Summary: Spring had sprung in Stowe Mills, leading you to try your hand at gardening. Unbeknownst to you, it was still far too cold in the mountain town for anything to actually grow, but Bucky was doing his absolute best to keep that small detail from crushing your hopeful smile.
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: Literally just some fluffy Undisclosed content thank you
a/n: This is a oneshot associated with my series Undisclosed, but can be read separately :) Enjoy!!
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
~~
“Wow, this looks incredible, honey. It’s gonna be great,” Bucky grinned, arms strong across his chest as he leaned in the doorway.
You glanced up from the soil, patting another tomato seed into the ground. “You think so? I’ve never really done this before.”
“Coulda fooled me. You sure you didn’t have some rooftop garden back in New York?”
“Yeah,” you scoffed. “As if my mother would have let me do that.”
Bucky kicked away from the doorframe, joining you in your makeshift garden and crouching in the dirt. He placed a warm hand on your back as he thumbed at one of the leaves in the ground.
*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*
Word Count: 3000 I NEVER do these but look!! It’s too perfectly sappy not to edit the crap out of this fic so that it had exactly 3000 words because I love you 3000 is a thing that is 🥺 Thanks to Dani for the suggestion
Warning: so much fluff it hurts. Be warned. I guess, if you still haven’t seen it, Endgame spoilers? Sorta?
Author’s Note: I thought it was done with their story but I recently got a request asking what happened to Steve and the reader after the trilogy concluded. I’d had a vague idea of what I always meant for them and this ask gave me the nudging that I needed to build on that plot bunny. I hope you enjoy the final conclusion to the Restless Spirits trilogy
A/N 2: thanks to @storyofmychoices for pre-reading this to make sure it makes sense. Page divider made by me
Though you had both retired from hero work, life wasn’t all tranquillity and solitude. Your lively neighbors were amused by your courtship; Mrs. Aikawa was especially overjoyed to learn you were an item. She proudly told everyone she was your matchmaker. There was still some talk about your former lives but for the most part, they accepted you.
Though he had hung up his cowl, Steve was still hands-on in the foundation he set up with Pepper’s help. It was you who suggested he travel to the places he helped to rebuild; he hesitated until you offered to accompany him. The small addendum to the proposal was all that it took to get Steve to agree; having you by his side filled his heart with a deeper sense of love than he thought he was capable of.
Life was what you both wanted: quiet and normal, doing the things you loved, and helping out your neighbors. The humanitarian work you did was focused on reconstruction rather than destruction. The time spent together soothed the wounds from your shared past. Although content in the new life you’d built for yourself, your happiness was marred by the absence of old friends.
*****
After the wild success of the first book, he decided to continue to write and illustrate more children’s books. Pepper argued that the proceeds did as much good as the Avengers did in protecting the world; while Steve dismissed the comparison, it gave him great satisfaction to contribute to the world in a less destructive way. He especially enjoyed your involvement; he had you look over the stories and give your opinion. He carefully observed your expressions, your eyes catching the hidden messages he’d leave. If he was asked point-blank why he continued to write, he loved watching your face light up in recognition when you’d come across the secret love letters meant only for you.
Upon finishing his latest project, he nervously called out to you, “Can you look at my new story? I’m unsure about the ending.”
Washing your hands before handling the pages, you found yourself greeted with Steve’s new book. As you slowly flipped through the pages, you realized it was your story. The pages told a tale about a brave fighter who came to join the Avengers and upset the balance of the team in the best possible way. The warrior not only became a great asset but managed to win over the heart of a certain super soldier.
You laughed at the messages Steve hid throughout the story, exposing his feelings through the different phases of your story. There were clusters of monkhood at your first meeting when he believed you to be a deadly foe and was wary of you. Then came a chrysanthemum once you earned his trust. When you became the only person to be able to help him with his anxiety of adjusting to the modern world, a Christmas rose was tucked into the sketch. A tiny moss rosebud found its way into the scene of the first time he confessed his love. You loved seeing his thoughts throughout your story. On the last page, primroses framed the image of Steve kneeling down. The message was clear: I can't live without you. The illustration had a message for you underneath the flap that his painted hands held. Lifting up the small piece of paper, two words appeared: LOOK UP.
Your breath hitched at the realization of what was about to happen; you tore your eyes away from the beautiful work of art and looked up to find Steve down on one knee. A small gasp escaped your lips at the image coming to life.
“Honey,” he began. “Will you—”
“Yes.”
His bright blue eyes shined with unshed tears as he slipped the simple ring onto your finger. Steve wrapped his arms around you and drew your face towards his. The kiss was full of promises for a future together, spending every day showing the other how much you loved one another. You tasted the devotion, elation, and hope in his kiss.
Breaking apart, he pressed a kiss against the newly settled ring in your hand. “I’m glad that went well. I was so nervous you’d say no.”
