “that I will never hurt you. You are safe with me.”
Y/N shook her head, her heart aching. She felt an unexplainable pain growing in her chest as she gazed at him. Her fingers still lightly touching his scars; her eyes, full of unshed tears, silently asked a question she was too afraid to voice. “Does it still hurt?” she wanted to ask, her expression betraying her concern.
Bucky’s eyes sparkled with affection, and he took her hand in his, holding it tenderly against his chest. “Don't worry. It does not hurt anymore,” he said with a reassuring smile.
The connection between them was electric, charged with a deep, unspoken understanding. Bucky’s gaze was steady and filled with a depth of unspoken emotion that took Y/N’s breath away. “I know this is difficult for you, Y/N,” he said, his voice laden with sincerity. “But I promise, I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”
His words and the way he looked at her left Y/N feeling both comforted and overwhelmed. For the first time since their wedding, she felt a genuine, flickering hope that maybe, just maybe, their marriage could become something more than a mere political arrangement. Bucky’s assurances, his gentleness, and the tenderness in his eyes began to dissolve the fears she had harboured since the beginning of their union.
As they sat there, the weight of the night’s expectations seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile but growing trust. Y/N had entered this marriage with a sense of duty, convinced that she would have to endure the consummation of their union as a matter of obligation. But Bucky’s tenderness, his understanding, and the sincere reassurance he had given her began to change her perspective.
The idea of fulfilling her marital duty had initially felt like a burden she had to bear. She had steeled herself to face it with resignation, convinced that it was merely another part of her role in this arranged marriage. But now, she found herself reconsidering. The idea of being with him no longer felt like an obligation but a possibility of something more profound and intimate.
Y/N hands softly toyed with the delicate strings of her sheer lingerie, pulling it softly as her doe eyes signalled her husband of her intention. Bucky, sensing the shift in her demeanor, looked into her eyes with a mixture of concern and affection. “Are you sure, my dear?” he asked softly. “I want you to feel safe with me and not afraid of me.”
Y/N’s heart fluttered as she met his gaze, her own eyes reflecting the depth of her emotions. “I am,” she said with quiet conviction. “I feel safe with you, James”
Bucky's hand naturally went to brush her hair behind her ear, “It’s Bucky, my dear,” he corrected softly.
“Hmm?” she asked, slightly puzzled.
He chuckled warmly. “You can call me Bucky from now on. It’s a nickname only a selected few who I trust and love knows.” Her eyes sparkled at his choice words; trust and love.
“Bucky…” she tested the name on her tongue, the syllables feeling strangely intimate. Upon hearing his name from her lips, Bucky’s heart swelled, almost bursting from his ribcage. He hummed in approval, “That's right, my dear. I’m your Bucky.”
His reassuring smile grew wider, his calloused thumb gently stroke her cheek causing a shiver to strum all over her nerves; sending an emerging desire. One she had not fully acknowledged until now. The way he looked at her, the pure and raw endearment in his eyes, and the softness of his touch stirred something deep within her.
As the moments passed, Y/N realised she wanted this. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, to explore the warmth of his hands, to connect with him on a level she had longed for. The yearning for his touch, which had been dormant under layers of fear and uncertainty, now surged forward with undeniable intensity.
Without fully understanding why, Y/N found herself leaning closer to him, her breath coming in soft, eager gasps. She whispered, her voice barely audible but full of longing, “Bucky, please.”
Bucky’s expression softened, and a tender light filled his blue eyes, “May I?” he asked, his voice low and gentle as he held out his hand. There a shy hesitation before she finally placed her hand in his.
With a gentle but firm pull, Bucky lifted her onto his lap, his careful hands beginning the process of undressing her. Each movement was full of care, yet almost deliberate, as he slowly removed her dress, leaving her in nothing but the flimsy lace piece covering the sacred area between her thighs.
Bucky's eyes roamed over her bare skin, admiration clear in his gaze. Y/N could feel the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes traced every curve and contour of her body. The intensity of it made her feel both vulnerable and cherished, a potent combination that sent pleasurable shivers all over her body.
Seeing the hunger in his blue eyes, she felt the warmth of his body and caught the scent of him; the same once she noticed at the church; warm and comforting. Her breath quickened, and she found herself unsure of what to do or where to place her hands, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.
Noticing the subtle panic, Bucky reached for her hands and guided them through the thick strands of his long hair. “You can touch me as you please, my dear,” he whispered, his voice soothing as he reassured her. He leaned in to kiss her bare shoulder, then moved up to her neck, along her jaw, leaving a trail of warmth on her skin.
Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, the softness surprising her. The intimacy of the moment, combined with his gentle kisses, began to dissolve the last remnants of her anxiety. The feel of his lips on her skin was electrifying, each kiss sending waves of sensation she never felt before.
Bucky’s hands, still careful and tender, caressed her back, drawing her closer to him. Her breath hitched as he kissed the valley of her breasts; soft gasps escaping her lips as Bucky begins to lick and sucked on her delicate skin; likely trying to mark his claim on her.
Every touch and little kisses he left sent shivers straight to her already dripping core. And by the time his lips grazed her nipple, her body jerked forward; in response, unintentionally dragging her aching pussy against his thick thigh.
His lips latched around her right nipples as he licks and sucks the hardening skin; lapping at it as if he was feeding from her. The sensation was overwhelming, yet she found herself leaning into his touch, her body responding to his gentle ministrations. The grip on his hair grew tighter as the strings of moans poured out her lips.
Bucky’s large hands find their place on her hips, guiding her to gently rut on his thigh. Trusting him, she followed his lead as he continue to grind her clit through the thin fabric she was wearing; introducing the sweet friction in on her core. Bucky pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his expression filled with a mixture of subtle affection and desire. “You’re doing wonderfully, my dear. Can feel your pussy leaking on me. Do you feel good?” he murmured as he dipped back to kiss her neck.
Oh, he was filthy with his choice of words but surprisingly she was not mad about it. In fact she didn’t even notice the whimpers purring in her throat upon hearing those sinful words.
It was as if Bucky recognized that needy sound she made; it caused a smile to spread on his lips. She can feel it grow against the skin in between her breasts, “My my, is my sweet wife feeling needy right now?” he teased playfully as he effortlessly lifted her up and laid her down on their bed.
Placing himself in between her soft thighs, his lustful gaze trained on her naked body; he admired the marks he has left on her breasts, the wet patch on the flimsy fabric covering her cunt, and the way her breath shuddered when he teasingly grind his harden cock against her.
Y/N can feel the contrast of his hands on her thigh, one warm, one cold. Her eyes drew her attention from his hands to his gorgeous face. Oh, the pure unfiltered lust in his eyes was pulling her in so effortlessly; seducing her to submit her body and soul to him completely. Shying away from his stare, she dragged her view down to his chiselled jaw, his broad chest then slowly to his beautiful abs.
She admired his body as much as he did of hers.
But what was more prominent out of all, was the way she could feel his erection throbbing against her heat. Blood went rushing towards her face when Bucky guided her hips against the confinement of his cock, which in response; causing her hands naturally found their way to cover her face in embarrassment.
A deep chuckle bubbled from Bucky’s throat; he found her reaction to be absolutely endearing. He leaned down towards her, one hand holding himself up and another tenderly pulling her hands away, then drawing it close to his chest, right against his beating heart.
Having nowhere to run, Y/N’s teary eyes drowned in his ocean blues, “Don’t hide from me, dearest.” He peppered a delicate kiss on her forehead, then on her nose, then on her cheek. She could feel the prickly sensation of his beard grazing on her skin. It was ticklish and a little bit painful and yet weirdly enough, it felt good that it naturally made her want to nuzzle it more.
But before she could, Bucky’s lips were already making their way down to her stomach. Her body responds to how soft his lips trailing down; and further down until she could feel them on her clothed core. A surprised yelp fell from her lips as he tore the last piece of clothing from her.
“Now, hands away from your face, my dear. I want to see that beautiful eyes of yours when I eat your sweet pussy.” his voice was honeyed when he made himself comfortable in between her thighs. His hands reached upwards to intertwine both of her hands with his own; acting as a restraint to restrict her from covering her face.
Y/N almost sat up upon hearing his words, “Eat what now?”, the question she had in mind was unable to be vocalised; due to her confusion. Prior to marriage, she had learned about sex and its purpose in her marital studies. Unbeknownst to her, the knowledge she had was few and limited for academic purposes only. Which means there were only the few illustrations of penetration depicted in books and the process of how children are bred as a result of it.
So what does he mean when he said those words? While she was still lost and confused, Bucky on the other hand was in his own world; completely and utterly transfixed on the glistening need of her cunt. She was dripping wet; the juices covering her slits perfectly; her scent was intoxicating and if it weren’t for the fact that this is her first time, Bucky would’ve ate her like a man starved of touch. But, he can’t do that. Not tonight. He wanted to be gentle; to cherish her, to love on her.
Seeing the darkened clouds in his eyes as he stared at her private, Y/N braved herself to ask, “What are you– ohh hmmm” her sentence ended up transforming into a toe curling moan as she felt Bucky’s wet tongue flattened across her weeping core. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he dragged her clit into his mouth and sucked. He strummed her clit with his tongue, causing her to arch her back and he took the opportunity to push his face further into her cunt; licking and sucking quite the literal soul out her.
It felt amazing but her self-consciousness won the battle in her head, she let out a whimpering plea, “Buc--bucky st-stop. That’s dirty.” as she gripped on his hands, trying to escape from his grip. Bucky growled against her in response to her futile protest. The sweet vibration only caused her pleasure all over her fluttering core.
When Bucky pulled away for a moment; it caused her to feel a sense of loss. “It’s not dirty, my dear. In fact, it’s so sweet.” His lips moved to kiss on her inner thigh, murmuring against her skin as he left yet more of his marks on her, “So fucking sweet.” He releases his right hand from hers, just to rub his thumb on her clit, slowly dragging it in between her slit; smearing her wetness all around her throbbing bundle of nerves. Her thighs trembled to the sensation of his rough movement of his thumb and a string of shaky mewls fell out of her.
“But..” she tried to protest but immediately stopped when Bucky brought his soaked thumb to her mouth. Her lips were wet from how he gently smeared the juices on her, “Taste yourself.” He lured her softly. Hesitation glints in her eyes as her cheeks redden. Bucky’s eyes grew tender at her watery ones, he whispered lowly, “Sweetheart, do you trust me?”
She does; but she does not trust her own voice to not come out sounding like a needy moan, so she simply nodded. Bucky’s pink lips spread into a smile, “Good girl. Now, open up.” he coaxed lovingly.
Y/N opened her mouth as she was told and let Bucky slip his thumb inside; he was not shy to smother her juices across her tongue, coaxing her to suck on it. To get a taste of what he was having. “It’s sweet”, she thought to herself. A muffled moan purred in her throat at the thought of her husband enjoying the taste of her.
Bucky smirk grew at her reaction, “Tastes good huh, sweetheart?” he pulled his thumb away, leaving her nodding to his question. “Now are you going to let me enjoy your pussy?” his brow quirked when he tilted his head to the side. How can she deny him now? Her eyes glazed with need as she replied, “Yes, please”.
Her mouth falls open in anticipation as a low moan creeps up her throat. Bucky’s tongue slips past her folds, she watched him between her legs, savouring her pussy with his unfiltered groans vibrating against her sensitive spot. Breathless moans and incoherent pleads fall from her mouth as the soft and firm tip of his tongue circled her swollen pearl and flicked it. Bucky’s hands went to her hips, guiding it in time with her own movements, giving her partial control to set the pace.
“Buckyyyy.” She gasped as she alternated between wanting to push his head away or keep him in place. Meanwhile, the man in between her thighs had lost himself; consumed by pure desire the more he drank from her cunt. His tongue moved faster against her clit when he noticed the beat of her throbbing cunt increased. She was going to come. He was sure of it.
The way that she was practically creaming on his tongue drove him near feral. He kept lapping at her juices as if it was the sweetest honey he ever tasted; fuck he even sucked her clit in hopes to force out more of her nectar to leak; then he’d lap on it again.
The sweet cycle had pushed Y/N over the edge, her eyes rolling back as pleasure and her hips slightly lifted as pleasure surges through her veins.“Oh oh Bucky please please.” She didn’t what she was begging for as she chanted his name. “I’m gonna, ‘m gonna–“ her words died as she squealed; her body trembling in pleasure.
His tongue moved faster against her clit; her cum was dripping out of her; coating his beard but his frantic licks didn’t stop even when she continue to gush on his tongue.
“Bucky please, sensitive..” It was too much; her orgasm, her swollen clit, his tongue. Everything.
Unfortunately for her, Bucky was far gone to stop now. He had the taste of her cum, now he wants nothing more than to have it again. Despite her protest, Bucky held her hip down, interlocking his hands across her stomach to keep her in place and continue to lick and suck on her overstimulated cunt.
Her whiny pleas didn’t come across as a sign for him to stop; instead it kept him going causing him to bury his face further in between her legs. His cock continued to throb in his pants, probably leaking with so much pre-cum and in need of some sort of relief but he ignored it. He wants nothing more than for Y/N to cum on his tongue again.
And that is exactly what happened next.
The moment she fell over the edge, Bucky pushed her even harder against him as her whole body spasmed. He maintained his pace on lapping up at her all throughout her high as her hands went from his hair to the headboard, trying to hold her limp body upright. Y/N took a moment to gather herself together, panting heavily as she regained their senses; while Bucky was swift to pull his pants off and throw it to the side.
He grabbed on her hips, holding her firmly in place as his heavy leaking cock nestled between her aching pussy. “Are you sure about this, my dear?” his hot breath fanning against her neck as he gently ruts into her heat. Even though Bucky can see the darken lust in her eyes, he still wanted to make sure that she was sure of her decision.
Y/N’s heart swelled at his concern, and she found herself smiling, a genuine smile that reflected the warmth she felt inside. She pulled him closer and kissed him, pouring all her newfound trust and affection into the kiss. “Yes, Bucky. I am very sure. ”
Bucky quickly responded with equal passion, his tongue slipped in between her lips; exploring the warmness of her mouth, the softness of her tongue. Their muffled moans filled the silenced room, his hands moved to caress her sides, drawing her even closer before breaking away from the heated kiss.
Resting his forehead on hers, his eyes trained on her beautiful face; not wanting to miss his chance to witness the pleasure contorting on her expression. He nudges her clit first, rubbing it slow and sensual before trailing down to her entrance. Gradually, he inches closer, he pushes in and through the tightness of her sacred channel.
Delving impossibly deep, her tightness wrapped around his thick cock until the tip of him reached the deepest parts of her. The sudden feeling of fullness on her untainted pussy caused her to experience both pain and the delightful sensation inside her. The ecstasy of being so knitly connected to each other caused both of them to simultaneously let out moans and groans of raw pleasure.
Bucky waited for her to adjust to his size; leaning down to pamper her with the softest kisses and praises that tears started to swell in her eyes. It was as if Bucky knew exactly what she wanted to hear, how she wanted to be treated and what makes her feel good.
“You’re doing so good, my dear.”
“Look at how perfect your pussy’s taking my cock. So perfect.”
“Made for me aren’t you, sweetheart?. Made to be loved by me, made to be stuffed full of my cock.”
