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tastingmellow · 2 years

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The Missing Piece: Part 2

Description: Living on your own in Brooklyn isn’t an easy thing. Your work life is awful and your ex-boyfriend is a complete mess. When you get caught in the sights of two of the most dangerous men in New York life doesn’t get any easier, but it certainly does get more interesting.

Summary: It seems like New York is getting smaller and smaller as you continue to bump into the same people over and over again. Wanda gives you some helpful advice for moving on and gives a good opportunity when she invites you to Pietro's art exhibition, but old flames keep cropping up and make it harder for you to just move on.

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: descriptions of violence, talk of toxic work environment, talk of a toxic previous relationship, talk of a threesome and eventual poly relationship, slow build, slow burn, mafia AU, mob boss Bucky, mob boss Steve, job interview, under 18s dni minor

Masterlist

Part One || Part Three >>

It had felt like the interview with Timothy had gone exceptionally well. You had expected to hear from the company soon after, but a slow week under Rupert drew by. It was beginning to feel like maybe they weren’t as interested as they had previously let on. Deep down, you knew that you couldn’t dwell on them not contacting you and instead, you needed to just continue life until you heard the outcome from them.

Feeling unusually energetic on Saturday morning, you decided to make the most of your restless behaviour and head out for an early morning run around Prospect Park. The nippy Autumn air was biting at the tip of your nose and your cheekbones as you jogged around the park, only to have yourself come to a sudden halt as a large dog bolted across your path. “Oh, jeez…” You laughed softly; hands placed on hips as you sucked back deep breaths into your burning lungs.

“I’m sorry about him…” A familiar voice called, glancing over your shoulder and trying to hide the look of surprise on your face. It was the handsome blonde from the station attaching a lead to his dog’s collar, turning his gaze up from the lively hound to meet your own. “It’s you…” He commented with a surprised smile, pointing a finger in your direction and approaching you slowly. “It’s me…” You grinned tenderly in response and crossed your arms over your chest. “Steve, right?”

It was difficult to ignore the way that Steve was watching you, those glorious eyes trailing across your frame, taking note of the way that your leggings hugged at your waist and hips. A smile tugged at your lips as you commented quietly. “Small world, huh?” Lifting your brows at him before your eyes flickered down to the dog that was sitting obediently by his flank. “Who’s this?” You asked, squatting down to allow the dog to approach and stroking his head and chest as he eagerly did.

“His name is Sarge.” The blonde informed you, smirking as he watched his dutiful German Shepard go stupid over the affection that you were gifting it. “As you can see, he’s a vicious guard dog…” As if on cue, the dog flopped down to the ground and rolled over to expose his belly to you. A surprised laugh found your throat as you rubbed his stomach lovingly and turned your regard back up to Steve. “He seems ferocious.” To which Steve just grinned in response.

From here, Steve could allow himself to truly appreciate your features, the curve of your rear, the dips and the swell of your breasts covered by a form-hugging running jersey. “So, do you run here often?” It didn’t feel like often enough that Steve found himself in Brooklyn anymore, but he would come here a lot whilst growing up. It was nice to return and think about the memories. “Oh, only on weekends when I can force myself to get up before noon.” You laughed up at him before raising back to your feet, dusting down your leggings in a smooth movement.

“Is it too intrusive to ask if you ditch that guy who was giving you trouble?” Steve questioned then, remembering the trouble you had been having when first meeting in the station. It was a surprise to you that he had remembered that, honestly it had been a surprise that he had remembered you at all. “I’m dealing with it as best I can.” You explained, which was truthful, cutting off Oliver was going to be more difficult than you were anticipating, but you knew that Steve had been right because you did deserve better.

Another voice came from behind you then. “Here you go, pal…” Another flicker of shock crossed your face as the brunette from the Lewinski and Charles building was heading in your direction with two coffee cups in hand. His eyes caught yours for a moment and a bright smile found his lips. “Oh, hey there, Bambi…” Bucky commented, clearly teasing you about your clumsy nature from your first meeting. “Did his dog there trip you up, or something? I keep telling Steve he’s gotta keep that menace on a leash.” He asked casually, sipping as he coffee as he stood beside Steve.

There was barely any effort from Steve to hide the look of interest that flickered across his sharp features. “You know each other?” A quiet giggle escaped your lips as you announced. “Oh, I made a total fool of myself, and Bucky came to my rescue…” You explained as your arms pulled across your chest whilst jutting your hip out to the side.

In response, Bucky’s tone was teasing. “You remembered my name…” A small shrug came from you before Steve commented. “Hate to break it to you, but she remembered my name too, pal.” This caused the brunette to crease a brown in his direction. Next, the two of them shared a look before your attention was dragged away to your buzzing phone.

“Oh, jeez…” You whispered softly before turning your gaze back up to them both. “It’s great bumping into a friendly face around here, but I’ve got to get going.” You informed them both, which they nodded to. “I’m sure we’ll see you around, doll…” Bucky commented before Steve continued. “See you soon…” Then both watched as you jogged away from them, eyes focused down on your phone instead of on the path ahead of you.

A smirk etched onto Steve’s face as he asked. “Don’t tell me that was the damsel that you were talking about at the bar… I guess it looks like we share the same damsel, huh?” A nod came from the brunette as he took another swig from his coffee. “I saw the way you were looking at her, Stevie…” He watched as a furious pink tinge pulled across his cheeks, about to deny anything that Bucky was insinuating. “Are you trying to tell me that you weren’t watching the way those leggings hugged her round ass when she squatted down?”

That pink tinge that crossed his cheeks only seemed to grow and take over the tops of his ears as he responded evenly. “It sounds like you were doing the same thing, Buck…” “Maybe I was…” He smirked. “You gotta admit that she’s cute, right?” By now, Steve could tell that Bucky was trying to test him, trying to press to see if they were both interested in her in the same way, like they had discussed at the bar. “Yeah, you’d have to be some kind of idiot to not see how cute that she was… nice legs, round hips, pretty smile.” He cleared his throat then. “You know…”

“I do know.” Bucky’s voice was confident in response before his phone buzzed in his pocket, slipping it out and seeing that Natasha was trying to call him. “We got business…” He commented before looking up at the blonde. “We’re not done talking about this.”

The call that you had received whilst talking with Steve and Bucky had been from your good friend Wanda. She owed a bakery in Brooklyn and you knew that she wouldn’t be calling on a bustling Saturday morning unless there was an emergency. On the phone, she had explained to you in a flustered way that an order she had placed had arrived hours before schedule and Pietro had promised to help but bailed, leaving her completely stranded in the shop on her own.

It was often in your spare time that you would volunteer to help Wanda, never accepting any money from her but instead accepting all the baked goods as she would bestow you instead. It was a nice mixture of spending time with your friend and helping her when she was in a bind. Of course, it, unfortunately, cut into the time that you would usually spend fleshing out the novel that you had been working on since finishing college, or job hunting, or just having general time to work on your wellness.

After a brisk shower, you headed straight over to the bakery and slipped in through the back. Even from here, you could hear the heavy chatter coming from the front. “Wan?” You called, stepping a little further inside to find her rushing from the back balancing two trays of pain au chocolat in one hand whilst the other was furiously texting on her phone. “You’re here…” Her voice was full of relief as you carefully slipped the tray of baked goods from her hand. “I’m going to throttle Pietro when I see him next…” She commented lowly before shoving her phone into the front of her apron. “I can handle upfront if you can start putting away the delivery?”

