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anika-ann · 4 months ago

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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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ronearoundblindly · 4 months ago

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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.

#essie’s summer lovin’ 300 follower celebration #summer lovin’ celebration #essie’s 300 follower special #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #lifeguard au #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers au

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 8 months ago

Text

.⋆｡Steamy｡⋆.

Steve Rogers x plus size reader

Stolen shampoo, hot shower and a perky little ass

Warnings: fluff, nudity but no smut, domestic fluff, some crack humour, implied smut WC: 564

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

5k Follower Celebration

You were absolutely covered in sweat and grime, a result of letting Sam pick your hiking trail for the day and of course he picked one that would give you a ‘challenge’. 10 miles of mostly uphill terrain later, you were so ready for a hot shower and a nap with your boyfriend.

Your clothes came off piece by piece as you stumbled through your apartment until you reached the bathroom, where the shower was already running. You smirked as you tugged off your panties and slowly opened the door, revealing the site of a lifetime.

The steam made his pale skin glow under the bathroom light. Water rolled down the defined muscles of Steve’s back, droplets getting caught in the divots and valleys of his shoulder blades and the small dimples at the base of his spine, leading right to the perky ass of your dreams.

You bit your lip, it was far too tempting.

Your hand whistled as it flew through the air and collided with his perfect cheek with a satisfying smack. Steve immediately froze up, his hands still buried in his hair where he had been massaging in shampoo. Your smirk widened as he slowly turned to face you, his pretty blue eyes wide.

“Did you just… slap my ass?”

“And what are you gonna do about it doll?” You retorted with Steve’s usual line when he was the one to smack your ass. He glared at you so hard he didn’t even notice that you were completely naked. You let your own gaze drift downwards, following a particularly fat drop of water as it rolled down his torso. It raced between his toned abs before getting lost in the thick patch of hair right at the base of his pelvis.

Your eyes wandered lower but before you could go down any further, Steve’s hands flew to cover himself. “You’re objectifying me.” He whined yet his bright red cheeks gave away just how much he enjoyed your attention.

“You like it.” You stepped into the shower, letting out a happy groan as the hot water washed over your sore muscles. Your boyfriend wrapped a muscular arm around your thick waist and tugged you into his chest.

“How was the hike?” He asked as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

“It was fine but you need to tell Sam-“ You paused and sniffed at Steve. He raised an eyebrow at you but you ignored it and instead wound your fingers into his hair to pull him to your level. You buried your nose against his scalp and inhaled deeply. “Did you use my shampoo?”

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet?”

“How. Dare. You. Do you know how much that stuff costs! I only use it for special occasions!” You slapped a hand against his chest, purposefully ignoring the way he was flexing his pecs. Steve caught your wrists in one big hand. You thrashed playfully in his hold.

“Hey, it makes my hair look good.” He defended.

“Oh like you need to look any better than you normally do.” You sassed.

It was Steve’s turn to smirk as he pushed his hips forward and pressed his hardening cock into your soft stomach. “I just need to do my best to keep up with you.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m trying.” He grinned and you rolled your eyes and leaned into him.

Request: Steve Rogers: 13,12 and28 @as-white-as-snow-love

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anonymityisfunwriter · 9 months ago

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To Know Him Is To Love Him

summary: to know steve rogers is to love him. to know him is to keep handing over your heart over and over again. to know him is to be broken by him.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

an: quick someone give this to a boy to read and ask him what steve did wrong. it's for science.

Anon's 1K Celebration

to know him is to love him.

to know him is to stand by him.

to know him is to allow him to break your heart over and over again.

to know him is to hope that one day he'll finally see.

to know him is to be broken by him.

you can't count how many times he put you here, put in this situation. and worse, you can't count how many times you've let him put you in this situation.

three months ago...

you fix steve's tie, patting his shoulder to send him off on yet another date - after he invited himself into your apartment to get him ready for his date. you hated this feeling, the feeling of unrequited love.

you can't blame him, he doesn't know. at least, you think he doesn't know. in fact, you're sure he doesn't, he would never hurt you like that.

"i swear if this date doesn't go well, i'm swearing off women for good."

"does that mean i'm out a friend?" you tease.

"no, of course not," steve laughs. "you're my best friend. you don't count."

your smile falls at the words fall out of his mouth with ease. you don't count. you're not even a consideration. "i don't count as a woman?"

"you know what i meant. you're my friend."

you don't know what he meant. not in the slightest.

"right," you clear your throat, shaking your head with furrowed brows. "good luck on your date."

two months ago...

"i would tell him, but he's just - he's confusing," you admit. "i get a lot of mixed signals."

"men are just idiots," nat offers in consolation. "someday, he'll see. you're perfect for each other."

"thanks." you smile, walking back to your table with a fresh round of drinks. "what are you guys talking about?"

"about steve's terrible dating record," sam jokes.

"ah," you hum, you settle in the booth beside him, leaving plenty of room between the two of you.

steve frowns at you, reaching behind you and gripping your waist. without a word, he slides you until you're pressed against his thigh.

sam humorously snorts, "i don't get you two. you're attached at the hip. you're both attractive singles. make it official already."

you look to steve's reaction for any indication of what he's feeling. steve leans over, kissing your temple, "she knows she's my other half, my soulmate. we don't need labels."

"soulmate?" sam teases.

you shift uncomfortably. he never asked you that, never asked you if you wanted a label. he's never even asked you on a real date, but now he's declaring that he's your soulmate.

how blind can he be?

one month ago...

"please, i miss you, sweetheart." you squeeze your eyes shut. the term of endearment rolls so easily off his tongue. "i feel like i haven't seen you in forever."

it's intentional. you're trying to get over him. to move past these feelings. he doesn't make it easy. "i know, i've just been busy."

"how about dinner tonight? my place at 8?"

you chew on the inside of your cheek, hesitant to accept his dinner invite, "i don't know, steve."

"please, i need you."

putting distance between you and steve rogers didn't work. not when he so dutifully sought you out. not when he told you over and over again that he missed you. that he didn't know how to be without you.

his words toy with your head just enough to convince that it's a good idea to enter his gravitational orbit again.

you're not strong enough to resist the pull. you're not strong enough to to say no. you never have been.

you decide that you can't do this. you're going to tell him. you'll tell him. you'll tell him that you want to count. you'll tell him that you want him to see you.

to know him is to love him, you remember. the moment you see him, you crumble. that smile that makes it feel like your life is worthwhile. the eyes that send your rational mind into a haze. to know him is to love him.

he doesn't make it easy for you or your heart. he greets you at the door with a beaming grin, his eyes lighting up. it makes you feel like this is more than just a dinner. it feels like you're finally coming home to him.

you falter as his fingers graze your skin to take off your jacket. the apartment isn't his usual scene either. it feels like so much more than just a normal hangout. it feels... romantic. music spinning on his record player, marvin gaye, you recognize. candles lit in the center of the table. the smell of a home cooked meal simmering over the stove.

you turn to him with a nervous smile, "i thought you we were ordering pizza or something."

