#Essie’s summer lovin’ 300 follower celebration

[anika-ann]

A Series of (Un)Fortunate Events - S.R.

Part 1 of 2

Type: two-shot, idiots-in-love, feel-good fic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 7,3k

Summary:  It's just a bunch of Avengers and SHIELD agents who often cooperate on missions - hanging out and getting to know each other better on a camping trip. What could possibly go wrong?

A few things. A few things could and they all seem to have you at the centre. Luckily, you have a hero in shining armour to help you in the time of need.

Warnings: allusions to NSFW, minor injuries, mention of misogyny, brief reference to PTSD, language, attempt at humour, FLUFF , Steve being a menace

A/N: written for the Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration. Congrats @bigtreefest and thank you for hosting 💕 I have chosen multiple prompts - in this one, you shall find “why’s it…sticky?” and modified “here, you can share with me”. I hope to finish the second part in time 😁

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰 Several Agent of SHIELD characters are involved - I don't think you need any knowledge of the show to read this

The afternoon North Carolina sun warmed your skin pleasantly, even as you found yourself panting after the having climbed up the hill you. The backpack with an attached sleeping bag and a tent pack was growing heavier and heavier on your shoulders with every step, but the view and the company – most of it anyway – were certainly worth it.

Everyone seemed affected by the fresh air and exercise the Great Smokey Mountains provided, the atmosphere light and content as this was, for most, the first trip in a long time that had nothing to do with a mission.

Sure, one could argue there were some strings attached, as the ‘mission’ was to solidify relationships within the group – several Avengers and several SHIELD agents who were often outsourced for Avengers-level missions – but still: no one was shooting at you. And you wouldn’t have to write a report. That counted for something. For a lot, in fact.

Plus, the path was the goal. The destination, while set precisely according to Steve’s plan, might as well be just about anywhere.

You glanced at him as he walked by your side, smiling absently. The corners of his lips only twitched higher as he noticed you watching him, his gaze flickering to you as well.

He looked as if he was born to do this. A halo of dark blond hair around his head ruffled by the wind, sunlight painting them almost golden. The heaviest backpack of all sitting on his wide shoulders, straps around his broad chest and thin waist. Legs clad in light track pants that hugged his thighs and ass in the best way possible, a downright magnetic sight--- no.

Uh-huh, no.

No thoughts of that sort. You had forbidden yourself from that, at least for the duration of this trip, because you had known Steve would be a literal walking thirst-trap, the sheer happiness surrounding him making his glow ten times brighter. You had forbidden yourself from thinking like this, because this was not an appropriate observation to make about a colleague, a superior no less, even as everybody else probably thought along the same lines.

It didn’t matter that you wanted to throw hands at the mere idea of someone else making that observation as well. You didn’t exactly have the right to do that and it was a lost fight before it even started. Steve Rogers was simply too beautiful and essentially perfect in all his imperfections, and god knew that those imperfection had nothing to with his body. Ass included-

Gaze quickly snapping up back to his face, you found him smiling at you warmly, a soft dusting of freckles adorning his cheeks from the prolonged exposure to sun. The same phenomenon could be observed on his bare arms; a constellation of freckles, where angels had kissed their kindest, prettiest and most loyal creation; a constellation of places where you’d love to press your lips and linger, breathe in the scent of his skin and taste it.

God, he was breathtaking and all kinds of alluring. The nature around you was too, sure, the smell of pines and sandy rocks whispering of vacations and good times, but the way he-

“Whoa!” you yelped as you suddenly found yourself tumbling towards the ground, foot having slipped on a rock, you supposed.

Hands outstretched, you had no chance to break the fall, only to slow it, the burden on your back completely changing your momentum.

The second your palms as much as brushed the rocky floor, you were being held by your waist so firmly that none of your actual weight landed on the ground. You would recognize the arms holding you anywhere – just like the scent of sandal wood, musk, man and comfort, suddenly wrapping around you.

The safest place on Earth.

Steve’s arms.

Your stomach made a little flip-flop as his hands squeezed you gently and helped you up, only releasing you when his eyes found yours, silently asking if you were okay.

You responded with an embarrassed smile.

“Whoa, you okay?” Daisy rushed to your side, bless her, breaking the brief moment you had allowed yourself to bask in the sweet worry in Steve’s gaze and in the heat his body was radiating, despite the fact you could feel everyone staring at the newly nominated klutz of the group of superspies. You.

Heat of embarrassment flooded your skin under everyone’s scrutiny – and more so under the judgement in Agent Hopkinson’s glare, the jerk. Then again, you could hardly blame him for looking down on you right now.

Allegedly one of the deadliest agents known to the world; bested by a few rocks on a hiking trail and Steve Rogers’s smile.

You chuckled self-deprecatingly, quietly thanking Steve and turning to Daisy to assure her that besides your pride, nothing had been seriously wounded.

“I’m fine,” you said, scratching your forehead with a poor attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Must have missed a step, I don’t even know how…”

You did know how. You knew it precisely. You hadn’t been watching your step, too mesmerized by the beauty of your favourite Captain – and favourite person in the world. The man with the most honest, goodest, fiercest and most beautiful soul you had ever met, your closest friend.

“I do,” Agent Melinda May commented dryly, a pointed look aimed at your feet, revealing the culprit – and making you wish the Earth could swallow you, especiallysince it was her, the second in command at SHIELD – and one of the most admirable women in history of anything. And she had just seen you, an agent for both Avengers and SHIELD, a master of martial arts, to trip on nothing like a five-year-old. For the same reason too. “Your shoelaces are undone.”

“…thanks. And sorry. Go ahead. I think I can tie my shoelaces on my own,” you chuckled again, swallowing the shame even as you were among friends. Albeit some of them more reluctant than others.

“Clearly not,” Agent Hopkinson remarked, not missing the opportunity to belittle you, making you sigh as you crouched down, taking extreme care not to as much as wobble despite the heavy backpack.

Case on point, you supposed.

Having worked for SHIELD for years now, acting as the main liaison for situations where Avengers needed help, be it due to too many hostiles or the nature of the job leaning more towards spy-work that alien-invasion-work, your general experience was that tolerance and cooperation were the way. Some people were less pleasant than others, that much was true, but one should handle disagreements, various personality traits and different views on life. You certainly could; your approach to conflict, your supposedly calming presence and search for harmony in a team and the calm composure you maintained under pressure to quickly weigh your options, had even earned you your codename, Libra.

You genuinely believed tuning down an attitude for the sake of the mission was the custom, the golden rule.

And then you encountered Agent Martin Hopkinson. He was the exception. And a pain in your ass.

He got along alright with most people despite his arrogance; but you and him were a trainwreck happening in slow motion. He did not like you. Whether it was jealousy of your position, misogyny, or both, or something completely else, you wouldn’t know. But he was bitter and biting, always looking for a flaw, always making snidey comments.

You could handle that – an insult here, a mean comment there. After all, you could take a punch, a stab, a gunshot wound. You could take down men twice your size with your bare hands and just a little wit, if you tried hard enough. You had faced soldiers, rapists, murderers; Agent Hopkinson was but a small hindrance, annoyance on legs. But by god, your fists itched whenever he opened his mouth. And the feeling was mutual.

However, as a professional, you worked hard not to reciprocate his aggression, even as it only ever remained verbal; the same could not be said about him. And he didn’t care zilch about who heard him be ‘smart’ with you either, which, in turn, led to several reprimands; and on one delightful occasion, to Steve almost breaking his jaw when he heard him utter a comment about Coulson pimping out the pet agent again, clearly meaning you. The wrath Steve had showed was nothing hort of holy, and holy was the miracle that Hopkinson was still alive; the fact he barely toned down his attitude was just idiocy.

But had you mention Steve was an angel? A fiercely loyal protective friend, a gentleman, who might swear on occasion and be a little shit par excellence, but god should help anyone whose behaviour towards others offended him. He might be an angel, but was an avenging one.

A caring one too.

As soon as you stood up again, Steve was carefully cradling the backs of your hands, examining the teeny scrapes over your palms with about five droplets of blood in total, frowny gaze flickering to your knee which you hadn’t even realized you had grazed too.

“We should disinfect that.”

“Steve, I’m fine,” you laughed, even as you let him examine the barely-there bleeding, knowing there was no use trying to resist. “Thank you for caring, but it’s literally just a scratch… I’ve had worse.”

He shook his head, his expression darkening a bit. “That’s not comforting and you know it. And any wound, if infected, can be dangerous – I know I don’t have to tell you that.”

You knew instantly what instance he was referring too, a small shudder running up your spine. Yet, the rational part of you argued that there was no comparison, even if the cut on your arm over a month back had not been all that deeper and wider than this.

“That was literally a poisoned blade, Steve-“

“We were about to take one more break before reaching the destination anyway,” he interrupted you, unrelenting. “Let’s head up to that clearing and we’ll rest for a bit. I’ll take care of it, okay?”

“Steve-“

“I’ve got the first aid kit,” Bobbi uttered nonchalantly as she passed you, joining the others who had gone ahead already.

You sighed. Bobbi Morse – an agent with a clever sense of humour, sharp tongue and no-nonsense attitude, a good friend – and she was using all of her powers against you. Wicked.

“It’s just a-“

“Captain’s orders,” she almost sing-sang, earning a grin from Daisy who only shrugged, as if to confirm her words.

You sighed, rolling your eyes; acutely not aware that Steve was still holding your hands in his and your body was heating up from inside at the prolonged contact – particularly your chest and something deep within your belly.

You looked up at him, mildly annoyed and rather amused at his insistence and protectiveness. And even though you wouldn't admit that out loud, touched.

“You’re overbearing. You’re lucky I like you,” you scolded him in a whisper.

He only grinned, his worried gaze clearing and lightning up at your feigned outrage, and squeezed your hands before letting go.

“I love you too. Let’s go.”

You bit your cheek as you nodded, reminding yourself for at least the tenth time since you had set off hiking: friends. The keyword of this trip was ‘friends’.

It was just really hard to actually remember that when Steve looked at you like that, talked like that, and you could still feel the warm imprint of his hands on yours.

Steve Rogers was a man impossible not to fall for; from almost absurd handsomeness to even more absurd goodness he lived by, from his sharp wits to effective moves, from the crinkles in his eyes when he smiled to the tenderness in his touch. His sense of humour equalled to the one of duty, his drive and determination in leading interlacing with a soul of an artist and a simple man who appreciated the most ordinary things.

You had clicked instantly; your friendship bloomed almost effortlessly, working alongside him making for many opportunities to spend time together. Despite barely having met about three months ago, the times you owed him your life for were numerous; and the few times he owed you his, even as there was no such thing as keeping score, only strengthened your bond. Moments where you thought you wouldn’t make it out. Long nights at motels or in a stake-out cars, filled with mindless chatter, profound talks and comfortable silences. His goddamn smiles alone, always feeling a little warmer, fonder, when directed at you.

The fact he had quickly slipped into a habit of calling you Lee, a nickname derived from your codename with a wordless implication of you being his refuge, with that damn smile on his plush lips, was making something in your ribcage tremble with affection.

You had fallen hard. But who wouldn’t? You were only human.

And his proximity, his friendship, his affection, they were most precious to you; no matter which form they’d have, you’d take it.

Even if it meant inappropriate thoughts and your heart racing fast enough to collapse from exhaustion when he cleaned your scraped knee and palms with such care and focus one might believe they were fatal wounds.

Your heart would tremble less if he hadn’t kneeled in front of you as he did so, but you supposed Steve Rogers was just that kind of deadly. He cradled your hands in his huge ones as if they were as fragile as butterfly wings, smiling when he was done; and grinning when you said Thank you, nurse Rogers, the words carrying both humour and respect for his late mother.

His smile resembled the sun so much you almost missed how the actual sunrays grew less and less warm. It was only a few minutes later – every one of them making you aware of the either knowing or incredulous looks following yours or Steve’s every move, almost enough to make you self-conscious when snacking – when you realized you were getting cold.

The solution was easy; and despite how effective it would have been in chasing away the cold and lifting your spirits, it did not involve hugging Steve. Instead, you dived your hand down your backpack through the layer of snacks and other small necessities towards your clothes for the occasion.

And your hand reached something it most definitely shouldn’t have.

“What the-“ you murmured, still acutely aware of all the gazes on you, now joined by Steve’s. “Why is it… sticky?”

Puzzled and horrified – and suspicious, because Hopkinson might have never played a prank on you, but lines always had to be crossed for the first time someday – you threw out the things from the top, pulling out what was normally one of your favourite sweatshirts.

Fairly soaked in a rusty-red oily substance that now resided in your luggage.

Not that it hadn’t been there before – but before, it was safely stored in a Tupperware container along with the thin marinated steaks you had been tasked to carry for the team’s first dinner above fire, Hunter carrying the grate.  

“What is it?” Bobbi asked, frowning at the poor article of clothing you had intended to wear.

You didn’t have to sniff it to answer; mostly because the scent of spices was strong enough to answer for you.

“It’s the… marinade from our dinner,” you informed her with a grimace, a small whine escaping you as you went to inspect the rest of your clothes with dread and irritation rising. Because you already knew that the sweatshirt would not be the only thing having been hit. There had been enough to marinade to drown Steve and Bucky in – that was why you had triple-checked it was secured when you had pulled the straw for carrying it in your backpack. “How is that even possible?! I swear I checked it at least five times! I used rubber bands and a plastic bag and- ugh.”

“It probably gave out with all the moving around,” Natasha said, compassion evident in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you sighed.

And it was. You were only just beginning to feel the mountains part of your destination. You weren’t even shivering – and god knew you had been exposed to much worse conditions with fewer clothing. It wasn’t even raining. You had been through much worse – this was but an inconvenience.

Kinda like Hopkinson himself.

Your gaze flickered to him as he himself put on a thin hoodie, your gaze narrowing in subtle suspicion; but there was no way. He almost looked as if he was pitying you. Genuinely. Though not enough to share his clothes; not that you’d accept if he had offered. But that was beside the point. The point was he probably wasn’t to be blamed for your current misery. Not where marinating your clothes was concerned anyway.

It was probably all on you. It seemed your Tupperware skills still needed some work. Goddamnit.

“It is fine,” you spoke to yourself more than anyone else. “I’ll walk the cold off and then stay close to the fire-“

Your heart skipped a beat as you felt a presence by your side, a large navy-blue hoodie entering your sight; it was as if talking about your potential inconvenience summoned him.

An angel by your shoulder.

With a soft frown and a welcoming smile, he set the hoodie next to you as your hands still held onto your tainted clothes.

“Hey… here, you can have mine.”

You opened your mouth to protest, the words dying in your throat when you met Steve’s gaze. The golden hour had arrived, highlighting the freckles and the god-like warm glow of his smile. Your fingers reflexively twitched in the fabric of the t-shirt in your hands as the urge to run them through Steve’s hair instead hit you like a sledgehammer.

Friends, you reminded yourself again. FRIENDS.

He was offering a friendly gesture. It was no different than borrowing boxing wraps from Hunter for training if yours had torn, borrowing a dress from Natasha because none of yours fit the theme of a party, or borrowing heels from Daisy because they matched better than anything you owned. There was nothing special about this and no one would think twice.

Yet, it was a gesture you had to turn down, no matter how gentlemanly it was – no matter how at home you knew you’d feel in that hoodie. The idea alone was tickling along the most sensitive parts of your body and for that alone you should refuse.

“Thank you, Steve… but that wouldn’t be fair,” you said. “You shouldn’t be cold because of me.”

Plus, I know this one is your favourite, you wanted to say, but bit your tongue, aware that the scene was already out-of-chart intimate as it was. It certainly felt like it.

“I won’t. You know I run pretty hot…”

You are hot, you wanted to say – but a little choked noise from Hopkinson and Bucky had you quickly set your mind straight.

Until Steve pulled out the big guns – rather literally. Long fingers wrapped around your bare forearm, goosebumps erupting on your skin despite the nearly burning sensation, breath catching. It did not help the situation that something you didn’t dare to identify for the sake of your sanity flashed in Steve’s eyes when he touched you.

Friends. Friends, friends, FRIENDS-

“See. All warm. And it will stay that way even without a hoodie. Take it. Please,” he added. And soon, a content smile appeared on his face, because he recognized the signs of you yielding.

A girl had to pick her battles. Arguing with Steve was not one of those which you had no chance at winning – it would be like trying to move a ton-worth block of concrete with bare hands. You had enough experience with that – fighting with Steve on the matter of your comfort, not moving concrete – and there was no winning. He respected your choices, yes, but he’d fastened straps of a parachute on you himself if it came to it, even if it meant he wouldn’t have one himself; he was a sweet hypocrite like that.

“Fine,” you sighed, smiling just a bit. “If you insist… thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

You would swear you heard at least three people mutter under their breath: I bet.

Thoroughly warm and comfortable despite the numerous miles in your feet and tens of pounds on your back, you trailed behind Hunter and Bobbi, who were fighting animatedly – and most lovingly – about which European brand beer was the finest. For a couple who had been married and divorced, once talking about each other in not so nice terms including Bobbi being called ‘a demonic hell-beast’, they sure appeared very much in love – but every bit professional when it counted. They were lucky to find each other again, that was for sure. It made one long for a love like that; explosive as they were, you wouldn’t shy away from calling them soulmates. They belonged with each other; they were lucky to have find one another.

As you tugged at the sleeves of the hoodie you were wearing, long to easily hide your palms, you wondered if you were being lucky or cursed on this trip so far. Tripping. Spilling sauce onto your clothes. Withstanding Hopkinson’s moody glares of which exactly one resembled a shred of compassion and only lasted until you put on the hoodie of the Captain America himself. And yet, surrounded by colleagues, friends and Steve, on a trip with a sun that had slowly begun its descent at your back, you had to count your blessings.

Lucky. You were luckier than most.

Daisy had joined you for a bit, walking side by side with you when the path allowed it, meaningless chatter altering with meaningful; a natural course of conversation between close friends who were together for a few hours with nothing else to do but take it step by step, literally, admire the nature and talk.

Steve had promised it would only take less than an hour and you’d make it to where you were supposed to set camp. He had fallen behind, walking with Natasha and Bucky, who, judging by his tone and Steve’s groans, roasted the team captain about something with Natasha’s occasional but effective help.

Now, about what you assumed was twenty to thirty minutes later, the last challenge of today’s journey awaited you; fording a river.

A rather cold river.

The weather was nice, sure, and you were having a good time; but the idea of warding through water reaching your thighs was not all that alluring.

But of course, Steve Rogers was the man with a plan.

Walking down the river and finding a relatively shallow section of the river with several large rocks, all you had to do was to step from one slightly slippery stone to another without face-planting or letting your heavy backpacks break your balance. Easy – or it should be for a group of athletic agents.

Yet, Bucky and Steve were discarding their shoes in a blink, rolling up their pant legs, ready to dip in and get wet so other wouldn’t.

Your heart skipped a startled beat, a lump growing in your throat, as you watched Steve regard his friend, already knee-deep in water, with the tinniest bit of hesitance.    

Cold water. Cold water.

In the early June, the water couldn’t be colder than fifty, fifty-five degrees; but if the supersoldiers planned to stand there until all of you crossed the not-so-unsignificant distance while they’d assist, they would certainly feel it. And while history taught you both Steve and Bucky could clearly take the cold better than anyone, the idea of being the person knee-deep in the water was anything but pleasant.

Especially to someone who had already laid his life by diving a plane into icy waters of the North Atlantic.

Without a second thought, you left the line forming at the best crossing point, walking down the bank to crouch at Steve’s side.

He noticed your presence in an instant, snapping his head to you, an all-easy smile forming on his lips. As if you couldn’t see the brief flash of anxiety before he hid it. As if you couldn’t see his carotid pulsing wildly. As if he, the supposedly fearless man to all, could hide the one flicker of apprehension he allowed himself to feel from you.

“Are you sure about this, Steve?” you asked, voice as low as possible as not to attract attention.

As you met his gaze, understanding flashed in his eye. A silent conversation; he knew why you came to him, where your concern came from.

And in a very Steve Rogers fashion, he ignored it. He just gulped and squared his shoulders and rose to his feet, suddenly towering over you again.

“Of course I am.” Of course he was. “It will be much easier than all of us fording through.”

You sighed, looking at him pointedly as you swallowed your irritation – and worry. That was not what you were questioning and he knew it. And you weren’t questioning his dedication or his ability to help either; just the decision to put himself through discomfort anyone else could have taken upon themselves, when it meant more hardship for him than others.

“I know. It just… it can be literally anyone else-- hell, I can do it.”

You could. You’d warm up after soon enough, judging by the terrain awaiting you. It was a better option that him going in there to freeze his toes off at and bring him back to--

To prove your point, you reached for the backpack buckles on your belly to take it off.

Steve’s hand was on your forearm stopping you before you could undo a single one, squeezing.

As your head snapped back to his face, there was a little crack through the mask he had put on, showing just the slightest hint of anxiety now. But there was a fresh wave of warmth in his expression too; gratitude lit up the blue of his irises the way the sun lit up the summer skies, dreamy and sweet.

His thumb pressed into your forearm gently, stroking, reassuring. You felt the tension melt from your shoulders faster than a butter on the stove, something stirring deep inside your bones as you took a shaky inhale.

“Thank you, Lee, but I’ll be fine,” he said, one of his eyebrows arching, a little quirk to his lips. “And we don’t want to undo the work the hoodie has done on you.”

Right. The hoodie. His hoodie.  Yes, you were very much aware you were still wearing it, while he remained in a t-shirt that was at least one size too small for him and did all things delightful for his already insanely impressive physique.

Not the point.

You opened you mouth to argue, only to be interrupted by a shout from behind you.

“Oi, punk! You gonna help or just stand there enjoying the view?”

As you both turned to Bucky, you could see him helping Agent May cross the river, already halfway through.

Steve let go of your forearm, smiling at you once more.

“At least take the hoodie,” you insisted. He shook his head, your mouth opening on empty, deeming your effort fruitless.

“I have a jacket if I want… don’t need the hoodie,” he assured you, his grin earning a glint of danger that made your stomach flip-flop funnily, the heat in your abdomen burning hotter. “Plus, it looks much better on you.”

With that, he set off, jogging towards the water, and leaving you stand there with cheeks exploding with heat.

Damn you, Steven Grant.

Shaking your head, you returned to the line, anxiously watching Steve climb down into water, a shudder running down his spine.

“Come on. I saved you a spot,” Daisy said, gesturing for you to stand in front of her, earning an eyeroll from Hopkinson who stood behind her. “Everything okay with you and Steve?”

The phrasing had your head snap up with a startle, heart speeding up.

“What?”

What did she mean by that?! You and Steve?

No. There was you. There was Steve. Two separate entities. Friends.

Checking up on each other. Wearing each other’s clothes. Typical friends.

You relaxed when all you found in Daisy’s gaze was genuine care and curiosity, no trace of implying anything. Right.

You smiled back. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Hunter and Bobbi followed after May; then it was your turn. The sight of the river, while beautiful, got a little less pleasant as you stepped on the first stone, testing just how slippery the surface was. It wasn’t awful – you could handle that, even as you felt the extra load on your back disturbing your balance.

But hey – the worst that could happen was you taking a cold bath. Just another inconvenience, right?

Yet, you didn’t have to worry. You didn’t even make it to the second large stone when a familiar pair of warm hands wrapped around yours, offering a gentle but firm support.

You met Steve’s reassuring gaze, a message without words: I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.

You send one back, squeezing his hands: I know. You makeme feel safe. You okay?

A tiny nod on his part and then you were on your way, careful taking step after step, always testing the surface first, making sure your every move was secure before shifting your weight. From one to another, you made it halfway to the deepest part of the crossing without any issue, actually enjoying the little adventure – which had obviously nothing to do with Steve’s touch, because you were not at all disappointed to see Bucky heading back from the other side of the river where he had left Bobbi to take you off of Steve’s hands. Not at all.

You were just stepping on the next stone when you felt a sudden drop in weight on your shoulders and back, an embarrassing yelp erupting from your throat as you scrambled for balance.

A fleeing thought of this trip being cursed for you indeed flashed through your mind as you braced yourself for the impact into cold water despite still trying not to have it come to that.

And it didn’t.

A splash sounded next to you, a few drops cooling your ankle, but that was it; you stood tall and firm on the irregularly-shaped stone, a hot vice of a grip on your hips, your hands having found purchase on just as hot and solid surface nearby.

Steve’s hands securely holding your hips.

Your hands on his shoulders.

Attentive blue eyes looking up at yours to assure both you and himself that you were okay.

Your face heated up, but the rest of your body was set on fire; indecent images of a wholly different situation with Steve’s hands having a steel-like grip on your hips and his eyes boring into yours flooded your mind, a wildfire of visceral need spreading through every single cell of your body and lightning it up. Steve was all about touch. Steve was all about eye-contact. You knew with absolute certainty that he’d never once let his gaze wander from your face when he’d sheathed himself inside you, feasting his eyes, because he lived for capturing images of beauty and he was a giver, the pleasure of people he loved being his own--- and you wouldn’t dare to look away. Your eyes might flutter shut at the sensation of utter-

Forcing yourself to snap back into present – into reality –, looking everywhere but at Steve as your whole body burned, a floating object caught your eye behind Steve’s back. A dark prolonged object, neatly packed, carried away by the stream.

Your tent. The thing that had fallen into water and nearly knocked you off balance was your tent, slowly sinking lower and lower as it slowed down its path down the river.

Great. Really great.

You were fucked.

How did it even-

“I got it!” Bucky hollered, changing course, heading to retrieve what was supposed to be the roof over your head for the next three days.

