A Rainy Rendezvous

A Rainy Rendezvous

Pairing: Steve Rogers x CIA!Reader

Summary: On a rainy night during a mission in Poland, you "bump into" someone who held a very important place in your heart in the past.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning(s): brief mentions of CIA operatives / a bit of angst / a sprinkle of fluff / the one that got away vibes / mentions of being followed / mentions of a gun / stays within the marvel guidelines of action + fighting

requested by @espinosaurusrexex

a/n: Hello everyone! ❤️ Thank you for being so patient with me on these requests! ❤️❤️ Life has been very hectic lately between starting an internship, being a senior in college, and my dog passing away...it's been a lot. 💔 I’ve mentioned this before, but many of the requests are close to being done. I only have a few final touches and edits to add, so look forward to that in these upcoming weeks! ✨

sequel drabble 🤎 // birthday bingo masterlist 🤎 // main masterlist 🤎

“ I’ll check out the other location tomorrow. For now, I’m calling it a night,” you hung up the call, the simple click relieving some of the tension in your shoulders. Most days as an agent were tedious, but today had been another extreme of it entirely. Your informant double-crossed you, causing your undercover identity to be potentially compromised. 

You spent the majority of the day chasing dead-end leads as to where your informant had gone to hide away. The soles of your feet ached and the rainy chill of the night was bringing in no added comfort. You buttoned up your denim jacket, stopping the icy wind from seeping itself further into your chest.

You walked the unfamiliar streets of Kraków in the general direction of the hotel you had been stationed in. As exhausted as you were, it was your first time in Poland and it was small opportunities like this one where you could take in the beauty of the countries you worked in.

After your wasted efforts of the day, you weren’t going to waste a second of this.

You weren’t alone on your nightly stroll. Locals and tourists alike bustled about, enjoying what the city had to offer—despite the weather. 

You passed by multiple local businesses and restaurants before stopping at one of the stalls near St. Mary’s Basilica. An elderly couple was selling braided bread and mulled wine. Your Polish needed some work, but you knew enough to keep up in conversation with the couple. 

Their presence was the right kind of warmth for a night like this. They bickered in a way only old married couples did. The kind of back-and-forth friendly matches you can only have with the love of your life. Little simplistic arguments ending in tight hugs and peppered kisses.

They reminded you of the time you had loved so intensely to the point of considering—for the first time in your life—growing old with someone. You pushed the memories away, deciding there was no need to revisit ghosts from the past. You could do that at some other time. 

You excused yourself, taking your bread and mulled wine, and continued your route in the opposite direction of where your hotel was located. The saltiness of the bread dissolved on your tongue while the mulled wine left you in delightful confusion as you tried to decipher the ingredients within it. There were hints of apple cider, cinnamon, and a citrusy fruit. 

You decided to enjoy your treats and what you had left of this peaceful night while you still could. 

In your field of work, being on high alert every second of an operation is crucial. In many instances, it could mean life or death for any of the parties involved. The best agents in the organization could detect danger from the most peculiar places. 

You were one of them.

You realized you were being followed the moment you stepped into St.Mary’s Basilica. Within the shadows of the night, there was one in particular that stayed trained on you. Since the uncertainties arose over whether or not your undercover identity had been compromised, the person following you could be anyone. 

As to not raise suspicion, you kept your pace the same and continued to savor your treats as if you were any other tourist. Internally, your alarms were ringing and you were trying to locate the best place to have an advantage over your pursuer, so you wouldn’t end up being cornered by them in case a confrontation occurred. 

The rain was only but a drizzle now, and the moon was high in the sky. The more you walked the fewer people there were around you. Many of the businesses you had passed earlier were now closed and you realized it was likely you might end up in a position where you were left alone in the night with the mysterious stranger hot on your trail.

This stranger was now using the roofs of the buildings across the street to continue his pursuit of you. You had to admit that was clever of him and if you had been any other agent you might not have noticed.

Your only option now was to go on the offense before the man—you had concluded was a man from his broad silhouette—ever got a chance to.

You discarded the remnants of your Polish delicacies in a nearby trashcan before dashing over to the other street, underneath the building the stranger was standing on. You knew he could either maneuver his way to the tops of the buildings on the other side of the street or decide to meet you at the bottom.

You were hoping he would meet you at the bottom. 

The building you had run to had an intricate pathway aligned with arches all across it. You used the columns of the arches to make your way to the side of the building where you would be able to get a better view of which direction the man would decide to go. If you used the shadows from the columns made by the city lights and the moon, you would be able to sneak up on the man and have the upper hand. 

  Of course, the gun hidden on the inside of your jacket would help with that as well.

You bent down and angled your body so you had a clear view of the street while still keeping yourself hidden. Adrenaline began to make its way through your body giving you the added energy you would need in the fight. 

You concentrated on the noises around you, causing you to pick up on incoming footsteps. They were light, letting you know this person must be highly trained for them to know how to mask their steps. If it weren’t for the sporadic puddles on the ground from the rain, you might not have heard them. 

You weren’t sure what organization you were dealing with, but you knew you had to be as careful and calculated as you could. Due to the possibility of your undercover identity being compromised, the person after you could be from one of many organizations you had crossed in the past.

The steps were inching closer, and yet, there was no sign of the man. You could have sworn you chose the best location to spot him, but it seems you were mistaken. Your only choice now was to concentrate on the direction his footsteps resounded from and pinpoint his location with that. 

From the sound of it, he was just to the left of you and merely a few feet away. With every inching step he took, you realized it was now or never to act. 

“ Don’t move any closer! Identify yourself!” You sprung up, pointing your gun directly at the man. He was using the shadows of the night to hide himself as he approached you, so it was difficult to distinguish his features from where you stood. 

The man froze, his hands slowly raising to a peaceful stance, “ I figured I shouldn’t have snuck up on you, Y/n.” You faltered for a second at the sound of his voice and your name dropping from his lips. It was as familiar as a déjà vu was. In your heart, there was a memory of it and yet you couldn’t pinpoint when was the last time you had heard it. 

Perhaps it might have been when he broke your heart. 

Or maybe when you had broken his. 

“Steve?” His name dropped from your lips in a whisper. A part of you thought you were losing it. Had you been so lonely these last couple of years that you were now projecting your last lover onto random strangers? 

The man stepped into the light confirming what your heart already knew. The man who had been hiding in the shadows and following you was your ex-boyfriend Steve Rogers. Although, this Steve in front of you was foreign to you.

He had grown out his beard and his hair, which was now a darker shade of blonde than you remembered. From what you could see, his face and hands were adorned with new scars and scratches untouched by your hands. There was also a gloominess behind his blue eyes he couldn’t hide away.

He dawned on a black leather jacket as opposed to the brown leather one you were used to. You had borrowed that jacket many times in the past as it became a comfort to you whenever he was away on a mission. It always smelled of his sandalwood aftershave and the smoky bergamot cologne you had given him on the first Christmas you spent together. 

It became his signature scent and you loved it.

However, the Steve in front of you resembled nothing of the Steve you once loved. How much had his life changed in the years since the two of you broke up? How much had it changed him? 

“ Hey…it's been a while,” he spoke up cautiously, glancing over at the weapon in your hand before looking into your eyes. You lowered it slowly, feeling as though you were in a dream, “ Yeah, it has. Last I heard you were in big trouble with the United Nations. Technically, I should be arresting you right now.” You said the last part in a playful tone hoping to ease the tension between you.

