ramp-it-up

[ramp-it-up]

The Matrimony: Peach 7.5

Summary: Steve and Peach’s wedding!

Pairing: Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

Word count: 2K

A/N: @Seitmai along with others asked to see the wedding in this ask. Sweetie, I hope you like it. 😅

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and IN THE MIDDLE OF the events in Peach VII Your interaction is life so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. The proposal (naked) and the elopement (casual). References to marks left during sex, raw p in v, the elevator scene! Helicopter rides, a wedding officiant who is not amused, and the wedding! Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———

Steve…. looked like a little boy. And then he asked you a very grown up question.

You leaned up on your elbow, the sheets of the hotel bed swirled around your body as you watched him warily.

You were flushed, your skin still tingling from the way Steve touched you, the way he moaned your name like it was a prayer from his mouth to God’s ear.

Steve hadn’t stopped looking at you, like he was trying to memorize every detail, your flushed cheeks, the way your lips were still slightly parted, that spark in those beautiful eyes.

Yes, he was going to do this, because there would be no more wasting time.

You and he would be one forever.

You watched as he stood, the glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows over the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his lips that were still swollen from pressing against yours. Your eyes traced his bare chest, his hard abs, the place where his hips cut into his torso, and the long, thick length swinging between his legs.

You drew in a shuddering breath of desire, because the lines of his body were still marked with the evidence of your passion; there were scratches where your sharp nails left memories of bliss.

Then you looked up into his eyes again.

Steve ran a hand through his messy hair, exhaling like he was bracing himself for something big. You could tell that what had been a joke was becoming a very real possibility.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head like he couldn't believe he was about to say what he was about to say.

Then, he drops down on one knee, naked as the day he was born, but ready to commit to you until the day he died.

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized the urgency of the situation. He was really about to do this. But Steve looked at you like he’d never been more sure of anything in his life.

“Ever since the first time I saw you in Atlanta, I’ve been making plans for you, Peach.”

He took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles like a sacrament.

“Marry me,” Steve said, voice quiet but certain. “Right now. Tonight.”

Your heart was pounding so hard that you could barely hear him.

“I don’t want to wait,” he continued, eyes locked onto yours.

“Not another day, not another second. I want you. Forever.”

His finger traced the line of the flush in your face. He knew you so well.

“Let’s go to some place in Connecticut where we don’t have to wait 24 hours and say screw it to everything else. Everyone’s expectations, all of those arbitrary rules about courtship and marriage. Fuck all of that shit.”

His voice was raw now.

“Because this, Peach?”

He motioned between you.

“This is you and me.”

You smiled slowly, sitting up and leaning forward until your fingers tangled in his hair, not caring that the falling sheet left the upper part of your body uncovered.

“You do realize what you’re asking for, right?” you murmured, tilting his chin up so that he those baby blues were looking directly at you.

“A lifetime of absolute chaos. Of me pushing every one of your buttons, popping off, and making you question all your life choices. Think you can handle that, Rogers? Can you handle me?”

You were halfway joking, but also serious, wanting to make sure that he knew that you were a lot. The last six weeks you’d known each other had been evidence of that, but you wanted him to be certain.

Steve laughed, a beautiful sound, and his grip on your hand tightened.

“I know I can. And I think you’re underestimating how much I love the chaos. Don’t underestimate how much I love you, Peach. I’m not going to make us wait forever for forever.”

You bit your lip, feeling unreasonably happy.

“So will you marry me Peach?”

Looking into those storm blue eyes and feeling the sincerity of his love for you made you throw your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you and pushed you back onto the bed as you laughed breathlessly.

Steve kissed you, helpless and under your spell. His tongue asked the question again, wordlessly this time.

“Buckle up, baby,” you whispered against his lips.

“Because this is gonna be the wildest ride of your life.”

Steve's hand began to roam your body as he looked into your eyes.

“I’m counting on it, Peach”

He buried his mouth in the fragrant cleave of your collarbone and you buried your fingers in his hair.

“Yes. I will marry you Steven Grant Rogers,” you whispered in his ear as your leg came up and wrapped around his slim hips.

He kissed you again, hard, desperate, just like the rest of his body that was entering you in one smooth stroke. He filled you up like a promise, breaking you apart and putting you back together like he never wanted to stop.

—--

New York was the city that never slept, but you and Steve were wide awake for a different reason an hour later.

It was well after midnight when you left the hotel; and your heart beat wildly as you ascended toward your ride to the wedding, which waited atop the Rebirth building.

The elevator rose and you used the opportunity to watch Steve’s handsome features. He caught you looking and winked down at you as he gripped your hand, his thumb tracing circles against your skin.

"Before we get started, do you want to get out?"

Steve stared you down like he was serious. Then he cracked up laughing, giddy. You shook your head and laughed with him, hitting him on the arm as he wrapped you up in them.

Steve kissed your forehead and grinned, the energy rolling off him; you could practically feel his urgency to make you his wife. You got it; you couldn’t wait for him to be your husband.

As the numbers climbed, he exhaled and squeezed your hand.

"Wait here. I’ll be quick."

The doors slid open with a soft chime, and Steve stepped out into the dimly lit hallway of his penthouse, his shoes silent against the polished floors. The doors closed again, and suddenly, you were alone, the city stretching out in all directions behind you through the glass walls of the elevator.

Your reflection stared back at you, leggings, sweatshirt and sneakers, messy bun, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips after the effects of a good night’s fucking.

Was this really your life?

You exhaled, pressing your palms against the metal railing as you waited for him, your heart pounding in your ears. What if he’d changed his mind?

The doors slid open again, and before you can spin around, Steve was there, changed out of the suit he wore to your hotel room and into dark sweats and a Dodger’s cap, a small velvet box in his large hand.

He stepped in, pressed the rooftop button, and the doors closed again. He looked down at you and kissed your nose.

“You ready?”

You smiled up at him.

“Yes, I am, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve took your hand again and just like that, the elevator rose.

—--

The rooftop access door was heavy, but Steve shoved it open, and the night air whooshed around you. The helicopter’s blades sliced through the darkness, the thrum of its engine drowning out the sounds of the city.

You scrambled out to the aircraft and Steve helped you in first, putting on your headset and then sliding in beside you.

His hand found your thigh before the door was shut and his grip was firm, grounding to the present. When the chopper lifted off, you didn’t look down. You looked at him.

"You still with me, Peach?"

How could his voice be sexy even through a helicopter headset?

You turned just enough to brush your lips against his jaw. "Try and lose me."

He grinned.

"That’ll never happen."

You finally looked down to see the city shrinking beneath you and Brooklyn disappearing into the darkness as you soared toward Connecticut. You exhaled, pressing into Steve’s side. He drew you even closer, his arm tightening around you.

—---

Connecticut was quiet.

It was a contrast to the 20 minute helicopter ride out there.

The chapel was in the middle of nowhere, an old, quaint little brick building with ivy curling up the walls and nestled between stately oak trees. It was the kind of place people go on a whim, people like you and Steve.

The night was cold, snow swirled outside the stained glass windows, aided by the slowing wings of the helicopter. Candles glowed inside and reflected light off the worn wooden pews of the little church, making everything glow, like the evening before at the conservatory.

The officiant stood at the altar and waited for you to finish the paperwork, looking groggy but amused, hands tucked into his coat pockets.

He was entirely unfazed by the urgency of it all. He’d seen this kind of thing before: two people so wildly, crazy in love that waiting isn’t an option.

He should have been more impressed at the money Steve paid him to get out of his warm bed, but he wasn’t.

You handed the forms to him and then he directed you to stand before your fiancé of roughly 90 minutes. You stood with Steve, your hands locked together, your heart hammering so hard you’re sure he could feel it through your fingertips.

His hair was tousled from running through the snow, his cheeks flushed, his blue eyes glowing. He looked at you like you were his whole world.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, even though you know the answer.

Steve grinned the grin that made your knees weak.

“Too late to back out now, Trouble.”

You raised your eyebrow at the moniker and you two shared a heated look, like you would take each other down on this altar, causing the officiant to clear his throat, clearly used to chaos.

“Shall we begin?”

You both straightened up and nodded, trying to be good, but your energy was threatening to overtake you both.

“Do you, Steven Grant Rogers take—”

“I do,” Steve interrupted, squeezing your hands, eyes wide at his faux pas. Your mouth dropped open and you laughed as the officiant blinked but barely reacted, as he turned to you.

“And do you—”

“I do,” you say just as fast, laughing when Steve lets out a relieved breath like you were actually going to say no.

The officiant smirks.

“In that case, by the power vested in me—”

Before he could finish, Steve surged forward, cupping your face in his hands. He pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that nearly knocked you off balance. You felt his smile against your mouth, his laughter, and the sheer joy radiating off of him.

“Well,” the officiant chuckled. “That’s one way to do it.”

Steve pressed his forehead against yours, causing your breaths to mingle together, just like your futures.

“You’re my wife,” he murmured, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

You grinned, looping your arms around his neck.

“And you, Steve Rogers, are in for a lot of trouble, husband.”

He just laughed, picking you up and kissing you again as your legs wrapped around his waist. The officiant just shook his head and walked off.

“Please pull the door to when you’re done, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers.”

This man was going back to bed.

—---

The helicopter was loud, but all you could perceive was Steve, his presence, his warmth, and his heartbeat where your head rested against his shoulder. His arm was draped over you lazily, but his fingers toyed with the hem of your sweatshirt.

"Still got that adrenaline, sweetheart?" His voice was teasing.

You looked up to meet his gaze.

"What do you think?"

His grin was slow and dangerous.

"I think you’re mine now. Officially."

You smirked, tugging at his hoodie, pulling him down to you.

"Yeah?"

He kissed you deep and slow, like you’ve got nowhere else to be.

And maybe you don’t.

The world could wait for a few hours.

At that moment, it was just you and Steve, about to descend into forever.

[ramp-it-up]

Thank you so much for sharing! :)

The Matrimony: Peach 7.5

Summary: Steve and Peach’s wedding!

Pairing: Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

Word count: 2K

A/N: @Seitmai along with others asked to see the wedding in this ask. Sweetie, I hope you like it. 😅

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and IN THE MIDDLE OF the events in Peach VII Your interaction is life so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. The proposal (naked) and the elopement (casual). References to marks left during sex, raw p in v, the elevator scene! Helicopter rides, a wedding officiant who is not amused, and the wedding! Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———

Steve…. looked like a little boy. And then he asked you a very grown up question.

You leaned up on your elbow, the sheets of the hotel bed swirled around your body as you watched him warily.

You were flushed, your skin still tingling from the way Steve touched you, the way he moaned your name like it was a prayer from his mouth to God’s ear.

Steve hadn’t stopped looking at you, like he was trying to memorize every detail, your flushed cheeks, the way your lips were still slightly parted, that spark in those beautiful eyes.

Yes, he was going to do this, because there would be no more wasting time.

You and he would be one forever.

You watched as he stood, the glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows over the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his lips that were still swollen from pressing against yours. Your eyes traced his bare chest, his hard abs, the place where his hips cut into his torso, and the long, thick length swinging between his legs.

You drew in a shuddering breath of desire, because the lines of his body were still marked with the evidence of your passion; there were scratches where your sharp nails left memories of bliss.

Then you looked up into his eyes again.

Steve ran a hand through his messy hair, exhaling like he was bracing himself for something big. You could tell that what had been a joke was becoming a very real possibility.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head like he couldn't believe he was about to say what he was about to say.

Then, he drops down on one knee, naked as the day he was born, but ready to commit to you until the day he died.