“Steve,” you murmured, “I thought we were past this. Yes, you made a terrible mistake but you rectified it. You came back and proved you had changed. I’ve watched you these last few years and you’re different.” You smiled at the questioning look on his face. “You’re more settled. Before, it always seemed like you were searching for something more. It was like you had to keep finding a new battle to fight or a cause to champion to prove your worth. But now, it feels like you’ve made peace with all your ghosts. I’m not thrilled we had to go through what we did but I’m not sure the man in front of me would’ve existed otherwise. If I wasn't sure I wanted you, I never would’ve agreed to forgive you and try again.”
Steve closed his eyes, allowing your words to sink in. Though he still felt regret over his selfish decisions, you never used it against him once you decided to let him back into your life.
“So when do you want to get married?” he asked earnestly.
“Whenever we can get the marriage license?” You laughed at the surprised look on his face at your answer. “What?”
Steve clasped your hands in his own. “What about a wedding? Don’t you want the time to plan all of it?” He searched your face for answers.
You shook your head before looking back into his crystal blue eyes. “We’ve already wasted so much time,” you sincerely told him. “Why waste any more?”
His eyes softened at your words. “Alright, as soon as possible. We’ll do it here?”
You nodded your agreement.
“What about...what about inviting the others?”
Your face fell at the question. You hadn’t spoken to any of them since you left, save for the time Bucky found you. You were sure Steve had informed them he had found you but you had maintained your silence. The guilt of leaving them behind still gnawed at you; you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to face their questions or —your bigger fear—disappointment.
“Steve,” you began before stopping yourself and shaking your head gently, “I’d love nothing more than to have our friends here but it’s been so long and I haven’t talked to any of them since I left. I don’t even know if—” He cupped your face, rubbing soothing strokes across your cheek. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to sink into the comforting touch. “Let’s just get married. Here. In the town we’ve made a life in. I don’t need anything big. I just want you. I want us. That’s enough for me.”
Steve leaned in and pressed his forehead against yours before whispering, “Anything for you.”
*****
Like the pages turning in the breeze, the week before the wedding flew by quickly. After traveling to Tokyo to register your marriage, you came back to town to prepare for the small wedding Mrs. Aikawa insisted on. Having taken on the role of family, she and the other townsfolk came together to throw an impromptu wedding that fit your simple tastes.
The day of the wedding was filled with excitement rather than nerves. You were ready to make your commitment to one another official. You both got ready in your home, choosing to spend the morning together. Steve waited downstairs to walk with you to the local shrine where you’d exchange your vows.
Dressed in a simple white gown, Steve thought you were the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. The simplicity of your choice only highlighted your features. Steve gathered you in his arms, eagerly drinking in the sight of you. Pulling away, your smile didn’t meet your eyes; you couldn’t hide the forlorn look on your face.
“What’s wrong?” he gently asked. His eyes looked deeply into your own, trying to guess the reason for your sadness.
You shook your head softly and smiled, “Nothing.”
“Doll…”
You knew he wouldn’t let it go. You sighed wistfully and told him the truth. “I know I didn’t want a big deal. I still don’t. Everything is perfect,” you reassured him. “I just wish...I wish maybe everyone could’ve been here. With us.”
Cupping your face, Steve pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I know, baby.”
The silence between you broke when a boisterous voice called out, “Hey! I thought it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”
Startled, you jumped from Steve’s arms and stood defensively, scanning the room for danger. For a moment, you cursed yourself for not noticing the presence of another in your home. You’re going soft, you thought to yourself.
Your gaze landed on the intruder. Standing in your small kitchen was Sam. Behind him spilled more familiar faces. Stunned, you looked back at Steve to ask him what was going on. Except he didn’t seem surprised by their arrival. His wide smile and shining eyes looked at you lovingly before he nodded his head at you to turn back to your friends.
Sam’s cheery expression greeted you first. You prepared yourself for an onslaught of accusations; instead, he handed you a cluster of violets. Loyalty, devotion, faithfulness, modesty. “Thanks for the invite,” he told you with a cheeky wink. Placing a kiss to your cheek, he stepped out the door.
Next came Clint, Rhodey, and Okoye. Ever watchful, the sharp-eyed archer noted the confusion on your face. His eyes twinkled in mischief as he thrust long branches of myrtle at you before leaving. Of course, Clint would hand you plants meaning good luck and love in marriage; you hope to find the same happiness he knew with his family.
Rhodey replaced Clint’s presence by your side. His hands held bunches of white jasmine: sweet love and amiability. Leveling a stare at the man to your side, he seemed to want to say something before shaking his head and nodding at you both. You offered him a smile of thanks as he stepped away.
You were surprised at Okoye’s presence. Though you’d become friendly after the Snap, you never thought she’d leave her duties in Wakanda. With a curt nod of respect, she placed marjoram in your hands. You inhaled the scent, smiling at their meaning: joy and happiness.
Happy rushed to your side, almost dropping the handful of asters. He nervously stood in front of you as he fumbled to get the words out of his mouth. “I, uh, you know, if Tony were here, he’d want to walk you down the aisle.” The apprehension rolled off of him in waves. “Seeing as he’s not—” you stopped him from crushing the poor flowers under his meaty hands. “I’d like to offer to escort you down the aisle.” Surprised by the tender invitation, you nodded your head in agreement before rescuing the symbol of love and daintiness.