The night seemed to have gotten colder ever since he stepped in front of you. 

Thankfully, easing into things was the right call as a small smile appeared on his lips, “ Technically, you're right, but you would have to catch me first,” he pointed out. 

“ Oh, that would definitely not be a problem,” you boasted. 

“ Half of the Avengers tried and failed,” he informed you, holding back what looked like a somber yet smug expression.  

“ Yeah, but I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve not even Tony would think of,” you stated confidently, placing your gun back into a pocket on the inside of your jacket. Now that you no longer needed it, you didn’t want it to hinder the pleasant mood that was now finding its place between you. 

“ I’m sure you do,” he responded, a fond look adorning his features. You were sure you had a similar expression, as you ruminated on past memories of playful exchanges with Steve. Many ended in far more romantic exchanges than this conversation would.

Getting past what once was, you needed your curiosity satisfied,“ What brings you to Poland anyway? And why were you following me? I don’t know how they did it in the 1940s, but in modern times we use a thing called a cellphone when we want to contact an ex,” you teased. 

He laughed at that, a sound you recognized all too well. It made you realize that although the Steve in front of you was different, you still knew him. Deep down he still had to be the man you had fallen in love with. 

There was a conflict of emotions stirring within your heart as a result.

“ Okay, I get it. Like I said, I shouldn’t have snuck up on you. I just thought you wouldn’t want to see me,” he confessed before continuing, “ Those of us who didn’t sign the Sokovia Accords are on the run. We’ve been moving to a new city every few weeks. Right now we’ve been stationed in Kraków for two and are relocating to Tarnów next week. Sam told me you were on a C.I.A. mission here and I had to come see you before we left,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head in a sheepish manner. 

You couldn’t blame him for coming to see you. At this point, you would have to hold yourself back from “bumping into him” in Tarnów. 

 “ Sam told you? How did he know?” You asked, still not seeing the full picture. Steve cleared his throat before speaking, “ Vision was a big help with that. Between him and Sam, they were able to rework an old laptop to pick up on different signals and monitor specific ones we chose. It was by chance he picked up on a phone call you were having with an agent named Clarke a few days ago,” he explained, causing your confusion to dissipate and in its place discomfort made a home.

Knowing that what Steve said was true, that meant that Sam and Steve had heard the very awkward and uncomfortable conversation you had with your mission partner Agent Clarke a few days ago. 

Clarke had taken an interest in you ever since you were first partnered up on a mission a few months back. You never had taken a similar interest in him and always kept things professional. Unfortunately for you, this caused Clarke to think you were “playing hard to get” and this ensued a plethora of attempts to charm you.

His latest attempt was a few days ago where he insisted on your undercover identities being a newly wedded couple having their honeymoon across Europe. You politely declined and were grateful your mission supervisor disagreed with the idea as well. The conversation was overall uncomfortable and to outsiders it could have insinuated there was something going on between you and Clarke. 

The outsiders in question here, unfortunately, were Steve, Sam, and anyone else in their group who had heard the conversation. You were mortified, to say the least.

“ Oh, you heard that? About that…,” you trailed off not knowing where to start. 

Steve shook his head,“ You don’t need to explain anything. I get it. You moved on and you have every right to. This whole moving on thing, I just—I still feel like I’m stuck in time sometimes and I can’t help revisiting the past,” he stated sincerely, his eyes wandering to the ground. He frowned at it, searching for something else to say.

At the same time, his statements had brought you out of your embarrassment long enough to register what he had said. 

“ Surely you’ve moved on?” You asked him, not comprehending if you had interpreted what he said correctly. 

It took him a moment before he got the courage to lock eyes with you,“ Have you?” 

You paused, not having a straight answer to his question. Before meeting him today to anyone else you would have said you had—even if deep down you knew it wasn’t the whole truth.

You broke up with him months before the whole Ultron disaster and since then you haven’t looked at another man with romantic intentions. 

You couldn’t count that as moving on. 

Your mouth parted, but no words came out. You were still unsure of what to say. Your heart was jumping out of your chest trying to answer for you and the look he was giving you was making it impossible not to give in and let it. He was pleading with his eyes, a hopeful shimmer that maybe somewhere within you there were still feelings for him lying dormant waiting to be awakened. 

His gaze made it difficult for you to think, so you averted his eyes and looked down at a slightly large puddle on the ground. It was the only thing separating the two of you, with both of your reflections lying inside of it. You stared at the reflections, hoping to collect your thoughts better this way. 

You could see him shuffling uncomfortably through the reflection,“ I think a part of me always knew you had. I should’ve known when you didn’t respond to any of my letters,” he continued, taking your body language as confirmation you had moved on. 

At his revelation, your eyes shot up and locked on him, “ You wrote me letters?” 

He looked taken aback by your surprised expression, “ I did. Every month for a year after we broke up. There was a lot I still had left to say—and that I wanted to say to you. When I didn’t get a reply back I assumed you wanted nothing to do with me,” he admitted, his expression softening. 

You were gutted at the mental image of Steve waiting nervously to hear back from you only to receive silence in return. You spiraled at the thought of what could have been if you had read just one of those letters. Truthfully, your breakup with Steve was unwanted on both ends. However, due to the pressure and demands both of your professions required of you, you grew apart. 

For months, you were lucky to catch a glimpse of each other on the weekends before receiving your next mission or task. Evil didn’t stop, so the good guys couldn’t either—and the Avengers took up almost all of Steve’s time. The loneliness of the constant nights alone waiting for your boyfriend to come home became too much for you.

So much so, that you ended things when loneliness turned into resentment. There was only so much the mind could understand before the heart took over. 

You boiled it down to right person, wrong time. 

“ I never got them,” you finally spoke up, “ If I had, Steve, I promise I would have called you. Right after we broke up I was stationed in London for a year and I rented out my apartment to a young couple. They never told me of any letters,” you explained, feeling betrayed by fate and your tenants. 

Steve gave a chuckle, one laced with disbelief at the situation, “ No, it's on me. Letters are kind of old school, aren’t they? I should’ve picked up the phone and called you.” He shouldered the responsibility, something only Steve would feel the need to do. 

You disagreed, shaking your head at him,“ The phone works both ways, so it's on me too. And I like old school. There’s a charm to it you can’t find anywhere else.” 

You hoped the deeper meaning of what you said would get across for Steve to understand. 

It seems it did, as a comfortable silence fell between you. You stared at one another, searching for your past selves in each other's eyes. There were so many questions and things left unsaid that were waiting to be discussed.

You were eager for him to confess to you everything that was written in the letters and he was just as eager to hear your response to all those unanswered questions he had sent you more than a year ago. 

As neither of you could decide who would get the conversation started, fate decided to intervene once more. However, fate this time went by the name of Sam and his little bird-like drone Redwing.

When you spotted it approaching you, your hand instinctively placed itself on top of the gun hiding on the inside of your jacket. Upon seeing your reaction, Steve bolted over to you and placed himself in front of you as protection. The action caused your heart to flutter.

As soon as Steve spotted Redwing, his guard went down. 

“ Don’t worry about the drone, it’s Sam’s. I think that’s his way of telling me I need to be heading back,” he informed you, your guard dropping as well at the explanation. 

“ I should be heading back too. I have a lot of investigating to do in the morning,” you pointed out. 

“ Want me to walk you back?” Steve asked you in a way that gave you full control over the decision. 

