#king steve rogers imagine

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the pained peace treaty

fused with the foe, chapter one

a/n: oh wow, i have no idea how to introduce this beast of a story except to say hi, hello, welcome! i really hope you enjoy this story, as well as the rest of the trilogy, idk if i've ever gone as in depth and all out with any story as i have with these.

summary: “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, abusive father (like super bad. he is a garbage person), wedding, blood, injury

word count: 4813

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“Your majesty, I must warn you, if, gods forbid, our people come to discover the great lengths you’ve been willing to go in this disagreement over the past two decades, they might start an uprising. And if you keep going, then it’ll turn into a full-blown war and you know our kingdom wouldn’t be able to survive that, not with them. Our city’s walls may be high, high enough to keep out any beasts that may wander this far south, but it wouldn’t keep them out. You know better than most how people from Eflorr are. If you don’t wanna lose your crown, one way or another, then I’d strongly advise that we come up with some peace treaty.”

“I know, I know…” King Ivan leaned back in his gilded throne with a huff, the quality of his voice was as thin as his towering frame, “a trade I think should suffice.”

A different advisor then timidly pipped up, “but our mines ran cold ages ago, what could we possibly offer that would be satisfactory?”

Not lifting his cold gaze, the king stared at a fixed spot on the marble floor as he said, “I know one thing the king lacks that we may be able to provide for him… a wife.”

“A wife–,” both of the men’s eyes grew wide, “but do you mean–, your majesty, she is your only daughter, are you certain this is the fate you want her to have? Those people are barbaric! If one of the dangers that rule the north doesn’t get to her first, one of their citizens surely will. Sire, what if history repeats itself?”

“Then let it do so. In fact, perhaps this could have been her purpose all along and I just didn’t realise it. Couldn’t see past my own rage to grasp how useful she actually could be…”

Sharing a nervous glance, one of the advisors asked, “should we send for her? See if she agrees with the plans?”

“No, I’ll tell her when the time is right. Wouldn’t want her to do anything stupid and ruin the one good thing she could ever provide,” finally lifting his stony gaze, the king commanded, “make the arrangements, I’ll see to it that she doesn’t ruin it.” 

Deep within the opulent halls of the gilded palace, standing grand and safe behind Ingorn’s tall city walls, twisting up towards the clouds, up in a window in the western tower, there you sat. 

Book in your lap, you leaned back against the small pillow you’d propped behind you to make the wide windowsill more comfortable. Small paper butterflies hung from strings above and some dangled so low that the childhood craft that still decorated your window trickled the crown of your head. Flipping the page, your fingertips brushed down over the illustration that appeared in the agricultural tome you’d found in one of your brothers’ rooms. 

As long as you put it back before Angus returned then you’d probably be good. And if he were to somehow notice, then as long as he didn’t rat you out to your father then it would be alright. Both Angus and a few of the others that were closer to your age, Oliver and Francis respectively, were always a bit of a gamble whether or not they would do such a thing. They didn’t always have the same spirit as the eldest pair of your older brothers, Xavier and Callum. 

You missed them so much your heart ached. The older they got, the longer their diplomatic missions seemed to stretch out, making the quiet palace that much more lonely in your solitude. 

A knock then suddenly boomed at your door, causing you to jump edgily in your seat before you slammed the book shut and nervously stuffed it behind the firm pillow. 

“Come in!” you called out, swiftly straightening out your dress that had crumbled around your legs at the comfortable seat. As the door to your room slammed open, the figure that stood in it caught you by surprise, “Father–, oh, hello,” you straightened your posture that much further at his arrival. 

Skipping over any niceties, King Ivan simply stated, “you need to pack up your stuff.”

Your brows knitted into a fierce furrow, “what?”

“Not everything, of course,” he cast a cold glance around the room though didn’t take a step to enter it, “just the things you are particularly attached to.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” your head lightly shook from side to side, “where am I going?”

When his eyes finally gave you the time of day, it swiftly dropped to the floor as a heavy sigh flowed from his lips, “why do you have to be the spitting image of her…” the muttering was unfortunately just loud enough for your ears to catch. His disappointment was always just loud enough for your ears to catch. When he entered the room and you moved to get up, he swiftly said, “stay seated, Y/n,” before he planted himself next to you on the wide windowsill, “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

“To Eflorr?” your gaze grew wide, “you wish for me to marry someone there?”

“Not just someone, you are to marry their king.”

“I–… I–…” your chest rose and fell rapidly beneath your rosy dress, “but father, you can’t–, I can’t go live with the people who killed mom.”

“We don’t know if they actually murdered her. But I do know that you did,” his glare locked upon you as he let himself seethe, “if you hadn’t been born then she’d still be alive,” the fact that the only thing he blamed more for his late wife’s untimely demise then the kingdom she’d perished in was you, remained a point that the sovereign had never been shy about sharing with you for as long as you could recall, “your duty is to protect and serve this land, this crown,” your eyes naturally fluttered up to gaze at the twisted gold balanced upon his head, “if you don’t go through with this, then those savages will come pillage and ruin your home. You are, regrettably, the very last hope this kingdom has of survival. You have no choice, Y/n. This marriage is the only thing that can stop a war we would never survive,” exhaling slowly, he then dominantly nodded in a concluding fashion, “pack your stuff, you have an hour.”

You felt tears sting your eyes as your bottom lip quivered, “an hour? But–, can’t we wait at least a few days before I leave? Can’t I get a chance to say goodbye to at least one of my brothers? None of them are home yet.”

Regret instantly washed over you as your father’s nostrils flared angrily. Seizing your arm in a bruising grip, he yanked you close as he hissed, “you listen, and you listen carefully, you little brat. You have been the bane of my existence ever since you took your first breath. You took away the love of my life. You don’t deserve a goodbye, you don’t deserve anything. Do you think I got a goodbye when your mother suddenly went into labour on that diplomatic mission? No. All I got was you. Not another son, but a living, breathing reminder of what I lost that day,” your eyes squeezed shut as your cheek tingled at the memory of his strikes, “now, be a good girl and go wet his prick, give him a few babies, do anything he’d fucking please, so that him and his barbaric army doesn’t come here and slaughter everything you know and love.”

“Your highness, are you cold?” the high-ranking warden sitting across from you in the carriage noticed the shiver that your body couldn’t seem to shake. 

Tearing your eyes off of the scenery along The Emerald Path that the narrow window granted you a view of, you glanced back at the warrior. The brown hair he had practically tied off at the base of his neck blossomed into a dark beard. A bare palm clasped over an inked one in his lap as you met his gaze and said, “no, I’m–…” in truth, you were scared, so scared that you were trembling like a leaf, but you couldn’t tell the foreign king’s advisor that, too much weighted on your shoulders, you couldn’t screw this up, “no,” glancing back out of the window, you only stared a moment at the sparse cottages that slowly came into view on the rolling hills before you turned your head again and let the nauseating nerves control your words, “pardon me, Barnes, is it?”

“Yes, your highness?”

“Sir, how much further till we get there?” your quiet voice echoed within the carriage, “it’s just–, it’s been days.”

“Oh, not long at all,” he shook his head lightly, “actually,” the knight leaned forward in his seat and cast his glance outside, “if you look out the window now, right there,” a small smile tugged at his lips as his finger shot up to point, “that river, that means we’re getting close to Borün city.”

As the river then suddenly curved before the dirt road, the clomping hooves of the horses that hauled the coach resonated as they trotted over a stone bridge. 

Twisting your head, you glanced out to your right and spotted farmlands curve over the rolling hills that swiftly blossomed into thickets and towering flora you’d only assume was the southern perimeter of The Noll Woods. Books about this kingdom had been banned in your homeland for as long as you could remember, but even though you were essentially going in blind, you still weren’t completely ignorant when it came to the dangers that called that sprawling forest its home, not that you were an expert in the slightest, but your brothers had from time to time told you tales of the monsters who dominated in this part. From giant and twisted insect-like creatures, to mischievous pixies, to even the rare dragon, those stories had always been your favourite. Apart from the rare occasion where Callum would share stories with you about your mother. Being the eldest, he was the only one who truly remembered her. 

Instinctively, your fingers fluttered up to fiddle with the opalescent stone that hung from a chain around your neck. In the middle of the milky jewel was a small rune engraved into it. You had no idea what it meant, but your fingers had still traced the carving countless of times before as it had hung from your neck for as long as you could recall. It hadn’t been till you were a ways into your teens that you’d come to discover that it had belonged to your mother. 

Casting your glance out the other side as you passed a tall watchtower, behind the wide city stables unfolded a port town so quaint that it surprised you. Over the small valley of gabled roofs towered a central tree, and beyond all of that, the sparkle of the sea caught your eye, a sight you’d never beheld before, haven not only stemmed from a landlocked metropolis, but also not haven been permitted to leave your room as much as your heart had desired. 

“This is Eflorr?” you asked as the carriage began to roll up the winding path to the stone castle that loomed on the cliff, granting you a new view of how the river that you’d crossed slid through the city and spilt into the ocean.

“This is Eflorr, your highness,” the corners of his lips twitched at the sight of how wide your curious eyes were. 

“It’s–… it’s–…” your stare danced over the lush ivy that climbed the solid towers, “not what I expected…”

“What did you expect?”

Tearing your gaze away from the window, you blinked, “oh, I didn’t mean–,” suddenly worried that your shock had come out sounding rude, “I just–… I don’t know a lot about this land,” in the few tales you’d heard about this place, there had been a running gag that the people of Eflorr had lived so close to the dangerous beasts that called this part of the continent their home that they too had turned into monsters, “it’s just different than I imagined.” 

Ascending the jagged hill and passing through the front gate, it opened up into a wide courtyard before you felt the carriage finally roll to a stop. 

The wagon creaked gently as Barnes stepped out first, though when his boots were firmly on the cobblestone, his frame twisted as he reached an outstretched hand back for you to grasp in support of your own exit. Ever so apprehensively, you slid your own palm into his as your other twisted in your long skirts before you slipped out of the carriage. 

Letting go of his gasp, the soldier's low timbre washed over you as your head tilted back to take in the vast stronghold, “his majesty, unfortunately, couldn’t be here for your arrival as there was a bit of a dryad problem further up north he had to take care of,” you gaze tore away from the fort and fell upon him, “but I assure you he should be back in time for the wedding.”

“Oh, alright,” you breathed, unsure if that fact made you feel better or worse about the entire predicament.

“If you’d like, I can give you a brief tour of the castle,” he offered as he led you towards the main entrance into the castle proper, “or if you’re exhausted after the journey, then I can just show you directly up to your chambers.”

Offering him a polite smile, you nodded, “a tour would be lovely, thank you.”

He only briefly went over the buildings surrounding the courtyard you’d entered into, as they were mainly designed as barracks and various other facilities for the local wardens, though the horses that stuck their heads out of the royal stalls in the corner did catch your eye before you moved on inside. 

Barnes’ voice echoed in most of the chambers he showed you in the castle’s western wing. The vast stained-glass windows that were in the ballroom for instance took your breath away as you saw how the light streamed through them and warmed up the room with glittering little rays of colour. 

Behind the great halls, squeezed in between and connecting the two major parts of the fort, there you crossed through a much more quiet and lush courtyard. The pebble paths that curved around the central fountain too curled around various topiary bushes that were trimmed to perfection like living sculptures. 

Though as your guide showed you the eastern wing that crested over the foaming sea below, your curiosity got the better of you. 

“Hey, Barnes?”

Slowing his leisurely stride, he tilted his head slightly, “yes, your highness?”

“What are dryads?” your brows knit lightly together, “you mentioned there was a problem with them, but what are they?”

“You don’t know?” he glanced over at you, clearly trying to mask his surprise as you shook your head, “oh, well, they are forest spirits, nymphs,” he explained as you roamed deeper down a broad hallway on the second floor, passing many private chambers both to your right and your left, “it’s not uncommon for them to wander and bother the folks who live further up the coast. Have you never encountered one? They are not as uncommon in Obelón as most of the other creatures that thrive this far north.”

“No, I’ve never seen one…” you shook your head as a low sigh flowed from your lips, “never really seen anything…”

“Not much of an outdoorsy person?” he guessed in a light-hearted tone. 

Forcing a smile, you replied, “you could say that…” as you hadn’t been allowed to be one even if you wanted to. Passing a set of double doors that stood wide open, the sight inside made you halt your steps, “is this the library?”

Shadowing you as your feet crossed the threshold, he nodded, “yes, it is,” then pointed back over his shoulder, “and your quarters are right down that hall.”

Numerous grand bookcases stood lined up all the way down to where a tall window allowed the sunlight in and let it stream through the rows. 

“Can I–… would it be alright if I read some of them?” 

“Of course, your highness.” 

“Would you mind showing me which ones I’m allowed to read?” you briefly peeked back at him as a bubble of anxiety fluttered in your belly, “I don’t wanna accidentally read something that I’m not allowed to.”

Barnes then blinked back at you a moment before he uttered, “your highness, you can read each and every one of them if you’d like. Why wouldn’t you be allowed to read whatever you wish? They are yours after all, or will be after the wedding,” the corners of your lips twitched upwards as he then asked, “would you like to peruse the titles now or do you want to see your chambers?”

“Oh, uhm,” you tore your gaze away from the tomes and turned back, “I’ll look later.”

“Alright,” he nodded, extending his inked arm to show you the way. As he pushed the heavy wooden door open to the room at the very end of the hall, his voice rang out once more, “this is the peacock suite,” following him inside, he settled to a stop near the exit for you to explore the space on your own, “you can, of course, change anything you’d like for it to match your taste.”

“Thank you,” you breathed as you slowly made your way deeper into the chamber. It was gently divided with a more formal area towards the front where both tufted couches and a crackling fireplace stood, as well as a set of doors that opened up to a quaint balcony. Towards the left, under a swirling archway, twisted a broad canopy bed up towards the tall ceilings, warm with blankets and furs, and in the corner, by a breezy partition, stood a deep cobber bathtub.

Haven not noticed that he’d moved, you then heard as Barnes creaked the doors to a close, “if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be right outside.”

With a loud creak, the heavy double doors opened before you and revealed the grand hall. As soft music gushed out, you nearly didn’t recognise the space from your tour the other day as it was now decorated with vibrant flowers and flowing banners that dropped down from the high ceilings above, as well as being completely packed with a swarm of people. A thin path parted the giddy crowd right down the middle towards the opposing grand door that guards opened simultaneously to yours. 

A shaky breath filled your lungs as you stared at the man crossing over the threshold. The flickering candlelight caught the honeyed shine of the locks that came down to tickle the nape of his neck. A bit darker, his short beard was full and warmed up the bottom half of his gruff features. He sure looked like a man who could slay a kraken with his bare fists, as the soft fur cloak that draped over his shoulders did not conceal his bulky physic one bit. The neckline of his indigo tunic stretched low enough for you to see the concave of his fuzzy chest and the impressive battle scars that broke up the rippling flesh. 

You’d seen the portrait of the king that hung in the hallway that stretched up towards the throne room, but to see him before your very eyes, in flesh and blood and not precise paint, was something else entirely. 

The long and embroidered train of the blue silk kirtle you wore dragged across the store floor behind you as both you and the monarch slowly stepped into the chamber to join in the very middle. 

The enchanting music stopped as you reached one another and the parted paths to either exit slowly closed as the crowd gathered and enclosed around the sacred vow that was about to ensue. 

Parting the sea of people like a divine force, an elderly woman, with a braided grey mane so long that it hit the floor, stepped up beside the both of you. 

“People of Eflorr,” the crone’s calm voice boomed, “today marks a day of unity, a day of peace, and most of all a day of love. Like a seed planted in the soil, tonight we will all witness this relationship blossom and go on the journey of growing into a magnificent tree, with roots strong enough to endure any storm, to propagate new seedlings that will watch over and shade our kingdom when yours have fallen.” 

Looking to the king, she handed him a small dagger from her belt and spoke, “blade across skin,” and he reached out for your right hand, “strike out your seedling’s love line,” your breath hitched as you felt him slice the top of your palm. Crimson blood trickled down onto his own hand as yours rested atop it, “and claim it as your own,” he flipped the blade around and handed it to you, before presenting you his own palm, open in yours. He didn’t even blink as you hesitantly pierced the calloused skin and traced the line already adoring his broad palm, “weave your lines together, so they become the same,” he then moved to clasp your hands together, his wide grip engulfed yours completely. Your teeth sank into just the faintest bit of your bottom lip at the fresh sting of your wound as it bled into his, “and may this scar serve you as a reminder, of the vow you made on this momentous day.” 

And as the last of the matron's words flowed from her lips so did the roar of celebration that erupted throughout the crowd as the festivities of the night bloomed at an instant.

The feast had been nothing short of immaculate. Countless of dishes had been spread out on the crowded banquet tables ranging from the savoury braised legumes to the sweet and shiny pies. It was an impossible task to try and taste every one of them, but an excuse you still used to stay glued to your seat and not get up and mingle with the boisterous gathering of strangers. 

As a stark contrast, you thought you only noticed the king take two bites before he rose to greet some latecomers who had arrived. Laughing and chatting with the sea of people, he hadn’t offered you a single word, barely even a brief glance the whole night. Though your gaze still followed him from your seat up at the high table as he moved through the crowd like they were all his dearest friends. 

When the moon had floated up to be high in the sky, clearly visible on the other side of the stained glass, your head had dropped down into a propped-up palm as a deep yawn forced its way out of your frame. 

“Are you tired, your majesty?” a deep timbre suddenly found your ears, a specific tone that caused your spine to straighten out at once. 

Whipping your head to your right, your weary eyes grew wide as you saw the king again at his seat, “no, I’m alright,” you hastily coughed out, “I’m so sorry for behaving like that in your presence. This party is exquisite.” 