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized the urgency of the situation. He was really about to do this. But Steve looked at you like he’d never been more sure of anything in his life.

“Ever since the first time I saw you in Atlanta, I’ve been making plans for you, Peach.”

He took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles like a sacrament.

“Marry me,” Steve said, voice quiet but certain. “Right now. Tonight.”

Your heart was pounding so hard that you could barely hear him.

“I don’t want to wait,” he continued, eyes locked onto yours.

“Not another day, not another second. I want you. Forever.”

His finger traced the line of the flush in your face. He knew you so well.

“Let’s go to some place in Connecticut where we don’t have to wait 24 hours and say screw it to everything else. Everyone’s expectations, all of those arbitrary rules about courtship and marriage. Fuck all of that shit.”

His voice was raw now.

“Because this, Peach?”

He motioned between you.

“This is you and me.”

You smiled slowly, sitting up and leaning forward until your fingers tangled in his hair, not caring that the falling sheet left the upper part of your body uncovered.

“You do realize what you’re asking for, right?” you murmured, tilting his chin up so that he those baby blues were looking directly at you.

“A lifetime of absolute chaos. Of me pushing every one of your buttons, popping off, and making you question all your life choices. Think you can handle that, Rogers? Can you handle me?”

You were halfway joking, but also serious, wanting to make sure that he knew that you were a lot. The last six weeks you’d known each other had been evidence of that, but you wanted him to be certain.

Steve laughed, a beautiful sound, and his grip on your hand tightened.

“I know I can. And I think you’re underestimating how much I love the chaos. Don’t underestimate how much I love you, Peach. I’m not going to make us wait forever for forever.”

You bit your lip, feeling unreasonably happy.

“So will you marry me Peach?”

Looking into those storm blue eyes and feeling the sincerity of his love for you made you throw your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you and pushed you back onto the bed as you laughed breathlessly.

Steve kissed you, helpless and under your spell. His tongue asked the question again, wordlessly this time.

“Buckle up, baby,” you whispered against his lips.

“Because this is gonna be the wildest ride of your life.”

Steve's hand began to roam your body as he looked into your eyes.

“I’m counting on it, Peach”

He buried his mouth in the fragrant cleave of your collarbone and you buried your fingers in his hair.

“Yes. I will marry you Steven Grant Rogers,” you whispered in his ear as your leg came up and wrapped around his slim hips.

He kissed you again, hard, desperate, just like the rest of his body that was entering you in one smooth stroke. He filled you up like a promise, breaking you apart and putting you back together like he never wanted to stop.

—--

New York was the city that never slept, but you and Steve were wide awake for a different reason an hour later.

It was well after midnight when you left the hotel; and your heart beat wildly as you ascended toward your ride to the wedding, which waited atop the Rebirth building.

The elevator rose and you used the opportunity to watch Steve’s handsome features. He caught you looking and winked down at you as he gripped your hand, his thumb tracing circles against your skin.

"Before we get started, do you want to get out?"

Steve stared you down like he was serious. Then he cracked up laughing, giddy. You shook your head and laughed with him, hitting him on the arm as he wrapped you up in them.

Steve kissed your forehead and grinned, the energy rolling off him; you could practically feel his urgency to make you his wife. You got it; you couldn’t wait for him to be your husband.

As the numbers climbed, he exhaled and squeezed your hand.

"Wait here. I’ll be quick."

The doors slid open with a soft chime, and Steve stepped out into the dimly lit hallway of his penthouse, his shoes silent against the polished floors. The doors closed again, and suddenly, you were alone, the city stretching out in all directions behind you through the glass walls of the elevator.

Your reflection stared back at you, leggings, sweatshirt and sneakers, messy bun, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips after the effects of a good night’s fucking.

Was this really your life?

You exhaled, pressing your palms against the metal railing as you waited for him, your heart pounding in your ears. What if he’d changed his mind?

The doors slid open again, and before you can spin around, Steve was there, changed out of the suit he wore to your hotel room and into dark sweats and a Dodger’s cap, a small velvet box in his large hand.

He stepped in, pressed the rooftop button, and the doors closed again. He looked down at you and kissed your nose.

“You ready?”

You smiled up at him.

“Yes, I am, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve took your hand again and just like that, the elevator rose.

—--

The rooftop access door was heavy, but Steve shoved it open, and the night air whooshed around you. The helicopter’s blades sliced through the darkness, the thrum of its engine drowning out the sounds of the city.

You scrambled out to the aircraft and Steve helped you in first, putting on your headset and then sliding in beside you.

His hand found your thigh before the door was shut and his grip was firm, grounding to the present. When the chopper lifted off, you didn’t look down. You looked at him.

"You still with me, Peach?"

How could his voice be sexy even through a helicopter headset?

You turned just enough to brush your lips against his jaw. "Try and lose me."

He grinned.

"That’ll never happen."

You finally looked down to see the city shrinking beneath you and Brooklyn disappearing into the darkness as you soared toward Connecticut. You exhaled, pressing into Steve’s side. He drew you even closer, his arm tightening around you.

—---

Connecticut was quiet.

It was a contrast to the 20 minute helicopter ride out there.

The chapel was in the middle of nowhere, an old, quaint little brick building with ivy curling up the walls and nestled between stately oak trees. It was the kind of place people go on a whim, people like you and Steve.

The night was cold, snow swirled outside the stained glass windows, aided by the slowing wings of the helicopter. Candles glowed inside and reflected light off the worn wooden pews of the little church, making everything glow, like the evening before at the conservatory.

The officiant stood at the altar and waited for you to finish the paperwork, looking groggy but amused, hands tucked into his coat pockets.

He was entirely unfazed by the urgency of it all. He’d seen this kind of thing before: two people so wildly, crazy in love that waiting isn’t an option.

He should have been more impressed at the money Steve paid him to get out of his warm bed, but he wasn’t.

You handed the forms to him and then he directed you to stand before your fiancé of roughly 90 minutes. You stood with Steve, your hands locked together, your heart hammering so hard you’re sure he could feel it through your fingertips.

His hair was tousled from running through the snow, his cheeks flushed, his blue eyes glowing. He looked at you like you were his whole world.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, even though you know the answer.

Steve grinned the grin that made your knees weak.

“Too late to back out now, Trouble.”

You raised your eyebrow at the moniker and you two shared a heated look, like you would take each other down on this altar, causing the officiant to clear his throat, clearly used to chaos.

“Shall we begin?”

You both straightened up and nodded, trying to be good, but your energy was threatening to overtake you both.

“Do you, Steven Grant Rogers take—”

“I do,” Steve interrupted, squeezing your hands, eyes wide at his faux pas. Your mouth dropped open and you laughed as the officiant blinked but barely reacted, as he turned to you.

“And do you—”

“I do,” you say just as fast, laughing when Steve lets out a relieved breath like you were actually going to say no.

The officiant smirks.

“In that case, by the power vested in me—”

Before he could finish, Steve surged forward, cupping your face in his hands. He pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that nearly knocked you off balance. You felt his smile against your mouth, his laughter, and the sheer joy radiating off of him.

“Well,” the officiant chuckled. “That’s one way to do it.”

Steve pressed his forehead against yours, causing your breaths to mingle together, just like your futures.

“You’re my wife,” he murmured, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

You grinned, looping your arms around his neck.

“And you, Steve Rogers, are in for a lot of trouble, husband.”

He just laughed, picking you up and kissing you again as your legs wrapped around his waist. The officiant just shook his head and walked off.

“Please pull the door to when you’re done, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers.”

This man was going back to bed.

—---

The helicopter was loud, but all you could perceive was Steve, his presence, his warmth, and his heartbeat where your head rested against his shoulder. His arm was draped over you lazily, but his fingers toyed with the hem of your sweatshirt.

"Still got that adrenaline, sweetheart?" His voice was teasing.

You looked up to meet his gaze.

"What do you think?"

His grin was slow and dangerous.

"I think you’re mine now. Officially."

You smirked, tugging at his hoodie, pulling him down to you.

"Yeah?"

He kissed you deep and slow, like you’ve got nowhere else to be.

And maybe you don’t.

The world could wait for a few hours.

At that moment, it was just you and Steve, about to descend into forever.

[ramp-it-up]

Girl you are on a roll this weekkkkkk

Heyyyy! 👋🏽

Welp, we had a couple of snow days last week, President’s Day Monday and two snow days yesterday and today.

Dis me:

This mood probably won’t last forever so I’m taking advantage. It was convenient for Valentines week.

Tough week next week so I will either shut down or go even harder.

Peach VII (Steve Rogers x reader)

Answer Loves Call (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Boss (Henry Cavill x reader)

Peach 7.5 (Steve Rogers x reader)

[ramp-it-up]

I appreciate you sharing, so very much! :)

Boss

Summary: Your boss, Henry Cavill, is CEO of a company that changes lives. He is also a bit of a jerk. None of that stops you from being in love with him. And he with you.

Pairing: Ceo!Henry Cavill x reader au

A/N: I think Henry Cavill is a beautiful man, idc, idc. He is the faceclaim to my fantasies. Today. Big props to @nissaimmortal for tolerating my lust in her inbox and giving advice. Here it is. Read, react, alladat, please. :) I am fed through your interactions, so please like, comment and reblog. I live for that shit.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Idiots in love, slow burn, mutual pining, age gap. Angst, a tinge of lonliness, no work/life balance, jerk Henry, slightly insecure, but smart reader. Jealous Henry, references to male masturbation, wild thoughts on both of your parts, references to oral sex (f receiving), whoo boy, the kiss. And the challenge.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

You never meant for this to happen.

You were just practicing self care in the season of love. 

The flowers weren’t for anyone but you, a way to remind yourself that you were worth it, even if no one else thought that. 

You knew the office would be flooded with bouquets today, desks overflowing with flowers, cards, and candies. It was the one happenstance of your first whirlwind month on the job that stuck with you.

You vowed that your desk wouldn’t be empty this year, and no one would look at you with pity while asking you what you were doing that night. 

So you sent flowers to yourself. 

They were nothing dramatic, just some pretty little pink peonies and roses with a card that you’d written to yourself.

But Henry, your boss, your gruff, frustrating, inspiring, six-foot-two, broad-shouldered, dark haired, storm-eyed asshole of a boss, apparently, didn’t see it that way. 

—--

You’d worked for Henry for a little over 14 months, and there had been a tension between you since your interview when he just sat there and stared at you as if you were some alien sent from a distant world. 

Despite that, he grilled you about your personal vision, told you he admired your qualifications and you were hired. 

What ensued was a year of hard, but gratifying work with a company that valued diversity and helping the planet. Henry Cavil was the CEO of that company, and as his assistant, you weren’t just a glorified secretary. 

You were right-hand to changing the world.

Henry seemed to care for nothing but work, and was professional to the point of extreme with you, even when you two worked late and long hours side by side.

Holidays were unimportant to him, weekends were just another day, and he didn’t seem to notice that you might feel differently.

You didn’t, but it would have been nice to have been asked.

It would have been nice if he noticed you as a human, if he asked about your family, what you liked to do in your free time....Whatever that was. 

And sometimes, you looked up to see him looking at you as if he were going to ask about one of those things, but in each instance, he just looked back down to what he was working on, continuing with the discussion at hand. 

You let it slide, because being by his side was all that you wanted. Even if he just tolerated you. 

Because you were in love with him. Since the moment before he offered you the job at the end of your interview. 

You could help millions of people around the world, but you couldn’t help yourself from falling in love with Henry, a man at least ten years your senior who was emotionally unavailable.

You were a sad case.

