[chipotleburritobowl]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ₊˚ ⋅ ۶ৎ ‎ ‎ — "I'M IN FRONT OF YOU, I'M EVERYDAY"

lia , nineteen , her , amateur writer , mdni — lowercase intended , no use of yn , average joe keery + kubzscouts enthusiast

recent : no mercy , pinefall valley

ㅤㅤ₊˚ ⋅ ۶ৎ block #i love chipotle if u want me to stfu

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ xx writing tag : #lia loves chipotle

@ chipotleburritobowl. do not steal i will scissor you

[chipotleburritobowl]

hi!! u guys might not be wondering where i’ve been but i’ll tell u guys anyway because :P

i’ve been working on my commissions a lot more so as i’m done with my current queue, i’ll get back into writing because i’ve been itching to do so … see u guys until then!

[chipotleburritobowl]

When are u gonna post “Sleep with the lights on”? Can u recommend me some dark!bucky fics??

have a great day 🩶

hii!! i’m so sorry but i don’t know too many dark!bucky fics😭 it’s exactly the reason why i’m writing sleep with the lights on so i’m so sorry i’m not of much help

and as soon as i think of a better, not corny title and a better ending, i’ll post it as soon as i’m done xx

[chipotleburritobowl]

here's a flower to show my appreciation to you for being such a wonderful person🌹i hope you're enjoying your day! send this to 10 other bloggers to add some positivity to their inbox

BBY TYSM FOR THE FLOWER!! no way THE slutdier was in my inbox no frickin way

[chipotleburritobowl]

here's a flower to show my appreciation to you for being such a wonderful person🌹i hope you're enjoying your day! send this to 10 other bloggers to add some positivity to their inbox

LEXXAAA ILYSM !! ik i’m not too active here that much anymore but know that i check your blog whenever i am!!!

[midniqhtt]

BUCKY BARNES RECS 7 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

" The 107th. Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow. "

please support your writers! reblogs and comments are appreciated

ᝰ.ᐟkey: A- angst I F- fluff I S- smut I C- comfort I ~S- implied smut I H/C -comfort I 04/22/26 I gif - @/ransomflanagan

꒰ masterlist ꒱ ꒰ marvel ꒱ ꒰ one I two I three I four I five I six ꒱

handful ── @tw1sters I H/C

Your infatuation with one firefighter brings you to the station every day. That is, until you hear him call you a handful.

consolation ── @/tw1sters I H/C

A memory from Bucky's past cracks open your confidence in his love for you. With your heart on the line, Bucky has to convince you that his belongs to you.

already yours ── @/tw1sters I H/C + S

Getting cheated on mere weeks away from the holidays has you fleeing to your parents' holiday house upstate. What you don't expect is to find and fall for the groundskeeper there who seems to know more about you than you might think.

we’re not really strangers ── @/tw1sters I H/C

Three levels. Two people. One night. You and Bucky learn a little bit more than anticipated about each other from a simple card game.

so, this is love? pt2 ── @superbassbuck I H/C + S

The Prince of Brooklynne is hosting a grand ball to find a future princess. But when you secretly slip away from your chores to attend, it isn't the Prince’s heart you capture—it’s his father’s, King Barnes.

table for two one ── @/superbassbuck I A + C

One arranged marriage, one homemade dinner, two cold plates... and a husband who showed up three hours late, drunk, and heartless.

grade-a pain in my ass pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 pt8 pt9 pt10 pt11 pt12 pt13 ── @/superbassbuck I F + A + S

Bucky Barnes is a single dad who doesn’t do love. He’s got everything he needs: a steady job, cozy home, and his whole life wrapped up in one little girl, his daughter Rebecca. No complications, and absolutely no room for romance. After a rude and not-so-pleasant first encounter, he finds out you're the elementary school teacher of Rebecca's class. He would make it his mission to avoid you at all costs and to absolutely not fall in love with you. How could he? Especially since you're a grade-A pain in his ass.

anesthesia haze ── @w1nter-fairy I F

After waking up from surgery still under anesthesia, you meet a ridiculously pretty stranger who claims to be your boyfriend. Convinced he's too perfect to be real, you spend the next hour flirting with him.

don’t play with love potions ── @witchywithwhiskey I S

bucky barnes barges into your workshop while you're brewing a love potion and when you're startled into spilling it, the containment protocols in new avengers tower are triggered—trapping you in with the super-soldier and a whole lotta love potion.

perfect partner ── @helaintoloki I F

Bucky has loved you for as long as he’s known you, but he’s not willing to risk your friendship by telling you that. thankfully, you take matters into your own hands

back to the old house ── @/helaintoloki I H/C + S

Bucky finds out he has a teenage daughter he never knew about because Hydra took him before he could find out. He reconnects with her later in life and tries to be a dad. The daughter might even try to get him and her mom (the reader, his ex-gf) back together!

black sheep ── @aquaticmercy I A + F

The Winter Soldier fell in love with his doctor. Bucky Barnes remembers.

flight risk ── @wkemeup I H/C

Bucky becomes a flight risk after a failed mission and is put in lockup under Steve’s orders. Even though Bucky won’t say a word of what happened, you camp outside the door to his cell so he knows he isn’t alone.

pinefall valley ── @chipotleburritobowl I H/C + S

heavy with the weight of a job you never had any passion for, you decided to open the envelope your grandfather gave you after shoving it in your office drawer for years. suddenly, you’re living in a small obscure town in the middle of nowhere getting more than what you signed up for.

[chipotleburritobowl]

TY FOR INCLUDING ME!! xxxxxxx

[winteryn]

MY WIFE

18+ | MDNI

PAIRING: ceo!bucky barnes x wife!reader SUMMARY: three times in which the new intern tries to impress her hot, grumpy boss, mr. barnes. or, three times in which bucky can’t stop talking about his lovely wife.  WARNINGS: use of third person & second person & pov changes (she/her pronouns for reader); pictures don't reflect reader's appearance; reader wears a dress; original character (I’m so sorry if your name is madison 🥲); ceo!bucky (who is a little mean, tbh); whipped!bucky (he’s pathetically obsessed); pregnancy stuff (trying for a baby); fluff; smut; daddy & mommy kink; one (1) use of ‘slut’; mention of cockwarming; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls); breeding kink; office sex (so... kind of public sex?). WORD COUNT: 6k A/N: I had so much fun writing this one-shot at the time and re-reading it put me in such a good mood, ngl. hope you’ll enjoy!

The little ding from an elevator has never felt so ominous. Wanda, Darcy and Carol scurry away like thieves from a crime scene, abandoning their morning gossip by the copier. Scott almost drops his freshly brewed coffee, fatigue instantly melting off his features and shoulders tensing up, while Monica throws her phone in her bag, pretending she’s been working all along on an already strategically open Excel sheet.

Once the elevator doors part, the whole floor falls into a silent distress. Mr. Barnes steps out with the same expression he wears every single morning: lips pressed in a thin line, jaw clenched, and a faint, permanent scowl, as if the world had already disappointed him the moment he woke up. 

His suit is always impeccably ironed, not a single crease on his white, crisp shirt. His cologne—Tom Ford’s Beau de Jour—is never too strong, but it lingers in the air like a constant reminder of his authority. As far as his employees can remember, his left wrist has never been bare: a prized watch, very simple yet tasteful, that can’t strangely be associated with any expensive brand, rests there. He’s very protective of it, and nobody has ever dared to comment on its simplicity, especially after an unpleasant episode involving one of the company's previous clients, Mr. Pierce.

The older man attempted to touch it with a grimace, as a joke, he kept insisting after. Nobody ever believed Mr. Barnes’ blue eyes could turn even icier. His voice was tinted with a subtle growl as he intimated the man to get his filthy hands off his watch. Scott almost fainted when he noticed Mr. Wilson tightly press his lips together to avoid bursting out laughing.

Needless to say, Mr. Pierce’s company lost all its deals with Barnes Investments.

Mr. Barnes walks with purpose, the same black coat gently swaying with every clipped step and tie mathematically aligned. He doesn’t even glance at his visibly fidgety employees, his blue eyes hidden behind a pair of Ami Paris black sunglasses that he only removes once he enters his office, strategically located at the very end of the open space. 

He also doesn’t greet anyone. His presence alone is a daily roll call.

The CEO doesn’t talk much in general—not unless he absolutely has to. But when he does, one either ends up walking away with a quiet pride burning in their chest, or crying and shaking in the restroom. His words are sharp and efficient. A simple “fix this” could ruin an entire afternoon. A “this is unacceptable”, a week.

The worst thing is that he doesn’t even need to raise his voice, because his perpetual glacial calm is enough to make a grown man in his fifties tremble like a fawn taking its first steps. His disappointed silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic tapping of his pen against the sleek desk, could send any adult into an existential crisis.

He doesn’t even need to walk past the desks to know what happens inside his company. Every attempt to impress him is ignored without mercy and humor is met with a slow blink, as if it were a personal insult to his entire bloodline.

Somewhere along the way, the office collectively settled on calling him Mr. Tightass behind his back. Despite that, the CEO puts equal attention in rewarding and commending his employees when credit is due. It still feels like talking with someone who has been constipated for a month, but coming from the strict boss himself, the praise is always very welcomed.

Every morning, he follows the same meticulous routine: he checks his schedule with his trusted assistant, Natasha; retreats into his office to scan the reports left on his desk, flagging all the things he disapproves of, and then closes the door behind him with a resounding bang that feels like an order to not be disturbed.

He is habit wrapped in a suit and polished shoes; an ongoing source of heart palpitations for the entire staff.

This is the environment Madison Carrell, freshly graduated from NYU, walks into two days later, with a smug smile and pink high heels, blissfully unaware of what lies ahead.

Wanda is the one designated to show her the ropes, and Madison’s first day unfolds in a tour of the office—from the rows of desks lining the wooden floor to the large glass-walled meeting room. They pause briefly in the break room, where the analyst takes her time explaining how the kitchenette works. That’s when a dull knock on the open door interrupts their conversation. There, Mr. Barnes slightly leans forward, eyeing Wanda with his usual blank expression.

“I need the volatility report yesterday, Miss Maximoff.” 

“Yes, sir. I apologize. I’ll bring it to your office right now—” He raises a palm, stopping her nervous rambling.

“No need, leave it to Natasha and she’ll bring it to me.” Mr. Barnes has already turned away when she remembers the girl beside her.

“Um s—sir, this is one of the new interns, Madison Carrell.” His head turns enough to marginally eye the girl, giving her a curt nod before he’s returning to his cavern.

“Was that… James Barnes?” Wanda’s eyes flit on the intern, grimacing at her wide, sparkling eyes.

“Yeah, that’s him. A real gentleman, as you can see.” She rolls her eyes, stealing a handful of cereal from the glass jar.

Madison quietly gasps, patting her skirt as if to ensure she looks presentable. “I didn’t think I would meet him today. I’ve been a fan ever since he was invited to speak at a conference at my university two years ago.”

Wanda blinks once, one eyebrow raising skeptically. “A fan?”

“Of course!” The blonde wheezes. “He’s a brilliant, successful man who has built this company with his own blood, sweat and tears from the ground up. You should be grateful he even glances your way.” She stares at the vacant spot previously occupied by the CEO, trying to fruitlessly contain a grin. “And he's very handsome.” 

“You know he’s married, right?” Madison’s head snaps toward the analyst, her smile suddenly replaced by a scowl.

“What?”

It’s impossible. She knows his Wikipedia page by heart and there isn't a single mention of a marriage, nor of his personal life in general.

“Yeah, and also very much in love with his wife.” The older woman nods, quite amused. Now she almost regrets telling her, nothing exciting ever happens in this office, after all.

Madison’s mouth curves up, looking almost sympathetic. “Oh Wanda,” the analyst's eyes narrow on the intern patting her forearm condescendingly. “Everything ends. Even marriages.”

The analyst simply smirks knowingly, already walking to the door. “Mh, if you say so.” She then eyes the blonde, nodding towards the open space. “C’mon, I’ll show you your desk. It’s right next to mine and Darcy’s.”

The break room is unusually quiet for a mid-morning. Madison stands by the kitchenette, pretending to tidy up a stack of colorful mugs while her ear is tuned to the hallway. 

“Move Stark’s call to Wednesday, and if he complains, remind him we received an equally convincing offer from Williams Enterprise.” The moment Mr. Barnes’ deep, commanding voice thunders in the hallway, she straightens, a toothy smile brightening her face as his measured footsteps get louder and louder, until he crosses the threshold of the break room.

He steps inside, heading straight for the coffee machine with his red ceramic cup in hand—it’s his third refill already. He presses the button, then crosses his arms with a rigid posture, his left foot tapping rhythmically. Impatiently.

Madison takes a second to adjust her locks, before she turns toward the man. “Good morning, Mr. Barnes!”  

He gives her a brief glance, nothing more than a flicker of acknowledgement, and a curt nod, before returning his frown to the humming appliance.

She clears her throat, refusing to let his disregard deter her. “I, um… I baked something. Thought I’d bring some in for the team.”

Mr. Barnes looks bored at this point, still not moving his icy eyes from the cup. 

She swallows. “They’re chocolate chip cookies, fresh from this morning. I figured you might like to try one.” As the CEO turns with his steaming coffee in hand, he almost bumps into the extended tray of sweets. He grunts, clearly annoyed at this intern’s insistence, and in that exact moment, his wife’s words echo sweetly through his mind.

“They’re your employees, Jamie. Just… Try to be a little nicer?”