“I promise you’ll be safe with me, Y/N. Always.”
When Y/N finally gave him the permission to move, Bucky kissed her pouty lips and murmured sweetly, “Thank you, my dear.” His hands travelled to find her ankle; which he then gently prop her calf over his broad shoulder. He started pumping in and out slowly, letting her get used to the friction.
Bucky couldn’t help but to groan out to the feeling of her wet hole gripping his cock ever-so-tightly. It was slippery and dripping, that he almost completely slid out of her. Gripping her closer he continue ramming himself back in, deeper, harder; sliding in and out of her at an even pace. Each force of his cock causing her body to jerk in ecstasy; hitting that good spot in her so perfectly.
“S-shit, sweetheart,” he moans deep and heavy as he felt her pussy tightening around him. His metal hand slid in between them and his thumb hones in on her clit. The coldness of his finger made her jolt at first but when he proceeded to rub and pinch on it, everything suddenly started to feel too intense; so incredibly good.
With his fingers assaulting her clit, each thrust of his cock and every deep guttural moan and groan coming from Bucky, she felt her release was growing closer. Bucky also started thrusting faster and harder; he knew he was about to come. Especially when he can feel how much pre-cum has been leaking inside her.
He leaned and rested his forehead on hers, his needy ruts became more and more irregular when her pretty doe eyes looked up at him, “Cum for me, my dear.” his lips brushed against Y/N’s as he coaxed her to her sweet release. His thrusts got harsher and deeper and the friction of his metal finger working on her clit got her cunt to frantically tremble around him, “I wanna feel you milk my cock, sweetheart. Then, I’m gonna my pump cum inside you until you’re leaking.”
Although his words were debauched to no end, however Y/N could sense his genuine affection for her. She felt his sincerity in the way he looked at her, in the way he held her, in the silenced gaze they shared. Overwhelmed with pleasure, her nails dragged across Bucky’s back as she moaned and screamed out his name; letting the high took over her body.
“Fuck,, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum!” groaned as he took in the sound of her pleasured mewls. He ruthlessly grinds into her, savouring the feeling of her cunt tightened around him. With one last rut, he thrust his cock, balls deep inside and let his warm white strings filling her up to the brim. His cock twitches in her fluttering cunt, his legs tensing with every small grind he makes, groaning lowly at her as he bites down on her shoulder, almost drooling on her as he emptied himself completely into her.
Y/N continued to let out strings of soft moans as he pulled out from her leaking cunt; all swollen and sensitive. While she thought she could finally catch some breaths, she didn’t notice the way Bucky was biting on his lip at the sight of his cum dripping out of her, or how his hands lazily tugging on his now hardened cock.
“Dearest?” Bucky hovered above her as he cradled her by her flushed cheeks. She smiled sweetly as she leaned to his touch, “Yes, Bucky?”, she was anticipating him to utter more of those soft words and praises to her; but instead his lips curled into a devilish grin when he slid his cock back into her, immediately pulling a long sinful mewl of his name from her. Bucky hummed approvingly in response; he gently brushed his lips against hers, “May I fill you up again?”
As the morning sun streamed through the windows, Y/N slowly stirred awake. She reached out, instinctively searching for the warmth of her husband beside her, but found the space empty. A pang of loneliness touched her heart, but it was quickly replaced by curiosity when she saw a bouquet of bluebells, her favourite flower, placed delicately on the bedside table.
Next to the bouquet was a note. With a small smile, she picked it up and began to read.
"My Dearest Y/N,
I hate to leave you alone this morning, but I must ensure our journey home is smooth and safe. I trust you slept well, and I promise to return to your side as soon as I can.
Yours always,
Bucky"
The words written on the note were filled with sincerity and reassurance that made her heart flutter. She smiled, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she wondered how he knew bluebells were her favourite.
Just as she was lost in thought, the door opened, and the palace’s maids entered the room. Their faces were a mixture of curiosity and impatience, clearly expecting to see a frightened and bruised young bride.
However, when they saw Y/N's skin, they temporarily froze in their spots. Her skin was indeed bruised, but each one of them recognized the marks for what they were: love marks, not signs of harsh abuse that they were expecting. The traces of Bucky's possessive love were prominent all over her neck, chest, and inner thighs, leaving Y/N blushing as the maids, too, found themselves flushed with embarrassment.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” one of the older maids muttered under her breath, her tone laced with irritation. Another maid, with a more condescending sneer, huffed. “Looks like we lost the bet, ladies. Who would have thought the beast could be so... tender?”
Y/N’s cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and pride. She could feel their resentful glances and knew they were not pleased with the outcome. The marks on her body were a testament to the affection and desire Bucky had shown her, and despite the initial fear, she now wore them as symbols of the unexpected bond they had begun to forge.
The head maid, who had been the most vocal the night before, now seemed to handle her with an edge of bitterness. The other maids, who had been so quick to judge, were now silent, their eyes wide with resentment.One of the younger maids, braver than the rest, couldn’t hide her frustration. “Well, my lady, I suppose you’re alright, then?” she asked, her voice barely masking her disappointment.
Y/N looked at her, considering the appropriate response. If it was up to her, she ought to punish every single one of them for not knowing their place. Unfortunately, they were not her maids to begin with, but the palace's staff. Otherwise, she would likely fire each one of them.
The memory of Bucky’s affection and care filled her heart, leaving no room for anger or resentment. The warmth of his embrace and the gentle way he had treated her made the maids' behaviour seem petty and insignificant.
She could still feel the lingering touch of his lips on her skin, the way his hands had caressed her so delicately, and the sound of his reassuring voice. Her body was still tingling with the remnants of the previous night's intimacy. Her skin bore the marks of his love, not of brutality, and each bruise was a testament to the passion they had shared. It was completely different to the vile expectations of the maids.
A small smile playing on her lips despite the blush that still coloured her cheeks. "Yes," she said softly, "I am quite alright."
The maids exchanged annoyed glances, their expressions a mix of frustration and disbelief. Their muttered disappointments were tuned out as Y/N focused on the lingering warmth from the night before.
She couldn't hear a single thing except her heart beating to the thought of her husband. She missed him already. Who would’ve thought she’d be swooning for him so soon?
She found herself yearning for his presence, the comfort of his touch, and the sound of his reassuring voice. The memory of his gentle kiss and tender words lingered in her mind yet again, making her heart flutter.
As the maids continued their work, Y/N hoped they would at least perform their duties well enough to cover up for their childish behaviour. She wanted to be ready to see Bucky, to greet him with the same warmth and affection he had shown her. Despite their rudeness, she resolved to focus on the positive, cherishing the newfound bond with her husband.
Bucky stood at the head of the table, his stern expression and commanding presence filling the room. He was reviewing the logistics of their journey home, his voice cold and decisive as he issued instructions to his knights. His trusted knight, Sam, was detailing the possible hotspots for bandits they might encounter along the way.
"We'll likely face trouble here," Sam said, pointing to a spot on the map. "We should send some of our best men ahead to clear the path."
"Agreed," Bucky responded, his tone unyielding. "Deploy the knights in advance. Ensure the path is secure before we proceed."
Sam nodded and continued outlining the plan. He paused, expecting Bucky to reconfirm, but noticed a change in his leader's face. The harsh lines softened, his eyes filled with a tender warmth, as he stared intently at something across the room. Before Sam could look or utter a word, Bucky turned and walked away with determination.
Sam followed Bucky's gaze and understood immediately. "Ah, that's why," he muttered to himself as he watched Bucky approach Y/N. The change in Bucky’s demeanour was striking. He moved with a grace and warmth that was at odds with his usual stern and imposing presence.
Bucky’s eyes softened as he took in the sight of Y/N. He admired her beauty with a gaze filled with awe and adoration. The way he looked at her was as if he was seeing a vision he had longed for, a rare and precious gem that had finally come into his life.
As he extended his hand toward her, a gesture usually seen as etiquette but now entirely with different meaning, especially with the hearts bursting our of his blue eyes. Y/N’s face lighting up with a shy smile, took his hand; almost too eagerly. Bucky's fingers closed gently around hers, his touch tender and reassuring. The contrast between his usual, fearsome reputation and the gentle way he interacted with her was profound, making it clear that his feelings for Y/N were deeply genuine.
Bucky kissed the back of her hand, his lips softly caressing her knuckles. "My dear," he greeted her, using the endearment he had chosen when they first met at the altar.
The scene seemed like it was pulled raw from a romance novel that the surrounding staff and knights simply watched in shock and awe. "Did he just..." one knight whispered, eyes wide. "Called her 'my dear'?" another finished, equally stunned.
Sam, who had witnessed firsthand the monstrous side of Bucky in war, found himself in a state of utter disbelief, jaw dropped loose. He had seen Bucky’s sword painted blood-red, his face splattered with the gore of countless enemies. The Winter Soldier was a force of nature on the battlefield, his brutal efficiency leaving a trail of carnage in his wake. Sam recalled the sight of Bucky’s cold, unyielding eyes as he cut through foes without hesitation, his armor and weaponry gleaming with the blood of those who dared oppose him.
And yet, here he was, the same man who had struck terror into the hearts of many, now standing before Y/N with a tenderness that seemed unimaginable. Sam could hardly believe his eyes. The disparity was pronounced and bewildering. Bucky’s expression was soft, his movements gentle as he held Y/N’s hand in his.
“I’ve missed you,” Y/N said softly, her eyes shining with affection. She truly did, it would be a lie that she didn’t felt the ache in her heart when she woke up alone that morning. The emptiness beside her had felt profound. The bed still carried his scent, a lingering warmth that whispered of his recent presence. Even though the separation had been brief, as evidenced by the thoughtful note and the bouquet of her favourite flowers he had left behind, the loneliness she felt was palpable. His absence, however fleeting, had created a void that left her feeling incomplete.
Bucky’s heart seemed to burst with emotion. He couldn't care less about the gawking staff surrounding them as he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. She initially froze, caught off guard and embarrassed, but soon melted into his kiss with a blossoming confidence.
As their lips met, memories of their tender and passionate night together surged through Bucky's mind. The way she moan his name, the taste of her cum, the tightness of her pussy gripping on his cock, the way his cum leaked out of her, every single sinful scene replayed in head; infinitely. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and he found himself nearly losing control. Reluctantly, he pulled back from the kiss, his breath uneven and his gaze filled with an unspoken hunger.
"God, what should I do with you, hmm, sweetheart?" Bucky whispered, his voice laced with seduction as he continued to place gentle kisses along her cheeks and jaw. His lips brushed softly against her skin, whispering how much he had missed her and expressing a wistful desire to stay wrapped in the warmth of their shared bed just a little longer.
Y/N’s soft giggle rang out as she felt the roughness of his stubble against her delicate skin. The sound was like music to Bucky's ears, brightening his mood and filling him with a profound sense of joy. Despite the joyful exchange, he reluctantly ended the sweet torment, his kisses lingering just a moment longer before he pulled away.
“We should be ready to begin our journey shortly,” Bucky said, his tone shifting to a more practical note when e turned to Sam, who had approached during their moment of intimacy.
“Y/N, this is Sam Wilson, he is one of my trusted knights.” Bucky introduced, his gaze shifting to his wife. Sam gave a respectful nod to Y/N, a hint of surprise still evident in his expression from witnessing Bucky's affectionate display. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Y/N.”
Y/N smiled warmly at Sam, appreciating the introduction. “The pleasure is mine, Sir Wilson.”
Sam, sensing that the formality was unnecessary given their imminent interactions, decided to ease the situation. “Just Sam, my lady,” he said with a friendly tone. Y/N repeated his name with a touch of amusement. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sam.”
Bucky, observing the growing camaraderie between his wife and his trusted knight, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of protectiveness. The easy familiarity between them seemed a bit too casual for his liking. His eyes narrowed slightly as he gave Sam a warning look. “Watch it, Wilson.”
Sam, not missing a beat, chuckled at Bucky’s protective demeanour. “What’s the matter, my lord? Can’t handle a bit of friendly conversation?”
Y/N, noticing the playful tension and Bucky’s slight irritation, couldn’t help but laugh. The contrast between Bucky’s usually soft demeanour that Y/N had witnessed and his current protective stance were both endearing and amusing. Her laughter lightened the mood, making Sam’s teasing even more enjoyable.
Bucky's stern gaze softened as he watched Y/N’s laughter, though his protective instinct remained palpable. Steering the conversion back to the preparations, he allowed a faint smile to tug at the corners of his mouth despite his earlier warning.
“I trust you can escort my wife to the carriage,” Bucky said, his voice serious but tinged with a hint of a smile. “However, I expect you to maintain proper distance and adhere to these additional guidelines.” He paused, ensuring his words were clear. “No unnecessary physical contact or overly familiar behaviour. And if you could, avoid any casual conversations that might be misinterpreted.”
Sam looked at Bucky in disbelief, shaking his head with a bemused expression. “Seriously, Barnes? You’re laying down rules for me to keep my distance from your wife now?”
Bucky’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Consider it a precaution. I’d rather not have any misunderstandings.” Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes as he complied. “Understood. I’ll make sure to follow your... guidelines.”
Y/N watched the exchange with amusement, her earlier shyness melting away into a warm appreciation for Bucky’s protectiveness. The scene, tinged with a touch of comedy, only deepened the connection between them.
Bucky, intent on making a point to Sam while expressing his affection, pulled Y/N close and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. The gesture was both intimate and deliberate, a subtle yet clear indication to Sam that she belongs to Bucky. “I’ll join you shortly, my dear,” Bucky said softly, his voice filled with warmth as he gazed into her eyes.
Sam, unimpressed by Bucky’s display, rolled his eyes at the seemingly childish antics. “This way, my lady,” he said with a hint of impatience. Y/N nodded in agreement but paused before turning her back on Bucky. With a loving smile, she whispered, “I’ll see you later,” before following Sam.
Bucky watched as Sam guided Y/N away, his gaze lingered with a mix of affection and something much deeper; an unspoken sadness. As their silhouettes walked further and further away from his sight, a sombre glaze settled over his eyes.
Beneath the surface of his composed exterior, his heart ached; the was a silent reflection of a pain he had hidden deep within his heart. It was a lingering sorrow that had shadowed him ever since he stood at the altar, the weight of unvoiced grief clinging to him as he gazed at his future bride.
Part II >> (coming soon)
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: Wondering why he was in the feels at the end? We’ll know it soon enough. I’ll see you in the next parts! Thank you for reading!
An arranged marriage with duke's illegitimate son!bucky
Summary: In a medieval kingdom where magic and political intrigue are woven into the fabric of society, Y/N, the youngest daughter of a noble Earl family, finds herself in an arranged marriage to James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke. Known as the Winter Soldier, Bucky's reputation as a monster in war had instilled anxiety into Y/N's heart. But that fear quickly begins to crumble when she discovers that her husband is not the brutal figure society depicts him to be.
Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)
Words: 8.1k++
Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader
Warnings: fantasy/medieval au, i did not write this with much knowledge of fantasy nor medieval lore. I write it solely for plot and the couple dynamic lmao. if you're expecting full blown fantasy novel; this ain't it, man. anyways, 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, loss of virginity, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint), marking kink (i think), soft fluffy smut, a wee bit of dirty talk. soft!reader and even softer!bucky. (idk what else, so tell me if there's something i miss.)