A quick nod came from you. “Sure, whatever you need…” You carefully placed the tray back into her hands. “Oh, and don’t forget-” “To check off the order as I go so we know we aren’t missing anything. I know, I know…” This wouldn’t be the first time that you had done this type of job for Wanda, but you could understand why she wanted things done her way. It was her bakery after all. “Don’t worry, I can handle this…” You assured her with a genuine smile.

The work turned out to be pretty time-consuming. By the time that you finished, it was mid-afternoon. The rush of customers had dwindled down to just a few lingering, keeping to themselves working on their laptops whilst sipping at coffees. Wanda peaked her head into the room just as you were finishing, offering sweetly. “Want some coffee?” That wasn’t a proposal you were going to turn down.

Both of you took a seat at a little table close by to the register and shared little anecdotes about your week. You had summed up your interview with Timothy and explained the situation with Oliver. It wasn’t like Wanda was the biggest fan of him even before all this mess. She had always been adamant that you deserved better than a boyfriend, where you acted more like a mother than a girlfriend. “God, when is that jerk going to just let you move on with your life?” Wanda huffed as she slowly stirred her coffee. “Has spoken you about paying him back for bailing him out?”

For a moment, you kept quiet before Wanda pressed again, to which you responded. “Not yet.” “Not ever, more like.” Then rolled her eyes and shook her head. “He is such a trust fund baby…” Wanda commented, her cheeks going pink from the frustration of the situation. When you had both been happy together, Wanda had bit her tongue for you, but now that you had broken up, it seemed like she wasn’t pulling her punches anymore about her disdain for Oliver.

“Maybe it’s time that you get out there again…” Wanda commented then with a tiny shrug of her shoulders. “Like, you’ll be able to fully put Oliver behind you if you’ve got a new guy to focus on, right?” That did make sense, but… it felt like it had been a little while since you’d been in the dating world. “There are plenty of really cute guys in New York. All of them are so different and unique. Mr Right could be just around the corner~” Flashing a big grin in your direction. “How about at Pietro’s art show?”

You blinked across at her blankly. You had remembered Pietro mentioning it recently that his art was going to be shown at an exhibition in Brooklyn. “It will be a fun night out; a little bit of wine, get dressed up really cute. Vis and I will be there too…” Her eyes were bright with enthusiasm. “Pietro would really love to have another friendly face there and who knows Mr Right might just be waiting in the crowd to snatch up a piece of art of his own~” She teased, making a loud laugh spill from your lips.

The door jingled open, making Wanda glance up to make a noise of excitement as Vision entered, home from his meeting in Manhattan. “Hello, love.” He muttered, embracing her lovingly, rocking her back and forward as he kissed her on top of the head. “Ah, and I see you have yourself a helper today.” He announced, glancing in your direction, giving him a small wave; he chuckled whilst releasing Wanda. “Yes, I’ve invited her to Pietro’s exhibition tonight.”

It was nice spending time with Vision and Wanda, but you couldn’t help but feel a little sad whenever you were around them. It was like the moment that they had met. They discovered they were perfect for one another, truly each other’s soulmates. It was a connection that you wanted to share with another person, New York was bustling with so many people, but at times it felt so lonely and isolating, especially compared to the small town you’d grown up in where it felt like everyone knew your name or your family.

After a short conversation with the couple, you decided it’s time to leave, promising Wanda that you’ll be at Pietro’s exhibition tonight. At least you could count on their wine there and Pietro’s art was always interesting to you. It was very sleek and intimate. On the walk back to your apartment, your mind raced to wonder what pieces of art he might have come up with now.

Just as you arrive home, you can feel your phone buzzing in your back pocket, fishing it out to see that Oliver was calling. You could convince yourself for a moment that it could be about the money he owes you. Flopping down onto your couch, you hit answer. “What do you want, Oliver?” The tightness to your voice was evident from the first word, but you kept your will strong.

“Hey, baby…” A soothing flow of his voice came back and you were reminded for just a second what it felt like to have all of Oliver’s attention and adoration pointed in your direction. “I didn’t think that you’d answer, but I’m really glad that you did…” He commented, instead of responding, you just kept your mouth firmly closed, eyes laser-focused on the wall in front of you. “I’ve been trying to think of a good way for thanking you for bailing me out and the best way I could think is maybe just paying you back what I owe you…”

“That would be helpful.” Your voice remained strong as a deep chuckle rumbled from him in response. “I know it would, babe. How about we meet up and I can give you the money in person? How about the bar we met at?” Every inch of your body was screaming at you to just deny him, to tell him to send the money to your bank account so that you didn’t have to see him in person, but instead, a simple agreement slipped from your lips, and you regretted it the moment that it did. “Great. That’s great. Tomorrow night? Around 7?”

It felt impossible for you to deny him. It made you feel guilty towards yourself, but you agreed. You could justify it in your head as you want your money back, but you had always found it hard to just say no to Oliver, that was why you had always come to his rescue, that was why you had always looked after him and tried to keep it out of trouble. It never worked, but you tried.

The distinct sound of repetitive punches echoed through the underground garage. “Please! Please! I’ll get you the money! I swear, I swear-” The businessman’s pained pleas came to a sudden stop as his unconscious body hit the ground by Steve’s designer boots. Pulling free a rag from his pocket, he began to clean his bloody knuckles before turning to observe where Bucky was leant against his glossy black Range Rover. “There something on your mind, Buck?” He quizzed, approaching him slowly.

“I was just thinking about what we were talking about the other night…” The brunette mentioned. “At the bar, about bringing someone else into the bedroom for us to share.” An almost knowing smirk then tugged at the corners of Steve’s pink lips. “Oh, did you have someone in mind? Maybe the one from the park this morning?” He lifted his brows towards Bucky.

They had always been good at reading each other’s minds, sharing this unspoken bond, both deadly and sweet. “Maybe…” Bucky muttered. “I mean, I saw the way you were looking at her, Stevie…” He pushed himself up from where he was leaning against the side of his car, cupping the blonde’s sharp jawline and humming as he drew him forward. “Are you trying to tell me that you weren’t thinking ‘bout bending her over and-”

“Buck…” He whimpered as the brunette’s lips found his own, slotting together like a couple of perfect puzzle pieces. “It drives me a little crazy to think about those lips wrapped ‘round my cock whilst you just destroy her pussy…” The words were dripping in sin and it made Steve breathe a little heavier now, eyes hazy with lust. “Don’t you want that too? Us to share her?” He captured him into a heated kiss and Bucky’s back found his Range Rover as Steve pushed him back against it. “You fuckin’ know I do…” He huffed as they pulled back for air for a moment.

They shared another passionate kiss; the sound of wet laps and harsh groans filled the empty garage now. As the brunette tugged himself away from his lips. “We need to be smart about this…” He forced his fingers into Steve’s hair, gripping tight and gazing deep into those smouldering blue eyes. “I can tell she’s a little timid, we can’t just rush into this with her… we might just need to take things a little slower than normal, maybe a solo date or two and then… then we can tell her the truth.”

A kink formed in Steve’s brow as he responded. “I think it’ll work?” Bucky just nodded in response before drawing him into another feverish kiss and groaning against his lips. “I think it will, Stevie.”

The night was thick over Brooklyn, but everyone was still very much awake. You had spent the entire rest of your afternoon in turmoil over your meeting with Oliver tomorrow. You had gone through a variety of scenarios in your head, mapping out how you thought conversations might turn out and trying to think of things that you wanted to tell him. It seemed like a good opportunity.