“It’s alright, you can yawn,” you suddenly felt the need to look away now that his ocean stare was finally fixed upon you, “it’s late, I was about to retire for the night as well, so I can only imagine how you must feel. If you’d like, I could escort you back to your chambers. I’m not sure how familiar you’ve become with the castle since you’ve arrived, but even I can still get lost when the corridors are this dark and I’ve indulged in perhaps one too many goblets of wine.”

A flutter of nauseating nerves rushed within your belly, but even so, you still pushed through and forced a smile, “if that’s what the king desires, then sure, you can escort me.”

It was your wedding night. You knew what was about to happen. 

Or, actually, you didn’t quite know what the marital act entailed, but you were sure a man such as Steve had enough of an understanding to take charge. All you knew was what little you’d been told. To strip down naked, not whine or scream, and do as he tells you. 

The soaring butterflies within you only grew more ferocious as you followed his long stride throughout the castle. Out of the ballroom and through a cold stone hallway, when you crossed the bridge that linked the two wings over a part of the cliff that descended dramatically, you nearly doubled over the parapet to empty your stomach over the town of Borün that blossomed below. 

But with a shaky intake of breath, your fist closed around the silk of your skirt as you settled yourself and forced your feet to keep moving. Even as you passed the threshold into the eastern part of the castle, you still shadowed the monarch up the many steps until his broad palm held the door to your chambers open for you to enter. 

The fire had been lit while you were gone, and the room was encased in the warm glow. 

“Did, uh…” you heard the door close behind you as the king attempted a bit of small talk, “did you have a nice time tonight?” 

“I did, your majesty,” you kept your answer brief out of fear that he’d hear the tremble to your tone. 

Slowly turning his back to you, his gaze washed over the room, “are you pleased with your bed chambers?” he settled to face the balcony, the door slightly ajar to let the night breeze seep through and rustle the sheer curtains, “because if you don’t like it, if you’d rather have a view of the town then the sea, then that’s an easy problem to fix.” 

“I think the view is just fine from here, but thank you,” you answered politely as you gathered up the last bit of your courage and reached back to undo the long row of buttons that went down the spine of the light blue dress. 

When the silky garment dropped to the floor, the quiet rustle was enough to draw the king’s attention.

First offering you just a quick glance over his shoulder, he then swiftly whirled around completely, “what are you doing?”

Weaving your fingers in the thin material of your chemise, you blinked back at his stunned features, “I’m sorry, am I doing it wrong?” sure that he could already see everything through the sheer, white fabric. 

His feet didn’t move as he asked, “what are trying to do?” before he averted his gaze to the stone floor. 

“Well,” you uttered quietly, “it’s our wedding night.”

“Oh…” was all he breathed. 

“To be transparent, I’m actually not quite sure what’s to happen, but I do know it’s something,” reaching up, you took the gold and twisted circlet, that crowned your head, off and carefully sat it down on the side table to your left, “I don’t know the details, I just know that I should strip down. Do you know what we’re supposed to do?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, briefly squeezing his eyes shut, “yes I do, but, your majesty, please, keep your clothes on,” his gaze flickered back to you as you slowly began to hike up the last layer. 

“Why?” your fingers froze, “isn’t it a tradition here for us to–”

“Well, yes, but–…” he let out a strained sigh before slowly stating, “I’m gonna go.” 

A chill crawled up your skin, “…oh, I see…” you uttered quietly as he crossed the room, “did I do something wrong?”

Halting in the doorway as he ripped it open, “no, you–…” but the rest of his words crumbled as his gaze settled upon you one last time, instead letting a low sigh flow from his lungs, “sleep well,” and added nearly subconsciously just before the door slammed shut, “goodnight, dove.”

Even though a wave of relief washed over you, a sting of hurt also followed suit as the king left. 

Had you done something wrong, or did he just find you that repellent, that hideous, that he refused to perform his marital duties?

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[ronearoundblindly]

Okay, so, hear me out.

I know I've got a Beauty and the Beast AU coming for skinny!Steve, but @darsynia gave me/let me have this idea of a Cinderella AU with him, too, except he is the Cinderella character who gets transformed to live his dream for a day.

I present to you the setup of:

*All photos from Pinterest

Steven is the only child of an exiled prince, and due to happenstance of the aged Warrior King Phillips having no male heir of his own, Steve becomes true royalty overnight.

His cousins, Princesses Margaret and Sharon, angry at the circumstance of their demotions at court, offer no help to the young, small, and often sickly new king.

No one is allowed to see him until his coronation. The few knights and advisors who have laid eyes on Steve are sworn to secrecy, and though he has a mind for strategy, Steve is burdened by his appearance.

Given the coronation crown the night before the big ceremony, Steve stares deep into the massive yellow gem at its front and wishes to look like the "ruler they all want to see."

And he does.

He wears the heavy crown easily, he stands tall over most of the court, and he carries a heavy, steel sword at his hip for the first time ever without the blade dragging across the stone floor.

The court is elated. No one looks twice, not even the handful of men who knew, but that's the magic of the stone...

Steve meets a seemingly endless stream of people, but the most curious is the apprentice of King Phillips' military advisor, a young man he saw befriending a stray cat in the courtyard while everyone else ogled and angled for him. The apprentice's eyes...there's just something about them...

After a long celebration feast where he charmed the nobility with humility, practicality, and honor, Steve falls asleep small again, but certain he can win over the whole realm if he can simply be known for his actions, not his physique.

That becomes the plan; Steve will work behind the scenes, make the kingdom better for people high and low, and then he'll be loved and accepted for who he is. In the meantime, he, in his natural form, can act as a sort of messenger or page boy 'for King Steven' and move around freely. Why not? They all are on the lookout for a man standing two hands higher and broader than him.

One of his first visits is to his inherited military advisor. Of course, Steve doesn't expect the apprentice to live inside the family home, possibly somewhere on the estate maybe, but after a long ride to get there and a long discussion while sitting in the man's study, Steve asks if he might walk the garden before leaving.

He asks about the woman by the roses, and his advisor simply replies "that's my daughter."

Of course, he won't bother to introduce him. Steve's an untitled nobody like he's been his entire life thus far.

Steve might not have seen the resemblance, truly, if not for the exact movement of your finger to gently lift a wilting petal back into place.

It's the move the apprentice made when scratching beneath the cat's chin, and he'll never forget that smile.

"You," he blurts, startled at the otherwise drastic change in your appearance.

You jump back before composing yourself, shielding your eyes from the bright sun above as you look him over.

He's more alarmed by your curtsy than you are by him, watching you bow deeply where moments ago your father dismissed him offhand.

"Your Majesty," you say to the ground.

You...

You recognize him like this? How? How is that possible?

His wish was granted. They all saw a perfect soldier, but that's just the thing: you didn't want to be ruled by a perfect soldier.

You wanted a good man.

You, who secretly longs to offer more to your father and family than a bartering chip for marriage, same as his cousins, need the king to be a good man because then he'll understand this...

A/N: Ok, full disclosure, I might already be very protective of this one, so we'll see if I can bring myself to put it all out there. Anyway! Thank you for the gif, Brandy! It was a great opportunity to get this down.

Also, if it's just an idea/intro, do I include the taglist? Idk. I hate pinging y'all if it's not like a lot of content.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[dandelionxbby]

how I feel whenever someone reblogs my post and leaves rant tags

[biteofcherry]

Happy Wetnessday 💦

I think it's time for some King Steve, don't you? Here's a little this or that for your life with him:

modern day or medieval times

arranged marriage or king falling for "peasant"

summer or winter solstice wedding

castle in the nature or city centre

reads to you before bed or cuddles by the fireplace

No matter what you choose he's completely smitten and can't let his hands off you.

xoxo Wetnessday anon 💦

STEEVIE 🥹💖 back in my arms ❤️

And King Steve on top of it? You spoil me, Wetnessday Anon! Thank you!

I'd pick medieval times, because I'm in deep need of wearing beautiful gowns daily, not just for shmancy galas. Also more forests and fields than skyscrapers and yelling car drivers. Besides, I want Steve with a sword, not just some ceremonial stick 😎

While I love me some romantic falling for who you shouldn't be with, I was never actually fond of such drastic class difference romance? Idk, I always thought of them to be bullshit in the making and maintaining 😂 How about we mix it up a bit? An arranged marriage, but not with a Princess equal to Steve's status, but perhaps a daughter/sister of a knight who was Steve's very loyal, close friend, but after death you'd be left with no protection and possibly some nasty distant uncle would claim all everything and decide on your marriage. So Steve arranges for your marriage to him, to protect you. And no one would dare make any claims on you and your dowry when the king himself has taken you.

The castle is built on a hill, overlooking the grounds below and the wide, blue ribbon of river crossing right next to it. There are fields and forests around; a long main road with hawthorns growing on both sides and blooming beautifully in spring.

Steve is absolutely wonderful. Your marriage may have happened due to his strong sense of duty and protectiveness, but he doesn't close his heart on the love that blooms between you two. He's absolutely smitten and most doting. Sometimes he will read out to you some formal replies, seeking your opinion, and sometimes you will visit him when he reads piles of letters, requests and reports. You'd pick one of the letters and read it in a silly, mocking voice to make Steve laugh. But one of your favorite ways to spend time with Steve alone, with no duties to fulfill, is to be in his arms as you sit by the fireplace, drinking some mead or wine and just enjoying the quiet, or some hushed intimate conversation.

Though you also love to go on rides with him. Especially in winter, when you're bundled in most lush coat lined with fur and Steve holds you in his embrace as you sit in front of him on his horse. Winter rides remind you of your winter wedding. How the light from the torches stuck in the snow reflected in the frosty layer as you were lead through the courtyard. The evergreens weaved into your hair, as a symbol for the solstice, white gold of the stunning jewelry you were gifted as brilliant as the sparkling snow. Steve awaited you at the bottom of the stairs and then, hand holding yours, lead you up and into the main hall where you were married.

It's also on winter solstice that you give birth to your first child (and Steve gets so happy drunk on mead he forgets you're married and asks you to be his queen 😆)

[justalonelyslytherin]

My Kingdom, Your Kingdom | One

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Pairing: secret king!Steve Rogers x heir apparent!female Reader

Summary: Steve, Sam, and Bucky start off their vacation in the remote lake town with an adventurous evening stumbling over three lost girls in the woods.

Warnings: Reader is mentioned once or twice having brunette hair for the convenience of setting her apart from her sisters, no otherwise description of her appearance, wandering in the dark in the forest, mentions of wild/dangerous animals and killers/assassins

Wordcount: 3.2k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don't allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don't steal my work.

A/N: The first chapter is a little bit different, almost exclusively in Steve's pov. We'll switch towards a Y/N focused pov starting in chapter 2, with the sprinkle of Steve's pov here and there. the beautiful Dividers are by the lovely @/firefly-graphics

Taglist: open, will be tagged in the comments

“Everything is handled. Although I can’t promise it will stay that way for long. Enjoy your getaway while you still can.”

“Thank you Hill.” Steve ended the call, slowly lowering his arm and shoving his phone into the pocket of his pants. With a sigh, he leaned back in the car seat and looked out of the window.

“Vacation,” Sam huffed in an amused tone, eyes focused on the road he was driving on as he barely shook his head. “Can’t remember the last time I took one.” 

Steve smiled, “Me neither.”

Bucky in the passenger's seat snorted loudly. “Time you got one.”

That Steve could only agree with. And it was exactly why they were on their way. They’d been on the road for a couple of hours already, making the track from one end of the country to the other one. There was only one place Steve could imagine spending a wintery holiday just before Christmas. It was a small and quiet town, nestled between the shallow foothills of the mountains and surrounded by a bunch of smaller lakes not far away from the border. Not many people chose to visit it. 

“How long until we are there?” Bucky groaned as he shifted in his seat and stretched his arms high above his head. As high as the ceiling of the car allowed him to. Steve could hear his longest friends' joints creak through the motion.

“Not long,” Sam grumbled, glaring at the brunette before he glanced back at the road again.

“We are almost there,” Steve agreed, eyeing the familiar scenery. It warmed his heart as he spied the hints of the lake peeking through the trees. Shortly after the road curved to the left, following the outline of the lake as the town came into view.

“Wow,” Sam, whose first time it was there, exclaimed in awe. Both Bucky and Steve were equally mesmerized however much quieter. They had traveled there many times, yet the first view of the town never wasn't magnificent.

Driving through the town many heads turned as the townspeople watched them pass by. “Turn left here,” Bucky’s gruff direction came as they had passed almost entirely through the town, the Townsquare and most houses already behind them.

“Here?” Sam asked doubtfully as he eyed the small dirt road that was easy to miss. The snow covering it made the street blend into the surrounding trees so well, one might miss it entirely not knowing of its existence.

“Yes,” Steve agreed, his heart jumping in his throat as they pulled into the inconspicuous road, “just follow it.”

Leading away from the town for a good 10 minutes it felt as if their car was swallowed by nature. The road took a couple of winding turns until after the last one the trees to either side of the road parted and revealed a big plot of land. In the middle of it sat a cozy, sleepy cabin. Three stories high and big enough to house an entire little village of its own, Steve instantly felt at home.

As the car came to a halt before the double-door garage, he couldn’t get out fast enough. While Bucky went on to open the garage, Steve stepped through the snow and rounded on the cabin. Standing before it he craned his neck. Memories flooded his mind as the smile on his lips grew with each passing moment.

“I thought you said the cabin hadn’t been used in a while.” Bucky took his stand beside his friend, glancing up at the cabin too.

“I asked someone in the village to set it up for us a couple of days ago. Everything is defrosted and we got a stocked pantry and fireplace.” Grinning, Bucky looked over at Steve.

“Now that sounds like a proper vacation, even for us!” Both of them laughed as Steve shoved his friend by the shoulder.

“You could have had a proper vacation even before. No one will recognize me here.”

“Not with that mug, no.” Bucky agreed and eyed the dark hair on the blonde’s lower face. Before Steve could say something, a shout came from the garage.

“Some help maybe?” Sam had already started to open the trunk and empty out their bags. In unison, Steve and Bucky walked over to help bring their bags into the cabin.

“A fire, then a nap and food, how does that sound?”

"Ha! It's cold!” Sam shuddered as he stepped onto the veranda, closing the glass doors with his elbow as his hands were filled with three beers. Steve and Bucky, who were already sitting on two chairs with a small fire lit in a brazier out of metal and stone, chuckled at their friends' antics.

“I told you to wear a damn coat,” Bucky teased him, earning a glare. Sam gave one of the three bottles of beer to Steve and held the other one above Bucky’s head, just out of his reach.

“Yeah and next time you can get yourself your own beer, Barnes.” 

Steve rolled his eyes at his friend's quarrel. He was used to them being at each other’s throats. He also knew that it was mostly for show and deep down they both cared deeply for one another. They just were too stubborn to acknowledge it. 

Nursing his beer the blonde leaned further back in this chair and spread his knees out. The residual snow, after they’d cleared most of it off, crunched beneath his feet.

“Man, this is serene. I could get used to this view and the quietness up here.” Sam sighed as he dropped into his own chair. Two hums followed his words, agreeing with them. 

“Just laying back and doing nothing,” Steve mumbled as he glanced towards the treeline. It had gotten dark about half an hour ago, even if it wasn’t that late yet. The sun set quickly around here.

“Oh come on, you’d be bored by midday.” Bucky scoffed and looked at the blonde as he rolled his eyes. “And then Sam and I would have to hunt you down and stop you from getting into trouble.”

“Not like we don’t have to do that on the regular already.”

Steve wanted to protest, in fact, he had already opened his mouth to give them a piece of his mind when they heard a crack not far away from the forest.

“You heard that?” Sam asked as all three of them watched the darkened scenery with watchful eyes. Then another noise came from within the woods. This time, not a crack, it sounded much more…human.

Steve put his beer on the ground and stood up. Stepping onto the edge of the veranda he strained his ears. “It sounded like a person,” he mumbled. There was no third noise which seemed strange to him and without further thought, he decided to investigate.

“Steve…Hey! Steve!” Bucky shouted after him as the blonde already bounded down the steps into the garden and strode towards the edge of the woods.

“For fucks sake,” he grumbled as he looked over at Sam. Putting down his beer with enough force to crack the bottle he jumped over the railing to follow the blonde. Sam scrambled into the house to get his coat and ran after the both of them.

“You can’t just walk into the goddamn woods in the dark Rogers!”

“Without us even less Punk!”

Steve however kept marching on, paying the two of them no mind. He had a mission now. Whatever had caused the noise in the woods it must be special. The woods around the cabin were always quiet. The occasional birds or deer could be heard or seen in the mornings but they made many different sounds. Something in his gut told him to investigate the noise and Steve never went against his gut feeling.

The path he chose through the trees was unsteady and went every which way there was the most space to get to where the noise had come from. Steve stopped as he heard twigs breaking. Looking back Bucky and Sam were standing still too, Bucky shrugged his shoulders. It hadn’t been one of them then. Another crack made Steve look into the dim maze of trees until he spotted something light peeking out between them. With newfound vigor, he stepped forward when a hand landed on his shoulder. Glancing behind, Bucky glared at him and shook his head. 

Sam walked past, taking the lead. Only when he was several meters in front of them did Bucky retract his hand, “Don’t be stupid punk. I won’t hear the end of it if you manage to get yourself killed on your vacation.” 

Before Steve could answer that he wouldn’t get himself killed, shouts sounded from further ahead. Steve could distinctly hear Sam’s shout of “Whoa!” mixed with a second voice.

