#summer lovin event

[anika-ann]

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

Part 1 of 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uh-huh, no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The safest place on Earth.

Steve’s arms.

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

You responded with an embarrassed smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Case on point, you supposed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A caring one too.

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

“We should disinfect that.”

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

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

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

“That was literally a poisoned blade, Steve-“

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

“Steve-“

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

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

“It’s just a-“

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too. Let’s go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s fine,” you sighed.

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

Kinda like Hopkinson himself.

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

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

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

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

An angel by your shoulder.

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

“Hey… here, you can have mine.”

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

Friends, you reminded yourself again. FRIENDS.

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

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

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

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

“I won’t. You know I run pretty hot…”

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

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

Friends. Friends, friends, FRIENDS-

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

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

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

“My pleasure.”

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

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

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

Lucky. You were luckier than most.

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

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

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

A rather cold river.

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

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

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

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

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

Cold water. Cold water.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not the point.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn you, Steven Grant.

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it didn’t.

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

Steve’s hands securely holding your hips.

Your hands on his shoulders.

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

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

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

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

Great. Really great.

You were fucked.

How did it even-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

Funny you should ask.

“Are you?”

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

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

“Thank you, Bucky!”

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

He had lied.

Of course he had fucking lied.

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

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

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

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

The corners of your lips quirked up.

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

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

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

…were you though?

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

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

Always.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Avenging angel indeed.

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

Your eyes went wide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any time, Lee.”

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

Part 2

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

I hope you enjoyed reading 🤭 if you did, please consider leaving feedback and reblogging💕

I hope July has been kind to you!

[petrichor-han]

summer lovin’ ; hwang hyunjin

PAIRING I hyunjin x afab!reader

CAST | hwang hyunjin, han jisung, mentions of the rest of skz

WC | 6.4k

GENRE I fluff, smut, (slight) crack, enemies to lovers, summer camp!au, camp counselor!au, reverse trope: too many beds/two beds

WARNINGS I explicit sexual content (making out, breast play, handjob, oral [m and f recieving], ball & clit sucking, teasing, grinding, p in v sex, dirty talk, clit stimulation, unprotected sex), explicit language, e2l so they're kinda mean to each other but they're nice in the end <3

SYNOPSIS | you find yourself as a camp counselor at the very summer camp you spent so many years at as a kid—except this time, you’re stuck with a very annoying (and, admittedly, very attractive) co-counselor and bunkmate.

A/N | requested by anonymous. thank you SO much for this request; i loved writing this reverse trope!! i also turned this into a summer camp au because a) it's summer and b) i was trying to think of places besides hotels where there are multiple beds in one room. anyways, hope you enjoy and thanks again!! if you enjoyed please reblog and consider leaving a few kind words <33 (event is now closed, but requests are open.)

REQUEST! | EVENT MASTERLIST

Yeah, okay. Maybe in hindsight, scrolling through your social media at a red light was a really stupid idea regardless. Maybe you shouldn’t have given him the silent treatment when he asked if you hated him. And you definitely shouldn’t have dented his fancy car with your lamp. Maybe it’s not so surprising that he doesn’t like you, based on everything that he knows about you so far. Maybe this was all your fault, and you should take the blame entirely. 

Or maybe it’s not. 

Restless, you turn over in bed, sighing—only to look straight into Hyunjin’s dark, sparkling orbs as he stares right back at you, his gaze already fixated on your form. 

12 HOURS EARLIER. 

Your thighs are practically melted to the cheap, fake leather that makes up your car seats. And there’s not much you can do about it either, since your car’s air conditioning is broken and the weather is already sizzling—even though it’s hardly past eight in the morning. It’s the sort of day that’ll surely be a scorcher, the sort of day that you like to spend inside. 

Instead, you’re driving down to the summer camp that you used to go to when you were a kid. You had plenty of good memories here—you liked summer camp after all, but it wasn’t like you exactly wanted to spend your summer here as an adult. You can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as you think about all of your classmates and friends that have the budget to take luxurious vacations to various beaches, islands, and countries—and what they might be doing right now. As your car slows to a stop at a red light, you pick up your phone and quickly open your social media, scrolling through a few recent posts to see what’s going on with everyone. You can’t help but be nosy, when you’re so deep in your own stinking envy. 

A gasp escapes your lips, your hand coming up to rest on your chest as you narrow your eyes and furrow your brow at the next post on your feed. A girl that you used to go to high school with posted about being in the Bahamas, with her rich husband and their darling new baby—who’s smothered in sunscreen and wearing a swim shirt that’s about two sizes too small mind you, but they’re so perfect that it doesn’t even matter. Jealousy bubbles up in your stomach as you scroll through her post, looking at the background of the photos—beaches with white sand and cerulean waters, an obviously expensive hotel room, and a clear, private pool with a view of the entire resort. You gnaw at your nails as you click on her profile, groaning aloud as you see her other recent posts—clearly, she’s been doing a lot of traveling lately. And all with her husband’s fat paycheck, too. You momentarily wonder if it would be too much to send her a DM and ask if her husband has any other rich friends that can fund your ideal lazy lifestyle, but then decide against it. What are you, a golddigger? At this point… maybe? 

A loud honk shakes you from your thoughts, making you drop your phone. It slips from your hand and slides between the car seats, wedging itself just out of reach. Cursing aloud, you forget about the phone for a moment and angle your rear view mirror, squinting as you try to make out the face of the person in the car behind you—the asshole that just honked their horn at you. 

It’s a young man, probably around your age. He’s in some flashy, probably expensive black car that contrasts deeply with your hand-me-down, beat up old ‘97 Toyota. It’s so shiny and new that you’re not even sure what type of car it is. Annoyed, he runs his lithe fingers through his long dark hair and narrows his eyes at you, realizing that you’re finally looking back at him. Go, he mouths angrily at you, honking his horn again. He motions for you to turn around and look at the stoplight. It flashes green as soon as you turn around, making you scoff—what the hell was he on about? He had zero patience. 

“Fuckin’ jerk,” you mutter under your breath, as you step on the gas. Your car lurches forward, groaning loudly from the strain as you zoom away from the flashy, annoying stranger. His car disappears from your view as you hit the speed limit, snorting to yourself.

At least you didn’t have to deal with him ever again. 

You manage to dig your phone out of the car seat beside you at the next red light, and by then you’re already nearing the campsite. You recognize the tall trees that border the entrance of the camp, their trunks etched with decades of carvings and other graffiti from young, rebellious campers. A smile creeps onto your face as you recall the night that you made your own mark on those trees; you snuck out with a few older campers, feeling extra bold since all the other kids your age were too scared, and carved your initials at the very bottom of the trunk, beside a large knot in the wood. You remember that clearly—you chose that spot so that you’d easily be able to find it if you ever went back. 

You never did, however. That was the last year you attended the summer camp before you started taking up guitar lessons instead, which took up your summers from that point on. Still, you had several core memories from this place; important ones that shaped your childhood. 