Your boss was your secret obsession, the man who’d starred in your most delicious fantasies for far too long. 

But Henry would never take a second look at you romantically. 

You were doll-sized next to him, you’re too nerdy, too curvy, and too headstrong to be the kind of compliant arm candy that you heard he went for. You were destined to pine for your boss with the superhero looks, destined to be the sidekick in the romance of his life.

—---

Henry had been in torment for 14 months 12 days, and 7 hours, the moment you walked into his office for your interview. And he’d been in love with you for 14 months, 12 days, 6 hours and 45 minutes.

But he vowed that you should never know how he felt while sentencing himself to the daily torture of working side by side with you every day.

He tried to put you out of his head, but his favorite thing was to send you ahead of him to meetings and to fall in behind you on the long walk to the boardroom, your sumptuous ass giving him lots of spank bank material. 

Every night he went home to shower, fuck his hand, and paint the tiled wall with copious amounts of spend as he thought of the way you looked that day and your adorable little quirks: 

The faint smiles you gave him when you thought he wasn’t looking. 

How you nibbled on that fucking sexy bottom lip when you were deep in thought and gazing at him, or hunched over your laptop and typing away. 

The way that you walked, those tempting curves of yours that made him ache to throw you over his shoulder and have his way with you.

Henry had ordered you the finest oak desk that he could find during your first week on the job. The glass one in the office was fine, but would be a bit flimsy in the off chance that he should throw you over it and eat you out until his jaw was sore and until your voice grew hoarse from screaming his name.

You’d been the fire in his blood for the entire time he’d known you, and he couldn’t help himself from being irretrievably under your spell.

But instead of telling you that, for the last 14 months, he'd settled for every minute that he could wring from you for work, because there could never be anything more than that.

—---

This evening, Henry had stopped in your office doorway with menus for dinner, when he saw the flowers and crossed his arms over his huge chest.

Your eyes slid down his form, noticing how the sleeves of his crisp white button down strained around his biceps, the vest he was wearing highlighted the thick inverted triangle of his body, and his dark slacks hugged his muscular thighs. 

It should be illegal for him to look that fucking good, especially at this hour in the evening, on this night of love. You looked up at him, at his dark eyebrows drawn together over those piercing blue eyes, looking at the bouquet like it personally insulted him. 

Then he looked at you.

There was heat in his gaze, something that made your toes curl in your heels, and for a moment you were frozen. Damn, he was hot, especially when he was perturbed. 

"Who sent them?"

His deep voice was low and calm, but there was a dangerous edge to his sexy ass British accent. Goosebumps raised on your skin.

You were caught between confusion and a being flustered from direct attention from him. He usually avoided eye contact and more than a few grunts at a time, so this was new.

Henry was always intimidating, but tonight, he was also extra attractive, with his tie loosened, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his dark curls slightly messy as if he'd been running his hands through it.

Oh, and it didn’t help that his jaw was clenching and his blue eyes seemed to be burning.

"Excuse me?" you asked, keeping your voice as neutral as possible. 

You were tired, but there was a deadline to meet, despite the fact that this was a night for lovers. 

You two were the perfect pair to still be at work, because you were the furthest thing from romantics. You and Henry were workaholics, dedicated to your job, with no time for love.

Henry’s gaze flicked to the small card nestled between the flowers. 

You knew exactly what it said.

You are desirable. You are unforgettable. You deserve to be loved the way you love others.

A self-affirmation just for you. Something no one else was supposed to see.

But when Henry read it, he mistook the meaning.

"So who is he?"

His look was dark and his eyes were stormy, causing your stomach to drop.

"What?"

Henry’s fists clenched at his sides. 

"The person who sent these. The one who wrote you that." 

His voice dropped lower, like he was trying to hold back something. 

"Who. Is. He?"

You realized that he thought you had someone. And he sounded jealous. But that would be…

No. It was impossible. 

Your pulse became erratic with the thought

Henry was always particular: demanding, impatient, exacting. But he was also never unfair and never once let you fail. He always pushed you to be better and gave you glowing performance reviews, even when his actions conveyed that you were the most frustrating person on the planet to him.

You always assumed that he just tolerated you. That you annoyed him. But at the moment, he looked like a man barely holding himself together because he thought someone else had sent you flowers.

This was a development.

Before you could respond, Henry stepped closer to you. You tilted your head back to gaze up at him towering over you, broad and built like a damn brick wall. One that you wanted and needed to climb. 

"You didn’t answer me," he murmured, voice rough. Boy, those eyes could chill you to the bone.

"Why do you care?"

You were perturbed now, and it was clear in your response. 

Henry’s jaw ticked and something flashed in his eyes, there and gone too quickly for you to analyze.

“Careful, Little One.”

He’d never called you that, so you cocked your head with curiosity and watched as he sat on the edge of your desk, hiking his pants up on his legs, showcasing his massive thighs, and yes, the long, thick rod between them. 

Your eyebrows shot up and your eyes went wide, too surprised at his words and actions to pull the well-practiced mask over your features.

Henry caught you looking, but you didn’t catch the way his mouth hooked up in a half smile at your reaction. 

You licked your lips and watched as his hand moved slowly upward, until he was brushing his fingers over the petals of one of the roses. The act felt intimate, like he was imagining something else beneath his fingertips. 

Or maybe you were the one imagining.

“You deserve to be loved the way you love others," he repeated, more softly. 

He gazed at you, eyes blazing. 

"And you think this guy, whoever he is, can give you that?"

Your throat went dry. You should’ve just told him the truth. But you didn’t.

Because you knew he was jealous. And he was about to lose it. And you wanted to see what happened when he did. 

You chucked your chin up at him, a challenge.

"And what if he can?"

Henry knew he was pathetic because you were his employee, and he had no claim to you, no right to feel possessive at the thought of you with another man. 

But that didn’t stop him from wanting to track down the mutherfucker that sent you those flowers and beat him to a bloody pulp. And that didn't stop him from wanting to grab you and kiss you until you realized that you were fucking his. 

That you’d always been his, from the moment you first looked him in the eye.

The air between you crackled with energy as his entire body tensed as he stood up again, those massive hands curling into fists like he was restraining himself from something. His jaw flexed, his breath deepened, and he reached out for you, hand on your waist, drawing you in to press you against his very solid body. 

And then Henry’s mouth was on yours, hot and demanding and so fucking perfect that you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but give in.

You grunted in surprise as his full lips pressed on yours and his delicious tongue slid inside your mouth. All of your senses came alive in a cacophony of sight, taste, smell, and sound. And of course, touch.

You let yourself melt into his kiss, reaching up and tugging at the soft curls rioting over his collar, and then he pulled back, panting. His hand came up to wipe the moisture from your lips with his thumb, which he then inserted into his mouth and kept eye contact with you as he suckled his digit.

You imagined those lips doing the same to various points on your body and you nearly swooned, especially when he pulled his thumb out with a plop and then released you. 

Henry stepped back, baring his teeth in a dangerous smile. 

Your mind was scrambled, but you knew one thing for certain: Henry was attracted to you. Just as much as you were attracted to him.

Who would have thunk?

Henry adjusted his cuffs, highlighting those distracting veins on the back of his hands. He nodded at the flowers, then at you, a dangerous smile on his lips.

"Hope he’s ready to compete," he murmured, leaving you stunned.

“Get your coat, we’re going out to dinner tonight.”

And then he walked back into his office, leaving you staring after him, heart slamming against your ribs, lips feeling swollen and bruised from the kiss.

You had no idea what those flowers just unleashed in him. 

But you were about to find out.

[ramp-it-up]

Never before seen NBC pilot “Just Married” from 2000 starring Chris Evans as Josh

[ramp-it-up]

This Reblog made me giddy! 😁

Thanks for your support of this fic. It means a lot! ❤️

The Matrimony: Peach 7.5

Peach VII

Summary: Steve and Peach’s wedding!

Pairing: Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

Word count: 2K

A/N: @Seitmai along with others asked to see the wedding in this ask. Sweetie, I hope you like it. 😅

This fic is a Peach Fic and is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and IN THE MIDDLE OF the events in Peach VII. Your interaction is life so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. The proposal (naked) and the elopement (casual). References to marks left during sex, raw p in v, the elevator scene! Helicopter rides, a wedding officiant who is not amused, and the wedding! Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———

Steve…. looked like a little boy. And then he asked you a very grown up question.

You leaned up on your elbow, the sheets of the hotel bed swirled around your body as you watched him warily.

You were flushed, your skin still tingling from the way Steve touched you, and the way he moaned your name like it was a prayer from his mouth to God’s ear.

Steve hadn’t stopped looking at you, like he was trying to memorize every detail, your flushed cheeks, the way your lips were still slightly parted, that spark in those beautiful eyes.

Yes, he was going to do this, because there would be no more wasting time.

You and he would be one forever.

You watched as he stood, the glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows over the sharp angles of his jaw. You noticed that the curve of his lips that were still swollen from pressing against yours.

Your eyes traced his bare chest, his hard abs, the place where his hips cut into his torso, and the long, thick length swinging between his legs.

You drew in a shuddering breath of desire, because the lines of his body were still marked with the evidence of your passion; there were scratches where your sharp nails left memories of bliss.

Then you looked up into his eyes again.

Steve ran a hand through his messy hair, exhaling like he was bracing himself for something big. You could tell that what had been a joke was becoming a very real possibility.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head like he couldn't believe he was about to say what he was about to say.

Then, he dropped down on one knee, naked as the day he was born, but ready to commit to you until the day he died.

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized the urgency of the situation. He was really about to do this. But Steve looked at you like he’d never been more sure of anything in his life.

“Ever since the first time I saw you in Atlanta, I’ve been making plans for you, Peach.”

He took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles like a sacrament.

“Marry me,” Steve said, voice quiet but certain. “Right now. Tonight.”

Your heart was pounding so hard that you could barely hear him.

“I don’t want to wait,” he continued, eyes locked onto yours.

“Not another day, not another second. I want you. Forever.”

His finger traced the line of the flush in your face. He knew you so well.

“Let’s go to some place in Connecticut where we don’t have to wait 24 hours and say screw it to everything else. Everyone’s expectations, all of those arbitrary rules about courtship and marriage. Fuck all of that shit.”

His voice was raw now.

“Because this, Peach?”

He motioned between you.

“This is you and me.”

You smiled slowly, sitting up and leaning forward until your fingers tangled in his hair, not caring that the falling sheet left the upper part of your body uncovered.

“You do realize what you’re asking for, right?” you murmured, tilting his chin up so that he those baby blues were looking directly at you.

“A lifetime of absolute chaos. Of me pushing every one of your buttons, popping off, and making you question all your life choices. Think you can handle that, Rogers? Can you handle me?”

You were halfway joking, but also serious, wanting to make sure that he knew that you were a lot. The last six weeks you’d known each other had been evidence of that, but you wanted him to be certain.

Steve laughed, a beautiful sound, and his grip on your hand tightened.

“I know I can. And I think you’re underestimating how much I love the chaos. Don’t underestimate how much I love you, Peach. I’m not going to make us wait forever for forever.”

You bit your lip, feeling unreasonably happy.

“So will you marry me Peach?”

Looking into those storm blue eyes and feeling the sincerity of his love for you made you throw your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you and pushed you back onto the bed as you laughed breathlessly.

Steve kissed you, helpless and under your spell. His tongue asked the question again, wordlessly this time.

“Buckle up, baby,” you whispered against his lips.

“Because this is gonna be the wildest ride of your life.”

Steve's hand began to roam your body as he looked into your eyes.