If you were surprised that Okoye had traveled all the way to Japan, you were dumbfounded that the space voyagers had made time to come for your nuptials. Nebula and Rocket awkwardly stood apart from the gathering. Thrusting a cluster of zinnia at you, Nebula mumbled, “I was told to give these to you,” as she stalked out the door. Rocket groaned and shook his head as you chuckled to yourself. A soft smile crept across your face as you looked down at the colorful zinnias: thoughts of absent friends. Though she didn’t show it very well, the alien had softened around the edges and you were glad for her appearance.
“Hey you,” called out the rodent. “Here ya go and don’t say I didn’t get ya anything.” Several sprigs of flowering sweet basil landed in the pile in your arms. You smiled at his good wishes as he wandered out the door.
The two space-faring blondes came next. Carol spent more time on Earth but her duties still took her away more often than not. You hadn’t realized she was back home. She squeezed your arm, handing you a bunch of thyme for courage and strength.
“Greeting, my friends,” boomed the god of thunder, “a blessing: ‘Father of everything, make us fast and prices, allow our swords to strike accurate. Make our arms stronger than anyone who wants to destroy us.’ Let us drink some ale and make merriment on the union of two valiant warriors.” Thor handed you several sprigs of heliotrope. You smiled to yourself and wondered if the choice was deliberate: they were meant to convey eternal love and devotion but you secretly thought the connection with another sky god’s story even sweeter.
Bruce shyly stepped up to you and placed peonies into the growing bundle. Bashful, happy life. You smiled warmly at the scientist. “I, uh—”
A hand clapped loudly on Bruce’s shoulder. “What he’s trying to tell you is that 7 PhDs weren’t enough and he got himself ordained,” Fury snarked.
“You don’t have to feel obligated or anything,” the self-conscious man added. “I just thought it’d be nice in case—”
Placing a hand on his arm, Steve interrupted Bruce, “We’d be honored.”
“Well then, let’s get this show on the road.” Watching Nick Fury hand you gladiolus for remembrance was more surreal than having the rest of the group in your small town.
The two men left, revealing Wanda with a small bouquet of pink roses. Appreciation, perfect happiness, grace. She kissed your cheek as you exchanged a look of understanding and gratitude.
As Wanda walked outside, a familiar brunet came into sight. Embracing Steve, he pulled back with a broad grin on his face. “Can’t get married without the best man by your side, can you, punk?” His blue eyes sparkled as they rested on the pair of you.
“Wouldn’t think of it.”
Bucky turned his stare to you, placing bluebells in your arms. Humility, constancy. Bucky never begrudged you or Steve stepping away from the fight. He’d been a constant friend, despite the distance. You wanted to express your thanks for everything he’d done but he softly shook his head at you. “Take care of him, doll.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. “I’ll see you at the altar.” With a wink, he stepped aside to reveal the last pair: Pepper and Morgan, the two people you were most nervous to see in the crowd.
You shifted on your feet, unsure of the greeting you’d get from them. They stood at the entrance of your kitchen, Pepper holding some yarrow while Morgan carried a small bouquet of daisies. You were touched that Pepper chose to wish you everlasting love; Morgan’s flowers appropriately symbolized innocence and hope.
As you debated what to say to them, Morgan ran to your side and threw her arms around you both. Her momentum caught you off guard, knocking you off balance. Luckily, Steve swooped in and swept the flowers from your arms while steadying you on your feet. Pepper stepped forward and took the bundle from him to allow you both to speak to the overly-excited girl.
“Oops! Sorry Y/N. I’m just so happy to see you! I’ve missed you so much!” the young girl enthusiastically explained.
Your eyes softened at her presence, realizing she held no malice towards you. Gathering her into your arms, you murmured, “I’ve missed you too, Pix,” into her hair. Slowly rocking from side to side, you allowed yourself to feel the love in her embrace; she’d grown so much since you saw her.
You’re pulled from the moment at the touch to your hand. Thinking it was Steve, you looked up to realize it was Pepper. She gave you a reassuring squeeze that brought tears to both your eyes, answering the unspoken question. There was nothing to forgive: only a shared love and deeply-rooted friendship.
“Don’t forget your bouquet, Y/N,” Pepper gently reminded you as she handed you the arrangement she’d quickly assembled.
You smiled and reached out to take it but Steve interrupted, “Wait! You can’t forget these!”
He handed you a sprig of Lily-of-the-valley. Tucking it into the front, you smiled at him. Of course you couldn’t forget to add sweetness, purity, pure love to the most meaningful wedding bouquet. “Perfect,” you whispered to yourself.
“We should get going,” Pepper said. “I think there are a lot of people waiting to see this happen.”
Steve’s grin matched your own. Turning to Pepper, you asked, “Can you give us a second?”
“Of course.”
“And can you take this for me? After all, it’s the job of the matron of honor and flower girl to look after the flowers, right?” You threw a wink at them as Morgan let out a squeal of delight.
Pepper nodded her head. “Sure. We’ll see you there.” She ushered Morgan out the door, leaving the two of you alone once again.