P/S: This is the fic for an idea I had earlier this year. The first chapter will only cover the original post but what happens next is something you will need to look forward on the upcoming chapters. Enjoy your read!
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Y/N stood in front of the grand mirror in her chamber, her reflection staring back at her with wide, fearful eyes. The delicate lace of her wedding dress was the opposite of the twisting anxiety in her stomach. Today, she was to marry James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke of the kingdom, a man labelled to be more beast than human.
He was known as the Winter Soldier, a title whispered with both fear and awe. Tales of his gruesome feats in battle, his merciless brutality, and his cold, metal arm was deemed as a horror story for the children in the kingdom. People spoke of him as a monstrous weapon, a beast moulded by the Emperor to do his bidding without question or hesitation.
Y/N had heard the stories many times before; and it has always been a hushed conversation that floats around whether a ballroom of a gala, or at the tables of the garden parties, sometimes even in between the racks of books in the library. T
hey always painted a picture of a man who lived only for war, devoid of humanity.
She couldn't help but let these tales feed her imagination. What kind of man was he truly? Did he revel in the violence, or was he a prisoner to his fate? Y/N shuddered at the thought, her heart heavy with fear and uncertainty.
Her father, the Earl, had made it clear why she needed to marry him. It was a political manoeuvre, a strategic alliance to strengthen their family's position. The duke, Bucky's father, wielded considerable power, and their union would bring the Earl closer to the heart of the kingdom's influence.
And when he heard that the duke was looking for a wife for his bastard son, he knew that she would be perfect. That was when Y/N, the youngest daughter, became the pawn in this game. Her father's ambitions certainly outweighed any consideration for her feelings or desires.
Y/N had always longed for a marriage of love, a dream she clung to despite her circumstances. She was a hopeless romantic through and through; much like her late mother. She remembered the nights when her mother would read to her and her siblings, spinning tales of prince charming and valiant heroes.
The fire crackled warmly in the hearth as her mother’s soothing voice filled the room. Y/N and her siblings, her older brother Eric and sister Clara, lay tucked under blankets, their eyes wide with wonder.
"And then the prince, with a heart full of love, swept the princess into his arms, vowing to protect her forever," her mother read, her voice a melodic whisper.
Y/N, her eyes sparkling with innocence, declared, "When I grow up, I want to marry a prince charming too!"
Clara, ever the practical one, nodded in agreement. "Me too! He has to be brave and kind."
Eric, being a little boy, scrunched his nose in distaste. "I don’t want to get married. I want to be a knight!"
Their mother chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Y/N’s forehead. "It does not matter if he is a prince charming or a humble knight. As long as you marry the one you love, that is what truly matters."
Y/N's heart ached at the memory. How she wished her mother were still here to guide her through this terrifying day. The gentle knock on the door brought her back to the present.
"Lady Y/N, it’s time," one of the maids said softly.
Y/N took a long and deep breath, smoothing down the fabric of her dress. She followed the maid down the corridor, her mind a swirl of emotions. Reaching the grand doors of the church, her father waited for her.
"Remember, Y/N," he said, his voice stern. "Do not mess this up. Just endure it. And you'll be fine. This is the most useful you can be to our family."
Her heart sank further; yet she nodded obediently.
Compared to Y/N, her elder brother, a celebrated swordsman, and her sister, a master in the art of business, had always outshone her in their father's eyes. Y/N's talent with languages; ancient and modern – was seen as a useless skill, something that brought no tangible benefit to the family.
Her father had never been cruel when she was younger but everything changed when her mother died. In fact, everyone in the family had lost a piece of their soul when she left. Now, his lack of affection only increases the number of scars on her heart.
The doors opened, revealing the crowds of high-ranking nobles; who were mostly strangers – staring at her. Some were judging her; some pitied her. She reminded herself that she was doing this for her family, for the greater good. But the little girl inside her who dreamed of prince charming certainly felt a pang of sorrow.
As she walked down the aisle, her legs trembled, and her hands shook so violently that she had to clasp them together to steady herself. From afar, she saw the silhouette of the man she was destined to marry. His tall and huge figure stood out compared to anyone in the hall. As she got closer, she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, too afraid to look up at her husband-to-be.
When she finally reached the altar, the priest began the ceremony. His speech was long and dragging, giving Y/N too much time to entertain her growing curiosity that she dared to glance up at the man next to her. Even from behind the veil, she could see his towering and broad-shouldered build, his presence commanding the room. His long hair was slightly untamed, and a scruffy beard framed his face. His metal hand, glinting in the sun that leaked through the church’s windows, was a jarring reminder of the rumors that surrounded him.
There were no heartfelt vows to recite to each other; only their promise of "I do" was exchanged. And that was the first time Y/N heard his voice. It was deep and resonant, sending a shiver down her spine; but there was a certain warmth in it that contrasted sharply with his fearsome reputation.
When the priest announced their union and Bucky lifted her veil, Y/N was struck by the unexpected gentleness in his eyes. They were a brilliant, mesmerizing blue, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. Bucky's eyes softened as he looked at her, his gaze tender and almost reverent. Slowly, he placed one hand gently around her waist, pulling her slightly closer. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle against her skin.
Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as he leaned in, her breath catching in her throat. When his lips met hers, they were soft, warm, and so unexpected. She could smell his cologne; an earthy, woodsy scent mixed with a hint of something fruity; like peaches or tangerines. It made her head spin and her heart jumped all at the same time.
The kiss was gentle and unhurried, very much differs to the forceful gesture she had feared. As he pulled away, Y/N found herself blinking slowly, her cheeks flushed and her fear momentarily replaced by confusion and a surprising awe. She was caught off guard by the tenderness of his touch, the way his lips had brushed against hers so gently.
Could the rumors about him be wrong?
"I’m sorry if I startled you," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I hope I didn’t scare you, my dear."
Y/N blinked slowly, trying to process the sudden shift in her emotions. The fear that had gripped her so tightly seemed to dissipate, replaced by a confusing mix of relief and intrigue. Her hands, which had been trembling, now rested at her sides, feeling strangely steady. Her eyes met his, and she could see softness in his gaze that contradicted the harsh rumors she had heard.
“I—no, you didn’t scare me,” she managed to say; her voice barely more than a whisper. She took a deep breath, her cheeks getting warmer as she processed the endearment he just called her. On the other hand, her mind was racing as she tried to reconcile the man in front of her with the fearsome figure of the Winter Soldier.
Bucky’s eyes mellowed even further, his gaze glazed with a tenderness that seemed to pierce through the weight of the room. A warm smile spread across his face, and he held her gaze with a comforting assurance.
“Good,” he said, his voice carrying a gentle affection. “I’m glad to hear that.”
The reception that followed was a blur of faces and polite conversation. Y/N moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations and well-wishes, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky than the rumors suggested. Every time she caught his eye, he gave her a small, reassuring smile that made the butterflies inside of her go wild.
As the evening drew to a close, they were escorted to one of the Emperor’s palaces, a grand and opulent residence that was to serve as their temporary home before they traveled north to Bucky’s territory. The palace, with its lavish furnishings and golden accents, seemed to mock the uncertainty Y/N felt. She had been assigned a chamber to prepare for the night, and the palace maids were bustling around her, helping her into a set of elaborate, far-from-modest lingerie.
The palace’s maids’ whispers and side glances did nothing to ease her growing anxiety. Their condescending tones and occasional snickers were laced with cruel speculation about how roughly Bucky would treat her. The more Y/N overheard, the more her apprehension grew. Despite the gentleness Bucky had shown her earlier, she found herself doubting its sincerity.
Could he really be the caring husband he appeared to be, or was it all just an elaborate show?
The maids finally left, their laughter fading down the hallway, leaving Y/N alone in the grand chamber. Her heart raced, and cold sweat formed at her brow as she sat quietly on the edge of the ornate bed. She kept her gaze firmly on the floor, her hands fidgeting in her lap. The room felt enormous, its sheer size heightening her sense of isolation and dread.
The door creaked open, and Bucky entered the room. Y/N’s heart nearly stopped as she heard the heavy, measured footsteps approaching. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, her body tense and her mind a swirl of panic and unease. She almost held her breath entire when she felt the slight indentation of the mattress beside her.
“Y/N,” Bucky’s voice was soft and coaxing, a distinct difference to the coldness she was expecting. “Look at me.” He continued. She hesitated momentarily; torn between obeying and disobeying but ultimately decided to raise her eyes to meet his.
The sight of him; his upper body bare, revealing a tapestry of scars and the stark metal of his prosthetic arm; made her breath hitch. Her eyes traced the lines of his faded wound, particularly the jagged marks where his shoulder met his metal arm. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow and concern. Her fingers, almost of their own accord, reached out to trace the contours of his chest and shoulder.
Bucky let the innocence of her touch to trace the most tainted parts of him; however noting her trembling eyes, he misunderstood her apprehension. “I want you to know, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle, “that I will never hurt you. You are safe with me.”
Y/N shook her head, her heart aching. She felt an unexplainable pain growing in her chest as she gazed at him. Her fingers still lightly touching his scars; her eyes, full of unshed tears, silently asked a question she was too afraid to voice. “Does it still hurt?” she wanted to ask, her expression betraying her concern.
Bucky’s eyes sparkled with affection, and he took her hand in his, holding it tenderly against his chest. “Don't worry. It does not hurt anymore,” he said with a reassuring smile.
The connection between them was electric, charged with a deep, unspoken understanding. Bucky’s gaze was steady and filled with a depth of unspoken emotion that took Y/N’s breath away. “I know this is difficult for you, Y/N,” he said, his voice laden with sincerity. “But I promise, I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”
His words and the way he looked at her left Y/N feeling both comforted and overwhelmed. For the first time since their wedding, she felt a genuine, flickering hope that maybe, just maybe, their marriage could become something more than a mere political arrangement. Bucky’s assurances, his gentleness, and the tenderness in his eyes began to dissolve the fears she had harboured since the beginning of their union.
As they sat there, the weight of the night’s expectations seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile but growing trust. Y/N had entered this marriage with a sense of duty, convinced that she would have to endure the consummation of their union as a matter of obligation. But Bucky’s tenderness, his understanding, and the sincere reassurance he had given her began to change her perspective.
The idea of fulfilling her marital duty had initially felt like a burden she had to bear. She had steeled herself to face it with resignation, convinced that it was merely another part of her role in this arranged marriage. But now, she found herself reconsidering. The idea of being with him no longer felt like an obligation but a possibility of something more profound and intimate.
Y/N hands softly toyed with the delicate strings of her sheer lingerie, pulling it softly as her doe eyes signalled her husband of her intention. Bucky, sensing the shift in her demeanor, looked into her eyes with a mixture of concern and affection. “Are you sure, my dear?” he asked softly. “I want you to feel safe with me and not afraid of me.”
Y/N’s heart fluttered as she met his gaze, her own eyes reflecting the depth of her emotions. “I am,” she said with quiet conviction. “I feel safe with you, James”
Bucky's hand naturally went to brush her hair behind her ear, “It’s Bucky, my dear,” he corrected softly.
“Hmm?” she asked, slightly puzzled.
He chuckled warmly. “You can call me Bucky from now on. It’s a nickname only a selected few who I trust and love knows.” Her eyes sparkled at his choice words; trust and love.
“Bucky…” she tested the name on her tongue, the syllables feeling strangely intimate. Upon hearing his name from her lips, Bucky’s heart swelled, almost bursting from his ribcage. He hummed in approval, “That's right, my dear. I’m your Bucky.”
His reassuring smile grew wider, his calloused thumb gently stroke her cheek causing a shiver to strum all over her nerves; sending an emerging desire. One she had not fully acknowledged until now. The way he looked at her, the pure and raw endearment in his eyes, and the softness of his touch stirred something deep within her.
As the moments passed, Y/N realised she wanted this. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, to explore the warmth of his hands, to connect with him on a level she had longed for. The yearning for his touch, which had been dormant under layers of fear and uncertainty, now surged forward with undeniable intensity.
Without fully understanding why, Y/N found herself leaning closer to him, her breath coming in soft, eager gasps. She whispered, her voice barely audible but full of longing, “Bucky, please.”
Bucky’s expression softened, and a tender light filled his blue eyes, “May I?” he asked, his voice low and gentle as he held out his hand. There a shy hesitation before she finally placed her hand in his.
With a gentle but firm pull, Bucky lifted her onto his lap, his careful hands beginning the process of undressing her. Each movement was full of care, yet almost deliberate, as he slowly removed her dress, leaving her in nothing but the flimsy lace piece covering the sacred area between her thighs.
Bucky's eyes roamed over her bare skin, admiration clear in his gaze. Y/N could feel the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes traced every curve and contour of her body. The intensity of it made her feel both vulnerable and cherished, a potent combination that sent pleasurable shivers all over her body.
Seeing the hunger in his blue eyes, she felt the warmth of his body and caught the scent of him; the same once she noticed at the church; warm and comforting. Her breath quickened, and she found herself unsure of what to do or where to place her hands, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.
Noticing the subtle panic, Bucky reached for her hands and guided them through the thick strands of his long hair. “You can touch me as you please, my dear,” he whispered, his voice soothing as he reassured her. He leaned in to kiss her bare shoulder, then moved up to her neck, along her jaw, leaving a trail of warmth on her skin.
Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, the softness surprising her. The intimacy of the moment, combined with his gentle kisses, began to dissolve the last remnants of her anxiety. The feel of his lips on her skin was electrifying, each kiss sending waves of sensation she never felt before.
Bucky’s hands, still careful and tender, caressed her back, drawing her closer to him. Her breath hitched as he kissed the valley of her breasts; soft gasps escaping her lips as Bucky begins to lick and sucked on her delicate skin; likely trying to mark his claim on her.
Every touch and little kisses he left sent shivers straight to her already dripping core. And by the time his lips grazed her nipple, her body jerked forward; in response, unintentionally dragging her aching pussy against his thick thigh.
His lips latched around her right nipples as he licks and sucks the hardening skin; lapping at it as if he was feeding from her. The sensation was overwhelming, yet she found herself leaning into his touch, her body responding to his gentle ministrations. The grip on his hair grew tighter as the strings of moans poured out her lips.
Bucky’s large hands find their place on her hips, guiding her to gently rut on his thigh. Trusting him, she followed his lead as he continue to grind her clit through the thin fabric she was wearing; introducing the sweet friction in on her core. Bucky pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his expression filled with a mixture of subtle affection and desire. “You’re doing wonderfully, my dear. Can feel your pussy leaking on me. Do you feel good?” he murmured as he dipped back to kiss her neck.
Oh, he was filthy with his choice of words but surprisingly she was not mad about it. In fact she didn’t even notice the whimpers purring in her throat upon hearing those sinful words.
It was as if Bucky recognized that needy sound she made; it caused a smile to spread on his lips. She can feel it grow against the skin in between her breasts, “My my, is my sweet wife feeling needy right now?” he teased playfully as he effortlessly lifted her up and laid her down on their bed.
Placing himself in between her soft thighs, his lustful gaze trained on her naked body; he admired the marks he has left on her breasts, the wet patch on the flimsy fabric covering her cunt, and the way her breath shuddered when he teasingly grind his harden cock against her.