“I’m counting on it, Peach”

He buried his mouth in the fragrant cleave of your collarbone and you buried your fingers in his hair.

“Yes. I will marry you Steven Grant Rogers,” you whispered in his ear as your leg came up and wrapped around his slim hips.

He kissed you again, hard, desperate, just like the rest of his body that was entering you in one smooth stroke. He filled you up like a promise, breaking you apart and putting you back together like he never wanted to stop.

—--

New York was the city that never slept, but you and Steve were wide awake for a different reason an hour later.

It was well after midnight when you left the hotel; and your heart beat wildly as you ascended toward your ride to the wedding, which waited atop the Rebirth building.

The elevator rose and you used the opportunity to watch Steve’s handsome features. He caught you looking and winked down at you as he gripped your hand, his thumb tracing circles against your skin.

"Before we get started, do you want to get out?"

Steve stared you down like he was serious. Then he cracked up laughing, giddy. You shook your head and laughed with him, hitting him on the arm as he wrapped you up in them.

Steve kissed your forehead and grinned, the energy rolling off him; you could practically feel his urgency to make you his wife. You got it; you couldn’t wait for him to be your husband.

As the numbers climbed, he exhaled and squeezed your hand.

"Wait here. I’ll be quick."

The doors slid open with a soft chime, and Steve stepped out into the dimly lit hallway of his penthouse, his shoes silent against the polished floors. The doors closed again, and suddenly, you were alone, the city stretching out in all directions behind you through the glass walls of the elevator.

Your reflection stared back at you, leggings, sweatshirt and sneakers, messy bun, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips after the effects of a good night’s fucking.

Was this really your life?

You exhaled, pressing your palms against the metal railing as you waited for him, your heart pounding in your ears. What if he’d changed his mind?

The doors slid open again, and before you can spin around, Steve was there, changed out of the suit he wore to your hotel room and into dark sweats and a Dodger’s cap, a small velvet box in his large hand.

He stepped in, pressed the rooftop button, and the doors closed again. He looked down at you and kissed your nose.

“You ready?”

You smiled up at him.

“Yes, I am, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve took your hand again and just like that, the elevator rose.

—--

The rooftop access door was heavy, but Steve shoved it open, and the night air whooshed around you. The helicopter’s blades sliced through the darkness, the thrum of its engine drowning out the sounds of the city.

You scrambled out to the aircraft and Steve helped you in first, putting on your headset and then sliding in beside you.

His hand found your thigh before the door was shut and his grip was firm, grounding to the present. When the chopper lifted off, you didn’t look down. You looked at him.

"You still with me, Peach?"

How could his voice be sexy even through a helicopter headset?

You turned just enough to brush your lips against his jaw. "Try and lose me."

He grinned.

"That’ll never happen."

You finally looked down to see the city shrinking beneath you and Brooklyn disappearing into the darkness as you soared toward Connecticut. You exhaled, pressing into Steve’s side. He drew you even closer, his arm tightening around you.

—---

Connecticut was quiet.

It was a contrast to the 20 minute helicopter ride out there.

The chapel was in the middle of nowhere, an old, quaint little brick building with ivy curling up the walls and nestled between stately oak trees. It was the kind of place people go on a whim, people like you and Steve.

The night was cold, snow swirled outside the stained glass windows, aided by the slowing wings of the helicopter. Candles glowed inside and reflected light off the worn wooden pews of the little church, making everything glow, like the evening before at the conservatory.

The officiant stood at the altar and waited for you to finish the paperwork, looking groggy but amused, hands tucked into his coat pockets.

He was entirely unfazed by the urgency of it all. He’d seen this kind of thing before: two people so wildly, crazy in love that waiting wasn’t an option.

He should have been more impressed at the money Steve paid him to get out of his warm bed, but he wasn’t.

You handed the forms to him and then he directed you to stand before your fiancé of roughly 90 minutes. You stood with Steve, your hands locked together, your heart hammering so hard you’re sure he could feel it through your fingertips.

His hair was tousled from running through the snow, his cheeks flushed, his blue eyes glowing. He looked at you like you were his whole world.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, even though you know the answer.

Steve grinned the grin that made your knees weak.

“Too late to back out now, Trouble.”

You raised your eyebrow at the moniker and you two shared a heated look, like you would take each other down on this altar, causing the officiant to clear his throat, clearly used to chaos.

“Shall we begin?”

You both straightened up and nodded, trying to be good, but your energy was threatening to overtake you both.

“Do you, Steven Grant Rogers take—”

“I do,” Steve interrupted, squeezing your hands, eyes wide at his faux pas.

Your mouth dropped open and you laughed as the officiant blinked but barely reacted, as he turned to you.

“And do you—”

“I do,” you said just as fast, laughing when Steve let out a relieved breath like you were actually going to say no.

The officiant smirked.

“In that case, by the power vested in me—”

Before he could finish, Steve surged forward, cupping your face in his hands. He pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that nearly knocked you off balance. You felt his smile against your mouth, his laughter, and the sheer joy radiating off of him.

“Well,” the officiant chuckled. “That’s one way to do it.”

Steve pressed his forehead against yours, causing your breaths to mingle together, just like your futures.

“You’re my wife,” he murmured, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

You grinned, looping your arms around his neck.

“And you, Steve Rogers, are in for a lot of trouble, husband.”

He just laughed, picking you up and kissing you again as your legs wrapped around his waist. The officiant just shook his head and walked off.

“Please pull the door to when you’re done, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers.”

This man was going back to bed.

—---

The helicopter was loud, but all you could perceive was Steve, his presence, his warmth, and his heartbeat where your head rested against his shoulder. His arm was draped over you lazily, but his fingers toyed with the hem of your sweatshirt.

"Still got that adrenaline, sweetheart?" His voice was teasing.

You looked up to meet his gaze.

"What do you think?"

His grin was slow and dangerous.

"I think you’re mine now. Officially."

You smirked, tugging at his hoodie, pulling him down to you.

"Yeah?"

He kissed you deep and slow, like you had got nowhere else to be.

And maybe you didn’t.

The world could wait for a few hours.

At that moment, it was just you and Steve, about to descend into forever.

[ramp-it-up]

Haha! Glad you liked it!

Yes, these two are totally in love and chaos. 🤪

Also, I’m so glad you got the elevator joke!!!!! 😁

And the helicopter. 😏

Yes! The lore. What this man has seen, lol.

This was a good exercise for me. If you have any other asks, don’t . ❤️hesitate

The Matrimony: Peach 7.5

Peach VII

Summary: Steve and Peach’s wedding!

Pairing: Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

Word count: 2K

A/N: @Seitmai along with others asked to see the wedding in this ask. Sweetie, I hope you like it. 😅

This fic is a Peach Fic and is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and IN THE MIDDLE OF the events in Peach VII. Your interaction is life so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. The proposal (naked) and the elopement (casual). References to marks left during sex, raw p in v, the elevator scene! Helicopter rides, a wedding officiant who is not amused, and the wedding! Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———

Steve…. looked like a little boy. And then he asked you a very grown up question.

You leaned up on your elbow, the sheets of the hotel bed swirled around your body as you watched him warily.

You were flushed, your skin still tingling from the way Steve touched you, and the way he moaned your name like it was a prayer from his mouth to God’s ear.

Steve hadn’t stopped looking at you, like he was trying to memorize every detail, your flushed cheeks, the way your lips were still slightly parted, that spark in those beautiful eyes.

Yes, he was going to do this, because there would be no more wasting time.

You and he would be one forever.

You watched as he stood, the glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows over the sharp angles of his jaw. You noticed that the curve of his lips that were still swollen from pressing against yours.

Your eyes traced his bare chest, his hard abs, the place where his hips cut into his torso, and the long, thick length swinging between his legs.

You drew in a shuddering breath of desire, because the lines of his body were still marked with the evidence of your passion; there were scratches where your sharp nails left memories of bliss.

Then you looked up into his eyes again.

Steve ran a hand through his messy hair, exhaling like he was bracing himself for something big. You could tell that what had been a joke was becoming a very real possibility.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head like he couldn't believe he was about to say what he was about to say.

Then, he dropped down on one knee, naked as the day he was born, but ready to commit to you until the day he died.

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized the urgency of the situation. He was really about to do this. But Steve looked at you like he’d never been more sure of anything in his life.

“Ever since the first time I saw you in Atlanta, I’ve been making plans for you, Peach.”

He took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles like a sacrament.

“Marry me,” Steve said, voice quiet but certain. “Right now. Tonight.”

Your heart was pounding so hard that you could barely hear him.

“I don’t want to wait,” he continued, eyes locked onto yours.

“Not another day, not another second. I want you. Forever.”

His finger traced the line of the flush in your face. He knew you so well.

“Let’s go to some place in Connecticut where we don’t have to wait 24 hours and say screw it to everything else. Everyone’s expectations, all of those arbitrary rules about courtship and marriage. Fuck all of that shit.”

His voice was raw now.

“Because this, Peach?”

He motioned between you.

“This is you and me.”

You smiled slowly, sitting up and leaning forward until your fingers tangled in his hair, not caring that the falling sheet left the upper part of your body uncovered.

“You do realize what you’re asking for, right?” you murmured, tilting his chin up so that he those baby blues were looking directly at you.

“A lifetime of absolute chaos. Of me pushing every one of your buttons, popping off, and making you question all your life choices. Think you can handle that, Rogers? Can you handle me?”

You were halfway joking, but also serious, wanting to make sure that he knew that you were a lot. The last six weeks you’d known each other had been evidence of that, but you wanted him to be certain.

Steve laughed, a beautiful sound, and his grip on your hand tightened.

“I know I can. And I think you’re underestimating how much I love the chaos. Don’t underestimate how much I love you, Peach. I’m not going to make us wait forever for forever.”

You bit your lip, feeling unreasonably happy.

“So will you marry me Peach?”

Looking into those storm blue eyes and feeling the sincerity of his love for you made you throw your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you and pushed you back onto the bed as you laughed breathlessly.

Steve kissed you, helpless and under your spell. His tongue asked the question again, wordlessly this time.

“Buckle up, baby,” you whispered against his lips.

“Because this is gonna be the wildest ride of your life.”

Steve's hand began to roam your body as he looked into your eyes.

“I’m counting on it, Peach”

He buried his mouth in the fragrant cleave of your collarbone and you buried your fingers in his hair.

“Yes. I will marry you Steven Grant Rogers,” you whispered in his ear as your leg came up and wrapped around his slim hips.

He kissed you again, hard, desperate, just like the rest of his body that was entering you in one smooth stroke. He filled you up like a promise, breaking you apart and putting you back together like he never wanted to stop.

—--

New York was the city that never slept, but you and Steve were wide awake for a different reason an hour later.

It was well after midnight when you left the hotel; and your heart beat wildly as you ascended toward your ride to the wedding, which waited atop the Rebirth building.

The elevator rose and you used the opportunity to watch Steve’s handsome features. He caught you looking and winked down at you as he gripped your hand, his thumb tracing circles against your skin.

"Before we get started, do you want to get out?"

Steve stared you down like he was serious. Then he cracked up laughing, giddy. You shook your head and laughed with him, hitting him on the arm as he wrapped you up in them.

Steve kissed your forehead and grinned, the energy rolling off him; you could practically feel his urgency to make you his wife. You got it; you couldn’t wait for him to be your husband.

As the numbers climbed, he exhaled and squeezed your hand.

"Wait here. I’ll be quick."

The doors slid open with a soft chime, and Steve stepped out into the dimly lit hallway of his penthouse, his shoes silent against the polished floors. The doors closed again, and suddenly, you were alone, the city stretching out in all directions behind you through the glass walls of the elevator.