"i wanted to do something nice for my best girl."

his best girl.

he spends the whole dinner fawning over you. his hand rests on your leg. the other occasionally grazing the back of your hand. he asks you all about your work, about your love life.

"i missed you so much."

you're so entranced by him that your carefully thought out speech is gone, replaced by a soft whisper, "i love you."

"i love you, too." he smiles down at him. his eyes shining bright and blue. it doesn't even occur to him that you're professing your love for him. "i can't imagine my life without you."

you shake your head, reminding yourself that you had to tell him. you needed to move forward, one way or another. "no, steve, i - i'm in love with you."

an anxious chuckle leaves his mouth. his hand drops from your thigh, leaving you feeling cold, hollow, and abandoned. "what?"

you know a rejection when you see one. at least you can move on now. your heart can begin to heal. maybe in time, you could be friends again. "i just had to tell you. just once."

"i don't -" he licks his lips. "i'm sorry, i don't feel the same."

"i understand."

2 weeks ago...

you sigh at yourself, hearing the familiar ding of another voicemail on your phone.

each one chips away at your resolve, each one shatters your broken heart even more.

you told him you understood. you told him that it was okay. you spent the night consoling him. you soothed his fears that he would lose you.

in return, he made you promise to always be in his life. with a broken heart and wounded pride, you weren't strong enough to say no. you simply asked for time and a little space.

time and space that steve had no interest in giving you.

you made it easy for him. you retreated from mutual friends. from social spaces you occupied. you no longer texted or called first. you just needed time.

still, he sought you out.

you've gained enough strength to stop answering his every call and text. you've stuck to your boundaries, at least, the ones steve doesn't seem intent on steamrolling past.

you clutch your kitchen counter with your head hung low. with a couple deep breaths and reminders that he doesn't feel the same for you, you're slowly glad you didn't answer. you're proud of yourself for being strong and doing what's best for you.

at least, you're glad until there's a banging at your door.

your mending heart regrets the moment you answer.

"steve?"

"you weren't answering," he pants, clutching the frame of your doorway, "i wanted to hear your voice."

"steve..." you sputter. "this isn't - it's-"

"i just miss you," he cuts you off. he looks so heartbroken, so sincere. he misses you. you try to not make anything more of it, but then he says it again, "i miss you so much."

you stand to the side, allowing him to pass, "come in."

"thank you," he sighs in relief.

"what happened?"

"the worst date of my life."

you swear you can feel your heart fracturing. the air feels like its being squeezed out of your lungs.

and still, you stand before him trying to look as unaffected as possible. you don't know how effective it is. you don't think he sees you enough to notice either way. "you were on a date?"

"it was awful. she was vapid and boring and - and pretentious - and - and she wasn't you."

you suck in a breath, "steve..."

these were words from a man who did not love you, from a man that did not count you. they sounded an awful lot like the love he claimed he didn't feel.

suddenly, he cups your face, standing too close to you. this wasn't what friends did. this isn't how friends treated each other. you know that.

and then he kisses you. soft and tenderly. his lips mold against yours perfectly. you swear it's a sigh of relief that leaves his mouth when you don't pull away.

you smile against his lips. a sense of rightness overtakes you. he overwhelms you. he consumes you. he grips your waist tightly. the other hand caressing your cheek.

"steve.." you sigh against his lips.

and he freezes. his hands drop as though you burned him. his lips slightly swollen and shining from the kiss. he wipes his mouth, "i should go."

you shake your head. you don't want to believe that this is happening right now. this is steve. the person you loved with every fiber of your being. your friend. you trusted him. you believed in him. he wouldn't hurt you like that. even if he didn't love you, even as just a friend, he wouldn't take advantage of your love for him like that. "what?"

"i should go."

and he leaves without another word.

your heart isn't just broken anymore, it's crumbled into a million little pieces. you're not sure you'll ever be able to fix it.

1 week ago...

he's blown past all your defenses. he's drained every ounce of strength from you. he's taken everything except your broken heart and your love for him. that's all that's left of you.

to know him is to love him. to know him is to be broken by him.

he calls and this time, you answer. you fear him coming back to your apartment like he did before. your heart couldn't take it anymore.

"hi, steve." your voice is so gravelly and hollow, a shell of the fullness and life it used to contain.

you noticed everything about him. his likes, his dislikes. you could tell the day he was having by the way he said hi, by the sort of smile he gave you. you're not sure why you just realized that it's not reciprocated at all. he once told you he loved the sound of your voice, how could he not hear the broken tone? if he notices, which you're sure he doesn't, he doesn't ask.

you can hear the smile in his voice, "i'm so glad you answered."

you're not even sure that he realizes you've put the phone down. after all, you're just his space filler.

now...

you don't know why you're surprised he showed up at your door again. you're not surprised that you opened the door. you're not surprised that you let him back into your home. you're not even surprised that he's talking to you like everything is normal.

the only thing that takes you by surprise is your unwillingness to hear about the misadventures of his dating life.

"steve," you try to interrupt.

"and all i want -"

"steve."

"is for someone to really hear me, to see -"

"steve." you're surprised by the harshness in your own voice. his eyes flash over to you, widened slightly in shock. "you - you have to go now."

his brow furrow, he's taken aback. it occurs to you that he has no idea what he's done wrong. "why?"

"you know why," you spit at him.

"no, you said you understood. you said we could still be friends."

"friends?" you bitterly chuckle. "friends don't hurt their friends over and over again."

"i don't understand."

"that's the problem, steve. you don't get it. you don't get that i don't want to hear about the girls you date. you don't get that it hurts hearing you talk about what you're looking for in a woman. it hurts when call me at the end of the night because you want to hear my voice."

"they why do you answer the phone?"

"because i love you!" you hopelessly exclaim. "because i’ll do anything for you. i’ll do anything you say. and i think you know that."

"am i just supposed to know that you didn’t want to hear about them?"

"no girl wants that," you whisper. "no one wants to hear about everything they don’t have."

"i don't understand what's happening here. you promised me that you would always be in my life!" his accusing tone offends you far more than it should.

a tear slips down your cheek. "that was before."