He’d get it; you weren’t worried. It was fine.

And the tent would be fine too. It was in the waterproof case. It would--- it would be absolutely soaked, because it was sinking. The entirety of the tent had gone under water, including the protective layer that was meant to save you from rain should it come to it.

There was no cloud on the sky but you had a feeling there’d be water dripping on you all night anyway.

How could it have fallen off? You had secured it with the buckled straps to the bottom of your fairly new backpack, checking repeatedly – every time before you put the backpack on again – that it held.

Then again, maybe you hadn’t done that after the fiasco – and the lovely result of it – with your marinated clothes. So you might be cursed, but by your own fault, really-

A squeeze to your hips brought your attention back to Steve, making you realize you were still standing in the middle of the river, stalling.

“I’m sorry, moving on, moving on,” you babbled, only to have him still your movements, eyes scrutinizing your face.

“You okay?”

Funny you should ask.

“Are you?”

You reciprocated the scrutiny; eyes roaming his handsome features, you searched for any signs of discomfort – not from having to hold you, but from still soaking his legs in the cold water. All you found was a reassuring smile; and yet, you couldn’t but brush your thumb inconspicuously over Steve’s shoulder in an attempt at comfort, incidentally along the hem of his t-shirt. An emotion flashed in his irises, eyes darkening a fraction, the grip on your flesh turning almost bruising before he began to release it, taking one of your hands again and then the other. You licked your lips – and you’d swear Steve’s gaze flickered to your mouth at that – standing up straighter.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky dropping your tent on the bank of the river.

“Thank you, Bucky!”

“No problem, dollface. Get moving though, my old knees aren’t built for this cold anymore,” he said, causing you to glare at Steve accusingly.

He had lied.

Of course he had fucking lied.

And he had the audacity to grin when you looked at him with accusatory and genuinely worried eyes.

“Let’s get you to the other side, shall we?”

“I packed your favourite snack, but I just decided I’m gonna eat it alone,” you threatened your vengeance for him for not being honest.

Steve feigned hurt so well you might as well believe it; but the hold on your hands remained gentle and secure as he helped you continue the path. “That’s cold, Lee.”

The corners of your lips quirked up.

“I know it’s cold. Now was it so hard to admit it?” you questioned as you beckoned to the water – causing Bucky to chuckle and Steve to deadpan when he instantly realized your trickery.

“You should be around more often, dollface,” Bucky said, approaching you and taking up on Steve’s task.

Steve just grunted and made his way to help Daisy. You felt your face heat up further at Bucky’s remark, grateful no one else could hear the exchange.

…were you though?

“I’ll take your words for it… and Steve?” He glanced at you over his shoulder, clearly not really offended. “Thank you for catching me.”

His smile, no matter how small, said it all and felt like the softest blanket to wrap around you on a cold winter morning; I’ll always catch you.

Always.

Just as you had expected, once you all made it through the river, you reached the camp spot in no time; and just as you had expected, your tent was a lost cause. You could build it, hoping it would dry out overnight at least bit, but actually sleeping in it was out of question unless you wanted to wake up soaked up and sneezing.

In a brief moment of self-pity you granted yourself, you planted your butt on the ground, laying the drenched parts of your tent next to you, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it as you stared at the traitorous pieces of equipment, including the buckles that had been meant to hold the package to the backpack but had given out.  

While everyone busied themselves with unpacking their temporary shelters as well – Natasha with Bucky, Bobbi with Hunter, May, Daisy and Hopkinson each on their own in the lightest and therefore smallest tents possible, Bobbi took note of your state, smiling compassionately.

“Are you okay? The water really did a number on that thing, huh?”

You reciprocated her smile wryly, no less grateful for her care.

“Yeah… But you know what? I win. Sleeping outside? I can stargaze. I’ll be fine,” you said, shrugging and rising to your feet to get to work. You could build the tent to have it dry out at least and wash your clothes in the lake you had settled at. “I’m just… gonna sleep by the fire under the open skies, in… borrowed, non-marinated clothes and with no sleeping bag, because with my luck, it’s probably full of bugs or itching powder or something. It’s fine. God knows I slept in conditions a lot worse than that.”

And wasn’t that the truth. You had slept in much better conditions too, but that was beside the point. You tried to summon the memories of horrible nights spent in damp clothes, freezing, teeth clattering so hard the sound made it impossible to fall asleep; unbearable heat, loud noises, even just annoying persistent chatter. Sleeping under the open skies was practically a blessing in comparison. A dream.

And you did not want to remember nights that had been very different, because that would only make you miserable at your predicament.

“Yeah, not on my watch,” Steve called out lowly, placing another hook in the ground, using his foot to step on it and dig it deeper. “Not when the solution is obvious.”

Your heart skipping a beat at the obvious solution, you barely had time to breathe in to respond when someone else did – in an extremely irritated manner.

“Seriously?! What, you gonna lend her your tent too?” Hopkinson spat, rising from where he had been crouching by his tent. “Maybe even keep her warm through the-“

Steve lunged his direction so fast you didn’t even have time to be offended by the implication.

But Bucky, the supersoldier he was, was much faster; his metal arm stopped Steve in his tracks, palm pressing against Steve’s chest before he could make the almost-breaking-Hopkinson’s-arm a pleasant memory for the man.

Still, Hopkinson had enough wit to shut up and step back hastily, raising his hands defensively. His face turned white as a sheet of paper; good. He had some brain left then, it seemed. How he had survived for so long you had no idea.

Gulping – and shamelessly satisfied at the fear in Hopkinson’s eyes, because Jesus he did not just say that, even as you had thought about exactly the same – you turned your gaze back to Steve and Bucky.

And something in your core exploded hot, a tug so violent and visceral it was almost painful.

If Steve had looked at Hopkinson like he could break his arm all those weeks back when he had made his stupid comment, now he looked like he could break every single bone in his body, snap the guy in half and enjoy it. And he’d enjoy doing it for you. To defend you.

Steve’s smile was always a beautiful sight and so was the softness he could look at you with at times; but the rage in his face now, the fire in his eyes, on your behalf, were nothing short of breathtaking.

Avenging angel indeed.

He might not be carrying a flaming sword, nor had his shield on his arm, but that made him no less menacing, no less divine; and no less beautiful.

“Do we have a problem, Agent Hopkinson?” Bucky asked calmly, despite the clear effort with which he was holding Steve back still, even as Steve visibly didn’t move a muscle.

You were barely moving at all too; your chest was heaving, the rest of your body strung tight with effort not to let show just how affected you were by Steve’s near literal white-knighting.  

“No, sir,” Hopkinson saluted, nodding stiffly, before he scrambled to finish building his tent.

“Good.”

Few seconds of deafening silence was only interrupted by the scrape of shoes against ground as the camp slowly came back to life again. Bucky shot Steve a look before he let his metal arm down, watching Steve avert his still flaming gaze from Hopkinson with shoulders remaining squared; and so alluringly wide you just wanted to run your hands over them, just as breathless at the sensation as you were now-

“I mean, makes sense you’d share,” Daisy broke the silence, everyone visibly relaxing. “It looks like your tent is pretty big, eh?”

Your eyes went wide.

Loud cough erupted from Hunter’s direction as he spitted the water he had been drinking; Bobbi patted his shoulders, amusement clear on her face. Bucky’s face twisted in a questionable grimace; Natasha pursed her lips, seemingly one second from making a comment. May bit back a smirk; Hopkinson was only showing his back, but he clearly froze in his movements.

Steve just looked shocked – shocked enough to snap from the anger that had overtook him on your behalf.

You would think it would take Daisy a few seconds to realize how she had worded her statement, accidentally referring to a figurative ‘tent’ men grew in certain situations – but judging by her seemingly innocent smile and the sparkle in her eye, she knew exactly what she had implied. And she had done so on purpose and with delight.

She was right, however. Steve’s temporary dwelling was probably the biggest one at your site and it even included a vestibule, where all the equipment which was meant for everyone was to be stored. His tent had the most space for the reason he could put his backpack to the vestibule alone.

Steve cleared his throat, taking a few steps to you, a relaxed smile having found way back to his face.

“…are you comfortable with sharing a tent with me?”

You reciprocated his smile, shrugging, even as you had to work hard to swallow your amusement at Daisy’s comment. One that was very much on point.

Yes. You were very comfortable sharing a tent with him indeed. More than, actually, but not everyone needed to know that; and you could feel several knowing gazes on you as you answered as levelled as possibly.

“I mean… we have shared a room before for a mission. I’m fine… are you? Comfortable with that, that is?” you asked, perfectly polite, considerate and friendly, even as your heart was racing in your ribcage.

There was no reason for the racing heart though. Because this was okay for friends to do. Absolutely. If you having shared the room sometimes included sharing a bed, which had naturally resulted in cuddling, body heat searching body heat, no one needed to know – especially not Agent Asshole Hopkinson. What happened in a motel room stayed in a motel room. Always.

A cute crinkle appeared in Steve’s eye as he gave the answer you already knew.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. Of course, it’s fine.”

More than, whispered his gaze, so you averted it and busied yourself with gathering the wet parts of your tent, clearing your throat.

“Good… that’s good. Thanks. I really appreciate it, Steve.”

“Any time, Lee.”

You could feel his gaze on you, the warmth of his smile like a soft blanket on your back. It was going to be a long, long night.

Part 2

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I hope July has been kind to you!

[buckets-and-trees]

Sweet and Slashy Summer Saturdays

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x curvy!female reader Word Count: 3.6k Summary: A first date with your neighbor Bucky Barnes.

Content Warnings: modern AU, smut, vaginal fingering, hand job, vaginal penetration, sex in a semi-public place

Logistical Notes: Another entry for @witchywithwhiskey's Slasher Summer Writing Challenge (drive in setting, dialogue prompt in bold/italics), a verrrrrry late entry for @bigtreefest Essie's Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration (public sex/trying not to get caught) (and shhh, Essie said I could be as late as December, but this is just/only Labor Day Weekend), and week 13 of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer (free week).

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You didn’t want to watch this scary movie. Scary movies were not your thing.

But you didn’t know that the local drive-in movie place was doing Sweet and Slashy Summer Saturdays - a double feature night with a different rom-com and slasher fic every week when you said yes to your stupid hot neighbor Bucky Barnes. He’d asked if you liked drive in movies and if you’d go with him, and you hadn’t thought even a second before accepting.

Bumping into him throughout the building since you’d moved in last spring, sure, it was problematic to have a crush on a neighbor, but he was stupid hot.

Which made you do stupid things - like accept a date with him.

You canceled plans that you’d already had in favor of this date.

Typically you weren’t a fan of movies as a first date, but since it was a drive in, not a theater, you’d have your own space and not bother anyone if you actually wanted to talk - but if for some reason stupid hot Bucky Barnes turned out to be a dud, you would also be able to tune into the movie without seeming totally rude.

Privacy? Yes. Good.

A little bit of talking? Also yes.

He’d picked you up in his big pick up truck, which meant at the drive in, he’d backed into the spot, and now you were in the bed of the truck on a camp mattress and blankets.

Things had been lovely for the first flick - which turned out to be one of your favorites. The two of you had chatted sporadically but easily throughout. There’d been a short intermission where the two of you took a walk, stretched your legs, and gotten some ice cream from the concession stand.

All of that had been lovely. Easy time with him.

It had allowed you to trick yourself into the false confidence that you could handle the other half of the double feature.

But the slasher fic had you jumpy, scooting closer and closer into Bucky’s chest, until now you had your face permanently half hidden against his chest.

Bucky chuckled and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you chirped. 

“Are you sure? We can leave, I really don’t mind, I’ve see this at least twenty times.”

“No, I’m - I’m fine,” you said quietly. 

He murmured your name against the crown of your head, planting a kiss there. “We don’t have to stay.”

But that little kiss? Being tucked cozily against him? Your whole body was humming with butterflies and warmth despite the cool evening summer breeze flitting over your skin.

“I’m safe here,” you hummed. 

Bucky ticked a finger under your chin and lifted your head up to look him in the face, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You sure about that?”

You giggled - genuinely but with a surge of nerves. “You’ll protect me.”

He smirked. “Only from everyone else.”

“Is that a threat?” You arched a brow and smirked. 

“It’s a promise,” he replied, lowering his voice, ducking closer, his breath ghosting over your lips. 

You shivered, and he chuckled and pulled you closer. You laughed into his chest, resting your hand lightly on his sternum. “Honestly, if you ever become an actor, don't ever do a slasher flick.”

He scoffed. “What? Why’s that? I’m not such a terrible actor!”

You looked back up at him and shook your head. “I’m not convinced. But also, I’d have to go see it, and clearly I wouldn’t be able to handle that experience.”

“Fine, I promise, I’ll tell the non-existent agent for the acting career I’m never pursuing that slashers are off the table.”

“Good.”

Bucky shifted to make both of you more comfortable. As he shifted, his strong arm tightened around you, pulling you even closer against his broad chest. You felt the warmth of his body enveloping you, a stark contrast to the cool night air. His fingers began to trace lazy patterns on your shoulder, sending tingles down your spine.

"You know," Bucky murmured, his lips brushing your ear, "I'm really glad you came out with me tonight."

You tilted your head to look up at him, taking in his chiseled jawline and those piercing blue eyes. "Me too," you whispered.

"I've been wanting to do this for a long time - just spend time with you. But now you’re driving me crazy, and I can’t keep my hands off you."

Your breath hitched as his hand slowly slid down your arm, savoring every curve and dip. “Then don’t,” you responded. You slipped your leg up over his thigh, tangling your limbs together.

His touch was gentle yet purposeful, exploring the softness of your skin. You felt your pulse quicken as his fingers ghosted over the swell of your hip, squeezing lightly.

"I love how you feel," he whispered, his voice husky. "So soft, so perfect."

His hand continued its journey, caressing the generous curve of your waist. You couldn't help but lean into his touch, craving more. Bucky's fingers splayed across your stomach, appreciating the plush roundness there.

"Beautiful," he breathed.

Bucky's fingers danced up your arm, caressing the soft skin. He traced the curve of your shoulder, then along your collarbone. His touch was feather-light but left a trail of heat in its wake.

You tilted your head back to look at him, taking in his chiseled jawline and intense blue eyes. Bucky's gaze roamed over your face, lingering on your full lips before meeting your eyes again. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your flushed skin.

"You're so beautiful," Bucky reiterated, his eyes locked on yours.

Your heart raced as he leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning across your face. Time seemed to slow as he closed the distance between you. His lips brushed yours softly at first, tentative and questioning. You responded eagerly, pressing closer and parting your lips slightly.

Bucky took that as invitation to deepen the kiss. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you flush against him. You melted into his embrace, savoring the feel of his firm body against yours.

The kiss grew more heated, tongues exploring as passion built between you. Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders and muscular back, marveling at the strength you felt there. Bucky's own hands weren't idle, caressing your curves with reverence.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily. Bucky rested his forehead against yours, a smile playing on his lips.

"Wow," you whispered.

He chuckled softly. "Wow is right."

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the air. You jumped, startled by the sound from the movie. Bucky chuckled against your lips, breaking the kiss.

"Sorry," you mumbled, feeling a heat creep up your neck.

"Don't be sorry," Bucky murmured, his thumb caressing your cheek. "I think it's cute how jumpy you are."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Glad my terror is entertaining for you."

He grinned, pulling you closer. "Well, I do enjoy being your protector."

Another scream rang out from the movie, making you flinch. Bucky's arms tightened around you instinctively. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling his warm, masculine scent. "I'm usually not this much of a scaredy-cat, I swear."

His chest rumbled with laughter. "Sure, sure. I believe you." His tone was teasing, but his arms stayed tight around you.

The score for the movie swelled and pursued a chilling tenor, making you tense. Bucky's hand came up to cup the back of your head, gently pressing your ear to his chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat drowned out the sounds of the film.

"Better?" he murmured.

You nodded against him, feeling safer wrapped in his strong arms. "Much better."

His fingers combed through your hair soothingly. "You know, we could always make our own entertainment if the movie's too scary."

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, eyebrow raised. "Oh? What did you have in mind?"

Bucky's eyes darkened as they roamed over your face. "I can think of a few ways to distract you from the movie."

His hand slid down your back, coming to rest on your hip. He gave a gentle squeeze, pulling you against him. Your breath hitched as you felt the hard planes of his body pressed against your softer curves.

"Oh?" you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Like what?"

Instead of answering, Bucky dipped his head and captured your lips in a searing kiss. This wasn't like the earlier kiss - soft and exploratory. This was heat and passion and barely restrained desire. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting and teasing. You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Bucky's hand slipped under the hem of your shirt, his calloused fingers tracing patterns on the sensitive skin of your lower back. You arched into him, craving more of his touch. He broke the kiss, trailing his lips along your jaw and down your neck.

"God, you're driving me crazy," he murmured against your skin.

You tilted your head, giving him a quizzical look. This man you had categorized as stupid hot because he was so handsome it couldn’t be real seemed to be as gone for you as you were for him.

"I'm driving you crazy?" you asked, your voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. "You're the one who's been making me lose my mind for months now."

Bucky pulled back slightly, his blue eyes searching your face. "Really?" he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

You nodded, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "Really. I've had a crush on you since the day I moved in. Why do you think I always seemed to be doing laundry at the same time as you?"

A slow grin spread across Bucky's face. "And here I thought I was the one making excuses to run into you."

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. "Looks like we've both been idiots."

"Well," Bucky murmured, leaning in close again, "then we should make up for lost time, don't you think?"

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, hot and demanding. You melted into the kiss, savoring the feel of his strong body against yours. His hands roamed your curves, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

You moaned softly into the kiss, your body arching against Bucky's. His hands roamed lower, cupping your ass and pulling you flush against him. You could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, sending a jolt of desire through you.

"Bucky," you gasped, breaking the kiss. "We're in public."

He chuckled, the sound low and husky. "Don't worry. No one can see us back here."

To prove his point, he rolled you both so you were lying on your back, his body hovering over yours. The truck's high sides and the darkness of the drive-in lot provided a surprising amount of privacy.

Bucky's lips found your neck again, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. You tilted your head, giving him better access as your hands slid under his shirt, exploring the hard planes of his abs.

"God, you feel amazing," you breathed.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. His hand slipped under your shirt, thumb brushing the underside of your breast. You arched into his touch, craving more.

Bucky's large hand cupped your breast, kneading gently through the thin fabric of your bra. You gasped at the sensation, your body heating up despite the cool night air.

Suddenly, a loud crash from the movie made you jump. Bucky chuckled softly, pulling back to look at you.

"Still scared?" he teased, his thumb brushing over your nipple through your bra.

You shivered, both from his touch and the reminder of where you were. "Maybe a little," you admitted.

Bucky's eyes softened as he gazed down at you. "We can stop if you want," he murmured, his hand stilling on your breast.

You shook your head, reaching up to cup his face. "No, I don't want to stop. I just... I've never done anything like this before. In public, I mean."

He smiled, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm. "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. We can just cuddle and watch the rest of the movie if you want."

You bit your lip, considering. The fear of getting caught was thrilling, but also nerve-wracking. But the way Bucky was looking at you, his blue eyes dark with desire, made you want to throw caution to the wind.

"I want you," you whispered, pulling him down for another kiss.

Bucky groaned into your mouth, his hand resuming its gentle kneading of your breast. You arched into his touch, your body humming with need. His other hand slid down your side, fingers teasing the waistband of your jeans.

"Is this okay?" he murmured against your lips.

“Mmhmm, please touch me, Bucky,” you pleaded, craving more.

Bucky's fingers deftly unbuttoned your jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly. His hand slipped inside, cupping you through your underwear. You gasped at the contact, hips bucking up into his touch.

"So responsive," he murmured, nipping at your earlobe. "I love it."

His fingers rubbed slow circles over your clothed center, building the tension coiling in your belly. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, very aware of your surroundings despite the privacy of the truck bed.

Bucky's lips trailed down your neck as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your underwear. You inhaled sharply as he made contact with your bare flesh, stroking through your folds.

"God, you're so wet already," he groaned against your collarbone.

You whimpered as he teased your entrance, gathering your arousal before circling your clit. Your hips rocked against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was building.

"Bucky, please," you breathed, not even sure what you were begging for.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss as he slid his fingers through your slick folds. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as he slowly pushed one finger inside you.

"Shh," he murmured, kissing you softly. "Gotta be quiet, remember?"

You nodded, your breath coming in short pants as he began to move his finger in and out. He added a second finger, stretching you deliciously. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing small circles that had you seeing stars.

Your hands gripped Bucky's broad shoulders as he worked you closer to the edge. The pleasure was building rapidly, your hips rocking against his skilled fingers. You buried your face in his neck, muffling your whimpers and gasps against his skin.

"That's it, sweetheart," Bucky murmured encouragingly. "Let go for me. I've got you."

His fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made your toes curl. Combined with the steady pressure on your clit, it was quickly becoming too much.

"Bucky," you gasped, your body tensing. "I'm -"

"Come for me," he growled softly, increasing the pace of his fingers.

The coil of tension in your belly snapped. Waves of pleasure crashed over you as your orgasm hit. Bucky captured your lips in a deep kiss, swallowing your moans as you shuddered against him.

As you came down from your high, Bucky slowly withdrew his hand. You whimpered at the loss, feeling oversensitive and boneless. He pressed soft kisses to your face as you caught your breath.

Then he licked your slickness off his fingers, and your breath hitched as he groaned at the taste of you. Your hand trailed down his chest, palming the obvious bulge in his jeans. "What about you?" you asked.

Bucky groaned softly, hips bucking into your touch. "You don't have to-"

You cut him off with a kiss, your hand continuing to rub him through his jeans. "I want to," you murmured against his lips. "Please, let me make you feel good too."

Bucky groaned, his hips rocking into your touch. "God, yes," he breathed.

Your fingers fumbled with his belt buckle, suddenly feeling clumsy with anticipation. Bucky chuckled softly, reaching down to help you. Together, you managed to unfasten his jeans and push them down his hips.

You slipped your hand into his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his hard length. Bucky hissed in pleasure, his head dropping to your shoulder. You stroked him slowly, marveling at how hot and thick he felt in your hand.

"Fuck," Bucky groaned softly. "Your hand feels so good."

Emboldened by his reaction, you increased your pace, twisting your wrist on the upstroke. Bucky's breathing grew ragged, his hips thrusting into your grip. You could feel him throbbing in your hand, growing even harder if that was possible.

"Wait," Bucky gasped, gently grasping your wrist. "Not like this. I want to be inside you."

Your breath caught at his words, desire pooling low in your belly. "Yes," you breathed. "Please, Bucky."

He captured your lips in a searing kiss as his hands worked to push your jeans down your hips. You lifted your hips to help, shimmying out of the tight denim. Bucky's fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs as well.

The cool night air hit your heated skin, making you shiver. Bucky's warm hands ran up your thighs, parting them gently. He settled between your legs, his hard length pressing against your core.

Bucky reached for his wallet. You raised an eyebrow as he retrieved a condom.

"Presumptuous, weren't we?" you teased.

He chuckled, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he tore it open. "More like hopeful. You sure about this?" he murmured, his blue eyes searching yours.

You nodded, reaching for the condom and wrapping your legs around his waist. "I'm sure. I want you, Bucky." You took his stiff cock in your hands and rolled the condom down slowly over his length.

Then you laid back, and he guided his tip to your entrance. He groaned softly, capturing your lips in another kiss as he slowly pushed into you. You gasped at the stretch, your body accommodating his impressive size.

Bucky stilled once he was fully seated inside you, giving you time to adjust. You both moaned softly at the sensation of being so intimately connected. He peppered kisses along your jaw and neck as you breathed through the initial stretch.

"You okay?" he murmured against your skin.

You nodded, running your hands down his muscular back. "Yeah, you can move."

Bucky started with slow, shallow thrusts, gradually building up speed and depth. You bit your lip to stifle your moans, very aware of your surroundings despite the privacy of the truck bed. The movie's soundtrack provided some cover, but you still tried to keep quiet.

"God, you feel amazing," Bucky groaned softly, his hips snapping against yours.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, changing the angle slightly. The new position had him hitting that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. Your nails dug into his shoulders as pleasure built rapidly.

"Bucky," you whined.

His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers tracing a path down your stomach until they settled on your sensitive clit. The gentle pressure of his thumb against you sent sparks of pleasure through your body. "Come for me," he whispered in your ear, urging you on as he continued to stroke and tease your sex. You couldn't resist the sensations, and soon you were gasping and moaning in ecstasy, and he swallowed up as much of your sounds as he could with another kiss.

Bucky's movements became more erratic as he chased his own release. You clenched around him, still riding the waves of your orgasm. The added pressure pushed him over the edge.

"Fuck," he groaned, burying his face in your neck as he came.

You held him close, running your fingers through his hair as you both caught your breath. The sounds of the movie filtered back into your awareness - screams and dramatic music that seemed absurdly out of place now.

Bucky lifted his head, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he looked at you. "That was..."

"Amazing," you finished for him, grinning.

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before carefully pulling out. You whimpered at the loss, suddenly feeling very exposed. Bucky noticed your discomfort and quickly helped you redress, then took care of himself.

Once you were both decent again, he pulled you back into his arms. You snuggled against his chest, feeling sated and content.

"So," Bucky murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm, "I think it's safe to say this was a successful first date?"

You grinned and looked up at him. "I'd say so. Though I'm not sure how we're going to top this for date number two."

Bucky chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I'm sure we can come up with something. I've got plenty of ideas."

"Is that so?" you teased, trailing your fingers along his jawline. "Care to share?"