Your reflection stared back at you, leggings, sweatshirt and sneakers, messy bun, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips after the effects of a good night’s fucking.

Was this really your life?

You exhaled, pressing your palms against the metal railing as you waited for him, your heart pounding in your ears. What if he’d changed his mind?

The doors slid open again, and before you can spin around, Steve was there, changed out of the suit he wore to your hotel room and into dark sweats and a Dodger’s cap, a small velvet box in his large hand.

He stepped in, pressed the rooftop button, and the doors closed again. He looked down at you and kissed your nose.

“You ready?”

You smiled up at him.

“Yes, I am, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve took your hand again and just like that, the elevator rose.

—--

The rooftop access door was heavy, but Steve shoved it open, and the night air whooshed around you. The helicopter’s blades sliced through the darkness, the thrum of its engine drowning out the sounds of the city.

You scrambled out to the aircraft and Steve helped you in first, putting on your headset and then sliding in beside you.

His hand found your thigh before the door was shut and his grip was firm, grounding to the present. When the chopper lifted off, you didn’t look down. You looked at him.

"You still with me, Peach?"

How could his voice be sexy even through a helicopter headset?

You turned just enough to brush your lips against his jaw. "Try and lose me."

He grinned.

"That’ll never happen."

You finally looked down to see the city shrinking beneath you and Brooklyn disappearing into the darkness as you soared toward Connecticut. You exhaled, pressing into Steve’s side. He drew you even closer, his arm tightening around you.

—---

Connecticut was quiet.

It was a contrast to the 20 minute helicopter ride out there.

The chapel was in the middle of nowhere, an old, quaint little brick building with ivy curling up the walls and nestled between stately oak trees. It was the kind of place people go on a whim, people like you and Steve.

The night was cold, snow swirled outside the stained glass windows, aided by the slowing wings of the helicopter. Candles glowed inside and reflected light off the worn wooden pews of the little church, making everything glow, like the evening before at the conservatory.

The officiant stood at the altar and waited for you to finish the paperwork, looking groggy but amused, hands tucked into his coat pockets.

He was entirely unfazed by the urgency of it all. He’d seen this kind of thing before: two people so wildly, crazy in love that waiting wasn’t an option.

He should have been more impressed at the money Steve paid him to get out of his warm bed, but he wasn’t.

You handed the forms to him and then he directed you to stand before your fiancé of roughly 90 minutes. You stood with Steve, your hands locked together, your heart hammering so hard you’re sure he could feel it through your fingertips.

His hair was tousled from running through the snow, his cheeks flushed, his blue eyes glowing. He looked at you like you were his whole world.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, even though you know the answer.

Steve grinned the grin that made your knees weak.

“Too late to back out now, Trouble.”

You raised your eyebrow at the moniker and you two shared a heated look, like you would take each other down on this altar, causing the officiant to clear his throat, clearly used to chaos.

“Shall we begin?”

You both straightened up and nodded, trying to be good, but your energy was threatening to overtake you both.

“Do you, Steven Grant Rogers take—”

“I do,” Steve interrupted, squeezing your hands, eyes wide at his faux pas.

Your mouth dropped open and you laughed as the officiant blinked but barely reacted, as he turned to you.

“And do you—”

“I do,” you said just as fast, laughing when Steve let out a relieved breath like you were actually going to say no.

The officiant smirked.

“In that case, by the power vested in me—”

Before he could finish, Steve surged forward, cupping your face in his hands. He pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that nearly knocked you off balance. You felt his smile against your mouth, his laughter, and the sheer joy radiating off of him.

“Well,” the officiant chuckled. “That’s one way to do it.”

Steve pressed his forehead against yours, causing your breaths to mingle together, just like your futures.

“You’re my wife,” he murmured, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

You grinned, looping your arms around his neck.

“And you, Steve Rogers, are in for a lot of trouble, husband.”

He just laughed, picking you up and kissing you again as your legs wrapped around his waist. The officiant just shook his head and walked off.

“Please pull the door to when you’re done, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers.”

This man was going back to bed.

—---

The helicopter was loud, but all you could perceive was Steve, his presence, his warmth, and his heartbeat where your head rested against his shoulder. His arm was draped over you lazily, but his fingers toyed with the hem of your sweatshirt.

"Still got that adrenaline, sweetheart?" His voice was teasing.

You looked up to meet his gaze.

"What do you think?"

His grin was slow and dangerous.

"I think you’re mine now. Officially."

You smirked, tugging at his hoodie, pulling him down to you.

"Yeah?"

He kissed you deep and slow, like you had got nowhere else to be.

And maybe you didn’t.

The world could wait for a few hours.

At that moment, it was just you and Steve, about to descend into forever.

[ramp-it-up]

"Before we get started, do you want to get out?"

💀

Hi Nonnie! ☺️

What?

It was a Steve Rogers elevator scene.

Thanks for reading! :D

The Matrimony

[ramp-it-up]

Thank you so much for reading and sharing this, Love. I hope you enjoyed it! <3

The Matrimony: Peach 7.5

Peach VII

Summary: Steve and Peach’s wedding!

Pairing: Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

Word count: 2K

A/N: @Seitmai along with others asked to see the wedding in this ask. Sweetie, I hope you like it. 😅

This fic is a Peach Fic and is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and IN THE MIDDLE OF the events in Peach VII. Your interaction is life so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. The proposal (naked) and the elopement (casual). References to marks left during sex, raw p in v, the elevator scene! Helicopter rides, a wedding officiant who is not amused, and the wedding! Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———

Steve…. looked like a little boy. And then he asked you a very grown up question.

You leaned up on your elbow, the sheets of the hotel bed swirled around your body as you watched him warily.

You were flushed, your skin still tingling from the way Steve touched you, and the way he moaned your name like it was a prayer from his mouth to God’s ear.

Steve hadn’t stopped looking at you, like he was trying to memorize every detail, your flushed cheeks, the way your lips were still slightly parted, that spark in those beautiful eyes.

Yes, he was going to do this, because there would be no more wasting time.

You and he would be one forever.

You watched as he stood, the glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows over the sharp angles of his jaw. You noticed that the curve of his lips that were still swollen from pressing against yours.

Your eyes traced his bare chest, his hard abs, the place where his hips cut into his torso, and the long, thick length swinging between his legs.

You drew in a shuddering breath of desire, because the lines of his body were still marked with the evidence of your passion; there were scratches where your sharp nails left memories of bliss.

Then you looked up into his eyes again.

Steve ran a hand through his messy hair, exhaling like he was bracing himself for something big. You could tell that what had been a joke was becoming a very real possibility.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head like he couldn't believe he was about to say what he was about to say.

Then, he dropped down on one knee, naked as the day he was born, but ready to commit to you until the day he died.

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized the urgency of the situation. He was really about to do this. But Steve looked at you like he’d never been more sure of anything in his life.

“Ever since the first time I saw you in Atlanta, I’ve been making plans for you, Peach.”

He took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles like a sacrament.

“Marry me,” Steve said, voice quiet but certain. “Right now. Tonight.”

Your heart was pounding so hard that you could barely hear him.

“I don’t want to wait,” he continued, eyes locked onto yours.

“Not another day, not another second. I want you. Forever.”

His finger traced the line of the flush in your face. He knew you so well.

“Let’s go to some place in Connecticut where we don’t have to wait 24 hours and say screw it to everything else. Everyone’s expectations, all of those arbitrary rules about courtship and marriage. Fuck all of that shit.”

His voice was raw now.

“Because this, Peach?”

He motioned between you.

“This is you and me.”

You smiled slowly, sitting up and leaning forward until your fingers tangled in his hair, not caring that the falling sheet left the upper part of your body uncovered.

“You do realize what you’re asking for, right?” you murmured, tilting his chin up so that he those baby blues were looking directly at you.

“A lifetime of absolute chaos. Of me pushing every one of your buttons, popping off, and making you question all your life choices. Think you can handle that, Rogers? Can you handle me?”

You were halfway joking, but also serious, wanting to make sure that he knew that you were a lot. The last six weeks you’d known each other had been evidence of that, but you wanted him to be certain.

Steve laughed, a beautiful sound, and his grip on your hand tightened.

“I know I can. And I think you’re underestimating how much I love the chaos. Don’t underestimate how much I love you, Peach. I’m not going to make us wait forever for forever.”

You bit your lip, feeling unreasonably happy.

“So will you marry me Peach?”

Looking into those storm blue eyes and feeling the sincerity of his love for you made you throw your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you and pushed you back onto the bed as you laughed breathlessly.

Steve kissed you, helpless and under your spell. His tongue asked the question again, wordlessly this time.

“Buckle up, baby,” you whispered against his lips.

“Because this is gonna be the wildest ride of your life.”

Steve's hand began to roam your body as he looked into your eyes.

“I’m counting on it, Peach”

He buried his mouth in the fragrant cleave of your collarbone and you buried your fingers in his hair.

“Yes. I will marry you Steven Grant Rogers,” you whispered in his ear as your leg came up and wrapped around his slim hips.

He kissed you again, hard, desperate, just like the rest of his body that was entering you in one smooth stroke. He filled you up like a promise, breaking you apart and putting you back together like he never wanted to stop.

—--

New York was the city that never slept, but you and Steve were wide awake for a different reason an hour later.

It was well after midnight when you left the hotel; and your heart beat wildly as you ascended toward your ride to the wedding, which waited atop the Rebirth building.

The elevator rose and you used the opportunity to watch Steve’s handsome features. He caught you looking and winked down at you as he gripped your hand, his thumb tracing circles against your skin.

"Before we get started, do you want to get out?"

Steve stared you down like he was serious. Then he cracked up laughing, giddy. You shook your head and laughed with him, hitting him on the arm as he wrapped you up in them.

Steve kissed your forehead and grinned, the energy rolling off him; you could practically feel his urgency to make you his wife. You got it; you couldn’t wait for him to be your husband.

As the numbers climbed, he exhaled and squeezed your hand.

"Wait here. I’ll be quick."

The doors slid open with a soft chime, and Steve stepped out into the dimly lit hallway of his penthouse, his shoes silent against the polished floors. The doors closed again, and suddenly, you were alone, the city stretching out in all directions behind you through the glass walls of the elevator.

Your reflection stared back at you, leggings, sweatshirt and sneakers, messy bun, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips after the effects of a good night’s fucking.

Was this really your life?

You exhaled, pressing your palms against the metal railing as you waited for him, your heart pounding in your ears. What if he’d changed his mind?

The doors slid open again, and before you can spin around, Steve was there, changed out of the suit he wore to your hotel room and into dark sweats and a Dodger’s cap, a small velvet box in his large hand.

He stepped in, pressed the rooftop button, and the doors closed again. He looked down at you and kissed your nose.

“You ready?”

You smiled up at him.

“Yes, I am, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve took your hand again and just like that, the elevator rose.

—--

The rooftop access door was heavy, but Steve shoved it open, and the night air whooshed around you. The helicopter’s blades sliced through the darkness, the thrum of its engine drowning out the sounds of the city.

You scrambled out to the aircraft and Steve helped you in first, putting on your headset and then sliding in beside you.

His hand found your thigh before the door was shut and his grip was firm, grounding to the present. When the chopper lifted off, you didn’t look down. You looked at him.

"You still with me, Peach?"

How could his voice be sexy even through a helicopter headset?

You turned just enough to brush your lips against his jaw. "Try and lose me."

He grinned.

"That’ll never happen."