With a sigh, Mr. Barnes places the cup back on the counter, before taking a cookie under Madison’s hopeful eyes. But her enthusiasm is abruptly torn to shreds as she watches him break the tiniest piece off, almost a crumb, then taste it with the air of someone challenged to eat concrete for money.

A low hum escapes him, thoughtful. He eyes the rest of the cookie distracted as he starts mumbling. 

“I wonder if my wife will bake cookies, she already made a pie two days ago.” 

Madison blinks. Why does he need his wife’s cookies? She's literally in front of him right now, with a tray full of them that she specifically baked just for him! Does he know how hard it was to keep the team away from them, then look for a good hiding place in the break room so they would go unnoticed? She had to wait here for hours, pretending to clean and look for random stuff every time a passing co-worker eyed her with suspicion.

Madison forces a chuckle, an idea quickly forming in her mind to not let the conversation die. “What kind of pie?”

His fingers lightly scratch the stubble on his chin, still pensive. “Apple. It’s my favorite.”

Her eyes lit up. “I make a mean apple pie! Next time I can—” 

“It was excellent. The crust was neither too flaky nor too hard. And the flavors were perfectly balanced.” He shakes his head, still impressed. Madison winces as he literally cuts her off, but by the hazy look in his eyes, she doubts he even noticed her talking at all. “She’s a baker, so she knows her deal. Always testing new recipes on me.”

Is he pouting? 

“I finished the whole thing in two days.” 

Madison stands there frozen, the paper tray cradled awkwardly in her hands as she watches Mr. Barnes swiftly set the cookie down on the counter. 

“I need to text her.” He murmurs, not even glancing at his cup as he moves hastily toward the door. “Tell her to make another one for tonight.”

And just like that, he disappears, leaving the untouched tray and Madison’s crushed expectations behind.

It’s not until Scott pokes his head in that her vacant stare finally moves. “Can we eat them now?”

Alright, so the first attempt to impress her boss didn’t go as well as she predicted. That’s okay! Madison wasn’t elected student body president by throwing the towel at the first obstacle.

The next occasion presents itself the following week. Wanda was tasked with drafting a counter proposal to Mr. Stark’s new project, which meant Madison could not only be present during the presentation, but also outline a section of the submission and prove to Mr. Barnes she deserves her place there—someone who belongs in his professional world, beside him, not a lowly baker.

Right now, they are on a small break after four boring hours spent discussing the billionaire’s proposal. From her peripheral vision, Madison catches Mr. Barnes coming back in the room, along with Mr. Wilson, Mr. Rogers and Mr. Stark. Her chest slightly puffs out, finally ready to spring into action.

“So I told him I didn’t give a fuck about fishing, and then he spent all night crying over his ex-wife—”

“Ask me about my lunch.” Monica balks at Madison, tilting her head.

“Excuse me?”

“Ask me about my lunch. Ask me where I bought those nice tomatoes!” She whispers, leaning sideways against the long table. Monica stares at her appalled, until their boss’ booming voice reaches her ears and her eyes roll to the sky. Of course it’s one of the new intern’s weird plans to catch Mr. Barnes’ attention. She can't believe Madison is still at it after ‘The Cookie Failure’, as Scott named it. 

“Where did you find those nice tomatoes?” She mutters reluctantly.

“Louder.”

“Where did you find those nice tomatoes?” Her yell attracts the attention of the four men and other nearby employees minding their own business.

Madison gives her a little coquettish giggle. “You mean the ones in the salad I had for lunch? Of course I grow them in my garden!”

Last week, Mr. Wilson teased Mr. Barnes about his prettily packed lunch—no, she was not eavesdropping... She just happened to be walking past his office at the exact moment highly confidential conversations have the bad habit of being perfectly audible. At some point, he mentioned that the lettuce came straight from his garden, so she concluded he must have a green thumb. 

Of course she didn't have the time, nor the patience, to grow fucking vegetables. No one would ever be able to tell the difference between store-bought tomatoes and homegrown ones, anyway.

Tomatoes were tomatoes. The internet agreed.

“My wife has a beautiful garden.” 

Madison goes still.

“Does she now?” Mr. Stark amusedly teases him.

She doesn’t blink for a moment, like her brain has briefly stopped accepting information.

“Last year she grew tomatoes so perfect the neighbors thought they were made of wax.” He pats the pocket of his black pants. “Hold on, I have pictures.” And everyone gathers around him. Like bees around a flower. Even Monica! 

“Look at the color! It’s incredible.” A few murmurs of agreement ripple through the room, no doubt praising her and her damn tomatoes.

“And these are her cucumbers. And her lettuce. And—oh, here she is mulching. She didn’t know I was there.” Madison almost has an aneurysm as a faint, unguarded smile appears on his lips. “She’s so lovely.”

Coughing, Madison raises her voice in a pathetic last attempt. “I, uh… planted some basil.”

And without missing a beat, Mr. Barnes destroys her while still swiping through the pictures. 

“My wife grows five varieties of basil.”

Then, he stops short, his finger hovering over the screen as his lips press together to hide a grin. That's when Mr. Rogers clears his throat, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. His head jerks up, blinking as if he just woke up from a dream. 

“Alright.” His frown returns. “Break’s over. Miss Maximoff, it’s your turn.”

“Shit.” Madison whispers, squeezing her eyes shut. She was so focused on looking up gardening tips these past few days that she completely forgot she also had to help Wanda present her counter proposal. Which entails talking in front of an entire board of stakeholders about things she only read in her university books. 

Suddenly, those stupid tomatoes feel like they’re crawling back up her esophagus, and a cold sweat breaks across her skin. She makes it to the massive presentation screen on unsteady legs, her hands shaking so badly she can barely grip the clicker. Behind her, Mr. Barnes stands and starts walking toward them, while the rest of the table settles back into their seats.

“Maximoff, I read the counter proposal last night. Good job. The section about forecasted performance—”

Madison perks up. “I drafted that section—”

“My wife caught five mistakes there. Be careful.” He concludes, not sparing her a single glance as he turns to make his way back to the head of the table. Still, she catches his breathy comment.

“Such a brilliant woman.”

Her fiasco at Mr. Stark’s deal sets Madison back a few steps. Well, did she even move forward at all? After a week of reflection—mostly spent on TikTok tutorials about “what men like in a woman”, a suspicious amount of “CEO mindset” content and questionable productivity hacks she saved at 2 a.m.—the intern decides to take a new approach.

It’s Friday when Madison plans to stay back at the office, knowing Mr. Barnes always finishes late on Fridays. He doesn’t like being bothered over the weekend, so he ensures everything is done before he leaves.

Silence settles heavily over the building once the team leaves, making it easy to catch the rustle of papers and the faint creak of his chair around nine, signaling he’s finally done. Her coat is already on as she stands near her desk, deliberately checking her bag as if making sure she hasn’t forgotten anything. When he finally opens the door, she lets out an exaggerated sigh, lifting her eyes and putting on her best expression of surprise.

“Mr. Barnes! I didn’t think there was anyone left at this hour.” The man stops abruptly in his quick advance toward the elevator, turning to face her. “I had to finish a few things for Wanda and I didn’t notice the time. I’m just so happy to be here time kind of disappears when you get into it. You surely get that, right?”

He stares at her, deadpan. “Who are you, again?”

Her eyes bulge out. “I—” She gapes. “Madison Carrell! The new intern!” She rushes out, bordering on a shriek.

“Right.” He mutters, resuming his steps as she quickly jogs to reach him. “No, I actually don't get that. If it were for me, I would stay at home, or help my wife run her bakery.” After pressing the button to call the elevator, he stares ahead, still looking so put together after twelve hours of work.  

James Buchanan Barnes—one of the richest, most hard-working people in the whole continent, two-time #1 on Forbes’ Top 100 CEO, and major partner at Stark Industries—longs to be a househusband just so he can stay with his wife? And run a fucking bakery?

“She’s always telling me I need to come home earlier.” He sighs, and to her shock, his mouth twists into something akin to a fond smile. “She worries so much about me. She sent me a selfie an hour ago and now I can’t wait to see her.”

Madison simply nods along, face frozen in polite agony while her bag takes the worst of it, her knuckles turning white as she crumples the poor handle. She just wasted four hours of her Friday night doing nothing only to hear the man of her dreams sing praises about a woman she’s never met, yet knows entirely too much about.

The ride in the elevator is excruciating. Mr. Barnes is too busy grinning down at his phone to entertain her, and Madison’s slumped shoulders are a testament of her crushed hopes. Once they’re outside, she notices a couple of people gathered in front of the window of a clothing store right across the street. They look like they are decorating for Christmas, strings of lights already up and various boxes blocking half of the sidewalk. Mr. Barnes shakes his head at the sight, and Madison catches it from her peripheral vision.

Of course a cranky and curt man like Mr. Barnes would be a grinch!

Such a shame she completely missed his soft smile.

“I can’t believe some people are already decorating for Christmas.” She scoffs. “C’mon, it’s still November! Who is the idiot that does that?” Turning her head toward him, her chuckle dies in her throat at his gelid expression. 

“My wife.”

Madison’s heart drops to her stomach. “W–What–”

“My wife is the idiot who decorates for Christmas in November.” His caustic reply sends shivers down her back. Madison's jaw falls to the ground, and for a moment she just stands there, toes curling in shame and cheeks flaming red. Her mouth opens and closes twice, not really knowing what to say or do in front of the man eyeing her with so much vitriol.

Maybe the ground should open right this instant and swallow her whole. It would hurt less.

“I—” 

“Goodnight, Miss Carroll.” 

“What—” She whispers, completely caught off guard. “It’s Carrell!” She shouts, but he’s already halfway to his black Jaguar.

“FUCK!”

Wanda is so engrossed in her conversation with Darcy about the umpteenth date with a loser she met on Tinder that the loud thump on her right makes both women jolt in surprise. 

It's Madison and she is... a mess. 

Her ponytail is barely hanging on, a few blonde hair sticking in the air as if she was just electrocuted. Her makeup only consists of some smudged gloss—a rough contrast to the full face she has been displaying every single morning since she set foot here at Barnes Investments. Darcy and Wanda exchange a look of worry as they spot the big brown stain on her light blue shirt, probably coffee. 

They’ve never seen Madison look so distraught in the two months she’s been here. 

“Honey, are you okay?” Wanda tentatively asks. 

“Okay? Why yeah sure! Why shouldn’t I be okay?” She grits out with a fake, entirely too big smile, while literally throwing her things on her desk. 

“You sure?” Darcy raises an eyebrow.

“Of course! I mean, my crush is happily married to a woman who apparently has a pussy made of gold, because he can’t stop talking about her for one damn second.” Her pencil case almost flies to the ground. The desk shakes under the heavy laptop mindlessly tossed on its surface. 

Her little outburst makes a few heads turn, prompting the two analysts to shoot on their feet.

“Hey, lower your voice!” Wanda whisper shouts. “I understand you’re disappointed, but did you forget said crush is also your boss?”

“No, Wanda. You don’t understand.” She growls out, looking like a feral dog. “Two days ago I had to bribe his assistant with a fucking thirty-five-dollar chocolate bar just to find out his coffee order! Do you know where Mr. Barnes buys his coffee from every. Single. Morning?” Wanda shakes her head, mildly scared as Madison leans forward, her right eye twitching. “From a fucking coffee shop on the other side of New York. It took me fifty minutes just to get there, only for him to tell me he doesn’t drink that shit anymore because that stupid wife of his says it makes him too jittery.” She mocks with a pout and a whiny voice.

“He switched to herbal tea, or something. Last week!”

“Stand back, she’s gonna blow.” Darcy whispers horrified. 

“It’s been two months and I know more about this alleged wife of his than about the fucking company! He describes her as she is some sort of goddess who knows everything! And who the fuck keeps two hundred pictures of vegetables in their phone?” 

At this point, Madison is having a genuine outburst, screaming and slamming her bag on the desk under her co-workers’ bewildered gaze.

“For God’s sake, is she even real?”

As if by magic, the ding of the elevator suspends the room in silence. Everything seems to freeze as the doors slide open, revealing a woman Madison has never seen before, cautiously stepping forward. Her A-line mini dress has a soft plaid pattern, the sleeves sheer and flowy. The skirt flares out with a gentle silhouette, half hidden under a long black coat.

The entire floor gapes, taken aback by the romantic, almost ethereal vision. There’s only one person who doesn’t seem fazed at all, and that’s Mr. Barnes, who abruptly opens the door of his office as soon as the elevator door shuts. 

“Sweetheart.”

Your eyes immediately find Bucky's as he quickly makes his way to you at the end of the room. 

“Jamie.” His own lips twist into a grin when he finally reaches you, circling your waist with his muscular arms. 

“What are you doing here, doll? It’s your day off.” He mumbles, leaving a small kiss on your forehead. His blue eyes carefully take you in, poorly concealing his appreciation for your cute outfit, until they land on your bare legs. 

“Where are your tights?” He frowns, gently tugging you forward. “C'mere, let's sit in my office so you can warm up.”

“I wanted to see you.” You hum, keeping your feet firmly planted on the ground as your fingers pull at his suit jacket, so you can drag his face closer to yours. Once your lips are brushing against his ear, you whisper as quietly as you can, hoping only your husband will catch your words. 

“They're not the only thing I’m not wearing right now.” 