Y/N can feel the contrast of his hands on her thigh, one warm, one cold. Her eyes drew her attention from his hands to his gorgeous face. Oh, the pure unfiltered lust in his eyes was pulling her in so effortlessly; seducing her to submit her body and soul to him completely. Shying away from his stare, she dragged her view down to his chiselled jaw, his broad chest then slowly to his beautiful abs.
She admired his body as much as he did of hers.
But what was more prominent out of all, was the way she could feel his erection throbbing against her heat. Blood went rushing towards her face when Bucky guided her hips against the confinement of his cock, which in response; causing her hands naturally found their way to cover her face in embarrassment.
A deep chuckle bubbled from Bucky’s throat; he found her reaction to be absolutely endearing. He leaned down towards her, one hand holding himself up and another tenderly pulling her hands away, then drawing it close to his chest, right against his beating heart.
Having nowhere to run, Y/N’s teary eyes drowned in his ocean blues, “Don’t hide from me, dearest.” He peppered a delicate kiss on her forehead, then on her nose, then on her cheek. She could feel the prickly sensation of his beard grazing on her skin. It was ticklish and a little bit painful and yet weirdly enough, it felt good that it naturally made her want to nuzzle it more.
But before she could, Bucky’s lips were already making their way down to her stomach. Her body responds to how soft his lips trailing down; and further down until she could feel them on her clothed core. A surprised yelp fell from her lips as he tore the last piece of clothing from her.
“Now, hands away from your face, my dear. I want to see that beautiful eyes of yours when I eat your sweet pussy.” his voice was honeyed when he made himself comfortable in between her thighs. His hands reached upwards to intertwine both of her hands with his own; acting as a restraint to restrict her from covering her face.
Y/N almost sat up upon hearing his words, “Eat what now?”, the question she had in mind was unable to be vocalised; due to her confusion. Prior to marriage, she had learned about sex and its purpose in her marital studies. Unbeknownst to her, the knowledge she had was few and limited for academic purposes only. Which means there were only the few illustrations of penetration depicted in books and the process of how children are bred as a result of it.
So what does he mean when he said those words? While she was still lost and confused, Bucky on the other hand was in his own world; completely and utterly transfixed on the glistening need of her cunt. She was dripping wet; the juices covering her slits perfectly; her scent was intoxicating and if it weren’t for the fact that this is her first time, Bucky would’ve ate her like a man starved of touch. But, he can’t do that. Not tonight. He wanted to be gentle; to cherish her, to love on her.
Seeing the darkened clouds in his eyes as he stared at her private, Y/N braved herself to ask, “What are you– ohh hmmm” her sentence ended up transforming into a toe curling moan as she felt Bucky’s wet tongue flattened across her weeping core. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he dragged her clit into his mouth and sucked. He strummed her clit with his tongue, causing her to arch her back and he took the opportunity to push his face further into her cunt; licking and sucking quite the literal soul out her.
It felt amazing but her self-consciousness won the battle in her head, she let out a whimpering plea, “Buc--bucky st-stop. That’s dirty.” as she gripped on his hands, trying to escape from his grip. Bucky growled against her in response to her futile protest. The sweet vibration only caused her pleasure all over her fluttering core.
When Bucky pulled away for a moment; it caused her to feel a sense of loss. “It’s not dirty, my dear. In fact, it’s so sweet.” His lips moved to kiss on her inner thigh, murmuring against her skin as he left yet more of his marks on her, “So fucking sweet.” He releases his right hand from hers, just to rub his thumb on her clit, slowly dragging it in between her slit; smearing her wetness all around her throbbing bundle of nerves. Her thighs trembled to the sensation of his rough movement of his thumb and a string of shaky mewls fell out of her.
“But..” she tried to protest but immediately stopped when Bucky brought his soaked thumb to her mouth. Her lips were wet from how he gently smeared the juices on her, “Taste yourself.” He lured her softly. Hesitation glints in her eyes as her cheeks redden. Bucky’s eyes grew tender at her watery ones, he whispered lowly, “Sweetheart, do you trust me?”
She does; but she does not trust her own voice to not come out sounding like a needy moan, so she simply nodded. Bucky’s pink lips spread into a smile, “Good girl. Now, open up.” he coaxed lovingly.
Y/N opened her mouth as she was told and let Bucky slip his thumb inside; he was not shy to smother her juices across her tongue, coaxing her to suck on it. To get a taste of what he was having. “It’s sweet”, she thought to herself. A muffled moan purred in her throat at the thought of her husband enjoying the taste of her.
Bucky smirk grew at her reaction, “Tastes good huh, sweetheart?” he pulled his thumb away, leaving her nodding to his question. “Now are you going to let me enjoy your pussy?” his brow quirked when he tilted his head to the side. How can she deny him now? Her eyes glazed with need as she replied, “Yes, please”.
Her mouth falls open in anticipation as a low moan creeps up her throat. Bucky’s tongue slips past her folds, she watched him between her legs, savouring her pussy with his unfiltered groans vibrating against her sensitive spot. Breathless moans and incoherent pleads fall from her mouth as the soft and firm tip of his tongue circled her swollen pearl and flicked it. Bucky’s hands went to her hips, guiding it in time with her own movements, giving her partial control to set the pace.
“Buckyyyy.” She gasped as she alternated between wanting to push his head away or keep him in place. Meanwhile, the man in between her thighs had lost himself; consumed by pure desire the more he drank from her cunt. His tongue moved faster against her clit when he noticed the beat of her throbbing cunt increased. She was going to come. He was sure of it.
The way that she was practically creaming on his tongue drove him near feral. He kept lapping at her juices as if it was the sweetest honey he ever tasted; fuck he even sucked her clit in hopes to force out more of her nectar to leak; then he’d lap on it again.
The sweet cycle had pushed Y/N over the edge, her eyes rolling back as pleasure and her hips slightly lifted as pleasure surges through her veins.“Oh oh Bucky please please.” She didn’t what she was begging for as she chanted his name. “I’m gonna, ‘m gonna–“ her words died as she squealed; her body trembling in pleasure.
His tongue moved faster against her clit; her cum was dripping out of her; coating his beard but his frantic licks didn’t stop even when she continue to gush on his tongue.
“Bucky please, sensitive..” It was too much; her orgasm, her swollen clit, his tongue. Everything.
Unfortunately for her, Bucky was far gone to stop now. He had the taste of her cum, now he wants nothing more than to have it again. Despite her protest, Bucky held her hip down, interlocking his hands across her stomach to keep her in place and continue to lick and suck on her overstimulated cunt.
Her whiny pleas didn’t come across as a sign for him to stop; instead it kept him going causing him to bury his face further in between her legs. His cock continued to throb in his pants, probably leaking with so much pre-cum and in need of some sort of relief but he ignored it. He wants nothing more than for Y/N to cum on his tongue again.
And that is exactly what happened next.
The moment she fell over the edge, Bucky pushed her even harder against him as her whole body spasmed. He maintained his pace on lapping up at her all throughout her high as her hands went from his hair to the headboard, trying to hold her limp body upright. Y/N took a moment to gather herself together, panting heavily as she regained their senses; while Bucky was swift to pull his pants off and throw it to the side.
He grabbed on her hips, holding her firmly in place as his heavy leaking cock nestled between her aching pussy. “Are you sure about this, my dear?” his hot breath fanning against her neck as he gently ruts into her heat. Even though Bucky can see the darken lust in her eyes, he still wanted to make sure that she was sure of her decision.
Y/N’s heart swelled at his concern, and she found herself smiling, a genuine smile that reflected the warmth she felt inside. She pulled him closer and kissed him, pouring all her newfound trust and affection into the kiss. “Yes, Bucky. I am very sure. ”
Bucky quickly responded with equal passion, his tongue slipped in between her lips; exploring the warmness of her mouth, the softness of her tongue. Their muffled moans filled the silenced room, his hands moved to caress her sides, drawing her even closer before breaking away from the heated kiss.
Resting his forehead on hers, his eyes trained on her beautiful face; not wanting to miss his chance to witness the pleasure contorting on her expression. He nudges her clit first, rubbing it slow and sensual before trailing down to her entrance. Gradually, he inches closer, he pushes in and through the tightness of her sacred channel.
Delving impossibly deep, her tightness wrapped around his thick cock until the tip of him reached the deepest parts of her. The sudden feeling of fullness on her untainted pussy caused her to experience both pain and the delightful sensation inside her. The ecstasy of being so knitly connected to each other caused both of them to simultaneously let out moans and groans of raw pleasure.
Bucky waited for her to adjust to his size; leaning down to pamper her with the softest kisses and praises that tears started to swell in her eyes. It was as if Bucky knew exactly what she wanted to hear, how she wanted to be treated and what makes her feel good.
“You’re doing so good, my dear.”
“Look at how perfect your pussy’s taking my cock. So perfect.”
“Made for me aren’t you, sweetheart?. Made to be loved by me, made to be stuffed full of my cock.”
“I promise you’ll be safe with me, Y/N. Always.”
When Y/N finally gave him the permission to move, Bucky kissed her pouty lips and murmured sweetly, “Thank you, my dear.” His hands travelled to find her ankle; which he then gently prop her calf over his broad shoulder. He started pumping in and out slowly, letting her get used to the friction.
Bucky couldn’t help but to groan out to the feeling of her wet hole gripping his cock ever-so-tightly. It was slippery and dripping, that he almost completely slid out of her. Gripping her closer he continue ramming himself back in, deeper, harder; sliding in and out of her at an even pace. Each force of his cock causing her body to jerk in ecstasy; hitting that good spot in her so perfectly.
“S-shit, sweetheart,” he moans deep and heavy as he felt her pussy tightening around him. His metal hand slid in between them and his thumb hones in on her clit. The coldness of his finger made her jolt at first but when he proceeded to rub and pinch on it, everything suddenly started to feel too intense; so incredibly good.
With his fingers assaulting her clit, each thrust of his cock and every deep guttural moan and groan coming from Bucky, she felt her release was growing closer. Bucky also started thrusting faster and harder; he knew he was about to come. Especially when he can feel how much pre-cum has been leaking inside her.
He leaned and rested his forehead on hers, his needy ruts became more and more irregular when her pretty doe eyes looked up at him, “Cum for me, my dear.” his lips brushed against Y/N’s as he coaxed her to her sweet release. His thrusts got harsher and deeper and the friction of his metal finger working on her clit got her cunt to frantically tremble around him, “I wanna feel you milk my cock, sweetheart. Then, I’m gonna my pump cum inside you until you’re leaking.”
Although his words were debauched to no end, however Y/N could sense his genuine affection for her. She felt his sincerity in the way he looked at her, in the way he held her, in the silenced gaze they shared. Overwhelmed with pleasure, her nails dragged across Bucky’s back as she moaned and screamed out his name; letting the high took over her body.
“Fuck,, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum!” groaned as he took in the sound of her pleasured mewls. He ruthlessly grinds into her, savouring the feeling of her cunt tightened around him. With one last rut, he thrust his cock, balls deep inside and let his warm white strings filling her up to the brim. His cock twitches in her fluttering cunt, his legs tensing with every small grind he makes, groaning lowly at her as he bites down on her shoulder, almost drooling on her as he emptied himself completely into her.
Y/N continued to let out strings of soft moans as he pulled out from her leaking cunt; all swollen and sensitive. While she thought she could finally catch some breaths, she didn’t notice the way Bucky was biting on his lip at the sight of his cum dripping out of her, or how his hands lazily tugging on his now hardened cock.
“Dearest?” Bucky hovered above her as he cradled her by her flushed cheeks. She smiled sweetly as she leaned to his touch, “Yes, Bucky?”, she was anticipating him to utter more of those soft words and praises to her; but instead his lips curled into a devilish grin when he slid his cock back into her, immediately pulling a long sinful mewl of his name from her. Bucky hummed approvingly in response; he gently brushed his lips against hers, “May I fill you up again?”
As the morning sun streamed through the windows, Y/N slowly stirred awake. She reached out, instinctively searching for the warmth of her husband beside her, but found the space empty. A pang of loneliness touched her heart, but it was quickly replaced by curiosity when she saw a bouquet of bluebells, her favourite flower, placed delicately on the bedside table.
Next to the bouquet was a note. With a small smile, she picked it up and began to read.
"My Dearest Y/N,
I hate to leave you alone this morning, but I must ensure our journey home is smooth and safe. I trust you slept well, and I promise to return to your side as soon as I can.
Yours always,
Bucky"
The words written on the note were filled with sincerity and reassurance that made her heart flutter. She smiled, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she wondered how he knew bluebells were her favourite.
Just as she was lost in thought, the door opened, and the palace’s maids entered the room. Their faces were a mixture of curiosity and impatience, clearly expecting to see a frightened and bruised young bride.
However, when they saw Y/N's skin, they temporarily froze in their spots. Her skin was indeed bruised, but each one of them recognized the marks for what they were: love marks, not signs of harsh abuse that they were expecting. The traces of Bucky's possessive love were prominent all over her neck, chest, and inner thighs, leaving Y/N blushing as the maids, too, found themselves flushed with embarrassment.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” one of the older maids muttered under her breath, her tone laced with irritation. Another maid, with a more condescending sneer, huffed. “Looks like we lost the bet, ladies. Who would have thought the beast could be so... tender?”
Y/N’s cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and pride. She could feel their resentful glances and knew they were not pleased with the outcome. The marks on her body were a testament to the affection and desire Bucky had shown her, and despite the initial fear, she now wore them as symbols of the unexpected bond they had begun to forge.
The head maid, who had been the most vocal the night before, now seemed to handle her with an edge of bitterness. The other maids, who had been so quick to judge, were now silent, their eyes wide with resentment.One of the younger maids, braver than the rest, couldn’t hide her frustration. “Well, my lady, I suppose you’re alright, then?” she asked, her voice barely masking her disappointment.
Y/N looked at her, considering the appropriate response. If it was up to her, she ought to punish every single one of them for not knowing their place. Unfortunately, they were not her maids to begin with, but the palace's staff. Otherwise, she would likely fire each one of them.
The memory of Bucky’s affection and care filled her heart, leaving no room for anger or resentment. The warmth of his embrace and the gentle way he had treated her made the maids' behaviour seem petty and insignificant.
She could still feel the lingering touch of his lips on her skin, the way his hands had caressed her so delicately, and the sound of his reassuring voice. Her body was still tingling with the remnants of the previous night's intimacy. Her skin bore the marks of his love, not of brutality, and each bruise was a testament to the passion they had shared. It was completely different to the vile expectations of the maids.
A small smile playing on her lips despite the blush that still coloured her cheeks. "Yes," she said softly, "I am quite alright."
The maids exchanged annoyed glances, their expressions a mix of frustration and disbelief. Their muttered disappointments were tuned out as Y/N focused on the lingering warmth from the night before.
She couldn't hear a single thing except her heart beating to the thought of her husband. She missed him already. Who would’ve thought she’d be swooning for him so soon?
She found herself yearning for his presence, the comfort of his touch, and the sound of his reassuring voice. The memory of his gentle kiss and tender words lingered in her mind yet again, making her heart flutter.