You finally looked down to see the city shrinking beneath you and Brooklyn disappearing into the darkness as you soared toward Connecticut. You exhaled, pressing into Steve’s side. He drew you even closer, his arm tightening around you.

—---

Connecticut was quiet.

It was a contrast to the 20 minute helicopter ride out there.

The chapel was in the middle of nowhere, an old, quaint little brick building with ivy curling up the walls and nestled between stately oak trees. It was the kind of place people go on a whim, people like you and Steve.

The night was cold, snow swirled outside the stained glass windows, aided by the slowing wings of the helicopter. Candles glowed inside and reflected light off the worn wooden pews of the little church, making everything glow, like the evening before at the conservatory.

The officiant stood at the altar and waited for you to finish the paperwork, looking groggy but amused, hands tucked into his coat pockets.

He was entirely unfazed by the urgency of it all. He’d seen this kind of thing before: two people so wildly, crazy in love that waiting wasn’t an option.

He should have been more impressed at the money Steve paid him to get out of his warm bed, but he wasn’t.

You handed the forms to him and then he directed you to stand before your fiancé of roughly 90 minutes. You stood with Steve, your hands locked together, your heart hammering so hard you’re sure he could feel it through your fingertips.

His hair was tousled from running through the snow, his cheeks flushed, his blue eyes glowing. He looked at you like you were his whole world.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, even though you know the answer.

Steve grinned the grin that made your knees weak.

“Too late to back out now, Trouble.”

You raised your eyebrow at the moniker and you two shared a heated look, like you would take each other down on this altar, causing the officiant to clear his throat, clearly used to chaos.

“Shall we begin?”

You both straightened up and nodded, trying to be good, but your energy was threatening to overtake you both.

“Do you, Steven Grant Rogers take—”

“I do,” Steve interrupted, squeezing your hands, eyes wide at his faux pas.

Your mouth dropped open and you laughed as the officiant blinked but barely reacted, as he turned to you.

“And do you—”

“I do,” you said just as fast, laughing when Steve let out a relieved breath like you were actually going to say no.

The officiant smirked.

“In that case, by the power vested in me—”

Before he could finish, Steve surged forward, cupping your face in his hands. He pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that nearly knocked you off balance. You felt his smile against your mouth, his laughter, and the sheer joy radiating off of him.

“Well,” the officiant chuckled. “That’s one way to do it.”

Steve pressed his forehead against yours, causing your breaths to mingle together, just like your futures.

“You’re my wife,” he murmured, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

You grinned, looping your arms around his neck.

“And you, Steve Rogers, are in for a lot of trouble, husband.”

He just laughed, picking you up and kissing you again as your legs wrapped around his waist. The officiant just shook his head and walked off.

“Please pull the door to when you’re done, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers.”

This man was going back to bed.

—---

The helicopter was loud, but all you could perceive was Steve, his presence, his warmth, and his heartbeat where your head rested against his shoulder. His arm was draped over you lazily, but his fingers toyed with the hem of your sweatshirt.

"Still got that adrenaline, sweetheart?" His voice was teasing.

You looked up to meet his gaze.

"What do you think?"

His grin was slow and dangerous.

"I think you’re mine now. Officially."

You smirked, tugging at his hoodie, pulling him down to you.

"Yeah?"

He kissed you deep and slow, like you had got nowhere else to be.

And maybe you didn’t.

The world could wait for a few hours.

At that moment, it was just you and Steve, about to descend into forever.

[ramp-it-up]

Sooo about Peach and Steve's wedding.. did they just head over to the courthouse after Steve dropped down on one knee and paid off a couple to get their appointment? I feel like there is so much paperwork involved (I'm perpetually single, wouldn't know lol) in getting married, did they just have that read to go and on hand? I have so many questions and want to know about everything 🤭🫶🏻

- @seitmai

Hey @seitmai 👋🏽

So…

It was midnight when Steve proposed and NY has a 24 hour waiting period for marriage licenses. They had to go to another state to get married immediately.

In my research, I found that the closest state to do that is Connecticut.

There is a lot to it, but for Peach and Steve, it was just so simple.

And I think perfect for them.

Link to The Matrimony (after it is published. 😉)

Thanks for the inspiration and the ear. ❤️

[ramp-it-up]

Peach MasterList

Peach Series (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky, not for love, but because it's the right thing to do. When Steve meets you at one of his businesses and lies to you about a myriad of things, It becomes a sticky situation, especially since the attraction you feel for one another is so sweet. Will you give up your grudge for love? Will it be a disaster, or the best thing that ever happened to both of you?

Part of the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down Series.

I, II, III, IV, V, VI,

[ramp-it-up]

Hey Babe!

😘

Thank you for sharing! Appreciate you, I truly do! ❤️

Peach MasterList

Peach Series (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky, not for love, but because it's the right thing to do. When Steve meets you at one of his businesses and lies to you about a myriad of things, It becomes a sticky situation, especially since the attraction you feel for one another is so sweet. Will you give up your grudge for love? Will it be a disaster, or the best thing that ever happened to both of you?

Part of the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down Series.

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII 7.5

[ramp-it-up]

Captain America: Brave New World sambucky gifset (part 1 of 7)

[ramp-it-up]

Thank you for sharing. Hope you liked it! 😁

Knock You Down

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down.

Word count: less than 2K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This fic was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts. Part II is already in the queue and will be posted on Friday, 10/11.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, Bucky the player, wild thoughts, kisses on the hand and the cheek. No sex!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

"Won't see it coming when it happens. But when it happens you're gonna feel it, let me tell you now."

Bucky always scoffed at Steve’s advice. He and Sam never understood his solitary bachelorhood and his one night stand lifestyle.

The truth was, he hadn’t met anyone who held his interest enough to warrant a second date, much less anything beyond one casual hookup. So, he never made promises that he couldn’t keep, and most women said they were down for that. 

Even if they were lying to themselves.

At 42, James Buchanan Barnes was too dedicated to his business, ostensibly as an art dealer, for a serious relationship. The truth was that he dealt in many things, and that was why his business needed so much attention. 

His life and everyone’s around him depended on it. 

Bucky Barnes wasn’t going to get caught slipping.

In love or in business.

—---

The first time you met James Buchanan Barnes, on what you thought would be a random Monday afternoon, he appraised you in a way that shook you to the core, those ocean blue eyes looking into your soul. You felt as if he were evaluating a piece of art as he gazed at you across his desk. 

You couldn’t know that he felt the exact same way. 

His eyes never strayed from your face as he shook your hand, but he’d noticed every bit of you as you entered his gallery, Rebirth. You were more stunning than any piece of art that he’d ever curated in the space.

While nothing like his normal type, you made Bucky feel as if he’d been so wrong about so much in his life the moment you entered his orbit. He had to get to know you to find what he’d been missing.

This afternoon you were a sight to behold and serving body. Although you were covered from neck to shin in an elegant sheath dress, the high, wrapped waist was giving all of your bounteous curves up to whoever glanced at you. And you had heads turning.

Steve, Sam, and even Natasha craned their necks to watch you as you entered Bucky’s office. And he could have sworn that Nat’s neck was at a 90 degree angle as she watched you leave her desk just outside his door.

You were fine as hell.

Bucky was entranced by dreams of handling your curves and making you smile at him forever.

As Bucky dreamed, you admired the man in front of you. Tall, dark, and handsome, Barnes wasn’t a young man, but the gray in his beard and the crinkles around his eyes made him that much more attractive. 

Even more attractive than in the paparazzi pics of him with various young models and actresses of the moment, waifs and ingénues with whom he was never photographed twice.

You just knew you were safe from any advances from him.

You thought.

“Enchanté, Ms. Y/LN. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Bucky lowered his head as he greeted you, a slight bow and extended his hand to his desk. You noticed the tattoo that started on his hand and seemed to go up his sleeve and went in the direction he pointed.

"You know, you are quite tenacious. I don’t take many meetings with potential buyers. But all of my people told me that I should.”

The silk of his voice, the unexpected tenor of it, and the way he took your hand made you shiver at the aura of experience that he gave off.

The word Daddy floated around in your mind for a moment until he invited you to sit.

You had to concentrate on the business at hand, that of negotiating for a piece of art for the Art and Culture Center in Brownsville, of which you were the director. The purchase was made possible by benefactors to commemorate a deceased Brownsville artist who became famous, then forgotten, during the Harlem Renaissance.

“You’ve made it past Ms. Romanoff, my gallerist, Mr. Wilson, my business manager, and Mr. Rogers, my gallery director, Ms. Y/LN. What makes you think that I’m going to give you a different answer? Letting that piece go for the price you’ve proposed is not a good business move.”

“You can’t afford to miss out on this opportunity, Mr. Barnes. Yes, you will be taking a loss on the artwork, but you will be on the ground floor of a major rediscovery. You will be known as one of the few who helped to resurrect the brilliance of the artist Howard Benson. You can be the Alice Walker to his Zora Neale Hurston.”

And that is when Bucky leaned back in his chair, astounded at your shrewd calculation.

“I love the way your mind works, Ms. Y/LN.”

You smiled and settled back into your chair, causing Bucky to shift in his chair. He wanted to be buried in you. He appraised and decided that he liked the pout that changed your lips almost as much as the smile that initially greeted him when he replied, “But that price is still unacceptable.”

You raised an adorable eyebrow at him and rose to the challenge that he lay at your feet ready to tangle with the inimitable James Barnes. The conversation stretched from early afternoon to dinner time, making you suspect that Barnes was drawing it out for some reason. You matched him, point for point, until it was dark. But he yielded no ground.

The conversation was intellectual foreplay: art history, sociology, american politics. And it was the most stimulated you’d been in a while. 

You could do this all night.

Your phone buzzed and you looked down. There were several text messages and emails lighting up your screen. You’d been in deep with Barnes for hours. It was after 6 pm. It seemed like only minutes. You noticed that it was only you and Bucky left in the gallery and rose to excuse yourself, albeit reluctantly.

“Oh! I’m sorry to keep you so long. I’m sure that you must have plans.”

You’d done your research and you knew that there was probably someone little more than half Barnes’ age waiting for him. When you searched social media, there was a sighting or spotted every month or so of Bucky and a young, beautiful woman.

You reached for your coat, but Bucky was behind you in seconds, taking it from you and helping you put it on. You shivered at his breath at your throat and his hands on your collarbone as he draped the lapels over your neck. His deep chuckle made your stomach flip. He saw right through you.

“No one is waiting for me but my cat, Alpine. How about you, Ms. YLN? Anyone waiting for you in Brownsville?”

“Not tonight. No.”

Why in the world were you doing the sultry whisper thing? This man didn’t want you. 

Did he?

You cleared your throat and you felt dizzy when you looked up and saw how close he was standing to you. Those eyes and the smile that graced his handsome face had you warm, but the way he licked his lips had you spiraling.

Bucky pushed down a mild sense of panic that someone might be expecting you some other night, but that was irrational. Competition never ever entered his mind when he talked to other women. 

What was happening here?

“Well I would consider myself extremely fortunate and would be honored if we could continue this conversation over dinner.”

—-

The way James Barnes turned your meeting into a dinner date had your head spinning, but the wonderful conversation and easy, light hearted banter eased your mind. As soon as the first course was served at your table at dinner at Bohemian, he agreed to your initial price.

From there, once the terms were settled, the conversation turned to more personal questions, each of you sharing the stories of your life in your town, his childhood in Romania, your childhood in Brooklyn, and lots of funny stories.

At one point early in the night, Bucky stopped you from calling him Mr. Barnes.