Overcome with emotion, you whispered with tears in your eyes, “Did you do this?”
A soft smile spread across his face before he reached out his hand for you to take. “Let’s get married.”
You opened your mouth to say more but quickly closed it. You realized there weren’t any words that needed to be said. Of course, it was Steve. He had promised you anything when he proposed. This was him living up to his word. And now it was your turn to give him everything. You clasped his hand, wearing a blissful smile and ready to walk into your future together.
Summary: Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either.
Word count: 4.5k
Warnings: A little angsty, me not knowing how the legal system works, beefy!bucky being very soft
a/n: The last leg before the epilogue!! I hope you enjoy it and, as always, I love feedback and appreciate feedback!! Thank you for reading 🤍🤍
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
~~
The trunk slammed, Bucky’s palms firm against the metal as he secured your belongings inside. Between the two of you, there wasn’t much. But as spring turned into a barely there summer in Stowe Mills, and that summer began dissipating into a harsh winter, you knew you would need warmer clothes to brave the New York chill. So, your suitcases were stuffed full of sweaters and hats and gloves, along with business casual attire—for the courthouse, of course.
You used to have an entire closet full of clothes fit for any event, but since your move to this small town in the middle of the woods, you found that supply dwindling. That is, until the state of New York began their case against Beck. And you parents.
The last chapter!!! Can’t believe it, this story is so beautifully written and the last chapter had me in tears. Hands down one of the very best lumberjack Buckys out there. 😭
oh no, is Steve someone who sees Honey come in with some guy (who's just a friend/colleague) and gets mad jealous? Then the Glare intensifies x10 😖
not this gif looking like he's at the register and his lil strappy straps are his apron 🥺
Fresh Out
Pairing: Baker!Steve x Reader
Series: A Taste of Honey
Word count: 1k
Warnings: Steve being an idiot and possessive. He's a little petty, very awkward but he's trying 😂
A/N: Written on my phone while at work, so I'll fix any mistakes later.
Steve grips the sides of the register, tap tap tapping it with his fingers, breathing through his nose, he wills himself to calm down. His brows pull together as a torrent of jealousy flows through his veins like vanilla whiskey.
His clear blue eyes take in your every movement, the way you shake the snow off your coat, your smile as you stomp your booted feet on the rug. They narrow when the man you brought into his shop touches you again. Steve wants to rip his hand off of you, the swell of possessiveness startles him and he has to take a deep breath.
You're woefully unaware of the torment swirling inside the tall baker behind you, laughing softly you pat your coworkers shoulder. Greg was tasked with bringing desserts to the upcoming company party and you immediately thought of Steve's pastries. "You have to try his apple pie. Every time I have some I could just-mmph," you playfully moan, rolling your eyes back.
Greg smirks, eyeing your ass as you walk to the counter. “Damn,” he whispers under his breath, before catching up, his hand resting on the small of your back.
Don’t touch my girl. The unspoken words singe Steve’s tongue and he has to swallow them down. Something sour-a feeling he refuses to acknowledge weighs heavily on his chest. Get your hands off her.
Schooling his features, he attempts to smile, but it’s more of a grimace. Your eyes flicker up from the display case, disappointment flashing across your face. You really thought he would have warmed up to you by now.
Bucky and Peach-you bite back a giggle at your friend’s new nickname- have to be wrong, there’s no way he likes you. Judging by the way he’s glaring at you, you’re certain Steve hates you. You don’t know why, but he does.
Shaking off the sinking feeling, you smile brightly at him. “Hey Steve, can I have two chocolate cupcakes? And Greg you should get the apple and peach pies.”
Steve watches your lips move, he wants to brush his thumb along your bottom lip before pulling you in for a kiss. He bets you taste sweeter than the vanilla and honey scent wafting off you.
“Uh Steve?” You repeat, rolling your teeth over the same lip currently captivating the silent baker. “Can I have-“
“I heard you,” he snaps, his cheeks blazing with embarrassent. Shit he didn’t mean to sound so stern. Fuck did you just wince because of him, oh good going Steve. Why don’t you just toss the damn cupcakes at her head?
Steve bends down, sliding open the glass doors to the display. He carefully removes the two cupcakes he baked for you this morning. He was hoping to use them as an excuse to talk to you but Graham threw his entire plan off.
Wrapping them up, he places them in the bag and rings you up. You don’t know it but he’s been giving you the family and friends discount. The one Bucky made up when Peach started eating at the bakery.
You exchange uncomfortable glances with Greg when Steve doesn’t move after handing you your change.
Clearing his throat, Greg leans on the counter, smudging the pristine glance. “I’ll take an apple and peach pie.” He winks you, “she can’t stop talking about the amazing food here and I have to see what all the hype is about.”
Something warm and smokey flares to life inside Steve. You like his pies. Damn, is this how Bucky feels whenever Peach eats his food because he could get used to this. His gaze lands on Grant and that good feeling dissipates instantly. He'll be damned if he lets him a taste of his Honey-pies, a taste of his pies.
“We’re all out.”
Everyone’s eyes drop to the four apple pies and two peach pies on display.