He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "How about I show you instead? Say, next Saturday?"

Your heart fluttered at the promise in his eyes. “Just no more slashers, deal?”

“Deal,” he chuckled, then sealed it the best way, tipping your chin up and capturing your lips in a kiss.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Read more stories from the Deliciously Debauched Labor Day Weekend!

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[ronearoundblindly]

Safety Captain (1)

lifeguard!Steve Rogers x vacationer!Reader (see series)

Summary: A very sexy man shows up at a very unsexy moment during your vacation.

Warnings for mild language, other guests being as thirsty as Reader, and a vague injury/danger. WC 1945

Written for @bigtreefest's Summer Lovin' 300 follower celebration (I'm very late tho 🥲), using the prompts “it hurts when I ___” “then stop doing that” and pool/resort/hotel. There will be a few small parts to this with eventual smut; this is just the meet-cute sorta.

If you consider drowning a peaceful and relaxing experience, then your trip’s going splendidly.

Water hitting your lungs stings much worse than sunscreen in your eyes, but the shock makes you gasp anyway. Your skin feels pressure everywhere. You don’t know which way is up. The world is bright and blue and shimmering until an arm encircles and yanks you backward by your chest—your bare chest, you realize, since the cups on your bathing suit top flipped when you hit the the pool at such a steep angle.

Once at the surface, a gift and a curse greets you, garbled hum replaced by a solid slap of screaming, the blare of whistles. Light burns, water burns, air burns.

Oh yes, this is going swimmingly.

You struggle to get enough fresh hell anyway, coughing out water, air stinging worse. Your limbs contract to fight the pain, but the wall of muscle behind you is unyielding.

“Out of the way,” a deep voice shouts close to your ear. “Buck, make me some room. Get them back.”

He—whoever he is holding you so firmly and safely—moves you to the shallow end’s stairs with heaving strokes, and just when he releases your body to lift you out of the water, he quickly flicks the front of your suit back into place.

Bless you, kind sir. You’re in love…

…or maybe that’s the hypoxia.

Unceremoniously hauled to solid ground, you continue to sputter.

“It’s alright. I got ya. Breathe for me. That’s good.”

Your sunglasses are gone, so you squint up in his shadow to see nothing but a halo of dripping gold hair. Then your eyes adjust. You see him.

Suddenly, the world is bright and blue and shimmering again, all contained in the stare of your sweet savior.

When he smiles, well, you need even more air to recover.

You’re on your side until he’s sure all the water is out of you, until his hands help you sit up, looky-lous everywhere being herded farther off by two more lifeguards and some resort security.

“The boys…” you rasp out.

“Everyone’s okay,” he rushes, rubbing your back, warm and slick against your wet skin. “You don’t have to talk yet. Take it easy.”

You still feel compelled to explain.

“The—they were teasing him—“ you point to the chubbier kid in your group, the poor thing cowering by your lounge chair headquarters for the morning “—and I tried to stop them.”

“I know, shhh, I saw. Just breathe slowly.”

“Don’t like bullies,” you cough out anyway.

The lifeguard at your side grins from ear to ear, quickly interrupted by a girl shoving your sunglasses in his face.

“I found these,” she announces, elated. “I thought it was important since you were so brave, saving someone who fell in.”

You didn’t fall; you were pushed. There’s a difference.

The lifeguard’s smile turns tight, but he gestures for the girl to hand them over to their rightful owner. She continues to stare with huge, bambi eyes.

Politely, he takes them from her and clears of his throat.

“Thank you. Now step back please.”

Her disappointment is palpable before his blue gaze returns to you. As he asks if you’re ready to move, his palm lands on your lower back and stays there supportively.

The best you can do is shift your legs beneath each other and then hiss, “it hurts when I put weight on this leg. I think I twisted my ankle on the way down.”

“Then stop doing that,” he chuckles, swooping to get his arms under you and carry you to your lounger—the right one, immediately, as if he saw the boys fighting but knew exactly where you were before then, too.

The stout little thirteen-year-old who’d been picked on steps up to you with guilty eyes. He’s one of your charges today while the other adults all drink at the swim-up bar.

“I’m sorry they—“

“It’s fine,” you croak.

“—but they wouldn’t stop, and I told them to—“

“Hey, hey,” your lifeguard whispers, deflating the boy’s panic, “she’s gonna be okay. Just a little banged up, but we got the best of the best coming to help.”

Shamefully, the boy’s eyes turn down. “Sorry they called you a ‘bitch.’”

Great. Yeah. That needed to be repeated.

“Don’t worry about it. Can you go grab your cousin and—“ a brief wheeze overtakes you “—the girls and bring everyone back here so I know where you all are? Just a real quick check-in.”

He nods and runs off, almost plowing into a woman heading straight for you.

“Ah, your nurse has arrived.” The handsome, dripping wet man sitting with a hand still on your knee beams. “The best of the best, as promised.”

The older blonde lady purses her lips and rolls her eyes, ticking her head to the side. “Scoot, Steven. Let me have a look.”

He—Steven, apparently—rambles off what happened and what you mentioned hurt, standing out of the blonde’s way, but leaning over her shoulder, hovering while she manipulates your ankle.

“Thank you, darling.” She looks up pointedly. “I’ve got it from here,” she says, turning back to you. “I’m Sarah, dear. We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

“I’m Steve,” your lifeguard interjects as he backs away. “Glad you’re alright, Miss…?”

You introduce yourself in return. “Thanks for…um…” You glance down and tug at the front of your swim suit, remembering that this man might have already seen and touched your breasts. “Thank you,” you finish weakly, voice hoarse.

Steve beams again before Sarah swats him away.

While she wraps your ankle and anchors a bag of ice to it, you scan the guard towers to realize all three of the guys on duty are ripped, but Steve is…well, he’s something else.

“God, he’s gorgeous,” you sigh aloud without realizing.

Sarah snorts, muttering, “he gets that a lot.”

You smile, thinking it’s probably no secret that the cute guy gets around. “Bit of a man whore, is he?” you joke.

The nurse looks up at you sternly. “I should hope not! I raised him better than that.”

Shit.

Your face drops, a harsh and painful swallow globs down your throat, and you…just objectified that poor man to his mother who he so sweetly called ‘the best of the best.’

Is drowning totally off the table, or can you revisit that?

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—I—I just meant—“

She squeezes your hand, putting you out of your misery.

“It’s fine, dear. He is handsome, and I suppose there’s no harm in looking.” She packs away the last of her gear only to catch Steve’s eye across the pool.

He waves in your direction.

Sarah chuckles but doesn’t wave back. You put a quick hand up and mouth ‘thank you’ even though he probably can’t see that part.

“Well,” the nurse adds, “seems you aren’t the only one looking.”

Having one foot twice the size of the other can work. You can make it work. You’ll just camp out on a beach towel farther up the shore, no problem. The whole party is together today, day three of seven, so the good news is that you aren’t responsible for anyone. Also, your foot is only that size due to bandaging and not because it’s that swollen. Still hurts though.

In addition to a wicked limp, you need a relatively hard surface to sit on or stand up from. You end up on the rim of damp sand, wriggling to get comfortable. You try laying on your side, propped up on a bent arm. You try your stomach. You’re about try your back, reaching for one of the kids’ towels to roll up as a pillow when you notice a group playing volleyball.

Must be fun to, like, walk and stuff.

You sigh.

It’s fine. You are lucky enough to be on this trip in the first place, your ticket paid for by all the parents combined (with the agreement you’ll help wrangle the younglings for periods while the moms and dads do adult activities). The ‘job’ is a wildly fair trade since the families only split so far was the pool yesterday.

Is that…is one of the volleyball players waving at you?

You look over your shoulder, but there’s only the rest of your group, splashing and running through the surf. No one is facing you or the game.

As you turn back, starting to raise your hand, you see the golden glow of the player’s hair and think that sure resembles the lifeguard, Steve, from—

The guy waving at you gets hit, hard, by a spiked ball and stumbles back. Some commotion rumbles through the group, but you can’t hear specifics.

Shit, that is definitely Steve, son of Sarah, employee of the pool, jogging toward you. Are your tits covered?

You awkwardly pull yourself upright, shielding your eyes from the partially-overcast, bright sky, and smile.

“Hey,” Steve chirps, “thought that was you.” He is, again, in naught but board shorts and beauty.

“Yup, living the dream.”

He ignores your sarcasm and asks how your ankle feels (“meh”), if it’s messed with your plans so far (“had to bow out of zip lining this morning”), and if he might be welcome to sit with you for a while.

You blink a few times in shock behind dark sunglasses. “Won’t your friends…?”

He shakes his head, hair falling into his face, and drops down to the sand.

“I don’t see why not,” you say after he’s made himself comfortable.

When the littlest girl from your group comes shrieking over, bucket and scoop in her hands, you’re about to apologize for the interruption, but Steve immediately offers to help her build the castle of a lifetime.

He is sure to warn her to be careful around your foot.

This time, when you mouth ‘thank you,’ he sees it and returns another beaming grin.

Alright, perhaps vacation is looking up.

Steve is…very, very good at strategizing the sandcastle. After the first ‘tower’ goes up, the other kids get involved. Before you know it, the parents are all behind you gushing over how good your friend is with them.

"Handsome, too."

"Lots of energy."

"‘Bout your age, isn’t he?"

They aren’t quiet enough to not be heard which is clearly the point once the mother of bucket girl shouts out that Steve should join you all for dinner.

Oh, sweet holy—

“Not sure I wanna dive into your family time, ma’am,” he says politely, encouraging some water be brought up for the moat they’ve just dug.

“Then you should take our lovely girl here out. Show her more of the island.”

You glare daggers at the other woman who just chimed in.

“I can’t walk,” you bite out. “Where am I gonna go?”

Steve clears his throat to get your attention. “They line food trucks over on the west road until late, and…” his lip pinches to the side “…I can carry you.”

One of the dads darkly drawls, “like a fucking princess,” and you hear a sharp slap from his wife in annoyance.

Steve’s gaze remains locked on yours as the parents erupt in obvious innuendo.

“Could be fun,” he admits, only loud enough for you. “How about it? Getting hungry?”

All you manage is a nod before a bucket of water is tossed on Steve, and he chases the culprit down the beach and into the clear blue sea.

You’ll have to wait until the ‘monster’ is vanquished by the ecstatic children jumping to take down the big, strong man you, apparently, have a date with.

[Next Chapter]

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: Apologies that this isn't the whole dang thing. With how long everything has been taking me to write, I was afraid it wouldn't even be summer anymore, and if there is even a small chance that posting this will light a fire under me to finish, I am willing to try.

[biteofcherry]

Dive under

part of Summer Garden project

Dom!Ari Levinson x sub!female reader

summary: Putting sunscreen on your man has never been so intense as it turns out to be with Ari. Especially his reward of your service steals your breath away...

warnings: bdsm; ssc/rack (safe sane consensual/risk aware consensual kink); Dom!Ari; submissive Reader; power exchange; cockwarming; asphyxiation; asphyxiation by submerging/drowning; sex; aftercare;

Heart of Ruby Masterlist

Ruby Garden Masterlist

Author's Note: This is a part of a series, but can be read as stand alone. And it's my entry for Essie's @bigtreefest Summer Lovin' 300 Followers Celebration! ☀️🎉I used: putting sunscreen on one another and pool. It's utterly filthy smut, but finished with a sweet dollop of care and connection, so I hope it soothes the burn that the smut part causes 😂

You thought the scorching flames of the current heatwave were going to be the reason for your ultimate death, but you were wrong.

The cause of immediate heart failure and dehydration (due to melting and dripping) was Ari.

A summer god, with his sunkissed skin and a beautiful peppering of freckles atop his shoulders, whose big hands should be registered as lethal.

The eagerness and giggle with which you responded to his soft demand to help rub sunscreen into your skin have quickly dissolved into a growing need. 

Ari’s touch was firm enough to turn the sweet gesture into a foreplay that had your breath quickening and your lips parting on more than one gasp. To your great dismay, he stopped once he was done and gave you that warning glare when you pouted and wiggled your butt. 

“You did me, so I get to do you,” you poked your tongue between your teeth and flashed him a cheeky smile. 

“Of course.” Ari nodded, but before you got a hold of the sunscreen bottle he snatched it away.

“No hands, Cherie.” He announced in that annoyingly calm, confident tone that meant no budging even if you poked at him with all your might. 

“No hands?” You frowned. “Then how am I supposed to oil you up?”

A twinkle lit Ari’s blue eyes, that evil spark foreshadowing some delicious suffering coming your way. And your Dom’s type of suffering was of the wicked kind. Intense. Which you both hated and loved. Okay, so you loved it more. But there was still that trepidation mixed in with excitement. 

He moved his hand to the back of your neck and pulled at the string tying the top of your bikini. Then he loosened the one around your ribcage, letting the scrap of fabric fall free to the ground. 

You stared up at him; your brain not yet catching up with what was obviously as scandalous as a ridiculous plan. 

The splash of sunscreen on your naked breasts shook you from the stupor. Your gaze dropped down, watching Ari pour more oil between and onto your boobs.

“Are you serious?” You huffed, yet you felt heat creeping up your face at the prospect of pressing yourself so close to Ari to smear that oil onto his skin. 

One look from Ari was enough for you to instantly start into action, no further command was needed. 

As he sat on the deckchair, you knelt behind him and pressed your chest to his back. You rolled your eyes, since he couldn’t see it facing away from you. This was the most ridiculous, downright comical thing to do! 

However, the longer you rubbed yourself against his broad back, like some cat in heat, the less unaffecting it was. Quite the opposite, your body started responding. 

By the time you rounded him and sat on his lap to press your boobs against Ari’s chest, your nipples were hard as diamonds and your bikini bottom was soaked. Ari’s palms touching you here and there didn’t help matters, nor the way he hummed in pleasure when you dropped to your knees. 

You were sure it was still hilariously insane, more than arousing - if viewed from the sidelines. But as you moved your chest over his thick thighs, feeling those muscles flex, you didn’t care about the aesthetic aspect. All you cared for was that beautiful dick on full display, so close to your mouth, and the increasing need pulsing in your clit. 

“You did so good, Cherie,” Ari caressed your cheek, then slowly slid his hand to the back of your head. 

“Now shade my cock,” he guided you forward.

Your lips parted immediately, tongue flat over your bottom lip to feel that velvety hardness slide against it. 

Ari leaned backwards, stretching on the deckchair with a contented sigh, while you remained kneeling between his legs. Mouth stretched wide over his girth, you took a few calming breaths through your nose to adjust. 

Ari draped his calves over your shoulders, turning you into his personal, live ottoman. Yet you could still feel his muscles tense, betraying that he was keeping most of his weight off your body. 

A new wave of heat flooded you to the very toes. Having Ari in your mouth was always a turn on, but this near slave-like play was adding a spice of a different kind. 

Your brain seemed to switch off. There was only the musky scent of Ari mixed with sunscreen, the soft ripple of pool water behind you and occasional bird chirping somewhere far away. Your breathing was regular, your body turning cotton soft despite being in a straining position. There was warmth from the sun caressing your exposed skin, as well heat wafting off of Ari’s body.

You felt safe. 

And aroused. A state which gained more and more attention as you felt your saliva pool around Ari’s cock in your mouth. 

Some of it dribbled out when you had to swallow around him and his dick twitched in response to the stimulation.

You didn’t have to slide your hand between your thighs to know you were dripping slick. 

Minutes, or maybe hours later, Ari’s hand settled on top of your head and with a gentle yank he pulled you off of him. You couldn’t help the little cough, or the swirl of dizziness. Ari’s gaze was intent on you the whole time, his touch comforting as he rubbed his thumb over your wet lips. 

“Would you like some compensation for your perfect service, little sub?” He asked. 

It was a game, since he would decide on whether to grant or deny you, as well the form of it. No matter how specific in your request you were. Which was a turn on itself, at least for you. To never fully know what your creative Dom would come up with, but trusting he’d keep it within the boundaries of your agreement. 

“Yes, please, Sir.” You leaned into his touch and nipped his thumb. 

Ari withdrew his hand. He snatched one of the folded towels and snapped it open. With one careless move, he threw it beside the pool. He pointed at it and commanded:

“On your hands and knees, Cherie. And turn around.” 

You followed eagerly, even though the towel was a rather thin cushion between your body and the heated concrete. It wouldn’t matter anyway, since in a moment you’d be focused only on sensations provided by your Dom. 

Waiting for Ari to settle behind you, you looked down at the dark reflection of yourself in the pool water. Sparks of sunlight glittered all around it. 

Your loud squeak at the sudden slap to your ass sent tiny ripples on the water surface right below you. 

Swiftly, Ari untied the strings of your bikini bottom and tossed it aside. You spread your legs wider, your back arching at the feeling of Ari’s fingers brushing up the inside of your thigh. He found you already sticky with your arousal, his finger slipping inside so easily. 

“All of that from servicing me,” Ari praised, slowly stretching your pussy in preparation. “I’m a lucky man to have such a sweet, eager sub.” 

“You’ll take everything I give.” 

“Yes, Sir,” your voice turned breathy as he pulled his finger out and a bigger pressure stretched your hole.

Ari slid into you in a slow stroke, letting you feel every impressive inch. When his hips pressed into your ass, a shudder rocked your whole body. 

His hands gripped your asscheeks then brushed up your back and onto your shoulders. He kneaded your muscles for a moment then moved his hands down your arms. When his fingers encircled your wrists, you knew to tighten your core muscles and stay in bent over position while he pulled your arms behind your back. 

Crossing your wrists at your back, Ari held them in one of his hands. He wrapped his other arm around your middle to help you stay up. Then he started moving. Slow, deep thrusts that were as lazy and burning as the summer heat. 

As maddening, too. 

You felt his grip tighten to a near painful hold.

“Take a deep breath.”

You frowned at his confusing command, but did as asked anyway. It was instinctive to follow Ari’s lead, even if part of your brain was fidgeting with suspicious nervousness. 

Suddenly your world was spiraling and the hot caress of the sun was replaced by the blue, cool abyss of the water. 

A bubble of air escaped your mouth as you almost shrieked at being submerged, but you quickly closed your mouth. Your eyes were wide, staring at the endless blue and reflections of sunlight. 

Your body tensed in that natural reaction to fight back against the potential death.

As it did, your cunt clenched so tightly around Ari’s cock that you nearly toppled yourself over the edge. 

Ari pulled you back onto the surface and your mouth opened wide to catch gulps of air and blurt choked “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” 

Pulling you into a sitting position, Ari held you close, your back to his chest. He tilted your face, so he could take a good look at you. 

“Give me your color,” even as he asked, his eyes were studying every inch of you, searching for any sign of hurt, or extreme reaction.

Your brain needed a longer moment and a few more gulps of breath to connect with your actual state. As you settled back into the scene, you recognized your body’s thrumming need.

“Green,” you croaked. “It- I was shocked. Didn’t expect that. But I’m good. I’m still very much fucking turned on,” you laughed at the discovery. 

You licked the water off your lips as you held Ari’s gaze. 

“I trust you, Sir.” You assured him, letting him feel it by relaxing into his firm hold. And clenching your pussy. 

“Okay then,” Ari gave a slow nod and leaned to kiss you. 

Few heartbeats later you were hanging over the edge of the pool once again, while he fucked into you in a sensual rhythm. 

You were melting into that sensation when Ari ordered you to take another deep breath. Despite knowing what was coming, the rush of being submerged and cut off air held the same strong impact. 

Your pussy clenched and when Ari pulled you out of the pool, it kept pulsing in that rapid pace that announced impending orgasm. 

When it hit you full force, Ari submerged you one more time. 

Your body trashed in his hold, but not a single digit of his lost its secure grip on you. When you regained your breath, your gasps were mixing with raw screams; which only turned worse from the way Ari’s fingers tormented your clit to prolong the already maddening climax. 

Whether it was because of the physiological reaction, or maybe you were so out of it, but you almost didn’t feel Ari coming. Your cunt was kind of numb, still clenched like a vice, so you barely felt his cock throbbing. 

Through the buzz in your head you heard his groans of pleasure and some words, which your brain was unable to unscramble into the praise that it was. 

Both of Ari’s arms weaved around you tightly, holding your shaking body as you rode out aftershocks of your orgasm and the shock of what he did to you. 

Asphyxiation wasn’t your limit and you played with it before a bit, but it was always just Ari’s hand around your throat. He didn’t just up it a notch, he fucking leaped twenty stories up. 

You sat by the pool in the same position for nearly an hour, without you realizing how much time had passed. 

Ari’s softening cock slipped out of you at one point and his cum mixed with yours dripped out slowly. All the while, he held you in his arms. Your breathing and heartbeats settled into a steady rhythm. The sun has dried you off completely. 

“Come on, Cherie,” Ari finally moved, picking you up easily. “Let’s go inside, before one of us suffers a sun stroke.” 

“Mhmm,” you pressed your cheek against his shoulder, “No stroking for at least another hour.” 

Ari huffed a laugh at your exhausted, but still cheeky tone. 

“No kind of stroking at all. Not today.” He declared, carrying you into the rented, private beach house. “It was intense for both of us, but you most of all. We’re going to talk it all over, cuddle and then stuff ourselves with food.” 

“Yes, Sir,” you sighed, but it wasn’t petulant. It was a sound of contentment and vulnerability that didn’t fear to show when in Ari’s presence. 

You knew he would take care of you. 

[bigtreefest]

Details

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Ransom can’t help the way he pays such close attention to every detail regarding you

Word count: 1,081

Content/warnings: very sappy Ransom, no dialogue, ransom’s internal monologue?, references to intimacy, kisses, lots of timeline switching? (Flashbacks and returns to present)

A/N: Below is the song which inspired this fic. It’s been a longtime favorite and I think it definitely fits the summer vibes

I guess we can call this a part of my summer celebration! It’s a vacation at a beach house, and probs an equal partnership? Based off a song. Yeah, I make the rules.

Anyway, comments, likes, reblogs, and asks are so appreciated. Thank you for reading!!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

Ransom didn’t really have a name for this feeling, despite his vast vocabulary. The main reason was that he had never really felt it before, so how could he be sure? It was definitely beyond the simplicity of the lust he had felt on several occasions. Was it admiration, adoration? Whatever it was, he was sure it went both ways from the crooked smile you gave him as you stretched in the dim morning light.

After a week of your getaway, it was the last morning the two of you were waking up in his family’s coastal home. He loved the way the rays coming through the curtains graced your face, especially today, as you laid tangled in the sheets of the king-sized bed.

The past week had been filled with relaxation and enjoyment each day. Beach picnics, sunbathing, swimming, and…other…enjoyable…things. Those were his favorite. He was desperate to get to that, but not desperate in the moment, where he was worshipping you and your body, and every little thing that he could commit to memory. He never wanted to forget this time; it was simple, with no deadlines, no responsibilities besides each other, although he’d never call you a chore. You were a pleasure. One he was sure he didn’t deserve.

Ransom watched closely as you sat up, the sunshine creating a crown around your head and hair. He couldn’t help but notice you. All he saw was you.

His entire life, Ransom had always noticed the details. That was his strength: little things no one else picked up on, and they were all around him, but honestly, when he was looking at you, he couldn’t tell you anything going on in the background: what he had planned for today, or what he’d done before you woke up the day before.

When you’d gone out to eat at that one restaurant, the one that he thought probably had an ocean view, he couldn’t remember, he wouldn’t be able to recall a single song that had played during dinner.

What he does remember, though, is everything about you that night. The way the sea salt in the air from the long day had added a little extra wave to your hair- tightened the coil, how your skin glowed from the golden hour sunset shining through the glass by the table, the way you got a little tongue-tied after you shared your third glass of wine, which the waiter so rudely interrupted your story to ask if you wanted. No one deserved to stop your beautiful voice from talking, not even Ransom, and especially not the weirdly kind young man pouring the bottle. What was the waiter so nice for, anyway? That quickly left Ransom’s mind, though, attention switching to something much more important. He was completely focused, just not on the usual, external things. There were different details his brain favored these days.

Ransom had visited the coastal home since he was young, playing with the neighbor’s kids while his parents were off doing who knows what. Now, he couldn’t care enough to retain the name of the guy who lives next door. That sort of information was trivial when there was someone else who he would’ve rather had take up every corner of his mind.

That night after dinner, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you in the car, stealing every glance he could without veering off the road. Hundred dollar bills could be falling from the sky and he wouldn’t even notice, which carries its weight when all that Ransom’s ever valued, all that’s ever been steady in his life, is money. That was until you and whatever feeling you were giving him for the first time. It was as if he finally hit the threshold of realization to what’s been creeping up on him this whole time.

Upon your return to the beach house, the two of you laid in bed, cuddled up close as the light from the TV playing late night talk shows danced across the bedroom. You were tucked up into his side, your head on his shoulder as one hand crossed his body and rested on his hip, his one arm doing the same to you as the other tangled in your hair, gently massaging your scalp. He watched as your eyelids fluttered shut, heavy with tiredness of the day and comfort in his hold. Another moment to be savored: your absolute trust in the security of his arms. He smiled to himself as you mumbled in your sleep, studying every little quirk of your lips, every barely intelligible word he could catch, not judging, but committing to memory.

In another life, Ransom would’ve tried to deny that you were any more than just another girl, but there was no use. He was too far gone. Finding ways to surprise you, shower you in gifts, and all the quality time you asked for. Whatever you could desire, really, it was yours, and he had no business withholding from you. His heart wouldn’t allow him.