“Please. Call me James. Or you could call me Bucky. My Friends call me Bucky. For my middle name, Buchanan. Bucky is short for Buchanan.”

Bucky found himself rambling. He had not been this nervous in a while.

You looked at him quizzically. At that moment, he would give you anything you were about to ask of him.

“Do you have a lot of friends? I mean, do a lot of people call you Bucky?“

Godamn, the husk in your voice, those lips, those eyes. Everything about you was about to set him on fire.

“I have a few who are in my close circle. Natasha, Steve, Sam. They and a very few others call me Bucky. Most people I speak with call me Mr. Barnes...”

You nodded slowly, licking your lips, making Bucky feel it in his cock.

“Then I will call you James.”

He got your subtle meaning. You wanted to be different. 

And you were. So very different.

After almost five hours of the best conversation and laughter, he proposed another time for you two to meet before the week was up, on Friday. He had made it clear at dinner that now that business was concluded that he wanted to spend time with you.

Friday night would be a date, the second one at his insistence.

You debated that fact as his driver took you home, even up until he walked you to the door of your brownstone.

He leaned against your doorframe and checked you out as you retrieved your keys from your purse. When you turned and caught him looking, you gasped, causing him to straighten up and move toward you, eyes dilated.

“It will be our second date,” you conceded.

Bucky’s mouth curled into a smirk as he grabbed your hand and lifted it to his mouth. Your soul burned as he pressed his lips to your palm. It was like the hint of a drug in your veins and you wanted so much more.

“What made you change your mind?”

That voice. Did you have a voice kink? Good lord.

You flushed, both at the images that were racing through your mind, and at the arbitrary three date rule you’d made up a while ago. Why was that again?

You cleared your throat.

“Because of the way you are looking at me, James. And the fact that you just kissed me.”

“Is this a kiss?”

“Ummhmmmm.”

You hummed as Bucky raised his eyebrow and your hand again. This time, he brushed his lips against your wrist and inhaled the perfume lingering there. You were about to melt.

Bucky didn’t even know what he was doing. The next step in his mind was to open his mouth and consume you, but he opened his eyes and spied you looking at him in that way, and he knew he had to stop. He didn’t want this to be like all of his other conquests.

He straightened up, but didn’t let go of your hand, entangling your fingers together. 

“You are correct, Y/N. In my mind, this is a date. I am interested in you, for more than just your taste in art. I hope that this is the first date of many.”

You were bowled over at his straightforwardness. It was not what you were used to. This was a man, not a boy in mens clothing.

“I appreciate your honesty, James.”

You went on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, your lips lingering on the black and grey stubble so close to his lips. You turned around, giving him a view of your backside as you opened your door.

“And your ambition.”

You gave him that smile again with a wink, and your “Goodnight, James,” floated up to him on cloud nine.

——-

Let me know if you liked it!

Part II here.

[ramp-it-up]

Thank you so much for your support! I appreciate you v. much!

The Matrimony: Peach 7.5

Peach VII

Summary: Steve and Peach’s wedding!

Pairing: Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

Word count: 2K

A/N: @Seitmai along with others asked to see the wedding in this ask. Sweetie, I hope you like it. 😅

This fic is a Peach Fic and is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and IN THE MIDDLE OF the events in Peach VII. Your interaction is life so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. The proposal (naked) and the elopement (casual). References to marks left during sex, raw p in v, the elevator scene! Helicopter rides, a wedding officiant who is not amused, and the wedding! Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———

Steve…. looked like a little boy. And then he asked you a very grown up question.

You leaned up on your elbow, the sheets of the hotel bed swirled around your body as you watched him warily.

You were flushed, your skin still tingling from the way Steve touched you, and the way he moaned your name like it was a prayer from his mouth to God’s ear.

Steve hadn’t stopped looking at you, like he was trying to memorize every detail, your flushed cheeks, the way your lips were still slightly parted, that spark in those beautiful eyes.

Yes, he was going to do this, because there would be no more wasting time.

You and he would be one forever.

You watched as he stood, the glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows over the sharp angles of his jaw. You noticed that the curve of his lips that were still swollen from pressing against yours.

Your eyes traced his bare chest, his hard abs, the place where his hips cut into his torso, and the long, thick length swinging between his legs.

You drew in a shuddering breath of desire, because the lines of his body were still marked with the evidence of your passion; there were scratches where your sharp nails left memories of bliss.

Then you looked up into his eyes again.

Steve ran a hand through his messy hair, exhaling like he was bracing himself for something big. You could tell that what had been a joke was becoming a very real possibility.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head like he couldn't believe he was about to say what he was about to say.

Then, he dropped down on one knee, naked as the day he was born, but ready to commit to you until the day he died.

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized the urgency of the situation. He was really about to do this. But Steve looked at you like he’d never been more sure of anything in his life.

“Ever since the first time I saw you in Atlanta, I’ve been making plans for you, Peach.”

He took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles like a sacrament.

“Marry me,” Steve said, voice quiet but certain. “Right now. Tonight.”

Your heart was pounding so hard that you could barely hear him.

“I don’t want to wait,” he continued, eyes locked onto yours.

“Not another day, not another second. I want you. Forever.”

His finger traced the line of the flush in your face. He knew you so well.

“Let’s go to some place in Connecticut where we don’t have to wait 24 hours and say screw it to everything else. Everyone’s expectations, all of those arbitrary rules about courtship and marriage. Fuck all of that shit.”

His voice was raw now.

“Because this, Peach?”

He motioned between you.

“This is you and me.”

You smiled slowly, sitting up and leaning forward until your fingers tangled in his hair, not caring that the falling sheet left the upper part of your body uncovered.

“You do realize what you’re asking for, right?” you murmured, tilting his chin up so that he those baby blues were looking directly at you.

“A lifetime of absolute chaos. Of me pushing every one of your buttons, popping off, and making you question all your life choices. Think you can handle that, Rogers? Can you handle me?”

You were halfway joking, but also serious, wanting to make sure that he knew that you were a lot. The last six weeks you’d known each other had been evidence of that, but you wanted him to be certain.

Steve laughed, a beautiful sound, and his grip on your hand tightened.

“I know I can. And I think you’re underestimating how much I love the chaos. Don’t underestimate how much I love you, Peach. I’m not going to make us wait forever for forever.”

You bit your lip, feeling unreasonably happy.

“So will you marry me Peach?”

Looking into those storm blue eyes and feeling the sincerity of his love for you made you throw your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you and pushed you back onto the bed as you laughed breathlessly.

Steve kissed you, helpless and under your spell. His tongue asked the question again, wordlessly this time.

“Buckle up, baby,” you whispered against his lips.

“Because this is gonna be the wildest ride of your life.”

Steve's hand began to roam your body as he looked into your eyes.

“I’m counting on it, Peach”

He buried his mouth in the fragrant cleave of your collarbone and you buried your fingers in his hair.

“Yes. I will marry you Steven Grant Rogers,” you whispered in his ear as your leg came up and wrapped around his slim hips.

He kissed you again, hard, desperate, just like the rest of his body that was entering you in one smooth stroke. He filled you up like a promise, breaking you apart and putting you back together like he never wanted to stop.

—--

New York was the city that never slept, but you and Steve were wide awake for a different reason an hour later.

It was well after midnight when you left the hotel; and your heart beat wildly as you ascended toward your ride to the wedding, which waited atop the Rebirth building.

The elevator rose and you used the opportunity to watch Steve’s handsome features. He caught you looking and winked down at you as he gripped your hand, his thumb tracing circles against your skin.

"Before we get started, do you want to get out?"

Steve stared you down like he was serious. Then he cracked up laughing, giddy. You shook your head and laughed with him, hitting him on the arm as he wrapped you up in them.

Steve kissed your forehead and grinned, the energy rolling off him; you could practically feel his urgency to make you his wife. You got it; you couldn’t wait for him to be your husband.

As the numbers climbed, he exhaled and squeezed your hand.

"Wait here. I’ll be quick."

The doors slid open with a soft chime, and Steve stepped out into the dimly lit hallway of his penthouse, his shoes silent against the polished floors. The doors closed again, and suddenly, you were alone, the city stretching out in all directions behind you through the glass walls of the elevator.

Your reflection stared back at you, leggings, sweatshirt and sneakers, messy bun, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips after the effects of a good night’s fucking.

Was this really your life?

You exhaled, pressing your palms against the metal railing as you waited for him, your heart pounding in your ears. What if he’d changed his mind?

The doors slid open again, and before you can spin around, Steve was there, changed out of the suit he wore to your hotel room and into dark sweats and a Dodger’s cap, a small velvet box in his large hand.

He stepped in, pressed the rooftop button, and the doors closed again. He looked down at you and kissed your nose.

“You ready?”

You smiled up at him.

“Yes, I am, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve took your hand again and just like that, the elevator rose.

—--

The rooftop access door was heavy, but Steve shoved it open, and the night air whooshed around you. The helicopter’s blades sliced through the darkness, the thrum of its engine drowning out the sounds of the city.

You scrambled out to the aircraft and Steve helped you in first, putting on your headset and then sliding in beside you.

His hand found your thigh before the door was shut and his grip was firm, grounding to the present. When the chopper lifted off, you didn’t look down. You looked at him.

"You still with me, Peach?"

How could his voice be sexy even through a helicopter headset?

You turned just enough to brush your lips against his jaw. "Try and lose me."

He grinned.

"That’ll never happen."

You finally looked down to see the city shrinking beneath you and Brooklyn disappearing into the darkness as you soared toward Connecticut. You exhaled, pressing into Steve’s side. He drew you even closer, his arm tightening around you.

—---

Connecticut was quiet.

It was a contrast to the 20 minute helicopter ride out there.

The chapel was in the middle of nowhere, an old, quaint little brick building with ivy curling up the walls and nestled between stately oak trees. It was the kind of place people go on a whim, people like you and Steve.

The night was cold, snow swirled outside the stained glass windows, aided by the slowing wings of the helicopter. Candles glowed inside and reflected light off the worn wooden pews of the little church, making everything glow, like the evening before at the conservatory.

The officiant stood at the altar and waited for you to finish the paperwork, looking groggy but amused, hands tucked into his coat pockets.

He was entirely unfazed by the urgency of it all. He’d seen this kind of thing before: two people so wildly, crazy in love that waiting wasn’t an option.

He should have been more impressed at the money Steve paid him to get out of his warm bed, but he wasn’t.

You handed the forms to him and then he directed you to stand before your fiancé of roughly 90 minutes. You stood with Steve, your hands locked together, your heart hammering so hard you’re sure he could feel it through your fingertips.

His hair was tousled from running through the snow, his cheeks flushed, his blue eyes glowing. He looked at you like you were his whole world.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, even though you know the answer.

Steve grinned the grin that made your knees weak.

“Too late to back out now, Trouble.”

You raised your eyebrow at the moniker and you two shared a heated look, like you would take each other down on this altar, causing the officiant to clear his throat, clearly used to chaos.

“Shall we begin?”

You both straightened up and nodded, trying to be good, but your energy was threatening to overtake you both.

“Do you, Steven Grant Rogers take—”

“I do,” Steve interrupted, squeezing your hands, eyes wide at his faux pas.

Your mouth dropped open and you laughed as the officiant blinked but barely reacted, as he turned to you.

“And do you—”

“I do,” you said just as fast, laughing when Steve let out a relieved breath like you were actually going to say no.

The officiant smirked.

“In that case, by the power vested in me—”

Before he could finish, Steve surged forward, cupping your face in his hands. He pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that nearly knocked you off balance. You felt his smile against your mouth, his laughter, and the sheer joy radiating off of him.