"Dont have any left for you Gabriel." Steve stares unrepentantly at Greg. "Sold out this morning. Sorry."
He sounds anything but sorry, your stomach drops at the near growl in his tone. His gaze swings towards you, the depth of emotion in his deep blue eyes sends a shiver down your back.
Is he...jealous? Oh he is. And you like it.
You tilt your head back, taking in the towering baker. “Can he have those instead?” You point at the other tray of pies.
“Fresh out.” Steve doesn’t look away from your face. Something is happening here and it’s throwing you off balance.
“What about the cupcakes?” Your words come out on a shaky breath.
“Dont have any more.”
"The cookies?"
There's at least three dozen on a tray next the pies he's 'out of'. "Sold out."
Greg’s eyes flit between the two of you. "Is there anything in here I can have?” He teases, putting his hand in pocket.
Steve leans forward, planting his hands on the glass beside yours, the body heat rolling off him. He smells incredible, his cologne fills your nose as he gets closer and it takes everything in you to not inhale him.
“No. There’s nothing in here I want you to have George." Steve ignore him when he attempts to point out that his name is Greg, instead he focuses his darkening blue eyes on you. " Everything in here is mine and I want it all.” His gaze trails down your face and settles on your lips.
“Thats uh, that can’t be good for business,” you respond nervously.
Steve glares down at you and shrugs one broad shoulder. You take a step back. He leans in. A heady silence pulses between you.
After a minute. Greg laughs to himself and wraps an arm around your waist. Ignoring the revulsion crawling across your skin from his unwanted touch, you study Steve's face.
“Guess we’re going to Walmart then.” Greg says, waving sarcastically.
Steve crosses his arms across his chest and his glare intensifies, you almost melt, suddenly wondering if you just imagined him looking at you like he wanted to devour you.
Because now he's back to his hate stare.
Yeah, you imagined it.
Only.
Suddenly you're not so sure if the grumpy baker truly hates you and the thought sends a pang straight through your chest.
“Bye Steve,” you say softly, letting Greg drag you away.
Steve watches you leave the shop. “Fuck,” he mutters, raking his hand through his hair.
Just as you disappear down the street, he notices you left your cupcakes behind.
“You should probably give those to her.”
Steve doesn’t turn, sighing internally at the sound of his best friend’s smug voice. Bucky pushes away from the doorway and strolls over. “Ya know my girl has her address. If you want her-,” He bumps Steve with his hip. “I mean, if you want to give her the cupcakes she’s paid for. Be a shame to let someone else have her- I mean the cupcakes.”
The words hang in the air and curl around him.
“Be a real shame.”
“Yep.”
“I should personally deliver them.”
“Uh huh, you should.” Bucky sends a group text to Peach and Wanda.
“As a courtesy.”
“Sure Steve.” Bucky grins at his screen, Wanda's sending vaguely inappropriate eggplant emojis and Peach is planning the first date.
“Thats all.”
Bucky is seconds away from telling Wanda to pay up when Steve sighs. "What am I doing? Bucky can you drop these off for me? I-I can't, she's not going to want to see me after I-"
Cutting himself off, Steve removes his apron and tosses it on the counter. "I'm going on my break, I'll be back in five."
Pairing: Beefy Florist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Your first date with Bucky is just the start of your passionate love story.
Word Count: Over 3.3k
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, semi-public grinding/knee riding, dirty talk, swearing, fluff and some feels (it’s me), beefy florist!Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?)
A/N: Hello, lovelies! Tumblr jail won’t keep me from sharing my writing. I’m falling in love with Beefy Florist!Bucky Barnes and want you to do the same. Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Thank you, lovely! Moodboard created by yours truly. Divider by the beautiful @firefly-graphics and banners by the lovely @its-just-may .
Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications as I no longer do taglists. Please also reblog or comment if you feel inclined! 💙
It was Saturday night and you were convinced that the universe was playing tricks on you. No way did you have a date with Bucky Barnes. You were still shocked that the gorgeous, massive florist asked you out. You checked your phone all day, half expecting him to cancel. But it was almost time for him to pick you up and he didn’t seem like the type to bail.
Summary: Bucky can’t describe the way his heart seized in his chest after hearing you were in an accident so no he doesn’t give a damn about some car. You’re worth more than anything he owns.
Pairing: Beefy Mafia Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 2.4K
Warnings: Rough smut, choking (reader and Bucky), praise kink, voice kink, kitty slapping oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, canon level violence (but its directed at Walker so...), mentions of a car accident. No minors
A/N: Late entry to mafia Mondays.
“He’s going to be furious.”
You press your body further back, wishing you could melt into the seat. John has been tormenting you since you swerved into the wall to avoid hitting a stray dog. He’s your newly assigned bodyguard and had been following you in his own car while you went for a drive. He saw the entire accident; you swore he was laughing at you before he came over to check on you.
“He just got this car.”
That was well over a half-hour ago, normally you wouldn’t allow him to speak to you like this but you’re rattled from the accident. Even now your heart is slamming against your ribcage and a bead of cold sweat rolls down the middle of your back. Covering your face, you whisper into your palms, “I know.”