The small parking lot for staff members comes into view as you turn onto the last road, entering the forest. The big trees at the entrance now surround your path, lining the bumpy, cracked asphalt road that you’re driving down. You park your car at the end of the lot, away from most of the other vehicles, and start unloading your things. 

It’s almost eerily quiet. You know that none of the campers are here yet, since counselors and other staff members are slated to come a few days before the kids arrive to get things settled first. But it still feels exceptionally still, save for the gentle breeze that’s blowing through the trees and rustling the giant leaves several feet above your head. You look up to look at the shifting foliage for a moment, sunlight peeking through the crevices and winking at you cheerily. It’s definitely beautiful, despite the chill that goes down your spine at the thought of being out here alone.  

You gather up an armful of your belongings, including a rather durable desk lamp that you probably didn’t need to bring but wanted to. Wobbling, the load much heavier than you’re used to carrying on a daily basis, you manage to slam your trunk shut, your car groaning from the effort. You can hear another car’s engine starting approach, and you wonder if it’s your co-counselor—you were informed that you’d be getting a bunkmate, with whom you’d be sharing schedules with and sharing campers with. The sound of the car gets louder, and soon you can hear the tires crunching on the asphalt, pebbles scattering across the road. You can’t see over the pile of blankets that are holding your lamp in place in your arms, but when you hear the car door open, you manage to shout out a greeting. 

You walk forward a little, but with every step the blankets and lamp start slipping further out of your grasp. “Oh, shit,” you curse, as you feel the load slipping from your arms all at once—you try to grab the lamp, at least, but only succeed in accidentally hitting it with your hand, smashing it against the door of the car that’s parked beside yours.

The car that’s parked beside yours? Hardly registering the dent in the passenger door of the shiny black car, you narrow your eyes as you realize that this asshole parked right beside you when he had almost an entire lot of empty parking spaces to choose from. Scoffing, you pick up your lamp and fling your now dusty blankets over your shoulder. Just as you’re about to walk away, anger bubbling in your stomach, the owner of the car opens his door, stepping out. “Hey!” he shouts at you haughtily. 

Your jaw drops. No wonder this stupid car looked so familiar—it’s the jerk from earlier. And he looks pissed; even more pissed off than before. 

Gasping as he sees the dent on the door of his car, he whirls around to face you, a scowl etched onto his admittedly pretty features. “What the hell?” he shouts, gesturing wildly at his smashed in door. 

“It was an accident,” you say defensively, hugging your lamp and blankets to your chest as you take a step back. You glare daggers at him as he frustratedly runs his fingers through his hair—just like he did when you first saw him, on the road—and curses loudly, turning away as he exhales sharply. 

You roll your eyes at his overreaction. Sure, it was annoying to have your car dented by a stranger—that much you understand. But the way he’s breathing hard and clenching his fists at his sides made you cringe, unable to take him seriously. You start to walk away, your shoes crunching on the dirt path as you follow the trail towards your cabin. 

“Where are you going? I’m not done talking to you!” the man shouts, running up to walk alongside you. He matches your pace, looking down at the mass of blankets in your arms. “What’re you doing, moving in?” 

“I’m a camp counselor, idiot,” you snap, nudging him out of the way as the cabin comes into view. It’s a decent distance away from the other buildings, which you can see faintly between masses of trees and thick summer foliage. The cabin itself is made out of reddish logs, and it looks cozy and classic—the exact cabin you have in your memories from your childhood. You fumble with the key, which is shoved deep in the pocket of your jean shorts, as you attempt to hold all of the blankets in one hand. You only succeed in dropping everything again, making your cheeks heat up with embarrassment as the man behind you clears his throat loudly. You whirl around, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “And what are you doing here anyways? I pissed you off so bad that you had to follow me?” you say haughtily, as you shove the key into the lock roughly. The heavy wooden door creaks open, revealing a clean, sunny interior with two sets of bunk beds. 

“I’m a counselor too, idiot,” he snaps, using your own insult against you. 

A pang of fear pierces its way into your stomach—he’s a camp counselor too? Here? It couldn’t be that he’s the one you’re meant to room with, right? There were so many other cabins that counselors could be assigned to. 

Whipping out your phone, you pull up your screenshot of your cabin address and your roommate’s information. You thrust the phone in his face, making him squint at the screen and exclaim in disgust at the proximity. “You’re not Hyunjin, are you?” you ask skeptically, looking him up and down. 

The man’s face pales, and he clears his throat again—though he sounds much less confident and sure of himself than he did before. “Why do you ask that?” he asks, crossing his arms. “How do you know that?” 

“Fuck,” you grumble, sinking to the floor amongst your blankets. You rub your aching temples, a headache from your stressful morning already presenting itself despite the early hour. “Fuck.” 

Muttering something under his breath, Hyunjin rifles through his pockets, and you look up as you hear what sounds like crumpling paper. He pulls a wrinkled sheet out of the back pocket of his jeans, trying to smooth it out with his fingers. Narrowing his eyes as he reads over his roommate information, he holds it out to you. “So this is you, then?” he asks, in disbelief. He chuckles bitterly, smoothing his hand over his mouth. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

You look up at Hyunjin to glare at him, offended by his disgust, but he’s already sauntering over to one of the bunk beds—the one with the bigger window on its side of the room. You spot a dry erase marker—left behind by another camp counselor, likely—and draw a thick black line on the floor, dividing the entire cabin in half. The marker squeaks loudly as you harshly draw the line on the wooden planks, and Hyunjin covers his ears, groaning in exasperation. 

“Just stay on your side and we won’t have a problem,” you mutter, capping the marker and throwing it over your shoulder. It clatters to the ground noisily, but you don’t bother to pick it up, or even look back to see where it landed—on your side, or his. 

—

At that point, you’d learned two things about Hyunjin, your new roommate and co-counselor; one, he was a douchebag, and two—well—his name was Hyunjin. 

The third thing you learned about him was that he had a stupid amount of friends, and you had no clue why they all seemed to have separation anxiety or something. None of them were even working at the camp alongside the two of you either—they just dropped by unannounced (to you) and started helping Hyunjin move his stuff in. The lazy bastard didn’t even lift a single finger as his seven friends moved in his endless boxes of clothing, of paints and oil pastels. (You were now wondering if the cabin was going to permanently smell like an elementary school art classroom.) 

“Jesus!” one of them—a small, jumpy guy with round cheeks—shouts, as he spots you sitting in the corner, scrolling through social media mindlessly as you try to stay out of their way. You’d moved there as soon as they filed into the room, hiding from their sight—and the multiple stacks of boxes that wobbled precariously as the seven men marched in and out of the room carelessly, brushing past it and scaring the shit out of you. “How long have you been here?” he asks, setting down a box full of what looked to be hair products. He wipes his sweaty brow, panting slightly. 

“The entire time,” you say, shrugging. You try not to let the awkwardness get to you—you’d hoped that they’d all leave before they realized you were still here. 