Before all that, you needed to focus on Pietro’s art exhibition. It was being held at a beautiful old brewery building in the heart of Brooklyn, and by the time that you arrived, it was already in full swing. You entered the building and were surrounded by the most outrageous and amazing pieces of art that you had ever experienced. They were all way out of your price range, but you could enjoy the flashes of colours and the secrets each swipe of paint held.

“Hey!” A friendly voice came from the crowd and suddenly, you were yanked into a crushing hug. “I couldn’t believe it when Wanda said you were coming…” Pietro still had such a thick accent heavy on his tongue. It was always such a striking reminder that Wanda and Pietro hadn’t moved here all that long ago. “Of course, I came…” You laughed softly and patted him on the back to move away gaze up into those friendly blue eyes. “So, do you have anything affordable on the show?”

A sudden laugh came from Pietro as he placed his hand on your lower back, winding you expertly through the crowd to show off his collection of art. It was truly breathtaking pieces of artwork that Pietro had on show. “I wouldn’t imagine any of these are within your budget, but if you would like some art, I’d happily just make you some…” He offered, causing you to laugh as you shook your head. “No, no… I’m just kidding…” You observed the artwork with a smile pulling easily at your lips. “These are… amazing, Pietro.”

“Isn’t my brother talented?” Wanda’s enthusiastic voice came from beside you. “If only he was this amazing at showing up on time for his shift or paying his rent on time…” The comments were like little needles into Pietro’s back and he flashed her a slight glare in response. “I’m joking.” She informed him before moving across to wrap you into an inviting hug. “I’m glad that you came…” She snatches a few glasses of wine from a passing waiter and presses them into your hand. “Drink up~” She commented softly and both of you tipped your wine glasses up to ding them together before drinking deep from them.

After spending some time speaking with Wanda, you decided it might be polite to begin to circle the room and take in the rest of the art that had been produced. Each time a tray of drinks floated by you were quick to grab another, drinking it down deep whilst speaking with the guests and the artists alike, trying to schmooze you into buying their artwork, little did they know that you could barely afford the hook to hang them on right now.

As you made a full round of the collection, you returned to Pietro’s display, eyeing each piece that had been passionately created and tilting your head as you pondered what they could mean or what they were trying to say. “Now, this is what I call a work of art…” A familiar voice cracked from behind you, spinning on your heel and surprised to see Steve lurking behind, one hand sunk into his tailored trousers and the other nursing a short glass of whiskey. “Two times in one day, I must be lucky…” He commented, sauntering a little closer towards you.

“You’re here too?” There was no hiding the surprise in your voice. “Are you stalking me or something?” You joked teasingly, flashing him a quick grin as he chuckled and shook his head. “Stalking you…” He muttered, taking a swig of his whiskey as he stood by your side. “I think you’ve been reading too many books…” Then winking down at you before turning his head up to observe the artwork hung before him. “I’m just an art lover; I couldn’t resist coming to procure a few new pieces for my collection.”

It surprised you that Steve had a collection. Being an art collector was a very pricey hobby and you wondered for a moment what it was that Steve did for work. “I really like these pieces…” He mentioned, gesturing to two from Pietro’s display. “What do you think?” He asked lowly, leaning down to be closer to your ear and making a deep shudder course down your spin at the feel of him so close. “What do I think?” Raising your brows. “I don’t know much about art, but… my friend created these, so it would be great for him to get a sale, right?”

A deep chuckle rumbled in Steve’s throat as he replied softly. “Cute.” It made you gnaw sweetly on your lower lip as he trailed his eyes over your frame. Glancing over his shoulder, he flagged down a dealer, taking a card and noting down some details before handing it back before a few stickers were placed beside two of the paintings. “Well, your friend has you to be thankful for…” He commented, making you gape in wonder.

This would have been the first sale that Pietro would have made in a little while now. He was going to be so happy and you knew that you couldn’t tell him that you might have had some hand in the selling of them. “Are you only here to support your friend?” Steve asked then as he took another sip of whiskey and finished it off. “Uh, yeah… I’m not big on art or buying it.” You commented and he smirked and shook his head.

“Let’s go get a drink and I’ll give you some tips on art.” He suggested, leaning you across the room, parting the crowd so that you could walk easily by his side and approaching the bar. The two of you shared a drink together whilst Steve steered you around the room, a hand settled on your lower back and leaning down into your ear to explain in his handsome drawl about why he felt a painting or sculpture was good or bad and then each time asking your opinion on it. Honestly, by the time that you had both rounded back to Pietro’s display, you were hanging off his every word, leaning in close to hear him talk clearer and beginning to understand the appeal.

His hand stayed settled firmly on your lower back, rubbing you through the soft material of your skin before starting. “I’d love to speak to you more ‘bout art sometime, or maybe let you speak for a little while too…” A giggle pulled from your throat; it sounded flirtatious even to your ears. “Maybe I could take your number and we could go out sometime?” He suggested.

In the back of your mind, Oliver was lingering, but aloud Wanda said. “She’d love to…” Clearly just approaching in time to hear Steve make his suggestion. You looked between them before smiling up at him and saying. “Sure, that would be really great…” Before slipping your phone from your purse and holding it in his direction, allow him to input his number whilst putting your own into his phone. “Great…” He smiled, handing back your phone to then lean down and kiss you sweetly on the cheek. “I’ve got some business I’ve got to deal with, but I hope I catch you sometime soon…”

Only moments after Steve exited the exhibition, Wanda squeaked as she grabbed both of your hands and bounced. “I knew it. I knew you’d meet a great guy here. I told you.” She pointed a playful finger at your face. “He was super cute and was super into you~” Wanda cooed adoringly before wrapping her arms around your neck and swaying with you happily. Maybe she was right, maybe moving on from Oliver would be for the best and a fresh start without the drama that he continued to bring into your life.

When you woke up the next morning, you took hold of your phone and observed the messages that you had waiting. One was from Oliver in good spirits about seeing you this evening, another was from Pietro with so much gratitude for coming to the exhibition and raving about some of his art being purchased, the next from Wanda wanting to hear if you had heard from Steve yet and the last was from Steve with a sweet request to let him know that you had made it home safe.

Your heart swelled slightly as you gazed down at the final message, gnawing on your lower lip and wondering how you were going to respond to the message. You text him that you made it home safely last night and were tucked up in bed all safe. You hit send and smiled to yourself, holding your phone tight to your chest and sighing happily as you just gazed lazily up towards the ceiling.

In the back of your mind, you knew that you could just lounge around in bed all day, no matter how much you had wanted to. No, you forced yourself to get up and begin your day, showering and getting dressed into some simple day clothes, cleaning your apartment with vigour before popping out to do a quick weekly shop, having your meals already planned out it was a quick trip around the aisles before returning home to put everything away.

Your eyes continuously found your phone throughout the day, receiving messages from everyone else, but Steve… it wasn’t something you needed to dwell on. You knew he must have been a busy man.

As the day drew on, you decided that it probably would be for the best to get ready for this meeting with Oliver. Honestly, you were unsure what else to call it; you certainly wouldn’t class it as a date, even if it was going to be at the very bar you had met him all those years ago. It had been whilst you were in your first year of college, you were feeling lonely in the City and meeting Oliver had changed everything, he had made you feel so special, so seen in a sea of unknown faces but it all came crashing down eventually, maybe it always does.