John won’t let up, pointing out each scratch and dent, each word spewed out of his mouth bounces around in your brain before sinking like lead inside your stomach. Your hands are shakier now than when you first heard the sickening crunch of metal grinding into the brick wall. “This is a four million dollar car, and you fucked up it.”
“I know,” your voice cracks on the last word. Tears burn your eyes, you know how much it costs. You were there when they delivered the custom Bugatti to Bucky’s estate. You saw how excited he got, proudly showing you his newest toy.
Placing your chin on the steering wheel, you stare despondently at the damage. The extensive scratches across the once pristine surface shimmer through your tears. You blink owlishly, the fat droplets roll down your cheek and collect under your chin. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry oh, you’re going to be sorry when he’s done with you.” John laughs harshly, his grating voice piercing your ears. “He’s gonna-“
Bucky clears his throat.
Just once.
It’s all he needs to do to announce his presence. Whether it’s in a room full of shady government officials wanting to get on his good side or this damp, narrow alley where you’re currently parked after your accident.
John was so busy berating you that he didn't hear the two cars pull into the alley. Or notice the mafia boss approaching the two of you. Bucky notes his lack of awareness, adding it to the growing list of offenses that Bucky is going to make him answer for.
He holds up two fingers, motioning for John to move. His mouth snaps shut, and he scurries away from you. Not quick enough. Bucky forcefully shoulders your bodyguard out of the way. His hardened eyes cut the blonde down, if looks could kill, John would be in pieces beneath his boots.
Bucky stands in front of the open driver door, ducking his head, his eyes flit quickly over your body, relief softening his features. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m really sorry about the car, it was an accident, I didn’t see the-“ You pant, the adrenaline from the crash billowing into panic-laced anxiety, the space around you getting smaller and smaller. “So sorry, I’m-“
Making a pained noise in the back of his throat, Bucky crouches down, his large, warm hand cradling the back of your head, pushing your forehead against his.
“Breathe for me, моя любовь, slow breaths in and out." Bucky smooths his other hand down your arm back and forth, his hand wrapping around your wrist, placing it over his heart, resting his thumb on your pulse.
He repeats his instructions, slowly and calmly and sweetly, through your panic you recognize the tone he only reserves for you, his deep voice washing over you until you’re able to take in more than a few weak shuddery breathes, his cologne, a fresh mix of patchouli and vanilla comforting you with every inhale.
“Good girl, that’s better.” Bucky brushes his chapped lips across yours, not quick a kiss, it reminds of you when he kisses your forehead in the mornings when he thinks you’re still sleeping, delicate and tender, not wanting to disturb you but needing one last touch of you on his lips before he goes to work.
His other hand slides down your head to the nape of your neck, bringing you closer to him. He breathes you in. Once. Twice. His thumb pushes gently over your pulse. “Now are you hurt?”
“I-Bucky, I’m so sorry about your car,” you attempt to apologize again, biting your bottom lip when he rears back, glaring at you with what you can only describe as pure indignation.
Bucky raises your chin so you’re looking directly in his stormy blue eyes."Did I say anything about the fucking car? I asked if you’re hurt?"
Oh oh, relief sweeps through your body, pushing away your worries and letting you see him clearly for the first time, what you thought was anger contorting his handsome face is really his fear that you’re hurt.
Bucky can’t describe the way his heart seized in his chest when he got the notification that you were in an accident, he spent the entire ride picturing the worst, so no he doesn’t give a damn about some car. You’re worth more than anything he owns.
“No, I’m okay, just shaken up, but I’m fine.”
With a nod and another kiss pressed into your forehead, he stands to his full height, adjusting his black suit over his 6’4” body. He quietly surveys the rest of the car, your heart pounds in your chest when he takes in the damage. But his relieved expression doesn’t change except for one slight twitch of his brow.
“John, why did it take you thirty minutes to report the accident?” Even you sit up at his infuriated, composed tone, his crisp voice whipping intensely through the air. “And why did you fail to inform me of her condition?” Why didn’t you say she was safe and unharmed.
“Actually, don’t speak. I don’t give a fuck.” Bucky reaches down and helps you out of the car, tucking you into his side. You notice his men filtering out of a black SUV parked behind you. Bucky turns his head, “ But I do care about one thing. What exactly did you say I was going to do to her?”
All the color drains out of John’s face, his arrogant expression fading away. He holds up his sweaty hands in a placating manner. “Nothing boss.”
“That’s not what I heard. Don't worry, the guys will help you remember what you said to my girl. And then all the shit you thought I was going to do to my queen, they’re going to do to you.” Bucky grins, guiding you to his car with his hand splayed protectively on your back. “I think that sounds fair.” He casually tosses over his shoulder.
Bucky opens the car door, helping you into the passenger seat. Putting on your seatbelt, he tilts his head as it clicks into place. “He was wrong, моя любовь, you know that, don’t you? All that shit he said, that’s not what I’m going to do to you.