"before? before what?"

each word hurts. he really doesn't know. he doesn't think about you at all. not as a consideration. not as a woman. not even as just a friend. he doesn't see you at all. "i can do this anymore. it’s too hard. i can - i can’t keep letting you break my heart."

"i told you that i didn’t feel the same. you knew i wasn’t in a space to - to reciprocate."

"and then you kissed me!"

he stiffens at the kiss that he refused to mention. all those nights he spent on the phone with you, talking to you. it was the one thing he never spoke about. "i - i know that wasn’t right. and i’m sorry, okay? i’m sorry i did that. i was hurting."

"you were hurting?" your breaths come out in fragments, with each heave of your chest you can hear the whistle of emptiness where your heart used to reside. "you - you knew how i felt and you knew you didn’t feel the same and you kissed me anyway."

"it was a mistake. i'm sorry."

your hands ball up in frustration, tear burn at the corners of your eyes. "it’s not just about the kiss. it’s - it’s everything. it’s you. you won’t let me go. let me move on. please."

steve staggers back, "i don’t- i'm not trying to hold on to you."

"why did you call me the other night?"

"because you’re my friend. you’re the person i wanted to talk to. you understand. you always understand."

"i don’t. i don’t understand. it crushed me."

he reaches out for your hand. hurt flashes in his eyes when you snatch it out of his reach. you can't let him blind you this time. "you’re always there for me. even when no one else is, you are."

you snort, "you don’t even know what you did wrong, do you?"

"you’re my best friend. i just - i wanted you hear your voice."

"you see? you keep messing with my head. you tell me that i'm the person you want to talk to at the end of the night. you tell people that i'm your soulmate. you tell me that you don’t feel the same. i tell you i want to move on. you kiss me. then you go on a date with another girl. when it doesn’t work out, you call me. i'm done. i can’t do this anymore. loving you is breaking me far beyond repair."

"i do love you."

you fervently shake your head over and over again, "you don’t mean that."

"i love you and i know it’s not in the same way but maybe - just give me time."

"time isn’t going to fix this. you don’t love me. you love the way i make you feel. you love being loved."

he scoffs, shooting a glare at you, "that’s not fair."

"no, it’s not," you agree. "and it’s not fair that you know how i feel and yet you just keep hurting me. you do it over and over again. and i keep letting you."

steve reaches for you again, "we can fix this."

you shake him off, striding to your door, opening it for him, "you should go."

"please," steve begs.

"goodbye, steve."

you don't know how you gather the strength to close the door on the man you love more than anything, let alone the man begging to stay in your life. the door clicks shut behind him.

a choked sob escapes your mouth as tears freely fall.

to know him is to love him, and you don't want to know a thing about steve rogers anymore.

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buckets-and-trees · 3 months ago

Text

The Silence of the Hushed Sublime

Collection: CEDAR TREES Characters/Pairings: King!Steve Rogers x Queen!Reader Word Count: 4.8k Summary: A morning one month after the Spring Equinox. You savor some of the precious time before you as king and queen have to take up your royal duties - but this morning will be different than any that came before.

Content & Warnings: royal au, pregnancy conditions, discussion of pregnancy and children, smut: breast play, unprotected vaginal intercourse, brief cock stroking and vaginal fingering, edging into a pregnancy kink (probably)

Author Notes: I PROMISED I'D UPDATE SOMETHING TO CELEBRATE 2200 FOLLOWERS, AND HERE IT IS!While a few others put up a fight, and even temporarily edged into the lead, King Steve came out triumphant in the end! It's been a busy summer with other projects, so I was thrilled to see him leading most of the time because it gave me the perfect excuse to prioritize him! Also... even though I've been planning this chapter for months with very clear ideas of its outline, the muse still surprised me, but I won't say more than that for now...

Narrative Notes: To read previous pieces chronologically, refer to the masterlist for the Cedar Trees Collection.

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

The soft song of birds coaxes you into consciousness, and you are susprised to find yourself awake before Steve - a rare thing. Before him, you were never much for mornings, but now you enjoy the time bathed in the glow of the warm morning sunlight and blissfully showered in his attention, woken up with kisses and soft murmurings, and his beard against your neck, your shoulder, your cheek.

But this morning, as you slowly come into consciousness, you roll to your side, careful not to disturb him, and smile as you get a rare opportunity to study his face without distraction and without him knowing.

Your eyes trace the strong line of his jaw, softened by his beard, and you resist the urge to reach out and run your fingers through it. His lips are slightly parted, and you can hear the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing. His brow is smooth, free from the creases of concentration or worry that often mark it during the day. In sleep, he looks younger, more carefree.

You let your gaze wander down to his broad shoulders, exposed above the sheets. The early morning light casts a golden glow on his skin, highlighting the contours of his muscles. Even in repose, there's a quiet strength to his features that never fails to captivate you.

As you watch him, a wave of tenderness washes over you. This man, your husband, your king - he's everything you never knew you wanted or needed. The love you feel for him sometimes overwhelms you with its intensity.

Your hand drifts down to rest on your belly. You haven't told him yet, wanting to be absolutely certain, but you're fairly sure now. The nausea that's been plaguing you in the mornings, the tenderness in your breasts, the absence of your monthly courses - all signs point to the fact that you're with child.

As if sensing your scrutiny, Steve begins to stir. His eyelids flutter, and a small groan escapes his lips as he stretches. When his eyes finally open, they immediately find yours, and a sleepy smile spreads over his face.

"Good morning, my love," Steve murmurs, his voice husky with sleep. He reaches out to pull you closer, nuzzling into your neck. "This is a pleasant surprise. Usually, I'm the one watching you sleep."

You can't help but laugh softly, running your fingers through his tousled hair. "I couldn't resist. You looked so peaceful."

His arms tighten around you, and you feel the familiar warmth of desire spreading through your body. After months of marriage, he ignites fire along your skin every time he touches you.

As he holds you, you can feel your heart racing, the weight of your secret pressing upon you. You want to tell him, to share this joy and excitement with him, but a small voice inside your head whispers caution.

It's still early, too early. You don't want to get his hopes up, or worse, disappoint him if something were to happen. You feel you should wait a little longer, just to be sure.

Steve senses your hesitation and pulls back slightly to look at you. "Is everything alright?" he asks, concern etched in his features.

You force a smile and nod. "Yes, everything's fine. I was just thinking about how fortunate I am to have you."

He smiles back at you before leaning in for a soft kiss. His lips are gentle against yours, full of love and warmth.