Ransom was in tune with everything you were doing right now. He pushed aside the thoughts of the week’s earlier memories with you for a second, and cleared everything else nonessential from his mind. He only needed space for what was going on currently. He observed as you scooted closer to him, pushing aside the pillows that were often just so as you slept. Absorbed the way your head tilted to the side at that certain angle when you were leaning in, just about to kiss him. He surely didn’t want to miss it as he closed his eyes and let you fall into him, tongues dancing in an amatory rhythm. So in sync, so naturally that he didn’t care about anything else. Every detail was something he wanted to devote his attention to; memorize and hold onto forever.

Yeah, he should probably get up and make you your coffee. How he loved to see you stir it, just the simplest task, but this felt more pressing. The warmth in his chest from your touch, the way your kisses filled his lungs with light, with life. How your fingertips traced up and down his chest, tucking into the waistband of his boxer briefs. He shuddered at the sensation, at what even your gentlest touch could do to him. Breakfast could wait. You offered enough to feed his soul forever. This feeling? The new wholeness? It was love.

Bonus A/N: Soft!Ran. I only know him. Could you imagine a nice little rainy day in bed, looking out the window at the coast?🥺

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly

[plussizefantasia]

Date Day

Summary: You plan a date day for you and your boys. It goes to plan... mostly.

Pairing: Stucky x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ Content ahead! Other than that, reader has female pronouns and some nicknames (sugar, sweetheart) It's mostly fluff though not gonna lie.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Woohoo! This is my submission for Essie's Summer Lovin' 300 follower celebration! @bigtreefest is one of my writing inspirations and I wanted to celebrate with her <3 Congrats, Essie on 300 followers, here's to the next 300 and even more after that!

There are also a lot of firsts for me in this one, first time posting something smutty, first time writing for more than one love interest and I think I did a pretty damn good job so I hope you all like it!

You loved to spoil your boys, it wasn't very often that they would let you but when you managed to convince them to let you take the reigns on date night, it always turned out very well.  Steve and Bucky were never easy to convince. They loved to take care of you and wanted you to just be able to let go with them; not having to worry about anything when it was the three of you.

  However, you had finally managed to get the boys to relax for one day. One whole day that you were going to plan to a T. All three of you had work off, the boys weren’t likely to be called in anytime soon and you were so looking forward to it.

  The day would start softly, the boys were early risers and you were a light sleeper so you had no worries of sleeping in necessarily. They woke you up with soft kisses spread across your body. Bucky always slept at your back. It was the side in between you and the door and he slept better knowing he could keep the two of you safe. Steve usually slept at your front, most of the time with his head resting on your chest and his arms wrapped around your hips. `

 Steve wakes first, still wrapped in your arms with one of his hands clutched in Bucky’s behind your back. He peppers kisses on your chest where his head rests and begins to pull himself up closer to your head. His movement wakes Bucky and he tightens his grip on Steve’s hand, bringing it closer to his mouth and placing a single kiss on his still scraped-up knuckles before releasing it and rolling onto his back.

Your eyes flutter open slowly, the feeling of Steve’s lips along your skin making a smile spread across your face. “Morning baby,” You whisper to him, threading your fingers through his hair, mussing it up more than it already was.

“What about me?” Bucky reaches an arm around you and pulls you closer to his chest, away from Steve. Steve glares at him before making a slew of grumpy noises as he scoots closer to you once more. You can’t help but giggle at the scene of your overgrown puppy of a boyfriend pouting like a kid. 

“Relax boys, I have more than enough sugar to go around.” You place a kiss on Steve’s head before turning your torso and planting one on Bucky’s waiting lips too.

“Yeah, Sugar? You got enough to go around?” Steve’s lips curve up into a devilish smirk and he begins running his hand up the outside of your thigh, wiggling his eyebrows. Bucky picks up the memo quickly and soon you have both boys running their hand all over your body.

“Down boys, I have planned a whole day for us and I refuse to let you seduce me into staying in bed all day.” You said, no fire behind your words.

“Who said anything about all day Sugar? How about just the next thirty minutes.” Bucky moves his hand up to the side of your neck, turning your head so you are looking at him. Steve coughs in the back of his throat from his position, still propped against your tummy and very much still caressing any and all skin he can get his hands on. 

“Okay, maybe an hour.” Bucky concedes. 

“You have one hour, any more than that and I’ll have to start cutting stuff which will make me super sad.” You learned very early on in this relationship that the boys loathe making you sad, they’d do almost anything to keep you happy and you’ll milk the hell out of that if it means keeping your plans.

“Don’t worry doll, we can do a lot in an hour.” Steve winks at you and in one movement flips you onto your stomach. He crawls over you so that he’s practically laying on you. “Especially with the proper motivation.” He presses down on you so that you feel the hardness contained within the sweatpants he wore to bed. 

“Consider yourselves motivated then.” You say from your spot on the bed, turning your head to find Bucky standing on the side of the bed, in a very similar state to Steve.

Bucky smirks at you before shedding his clothes and moving in close. He practically shoves Steve off of you and yanks you by the legs towards him. “Sugar, we’re always motivated when it comes to you.” He flips you back over and pulls you even closer to him, your legs in his arms and your body lying at the edge of the bed.

Bucky falls to his knees and brings your legs with him, placing one on each of his shoulders. Steve grumbles and his adorable pout returns to his face for a moment before you reach out for him again. He takes your hand and lets you pull him to your side. You take his hand and place it on your neck. Licking your lips sightly and looking back and up at him from where you lay.

“You have fifty-five minutes left.” You smile at him.

“Brat.” the two of them say in unison, the word bursting with affection.

They use their time well you have to admit. Bucky feasts on you from his position between your legs, he makes you finish twice before he even moves and you have a sneaking suspicion that this is going to be one of those times when the boys try to one-up each other. 

Steve quickly removes your top and starts lavishing your breasts with attention, leaving love marks all over them and across your collarbone. Once Bucky is satisfied with you, Steve takes his place, making you cum once more on his fingers. He takes you apart methodically, using every trick in his book. 

Both boys manhandle you seven different ways to Sunday and you can’t help but giggle every time they do. Your previous partner wasn't nearly as strong as your boys are, and having two men who can lift, flip, and throw you around has done wonders for your self-esteem in the bedroom. 

They close out the hour together, laying on your sides similarly to how you woke up. Steve lays at your front, placing sloppy kisses up and down your neck, occasionally catching your mouth with his, not too often though. Both of the boys love your noises too much to swallow them. They fill you up perfectly, as one thrusts in the other pulls out, this goes on for far longer than you’d like, the boys taking you to the edge a couple of times before they finally let you fall over. They follow you quickly and the three of you lay together in one big heap of limbs and sweat. 

Bucky looks over to the clock on the wall, “Four minutes to spare.” He chuckles out.

You groan lovingly and throw your head back against his chest. “Good, it’s going to take at least that long for me to be able to function again.”

Steve laughs at that and pulls away from you. “Well, while you learn how to function again I’ll go make us some coffee.”

Bucky follows Steve’s example also pulling away from you and heading to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth to clean the three of you up. He pulls Steve back into him by the wrist before he’s able to leave the bedroom. He kisses him deeply and smiles like a goof at him. “Good Morning.” Steve laughs and kisses him back before pushing his lover closer to the bed.

“Morning Punk.” 

You smile like an idiot at both of them, loving to see your two favorite people be in love, especially because you know how good that love feels.

Bucky cleans you up quickly and pulls you out of bed with the promise of pancakes and scrambled eggs. You kiss him before he leaves the bedroom and set out to begin preparations for the day. 

You dress quickly, having planned weeks ahead in your mind what you would wear. Once you finish picking out your own outfit you pick outfits out for both of your lovers. You pull out a white undershirt and colorful button-up for Steve, along with a pair of khaki shorts. For Bucky you pull a deep red shirt that he loves, it’s a lightweight knit piece with a small V and buttons running down the front. You lay a pair of black jeans next to it and smile at your choices. 

You make your way to the kitchen where you hear your boy’s bustling around. Bucky is making good on his promise; making pancakes and adding each of your favorite mix-ins. Bananas for Steve, chocolate chips for yourself, and blueberries for him. Steve is next to him making the scrambled eggs and looking handsome while doing it.

“So Sugar, gonna let us in on the plans for today.” Bucky looks up from the pan and cocks his head at you.

“Well, I thought we could start the day with a trip to the boardwalk, followed by a picnic on the beach, and then finishing up with dinner at that diner the two of you like so much?” 

“Sounds like a great day sweetheart, when do we need to leave?” 

“I knew you two wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourselves so I scheduled the car to come pick us up in about forty-five minutes. Plenty of time to eat, and for you two to get dressed while I grab the rest of what we’ll need.”

Steve places your coffee in front of you and presses his lips to the top of your head. “You think of everything Sweetheart.” You practically preen at his praise and cover your smile with your mug. 

Bucky finishes breakfast and the three of you eat and talk for a couple of minutes before you shoo them off to get ready and you start putting the last touches on the picnic basket you had prepared the night before. Also grabbing a nice big outdoor blanket, some sunscreen, and some snacks because if you know your loves and you do, you know that they will certainly get hungry again before it’s time for lunch.

The boys come back into the living room and you whistle at them in their outfits. Steve smiles bashfully and puts his hands in his pockets while Bucky smirks and gives you a little twirl showing off your choices.

“Thanks for the fashion expertise Sugar.”

“What can I say, I love taking care of my boys.” You shrug before handing the picnic basket to Bucky along with his sunglasses a hair tie and a baseball cap. You hand the backpack with all the other stuff in it to Steve along with his hat, wallet, and phone. You grab your purse off the counter and place your own sunnies on your head before clapping your hands together. 

“Alrighty Gents, who is ready for the best date day they’ve ever had.” You grab one hand from each of them as they take their rightful places at your side and lead them out to the black SUV you arranged to take you to the pier. 

The morning is going well, Steve and Bucky walk hand in hand with you up and down the boardwalk, looking and laughing at all the dumb junk in the tourist shops that line each side of the pier. Bucky begs you both to stop for ice cream and you can never say no to him so you do, continuing your day now each holding a cone in your hand. You drop Bucky’s hand to hold your own ice cream and he looks downright offended before you point out that he was the one who wanted ice cream in the first place.

Walking the boardwalk was nice, it was a perfect day too. Not too hot and with a nice breeze that made everything look so beautiful. The trees sway and the birds are flying. Your boys stay by your side the whole time and the three of you walk and talk, you go up and down the pier before you start guiding them to the spot on the beach you had scoped out earlier. You don’t stop the conversation and just take in the time you had with your lovers, cherishing these quiet days when none of you had anything to do but love each other. 

Eventually, you happen on the spot, it's a little further down the beach from all the people which affords you the privacy you need. Being with two heroes is nice in a lot of ways and not so nice in some others. People recognize your boys all the time and usually, it's not a problem, most of the public is super nice and doesn’t take up a lot of time but you really just want today to be the three of you, with no interruptions and no random people coming up to you.

You task Steve with setting out the blanket and Bucky with finding some rocks to weigh down the edges. He quickly pecks your lips before giving you a joking salute and setting down the beach. When the blanket is all set out and secured you sit down with the basket and begin pulling things out. Starting with the cooler that holds the sparking white wine and the strawberries that you had already cut. You pull out a container of turkey and cheese pinwheels, some chips and salsa, deviled eggs which Steve loves, and lemon bars which Bucky loves. As you reach in to grab the last container your hand meets something wet and sticky and you groan.

“Why’s it… sticky?” You pull your hand out along with the broken plastic container full of chopped watermelon and make a face at the residue on your hand. Bucky laughs at the look on your face and takes the watermelon from you. Steve jumps into action and begins looking in the backpack you packed for any napkins or wet wipes but before he can find them, Bucky takes your hand in his and runs his tongue down the side of your wrist licking up the juice. 

You pull your hand from him and give him a look, “Now my hand is sticky and covered in spit, thank you, James.”

“Just trying to help Sugar.” He winks at you.

“No, Stevie was trying to help,” You take the wet wipe from his outstretched hand, “You were being a perv.”

“I told you Sugar, when you’re around I’m… motivated.”

“You need to be motivated to eat all the food I packed because it’ll go bad before we get back home.”

“It looks great Sweetheart, thank you for making everything.” Steve, grabs one of the pinwheels you made and takes a bite, moaning a bit at the taste.

“Damn it Steve, now I’m… motivated.”

“I can help you with that Sugar.” Bucky wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

“I appreciate the offer Honey, but I don’t want sand to get all up, everywhere.”

“Fair enough Sugar.”

The three of you spend several hours lounging around the beach, you don’t have anything else planned until dinner later so you let yourself relax a little bit. The boys have no problem finishing all the food you packed and after a while of just sitting and watching the waves, they get a little restless. 

You smile and shake your head. You really do know your boys. You pull the backpack closer to you fishing out the frisbee you brought and a book for yourself. You toss the plastic disk at Steve, “Go crazy you too.”

They practically jump up and start running a little ways away from the blanket lest you accidentally get caught in the crossfire. Sometimes you forget that they haven't had much time to be young, the war stole so much from them and neither of them has had the chance to let go in a really long time. 

They play and you read for another hour or so, you occasionally take glances at them. They’ve graduated from just tossing the disk back and forth to trying some trick shots. Their laughter lifts your heart and sticks a smile firmly on your face. 

What drops your smile though is the sudden darkening of the sky and the water that falls from the heavens shortly after. Your book gets splattered with a couple of drops at first and you glance up at the sky, cursing lightly. It wasn’t supposed to rain today, you double and triple-checked the weather before you left. 

It certainly wasn’t supposed to start absolutely pouring, it’s like the sky opened up and in a single moment you and everything around you were soaked. 

The boys run back towards you as you scramble to start packing everything back up. They help and in a few minutes, the three of you are once again, hand in hand except this time you’re sprinting down the beach back toward the bridge you had passed earlier. You practically collapse once you’re under the shelter. Dropping everything in one big pile and falling backward into the sand. 

The boys look at you in concern for a few seconds before you just start bursting out in laughter. You look like a drowned rat you’re sure but they still look at you with heart-eyes. They sit down next to you and start laughing along with you. The rain only lasts for a few more minutes, departing just as quickly as it arrived.

“Looks clear Sugar, we can go.” Bucky pulls the backpack onto his shoulder and stands, offering you his hand to pull you up.

“Damn, we can’t go to the diner dripping wet and covered in sand.”

“How about…” Steve starts, “We head home, take a shower get changed, and order a pizza from that place in the city you like. Then we can watch a movie and snuggle on the couch for the rest of the night.” He pulls you into his chest, looking down at you and pushing some wet strands of hair off your neck.

“That sounds fantastic Stevie, what do you think Buck?” You turn to look at him.

“I just want to spend time with you, I don't care where.”

“Sap.” You throw at him. He just shrugs and walks closer to you and Steve, wrapping his arms around you both and placing a kiss on the side of both of your heads. 

“Alright,” you go to pull out your phone, “I’ll call the car and we can head home.

The car doesn’t take long to meet you back at the entrance to the beach, you make a mental note to apologize to the driver for getting sand on the seats and add a couple of bucks to the tip you had planned.

When the three of you get home you do just as Steve said. All three of you make your way to your bathroom, you strip out of your still kind of wet clothes and climb into the shower together. You each take turns washing each other, sharing kisses, and cleaning all the sand from your bodies. 

You get out and put on some pajamas, a pair of loose cotton shorts, and a tank top along with a pair of socks that have dinosaurs on them. You had bought a pair of them for each of you as a simple no reason kind of gift. 

You make your way out to the living room where Steve and Bucky have already begun setting up, lighting some candles, and putting your favorite and most soft blanket through a quick cycle in the dryer to get it nice and toasty.

“Alright Sugar, the pizza is on its way the couch is set up for some serious snuggling action all we need now is our girl and a movie to watch.” He pulls you down so that you are lying across both him and Steve, your legs propped up on Steve’s legs. He immediately grabs ahold of your calves and starts massaging the flesh there. 

Steve puts on Muppets from Space, one of the hundreds of movies on the list he and Bucky have to still watch and he dims the lights with his phone.

“You know, I wanted to take care of you guys today, this isn’t really fair.” You spoke out into the room.

“You do take care of us Sweetheart, every day you take care of us.”

“Yeah sugar, you took care of everything today, you scheduled the car for an hour later, you packed some of our favorites, you brought a frisbee and you had planned a nice dinner at the place we love. It’s not your fault the day got messed up by some rain.”

“Still, I almost got everything perfect.”

“Sweetheart, every day with you is perfect whether or not we end up soaking wet and covered in sand.” Steve squeezes your thigh to drive his point home.

“I love you guys.” You sit up to give each of them a kiss.

“We love you too sugar, now hush I want to find out what kinda creature Gonzo is.”

“I take it back, I love Stevie, I tolerate you.” You stick your tongue out at Bucky.

“Brat.” the two of them say in unison, voices laced with affection.

[veltana]

Such a bad day

✦ Pairing: Ari Levinson/Fem!Reader/Jake Jensen ✦ Word count: ~2,2k ✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warnings/tags: Fluff and smut... that's basically it! Also, pwp, oral (fem receiving), vaginal sex, anal sex, double penetration, unprotected sex, creampie. ✦ Summary: You're moping because it's raining but Ari and Jake know how to turn that frown into something else. ✦ Note: This is my very late entry for @bigtreefest's Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration and I chose the prompt rain spoils your summer outdoor plans. It turned out so much dirtier than I intended, but in my defense I was suffering from The Hornies 🙈 As always, reblogs, comments and ask are very welcome!

Masterlist | AO3

With a sigh, you stare out through the large windows at the pouring rain, arms crossed, frowning, as if your displeasure will magically make the storm clear. You're supposed to get ready for the beach, not get ready to sit inside all day.

Just as you're about to sigh again, a pair of strong arms wrap around you from behind.

“Don't look so glum, Sunshine, we'll stay inside and play games instead,” Jake says and rests his chin on the top of your head. “But I looked forward to going to the beach,” you pout. “We're on vacation after all!”

Next, a wide torso blocks your view and tilts your head up with a pair of fingers. Ari's blue eyes meet yours and there is compassion in them, along with what you've learned to recognize as mischief. “I know a few games I would love to play,” his voice is low and you know exactly what it means.

This vacation is for the three of you to have time to be with each other. Between work, them being gone at different times for anything from a few days to months, and not knowing in what capacity they'll come back, it's nice to get out of the city and focus on each other. Right now, they want to focus on you.

Jake chuckles behind you. “How many orgasms can we pull from Sunshine here until she begs for mercy?” He guesses. Ari smiles wickedly in response. “Or how long will it take for her to beg you to fuck her in the ass.”

Jake and you moan in unison, making Ari chuckle. “I bet we can make you forget about the beach in just a few minutes. And if not I'll buy you that car you were drooling over yesterday.”

That is a win-win situation for you and you have no doubt which scenario will win. Jake's hands have already started to travel. Up your arms to your shoulders, lightly squeezing them, before finding the zipper to your dress between your shoulder blades and sliding it down. Ari pushes the straps off and the dress pools at your feet.

“Oh, fuck,” Jake curses. You can’t help the smile splitting your face because you're wearing his favorite panties.

“Sunshine, look at you,” Ari’s fingertips brush the underside of your bare breast, causing the nipple to stiffen to a firm peak. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you naked.”

You place your hand on his cheek and draw your thumb over his beard in a caress. “Right back at you.”

The sweet moment is interrupted by Jake’s mouth descending on your shoulder, kissing and nipping. Your eyes flutter shut with a moan. Ari grips your hand and kisses the inside of your palm, then down your wrist and upper arm. You’ll never grow tired of feeling their lips on you, it makes you melt, and it’s as if you don’t have care in the world.

Together they shower you with kisses and love bites, letting their hands explore your skin. It's nothing new for them but they still act like every inch of skin is newly discovered. There is thunder in the distance, and the rain is getting more intense, but you’re certainly no longer thinking of the spoiled beach trip. There is a pulse in your body that encompasses all.

Jake turns your head carefully, claiming your mouth thoroughly before releasing you to Ari, who does the same, before Jake starts walking backward, taking you with him while Ari follows. Ari breaks away from you as Jake sits on the couch and you fall into his lap. “Sunshine,” he says low in your ear. “I wanna fuck your ass.”

Both you and Ari laugh. It’s no secret how much Jake loves that, and you do too, especially if Ari is inside you at the same time.

“Patient, Jake,” Ari huffs and kneels between your legs, pulling off your panties. Jake spreads his thighs, taking yours with him, and in a heartbeat, you're open for Ari’s taking. “I need to have my fill first.”

He lifts your foot and kisses your ankle, caressing and massaging your thigh before his lips travel up the soft skin on the inside. He places it on his shoulder before leaning in.

A high-pitched whimper leaves you when Ari’s mouth lands on your pussy, but he won’t let you just get what you want. His touch is maddeningly light, just enough to make your clit throb uncomfortably hard.

Jake’s hands cup your breasts, squeezing just the way you like it before pinching your nipples. “Or let me come all over your tits.” Jake knows you love it when they come on you, mark you in the most primal way.

At that moment, Ari chooses to softly suck your clit into his mouth. “Whatever you want!” you moan loudly. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly they make you a blubbering mess, ready to do anything to have your release.

Ari’s tongue is doing devilish things to your cunt. Then he picks up the pace and a second later, two fingers plummet into your cunt. “Fuck!” you moan. “Yeah, I agree,” Jake’s face is right beside yours, watching as he casually plucks at your nipples. “He’s so good at that. Love it too!” You feel him smirk as he continues. “Loves the taste, the feel. Love you.”

“Ahaa! Love-love you too. Please make me come! Please please please!” It’s hard to stay still when you’re this close to coming. The nerves in your body are like fireworks. It’s too much, almost painful and you want to get away from it at the same time you want to press Ari's face into you and grind on his tongue. Luckily, Jake is strong and keeps you pressed against him with one hand splayed over your sternum and the other at the base of your throat.

When you shatter you do it with a cry of Ari’s name, his lips and fingers work you through it just as expertly as he made you come.

Blissed out you lean heavily against Jake, nuzzling into the side of his neck, thinking Ari's going to fuck you now. But his mouth never leaves, lapping all over your cunt, sucking his fingers clean before plunging his tongue into your hole.

“Ari,” you whine. But Jake hushes you and you're subjected to the torture of Ari pulling another two orgasms from you before they show you mercy.

Ari kisses your thighs, up your stomach and finally your lips. It tastes of you but you don't mind. As soon as he's done, Jake turns your head and you give him your mouth. He groans as he sucks on your tongue. Your moan mixes with a giggle at his silly little antic.

Ari smiles as he sits at the corner of the couch, legs spread. “Now Sunshine, you get to decide. Pussy and mouth or pussy and ass?”

You whine in protest. Ari's dick is so heavenly thick to have in your throat while Jake fucks you, but the thought of being dp'd with their fat cocks is a sensation there is no match for.

You crawl over to Ari, sitting on his thighs and unbuttoning his pants before leaning your head onto his chest and looking over your shoulder. “Get the lube Jake,” you say and wiggle your butt at him.

He stands up and tears open a pocket in his cargo shorts to pull out a tube you recognize. His shit-eating grin is so cute and hot. It cracks you right up. Ari isn't immune to it either and smiles as Jake starts to strip.

The laughter stops in your throat as Jake's gaze takes on that dark look that makes you weak. Biting your lip you turn to look up at Ari, his eyes looking much the same. His large hands come up and caress your sides. “Take out my cock,” he orders softly. A shiver runs through you as you do as he says. The weight in your hand is as exciting as it's comforting.

Jake's palms slide over your cheeks, parting them and groaning. “Ari, put your cock in, I wanna see you fill her cunt.” His voice is wrecked. “You heard him, Sunshine. You know what to do.”

Sitting up straighter you raise yourself, but before doing as they ask you make sure to swipe Ari's tip over your soaked cunt, slicking him up, teasing him as he did you earlier. “Fuck!” He moans. “You made me so wet, Ari! Jake could probably use it to fuck my ass.” “Don't tempt me,” Jake almost growls.

Then you lower yourself on Ari's cock and sink down easily. “That's so good!” You close your eyes and lean your head back, rocking back and forth. “Such a good girl Sunshine, taking my cock so well,” Ari murmurs and lifts his hip, fucking into you. “Gonna be just as good and take Jake too?”

You nod, but continue to move while Jake uncapps the lube. You stop with great effort, leaning into Ari, and look at Jake. Jake always prepares you perfectly. He makes sure to go slow and it never hurts. The problem is that you think you’re ready way before he does. “I can take it now Jake,” you urge while grinding your clit against Ari. But he only tsks at you and adds more lube before pressing in a third finger, moving and scissoring them. Your entire body trembles, from restraint and excitement. It’s to the point where it’s almost too much again. You need him inside too, or you’re going to die! “Please, Jake, please. It’ll fit, I promise!”

“Damn, Sunshine, don’t stay shit like that,” but he pulls out his fingers and slicks himself up generously with lube. As he presses inside your eyes roll back into your head. Your whole body vibrates with pleasure from being so full. “Is it too much Sunshine?” Ari asks as he observes you, but you shake your head. “I'm good, I'm good, don't stop!” All three of you are panting by the time Jake bottoms out. He keeps cursing under his breath about it being so tight. You take a few deep breaths, then move.

The first time it happened both Jake and Ari came incredibly fast, almost embarrassingly, but they made it up to you until they were ready to go again. It's not something you do often, it's an indulging treat for the three of you.

The movements are small but not much is needed anyway. Jake keeps cursing between the moaning and grunting. Ari's fingers keep flexing on your hips, he's itching to take over but he knows to wait for you.