“Sam!” he shouted and sprinted forward as he saw his friend go down. Skidding to a halt in what was a small clearing in the snow-covered forest Steve and Bucky didn’t trust their eyes. Sam was sitting on the ground, clearly surprised but fine at first glance. Before him stood a young blonde woman who seemed as surprised to see them as they were seeing her. Her arms were still stretched out from whatever movement she had done to send Sam onto his ass.

“What the hell?!” came his exclamation as he fought to get up from the slippery ground. Steve held out a hand to his friend, pulling Sam up. Bucky meanwhile didn’t take his eyes off the strange young woman.

“Who are you?” he asked gruffly and sternly. Before the blonde could answer, more cracking of twigs resounded before two figures barged out of the trees behind her.

“Yelena! Are you okay!” The taller one of the two new women asked, her brows drawn down in concern, eyes flitting over the frame of the blonde one. 

“What were you thinking walking off?” The redhead asked her, arms crossed before her chest and scoffing. It was only after that they noticed Steve, Sam, and Bucky just a short distance behind Yelena.

Steve’s heart made a leap as the eyes of the brunette landed on him. She was pretty, he noted, very pretty. Her gaze was electrifying, rendering him unmovable as her eyes fixated on him. She moved slowly, carefully gauging their reaction, to step between the blonde and them. 

“Who are you?” Her silky smooth voice caused a shiver to ripple down his back. Steve quietly gasped at the sensation, at the way her voice seemed to penetrate every pore of his being. 

Had it not been for both Bucky and Sam scoffing and guffawing Steve would have been stuck in his daze forever. Now however his eyes jumped to his friends, who were ready to step forward and chew these girls up. He held a hand out, stopping them. Bucky shot him a disbelieving look followed by an eye roll. Subtly he crossed his arms and flexed his muscles. Steve couldn’t blame either Sam or Bucky for reacting in this way, protecting him was an automatic response neither could shake off.

“I’m Steve. This is Sam and Bucky.” Steve pointed at himself and then at the two others before he trailed off, once more getting caught in the beauty of the young woman standing before him. She looked reluctant and cautious. The unsteady flicker of her eyes between all three of them clearly showed how uneasy she was to have met them in the middle of the forest in the dark, how distrusting she was of them. In Steve it only caused curiosity to sprout. What were they doing here this late? 

“I’m Y/N. My sister's Natasha–” she pointed at the redhead, “–and Yelena,” then at the blonde she was shielding.

Only after she gave him a timid nod, he thought to elaborate. Swallowing, he mumbled, “We, uhm, we heard some noises and wanted to investigate when we came upon..” 

Yelena, who he was sheepishly pointing at, cut him off, “When they scared the living daylights out of me. I thought they were wild animals trying to attack me.” Bucky snorted amused at that.

“There are no wild animals here. At least none that are dangerous. They don’t venture that close to the cabin or the village.”

“So we are close to a village?” Natasha spoke up, her voice sounding hopeful. Confused, Steve eyed the three girls closely, they looked exhausted and frozen. He noticed the way all three of them were trembling and shifting from one foot to the other. Y/N’s hands were shaking as she curled them into fists and unfurled them over and over again. She tried to hide it, shoving her hands behind her back after she caught him looking. 

“You are lost, aren’t you?” he asked them, glancing up at her eyes once more. There was a spark in them, the brief flitting of a look that reminded him of a spooked and cornered animal. It was gone in the blink of an eye, so fast Steve thought he might have imagined it. What he didn’t imagine was the way she shifted and bit her lip, glancing back at her sisters.

Both Natasha and Yelena were tense, glancing at each other. They opened their mouths at the same time, forming the first letter of what Steve suspected would have been an unconvincing ‘no’ had Y/N not spoken up first. 

“Yes,” she answered timidly, still not entirely sure if she could trust these three strange men, “We were on our way when our car broke down.”

“And you decided to walk aimlessly through the woods instead of calling a tow service or even a taxi?” Sam asked in utter disbelief. It was very cold up here, especially without the sun the temperatures quickly turned deadly. The three girls kept silent, pressing their lips together and furrowing their brows.

“You have a phone, do you?” Bucky asked them and the girls reacted the same way. “You don’t have a phone?” He asked once more, surprise evident on his face as they nodded.

“Could you point us to the village perhaps?” Natasha asked, clearly uncomfortable and done with the questioning. 

“Sure. It’s another 4 miles in that direction.” Sam was very frank and dry in his answer, uncrossing his arms before his chest and pointing his finger deeper into the forest.

“Sam.” Steve chided, frowning at him. Neither Sam nor Bucky seemed concerned or apologetic about their blasé manner, Steve however didn’t feel right treating the girls that way. Sending them on their way back into the forest when it was only going to be darker and colder into the night even if the way to the village wasn’t that long left a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

While Natasha and Yelena turned around, ready to head back deeper into the forest, and Sam and Bucky also turned around to make the short track back to the property, Y/N and Steve remained motionless. Eyes on eyes, they hesitated. Steve wasn’t sure if it was his concern for their well-being or the pull of something else that was radiating between her and him. He didn’t want to let her go. Everything in him shouted to stop her and to have some more time together, get to know her. 

What he couldn’t know, Y/N felt the same. She was intrigued by the blonde man with sparkling blue eyes, which when she looked into gave her the feeling of safety. It felt like she had known him for an eternity instead of less than thirty minutes.

Her mind had been running ever since they mentioned a phone. Before she had never thought about it but now the realization settled heavily in the pit of her stomach. They didn’t have a phone, they didn’t have money. They had nothing on them besides the clothes they were wearing. Even if they found the village, how were they supposed to pay for a room in an inn? 

Steve sensed her hesitation on top of the pull and it seemed the others had by now too.

“Y/N?” Natasha asked, having turned back around.

“Nat, we don’t have any money with us. How are we supposed to pay for a room? For anything?” They couldn’t even get the car fixed and turn back around. They were stranded. Utterly screwed up. Natasha remained silent, looking directly at her older sister.

“Well, shit.”

“You don’t have anything with you?” Y/N looked back at Steve and hesitantly nodded. He wondered just who these girls were to be stranded this far out in the country, so close to the border, with nothing in their possession. Bucky and Sam’s eyes were practically burning into the back of his head, both of them knowing exactly what Steve was about to do but neither agreeing in the slightest. 

Before he could speak up, he was pulled back by his neck. Bucky looked at him furiously, before he turned to the girls. “Give us a moment,” he told them gruffly pulling Steve further backward. A short distance away from them they huddled together.

“You can’t be offering what I think you’ll be,” Sam spoke up first.

“Yeah punk. We don’t know them. It’s not safe.” 

“What if they are unhinged hitchhiker killers? Or assassins sent by the North? Repay a debt or some of that crap?”

Steve looked back at the girls. They were standing huddled together, rubbing and blowing on their hands for warmth. He could still see them trembling, even from afar. They didn’t look like killers to him, they looked like three lost girls who desperately needed a warm place and some kind strangers to help them. His and Y/N’s eyes met as she glanced up. There was that pull again, only furthering his sure feeling that they weren't a danger.

“Look at them, Buck. They are cold and you heard them. They have nowhere to stay. We can’t let them wander in the cold throughout the night. They'd be dead before they reach the town.”

Bucky groaned loudly, “Fine punk. But they stay downstairs in the wing furthest away from your room. One of us takes the room before you and the other the room in front of the stairs at the beginning of the hallway.” Steve could live with these conditions. 

“And tomorrow morning we’ll drive them into the town and get them a hotel room,” Sam added. Steve was fine with that too and if he secretly planned to use his rank to meddle with it, then they didn’t need to know it.

For now, he turned around and strode over to the three girls. They turned towards him, three pairs of eyes curiously looking up at him, one of those which lit a fire in his stomach and made his heart do backflips.

“We are staying in a cabin just at the edge of the forest. It’s much closer than the village and we don’t charge anything. So if you’d like, you can stay the night and we’ll show you the way to the village in the morning. Work something out?” 

They looked at each other, eyes jumping back and forth, brows and mouths furrowing and curling. It reminded Steve of the silent conversations he would have with Bucky when they were in meetings or during formal functions. As Y/N turned back towards him, he held his breath in anticipation.

“We’d like to. Thank you.”

[imaginedreamwrite]

Exile: Part 1

The heavy silence that fell over the meadow was weighty in its composure as it settled over the open space. The forest was teeming with life, every corner had some creature or fauna, and nothing was left bare. But it was silent as if it sensed imminent danger.

As the waters of silence and peace were tested, a large grey and white rabbit had bound to the edge of the clearing and stopped, its nose twitching as it scented the blades of thick grass, tempting the fates when no other creature had.

It took a moment and waited on the edge, listening to the danger that could’ve been there and yet hadn’t shown its face. As it bound further into the meadow, it lifted its head. It reared its ears in an exemplary manner before it made a final squeak and fell back to the green pillow, the small arrow lodged in the chest protruding with a singular silver bead hanging from the soft feathers on end.

Your pace was quick as you rose from the blind you had created for yourself. As you dashed forward to grab the rabbit from the meadow before any other predators had the chance, you felt that eerie stillness they had been so afraid of erupting into casual madness as any lingering prey had dashed away from you.

You bent down and grabbed the rabbit by the ears and carefully dislodged the arrow, tucking it into the band of your hip bag you’d made. You raised the rabbit above your head and stared into its eyes with necessity but still had whispered a quiet thank you before you turned on your heel and stalked back out of the meadow.

You set the rabbit against a rock and raised your hand to your lips, placing your forefinger and thumb into your mouth and whistling sharply, calling your mount after you had sent it off to remain hidden.

While you listened for its steady hoofbeats, you picked up the rabbit and tucked it under your left arm before you grabbed your bow from where it had been resting against a trunk and flexed your fingers around the grip.

“You may not like me,” you grumbled when your mount pushed its nose against your back, “but have we finally reached the common ground?”

You turned and raised your hand to brush against the length of its excellent copper nose and jaw, feeling the silky fur beneath you.

When the horse had shifted its weight and snorted in your direction, you had pat its neck and moved around the left side to where your saddlebag was resting and secured against the rump. The deerskin saddlebag had been handed down from your ward, and while it was in no manner new, it had served its purpose well enough.

“I promise when I get back, I will sneak you an apple.” Your peace offering was recognized when the horse shook its head. “If you don’t buck me off.”

You secured the rabbit by its feet before you placed your bow in a safe place, and as you began to mount your horse, you you froze when you heard the sound of neighing and whinnying coming from beyond the tree-line.

“Quiet.” You hissed at the horse, attempting to silence its rumbles to hear what was on the other side of the meadow and the tree-line. “Quiet, please. I’ll give you two apples if you just shut up!”

The silence that you had inflicted on the meadow had come again. The world had become so still and quiet; the sound of your heart beating sounded like a war drum.

You remained still, grasping the reins of your mount in your right hand while your left hand was smoothing up and down its neck to ease it into calm. You knew there shouldn’t have been anyone out in these woods, and if there happened to be men hunting, they had never come this far south.

It was almost unheard of, hearing horses and men this deep and this far past the river. Only once had men ventured this far, and their descent to the woods had been on official business, for which you had been sent away to keep your identity a secret.

“We need to leave.” You grasped the front of the worn and nearly dilapidated saddle and pulled yourself up, your feet immediately settling onto the stirrups.

Once you were settled, you had turned your horse and kicked your heels, stirring the beast under you to run back toward the sanctuary that had been carved out for you.

It was no coincidence that the first arrival of the men so deep into the woods had been sent on the orders of the King, yet their appearance today was. The first time, they had been searching for the King’s soulmate and the rightful bride that he had been searching long and hard for.

You hadn’t needed to be in society to know that the King was edging on the line between crazed and maniacal while in search of his soulmate.

After his first wife’s death, the marriage that had been conceived to strengthen his reign and his kingdom, he was able to find and seek the soulmate he had wished for all his life. It had taken far too long to find her the first time, and his happiness at seeing her within the dusty villages thousands of miles away had turned to ash when it was revealed that she was a fake.

The King’s bride, the woman who had forged everything that should have been natural about the marriage, had been nothing more than a con. The King, in his maddened state after banishing his second bride from the entirety of the kingdom, had demanded that every avenue be explored again.

Every rock that was previously looked at was turned over again as the King was becoming more desperate to find the one that was meant to be his.

The knights who had come to the cottage hidden in the woods had found nothing, and you were confident that they wouldn’t be back, and yet you had heard them.

The inherent panic that had made itself home within you was driving you and your horse further down the winding path to the cottage. If you could beat them there, you could give notice to your guardian.

“Faster, please-!” A startled cry had fallen from your lips as your horse skidded to a stop when a herd of the Kingsmen had dashed in front of you on the path, oblivious to the woman on the horse who was more forest nymph than human, and none of them had spared you a glance.

You wait a moment to settle yourself before you grab the reins tight and change the direction of your horse. You kicked your heels and moved naturally with its motions as it pushed itself off the path and onto the shortcut you had taken more than once. It had been too long since you had felt such panic as you had felt now, and you had to wonder if the King would show himself on this venture or remain safe in the castle.

“Stop. Easy. Easy.” You mumbled to your horse as you pulled on the reins to slow it down to a walk, the horse beneath you striding in large circles while you sweep your gaze around the forest.

You felt eyes on you from somewhere in this density; the loft weight of someone unseen was creating this haze of unease that made goosebumps rise to your flesh. You craned your neck and glanced behind you and held back a startled gasp at the sight of the man you knew was King atop a great white and black beast with its thick mane braided and secured.

The King had stopped its horse, let it take pause, and while it rested, he had turned his head and glanced your way. There was a certain calmness surrounding him as he stared at you, with his blonde hair coiffed out of his face and the royal blue tunic he bore, bringing out the brilliance in his eyes.

You had remained still, at a standoff, and it wasn’t until he had lowered his chin and focused his gaze that you were aware of something you had never felt before.

You tried to remain as still as possible, as subtle as you could while lifting the sleeve covering the mark that made you a target and yet even though the linen, you could feel the burning heat that had only come when you were close to your soulmate.

You lifted your head and clenched your jaw, waiting for the moment he pulled on the reins before you prodded harsher than you should’ve, sending your horse into a frenzy. You held on as tight as you could as it burst forth, running with adrenaline-filled panic that you had caused in your need to escape.

“He’s following.” You grit your teeth and change directions again, knowing that unless you ditched yourself and had gone on foot, you wouldn’t have any hope of actually avoiding being taken by him or his knights.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized to your mount and swung your leg around to the left and took a slow deep breath before you lifted your hand and brought it down upon the hind. The sharp whinny had come moments before you jumped and rolled upon making an impact on the ground.

You rolled and hid behind a fallen log, your horse likely kicking and rearing as it took off in the direction you sent it. You slapped a hand over your mouth to silence any noise as another set of hoofbeats came thundering to your left as the man you needed to avoid above all else had chased after your riderless horse.

When you were sure it was safe, you pushed yourself to sit up and had bent one leg, resting your elbow against your knee. You turned yourself and made your back against the fallen log, taking a few well-deserved moments to breathe and gather your thoughts before you had finally stood and dust yourself off before you started making your way back to the cottage and your guardian.

The door had been cracked open when you had finally made it, and while you could hear the whinnies of the knight’s steads, you couldn’t see their riders. You had hung back and remained hidden until you saw the men starting to stalk out the front door of the cottage, clearly feeling defeated.

You remained still and quiet while studying the roof of the house, watching the smoke billow from the chimney. You would wait until they were gone or until your guardian had given you the signal that you could come back into the home that was largely hidden.

“We haven’t found her.” The Knights had become discouraged from their exhaustive search that was only deepened by the King’s determination to find you.

“Serves them all right,” you scoffed when you spotted them all mounting their steeds to begin their disembark from your home.

Still, you wait until the last of them has left before you step out of the shadows to enter your home. When you had gotten halfway between your hiding space and the cottage, your heart stopped when you felt eyes on you.

Much like when you were in the bush, their gaze felt hidden. You hadn’t known who was watching you or where, yet you knew they were. You had instinctually wrapped your arms around your middle as a means of protecting yourself against the unseen force while slowly stepping backward, keeping your eyes focused on the surrounding woods.

When your back had met part of the fence built in the front garden, you felt the mark of your wrist beginning to burn as it had earlier when you were in close proximity to the King, yet it hadn’t made sense. They were gone; all of them had fled.

Your breathing started to become erratic when the resounding crunch of a broken twig came from your left, yet had been immediately followed by the same sound to the right. You couldn’t see anyone. However, you knew they were there.

Your body’s natural response to being watched was to send a rush of panic surging through you, followed by alarm bells ringing in your mind that screamed danger.

If you were lucky, you could make it to the cottage; however, you figured luck would not be on your side because if you made it to the cottage and had secured yourself inside, they would find you regardless.

A strangled scream had been ripped from you when the pain of the mark on your wrist had become early unbearable. It was as if someone was pouring fire from a forge directly onto your flesh to turn your skin to charred ash.

“Stop it!” You screamed and ripped your sleeve up, revealing the mark that made you the King’s.

It was a natural reaction, the fire that burned. It was an indicator that they were close, and the more it hurt, the closer they were.

“Stop!” You slapped your free hand over the mark before you saw the thin silver thread surrounding the mark as a confirmation you didn’t want. “Please-“

You lifted your head and studied the man coming toward you before you whipped your head around to study a man who appeared to be a lookalike of the first.

Two had been decoys; you knew now.

They had been fakes wearing the same coloured tunic with the royal symbol etched into the corner and the same coif that had deceived you. They had been diversions and the entire chase manufactured to weed you out, and you fell for it.

“Please,” you pleaded with them, feeling much like the rabbit you had killed earlier, “please just let me go.”