As much as you wanted him to, you had to decline, “ I want to say yes, but you can’t. The hotel I’m staying at is heavily monitored and you're on the run. It would be too risky. It’s safer for you and your group if you don’t go anywhere near it.” You were disappointed at the reality of the situation and from the look on Steve’s face so was he. 

“ I figured, but I still wanted to ask,” he took a step back, making you realize how close you two had gotten when he rushed over to protect you. There was no longer a large puddle of water in between, and if you reached your hand out you would be able to touch him. 

“ Steve, that old laptop can track down any signal right?” 

“ From what I understood, yes. Why?” 

“ Well you have mine now, so I’m counting on you to keep in touch,” you let him know before planting a quick goodbye kiss on his cheek. His beard was scratchy against your lips, but you were surprised to find out you didn’t mind it.

He was stunned for a moment before a grin quickly replaced it. 

“ I will. I promise,” the sincerity in his tone and expression was all you needed to walk away knowing the story wouldn’t end there. 

“ Goodnight, Steve.” 

“ Goodnight, Y/n.”

How lovely it was to hear those words again.

The next day a package was delivered to your hotel room containing a burner phone inside and a note that read: 

I always keep my promises. :) 

The phone contained only one number on the contact list you soon found out belonged to Steve. Throughout the course of the next two weeks in Poland, you spent every night talking on the phone with him. 

You both poured your heart out to one another. Your losses, your fears, your hopes, and any other topic that came to mind. There was so much to catch the other up on that there were never enough hours in the night to get through it all. 

With every conversation, the connection you once had was slowly building itself again. A little over two years had gone by since your breakup and the people you had become since then were getting to know each other once more. 

Maybe now the timing was finally right. 

Tranquility

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: On your day off from saving the world, you decide to have a date in the park with your boyfriend Bucky.

Word Count: ~400

Warning(s): none really, just lots of fluffy goodness!!

a/n: The end of the semester is approaching, so I am swamped with final projects and essays. Here’s a little fluffy drabble in the meantime inspired by the four blissful summerlike days my hometown got before the snow visited us once more 😭 Yes, you heard me right. SNOW IN APRIL!! 🥲 Thank you for reading! ❤️ Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! 💕

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“ I wish this day would last forever,” you let out a long sigh, finishing your last spoonful of cookie dough ice cream. The sun was setting, leaving the most lovely hues of orange and yellow across the sky. The sound of flowing water accompanied by the chirping of birds made your stroll in the park with your boyfriend almost dreamlike.

Bucky returned your sentiment with a soft smile, “ Forever would be nice.” He rubbed small circles into your left hand, planting a kiss on your hair simultaneously. To have days so tranquil like today were rare. The only time the two of you spent together lately involved any missions you were partnered on. Stopping madmen from taking over the world wasn’t exactly your idea of a romantic date. 

You intertwined your fingers with his and pulled him toward a stone bridge. It overlooked a gently flowing river with a perfect view of New York City beyond it. You weren’t tired, but you wanted to rest for a moment, hoping the world would let you bask in the sunlight for a few more minutes before disappearing into the night. 

With a quick hop, you sat on top of the bridge railing and patted the spot next to you for Bucky to sit. He shook his head and instead chose to stand between your legs. One hand resting at your side, the other holding his rocky road ice cream cone. There was a look in his eyes you recognized very well. His eyes twinkled with mischief warning you he was planning something. 

“ You got something on your face, darling,” Bucky motioned to your face lazily, not highlighting a specific place. 

“ Where?” Your brows furrowed, dabbing your hands across your face trying to find the something Bucky mentioned.

“ Right there,” Bucky, in a quick swoop, smeared a dash of rocky road ice cream on your nose. Your mouth flew open in playful disbelief, “Buck! My nose is all cold now,” your hand lifted to wipe it away, but he stopped it midair,“ I’ll get it.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss on your nose. “ Better?” He asked after pulling away. You shrugged, failing to suppress a smile, “ Maybe just a little bit.” He laughed, looking at you with adoring eyes, cradling you in warmth and love. 

This time he wiped a tiny bit of rocky road on your lips before replacing it with his own. The kiss was gentle and tasted of velvety chocolate and sugary marshmallows. 

Now this was your idea of a romantic date.

A Night of Frights & Delights

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (College AU)

Summary: It’s Friday the 13th and the college kids in town decided to host a weekend camping trip on the outskirts of town. Your best friend convinced you to go much to your reluctance. What could go wrong when the one guy you can’t stand is also there?

Word Count: 7k

Warning(s): slight horror themes / suggestive tones + implications / mentions of a past murder (not in graphic detail just campfire storytelling) / slow burn / suspense + other elements of spookiness / touch starved elements / be prepared for lots of back and forth + tension

Prompt: Campsite + forced proximity + “ It’s not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we’ve gotta have a full moon too?”

a/n: here’s my entry for @witchywithwhiskey ‘s summer slasher writing challenge. Any chance to celebrate summerween and I’m there 🤭✨ I got carried away with the spooky element of it and this ended up longer than expected. Thank you for reading! 🧡 Feedback is always appreciated!! 🎃🧡

“ It’s Friday the 13th! Gather ‘round, for some good ol’ scary campfire stories!” Sam Wilson called out to anyone who would listen. A task that wasn’t the easiest thing to ask for when all the college students in the area were trying to have their last bit of fun before fall semester started. Amongst the ones that weren’t already drunk or passed out, a few were trying to find the perfect opportunity to sneak away into the night.

You on the other hand sat near the bonfire, appreciating the warmth it provided on this chilly night. Your back was resting against a log. The scratchy surface grazes against your black sweater at the slightest movement. Camping wasn’t your ideal choice for a weekend getaway, but when your best friend Jane insisted on you coming along it was hard to say no. Especially, since you had already said no to multiple get-togethers throughout the summer. 

It’s not like you didn’t want to hang out with her. The issue was that wherever she was her boyfriend was—and wherever he was his friends were. And his friends included one smartass star pitcher for your university’s baseball team who made it his life’s mission to be a thorn in your side. 

Needless to say, you couldn’t stand the man.

“ It was actually 1982, not 1985,” Jane whispers her comment to you, nudging your arm lightly. You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at her, your clueless eyes meeting her amused ones. 

“ You’re not paying attention to Sam’s story, are you?” She quietly calls you out, leaning slightly closer. You shake your head sheepishly,“ No. Kind of got lost in thought,” you admit. Jane nods in acknowledgment,“ You’re not missing much. He’s just telling the story of the murders that happened here in ‘82,” she explains. You nod slowly, an eerie chill creeping up your spine. Everyone within fifty miles of the town knew of the horrific crime. It was the worst the town had ever seen. 

A group of teenagers had snuck off into the woods to party a week before their senior graduation. They brought their camping gear to spend the night under the full moon to celebrate the milestone. They had gone so deep into the woods no one heard their music blasting all night. 

No one heard their screams either as their life was taken from them. 

You took a shaky breath, your fingers tracing random patterns into the dirt beneath you. Even though you could recite this story from memory it was different hearing it told in gruesome detail. Something Sam was not shying away from doing. 

“ Don’t let Sam’s story get to you—here have a s’more,” Thor spoke up, handing you a small disposable plate with a freshly assembled s’more. His way of trying to comfort you. 

“ Thanks,” you shot Thor an appreciative smile, taking the sweet treat. Jane’s boyfriend had always been kind to you and you got along well. The mutual friendliness extended to all of his baseball friends.

Well, the friendliness extended to all his friends except for one.  