"I'm the fortunate one," he says as he pulls away.

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, Steve begins tracing circles on your cheek with his thumb. "I've been meaning to ask you something," he says after a moment of silence.

"What is it?" You ask curiously.

"I know we've talked about starting a family one day," Steve starts nervously. "But I was wondering if...if now might be the right time?"

Your heart swells at his words and the butterflies in your stomach flutter frantically. Does he already suspect? Or is this just a coincidence?

"I think that would be wonderful," you say softly, unable to keep the happiness out of your voice.

Steve's face lights up in excitement and relief all at once. He wraps his arms around you tightly and presses kisses along your neck while whispering words of love and excitement.

As he peppers small kisses along your jawline and collarbone, tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You can't believe how lucky you are to have found such a caring and loving partner.

Your legs tangle with his, and you pull his lips to yours, engaging him in a long, languid kiss. Your bodies move together, easing into lustier territory, but neither of you feeling the pressure to rush things along.

After a few more minutes, you break off the kiss and rest your forehead to his. He breathes you in, and your chest tightens in contentment.

But then suddenly, you’re overcome with a wave of nausea rolling over you. You quickly sit up, pressing a hand to your mouth.

"My love?" he questions, reaching for you, voice full of concern.

You shake your head, unable to speak as you fight the urge to be sick. Steve sits up immediately, worry etched on his face. He rubs your back soothingly as you take deep breaths.

After a moment, the nausea passes. You look at Steve, a mix of excitement and trepidation in your eyes. Your heart races. This is the moment, you realize. You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. "Steve, I have something to tell you."

His blue eyes widen, a flicker of understanding passing through them. He takes your hand, his thumb stroking your knuckles gently. "What is it, my love?" he asks softly, though there's an undercurrent of anticipation in his voice.

You take another deep breath, your free hand instinctively moving to rest on your stomach. "I believe I might already be with child," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, Steve is utterly still, his hand frozen on your back. Then, his face transforms, a look of pure joy and wonder spreading across his features. "Truly?" he breathes, his voice filled with wonder and joy.

You nod, tears of happiness welling in your eyes. "I'm not entirely certain yet, but all the signs are there. I've been starting to feel ill in the mornings, I’ve now fully missed my courses twice…”

Steve's arms are around you in an instant, pulling you close to his chest. You can feel his body tremble with emotion, and he presses kisses to every inch of your face, exuberantly showering your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids, lips, nose, jaw, temples with his excitement.

Steve pulls back slightly to look at you, cupping your face in his hands and brushing away a stray tear that has escaped down your cheek. "This is the greatest news I could have ever hoped for," says, voice thick with adoration.

You smile radiantly, bursting with happiness, thrilled to finally be sharing this with him, the one who holds every piece of your heart.

You're overwhelmed by the love and joy radiating from Steve's eyes. Unable to contain your emotions any longer, you pull him in for another kiss. This one is different from the gentle, sleepy kisses you shared earlier. It's filled with passion, promise, and the excitement of your shared future.

Your lips move against his with increasing urgency, and Steve responds in kind. His hands, which were cradling your face, now slide down to your waist, pulling you closer. You can feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of your nightgown, igniting a fire within you.

As the kiss deepens, you part your lips, inviting him in. Steve's tongue meets yours, and a soft moan escapes you. The sound seems to fuel his passion further, and he gently lowers you back onto the bed, his body hovering over yours.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, as you deepen the kiss. Steve's hand caresses your side, sliding down to your thigh and hitching your leg over his hip. The weight of his body presses you into the mattress, igniting sparks of pleasure everywhere you touch.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, pausing to lavish attention on the sensitive spot just below your ear that never fails to make you shiver.

"My love," he murmurs against your skin, his voice husky with desire. "My queen. The mother of my child." Each endearment is punctuated with a kiss, each one sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you.

Your hands slide down his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin. You arch into him, craving more contact. Steve's hand skims down your side, over your hip, and then slowly pushes up your nightgown. His fingers trace patterns on your bare thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Steve," you breathe, your voice a mix of pleasure and need.

Steve's eyes darken with desire at the sound of his name on your lips. In one fluid motion, he flips you both over, rolling onto his back and settling you atop him. The sudden change in position elicits a gasp of surprise and delight from you.

Your nightgown has ridden up, bunched around your waist, leaving your lower half bare against his skin. Steve's hands slide up your thighs, over your hips, and finally come up to span your waist. His thumbs stroke the soft skin just beneath your breasts, sending shivers of anticipation through your body.

Steve's gaze roams over you, drinking in the sight of you above him, bathed in the soft morning light.

"You're breathtaking," he murmurs, voice rough with want.

It sends shivers up your spine, and you place your hands on his broad chest for balance, feeling his heart racing beneath your fingertips. Slowly, deliberately, you roll your hips

Your movements elicit a deep groan from Steve, his fingers digging into your hips. The friction sends waves of pleasure through you, and you repeat the motion, savoring the way his body responds to yours.

Steve's hands slide up your sides, taking your nightgown with them. You raise your arms, allowing him to pull the garment over your head and toss it aside. His eyes darken as they roam over your newly exposed skin, lingering on the subtle changes in your body that hint at the new life growing within you.

"So beautiful," he breathes, his voice filled with awe and desire.

Steve's hands explore your body, caressing every curve and plane with reverence. When his palms brush over your breasts, you gasp.

He chuckles. He’s always loved your breasts.

Steve's thumbs brush over your sensitive nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You arch into his touch, craving more. His hands cup your breasts gently, massaging them with just the right amount of pressure.

"Are they more sensitive now?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You nod, unable to form words as he continues his ministrations. Steve sits up, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you as he brings his mouth to your breast. The first touch of his lips against your sensitive skin makes you cry out softly.

His tongue swirls around your nipple before he takes it into his mouth, sucking gently. The sensation is almost overwhelming in its intensity. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as waves of pleasure wash over you.

Steve lavishes attention on both breasts, alternating between gentle kisses, licks, and soft suckling. Your body writhes atop his, pleasure building with each touch. Steve's hands roam your back, your hips, your thighs, as if he can't get enough of feeling your skin beneath his palms.

You can feel his arousal pressing insistently against you, and you roll your hips again, relishing the groan that escapes him. Steve's head falls back, exposing the column of his throat. Unable to resist, you lean forward and press your lips to his neck, trailing kisses up to his jaw.

"My love," Steve breathes, his voice rough with desire. "I need you."

His words send a jolt down your spine. You capture his lips in a passionate kiss, pouring all your love and desire into it. Steve's hands grip your hips, guiding you as you slowly lower yourself onto him.