They were moving closer to you from the left and the right, and you had an opportunity to dash to the right; however, you had to make your move. You slid your left foot back as they came closer, attempting to cut you off until the real King could arrive.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and counted to three in your head before you finally took the chance and dashed off to the right, ducking under an attempt to knock you back.

As you ran past the cottage, you were suddenly swept from your feet and barricaded against a thick and broad chest. The force behind the grab had knocked the wind out of you, and during your struggle to catch your breath, you were swiftly set upon the back of a saddle.

You were given no time to fight or cry, as the same broad chest that had been pressed against you after you were grabbed was now nestle against your back, and a heavyset arm was locking you against a warm body.

“You will not run from me again.”

[bucky-h0e]

Of Summer Days and Winter Nights

Medieval Fantasy AU! Knight Bucky x Princess Reader

Synopsis:

As courting season approaches, King Clement II wishes to find a lover for his dear daughter, Y/n. She will be Queen of their land, one day in the distant future, one who serves their people well. But he knows the hardships all too well; he knows his daughter just as well. These hardships are meant to be shared, a ruler meant to be supported by the ones they love, but he will not always be around for her. So, he calls for a festival to celebrate the season, inviting all available bachelors and bachelorettes to his kingdom, he prays for someone to catch the eye of his precious girl.

He just did not anticipate it being one of the three most well known knights of the realm. One Sir James 'Bucky' Barnes.

Masterlist

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Taglist: OPEN

@thehumanistsdiary @browneyedgirl22 @tf-is-fanfic @jenn-f @melsunshine

A/N:

Hi everyone! This will be my very first attempt at writing a written fic, so please have patience with me. Chapters may be slow coming out, most likely two weeks apart, however I will send some notifications out. I am hoping for it to only be a short series and that you'll enjoy it!

If you would like to be added to the taglist, then please let me know! I will eventually do requests but I'd like to get this series started first! Please be sure to like it, reblog it or comment if you enjoyed it!

[tushnee]

[ivybird]

It's always the quiet ones - Prologue.

Mob!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader.

Summary: You don't mess with the Queen.

Warnings: Blood, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of death, mentions of decapitation, non-con kiss, assault, spitting, crying, swearing. If I've forgotten anything, please let me know.

MINORS DNI.

Word Count: 651.

A/N: Here we go! The beginning of a series! Any mistakes are my own. My work is not to be translated or posted anywhere. Please comment, like, follow and reblog! Enjoy guys! GIF ISNT MINE.

Series Masterlist.

The ropes, they carved into her skin with every move she made. The light, it made her eyes ache. The soft ‘drip, drip, drip’ of the leak in the corner pierced her ears. “Please!”. Voice horse, the taste of blood, the throbbing of her wounds…everything felt like it was on fire. “Please, let me go. I didn’t do anything wrong”. “Oh, pretty one. You did do something wrong. You fell in love with the King…and kings pay a substantial price for their queens”. The stench of coffee on his breath was enough to make her be sick, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “So, are you gonna tell me?”. Her hair was matted with blood and hung in front of her face like a curtain, but she could still see him. “Hmm? I’m not going to ask again, pretty one”. Her lips twisted into a snarl and with her last morsel of energy she spat. Blood landed on his face and before she could speak his ring clad hand connected with her cheek. A small whimper escaped her lips, but she wouldn’t scream. She’d been there for weeks, how many? She didn’t know, but it was long. “He’s coming for me. You’ll be dead before I step foot outside”. His laugh echoed off the damp walls of the room and his hand flew to her matted locks, yanking her to her feet. “Listen to me, you little bitch. I’m counting on Barnes coming for you, because when he does, I’ll be putting a bullet between his eyes, making you MY queen, and running New York. You hear me?”. A strained laugh found its way out of her ruined throat. “You underestimate him. He may be the King, but he was a soldier first, and above all that…is me”. His lips were on her in an instant, she kicked at him and tried with all her might to shove him off. It didn’t work. He tightened his grip on her hair and tossed her down on the cot. “You speak so highly of him, Y/N, but where is he? Where’s your King?”. Tears pooled in her eyes, her lip trembled, and her heart hammered against her chest. He had a point, where was he? Where was her James? His body caged hers in, a tiger looming over his captured prey. “Go on pretty girl…tell me”. Her lips curved up and she arched her body into him just slightly. He smirked, he finally got what he wanted. Or so he thought. “Fuck. You”. His hand smacked into her chest and pinned her down with bruising pressure. “Gladly”. …………………………………………………………………………………………………………… “That’s when everything went black. The next thing I know, I’m in Steve’s arms being carried to the SUV”. She was sat in her home, curled up beside Bucky. She was clean, in her own clothes and her open wounds had been tended to. A steaming mug was nestled in her hands and there was a plate of untouched food sitting on the coffee table. Across from them sat the men who were just underneath Bucky, the Princes of New York. Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, Loki, and Thor Odinson. They served their queen; they were sworn to protect her, and they were all terrified Bucky would have their heads for what happened to her. No pain came. Just his pleads for help to kill every single man who was responsible for what happened to her. His promise to give each of them what they wanted the second he knew the bastard was dead, and they were going to deliver. She stood and paced around the room before looking at all five men in front of her. “Y/N?”. The voice she loved so much, the voice that brought her so much peace. It wasn’t a dream anymore, he was here, in front of her. “Boys?”. All but Bucky stood at her call. “Bring me his head”.

[emotional-fox]

therian playlists ♬

now playing: fox

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

dirty paws, of monsters and men

fox on the run, sweet

soldier, poet, king, the oh hellos

like the dawn, the oh hellos

crystals, of monsters and men

furr, blitzen trapper

country roads, john denver

rhiannon, fleetwood mac

bare trees, fleetwood mac

back in my body, maggie rogers

i of the storm, of monsters and men

the warming moon, rogue valley

☆

now playing: wolf

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

running with the wolves, aurora

wolves without teeth, of monsters and men

furr, blitzen trapper

she-wolf, shakira

dirty paws, of monsters and men

wild mountain honey, steve miller band

eyes wide open, gotye

brother wolf, sister moon, the cult

landslide, fleetwood mac

the chain, fleetwood mac

wolves, bon iver

alaska, maggie rogers

☆

now playing: rabbit

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

roger rabbit, sleeping with sirens

rabbit hole, aviva

peach, the front bottoms

prey, the neighborhood

pumped up kicks, foster the people

bunny, bunny, bunny, the golden orchestra

rabbit heart (raise it up), florence and the machine

it will come back, hozier

sunlight, hozier

your rabbit feet, wild nothing

you fill up my senses, john denver

like the dawn, the oh hellos

☆

now playing: lion

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

king and lionheart, of monsters and men

truth to power, onerepublic

little lion man, mumford and sons

fearless, night watch

and i miss you, sade

love song for a prairie fire, jayber crow

lion’s teeth, the mountain goats

onions, the mountain goats

a pillow of wings, pink floyd

i know the end, phoebe bridgers

this river is wild, the killers

lioness, songs: ohia

☆

now playing: hawk

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

the eagle and the hawk, john denver

talons, bloc party

birds of the high arctic, david gray

seven nation army, the white stripes

fly with me, the jonas brothers

hunter, galantis

never coming home (song for the guilty), in live the dream

halcyon, the paper kites

featherstone, the paper kites

birds, imagine dragons

heft, japanese breakfast

plum, troye sivan

☆

now playing: squirrel

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

no roots, alice merton

prey, the neighborhood

dirt, bryan lanning

rivers and roads, the head and the heart

old pine, ben howard

ends of the earth, lord huron

woodland, the paper kites

savior complex, phoebe bridgers

melancholyism, super whatvr

red squirrel, stackridge

sofia, clairo

furr, blitzen trapper

little acorns, the white stripes

[endless-ineffabilities]

Masterlist 📝

about the author: Freyja (freɪə), 20-something, Londoner, Virgo sun / Scorpio moon / Libra rising, I write as I please about whom I please (and for you, of course, on the chance that you enjoy my writing! 🖤) ~

This is a regularly updated list of my works; all are x f!Reader unless otherwise stated. I try not to include outright physical attributes for the female lead, to leave her appearance open to interpretation.

Please do NOT copy, repost, steal, or translate any of these! My works should only exist here, on Tumblr. I have not and will not post them on any other platform, nor do I consent to any other individual doing so.

⚔️ Refer here to be tagged in House of the Dragon fics

💌 anon list

The Sandman

Morpheus / Corinthian

Ineffable (series) *on hiatus

Corinthian

Easy on the eyes (series) (18+) *on hiatus

Morpheus

Only you can set alight the fire in me (oneshot)

House of the Dragon

Daemon Targaryen

Oneshots

Without you, I would not be

She is my heart

ñuha mērī jorrāelagon

feast

rogue ink

turning red

Series / Miniseries

but daddy, I love him (chapter one - chapter two - chapter three)

this world was never meant for a fire like yours (18+)

in the shadow of your heart (part one - part two)

Aemond Targaryen

Oneshots

some jealous Aemond Targaryen scenarios

burn them all for you

a little game (modern au)

hmm (a christmas drabble)

sepār iā sylutegon (just a taste)

your heart's serrated edges are much like mine own (18+)

dragonfire

i will never say that I am in love

the sapphire and his sun

backhand stroke (tennis au) (18+)

diet pepsi (18+)

official business (president!Aemond au)

Series / Miniseries

prūmia va perzys (heart on fire) series

part one: don't you love me?

part two: and what of your love? (18+)

part three: the flames that divide (18+)

part four: the aftermath

part five: never tear us apart

part six:

part seven:

maroon (a modern au series) (18+)

sapphire-hearted (a miniseries) (18+)

of perilous desire - one: rhaenagon -

national anthem (president!Aemond au series) (18+)

Daemon and/or Aemond

A dance with two rogue dragons

If these walls could speak (18+)

midnights imagines : question...? - anti-hero - labyrinth - lavender haze -

dialogue series: King? -

Star Wars

Anakin Skywalker

As I believe in you (oneshot)

there's hope for us, yet - part 1 - part 2

MCU

Bucky Barnes

babydoll (oneshot)

reconnaissance - one - two - three

so high school - one - two

Steve Rogers / Bucky Barnes

The Bolter (series) (18+)

World On Fire

Tom Bennett

tongue in cheek (one - two - three - four )

John Wick 4

Marquis Vincent de Gramont

le marquis et le moineau - (ill)fated - first dance -

Ewan Mitchell

chemical override (series)

blue eyes so green (oneshot)

x classical violinist reader (oneshot)

sun (oneshot)

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the ravenous rupture

fused with the foe, chapter five

a/n: and that's it for fused with the foe! but don't you worry, our wonderful king and queen will return in both of the next instalments of the series ♡ (the release date for the next one is already up on the masterlist)

summary: “I don’t want you to think we have to have a conventional marriage, gods know we haven’t so far,” he added with a tilt of his head, “so, I just wanted to convey to you that if you ever want to be with someone else, at any degree, then you have my full support to do so.” 

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, smut, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, love confession, crying, kissing, loss of virginity, semi-public sex, manhandling, size kink, belly bulge, dirty talk, oral, fingering, handjob, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, aftercare

word count: 3895

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Raising yourself up onto your tip toes, your fingertip still didn’t even manage to graze the spine of the tome you were trying to reach, only the tall shelf it stood on. 

But just then, before you could turn to get a chair to balance on, an inked hand came into view and grasped the book for you. 

“The Biology of Soil: A Farmer’s Comprehensive Study of Dirt,” Barnes dryly read the title out loud, “sounds absolutely riveting.”

“Don’t mock,” you snatched the leatherbound tome out of the knight’s hand, “it is interesting!”

“Of course, it is, your majesty,” he bit down a chuckle, “my apologies.”

A soft laugh couldn’t help but bubble out of you as you exited the library, “you know, you remind me a lot of my brothers.”

Walking at your side, he shot you a squint, “is that a compliment?”

“Well, I meant it as so, but I guess it could also be interpreted as an insult, all depending on which brother.”

Sinking further back into the plush armchair, your eyes danced from star to star as they glinted back at you through the big library window. 

The full moon was so bright that you hadn’t needed to light a candle in order to make out the sentences in the open book that rested in your lap. 

But suddenly, the creak of the heavy double doors to the chamber found your ears and when you twisted your head to discover who it was, your frame immediately sprung up from your comfortable seat. The forgotten tome tumbled to the floor with a dull thump as the embroidered dressing gown you wore over your ivory chemise fluttered around your legs as you swiftly stood.

“Your majesty–, Steve, I mean, Steve,” you clumsily corrected yourself, “hi, hello.”

“Evening,” he simply smiled, slowing his stride as he watched you bend down to pick the hardback off the floor. 

Hugging the book to your chest, you blew out a breath, “what–, uh…” you eyed the loose linen shirt he had sloppily tugged into his trousers, “what are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugged, “thought a boring novel might do the trick,” letting his fingertips kiss the ends of each bookcase as he neared you by the window, “what about you?”

“Yeah, I can’t sleep either,” a soft sigh flowed from your lips, “my mind just doesn’t seem to wanna settle down these days…”

A gentle furrow appeared to Steve��s brow, “what’s troubling you?”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” you placed the book down on the round side table by the armchair. 

“If it’s keeping you up then it’s not nothing,” gripping the tall back of the chair, he rested against it as he gazed at your visage in the moonlight, “come on, you can talk to me.”

The knot in your chest tightened, “no, I can’t,” and you averted your gaze to the stone floor, “I really can’t…”

“Why?” 

“Because–…” clenching your jaw in an effort to keep tears at bay, you briefly shot him a glare as you snapped, “because I just can’t, alright?” squeezing your eyes shut, you quietly muttered just beneath your breath, “gods… how long will I have to wait…” 

Having apparently had better hearing than you’d thought, Steve then queried, “wait for what?”

Fluttering your eyes back open, you met his gaze and uttered sombrely, “…for it to pass…” feeling your heart thump painfully in your chest just from the mere sight of him. 

A low sigh slowly seeped out of his lungs before his unwavering gaze averted to the upholstery of the chair, “…I hope you know that I’ve grown to care for you a great deal. You’re a very dear friend,” he uttered with the utmost sincerity, “and as a dear friend, I wish for you nothing but the purest of happiness. I want you to experience all of the great and wonderful things that life has to offer,” his ocean eyes then drifted back up to catch yours, “don’t let our union hold you back for any of that.”

Sucking in a breath, you asked, “what do you mean?”

“I don’t want you to think we have to have a conventional marriage, gods know we haven’t so far,” he added with a tilt of his head, “so, I just wanted to convey to you that if you ever want to be with someone else, at any degree, then you have my full support to do so.” 

Averting your gaze, “…is that what you want?” you dug your nails into your opposite palm, “for us both to openly be with other people?”

“I don’t want you to be lonely and depressed,” fragments of desperation resonated in his tone, “you’ve already experienced more than one lifetime of hardships and I really don’t want this to be another one. So, when you fall in love, please don’t hesitate. You of all people deserve to experience that.” 

“…I–…” a shaky breath escaped you, “I can’t–…”

“…you can’t?” he echoed in nearly a whisper. 

“I can’t because–…” lifting your gaze, the library around you grew more blurry by the second, “because I can’t stop thinking about you,” you revealed, “from the moment that I wake to even the dreams that possess me at night. I can not shake you from my thoughts no matter how hard I try,” as you blinked, a tear escaped and rolled down your cheek, “Steve, I wish for you to experience those very joys you speak of just as fiercely. I just want you to be happy even if I’m not the source.”

Looking as if he was scarcely breathing at all, his gaze stayed fixed upon you as he uttered, “dove, why do you think I wish that for you?” your eyes grew wide at his confession, “I don’t wanna be with someone else when you are the one I want by my side,” his fingers faltered from the grip they had on the back of the armchair as his slow steps began to carry him closer to where you stood, “not just as my queen, but as my friend, as my conscience, as my judgement, as my heart,” his eyes glistened as he then declared, “I am yours, Y/n. I didn’t plan for it, I don’t even know when it happened or how, but I do know that it’s true.”

Closing the short distance that remained, you walked up and pulled him down as you began to rise up to your tip toes. As you crashed your lips against his, it didn’t take long before you felt his broad hands glide over your waist. 

Breaking the kiss, you retracted just enough to catch the beguiling look in his eye. The corners of his lips drew up dreamily just as yours did right before you dove back in.

As your fingers weaved in his beard, so did his tongue as it danced against your own, making you lightheaded as your feet began to shuffle back, though you didn’t realise that you’d even been moving till your spine crashed against a sturdy bookcase. 

Parting momentarily at the impact, a soft giggle swiftly followed your initial squeak the collision conjured. As his gentle chuckle echoed your own, Steve’s palm caressed down your features before he captured your lips once more. 

When the fire inside of you crackled and burned too hot for you to ignore, you pulled back, a glossy string of saliva still kept you connected a moment before you gasped, “Steve, I–… I–…”

Resting his palms over yours as they clutched the top of his tunic, he tilted his chin back further, “what?” creating enough of a distance between you to truly check in. 

But how you were going to ask of him what you desired remained a mystery, no matter how hard you scrambled your fuzzy mind. So instead, you wrapped your fingers around one of his wrists and slowly guided it lower. 

“Dove…” he sucked in a breath as his gaze shadowed the journey you were taking his touch on, “do you wanna–…” finding your eye, he asked you softly, “you sure you know what it is you’re asking for?” 