“ He’s telling it wrong anyway, so don’t pay it any mind,” Jane says causing you to let out a small laugh. Leave it to Jane to alleviate your nerves by just being herself. 

You try to drown out Sam’s true crime retelling and focus on the sugary gooeyness on your lap. Jane and Thor snuggle into each other beside you and a small smile appears on your face at the sight. You take a bite of the s’more, letting the flavors melt into your mouth. 

“ The next morning the cops led a search party into these very woods. Everyone searched day and night for three days straight. Scouting every inch, no stone unturned, to find them. And then one day, one member of the search party found something. That member being my Titi—so listen close,” Sam sets up the big reveal. 

“ Wanna know what they found?” A voice you know all too well whispers into your ear from behind. The hairs on the back of your neck stand as his breath fans your ear. 

“ I already know,” you grit out, turning your head to glare at him. Bucky can’t help the cocky grin that overcomes him when you look at him like that. He makes his way over the log and sits right next to you. You don’t hide the displeasure on your face. 

“ Couldn’t find anyone else to annoy, James?” 

 “ None worth my time, sweetheart—and it's Bucky.” 

You roll your eyes biting back a snarky comment. No matter the number of times he insists on you calling him by his nickname, you refuse to. Only his friends call him Bucky, and you're not friends—far from it. So to you, he’s James and nothing more. 

“ We’re not friends, James. Friends don’t make you miss your biology final,” you remind him bitterly. He looks at you with slight disbelief,“ You’re still stuck on that? How is it my fault the party went until four in the morning?” You bristle at his defensiveness. 

“ I don’t know. Maybe by not kicking everyone out of your apartment?” you retort, taking another bite of your s’more. Hoping to lose yourself in the sweetness of it before the distaste of his presence taints it. 

“ At least the professor let you make it up…” he mutters under his breath. 

“ That’s not the point,” you snip, unable to let him have the last word. You pretend to focus on Sam’s story, but really your attention is on the flames in front of you. The way they dance and crackle as if telling their own story alongside Sam’s. 

Bucky stares at you, his eyes scanning every detail of your face. His favorite pastime is finding all the ways to push your buttons. There’s something about your reactions that he can’t help but want to see more of. He openly enjoys being the only one who can elicit such responses from you. Hell, you could say he was proud of it. 

“ Stop it.” 

“ Stop what?” 

“ The staring.” 

“ Don't want to.” 

You turn to give him a piece of your mind but abruptly stop when you see the way he’s looking at you—or more so the way he’s examining your lips. His eyes reflecting more than just the golden flames in the bonfire. There was something deeper and not entirely unfamiliar. He had looked at you this way before, and yet it was still unrecognizable to you. An emotion you couldn’t pinpoint, but that was heartstopping nonetheless. 

His hand lifts to your face, his thumb brushing away at something on the corner of your mouth. Your tongue instinctively darts out to lick your lips and remove whatever remnants of the s’more are left. Something unreadable flashes in his eyes. You wonder what he must be seeing in yours when his eyes drift from your lips to your gaze. 

“ You had a little something there,” his voice has a deeper cadence to it, contrasting the cheeky grin plastered on his face. That damn grin. It’s all you need to snap out of whatever trance you were just in. 

“ You’re insufferable,” you hiss out, getting up from your spot on the ground and stepping away from the bonfire. You hate how he does this—how easily he’s able to mess with you. It’s like it's his second nature to know exactly how to get a reaction from you. Almost as if he knew you better than you knew yourself.

The vulnerability of it all is what ground your gears the most. Bucky was used to this. The flirting, the back and forth, the teasing, and having girls wrapped around his finger. The last time you were in a relationship was your freshman year of college—a few years ago. It had been too long of being touch-starved that the slightest of touches or gazes brought about a yearning deep within you. One that you swore Bucky could see right through and it made you detest the man more. 

You hated feeling like you were being toyed with. But above all, you hated how much you actually didn’t hate the attention he gave you. 

You make your way over to one of the many trashcans around the campsite and dump the last bits of your s’more in along with the disposable plate. Your appetite for the treat long gone after his little stunt. 

You use your phone as a flashlight as you walk over to where all the tents are stationed. It’s not too far from the bonfire, but far enough that the voices of everyone drown out into a low hum. A few people are already in the tents enjoying the night without the warmth of the fire. 

“ Y/n! Hold up!” Jane calls out to you from behind. You face her confused expression, “ Everything okay?” You nod, your hands hiding in the pockets of your grey sweatpants,“ Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna call it a night,” you say tiredly. You don’t want her to worry or keep her from enjoying her night. 

“ Okay…Are you sure? Because you seemed off after Bucky—” 

“ Please for the love of everything don’t mention him.”

Jane drops the subject entirely, “ Okay, okay. I won’t,” she assures you and pauses for a moment before she adds, “ By the way, I’ll be staying with Thor tonight, so you have our tent all to yourself.” 

“ Oh? Oh…behave yourself, Foster,” you warn her playfully. She rolls her eyes waving off your tease,“ No promises.” You laugh together—the exchange alleviating the heaviness in your shoulders.

After a light farewell, your best friend retreats to the bonfire. You find your eyes drifting from her figure to the back of Bucky’s head. He’s still sitting in the same spot, right next to where you had sat. He was drinking away at a beer as Sam continues his story. You look away, ignoring the way your heart feels a small pang as it wonders if it would have been so bad if you had stayed.

Only Bucky had this way of infuriating you, but enticing you at the same time. A magnetic push and pull that tugs at you whenever you’re near him. 

You crouch down and unzip your humble abode for the night. Gazing up at the sky before heading in. The moon is bright and full amongst the dark hazy clouds. 

“ It's not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we've gotta have a full moon too?” you grumble before entering the tent. The knowledge of being in here alone all night sounds less appealing now. You wish Sam had told a different story to set the mood for tonight. 

For the next couple of hours, you lose yourself in your sketchbook. Every corner of the tent became your makeshift desk as the soft scratches of graphite filled the air. A small LED lantern casting just enough glow to guide your intricate curves and shadows across the paper. At first, you were sketching a flower you had seen earlier in the day along a trail. You don’t recognize the species, but the cluster of pretty violet petals vividly lived in your head and you wanted it forever memorialized in your sketchbook. 

At some point, however, the petals turn into doodles and then unrecognizable scribbles. The creative flow taking a life of its own. You soon find yourself drawing a pair of eyes on another page. Giving them a space of their own. These eyes you recognize deep down, but they still have the same unreadable expression from earlier. Almost as if you hoped to decipher it by putting it on paper. 

Maybe then it would be easier to look at them without being affected—without feeling that pull. 

There’s a loud thump that echoes close to your tent. You freeze at the sound. By this point, everyone had called it a night and retreated to their sleeping arrangements. It had been at least half an hour that you hadn’t heard a single sound except for the chirping of crickets amongst a chorus of other creepy crawlers. 

When no sound followed the thump you decided to ignore it—acting like you hadn’t heard a thing. And yet, your fingers swiftly moved to turn off the lantern and close your sketchbook, neatly tucking it beneath your pillow. 

Another noise rang out—the skidding of dirt. And this time it was closer to your tent. Not directly outside it, but almost. You don’t know why your heart dropped or why your fingertips went cold, but they did. You tell yourself it’s probably just someone going out to use the bathroom or some other related activity. 