Bucky’s eyes widen, before his saliva goes down the wrong pipe, sending him into a coughing fit under your amused gaze. His employees try to not stare at the scene, but it’s so endearingly rare witnessing their stern boss turn into this blushing, pliant mess in front of a pretty girl. 

“Shit.” He swallows, awkwardly clearing his throat as he quickly recomposes himself. “Let’s go, sweetheart.” 

Everyone knows that at his core, Mr. Barnes is just a man pathetically in love with his wife, still, curious eyes follow you as he hastily guides you to his office with a hand on your back, his gaze not steering away once from your face as giggles unusually fill the open space.

“Thank God she came by.” Scott leans in, addressing the three women. “He’s always more lenient after her visits.” He elaborates, mainly for a flustered Madison, who releases her expensive bag, letting it fall on the floor with a dull thud, before storming off to the restroom. Wanda sighs, slightly shaking her head in exhaustion.

The man just stares at the two analysts with knitted eyebrows, completely confused. “What?”

“My pretty little slut, coming to Daddy’s office without wearing any panties.” Bucky grunts against the skin of your bare chest, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs to keep you nice and still on his desk.

It’s been six months since you and Bucky have agreed to try for a baby. Six months of pure, unhinged, hot sex in his office. It just so happens that your husband has been at work during your fertile window for the past few months, meaning that he could use that as an excuse to have you bare and whimpering in his office for a few days a month. 

Never in his career has Bucky dreamt of actually having sex here, of all places. Sure, he fantasized about your warmth by his side during those hard nights spent here amongst mountains of documents—he, Steve and Sam worked overtime almost every day at the beginning; his company was too small and new to afford the luxury of going home at a decent time. 

And you supported him through it all, his perfect darling. 

So imagine his face when you showed up at his workplace one day, locking the door behind you before literally throwing yourself at him, your breath warm against his ear as you gasped out how badly you needed him to fuck you until you couldn’t remember your own name.

Honestly, it wasn’t his proudest moment. He ended up coming before you after only a minute top, too aroused as he stared at you eagerly riding him on his chair, a hand on your mouth to prevent any loud noise from spilling out as his employees kept working, not having the faintest idea about what was happening inside their boss’ office.

From that moment on, your little visits meant only one thing. 

“Fuck, Daddy you’re so big.” You whine, clinging onto his shoulders. 

He lets out an animalistic groan as he squeezes your hips bruisingly. “Say it again.” He growls, grinding his hips harder against you. “You know I love it when you call me that, baby.” 

“Daddy please.” He slams his lips against yours, moaning as his tongue invades your mouth. When he pulls away, he goes straight for your chest, sucking on your nipple. Bucky loves to play with your breasts, you always get so responsive when his fingers tug and flicker your pretty nipples. Sometimes he just palms them for comfort during particularly frustrating calls he gets on the weekends from bratty assholes who refuse to go through his assistant first. Or out of boredom, while watching a movie. Until you get all worked up and end up cockwarming him throughout the rest of the movie.

“Can’t wait for these to swell up, gonna take such good care of you when they get too heavy and sensitive.” His head moves, the tip of his tongue already out to give some attention to the other nipple. “Wanna taste your milk so bad, baby. Will you let me? Bet it's just as sweet as your pussy.”

“Bucky!” Your head falls back as his teeth gently graze your erect nub, pulling a little pathetic whimper out of you that echoes loudly in the room.

“Shh-shh.” Your husband soothes, his voice back at your ear, his breath tickling your damp skin. “Been thinking about your pretty pussy all day.”

Bucky sounds a little dazed, his voice hoarse with something primal as one of his hands travels from your hip to your abdomen. “You’ll look so beautiful with your belly all big and round and full. All because of me.” 

“Please.” You cry out, trembling as tears threaten to spill from the corner of your eyes. It’s too much. Everything is too much. Your hot skin rubbing against his soft clothes, his filthy words, the way his blue eyes look at you with barely concealed hunger... His big cock stretching you open for him to move as he pleases. 

“You’re so fucking wet, baby.” Bucky marvels, staring in awe as his length disappears inside you, the loud, squelching sounds heating your cheeks up in embarrassment. You’ve done this so many times, yet that sense of danger, of possibly being caught doing something so debauched in such a professional environment, never fails to make your stomach flip and your core throb.

“Everyone will know how good I fuck you, how good I am for my beautiful wife.” He growls out against your lips. “My gorgeous Mommy.”

Your whole body shudder as your tongues dance, your pussy clenching at the sensation of his thick cock plunging deep inside you. It makes your head spin, leaving you completely speechless as Bucky's hips speed up. 

“Fuck, Daddy!” A whimper involuntarily falls from your parted lips, and your eyes squeeze shut. “Fuck, too big—” You gasp out the last word, his hips giving a particular brutal thrust that allows him to reach impossibly deeper.

“Yeah? I know, baby. I know. So big you can’t even talk properly.” He smirks. “Still, you take it so good, such a good girl.”

He covers your cheeks with sweet kisses, tracing a slow path down to the slope of your neck, where he makes sure to bite hard enough to elicit a surprised squeal from you.

“‘M gonna make you a mommy.” He pants harshly into your skin, his orgasm gradually approaching when you clench again. “The prettiest.” Thrust. “Sweetest.” Thrust. “Mommy.”

“Yes yes yes Daddy please!”  

Bucky’s low grunts and moans get louder as his fingers gently rub your clit, making your eyes roll back at the blinding pleasure. Your nails almost tear through the fabric of his half-open shirt.

“You’re so tight. Shit, I can feel you coming baby.” He moans, watching you nod quickly, and his voice drops a little. “Yeah? You finally gonna milk Daddy’s cock, pretty girl?” 

Your palm slaps on your parted mouth to stifle your lewd sounds. Your legs wrap tighter around his hips, and as he keeps thrusting faster and faster, your vision goes blurry and the knot in your belly finally snaps. 

“Daddy.” You whimper behind your hand, toes curling at the overwhelming bliss quickly hitting you. “Oh my God, I'm coming!” Your body wraps around him tightly as your hole clenches down, squeezing him so hard he almost chokes on his own spit. His fingers are cruel on your throbbing nub, toying with it until your hips jerk in overstimulation. You feel that hot pleasure everywhere—the base of your spine, deep in your gut, in your walls keeping him nice and warm. It’s always this intense with your husband: he knows what to say and where to put his hands so your orgasm hits you like a freight train, leaving your body exhausted yet quivering for more. 

“Fuck fuck—Daddy’s coming too.” He grits out, his thrusts messy and frantic, before his cock twitches, spilling deep inside you. “Shit—that’s it. Take it all, beautiful.”

Your chest is still heaving when you flop against him, forehead falling on his shoulder as your trembling fingers stay anchored to his shirt. His hands move to your asscheeks, thumbs leisurely stroking small circles into your skin as he tries to regain his breath as well. Yet, smugness drip off his voice. 

“Gave it to you so good you can’t even sit up straight, mh?”

You don’t have the energy to clap back, mewling with oversensitivity as he continues to gently thrust his softening dick lightly in and out of you, the mix of your juices trickling down and soiling the inner part of your thighs. Your lips part anyway to say something, but everything dissolves into an incoherent squeak when he gives your ass a light spank.

Bucky chuckles, proud of himself, his arms moving around your waist, hugging your body closer to his. “So gorgeous.” He coos, his eyelids fluttering close as the tip of his nose nuzzles your neck, breathing in your perfume, by now impeccably mixed with the scent of your favorite body cream. 

“So good for me. Fuck baby, I love you. I love you so much.” His hands gently cradle your cheeks, tenderly coaxing you out of your hiding spot as the strong urge to kiss you takes over his whole body. “Gonna have my baby and be the best mommy in the world.” He utters between sweet kisses. 

“Love you too, Jamie.” Bucky's lips curve softly at the way your eyelids barely stay open, letting you cuddle against his chest. His heartbeat never fails to speed up when those three magic words fall from your lips. 

“Think we did it this time?” You yawn tiredly, trying to keep your voice neutral. Still, your husband knows you too well after all these years by your side, instantly recognizing that hint of fragile hope in your question, and the faint change in your body, gone a little rigid.

His arms squeeze your waist once, before he drops a kiss on the top of your head, hoping it conveyed all his tenderness for your small family. That gesture, although little, instantly warms your heart, melting the tension off of your limbs as you squeeze his torso once.

“I have a hunch we did, my love.”

She just wanted to gather more information about your marriage from Natasha in a last, desperate attempt to convince herself she still had a chance. She is Mr. Barnes’ personal assistant, the only one who gets more than a single austere sentence out of him; the only one he calls by her first name. She must know something about his personal life. 

But Natasha was not at her desk. As a matter of fact, the small hallway was completely deserted, she noticed with a frown. 

And unfortunately, she had to find out the reason the hard way.

It's impossible to not notice the intern's pale face as she makes her way back to her cubicle, slow and stiff as her eyes stay fixed on nothing in particular. 

With a gentle voice, Wanda tries to strike up a conversation. “Hey, are you okay?”

Madison simply retrieves her bag, then turns away, Wanda barely catching her mumbled words as she starts walking toward the elevator. 

“I’m resigning.”

END NOTES: thank you so much for reading 💛

[chipotleburritobowl]

Do you perchance have a master list I can browse all your Bucky related fics about? If not then it’s completely fine I was just curious and wanted to ask and because I think you write in a very pretty manner and yeah (ง ื▿ ื)ว

I hope you have a nice day 🫶

hi anon!!! i don’t have a masterlist yet since i’m not sure how i want to format it rn but i do have a writing tag!

also thank you so much!! what u said means a lot because there are times i think my writing is buttcheeks qwq

[innerchildabortionclinic]

your ex is a narcissist? so he must struggle with close friendships, right--oh, he's respectful to his male friends? he only acts this way around women? that's crazy, they should invent a word for such a phenomenon

[chipotleburritobowl]

posting my new bucky fic on the 6th! so excited to share it w u guys since it’s my first time writing smt scary-ish. i also realized i posted my last one on the 6th too, so i might as well just start posting every 6th of the month but then i’d procrastinate even more harder than i did before.

[pinksplace]

hello my friends!!!

while I normally try to stay in my lane, I’ve been noticing a concerning trend lately and wanted to put something out there any writers who may not be aware.

There been a serious uptick in fanfic writers on this app who are putting content behind a pay wall.

While I understand wanting to be compensated for your work, and all the time you put into this hobby, this is a slippery slope.

I have a limited understanding of of copyright law, but I understand enough to know that what you’re doing is illegal.

In fanfic, we are only able to use characters and intellectual property (IP) that doesn’t belong to us because we are posting it for free. By putting it behind a paywall you are now profiting off of someone else’s IP, which is a direct violation of copyright.

There have been multiple lawsuits on this topic, multiple times where fanfiction as a whole has almost been ruined because of authors trying to do this.

A great way around this is a kofi, or other similar apps. Because it is not a direct exchange of goods, it is perfectly legal and safe.

Thank you for humoring me, getting off my pink soap box now. Just be careful, and remember that just because you haven’t had a problem with it yet, doesn’t mean you won’t. It’s always better to be safe than sorry, especially when any legal action taken could have negative effects on the entire fanfic community.

[blowingbarnes]

hard retweet on this because the last thing we need is a bunch of lawyers harassing horny girls on tumblr.

we don’t wanna mess with this yall, it would not be fun.

[chipotleburritobowl]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤpinefall valley

₊˚ ⋅ ۶ৎ ㅤsummary. heavy with the weight of a job you never had any passion for, you decided to open the envelope your grandfather gave you after shoving it in your office drawer for years. suddenly, you’re living in a small obscure town in the middle of nowhere getting more than what you signed up for.

content. town doctor!bucky barnes x fem!farmer!reader , mutual pining , bucky’s got a big fat crush on u , miscommunication , your vegetables grow really fast but let’s just ignore that , jealousy , mdni (18+) , outdoor sex , dom!bucky , unprotected p in v , marking/biting , pet names (baby, sweetheart, doll, city girl) , almost getting caught

word count. 14k

from lia. here's my little present in celebration of hitting 5(00) followers, i love every single one of u sm! this is incredibly self-indulgent but oh well. on a side note, literally in all of my stardew saves i only romance harvey (except for that one time i deliberately romanced shane for his blue chickens) bc he's....he's my man... this is also just a tiny bit proofread!

to live in the city was the only answer that stayed constant whenever someone asked about your future. whether you become a firefighter or a police officer, you had to become one that’s from the city. you were no different from other suburban children whose dream was to get out of the rural area you lived in to go to hustling and bustling new york city.

when it was time for you to make a decision that would effectively cement you into one profession for the rest of your career—you’ve already answered every occupation there is. five-year old you wanted to become a teacher, to guide and give equal opportunities for everyone—everything is rooted in education, after all.

at the age of ten you’ve dropped that ideology the moment you saw a doctor rush in from the er and into the back of an ambulance in a speed unlike any you’ve seen—and you decided you wanted to be like him, too. 

you’ve stuck to that answer until you were about sixteen, then you decided you wanted to become a photographer who has her own studio at an apartment in brooklyn—and for the most part that’s what you truly planned on pursuing, but practicality had other plans.

your knuckles were beginning to sting after forcing it open as you typed away on your computer, hunched over the keyboard like a shrimp. you’ve already drank god knows how many red bulls but you were nowhere near done with heaps of paperwork and presentations you have to catch up on.

this isn’t where you imagined yourself to be. you were in a big city, sure—and you’ve got a somewhat high paying job—but this isn’t the version of your lifelong dream you wanted to spend the rest of your career in. this isn’t the situation you’d want little you to see whenever the ghost of her decides to come visit you in your dreams tonight. 

your parents have always given you the freedom to be whoever you wanted to be, whatever career choice appealed to you the most—whether it be a mortician or a snake milker, your parents were always behind you on every decision you made.

but practicality over passion loomed above your head like a stormy cloud that won’t leave, and now you’re stuck finishing numbers your co-worker should’ve done weeks ago—though it seems like you’re the only one responsible around here—and you’ve got a bunch of other deadlines to chase after, like a fish chasing for the bait stuck in a never ending sea. at least fishes are free to swim around as they please and not get stuck in a suffocating cubicle.

letting out another heavy sigh, your fingers wrapped around the cool surface of the canned beverage shoved in the corner of your desk before taking a hefty gulp. if you were going to suffer and wallow in your decisions, the least you could do was to keep yourself energized. as your fingers hovered over the daunting keys that stared back at you in what you like to imagine the same tired expression as yours, you heard someone call your name from somewhere behind you. 