“Yes,” swiftly flowed out of you as you nodded dizzily, “I–… I know. I read the books, I read all of them, I know how it all works,” your rushed words conjured a lovely little chuckle from the royal, “I just–… please?” your hot breathed fanned across his features as he leaned back in close, “I–… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you…” with your fingers still enveloped around his wrist, his touch slowly began to take over and to move on its own, “fantasising about what you might be like…” unhurriedly ghosting up and down the curve of your waist, “about what your touch must feel like…” each time creeping closer and closer to where you wished for him to caress, “how it differs compared to my own…” till his teasing touch ended each fluttering swoop with feather-light grazes at both the swell of your tits, as well as the lower part of your abdomen, just before he actually reached anything real, through still leaving you utterly dazed. 

Leaning a forearm against the shelf behind you, he smirked, “…you think about me?” 

“Every night,” you dug your fingers in the fabric of your chemise and pleadingly began to hike it up, “sometimes the sun doesn’t even manage to set before I need a moment alone… all because of you.”

As he then captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his wandering hand dipped under your thin shift before you’d even raised the hem completely. When his touch found your buzzing pearl, a whimper slipped from your lungs and vibrated against his tongue as your grip on the fabric faltered and it dropped to hang around his wrist like a curtain.

“Is this how you dreamed about me touching you?” he gazed down at you, smiling at the way you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

Mind melting to ooze, you bubbled, “yes–, but also–, oh!” your brows knit together as he switched to circle your clit harder, “a-also–”

“Also how?” you could hear your want reverberate off the palace walls as he touched you, “did you dream about me kissing you down here?” holding your gaze, Steve then sank to his knees before you. 

Your breaths came in ragged as you blinked down at him, “y-yes,” watching intently as he dipped his head under your gathered-up skirts. The sloppy pecks he then lavishly began to plant over your glistening petals felt like nothing you’d ever imagined, “oh, that’s–,” you let out a broken moan, “don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Throwing your head back against the bookcase, Steve’s grip buried in your crumbled clothes as his soft tongue dragged through your desperation. 

Letting go of your chemise with one hand, it drifted down your hip. Enclosing his lips around your throbbing clit, he sucked down hard as his fingers joined to sweep through your mess, only parting from you for a breath, “gods, you taste so fucking good,” before he eased one digit inside your clenching cunt. 

You barely noticed that it was falling before the robe you wore slipped off your frame and tumbled to a puddle on the floor, leaving you with only the thin shift and the king’s hot kisses for warmth in the cold night. 

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” you whimpered, reaching down to thread your fingers in his honied hair as a second finger sneaked in beside the other, fucking you gently with them. 

You nearly wiggled out of his grasp when his luscious laps unravelled you completely, but somehow the monarch managed to follow your every squirm till he softened his efforts and replaced them with a few soft pecks over your sensitive clit that made your whole form twitch.

Fluttering your eyes open, you met his gaze as he raised the back of his hand to wipe some of your juices from his beard. 

Breathlessly, you uttered, “get up,” and as he did, you didn’t waste any time before your eyes drifted from his tender stare, “take your shirt off.” 

With one hand, he reached back and tugged the tunic off of his head, swiftly letting it drop to the floor and join the fabric puddle already at your feet. 

For a moment, he didn’t give in on his urge to close the short distance between you, simply stood there and let your stare study him, learn the galaxy of his flesh, every little mark and scar that told the story of his past. 

With your eyes still glued to the burliness of his fuzzy chest, you uttered, “tell me again,” before lifting your gaze up to meet his, “tell me again so that I know this is real.”

Reaching out to grasp your right hand, he said, “it’s real,” stepping closer as he placed your ceremonially scarred palm over his heart, “I’m real, this is real,” his fingers on his own marked hand, which clasped over yours, gently brushed over your knuckles as he spoke, “I am yours,” he shifted again and closed the small gap between you, “I will always be yours till my dying breath.”

Sucking in a shaky breath, you watched as the moonlight glinted in the blue of his eyes, making them look like the sea on a stormy night. 

“I think my heart has belonged to you ever since the dragon attack,” you professed, “though it took me a while longer before I realised what it was, why you made me feel the way that you do,” you parted your fingers against his chest, “Steve,” and let his weave in with your own, “I love you.”

Using his hold as an advantage, Steve yanked you to him till your lips crashed against his. Letting your free hand wander across his warm skin, it swiftly came down to cup the palpable tent in his trousers.

“Fuck…” he groaned lowly as you offered him a light pet. 

As you shifted to fiddle after the buttons on the side of his breeches, even the aid of your other hand didn’t yield any success in undoing more than one of them. Swiftly coming to your rescue, you swore it only took him three seconds before they hung loose enough around his hips for his cock to spring free.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you glanced down at length which stood so proud it poked you in the stomach. If only you had the proper context to truly know how intimidated you should have been at the discovery of his fat girth. 

Hesitantly inching your fingers closer as you stared, you asked, “can I–…?”

“Mhm,” he hummed as he slowly brought your hand the rest of the way down, engulfing his own grasp around yours and gently showing you how to touch him. 

As a sinful curse flowed from Steve’s lips, his free hand drifted up to weave itself into your hair. 

“Will it hurt?” you watched how your fingers failed to meet on the other side of his girth. 

“I don’t know, I hope not,” his forehead rested against your own, “but if it does, then we just stop and figure something else out, okay?”

“Okay…” you hazily nodded. 

Feeling his fingers flex around your own, you saw precum glint at the bulbous tip. 

“It’s all for you, dove,” you felt him throb at your touch, “all because of you,” a desperate growl then seeped out of his lungs as he seized your lips in a fervent kiss, and the next thing you knew, the whole world fell out from under you as he scooped you up into his arms. When a shrill yelp escaped you, Steve simply readjusted his grip on you and said, “don’t worry, I’ve got you,” nipping gently at your neck, “I won’t let you fall.”

With your fingers still grasping his girth, the new position now had your pussy pressed dangerously close to it, so close that you couldn’t help but sweep the head of his cock through your soppy folds and drench him. Tapping your clit a few times, the instinctual drive of his hips triggered you to simply cup his length near and let him part your pretty petals and lather himself in your needy nectar. Each desperate thrust ended in an electric nudge at your pearl, rendering you to whimper shakily into the night. 

But then suddenly, in the fog of it all, the very tip of him caught your entrance and slipped inside, purely because of just how wet and ready you were. 

“O-oh, fuck!” everything froze as you reeled at the staggering sensation, breathlessly digging your nails into his broad shoulders and leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

“Sorry,” he hastily panted, “you okay?”

“Uh–… uh-huh,” you nodded fuzzily, shutting your eyes a moment as you caught your breath. 

But then as your gaze fluttered open once more, you caught his stare and offered him a short, affirming nod, holding his eye as he slowly began to move. 

Your mouth hung agape as he shallowly fucked you, barely even giving you anything but still turning you into goo in his grasp. 

“Y-you’re so beautiful,” you whispered as you fluttered around him. 

Gliding you’re your palm up to his cheek, moans tumbled out of you both as he gently began to offer you more. Your legs couldn’t help but twitch in his grasp as he practically split you in half with the way he eased you down on his fat cock. 

“You’re doing so well,” his face crumbled up in a silent moan as you felt every detail of him slowly stretch you out, “gods, you’re so wet…”

And the next thing you knew, it wasn’t so slow and steady any longer, as the bookcase your spine was pressed against rattled at his efforts. 

You thought before that just the bulbous head of him was overwhelming, but to have that tip kiss desperately against the deepest part of you was something else entirely. You couldn’t speak, you couldn't think, you could barely even breathe, just go slack in his firm hold and feel him, not just right there, but fucking everywhere, that’s how stuffed you were. 

Steve’s strength wasn’t that novel to you these days, but to have him lift you up and sink you down on his cock, like you were just a leaf on the wind, still managed to amaze you. 

“F-fuck,” you blubbered as you tumbled over the edge once more, “oh, fuck!” accidentally knocking a few books down as one of your arms flailed for purchase. 

You barely registered the loud thud the crashing books emanated as your frame melted down into his hold. Your face buried itself in the crook of his neck as he breathlessly came to a halt, still embedded deep inside of your clenching cunt. 

The sound of his breaths directly in your ear helped to soothe your tingling senses as he rested his cheek against the crown of your head. 

Shifting his feet, Steve carried you the short distance over to the comfortable armchair you’d inhabited earlier. Carefully sitting down in it and keeping you in his lap, his arms silkily slid up your back and hugged you close. 

After persuading you to curl out of your hiding spot by planting soft pecks all over your face, you blinked down at him, bathed in the moonlight that gushed in from the tall window beside where you sat.

Gliding a hand around to your front, Steve gently tugged on the thin string at your neckline, undoing the bow, before he pulled the shoulders down your arms till you slid out of the sleeves and the top of the undergarment crumbled to gather at your waist with the rest of the fabric. 

As he pressed his lips to the peak of your tits, one of his palms accompanied the kisses. A soft whine flowed out of you as your hand slid down to where your bodies were still joined and played with your puffy pearl. 

Casting a glance down, he groaned, “yeah, rub that little clit for me,” and your hips intuitively began to rock gently. 

As you touched yourself, something else caught your attention as you slowly began to ride him. At the lower part of your stomach, you felt the dull bulge of his staggering size poke your palm steadily to the rhythm of your gentle efforts.

Letting your pebbly nipple escape from his lips with a pop, his gravelly timbre washed over you as you slowly rocked, “that’s it, fuck–,” his grip slid down to be firm on your ass, “that’s my girl.”

Abruptly, as if snapping out of a trance, you notice just how loud you both were being.

“Wait,” you shushed him though didn’t halt your hips motions, “we’re in the library, someone could hear us!”

“Then fucking let them hear us,” his fingers dug into your ass as he desperately took over and bounced you in his lap, manhandling you as he slammed you down on his cock hard enough for you to lose your breath, “no one would dare bother us, trust me.”

And before you knew it, your cunt clamped down one last time around his cock, hard enough to halt his efforts and milk him of all of his worth. 

Weakly letting his dick slip out, your skin was practically glued to his as you plastered yourselves to each other and you sensed his hot load slowly leaked out of your sensitive hole. 

As you listened to his heartbeat slowly return to normal and your heavy lids fought to stay open, a thought entered your mind. 

“Hey, Steve?”

Shifting his arms around you, his soft hum washed over you, “hm?”

Keeping your voice low, you shared, “I don’t wanna sleep alone tonight…” but to your surprise, a gentle chuckle then rumbled in his chest, “what?” you lifted your head and blinked up at him, “why are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just­­–,” he smiled, gazing down at you as if Zondür himself had divinely created you especially for him, “you really think I’d let you skip off to your room alone after all of that, like it never even happened?” 

Huffing out a short giggle, you lowered your glance, “well, when you put it like that…”

“Yes,” he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, “if you want me to sleep beside you, I will,” rising from his comfortable seat, he readjusted his grip on you, twisting you to him as he hooked an arm behind your knees and at your back. As he carried you close, he began to lumber out of the library and down the hallway, concurring the short distance to where your chambers lied, “my queen, I would love nothing more for the rest of my days than to fall asleep with your head on my chest and wake up to your softness arching against me…”

Flexing your fingers around his neck, you raised yourself up enough to capture his lips in a tender kiss one last time just as he kicked your bedroom door shut behind you both.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[ronearoundblindly]

Dirty Water

Steve Rogers x deep sea mermaid!Reader

Prompt from this dirty ask game with our pairing from the Sun, Salt, and Shield series.

Summary: After a very long (but unofficial) courtship, where Steve is too shy to bring up your anatomy and his compatibility, a cultural misinterpretation quite literally sinks his resolve.

Warnings for smut (I'm gonna have to call this what it is and just say it's monster-f**king, or the one where Steeb gets maybe-CNC-boinked by a 'monster.' Sorry, babes. Ro's dipped a toe into the darkside for a smidge.) MINORS DNI. Poorly--or rather, not--edited and I have no idea the word count...

Steve swallows harshly and tries not to nervously splash his feet in the pool.

"What?" he chokes out.

He can't think of anything more articulate to say, not that it would matter when so much is lost in translation.

All you did was ask about the singing outside the doors of your 'room'--the retrofitted gym pool at the Avengers compound, the one is the basement without windows for your highly sensitive eyes--but he...could never have predicted why you were so curious.

"They're just enjoying themselves," he'd chuckled, shrugging like it was no big deal. "Do you sing?"

The look on your face, jaw slack and head tilting in contemplation, it should have warned him. You unfurled from your relaxed posture, the stance where your arms cross behind your back and fit atop the swell of your--he'd say tail, but it's more like your ass--rump, the rest of your body bent in a curve until your fin nearly touches the surface, and inched closer to his feet in the deep end.

"Yessssss," you hissed slowly through three rows of sharp teeth, crawling up his legs, out of the water, dripping over his lap as you braced large, webbed hands on either side of his hips.

Even in the very low light of damp room, he could see the lavender of your stare drop to his crotch.

"You sing too?"

Steve's an idiot. He didn't understand yet, so that dumbass actually began humming 'You Are My Sunshine' because nothing else occurred to him.

Then he noticed your tail glowing beneath the scales.

Then he realized you were pressing yourself to his legs.

Aaaand then Steve Rogers looked down your body to witness his knee disappearing in a spongy spot where the armoring swelled apart.

Oh god.

"What?" he now asks like an frightened teen seeing boobs for the first time.

"I make you sing?" Your broad green lips turn up in a smile. "Show me."

Suddenly, Steve's forgotten more english than you've learned. "Huh?"

Your flowing, textured hair, shapely even out of the water, sways when you cock your head to the side, looking through your lashes at him.

"How Stevie sing?"

He shivers for the first time in the cool water and lets an involuntary grunt leave his lips.

He's tried to stop himself from imagining your body and how it works to...ya know, and how he might...oh god, he's going to hell, but apparently, you've already been imagining that humans are either masturbating or fucking outside your door at all hours all the time--

--and oh shit, that means you sing as a part of sex.

He turns his head to the almost black ceiling and fails to think of anything else as the light from your body reflects in waves on every wall. He whimpers when he feels a ripple of muscle through the wet cotton of his jeans.

"Doll make Stevie sing?" Your voice is hoarse, and just as quickly as you say that by his throat, you flip back into the water. You can only breathe air for so long without hurting your throat and lungs.

He thinks he's off the hook, praying the tightness in his pants dissipates faster than they'll take to dry, but he lowers his head to find you peeking from the water, intent as ever on learning his ways.

He should be ashamed, so very fucking ashamed, of how badly he wants to take himself out of his pants and watch the wonder of those pretty eyes as he comes at the thought of you, but Steve's drowning in the hope that he can have you. It's been so long that he's wanted this, even in the most innocent ways.

Your final plea bubbles to the surface.

"Show?"

Steve inhales sharply, running a hand through his hair and licking his lips.

This is wrong, he thinks. You should not be doing this.

Yet he does it anyway because he wants to; he wants to so badly.

He sits up straight at the edge of the concrete, popping the button of his jeans and aches as he lowers the zipper. He can't meet your eye while he pulls out his semi-hard cock and fists it harshly.

You're so long that even looking away leaves your shimmering tail in sight, and he thinks he sees you rattle in excitement. It makes him shiver again, and the vibration shakes the moan escaping his tight chest.

Yikes, it does sound a bit like he's singing...

What the hell are you even doing?

Of course, he knows he's touching himself and he knows well enough how to do that, but he shouldn't be doing this in front of you, much less enjoying it. His blood is running so hot beneath his skin, though, the chilly pool feels soothing over his shins where he rolled up his pants (to no avail).

The heat floods his veins and mind to the point rational thought quiets, and Steve's eyes slither up your demure form.

Your eyes get wider and wider the more noise he makes, and his rampant imagination feeds off the sight of that gap in your scales visible as it undulates in the refraction beneath his feet.

He leans his head back and closes his own eyes at just the wrong moment.

Mid-whine, he misses the splashing sound that would have warned him you were coming, and instead Steve is pummeled by the end of your tail and topples into the pool, shocked and sputtering salty water until his body is pinned to the flat of the concrete wall he used to be perch on.

As he scrambles to toss his arms over the ledge, he feels claws dragging his jeans farther down his legs, and the fabric hangs like an anchor while the silky-slick webbing of your fingers glides up and down his thighs.

Then your tongue runs the length of his cock, making Steve moan embarrassingly loud and thrust his hips forward. If he weren't in the water, he'd be a puddle.

Pleasure races up and down his spine, fighting for dominance over the feeling of cold when he slips from the ledge and submerges briefly.

He barely registers the loss of your tongue and your quick lap of swimming before you're backing into him again.

It's on your ass, too, the soft entrance like you rubbed against his knee, but he could not have imagined what it could do--what you could do--how you could manipulate your muscles inside your tail.

He has no brainpower left to describe it. Steve just lets go, trusting your body to hold his weight as one hand grips the mossy softness of your waist and the other hand spreads over your lower back. Out of instinct, he tries to get leverage to push himself in and out of you, but that's useless.

There's a strong ripple of muscle that pulls him in, and in, and in, delicately tight on his sensitive cock and wide enough to slowly suck his balls into the massaging cavern.

Steve's eyes roll far into his head. He's going to pass out if this keeps up.

"Doll," he gasps, but it's too quiet in the slosh of the water. "Please, I'm--"

A clear, high note crescendos from the deep below, something disturbingly pure and paralyzing, and Steve can't move. He can only feel and experience a siren's song in action.

His body twitches violently before his cum is milked sensually, desperately, methodically from his cradled and ravaged pelvis, and never in Steve's long life has he ever been so fucking spent.

He whimpers when your cunt releases him, only faintly aware that he's propped on your back by his elbows as you swim to the shallow end and let him 'stand' on his shaky legs.

The screeching hinge of the door startles him.

"Cap," the junior agent yells over your hiss from the bright light spraying in, "everything okay? I heard..."

Yeah, I couldn't describe it either, Steve thinks.

He spits water from his mouth. "Fine," he huffs back, "we were...singing, and I fell in."