Your body betrayed your mind as it started to feel enclosed in the tent. Like a prey caught in a trap. Hopelessly awaiting the moment the predator decided to take them out. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and with numb fingers, you grab your phone. The tent shrinking around you as your heart pounded in your chest. Going out to investigate the source of the noise wasn't the smartest idea. However, continuing to be a sitting duck in the tent was distressing you more—and that helpless feeling overpowered anything else. 

You slowly unzip the tent, trying to make as minimal noise as possible. You slip on your moccasins, putting one foot in front of the other as you step out into the night. Your surroundings are cast in shadows as the moon seems to be hiding behind a gloomy cluster of clouds. You look around and notice no one else is awake. Only dormant tents with sleeping residents inside accompany you in the night. 

You scan the area, training your ear to see if you can pick up any noise. 

That’s when you hear it—a rustling in the bushes. 

You peer into the woods, your eyes narrowing hoping to center on something, but you can’t see anything. There’s a slight fog that encases the lines of trees encircling the campsite obstructing your view. 

You take a few steps forward, hugging your sweater closer to your body. The outside air catches you off guard with its falling degrees. The shadows at every corner of the woods become creatures of the night if you stare at them for too long. 

Why were you doing this? Why had you decided this was a good idea? 

You questioned yourself. An unpleasant shiver goes up your spine at the thought of you walking straight into a creature’s claws. Your footing stumbled, and yet you found yourself walking further in the direction of the sound, the faint glow of your phone illuminating your path. You decided against using the actual flashlight on your phone as it could easily alert whatever was hiding in the foliage of the woods. 

You don’t go too far from the campsite. Your legs only take you a few feet away from the perimeter of it before tensing at the way the hoot of an owl cuts through the stillness of the night. Your breath caught in your throat, and you gripped your phone tighter. The edges of it digging into your skin. 

“ What are we looking for?” A voice too close for comfort whispers behind you and it causes you to shriek, your phone tumbling to the ground as you jump away from the source. Your eyes zero in on the culprit—your blood boiling when your gaze meets his ceruleans. 

James Buchanan fucking Barnes.

A deep chuckle erupts from Bucky at your reaction. Not only at the way you jumped, but also at the way you’re now seething. He stands there in a basic white tee and black joggers, his hair slightly unkempt from lying on it earlier in the night. 

“ What the hell is wrong with you?” You hiss, bending down to pick up your phone from the ground. The anxiety from before dissipating into irritation. 

“ Me? What’s up with you? Sneaking around in the woods at night. That’s kinda creepy, sweetheart,” he jabs with a smirk. You roll your eyes, exhaling to steady your breath,“ Stop calling me that. And I'm not sneaking around—I heard something.” 

“ And you came to check it out?” 

“ Yeah.”

“ You have no survival instincts, do you?”

“ And you do? You're out here too.”

Bucky crosses his arms, his eyes roaming over your figure. He’s thoroughly entertained by your attempt to catch whatever is out there in your cozy outfit. It’s not exactly monster-hunting material. 

“ I let my buddy have the tent for the night. He’s got a girl in there. Thought I'd sleep under the stars like nature intended,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. A wry smile appears on your face,“ Aren’t you a great friend,” you reply sarcastically. He’s about to give you a snippy retort when a branch breaks ahead of you, causing you both to snap your attention to it. 

You both go silent—wondering if you’ll hear anything more. Bucky takes a few steps forward to stand in front of you. Positioning himself between you and the unknown noise. 

“ Is that what you heard earlier?” He asks, his voice a hushed whisper. Your eyes drift up his form and the way his arm is slightly outstretched in your direction in a protective stance. He’s looking in the direction of where the sound came from, but then his head turns back to look at you. 

It takes you a second to gather your words,“ Sort of. At first there was like a loud thud by my tent and then some rustling—and now this,” you describe the unfolding events thus far.

He frowns,“ Is your tent the one by Wanda’s?”At his question you nod,“ Yeah…why?” He tilts his head slightly as he tries to recollect something. 

“ The two-person one with the purple edges?” 

“ Yeah…” 

His features soften, dawning on a sheepish expression. His protective stance faltering as he scratches the back of his neck,“ The noise was me then—sorry. I tripped over something while looking for a place to piss.” 

“ Oh…” Is all you manage to say. Feeling utterly foolish for getting so worked up over nothing. What you had thought was something going bump in the night ended up being Bucky stumbling to relieve himself. 

Another branch cracks in the murky fog. Reminding you that although the noises you heard outside your tent were explained, the ones here, not too far from you and Bucky—weren’t. 

“ I’m gonna go check it out,” he takes a step forward, but you stop him. Your hand shoots out to grip the hem of his shirt,“ Don’t! Are you crazy? You’re going to get yourself killed or something!”

His eyebrows raise, not expecting you to have that reaction.“ Are you worried about me, sweetheart?” A smirk spreads across his face, a twinkle in his eye.“ As if—screw you,” you deny harsher than you intended, removing your hold from his shirt. This only provokes him more, his smirk turning into a cheeky grin,“ You wanna?” 

“ You know what? I hope whatever is out there gets you.” 

“ Oh, you’d miss me if it did. But don’t worry—if it gets me, I’ll make sure to let it know you’re the one worth chasing." 

Bucky doesn’t give you a second to process what his words really mean. Instead, he takes out a small flashlight from the pocket of his joggers. He turns it on, shining the area ahead of him. A brazen expression is the last thing you see before he wanders into that direction of the woods as if there wasn’t potentially something dangerous up ahead. 

You wanted to protest, but you didn’t. Rather, you end up standing there amongst the wilderness, watching as his form gets smaller and smaller until it disappears into the haze of the fog. 

You feel uneasy as soon as you don’t see him. Your chest feels heavy with the unknown. You call out to him. Thinking maybe he’s doing this to prove something or to mess with you. When he doesn’t call back you find apprehension in the sinking pit of your stomach. 

Behind you, the campsite is still in sight. The smart thing to do would be to go wake someone up—like Thor—to go after Bucky. However, your feet work faster than your mind does, pushing you to follow after him. 

This time you use the flashlight on your phone to light your path. The luminescence cuts through the fog as you trudge through it. Leaves crunching beneath your feet, and hands outstretched lightly to use the passing trees as support to persist onward. 

You walk for a good few minutes before you finally spot him. He’s standing by a tall pine tree, his right hand tracing over something etched into the bark. 

“ James! Come back to the campsite!” You whisper yelled, approaching him. He hummed,“ So you are worried about me,” the smugness in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you. When he turns to face you his eyes tell you he was expecting you. Like he knew in the end your stubbornness and pride wouldn’t matter because you’d end up following after him after all.

You are worried about him. He needs no further proof than your actions. 

There was a prickling of annoyance building up in your system. More than anything, you wanted to get out of the woods as soon as possible. The campsite feels like a haven awaiting your return. 

“ Can you stop being so insufferably cocky for one second and just come back to the camp before I drag your ass back?” You say through gritted teeth. You wanted to have more bark to your bite, but the inkling dread of what could be out here stopped you from crossing that line. 

He stepped closer to you, the glow of his flashlight reflecting in his eyes in tiny glimmers,“ Why? I thought you didn't care if ‘whatever is out there’ got me.”

“ I don’t—but I’d hate to be an accomplice to that thing.” 

“ Admit it. You’re worried about me.”

By now Bucky was mere inches away from you. Having slowly sauntered right up to you. His eyes were daring you to speak the truth—his arrogant smile tempting you to do even more. 

“ I came to get you back, but if you’re determined to stay here then stay,” you huff, spinning on your heels to storm off. 