He laughs a little awkwardly, clearly feeling the uncomfortableness of confrontation. His cheeks flush pink as he realizes that they’d all just overlooked you the entire time. He tries to change the subject. “Are you his new roommate, then?” the round cheeked boy asks with a smile, extending his sticky hand to yours. You gingerly take it, not wanting to be rude, and shake it. “You’re not what I expected.” 

“Meaning…?” you ask, ducking out of the way as another one of Hyunjin’s friends walks by with a duffel bag that’s spilling clothing items onto the floor with every step. 

“Uh… just forget I said anything,” he says quickly, his cheeks flushing even darker as his gaze drops to the floor. Without another word, he presses his lips together and walks out the door, following a few of the others as they leave to presumably bring in even more of Hyunjin’s seemingly endless luggage. How much did a single person need to pack for summer camp? It looked like he packed up his entire apartment and was going to attempt to cram it into a singular, tiny cabin. Sighing exasperatedly, you kick one of Hyunjin’s bags over—it was on your side of the line—and sit down on the edge of your bed. So it seems that Hyunjin already told his massive friend group about what a bitch he thinks you are. 

Luckily, his friends don’t come back. He does, about half an hour later, with a beer in hand and his cheeks slightly pink from his tipsiness. He doesn’t apologize for his luggage that’s taking up more than his half of the cabin, nor the lack of warning before your space was invaded by over half a dozen loud young men. 

He slams the door behind him, exhaling loudly as he flops onto his own bed, slopping beer all over the front of his shirt. His eyes widen, and he groans loudly, annoyed. “Damn it,” he whines, pulling at the soaked material, “do you see this?” He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes, sending a surprising pang of attraction through your chest—you hadn’t realized just how appealing he was before, when he was pissing you off so bad you couldn’t think straight. His messy bangs fall into his dark, sparkling eyes as he tilts his head to the side slightly, studying you. His white t-shirt sticks to his chest, but he seems to have forgotten about it as his gaze meets yours. 

“You don’t like me,” he says suddenly—more of a statement than a question, but he still seemed to be asking for some sort of confirmation or denial. 

You hesitate, your words sticking in your throat as you try to respond. He waits patiently, expectantly for you to say something, but you don’t. Your lips stay sealed shut as you stare at him—and your gaze must seem so cold and unfeeling as your lips refuse to move a single centimeter—not even to quirk upwards into a slight smile to show him that you like him, just a tiny bit. Even if he pissed you off today. Even if you pissed him off today. 

It’s more out of embarrassment than anything, as Hyunjin narrows his eyes at your silence. It’s sobering—he can feel his mind clearing immediately, the slight tipsiness from the beer gone in a flash. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest and his cheeks redden as he tries to retract the flirty tone, the hope laced in his voice as he secretly longed for you to deny it; that you do like him, that you don’t hate him and you want to get to know him better—anything. “The feeling’s mutual, then,” he spits, knocking his beer onto the ground as he storms out of the cabin, slamming the door before you have the chance to fully register what’s happening. 

The tiny bit of “like” disappears at his emotional outburst, your expression souring as you’re left alone in the cluttered room. “You didn’t even give me a chance to answer, dickhead,” you mutter under your breath. 

Never has an interaction with someone gone so wrong for you before. Never have there been so many misunderstandings, and so many mistakes. 

It’s never been this hard to get someone to like you. 

Meanwhile, Hyunjin storms off, meeting up with a few other counselors and camp staff members, that were just about to head out to get some firewood. Similar thoughts stew in his mind as he takes out his emotions on the logs of pre-cut wood, his ax swinging in the air and glinting in the late afternoon sunlight. 

Yeah, he thought you were stupid for missing the green light because you were on your phone. Yeah, he was pissed that you dented his car. And yeah—he was really embarrassed that you didn’t answer him when he teasingly, flirtily asked if you really hated him—solidifying, in his mind, the idea that it’s true. 

He swings the ax down again, grunting loudly as he chops another piece of wood in half. He pants, putting his weight onto the ax and leaning forward as he feels sweat dripping down the back of his neck. A comforting hand places itself on his back, making him look up—it’s another counselor, smiling kindly at him. 

“I think we can head back now. We have more than enough for tonight,” they say, gesturing towards the large pile of wood—most of which came from Hyunjin’s emotional outburst. Slightly embarrassed, Hyunjin wipes the sweat from his brow and nods, pulling the ax out of the ground and following the group back to the campsite. 

The rest of the counselors and staff that didn’t go to chop wood are now sitting outside, around the empty, unlit fire pit. Only a few thin logs and sticks are tossed in haphazardly, and one of the counselors that was chopping wood alongside Hyunjin sighs loudly and goes to fix it. 

Hyunjin’s gaze drifts around the circle of people, searching for you. He sees you, sitting directly opposite him on the other side of the fire pit. You’re sitting with another counselor, with whom you seem to be making polite conversation with. It sends a pang of hurt through his body, a stab of regret. If he hadn’t been so hasty, maybe he could’ve been the one sitting next to you and getting to know you better. 

He settles for chatting with a few people that were chopping wood with him and roasting a few marshmallows to act like he’s not paying attention to you—though he definitely is. He swallows hard as he watches the way your face lights up when you laugh, and how pretty you look by the firelight. Your eyes sparkle as you talk to the person sitting beside you, speaking excitedly and animatedly about something—and Hyunjin finds that he longs to know. There’s something intoxicating about the atmosphere—it makes him dizzy with hope, and hopeful for something more. 

Marshmallow after marshmallow catches on fire as he watches you out of the corner of his eye, trying to pick up on any bit of conversation from across the loudly crackling fire. He pretends that he likes them burnt, loudly laughing it off when another counselor pipes up that he seems distracted. 

“You’re funny,” he says dryly, before throwing his stick into the fire pit and walking back to the cabin that he shares with you. 

—

He claimed that the smoke made his eyes hurt, and it was making him cough too. Even though you were watching him the whole time, and he didn’t cough once. Unless you count the two times he choked on burnt marshmallows, spitting the charred remains into the grass beside him as he insisted that he liked them that way. 

The empty spot glares at you from across the fire, taunting you. Was it you that made him leave? 

He was certainly mad earlier, when you failed to respond to his teasing. In all fairness, you intended to—it just didn’t happen. But that doesn’t ease your mind enough as you unhappily chew your own perfectly golden brown marshmallow, watching the remains of Hyunjin’s marshmallow stick crackling and burning in the fire. 

“I’m gonna head in too. I still have a lot to unpack,” you lie to the person sitting beside you, who nods and hardly registers your departure before getting engrossed in another conversation with someone else. 

Tossing your own stick into the fire as well, you make your way back to the cabin you share with Hyunjin. A small lantern hangs right outside the front door, lighting your way as you carefully walk up the creaky wooden stairs. 

You find that—unsurprisingly—it’s much easier to unlock the door when your arms aren’t full of blankets and a stupidly heavy lamp. You enter the cabin, and Hyunjin looks up from where he’s sitting; propped up against the headboard of his bottom bunk bed. His expression is unchanging as he briefly looks at you and then looks back down at the notebook in his lap. As you peer over, trying to be unsuspicious, you see a light sketch of what looks like the forest bordering the campsite. 