“hey! we’re gonna be heading out for dinner, you wanna tag along?” trisha, the first person you’ve ever talked to since joining the company and, admittedly, your only friend around these parts, was already halfway through the glass exit of the office, blazer in one arm and another co-worker holding tightly against the other, when she invited you to join her. she looked at you expectantly, a kind smile playing on her lips. 

she had always made an effort to keep you included in things—no matter how big or small—she made sure to invite you or tag you along with whatever she’s got going, as long as the both of you were free. you could tell it was one of the only things left that’s keeping her tethered down to earth, lest she goes insane. and honestly, you weren’t far off from that too.

a part of you desperately wanted to clock out earlier than you usually do and not stay overtime to let yourself indulge in a little treat and eat out somewhere good—maybe chinese takeout or thai— and give yourself the rest you desperately need. but, you didn’t really feel like getting into any form of conversation right now, you needed to finish this spreadsheet. 

you mirrored back a warm smile of your own, “sorry, i’ve got a lot to catch up on. maybe tomorrow?"

“aww, alright. don’t work yourself too hard!” she waved, before peeking her head out from the exit one last time, “or do, go get that bag, girl.”

with an exasperated sigh and your head in your hands, just as quick as she momentarily pulled you out of work, you were face to face with the daunting, glowing screen of your monitor. 

your eyes felt heavier the second you lifted them up to read the numerics and alphabets on the screen, that dreadful weight heavying the already awful pressure resting on your shoulders. the job you currently have was thoroughly, and utterly draining out the life out of you—and you’re sure no amount of ibuprofen can pull you out of this one.

in a fit of pent up rage finally surfacing up and out onto the tips of your fingers, you tried to drink your woes away with another sip of the caffeinated drink beside you. instead, the can slipped from the pads of your palm and spilled onto the desk, dripping its contents down on the drawers and the floor below. 

cursing lowly to yourself, you pushed the wheels of your office chair backwards—the tires screeching softly against the waxed floor. you plucked a piece or two from the tissue box on your desk to start drying up the mess you made, and just when you were about to begin wiping the floor clean, the drawer on the bottom slipped open, revealing the contents that hid within it.

amidst the dozens of haphazardly arranged random colored folders and extra stapler bullets, was the letter your grandfather gave you a few years back, sat comfortably in silence.

visions of your memories of him rekindled in your head, back to when you visited him on weekends in that sweet quaint town he used to live in, and the last words he said to you on his deathbed as he handed you the letter you were currently ogling at like it was something otherworldly.

“open this envelope whenever you feel the weight of the world dragging you down.”

you pursed your lips, hands reaching down still smelling of red bull, and the tight air around the office started to wrap around the space of your cubicle specifically.

suddenly the buzzing of the air conditioner was too loud, the clacking of keyboards from your co-workers who decided to stay behind just like you were louder than you remember, and the light still radiating in front of you glared anticipatingly.

the contents of the letter was a mystery to you, hell, you surprised even yourself for holding off on opening it for this long. you didn’t find any need to be curious about what’s inside for a long time, since the world used to spin around under your feet before atlas suddenly decided to transfer its weight to you.

in a sudden change of events, the letter now rested in your grasp like it would be the answer to all of your problems. and a part of you silently prayed that it would—prayed that the almighty stars up above will finally give you something that could bring flavor to your stale world and make you feel alive again. you’ve been feeling tired and empty, even without acknowledging it yourself—and you already knew you have been for a long, long time. 

the envelope’s flap crackled as you flipped it wide with shaky hands, and the first sight of your late grandfather’s handwriting brought you a wave of nostalgia. like the paper in your hands was the most valuable thing ever, you lifted it out from its sleeve carefully, hesitance coursing through you.

another piece of paper fell onto your lap as you held the letter, your deadlines and spreadsheets long forgotten. it was the deed to your grandfather’s piece of land and the title to his farmhouse in the country. you couldn’t stop the startled gasp that left you, because sure, you expected a message from your grandfather, but you surely didn’t expect for him to include the deed to his property. 

“oh my god.” slowly, your eyes continued to widen, both in shock and overflowing gratitude, before tears began welling up in the corners of your eyes—threatening to spill and roll down your cheeks. your heart clenching at the thought of your grandfather caring for you this much definitely reduced you to a sobbing mess right here in your office cubicle.

the sound of your computer’s motherboard whirred in the background as you read the message written like a founding fathers', eyes sharper than ever and mouth going impossibly dry.

my dearest granddaughter,

when we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change. i want you to remember to never let life become a burden to you, it is not a problem you immediately ned to have an answer to, it is meant to be enjoyed and celebrated. never give up, you are a strong-minded girl, just like your mother.

i’ve enclosed in this letter the deed to my place, my pride and joy: the family farm. it’s located in pinefall valley on the southern coast. it’s the perfect place to start a new life. whenever you are ready, the place will be there waiting for you with open arms.

this was my most precious gift of all, your grandmother insisted i leave it in your hands instead of letting it rot away in the hands of others, and now it’s yours. i know you’ll honor the family name, my girl. best of luck. 

love, grandpa

being the cautious person that you were, you weren’t sure if this was the right choice to be made. you’ve spent a good chunk of your life nursing the dream of finally living in a big city—and now here you were, complaining about it just seconds ago like it was a ball and chain attached to your ankle, pulling you further and further down the pit you’ve willingly jumped into. 

with an unsteady exhale, you pressed your eyes closed and basked in the office air one last time—unwilling to give yourself the time to dwell on your decision—because you knew the second you start rethinking, you’re bound to start reconsidering things and before you know it you’ll be back at square one. 

you breathed in through your nose and shut your eyes to clear your head—this is it. you needed this. you need a fresh, clean start. and if you’re gonna find that in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, then so be it.

on a rainy early sunday morning, you left brooklyn with a hole right in the middle of your chest. as much as this city brought you most of your problems and made you impossibly homesick on some days, it was still the dream, and dreams are a hard thing to forget—especially when they come true. 

you weren’t only forfeiting an apartment and a job in exchange of living a new life—you were leaving behind everything you’ve worked so hard for for the past years leading up to now. it’s definitely a lot to be dropping, even with a hefty resignation payout. and you didn’t even have the chance to bid trisha a proper farewell—you hoped she could forgive you.

the bus was empty when you stepped inside. aside from the hooded guy situated at the far end of the vehicle, it was only you and the conductor exchanging glances and smiles before you decided on which corner you were going to sit and spend your next five hours on.

you guessed it wasn’t anyone’s interest to visit a small town that’s probably not even on the map, its name reeked of old-fashion—rugged around the edges. given how there wasn’t anyone lining up to visit the place, the place has probably been forgotten by time. hadn't it been for the fact that your grandparents lived there, you would’ve never managed to find the small town of stonefield even if you were with the greatest pioneer in the world.

as you expected, the sights on the way were nothing short of breathtaking. it felt refreshing to finally see the world outside of the four walls you’ve gotten so used to seeing—from the trees to the dozens of lakes you’ve passed by and admired from behind the bus’ windows—your life was beginning to breathe back in color, number by number.

it was beginning to feel very much like a hallmark movie. you—a career-focused woman from the city moves to a quaint small town, but you’re yet to meet a charming local who would swift you off your feet.

despite the feeling of anxiety ebbing at your chest—you could feel excitement slowly bubble up in the bottom of your chest, this could either be the worst or best decision of your life, and you’re beginning to feel confident that it’s going to be the latter.

you arrived at pinefall valley at around three in the afternoon—the wind gently blew against your warm cheeks as you clutched the handle of your suitcase nervously. you picked up your phone to look at the map you pre-downloaded before getting on the bus because despite being nervous about ditching your city life for a much calmer provincial one, you were also very nervous about getting lost and eventually ending up on television.

creepily enough, you didn’t pass by anyone on your way to your grandfather’s farm—you don’t remember this place having a large population anyway, but it was still unnerving to see the lack of people at this time of day. shrugging off the unsettling feeling from your shoulders, you pocketed your phone the moment the rocky and gravel filled roads began to fee familiar to you. as the old worn-down keys jingled inside the knob and the door swung open—you breathed in the air only the countryside could offer.

on the front porch sat boxes that contained some of your stuff that probably arrived the day before by the moving company, and you let the sight before you sink in as you stepped foot on the property. it was left the same way as you remembered—with a few unfamiliar things here and there, of course. there were a few baby photos of you hung up on the wall, a hopefully working sink and kitchen counter, a refrigerator, a television, a furnace, and a cozy bedroom that housed a queen-sized bed. 

“this is gonna be a lot of work.” you murmured to yourself, already mentally taking note of all the things that could use some rework. 

the place wasn’t the biggest one out there, but it was home. it still sang of a life that was once alive and breathing—and you were determined to bring it back to its former glory.

the first week in a new town didn’t bring you anything eventful. you haven’t gotten around meeting the townsfolk and all the wonders stonefield has to offer, and you’ve mostly cooped up working on your farm.

your days were primarily filled with you clearing out the enormous plot of land that could probably house four other homes just like the one you were currently living in. how rich exactly are your grandparents? there was an abandoned greenhouse to the left of your home. it needs a lot of renovation and a ton of money, but you figured if harvesting crops was your main source of income, it would probably be a good thing to invest on while you still have the funds to do so. 

clearing out rocks and grass patches was never something you’ve ever considered doing in your entire career, everything felt new to you. however, strangely enough, you couldn’t find it in you to stop. it brought comfort to you in ways your previous office job couldn’t offer, it didn’t matter if it left you boneless on your bed at the end of the day.

while cleaning, you’ve also discovered a cave filled with fruit bats along with a shortcut that you aren’t too sure where it leads to yet somewhere between the road to the greenhouse and your home. the place wasn’t just big, it was full of mysteries, too. hopefully the bats won’t be too much trouble, though.

the rooster from the neighboring barn has long since cawed into the ripe morning air, signalling that the sun has risen and it’s time for another day filled with cleaning up the land. but after a particularly rough day yesterday, you wanted to stay in bed for another hour or two, you’re now your own boss—a little sleeping in wouldn’t set you back too much. 

but as you rolled over to the other side of the bed, blankets comfortably wrapped around you like it too didn’t want to let you go—three loud consecutive knocks pounded on your door. 

knock! knock! knock!

with a tired groan, you rubbed your eyes and slipped on your slippers to make your way towards the door. who could possibly want to visit you at this hour? but a better question is; why would there be someone knocking at your door? you never left the farm even once, and you haven’t introduced yourself to anyone, is this how tight-knit communities are?

you hastily swung the door open, your messy hair and untidy appearance the last thing on your mind.

standing in front of you, was an elderly man, maybe late fifties or early sixties, and his head was slightly balding. he wore a kind smile on his lips and held a basket in his hands, and upon seeing you, his mouth stretched into an even wider grin.

“g’mornin’! i didn’t disturb you or anythin’, did i?”

you scrambled your still sleepy brain for a response, “n-no! not at all sir. i was just about to get ready for the day!” 

“i see,” with a chuckle, the man nodded in understanding. “let me introduce myself. i’m the mayor of stonefield; everyone here calls me arthur. word's gotten ‘round a new face has made its way to town and is now living in the abandoned farmhouse. i had to come see it for m’self!” 

you tipped your head up in understanding, “if that's the case then yes, that’s me! i’ve never gotten the time to roam around town just yet—so i don’t really know anyone right now.” you sheepishly explained, hands twiddling the side of your pajamas, “the farm’s been taking up most of my time since moving in.”

it's true. you've been cooped up in the property for the vast majority of your first week in stonefield, the closest you've gotten to leaving the place was walking near the edge of the fence that bordered between your farm and the outside to take out the trash—and even then, you've only managed to see a few people pass by.

he let out another hearty laugh before continuing, “oh well, it’s nice to have someone finally take care of this place, the previous owner who lived here was a good friend o’mine.”

“you were friends with my grandfather?”

mayor arthur’s eyes seemed to widen at that, he looked like he was about to drop the basket in his hands. “you’re norman’s granddaughter? oh how fast you’ve grown! last time i saw you, you were no taller than my hips! if i knew it was you who was moving in, i would’ve arranged for a proper welcome.”

you laughed, chest warming at the sight of seeing your grandfather’s friend still alive and kicking. you couldn’t remember who he is—you were very small when you met mayor arthur, after all—yet it was still comforting to see a face that once appreciated your grandfather the same way you did. 