You both gasp as you sink down onto him, your bodies joining together. The sensation is exquisite, and for a moment, you simply hold still, savoring the feeling of completeness. Steve's hands tighten on your hips, his breath coming in short pants against your neck.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs, pressing hot kisses along your collarbone.

Slowly, you begin to move, rolling your hips in a steady rhythm. Steve matches your movements, thrusting up to meet you. The pleasure builds with each motion, waves of sensation washing over you.

Steve's hands roam your body, caressing every inch of skin he can reach. His touch is reverent as it always is, but there’s also an almost imperceptible change in it, more protective. When his fingers brush over your stomach, where your child grows, a surge of emotion wells up within you.

He looks back up into your eyes, his blue irises bold with an intensity that always takes your breath away. But they’re also glassy with unshed tears of pride.

You lean down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss, your bare skin pressing against his chest, his coarse chest hair playing deliciously against your nipples. You grind down on his hips again, needing more friction.

Steve groans into your mouth, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he matches your rhythm. The pleasure builds with each movement, waves of sensation washing over you both. Your bodies move together in perfect synchronicity, a dance you've perfected over months of loving each other.

You break the kiss, gasping for air as you arch your back, changing the angle slightly. The new position sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you, and you cry out softly. Steve's eyes are fixed on you, drinking in every expression of pleasure that crosses your face.

"That's it, my love," he murmurs encouragingly, his voice rough with desire. "Let me see you."

His words spur you on, and you increase your pace, chasing the building pleasure. Steve's hands slide up your sides to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples. The dual sensations of him inside you and his hands on your breasts send you spiraling higher. Your movements become more frantic as you near your peak.

Steve senses your urgency and slides one hand down between your bodies, his skilled fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves. The added stimulation is almost too much, and you cry out his name as waves of pleasure crash over you.

Your inner walls clench around him, and Steve groans deeply. His hips buck up into you as he follows you over the edge, his release pulsing inside you.

For a moment, you both remain still, panting heavily as you come down from your shared high. Steve's arms wrap around you, holding you close against his chest. You nuzzle into his neck, pressing soft kisses to his skin.

"I love you," you murmur, your voice heavy with emotion. "So much."

Steve's hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, gently guiding your face to his. His eyes, still dark with passion, search yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

"And I love you," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "More than I ever thought possible." His thumb strokes your cheek tenderly.

Then he gently rolls you both onto your sides, keeping you close as he softly strokes your hair. His other hand rests protectively over your lower abdomen, a gesture that makes your heart swell with love.

"Our child," he murmurs in awe, his eyes shining with joy as they meet yours. "I can scarcely believe it."

You smile, placing your hand over his. "I know. It still feels surreal to me too."

Steve leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "You've given me everything, my love. You brought vibrant color to this kingdom, and now a family and a future brighter than I could have ever dreamed."

You feel tears prick at your eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of his love and the enormity of the moment. Steve leans in, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to your lips. When he pulls back, there's a hint of mischief in his smile.

"Though I must say," he adds, his tone lighter, "if this is how your body reacts while pregnant, I may have to get you with child more often.”

You laugh, playfully swatting his chest. "Careful what you wish for, my king. We may end up with a whole brood of little ones running about the castle."

Steve's eyes light up at the thought. "And what a joyous chaos that would be," he says, pulling you closer. "Our own little kingdom within these walls."

You snuggle into his warmth, relishing the feeling of his strong arms around you. "It would certainly keep us on our toes," you muse, imagining the pitter-patter of tiny feet echoing through the corridors.

Steve's hand moves to your belly again, his touch gentle and reverent. "I can't wait to meet this little one," he says softly. "To see your eyes in their face, or perhaps your smile."

You place your hand over his, intertwining your fingers. "Or your sharp nose, and your strength.”

His expression softens as he gazes at you, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your stomach. "How are you feeling? Truly?"

You take a moment to consider, assessing your body. "A bit nauseous still," you admit. "But mostly, I feel happy. Excited. And a little scared," you add softly.

Steve's arms tighten around you reassuringly. "It's alright to be scared," he murmurs. "This is new territory for both of us. We will face it together, as we always have."

You nod, burrowing closer into his warmth. "I know. There is simply so much to think about. So much to prepare."

Steve nods thoughtfully, his fingers gently combing through your hair. "Indeed there is. But we have time, my love. We will take it one step at a time."

You smile, feeling comforted by his steady presence. "You are right. Though I suppose we should start thinking about when to make the announcement."

Steve's eyes light up at the thought. "Ah yes, sharing our joy with the kingdom." He pauses, a hint of concern crossing his face. "Though perhaps we should wait a bit longer, to be certain?"

You nod in agreement. "My thoughts exactly. I would like to consult with the royal physician first, to confirm everything is progressing as it should."

"Of course," Steve says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "We will keep this our little secret for now."

“I do think it in order that we soon bring Lord Barnes into our confidence on this,” you said, drumming your fingers lightly over Steve’s chest. “And Viscount Coulson.”

“You need not feel obligated, we can alter our morning routine and breakfast privately again,” clearly thinking you felt it would be necessary to explain the morning sickness when it plagued you in their presence.

“Oh, no, no,” you counter. “They should know. They are your closest advisors and our trusted friends, are they not?”

“Bucky all my life, and Coulson these many years I’ve been king.”

“Then we will tell them over the next few days,” you insist.

“And the Duchess?” Steve queries.

You bite your lip and drop your gaze for a moment.

Steve lets out a teasing but incredulous laugh. “She already knows.”

“She suspects. But you know she knows everything - she is the one who said something to me a few weeks back to get me questioning my condition myself.”

Steve shakes his head. “Unsurprising, really.”

“You have no idea,” you laugh.

Steve is pensive for a moment. “Did you say a few weeks ago?”

“Mhmm,” you nod.

He searches your face, and you try briefly to hold back a smile. Your brilliant king is putting pieces into place.

“Spring solstice, in the forest…”

“I was only hesitantly starting to think I may be with child then.”

There is no unease in his face, only love.

His hand splays protectively over your stomach once more. "I swear to you both, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and happy."

You place your hand over his, intertwining your fingers. "I know you will. You're already an incredible husband, a stalwart king, and you'll be an amazing father."

Steve's eyes twinkle with mischief as he pulls you closer once more. "Speaking of being an amazing husband," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "perhaps I should demonstrate my devotion once more?" His hand slides teasingly along your thigh.