As the maids continued their work, Y/N hoped they would at least perform their duties well enough to cover up for their childish behaviour. She wanted to be ready to see Bucky, to greet him with the same warmth and affection he had shown her. Despite their rudeness, she resolved to focus on the positive, cherishing the newfound bond with her husband.
Bucky stood at the head of the table, his stern expression and commanding presence filling the room. He was reviewing the logistics of their journey home, his voice cold and decisive as he issued instructions to his knights. His trusted knight, Sam, was detailing the possible hotspots for bandits they might encounter along the way.
"We'll likely face trouble here," Sam said, pointing to a spot on the map. "We should send some of our best men ahead to clear the path."
"Agreed," Bucky responded, his tone unyielding. "Deploy the knights in advance. Ensure the path is secure before we proceed."
Sam nodded and continued outlining the plan. He paused, expecting Bucky to reconfirm, but noticed a change in his leader's face. The harsh lines softened, his eyes filled with a tender warmth, as he stared intently at something across the room. Before Sam could look or utter a word, Bucky turned and walked away with determination.
Sam followed Bucky's gaze and understood immediately. "Ah, that's why," he muttered to himself as he watched Bucky approach Y/N. The change in Bucky’s demeanour was striking. He moved with a grace and warmth that was at odds with his usual stern and imposing presence.
Bucky’s eyes softened as he took in the sight of Y/N. He admired her beauty with a gaze filled with awe and adoration. The way he looked at her was as if he was seeing a vision he had longed for, a rare and precious gem that had finally come into his life.
As he extended his hand toward her, a gesture usually seen as etiquette but now entirely with different meaning, especially with the hearts bursting our of his blue eyes. Y/N’s face lighting up with a shy smile, took his hand; almost too eagerly. Bucky's fingers closed gently around hers, his touch tender and reassuring. The contrast between his usual, fearsome reputation and the gentle way he interacted with her was profound, making it clear that his feelings for Y/N were deeply genuine.
Bucky kissed the back of her hand, his lips softly caressing her knuckles. "My dear," he greeted her, using the endearment he had chosen when they first met at the altar.
The scene seemed like it was pulled raw from a romance novel that the surrounding staff and knights simply watched in shock and awe. "Did he just..." one knight whispered, eyes wide. "Called her 'my dear'?" another finished, equally stunned.
Sam, who had witnessed firsthand the monstrous side of Bucky in war, found himself in a state of utter disbelief, jaw dropped loose. He had seen Bucky’s sword painted blood-red, his face splattered with the gore of countless enemies. The Winter Soldier was a force of nature on the battlefield, his brutal efficiency leaving a trail of carnage in his wake. Sam recalled the sight of Bucky’s cold, unyielding eyes as he cut through foes without hesitation, his armor and weaponry gleaming with the blood of those who dared oppose him.
And yet, here he was, the same man who had struck terror into the hearts of many, now standing before Y/N with a tenderness that seemed unimaginable. Sam could hardly believe his eyes. The disparity was pronounced and bewildering. Bucky’s expression was soft, his movements gentle as he held Y/N’s hand in his.
“I’ve missed you,” Y/N said softly, her eyes shining with affection. She truly did, it would be a lie that she didn’t felt the ache in her heart when she woke up alone that morning. The emptiness beside her had felt profound. The bed still carried his scent, a lingering warmth that whispered of his recent presence. Even though the separation had been brief, as evidenced by the thoughtful note and the bouquet of her favourite flowers he had left behind, the loneliness she felt was palpable. His absence, however fleeting, had created a void that left her feeling incomplete.
Bucky’s heart seemed to burst with emotion. He couldn't care less about the gawking staff surrounding them as he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. She initially froze, caught off guard and embarrassed, but soon melted into his kiss with a blossoming confidence.
As their lips met, memories of their tender and passionate night together surged through Bucky's mind. The way she moan his name, the taste of her cum, the tightness of her pussy gripping on his cock, the way his cum leaked out of her, every single sinful scene replayed in head; infinitely. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and he found himself nearly losing control. Reluctantly, he pulled back from the kiss, his breath uneven and his gaze filled with an unspoken hunger.
"God, what should I do with you, hmm, sweetheart?" Bucky whispered, his voice laced with seduction as he continued to place gentle kisses along her cheeks and jaw. His lips brushed softly against her skin, whispering how much he had missed her and expressing a wistful desire to stay wrapped in the warmth of their shared bed just a little longer.
Y/N’s soft giggle rang out as she felt the roughness of his stubble against her delicate skin. The sound was like music to Bucky's ears, brightening his mood and filling him with a profound sense of joy. Despite the joyful exchange, he reluctantly ended the sweet torment, his kisses lingering just a moment longer before he pulled away.
“We should be ready to begin our journey shortly,” Bucky said, his tone shifting to a more practical note when e turned to Sam, who had approached during their moment of intimacy.
“Y/N, this is Sam Wilson, he is one of my trusted knights.” Bucky introduced, his gaze shifting to his wife. Sam gave a respectful nod to Y/N, a hint of surprise still evident in his expression from witnessing Bucky's affectionate display. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Y/N.”
Y/N smiled warmly at Sam, appreciating the introduction. “The pleasure is mine, Sir Wilson.”
Sam, sensing that the formality was unnecessary given their imminent interactions, decided to ease the situation. “Just Sam, my lady,” he said with a friendly tone. Y/N repeated his name with a touch of amusement. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sam.”
Bucky, observing the growing camaraderie between his wife and his trusted knight, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of protectiveness. The easy familiarity between them seemed a bit too casual for his liking. His eyes narrowed slightly as he gave Sam a warning look. “Watch it, Wilson.”
Sam, not missing a beat, chuckled at Bucky’s protective demeanour. “What’s the matter, my lord? Can’t handle a bit of friendly conversation?”
Y/N, noticing the playful tension and Bucky’s slight irritation, couldn’t help but laugh. The contrast between Bucky’s usually soft demeanour that Y/N had witnessed and his current protective stance were both endearing and amusing. Her laughter lightened the mood, making Sam’s teasing even more enjoyable.
Bucky's stern gaze softened as he watched Y/N’s laughter, though his protective instinct remained palpable. Steering the conversion back to the preparations, he allowed a faint smile to tug at the corners of his mouth despite his earlier warning.
“I trust you can escort my wife to the carriage,” Bucky said, his voice serious but tinged with a hint of a smile. “However, I expect you to maintain proper distance and adhere to these additional guidelines.” He paused, ensuring his words were clear. “No unnecessary physical contact or overly familiar behaviour. And if you could, avoid any casual conversations that might be misinterpreted.”
Sam looked at Bucky in disbelief, shaking his head with a bemused expression. “Seriously, Barnes? You’re laying down rules for me to keep my distance from your wife now?”
Bucky’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Consider it a precaution. I’d rather not have any misunderstandings.” Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes as he complied. “Understood. I’ll make sure to follow your... guidelines.”
Y/N watched the exchange with amusement, her earlier shyness melting away into a warm appreciation for Bucky’s protectiveness. The scene, tinged with a touch of comedy, only deepened the connection between them.
Bucky, intent on making a point to Sam while expressing his affection, pulled Y/N close and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. The gesture was both intimate and deliberate, a subtle yet clear indication to Sam that she belongs to Bucky. “I’ll join you shortly, my dear,” Bucky said softly, his voice filled with warmth as he gazed into her eyes.
Sam, unimpressed by Bucky’s display, rolled his eyes at the seemingly childish antics. “This way, my lady,” he said with a hint of impatience. Y/N nodded in agreement but paused before turning her back on Bucky. With a loving smile, she whispered, “I’ll see you later,” before following Sam.
Bucky watched as Sam guided Y/N away, his gaze lingered with a mix of affection and something much deeper; an unspoken sadness. As their silhouettes walked further and further away from his sight, a sombre glaze settled over his eyes.
Beneath the surface of his composed exterior, his heart ached; the was a silent reflection of a pain he had hidden deep within his heart. It was a lingering sorrow that had shadowed him ever since he stood at the altar, the weight of unvoiced grief clinging to him as he gazed at his future bride.
Part II >> (coming soon)
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: Wondering why he was in the feels at the end? We’ll know it soon enough. I’ll see you in the next parts! Thank you for reading!
An arranged marriage with duke's illegitimate son!bucky
Summary: In a medieval kingdom where magic and political intrigue are woven into the fabric of society, Y/N, the youngest daughter of a noble Earl family, finds herself in an arranged marriage to James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke. Known as the Winter Soldier, Bucky's reputation as a monster in war had instilled anxiety into Y/N's heart. But that fear quickly begins to crumble when she discovers that her husband is not the brutal figure society depicts him to be.
Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)
Words: 8.1k++
Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader
Warnings: fantasy/medieval au, i did not write this with much knowledge of fantasy nor medieval lore. I write it solely for plot and the couple dynamic lmao. if you're expecting full blown fantasy novel; this ain't it, man. anyways, 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, loss of virginity, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint), marking kink (i think), soft fluffy smut, a wee bit of dirty talk. soft!reader and even softer!bucky. (idk what else, so tell me if there's something i miss.)
P/S: This is the fic for an idea I had earlier this year. The first chapter will only cover the original post but what happens next is something you will need to look forward on the upcoming chapters. Enjoy your read!
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Y/N stood in front of the grand mirror in her chamber, her reflection staring back at her with wide, fearful eyes. The delicate lace of her wedding dress was the opposite of the twisting anxiety in her stomach. Today, she was to marry James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke of the kingdom, a man labelled to be more beast than human.
He was known as the Winter Soldier, a title whispered with both fear and awe. Tales of his gruesome feats in battle, his merciless brutality, and his cold, metal arm was deemed as a horror story for the children in the kingdom. People spoke of him as a monstrous weapon, a beast moulded by the Emperor to do his bidding without question or hesitation.
Y/N had heard the stories many times before; and it has always been a hushed conversation that floats around whether a ballroom of a gala, or at the tables of the garden parties, sometimes even in between the racks of books in the library. T
hey always painted a picture of a man who lived only for war, devoid of humanity.
She couldn't help but let these tales feed her imagination. What kind of man was he truly? Did he revel in the violence, or was he a prisoner to his fate? Y/N shuddered at the thought, her heart heavy with fear and uncertainty.
Her father, the Earl, had made it clear why she needed to marry him. It was a political manoeuvre, a strategic alliance to strengthen their family's position. The duke, Bucky's father, wielded considerable power, and their union would bring the Earl closer to the heart of the kingdom's influence.
And when he heard that the duke was looking for a wife for his bastard son, he knew that she would be perfect. That was when Y/N, the youngest daughter, became the pawn in this game. Her father's ambitions certainly outweighed any consideration for her feelings or desires.
Y/N had always longed for a marriage of love, a dream she clung to despite her circumstances. She was a hopeless romantic through and through; much like her late mother. She remembered the nights when her mother would read to her and her siblings, spinning tales of prince charming and valiant heroes.
The fire crackled warmly in the hearth as her mother’s soothing voice filled the room. Y/N and her siblings, her older brother Eric and sister Clara, lay tucked under blankets, their eyes wide with wonder.
"And then the prince, with a heart full of love, swept the princess into his arms, vowing to protect her forever," her mother read, her voice a melodic whisper.
Y/N, her eyes sparkling with innocence, declared, "When I grow up, I want to marry a prince charming too!"
Clara, ever the practical one, nodded in agreement. "Me too! He has to be brave and kind."
Eric, being a little boy, scrunched his nose in distaste. "I don’t want to get married. I want to be a knight!"
Their mother chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Y/N’s forehead. "It does not matter if he is a prince charming or a humble knight. As long as you marry the one you love, that is what truly matters."
Y/N's heart ached at the memory. How she wished her mother were still here to guide her through this terrifying day. The gentle knock on the door brought her back to the present.
"Lady Y/N, it’s time," one of the maids said softly.
Y/N took a long and deep breath, smoothing down the fabric of her dress. She followed the maid down the corridor, her mind a swirl of emotions. Reaching the grand doors of the church, her father waited for her.
"Remember, Y/N," he said, his voice stern. "Do not mess this up. Just endure it. And you'll be fine. This is the most useful you can be to our family."
Her heart sank further; yet she nodded obediently.
Compared to Y/N, her elder brother, a celebrated swordsman, and her sister, a master in the art of business, had always outshone her in their father's eyes. Y/N's talent with languages; ancient and modern – was seen as a useless skill, something that brought no tangible benefit to the family.
Her father had never been cruel when she was younger but everything changed when her mother died. In fact, everyone in the family had lost a piece of their soul when she left. Now, his lack of affection only increases the number of scars on her heart.
The doors opened, revealing the crowds of high-ranking nobles; who were mostly strangers – staring at her. Some were judging her; some pitied her. She reminded herself that she was doing this for her family, for the greater good. But the little girl inside her who dreamed of prince charming certainly felt a pang of sorrow.
As she walked down the aisle, her legs trembled, and her hands shook so violently that she had to clasp them together to steady herself. From afar, she saw the silhouette of the man she was destined to marry. His tall and huge figure stood out compared to anyone in the hall. As she got closer, she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, too afraid to look up at her husband-to-be.
When she finally reached the altar, the priest began the ceremony. His speech was long and dragging, giving Y/N too much time to entertain her growing curiosity that she dared to glance up at the man next to her. Even from behind the veil, she could see his towering and broad-shouldered build, his presence commanding the room. His long hair was slightly untamed, and a scruffy beard framed his face. His metal hand, glinting in the sun that leaked through the church’s windows, was a jarring reminder of the rumors that surrounded him.
There were no heartfelt vows to recite to each other; only their promise of "I do" was exchanged. And that was the first time Y/N heard his voice. It was deep and resonant, sending a shiver down her spine; but there was a certain warmth in it that contrasted sharply with his fearsome reputation.
When the priest announced their union and Bucky lifted her veil, Y/N was struck by the unexpected gentleness in his eyes. They were a brilliant, mesmerizing blue, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. Bucky's eyes softened as he looked at her, his gaze tender and almost reverent. Slowly, he placed one hand gently around her waist, pulling her slightly closer. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle against her skin.
Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as he leaned in, her breath catching in her throat. When his lips met hers, they were soft, warm, and so unexpected. She could smell his cologne; an earthy, woodsy scent mixed with a hint of something fruity; like peaches or tangerines. It made her head spin and her heart jumped all at the same time.
The kiss was gentle and unhurried, very much differs to the forceful gesture she had feared. As he pulled away, Y/N found herself blinking slowly, her cheeks flushed and her fear momentarily replaced by confusion and a surprising awe. She was caught off guard by the tenderness of his touch, the way his lips had brushed against hers so gently.
Could the rumors about him be wrong?
"I’m sorry if I startled you," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I hope I didn’t scare you, my dear."
Y/N blinked slowly, trying to process the sudden shift in her emotions. The fear that had gripped her so tightly seemed to dissipate, replaced by a confusing mix of relief and intrigue. Her hands, which had been trembling, now rested at her sides, feeling strangely steady. Her eyes met his, and she could see softness in his gaze that contradicted the harsh rumors she had heard.
“I—no, you didn’t scare me,” she managed to say; her voice barely more than a whisper. She took a deep breath, her cheeks getting warmer as she processed the endearment he just called her. On the other hand, her mind was racing as she tried to reconcile the man in front of her with the fearsome figure of the Winter Soldier.