“That’s nice,” you say, clearing your throat as you lock the door behind you and sit down on your own bed, facing him. He looks up at you again, his eyes wide with surprise, before he turns the sketchbook towards you, a slight grin creeping onto his face. 

“Thanks,” he says carefully, as he puts the sketchbook aside. He exhales sharply and clasps his hands together as he looks over at you. “And sorry about earlier. I was kinda drunk and I thought you were making fun of me, so I bailed.” He forces out a sheepish chuckle, his cheeks burning with embarrassment once again. “If it makes you feel any better, I ended up chopping firewood and almost cut off my own hand a few times.” 

“Probably not the best idea to chop wood when you’re ‘kinda drunk,’” you laugh softly, as you hug your knees to your chest. Hyunjin chuckles softly along with you, feeling more at ease now. “I’m sorry too. For being an idiot on the road and for denting your car. I’ll pay for it. Promise.” You hold up your pinky—jokingly—as if you were going to make a literal pinky promise with him. 

Much to your surprise, he smiles goofily and gets out of bed, stepping over the line on the middle of the floor. He leans over and links his pinky with yours, gently shaking it as he meets your gaze and smiles at you, his eyes squinting cutely. 

He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your skin as he leans close, his hand large and warm against yours. You can see a knobby callous on his fourth finger, likely from the way he holds his pencil as he draws. Graphite and what looks to be watercolor paints stain his skin lightly, as if soap weren’t enough to rid the evidence of his artistry—as if it were graphite and watercolor that ran through his veins instead of blood, and it was just natural for it to be there regardless. His fingernails are clean, and kept incongruously short—another artistic precaution, you guess? 

Before you can make any more observations, his touch leaves as soon as it comes, and he pulls away, stepping back over the line and sitting on the edge of his bed, suddenly much too far away from you. It’s odd—you only spent perhaps ten seconds in such close proximity to him, yet you think that if you don’t get it again you might die. Is life worth living if you can’t be that close to living artwork itself? 

Despite the longing that makes your limbs twitch with holding back, you don’t say anything more to Hyunjin, and he doesn’t say anything more to you. He unpacks his things silently as you shuffle around the cabin, getting ready for bed. By the time the lights are out, the entire campsite is completely silent. The fire died out ages ago; the crackling and popping of the wood burning has long since ceased, and the smell of smoke is prominent in the air—though perhaps your wide-open windows might be contributing to that as well. But what else can you do when it’s disgustingly hot, and you don’t have any sort of air conditioning? 

A cool, gentle night breeze blows through the air, disturbing the loose papers on Hyunjin’s nightstand and making a soft rustling sound. 

Restless, you turn over in bed, sighing—only to look straight into Hyunjin’s dark, sparkling orbs as he stares right back at you, his gaze already fixated on your form. 

You hold back a gasp, pressing your lips together tightly as your grip on your blanket grows clammy. After a few moments of painful silence and prolonged eye contact, Hyunjin sits up in bed, ducking under the top bunk as he moves to the edge of the mattress, his blanket slipping from his body. 

You’ve lost count of the things you’ve learned about Hyunjin at this point, but you learn another thing here. 

He sleeps naked. 

You have to stifle another gasp as the blanket threatens to slip down further, exposing him completely, but he places a hand over it just as it exposes his happy trail. He chuckles a little awkwardly, his fingers tangling in the blanket as he pulls it up further. “Sorry,” he says, sucking in a harsh breath through his teeth. 

You’re speechless again, but this time you force yourself to do something even if you can’t say anything. The last thing you want is another misunderstanding, another chance for this terribly beautiful man to slip through your fingers. 

Hyunjin has to swallow back a groan as he watches you come over to him, your gaze washing over him in a way that makes him feel so desired, so wanted. He can’t help but let go of the blanket, letting it slip to the ground and expose his hardening cock, which twitches with anticipation as you sink to your knees between his legs. Hyunjin licks his lips, his cheeks flushing as he meets your gaze. Your hands smooth over his thighs before you push them apart a little more, and before he can say anything one of your hands has made its way to his cock, wrapping around the base of it and stroking gently, sending waves of pleasure through his body. He throws his head back and moans softly, his abs tensing as you rub your thumb over his weeping slit, giggling softly at the way his hips buck up harshly. 

He looks down at you as you lean closer, running your hot tongue along his balls and making him whimper. His cock pulses in your hand as you gently suck one of his balls into your mouth, feeling the slight weight of it on your tongue as you massage it carefully. Hyunjin’s fingers come down to tangle in your hair as he gasps loudly, more precum leaking from his tip as you use your hand to stroke his length while you tongue his balls. 

You remove your mouth with a soft moan, your tongue lolling out as you lick up his tight balls and up the underside of his cock. His precum is salty, filmy on your tongue as you lick it up before taking the head of his cock into your mouth, suckling hard and eliciting a choked groan as his hips stutter. 

“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he gasps, gently pulling you off of his cock as he shudders, his orgasm fading as his cock twitches, craving more stimulation. “I wanna fuck you,” he insists, when you try to squirm out of his grasp to lick at his cock again. He only tightens his grip on you, staring into your eyes for a moment before gently laying you down on his bottom bunk bed, ducking back underneath to crawl on top of you. 

His touch is eager but not rough as he helps you out of your clothes, throwing them onto the floor carelessly. His eyes settle on your bare skin with every piece of clothing that you remove until you’re completely nude, and he runs his hands up and down your sides appreciatively. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, biting his plush lower lip as he stares at your body for a few moments more, before looking back up into your eyes. His gaze is lustful, full of desire—yet there’s something a little mournful too, a glimmer of hope. 

It makes you want to kiss him, more than anything. Your lips crash onto his, but he was ready—it’s like he was wanting it too. He kisses you back eagerly, his tongue licking into your mouth as his soft lips engulf yours. His hands hesitantly rest on your hips, his touch light as a feather, before you place your hands over his and move them up to your breasts. He moans into the kiss, gently squeezing your tits in his hands and rubbing his calloused thumbs over your hardening nipples, making you groan. You can feel his cock rubbing against your inner thigh as he bucks his hips, hissing at the slight friction on his sensitive length. 

He slides one of his hands down your curves, his fingers dancing lightly across your skin as he reaches between your legs. Shakily, you part your legs for him more as he glides his digits through your silky folds, groaning quietly as he feels your wetness. “Maybe all that arguing was like foreplay to you,” he says smugly, earning him a gentle smack to the arm from you as you protest. 

“Then I can definitely say the same about you,” you retort, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. His length slides over your soaking pussy, making both of you groan again. 

“If I admit it, can I fuck you already?” he asks, his tone light and teasing. He starts to grind his cock against your weeping slit, obscene slick noises emanating around the cabin. You can’t help but let out a strangled moan as the head of his cock slides over your clit, making your thighs twitch uncontrollably. 

“Yes, please,” you gasp, not caring any more—all you wanted was him to fuck you. 