A shiver of anticipation runs through you. "Oh? And how do you propose to do that, my king?" you tease, running your fingers through his beard.

"Well," Steve says, rolling you onto your back and hovering over you, "I believe it starts something like this..." He dips his head, pressing a trail of hot kisses down your neck and across your collarbone.

You gasp as his lips find a particularly sensitive spot, your body arching into his touch, fingers tangling in his hair. “My, my, Your Majesty, you are insatiable."

He grins, pulling you closer. "Only for you, my love. Always for you." Steve captures your lips in yet another searing kiss, rolling you onto your back. His body covers yours, warm and solid, as his hands begin to roam. You arch into him, always ready to be taken by this man, nay, yearning for it.

As Steve's hands roam your body, igniting sparks of pleasure everywhere they touch, a sudden wave of nausea washes over you. You break the kiss abruptly, turning your head to the side and taking deep breaths.

"My love?" Steve's voice is filled with concern as he pulls back slightly, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "Are you alright?"

You nod, still focusing on your breathing. "Just a moment of queasiness," you manage to say. "It will pass."

Steve immediately shifts, gathering you into his arms and cradling you against his chest. His hand rubs soothing circles on your back as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead. "Perhaps we should rest a while longer," he suggests softly.

You nestle into his embrace, feeling the nausea slowly subside. "I'm sorry," you murmur against neck.

“Do not apologize, your body is engaged in an arduous and demanding task.”

You take a few deep breaths. “Perhaps some water?” you ask.

Steve’s action is immediate, gently extricating himself from you and swiftly crossing the room to pour a glass of water from the crystal pitcher nearby. He presses it into your hands, and resumes his spot next to you as you drink.

“Better?” he asks once you have finished sipping down the cool and calming liquid.

“Mostly,” you answer, reaching to set the glass on the bedside table.

“What else do can I do?” he asks.

Truly feeling the nausea melted away, you turn back to him, an impish grin on your face, and reach for his hand. Steve's eyes darken with renewed desire as you guide his hand between your legs. He groans softly, feeling your warmth and wetness against his fingers. "Are you certain?" he asks, his voice husky with want but tinged with concern.

You nod, pulling him closer. "I am. I want you, Steve. Always."

He needs no further encouragement. His skilled fingers begin to stroke and tease, drawing soft gasps and moans from your lips. You arch into his touch, craving more. Steve's mouth finds yours in a passionate kiss as his fingers continue their ministrations.

Your hands roam his body, tracing the familiar planes of muscle and sinew. When you reach between his legs, you find him already hard and ready. Steve groans into your mouth as you wrap your hand around him, stroking slowly.

"Please," you breathe against his lips. "I need-”

A soft knock at the door interrupts you both. You freeze, eyes wide, as Steve calls out, "Who is it?"

"It's Lord Barnes, Your Majesty," comes the muffled reply.

Steve withdraws the two fingers that were buried in your cunt, and you whine softly at the loss of him.

"I apologize for the early intrusion,” he explains, “but there's an urgent matter requiring your attention."

Steve groans softly, resting his forehead against yours. "Of course there is," he mutters, then calls out, "One moment, Bucky."

You can't help but giggle softly at his frustrated expression. "Duty calls, my love," you whisper, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

He shoots you a playful glare before nipping at your jaw. "Don't move," he whispers. "I'll be right back."

Steve rolls out of bed, hastily pulling on a robe. You admire the view as he crosses the room, enjoying the way the fabric clings to his muscular form. He throws you a knowing smirk over his shoulder before opening the door just enough to speak with Bucky.

You can't make out their hushed conversation, but you see Steve's posture stiffen slightly. Whatever the matter is, it's serious enough to warrant immediate attention. You sit up, pulling the sheet up to cover your you. After a few moments, Steve nods and Bucky leaves.

Steve closes the door methodically, and his brow is furrowed in worry and thought as he turns back to look at you.

“Hydras forces are mobilizing near our northern border. Our scouts report they may be planning an incursion within the fortnight."

You are no stranger to the bloody and barbaric history Hydra has unleashed on many kingdoms over the last century. They showed no preference for where they tried to conquer, striking at kingdoms all across the continent. They moved swiftly, always emerging out of the unknown and shifting shadows they grew in, rising up in violence, brutality, and chaos. They tried to mount a campaign against your grandfather’s kingdom before you were born, and luckily, with the aid of allies, he was able to fight back and send them back.

They had struck many others before, and had struck twice on the other side of he continent since then.

Now, it seems, they were here.

“I must-”

“Yes,” you nod. “You must act with all wisdom and haste. Go.”

He nods solemnly, turning to go.

Steve hesitates for a moment, his hand on the door handle. He turns back to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of love, concern, and determination. In three long strides, he's back at your side, cupping your face in his hands.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "Both of you."

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours, soft yet urgent. Steve's kiss is deep and passionate, conveying all the words left unspoken between you. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as if he's trying to memorize every detail of this moment. The rough texture of his beard against your skin, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. You melt into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pour all your love and support into it.

When Steve finally pulls away, his eyes are dark with emotion. He rests his forehead against yours for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"I love you too," you whisper, your voice wavering only slightly.

"I'll return as soon as I can," he promises softly. His hand drifts down to rest briefly on your stomach, a gesture that makes your heart swell with emotion.

You nod, your hand coming up to caress his cheek. "Be safe, my love. We'll be waiting for you."

Steve's gaze lingers for a moment before he straightens up, then turns away with visible reluctance. But his steps grow purposeful and full of determination as he strides towards the door. The air around him seems to shift and crackle with raw power, his posture regal and commanding as his shoulders square and his jaw clenches. By the time he reaches the door, he has transformed into the king revered and respected by so many - every inch of him radiating authority and strength.

You are no fool, you know he’s walking into dangerous paths, and though you are fearful of the threat and how it will play out over the days and possibly weeks ahead, there is a fire of hope that you will guard and fan the flames of because you believe in him.

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

OKAY

I have vague plot points that I did intend on incorporating later in this collection, but THIS HYDRA ONE WAS NEWS TO ME! I thought we were just in store for a nice pregnancy news sharing morning, and then BAM, the muse was like, "YOU WANT SURPRISE NEWS, HERE'S SOME SURPRISE NEWS!" Definitely threw a wrench into my original plans! BUT HYDRA GOTTA HYDRA, AS THE KIDS SAY. no, they don't, they don't say that...