“I know.” You nod, smoothing his hair back, then you blink, furrowing your brows. “Uh. Wait. What do you mean “by what I’m going to do to you?” I thought you said you weren’t mad.” He only smiles up at you. “Bucky?”
“Never said I wasn’t mad.” Bucky tightens the belt across your chest.
“What are you going to do?” You ask hesitantly, his smile widens and your heart lurches.
“Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough.”
******
“Please!” You beg, your head lolling to the side, “Fuck I’m sorry Bucky.”
It’s been hours since he brought you home, wordlessly tossing in the middle of the California king bed. He methodically removed your clothes, his lips and fingers brushing over each exposed surface of your body until he’s reassured that you were alright.
He kept turning you over, exploring you thoroughly until you were dripping and aching and begging for him to take you, ignoring your pleas that you need him, his massive ring adorned hands gliding over your skin, unhurried and deliberately pressing into your muscles, observing your face for any indications that you were sore.
And after he was certain that you were fine, he unleashed his feral side on you. He swept his powerful hands under the back of your thighs, pushing your knees into your chest, leaving you open and exposed to him.
All the worry and distress he felt rushing to get to you, he took out on your clit with a flurry of punishing lashes, his wet, pink tongue skating through your folds and over your clit.
Only stopping to smack your clit with his rough palm before latching back on your pulsing clit. The stinging pain enhances the pleasure until your body is writhing under his hold. You clench down around nothing, his tongue catching every drop that pours of you.
“Fuck yes, right there, Buck right there, please ‘m so close.” You’re so on edge, not knowing what to expect, the anticipation heightens your pleasure in ways you never expected. You feel everything from his warm breath on your cunt, the sweat beading down your thighs, his beard scraping across your skin, it's all too much and not enough and the next deliberate flick of his tongue sends you hurtling into another orgasm.
This is the third one he’s pulled out of you, each one stronger than the last. He doesn’t let up, his tongue steadily swirling around you. No, it’s too much, you’re too sensitive. You grab the headboard and pull but his heavy arm wrapped around your thighs right after your first orgasm so he could keep you spread wide open for him.
“Please, Bucky, I can’t come again, I can’t-“ you mumble incoherently, weakly slapping his head.
He finally releases you with a wet plop and your back falls onto the twisted sheets. Bucky raises his hand and you feel the sharp sting radiating from your clit before the wet sticky sound reaches your ears. “Bucky, “ you sob out, even as you rock into his touch.
“Dont ever scare me like that again.” This is the first thing he’s said since he’s taken you home, his gravelly voice pierces through your orgasm-induced haze.
“Dont. Do. That. To. Me. Again.” Each word is punctuated by a wet slap, sending a wave of sensations up your spine, and the coil in your belly winds back up. The line between pain and pleasure blurs into a glorious sultry heat pulsing through you. “I’m sorry, Bucky, I’m so sorry I won’t never again,” you promise, your words slurred together, hands fisting the sheet.
The bed dips around you as he climbs across the rumpled sheets until he’s hovering above you, shifting his weight onto one elbow, his hand guiding his thick, veiny cock up with your spasming pussy. He drops his body on you, gradually pushing his swollen tip inside you, watching you swallow him.
“Do not scare me again моя любовь,” he repeats slowly, letting you feel him inch by inch, your walls stretching around him until he’s buried inside you, placing his lips by your ear, he lets out a low moan that vibrates through you.
Bucky sets a steady, rough pace that speaks volumes, and fuck does he feel good. You wrap your legs around his waist, digging your heels into his ass as your nails rake down his back. The emotions in his blue eyes hold you captive, in this moment, it’s just you and him, you don’t think, you only feel everything he’s giving you. His cock, hard and throbbing, glides across your velvety walls. He grabs your wrist, sliding his hand into yours, his lips grazing across your throat up to your jaw.
“Я не могу представить мир, который не у тебя в этом. Ты мое все, и мысль о том, чтобы потерять тебя слишком много. Никогда не оставляй меня.” Bucky’s so lost the senastion of your tight warm body wrapped around him that he doesn’t realize he’s speaking Russian.
But you feel the meaning of his words in the way he’s holding your hand in his, fingers laced together above your head, in the way he angles his hips the way he knows you like, so his cock hits your spot over and over, in the way he keeps pins you to the mattress under his warm heavy and solid weight.
His thrusts quickening into an urgent, needy rhythm, the headboard crashing into the wall above you. A symphony of your moans and skin slapping float across the room.
Bucky feels you clamp down around him, so warm and tight, your mouth going slack. He knows you’re about to cum, his hand leaving the top of your head to curve around your throat, increasing the pressure as he relentlessly fucks you harder, sending wave after wave of pleasure pulsing through you. Your lungs burn with each strained breath, his name choked on your tongue.
sogoodsogoodsogood
You can’t even arch off the bed, his heavy chest keeping you in place. Thick hair-covered thighs moving over yours, pounding you deeper into the mattress, the headboard cracks in two, a piece falls near your pillow.
sogoodsofuckinggood. The words stumble out of your mouth, his fingers flexing around your throat. "Buckybuckybuc-god just like that."