A tingling feeling starts building, but you know it’s much better when they get you there. You relax, staying still, and without needing to tell them they take over. It’s as if they’re telepathic, or maybe they have just been together long enough to just know, because they move in perfect sync. One slides out while the other slides in.

“Damn, Sunshine, this is so good. You don't even understand!” Jake pants. With a whine, you look at him over your shoulder. There is a thin sheen of sweat on his upper body and his glasses are askew. Bracing yourself on Ari’s chest, you beg, “Kiss me, Jakie!” He leans in and obliges without faltering his pace, licking into your mouth and playing with your tongue. “Keep doing that, she's so tight,” Ari says between clenched teeth. Then he pinches your nipple, making you cry out into the kiss.

“You sound so sexy,” Jake tells you when he takes a breath. “I wanna make you scream the whole day, until the neighbors call the cops.” “Mhm! Mhm! Mhm!” you nod. “I'm so close, Sunshine!” Ari tells you. “But I need you to come first. I want you to squeeze me like a vice when I fill your sweet cunt.”

You angle your hips, making sure your clit rubs against Ari's pelvis. His blue eyes are almost black from lust as you use him to chase your orgasm. “So close!” you say. “Yeah, I know you are. Come on Sunshine, let us hear you come, let us feel your body shake with it.” Ari rumbles. “Fuck, that's good,” Jake's thrusts get more intense, his hips meeting your ass with loud slaps.

You concentrate on the sensation, letting the heat swell in your center, and spread through your limbs, making your arms and legs shake. It surges until it’s as if you're going to lose your mind and then it crashes through you like a tidal wave, pushing a scream out through your mouth, your body seizing with the force. Jake is right behind you with a curse of your name, and then Ari thrusts up hard into you and comes with a growl.

The rain patters on the window as you collapse against Ari's chest and the three of you catch your breath. Afterward, you cuddle on the couch, leaning against Jake with your feet in Ari's lap. A movie plays on the TV but you barely notice it. You feel sated and warm. They absolutely made you forget about the spoiled breach trip and it wasn't such a bad day after all.

[steviebbboi]

It's That Steve - Espresso

Writing this for @bigtreefest's Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration. Congratulations on 300! Thanks for putting this together :)

This follows the prompt/trope: friends to lovers + “you know, that's my favorite” + long drive together + summer inspired song

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (no y/n)

Words: 1,454 w/c

Disclaimer(s): 18+ fic, widely fluff and sweet moments btw/n you and Steve, adoration and sweetness, mild general descriptions of the reader's features, implied and mild depictions of smut, friends to lovers, equal partnership, subtledom!Steve, vacation time, Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter is featured in the fic - I do not own!

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh

Is it that sweet? I guess so

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know

That's that me, espresso

Gusts of wind gently grazed the green silk scarf around your face, strands of your hair still peeking out and being rustled by the breeze. You recognized the song playing on the radio and hummed in appreciation. The song may have been playing everywhere, but when it comes on, you can’t seem to skip it. Listening to it allows the sunrays and laziness of summer to seep into the music. 

You looked away from the road briefly to reach over and increase the volume. Gently singing with the chorus, “Say you can't sleep, baby, I know – That's that me, espresso.” Humming the rest of the verse, Steve couldn’t help but extend a soft smile. He always appreciated your singing and your voice was a source of ease for him to bask in. 

Driving your red convertible on a long ride to Cape Cod, Steve was finally using his PTO. You would think Avenging would allow for unlimited time off but according to Steve, he only desires to take time off if he really needed to. After conversations about visiting the Cape (you may or may have not taken screenshots of the bay and saved them on his phone for him to find later), you accomplished convincing Steve of how necessary it is for you two to spend more time together away from the hustle and bustle of NYC.

Tuning into the song as you continued humming along, Steve’s curiosity took a hold when listening to one particular lyric. 

“What does she mean by ‘me, espresso’? Is that colloquial nowadays?” Steve innocently wondered out loud. 

The man carried super soldier strength and can strategize a whole army to coordinate together, to follow his leadership – but bless him, his innocence when being curious about the modernization of flirting was a beautiful thing to witness.

You let out a giggle and explained, “Steve, it’s an expression of her power as a woman layered within the song.” At Steve’s persistent look of confusion, your smile only grew bigger as you continued, “She’s conveying her effect on men – she’s always on their minds or they’d be up all night addicted to her. Like how you would be if you drank espresso, y’know, a strong caffeinated, addictive, beverage.” You wiggled your eyebrows at him to drill the suggestiveness of the lyric home even more. 

Steve’s face turned into comprehension until he frowned and looked at the cup of coffee securely placed in the car, “Does that mean that you’re my, espresso?” 

At that comment, you heartily laugh and look over at him with adoration, “Yes, Steve. I am your espresso.” Saying that with a straight face was the hardest thing you had to do the entire drive. 

Steve took in your teasing tone and softly smiled while reaching over to grab your hand to place on his lap. It was no secret that the adoration was mutual, if not more, in your relationship with Steve. Your start as friends only increased the intimacy between you when your relationship turned romantic. 

Widely attributed to the dating culture back in his day, but you would like to think it's also because of his own love for you, Steve is the kind of partner to pull out your chair for you everytime you sit at a restaurant to eat. He’s the kind of partner to pull you in closer when watching a sad movie on the couch, to not judge you for your feelings but to rub your back until you feel safe. 

Despite his status as an Avenger, you have never felt less than, nor have you ever felt unworthy, in your relationship with Steve. He took time to always extend an appreciation for you - if you cooked dinner for the two of you after he returned from a long day, the softest of smiles that was only reserved for you (like the one that he is giving you right now). He was an affirmative partner that helped you feel love, never putting you on a pedestal - and neither did you. 

The thought floated in your head as you glanced over at him a few times. Adorning a soft white tee and brown linen pants with a pair of worn converse - a smile graced your face at how casual Captain America looks right now, compared to the formidable stealth suit that most people envision him wearing most of the time. Steve was looking out onto the road, the sunshine lighting his face just right, his blonde hair tousled back by the wind, and his hand now caressing yours in his lap like it was second nature to do so. 

You adored him.

Glancing over your boyfriend again only resulted in him catching your gaze with another soft smile on his face. Although you were the one caught staring, Steve was content in letting this moment sit in silence, the music from the radio still playing softly in the background. 

Noticing this, you bit your lip nervously while glancing at him as he slowly gazed at you from the passenger seat. Steve’s eyes followed the silk green scarf holding your brown locks, down to the white dress that you were wearing that followed the curves of your body, and although partially hidden, your favorite summer heels that accentuated your body just right. His eyes landed on your lips, the way that your teeth were tugging at your bottom lip only reminded him of his own doing the same things last night. At the thought, his eyes darkened a bit making you release your lip. 

Clearing his throat, his eyes gravitate back to your scarf. He simply said, “You know, that one’s my favorite.” 

His comment rested casually in the space until you looked at him again with your own mild curiosity. “Which? The scarf?” You mindfully try to tuck in wisps of hair escaping said scarf back behind your ears unsuccessfully. 

Steve let out a gentle hmm and said, “You look beautiful in green, sweetheart.” He pulled the hand that he was holding to his soft lips and grazed the back of your hand with a lingering kiss. 

Your heart did the thing again where it skips a beat when he compliments you. You aren’t used to partners being so emotionally expressive and deep when extending their appreciation to you. Steve had no issues communicating with you about anything, and you both knew that when Steve spoke, it's always with intention. And right now, although his compliment was sent and received with a wholesome air, you were able to hear the passion underneath that said more about how much he admired you. 

Blushing a bit, especially when Steve was still making eye contact with you and continuing to graze his lips on your skin, you responded with a quiet thank you, baby. It was always like this with Steve. Somehow, his innocuous words and calm observations lead to an intimate, sensuality between the two of you. 

“How much longer till we reach the apartment?” Steve broke the atmosphere with his question. Steve was still adopting a fair innocent tone, although the way that he was still pressing soft kisses on your hand says otherwise.

Gulping a bit, still feeling flushed, you look over at the GPS, “It’s looking like we will get there in about 15 minutes.”

He smiled while still holding your gaze, “Good. I can’t wait to ravish you when we get there.” Still holding that ‘golden boy’, respectful tone, though, his eyes were still darkened from earlier, and were vocalizing his utter need for you. 

Flashbacks to the previous night where you were gasping underneath Steve’s sculpted body, his hands gripping yours above your head in the same softness that he was holding it now. Yet, his passionate possessiveness was shown in his tight grip. The heat of his skin being pressed against yours felt overwhelming but was so welcomed. Though, his whispered words held a revered promise in your ear of the same devotion that he was telling you now. The intimacy was almost too much to take in as tears left your eyes and soft moans were let out while Steve continued to thrust into you. His own groans reached your ears in genuine satisfaction. 

As you finally settled into the rented apartment, Steve proceeded to do exactly what he said he would. The lyrics of the song still echoing in the background of your mind.

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh

Is it that sweet? I guess so

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know

That's that me, espresso

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first submission for a collective like this - thanks again to @bigtreefest for allowing us to celebrate with you!

Likes or reblogs/comments are heartily appreciated!

Read my other submission for Essie’s Summer Lovin’ Celebration here

[anika-ann]

A Series of (Un)Fortunate Events - S.R.

Part 2 of 2

Type: two-shot, idiots-in-love, feel-good fic (part 1 here)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 10,7k (I-)

Summary: A few things had gone wrong on your camping trip with Steve and other fellow agents.

But is that such a bad thing?

Warnings: NSFW,  18+, size and praise kink if you squint, semi-public sex kiiinda, language, attempt at humour, FLUFF , Steve being a menace

A/N: written for the Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration hosted by @bigtreefest In this chapter, you darlings shall get "Who thought a place with mosquitos was a good idea?"; "You know this one’s my favourite", trying not to get caught and kinks size and praise, if you squint, as well as semi-public sex

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰 Several Agent of SHIELD characters are involved - I don't think you need any knowledge of the show to read this

The last sunrays of the day illuminated the crowns of the tallest trees, the shadows casted growing longer and wider. The fire the guys had started flickered in the breeze carrying the fresh cool air from above the lake. The warm colours of the flames danced across the improvised campsite you had settled, its heat not reaching the clothes you had washed and hanged in the nearby group of trees, but certainly had wonderful effect on everyone sitting around the fire. Work done and belly full, you were beginning to feel the miles you had walked taking its toll, pleasant but very real fatigue settling into your body.

And you weren’t the only one, by the look of it.

During dinner, everyone was supposed to share their most surprising moment from the field; but now, the chatter had quieted down, movements growing rather sluggish even as the atmosphere was serene and amicable. Bucky had taken it upon himself to finish the last pieces of grilled meat; the rest of you were simply staring into flames, talking quietly, or shuffled around in search of a soon-needed flashlight.   

The sudden rapid – and very distinct – movement on Daisy’s part startled you, snapping you awake from your near slumber.

It wasn’t just you who winced – not that Daisy seemed bothered by all the looks the unsolicited use of her powers attracted, huffing and waving her hand around.

“Ugh. Who the heck thought a place with mosquitos was a good idea? These little bastards love me for some reason… no one told me turning Inhuman had that effect,” she complained, once again striking the annoying insect with a wave of deadly vibrations. “Yes! Finally.”

You stared at her, blinking, wondering if you had actually fallen asleep and this was one of the creations of your hippocampus, nothing but a dream. The fact that everyone was staring too though made for quite an argument against that theory.

“Did you just… quake apart a mosquito?” Bobbi asked, sounding as incredulous – and amused – as you felt.

“Huh?”

Hunter cackled at Daisy cluelessness. “I think she did. Wow. Way to go, Trembles.”

“Tremors, Hunter. Mack calls me Tremors,” she corrected him gently, without an ounce of shame, proud of her murderous accomplishment if anything.“And why – yes, I did. And for everyone’s information, I’m not afraid to do that to any annoying elements on this trip.”

Smile dripping of sarcasm, Daisy turned to Hopkinson, who rolled his eyes and muttered ‘subtle’ under his breath.

A fresh wave of fondness towards Daisy swirled in your chest and you made a mental note to give her a hug just for that. You didn’t want anyone to get into crosshairs for your benefit; you didn’t want to stir conflict – if anything, acting partly like a liaison, you were often in the position of a peacemaker – but you’d be damned if Daisy or anyone else being on your side of things didn’t make you feel loved and appreciated.  

You had purposely not sat down next to Steve, even if you had wanted to. You didn’t want to give Hopkinson or anyone else any more ammo and… it was enough that you were wearing Steve’s hoodie, your brain somehow translating it into Steve’s warmth keeping you comfortable. From experience, you knew that if you sat next to him and felt the heat he was radiating despite only wearing short sleeves still, you’d lose it and might actually snuggle him. Even two seats over, you were painfully aware of his presence; and any moment you allowed yourself to think about sharing a tent with him, you were pushing yourself further into the area of crossing The Line.

Crossing it by miles.

“You know that the point of this trip is bonding, right?” May commented dryly, the twitch of the corner of her lips giving away her amusement – or approval.

“Sometimes eliminating the unbearable variable helps,” Natasha said matter-of-factly, gaze flickering to Hopkinson too. “Nothing strengthens friendships like burying a body of a common enemy together. Trust me.”

Mental note to hug Natasha as well, you thought. Or maybe buy her a fine quality bottle of red. She was a fan. You had drunk enough with her to know.

Bucky snickered silently at her side; and the fact Steve just hummed in silent approval and didn’t intervene despite this having been his idea, bonding during a camping trip indeed, spoke volumes about how pissed he was still for the comment Hopkinson had made earlier.

It almost made you feel bad for him; but Hunter’s wide eyes and Bobbi biting back a smile at the nonchalance in Natasha’s tone were simply too good not to enjoy.

However, Hopkinson did not seem to appreciate the gang-up, his face a mixture of offence and annoyance.

“Seriously, guys. Can you at least pretend you don’t play favourites 24/7?”

“No,” sounded collectively around the fire, causing your lips to part in awe; and your chest to feel pleasantly full.

Steve’s voice was no surprise to you, neither was Natasha’s or Bucky’s – or Daisy’s for that matter. Hunter’s too, since he was for any mischief he could get – but May’s voice joining the chorus took you aback a bit. The smile on Bobbi’s face told you that she herself only hadn’t agreed with the rest of them out loud out of diplomacy.

Hopkinson still threw his hands in the air, letting them fall to his thighs with a muffled slap before climbing to his feet and moving towards his tent in a demonstrative dramatic exit.

Bobbi followed his example, standing up too.

“Right. This was fun, guys, but I’m going to bed. Someone planned an insanely long hike for tomorrow,” she said, pointedly looking at Steve, who smiled and raised his hands as if he was giving up when everyone else glared at him too.

It was no wonder they looked at him; the way the flames painted shadows over his arms was simply gorgeous. It was hard not to linger, hard no let your eyes wander.

…and your thoughts were gradually losing filter the more tired you were getting. Maybe you should just go to sleep; if you were out before Steve would arrive, there was a chance of keeping up the façade. Maybe.

You rose to your feet.

“I guess I should go to bed too. I’ll just take a quick rinse in the lake and settle in the tent, that okay?” you said, checking with Steve, who only nodded with a reassuring smile

“Whatever works for you.”

“Take someone with you. Seems like bad luck keeps following you,” May hummed, earning a few chuckles from others.

As you looked at her, her smirk was somehow secretive, causing you to waver. Did she know something you didn’t? Were you cursed? Was this another of the infamous prank wars SHIELD agents sometimes declared? It didn’t happen often, but you had heard stories; in fact, May had such a great poker face that her team had once failed to recognize her as the perpetrator of the notorious whipped-cream-on-hand-when-sleeping prank on Agent Fitz and they only had found out when she confessed months later.  

“Yeah, we don’t want you to drown…” Hunter said, wincing when Steve and Bucky snapped their head to him with downright menacing glares. “What?! We don’t!”

You snorted, swallowing the ‘down, boys’ threatening to slip from your lips. It was still nice of them though – they didn’t know Hunter as well as you did. He didn’t mean anything bad.

Or did he? Was he, too, on that prank war that might be and might not be happening here with you as the main target?

“I’ll go,” Daisy said, jumping to her feet, now seriously making you question whether you were turning insane. “What? He has a point. Let’s go—oh come on, die, you blood-sucking little bast-”

Shaking your head, you just accepted it, too tired to care; but making a mental note to check your sleeping bag for bugs and itching power just to make sure.

As you were gathering the few precious pieces of clothes that had survived the marinade attack, including a towel, you couldn’t but chuckle at Hunter’s suddenly wide-awake voice.

“Hey, hold on, do you think that mosquitos who drink Inhuman blood turn into some… superpowered freaks? I read a story about a guy who was bitten by some freaky spider once, and he became a-“

“Hunter… shut up.”

While your feet barely even shuffled towards the part of the lake hidden from the sight of your teammates sitting by the fire, the cool water of the lake certainly awoke your senses anew. You and Daisy barely dipped your toes into water when you felt it started taking effect.

And yet. As Daisy looked back towards the camp, as if making sure no one had followed you, she dropped a bombshell on you which wiped any traces of fatigue as fast as if she fired a gun next to your ear.

“Okay, done deal,” she said, almost nonchalantly by her measures, as she descended into water, “you have to shag Steve, like yesterday.”

You turned to her so fast you nearly toppled over and fell into water just like Hunter had unwittingly predicted. Arms spread wide for balance, hissing as your knee hit the cold water surface, you didn’t – but that wasn’t important. And Hunter was not at all importantat the moment either.

What the--- what?!

And did she have to say it like that?

Of course she did. It was Daisy after all.

“Daisy!”

“What? Come on! He has literal heart-eyes whenever he’s with you. He even has a special nickname for you. That guy is smitten. And you are not at all better, since we’re at it, by the way,” she noted with a smirk, before sliding into water casually as if she was stating a boring obvious fact and not… that.

It left you dumbstruck.

Not that you didn’t want to ‘shag’ Steve. But that was not the point!

Were you really that obvious? Certainly, you couldn’t have been. You were an agent. A professional. Stealthy. And yes, Steve sometimes… looked at you in a certain way, way that made you feel warm and hot all over, but-

You shook your head, following Daisy’s lead, breathing out slowly as the nonetheless welcomed coolness of the lake enveloped you.

“That’s not-"

“Not what?” Daisy questioned, turning to you to show off her arched eyebrow. “Please. Take your lies elsewhere. And hey – the opportunity literally presented itself. I mean, maybe your sleeping bag is full of bugs, better to share with him since you’re already sharing his tent. I mean, you’ll have to be pretty close to each other anyway. It’s a big tent, but it’s not that big…”

She trailed off, a hint of a smile playing in the corners of her lips, your face growing hotter with every word; but there was also something in her tone that made the spy in you hyper-alert all of sudden. Something about the glee in her voice, her expression, the sparkles of enthusiasm in her eyes, her-

-abilities.

The realization dawned to you with a gasp, your jaw actually falling slack.

No. She wouldn’t.

Surely, she wouldn’t have-

Oh she absolutely would.

The buckles which had been securing the tent to your backpack had fallen apart. They had broken conveniently when you had been crossing the river, and in the area where the water was the deepest no less. Steve had had to hold you so you wouldn’t take a dive, Bucky had been too far to pull the tent out immediately, causing it to soak and sink-

“…did you quake apart the buckles that held my tent to my backpack? Because I’m sure they were as good as new when I secured the tent.”

You should be shocked. You should be scandalized. But as you said it out loud, it made perfect sense and Daisy was definitely the kind of person to do something like this given the right motivation.

And boy, did she seem motivated.

“…maybe.”

“Daisy!” You pushed the water with the heel of your palm, sending a solid wave to soak her hair to make her cool the hell down. “What the hell?!”

She laughed as she coughed the water out, shaking it from her hair, something impossibly warm humming in your chest and bubbling out in the form of laughter as well.

God, she had really done that, hadn’t she? You couldn’t believe her.

“What? You two are taking forever. Like… I’m sorry, I like me a slow-burn. But you’re moving like a drunk sloth, I swear. I haven’t decided if watching you two dance around each other is cute or painful,” she emphasized, the brightness in her expression telling you it was the former, but it was a close call. You just stared at her mutely, unable to decide whether to be mortified or laugh some more. “Plus, I’m begging you. You two need to get together just to put Hopkinson out of his misery and show him that it’s a lost cause.”

Your brain latched onto the last piece of information, because in the sea of things you were mildly mortified and rather amused to hear, this one didn’t even make sense.

“What do you mean? What’s a lost cause?”

Daisy chuckled, clearly entertained by a joke you were not aware you had said; a joke you did not understand in the slightest.

When she realized that, her smile slipped, replaced by awe.

“You’re… you’re kidding, right?”

“About what?” you asked, genuinely completely lost – and frankly, slightly irritated, because Daisy gasped at your reaction, laughing again. “What?!”

“Oh my god, how did you not notice? You’re a spy. One of the best agents SHIELD has, ever had, even May says so, and that says a lot,” Daisy noted, causing you to purse your lips, something inside you puffing in pride, effectively distracting you for a moment.“But oh my god, you really didn’t know. It’s obvious! H-jerk has hots for you.”

Blank. Your mind turned blank for a split second, no image, no sound.

Daisy could slap you across your face and use her powers doing so and you would be less dumbstruck.

“What?!”

What the---- what?!

Daisy, the little shit, had the audacity to snicker at your perfectly appropriate reaction – but that was because she was joking, right? She was pulling your leg. She had to.

“Come on, Libra.That ‘keep her warm’ comment? Grade-A display of jealousy – and I don’t think Steve is his type, if you catch my drift.”

You did catch her drift.

Except you didn’t.

“No! I mean--- yeah, I catch your drift, but… he doesn-“ you stopped mid-protest, words dying on your lips.

The idea was… strange at best. Intriguing, in the worst way possible. Plausible – except Hopkinson was being a douche to you 24/7.

Which, now that you thought of it, could possibly be some manifestation of his frustration of you not paying attention to him? But that would make it a lost cause – the bigger jerk he was being, the less you wanted to deal with him… which made him act like even a bigger douche, which made you even less interested in being in the same room as him and leading you to spend even more time with Steve, which would only make Hopkinson--- no. You didn’t not want to get into that vicious circle, getting the basic idea.

Insane and not really a likeable idea; plausible, but not probable.

Even if it did make a tiny bit of sense, you supposed. In some twisted, immature male logic.

“Oh.”

Daisy grinned. “Yeah. Oh.”

Oh she really believed that wholeheartedly, didn’t she? You weren’t even sure what to make of that – but frankly, you didn’t think you wanted to think about that too hard.

Scratch that, it was the last thing you wanted to think about, even if in a way, you understood Daisy’s amusement.

A little.

“Okay, this… today was a long day. I’m done,” you said decisively, earning a chuckle from your companion. “Enjoy the lake. I’m gonna go… before I find out other disturbing facts.”

Daisy, bless her, just hummed. She let you dry up and slip into your sleep clothes – and Steve’s hoodie, because you really liked the way it felt and made you feel, safe, among other things – in blissful silence, only speaking again as she was climbing out of the water herself.

“Well, now that we cleared things up… go shag the All-American golden boy.”

You ignored the pleasant tingle the idea sent through your body, raising your hand to gesture for her to just... stop please, as you gathered the rest of your things.

“Oookay, Daisy. I’m gonna go now. To bed. Alone. Have a good night though.”

“Sure. Night! …and share the sleeping bag!” she called after you as you turned away, causing you to shake your head, grinning like a madwoman now that she couldn’t see you.

Feigning outrage, you yelled back at her:

“Good night, Daisy!”

The tent was illuminated softly, signalling Steve’s presence as you approached it and climbed inside. Your backpack was already stored in the veranda, safe under the roof so none of your remaining clothes would get wet with a surprise night rain or the morning dew.

You lightly scratched on the cloth of the door, a wordless question you soon got your answer to, being invited in.

The warmth in Steve’s voice made your stomach somersault, the smile that had settled on your lips during your conversation with Daisy widening; and as soon as you unzipped the door and revealed Steve sitting on the improvised bed, you found him smiling in return.

He had changed into a pair of boxers and a sleepshirt, a nondescript grey loose thing only he could possibly make appear attractive, but one he liked anyway because the material was soft and airy at once. You would know; you had worn it before, with his scent lingering on the fabric, when you had needed some extra comfort after a nightmare, needed to feel as safe as you would in his arms but couldn’t have born the heat of his body holding you close at the moment.

Something gentle and sweet hummed in your chest at the memory; the sight of him, sitting here waiting for you, erased the last strain of the day.

Including Hopkinson’s annoying but truthful comment and Daisy’s strange theory… and more importantly, her instruction.

You shook your head incredulously at her shenanigans, Steve’s greeting earning a curious edge.

“Hey, you okay? You haven’t nearly drowned, have you?” he questioned, watching you as you climbed into the tent and zipped it up again, his gaze roaming your figure with attentive care despite his teasing.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “Har, har, Captain Rogers. I’m fine, just… come bearing some news.”

“Oh? Tell me.”

He didn’t scoot over to make space for you; he didn’t have to. You didn’t mind his proximity. In fact, you yearned for it; and he knew it all too well.

“Well, according to Daisy,” you said, unable to keep the puzzlement from your voice, “Hopkinson is being a jerk, because he ‘has hots’ for me.”

Steve’s expression darkened, a frown twisting his handsome features.

“I don’t like the sound of that… and why would he be such a jerk to you if he likes you?”