"Oh. Alright. Sorry to disturb you, Miss G." The man nods his apology at your hand-covered eyes and leaves.

Steve can't help but laugh like an insane person, laying to properly float in the water, uncaring what you're up to until he gently hits the stairs leading out of the pool.

Your head rises out of the water hopefully, and he cups your cheeks, still chuckling. He has zero words to describe...anything at the moment, but he can show you a human tradition of affection in return.

Shifting as easily as a feather in the water, he pulls you two together and sweetly presses his salmon lips to your seaweed pout, letting your long locs fall over his own shoulders.

Soon, he's gasping for air again, yet just before you dunk below the surface, you grin and coo at him.

"Stevie sings lovely."

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

what...the hell have i done. *hits post before final two braincells protest*

@fandom-has-taken-me-hostage @leah2901 @blogbog710 @supraveng @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @jamneuromain

[cthulhu-calling]

Camisado 1

Dark!Steve Rogers x female!Reader

Summary : You always thought you’d marry someone closer to your age, but you couldn’t complain. Although Steve was nearly seven years older than you, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner. He was kind, sweet and had always looked out for you ever since you moved into the neighbourhood at fifteen years of age. At first, you assumed it was an elder brother-ly thing. Beating up the boys at school who were bothering you, those who asked you to accompany them to the movies even after you said no. But on your nineteenth birthday, when he kissed you in the kitchen while your party continued on in the backyard, everything changed. You’d been going out since then and he’d made it clear to you as well as your parents that he planned on making an honest woman out of you.  You and Steve had the perfect life, you couldn't ask for anything more. But that doesn't mean he couldn't.

Warnings : 1950's AU, smut, misogyny, factual inaccuracies, lots of talk of pregnancy (seriously, this is a major content warning)

Author’s Note : Reader has no specified race or body type. It has all the period typical sexism but considering that when I imagine readers, they're always woc, there will be no period typical racism. Not beta'd so all mistakes are my own. I tried to do as much research on life in 1950's America so please be kind and let me know what you think!

Word Count : 5k

masterlist

You fell back on the couch, deciding on taking a small break after having spent the whole morning dusting and vacuuming the house. You still had to do the dishes and hang the clothes out to dry. Your mama always said, a man’s home is a reflection of the woman he’s with, and so you made sure to keep the house in near perfect condition. You looked up at the clock, a wedding gift from Steve’s ma. You adored Sarah Rogers, she was almost like a second mother to you. It was already past noon and you really needed to get a move on. You had less than an hour to take a quick shower and then make a quick lunch for you and Steve to take to the garage. 

Finishing your shower in record time, you quickly add chicken soup, flour, pepper and cayenne into the slow cooker followed by stirring in the chicken and veggies. You knew Steve always enjoyed your slow cooked chicken a la king. You could leave it on and it would be ready just in time for dinner. Packing a quick ham and cheese sandwich for the both of you, you placed it in your bag before checking your appearance one last time in the mirror. You had on a sleeveless white blouse with a blue, floral-a-line circle skirt and black kitten heels along with a classic red lip. Steve always preferred you in skirts and dresses as opposed to pants or trousers. 

With ten minutes before the clock struck one, you quickly made your way out of the house and began the short walk to the garage where Steve worked. You always brought Steve his lunch and spent the half hour of his lunch break with him and today was no exception. You’d been married for just over a year now and the two of you had decided that you’d wait for a while before starting a family, wanting to just enjoy each other’s company for a while before you added children to the mix. But it was established that you both wanted kids. While two would be more than enough for you, Steve wanted three, at the very least. 

You always thought you’d marry someone closer to your age, but you couldn’t complain. Although Steve was nearly seven years older than you, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner. He was kind, sweet and had always looked out for you ever since you moved into the neighbourhood at fifteen years of age. At first, you assumed it was an elder brother-ly thing. Beating up the boys at school who were bothering you, those who asked you to accompany them to the movies even after you said no. But on your nineteenth birthday, when he kissed you in the kitchen while your party continued on in the backyard, everything changed. You’d been going out since then and he’d made it clear to you as well as your parents that he planned on making an honest woman out of you. 

And exactly three years later, on your twenty-second birthday, he asked you to marry him. And you said yes, of course. The two of you got married two months after that day, in an intimate ceremony with only the closest of friends and family. Steve worked as a mechanic at Mr. Stark’s garage, making more than enough for the two of you. After the monthly expenses, the mortgage on the house and your savings were covered, you had just enough left every month to go out for a fancy dinner and to the movies once. 

As you reached the garage, you spotted Steve bent over the open bonnet of a car, tinkering around. Taking this opportunity to startle him, you walk up behind him as slowly and noiselessly as possible before placing a hand on his shoulder, calling out his name, causing him to startle and hit his head on the bonnet. He curses loudly before turning around, the anger evident in his eyes which burns out a little when he sees you. “You should know better than to do something like that doll,” he whispers in your ear, pulling you close by your waist before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You feel the heat rising to your face as you look towards your feet, licking your lips as you mumble out an apology. 

“Why don’t you take a seat doll, I’ll be done here in five,” he says before continuing to work on the engine. You nod as you take a seat a little distance away, pulling out the book you got from the library last week, smoothing out the dog-eared edge before diving back into the book. Just as you were about to finish the chapter you’d been reading, Bucky walks out of Mr. Stark’s office, snatching the book right out of your hands. “Hey!” you huff out a protest, reaching out for the book that he proceeded to hold above his head. Laughing heartily at your antics, Steve comes up behind Bucky to snatch the book and hands it back to you before sitting down and pulling you onto his lap, wrapping his arm around your waist possessively. 

Rolling his eyes at that, Bucky continues “Nat needs y’all to come over for dinner tomorrow night,” he says as he opens his lunch, digging into the food. Bucky and Natasha were Steve’s friends and had become yours too when you started dating him. The two had been married for five years now. Natasha was probably the most badass woman you’d ever met and while you hoped your mama never caught you saying that, it was true. She was headstrong and never took any crap from anyone. She was a nurse and while you admired her, you were a bit envious of the fact that she was a working woman. Steve didn’t allow you to work. He believed that it was his job to earn money to support you and while you would have still loved to work, you understood that things couldn’t always go your way. 

“What for? We’re going to my ma’s tomorrow night,” he questioned as you handed him his sandwich, before grabbing your own. 

“Go to Sarah’s some other day. Nat’s going to prepare a feast and she needs you there. Sam and Wanda and Clint and the family are coming too. Come with your appetites prepared,” he said, finishing off the last of his lunch before dusting his hands off and getting back to work, “No excuses, be there by seven. And for god’s sake Rogers, look presentable.” 

“Beat it, punk,” Steve yelled as Bucky moved away with a wave of his middle finger. You looked at Steve, giggling, before promising, “I’ll drop by and make her some soup for tonight. I’ll spend the night too if need be. Don’t worry, we’ll go to Nat’s tomorrow,” you kissed his cheek before removing yourself from his lap, packing up your bag. “I should get going, let you get back to work. I have lots to do at home,” you wave a goodbye, Steve watching your hips sway. 

Steve knew you were the perfect dame for him. He loved you more than anyone he’d ever loved before. He knew you’d be the perfect wife and mother to his children. He wanted you just to himself for a little time before the two of you started a family because he knew once he got you pregnant, he planned on keeping you round and full of himself for as long as possible. Just the thought of you barefoot and pregnant under his roof, cooking for him and his children, your breasts swollen and heavy with milk for his child. Just the thought of you pregnant and oh, so sensitive because of him, it all turned him on more than you could ever imagine. 

He vowed to start trying to get you pregnant soon. 

*

By the time you got done with all your chores around the house, you were exhausted. Dinner was done about halfway and the chicken noodle soup for Sarah was done and packed for you to take to her. She wasn’t feeling too well the past few days so you and Steve were going to visit her tomorrow with dinner, just to check up on her. But now, you’d already called and told her about your plans for tomorrow evening and that you’d swing by today before dinner. She was rather accommodating, claiming that the two of you needed to spend time with people your age. And she sounded much better as well. Her cold seemed to have improved and she sounded more energetic. 

At half past five, you decided to get to Sarah's house. She lived close enough, just a couple of houses down the street. When you and Steve got married, you decided to get a house close enough to both his ma and your parents as well. Which reminded you that you needed to visit your mama soon as well. You had borrowed her Vogue knitting books, and it was high time you gave them back. You quickly make the ten minute walk to her house and let yourself in using your set of keys to enter the house, not wanting Sarah to move around too much but to your surprise, you find her in the kitchen, humming a tune you couldn’t quite recognise, cooking what smelled like her famous lasagna causing your mouth to water instantly, the response Pavlovian at this point. 

“You’re supposed to be in bed ma, not prancing around the kitchen doing only the Lord knows what,” you say as she turns around, giving you a wide smile. 

“Don’t you dare sass me kid. Is that really how you greet your poor old mother in law?” she asked as she walked out of the kitchen, pulling you into a tight hug. Giving you a final squeeze, she grabbed your hands in her frail ones, leading you towards the living room. 

Stopping her halfway, you let go of her hand before holding up the thermos full of warm soup that you had brought. 

“I’m going to put this away for now. Heat it up before you eat it, okay?” you instructed as you moved towards the kitchen, putting the soup to the side before moving your hair out of your face and tying on an apron. 

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing missy?” she said as she followed you into the kitchen, thin arms crossed across her chest.

“Doing your dishes, what else?” 

“Is anything I say going to make you stop?” she wondered out loud. 

“Fat chance,” you said as you rolled your eyes. 

“Well, you better hang around until the lasagna is done, I’ll pack some for Steve. Speaking of which, where is that boy?,” she said.

“Still at the shop I believe,” you answered, almost done with the few dishes. 

“I see,” she says, an odd look passing over her face but she doesn’t say anything further so you continue to work in a comfortable silence. 

Wiping your hands when you were done, you removed your apron and put it back in its place. “Alright ma, I should get going. Steve must be back by now,” you said as you took your bag, a large oven dish of lasagna in your hands, moving towards the door, only to be stopped by her. 

“Tell me my dear, have y’all thought about babies yet?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you look at her with a confused look. “We’ve decided to wait. And we’ve only been married a year now,” you answer. 

Laughing lightly, she squeezes your hand in hers before letting go. “Alright. You tell that boy to come see me soon, okay?” You nod and wave goodbye as you start walking home. Checking the time on your watch, you’re horrified to find it’s already quarter to seven and increasing your pace, almost running to get back home before Steve. You reach home with just five minutes before the clock strikes seven, having just enough time to freshen up and fix your hair before the doorbell rings. 

At the sight of you, a smile quickly overtakes his face which you can’t help but reciprocate. As soon as he walks in he has his arms around you, pulling you into a passionate kiss. You quickly push him away with a giggle, “At least wash your hands first!” 

“I can’t help myself when it comes to you,” he says, squeezing your ass which causes you to squeak. Laughing, he hangs his cap and goes to freshen up as you get to setting dinner out. 

At the table, you tell Steve of his mom’s request and he agrees, saying he’ll go see her on Sunday. 

“Any clue what this impromptu get-together at Bucky and Nat’s is about ?” 

“I tried but couldn’t get anything outta him. Guess we’ll only know tomorrow,” he shrugged. 

“I should call and ask if she needs any help,” you said after dinner once you were done with clearing the table and putting the leftovers in the fridge. Steve was in the living room with a book and a beer. You couldn’t afford a television just yet but Steve had been saving up and according to him, you’d be able to get one in a month or two. 

He hummed absentmindedly, which meant he wasn’t really paying attention. Sighing, you quickly rang Nat up. It was Bucky who answered the phone. 

“Hey, is Nat there?” you asked. 

“Sure, I’ll just put her on,” he said and you could hear him calling out to Natasha in the background. 

“Hello dear, to what do I owe this pleasure?” she laughed. 

Giggling, you reply “Just wanted to check if you needed any help for tomorrow. It was rather impromptu and I heard that everyone is coming,” to which she only huffed and said “I just require you and Steve to show up, that’s all. Now I got loads to do honey, I’ll see you tomorrow!” she said as she swiftly hung up leaving you a little stunned. 

“That was weird,” you think out loud as you sit down next to Steve on the couch, his arm immediately draping itself around your shoulder and pulling you into his body. You snuggle closer, a content sigh slipping from your lips. 

“Don’t think so much, it’s probably nothing,” he soothes, his fingers playing with the collar of your blouse. Oh, so he was listening. 

“But-“ you start, immediately silenced by Steve shushing you. “Enough about this. We’ll go there tomorrow and find out,” he chastises, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

Deciding to just let it go for now, you untangle yourself from Steve who lets you go albeit a bit reluctantly and get ready for bed. It takes you some time to fall asleep but with Steve’s arm around your waist, holding you close, you manage to get a few hours of rest. 

*

You fixed your pretty yellow sundress and checked your hair and makeup one last time in the mirror. Modest but tempting. Perfect. Just as you were about to call out to Steve, he emerged from the bath, freshly shaved. Still not dressed, you tilt your head towards the cupboard, urging him to get dressed quickly. 

Rolling his eyes playfully, selecting a simple khaki and the baby blue shirt you’d left out for him. Steve combed his hair back, following you out of your bedroom, watching you pack up his ma’s lasagna. You knew it was Bucky’s favourite, it was almost everybody’s favourite, having not let him eat any of it last night. 

You knew Nat hadn’t asked you to bring anything with you but your mama would never let you leave home for a party without a little something for the hosts. So here you were, outside Nat and Bucky’s door, a tray of lasagna in your hands and Steve’s arms around your waist. Bucky opened the door with a wide smile, a bottle of beer in his hand. 

“Come on in, kids!” He almost yelled, definitely a little tipsy. Smiling at him, you stepped inside and Steve closed the door behind the two of you. 

Sam and Wanda sat on the couch, each nursing their own bottle of beer and a glass of wine respectively. She smiled and waved at you, patting the couch on her side, inviting you to take a seat. Holding up the lasagna, you tilted your head, motioning towards the kitchen. 

Natasha and Wanda both drank occasionally. You didn’t though. Steve didn’t like you drinking, not even a beer on the occasion. It was all your fault really. 

It was your best friend from school Ella’s twentieth birthday. Just you and a couple of other people from your class decided to surprise her with a little get together near the lake by the old lighthouse. You knew there would be alcohol but as long as you didn’t drink too much and were aware of your surroundings, things would be fine right? 

Wrong. Steve had been by your parents house, looking for you and being told exactly where and with who you were, he couldn’t control his rage. He didn’t approve of ‘Ella and her posse of bimbos’, as he put it. You knew that and while you didn’t agree with him, it was the reason you couldn’t tell him about your whereabouts that night. 

When he finally found you, you were sitting on a little picnic blanket, half drunk bottle of beer in your hands, chatting away with Ella and her boyfriend. You were a little tipsy but immediately sobered up at the sight of Steve storming towards you. 

You quickly got up, dropping the bottle as it rolled off somewhere, the sound of your heart beating and the blood rushing through your veins deafening. Ella tried to intercept him, trying to get him to stop and talk but he just ignored her and continued to walk towards you, grabbing hold of your upper arm. You yelped loudly at how tight his grip was, trying to get him to let go of you as he dragged you away from the lake and towards his motorcycle. 

At a distance from the lake, he finally let go of your arm, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut. 

“Ste-,”

“Shut up. I don’t want a word out of you,” he spat. 

You quickly shut your mouth, taking a step back from him. 

“How many times, huh? How many fucking times have I told you to stay away from that girl? And yet, here you are, dressed like a slut, drinking away with that stupid whore and her friends,” he says viciously, taking a step forward for each one you took back until you were backed up against a tree. 

You were terrified. You’d never seen him this angry before, at least not at you. 

“You are never to see that girl again, do you understand?” he barks, causing you to nod your head so hard, you thought your neck might snap. 

“Good. Let’s get you home. Put this on,” he says as he holds up his jacket for you which you promptly slip on, following him to his motorcycle. You don’t even realise when you start crying, the tears streaming down your face making the skin burn against the harsh wind. 

When you finally reached home, you got off wordlessly, shrugging off his jacket which was hanging from your smaller frame and handing it to him. You turned to walk back towards the front door only to be stopped by him grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward him. 

At the sight of the wet trails streaking your face, a flash of guilt passes in his eyes but it’s gone just as quickly as it arrived. 

“You know I’m saying this because I care about you, okay? I don’t want anything bad happening to you, you know that right?” 

You can only nod numbly, as he gives you a small smile and a peck on the lips before gesturing for you to go back in, watching you till you’ve gone inside and locked the front door. 

Of course, you wouldn’t talk to him for days after that. Ignoring his phone calls or having your mama pick up the phone, telling him you weren’t home when he came knocking. 

You made him grovel and plead, letting him know just how angry you were but in the end, you gave in. You loved him, with his flaws and all. 

Pulling yourself out of your little daydream, you walked towards the kitchen where you could hear Natasha moving about. As you walked, you admired the picture frames that adorned the walls. You loved Nat and Bucky’s house, so happy and full of memories. You couldn’t wait to have that with Steve. 

“Now, didn’t I tell you not to get anything? I’m cooking up a storm here, who’s gonna eat all of this?” She questioned, her hands on her hips, over mitts on her hands and a frilly apron on. 

You laughed and moved closer to give her a quick peck on her cheek, putting the lasagna on the counter. 

“It’s Sarah’s lasagna. You don’t have to worry about it going to waste,” you tried. 

“Oh, I know. But you know my cooking can’t compare to hers!” She complained mockingly. Sharing a laugh, you start helping about, feeling odd just standing there doing nothing. She lets you help but refuses to tell you why she wanted everyone to come over when you tried to  ask. 