“Cum for me, please моя любовь, cum for me.” His hand slips between your sweat-laced bodies to circle your clit. The knot in your belly unravels, showering your pliant body with heady sensations that shoot up your spine and across your limps, you're freefalling into white-hot pleasure, it sweeps through you over and over as stars dot your blurry vision.
His lips crash into yours, swallowing your wordless scream as you fall around his cock.
“Трахни ты такой крепкий и теплый. Чувствовать себя так хорошо, моя любовь.” Letting you go, he plants his hands on the sides of your head, leveraging his hips to go impossibly deeper. You greedily take a deep breath, soothing your burning throat, reaching up to pull him in for a kiss.
"Give to me Bucky," you rasp, gripping his ass with one hand, your other hand moving to his throat. He feels perfect--on you and inside you--the urge to make him feel as amazing you do right now is overwhelming so you clench down on him, meeting his erratic strokes.
His head drops back, a deep red flush appearing under the tattoos on his chest, prominent veins in his neck distending.
“Оставайся таким для меня.” He grinds his hips into yours once, twice more before he chants your name like a prayer, his deep voice ringing in your ear. Bucky stiffens his cock twitching before spilling inside you, a deep satisfied groan escaping his lips. You did that, you made him lose control.
He rolls over, taking you with him, his hand resting on your back. His heart races under your ear. “M gonna stay inside you for a little while, okay моя любовь. Jus’ need to feel you.”
You nod, exhaustion pulling your eyelids close. “Love you too Bucky.”
He smiles, kissing the top of your head, already planning your spa day for tomorrow, anticipating that you’re going to need a massage in the afternoon after a long hot shower. You may not be sore now, but you will be by the time he’s done with you.
You’re in for a long night, your only reprieve will be your aftercare and the naps in between him making sure you feel him inside you for the next week.
But for now, he’ll let you get some much-needed rest and enjoy having you, safe and thoroughly loved, in his arms
Likes,comments and reblogs are everything 😍 even if you respond with just emojis you'll make me day🥺
Beefy Steve accidentally startles you awake from a nap so abruptly from a nap that you accidentally punch him in the face
You’re not watching where you’re going while you’re walking down the street and you slam your iced latte into beefy Bucky’s chest, absolutely ruining/drenching his shirt. He is a total stranger to you at this point.
One second you're looking at your phone, your vision blurred by tears. Your boyfriend-ex boyfriend-is showing off his new girlfriend. It hasn't been a week. Not even a full seven days and now he's in so love. You never realized how one single picture could shatter your heart into pieces until now. The caption, finally found someone worth loving pierced your chest like a dagger. A tear spills over, splashing across your screen, rolling down her perfect smiling face.
Then you run into him. It all happens in slow motion. Your phone slips from your hand, clattering on the pavement. Your coffee slams into his chest. Caramel. Ice. Skim milk. Three shots of espresso. Sink into his red Henley turning it almost black as it spreads across his chest.
His very muscular chest. The one you're staring at it with your mouth wide open.
"Are you alright?" His voice, rich and deep and warm-Can voices be warm? You don't know but his is wrapping around you like a thick knitted blanket.
You still staring. You should probably stop that. In a second. Focus on breathing first and then worry about blinking.
"I'm sorry, I didn't see you."
Your eyes meet his and all you can do is nod helplessly. If his voice was warm, his eyes are pure fire, sultry and scorching and so blue you could lose yourself in them.
His thumb swipes across your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your tears. A large hand cusps your chin, tilting your face upward. His touch is assertive yet gentle and you want to lean into his palm.
"Are you okay?"
****
Bucky saw you.
Moments before you collided with him.
You're stunning and he couldn't stop staring at you as you made your way down the street, he was debating if he should approach you, so sure that someone like you must already be taken. But when you lifted your face to the cloudy sky, eyes closed tightly trying to drown out the world, you intrigued him and he knew he had to take a chance.
Your eyes, beautiful and sweet, slowly cracked open, you looked around with a soft sigh that was lost under the low hum of the city, the pain brimming in them awakened a part of him that has been dormant for years. A protective, primal voice whispering to protect you, help you, take away your pain and make you happy.
Summary: Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either.
Warnings: Beefy!bucky, angst, references to death/crime, injury, eventual smut (minors dni, marked *), tiny bit of slow burn!!
a/n: New chapters every Wednesday! You can follow my library blog @pellucid-library for notifications. :) Excited to share!! 🤍🤎
Summary: Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it.
Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/drinking, Mild language, Angst, Minor injury, Smut (Minors dni, marked with **), Enemies to lovers trope!
a/n: Hi!! The main series is now complete! I’ll be posting drabbles/one-shots based on requests! :)
✶ Part One ✶
✶ Part Two ✶
✶ Part Three ✶
✶ Part Four ✶
✶ Part Five ✶
✶ Part Six ✶
✶ Part Seven ✶
Drabbles/One-shots (chronological)
Bucky realizing he’s falling in love. Prequel one-shot.
Ransom: When crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, it’s “intelligent” and “really cool,” but when I do it, I’m “petty” and “need to move on”? What kind of double standard honestly...