By the time that you finished getting ready, you were running a little late and decided to take a cab there. Your phone buzzed in your purse and you yanked it out quickly and smiled as you saw a text back from Steve. He apologised for a delayed response and stated how he was happy that you’d made it home safe. Your eyes traced over the message again and again until the voice of the driver told interrupted your little moment with your device to inform you that you had arrived.

In a quick moment, you paid him and clambered from the cab and into the affluent bar on the Upper East Side. Your eyes were scanning the room as you approached the bar, slinking up onto one of the stools. It was past 7 now and you were expecting Oliver to already be here, but there were absolutely no signs of him. You ordered yourself a martini as you waited and slipped from your phone from your bag to text Oliver to ask where he was or if he was still coming.

The clock ticked in a humiliating fashion above the bar and before you knew it, 30 minutes had sunk past. Just as you were about to get up and leave, a voice slurred in your direction. “Baby!” He called across the quiet murmur of voice; Oliver clumsily crossed the room in your direction, tripping over his own feet as he approached the bar. You were humiliated, the disapproving eyes that cast in your direction, the soft mutter of voices and little laughs focused on Oliver. “B-baby, you made it…”

This was just him drunk. It was easy to see the effect the drugs were having on him by just gazing into his eyes. A short huff fell from your lips; what else were you expecting? Oliver let you down again and again. Why would it be any different this time? “I made it 40 minutes ago, Oliver and I managed to be sober.” You pointed out, narrowing your eyes at him. “D-don’t be mad, baby… I was feeling a little nervous about seeing you and… and I needed a little courage.” His clammy hands cupped your cheeks and you brushed him off swiftly before pushing up from the stool. “Where are you going?”

“Home. I’m not doing this. Clearly, you don’t have the money, probably spent it on your courage.” You tell him, keeping your voice low, not wanting to cause any more of a scene than there already was.

As you go to step past him, his hand finds your wrist, tugging you back shortly and making you jolt back in his direction. “We need to talk-” “You need to let her go…” A firm voice came from behind you. A glance over your shoulder revealed Bucky to be standing there, arms crossed over his chest and frown placed on his lips. “Now… before I break every bone in your hand…” The threat lingered in the air for a moment before Oliver just released your hand and it dropped down to your side.

“I suggest you leave…” Bucky muttered lowly, tugging at his crisp white cuffs and taking a few steps in your direction, standing between the two of you and eyeing Oliver with disgust. “You deaf as well as dumb? Get out.” He scoffed lowly and clumsily stepped past Bucky, knocking over a few chairs in his retreat. “You okay?” Bucky turned back to you slowly then and took your hand, inspecting the evident marks on your wrist from Oliver’s heavy-handedness. “I’m fine.” You hastily tell him, gulping and nodding your head, not wanting to cause any more trouble.

Bucky slipping his hand up your arm to rest on your shoulder. “Come and sit down for a moment…” He urged and you followed his footsteps across the bar towards a small booth, slotting inside and Bucky tucked himself in beside you, raising his arm up and resting it on the back of the seat over your shoulders. From having him in this proximity, the expensive scent of his cologne filled your senses. “You wanna tell me what all that about?”

A heavy huff finds your lips. “We used to date, and I’m still the sucker who willing to do just about anything for him… even dip into my savings to pay his fines when I know that he has no intentions on ever paying me back.” You explained simply and Bucky frowned as he cracked his knuckles slowly. “Sounds like an asshole that needs to leave you alone and let you move on with your life, doll.” “You’re telling me…” You huffed and shook your head.

You lifted your head then and told him sincerely. “Thanks for stepping in… I, uh… I don’t think anyone else was going to bother, so… thank you.” The firm frown on his face tilted upwards into an easy smile then. “It’s not a problem, doll.” He chuckled lowly. “Why don’t I give you a ride home?” He offered and instantly you denied. “Oh, no… no, I couldn’t ask you to do that… I live in Brooklyn and-” “It’s not a problem. You’re not a problem.” He gazed directly into your eyes, then made you smile sweetly and gaze down into your lap for a moment. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m certain.” With that, Bucky paid his tab and, after a small verbal disagreement, paid your tab too. He led you outside, keeping his hand between your shoulder blades and guiding you into the direction of his glossy black Range Rover. He opened the door, and you climbed inside, crossing one leg over the other and watching as he wandered around to the opposite side. “Wanna put your address in there?” He pointed to the fancy looking pad on the dash, which would display direction.

The drive was quiet, but it didn’t feel awkward. No, it was peaceful. Bucky would glance in your direction every couple of moments, one hand resting on the steering wheel whilst the other rested on the gear stick between the two of you. It gave you a chance to observe the intricate tattoos that twisted across his knuckles and hand, deep black swirls of ink that covered almost every inch of skin and wound up and under his crisp white dress shirt.

It didn’t feel like the drive lasted long enough, and as he pulled up outside your apartment, you felt saddened. “Gimme your phone…” He said softly, and you frowned as you passed it over to him. With a great deal of confidence, Bucky put his name and number into your phone before doing the same with his own, after a moment handing it back in your direction. “If you get any more problems from that ex, you give me a call…” Then he smirked and added. “And if you wanna grab a drink sometime…” The offer was left hanging there in the air.

“That would be great…” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “Great…” He replied, taking your hand and drawing it up to his lips to press a searing kiss to your knuckles before releasing your hands. “Sleep well, doll…” “You too, Bucky~” You quipped before climbing from his car and wandering up to your apartment. He didn’t drive away until you were fully in your apartment, truly making sure that you made it home safe after the evening that you’d had.

What kind of luck was this? Two amazing guys turn up at once. Was it right for you to go on dates with them both? You already knew what Wanda would support you play in the field a little and getting yourself out there. It wasn’t like you were dating or committed to them. It wouldn’t hurt either of them… that was how you convinced yourself to truly give them both a chance. It was just some fun, getting back into the dating game after Oliver with two interesting men.

Taglist

@sjoukjelaufeyson @saveyourbucky @airixaram @tardisin221bst @lostyx @valsworldofcreativity @justlovelifeblog @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @founding-fuck-bois

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tastingmellow · 3 years

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After the Rain, Chapter Three

Pressure Drop

Pairing: King!Steve Rogers x Princess!Reader, one sided Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 6.3k

Chapter Summary: Winter was cold.

Chapter warnings: 18+ ONLY. Smut, references to menstruation and fertility issues, angst, a poor understanding of farming on my part.

For series wide warnings, please look at the After the Rain Masterlist. Be warned; there are spoilers in those warnings.

Note: Thank you all for waiting. I appreciate it. I’ve been much busier with work than I anticipated I would be. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this!

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Main Masterlist

Steve Rogers Masterlist

Follow @sweetlyscared-library for updates.

🌼🌼🌼

Steve often sent Sam as an ambassador to other Kingdoms- he was level headed, charismatic, and empathetic. Through him, Steve was able to maintain rather solid foreign relations.

Bucky was often tasked to go with him, though his people skills weren’t quite as good. Steve insisted it was because they made a fine team. Both Bucky and Sam would disagree. Despite that, they’ve formed a strong, if not slightly exhausting, friendship.

A couple months after the wedding, Steve sent them to Velhavende to negotiate border disputes. Tony was amicable enough, and Steve’s relationship with him was solid; he wasn’t expecting there to be any issues. Still, Sam and Bucky remained there for a few months and didn’t return until early autumn.