Bucky’s hand reaches out and encloses your wrist gently. Just enough to keep you from walking away. He sighs with defeated ire. 

“ Sweetheart, why won't you admit—” he’s cut off by the swift movement of something dashing past the both of you. He immediately pulls you in closer, his arms encasing you protectively—his body a shield. One arm is wrapped around your waist while the other holds your head. Your own body leans into his as if bracing for impact. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see the culprit of the racket. A deer dashing through the woods like it had somewhere to be. You held back a laugh at the revelation. 

This is what had you so worried this whole time? A deer? 

Even so, your heart races in your chest. And Bucky has you so tightly pressed into his that you can feel the way his own heart is thrumming rapidly. Both of your breaths work to steady from their instability as you realize there is nothing truly to be worried about. 

You stay like this for what seems like an eternity. Finding comfort in each other’s arms. The fog dances around your figures as if pushing you closer. The tips of your fingers tingle from where they’re pressed at his chest. 

When you finally register whose touch it is, you pull away. Bucky reluctantly lets you go. His arms awkwardly falling to his sides. You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t know where to start.

Why was his instinct to protect you? To keep you from harm’s way? 

And why had you felt the safest all night in his arms? 

You swallow the questions that desire to escape. There’s a part of you that feels like you should thank him, but then the other part feels stupid for wanting to do so. Knowing how much it would feed his ego to vindicate him as a hero. 

“ Guess it was just a deer, huh?” Bucky tries to cut through whatever tension is starting to build. 

“ Yeah…silly us…” you reply, half-heartedly. Your mind still reeling from his touch. 

You both go quiet again. The silence welcomes you where words fail to. 

Out of nowhere, you feel a tiny bead land on your head. Followed by one on your hand and then your cheek. It's beginning to drizzle. The rain cutting through the trees and promising to kiss every inch of your skin. 

“ We should get going,” Bucky says, his palm cupped to catch a few droplets. 

“ Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you agree, clearing your throat. In other circumstances, Bucky would rejoice and point out how, for once, you aren’t arguing with him. But not right now—not at this moment. Not when the memory of holding each other stirred something within you both. 

No, now instead you walk back to the campsite in silence. You’re a few steps ahead as Bucky decides to tow along at a slower pace. Seemingly lost in thought. 

When you’re back at the campsite your eyes dart to your tent. It’s within reach. A safety you can hideout in until the emotions Bucky arose in you fade away.  

“ Can I chill in your tent for a while? Just until the rain stops,” Bucky surprises you with his request. Until you remember he gave up his tent to his friend for the night. 

“ What? No,” your response is immediate. The thought of you and Bucky alone in your tent causes many scenarios to run through your head. You didn’t think you’d make it through the night with him in it. You were barely hanging on as it is. 

“ I just saved your life.” 

“ You did not.”

“ Did too.” 

“ James, you absolutely did not–” 

“ Please,” his soft plea tugs at the very part of you that wants to say yes. He’s not the kind of guy to beg, but he’ll do anything to not stand out in the cold rain. You being in an enclosed space with him was just a bonus. 

An extremely tantalizing bonus. 

“ Fine…but only until the rain stops,” you concede. You weren’t heartless enough to leave him out in the rain. 

You zip open the tent and climb inside. You remove your moccasins and leave them by the entrance. The inside is spacious enough for the two of you, but you still find yourself going into the furthest right corner of it. You sit crossed-legged as you turn on the small LED lantern to illuminate the tent with its muted glow. He makes his way inside, his hair glistening from the rain. He leaves his muddied slides by your moccasins. 

“ This tent is way nicer than the one Sam and I got,” he comments, running a hand through his hair to dispel the droplets. He’s trying to make light conversation, keeping his distance as he sits in the corner by the entrance diagonally from you. 

“ Jane’s family is really into camping so she had this one laying around…” you mention. The oddity of small talk between you fills the space with a foreign dynamic. The rain goes from a sprinkle to a pour. Hitting the top of the fabric cacoon in harsh strokes.  

He chooses to pivot the conversation.“ Do you have everything ready for fall semester?” He asks you, maneuvering to sit with his knees bent, his shirt hiking up the smallest bit to expose the skin at his hips. You avert your gaze when your heart does a little flip. 

“ Almost. I still have one or two textbooks to get,” you reply, playing with a few loose threads of the blanket beneath you. Anything to not have your eyes wander back to him. 

He scoffs lightly,“ You already got your textbooks? There’s no way. I always get ‘em after the first week.” Unlike you, he can’t seem to keep his pretty blues away from you. Your features heightened in the gentle sheen of the lantern. Intricate shadows scattered across your figure that made you look ethereal. The way his heart hammered in his chest romanticizing the sight of you.

“ That's because I’m responsible and you’re not.” 

“ I am responsible. As captain of the baseball team—”

“ Spare me the team leader speech, please,” you groan, stopping him from continuing. There’s only so much you can take for one night. And hearing Bucky light up as he talks about the one thing he’s passionate about—the one thing that humanizes him to you beyond his usual cheeky self. It would do more to you than just make your heart do a little flip.

You’d end up saying or doing something you wouldn’t be able to take back. 

“ Look, Y/n, I’m just trying to make conversation here. You don’t have to be so difficult all the time. Just talk to me,” Bucky brings you out of your thoughts not only by his exasperated tone, but by the way your name rolls off his tongue. He so rarely calls you by it. He’s called you sweetheart endlessly—and he’s even slipped a few sunshines in the mix—but your name was foreign to his vocabulary.  

 Bucky is usually good at dealing with your constant back and forth. Some days it's the only thing he looks forward to. However, right now it was irritating him how much you pushed back. He wanted you to give in. To what, he wasn’t sure. But he wondered what normalcy felt like with you—what just a damn friendly conversation felt like. 

You sigh, meeting his eyes.“ I don’t want to talk. Sorry, I think I’m just tired. Maybe we should go to bed,” you suggest, hoping that if he says yes you can sleep away the bubbling of emotions in your chest. 

You can see the way he contemplates something, biting the inside of his bottom lip. Now he’s the one holding back. A beat passes and you nervously wonder if he’ll turn down your suggestion. 

“ Fine—it's late anyway. But only if I get to sleep next to you. I promise I’ll keep my distance. It’s just there’s water leaking through the zipper at the entrance,” he mentions, his hand motioning to the entry. Your eyes dart to where he’s pointing and sure enough there’s a small puddle of water pooling by it. Not knowing how long the rain would continue, you knew you had to deal with the issue.

You grab Jane’s camping gear that holds numerous amount of supplies in all of its various pockets. She always came extra prepared no matter the occasion. You take out a washcloth, scooting over to the entrance to soak up the forming puddle. You decide to leave it there neatly tucked underneath where the water was finding its way in.

“ Alright, but if you snore I'm kicking you out,” you warn, but it’s more playful than serious. Something to lighten the mood before you go to bed. A way to dissipate whatever tension’s built up so you'd be able to fall asleep. 

It’s hard to cut through the tension and alleviate its symptoms when your shelter from the storm seems to shrink the more you chat with Bucky. And now sitting right next to him—shoulder to shoulder—it seems like a damn near impossible task. 

" I’ll take my chances. But just so you know, I don’t go down without a fight,” he winks at you, your shoulders brushing. Your heart rate picks up and it takes everything within you to stare into his eyes and not focus on the way that simple contact sent a shiver down your spine. 