You had to give it to her though, she really had outdone herself. As you helped her take the food to the table, you were in awe. Tuna noodle casserole, beef stroganoff and mashed potatoes completed with the perfect buttermilk pie. The sight alone made your mouth water and tummy grumble. 

At the delicious scent wafting from the dining table, everyone slowly poured in, each of them grabbing a plate and loading it up. You couldn’t wait to dig in, everything looked mouthwatering. Jokes were made and compliments given, you made to take a bite but were immediately stopped by the conversation taking place across from where you and Steve sat. 

Bucky was urging Natasha to take a bigger helping of the mashed potatoes. While that was not particularly surprising, the next bit caused everyone to stop and stare. 

“You really should take some more,” he says, adding another heap of the potatoes to her plate, “you’re eating for two now.” 

You’d never heard silence quite this loud, everyone stopped midway, staring at Natasha and Bucky. Not Clint’s children of course, they couldn’t be bothered by much. They were busy stuffing their little faces with the feast Nat had prepared. 

After a minute or two of utter silence, a cheer broke out and Natasha and Bucky sighed, exchanging small smiles of relief. 

You, along with Laura and Wanda got up almost simultaneously, rushing around to envelop Natasha in a giant bear hug, who had started crying at this point. The boys were all congratulating Bucky, patting him on the back and making lewd jokes. The children seemed clueless as to what the fuss was all about but declared their merriment by making various noises as well. 

When everyone has settled down, continuing with their meals, the relative silence is broken by Wanda, “We get to be godparents, right?” She questions, motioning between herself and Sam. That’s when Steve pipes up, “You guys are already godparents to Cooper. I think it’s our turn.” 

“Exactly! What do you say Natty?” You wiggle your eyebrows playfully at her. 

Huffing a laugh, she adds “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Can we just enjoy this lovely meal I worked so hard to make?” 

This shuts everyone up, again passing praises and compliments her way. Once the meal came to a close, it was already well past the kids' bedtime so Clint and Laura took off, followed by Sam and a rather tipsy Wanda. You stayed back to help Natasha clean up, despite her protests. 

“You’re a pregnant woman and I’m already mad enough you did all of this by yourself. You should be ashamed of yourself Barnes, letting your pregnant wife do all the work,” you chastised. 

“Sorry ma’am,” he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. Steve chuckles but otherwise stays quiet. 

When you’re done with most of the dishes and having packed up the few leftovers, you and Steve take your leave, walking back hand in hand in the silent darkness. 

Your Steve, you know him well. And you can tell, just by one look in his face that there’s a lot on his mind. You know better from experience that when he’s in such moods, it’s best to leave him alone. He’ll tell you what’s on his mind before bed, you know it for sure. 

So for now, you just walk home, swinging your joined hands back and forth as he’s lost in his own head. 

Done getting ready for bed, you slip under the covers, waiting for Steve to join you. You don’t have to wait long, just as you pick up your book for some reading before bed, he slips under the covers, snatching the book from your hand. Your protest is short lived as he pulls you close into a bruising kiss. 

His lips travel down your throat, trailing wet kisses down to your collarbone before you stop him as he moves to pull your silk slip over your head. 

“What’s on your mind? You’ve been quiet all evening,” you grab his cheek in your hand, making him look at you. 

He sighs loudly, moving away to sit back against the headboard. 

“C’mon Steve, tell me.” 

You move closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Just as you’re about to urge him to say something he interrupts you. 

“Let’s have a baby.” 

You’re quiet for a while and he takes your silence as a request to continue. 

“It’s been on my mind for so long. We’ll start with one. For now. I can’t wait for our home to be filled with little ones. I just —I’ve been thinking of this for so long. The fact that Nat and Bucky are expecting just solidified my decision. Don’t you want a baby?” 

Swallowing, you plan out your words carefully before opening your mouth. 

“We’re not ready Stevie. You know this. We’ve been married what, a year now? I thought we decided to wait,” you try. 

“But I don’t want to wait anymore! Can’t you see? There’s no time like now to start trying,” he raises his voice and you flinch away from him. 

“I don’t know Stevie. I’m really tired, we’ll talk about this tomorrow, okay?” 

“No!” He shouts, “I want to talk about this now. We’re ready. I know we’re ready,” he reaffirms, grabbing you by your arms to hold you close. 

“Steve, we’re not. We’re nowhere ready for a baby. We’ve just begun saving, can we even support a child right now?” You try to make him see some sense but it backfires tremendously. 

“Really? I work so hard for you, for us, but that’s not enough for you, is it? You’re such an ungrateful little bitch, aren’t you?” His tone and his hurtful words immediately cause your eyes to fill, a couple errant tears slipping down. His grip on you is painful, almost bruising.

At the sight of your eyes brimming, tears streaking their way down your pretty face, his anger dissipates and his face fills with worry. He moves forward to cup your face in his hands, but you flinch away from him, pulling the covers back and stepping out of bed with your pillow in hand. 

“I-uh- I’ll take the couch,” you stutter out, sniffling between every word. 

“No, no, no. Baby I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry, please come back to bed,” he says, scrambling out of bed as you continue towards the door. 

“No, please baby. I’m sorry, please come back to bed,” he pleads, getting on his knees in front of you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and holding you in place, his chin resting on your soft stomach. 

He looks up at you with eyes quickly filling with tears, threatening to overflow. Your heart melts at the sight and you close your eyes, nodding your head slowly and he sighs, burying his face into your stomach, his tears causing your slip to dampen slightly. 

“I’m so sorry baby, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry,” his voice comes out muffled but you understand him anyway. 

You nod your head, telling him you’ll think about kids. You really would. That night he held you close after making love to you, almost as if he was afraid you’d slip out into the darkness in the middle of the night. He whispered the deepest of apologies and praises into your ear as he drew orgasm after orgasm from your prone body. 

You knew he regrets what he said. You were well aware that he wanted a big family. Growing up, it had always been just him and his Ma. His father was hardly ever home and when he was, he was too drunk to care about much. He aspired to be everything that his father wasn’t, a real family man. 

And you know you want to give him that but you need some time, you haven’t even been married that long. And you will think about it much more seriously now. What’s wrong with having a child? He works so hard for you, to make sure you’re not left needing anything, can’t you do at least this much for him? You’re home all day anyway, it’s not like you have a job like Nat. Plus, you’re lucky to have him and that he cares about you and what you want. Most men wouldn’t have bothered asking their wives if and when they wanted children. You find your resolve weakening. You will tell him that you’re ready to start trying and it’s unlikely you will fall pregnant on the first try. You have some time, you tell yourself all the while trying to smother that voice inside you that whispers, ‘You should wait’. 

[justalonelyslytherin]

My Kingdom, Your Kingdom | six

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Pairing: secret king!Steve Rogers x heir apparent!female Reader

Summary: The search for clothing continues. With it, the discovery of more personal things comes.

Warnings: slight mention of parental loss

Wordcount: 4.4k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don’t allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don’t steal my work.

A/N: The dividers are made by @/firefly-graphics. As you might have noticed (again) this chapter took a long time to be posted. University is still to blame for this. I started working on my thesis but hopefully I'll be able to get back to posting a new chapter every 2-ish weeks!

Taglist: open, in the reblogs, let me know if you want to be added

“Hey Steve, do you have a clue where exactly those clothes are supposed to be? So we got a place to start looking?” Sam’s voice carried out of the room.

"Yeah, punk. We’ll be occupied for the rest of the week if not.” Bucky complained shortly after. It was no surprise he did, she understood as she followed Steve - at last - into the room. 

For a storage room, it was big. And for its proportions, it was well used. The walls were stacked with shelves and drawers that stretched from bottom to ceiling. Every available wall space that wasn’t stacked with furniture had either frames hung on the wall or propped against it.

Even the middle of the room was filled with more clustered space. More shelves to divide the room into smaller sections. She could barely see the other end of the room, the only hint of its end was the soft light coming in from the outside.

There were gaps between the books and other items stacked in the compartments. Through one such crack she spied the blonde hair of her youngest sister as Yelena stood before the middle shelf and eyed what looked to be a toy car carved out of wood.

“There should be a couple of chests or an old cabinet,” Steve drew out slowly and contemplatively as he looked through the room. She had the distinct feeling that he was still overwhelmed. If not from the room itself anymore then from the sheer vastness of it.

“How come all of this is here?” Yelena wanted to know, peeking behind the shelf with furrowed brows. “I thought you rented this place.” 

That caused the men – or rather Sam and Bucky – to laugh. She couldn’t share this amusement and neither could Natasha, as the two sisters shared a look. Back was the uncomfortable twisting in her gut.

“The cabin belongs to my family,” Steve spoke over the quieting laughter of his friends, “the clothes are leftovers from our frequent stays in the past.”

“How can you afford to keep a place like this over the years? Does the crown pay you that well as simple guards?” Natasha’s question had a certain bite to it. If any of them had been offended by the degradation of their jobs, they didn’t show it.

No, instead they took it with humor. Bucky snorted, a pleased and somewhat prideful smirk adorning his lips.

“We are not simple guards. We are the guards.” 

Sam nodded in agreement, a twinning grin on his lips. “We are part of the royal guard. The bodyguards of the king.” 

“Sam.” Steve’s warning, disapproving tone was directed only at his friends while his eyes were focused entirely elsewhere. Her. The hitch of her breath must have been loud enough for the blond beside her to hear. 

It had been a bad enough revelation that they’d been guards in the king's palace in Brooklyn’s capital. This was so much worse. Once more the dreaded feeling returned to the pit of her stomach. She’d lead her sisters directly into the lion's den without meaning to do so. 

“Even so,” Yelena crossed her arms before her chest, nose raised challengingly. She didn’t seem too impressed with the new revelation. Her and Natasha had always been good at masking their surprise. And while Yelena lacked the talent at hiding her pure and childlike excitement, every other emotion she could hide just as well as Natasha behind an unimpressed exterior. “So long as you aren’t the king's best friend I don’t believe your pay to be good enough to be able to afford this place.”

“You are right. But a nobleman rarely needs to worry about money. Right, Steve?” Bucky glanced at his blonde friend and she wanted to close her eyes and be swallowed by the waters of the great lake.

She’d thought too soon. It had gotten even worse. 

Too much. It was all too much. 

“Just shut up for a minute, would you? You are making it worse.” Steve’s bark sounded closer than he had been before. It wasn’t his voice that pulled her out of her spiraling thoughts eventually, it was his hands on her shoulders. Something about the contact between him and her felt so soothing and grounding. Looking up she found him directly in front of her, his eyes already intensely looking at her.

“You gotta stop worryin’.”

His voice was soft and had an unlike drawl to it that she hadn’t heard before. The quip of his lip suggested amusement, maybe teasing but the softness in his eyes told her he wanted to calm her. “I’ll tell you as many times as you need to believe: You guys are safe with us. Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise. And there is nothing that will change this either. Ok?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, pushing his hands away from her in a moment of defense. She kept acting like a spooked goose, honking and running in circles. Time to stop acting like a scared little girl and return back to the soon-to-be ruler of an entire nation. She couldn’t act so foolish. She was a princess. A future queen. Time to act like it. 

“I just didn’t expect you to dump that kind of revelation on us. Again.”

“It’s like us saying we are related to the widovian throne.” Natasha stayed entirely unbothered by her glare for that comment.

“That’d be a shocker,” Sam claimed with a snort. Yeah, wouldn’t it?

“Because it’s impossible,” Steve acclaimed, looking at them with exasperation. If he just knew. “Can we get back to concentrating on the task at hand?”

She could only agree, she wanted to focus on the simple task. One that wouldn’t set her off with more worry and uncertainty about their entire entanglement. Sighing she combed her fingers through her hair, rubbing over her scalp. “Are there any more things you’d like to tell us before I get another shock?”

Steve looked at her apologetically. The shake of his head was all she needed to drop her shoulders and nod. Alright. She could handle it if they didn’t jump another thing onto them. Like one of them being the King's brother.

“I do have some more questions,” Natasha quipped cooly. She was leaning with her shoulder against the middle shelf and looking at the three men with scrutiny. 

“Guess we can answer a couple while we look for the clothes.”

“It’s only fair since we grilled you yesterday. Your turn now,” Sam also agreed, grinning relaxedly. 

“So, where do we start?” Yelena wanted to know, running her fingers over the spine of a couple of books.

“There.” Bucky pointed into a corner left to them, where a couple of chests stood. They didn’t look particularly special, not standing out in any way but the brunette seemed confident in his choice. After all, he knew this place. Maybe he remembered some of the places the clothes had been stored in.

A big cloud of dust took to the air after the thick layer was disrupted  by Sam and Bucky. Each of them had taken to one side of the big chest, scooting the huge wooden construct forward before they’d lifted the heavy lid up. 

The price for it was the beige, gray shimmer in the air, the result of the many particles of dust going everywhere. The two men had been enveloped in it nearly instantly but the rest of them weren’t spared either. Quickly the dust raced to tickle everyone’s noses. It didn’t take long for the sneezes and coughs to erupt.

Natasha – surprisingly – was the fastest to recover from the powdery onslaught and while they still waved their hands in front of their faces or squinted their watering eyes, she leaned with her shoulder against the nearest shelf, looking at the chest.

“So all three of you are noble brats?” Her lips were pulled into a sly and teasing grin. Sam huffed more in surprise than in offense.

“These two–” he nodded towards Steve and Bucky, “–yeah. I’m a simple fisherman’s son from one of the coastal towns.”

The protests coming from said ‘noble brats’ went unheeded by Natasha and Sam. Instead, the redhead continued, undeterred.

“How does a simple fisherman’s son end up as one of the king's bodyguards?”

“Met ‘em in the military.”

“Him? Personally?” She blurted surprised, beating Natasha to the word.

“Yeah we, uhm, we all served in the same unit.” Steve butted in stepping beside her, arms loosely crossed in front of his chest. He glanced over at Sam. The two of them shared a brief and entirely silent conversation before he continued, “He found friends in us, thought us to be loyal. And when our service came to an end he wanted to have his most trusted friends close to him and so he offered us the jobs.” 

She watched their lips twitch up into smiles. There was warmth and pride in their smiles but also in the way they held themselves. 

Natasha, content with the answer and the provided information jumped to the next topic. This time her eyes turned towards the third in their bunch. The brunette was hunched over the chest, one arm bracing himself on the edge of the chest, while his other hand dug around its contents.

“How do you know widovian?” 

Bucky’s head snapped up. He smirked at Natasha, a playful glint shining in his eyes. The redhead wasn’t as amused and neither was she. No, she was very curious to listen to his explanation. There weren’t many people outside of Widovia – and Sokovia – who could speak their national language. Not anymore.

With the complete closure of their borders and their retreat into solitude the lands around them had ceased to show interest in their culture. It was hard for her to imagine that people outside would have still learned to pick up the language.

Why then, did a man born and raised in their enemy country, with no apparent descent from their home, possess the ability to speak their mother tongue? 

“I figured you’d want to know that,” Bucky told them relaxed and confident. He didn’t feel called out, nor scrutinized and he certainly didn’t see anything wrong with it either. Leaning against the chest his eyes jumped from Natasha to Yelena to her. All three were now closely paying attention to him.

“That doesn’t answer the question.” Yelena frowned, raising her eyebrow in return as she waited, rather impatiently, for him to give his answer. A proper one. 

The way he shrugged his shoulders so nonchalantly had her clench her jaw. She knew he wasn’t meaning to offend them but to them it was a matter of offense and pride, and in a smaller part also about safety. Their people inside the borders were only safe as long as those borders stayed impenetrable. Every way that something could slip out could be a way for something – or someone – to slip in too.

“There was an old man,” he started, “who I met after I joined the army. He’d lived in Widovia for many years as an emissary prior to the conflict. Just before Widovia closed its borders he returned home. He taught me.

A little only.”

“Yeah, we can tell. Your pronunciation is shit.” Yelena’s dryness never ceased to amaze. Steve and Sam started laughing while Bucky winced, scratching at his chin in embarrassment. Even her lips quipped up in amusement at the unforgiving words.

“Holy shit is something wrong with you?” There was no heartbeat wasted by her sister as the blonde looked at her suspiciously. At least Yelena had the heart to look concerned and not disgusted. 

“Why?”

“Where is the stern ‘Yelena’?” She should be mad at the way her sister imitated her scolding voice. “Where is the disapproving look for mocking someone? Your usual lecture?”

“Well, you are right. He sounds bad.”

“Like a tyro.” Natasha agreed with another smirk on her lips. 

While Bucky clasped his hand to his chest, looking at the three of them in mocking hurt, acting as if they just ripped out his heart, Steve furrowed his brow and asked “What’s a–what was that word you said?”

“A tyro?” She asked the adorably confused-looking blonde.

“Yeah, that,” he nodded. She could see he wanted to try to pronounce it, the desire, the way the world lay on the tip of his tongue. Yet he refrained from trying, not wanting to make a complete fool out of himself.

“It’s a somewhat mocking, playful term for a beginner. A rookie you would call it?”

“Whatever it means, please just keep calling him that. Especially with that delectable accent of yours. I didn’t know widovian could sound so good and seductive.”

The glare Bucky sent toward Sam was murderous. Surprising – and something she herself didn’t notice but Natasha very well did – was Steve’s lesser but still pronounced glare towards Sam for the flirtatious remark.

“How about less bickering and more looking?” Yelena quipped, pointing towards the chest Bucky leaned against. In his hand, he held something out of fabric. Had he found something already?

When the brunette held it up however it was nothing any of them would be able to wear. The shirt clearly had belonged to either one of them as small boys. Now it looked comically small in the buff man’s hands.

“No luck.”