“Do you think Steve has warmed up to his Queen at all?” Sam asked Bucky as they approached the castle gates, his voice tired from the journey.

“One would hope. I doubt it though. Steve is many things, but stubborn is at the top of that list,” Bucky sighed and Sam chuckled.

Bucky remembered the look on your face when he told you he and Sam were leaving for an extended period of time. You had been Queen for a couple months then, and despite the calm exterior you wore like a mask, you were distraught-- he could tell from the way your eyes went blank for a moment, as though you were carefully crafting your next response. Steve was still rather cold with you, and while most of the courtiers were polite enough, Duchess Amelia and her friends seemed to have it out for you.

The only friends you had made were Darcy, Bucky, and Sam. With two of them gone, it must have been a lonely summer for you.

Bucky shook his head slightly. If only you knew how much the people of Fearann seemed to have taken a shine to you. Shortly after Steve toured you around the city, you sat with Theodore, the head of agriculture in Fearann, and contacted a researcher in Onsil. They met and discussed ways to tend to the land outside the city limits, so they didn’t have to rely so much on trade for food. Though winters were freezing in Fearann, there were a few crops that could survive the cold weather. If they planted them in autumn, they could see if they’d take. Until then, they prepped a small portion of land to experiment, treating it with various fertilizers in the hope that it could be viable.

The need for farm hands created more jobs, and people were happy at the possibility of there being more opportunities for work in the future.

Of course, if the experiment failed, you’d be blamed.

It stressed you out more than you let on, but Bucky could tell.

Steve was no comfort to you.

As they walked through the doors into the main throne room, Steve was there to greet them. With a warm smile, he embraced each of them.

“I see neither of you have killed each other,” he smirked.

“We thought about it,” Sam laughed and Bucky rolled his eyes, though his expression was friendly.

“How are things in Velhavende?” Steve asked.

“I’ll tell you about it in your study,” Sam said before turning to the brunette. “Buck, why don’t you check on the Queen?”

“I’m sure she’s fine. I’d like to catch up with you both,” Steve insisted but Bucky shook his head.

“If I have to spend another moment with this man, I might lose it,” he nodded his head towards Sam who snorted.

It was a good enough reason for Steve, and he failed to notice the slight nod of approval Sam sent Bucky.

🍂🍂🍂

Bucky knew to check the garden first. If you weren’t there, you were usually in your study or at the boarding school in the city.

He walked along the path towards the fountain that stood in the heart of the garden. It was one of your favorite spots. He’d often catch you placing flowers in the water, watching them float away, a happy look on your pretty face. Those moments were the only few times you looked unburdened.

Normally, he could hear you before he saw you. You often hummed when you walked alone, a sweet, unfamiliar tune-- a popular lullaby in Onsil, you told him when he asked.

A few courtiers were enjoying the last summer flowers that lingered before the chill came, but you were nowhere to be found.

He checked your study, and sure enough, you were there, quietly kneeling near a potted fern where you delicately traced the leaves. The entire room was filled with plants, from ivy hanging off shelves on the wall to small trees nestled near the windows where they could absorb the sunlight. Bucky couldn’t help but smile; perhaps you were becoming more comfortable in your new home?

"I see you've redecorated," he said, and you gasped sharply in surprise.

“James! You’re back!” you said and stood up.

That's when he noticed the dress you wore.

Bucky had become accustomed to seeing you in your flowing gowns-- layers of sheer fabric embroidered with nature motifs that hung off your body. You looked ethereal in them, otherworldly. But you weren’t wearing one of those. Instead, you wore a dress that was in the style that was popular in Fearann. The bodice and sleeves were more rigid and structured, and the material was stiffer and covered more of you. Despite that, it seemed like you put your own spin on it regardless. While most women in Fearann preferred darker colors, your dress was a cream color with pink silk flowers sewn onto the fabric.

You didn’t look comfortable.

“I am, yes,” Bucky responded after gathering his thoughts. “It’s been awhile. I see you’ve… the dress is new-- it looks great, though,” he said and inwardly groaned. There were better ways to say that.

“Oh, thank you… I figured I should wear something considered appropriate here,” you kept your voice light but he could hear your unease. “While I try not to pay attention to rumors, some thought I looked… well, inappropriate. Of course, once I had a few new dresses made that fit the style here, people then complained I was wasting money on frivolous expenses,” you sighed, and for a moment, Bucky saw how tired you really looked under the serene expression you crafted and carried so well. “But I suppose there is no winning in politics.”

“You shouldn’t have to change, though,” Bucky said after a moment.

“It’s not too bad. It’ll get colder soon, and I figured my old dresses would have been far less warm,” you tried to downplay your discomfort. “Onsil never got cold, so I don’t really have a winter wardrobe.”

“The castle is heated during the Winter months,” Bucky countered and you looked down slightly. “I apologize. I don’t mean to sound so argumentative. You should feel comfortable here, is all.”

You glanced back up and gave him a tender smile.

“Thank you, James. I appreciate it,” you said.

There was a beat of silence before he had to ask.

“What’s with all the plants?”

He didn’t fail to catch the hint of sorrow in your eyes. Your eyes always gave away your inner thoughts.

“Oh, well, the groundskeeper told me most of the garden dies in the winter. Almost everything gets replanted once the ground thaws. It seems like a waste, so I’ve relocated some of them here.”

“I think this is a fair bit more than ‘some’,” Bucky laughed and you giggled.

“I got a little carried away,” you mused as you looked around.

The room was nearly a greenhouse.

"Is that the only reason?" He pressed, and you nodded, biting your lip. There was more to the story, he could tell.

“But enough about that," you said, brushing off whatever it was you were holding in. "Tell me about Velhavende! How was your trip?”

🍁🍁🍁

Bucky spent the next few hours telling you about what he and Sam had been up to, from dealing with Tony’s ego to nearly starting a war when a misunderstanding between the two of them escalated-- he thought Bucky was involved with the death of his parents but he couldn’t have been. He was fighting in a war alongside Steve when that happened. Pepper was there to break up the shouting match, and the night ended with more wine than was probably necessary.

Steve came in, needing Bucky’s presence for something, and you were alone again.

Still, knowing both Sam and Bucky were back put you in a brighter mood than you’d been for some time.

It wasn’t that Darcy wasn’t good company. She was, and you appreciated her very much.

She was simply your only company.

Most of the courtiers gave you the respect expected of them for their Queen, which also meant a polite distance.

Duchess Amelia and her group of ladies were far less graceful.

They were clever in their cruelty towards you, always making sure not to say anything outright rude. Instead, they dusted their insults in sugar laced with poison. You would have been impressed if you weren’t so wounded.

At one of the high teas you hosted, you had mentioned you liked fruit tarts, and Amelia grinned, her smile like a knife.

“You’d know all about tarts, wouldn’t you?” Amelia said as her eyes raked up your body, focusing on the thin fabric that draped off you. “Oh, I just meant, Onsil has a lot of fruit.”

You simply smiled at her, not wanting to give her the reaction she was looking for.

A lady cannot react, your mother’s voice echoed in your mind.

“Of course, Duchess.”

She’d made remarks before, snidely commenting on the style of dress you wore. No one else seemed to say anything, but you weren’t sure if it was because they felt like they couldn't, given your title.