A cocky smile spreads across his face, but before you can make fun of him for it he slides himself into you, eliciting shaky moans from the both of you. 

It burns slightly; it’s been a while since you’ve hooked up with anyone, so naturally you’re once again not used to the feeling. The pain comes with pleasure, however, and you can’t ignore the deep thrum of pleasure that’s starting to pool in your stomach, your cunt pulsing around Hyunjin’s length and making him exhale shakily as he tries to hold still so that you can adjust to his size. 

He reaches down, his thumb slicking over your clit gently as he pushes more of his length into your tight warmth, until he bottoms out completely with a pleasured sigh. 

“So full…” you whimper, squirming underneath Hyunjin as he hovers over you, his warm breath tickling your skin as his lips ghost over your neck. 

“That’s right, baby,” he coos, as he pulls out all the way, agonizingly slow—before thrusting back in again all at once, his hips smacking against yours. The sound of skin against skin echoes around the room as he sets a deep, steady pace, making you whimper and cry out with each languid, carefully angled thrust. “So full of my cock…” 

He chuckles as you curse under your breath, a hint of a whine in your whispers that he picks up on easily. He starts to rub your clit faster, applying more pressure to the sensitive little nub with his thumb. Your wetness coats your clit, his fingers, his cock, as he fucks into you more desperately now, the mere sight of your tight cunt and the pleasured expression on your face starting to edge him closer to his inevitable orgasm. 

His breathing is ragged now, his thrusts more sloppy and less rhythmic as he moans and buries his face in your neck once more, pressing kisses to your skin and nipping gently. “So close,” he gasps, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin near your collarbone, “so fucking close…” 

With a choked moan, he pulls out of you just as thick ropes of cum erupt from his tip, landing across your tits and stomach. He strokes himself through his orgasm, groaning loudly as more creamy semen drips from his slit, leaking over his fingers. The sight makes your pussy throb with need; you still haven’t finished, and you’re a little pissed off—you were getting quite close, before he finished. 

Hyunjin notices your expression as his orgasm fades and he removes his hand from his length, panting softly. 

“I didn’t forget about you,” he says tenderly, winking at you before pressing a gentle kiss to your thigh. He moves down, kissing and nibbling at your soft skin on both thighs before he reaches your cunt. With a smile, he reaches down to spread your lips with his fingers, chuckling as you whine with embarrassment, heat rising to your face. “I promised I’d make you feel good,” he says, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cunt. “And I’m gonna.” 

He licks a fat, wide stripe up your pussy, groaning as he tastes your musky wetness on his tongue. He laps at your slit for a moment, making your thighs start to jump and twitch as you grasp at the sheets beneath you. The feeling of his tongue pressing ever so slightly against your hole, the teasing… it makes you leak even more against his lips, which he eagerly licks up again. His hands grab your twitching thighs, holding them apart as he devours your pussy. 

Moaning loudly as he wraps his plush lips around your clit and sucks, you reach down to tangle your fingers in his messy dark locks, tugging his face closer to your soaking pussy as he sucks on and licks your swollen clit. He complies eagerly, burying his face closer to your cunt—his nose bumps against your clit as he messily laps at your slit, his tongue slipping into your tight hole. 

It’s more than enough to push you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you—it’s so intense that your mind nearly goes blank, your limbs stiffen and seize as you whimper loudly, pulling Hyunjin ever-closer as your hand is still buried in his dark, tangled locks. 

He licks at your pussy through your orgasm, and once the last few waves of pleasure fade from your body he kisses back up your stomach, up your chest and collarbone, until he reaches your lips. This kiss is different from the other ones; it’s much more tender and sweet, much less hungry and full of desire. 

“Will you sleep here with me tonight?” he asks, pouting as he lays beside you, pulling the blanket over the two of you. He wraps his arms around you tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“In your bunk bed instead of mine? No way. There’s way too many beds in here for two people, might as well take advantage of it,” you tease lightly, wiggling in his arms. He laughs softly, squeezing you tighter—he really wanted you to stay. 

“Please?” he begs, tickling you and making you squeal as his lithe fingers prod at your sensitive sides. “Please stay with me?” 

You never really wanted to leave anyways. 

“I’ll stay with you as long as you want,” you say, pretending to finally give in, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you loosely drape your arms around his neck. 

“Just until you piss me off again by doing something stupid,” he teases, turning your face ever so slightly so that he can kiss your lips, instead of you kissing his cheek again. 

You melt into the kiss so quickly, so consumed by Hyunjin and his full lips that you hardly register what he said—until you realize. “Hey!” you scowl against his lips, as he bursts into peals of soft, melodic laughter. 

© petrichor-han 2024, all rights reserved.

please consider reblogging and/or leaving a few kind words if you enjoyed this fic :) tumblr posts revolve around reblogs, and i'd appreciate the gesture!!

[reidsaurora]

Your event is so cute!!! Could I get a sun kissed Malibu dream house with Aaron?? 🥹 in need of some fluff with him hehe

i am so so sorry this took me so long to write! writer's block these past few months has been kicking my butt. but, thanks to my awesome betas, i think i wrote something you'll like! hope you enjoy!

"Summer Lovin" ~ A. Hotchner

Summary: As the start of summer arrives, you and your friends at the BAU find yourselves feeling a bit reminiscent of the summers before. Along with that reminiscence, you start to miss the days when you and Aaron had little babies instead of big kids…

Pairing: Dad!Aaron Hotchner x Mom!Reader

Word Count: 2,019

Content Warning: lots of talk of babies/pregnancy, sexual humor, kind of fade to black smut if you read between the lines lol, small mention of food, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: i'm so sorry this took so long, i had a very hard time writing this and def meant to post it sooner. however, in the spirit of my city being under a heat advisory today, this feels appropriate to post 😂

Originally Written: 06/04/2024 through 06/25/2024

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold and @virtual-vivi 🫶🏻🩷

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Summer Celebration info can be found here!

Sun Kissed - fluff requests

Malibu Dream House - domestic!au

Aaron tossed off the blanket, letting out a small sigh of relief. “When did it get so hot?” he grumbled, his morning voice prominent. As he rolled over to his back, you spotted a big wet spot on the front of his tee shirt from just how much he was sweating.

Still, you scooted closer to him anyway and tossed an arm over his abdomen, his familiar scent filling your senses. “News said there’d be an excessive heat wave today.”

“It's probably ninety degrees already,” he complained, “and it's not even 9:00 yet.”

Rolling onto your side to face him, you left a trail of kisses along his jawline. “Hey, Mr. Grumpy Gills,” you giggled, referencing one of your kids’ favorite movies. “When life gets you down, you know what you gotta do?”

“It's sweltering! How in the world could you possibly want to cuddle right now?” Aaron ignored your attempt to brighten the mood, instead opting to toss a pillow over his head and groan into it.

You just pulled the pillow away and left another peck on his jaw. “Because I love you. And because our children are gonna come in here any minute to take you away from me.”