So they turned towards the next chest to find something in there. While Sam and Bucky cleared the space and freed the chest from everything that had been stacked on top of it, nothing remained to do for the rest of them.

To pass the time waiting she found herself looking around the room. It felt like a treasury. Every book, every little trinket that littered the spaces of the shelves, felt to her like a magnificent find. Each one told a story about the past, about the time Steve spent here, about the other people that used to reside in this place. Not only was it a glimpse into those people’s lives and their beings but also into another culture. Another glimpse at Brooklyn, so personal and intimate.

Her roaming eyes caught the glimpse of a wardrobe through a gap in the shelf. It looked big, reaching over the top of the shelf towards the ceiling. Something about it pulled her in. It had caught her curiosity. 

Slowly she slipped from the preoccupied group. Walking through the opposite aisle between the shelves, she reached the opposite side of the room.

There, before her stood the massive wooden wardrobe in its entire glory. The intricately carved details on its doors held her in awe, the round brass knobs were just as beautifully decorated with swirls and other patterns. It looked magical. Like a wardrobe out of fairytales, ones that held magical clothes and items and ones that held secret passageways to another world beyond their grasp and understanding.

The wood felt smooth and luxurious under her fingers. There was a keyhole out of brass but no key anywhere in sight. Please don’t be locked. 

“You found another place to look through?” For once Steve didn’t startle her. She glanced back as he stepped up, looking at the wardrobe before her. He eyed it from top to bottom, ending on her fingers about to follow the outline of the keyhole. “Think it’s open?”

“I hope so.” Letting her hand drop, she took a step back until she was at level with him. 

“Listen, I’m sorry,” Steve sighed, rubbing his neck as he looked at her in apology. “I didn’t want to scare you…didn’t want those idiots to dump all of that on you guys.” 

There was a smile splitting its way across her lips as Steve mumbled beside her. It was sweet. “It’s not your fault,” she told him, stopping him in his ramblings.

“Well, I should have told you in the first place.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. There was no reason for any of you to bring this up unprompted and there was no way for you to know whether I would react…well like that.” 

Steve looked at her softly, his eyes searching and when they found what they were looking for, he softly but quietly asked, “Why did you react like that?”

Parting her lips she couldn’t come up with any words to answer him, so she closed her mouth again. Her lips pressed together tightly as she thought about it. Why? The answer was fairly simple yet she felt so troubled to pronounce it. 

“It’s my fault if something happens to them,” she told him after a long, contemplative silence. Glancing behind her, through the cracks in the shelves, she spied her sisters. “I can’t let anything happen to them.”

Steve followed her gaze, turning his head back to watch the group of four unlikely individuals. These girls were peculiar. Mystery clouded around them like thick wads of smoke. They were peculiar but also special.

Something told him she was particularly special. Something in the way she held herself, something about the almost unbound curiosity mixed with a distinctive hesitancy she displayed. She was an enigma and it made him all the more curious.

Steve couldn’t deny the strong pull he felt toward this beautiful, mysterious woman. He couldn’t keep away, he couldn’t help seek her out. All he wanted to do was be by her side and look at her. He wanted to make her smile. He wanted to be the one to show her the world. To show her his world. The one that was so familiar to him yet so foreign and strange to her.

“Nothing will happen to you, I promise,” he told her and with a more serious note he added, “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.” 

Her eyes softened at his words, the worry in them dissipated. It was replaced by a touch of sadness so heavy that it made Steve’s heart painfully constrict. He wanted to reach out and cradle her in his arms, to wipe the sadness from her beautiful face. The urge to protect them grew only stronger. 

She couldn’t know, she had to believe him to be a silly man with wishful thinking and promises too big to keep. That whatever safety he promised wouldn’t be enough. They’d obviously gone through a lot if she was this hesitant and anticipating danger around every corner. If she only knew what kind of might he held and what he was willing to sacrifice after knowing her for less than two days.

“Shall we try to open it?” She cleared her throat and averted her eyes in favor of gazing back at the wardrobe. A feeling of defeat settled in Steve’s stomach, the ugly sensation churned and growled deeply as he fought to suppress it. 

With a nod, he stepped toward the massive wooden structure. Cool felt the brass knob under his skin, the raised embossments pressed into his palm. With a gnarly squeak, the door gave away, easily following his hand as he pulled the door open. 

A small gust of dust followed. This time however Steve was clever enough to avert his face and spare himself a sneezing fit. When he peered into the belly of the furniture a smile raised on his lips.

“You seem to be very good at finding things.” He stepped to the side, making space for her to peer into the closet beside him. Inside was a multitude of different clothing items both hung and folded. 

“I was already afraid of having to try to squeeze into some of your childhood clothes,” she mumbled with a triumphant smile. Steve snorted, he glanced toward the floor to conceal how big of a smile she brought to his face.

“You surely would have looked fabulous in dinosaur print.”

“Dinosaur print?” She curiously raised an eyebrow. Steve in return blushed and smiled bashfully at her.

“I was obsessed with Dinosaurs, the stars, and the ocean.”

“I’d love to see the ocean at some point,” she mumbled, “Your capital lies on the coast, right?” With a hum Steve nodded. “How is it? Growing up so close to the sea I mean?”

“The view is beautiful, something entirely different to the mountains. 

In the summer the salty breeze travels into the city, and the winds help keep the city cool. There are rivers making their way through parts of the city and people have built small boats to ride through the canals. When the sun hits the waves the water glistens like gems. 

Oh, and the caves along the beaches. Bucky and I used to explore them as children. We imagined them to house all kinds of magic: a sleeping dragon, the buried treasure of a pirate crew, all such things. 

Buck also taught me to sail a boat. We’d sneak out of our beds after bedtime and climb out of our windows, down to the marina where we’d hijack his father’s boat.”

Her breath hitched as she watched him talk about his home. There was a tranquil look on Steve’s face, one of content and fond memories.

“Did you ever get caught?” She whispered. It was almost pitiful to disturb this peaceful look on Steve’s face. Almost, weren’t it for the happy glint in his eyes and smile at her indulgence. 

“Many times. We got into so much trouble but we didn’t care about it. We would do it again after every scolding.” It sounded like he had had a fun childhood. 

For a moment it made her sad, thinking how it would have been had her parents been around longer. Would her sisters and her have had a childhood like that? Would they have been able to be innocent children?

She didn’t want to focus on these thoughts and Steve turned out to be a great help in preventing her from thinking more such depressing things. He continued to tell her about the shenanigans he and Bucky had been up to in their childhood as they gradually shifted their focus on pulling out some of the clothes. 

Happily Steve told her everything that came to his mind, at least until she interrupted his babbling with a deep frown on her face, “I’m not a puppet.”

“Yes,” he answered her, confidently and nearly automatically. Steve was ready to continue his story, the delayed meaning of her words setting in stopped him abruptly. Confusion transformed his features as he stopped his motions and turned to her,

“No…

What?”

“Why would you call me a puppet?” She frowned up at him, her feathers clearly ruffled as she huffed, although he couldn’t understand how that had happened.

“I…didn’t.”

“You called me ‘Doll’,” she stated and it clicked. Warmth flooded Steve and his cheeks began to burn.

“That’s not the same,” he mumbled, yet it was clear this did not explain the situation to her. Instead, Steve found himself opposite of her accusingly raised eyebrow. The same unamused look he had witnessed her giving her younger sister. Steve gulped, not enjoying being on the receiving end of that look one bit. 

“That’s, um…” With a sigh, he bashfully glanced to the floor and rubbed at his neck. He was in trouble. 

Huge Trouble. How could he explain it to her without revealing he had just called her a pet name by accident? A term usually reserved for lovers? Yet it had just slipped out as he had addressed her. 

“Doll is a term of endearment that men call their female friends. It’s a non-specific name.” 

She looked at him doubtfully, a wary glint in her eyes as she looked at him with pursed lips. It didn’t sound quite right to her, he could see it in her expression and it terrified Steve. Desperately and frantically he wracked his brain to find another explanation. One with which he wouldn’t dig himself an even deeper hole. Perhaps a straight-up apology would be best suited. He had to be honest with her and hope she wouldn’t find any insult from it. But before Steve could open his mouth again, she shook her head and mumbled,

“Some of your traditions are weird. Why would it be endearing to call someone a puppet? That's not nice.” There was a remaining hint of disgruntlement in her voice, one that brought out the natural drawl of her widovian. It was a mighty wrong moment to feel like that but the sound of her accent made Steve’s heart flutter.

He couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. He adored her view, and couldn't help but find her reaction to it anything but cute.

Their hunt for clothing in the end turned out to be successful, albeit long. It had taken them the better part of a couple of hours to locate enough items that would be suitable both indoors and outdoors in the freezing, wintery cold.

Sam, Bucky, Yelena, and Natasha had tackled the chests on one side of the room while Steve and she had been isolated on the opposite side of the room. Only when both parties had met at the door to the hallway had her sisters and Steve’s friends even noticed their absence.

Now the girls were on their way out of the room, trailed by the men. Sam and Steve carried the piles of musty and dusty clothing – they’d unanimously decided to chuck all of it into the washer first.

Bucky eyed the clothes in Steve’s arms suspiciously, stopping in the doorframe, he blocked both Steve and Sam from leaving the room. 

“What?” Steve asked, noticing Bucky’s eyes on the clothes in his hands.

“Those are some of your mother’s clothes,” Buck noted and Steve fell silent.

There was a pause before he answered slowly, “Yes.” 

The statement didn’t seem enough for Bucky, however, who raised an eyebrow once more. “They’ll fit and suit her well.”

Sam and Bucky didn’t need to ask who ‘her’ was in this case.

Without saying anything else Steve pushed past Bucky and left the room. It was now Sam’s turn to glance at Bucky, alternating between looking at him and toward where Steve had just stood. 

“You wanna tell me what that was?”

“Steve hasn’t touched any of his mother’s things since she passed away.” 

Sam shrugged his shoulders, so he had gotten over it. What was there to it that Bucky made a big deal out of it? 

“He didn’t allow anyone to touch them. All of Sarah’s belongings were stashed away. He couldn’t bear looking at them and being painfully reminded of his mother not even a week ago.”

[imaginedreamwrite]

Exile: Part 2

The ground shook beneath you; a false hope that the earth would split and swallow you whole had been ruefully cast aside as the premise of pitching yourself off the edge of the world-shattering, thundering waterfall to the left had been ripped from you.

It was an unnecessary caution; the binds that kept your hands clasped and yet the powerful stare from the King himself had rendered you more fired up than ever.

Your attempt, or your success rather, to do damage before you arrived at the kingdom, had come at the expense of one of his knight’s arms. The relatively large gash had been inflicted by yourself and a tiny stone after you had taken the chance given to you after one of them had helped you from the King’s beastly mount.

The knife stashed in your boot had come in handy, and it should have been their fault for assuming you wouldn’t have had weapons hidden on you. You would not become compliant simply because the King was seeking you out. You wouldn’t crumble before him merely because he was your soulmate and he had been searching for you.

“Forest bitch!” The knight had bemoaned; he had screamed when you dug the knife into his arm and twisted, the blade sharp enough to pierce the light armour he had worn. “The fucking bitch stabbed me!”

“I suppose you’re proud of yourself.” The king tilted his head as he studied you.

The dark blue tunic he had worn with the crest in the corner was distinguishable by the silver threading that marked him as a royal, and now that you were closer, you could see that his eyes were not genuinely blue, but instead, they had flecks of light green within the irises. The green that reminded you of fresh buds after the harsh winter and your first declaration that he was beautiful had now become weak.

Beautiful was no manner to discuss the king, however arrogant and brutish as he may have been.

He was tall, easily over 6’0”, and you were remiss to admit that the strength of the decoys had seemed grim compared to what the King had been blessed with. It was easy to see how a man like him would be rooted in arrogance, as the beauty surrounding him had no doubt boosted his ego.

“Pride goeth before the fall.” Your voice dripped with bitterness, your eyes flashing with hatred at the man who was deemed to be your soulmate.

“You stabbed one of my men.”

“Oh? Just one? Give me a blade and another chance.”

“You wish to assault more, flower?” he traced his fingers along the side of your cheek, his nails making contact with your flesh.

“I’ll start with you.” You turned your head and snapped at his hand, your teeth nearly grazing his fingers.

“Someone needs to teach you manners. However, I can hardly expect any different. You were raised in the wild when you should’ve been raised in comfort.”

The king stood and brushed his hands against his breeches, then moved toward his great beast of a horse and reached into the saddlebag to grab a linen parcel of fruit. “Are you hungry, princess?”

You squared your jaw and flexed your fingers, feeling the binds against your wrist. The strands of the rope they had used were grating to your wrists, and yet it was nothing compared to the fire surging through your veins. You hated him, and you hated him for taking you.

“You must be hungry, darling.” His voice and eyes were cold, yet his affections were soft. “Wouldn’t you like something to eat?”

You had dug your heels into the earth and pushed yourself backward on the rock you were resting on; the stone hiding behind was sharp. You had a thought, maybe more of a last-ditch effort to throw yourself back and grab the stone; if you could hide it upon you, then you could take off the binds.

“Aren’t you going to do anything, your majesty? She stabbed-“

“Enough.” Steve had set the linen parcel down and undid the twine binding it, the various fruit and small nuts inside coming to light. “I insist that you eat.”

“I won’t take orders from you.” You pushed further, the stone within view if you turned your head, the edges similar to that of a serrated knife, yet smoothened by weathering.

“When we get back to the kingdom, you will not speak to me in such a manner. You will treat me as your king and future husband-“

“I would rather pitch myself off the waterfall.”

“-I am your soulmate, and we are bound. You are mine, and I am yours.” He walked toward you, a piece of an apple in his hand, and you were forced to crane your neck to look up at him as he stopped before you.

“I missed the chance to marry for love, and after my first wife died, I vowed to find the one destined for me.”

“You had already found her.”

“No.” There was twisted darkness that overtook him, a possessiveness that had stemmed from some manner of betrayal. “No, that whore was a fake. She had used a bewitchment to make it appear real. She had used me to gain a reputation.”

“Too bad.” You pictured the strike of lightning, and it had taken everything you had not to react when he had struck his hand upon the rock beside your hip, his blue-green eyes darkening.

“You are mine,” he leaned in and studied your face, “you will always be mine and if you try and run from me again-“

“-I will.” You pushed yourself to sit up further, your noses nearly touching. “You can bark orders all you want, you can use whatever raging hell you please, but there will never be a day when I stop trying to get away from you.”

His gaze dropped to your lips, and you used that distraction to lift your leg and drive the heel of your boot into his crotch. As he reacted with a strangled grunt of pain and the rescinding thrush of heat that was no doubt a result of his suffering, you drove yourself back off the rock and scrambled for the stone.

You clutched it in your hands and let it fall down your wrist and into the sleep of your tunic, and as the men scrambled toward you, you bent over and caught the stone as it fell from your tunic and shoved it into your boot.

“Leave her!” Steve ordered his men when they put their hands on you, and as he stood fatter catching his breath, his eyes burned with bone-chilling intensity.

You stepped away from him, your back hitting the chest of a knight. Your arm was grabbed, and your fight had lingered when you struggled against the man holding you where you stood.

“For your sake, princess,” Steve stood in front of you and grasped the back of your neck with his large, powerful grip, “I hope you save the rest of your fire for when your body is trapped beneath mine, and you are writhing in pleasure.”

“For your sake, your majesty,” you gritted your teeth and ripped your arm out of his knight’s grip, “I hope you sleep with one eye open.”

There was verbal silence that fell heavy over the place he had chosen to rest. No one said a word, and the tension had only grown when the silence lingered as the sound of the thundering earth and the rushing water careened over the edge of the cliff. The tumultuous waterfall was creating a sort of buffer between the stillness surrounding the area and the two of you at odds with each other.

“Are you going to behave, or should I tie you up and throw you over the back of my horse like a hunted animal.” Steve waved his hand, motioning for one of the knights to bring forth another spool of rope.

“I thought I already was.” Your eyes were drawn from the king to the rope he had grabbed and the steady withdrawal of his men back to their mounts.

“I am giving you a chance to retain some of your dignity, my little flower. Will you trounce through the kingdom like the future Queen you are, or will you be thrown across the back like the big game?”

Steve stepped closer to you, the rope wrapped around his hand, and as you lowered your gaze once more, you saw the identical mark to yours, peeking out the rim beneath the sleeve of his tunic.

He wanted you to submit; you knew he had. You knew he wanted you to cave and cater, to bend to his will. Everyone else had; he was the king, so why wouldn’t his soulmate cater to him as well? Why wouldn’t his future Queen adore him like the rest of the people he commanded?

“What are you waiting for?” You shoved your wrists toward him, your clenched fists slamming into his chest. “If you’re going to treat me like an animal, you might as well do it properly.”

“As you wish, princess.” Steve grabbed your bound wrists and spun you effortlessly until your back was to his chest.

Before he bound you further, he leaned in and brushed his lips against the shell of your ear. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll tie you up in the marriage bed as well.”

“Not likely.” You swung your elbows back and caught him in the stomach, though you couldn’t get far before you were grabbed again and thrown to the ground, your feet becoming bound as well as your legs.

You were lifted from the ground and set on his great beast, and then he had joined you. He snaked his arm around your waist as you were made to sit sidesaddle, with nothing to balance into except him.

“Are you ready to leave now, forest wench?” He grunted in your ear.

“As if I have a choice, you abominable-“ your voice came to a halt as his hand squeezed your thigh.

“Do not think me so patient, forest nymph. I would just as likely punish you in the presence of my men as I would in the comfort of our home.” Steve gripped your hip and yanked you flush against him, and then he spurred his horse, and the company was on the move again.