While the overlaying fabric could be sheer at times, there was always an opaque slip underneath, so you were completely covered where it counted. Though you did show more of your arms and back than the ladies in Fearann.

Still, it weighed heavily enough on you that you asked Steve. Rarely did you speak to him outside of topics pertaining to your farming initiative, but Sam and Bucky had been in Velhavende for a few weeks and you were feeling particularly lonely.

It was a midsummer afternoon. Steve’s study was well lit, and spacious, but his presence still filled the room and suffocated you. He was skimming over the document you gave him-- a detailed plan and breakdown of what you wanted to achieve by next Spring. He said nothing as he read through it.

“It sounds like a good plan” Steve mused after a moment, signing the scroll before handing it back to you. It was probably the nicest thing he’s ever said to you. “I’ll be sure to thank Theodore.”

You realized with mild disappointment that Steve didn’t know you’d lead most of the initiative.

A lady mustn't brag, you heard your mother’s voice again and stayed quiet.

You held the scroll in your hands, where you fidgeted with it slightly. Steve looked up from his desk when he noticed you hadn’t left.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asked.

You bit your lip.

“Is… is what I wear, the type of dresses I wear, are they… indecent?” You managed to get out. Steve tilted his head, his eyes narrowing.

Before he could respond, Clint, one of the generals, interrupted-- the King was needed at the barracks.

You didn’t want to ask again, so you simply had the royal tailor create for you a handful of dresses.

Steve never noticed the change, or if he did, he didn’t say anything.

The new dresses were beautiful, and you knew they still stood out in color and pattern, but you didn’t care. You wanted some of yourself to remain.

You hoped that would be good enough for Amelia to stop her quest at making your life miserable, but you sorely underestimated the extent of her petty cruelty.

You looked around your study, the near hundreds of plants that filled the space.

What you told Bucky wasn’t a complete lie: you did want to keep some of the plants through the winter, if possible. But more than that, Amelia knew you frequented the garden and would often specifically look for you there, if only to make a snide comment or two before walking away with a smug expression on her pinched face.

“Oh how quaint,” she remarked in her saccharine sweet tone when she saw you weaving a few daisies into your hair. “I used to do that-- when I was a child.”

She smiled at you, contempt ever present in her sharp features.

“Though I suppose you miss your home. Here, flowers are more novel-- like a travelling circus.”

You hardly paid attention to whatever she said after. Instead, you felt your heart break. The garden was one of the few places outside the castle where you could enjoy yourself. Amelia frequented the courtyard with the other noble ladies, so you avoided it, which unfortunately meant you had less time to build friendships and connections with others.

One of your few sanctuaries no longer felt safe, so you stopped walking through the garden and ceased to put flowers in your hair.

The next day, you asked the groundskeeper if you could transfer some plants inside.

Part of you knew that by reacting to her comments, it only provoked her to continue, but you didn’t know what else to do. You were taught to be passive, and you didn’t think Steve would care so you never brought it up.

You sighed inwardly. There was no use dwelling on your gilded misfortunes.

It had been a lonely summer, but Sam and Bucky were back. For that, you were grateful.

❄❄❄

Autumn was more of the same-- parsing through the information gathered from your farm experiment, requesting funds from the council, visiting the school, and occasionally laying with Steve at night.

There was one small difference-- Bucky often walked you through the garden. The flowers were gone, but there was still much greenery before the frost came in.

Amelia and her band of harpies were less likely to bother you if Sam or Bucky were around.

Unfortunately, early whispering of some sort of illicit connection between you and Bucky made you decline more of his offers to walk you around the castle.

That was one rumor you didn’t want to spiral.

Winter had arrived sooner than you were expecting.

You haven't experienced snow before, and it amazed you how it could change the entire landscape. It was the exact opposite from Onsil. Onsil was bright, vibrant, and colorful. But winter in Fearann was pure white, like a blank slate. It was beautiful in its own way.

The winter harvest was planted. It was a matter of time before you’d see if there would be fruit of so many labors, or more disappointment.

The garden in your study was thriving, much to your enjoyment. The castle was warm enough, and the room had so many windows, sunlight was plentiful. As much as you disliked Amelia, you were at least grateful she’d compelled you to bring so many plants inside. It wasn’t her intent, of course, but you were looking for anything bright in your world.

A handful of various flowers had even continued to bloom.

You were going to visit the school, so you plucked as many as you could and put them in a basket along with a small potted Pothos. You wanted to give it to Headmistress Penelope, the woman who ran the boarding school.

It was called a school, but it functioned as an orphanage of sorts too. Some of the kids had parents that travelled too much to oversee their education but couldn’t afford a private governess. Some of the children didn’t have family, and had no choice.

You learned from Penelope it was Steve’s idea to make the school, feeling his people needed to be educated and finding out some of the children didn’t have access to that for whatever reason. While you knew he cared about his people, you didn’t know he was that compassionate.

Those were the few moments that lingered where you felt a twinge of sorrow in your heart, where Steve revealed the man you were told he was-- kind, warm, giving-- but never to you.

He wasn’t mean to you, and you almost wished he was. You could handle his hatred had he had any-- he meant he felt something for you. As it stood, you weren’t a consideration at all, which hurt far more.

The children at the school loved you, and you got along with Penelope, so you enjoyed going. Part of you felt guilty because you felt as though you were taking advantage of them, using a typically dower place as a type of sanctuary. But you loved the kids there, and you wanted to see to their needs. Still, guilt was easy to fester in you these days.

Darcy helped you secure a heavy cloak around your shoulders. The outer layer was a type of velvet, blue in color, and the inside was lined with soft fur.

“It must feel like you’re trapped in a kitten avalanche,” she said as she closed the clasp at your neck.

You giggled.

“I don’t think this is kitten fur.”

“Well, it’s soft and fuzzy, so same thing,” she rolled her eyes playfully.

You liked that about her. Like Poppy and Wanda, she wasn’t afraid to treat you like a normal person.

The formalities got tiresome in their empty politeness. Winter was cold enough.

“Which crown do you want to wear?” Darcy asked after the cloak was well secured. “Maybe something a little different today?” She urged, knowing you always defaulted to the gold leaf tiara you wore as a princess.

You had yet to wear any of your queenly crowns.

The one that was commissioned by your parents was a heavy looking thing that didn’t suit you at all. Then there was the one given to you by Steve. It truly was beautiful, and you admired the delicate skill and artistry it took to create it.

Where Onsil was rich in fertile land, Fearann Briste had ore and craftsmen. There was nowhere in the world that created finer jewelry.

But you didn’t have it in you to wear it.

You didn’t feel like a queen.

“Just the usual one,” you told Darcy, and she sighed as she glanced at the delicate crown Steve gave you.

“It would look quite beautiful on your head. The one with the moon, that is. The other one is kind of ugly,” she said under her breath as she gestured to the crown your parents gifted you. “No offense.”

You laughed.

“None taken. It’s… it’s not very me, is it?”

“It’s not very… anyone,” she exclaimed and you smiled at her.

She didn’t press the issue any more and placed the tiara on your head.

“Beautiful!” She beamed at you.

❄❄❄

Some of the younger kids were already playing outside when the carriage arrived, and they immediately ran towards you as a footman helped you out.

“Hello,” you laughed as they all but swarmed you, each of them telling you different stories at the same time-- updates since the last time you were there, adventures they had gone on, gossip.