READ THE NEXT PART: COMING SOON read more of the Cedar Trees AU

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #royal au #steve rogers x reader #chris evans characters #royal steve rogers #aspen wrote something #cedar trees au #female reader #tw: pregnancy #2200 followers celebration

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yourbuckies · 1 year ago

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— David Levithan, How They Met and Other Stories

#stucky #stevebucky #stevebuckyedit #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steverogersedit #buckybarnesedit #marveledit #mcuedit #sebastian stan #chris evans #mine #happy thanksgiving if you celebrate <3

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mischievous-thunder · 3 months ago

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A pretty tough job but both Wade and Steve love every second of it

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year ago

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i was thinking a whiskey if you please? :) with a side of a bbf!steve rogers? (brother’s best friend and that brother is bucky) idk recently i’ve found similarities in my physical appearance to bucky so it was just a random thought lol- but basically steve is a sweetheart towards the reader and that causes her to crush on him (and ofc cause he’s hot) and the prompt could be "Let him watch." (him being bucky 🤭)

Let Him Watch.

warnings - cursing. allusions to sexual content.

my love, I hope you don't mind, but I decided to make this a college!au. the idea of college bucky and steve is just so delicious to me I couldn't resist <3

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

A party. A one off visit. The boy you've been in love with since you were a kid.

Your brothers best friend.

The notorious frat boy who's always had a soft spot for you.

There's so many people in this house, you can barely stand. Bass bouncing, bodies moving, sweat dripping down backs. Lights flashing, drinks flowing, hands roaming and exploring.

You're sandwiched between two strangers when you feel a solo cups worth of liquid pour down your back, drenching you. You gasp and turn around, but can't find the culprit. Looking around the room, you search for Bucky, hoping he'll give you the key to his room so you can grab a new shirt from your overnight bag.

You fight your way through the crowd, desperate to find your brother. You can see what seems like a thousand frat boys, not one of them the one you want.

"Are you okay?" someone shouts at you, warm hand finding your shoulder.

It's Steve, who looks a little concerned, crease etched in between his brows.

"Someone threw a drink down my back," you yell back. "I can't find Bucky!"

"He's with Nat, in the backyard. Come with me."

Before you can protest, he's intertwining his fingers with yours, pulling you upstairs.

You've never been in Steve's room at college. Back home, you've been in it a thousand times, but this is different. This is a place for grown up Steve, not a kid anymore Steve. This feels more sacred, somehow.

"Sorry about the mess."

You look around, and can't understand what he's talking about. The place is virtually spotless, everything neat and tidy.

"You're the least messy person I know, Steve."

He laughs and opens his closet, searching through his clothes.

"Which one? Green or blue?"

He holds up two shirts, one in each hand, offering them to you.

"Blue, please. It'll go with my skirt better."

You take it from him, a tiffany coloured tee with ROGERS written on the back. You remember him wearing it, at a practise football tournament a couple of years back.

Without thinking, you peel your wet shirt over your head, standing in front of Steve in your bra. The beer you've been sipping on has lowered your inhibitions, bravery coursing through your veins.

His eyes roam over you before he shakes his head, diverting his gaze.

"You're so beautiful," he mumbles. "Most beautiful girl in the world."

You look at him incredulously, unsure if you heard him correctly.

"What?"

"You heard me. I've never met anyone as pretty as you."

"Steve, you're drunk."

"No drunker than you are."

He takes a step towards you, trailing his fingertips up your arm.

"Shouldn't you be with some college cheerleader or something?" you whisper.

He laughs, low and warm.

"I haven't slept with anyone since I got here."

You scoff.

"You've been here for months. I don't believe that for a second."

"It's true. I've been too busy thinking about-"

He cuts himself off, dancing his fingers up to rest against your cheek. He cradles your face in his hand, looking at you seriously.

"I can't stop thinking about you."

"Me?" you whisper in disbelief.

"Yes, you. I know it's not fair on Bucky, but I don't know what else to do. It's not my fault his sister is so easy to fall in love with."

"You love me?" you choke out, eyes welling with tears. You take a breath to try and ground yourself, half convinced you're dreaming.

"I think I've loved you for years. Do you know how excited I was when Bucky said you were coming to visit? Most exciting thing to happen to me in months. I really miss you."

"I miss you too. So much. It's surprisingly hard being apart."

"I don't want to hurt Bucky," he murmurs.

"Me neither. That's the last thing I want to do. Ever."

"But I'm also sick of denying what I want."

He lunges forward and captures your lips, pulling you into him. It's tender and sweet and full of so many years of things unsaid.

You pull away to rest your forehead on his, breathing him in.

"I love you too, by the way," you whisper against his lips.

The grin he gives you is so bright, it's like looking at the sun. He is your sun. Your light in the dark. The only boy you've ever loved.

A harsh knock on the door startles you both.

"Steve, it's Sam! You in there? I need you to be my beer pong partner!"

"I'll, uh, I'll be out in a second!" Steve yells back.

"Come on, hotshot. They're wondering where you are," you chuckle, leaning up to kiss him chastely.

You throw his shirt on and check your reflection in the mirror, turning around when you hear Steve groan.

"What?"

"You look so good in my clothes."

"Control yourself, Rogers, or else Bucky's going to see."

"Let him watch," he winks, grinning when you laugh.

He links your hands and pulls you out of the door, ready to accept the inevitable consequences of being in love with his best friends sister.

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #murphy's 3k celebration #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader fluff #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #captain america x reader #captain america fluff #chris evans #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x barnes!reader #brothersbestfriend!steve rogers #bbf!steve rogers

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anika-ann · 4 months ago

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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:

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #captain america #agent reader #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #a series of unfortunate events #anika ann #essie’s summer lovin’ 300 follower celebration #summer lovin’ celebration #essie’s 300 follower special

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ronearoundblindly · 5 months ago

Text

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.

#essie’s summer lovin’ 300 follower celebration #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers hurt/comfort #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #summer lovin’ celebration #essie’s 300 follower special

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 4 months ago

Note

Congratulations on the milestone love✨🎉

For my request, 'walking in on the other' with Steve Rogers? Or with any marvel character, whatever you see fit!

Thank you 💙

.⋆｡Midnight Swim｡⋆.

Steve Rogers x plus size reader

Being on the run doesn’t exactly get you a comfortable life, but finally, there’s a chance for you to relax, if only you could find your swimsuit… or not

Warnings: skinny dipping, nudity (obvi), brief mentions of the events of Civil War, implied smut WC: 1.4k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You ached, putting it lightly. Months of running from virtually every government on the planet didn’t exactly give you the luxury of relaxing or unwinding after a long day. The rooms you stayed in never had baths to soak in or even a comfy mattress to sink into so when Steve announced that the motel you were going to had not only a jacuzzi but also king sized beds, you thought you had died and gone to heaven.