“Well,” the officiant chuckled. “That’s one way to do it.”

Steve pressed his forehead against yours, causing your breaths to mingle together, just like your futures.

“You’re my wife,” he murmured, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

You grinned, looping your arms around his neck.

“And you, Steve Rogers, are in for a lot of trouble, husband.”

He just laughed, picking you up and kissing you again as your legs wrapped around his waist. The officiant just shook his head and walked off.

“Please pull the door to when you’re done, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers.”

This man was going back to bed.

—---

The helicopter was loud, but all you could perceive was Steve, his presence, his warmth, and his heartbeat where your head rested against his shoulder. His arm was draped over you lazily, but his fingers toyed with the hem of your sweatshirt.

"Still got that adrenaline, sweetheart?" His voice was teasing.

You looked up to meet his gaze.

"What do you think?"

His grin was slow and dangerous.

"I think you’re mine now. Officially."

You smirked, tugging at his hoodie, pulling him down to you.

"Yeah?"

He kissed you deep and slow, like you had got nowhere else to be.

And maybe you didn’t.

The world could wait for a few hours.

At that moment, it was just you and Steve, about to descend into forever.

[ramp-it-up]

Thanks so much for sharing, Bby! 💕

The Matrimony: Peach 7.5

Peach VII

Summary: Steve and Peach’s wedding!

Pairing: Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

Word count: 2K

A/N: @Seitmai along with others asked to see the wedding in this ask. Sweetie, I hope you like it. 😅

This fic is a Peach Fic and is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and IN THE MIDDLE OF the events in Peach VII. Your interaction is life so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. The proposal (naked) and the elopement (casual). References to marks left during sex, raw p in v, the elevator scene! Helicopter rides, a wedding officiant who is not amused, and the wedding! Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———

Steve…. looked like a little boy. And then he asked you a very grown up question.

You leaned up on your elbow, the sheets of the hotel bed swirled around your body as you watched him warily.

You were flushed, your skin still tingling from the way Steve touched you, and the way he moaned your name like it was a prayer from his mouth to God’s ear.

Steve hadn’t stopped looking at you, like he was trying to memorize every detail, your flushed cheeks, the way your lips were still slightly parted, that spark in those beautiful eyes.

Yes, he was going to do this, because there would be no more wasting time.

You and he would be one forever.

You watched as he stood, the glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows over the sharp angles of his jaw. You noticed that the curve of his lips that were still swollen from pressing against yours.

Your eyes traced his bare chest, his hard abs, the place where his hips cut into his torso, and the long, thick length swinging between his legs.

You drew in a shuddering breath of desire, because the lines of his body were still marked with the evidence of your passion; there were scratches where your sharp nails left memories of bliss.

Then you looked up into his eyes again.

Steve ran a hand through his messy hair, exhaling like he was bracing himself for something big. You could tell that what had been a joke was becoming a very real possibility.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head like he couldn't believe he was about to say what he was about to say.

Then, he dropped down on one knee, naked as the day he was born, but ready to commit to you until the day he died.

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized the urgency of the situation. He was really about to do this. But Steve looked at you like he’d never been more sure of anything in his life.

“Ever since the first time I saw you in Atlanta, I’ve been making plans for you, Peach.”

He took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles like a sacrament.

“Marry me,” Steve said, voice quiet but certain. “Right now. Tonight.”

Your heart was pounding so hard that you could barely hear him.

“I don’t want to wait,” he continued, eyes locked onto yours.

“Not another day, not another second. I want you. Forever.”

His finger traced the line of the flush in your face. He knew you so well.

“Let’s go to some place in Connecticut where we don’t have to wait 24 hours and say screw it to everything else. Everyone’s expectations, all of those arbitrary rules about courtship and marriage. Fuck all of that shit.”

His voice was raw now.

“Because this, Peach?”

He motioned between you.

“This is you and me.”

You smiled slowly, sitting up and leaning forward until your fingers tangled in his hair, not caring that the falling sheet left the upper part of your body uncovered.

“You do realize what you’re asking for, right?” you murmured, tilting his chin up so that he those baby blues were looking directly at you.

“A lifetime of absolute chaos. Of me pushing every one of your buttons, popping off, and making you question all your life choices. Think you can handle that, Rogers? Can you handle me?”

You were halfway joking, but also serious, wanting to make sure that he knew that you were a lot. The last six weeks you’d known each other had been evidence of that, but you wanted him to be certain.

Steve laughed, a beautiful sound, and his grip on your hand tightened.

“I know I can. And I think you’re underestimating how much I love the chaos. Don’t underestimate how much I love you, Peach. I’m not going to make us wait forever for forever.”

You bit your lip, feeling unreasonably happy.

“So will you marry me Peach?”

Looking into those storm blue eyes and feeling the sincerity of his love for you made you throw your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you and pushed you back onto the bed as you laughed breathlessly.

Steve kissed you, helpless and under your spell. His tongue asked the question again, wordlessly this time.

“Buckle up, baby,” you whispered against his lips.

“Because this is gonna be the wildest ride of your life.”

Steve's hand began to roam your body as he looked into your eyes.

“I’m counting on it, Peach”

He buried his mouth in the fragrant cleave of your collarbone and you buried your fingers in his hair.

“Yes. I will marry you Steven Grant Rogers,” you whispered in his ear as your leg came up and wrapped around his slim hips.

He kissed you again, hard, desperate, just like the rest of his body that was entering you in one smooth stroke. He filled you up like a promise, breaking you apart and putting you back together like he never wanted to stop.

—--

New York was the city that never slept, but you and Steve were wide awake for a different reason an hour later.

It was well after midnight when you left the hotel; and your heart beat wildly as you ascended toward your ride to the wedding, which waited atop the Rebirth building.

The elevator rose and you used the opportunity to watch Steve’s handsome features. He caught you looking and winked down at you as he gripped your hand, his thumb tracing circles against your skin.

"Before we get started, do you want to get out?"

Steve stared you down like he was serious. Then he cracked up laughing, giddy. You shook your head and laughed with him, hitting him on the arm as he wrapped you up in them.

Steve kissed your forehead and grinned, the energy rolling off him; you could practically feel his urgency to make you his wife. You got it; you couldn’t wait for him to be your husband.

As the numbers climbed, he exhaled and squeezed your hand.

"Wait here. I’ll be quick."

The doors slid open with a soft chime, and Steve stepped out into the dimly lit hallway of his penthouse, his shoes silent against the polished floors. The doors closed again, and suddenly, you were alone, the city stretching out in all directions behind you through the glass walls of the elevator.

Your reflection stared back at you, leggings, sweatshirt and sneakers, messy bun, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips after the effects of a good night’s fucking.

Was this really your life?

You exhaled, pressing your palms against the metal railing as you waited for him, your heart pounding in your ears. What if he’d changed his mind?

The doors slid open again, and before you can spin around, Steve was there, changed out of the suit he wore to your hotel room and into dark sweats and a Dodger’s cap, a small velvet box in his large hand.

He stepped in, pressed the rooftop button, and the doors closed again. He looked down at you and kissed your nose.

“You ready?”

You smiled up at him.

“Yes, I am, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve took your hand again and just like that, the elevator rose.

—--

The rooftop access door was heavy, but Steve shoved it open, and the night air whooshed around you. The helicopter’s blades sliced through the darkness, the thrum of its engine drowning out the sounds of the city.

You scrambled out to the aircraft and Steve helped you in first, putting on your headset and then sliding in beside you.

His hand found your thigh before the door was shut and his grip was firm, grounding to the present. When the chopper lifted off, you didn’t look down. You looked at him.

"You still with me, Peach?"

How could his voice be sexy even through a helicopter headset?

You turned just enough to brush your lips against his jaw. "Try and lose me."

He grinned.

"That’ll never happen."

You finally looked down to see the city shrinking beneath you and Brooklyn disappearing into the darkness as you soared toward Connecticut. You exhaled, pressing into Steve’s side. He drew you even closer, his arm tightening around you.

—---

Connecticut was quiet.

It was a contrast to the 20 minute helicopter ride out there.

The chapel was in the middle of nowhere, an old, quaint little brick building with ivy curling up the walls and nestled between stately oak trees. It was the kind of place people go on a whim, people like you and Steve.

The night was cold, snow swirled outside the stained glass windows, aided by the slowing wings of the helicopter. Candles glowed inside and reflected light off the worn wooden pews of the little church, making everything glow, like the evening before at the conservatory.

The officiant stood at the altar and waited for you to finish the paperwork, looking groggy but amused, hands tucked into his coat pockets.

He was entirely unfazed by the urgency of it all. He’d seen this kind of thing before: two people so wildly, crazy in love that waiting wasn’t an option.

He should have been more impressed at the money Steve paid him to get out of his warm bed, but he wasn’t.

You handed the forms to him and then he directed you to stand before your fiancé of roughly 90 minutes. You stood with Steve, your hands locked together, your heart hammering so hard you’re sure he could feel it through your fingertips.

His hair was tousled from running through the snow, his cheeks flushed, his blue eyes glowing. He looked at you like you were his whole world.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, even though you know the answer.

Steve grinned the grin that made your knees weak.

“Too late to back out now, Trouble.”

You raised your eyebrow at the moniker and you two shared a heated look, like you would take each other down on this altar, causing the officiant to clear his throat, clearly used to chaos.

“Shall we begin?”

You both straightened up and nodded, trying to be good, but your energy was threatening to overtake you both.

“Do you, Steven Grant Rogers take—”

“I do,” Steve interrupted, squeezing your hands, eyes wide at his faux pas.

Your mouth dropped open and you laughed as the officiant blinked but barely reacted, as he turned to you.

“And do you—”

“I do,” you said just as fast, laughing when Steve let out a relieved breath like you were actually going to say no.

The officiant smirked.

“In that case, by the power vested in me—”

Before he could finish, Steve surged forward, cupping your face in his hands. He pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that nearly knocked you off balance. You felt his smile against your mouth, his laughter, and the sheer joy radiating off of him.

“Well,” the officiant chuckled. “That’s one way to do it.”

Steve pressed his forehead against yours, causing your breaths to mingle together, just like your futures.

“You’re my wife,” he murmured, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

You grinned, looping your arms around his neck.

“And you, Steve Rogers, are in for a lot of trouble, husband.”

He just laughed, picking you up and kissing you again as your legs wrapped around his waist. The officiant just shook his head and walked off.

“Please pull the door to when you’re done, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers.”

This man was going back to bed.

—---

The helicopter was loud, but all you could perceive was Steve, his presence, his warmth, and his heartbeat where your head rested against his shoulder. His arm was draped over you lazily, but his fingers toyed with the hem of your sweatshirt.

"Still got that adrenaline, sweetheart?" His voice was teasing.

You looked up to meet his gaze.

"What do you think?"

His grin was slow and dangerous.

"I think you’re mine now. Officially."

You smirked, tugging at his hoodie, pulling him down to you.

"Yeah?"

He kissed you deep and slow, like you had got nowhere else to be.

And maybe you didn’t.

The world could wait for a few hours.

At that moment, it was just you and Steve, about to descend into forever.

[ramp-it-up]

Peach MasterList

Peach Series (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky, not for love, but because it's the right thing to do. When Steve meets you at one of his businesses and lies to you about a myriad of things, It becomes a sticky situation, especially since the attraction you feel for one another is so sweet. Will you give up your grudge for love? Will it be a disaster, or the best thing that ever happened to both of you?

Part of the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down Series.

I, II, III, IV, V, VI,