You were relieved to see they were wearing their winter coats. You had them made for them when you were told not all the kids had warm clothes. Penelope was grateful. She’d requested more funding, but Steve had thousands of requests and it was difficult for him to see to every single one of them.

“Children, let the Queen breathe,” Penelope shouted, and they immediately stepped aside. She was kind and doting, but she could sense mischief from a mile away, which made the kids fall easily in line with her.

“Thank you, Penelope,” you said as you walked down the path, basket of flowers in hand.

Prior to your visits, many of the kids hadn’t seen flowers as vibrant as the ones you brought. An occasional weed would grow between cracks in the ground, but nothing like the flowers that came from the castle garden. You had them in your hair the first time you visited the school. Since then, the kids had been fascinated with them, and so you brought them frequently.

“How are there flowers in the snow?” one of the girls asked as you placed the basket on a countertop.

“I brought a few inside, so they could keep growing,” you told her and the kids gathered around. “I should have enough for most of you-”

Before you could finish, most of the girls squealed and formed a line.

“I apologize if I run out before I can get to everyone,” you murmured.

Penelope gave you a stool, and you sat down, the fabric of your dress pooling around you. One by one, you weaved the assortment of flowers through the childrens’ hair while they talked to you-- Brie hated math, Matilda liked Danny but you can’t tell anyone, Paul got into a fight with Henry because Henry insulted Paul’s mother-- at least, according to Paul.

The kids who hadn’t lined up groaned, bored, and asked where Bucky or Sam were. They’d occasionally accompany you and would regale the kids with toned down war stories.

You didn’t mind the kids’ vocal disappointment, though Penelope chided them-- flowers weren’t for everyone and you felt bad you didn’t have something for all of them.

You expressed that before, and Penelope told you your presence was enough. It warmed your heart.

You sighed, “I’m afraid they-”

“Sam’s off doing God knows what, but I’m here,” a voice called from the doorway. Bucky stood there, a bright smile on his face.

The kids ran towards him but stopped when Steve stepped out from behind him.

A hush fell over the room.

“Do we curtsy?” Nora asked before she did it anyway, many of the girls following her lead, with some of the boys bowing.

“We don’t bow for the Queen,” Thomas responded.

“We did at first, but she’s our friend now,” Brie whispered.

You couldn’t help but smile.

“There’s no need to bow,” Steve said kindly, and the kids relaxed.

You weren’t sure why Steve was there, but you didn’t have room to ask when Bucky gathered the kids for a story.

They sat, enthralled, as he described a battle with a group of renegade bandits called Hydra. Steve would sometimes take over, and you were surprised at how good he was at storytelling.

You saw that version of him again, the one he never was for you. There was warmth in his features, a softness in his voice that felt almost soothing.

Perhaps months ago, you would have felt bad, but it hardly registered to you anymore.

❄❄❄

You handed Penelope the pothos, so the kids had something green to look at throughout the winter.

“I don’t know I’ll be able to keep it alive, but I’ll certainly try,” she smiled and hugged you before you left.

Steve and Bucky left a little before you. Bucky offered to stay and escort you back, something Steve should have done, but you declined. You’d learned to be lonely, and quite liked the quiet solitude in the carriage on the way back to the castle-- you didn’t have to pretend to be happy when you were alone.

❄❄❄

Steve saw you leave with a basket of flowers in hand.

He’d seen the greenhouse you’d turned your study into and was rather impressed you managed to grow flowers in the Winter.

You looked warm in the heavy cloak you wore-- he wasn’t sure when you had gotten that, and he probably should have warned you just how cold Fearann could get. You knew, of course, but there was much he should have told you anyway, if only out of courtesy.

“Where is she going?” Steve asked Bucky as they watched you climb into the carriage.

“Penelope’s school,” Bucky said. “She goes there at least once a week.”

Steve wasn’t aware of that.

“Are they in need of anything?” Steve was fairly on top of how the city fared, and he knew the boarding school was usually funded enough, though it’d been awhile since he last reviewed them.

“Some of the kids needed coats, but she had some sent over-- she just likes going.”

“Why?” He was genuinely curious. It wasn’t common for nobility to interact with the common folk, at least, not in Fearann.

“She likes the kids,” Bucky said before sighing. “And she probably feels wanted there.”

Steve stayed quiet.

He knew he hadn’t been kind to you. He wasn’t cruel either, though when he thought about it, there was a sort of cruelty in his indifference.

Truth was, he spent so much time mourning the life he could have had, he hardly noticed you, even during the nights he asked you to come to his chambers.

It wasn’t until the farmland you were experimenting on actually yielded a crop of winter-hearty greens that he really noticed you.

At first, he congratulated Theodore, but the head of Agriculture informed him it was you who organized most of the experiment.

You may not have concocted the fertilizer that helped stabilized the land, but you still oversaw the initiative.

He wasn’t expecting you to be so… involved with his Kingdom or his people. He was expecting you to be more passive, a pretty face the Kingdom could gawk at.

There were times he wanted to get to know you more, but he didn’t know how to go about that. He’d try to ask you about your day, but whenever he’d start, he’d see your distant expression as you glanced at him to continue and would back out and simply ask about the farm instead-- you were polite with him, but nothing more, and he didn’t blame you.

He didn’t know how to close the gap he made. The way he treated you became so much of a pattern, he wasn’t sure how to stop it.

How do you tell your wife of nearly nine months you’re finally ready to get to know her? He often thought.

“I want to follow her,” Steve said and Bucky eyed him.

“Why?”

“I want to see.”

Steve didn’t know what to expect, but of all the things he could have imagined, seeing you sitting on a humble wooden stool while you placed flowers in the school children’s hair hadn’t even come to mind.

Many of the nobles turned their noses at the commoners. The thought of touching one of them was vile. It was an old sentiment, back when his father was King and cared little for his people, and most of the nobility followed suit. Since Steve took over, he wanted to focus on what he already had, not take more. He wanted his people to thrive.

When Bucky made his presence known, you looked so happy to see him. It was so unlike the rehearsed politeness you gave Steve. But that joy faded when you noticed he was also there.

He felt his stomach drop so slightly.

🥀🥀🥀

It had been months, and despite laying with Steve a couple times a week, you still hadn’t gotten pregnant.

Courtiers whispered, and Amelia would pointedly stare at your stomach when you crossed paths with her.

Is she barren?

Are she and King not intimate?

Why would he? She's so frigid.

He loves Margaret, after all.

The gossip was becoming overwhelming.

While you knew most of it was idle chatter and you ignored it, you did learn one bit of information. The woman Steve was staring at the day of your wedding was named Margaret Carter. She was rather popular in court before she married a Duke and moved far away.

Steve was in love with her and had been since he was a teenager. You understood why he despised you so much.

He was forced to marry you instead of the one he loved.

You couldn’t imagine how that must feel-- you never loved anyone in that way. For that, you were grateful. It meant your heart couldn’t break in that way.

Still, the rumors made your heart race, and you found yourself having more frequent panicked spells. Darcy had learned how to get you out of them, and you begged her to not tell anyone it happens, not wanting more ridicule sent your way.

“I never would, my Queen,” she said one summer morning as she rubbed your back after finding you huddled near your bed where you tried to ground yourself. You saw blood between your thighs, indicating the start of your cycle-- you weren’t pregnant and it had been a couple of months into your marriage at that point. She coaxed you back to a steady breath and stayed with you the rest of the day.

Winter was coming to an end, and while Steve hadn’t mentioned anything regarding your lack of heir, you spoke with Dr. Banner, the court physician.