“anywho, i jus’ wanted to give you this small welcoming gift. it’s a few packets of tomato seeds and a scented candle. s’not much, but i’m sure it’ll remove the smell of dust in the air.” 

“thank you! i appreciate it, i promise i’ll be sure to check the town out as soon as i could.” you kindly smiled, taking the basket from his hands.

“alright, i’ll leave you to it, then. have a good day!”

the wooden floorboards of the porch rattled underneath his leather boots with each step he took further down the stairs—allowing you to breathe out a sigh of relief. you figured you should get ready to begin another day of cleaning, and getting a gift from the mayor certainly was an unexpected way to start your morning.

back in the city, you usually woke up at around five in the morning to let yourself get ready for about an hour, after which you’ll find yourself something to eat from your painfully bland pantry—however if you are in a hurry you grab whatever’s the first thing you see on the streets on the way to your office—before getting ready a second time, by fixing your hair and makeup.

you leave your apartment at seven and arrive at the office at quarter till eight—a full thirty minutes early before your shift starts. for the entirety of the morning, all you can hear are the distinct clicking sounds of keys and whirring of printing machines—and maybe you’ll catch wind of the occasional gossip from your co-workers, but that’s a post-meeting exclusive rather than a daily occurrence.

after lunchtime activities are no different, except for the fact that you’re working on reports and proofreading haphazardly-made documents. you stress on about missing meeting notes until evening, and by then you’re too tired to eat anything decent, so you grab chinese takeout on the way back home.

now, all your eyes can see until the far distance are rocks, trees, shrubs, and more trees. it’s certainly a culture shock to be going from seeing computer screens on a daily basis to staring at rocks for more than an hour or two, but you like to think it’s a good change.

you’re in love with the idea of planting your own produce and eating the fruitions of your labor, and maybe you could share them with your future-friends-slash-neighbors, and you could all share and appreciate the fruits and vegetables you’re going to work so hard on tending to.

wiping the sweat rolling down your glistening forehead, you shoved the gardening shears you found inside the shed beside the farmhouse down to the ground to let your freehand dangle freely. you’ve managed to clear up enough space to plant the seeds mayor arthur gifted you this morning—it was already around ten in the morning and the next thing on your agenda is visiting the town as promised.

right after ridding yourself of your gardening clothes, you padded into town feeling slightly nervous about the environment you’re about to walk into. you’re no stranger to people’s judgments, and usually, they don’t bother you at all—but given the circumstances and how you’re fresh out of a job from the city—you’re slightly restless about what everyone in town would about a girl who had it all and traded it for the south coast life.

the general goods store was bigger than you thought, there were racks of produce in one corner, a handful of gardening supplies in the other, and a bunch of necessities and snacks were in the other surrounding shelves. you made a beeline for the seedling packets sitting right next to the leafy greens and started looking for squash and corn seeds, since they were vegetables in season right now as per the seasonal produce guide by snap-ed you’ve graciously educated yourself on beforehand.

“good morning.”

a sultry voice suddenly pulled you out of your reading on the back of the packets, causing you to let out an involuntary squeak in surprise. because you’ve been so engrossed—you didn’t notice the man in a turtle neck standing by the vegetable rack. he greeted you with a warm smile and a hand still holding a cabbage.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” he carefully apologized, “i wasn’t sure how to approach you, but it’s nice to see the face everyone’s been talking about.”

nervously, your eyes drifted down to your feet before going back to his face. “wh-what do you mean?”

“it’s not everyday someone moves into town. so word about a city girl moving in spread fast.” the man turned to fully face you, face still holding that warm smile.

only then did you notice just how much he was towering over you—he looked like he was well over six feet. his auburn hair was combed over professionally, and his biceps were still visible even under all that fabric. he wore an endearing grin to match his pretty cerulean irises that put the blue skies above to shame, he was handsome. hallmark movie it is, then.

“i’m bucky, i work at the local clinic right next to this store.”

“o-oh! i do remember passing by a clinic, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” you replied, biting back the nervous laughter you would’ve let out and possibly embarrass yourself with. you gave him a small but kind smile back along with your name, now fidgeting the packaging of the seeds in between your fingers.

“how are you finding the town so far?”

"it's—it's nice... i haven't gotten around seeing the whole place, i mean i'm in the middle of doing that right now. but so far everything's really lovely and cozy. i really like it."

"so you haven't gotten a tour?" bucky's face almost looked pleased upon hearing those words come from you, before his lips dropped into a tiny frown. "i'd love to show you around, but you know—duty calls. i've got a home visit this afternoon with the elderly couple down the road, mrs. donovan. a lovely lady with an even charming husband." he punctuated his words in a tone you could only describe as teasing, and you couldn't keep the laughter that bubbled up from your chest.

bucky, looking very pleased with himself, leaned onto the vegetable rack with confidence. watching you with eyes that were nothing short of mesmerized.

suddenly, an equally burly and muscular man appeared from around one of the shelves, presumably the owner of the store. his hair glimmered blonde from the light that came in from the store's windows, giving his head an almost ethereal crown of locks.

"buck! quit loitering by my brussel sprouts and get your ass—oh my! it's the new girl!" he cut himself off from scolding bucky, voice sounding like an overworked parent who doesn’t have any time to deal with his teenager’s bullshit right now.

"sorry, i thought he was doing something else.” the blonde apologized, turning his head to squint at bucky accusingly. “is my friend over here giving you a hard time shopping? don't worry, i'll kick him out for you."

the brunette clicked his tongue, "steve, is this how you treat the town doctor?"

steve, or at least that’s what bucky called him, elbowed him right in his side, causing the doctor to recoil in faux pain.

"wow, a new face 's in town and you're already giving her a bad first impression. i was just trying to tell her about all the very lovely people we have ‘ere, y’see she's not that familiar with the area."

steve rolled his eyes, ignoring his best friend's teasing to continue looking at you. almost as if he was trying to memories every feature on your face. "oh, and you'd just love it if you could show her around, won’t you?"

"actually, while i would love to do just that, i've got an appointment with esther. which you would know if you even tried to listen to our conversation. and for the record, i wasn't loitering. i was about to buy these cabbages."

“sure you were.”

bucky lightly shoved steve’s shoulders, keeping the atmosphere light with his oh-so charming personality. “get back behind the counter, rogers. you shouldn't butt into other people's very private and very personal discussions, you know.”

steve gave him a flat look before retreating back to where he once stood, muttering a small whatever with annoyance evident on his face. as you watched him retreat to his post, bucky looked back at you with the same grin he’s been giving you since you first uttered a word to him.

“i’ll be the first to head out, city girl. i lost track of time and i’ve got abouuut—five minutes to walk to mrs. donovan’s house before our appointment starts.” he exclaimed, all most disappointedly. “it was nice talking to you.”

city girl. for no apparent reason, you felt your stomach do somersaults at the nickname. you’ve just met the guy and somehow he’s already making you feel things that causes your cheeks to redden. in embarrassment or endearment—you’ve yet to see.

tentatively, you pulled the hem of your shirt down to try and rid yourself of the feeling of butterflies in your stomach, the sound of his voice echoing in your head and etching itself onto the ridges of your brain. “what about your cabbages?”

“i just said that so he’d get off my back, but i’ll buy one of these soon.”

your laughter echoed inside the store one last time as his lips stretched into another smile, your cheeks were beginning to ache with how much you’ve been enjoying yourself in his company, no matter how short lived it was.

“it was nice talking to you too, bucky. i’ll see you around.”

“definitely.”

with a smile, your eyes followed his frame as he began to widen the distance between the two of you snd ounded a shelf to make his way towards the door. he gave you one last glance before his hands pushed the doors to the store open, and you watched his back disappear as the distance between you two grew. and just like that, the store went back to its quiet state from a few minutes ago.

you walked up to the register with a small skip in your step this time, one hand holding the seed packets and some fertilizers in the other.

“find everything you need?” steve asked, his hands busy with handling all the stuff you bought. “i hope my friend back there wasn’t too much trouble.”

“yup! and no, not at all. he’s actually very nice.”

“that’s what they all say, wait until you see him when there’s one slice of pizza left.” he joked, pulling out a paper bag from underneath the counter. “a rabid animal, that one.”

“you guys are close?”

“we live in a small town, everyone here’s close with each other.” he teased, “but i get what you mean. we’ve been friends since diapers, bucky’s basically a brother to me. that’ll be 19.99.”

steve watched you reached into your pocket to pull out your wallet, hands flat on the counter and a curious glint in his eyes. he wondered what could’ve possibly caused a city girl like you to move down to a town as hidden as stonefield—but he figured he should hold off on the questions for now.

“oh! i never got to properly introduce myself. my name’s steve rogers. but steve’s just fine. i’m the owner of this establishment.”

you gave him your name in return as you handed the exact amount, hands holding the paper bag in your arms like you were cradling a baby, “it’s nice to meet you, steve. i think i’ll be seeing you often.” you joked, head slightly nodding towards the array of fertilizers and gardening tools.

steve laughed and nodded politely as you turned around to walk toward the exit of the place. you realized the tension you felt since the first moment you took a step into the store was long gone, now replaced with a feeling of relief and comfort. you were surprised with how quickly you were growing accustomed to the new environment, but it’s no surprise since everyone has been nothing but kind to you.

you craned your head to look behind you before pushing the doors wide, grinning politely. “thank you for the fertilizers!”

steve lifted his sturdy hand into the air to wave you off, “come back soon!”

the fresh stonefield air wafted against your face the second you stepped out into the open. you figured you could take a quick stroll around town and take a peak at the beach downtown since you could vaguely make out memories of you fishing there with your grandfather when you were young.

the streets were no longer empty when you started walking along the cemented path, children were now playing amongst themselves in the playground that was situation in the middle of the town. and there were a few people sitting atop benches talking amongst themselves. the trees were quietly dancing along with the breeze—and you could distinctly make out the sound of waves crashing against the shoreline the further you walked into town.

eventually, the smell of saltwater invaded your senses as you stumbled across a beach with pristine white sand. the sun blared, heating everything in its wake as its rays of sunlight illuminated every space under its watchful vision—your skin welcomed the warmth the big star in the sky ever so graciously gave it, making the harbor sitting by the ocean towards your left the only thing that could offer you shade.

your feet collided against the grains of sand resting beneath the soles of your sandals, warming the calluses and skins in between. you don’t remember the last time you’ve been to the beach on your own accord—you’ve never had the chance to.

it somehow felt weird to be in somewhere so mundane and presumptive yet foreign at the same time. you’ll have to come back here on a different day to properly bask in the beautiful waters this town has been keeping hidden from the world—free of the horrors and corruption you hope it would never experience.

upon closer inspection, the harbor turned out to be a fish shop. you were craving some fresh fish, since your palette has been nothing but leftover stock of food from your previous grocery shopping back in the city—it was only natural you’d want something else for a dish.

the bell sang in the air the second you opened the door; the deck's decrepit timber material squeaked with each step you took. the shack felt like it was derelict and had deteriorated from all the years it had watched gone by; the place could probably be a family heir loom at this point—yet simultaneously it looked as sturdy as ever.

you meticulously trudged inside the shop with the paper bag still in hand, gazing at all the paintings of the ocean hung up on the wall, along with the replicas of certain fish decorated across it as well.

there wasn't anyone manning the counter when you arrived, and upon your arrival, someone was yet to appear behind it. you lightly tapped on the bell that sat right beside the register and the cup of fishhooks, hoping to find someone to talk to and happily buy fish from.

apart from the sounds of waves kissing the sand like a ritual it has known since the beginning of time and the squawking of seagulls from somewhere around the dock—you could almost hear a pin drop with how quiet things are.

you were about to turn around and come back some other time before a girl clad in jeans and a shirt emerged from the back door, dusting off the fabric of her top with hasty fingers.

"hi! sorry for the wait, haul just came in. you're in luck—today's fish is fresh from the sea!"

the lady seemed like she was about to tell you more about today's catch but upon closing in against the counter, after getting a good look at your face—her eyebrows furrowed in thought and her eyes narrowed as if she was trying to recognize you.

she hummed, the sound causing you to straighten your back. "i haven't seen that face before, you must be the new girl everyone's been fussing about."

they really weren't exaggerating when they say this place doesn't get that many visitors.

“i’ve been getting that a lot.” you awkwardly laughed, fixating your view on one of the framed sardines sitting idly beside the fishing rods.

“it’s such a pleasure to meet you! welcome to town! my name’s sarah wilson, i would shake your hand right now but i figured you wouldn’t be too fond of the smell afterwards.” sarah chuckled, continuing her endeavors of cleaning her shirt that seemed to have a speck of some sort on it. “so, what can i do for you today, miss?”

you pointed towards the crate of groupers towards her right, a wave of saltine wind gushing through the open windows of the fish shop clashed against your cheeks as you spoke. "can i get three pounds of those?"