Bucky’s eyes mellowed even further, his gaze glazed with a tenderness that seemed to pierce through the weight of the room. A warm smile spread across his face, and he held her gaze with a comforting assurance.
“Good,” he said, his voice carrying a gentle affection. “I’m glad to hear that.”
The reception that followed was a blur of faces and polite conversation. Y/N moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations and well-wishes, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky than the rumors suggested. Every time she caught his eye, he gave her a small, reassuring smile that made the butterflies inside of her go wild.
As the evening drew to a close, they were escorted to one of the Emperor’s palaces, a grand and opulent residence that was to serve as their temporary home before they traveled north to Bucky’s territory. The palace, with its lavish furnishings and golden accents, seemed to mock the uncertainty Y/N felt. She had been assigned a chamber to prepare for the night, and the palace maids were bustling around her, helping her into a set of elaborate, far-from-modest lingerie.
The palace’s maids’ whispers and side glances did nothing to ease her growing anxiety. Their condescending tones and occasional snickers were laced with cruel speculation about how roughly Bucky would treat her. The more Y/N overheard, the more her apprehension grew. Despite the gentleness Bucky had shown her earlier, she found herself doubting its sincerity.
Could he really be the caring husband he appeared to be, or was it all just an elaborate show?
The maids finally left, their laughter fading down the hallway, leaving Y/N alone in the grand chamber. Her heart raced, and cold sweat formed at her brow as she sat quietly on the edge of the ornate bed. She kept her gaze firmly on the floor, her hands fidgeting in her lap. The room felt enormous, its sheer size heightening her sense of isolation and dread.
The door creaked open, and Bucky entered the room. Y/N’s heart nearly stopped as she heard the heavy, measured footsteps approaching. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, her body tense and her mind a swirl of panic and unease. She almost held her breath entire when she felt the slight indentation of the mattress beside her.
“Y/N,” Bucky’s voice was soft and coaxing, a distinct difference to the coldness she was expecting. “Look at me.” He continued. She hesitated momentarily; torn between obeying and disobeying but ultimately decided to raise her eyes to meet his.
The sight of him; his upper body bare, revealing a tapestry of scars and the stark metal of his prosthetic arm; made her breath hitch. Her eyes traced the lines of his faded wound, particularly the jagged marks where his shoulder met his metal arm. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow and concern. Her fingers, almost of their own accord, reached out to trace the contours of his chest and shoulder.
Bucky let the innocence of her touch to trace the most tainted parts of him; however noting her trembling eyes, he misunderstood her apprehension. “I want you to know, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle, “that I will never hurt you. You are safe with me.”
Y/N shook her head, her heart aching. She felt an unexplainable pain growing in her chest as she gazed at him. Her fingers still lightly touching his scars; her eyes, full of unshed tears, silently asked a question she was too afraid to voice. “Does it still hurt?” she wanted to ask, her expression betraying her concern.
Bucky’s eyes sparkled with affection, and he took her hand in his, holding it tenderly against his chest. “Don't worry. It does not hurt anymore,” he said with a reassuring smile.
The connection between them was electric, charged with a deep, unspoken understanding. Bucky’s gaze was steady and filled with a depth of unspoken emotion that took Y/N’s breath away. “I know this is difficult for you, Y/N,” he said, his voice laden with sincerity. “But I promise, I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”
His words and the way he looked at her left Y/N feeling both comforted and overwhelmed. For the first time since their wedding, she felt a genuine, flickering hope that maybe, just maybe, their marriage could become something more than a mere political arrangement. Bucky’s assurances, his gentleness, and the tenderness in his eyes began to dissolve the fears she had harboured since the beginning of their union.
As they sat there, the weight of the night’s expectations seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile but growing trust. Y/N had entered this marriage with a sense of duty, convinced that she would have to endure the consummation of their union as a matter of obligation. But Bucky’s tenderness, his understanding, and the sincere reassurance he had given her began to change her perspective.
The idea of fulfilling her marital duty had initially felt like a burden she had to bear. She had steeled herself to face it with resignation, convinced that it was merely another part of her role in this arranged marriage. But now, she found herself reconsidering. The idea of being with him no longer felt like an obligation but a possibility of something more profound and intimate.
Y/N hands softly toyed with the delicate strings of her sheer lingerie, pulling it softly as her doe eyes signalled her husband of her intention. Bucky, sensing the shift in her demeanor, looked into her eyes with a mixture of concern and affection. “Are you sure, my dear?” he asked softly. “I want you to feel safe with me and not afraid of me.”
Y/N’s heart fluttered as she met his gaze, her own eyes reflecting the depth of her emotions. “I am,” she said with quiet conviction. “I feel safe with you, James”
Bucky's hand naturally went to brush her hair behind her ear, “It’s Bucky, my dear,” he corrected softly.
“Hmm?” she asked, slightly puzzled.
He chuckled warmly. “You can call me Bucky from now on. It’s a nickname only a selected few who I trust and love knows.” Her eyes sparkled at his choice words; trust and love.
“Bucky…” she tested the name on her tongue, the syllables feeling strangely intimate. Upon hearing his name from her lips, Bucky’s heart swelled, almost bursting from his ribcage. He hummed in approval, “That's right, my dear. I’m your Bucky.”
His reassuring smile grew wider, his calloused thumb gently stroke her cheek causing a shiver to strum all over her nerves; sending an emerging desire. One she had not fully acknowledged until now. The way he looked at her, the pure and raw endearment in his eyes, and the softness of his touch stirred something deep within her.
As the moments passed, Y/N realised she wanted this. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, to explore the warmth of his hands, to connect with him on a level she had longed for. The yearning for his touch, which had been dormant under layers of fear and uncertainty, now surged forward with undeniable intensity.
Without fully understanding why, Y/N found herself leaning closer to him, her breath coming in soft, eager gasps. She whispered, her voice barely audible but full of longing, “Bucky, please.”
Bucky’s expression softened, and a tender light filled his blue eyes, “May I?” he asked, his voice low and gentle as he held out his hand. There a shy hesitation before she finally placed her hand in his.
With a gentle but firm pull, Bucky lifted her onto his lap, his careful hands beginning the process of undressing her. Each movement was full of care, yet almost deliberate, as he slowly removed her dress, leaving her in nothing but the flimsy lace piece covering the sacred area between her thighs.
Bucky's eyes roamed over her bare skin, admiration clear in his gaze. Y/N could feel the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes traced every curve and contour of her body. The intensity of it made her feel both vulnerable and cherished, a potent combination that sent pleasurable shivers all over her body.
Seeing the hunger in his blue eyes, she felt the warmth of his body and caught the scent of him; the same once she noticed at the church; warm and comforting. Her breath quickened, and she found herself unsure of what to do or where to place her hands, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.
Noticing the subtle panic, Bucky reached for her hands and guided them through the thick strands of his long hair. “You can touch me as you please, my dear,” he whispered, his voice soothing as he reassured her. He leaned in to kiss her bare shoulder, then moved up to her neck, along her jaw, leaving a trail of warmth on her skin.
Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, the softness surprising her. The intimacy of the moment, combined with his gentle kisses, began to dissolve the last remnants of her anxiety. The feel of his lips on her skin was electrifying, each kiss sending waves of sensation she never felt before.
Bucky’s hands, still careful and tender, caressed her back, drawing her closer to him. Her breath hitched as he kissed the valley of her breasts; soft gasps escaping her lips as Bucky begins to lick and sucked on her delicate skin; likely trying to mark his claim on her.
Every touch and little kisses he left sent shivers straight to her already dripping core. And by the time his lips grazed her nipple, her body jerked forward; in response, unintentionally dragging her aching pussy against his thick thigh.
His lips latched around her right nipples as he licks and sucks the hardening skin; lapping at it as if he was feeding from her. The sensation was overwhelming, yet she found herself leaning into his touch, her body responding to his gentle ministrations. The grip on his hair grew tighter as the strings of moans poured out her lips.
Bucky’s large hands find their place on her hips, guiding her to gently rut on his thigh. Trusting him, she followed his lead as he continue to grind her clit through the thin fabric she was wearing; introducing the sweet friction in on her core. Bucky pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his expression filled with a mixture of subtle affection and desire. “You’re doing wonderfully, my dear. Can feel your pussy leaking on me. Do you feel good?” he murmured as he dipped back to kiss her neck.
Oh, he was filthy with his choice of words but surprisingly she was not mad about it. In fact she didn’t even notice the whimpers purring in her throat upon hearing those sinful words.
It was as if Bucky recognized that needy sound she made; it caused a smile to spread on his lips. She can feel it grow against the skin in between her breasts, “My my, is my sweet wife feeling needy right now?” he teased playfully as he effortlessly lifted her up and laid her down on their bed.
Placing himself in between her soft thighs, his lustful gaze trained on her naked body; he admired the marks he has left on her breasts, the wet patch on the flimsy fabric covering her cunt, and the way her breath shuddered when he teasingly grind his harden cock against her.
Y/N can feel the contrast of his hands on her thigh, one warm, one cold. Her eyes drew her attention from his hands to his gorgeous face. Oh, the pure unfiltered lust in his eyes was pulling her in so effortlessly; seducing her to submit her body and soul to him completely. Shying away from his stare, she dragged her view down to his chiselled jaw, his broad chest then slowly to his beautiful abs.
She admired his body as much as he did of hers.
But what was more prominent out of all, was the way she could feel his erection throbbing against her heat. Blood went rushing towards her face when Bucky guided her hips against the confinement of his cock, which in response; causing her hands naturally found their way to cover her face in embarrassment.
A deep chuckle bubbled from Bucky’s throat; he found her reaction to be absolutely endearing. He leaned down towards her, one hand holding himself up and another tenderly pulling her hands away, then drawing it close to his chest, right against his beating heart.
Having nowhere to run, Y/N’s teary eyes drowned in his ocean blues, “Don’t hide from me, dearest.” He peppered a delicate kiss on her forehead, then on her nose, then on her cheek. She could feel the prickly sensation of his beard grazing on her skin. It was ticklish and a little bit painful and yet weirdly enough, it felt good that it naturally made her want to nuzzle it more.
But before she could, Bucky’s lips were already making their way down to her stomach. Her body responds to how soft his lips trailing down; and further down until she could feel them on her clothed core. A surprised yelp fell from her lips as he tore the last piece of clothing from her.
“Now, hands away from your face, my dear. I want to see that beautiful eyes of yours when I eat your sweet pussy.” his voice was honeyed when he made himself comfortable in between her thighs. His hands reached upwards to intertwine both of her hands with his own; acting as a restraint to restrict her from covering her face.
Y/N almost sat up upon hearing his words, “Eat what now?”, the question she had in mind was unable to be vocalised; due to her confusion. Prior to marriage, she had learned about sex and its purpose in her marital studies. Unbeknownst to her, the knowledge she had was few and limited for academic purposes only. Which means there were only the few illustrations of penetration depicted in books and the process of how children are bred as a result of it.
So what does he mean when he said those words? While she was still lost and confused, Bucky on the other hand was in his own world; completely and utterly transfixed on the glistening need of her cunt. She was dripping wet; the juices covering her slits perfectly; her scent was intoxicating and if it weren’t for the fact that this is her first time, Bucky would’ve ate her like a man starved of touch. But, he can’t do that. Not tonight. He wanted to be gentle; to cherish her, to love on her.
Seeing the darkened clouds in his eyes as he stared at her private, Y/N braved herself to ask, “What are you– ohh hmmm” her sentence ended up transforming into a toe curling moan as she felt Bucky’s wet tongue flattened across her weeping core. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he dragged her clit into his mouth and sucked. He strummed her clit with his tongue, causing her to arch her back and he took the opportunity to push his face further into her cunt; licking and sucking quite the literal soul out her.
It felt amazing but her self-consciousness won the battle in her head, she let out a whimpering plea, “Buc--bucky st-stop. That’s dirty.” as she gripped on his hands, trying to escape from his grip. Bucky growled against her in response to her futile protest. The sweet vibration only caused her pleasure all over her fluttering core.
When Bucky pulled away for a moment; it caused her to feel a sense of loss. “It’s not dirty, my dear. In fact, it’s so sweet.” His lips moved to kiss on her inner thigh, murmuring against her skin as he left yet more of his marks on her, “So fucking sweet.” He releases his right hand from hers, just to rub his thumb on her clit, slowly dragging it in between her slit; smearing her wetness all around her throbbing bundle of nerves. Her thighs trembled to the sensation of his rough movement of his thumb and a string of shaky mewls fell out of her.
“But..” she tried to protest but immediately stopped when Bucky brought his soaked thumb to her mouth. Her lips were wet from how he gently smeared the juices on her, “Taste yourself.” He lured her softly. Hesitation glints in her eyes as her cheeks redden. Bucky’s eyes grew tender at her watery ones, he whispered lowly, “Sweetheart, do you trust me?”
She does; but she does not trust her own voice to not come out sounding like a needy moan, so she simply nodded. Bucky’s pink lips spread into a smile, “Good girl. Now, open up.” he coaxed lovingly.
Y/N opened her mouth as she was told and let Bucky slip his thumb inside; he was not shy to smother her juices across her tongue, coaxing her to suck on it. To get a taste of what he was having. “It’s sweet”, she thought to herself. A muffled moan purred in her throat at the thought of her husband enjoying the taste of her.
Bucky smirk grew at her reaction, “Tastes good huh, sweetheart?” he pulled his thumb away, leaving her nodding to his question. “Now are you going to let me enjoy your pussy?” his brow quirked when he tilted his head to the side. How can she deny him now? Her eyes glazed with need as she replied, “Yes, please”.
Her mouth falls open in anticipation as a low moan creeps up her throat. Bucky’s tongue slips past her folds, she watched him between her legs, savouring her pussy with his unfiltered groans vibrating against her sensitive spot. Breathless moans and incoherent pleads fall from her mouth as the soft and firm tip of his tongue circled her swollen pearl and flicked it. Bucky’s hands went to her hips, guiding it in time with her own movements, giving her partial control to set the pace.
“Buckyyyy.” She gasped as she alternated between wanting to push his head away or keep him in place. Meanwhile, the man in between her thighs had lost himself; consumed by pure desire the more he drank from her cunt. His tongue moved faster against her clit when he noticed the beat of her throbbing cunt increased. She was going to come. He was sure of it.
The way that she was practically creaming on his tongue drove him near feral. He kept lapping at her juices as if it was the sweetest honey he ever tasted; fuck he even sucked her clit in hopes to force out more of her nectar to leak; then he’d lap on it again.
The sweet cycle had pushed Y/N over the edge, her eyes rolling back as pleasure and her hips slightly lifted as pleasure surges through her veins.“Oh oh Bucky please please.” She didn’t what she was begging for as she chanted his name. “I’m gonna, ‘m gonna–“ her words died as she squealed; her body trembling in pleasure.
His tongue moved faster against her clit; her cum was dripping out of her; coating his beard but his frantic licks didn’t stop even when she continue to gush on his tongue.
“Bucky please, sensitive..” It was too much; her orgasm, her swollen clit, his tongue. Everything.
Unfortunately for her, Bucky was far gone to stop now. He had the taste of her cum, now he wants nothing more than to have it again. Despite her protest, Bucky held her hip down, interlocking his hands across her stomach to keep her in place and continue to lick and suck on her overstimulated cunt.