You shrugged before sitting down next to him close enough that your thigh brushed his. It was a little funny, really; the tent had a fairly high ceiling, though not enough for Steve to stand up straight, and it was wide enough for you both to sit comfortably on your own. But sitting beside him, touching him, was an instinct; a magnetic force you were helpless against and didn’t mind succumbing to. Especially since Steve’s face cleared as you did so, reminding you why he was all frowny in the first place.

“Go figure. I guess some men don’t move on from the tugging on girl’s pigtails to show affection stage,” you mused, suddenly unbothered by it; because it was not your problem and the other news was much more fun. “Oh and she thinks that I should, I quote, shag the All-American golden boy.”

A slow grin spread on Steve’s face, his thigh nudging yours. “Now, that I do like.”

“Don’t-“ you warned him, smiling wide, heart speeding up at the twinkle in his eyes and the sheer beauty of it. “The lights are on, mister.”

“Easy fix.”

One hand reaching for yours, the other for the lamp, you felt profound warmth spread through your veins as his eyes observed you, taking in all of you, as if you had entered the tent in a luxurious ballgown and not a pair of leggings and his hoodie. It could be unnerving sometimes, the eyes of an artist looking at you as if you were a fine piece of art, but the emotion captured in that gaze was making you breathless in the best way possible.

As the lamp clicked silently, Steve’s thumb ran over the back of your hand; a small gesture of affection hidden by the shadows, just like your love.

You and Steve had clicked almost instantly.

You had fallen hard.

You yearned for a touch, always.

And so did he.

The perfect match.

Two months ago, talking had no longer been the only thing on agenda for you when he had asked you out. Two months ago, you had found out that Steve’s lips were as soft and sweet as they seemed and drawing was not the only art he mastered. Two months ago, you had discovered that Steve’s hands were not only made for fighting and protecting and creating something beautiful, but for holding you and showing you heaven unparalleled.

You were in love.

You were lovers.

You had just decided to keep it low for the moment – as low as it was possible among spies like Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes or Melinda May, as low as it was possible among the Avengers.

It wasn’t that you were ashamed of each other or your together or worried about professional repercussions – Steve was confident that should it come to it, he could make sure you wouldn’t work on same missions should either of you feel compromised by your relationship. That wasn’t an issue, not truly.

It was just that… he was Captain America. You were a SHIELD agent, half an Avenger, one might say. You had noisy friends and colleagues, and the public already speculated about the nature of your relationship whenever someone snapped a picture of you two together. It wasn’t a question of life and death, even if Steve might argue on that one, worrying his affections might put you into an even bigger danger than you already were on a daily basis. It was a question of comfort.

You wanted your love to be just yours for a little while longer; you wanted your love to be a private place, a shelter, a sanctuary – not a public affair.

So outside the privacy of certain rooms in the Avengers facility, you were still nothing but close friends. That was what you had agreed on, this trip included. Key word of the trip: friends.

You weren’t sure if the façade would hold.

With Steve’s hand now cupping your cheek, you weren’t so sure you cared.

You cared much more about the relief flowing through your body at finally feeling his touch again, an invisible weight, a subconscious tension in the back of your head, melting off your body. That, and you cared that he could see just fine while your eyes were still adjusting, your brain scrambling to put together a mental image of the tent you had seen before.

It was rather difficult to focus now that Steve had kissed your lips, steering your mind elsewhere, but as you briefly met his lips in return – oh so sweet and tempting – one fact about the interior struck you, causing you to withdraw a bit.

“…where’s my sleeping bag?”

You might still not see Steve’s face clearly, but you could hear the smile in his voice just fine.

“Don’t know. Do you need it?”

You chuckled, arching your brow, naively clueless.

“I’m going to sleep, so yes. It’s a sleeping bag. There’s literally its purpose in its name.”

Steve’s hand grasped at your nape to pull you back as you tried to look around, inching closer, his amused gaze boring into yours in the shadows.

“Don’t get smart with me now, sweetheart,” he whispered, fingers flexing in your skin, a signal your body comprehended just fine, just like the message unspoken.

His lips brushing yours again helped too, excitement tingling in your belly, the protest slipping off your tongue but a weak alibi for when you’d reason you had agreed to keep your hands to yourselves in favour of keeping your relationship secret still.

“Steve… we shouldn’t,” you breathed against his mouth, as if you weren’t already reciprocating the affection, parting your lips for him, hand slipping from his own to stroke up his arm to grip on his shoulder, your other laid on his chest.

“No, we shouldn’t.”

Breathing having turned fast and shallow, you welcomed his lips like soil welcomed rain after weeks of drought; parched earth now soaking in relief, new wild life sprouting within, warm and beautiful under the sun Steve embodied as he caressed your skin.

It lit you alive, finally touching him again as you were meant to, as you were longing since had set off for the trip; finally feeling sated after having been drinking every feeble drizzle in the form of a gentle brush of hands he had offered, yet growing thirsty with every drop of affection you wished you could drown in.

You wouldn’t stop for air when he kissed you breathless. When he pulled you to his lap, his palm settling firmly over your back, the only sensible thing your desire-drunk brain could think of was to press closer, hand sliding into his hair, relishing in the way his fingers dug into your flesh with need. You wouldn’t have stopped for air – what was the few agents, your friends, who had no idea your relationship with Steve was way beyond platonic. They couldn’t see you anyway. Half of them already knew; the other half was probably asleep.

Here. Now. Steve’s lips, his hands, his torso firm and steady apart from his wavering breaths, thighs solid but soft and welcoming between your legs. That mattered.

Steve released your lips with a sigh of deep contentment and a teeny protest on your part, foreheads resting against one another, a peck to your lips to sooth you, a peck to his to show you didn’t have enough of him. Not nearly enough. You never would.

The smile he gave you was warmer than the midday sun; that much you could see, your eyes finally slowly adjusting.

“Hi,” he breathed out.

Just like that.

Hi.

The simplest greetingwhose true meaning – I missed you – remained hidden to the world outside of you two. Much like other small gestures today.

A smile; I’m happy you’re here with me.

Catching you when you had slipped; I’ve got you.

Treating your wounds; I’ll always take care of you.

Cradling your hands; you’re precious to me.

Checking up on him; I’m here for you.

Squeezing his shoulders, brushing your fingers over his skin; you’re safe with me.

Agreeing to share his tent; I need you close.

‘Not on my watch’; I’d fight the world for you.

‘We shouldn’t’; I want you.

“Hi,” you said back, smiling too despite the reprimand to come. “You’re a terrible influence.”; I adore you.

Steve ran his hand up and down your back gently, chuckling, brushing your nose with his before retreating and finding your gaze in the dark.

“I love you too.”

Unlike the first time he had uttered it during the trip, you whispered the words in return, rewarded by another sweet kiss, slow and deep, a confession of love written into your very soul, bodies so close they could merge into one.

“Missed you. Missed touching you. Almost kissed you on at least ten different occasions. Wouldn’t even care who’d see,” he confessed, sealing his words with another kiss as if to make up for all the lost opportunities.

“Yeah, me too. You are very distracting.”

Steve grinned boyishly into the next kiss, teeth pulling briefly on your lower lip, the hand on your back urging you to erase ever half an inch between you.

“You tell me. Especially now,” he mused, fingers tugging at the hoodie for explanation, a flicker of satisfaction igniting your chest. Good; for all his shameless attempts to break your will, as gentle as they had been, you had been teasing him in return by simply walking around wearing his clothes. Good.

It took a split second; that flicker turned into a wildfire of another kind as his dextrous fingers slid under the hem of the hoodie, tenderly – and so purposely lightly – brushing the sensitive skin under your ribcage. Your fingers dug into his shoulder reflexively, a soundless moan escaping you at the sensation of muscles flexing under your touch.

“You know, this one’s my favourite.”

Fondness battled with desire in your chest, the awareness of why feeling warm and burning at once.

“I know.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve hummed, lips trailing along your jaw, wordlessly asking you to tilt you head back. Oh how gladly you gave him the space... “You know why?”

You did. You were certain of it, but Steve’s hand on your back slid under the hoodie too, teasing alongside the clasps of your bra and the first and only word coming off your mouth was a pleading yes, the clasps undone a fraction of second later, your fingers plunging deeper into his hair, his lips returning to yours.

“What was that, sweetheart?”  

“It’s my favourite too,” you confessed, eyes fluttering open to meet Steve’s burning gaze. “Makes the blue of your eyes pop up…”

He caressed the bare skin over your hip, causing you to almost lose your train of thought again as his fingertips continued their path alongside the hem of your leggings, a deviously innocent smile adorning his lips as he watched your lips part with a sigh and your hips unwittingly buck forward.

The hitch in his voice at that was music to your ears.

“That so?”

“Yeah… and because I-- wore it, the first morning... after,” you whispered, the fond memory of Steve’s lips on your temple coaxing you to greet a new day with a promise of a breakfast and a lazy morning together, both forgotten for a while when you had followed him to the kitchen a few moments later and he had seen you walk in nothing but this very hoodie, deciding he was in a mood for a different kind of a feast and nothing all that lazy.

“That’s right,” he praised, hand sliding under your leggings at last, cupping your heat. Biting your lip to keep quiet, a silent keen of pleasure escaped you still at the relief and the tease all at once, Steve’s lips instantly on yours to drink up the sound with a groan. “Have to be quiet, sweetheart.”

“Thought you liked hearing me-”

“I always hear you… every little sound you make for me, every little sound I coax out of you,” he husked, dextrous fingers working to do exactly that, stirring the flames in your veins hotter, a muted grunt forcing its way past Steve’s lips as his fingertips explored with delight just how aroused you were. “God sweetheart, you’re dripping for me.”

“And whose fault is that? You’re the one who insisted on giving me this hoodie---- ah, and ripped logs apart with bare hands through half of this evening-”

Steve smile tasted devious on yours as you couldn’t but grin at his menacing ways – but by god, what a sight that had been. Lightning could have struck right next to you and you wouldn’t have noticed, entirely hypnotized by the display of sheer strength, the action barely making your lover break a sweat.

Now, when you tugged him closer to take more, to taste more, to get closer, always closer, already drunk on hip lips and nowhere close to having enough, his muscles danced under your hands again, a sheen glow of perspiration forming, the hardness responding to the undulation of your hips a testimony of you not being the only one affected, succumbing to primal desire.

Yet, you felt his obvious upper hand in his voice, the way he preened at your praise, even when hidden under the veil of a faux-complaint.

“You liked that, honey? Like it when I show off my strength?”

He knew the answer and yet you granted it to him in a silent whimper, hand sliding down the hard bulge of his arm, a sensation almost as divine as his fingers sliding past the soaked fabric of your underwear and entering you, the first step on the ladder towards the stars.

“Yes, Steve—love, I-”

“Yes, honey?” he coaxed, lips an inch from yours. “What were you saying?”

“Gentle and strong---and big,” you managed to breathe out as he pumped his fingers in a way he had already learned would lift you higher and higher towards your peak, his gaze hungry as he watched the pleasure distort your features, every little sound you tried your goddamn best to muffle as not to give your friends a show fuelling his effort to make you lose that game and driving him wilder in retun. “Should manhandle me more often-“

“Is that right?” he chuckled warmly, so warmly and content you didn’t have time or space in your mind to feel shame for admitting it, less so since he curled his fingers just like that, mouth pressed to the column of your neck in a demanding kiss, a graze of teeth that nearly knocked your breath out of your lungs, your whole body burning like a supernova about to explode. “I’ll take a note. But for now… I gotta be gentle so you don’t let everyone know how close you are to your Captain.”

And gentle he was; a gentle tease. But as devious as he could be, dark eyes drinking in the sight of you falling apart for him but few second later, a sinful smile on his lips shining with your arousal when he took you apart for the second time, sucking a bruise to your inner thigh as you came down from your high – he drew plenty of his pleasure from your own and was still a giver. He kissed his way up your still trembling body, exposing more and more skin to give love to, until he reached your lips again, muffling both yours and his moan as he slowly entered you at last, taking for himself too, once, twice, no need for rest, but pausing still to feel the shared bliss spreading through your bodies.

Despite Steve’s lips being nothing short of wicked, his hands both tender and all kinds of greedy – an honour you so willingly and enthusiastically reciprocated – the words spoken between you were soft and sweet; and as quiet as you tried to be, there was plenty of space for I love yous without uttering a word.  

A gentle touch to angle your hips.

A caress alongside his jaw.

A kiss to your collarbone.

A hungry kiss to his lips.

The grip on your waist.

The dirty roll of your hips you knew made him see stars.

A press of his lips to your lower back when he flipped you over, a lingering moment of reprieve and torture before he entered you again in one smooth movement.

Confessions whispered to your ear and just as sweet and delicate breathed in return.

Love you; need you; gonna keep you.

Yes. More. Always want more of you.

You have all of me.

I’ve got you, love.

You did have each other. Body humming in quiet aftershocks of bliss, contentment settled deep in your soul, you fell asleep curled to Steve’s front, his arm draped securely around your waist, keeping you close.

The one sleeping bag which he had unpacked was but draped over your bodies, way too small to cover you both fully. And yet, you were perfectly warm and safe from the cold and the outside world, Steve’s breathing lulling you to a peaceful sleep full of gentle fire and stars-littered skies resting just at your fingertips.

Waking up came with flickers of blurry images you could hardly distinguish from a dream; but as you found yourself alone, colder than before despite being safely tucked into a cocoon of a sleeping bag, you smiled as you recognized some of them as real.

A morning ritual of a kiss to your temple; a gentle advice for you to sleep a little longer; your body seeking Steve’s on instinct, the hard planes of muscle relaxing again as he gave in and held you for another while, lips pressed to your hairline, an embrace full of love. Bucky’s grumpy voice whisper-yelling from an immense distance, reminding Steve that he had been the one to plan the morning run so he’d better get his ass out and stop shagging his lady; Steve’s sweet grunt so quiet that perhaps not even supersoldier ears could hear it from outside of the tent that yes, but that had been before he knew he’d have you for himself.

The dreams after that you didn’t remember, but you recalled they were awfully sweet and you wished to be woken up just like the first time.

Still, despite finding yourself alone, body slightly aching, the memories of last night and earlier this morning brought a wide smile to your face. The inside of the tent was already perfectly bright, so sun must have been high despite the relatively early hour. In your high spirit, the idea of warm sunrays even made you consider going for a swim in the lake, just to have the excuse to wear Steve’s hoodie later, discarded in a corner, again.

You pulled it over your head, fingers running through your hair to have the worst of your bed hair go away and pull it into a lose bun, you slowly climbed out of the tent, your smile only widening at the beautiful scenery awaiting you – and you didn’t mean your friends barely just getting out of their tents too. The woods, the sun reflecting in the crystal-clear lake, the remnants of the morning mist, the dew sparkling on the grass like thousands of soft diamonds.

Eyes slipping close to feel the sunrays on your skin, you stretched your arms above your head, breathing in deeply, the slightly crisp and gorgeously fresh air-

“I BLOODY KNEW IT!”

Your heart nearly gave out at the sudden cry, making you wince and drop your arms in an instant, seeking the source.

Pulse thundering in your ears from the fright, your gaze found Hunter, turning to Bobbi by his side with his mouth hanging open with shock as if he had just witnessed a real-life Loch Ness monster peek out from the lake and dive back again. Maybe he had.

The tension melted from your shoulders as you sighed, willing yourself to relax again.

Whatever was his issue, it was way too early for you to deal with his shenanigans – you’d leave that to his ex-wife.

You shook your head and turned back, letting yourself to take inventory; your body was aching all over, a testimony to a long pleasant night, thighs, lower back and neck a little stiff. You rolled your neck to relief the tension a bit, then shoulders, tilting your head to one side and then the other, nearly groaning at the stretch and satisfying ache--- only for your work to be instantly undone by Daisy’s loud voice. 

“Hunter, what the-- oh my god YES! Fucking finally!” she all but shrieked, the undiluted excitement in her voice causing you to snap back to her, panic rising in your chest.

Because you knew that tone.

This was exactly the tone she had used when she told you to shag Captain America, to share the sleeping bag with Steve. Had she seen your sleeping bag packed, assuming you had listened to her? But she couldn’t have possibly known you hadn’t had a head start and already packed it back again, so why would she give into that excitement so easy, that couldn’t have been-

“What is it?” you blurted out, heart in your throat, brain in an overdrive as you tried to think, think, think-

Your gaze found Steve’s as he and Bucky emerged from among the trees, slightly breathless, the loud ruckus clearly having startled them and making them race back to the camp.

You took a precious second to appreciate the absolute god-like appearance of his, red, red lips, chest heaving, arms bulging now that he put his hands on his hips and looked around with slightly worried and entirely confused blues that reflected the colour of the sky, his hair ruffled by the wind, sticking to several directions as it had lined with sweat.

“Nice badge, agent,” May commented dryly.

And yet, her voice dripped with amusement, the corners of her lips twitching in a smile, causing you to frown.

Nice badge? What did she mean by-

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

Your hands immediately flew up to your neck, covering the incriminated spot she was referring to, even as you hadn’t been aware there was one.

But there must have been.

A hickey.

You had a visible hickey, not just the one on your inner thigh which you knew Steve was so bloody proud of.

You had a hickey on your neck and now everyone saw it, an undeniable proof that you and Steve had most definitely not shared a tent platonically, but had shared a whole lot more.

You doubted you could blame the bruise – you didn’t even know what it looked like, oh god, you were mortified,why hadn’t you checked your appearance in a mirror, why – on some super-powered mosquitos drunk on Daisy’s Inhuman blood as Hunter had mentioned. And even if you could – you were hundred percent sure your spy training had flied out of the window and if the hickey hadn’t given it away, your imitation of a deer in the headlights when caught certainly had.

Speechless. You were rendered absolutely speechless and while this wasn’t any kind of tragedy, you felt the world spinning a bit. Oh no.

“Not that it’s any news,” May added, a smirk on her lips as all the gazes of those who did consider it news snapped to her.

“What do you mean?” Hopkinson asked, grumpy and entirely stunned.

Bucky snorted by Steve’s side, clearly highlyamused unlike your love and lover.

“You call yourself spies? They’ve been together for like two months and he’s been giving her heart-eyes from day one-“

“A-HA! Called the heart-eyes!” Daisy cried out pointing at you victoriously – and pausing.

Steve used the opportunity to put himself together, approaching you sheepishly and slowly as if he was worried you might actually throw something at him for leaving a badge of honour and shame on your neck. Which you might. Dammit Steven! If you found out that this was some kind of a ploy to make Hopkinson piss off if he really did have hots for you or whatever, you might spend the next night in your own tent alone just because.

“…wait, that means-- so you’re saying I quaked apart the buckles for nothing?”

At that, all eyes turned to her; and Bobbi let out a small sound of surprise.

“Oh! You quaked the— oh. That makes sense,” she said. “Well, I guess I unsecured the food container for nothing too, then.”

It was like watching a cartoon; at her admission, all heads turned to her in comical speed, stunned – and yours and Steve’s most of all, even as he stood at your side at last, a tender brush of his hand to your forearm for support.

Bobbi had done what?!

Something awesome in Daisy’s opinion, that was for sure. The women exchanged a conspiratory smile full of mutual respect and understanding.

All you could do was stare at them mutely. Daisy, well, she hadn’t surprised you all that much, even as you’d never dream of her doing that – but Bobbi? She had a wicked sense of humour and she certainly possessed a no-nonsense approach to things, but-

“Well, now I feel like a sucker,” Hunter said, glancing at his almost-wife. “I mean, all I did was not to tell her that her shoelaces were undone so she’d trip and someone would give her some TLC.”

You turned to him, gaping, no air coming in or out.

Y tu, Brutus?

All three of your friends had been on this, though apparently without cooperation? You were done. You were so completely done. And to think you had considered Hopkinson had been playing pranks on you. He was probably the only person who hadn’t been on this.

“Hunter, that’s awful,” Daisy commented at the sneaky act, causing him to raise his hands palms up innocently. “What if she’d have twisted her ankle or something?”

“Well then even better, wouldn’t it? He’d have to carry her in those--- arms with the biceps the size of bowling balls. And it worked, ain’t it? TLC, big time. Have you seen them when he treated her hands?”

Daisy paused, briefly lost in thought; then, she made a face. She couldn’t argue about that. Just like you couldn’t argue about the possibility of Steve’s solution being exactly the one and you being very much affected by being carried bridal style in his arms like that.

Not that that was the point.  

They really might have as well all worked in sync even if they hadn’t, huh?

Except all these things, arranged to get you and Steve together or somehow make you realize your feelings and act on them, were a little late to the party.

“Well, good work, everyone. I mean, it was fun to watch you try,” Natasha said, moving to continue packing her tent, slowly setting the scene in motion again.

“Almost as much fun as watching you two try to keep it under wraps,” Bucky smirked, walking past Steve and patting him on the shoulder. “Sorry to break it to you, but when it comes to undercover, you’d be more convincing as a couple of newlyweds.”

You sputtered at that remark, still to stunned to react otherwise, your famed ability to work under pressure and in unexpected circumstances suddenly nowhere to be found. You guessed it only applied to the field.

“I-” you started, unsure how to continue, feeling too busted – but also relieved somehow – turning to the man whose fault all this was. “Steve?”

He just opened his mouth, too taken aback as well; which you took as a prove that he hadn’t been aware of that hickey, bless him. Which… was curious at least, but he had enough wits to look guilty, so you’d leave that for after you’d process this.

May cleared her throat loudly.

“Alright, now that we established the bad luck that’s been following you was not bad luck at all, I believe we have a long hike ahead? We should move on with packing…”

Yes. Packing. That sounded wonderful. Anything to get the attention off you – though you weren’t sure it would help all that much.

Daisy, Hunter and Bobbi seemed simply too amazed by the revelation and satisfied with their work all the same. And Hopkinson was… something. Processing probably. Certainly not happy for you; you didn’t want to examine why. Even if it would support Daisy’s theory of him actually liking you, which was a wholly different can of worms you did not want to open at the moment.

You shook your head, your smile tight.

“Good call, Agent May. Thank you.”

She casted a small smile your way, actually shooting Daisy a pointed look so the younger agent would stop staring at you. She did; but not before she showed you a pair of painfully unsubtle thumbs-up, setting your cheeks aflame even more than earlier.

Once no one was looking, you lightly slapped Steve’s thigh with the back of your hand, staring him down despite truly feeling relieved you wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the trip hiding anything besides the incriminated spot on your neck. …and your inner thigh when you’d go for a swim.

He observed you sheepishly and gently took hold of your left wrist, lifting your palm from where it had been covering your neck still; his gaze zeroed on that side of your neck – the very side on which you had been lying on when you had woken up, probably having been hiding the testimony to your passionate night from him when he had left you.

His pupils grew a little wider, eyes a shade darker, the hold on your wrist tighter-

“No!” you whisper-yelled at him, the corners of his lips twitching even as he seemed genuinely apologetic. He let you go when you tugged your hands free. “No, mister. You’ve already done enough.”

“Yes, I did… four times,” Steve whispered as lowly as possible, a loud responding groan sounding from both you and Bucky, who probably regretted having enhanced hearing at the moment.

“What?” Natasha asked.

“Believe me… you don’t even want to know.”

Your plan was to pack as fast as possible and get on your way; but there were things to be done. The team was onto packing, cleaning up after the yesterday’s fire, rinsing in the lake – and thankfully, chatting about various things of which none was you.

With Steve’s help, you had put down your tent, now finally dry, and moved on to a the group of trees where you had hung your clothes – now also dry and clean of the smell of marinade if not the stains.

You heard the shuffle of feet before you saw him; you froze in your movements, recognizing the pattern.

Hopkinson cleared his throat, signalling his presence, causing you to sigh and slowly turn to him.

You expected a snidey remark, bracing yourself for him boasting about how he had been right, about the pimping all those weeks ago and about Steve keeping you warm through the night – but to your surprise, his face was set in a pleasantly neutral mask.

It took you aback so much you didn’t make a sound before he spoke.

“So uhm… I’m all packed. You need any help?”

Your eyebrows shot up near your hairline before you could school your expression, your jaw falling a bit slack; a voice in the back of your head, one that sounded a lot like Daisy saying ‘Grade-A display of jealously’, whispered of the guy actually liking you,as unlikely as it had seem.

It did not seem all that impossible now; his posture was stiff and careful, which could be just him being nervous now that he knew you were under Steve’s protection on a whole new level, or being unsure how to approach you – but there was a hesitant interest and warmth in his eyes when you allowed yourself to look at him for long enough. And despite the tension in his shoulders, there was something rather welcoming. As if he was genuinely offering help.

Well, you’d be damned-

The creeping realization must have shown on your face, because his own expression fell, heat colouring his cheeks, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Oh. You know. Well, this is embarrassing.”

“I little, yeah,” you admitted, your voice a little breathless and a little too high. Did an exchange just happen between you without a single insult yet? Did he really just admit to feeling anything else than the grandiosity of his ego, pointing out he was rather uncomfortable because of something? Wow. Just… wow. “I mean… I didn’t even realize. I’m… sorry.”

Your felt your features twist into a frown, confused by your own words – and feelings. The ‘sorry’ sounded strange to your own ears and tasted even stranger on your tongue, because from the two of you, it wasn’t you who should be apologizing. It hadn’t been you who had been the absolute douche.

And yet, here you were.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. A guy can’t exactly compete with… that, can he?” he suggested, chuckling bitterly.

Your eyebrows, having return to their normal position, arched again.

You understood his point: Steve truly was quite the competition for about anyone. But not for the reason you just knew flashed through Hopkinson’s mind. It had little to do with the size of Steve’s shoulders, the mantle he carried or his absolutely brilliant smile – as much as you admired or adored these things about him. It had much more to do with who he was without the shield; whom he’d still be if the serum fell out of him tomorrow.