His eyes drift to your lips causing your breath to hitch. The implications of where this could go are enough to pull you away from his spell. 

“ Goodnight,” you choke out. Subtly rushing over to your sleeping bag and settling into it. You don’t see when he shakes his head, but you do hear how he chuckles lowly. He mumbles something under his breath, but you can’t pick it up. 

He makes his way over to Jane’s sleeping bag, but lays on top of it instead of nestling into it. Choosing to cover himself only in the maroon fleece blanket that was draped over your body too. 

“ Goodnight,” he finally says, his body turning to face away from you. You respond by turning off the lantern. The space is now engulfed by darkness. Only the faintest of light shines in from the outside, letting your eyes trace the outlines of objects. 

 You turn to your side. Your back facing his. You take a deep breath, concentrating on the sound of the rain to hopefully lull you into a slumber. But the air felt too thick and your body was burning up from the heat radiating under the blanket. There was a good foot or so separating your body and Bucky’s. And yet, you could feel the heat radiating off of him as if he was pressed up right against you. 

It was too much. You swore you started sweating, so you shuffled under the covers and out of the sleeping bag. Every movement slow and deliberate as if to not snap the rope keeping the palpable tension in place. 

When only the plush fleece covered your body, the heat radiated less. But the fluttering of the blanket caused Bucky’s cologne to waft your way. A pleasant scent of musky woodiness with a hint of something that was entirely him. You gripped the cover tightly and counted to ten in your head. You were going mad. 

“ Would you stop hogging the blanket? ” Bucky muttered from beside you. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell you to stop doing. Because you and your constant fidgeting were driving him crazy. Every fiber of his being holding back from doing something to snap that rope. 

You didn’t realize you had been pulling it your way until he mentioned it. Your grip on it loosened,“ Sorry. I wasn’t hogging it though,” you argued for no reason other than to fill the silence. 

“ Yes, you were.” 

“ No, I wasn’t.” 

There was something about the proximity of your bodies that made the blanket seem smaller. Like there was no possible way it could equally cover both of your sleeping forms. Maybe this is what caused you to then tug at it, however, he holds it firmly to himself too.  

Persistently you pull at the blanket again. He pulls back—a tug of war ensues between you. You can hear him huff in the darkness, but you're not letting up. Bucky couldn't care less about the blanket. He only cared about not letting you get the upper hand. His competitive streak showing.  

While you solely really didn’t want to let him win. 

You wrap the end of the blanket around yourself—almost like a cacoon. The delicate fleece encases you. Leaving the bare minimum amount for Bucky to cover himself with. 

“ You have got to be one of the most stubborn people I have ever met in my goddamn life,” he practically growls as he yanks forcefully on the blanket. A tiny yelp escapes you as you get pulled along with it. 

You underestimated the strength of the star pitcher. 

You end up on top of him. The blanket now an extra cushy barrier between your bodies. In the dim light, your eyes lock, and you can faintly see the outline of a boyish grin on his face. You don’t move away. There’s like an invisible force that keeps you there. Your body pressed against his feeling his warmth tenfold. You can’t tell if either of you are breathing because all you're aware of now is how his heart beats in time with yours. 

“ You’re insufferable you know that?” you swallow hard, your voice lacking its usual bite.

“ You sure about that, sweetheart?” he challenges, his voice barely above a whisper. His lips brushing against yours with feather-light contact.

When had your lips gotten so close? 

You don’t know who leans in first. The one who finally breaks the standoff because your lips seem to meet at the same time. The kiss is sweet, but with a slight hesitance to it. As if neither of you are completely sure the other wants this. Or more like neither of you believes this is happening. However, when his hands grip the back of your thighs, sliding your legs from on top of him to his sides so you straddle him—you believe it. And when your hands find themselves threading in his hair—he believes it. 

One kiss that tests the waters turns into one that slowly sinks into the feeling. Until the two of you fully submerge into the depths of whatever has been simmering between you for what seems like too long. Delicate kisses that get more heated—more intense as your lips continue to meet. Bucky beams at the fact that you’re no longer pushing, but pulling into him. His craving for you only increasing now that he’s had a taste. 

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, slow and gentle. Asking for permission to deepen the kiss. Bucky Barnes isn’t the type to be slow and gentle—but when it comes to you he finds himself wanting to relish every second he gets. Not knowing when he’ll get another moment like this with you again. 

Your lips part enough for him to slip his tongue in to truly kiss you like he wanted to. As soon as you grant access he takes full opportunity to explore every corner of your mouth. His tongue molding with yours in fervor. Your fingers lightly tug at his hair while his hands roam your body memorizing every curve and dip. Wherever he gripped and caressed, his touch left heat in its wake. 

A heat you had to contain before it consumed you both. 

“ If you think you’re getting lucky tonight—think again. This is the most you’ll get,” You say breathlessly, pulling away to help your lungs remember what oxygen is. 

He groans, breath panting, the outline of his pout evident in the dim light,“ Don’t do this to me, sweetheart. Can’t leave me like this.” His voice a desperate whine that allured you to keep going. 

“ Too bad. You're dreaming if you think this is going any further.” 

“ God, you don’t wanna know what I've dreamed about.” 

“ Shut up,” you cut off his groan with another kiss. Fierce enough to silence him immediately. He hopes you shut him up like this more often. 

Your lips meet again in a hasty lock. No hesitation now as your tongues meet quicker. You seem to be obsessed with his hair as you run your fingers through it again. He shivers at the touch. His hands slide under your sweater to trail along your soft skin. Keeping his hands along your back and waist. Teetering around the boundary you drew, so he didn’t get carried away. But it was hard when kissing you felt as good as throwing the perfect game—maybe even better.

He realizes the emotions you bring out of him are worth a lifetime waiting for.

He pulls away this time to catch his breath, his hands sliding up your body to cup your face,“ I’m in no rush, sweetheart. I’ve got all the time in the world to take it all the way—make you fall for me.” 

You hum, leaning into his touch,“ You seem sure of yourself. ”

His voice is rough yet affectionate when he speaks,“ I’m sure of you, sweetheart. You’re worth every second, and I’m not stopping until you see it too.” 

He gives you one final tender kiss. One that's full of promise for the future. You weren’t sure if it was his words or the meaning in the kiss that stole your breath away. 

After a few seconds, you both pull away. Separating your bodies from each other to provide that much-needed space before lines were crossed.

“ Goodnight, Bucky,” you say, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how you would keep your hands and lips to yourself come tomorrow. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when you called him by his nickname. Bringing a genuine smile to his face, loving the way it sounded coming from you. 

“ Goodnight, Y/n.”

Even after saying goodnight, the two of you can’t fall asleep immediately. You try to, but there are small moments in the night where you drift back to each other. Where in the darkness your lips meet again and again—satiating the tension in parts. Where your hands find themselves under the covers and layers of clothing. Flaming the fans of desire just enough so it doesn’t completely burn out, but smoldering to be reignited at any moment’s chance. 

You don’t realize when you fall asleep. Your eyelids growing heavy at some point tangled up in his body under the covers. Your face in the crook of his neck. His head resting on top of yours. Your bodies fit like puzzle pieces like they were meant to be connected in every way. 

It’s not until that morning when you wake up and find yourself in his arms, snuggled into his side, that the events of last night sink in. You pull away the tiniest bit. Merely enough to be able to get a look at him. The brown strands of his hair tousled and clinging to his forehead. The slope of his nose, his dark lashes fanned delicately against his skin, and the tiniest parting of his lips. He looks peaceful—almost angelic as he slumbers. 