He noticed the small pout that followed your statement, the expression enough to soften even Aaron Hotchner, king of stoicism, up. “Alright, fine. I'll allow it. But only because you drive a hard bargain.”

Your pout was replaced with a smirk as you snuggled closer into his side. “Mmm, that means a lot, coming from an ex-prosecutor. Maybe I should've gone to law school with you.”

“You're too sensitive for the big house, or whatever they say,” Aaron snickered. After noticing your look of offense, he quickly covered with, “I didn't mean it in a bad way. You have feelings. It's a very nice thing to come home to after dealing with emotionless psychopaths all day.”

“I think you're trying to compliment me. I'll take it.”

His lips met yours for a quick peck before saying, “I have nothing but compliments for you, my love,” Then, he met you with a second, much longer kiss, and while he tasted like morning breath, moments like this were so rare that you were willing to look past it.

One of his large hands met your leg, his calloused fingertips trailing along your bare skin. It felt like a lifetime since you'd been like this, with two children always needing your attention and the FBI always needing Aaron's. Just a simple touch of his fingers had you forgetting about the outside world, if even for just a moment.

Your lips met his neck, his stubble scratchy against your skin. He'd been away on a case in Seattle for about a week, and you were certain he hadn't shaved the whole trip. You liked it that way anyway.

His hand traveled further up under your nightgown, settling on your thigh. He squeezed the supple skin, a gesture of both affection and want.

“Are you trying to go for number three?” you joked before kissing his neck once more.

“Believe me,” Aaron chuckled, “if I knew I had enough time, I'd certainly try.”

As if on cue, four scurrying feet came stamping across the hardwood floor into your bedroom. “Good morning, Daddy!” both of your children yelled in sync, climbing onto the edge of the bed.

“That's why you're not allowed a third,” you mumbled into his ear. “The ones you have don't even appreciate me.”

“They love you, I promise,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. To the kids, he said, “Good morning. Don't you have anything else you want to say?”

They both turned to you, sheepish looks coming across their tiny, adorable faces. “Good morning, Mommy.”

“That's better,” Aaron said, gaining him a snicker from you. “Now, may I ask why the two of you are up so early and you're already in your swimsuits?”

It was then that you realized he was right. Jack, the older of your children, was sporting his favorite Spiderman swim trunks, while his little sister, Libby, had managed to dress herself in a cherry-print swimsuit she hadn't quite grown into yet. They made your heart melt.

“Daddy,” Libby sighed, clearly exasperated with her father, “don't you know what day it is?”

It happened to be the day your kids hadn't stopped talking about for weeks: the beginning-of-summer pool party you and Aaron threw every year for your friends and his coworkers at the BAU.

Aaron tapped a finger against his chin, his brows furrowing as he thought. “Let's see… it's not Libby’s birthday, and it's not Jack’s birthday, it's not my birthday, and I don't think it's your mom’s birthday,” his last comment earned him a sarcastic look from you. “Hmm, what day could it be?”

You joined in on his little game, tapping against your chin as you pretended to think. “Perhaps it's Christmas?”

Jack narrowed his eyes at you. “It's too early in the year for Christmas,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You're right.” As you continued tapping your finger, you shot Aaron a knowing look, which he gladly returned. He could tell by the gleam in your eye exactly what you meant with that look. “Is it…”

Each of you grabbed a kid, tickling and eliciting little squeals and giggles. “Pool party day?!” the two of you shouted in sync.

Libby thrashed around in your arms, laughing and squirming, while Jack attempted to escape his father's arms. Moments like these were almost as rare as the ones with just you and Aaron, so you had to take advantage of them while you could.

“It's pool party day!” Libby squeaked, while Jack was laughing so hard, he could barely breathe.

Their smiles and laughs pulled at your heartstrings. You wondered when the universe decided to make your babies grow up, since it seemed like only yesterday when you had a newborn and a two-year-old.

Bringing yourself out of your nostalgic trance, you pulled yourself out of the bed, grabbing each kid by the hand. “Who wants to make pancakes while Daddy’s in the shower?”

—

Soon enough, all your friends had arrived and it felt like summer had too. Penelope and Spencer were currently entertaining all the kids, while the other men were crowded around the grill and the rest of the ladies were sitting poolside and working on their tans.

“You ever wonder if either of them will have kids?” JJ asked, nodding toward Penelope and Spencer.

“Spencer, a hundred percent,” Emily answered, like her statement was a fact. “Penelope, I'm not so sure.”

You were next to jump into the conversation, not even bothering to look up from your magazine. “Why do you ask, Jen?”

JJ let out a longing sigh. “It's been so long since we've had a baby around here.”

Putting the magazine down, you looked over to her, eyebrows creased. “Henry's only three. It hasn't been that long.”

“You don't miss having a baby at our get-togethers? Emily, where do you stand?”

“Don’t look at me,” Emily said with wide eyes. “If I didn't have to change another diaper for a lifetime, it still wouldn't be long enough.” She was the one person in the group that was rather indifferent to children, but babies, she'd rather not talk about or be around.

“Yeah, babies are nice,” you said, “but the pregnancy part? That's what I'd rather go a lifetime without.”

“Well, I'm sure there's one thing we can all agree on,” JJ snickered. “At least making the baby is fun.”

Emily tossed the pillow behind her back in the direction of her coworker, giggling all the while. “Jennifer!”

“What?” she laughed as she swatted the pillow away. “Am I wrong?”

You let out a small snicker yourself, shooting a glance in the direction of your husband, who was currently taking his turn in manning the grill.

Neither of your friends missed that look, both their mouths falling agape at the expression. “Spill!” they squealed in sync.

Penelope made her way over from the edge of the pool, her face overtaken by the brightest smile known to mankind. “I heard the ‘Someone has beans to spill’ variety of squeals and giggles. What am I missing?”

“Nothing,” you insisted with an eye roll.

Emily patted the edge of her chaise, welcoming Penelope over. “Come sit, we're gonna get it out of her. After all, two out of three of us are profilers.”

Your eyes narrowed at the brunette. “Do you forget that I also used to be a profiler before my kids came along?”

“Stop changing the subject,” Penelope said with a swat of her hand. “Spill your guts. What did I miss?”

“Well, we were talking about how it's been so long since anyone on the team, past or present, has had a kid,” Jennifer explained.

“And someone looked at her husband with that look,” Emily further explained.

You scoffed. “It was not that look.”

“It totally was,” your friends spoke in sync.

Penelope's face lit up like a child in a candy store, her mind clearly running rampant with ideas of what the look meant. “Oh my God, are you-”

“No!” you quickly interrupted, knowing exactly where that question was headed. “Not yet anyway,” you mumbled under your breath.

The three of them practically jumped out of their seats and gathered around you, all screams and smiles.

“We haven't even had the conversation yet!”

“But you're going to!” Penelope insisted.

You rolled your eyes, but internally, you couldn't be happier for the gift of friendship from these three women. Jennifer, the mom friend in more ways than one. Emily, the voice of reason who not-so-secretly had a funny side and always knew how to make you laugh. And Penelope, the perfect shoulder to cry on and perfect soul to confide in. Lucky didn't even begin to describe how you felt about knowing these women.