You didn’t think he’d understand; he wasn’t in love with Steve Rogers.

“You mean… compete with the guy who’s not acting like an asshole around the woman he likes?”

Hopkinson grimaced, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“…I kinda deserved that. I’m… sorry.”

“Yup. You di-”

You stopped mid-sentence, his words actually registering in your brain. Did he… did he just apologize? And acknowledged that he had been an ass? Today really was full of shocking revelations.

The satisfaction of this one was too good not to enjoy. And yet. Maybe it was the emotional turmoil you had been riding out the whole morning, maybe the relief of you and Steve not having to hide, maybe it was the lingering euphoria of the previous night – but seeing Hopkinson stand there awkwardly, him, awkwardly, you did feel a little bit sorry for the guy.

You sighed again, this time mostly at yourself. “But hey. Some people are into the whole… golden hearted jerk thing.”

“What?!” he snapped, arms crossing on his chest defensively, as if the word jerk wasn’t the nicest one you could think of when it came to his behaviour. Then, he apparently heard past it – and his face cleared up. “Oh… what?”

Oh you were so going to regret this… and yet, it felt somehow right. Setting your folded clothes on the ground next to you, you met his gaze reluctantly, resisting the urge to sigh again.

“Look… have you’ve been a jerk? Yes. Absolutely. Jealous too, even when not entitled to it. But… I’ve seen you cover people in the field with your own body. Catch a bullet for them too. Save people. I’m not an idiot. Someone who does that? They’re not all bad. Hence the golden-hearted added to the jerk,” you said softly, unable to smirk as you threw in the insult just once more, because damn did it feel good to say it to his face after having to deal with his assholery. “And someone, like, I don’t know, maybe Agent Summers for example, are into that-“

“Wait what?! Angela?”

You had to blink as he interrupted you swiftly, surprised he knew who you were talking about – and that knew her first name. That was a good sign; maybe he wasn’t a completely lost cause yet. A flicker of warmth in your chest lit up, a silent reassurance that you had done the right thing telling him that. It seemed he did care for someone else than himself.

“Uhm, you didn’t hear that from me, but… let’s just say that maybe if you look around back home… you’ll be surprised there are people who have an eye on you,” you concluded.

Hopkinson watched you for a few beats of silence, something in his face softening in a way you didn’t think was possible. There was a hint of a smile, a genuine one, without a biting edge – and to your surprise, without the air of irony, it made for quite an attractive image. You hadn’t been blind to the fact he was a handsome man – one who was all too aware of it – but combined with something resembling kindness, it simply hit different. 

“Thanks, Libra. Really.”

A small smile spread on your lips as you hesitated for but a moment before you extended your hand – the final gesture of offering peace even as you hadn’t been the one to disrupt it. Surprised flickered on Hopkinson’s face; but he shook your hand, almost a gentleman’s grip.

Almost.

“But if you break her heart, I’ll break your arm. Minimum,” you said, deadly serious.

He retreated his hand, observing you with uncertain smile.

But oh he’d better be certain. Because you would. If he’d muck up his chance to be better, he’d pay.

“I’d trust her if I were you,” a familiar voice carrying a weight of authority and promise sounded behind you. “And you should know that I’d help her do it if she wanted.”

Hopkinson shot Steve a respectful glare and took a step back, causing the corners of your lips to twitch when he looked back at you. “Understood, ma’am… sir,---Captain.”

You bit your lips to stop the laughter at his sudden nervousness and prompt leave – but seeing Steve squared to a fight, wrapped in an aura of an uncompromising protector, did things to you, so you couldn’t say you blamed Hopkinson for being affected, albeit drastically differently than you.

Heat swelling in your belly, you tried to gather your wits by gathering your clothes; before you could, warm arms wrapped around your middle from behind, gently pulling you to Steve’s front, lips pressed to your neck, right over where your hickey was, now hidden by a scarf.

Smiling and revelling in the contact, you chastised him all the same. “PDA, Steve… and I’m not forgiving you that hickey, by the way. You’re possessive, mister. You’re gonna get me into trouble with my boss.”

“Can you blame me? And I have it on good authority at least one of your bosses approves,” he said decisively. You couldn’t feel his smile over the scarf, but you heard it in his voice, a silent whisper of an apology and seduction at once. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you or get you into trouble. I honestly didn’t even realize. I just got… lost in you. Always do… you drive me crazy in the best ways.”

The little sweep in your belly at his flattering confession was undeniable; smiling wider, you melted against his body, earning a brush of lips against your temple, drawing a content sigh from your lips. You could get used to that. Steve’s voice in your ear, his arms around you, a beautiful view of nature…

What had you been talking about?

Ah.

“Same… but your hickeys heal right away. It’s so unfair.”

“True,” he hummed, nuzzling your neck softly when your hand settled over his. “Speaking of fair and unfair… you were far too kind to that jerkface. You’re a good person.”

“I try,” you said with a grin, pleased all the same.

Suddenly spun around, you couldn’t help the small yelp erupting from your lips, and neither the laughter as you landed in Steve’s arms, palms steading you against his chest as he looked down at you with a heart-melting smile.

“And I love you.”

Hopkinson who? The guy had been right. There was no competing with Steve and this moment, seeing him so happy from something as simple as holding you, four simple words that made the world shrink into the small bubble of your embrace, was just one of million reasons why.

Why even after barely two months, you were utterly, undeniably his.

Utterly and undeniably in love.

“I love you too… even when you’re about to drag me god knows how many miles,” you added cheekily, your breath hitching in anticipation as he leaned his head down, alluring lips you already craved again but an inch away.

“I’ll carry you if it comes to it-”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time-”

“Always, sweetheart,” he promised, finally erasing the distance, mouth pressed to yours softly, warm hand between your shoulder blades pressing your closer as your hand slipped to his nape and into his hair.

The awareness of not being alone was but a distant thought in the minuscule corner in the back of your mind. You sighed when Steve moulded your lips to his liking, mouths parting for but a split second and then connecting again, your head beginning to spin, heat spreading through your veins that had nothing to do with the sunrays caressing your skin. You didn’t fight the sensations, letting them consume you, revelling in the fact you two could do that now, publicly; and whenever you would say no to Steve?

When he retreated with a smile, nose nudging against yours, you found yourself grinning like a fool and griping on his t-shirt, the profound happiness in his eyes causing your heart to flutter.

God, you were so very, very lucky. The fact you had good friends looking out for you in their questionable but well-intended ways, only spoke in favour of that assumption.

“Well, I guess that with that… despite all the little misfortunes I had on this trip, I feel pretty lucky then.”

“Yeah? That makes two of us.”

Steve’s grin tasted sweet as he kissed you again, your fingers caressing along his throat awakening a silent rumble in his chest, his hand moving to your nape to keep you in place as his lips grew more demanding, your lips parting oh so willingly to accommodate him, your core burning as the kiss became so fierce you felt a strain in your back from bending backwards just a bit.

“OI PUNK! Just because they all know now, doesn’t meant we want the front row to you necking your girl!” Bucky yelled with too much laughter to his words for anyone think he was truly annoyed. “Knock it off!”

You grinned into the kiss at Steve’s not-so-gentlemanly curse, blinking away the daze when his lips left yours with a muted pop, hands remaining exactly where they were.

Wow, okay.

“Speak for yourself. I’m super happy to finally see them together…” Daisy said, crossing her arms on her chest, a cheeky grin on her lips.

“Oh, it gets old pretty quickly, trust me,” Natasha uttered with a fond smile. “They’re gross.”

“Amen…”

“Come on, guys… we have a long trail ahead,” May reprimanded you all, throwing her backpack on, nodding towards Steve. “Where to, Cap?”

That finally had Steve release you – not before pecking your lips once more, much to your shared delight – his figurative leader suit slipping on, making him stand taller, his voice earning a quality that made everyone fall in line; and you look at him with pride.  

“I’m on it, Agent May,” he said dutifully. “Let’s go.”

With that, gathered your clothes in one arm and he headed up towards the rest of the group and to your backpacks; the pile of clothes on one hand, his other wrapped securely around yours.

You were still wearing his hoodie; if he’d let you, you’d proudly wear it for the rest of the trip.

Something told you he’d be more than happy about it.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Here we go! I hope you enjoyed the little twist and the shenanigans 🤭 I certainly did. But also boooooy this is so much longer than intended.... ah well, Story of my life.

Thank you for reading and should you leave feedback, I thank you tenfold 💕 May your August be generous to you 🥰

P.S. - check out the rest of the masterlist for the challenge/celebration! I sure have my eye on it 👀

P.P.S - just because I can:

[holylulusworld]

Another bad date

Written for the lovely @bigtreefest's Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration. Congratulations again!

I chose the prompt/trope: friends to lovers + “here, you can share with me”

Square filled for @julybreakbingo: Square 4: “I want to be that….,” “You already are.”

Pairing: Jake Jensen x fem!Reader

Warnings: bad date, fluff, sweet Jake, idiots in love, friends to lovers, cuddling & snuggling, and they were roommates...

Strike one happens when he barks orders at the poor waiter who only tries to do his job without getting yelled at.

“I’ll take a steak, bloody,“ your date glares at the waiter who dared to fill your glass with water first. “And if I say bloody, I mean it.”

You roll your eyes. First dates are never easy, but with a man like this, it’s an impossible task. “She takes the salad with salmon.” That’s strike two.

While your date talks about wine, and his bloody steak, you already try to find a way to end this awful date without causing a scene.

Why people still go on dates, especially with people they found online, is a mystery to you. This sucks.

“Did you listen?” You look at your date when he snarls your name. “Aw, you don’t have to be shy, sweetness. I already decided to take you home, babe. You’re the right amount of hot and cute, with a dash of cluelessness.”

“What?” You square your jaw.

“I’m going to make you feel things you never—” He watches you rise from your seat to throw your water in his face. You murmur an apology at the waiter and hand the friendly man a huge tip.

Without sparing your date another glance, you storm out of the restaurant, still shaking in anger.

That bastard dared to order food for you without asking what you like. He treated you like a child, before deciding moments after you met for the first time that he’s going to fuck you tonight.

“Like hell…”

“Y/N, sweetie,” Jake’s eyes light up when he finds you in front of his door, not the delivery boy. “I thought you were on a date.”

You huff and shake your head. How can you tell your best friend what the man you wanted to date did?

“What happened, and do I have to kill him?”

You throw yourself at Jake to hide your face in his chest. “That bad, sweetie?”

“He…was…,” you sniffle when he wraps his arms around you. “He was just awful. I believed he was nice, but he yelled at the waiter and ordered food for me.”

“He did what?” Jake hiccups. “What did he order?”

“Salad, Jakie! He ordered salad for me!” you sniff. “And then he declared that he’s going to take me home tonight.”

“He…” Jake stiffens against you. “I’ll kill him. Give me all you know about him, and I find him to stab him with a rusty fork.”

You giggle. “Can we have a sleepover, Jakie? I don’t want to be alone now.”

“Of course, sweetie,” Jake snickers. “You know, it’s not a sleepover because you are living with me.”

“Only because we are roommates doesn’t mean we can’t have sleepovers. I want to eat ice cream, and we can nag about dudes and how they are all assholes.”

“You know that I’m a dude too, right?”

You lift your head to shake it furiously. “No! You’re Jakie,” you grin. “My best friend and a cutie. You’re not some random dude.”

Jake sighs. If only you’d see that he’s head over heels in love with you. His best friend.

“I ordered food, and I think we got some ice cream left,” Jake softly says. “How about you get comfortable, and I wait for the delivery guy.”

"Jakie...why are guys all so...I don't know," you shrug. "Maybe it's me. I want to be that woman a man easily falls in love with and cherishes." You walk toward your room, sighing again.

Jake watches you leave, sighing too. "You already are. Sadly, you don't know how wonderful you are...”

“There are no crab cakes for me,” you pout and sniffle. After changing into sweatpants and an old shirt you stole from Jake you got comfortable on his lap to eat the food he ordered. “Why?”

“You wanted to go on a date. I only ordered food for one,” he laughs when you whine and pout even harder. “Here,” he fishes the last crab cake out of the container, “you can share with me.”

“You’re the best,” you giggle before taking a small bite. “You can have the rest. I don’t want to eat all of your food.”

“I’ll always share my food with you.”

“That’s why I like you the most,” you grin. “You’re smart, nice, always share your food with me and sexy.”

“Sexy?” He coughs, almost choking on the rest of his last crab cake. “You think I’m sexy.”

“Yeah,” you turn in his lap to put your hands on his shoulders. “Jakie, didn’t you know that guys with glasses, especially the smart ones, are hot?”

“No…” He shakes his head when you lean closer. Jake tries to tilt his hips to keep you from rubbing against his swelling length. “I didn’t.”

“Hmm…” you lean impossibly closer to peck his nose. “Jakie…”

“Yeah?” He breathes your name and glances at your lips.

“Do you want to kiss me?” You wrap your arms around his neck to make the first move. “Jakie?”

He eagerly presses his lips to yours, tongue delving into your mouth. Jake tries to put all his feelings for you into this one kiss. Maybe this is the only chance he has to prove to you that he's the man for you.

“Wow,” he stammers. “That was…”

“Yeah,” you smile. “I had hoped this wouldn’t be awkward or feel like I kiss my brother. Phew … I’m glad it was the best kiss I ever had.”

He grins. “So, uh—can I invite you for another sleepover?”

“You better have a spot in your bed for me. From now on, I call dips on it, and you…”

Tags in reblog.

[ronearoundblindly]

Yield

Steve Rogers x Avenger!Reader

a vague sequel to Warning Signs (not required to read before this)

Summary: Steve takes your mind off a recent tragedy for the team.

Fluff, hurt/comfort with emphasis on the comfort, references to death and trauma but not explicit, SEVERAL sweet kisses 😍. Adjusted (from its languishing, dusty doc) for @bigtreefest's Summer Lovin' Celebration using the elements: hand kink--although this work is for all-ages--and "ew gross, that's not what I thought would happen today"--except I fudged that a bit. You're welcome even though, yet again, no one asked for this! WC ~2.3k

It’s a dreamless sleep, the kind that feels like you blinked but hours passed. Awareness comes long before awakeness.

Your head aches. You feel as shriveled and puckered as you were laying in the bath tub, soaked but thirsty, letting water steadily drip between your paralyzed, parted lips for so long yesterday. Your eyelids are sandpaper, but they’ve not opened yet.

Minutes tick by—perhaps another hour—and you attempt to remember what’s happening or happened.

Two people died. Gone. Brought back in the belly of the same plane you arrived home in, they are now lost, lost somewhere dark like this, lost like you are for so long as you can stand to keep your sore eyes closed.

Well…you are home but not home all at once.

You’re in a bed, that’s clear, but the pillow isn’t your own. The scent is off. Heavy. Musky. Not unpleasant. Somehow still familiar.

You tick through snapshots of sullen faces trying to remember.

Over you lies a soft, thick blanket. Again not yours. Again pleasing. It has heft. It comforts without constraint.

The hardest sensation to figure out is your hands.

They are…sticky and weighted. You’ve sweat and clammed up upon yourself. Your hands are not clasped in each other. Why the feeling then?

It’s cold—or cool, rather—but not beneath the blanket. The contrast to the battlefield’s heat yesterday is stark though no less repressive. The external pressures of fighting have turned inward, pushing your emotions to the brink. Your won the fight, and after, you lost the war with yourself.

You remember losing that war alone, so what are you holding?

Finally, you look.

There’s someone else in this foreign bed, one of the faces from the sorrowful slideshow behind your eyes.

Steve Rogers sleeps beside you, recognizable only by his size and his crown of golden hair because his head is bent, his hands encasing yours. He’s pressed himself to the bundle of fists between you.

The numbness has yet to lift. That’s why it all reeks of distance and projected celluloid. Yesterday happened but only in that far away world playing on the back of your skull. All you can process as real is that he’s right there and you are right here, simultaneously.

You try harder.

You try to flood color and sound onto the memories until they come closer.

The mission, the deaths, the flailing sense of loss, the unending bewilderment of “what do I do now?”: they become…undeniably tangible. They happened, and they happened to you. You heard the captain promise to stay with you. You heard him…

He called you ‘sweetheart.’

That’s the first thought that stirs something soft among the sharp recollections. That’s when existence returns.

Rogers came to your room. He wouldn’t leave until you were safe. He took care of you, and he called you ‘sweetheart.’ In your months of working with the Avengers, the captain has never once casually assigned an endearment. He says ‘ma’am’ more often than not and barely has nicknames for the teammates he’s worked with for a decade. 

Everyone is Agent, Sir, or Miss. Your last name has always been enough.

You were none of those things last night. You survived a horrid battle, a crippling loss, and a solitude which almost drowned you; it’s silly to admit how he heals your wounds with one simple word.

Sweetheart. A warm cocoa hug to your chest. A gentle embrace. A guidance back toward the light.

Maybe he’ll never say it again. Maybe he meant nothing by it. He only tried to help you. He only wanted you to feel better. Since no one else was around, it’s an easy assumption that Steve simply—

Rogers.

He’s Captain Rogers to you. A coworker. A teammate. That’s all.

It’s difficult to even call him a friend because the man is so professional, so shy.

That shy professional probably saw you naked last night. Whoops.

You shimmy deeper under your covers, tilting your gaze down to the shirt and shorts Rogers dressed you in—his shirt and shorts—but those movements stir the man with your hands.

In a split second, you clamp your eyes shut again and wait in the dark, fighting not to twitch at the dry-sand prickle.

He shifts with a quiet scratching of the sheets, and he sighs, the hot air grazing your knuckles.

One traitorous eye gives a curious peek.

Rogers’s head cranes back to show his sleepy smirk.

“Morning,” he rasps, blinking slowly. He ducks away again to yawn, his face stretching to life, before softly continuing. “How you feeling? Can I getcha anything?”

You tuck your lip under and say nothing. Words have left you.

After allowing the pause, Rogers lets go of your hands, cold flooding your damp skin.

“I’ll get us some water then.”

He doesn’t rumple your blanket. He doesn’t hold eye contact. He just dutifully rolls out of his bed and gets two glasses.

The paralysis is making you quake slightly. What do you say? Will he take you out of the field for this? If not already, will he bench you from how you act next? How will you act next?

He leans a knee onto the still-warm spot he abandoned and tsks.

“Come on. Couple of sips and I’ll leave you alone. Sleep all day if you want, but first—“ He inches the offered water closer.

You rake your eyes up his arm until meeting baby blues.

“Do you mean—“

Rogers’s phone rings. “Shoot, sorry. One second.” He plunks both cups down on his bedside table and answers quickly. “Yeah, Sam, I—no, no run today, I think… Seen her? Um, yeah, she’s…she was—“ glancing back at you over his shoulder, he pulls his hand over his mouth in thought “—I’ll look in…okay, sure thing. Talk later.”

You’re offered another smile and chance at water. “Where were we?”

“So this is where you go to be—“

The failed observation echos in the garage while Captain Rogers kneels by his bike (one of half a dozen). You can’t say ‘alone’ since you’re here, too, so you awkwardly kick your feet over the edge of the steel table he told you to sit on.

Captain America is important enough to be assigned one of the coveted, private garages along one side of the jet hangar, and he assured you, no one bothers him as soon as he closes that door. Where else was he supposed to take you? It’s hot outside, just like yesterday, your room is still trashed, and his room is not exactly neutral territory.

Rogers simply smiles, ticking his head to one side. “Hand me that socket wrench?”

Quick as a rabbit, you hop down, and suddenly, as his fingers drag the cool metal handle from yours, you get it. You forgot all about everything for a split second.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he whispers, smile still gentle, eyes still brilliant blue.

Your insides swoop more than the mid-air jump from your perch. You tuck your lip in your teeth to stifle the glow threatening to shine out. It feels wrong. You can’t be happy today. You shouldn’t. It’s not right.

Right?

Twice. Twice now he’s slipped. Maybe. Yesterday is mostly a blur. It’s hard to imagine he means to say that. It’s not like the captain to be kind. Well, of course Steve is kind, but in a professional way, a distant way. Instead, this is a tender sort of kind, tenderness like holding onto your hands while you sleep.

He’s watching your every reaction, probably to make sure you don’t fall apart again, probably to make sure you don’t shut down entirely, but you’ve a new focus: him.

“Help me?” Rogers asks, tongue swiping out, nervous. “If you want,” he adds with a shrug.

You shrug, too, but sit on the floor next to him.

He exudes unending patience, explaining the basics of what he’s working on, mentioning nothing when you clearly zone out. You lose whole minutes to either staring at him or staring at nothing. More flashes of yesterday overtake your vision from time to time, even though your eyes are open.

“Should have taken you to the infirmary,” he mutters as you shake off your latest blip.

You drop the tool dangling in your limp hand, and despite knowing there’s an object falling to the concrete floor, you jump violently at the clattering it makes.

You grip at your temples, shielding your face. ��Perhaps you should have.”

A warm, steady hand lands on your knee.

“I can finish up here and take you.” He hurries to do something on the bike, and you’re sure he’s about to send you for a psych eval.

That’s the last thing you want. You have to convince him you are fine, better than fine, strong.

You grab for his wrist to get his attention back, but the move makes him twist a cap too hard and thick brown oil comes steaming out all over both of you. It drips from your forearms down and splashes from the drip pan up, the flow quickly tapering off with a thick glug from the pipe.

“Ew, GROSS,” you blurt without thinking. You resist the urge to shake it off. No need to cover more of the room in your shame. “Sorry, Cap. I—That was—“

“No, no.” He’s just laughing, thank goodness. “My fault. Was gonna change that anyway…in a couple months. You alright?” He waits for a nod. “Let’s get this mess off at the sink, yeah?”

Rogers carefully points to the corner. You maneuver onto your feet and alternate raising and lowering your arms, thick rivulets threatening to paint the floor if you let the oil run too far in one direction.

“Wipe what you can off with the towels first.”

You sort of knock the roll over and nudge it across the counter. A strategic elbow turns up the tap and depresses the soap dispenser.

“‘Steve’ is fine,” he says as he massages lather over your palms, “by the way.”

You’re damn right Steve is fine.

Your breath catches while he continues to work the oil off your skin, avoiding eye contact.

After a minute or so, rubbing around and down your fingers, specifically scrubbing along your nails, he clears his throat.

“I’m glad it wasn’t you—“ Steve concentrates on circling each knuckle “—horrible as that sounds.”

You take control of the hand helping you, applying pressure as you feel a small tremor rattle the fine bones, unable to see the clear truth of his words beneath righteously long lashes.

He lets you wash him for a while, rubbing between his fingers, scrubbing along his nails, lathering over his palms.

His voice is so quiet, a low breeze from the distant, retractable ceiling letting in the world.

“Not supposed to say that,” he rumbles, inches away at most, “diminishing as it is to the dead.” Steve halts you and slides his hands up your forearms. “But that’s the point, yeah?” He looks up finally. “Focus on the living…”

You’re frozen, hanging on every word you’re convinced he can’t be saying.

“Is that a quest—“

Steve’s long lashes descend to narrow his path, supple lips grazing yours for the briefest moment before a curt “no.” He moves in for a proper kiss then, head tilting to take full advantage of your shock. A new shock. A different kind of shock from the one you’ve barely recovered from since…

Twenty-four hours. Horror. Sweetheart. Limbo. Sweetheart. Bliss.

He’s right. The heat of him signals life and passion, desperation and spirit for the best kind of danger: a leap of faith from the heart.

A sweet heart.

It’s at this shocking and romantic turn that you realize, you’d follow him anywhere, just as he’s followed you onto a doomed battlefield, into your chaotic mind, into a cold and lonely shower. You had nothing but doubt; he offered nothing but hope.

Your weight leans into the clutch of devoted sinew and reverent tendons. Steve takes that as a welcome encouragement.

One day it might be him or it might be you, and as difficult and painful as that would be, it helps to focus on who is still here. Both of you. Together. Now.

He’s lavish and indulgent, intense because his wet hands can’t pull you closer. His tenderness and decency saturate every atom of connection between you. Each generous touch conveys something undying and pure.

Your hold on each other slips in the running tap when Steve get a little greedy, his body pinning yours to the rim of the sink.

Immediately, he apologizes, retracting into a shell of chivalry and sympathy.

You swallow to compose yourself, minimal effect achieved.

After a fair few thundering heartbeats pulse past you ears, you manage, “that’s not what I thought would happen today.”

The baby blue irises are the picture of horror. “Bad? No?”

Steve steps back only once before you follow.

“Why me?” you counter softly.

He huffs in his infinite patience with you and rolls his eyes in disappointment with himself. Steve hangs his head, propping his arm on either edge of counter nearest him. A dark, bitter chuckle escapes before he finally confesses.

“Because every other day I feel very little, but with you, I want so much more.”

Is this how you looked to him yesterday? A raw wound begging for help in blinding light? Did he have this fear that he couldn’t offer enough?

It is enough though. It has to be enough to try for what you want, to live even in kindness and duty. He’s taken a step, and so can you.

You smile, close the remaining distance, and whisper one word into Steve’s waiting mouth.

Promise—

Question or statement, it doesn’t matter, or perhaps, you’ll figure it out on any other day. Today it simply means you're both alive.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: Hope this turned out okay and that you enjoyed the fluff! If not, don't worry. I've got a smutty lifeguard!Steve one-shot in the works, too!! Tags will be in a reblog since they've been so wonky lately.

[darsynia]

Momentary (Bucky/f!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | lmk for tags!