"certainly! let me go wrap it up for you."

you left the store with the smell of fish still smothered on the tip of your nose, yet somehow it mixed in just right with the briny wind of the beach.

because you were new in town, sarah gave you a discount for the bag of groupers you bought. without even knowing your name, she's already found her way through your heart with a price too good to be true for three pounds of fish. and with a lighter heart than when you first came into town, you strode away from the dock grinning to yourself—excited for your future visits to the wilson fish shop.

you're fitting in just right with the community. you realized after a few months that you’ve spent less time counting the days until you lose the feeling of missing the city and more time tending to your crops like they were your mission in life—and they might as well be.

after what months of pondering about your direction in life, you were at a place where you believed you are truly happy with yourself. your sense of belonging was finally becoming, piece by piece.

it was another fresh start of the month, and by now your face has already been memorized by the locals with how often you've been leaving your farm compared to when you first got here. you are, after all, their new source of farm-to-table fresh vegetables.

your routine consisted of waking up before the sun rises to clean up the leftover debris by the green house, to watering and tending the crops, to clearing out some more area of the farm. you finish at around twelve pm, and by then you go and visit the town to talk and interact with all the lovely townsfolk.

you've gone from acquaintances to close friends with sarah who runs the fish shop with her brother, sam—who happens to own the saloon—and wanda who owns the ranch down the block from your farm. you've also met natasha, who you've come to find out is the local carpenter and owns a home hardware store just behind your farm.

steve's also grown accustomed to your face after seeing you almost weed out all of his fertilizers within a month, and you've grown quite a bond with the store manager over rising produce demand.

much to your dismay, however, you've run into bucky less times compared to them. only seeing him whenever both your schedules permit you two to do so—but you figured it comes with the job of being the town doctor and the town’s self proclaimed greatest farmer.

but still, on the occasional event you run into him down the street on the way to the store or the library, you always made sure to give him a warm smile and wave at him to which he waves back at you in return.

bucky, on the other hand, has interacted with you exactly fifteen times in the past months, including checkups. he’s been counting every moment—and not in the creepy way—he ran into you and you’ll flash him that pretty smile of yours he’s always somehow itching to see.

normally, bucky’s got his cool always in check—his nerves calm and his hands steady. but lately, like a boy with his first crush, he has to chew his lip every time you spoke to him to stop himself from stuttering out a reply back.

he could physically feel his cheeks warm up and the tip of his nose go red at each time you compliment his clothes for the day. whenever his stethoscope draws close to your chest to hear the thumping of your heart, his own organs roars loud in his ears and he ends up hearing his own rhythmic beating in the process.

he’s found himself walking into steve’s store more times than he needs to in hopes of catching a glimpse of you around the vegetable section. and maybe he’s been going down to wanda’s ranch to “check out the cows” because suddenly he’s very invested in whatever the chickens and barn animals are up to, and maybe he’s caught himself borrowing books at the library despite having the exact same copies of it back at the clinic just to gamble on the idea of you being there at the same time as him.

underneath the collected facade he’s put on is a man whose cheeks turn pink at the thought of you.

if only his schedule would allow it, he’d visit you on your farm and bother you with whatever’s on his mind at the moment. but for now, all he could do was wallow in his feelings at the saloon—his hand clutching an almost half empty mug of coffee—and the person lucky enough to be the audience of bucky’s misery was none other than sam.

“you gotta face this head on man." sam pushed, wiping a glass. "how about you try visiting her farm. y’know, bring her some of those dishes you've been making for us. the fastest way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach, barnes.”

bucky took a sip of his coffee with a sour expression, eyes glued somewhere between the barrels of rum behind the bartender in front of him.

“i don’t know, what if she finds it weird?”

sam scoffed, “now where did all that charm you’ve been boasting about back at steve’s go?”

“i just—i want to do this right... she gets along with everybody pretty well, and i want her to be the same with me.”

“steve told me you two get along just fine.”

bucky chuckled lowly, his arms folding onto the table with. “i go all red in the face with just a quick glance from her. it’s like my body’s reacting before i could even think about what to say.”

his thumb circled the rim of his mug as he pursed his lips, his eyes carefully traced the ripples of the brown liquid inside the ceramic before continuing. “y’think i got a shot at taking her to the flower dance next month?”

sam, too focused on mixing up the cocktail order from another client, only lifted his eyes to gaze behind bucky, head not moving an inch “yeah i do. but why don’t you go ask her yourself?” he smirked.

bucky felt his feet run cold the second he heard footsteps approaching the bar counter, heart racing at speeds he's absolutely sure cannot be healthy. he looked at sam one more time who mouthed go get 'er, tiger before focusing on the drink in his hands like it wasn't almost empty and you weren't approaching the bar counter.

he straightened his slumping shoulders the second your fingers landed on the surface, face now plastered with a lazy grin. "well if it isn't my favorite city girl."

you raised an eyebrow, "you know any other city girls?"

"no, jus' you. but you're still my favorite."

you laughed as you slid into the stool beside his, "it’s nice seeing you here!" you cheerfully greeted, instantly lighting up the room with your presence—or at least in bucky’s mind that’s exactly what you did. in the corner of his eye, he can see sam's smirk grow into a playful grin before hurriedly turning around to tend to another customer. "do you come here often?"

“gotta let loose somehow.” he replied, bouncing his left foot up and down to try and quell the sudden spike of adrenaline his heart’s been pumping out the second he laid eyes on you. sam’s never gonna let him hear the end of this—so he’s giving his all to put on the charming front he’s carefully curated.

“tell me about it. as much as i love my grandfather’s farm, it’s really a pain in the ass to maintain.”

“i’ve been told the place has been looking better than ever.” bucky replied smoothly. in all actuality, no one told him that. he’s noticed it himself each time he purposefully passed by your farm on one of his morning jogs. steve teased him for suddenly taking a different route from his normal one, but the doctor kept on insisting he’s always been going down that path.

he’s even caught you working away at the farm—your back facing him, knees flush to the ground and your cheeks stained with dirt. hands pulling apart the weeds on the ground with vigor as sweat dripped down to your clothes.

bucky thanked that the sun was nowhere near out when he witnessed the sight before him, the lack of light obscured his face from being seen. he felt a deep admiration for how hardworking you were. and by the end of the jog, his brain was already replaying the image of you over and over again.

“really?” you lit up instantly, “it’s good to know that i’ve at least got some amount of progress after breaking my back for months.”

you gave sam an order of sliders and a side of mozarella sticks before continuing your conversation. after declining an offer for a drink, you turned your focus back at bucky, who was giving you a look that spent your nerves in a frenzy.

“if you don’t mind me asking, what brought you here to little ol’ stonefield?”

you shrugged your shoulders with a smile, “wasn’t a big fan of the life i was living back at the city. i tried convincing myself that living in new york with a nine-to-five job was the dream i’ve always wanted.”

bucky sat in silence, attentively listening to you talk about the life you used to live back then.

“and then i—rummaged through my office drawer one day and i found a letter from my grandfather. it had the deed to the farm and i just…booked it and ran all the way here.“

“you look a lot happier than you did the first time you moved here.”

“really?” you teased, arm coming up to rest your chin on the palm of your hand. “did my medical records tell you that?”

bucky matched the smug look on your face with one of his own, almost as if you were challenging him to a contest of sorts.

“would you actually believe me if i said yes?”

“no way.” you laughed, hand slowly approaching the plate of sliders sam placed in front of you in between your conversation with bucky. “i’m curious, by the way, where did you study medicine? is there a college nearby?”

“i studied at columbia.”

“what!” the words came out louder than intended, your hands racing upwards to cover your mouth in mild embarrassment. “what!” you repeated, a lot quieter this time. “i used to live in new york! why’d you choose to work here instead of—you know—there?”

bucky hummed in thought, resting his forearms on the furniture in front of him. "this town is near and dear to my heart. i can roam the entire world for the rest of my life, but i'll always find myself coming back here. you can take a man out of stonefield but not stonefield out the man." he remarked, "so, i figured i'd just practice medicine here."

you took a bite out of your slider, "i can see why you feel that way, this place is great. the last time i felt this happy and free was back in freshman year.”

the atmosphere surrounding the two of you began to shift as subtly leaned in closer—you would’ve missed it if you blinked—but it was there. as if he was subconsciously gravitating towards you like it was the most natural thing that occurred to him.

“you must’ve had a lot of fun back then, city girl.” bucky’s head tutted towards one of the barrels of rum sitting behind sam, playful grin still lingering on his face. “you drink?”

it was a dangerous game to be participating in—you knew you get a bit much when you go drinking, and it especially doesn’t help the fact that you’ve got a not-so little crush on the man comfortably next to you. but you’ll allow yourself to let loose just this once—you’re now getting the chance to spend time with the man you’ve seen the least since moving despite wanting the opposite. and to top it off, who are you to pass on the opportunity of drinking with a man as pretty as him?

“i haven’t found the time to drink lately.” you murmured somewhat bashfully, taking another bite out of your slider.

“‘s that so?” bucky took a hold of the glass sam placed in front of him with that lazy charming smirk. dauntingly, he moved his weight from one arm to the other, almost inclining back on a non-existent wall behind him—looking all suave and laid-back—an almost convincing ploy to cover how his heart was drumming like crazy right now. “let me change that.”

you hesitantly pursed your lips in deep thought, a small hum vibrating through your throat. saturday nights are meant to be enjoyed, you reasoned. letting out a huff, you nodded your head in agreement with a grin. veggie deliveries will have to wait ‘til monday, then.

the walk to the wanda’s ranch was one of the short periods of time where you truly got to think. while yes, you like to daydream while rummaging through the soils of your garden to keep your brain busy was what you usually do—long walks were something you appreciated on a different level. as the leaves of the trees shuffled and your feet crunched against the gravel, you’d stare at the sky and think about whatever’s been bugging you, no matter how long ago or recent it was.

as you rounded a corner that brought you closer to your destination, sam’s words ricocheted in the back of your mind. while visiting sarah to buy your week’s worth of fish this morning–and to deliver some leeks and green beans she ordered–her brother offhandedly mentioned something about the freshness of your vegetables going great with bucky’s cooking. 

“bucky can cook?”

“yeah. he’s like our personal nutritionist. always insisting on preparing us healthy meals whenever he gets the chance to. and ever since you started supplying steve with those vegetables of yours, it’s like he never wants to stop anymore.” 

“huh.”

it checks out, you suppose. he takes care of people’s health for a living, it only makes sense he enjoys creating delicious and nutritious food for the people he cares for. hearing sam say those words did send a small jolt of pride in the pit of your chest, and you did spend all morning while watering the crops thinking about it like a hopeless romantic.

you couldn’t stop the giddy smile from forming, face contorted in excitement and your cheeks slightly duster pink. the only ones to witness your look of love sickness on you were the mushrooms and carrots sleeping deep underground—who were by now probably sick of hearing you fuss about the man working at the clinic.

come to think of it, you’ve also been running into him more often at the store. you were now steve’s new supplier of produce (you lived far closer than any of his previous ones, and they were of better quality too) and on occasions you buy fertilizers—which was very frequent, you’ve always, without fail, ran into bucky. and you’d stay at the general store longer than you had anticipated, but gladly so. 

you’ve even gone out of your way to give him some vegetables yourself, more so as an excuse to his face, after sharing that eventful night with him at the bar. since then, you’ve increasingly grown closer to the town doctor to the point that appointments were one of the things you looked forward to the most. 

you remember him visiting you at the farm one quiet afternoon the day after—to your surprise, he went out of his way to check on you. you were busying yourself as always clearing out the land, when out of nowhere a tall man with broad shoulders showed up with food in his hands. 

“shouldn’t you be resting?” 

your heart practically leaped out of your chest as the voice coming from behind you boomed, making you drop your shovel in surprise.

“christ, you scared the shit out of me. aren’t doctors supposed to treat heart attacks and not induce them?” you held a gloved hand against your thundering chest. 

bucky let out a laugh as he closed the distance between the two of you. he dressed like he just clocked out of work—his long sleeves were rolled up until his elbows and his necktie was hanging loosely against the buttons on the fabric. his right hand was pocketed while the other held a plastic bag.

“sorry, thought you could hear my footsteps.” he watched you dust yourself off the ground, eyes squinted. 

bucky, overcome with concern—and slightly overwhelmed with the desperation to see you again–decided to visit you the morning after your abrupt drinking session with him at the saloon.

he only drank a decent amount, being not too fond of drinking too much, and while you did drink as much as him, maybe even a bit less, your steps were wobbly and uneven while your voice slurred the moment your feet clashed against the floorboards of the saloon, and bucky graciously took you back home with his hand warming your back and your drunken ramblings in his ear.

it was a miracle, really, that you managed to keep your feelings for the guy closed and tucked away into one of the corners of your heart–effectively saving you from the embarrassment you’re bound to face the day after not just from bucky, but probably from sam too.

“whatcha got there?” you asked, tilting your head to the side to get a better glance at the contents of the paper bag he was carrying around in curiosity.  

he lifted it up to grant you a better look, whatever was inside was contained in a brown box–so you still had zero clue about what’s inside.

“food. i thought you would’ve taken the day off so i brought you something to eat.” his head steered towards the direction of where you were previously crouched at, hat over your head and your fingers through the ground. “but i guess not even alcohol can keep a girl away from her farm.”

“damn right. these carrots are my babies.” you glanced towards your front porch, fingers already pulling off the leather material encasing them. “would you like to go inside? we can share whatever you brought.” 

“what about your babies?”

“i was about done, anyway.” you shrugged, already heading towards the farmhouse. “come on, it’s hot out here.”

needless to say—your growing adoration for him sowed deeper that day.

your knuckles clattered against the oak surface of wanda’s ranch, the basket of potatoes sat bolstered in their sack against your chest, your gloved hands holding the material with extra care. 

not long after, the door jarred open to reveal your friend wanda—who was in similar clothing as you.