Suddenly, you found yourself— as Penelope had said— spilling your guts. “I don't know. This morning just felt… different. Like, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have another baby around.”

The three of them flooded you with comments of love and support, hugs wrapping around you from each direction. Having another baby would be different, of course, but your friends were making sure that you knew it would be a good kind of different.

“I still have to get Aaron on board, so no one get too excited,” you reminded them.

JJ was already way ahead of you. “We've got the kids, Rossi and Derek have the grill. Don't worry about anything out here. You and your man deserve a moment of free time.”

“Just so we're clear,” you said, pointing a finger as if to further prove your point, “we are just going to talk. No funny business.”

Emily snickered. “Yeah, the same way you guys used to ‘talk’ on the jet?” Your cheeks heated to a bright red shade at her comment.

“Ew, Hotch is in the mile high club?!” Penelope practically screamed. Luckily, everyone else seemed too engrossed in conversation to hear her, but you were still mortified nonetheless.

“Okay, scratch what I said. I'm actually going inside to give myself a lobotomy.”

And with that, your friends were shouting in sync different variations of “Have fun!”

Then, with a smile on your face from both the joy of friendship and the love you had for your husband, you found yourself heading over to the grill and pulling Aaron away. His reaction was nothing short of laughter as you practically dragged him toward the house, his shirt nearly coming off with how hard you were tugging it.

Lips met skin as you closed the back door behind you. Aaron let out another chuckle, though he surely wasn't protesting your affection. “Woah, that look in your eyes tells me you're the one thinking about number three,” he commented, referencing your words from that morning.

“Well,” you said as your fingers started to trail under the hem of his dark gray tee shirt. With another kiss to his neck, you continued, “About that…”

taglist: @1234-angelika @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @the-lucky-ones311 @mercuryvapours @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @paintlavillered @lavhoes @rhyanishere @danielle143 @handsupforamiracle @ah-blossom @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @cwritesforfun @lover-of-books-and-tea

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

My Place or Yours? [Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader

Tags/warnings: Reader doesn't like weddings, kissing.

Summary: You're being tortured at a wedding, but there is a man there who saves your evening.

Words: 1,550

A/N: This is written for the Summer Lovin' challenge by @pedgito, who also made the moodboard. I picked the theme 'wedding', which was a weird choice for me because I really hate weddings, but I got Joel to help me get through it. Enjoy!

”I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Had those magic words only been the end of your misery, this day would have been easy-peasy. But no, you wouldn’t get off the hook that easily. It was only the beginning of an evening filled with awkward speeches, parental tears, and drunk best men giving dubious toasts.

You just don’t do weddings well. Anyone you ever talked to would tell you that it’s because you’ve been burned, because you’re single, ”once you find Mr Right you’ll start to plan your own wedding!”, et cetera, et cetera. Maybe that’s true, but with your disposition, it doesn’t seem likely that you’ll ever understand the point of paying hundreds of thousands of dollars for one single day during which both your parents get to watch you make out after a minister has sprinkled some magic words over the two of you. It’s just not in your nature. You never dreamed about a fairytale wedding when you were little, and you thought your friends would wise up when you got older, but no. As soon as the question was popped, they all reverted back to their childhood selves, and began planning as if for the event of the millennia.

You’ve been to three weddings these last few years, and it doesn’t get any easier. It’s embarrassing, lavish, awkward, and weird. And as always, you’re there without a partner, and must sit there with a fake smile plastered on your face, with no one to bitch to. At least you’re not the only single one at this wedding; that’s happened before, and even if you didn’t mind being single, you were definitely feeling blue when you got home that night.

At least dinner is good. This particular bride isn’t following any fad diets that she’s forcing on everybody, so you’re enjoying a really delicious three course meal. Still, what would a wedding dinner be without interruptions in the form of long, meandering speeches? You are forced to put down your cutlery one too many times, and by the time you’re finishing your delicious medium rare steak, it’s already cold. Chasing leftover sauce with a piece of bread, you nod encouragingly at the waiter asking you if you want more wine. You want to ask them to leave the bottle, but they probably wouldn’t find it funny.

Too tired to make polite conversation, you start to wait for the unofficial break between main course and dessert, when people get up to stretch their legs. It’s your opportunity to get away for a bit. You even have a modus operandi for it: you bum a cigarette from one of the smokers even though you’ve never smoked, go to the side, and pretend to smoke it for as long as you can. If the venue is nice, you then walk around and inspect it. This wedding offers a lot in that aspect: it’s a big house, almost a mansion, in the countryside, with a park and lots of smaller, old buildings on the premises. Perfect for hiding, and then you can just return back to the dining-hall late and blame getting lost.

When the break finally is announced, you let the smokers leave first. By the time they're greedily sucking on their cigarettes, you show up and ask for one. Cigarette in hand, and nod in agreement with the light conversation: yes, it was a beautiful ceremony, yes, the dinner is delicious, yes, the bride is so pretty and the groom so handsome. Eventually, you make a break for it, saying something about wanting to see the premises. So you walk away, flicking away the pillar of ash on your unsmoked cigarette.

The din of the house grows distant as you walk across the yard, shamelessly dropping the cigarette and crushing it with your foot before heading for the garden, quickly as if to escape the disgusting smoke. Once you reach the first, fragrant rose bushes, you start to relax. You find a bench and sink down on it with a relieved sigh. The light breeze smells of oleander, the birds are chirping, and it's pleasantly warm. Perfect.

You dig into your evening bag and check your phone. No messages, of course: most of your friends are at the wedding. Putting the phone away to instead enjoy the garden, you remain seated for a little longer than you know is considered polite. When you finally rise to go back, you notice someone approaching you. A man, around your age, a friend of the groom's, you think, but you've never talked to him.

"Hi," he calls out. "You okay?"

"Sure," you nod easily, "I just needed some air."

"A lot calmer here, isn't it?" He's standing in front of you now, all broad shoulders and narrow hips. Very handsome, but you're feeling defensive, and when your answer delays a little too long, he clears his throat.

"Sorry. Hi." He extends his right hand. "Joel. I'm a friend of Mark's."

You take his hand and give him your name. He doesn't let go immediately after shaking your hand.

"Nice to meet you." That smile. Goddammit, that's a charming smile. When his warm hand finally unclasps yours, you want to reach for it again.

"Can I help you, Joel?" you ask instead, trying to sound unperturbed.

"I saw you leave and wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

He shrugs lightly, passing a hand over his hair. A curl bounces back to gently lick his forehead.

"You just looked like you weren't maybe having such a good time."

Well, shit. You thought you  had been keeping a straight face, but clearly you had failed. Your gaze flickers, and you clear your throat.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not good at weddings.”

He chuckles low, but not maliciously.

“It shows.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to keep a straight face for all these hours,” you snap, a little harsher than intended. Joel holds his hand to his chest.

“Didn’t mean to offend you.”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry. We better get back before they send out a search party.”