Summary: Your paths cross, intertwine, and separate again

WC/Warnings: 1,400 | Explicit Sex

Written for Essie's 300 Follower 'Summer Lovin' Celebration! Thanks for hosting, @bigtreefest, dear, I hope you like it! Prompts used were overstimulation, a hotel, and public sex

Excerpt:

“Please,” you breathe. His actions have slowed, turning from tempestuous to tender, a honeyed slowness designed to prolong your agony. His low, sexy chuckle is a live wire connected directly to his electric fingers as they dip and swirl. 

“I want to hear you, doll,” he rumbles, lips grazing your ear in purposeful provocation. “Louder than the sunset, for me.”

You’re both still clothed, but the arch of your back and cant of his hips make clear what’s happening, visible to anyone with the fortitude to look away from the sun-painted sky. It’s exhilarating.

MOMENTARY

Your panties are puddled at your feet, and your mind is equally liquid. With your head thrown back against the balcony wall, you can only see the sunset over the water through slitted eyes, but its beauty is rivaled by the pleasure melting through your body. Yesterday you didn’t even know this man existed, but now his clever hand is moving under your white silk dress doing things that threaten your current and future stability.

He thrusts two thick fingers inside you, his thumb dancing light touches on your clit. It’s the perfect representation of his odd duality. This secretive stranger is intimately touching you in a semi-public place. He claims to be a businessman, yet he prowls around a luxury hotel with ruthless malice, clearly stalking more elusive prey than you’ve proven to be. The filthy threat you’d overheard him make to another guest had been vicious and incisive.

He is the opposite of everything you left behind at home.

“Please,” you breathe. His actions have slowed, turning from tempestuous to tender, a honeyed slowness designed to prolong your agony. His low, sexy chuckle is a live wire connected directly to his electric fingers as they dip and swirl. 

“I want to hear you, doll,” he rumbles, lips grazing your ear in purposeful provocation. “Louder than the sunset, for me.”

You’re both still clothed, but the arch of your back and cant of his hips make clear what’s happening, visible to anyone with the fortitude to look away from the sun-painted sky. It’s exhilarating.

“Make me, then,” you say, drawing on adrenaline for confidence.

Your lover’s expression sharpens, eyes glittering with anticipation. He pushes off the wall with his free hand, expertly opening his belt and shoving his clothes aside, all while maintaining the delicate devastation of his fingertips. Suddenly he stops, and you clutch at the wall behind you to maintain your balance as you watch him pull out a condom and apply it, his full attention on his task. Then he fixes his gaze on you and you practically stop breathing, your entire being focused on the slow movement of his hand as he slides it from your knee along your thigh, inch by glorious inch.

The urge to moan, to plead is intense, but you valiantly hold back.

He seems pleased by this, which is almost as sexy as this deliberate dismantling of your dignity.

When he finally touches you again, it's brief, but enough to make you dizzy, a supernova of erotic culmination for the few seconds before he lifts you up and lances into you. The resolution to hold back is obliterated by the aching cry that tears through your throat. Any other time you’d have crammed a fist in your mouth, mortified by the very idea of making your happiness audible. With every sensuous movement this man has destroyed all of that, and you’re a willing wreck.

He’d told you to keep touching to the minimum, so you limit yourself to clinging to his open collar, barely able to think against the purity of this pleasure. Eyes tightly shut, you keen through each powerful, rocking glide. You’re so distracted by the sensory overload that you don’t notice he’s only holding you up with one arm until he caresses your sleeve down your shoulder and fixes a hot, sucking kiss on your skin.

The unexpected, personal contact sends you fluttering around him, and you feel rather than see the way he’s affected by that--his free hand slams against the wall as his hips stutter the two of you impossibly closer. It’s as if the whole wall is moving with his desperate cadence, as caught up as you are in the mind-numbing pleasure.

“Your name,” you suddenly beg, clawing for coherence under the onslaught of your pending climax. You open your eyes and bite your lip, wishing you’d asked for a kiss instead. Knowing his name is far too much to ask from a man like this.

Your lover lifts his head. His blue eyes are dilated with desire, sending a heat flush across your body that pools at the place the two of you are joined. He opens his mouth, and somehow you know he wants to lie, which feels like a sin in a moment like this.

If he can break the rules, then so can you.

Before you lose your nerve, you move to caress his cheek with one hand as you nuzzle your nose against his neck, grazing your lips across the sensitive skin of his earlobe in a conscious mirroring of his own earlier action. “Please?” you whisper. His hips still.

“Jam--” he starts, then grunts when your surprise causes you to tighten around him intimately. “Bucky,” he admits, and you repeat the name in stunned triumph, more a breathy prayer than anything else. It’s a turning point, a sentence enhancer, and the the two of you follow it with fierce, frantic fucking in search of absolution.

You can hear yourself moan-gasping as you both come, the exquisite high tumbling and rising until you’re left breathlessly repeating words of gratitude interspersed with his name, your throat raw. For some reason, this causes him to slow his final thrusts, as if reluctant for the moment to pass. It’s almost shatteringly erotic, and you wonder if it’s a glimpse of the true him, or a sign that he’s donning another disguise--the picture of a wealthy, considerate lover. Certainly his groan sounds just as joy-ravaged as you feel, by the time he slides you down onto your unsteady feet.

The possessive sting on your shoulder pulsates in opposition to your body’s resonance, and you have to focus all of your attention on staying upright. Taking a few long, careful breaths, you open your eyes to see that Bucky is already perfectly put back together, his skilled fingers refastening the wrist buttons of his dress shirt from where he’d rolled it back up to touch you.

Without speaking, he respectfully tips his head in your direction and walks inside, crossing the dimly-lit suite without pausing at the bathroom to wash his hands.

It’s the realization that he could just wordlessly leave after such a defining moment that has you finally collapsing into a chair.

It’s fully dark by the time you get up to go inside.

You’d fled halfway across the world to India with the fortune your ex had tried to wrest from you, finally giving yourself the honeymoon you’d always dreamed you’d share with him. It’s hard not to feel like you’ve just fulfilled one of his ugliest insults during that sudden breakup, but at least you hadn’t been in a relationship when you’d had sex with a stranger. 

At least you won’t head to bed still sweet with the buzz of someone else’s nectar.

There’s something mournful about showering after such an experience, washing away the fleeting remnants of a connection never meant to last. You’re torn between a light touch of soap to skin and scrubbing until you’ve excised both ex and rebound, but settle on something in between. Neither will release with ease, you realize. How strange that you’ve heard both men speak in anger in the past month, but in that time only one, the wrong one, used an endearment towards you. 

“Go to sleep,” you murmur to yourself. The sound is sultry thanks to all the noises you’d made. A mix of mortification and memories sends you scurrying to the softest sheets and most heavenly mattress you’ve ever slept on.

You dream of wandering the hotel, checking doors one by one and finding a different version of Bucky in each--dashing and debonair in a vintage military uniform, cocky and confident in a leather jacket, sleek and sophisticated in a bespoke suit. For some reason, you step back from that particular door despite its familiarity, and decide to try one more. The Bucky you find there is long-haired and wild, dressed for war, but not a war any government would recognize. His black tactical jacket is missing a sleeve, showing off the metal of a mechanical arm that stretches from  shoulder to fingertip.

He turns his head and catches sight of you in the doorway, and that’s when your dream-self sees the mask covering his mouth and nose, the dark facepaint shadowing his eye sockets. This strange yet exciting version of Bucky strides toward you, metal hand reaching--

--and you wake up.

In my mind, I picture him with the used condom folded into a handkerchief in his pocket, but I could not elegantly place that in the story lol. Hotel in the pictures is the Leela Kovalam, a five star hotel in India (loook! it's soooooo pretty!!!)

[buckymorelikefuckme]

temperature’s rising (it isn’t surprising)

jake jensen x fem reader

words: 717

warnings & tags: jakey’s general endearing awkwardness, attempts at humor, wandering hands, innuendo (?), no smut lads i’m so sorry, but there is super mild hand kink!

a/n: uh.. surprise?? for my beloved essie’s @bigtreefest summer lovin’ 300 follower celebration 🥰 i chose the prompts (a few of them used very loosely or very much implied) character gets a sunburn + hand kink + friends to lovers + beach. she’s very short but sweet, i think. also idk what it is with me and beach related fics but this is like my third one lol. anyway! congratulations on 300 followers, sugarplum!! you deserve all the love and appreciation in the world. i hope you like this ♡

Jake hisses through his clenched teeth, grunting before exhaling shakily. His head drops down, chin to his chest, as he focuses on his breathing instead of the intense feeling of your hands on his skin. Your touch is light as it traces a path down his back and he can’t fight the shiver that runs down his spine.

“So hot,” he hears you murmur.

He bites his lip before releasing it with another hiss, forgetting how sore even they are, all red and swollen.

“Does it feel good, Jakey?”

He releases a sharp breath and nods jerkily. “Yeah, s’good, feels good,” he confirms.

“You’re almost there, so close,” you say, your warm breath fanning out across his flesh, creating goosebumps that almost physically hurt as they rise. “Just a little more.”

Jake squeezes his eyes shut, body tensing further and further as your hands continue their work. One of them ventures past the waistband of his shorts, sweeps across uncharted skin, as of yet, and he fails to bite back his whimper.

“Okay, your back is finished,” you announce suddenly. “Turn around and I'll get your front.”

“Oh,” he says dumbly as he spins to face you, “I can do my front.”

You smile and wiggle your shining fingers in his face. “My hands are already covered in aloe, it’s no biggie! No sense in you getting your hands dirty, too.”

“Oh,” he repeats, much more faintly.

You reach around him to pump more of the gel into your hands, rubbing them together to try and warm it before spreading it across his chest. Not that it really helps, he thinks, when his skin is fried and molten to the touch. He still jerks and grunts from the cold.

To distract himself, and also so he isn’t staring at your scantily clad bikini covered body, he watches your hands as they work the aloe in. It’s a good plan, at first, but then he gets lost in how gentle you’re being, how soft and smooth the strokes of your hands are. He has to roughly clear his throat when you circle your thumbs around his tender nipples, otherwise he’d have probably done something embarrassing, like moan or beg or both.

Jake can tell you’re trying not to hurt him, and he’s thankful, really, he is. It’s just—well, he can’t stop his mind from wandering. If your hands feel this good on him when you’re just rubbing aloe on his sunburned body, he can’t help but imagine what they’d feel like doing… other things.

You tsk, reaching up to carefully rub at his red ears. “Did you not wear sunscreen at all today?” you tease.

He’s glad his face is as red as the rest of him already so it can hide his blushing cheeks.

The truth is, yes, he absolutely forgot to put on sunscreen. And if he wanted to be petty about it, he’d even say it’s your fault. How was he supposed to remember to put on fucking sunscreen when you came out of your room in the condo wearing the tiniest bikini he’d ever seen? The bottoms are thong bottoms, for fucks sake! It’s sufficient to say he was distracted and didn’t think twice about following you and the rest of your friends outside onto the beach where everyone was going to play volleyball.

Let’s go on vacation, his friends said. It’ll be fun and relaxing, they said.

He hasn’t relaxed since the moment he heard you were going to be in the room next to his, which shares a bathroom—the very one you both are standing in now. But he did have fun playing volleyball with everyone, even when he face-planted directly into one of the poles holding the net up because he tripped over his own feet watching your boobs bounce when you jumped to hit the ball. He’s pretty sure he played it off well, though.

“I—I think that’s good,” he stammers when your hand dips below his waistband again, but in the front this time. “The sunburn doesn’t go that far down.”

You glance up at him with a wide-eyed innocent look that he’s beginning to have a sneaking suspicion is actually not all that innocent. “It’s good to be thorough, Jakey,” you implore, fingers running along his hip bones.

[bigtreefest]

watermelon juice dripping down his throat, onto his chest hair LEMME LICK

I don’t even like watermelon that much😅, but I like him. A lot. 🫣

Drip… and Lick

Pairing: Curtis Everett x reader

Wc: idk, written in drafts, but it’s gotta be at least 1k

Warnings: um, licking, and Curtis… so, yeah 18+ only, minors DNI

A/N: Inspired by this post and some of my beautiful hoe friends @thezombieprostitute @krirebr @stargazingfangirl18 @brandycranby This is me kicking off the 300 follower summer celebration with my own mini fic. Hope you enjoy and I can’t wait for your your feedback on this one😈

Made with the prompts: a long drive together + “I’ve got something else you can lick” + [watermelon] dripping down someone’s skin

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Curtis had wanted to have a picnic with you all summer, but your busy schedule hadn’t allowed for it. And honestly, neither had the weather. The days had been long and hot, unbearably so, with UV indexes maxed out. Stepping outside was like asking to be baked, which is why he was grateful for all the rain that hit this past week.

It was a great reprieve for everything: the grass, the garden, the sweltering temperatures. Now that the outside was actually bearable, Curtis could finally go through with his plans.

Before you got off work, he packed up his picnic basket, preparing the summer goods for you. A nice little salad, some sandwiches, and a beautiful watermelon he found at the farmer’s market the other day. He was all prepped once you got home.

As soon as you walked through the door, you were greeted by a kiss on the cheek and Curtis holding your favorite comfy sundress. After a long day at work, the last thing you wanted to wear was pants, so you went to change.

Once you emerged, hair tied up and off your neck finally and flowy dress adorned, you were ready to go. You grabbed Curtis’s outstretched hand and let him lead you to the truck where you slid up in to the middle of the bench seat.

An evening drive like this was one of your favorite things to do together. Letting the breeze flow with the windows down. Seeing the scenery of passing houses turn into open fields of wildflowers on the rolling hills.

After taking the long way around, Curtis pulled into the spot he always did at the end of the road on the back side of the airport where the two of you would lay in his truck bed to watch the planes take off and land. He hopped down out of the cab and held a hand out for you, taking you back for the cozy, yet cool setup he had made earlier.

The two of you got settled, Curtis pulling out your sandwich and handing it to you just as the sun began to reach the horizon. The sky was painted with hues of red and light purple, wispy clouds making way for the stars that would soon twinkle, framing the moon in the open sky.

You settled up close next to him, the two of you enjoying the main part of the meal as the planes flew overhead, the lights of the runway flicking on as the sky dimmed. All you could think about while you were eating was how sweet this was, how sweet he was for doing it so often for you. Curtis was a gruff, hardworking man, and with you, that prickly shell turned soft, as he used his efforts to show you his appreciation for the love and peace you brought to him. The feelings he thought he’d never have, the ones he thought he didn’t deserve. His humility and bottomless affection was all you saw, though, the deep care you held for each other tying your souls together. In this moment, you realized if he was all you had for the rest of your life, that would be more than enough, and you wanted to show that. You needed him, and could feel it start to burn in the depths of your belly: a love that you had to show, that you wanted to show, again, and again, and again, for eternity.

You climbed into Curtis’s lap, giving him a peck, your sundress falling around your legs, leaving your core settling right over him in his worn jeans. Your hands gently came up to frame his face, his beard lightly scratching your palms. Your body was growing warm against the cold evening air, buzzing with desire from the way he cared for you, the way you cared for each other.

“Thank you for this, Curtis. It’s perfect. The food was delicious, but I think I’m ready for dessert.”

Curtis’s large hands settled on your waist as he looked up at you. He could see the warmth in your eyes at that statement. It was evident this little date made your day so much better, but he hadn’t quite caught on yet to the true fire in your gaze.

“Yeah? I’ve got this beautiful watermelon. Thought that would be nice and refreshing.”

He looked up at you with the softest features, eyes switching between yours, looking for approval. Your thumbs brushed over his freckled cheeks, more prominent from the summer sun, as you nodded with a breathy giggle.

“Um, yeah. That sounds good.”

He beamed up at you, turning to the side to pull out the fruit before he went still. He hadn’t cut it. Or really even brought anything to cut it, unless you counted the flimsy plasticware the two of you ate your salads with. He looked up at you with big eyes as you laughed again, catching on to what happened.

“Hold on, give me a second, I can fix this. You don’t mind if it’s not perfectly cut, right?”

You shook your head, curious to see what he could possibly have in mind. He turned the watermelon upright as he grabbed a plastic knife, adjusting it in his hand so it seemed stable enough. He raised his hand, stabbing the edge of the utensil into the tough rind. That obviously wasn’t doing much, but it did enough. You watched as Curtis’s thick, yet surprisingly nimble fingers widened the nick into a gap as he put both hands in and pulled, the robust fruit splitting in two as some juices leaked out. As did yours, as you felt a flush of arousal at the show of brute strength. So casual, he probably had no idea what he was doing to you.

If that knife was any indication, there probably wasn’t a good way to get the flesh out, either, so he opted to just keep with his bare hands, scooping out a piece to feed to you. You opened your mouth, eyes never leaving his as your lips surrounded his thumb and pointer finger. The juice from his hand ran down his thick forearm, over the hair that covered it. As he moved to pull away, your hands quickly snapped to stop him, eyes still locked. You dipped your head to the drop that had trickled down, now about to reach his elbow, and stuck out your tongue, tracing the path of watermelon juice up to his palm, all the way back to his fingers, sucking them and releasing with a pop.

Curtis watched in real time as your pupils blew wide and you began to unbutton his linen shirt before reaching over and grabbing your own piece of watermelon to feed to him. Oh. That was where this was going. How did he not see it before? He was never going to slice a watermelon again, but he planned to get a lot more before summer was done. And he’d gladly pay a fortune to get them out of season if they made you react like this.

You popped the piece in his mouth, watching as the juice dribbled down his chin, and down to his neck, over the course hair of his chest. You pulled back slightly, watching the stream right next to his nipple, and you ducked down again and flattened your tongue against the firm warmth of his chest, circling the peak before tracing up again, tongue being deliciously scratched until you reached the smooth, slightly salty skin of his neck, dressed with the humidity and a thin layer of sweat.

You pressed a kiss to his jugular as he swallowed the sweet fruit, his lips parting in a gasp, waiting for what you were going to do next. The fire in his eyes grew, though, to meet yours, as his awe-struck, enamored look turned into a smirk. Curtis finally spoke up in a strained, deep voice, silky with seduction.

“You know, I’ve got something else you can lick…”

Bonus A/N: for your fantasies, brandy bean. Eat your heart out.

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly

[thezombieprostitute]

Fireflies

Written for Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration.

Prompts: catching fireflies; “who thought a place with mosquitoes was a good idea?”

Summary: Jake helps you kick off your vacation in the best way.

You've been having such a rough few weeks, maybe even few months at work and Jake has been trying so hard to help you out. You finally have some time off coming up and he's been working hard on figuring out all the things you can do, that you need to do, to help you really relax and enjoy the time off.

He's definitely starting you out on the right foot by picking you up from work. You step into the car, give him a kiss, and just collapse into your seat.

“So what's the plan, Jakey?”

“It's a surprise,” he smiles. He hasn't hidden the fact that he'll be taking care of you but he refused to tell you all the ideas he'd come up with.

“Can we get some food first?”

“That actually is part of the plan! Let's go get your favorite fast food.”

“Yes! You're the best, Jakey!” You lean over and kiss him again before buckling up and heading out.

It's about an hour-and-a-half later and you swear Jake is driving to the middle of nowhere. The only reason you're not grumpy is because he got you extra fries without even having to ask if you wanted them. The sun is low in the sky and you haven't seen any signs of civilization for a while.

“Jake, are we lost?”

“Nope,” he answers confidently. “I've got the GPS and I managed to bounce off some...unsanctioned satellites so we can always have a signal.”

“So, where are we going?”

“I told you, it's a surprise!”

You give him a suspicious look but his grin never falters. He takes a left onto what looks more like a path than a road and drives for another twenty minutes or so. At least the scenery is nice. You don't often get to the woods like when you were little. You kinda miss them. The path is taking you through quite the forest and you think it'd be nice to take a walk through them with Jake. Maybe that's what he has planned!

The path ends at a clearing in the woods with a small lake. Jake immediately declares “we're here” and jumps out to start getting things from the trunk of the car. You chuckle at his enthusiasm and step out, taking a look at the area. You and Jake are the only signs of civilization out here. It really is just a lake in a clearing. You know you've told Jake you wanted to get to the woods more, but you'd kinda hoped he'd opt for a cabin or something.

You feel a mosquito bite on your arm and instinctively slap at it. Then another. Then another!

“Jake,” you call to him, “please tell me you brought bug spray!” Jake is walking towards with a cooler and he stops. His expression betrays his answer. “You brought us out to the woods without bug spray?! It's mosquito season and we're right by a body of water!” You're still smacking spots on your arms.

Jake's head drops, “I...I didn't think of that.” He winces and you know he's been bit as well. “I just...this spot is...” he drops the cooler and starts smacking the bugs that are increasing in number with the darkening skies.

“Let's get back in the car,” you suggest. He doesn't argue and makes sure you're safely in before he puts gets in. Within the safety of the car, the swarm of mosquitos dwindles and you're both able to take out the few that make it into the car.

Jake lets out a sad sigh, “they said this place would be best.”

You turn to Jake, “who thought a place with mosquitoes was a good idea?”

“I cross-referenced a bunch of firefly websites with angler forums to find the best places we could go to for fireflies. I wanted you to start your vacation with a little magic and I fucked that up.” He sags in his seat, resting his forehead against the steering wheel.

Your heart flutters at how sad he looks. He really did want to do something nice for you. Something he knew you would love. Taking you to the woods, seeing fireflies. If it weren't for the mosquitos, or the lack of bug spray, it really would've been a wonderful night.

You gently caress his cheek, “hey, you tried. You put in a lot of effort for this and you know I appreciate that.” He turns to you and sees your gentle smile. “We still had a night of good food and even better company.”

“You really mean that?”

“Absolutely,” you assure him with a kiss. “We should probably head home, though.”

Jake nods and buckles in while you do the same and look out the window.

“Jake!” you quietly yell. “Jake! Look! The fireflies!”

Sure enough, the telltale flickers of light are starting up all around the car. You're absolutely giddy with excitement, even tearing up a little. It's been so long since you've seen so many in one place! You stop making coherent statements and just give appreciative noises of delight as you unbuckle and practically bounce around inside the car to look at them from every window.

By the time you calm down, Jake is just staring at you with loving eyes. You grab him for as big a hug as you can get in the vehicle.

“This was the best, Jake! Thank you so much!”

Tagging @alicedopey; @bigtreefest; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

[nekoannie-chan]

Last summer

Last summer

Title: Last summer.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Pre-serum!Steve Rogers X 40’S!Reader.

Word count: 663 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: The last adventure that Steve and you had.

Major Tags: Fluff, nostalgic.

Additional tags: This is my entry for the @bigtreefest Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration!! with the prompt:

“Scenario: Catching fireflies.”

“Trope: Last summer together before going separate ways.”

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

You had known Steve Rogers since you were kids. He lived two doors down from you, and, for as long as you could remember, you and Bucky had been inseparable.

That afternoon, almost evening, you were sitting on the front steps of your house, waiting for Steve to arrive. You had arranged to go out that night, one of the last of the summer. Your parents weren't home, and you had planned a little getaway to the park that used to be your secret hideaway. Finally, you saw him approaching. Steve was walking with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” you greeted, standing up and walking down the steps to meet him.

“Hi,” he replied. You noticed he looked more tired than usual.

“Ready for our last adventure of the summer? “you asked.

“Of course, I am. I wouldn't miss this for the world.”

You both walked in silence towards the park, enjoying the noise the crickets were making and the first stars appearing in the dark sky. You walked to the clearing where you used to play as children, a small nook surrounded by tall trees. You sat down on the grassy ground, and Steve plopped down beside you.

“Do you remember the first time we came here?“ Steve asked, looking up at the sky.

“Of course you do. You said you found a secret hideaway,” you replied, laughing at the memory.

“It was our little refuge from the world,” Steve said quietly. ”A place where we could be ourselves without being bothered. Hey, you know what I want to do?”

“What? “you asked.

“We're going to catch fireflies like we used to. It will be our last hunt of the summer.”

You laughed but nodded. Steve stood up and held out his hand to help you up, and for a moment you stared at him, wondering what you would do without him when he finally left. Together you walked through the park, looking for the little fireflies, running after them, laughing and stumbling in the dark just like when you were kids. Steve caught a firefly in his hands and showed it to you, his face illuminated by the soft green light escaping between his fingers.

“Look, one more for our collection,” he said with a smile.

“You're going to let them go, aren't you? “you asked, pretending to be annoyed.

“Of course. I always let them go,” he said, and then opened his hands, allowing the firefly to fly free again.

You both lay on the grass, watching the stars as the fireflies flew around them. Finally, after a long silence, Steve spoke.

“I'm leaving tomorrow,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

You closed your eyes, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to well up.

“I know,” you replied, your voice trembling.

“I don't want to leave you,” Steve continued, ”but I feel it's the right thing to do. I need to do something, something that matters.”

“I understand, Steve. I understand more than you know. But I can't help wishing you'd stay.”

Steve slowly, slowly leaned toward you, his lips brushing yours sweetly. When you finally parted, you both had tears in your eyes.

“You will always be my home, no matter where I go,” Steve commented.

“And you will always be my hero, Steve Rogers,” you replied.

You stood there, holding each other under the stars, knowing that this would be your last time together.

When the sun finally began to peek over the horizon, you got up and walked home, holding hands, as you had done many times before. You reached your house, and you stopped at the door, unwilling to let him go.

“I'll write to you every day,” Steve promised.

“And I'll wait for you.”

You hugged and kissed one last time, and then Steve turned and walked away. You stood there, watching him, until he finally disappeared.

You didn't know it would be the last time you would see each other.