You’re itching to sketch the image in front of you. 

You can’t stop yourself from reaching out to touch the strands at his forehead. It’s enough to have his eyes flutter open, their color brighter in the daylight. He gives you a lazy smile the instant he realizes last night wasn’t a dream and you really were here, nestled in his arms. 

No words were exchanged, but both of you were conscious of the line you had drawn last night. And yet, you both also knew that in time, that line would be crossed again and again. Until the line blurred into oblivion.

Conflict of Interest - II

Pairing: Detective!Bucky Barnes x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: After deserting Bucky at the fair, you are left dealing with the consequences. This becomes difficult as you are all assigned to a new case. 

Word Count: 8.5k

Warning(s): crime show level of violence / homicide investigation details / drinking / angst / fluff / mentions of a car accident and injuries, but no major details / slight cursing / anxiety / overthinking / insecurities / lots of back and forth / misunderstandings / angst with a happy ending 

a/n: It has been a while, but part 2 of this beautiful duo is finally out! ❤️ I hope the length of part 2 can make up for how long it took me to finally finish writing it. It’s angsty with a happy ending, although the happy ending doesn’t come so easily. 👀 Thank you for reading! ❤️ Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! 💕

➵ Prequel Drabble // ➵ Part I 

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

     You tossed and turned in your bed once more, the sunlight peeking through your blinds, disturbing your sleep. The events of last Saturday weighed heavy on you. So much so, that you hadn’t gone to work in the past two days—today would be the third. You claimed you came down with the flu, putting on the best performance you could when Natasha called you. You were never able to lie to her face, but over the phone wasn’t as hard. Eventually, however, you would have to go back. 

     Eventually, you would have to face him. 

     Bucky called you a few times that night after you deserted him at the fair. The guilt set in almost immediately and you were too ashamed to answer him. You managed to read one message before silencing all of the notifications on your phone.

     Can you at least let me know you got home safely?

Keep reading

Fieldwork

Pairing: Detective!Bucky Barnes x Lawyer!Reader 

Summary: You end up getting hurt while out in the field questioning a suspect. Thankfully, Detective Barnes is there to help. 

Word Count: ~600

Warning(s): crime show level of violence / gun violence / mentions of a near-death experience / injuries + including mild description of injuries / blood / hurt+comfort 

Prompt: patching up a wound + at a crime scene

a/n: This is a submission for @real-jane​ ‘s healing hands writing challenge! Congratulations on the milestone! 🥳 This drabble was inspired by the previous fic I wrote Conflict of Interest , this is placed around a year or so before the events of that fic happen. However, this is a stand-alone drabble, so you don’t need to read the mentioned fic to understand anything, but if you liked the dynamic here, I recommend reading it! 🥰 Thank you for reading! ❤️

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     “ Watch your step.” Detective Barnes had an arm wrapped around your waist, helping you maneuver through a crowd of officers. You were heading over to the back of an ambulance, a bit too shaken to walk on your own. As soon as you sat on the edge of it, his hands inspected the wound on your right shoulder. You held in any protests as the burning sensation worsened.

     “ So much for my favorite coat.” You took it off, grumbling at the sight of the tear in it. 

     “ That’s what you’re worried about?” There was a smile of disbelief on his face.

Keep reading

Usual

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Florist!Reader

Summary: Bucky keeps to his usual routine every week. On Mondays, it includes you.

Word Count: ~700

Warning(s): none. fluffy goodness <3 established nickname ⟶ tulip

a/n: This Bucky has been swimming in my head for a while, so this little drabble came out as a result. Hope you enjoyed reading! Feedback is always appreciated 🤍 Also I'm hosting a little writing challenge if you want to check it out. 🤍

The bells above your shop door chimed a short melody as it opened. The steady thud of heavy boots followed suit. You turn to face the entrance with your usual welcoming demeanor. 

It was Monday. He always comes on Monday. 

“ Hey, Bucky. Here for the usual?” You ask like clockwork, already knowing the answer. 

“ ‘Course, Tulip,” he replies, smiling at you with that usual twinkle in his eyes. The one that only shows up when he talks to you. You can’t help the way your heart skips a beat when he uses that nickname he gave you months ago. 

“ Coming right up,” you respond, turning to the small shelves behind the counter. The ones lined up with your homemade jams and honeys. Every Monday he buys three of each to serve at his bar in a mix of different snack dishes. 

His favorite happens to be the one he named after you—Tulip’s Sweet Special.  

Bucky strolls over to the flowers that align the walls adjacent to the front counter. Rows upon rows of an array of colors and different-sized petals. A rainbow of the prettiest blooms nature has to offer. 

Meanwhile, you’re putting the mason jars of sweet spreads in a small wicker basket. Glancing at him briefly to stare at his side profile and the way he looks at the flowers intently. Almost as if waiting for them to speak to him. 

You wonder what flowers he’ll choose today. 

You don’t have to wonder for long as he walks over to the counter with a bouquet of white and pink daises, adorned with a touch of lavender. You look at them with a knowing smile on your face. The rugged biker almost looks comical—in the sweetest way—with the bouquet in hand. 

“ Will that be all?” You ask him, motioning to the flowers and the goods in the basket. Bucky nods, lightly scratching at the stubble on his face,“ That’s all, Tulip. And I’ll get ya that basket of yours later. Forgot it back at the bar,” he mentions the basket he borrowed a week ago to transport last week’s items on his bike. 

Of course, he forgot it. He always does. 

“ No need. I’ll just come by the bar later and get it,” you say to him—this little forgetful exchange an excuse to see each other again. It's about the fifth time you’ve done this little rendezvous in the last two months. 

Bucky grins in a way that would make any woman swoon,“ I’ll be waitin’ on ya then.” You can’t help the warmth that finds its way to your face. 

You ring him up, and as you’re getting his change ready he places the flowers in the empty vase on the counter. The one you leave for whatever flowers he buys for you that week. You look at them and the way he delicately places them inside, with a tender care you were one of a handful of people who’s ever seen him dawn. The action envelopes you with a doting affection.

“ Thank you for the flowers, Bucky,” you say with a soft sincerity. No matter how many times he buys you flowers the action still causes your heart to flutter.

“ No need for the thanks—or the change,” he says, lightly closing your fingers around the change in your hand with his calloused one. The slight touch is electric and it makes you both yearn for more. 

You give him that look. That usual look that says you’re doing this again and he replies with a look that conveys hell yeah I am.

You know better than to argue with that look. 

“ Come spend it at my bar later instead,” he suggests shrugging nonchalantly—but his eyes and grin reflect everything but nonchalance. There’s a deep rooted sentiment there that is desperate to be freed and brought to the surface.

You hum, pretending to think about it,“ Alright, deal.” Bucky responds to your agreement by giving you a pleased nod.

Bucky grabs the basket of goods. The rough exterior of his hands contrasted with the gentle almost tender way he held the basket. He was always delicate and careful with anything that belonged to you.

The basket looked so much smaller when he held it. 

Bucky sends you a farewell wink,“ See ya later, Tulip,” and then he turns to leave with a small wave of his hand.

“ See you later, Bucky,” you reply before leaning on the counter, hands resting in your palms. You watch him walk back out to his motorcycle with a longing stare. 

When he was out of sight, you listened intently to the revving of his engine bike, anticipating the day you two would go past the usual.

Until then you’d cherish this routine affair.