“I hope you don’t mind sleeping on the floor, gorgeous, cause I will be spread eagle on that bed.” Sam wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you climbed the cement steps up to the second floor.

“Don’t worry about me birdie, that hot tub is calling my name.” You moaned, giving the man a light shove.

“We leave at sunup, don’t get too comfortable.” Steve’s voice broke the little bubble of happiness around the two of you. You looked back at the man, his brow was furrowed, the muscles in his jaw clenching. It wasn’t hard to see that he was different now; gone was the hopeful and starry eyed golden boy, instead you were left with a man who was only trying to survive in the face of complete betrayal of everything he held dear. Throw in a beard and a whole new uniform, Captain America was no more.

“C’mon Steve, we can afford a couple days of rest. We’re all exhausted.” Natasha laid a hand on his arm. “Besides, I think we all need to have a proper shower and do laundry.” You smiled gratefully at her as Steve sighed.

“Alright, just don’t draw too much attention to yourselves. Nat, how about you room with Sam?”

“It’s my turn to get Y/L/N.” Sam stopped in front of the door to his room, shooting a puzzled look at you. Nat matched his expression but still stepped forward to take your spot next to the man.

“We both know you’re gonna fall asleep immediately, just like Nat, and if Y/N is going down to the pool, someone needs to stay up to make sure she’s ok.” Steve shoved the key in the door, not bothering to even look in your direction. You met Sam’s gaze but he could only shrug at you as Nat wiggled her eyebrows.

Of course the woman knew about your crush on the ex-Captain, given that it was the one reason you had yet to room with him despite the rotating roommates you agreed to when you went on the run. Your stomach rolled as you tried to come up with any excuse to not walk in that room and have to face the reality of sharing a bed with the man who’s responsible for the mass ruining of your panties.

The light in the room clicked on just as the door next to yours snapped shut. “Fuck me.” You hiked your duffle bag higher on your shoulder, took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Steve had already dropped his bag on the side of the bed closest to the door and shed the heavy jacket that shielded his toned physique from the world. He barely glanced at you as you entered but you knew his guard was still up, you doubted it had ever come down since what happened at the airport.

“You don’t have to wait up for me. No one else is staying here, the front desk guy said so himself.” You unzipped your bag.

“It’s my job to look after you.” He retorted. You huffed and started pulling out your clothes in search of the singular bikini you had managed to obtain in your ‘travels’.

“Really? What’s your 401k look like?” Even without seeing it, you knew he was rolling his eyes at you. “Dammit.” You hissed as your fingers brushed the bottom of the bag, no trace of the thin material in sight.

Steve turned from the desk where he had laid out a map of the area and raised an eyebrow at you. “I lost my swimsuit,” Your shoulders dropped in disappointment, “No hot tub for me I guess.”

You shoved the empty bag and pile of clothes onto the floor before flopping down onto the bed. “This sucks.”

The desk chair creaked. “Just go in your underwear.”

Your head turned against the sheets, the thick cotton of the duvet brushing against your cheek. Steve was leaned forward, elbows planted firmly on his knees. Dark blue eyes stared right through you and suddenly, you couldn’t remember why you were upset. “Um, yeah I guess. But I don’t have any extra bras at the moment though.” You gestured to your discarded clothes.

Steve’s lip quirked up briefly before settling back into his now usual stern expression. “I’ll wash your stuff for you in the morning.”

“Since when do you offer to do other people’s laundry?” Your hands slid up to rest beneath your head.

“I’ve been pushing all of you too hard. Maybe I want to start making it up to you.” He leaned back in the chair, the sheer mass of his seeming to grow as he rolled his broad shoulders. Unable to help yourself, you let your eyes trace the sharp muscles of his arms. It had been a long time since he was this relaxed in front of you.

“So maybe there is a bit of America’s Golden Boy still left in there.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to the desk.

“Go, before I change my mind.” You slinked off the bed with a smile.

“Don’t wait up.” You cooed as the motel door shut behind you.

——————

The silence was a welcome friend. No cars or sirens, just the soft bubbling of the jets and your own happy groans as your body finally unwound. Steam billowed up from the water, disappearing into the night sky, brushing against the stars. The heat bled into your bones and it was all you could do to not melt.

You felt like you could wash away everything from this past year.

You sank deeper into the water, the gentle ripples now brushed your neck, making you hum in satisfaction.

“Y/N, I was thinking that maybe I could grab some takeout from that 24 hour restaurant we passed a little while back, you hungry?” You lazily looked back over your shoulder just as Steve slipped past the high fence that enclosed the space. You watched as his gaze travelled from your body over to the pile of clothes on the deck, your panties and bra prominently displayed on top.

“Sure, I could eat.” You shrugged, swallowing down a smile at his now blank expression. Steve was frozen in place as the realisation dawned on him.

“Doll.” A shiver ran through you, that was definitely very new. A sudden confidence filled your veins as you watched his Adam's apple bob.

“Steven.” You turned around so that you were now kneeling on the bench, the water now barely covering your breasts. Blue eyes slowly trailed down from your face, following the droplets of water that clung to your skin. “Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t think I’m craving take out.”

The water lapped at your stomach as you sat up. Steve’s eyes immediately darted to your face as a deep blush crawled up his neck. “Doll, what is your underwear doing on the deck?”

“I think that’s quite obvious Cap.” The muscles in his jaw rolled as his expression grew darker. Heat curled in your stomach. “I didn’t want to get them wet. Well, more wet than they already were.”

“It’s dangerous to be out here alone like this.” He took a tentative step towards you, the lock on the gate clicking shut.

“Well then, it’s a good thing I have you here to protect me.” You sank back into the water, moving backwards until you could sit on the other side, giving yourself the perfect view of the super soldier. His jacket dropped first, then the ratty baseball cap that covered his darker hair. You bit your lip as his t-shirt followed.

There was a spattering of light hair across his chest, getting thicker and darker along his torso, until it disappeared beneath his pants. His hands interrupted your view but you wouldn’t complain, not when they were undoing his belt. You fought a moan as the button popped open and his fly was slowly drawn down.

“You gonna join me Cap? The water is just perfect.” The dark material of his jeans slid down and you wondered if Commando was a better fitting title for the man.

Steve smirked as he stepped into the tub. “I have to look out for you don’t I?” His hands grabbed at your wide hips and tugged you against his body effortlessly. “It is my job.”

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plussizefantasia · 5 months ago

Text

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.

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