“good morning, city girl.” she teased, lips curling into a grin, “i see you’ve brought my potatoes! i can’t wait to try out this new recipe i saw on tv. thanks babe.” 

she expressed her gratitude and took the sack from you, “do you have anyone in mind to be your partner for the flower dance?” wanda queried, leaning against the door frame and her voice teasing and her eyes had mischief written all over it.

you gave her a pointed look—you know that she knew who you want to go to the event with, you’ve been mouthing off his name behind closed doors for weeks now. rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms and stood tall. “i dunno. i might not even go.”

“we all know you’ll be there, girl.”

“we don’t know that.”

now it was her turn to roll her eyes. you both knew you’ll be there despite your incessant attempts of saying otherwise.

shaking her head, she held the handle to the door and looked at you apologetically, “i’d love to stay longer and chat, but i gotta get back to work, the cows won’t milk themselves.”

chuckling, you nodded in understanding and bid farewell—wanda waved you off before promptly going back to milking the cows with how loud they were howling inside the barn. 

on your way back home, you heard a pair of elderly ladies sitting on the bench chattering about. now, it was absolutely none of your business to be eavesdropping whatever they were talking about. but with how loud they were talking about said business, you can’t possibly put all the blame on yourself.

you slightly tilted your head forward towards their direction—your steps decelerated as much as you can without looking like a weirdo.

“i saw bucky looking at flowers this morning, who do you think it’s for?” one elderly woman exclaimed, crossing her legs and her hand flailed in the air. 

the other responded, “the flower dance is just around the corner, isn’t it? maybe he’ll finally ask natasha out!”

your heart sank. six feet under—maybe twice more than that. just as fast as your heart dropped down like it was held dozens of meters up in the sky, you were hit with the whirlwind of emotions that came along with it.

your feet slowed into a halt, hidden somewhere behind a tree near the old pair, but still far enough for you to go unnoticed. you already heard a lot more than you should’ve—unfortunately—might as well listen to what else they have to say and most likely crush your hopes from shattered to fine powder.

“i’ve always loved them together! they make such a cute couple!”

the lady with her legs crossed shook her head, a scowl evident on her face. “i wonder what took him this long! it was pretty obvious from the get go it was gonna be her, he could’ve asked her out ages ago!”

you left the second you the other old woman retaliated something in return, mumbling about timing and busy lives, not caring about whatever else they have to say. or rather, you couldn’t bear to hear what more they have to say, your heart was already heavy as it is.

the rest of the walk back home was a blur, and you no longer had the energy to install the water sprinklers you got from steve earlier this week–they’ll just have to wait until tomorrow. for now, you’re going to drown your misery with sitcoms and ice cream.

you didn’t feel foolish at all for liking a man like bucky, but a part of you did feel silly for feeling so defeated and disheartened just from hearing gossip. you began recounting each of your interactions with bucky that included natasha–and your mind came up with the definitive answer that the flowers were meant for her. they’ve known each other longer than you have, they’ve got a bunch of things in common, they’re basically meant for each other.  

plopping down onto the comfortable sheets atop your bed, you let out a blood-curdling muffled scream into the mattress, heart still lodged into the streets where you heard the world-destroying news from their throats. 

you were now armed with a new goal—get over your witless crush on bucky before the flower dance so you wouldn’t have to try and survive the pain of seeing him dance with another girl.

bucky didn’t know what to do. to be frank, he was completely losing it on steve’s couch. steve was sitting on a chair adjacent to the settee bucky was crying his heart out on (not really, but steve definitely sees it that way), and it seemed like steve was going to be the psychiatrist for bucky today.

“i used to talk to her about seven times a week. now it’s gone down to one, even zero! i feel like i made that one scenario up in my head to cope, so i think i didn’t see her all week.” bucky complained, gaze glued onto the ceiling light of steve’s living room.

it’s all that’s been on bucky’s mind recently. he checks on patients’ vitals a tad longer than usual with how his head is at a different place—he hasn’t been able to walk on the streets peacefully with the amount of times he thought he saw your face that day, only for him to turn around and see that it wasn’t you. 

and on the rare instance that it was you—you’d immediately duck your head and speedwalk out of whatever establishment the both of you were in. he chalked the first occurrence on bad luck, as well as the second time. but by the third—he was fully convinced that you were ignoring him.

he’s already racked his head on all sides trying to figure out what he had done for you to avoid him like he’s the plague, but bucky always circled to the conclusion that he had done nothing wrong, leaving him perplexed.

“you’ve been counting?” the blonde’s eyebrows raised in concern, slightly taken aback by what he heard. 

“subconsciously,” bucky defended, “i cherish every moment i get to see her. it’s practically part of my routine. but now, i didn’t see her once—not on the streets, your store, by the dock, it’s like she’s completely disappeared.” 

“and the problem is…?”

bucky’s blue sorry eyes shifted onto steve, “i’m supposed to ask her out to the flower dance, stevie. i already asked esther to save me some peonies.” his dragged his hands down his face, covering the flesh with his rigid fingers. 

his friend sat with his nose stuck between the pages of an art magazine, mindlessly flipping through each entry as he listened to the town doctor lavish in his feelings. “what stupid thing did you do this time, buck?”

“nothing!” he shot up from the couch, looking borderline unhinged. “i-i don’t think i did anything…i just—” bucky groaned, planting himself back onto the soft cushions. 

there were too many words in his chest and not enough courage to let them out. too many parts of him that had quietly started to expect you. with eyes full of longing and a few too many limbs craving for your presence, the words that ached to run free died on bucky’s tongue. he felt powerless—utterly crushed, even. but he couldn’t do anything but wait for you to come around again. because doctors don’t show up to checkups unless asked for. 

“i miss her.”

the days breezed by, and as fast as spring rolled around, the day of the flower dance came. you entered the secluded venue with your arm linked around sarah’s—eyes unintentionally scanning the area to look for the auburn haired man—to avoid him, of course. 

although it was your first flower dance, you knew this wouldn’t be your last. the place, though hidden in greenery, was absolutely breathtaking. the trees hid just enough of the sky and the sun’s light peeked through them like spotlights. the cool air kissed weaved through your hair as you stepped inside, all while waving at a few townsfolk. 

you were wearing an all-white dress with flowers decorated onto your hair. the dress belonged to wanda—she was kind enough to lend you the garment for the time being since it was your first time attending the annual event and you had no available white dress, you didn’t really have to prepare since you were already wearing the stress of moving in and fixing the farm.

wanda already went ahead of you, eager to go to the festival early with vision. you still had no idea who you wanted to ask to dance with—so you decided to head towards the food table for the mean time.

there were an array of dishes on display—from barbecue to dozens of seafood dishes—you set your sights, along with your stomach, on enjoying the free food the town had to offer.

as your hand carried an empty paper plate, a large warm hand cupped your shoulder. you jumped in your skin while your heart fell through your ass at the thought of whose face you’d be seeing when you turn around—it made you want to not turn around. 

before you could further debate on looking back, the voice the hand belonged to cut through your thoughts.

“lovely seeing you here.”

thank god. it was steve, you’ve never felt so refreshed when that wave of relief washed over you. 

“that’s a very beautiful dress! looks good on you.”

giggling, you turned your full attention to him. “thanks, steve.” 

he was dressed nicely—clothed in all white and a ranunculus placed in his breast pocket. he didn’t look half bad.

“who’s your partner for the dance?” you questioned, subtly trying to look around to see if you could catch a glimpse of bucky—because if steve was here, he’s bound to be in the same place as well. 

steve shrugged, coming forward to stand beside you and serve himself a cup of fruit punch. “i don’t plan on dancing.”

“what!” you shrieked, before covering your mouth and lowering your voice to a more respectable tone. “you aren’t serious. you’re wearing such a nice suit, you can’t let it go to waste!”

“no one’s asked me to dance with them yet, so i guess…i don’t really plan on participating in the dance. i’m okay with watching.”

no one’s asked him to dance?! a man that fine cannot be wasted and cast aside as a bystander!

with a look of seriousness suddenly replacing the smile on your face, an expression that steve could only slightly describe as terrifying, “dance with me, then.” you offered.

steve, shocked at what he was hearing, couldn’t help the confused sound he le out. “what? but didn’t he ask you to be—“

“who asked me to be their what?”

“nevermind.” steve shook his head, maybe bucky didn’t go through with his plan of asking you out, since here you are—standing alone and loitering around the food table. besides, you’re a close friend of his—and the festival was about begin, it wouldn’t hurt to dance with you when you asked him to. 

and he figured bucky needed a little push to grow his confidence.

 “alright, i’ll dance with you.”

steve craned his head in all directions in search of his best friend, bucky insisted he went on ahead to the festival but he is nowhere to be seen.

“alright, everyone!” mayor arthur’s voice boomed through the speakers, “to all of those ready and plan on participating in the dance, please step towards the middle with your partner!” he instructed, clearly excited to get things going.

“that’s our cue!” you cheered, grabbing steve by the hand and pulling him to where the others are gathered.

you stood in front of each other beside wanda and vision, who gave you a teasing look to which you tried waving off. 

“i see you’ve already found your partner.” 

“wanda! shhh, i’m only doing this for fun!” you scolded, voice barely above a whisper. 

wanda laughed incredulously, “i wasn’t saying anything!” 

you rolled your eyes and focused your attention back to steve, a nervous look now on your face. “okay, so i know i asked you to this dance, but i have no idea how to dance.”

steve laughed at that, genuine and sincere. “it’s alright, just follow my lead.” 

and as the music began and rang through the forest—bucky could feel his chest tighten and his fist tremble with how hard he was clutching it. 

okay, maybe he didn’t really have the right to feel this way. he wasn’t able to ask you out since he didn’t see you the entire week before the flower dance—yet it still sent a pang of sadness and worst of all jealousy through his heart at the sight of you dancing with steve. 

you looked like you were having a lot of fun. despite stepping on steve’s and your own foot more times than a normal person was capable of—you were laughing to your heart’s content. and bucky wasn’t fond of the thought that it should be him making you this happy. 

all he could do was watch at a distance and fix his tie to hide the look of hurt spread across his face.

“steve i am so so sorry!” you laughed, stepping over his foot again. “i genuinely have no idea what i’m doing.” 

the blonde holding your hands breathed out a hearty laughter, amused at your antics. “at least you’re having fun, that makes up for looking like an idiot.”

“rude. but i’ll let it slide, rogers.” 

his fingers gently guided your body to twirl around his, your dress flowing along with the air and the flowers made your smile glowing brighter with each step. 

the crowd cheered as the song subsided, and your feet were starting to go numb with how much it has collided into steve’s that noon. 

you excused yourself from steve with a giggle—claiming that you need to use the restroom and to take a breather—your heart beating relentlessly with joy from having so much fun. you made a beeline towards the small area quite a few steps away from the venue, but before you could make it any further away, a hand clasped your arm—making you stop and let out a small screech.

thinking it was steve, you quickly turned around to tell him off for scaring you the second time. 

“steve can you please stop ambushing me from behind—“

no. it wasn’t steve. no, it wasn’t wanda or sarah either. to your absolute terror and surprise, it was bucky.

“oh.” was all you could say, your throat suddenly running dry at the sight of the man in front of you.

maybe it was the side of you that was so deprived of him talking—but boy, did he look good. 

his hair was combed over, and he wore a suit similar to steve’s—but it looked so much better on bucky. his steel blue irises stared into yours, and he was angelic—with the rays of the sun shining against his back—it almost looked like he had a halo. 

he had a defeated look on his face, like he was desperate to see you. the second you turned around, the grip on his hand tightened as he murmured your name, the tone of his voice dangerously low.

“where’ve you been…?” he chuntered, grip persistent. “i haven’t seen you in two weeks.”

“i was just—busy with the farm.” you broke eye contact to look at your feet, unable to bear the look on his face because you know your resolve would crack if you stared a second longer. “can you- um…i—” 

“you can at least give me a better answer than that. i know you’ve been ignoring me.” 

you’ve been caught redhanded. and being the stubborn person you are, you held your gaze on the ground—heart starting to ache at the confrontation happening. in all honesty, you didn’t know what to tell him. you couldn’t give him the true, foolish reason as to why you’ve been circumventing away from him to an unreasonable degree.

“b-but it’s true, i have been busy.” you didn’t know if you were trying to convince bucky or yourself with how meek you were speaking, like the mere thought of raising your voice would cause your throat to close up and the dam that kept your feelings at bay to burst open.

bucky pursed his lips, his hold on you loosening but still intact, like he was deathly afraid you would disappear the second he’d let you go. “look at me when you say that.” he pressed, voice dripping with desperation.

“do you know how—how crushing it was for you to suddenly just… stop talking to me all of a sudden?” 

head still lowered down like a dejected puppy, all you could do was shift your weight from one foot to the other. 

“i—i thought i was doing things right, and then you just- just treated me like we’re strangers again, like it all meant nothing. i spent so many nights thinking and thinking about what i did wrong.” 

bucky stepped closer, the tip of his shoes almost touching yours, you could practically feel the warmth radiating from him. hesitantly, you built up the courage to look into his eyes—a decision you’ve come to regret after seeing the face of absolute devastation and sadness in them—like the act of you avoiding him was physically painful.

“and then i saw you dancing with steve, what’s up with that?” 