“Stress can cause your bleeding cycle to be unpredictable, making it harder to conceive. You must take it easy, your Majesty,” he said softly while he listened to your heart. “Our people are so grateful for all you’ve done to help our kingdom, but you must take care of yourself first.”

“That’s what I keep telling her!” Darcy exclaimed, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Very wise, Miss Lewis,” Dr. Banner laughed. “I’m glad she has you to keep an eye on her.”

You were too.

“There’s nothing else wrong with me?” you asked him and he shook his head.

“Not from what I can tell. Stress can make these things harder,” he explained. “Try to relax, though I know that’s far easier said than done.”

🥀🥀🥀

You had long since gotten used to the walk to Steve’s chambers whenever he requested your company at night.

It was routine, though the added layer of your lack of pregnancy made the walk more dreaded as of late.

You’ve done this many times before, you told yourself, steeling your nerves.

You’d knock, he’d tell you to enter. You’d lay on the bed and he’d shove himself inside you and thrust for a few minutes before spilling.

Dr. Banner suggested you continue to lay down for a few moments after, to help with conception. So you did while Steve ignored you, and then you’d leave.

So you were expecting more of the same when he beckoned you inside.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the dark stone floor.

As you walked towards the bed, Steve stopped you, his hand gently grabbing your arm, and you glanced at him, brows furrowed.

“Is there something wrong?” You asked.

He gingerly moved you so you stood in front of him.

“It has been brought to my attention… that perhaps if you were to enjoy yourself during the act, it might help with…” Steve mumbled, and you could see the pink flush on his cheeks, even in the low light of the room.

“I’m… not sure…” You didn’t know how to enjoy yourself in the act.

“Just… let me,” Steve whispered as his hands ran up your sides-- you nearly forgot how to breathe. They moved to your back where he tugged the satin ribbon behind your neck that held your gown together. As the ribbon slipped undone, your nightgown cascaded down your body and you gasped, trying to cover yourself.

Before you could, Steve pulled you into his lap so your knees straddled his thighs, and you felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

Despite how often he’d been inside you, you had yet to be completely nude in front of him.

“Steve…” you whimpered, but quickly went quiet when you felt his fingers brush your sex.

He’d touched you there before, to prep your channel for his cock, but he never lingered, not like he was doing now.

The rough pad of his thumb brushed against the little bud at the apex of your folds and you keened.

You touched yourself there a few times, knowing it was meant to feel good, but you’d never brought yourself to climax. The feeling became too intense, and so you stopped before you could.

Steve gave you no such mercy, fingers dancing across your clit in different patterns, finding what made you squirm the most.

Tighter and tighter you felt your core clench.

“Steve,” you gasped, the feeling becoming too much, well past the point where you’d have stopped your own hand.

And then he pushed two fingers inside you and you moaned, far too lost in the feeling to be embarrassed by the wanton sounds you made.

Your nails dug into his shoulder where you held onto him until finally, that band that was pulled in so tight within you snapped, and you felt a release unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

You felt your inner walls flutter around his fingers in waves, and you let out a tense moan as the feeling washed over you.

Steve only stopped his ministrations on your clit when you pushed his hand away when the sensation became nearly painful.

“What…” You looked at him, your eyes dazed. The blue in his irises were gone, leaving them nearly black in lust. Your breath wavered under the intensity of his gaze.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, lust and confusion molding together into something unknown.

He leaned forward a bit and you backed away, unsure what he was doing. He swallowed and shook his head slightly.

“On your stomach,” he rasped as he moved you out of his lap and onto the bed.

You were confused. You’d only ever laid on your back so he had easier access to you. Still, you did as he asked.

He lifted your hips so you were on your knees, and you pushed yourself up so you were on all fours.

You couldn’t help but feel humiliated, knowing he could see so much of you from that angle.

“Steve?” You asked hesitantly before you looked over your shoulder.

Before you could meet his eye, you felt the blunt head of his cock prod your entrance before he thrust into you quickly.

You yelped, not expecting the intrusion so soon.

Vaguely, you noted he didn’t need to use the oil-- you had grown slick enough on your own for the first time.

You hardly had time to contemplate that due to the sensation that exploded within you as he moved, his cock running over a spot within you that made you see stars.

It was a different feeling than what he had just done with his fingers. It felt deeper, more steady but equally as intense.

You felt that band within you tighten once more, and you gripped the bedsheets, fisting them tightly.

You gasped when you felt his hand leave your hip only to cup a breast, his fingers rolling a nipple to a stiff peak. You moaned a little and he repeated the action.

“I’m close,” he grunted and you nodded, knowing what to expect.

Soon, his thrusts became erratic and you felt the first flood of his spend filling your cunt.

You were close to another release, he could tell. His hand left your breast and harshly rubbed at your clit once more.

It didn’t take much for that band to snap once more, and your pussy clenched around his cock in rhythmic waves, pulling another moan from you.

“Fuck,” Steve groaned at the feeling of your cunt somehow becoming even tighter as the last of his cum pumped into you.

Slowly, he lowered you so you were flat on your stomach, making sure not to crush you by holding himself up on his elbows, which were planted near your shoulders. His softening cock stayed inside you for a moment, to keep his spend in you a little longer.

He heard your breath settle, and he felt his cock twitch-- he could take you again, and he nearly wanted to, but he also knew you were likely exhausted.

So he pulled his cock free from you, and you both sighed at the feeling.

He kneeled behind you, admiring the way your ass looked. Your slick and his cum were smeared along the soft skin of your thighs, and it unlocked something primal in him-- he nearly growled at the sight.

You had a beautiful body, he noted, regretting he hadn’t enjoyed you sooner. Another thing to add to his list of growing regrets.

Quietly, you got up and without looking at him, slipped your nightgown back on before leaving without another word.

It felt so surreal to Steve that he hadn’t truly understood what happened until you shut the door.

He wasn’t expecting you to stay, not after he let you walk away from him so many times without another glance. But somehow, your departure didn’t settle well within him that night.

🥀🥀🥀

You collapsed on your bed, your mind racing.

Now you understood why some of the ladies of the court would giggle about their nightly escapades-- it was supposed to feel like that.

But despite how good it felt physically, you’d never felt more empty.

The sex was passionate and intense. You felt a wave of arousal flow through you, recalling the feeling of his fingers on your bud, his cock in your slick cunt. Yet, there was no intimacy in the act, no emotion. He couldn’t even be bothered to look you in the eye while he brought you over the edge, instead turning you away from him completely.

Worse, you slowly realized Steve was capable of pleasing you all along and chose not to.

Somehow, you felt even more empty than you did on your wedding night.

🥀🥀🥀

Note: Was that too rushed? I feel like I rushed through a lot of things. This ended up being a lot more boring than I was hoping but there's smut??

Anyway, that was chapter 3!

Here are examples of the dresses I used to reference the different styles of fashion between Fearann and Onsil.

This is what the fashion in Fearann Briste looks like. It’s more or less 18th century inspired, typically in darker colors.

This is what the Reader wears-- more modern looking with nature motifs. Onsil is warmer, so this isn’t seen as scandalous there. I know for one of these pictures, you can see the model’s nipples, but just pretend that part of the dress is opaque.

Lastly, these are the dresses the Reader wore after Amelia shamed her. They’re the same style style as the fashion used for Fearann Briste, but in lighter colors.

As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated! Thank you for reading!

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