Her whiny pleas didn’t come across as a sign for him to stop; instead it kept him going causing him to bury his face further in between her legs. His cock continued to throb in his pants, probably leaking with so much pre-cum and in need of some sort of relief but he ignored it. He wants nothing more than for Y/N to cum on his tongue again.
And that is exactly what happened next.
The moment she fell over the edge, Bucky pushed her even harder against him as her whole body spasmed. He maintained his pace on lapping up at her all throughout her high as her hands went from his hair to the headboard, trying to hold her limp body upright. Y/N took a moment to gather herself together, panting heavily as she regained their senses; while Bucky was swift to pull his pants off and throw it to the side.
He grabbed on her hips, holding her firmly in place as his heavy leaking cock nestled between her aching pussy. “Are you sure about this, my dear?” his hot breath fanning against her neck as he gently ruts into her heat. Even though Bucky can see the darken lust in her eyes, he still wanted to make sure that she was sure of her decision.
Y/N’s heart swelled at his concern, and she found herself smiling, a genuine smile that reflected the warmth she felt inside. She pulled him closer and kissed him, pouring all her newfound trust and affection into the kiss. “Yes, Bucky. I am very sure. ”
Bucky quickly responded with equal passion, his tongue slipped in between her lips; exploring the warmness of her mouth, the softness of her tongue. Their muffled moans filled the silenced room, his hands moved to caress her sides, drawing her even closer before breaking away from the heated kiss.
Resting his forehead on hers, his eyes trained on her beautiful face; not wanting to miss his chance to witness the pleasure contorting on her expression. He nudges her clit first, rubbing it slow and sensual before trailing down to her entrance. Gradually, he inches closer, he pushes in and through the tightness of her sacred channel.
Delving impossibly deep, her tightness wrapped around his thick cock until the tip of him reached the deepest parts of her. The sudden feeling of fullness on her untainted pussy caused her to experience both pain and the delightful sensation inside her. The ecstasy of being so knitly connected to each other caused both of them to simultaneously let out moans and groans of raw pleasure.
Bucky waited for her to adjust to his size; leaning down to pamper her with the softest kisses and praises that tears started to swell in her eyes. It was as if Bucky knew exactly what she wanted to hear, how she wanted to be treated and what makes her feel good.
“You’re doing so good, my dear.”
“Look at how perfect your pussy’s taking my cock. So perfect.”
“Made for me aren’t you, sweetheart?. Made to be loved by me, made to be stuffed full of my cock.”
“I promise you’ll be safe with me, Y/N. Always.”
When Y/N finally gave him the permission to move, Bucky kissed her pouty lips and murmured sweetly, “Thank you, my dear.” His hands travelled to find her ankle; which he then gently prop her calf over his broad shoulder. He started pumping in and out slowly, letting her get used to the friction.
Bucky couldn’t help but to groan out to the feeling of her wet hole gripping his cock ever-so-tightly. It was slippery and dripping, that he almost completely slid out of her. Gripping her closer he continue ramming himself back in, deeper, harder; sliding in and out of her at an even pace. Each force of his cock causing her body to jerk in ecstasy; hitting that good spot in her so perfectly.
“S-shit, sweetheart,” he moans deep and heavy as he felt her pussy tightening around him. His metal hand slid in between them and his thumb hones in on her clit. The coldness of his finger made her jolt at first but when he proceeded to rub and pinch on it, everything suddenly started to feel too intense; so incredibly good.
With his fingers assaulting her clit, each thrust of his cock and every deep guttural moan and groan coming from Bucky, she felt her release was growing closer. Bucky also started thrusting faster and harder; he knew he was about to come. Especially when he can feel how much pre-cum has been leaking inside her.
He leaned and rested his forehead on hers, his needy ruts became more and more irregular when her pretty doe eyes looked up at him, “Cum for me, my dear.” his lips brushed against Y/N’s as he coaxed her to her sweet release. His thrusts got harsher and deeper and the friction of his metal finger working on her clit got her cunt to frantically tremble around him, “I wanna feel you milk my cock, sweetheart. Then, I’m gonna my pump cum inside you until you’re leaking.”
Although his words were debauched to no end, however Y/N could sense his genuine affection for her. She felt his sincerity in the way he looked at her, in the way he held her, in the silenced gaze they shared. Overwhelmed with pleasure, her nails dragged across Bucky’s back as she moaned and screamed out his name; letting the high took over her body.
“Fuck,, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum!” groaned as he took in the sound of her pleasured mewls. He ruthlessly grinds into her, savouring the feeling of her cunt tightened around him. With one last rut, he thrust his cock, balls deep inside and let his warm white strings filling her up to the brim. His cock twitches in her fluttering cunt, his legs tensing with every small grind he makes, groaning lowly at her as he bites down on her shoulder, almost drooling on her as he emptied himself completely into her.
Y/N continued to let out strings of soft moans as he pulled out from her leaking cunt; all swollen and sensitive. While she thought she could finally catch some breaths, she didn’t notice the way Bucky was biting on his lip at the sight of his cum dripping out of her, or how his hands lazily tugging on his now hardened cock.
“Dearest?” Bucky hovered above her as he cradled her by her flushed cheeks. She smiled sweetly as she leaned to his touch, “Yes, Bucky?”, she was anticipating him to utter more of those soft words and praises to her; but instead his lips curled into a devilish grin when he slid his cock back into her, immediately pulling a long sinful mewl of his name from her. Bucky hummed approvingly in response; he gently brushed his lips against hers, “May I fill you up again?”
As the morning sun streamed through the windows, Y/N slowly stirred awake. She reached out, instinctively searching for the warmth of her husband beside her, but found the space empty. A pang of loneliness touched her heart, but it was quickly replaced by curiosity when she saw a bouquet of bluebells, her favourite flower, placed delicately on the bedside table.
Next to the bouquet was a note. With a small smile, she picked it up and began to read.
"My Dearest Y/N,
I hate to leave you alone this morning, but I must ensure our journey home is smooth and safe. I trust you slept well, and I promise to return to your side as soon as I can.
Yours always,
Bucky"
The words written on the note were filled with sincerity and reassurance that made her heart flutter. She smiled, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she wondered how he knew bluebells were her favourite.
Just as she was lost in thought, the door opened, and the palace’s maids entered the room. Their faces were a mixture of curiosity and impatience, clearly expecting to see a frightened and bruised young bride.
However, when they saw Y/N's skin, they temporarily froze in their spots. Her skin was indeed bruised, but each one of them recognized the marks for what they were: love marks, not signs of harsh abuse that they were expecting. The traces of Bucky's possessive love were prominent all over her neck, chest, and inner thighs, leaving Y/N blushing as the maids, too, found themselves flushed with embarrassment.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” one of the older maids muttered under her breath, her tone laced with irritation. Another maid, with a more condescending sneer, huffed. “Looks like we lost the bet, ladies. Who would have thought the beast could be so... tender?”
Y/N’s cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and pride. She could feel their resentful glances and knew they were not pleased with the outcome. The marks on her body were a testament to the affection and desire Bucky had shown her, and despite the initial fear, she now wore them as symbols of the unexpected bond they had begun to forge.
The head maid, who had been the most vocal the night before, now seemed to handle her with an edge of bitterness. The other maids, who had been so quick to judge, were now silent, their eyes wide with resentment.One of the younger maids, braver than the rest, couldn’t hide her frustration. “Well, my lady, I suppose you’re alright, then?” she asked, her voice barely masking her disappointment.
Y/N looked at her, considering the appropriate response. If it was up to her, she ought to punish every single one of them for not knowing their place. Unfortunately, they were not her maids to begin with, but the palace's staff. Otherwise, she would likely fire each one of them.
The memory of Bucky’s affection and care filled her heart, leaving no room for anger or resentment. The warmth of his embrace and the gentle way he had treated her made the maids' behaviour seem petty and insignificant.
She could still feel the lingering touch of his lips on her skin, the way his hands had caressed her so delicately, and the sound of his reassuring voice. Her body was still tingling with the remnants of the previous night's intimacy. Her skin bore the marks of his love, not of brutality, and each bruise was a testament to the passion they had shared. It was completely different to the vile expectations of the maids.
A small smile playing on her lips despite the blush that still coloured her cheeks. "Yes," she said softly, "I am quite alright."
The maids exchanged annoyed glances, their expressions a mix of frustration and disbelief. Their muttered disappointments were tuned out as Y/N focused on the lingering warmth from the night before.
She couldn't hear a single thing except her heart beating to the thought of her husband. She missed him already. Who would’ve thought she’d be swooning for him so soon?
She found herself yearning for his presence, the comfort of his touch, and the sound of his reassuring voice. The memory of his gentle kiss and tender words lingered in her mind yet again, making her heart flutter.
As the maids continued their work, Y/N hoped they would at least perform their duties well enough to cover up for their childish behaviour. She wanted to be ready to see Bucky, to greet him with the same warmth and affection he had shown her. Despite their rudeness, she resolved to focus on the positive, cherishing the newfound bond with her husband.
Bucky stood at the head of the table, his stern expression and commanding presence filling the room. He was reviewing the logistics of their journey home, his voice cold and decisive as he issued instructions to his knights. His trusted knight, Sam, was detailing the possible hotspots for bandits they might encounter along the way.
"We'll likely face trouble here," Sam said, pointing to a spot on the map. "We should send some of our best men ahead to clear the path."
"Agreed," Bucky responded, his tone unyielding. "Deploy the knights in advance. Ensure the path is secure before we proceed."
Sam nodded and continued outlining the plan. He paused, expecting Bucky to reconfirm, but noticed a change in his leader's face. The harsh lines softened, his eyes filled with a tender warmth, as he stared intently at something across the room. Before Sam could look or utter a word, Bucky turned and walked away with determination.
Sam followed Bucky's gaze and understood immediately. "Ah, that's why," he muttered to himself as he watched Bucky approach Y/N. The change in Bucky’s demeanour was striking. He moved with a grace and warmth that was at odds with his usual stern and imposing presence.
Bucky’s eyes softened as he took in the sight of Y/N. He admired her beauty with a gaze filled with awe and adoration. The way he looked at her was as if he was seeing a vision he had longed for, a rare and precious gem that had finally come into his life.
As he extended his hand toward her, a gesture usually seen as etiquette but now entirely with different meaning, especially with the hearts bursting our of his blue eyes. Y/N’s face lighting up with a shy smile, took his hand; almost too eagerly. Bucky's fingers closed gently around hers, his touch tender and reassuring. The contrast between his usual, fearsome reputation and the gentle way he interacted with her was profound, making it clear that his feelings for Y/N were deeply genuine.
Bucky kissed the back of her hand, his lips softly caressing her knuckles. "My dear," he greeted her, using the endearment he had chosen when they first met at the altar.
The scene seemed like it was pulled raw from a romance novel that the surrounding staff and knights simply watched in shock and awe. "Did he just..." one knight whispered, eyes wide. "Called her 'my dear'?" another finished, equally stunned.
Sam, who had witnessed firsthand the monstrous side of Bucky in war, found himself in a state of utter disbelief, jaw dropped loose. He had seen Bucky’s sword painted blood-red, his face splattered with the gore of countless enemies. The Winter Soldier was a force of nature on the battlefield, his brutal efficiency leaving a trail of carnage in his wake. Sam recalled the sight of Bucky’s cold, unyielding eyes as he cut through foes without hesitation, his armor and weaponry gleaming with the blood of those who dared oppose him.
And yet, here he was, the same man who had struck terror into the hearts of many, now standing before Y/N with a tenderness that seemed unimaginable. Sam could hardly believe his eyes. The disparity was pronounced and bewildering. Bucky’s expression was soft, his movements gentle as he held Y/N’s hand in his.
“I’ve missed you,” Y/N said softly, her eyes shining with affection. She truly did, it would be a lie that she didn’t felt the ache in her heart when she woke up alone that morning. The emptiness beside her had felt profound. The bed still carried his scent, a lingering warmth that whispered of his recent presence. Even though the separation had been brief, as evidenced by the thoughtful note and the bouquet of her favourite flowers he had left behind, the loneliness she felt was palpable. His absence, however fleeting, had created a void that left her feeling incomplete.
Bucky’s heart seemed to burst with emotion. He couldn't care less about the gawking staff surrounding them as he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. She initially froze, caught off guard and embarrassed, but soon melted into his kiss with a blossoming confidence.
As their lips met, memories of their tender and passionate night together surged through Bucky's mind. The way she moan his name, the taste of her cum, the tightness of her pussy gripping on his cock, the way his cum leaked out of her, every single sinful scene replayed in head; infinitely. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and he found himself nearly losing control. Reluctantly, he pulled back from the kiss, his breath uneven and his gaze filled with an unspoken hunger.
"God, what should I do with you, hmm, sweetheart?" Bucky whispered, his voice laced with seduction as he continued to place gentle kisses along her cheeks and jaw. His lips brushed softly against her skin, whispering how much he had missed her and expressing a wistful desire to stay wrapped in the warmth of their shared bed just a little longer.
Y/N’s soft giggle rang out as she felt the roughness of his stubble against her delicate skin. The sound was like music to Bucky's ears, brightening his mood and filling him with a profound sense of joy. Despite the joyful exchange, he reluctantly ended the sweet torment, his kisses lingering just a moment longer before he pulled away.
“We should be ready to begin our journey shortly,” Bucky said, his tone shifting to a more practical note when e turned to Sam, who had approached during their moment of intimacy.
“Y/N, this is Sam Wilson, he is one of my trusted knights.” Bucky introduced, his gaze shifting to his wife. Sam gave a respectful nod to Y/N, a hint of surprise still evident in his expression from witnessing Bucky's affectionate display. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Y/N.”
Y/N smiled warmly at Sam, appreciating the introduction. “The pleasure is mine, Sir Wilson.”
Sam, sensing that the formality was unnecessary given their imminent interactions, decided to ease the situation. “Just Sam, my lady,” he said with a friendly tone. Y/N repeated his name with a touch of amusement. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sam.”
Bucky, observing the growing camaraderie between his wife and his trusted knight, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of protectiveness. The easy familiarity between them seemed a bit too casual for his liking. His eyes narrowed slightly as he gave Sam a warning look. “Watch it, Wilson.”
Sam, not missing a beat, chuckled at Bucky’s protective demeanour. “What’s the matter, my lord? Can’t handle a bit of friendly conversation?”
Y/N, noticing the playful tension and Bucky’s slight irritation, couldn’t help but laugh. The contrast between Bucky’s usually soft demeanour that Y/N had witnessed and his current protective stance were both endearing and amusing. Her laughter lightened the mood, making Sam’s teasing even more enjoyable.
Bucky's stern gaze softened as he watched Y/N’s laughter, though his protective instinct remained palpable. Steering the conversion back to the preparations, he allowed a faint smile to tug at the corners of his mouth despite his earlier warning.
“I trust you can escort my wife to the carriage,” Bucky said, his voice serious but tinged with a hint of a smile. “However, I expect you to maintain proper distance and adhere to these additional guidelines.” He paused, ensuring his words were clear. “No unnecessary physical contact or overly familiar behaviour. And if you could, avoid any casual conversations that might be misinterpreted.”