“wh-what do you care? the people i dance with are none of your business.”

in complete contrast to the conversation, bucky’s lips were hovering against yours. you didn’t make any effort to stop it because truthfully, you couldn’t find it in you to do so. you couldn’t lie to yourself that you didn’t like the feeling of his chest flush against yours. all your hard work of trying to forget about him dissipated into thin air the second his hands curled on your waist.

you don’t know who leaned in first, but it took you a second to realize his lips were already molding into yours, accompanied by a rough calloused hand grazing your cheek. his tongue pushing past your lips—feverish and wet and sloppy—and you could feel the jealousy practically oozing on it as it danced with yours—the intrusion causing you to let out a soft gasp bucky gladly swallowed. 

your hands grasped his neck to deepen the kiss, your own desperation growing clearer. you couldn’t think straight about how good it felt to finally feel his lips on yours—like it was something you didn’t admit you’ve been needing for a long, long time. 

bucky broke off the kiss to admire you—how pink your lips have gotten, swollen from all the kissing and your eyes—pupils blown, half-lidded and full of devotion. “tell me you want this.” 

you swallowed a breath caught in your throat, hips bucking against nothing in desperation as your cunt pulsed with pure need. “i-i wan’ you bucky— fuck please-“

you reached for the zipper of his slacks, eager and needy and wanting more.

he flipped you to face the bark of the tree, heavy hands coming to still your jittery hips desperately trying to relieve the ache in your cunt. he lifted your dress high enough to reveal the wet spot on the fabric of your pantie, and ran two fingers over it—causing you to yelp in response.

“please—bucky- i need you so bad—“

you heard the rattling of a belt clinging loose, and the thick head of his cock pressing against the entrance of your warmth, sliding it against your folds but not quite pushing in just to tease you. 

you groaned in frustration, hands scraping on the rough surface of the tree, “bucky— please put it in—“ you whined pathetically, wiggling your hips to try and entice him to end your suffering. 

“so impatient, city girl.” bucky murmured condescendingly, palm coming to run across your lower back before settling on your side, “alright, since you asked so nicely.”

bucky began to shove the tip of his cock to intrude into you, deliciously slow—he wanted to savor the feeling of being in your warm, welcoming walls before he completely ruins you for anyone else.

“fuck!” you whined, hands bracing against the tree while your hips pushed back to grind against his. “bucky—oh my god-”

“you’re so fucking tight.” bucky hissed, already falling apart just from being inside of you.

slowly, he began to pull out inch by inch, before pushing back inside all in one swift thrust. bucky had to quickly clamp a hand on your mouth to stop the loud wanton moan from echoing into the forest. 

“gotta be quiet, baby.” he leaned over closer to you, sheathing himself to the hilt inside of you—breath fanning over your ear and his hips burrowing impossibly deeper into your leaking pussy—your back bowing in the process.

wet, pornographic slapping filled the space in between the air and the bushes. his cock, thick and pulsing, began to drill into you repeatedly and you could feel your eyes go bleary and your knees give up at the sudden speed he decided to pick up at. if it weren’t for his large hand muffling the obscene sounds you were letting out—not squeezing or gripping, just strong enough to keep your sounds to himself—you would’ve been caught by anyone unlucky enough to be in these parts of the woods.

the leaves shook with each drag of his cock—sending a jolt of electricity up your spine as the knot in your belly slowly building up. he felt like he was splitting you open—your hands were scrambling behind him to find purchase as he continued to plow into your cunt, juices messily dripping down your legs. 

before you could ask for more, his thumb began to rub tight circles over your clit—swollen and throbbing—causing your hips to jerk back against him. he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck before sucking on that particular sensitive part of your skin, leaving red and purple marks in its wake.

“feel good, sweetheart? y’think steve can make you feel this good?” he moaned, still sucking on your neck like he couldn’t get enough of you, “keep quiet, doll.”

you changed his name like a prayer behind the skin of his fingers, biting your lip harsh enough to draw blood, the pleasure sowing itself deep into your abdomen and running up from your toes and through your entire body almost too much to handle—the coil in your stomach threatening to snap. you can feel how soaked you are, your slick was practically drenching your abandoned underwear bunched up around your ankles. 

his hands were harsh against your skin, clenching hard enough to leave bruises in its wake—you’re sure to look like you got beaten in an alley but only in specific places after this.

bucky could feel you getting close with how tight you’ve been clamping on his thick cock, pushing him closer and closer to sweet release, he rocked his hips with much more fervor and intensity—and you screamed at the change of pace—he pulled you back onto him as if to say you can’t run away from it.

his sweat stricken forehead pressed into your temple, “mine.” thrusting particularly harder into you, he bit down on the space between your neck and shoulder—a loud wanton moan ripped through your throat before you could stop it, fingers desperately clutching on the large hands that enveloped your waist.

you felt yourself cum before you even realize it, gushing and coating your already damp thighs in your juices leaving your body shaking while he painted your walls white with a groan of his own—his cum slowly began to trickle down your plush, now limp and numb thighs.

bucky slowly began to pull out all the while rubbing slow, comforting circles on your bruised hips and soaked thighs. 

suddenly it struck you—now hit with the clarity of post-orgasm, you quickly clambered to collect your bearings, leaving bucky with a confused expression and struggling to catch up with you as he hurriedly tucked his cock back in his pants.

“woah woah, are you sure you can walk right now—?”

you sputtered, “i-im— this was a mistake i shouldn’t’ve-“

he flashed you a look of disbelief, “a mistake? we just—“

“what if natasha noticed we’re both missing. i don’t want to cause any drama—“

bucky held up a hand to stop your rambling, brows furrowed and his head in a doozy. “wait, natasha? what does she have to do with all of this?”

“um,” you felt like a small child being asked by her parents to explain something they probably wouldn’t understand, all you needed to do was to twiddle your thumbs and you’d get the part. “aren’t you-? isn’t she your—you know…don’t you like her?”

“what?”

“i overheard some old people talk about you buying her flowers and the flower dance was coming soon so i thought—i thought—“

before you could continue mumbling about even further, bucky cut you off with a loud, obnoxious laughter that left him clutching his stomach in pain. 

“wh-what’s so funny—“

“is that why you’ve been ignoring me? you thought those flowers were for her?”

“i mean, aren’t they-“

“they were meant for you, city girl.” he shook his head with exasperatedly, “i was planning on asking you out to the flower dance, but you went ahead and ignored me for days on end. i ended up not going through with the plan when i saw you dancing with steve.”

“oh.” 

“yeah ‘oh.’ i thought i made it pretty clear i liked you.”

“they were talking about how you were taking too long and that probably meant you’ve already liked her for a long time! so i just thought you were being—you know—nice.” 

annoyingly enough, he let out another laugh. now suddenly feeling stupid, you stretched your arms forward to try and hide your face into the crook of his neck.

you were about to roll your eyes and complain about missing the food when all of a sudden bucky rushed to press his hand over your mouth once more.

“wait. shhh, someone’s there.” 

the words shut you up instantly, simmering your breathing down to barely audible to try and listen for whatever bucky heard that caused him to hush you up.

“hello?” someone called out from behind the trees, “is someone there?”

bucky held a finger against his lips and gripped your hips tighter, and you had to stop yourself from letting a giggle bubble up from your chest. 

as the footsteps began to fade out, you and bucky both simultaneously let out a shared laugh at the thought of almost getting caught by some poor townsfolk.

bucky leaned against the tree trunk he was previously railing you on, “we should um—probably get back.”

you nodded in agreement, “yeah i’m starving-“

“and you’re dancing with me this time.”

@ chipotleburritobowl. do not steal i will scissor you

[godmadeaterribleerror]

This made me want to start a new stardew save and I mean that as the highest compliment ❤️

[chipotleburritobowl]

aw shucks tysm!!

[buckysdecaflove-deactivated2026]

I need fluffy stories, neighbors to lovers, friends to lovers, no matter if it has smut, but no angst or just slightly. But need it a lot. Recommendations please. 😭💓

Can be Bucky (or any Sebastian Stan character), Spencer Reid, Eddie Munson, Johnny Storm...

Pleasee.🫠

[erina00]

My Recommend

⚛️all The Neighbor by @idk-karla | +18

⚛️Bruised Shadows by @happy74827

⚛️People need people by @noblebynura

⚛️Laundry Room Romance by @buckybarnes82

⚛️ passionfruit by @chipotleburritobowl

⚛️ 2A & 3B Collection by @vunblr

⚛️ the only exeeption by @ornateglass | +18

⚛️ The Splinter and the Spark by @marvelstoriesepic

⚛️ Thin Walls by @knowledgeableknitter | +18

⚛️ passionfruit by @chipotleburritobowl | +18

⚛️My neighbour is a pornstar by @brunchable | +18

If you want more, ask me

[chipotleburritobowl]

tysm for including me!! xx

[chipotleburritobowl]

actually obsessed with your username i hope your bowls are filled to the brim and queso free forever

TY ANON free queso for us all!!!

[medicli]

if ur out there reporting blogs for mature content, ur lowkey HIGHKEY evil asf 😭 you’re essentially shadowbanning blogs—& WRITERS WHO WORK REALLY HARD—for no reason. if someones blog bothers you, then just block them… it’s that simple.

[chipotleburritobowl]

im about to shit smt up but my ass is clogged so it wont be out until a few days

[pinksplace]

Everywhere Everything

Day 5 - “I would choose you in every lifetime, every universe.” 🍒

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You were raised that if you love something you set it free, even if that’s the absolute last thing you want.

PSA: @wildflowersandvibranium the angst bug got me

Warnings: hurt but mostly comfort, implied to be post sex but no explicit mention, Steve being sweet, reader being insecure, happy ending :)

Word Count: 800

Isla & Pink's Galentine's Event

"You can go if you want." You offer. 

Steve stops breathing under you, the soft rise and fall of his chest going completely still.

"What?" He asks, and poor Steve genuinely doesn't seem to have a clue.

With a sigh you continue, ignoring the sting of tears in your eyes as you do. 

"You can go back I mean." You tell him, ignoring how bitter the words taste despite how much you do truly mean them. "I understand."

You're not stupid. 

When Steve volunteered to return the stones, you saw it. 

He's had that look in his eyes, ever since him and Tony came back. That wistfulness that only comes with regret and an irrepressible "What if?"

You know it's her. The woman who's legacy you've been chasing since you met him. The one you could never compete with. 

It didn't used to bother you, it still doesn't truthfully. After all, who can compete with a dead woman?

Who can compete with the chance to go back in time and get it right? 

"It's okay." You choke out, closing your eyes to stave off the sting of tears. "I just want you to be happy."

Steve is stiff as a board beneath you. The hand that had been tracing your spine stops, hovering somewhere over the back of your neck as he processes your offer. 

"You want me to go back in time?" He asks. 

His voice sounds thin, worried almost. 

"Of course." You try to force some cheerfulness. "I just want you to be happy." 

You can hear the sheets rustle as Steve shifts. "And you think I'd be happier there?"

The tears well anyway, bubbling under your eyelids and threatening to spill no matter how you tight you squeeze them shut. 

"Wouldn't you?" 

Steve is quiet for a long time, long enough for your chest to start to shake as you do your best to stay strong. Heart pounding with nerves as you brace yourself for what comes next.

What comes next is his hands. 

Slowly, they move you, guiding you flat onto you back so Steve can roll over top of you. A large hand cradles your face, the touch so familiar and comforting it sets you over the edge. 

A hiccup escapes, then another, just as the first tear pushes past your waterline.

"Where would you be?" He asks. 

He doesn't acknowledge your tears, but brushes them away, his thumb catching the sad droplets and catching them as they threaten to roll down your cheek.

"Here." You croak, chest heaving with an stifled sob. 

"Here?" He repeats.

You nod, eyes still squeezed shut. 

Another one escapes, crashing into the pad of Steve's finger as it rules from the corner of your eye.

"Look at me." Steve tells you, voice steady. 

You shake your head, petulant and hurting. A girl can only be so mature when telling her boyfriend it's okay if he breaks up with her.

"Please." Steve breaks, barely above a whisper.

You give in, fighting through stuck lashes as you finally peek at Steve's face. 

He's staring at you like he's afraid you'll break, pretty blue eyes confused and shining with worry. 

"Why would I go there when you're here?" He asks.

God, is he really going to make you spell it out?

You choke down another sob, releasing an uneven exhale as you try to give him a calm answer. 

"To be with her." You tell him, "With Peggy."

Steve's reaction is nothing short of shock, his jaw dropping and closing, just to fall open again. 

"Oh honey." He coos. 

"Steve stop-" you try to fight him, hand weekly pushing at the one holding your face. "I know you still love her."

Steve shushes you, but not to be mean or cruel. 

"I don't want that life anymore." He tells you. 

The tears keep coming anyway, streaming down your cheeks like rivers as he leans in and starts to kiss them away. 

"I haven't in a long time." 

You hiccup again, hand holding onto Steve's wrist like you're afraid he might disappear. 

"You haven't?" You ask, sounding so small.

"No." Steve breathes, pressing his forehead to you. "I like the life I'm building here, now, with you."

"But-"

"No buts." Steve interrupts, pressing a kiss to your lips. "I would choose you in every life time, every universe."

Despite the pounding of your heart, the ache in your chest and the salt of your tears, you believe him. 

"Then why'd you ask to go back?" You blink up at him, searching for any sign of that regret you swore you saw. 

Steve laughs, a breathy huff against your lips as he presses a chaste kiss to them. 

"There's a ring." He explains. "It was my moms and I'm pretty sure I can get my hands on it if I get the timing right." 

You heart stutters. 

"A ring?" 

Steve nods, his own eyes watery eyes as he kisses you again. "Your ring." 

"Oh."

"My silly girl." He says, nudging his nose against yours. "You're my future, the only one I want."

Event Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[chipotleburritobowl]

very real and very fat tears were shed the entire time i was reading this.