Sam looked at Bucky in disbelief, shaking his head with a bemused expression. “Seriously, Barnes? You’re laying down rules for me to keep my distance from your wife now?”
Bucky’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Consider it a precaution. I’d rather not have any misunderstandings.” Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes as he complied. “Understood. I’ll make sure to follow your... guidelines.”
Y/N watched the exchange with amusement, her earlier shyness melting away into a warm appreciation for Bucky’s protectiveness. The scene, tinged with a touch of comedy, only deepened the connection between them.
Bucky, intent on making a point to Sam while expressing his affection, pulled Y/N close and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. The gesture was both intimate and deliberate, a subtle yet clear indication to Sam that she belongs to Bucky. “I’ll join you shortly, my dear,” Bucky said softly, his voice filled with warmth as he gazed into her eyes.
Sam, unimpressed by Bucky’s display, rolled his eyes at the seemingly childish antics. “This way, my lady,” he said with a hint of impatience. Y/N nodded in agreement but paused before turning her back on Bucky. With a loving smile, she whispered, “I’ll see you later,” before following Sam.
Bucky watched as Sam guided Y/N away, his gaze lingered with a mix of affection and something much deeper; an unspoken sadness. As their silhouettes walked further and further away from his sight, a sombre glaze settled over his eyes.
Beneath the surface of his composed exterior, his heart ached; the was a silent reflection of a pain he had hidden deep within his heart. It was a lingering sorrow that had shadowed him ever since he stood at the altar, the weight of unvoiced grief clinging to him as he gazed at his future bride.
Part II >> (coming soon)
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: Wondering why he was in the feels at the end? We’ll know it soon enough. I’ll see you in the next parts! Thank you for reading!
Glimpses of the grumpy chubby alpha!bucky's love life.
Summary: When Bucky was stuck in an unpleasant lunch with his co-workers; he thought about how nice it would be if someone comes and steals him away.
Navigation: Prequel || Main Story I || Main Story II || Main Story III
Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader
Words: 2.6k++
Warnings: a/b/o dynamics. no plot, just fluff. low-key body shamming, bullying, bucky and his omega being adorable. (tell me is there's anything else I missed)
P/S: Impulsive writing at 3am in the morning because I couldn't sleep, then left the draft to rot for weeks, now posted. Also tagging @serendipitouslife90 because she's the biggest fan of this au. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short fic and happy reading! 🤍
Read my other works here: Masterlist
The morning sun filtered through the blinds of Bucky’s cubicle, casting narrow strips of light across his cluttered desk. The office was its usual sanctuary of muted tones and hushed conversations. Colleagues navigated the aisles like cautious explorers, their brief nods to Bucky barely concealing their unease.
He didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it this way. Solitude was his comfort zone, and he relished the uninterrupted focus on his work.
Bucky tapped away at his keyboard, the rhythmic clacking serving as his meditation. His thoughts were like the lines of code he worked with; orderly, precise, and devoid of unnecessary embellishments. Socializing was a distraction he neither wanted nor needed.
The occasional murmurs of sympathy about his less-than-ideal body shape for an Alpha like him, or the prosthetic arm he wore to make up for his imperfection, had long since ceased to bother him. They were background noise in the symphony of his workday.
Two weeks had passed since Bucky had last seen y/n, their second date now a vivid but distant memory. Their time together had been cut short, both of them consumed by the relentless demands of their careers. Especially for Bucky, the high-pressure world of software engineering was unforgiving.
Ever since he was in school, he always had the knack for tech but as he grew up, his path lead away from it. Then after his abrupt release from military service, he was lost for a moment. He lost his position and quite literally his limb. After he was introduced to Stark Technologies for is prosthetic, his interest in tech bloomed once more.
Fast forward, he had transitioned to civilian life with a single-minded focus on his career. The transition from soldier to software engineer had been a challenging yet rewarding shift, one that demanded every ounce of his dedication.
His days were a blur of client meetings, coding marathons, and sleepless nights, leaving him barely enough time to recharge. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't escape the gnawing sense of guilt that tugged at him.
Y/n had been understanding, insisting that they could take things slow and that she was patient. Yet Bucky felt a pressing need to make up for the lost time, to show her that she was more important than the endless stream of work that consumed him.
His longing for her was a constant undercurrent in his daily routine, a reminder of the connection he cherished and the promises he hoped to fulfill, even amidst the chaos of his demanding schedule.
Lunchtime arrived with an uncharacteristic intrusion; Brock’s insistent presence. Bucky had settled into his usual corner of the break room, anticipating a quiet meal alone.
But Brock, with his usual smirk, plopped down across from him, completely unfazed by Bucky’s visible discomfort.
“You know, Bucky,” he started, his tone laced with false camaraderie, “maybe you should join us for lunch this time. Walk off that fat in your belly, and maybe, just maybe, might help you lose a few pounds and get that soldier body of yours again.”
The comment triggered a ripple of reactions around the break room. A few colleagues, particularly those who fancied themselves as superior alpha, snickered behind their coffee cups, enjoying the moment at Bucky’s expense. The rest of the room fell into an awkward silence; some looked away, unable or unwilling to get involved, while others exchanged nervous glances, wary of crossing the line with either of the alpha males.
Bucky’s mind raced with a mix of frustration and contemplation. Brock’s taunts were nothing new, but the timing was particularly irritating. With his packed schedule and the constant pressure of meeting deadlines, Bucky had barely had a moment to breathe, let alone deal with petty office politics.
The jabs felt like an unnecessary complication in an already strained day. His thoughts were a whirlwind of frustration; he wondered why he always ended up the target of Brock’s remarks and whether it was a reflection of his own choices or just Brock’s way of asserting dominance.
The palpable tension in the room only added to his mounting irritation.
Bucky’s jaw clenched, his irritation simmering beneath a thin veneer of politeness. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” He didn’t bother hiding the grumble in his voice. His work would have to wait, and so would his patience.
The café buzzed with conversation and clinking dishes, an atmosphere of forced cheerfulness that did little to mask the underlying tension. Bucky took his seat with a sigh, his mind already drifting to y/n, the image of her smile a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.
Brock wasted no time in launching his passive-aggressive jabs, each comment about Bucky’s weight or his vibranium prosthetic arm more cutting than the last. Bucky could feel the rage bubbling up, but he forced himself to stay calm, focusing instead on the thought of y/n. The warm glow of her presence seemed to wrap around him, even in the midst of Brock’s taunts.
Brock leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “You know, Bucky, it's always something watching you eat alone. Maybe if you spent less time working and more time mingling; hit the gym with us after work or something. Who knows you might actually find yourself a date for once.”
The remark seemed casual, almost playful, but it carried a veiled sting. It wasn’t just about Bucky’s solitary lunchtime habits; it was a pointed jab at his single status, suggesting that his lack of romantic success might be due to his social ineptitude and undesirable body.
Bucky’s patience snapped. He leaned forward, his voice cold and controlled. “I don’t know, Brock. Honestly, it’s much better to be alone than to ‘mingle’ with someone who’s all bark and no bite.” He fearlessly maintained his cold gaze; eyes seemingly bore the words his lips never spoke. “…Like you”
Brock's face flushed a deep crimson, and his jaw tightened in a futile attempt to maintain composure. He muttered something about needing a smoke before hastily exiting the room, his pride stinging from the unexpected jab. The rest of the team sat in an uneasy silence, the tension almost tangible.
They watched as Bucky’s eyes bore into Brock’s retreating figure, cold and unyielding. There was something almost feral in his gaze, a silent promise of consequences that only someone with true authority and control could convey.
Everyone knew better than to provoke him further; Bucky's look was a chilling reminder that he played by his own rules.
Brock stepped out of the café, his frustration boiling over as he lit a cigarette. With each inhale of nicotine, he muttered darkly under his breath, cursing Bucky and grumbling about how that fat-ass loser like him had the audacity to undermine his clearly more superior alpha status.
His anger was a tempest, raging against the affront to his ego.
As he paced, his gaze drifted to the sidewalk next to the café, where a striking woman in a sundress was engrossed in her phone. The late afternoon sun highlighted the gentle curves of her figure, and her unblemished skin glowed softly, exposed at the back of her neck.
Brock’s eyes raked over her with a predatory appreciation, the male gaze undeniable in his scrutiny.
Her poised stance and soft demeanor hinted at an aura of femineity that intrigued him. A smirk curved his lips as he took another drag from his cigarette, already imagining how he might woo her, hoping that a little charm could be the distraction he needed from his bruised pride.
Back in the café, Bucky was still seated at the table, surrounded by the typical midday hustle, yet he remained ensconced in a bubble of tranquility. His attention was focused solely on his phone, where a soft, contented smile played on his lips. The noise of the café faded into the background as he read through y/n’s messages.
Each word from her was a thread that connected him to a part of his life that felt more real and meaningful than the relentless grind of his daily routine.
Y/n had inquired about his lunch, her questions laced with genuine curiosity. “How was your lunch?” “Was it any good?” “How’s your day been so far?” The inquiries seemed almost innocent, yet they carried a warmth that enveloped him.
And then, the message that tugged at his heartstrings: “I miss you.” It was as if her words had the power to reach through the screen and touch him directly, offering a solace that was hard to find amidst the chaos left from the prior event.
He missed her deeply.
The absence of her voice, the comfort of her presence. He wished that she could just steal him away; or perhaps he would be stealing her away?
Eitherway, he just wants to get out of here.
As he glanced at the time, noting that he still had about thirty minutes before he needed to return to the office, he made a quick decision. He would step outside for a moment, away from the unnecessary drama, and maybe give her a call.
The thought of hearing her voice, even if only for a brief conversation, was a beacon of light in his otherwise frenetic day. As Bucky stepped out of the café, his gaze remained fixed on his phone, where y/n’s last message glowed softly on the screen.
Unbeknownst to him, the scene unfolding just a few paces away was far less pleasant. Brock, still nursing his bruised ego from their earlier encounter by relentlessly flirting with the girl. “Come on, sweetheart, just one date.” Brock said, his voice low and laced with insincere flirtation.
He leaned in close, a smirk playing on his lips as his hand reached out, brushing against her exposed shoulder. Y/n recoiled slightly, her discomfort palpable. “I’m really not interested,” she said firmly, though her voice carried an undercurrent of unease. “and I have a boyfriend.”
Brock’s persistence only grew more insistent. “I doubt that. I can see you do not have his mark here,” he persisted, his hand lingering uncomfortably on her shoulder, close to where her mating mark supposed to reside. Despite her attempts to shrug off his advances, Brock didn’t relent. His touch was intrusive, and his words edged on harassment. And she can sense the scent of arousal coming from the alpha.
Y/n’s eyes darted around, seeking an escape from the unwanted attention. As her gaze fell behind Brock, she caught sight of a familiar figure; one that seemed to offer a lifeline amidst her distress.
“Bucky?” she called out, her voice tinged with both relief and surprise. The name escaped her lips before she could fully process the situation, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Bucky walking toward them.
Bucky knew that voice. It was a sound that resonated deep within him, as familiar as his own heartbeat. He lifted his eyes from his phone, and the world around him sharpened into focus. The scene before him was both infuriating and unmistakable: Brock, with his sleazy smirk and inappropriate proximity, stood uncomfortably close to Bucky's omega, his hand hovering dangerously near her exposed shoulder.
A surge of primal fury shot through Bucky, a blaze of anger that burned through his veins and coiled tight in his chest. His eyes blazed with a fierce intensity, a low, guttural growl forming in his throat as he prepared to confront the intruder. His body tensed, ready to pounce.
But before he could make a move, y/n was already in motion. She leaped into his arms with a mix of desperation and joy, catching Bucky off guard. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, holding her securely against his chest.
Her arms clung tightly to his nape, her face burying itself into the crook of his neck as if seeking refuge; shamelessly scenting him. Her warm breath and soft sighs was a soothing cure to his simmering rage.
The anger that had been boiling inside him began to fizzle away, replaced by a profound sense of relief and love. The sound of her happy purrs, the feel of her soft body pressed against his, and her intoxicatingly sweet scent; all of it made his anger dissolve into a tender, protective affection.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips, his arms tightening around her waist as he relished in the comforting closeness. “Hi, sugar.” he whispered, his voice thick with affection and relief.
Bucky's hold loosen as he leaned down, his gentle smile never faltering as he closed the distance between them. His eyes softened with affection, and he pressed his lips against y/n's in a kiss so tender it felt like a whisper. It was a soft, loving caress that spoke volumes more than words ever could.
But before he could pull back, y/n’s playful energy erupted. She cupped his cheeks in her delicate hands, pulling him down to her level with a sudden, joyful enthusiasm.
Her lips attacked his with a flurry of kisses; quick, warm, and full of exuberance. Each kiss left behind a trace of her strawberry-scented lipstick, creating a trail of smudged rosy color across his face. The marks dotted his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and even his lips, a vibrant testament to her affection.
Amused laughter bubbled up from Bucky, the sound a rare and delightful departure from his usual stoic demeanor. His eyes twinkled with genuine mirth, his grumpy alpha persona completely melted away in the face of y/n’s loving onslaught.
He reveled in the smothering of her kisses, his initial tension and anger forgotten. A satisfied rumble vibrates on his throat, across his chest. The contrast between his earlier anger and the unrestrained joy he now experienced was stark; the shift was almost palpable.
Lost in their own world, the two seemed oblivious to their surroundings. Their display of affection was unabashedly public, a stark contrast to the earlier tension. Y/n looked up at him with bright eyes, her voice filled with eager excitement as she asked if he still had time.
“I want to steal you away.” she said with a playful smile.
Bucky’s smile widened, his heart swelling with happiness. “Of course, sugar. Anything for you.” he replied, his voice tender and filled with genuine warmth.
But as Bucky’s gaze shifted away from y/n and landed on Brock, his soft features momentarily disappeared. His expression hardened, the warmth in his eyes turning to ice. The switch in his demeanor was chilling; an instant transformation from the tender lover to a menacing figure.
The coldness in his eyes was a silent, yet unmistakable warning. It was as though a dark storm cloud had settled over him, a clear signal that Brock's earlier arrogance had crossed an unforgivable line.
The intensity of Bucky’s stare spoke volumes, a silent promise of retribution and a reminder of the strength behind his calm exterior. The abrupt shift in his demeanor was a jarring contrast to the affection he had just displayed, sending a clear message to Brock that any further provocation would be met with unspeakable consequences.
As Bucky and y/n walked hand in hand away from the café, Brock stood there, fuming and humiliated. His attempt to belittle Bucky had backfired spectacularly.
Inside the café, Bucky’s colleagues had their jaws dropped. They were astonished not only by y/n’s ethereal beauty but also by the sight of Bucky, usually so composed and reserved, smiling so openly. They were completely stunned by the unexpected display of vulnerability and affection from the grumpy loner.
The couple continued down the street, their hands clasped together. The afternoon sun cast long shadows as they headed towards their next destination.
Bucky’s smile was genuine, a rare and precious sight as he looked down; memorizing the way her hand perfectly intertwined with his. At that moment, he couldn’t help but think how much he wished y/n would steal him away more often.
End.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: Thank you for staying to the end of the fic. Hope you enjoy reading it!