“Hey, lemme make it up to you. Can I have the first dance with you?”

Frowning, you eye him, expecting him to be joking. But his gaze is open and honest.

“Sure,” you eventually smile. “Find me when the dancing starts.”

And so it is that after dessert and another couple of meandering speeches, after the bride and groom have danced their first dance, Joel finds you in the crowd. He leads you to the dancefloor with a steady hand, and when he puts his arm around your waist, you don’t mind that his hand comes to a rest a little lower than expected. He keeps eye contact, but not in a creepy way as he makes small talk, asking you about your life more than he talks about his own. He seems genuinely interested in you, and that makes your head swim more than the alcohol.

When the music changes to something more energetic, you pull him to the side.

“Not my cup of tea,” you explain, and he nods, seemingly happy with being off the dancefloor as people begin to shake their asses.

“A drink?”

“Sure.”

He takes you to the bar and you both get drinks. The bride and her bridesmaids are cheering loudly on the dancefloor, and the noise is beginning to wear you down.

“Let’s go out?” you suggest to Joel, who nods.

There are some people scattered around the yard, but the garden is empty. The smell of roses is even stronger now when the hour is late, and you notice that you’re actually enjoying yourself. Joel is so easy to talk to, you’re comfortable in his company, and he makes you laugh.

“Hey,” you finally say. “Thanks for not being weird about me not liking weddings.”

“Why would I be weird about it?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

“Because everybody loves weddings, and I just can’t,” you shrug, but with a hint of desperation in your voice. “And if you don’t like them, then you’re just bitter and probably in need of the right person to have your own wedding with.”

He’s quiet for a moment, sips his drink.

“I know I can keep a secret,” he starts, his voice low, “but can you?”

“I can.”

“I don’t like weddings, either.”

You stare at him for a moment before slapping his arm.

“You could’ve told me earlier!”

He laughs. “I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“Asshole!” you blurt out, but can’t say more, because Joel’s lips are on yours, and you drop your glass on the gravel where it shatters, splashing liquor over your feet. And you don’t give a single goddamn. Your hands come up to his shoulders, pulling him closer, and you kiss him back, tasting the whiskey on him, a peppery twang from the steak he had earlier, the bristles on his face scratching your skin.

When you finally have to step back to take a breather, he licks his lips and looks at you with heavy-lidded, dreamy eyes.

“Not too soon?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Just perfect.”

He grins. “How soon d’you think it would be polite to leave?”

“I don’t care, we’ve suffered enough. My place or yours?”

[hellfire-state-of-mind]

it’s hell on earth to be heavenly

pairing: security guard!Frankie x band leader!fem!reader

rating: E for Explicit

word count: 5.2k

warnings: 18+ content, reader has no physical description besides female anatomy and clothing, Frankie is able to lift reader, aggressive music festival crowds, mental health scare, Frankie is our pussy eating king, unprotected piv sex, creampie

a/n: my contribution to the Summer Lovin' challenge hosted by @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery, and @amanitacowboy!! i'm so excited to share this one, the story came to me immediately when i got the moodboard. i'm a huge concert girlie so i may have nerded out just a bit 😅 anyway, happy Frankie Friday, enjoy some filth 😘

You knew your lives were about to change the moment the festival was confirmed. You just weren’t prepared for how much.

The band had solidified by the end of your first year of college. You met Madison, the bassist, in your orientation group the week before classes began. She learned how to play in high school out of spite when an ex-boyfriend made a comment about how “girl bassists aren’t real” – her major was in English Lit. Tyler, the rhythm guitarist, was your biology lab partner in the second semester. He was a couple years older, already in his third year and still undecided on his major but like any other former teenage wannabe-fuckboi, he only learned how to play guitar as a party trick to pick up girls. Over Spring Break, he threw a party at the apartment he shared with his sister, Kate, who’d decided not to take the college route despite being the same age as you and Madison. You learned that she was on the drumline in her high school’s marching band, so you didn’t hesitate to snatch her up and round out the group as your drummer.

You had a bit more classical background. Your mom had put you in piano lessons almost as soon as you were tall enough to reach the keys. She tacked on voice lessons when you were in middle school. By the time you were 12, you had your heart set on being a composer and performing at concert halls around the country. Your uncle was the one to teach you how to play guitar; he had a side gig at a local sports bar playing crowd-requested covers and pulled some strings to book the restaurant for your 16th birthday. You were mesmerized by the way everyone would join in and sing along, would-be strangers bound by nothing but an invisible string of words and chords. You ached to know that feeling and suddenly your path was even clearer than before.

The four of you hadn’t intended to form a band. Your bond as friends came first, the music just came from goofing off at a frat party and earning some cheers from drunk bystanders. From there, you did campus events and open-mic nights at dive bars, all just for fun and a little extra pocket money. You even played a wedding for your roommate’s cousin. Your first original song was a by-product of a final poetry assignment for one of Madison’s classes. The four of you recorded yourselves, put it up on YouTube, and it went viral within 24 hours. So you spent that summer just writing music. Pooling together your money allowed you to rent out the campus music department’s recording studio and your first EP was born.

That’s also where you met Frankie.

He had just taken a job as overnight campus security, and it was his first graveyard shift. It had been expectedly uneventful, sweeping through each building and making sure they were empty. Until one wasn’t as empty as it was supposed to be.

He saw the light at the end of the hallway and his Army training kicked in. Soft, slow steps carried him to the occupied practice room. There you sat at the piano, plunking out experimental chords and scratching out notations on the sheet music in front of you. You were so focused that you didn’t even hear the very audible creak of the door as Frankie pushed his way in. He waited a moment for you to respond, assuming he had just caught you mid-thought but when you still didn’t acknowledge his presence, he cleared his throat a bit more aggressively than he intended. “Excuse me.”

You jumped and swiveled around the bench. Your eyes were wide and tinged red with fatigue. You’d been there for hours, insistent on getting the song right.

“Miss, this building is closed.”

You blinked, digesting his words. “Right. Sorry, um,” you squeezed your eyes shut and inhaled at the sting of their dryness, “what time is it?”

“Nearly 1am.” Frankie softened, sure you weren’t any threat, but still maintained his authoritative stance. “You’re not supposed to be here. Could I see some ID?”

After digging through your bag and showing him your driver’s license and student badge, the situation cleared itself up pretty quickly. You’d explained what you were doing there and even showed him the official email from the department head giving your band permission to access the building over the summer. This sparked Frankie’s interest and the two of you probably would’ve spent hours talking if it hadn’t already been so late.

Despite your band’s clear potential, you all agreed to finish out your degrees before pursuing the industry for real. While you were afraid of missing your opportunity, having achieved such a bright spotlight so early on, a part of you was grateful. For time. For structure. For Frankie.

The two of you grew close over those last three years of your undergrad. You exchanged numbers with the veiled excuse of being able to contact him if you needed to get in or out of a building late at night. This eventually became if you needed him for anything. And one night at the end of senior year, you needed him bad.

The university had a tradition of throwing an exclusive off-campus party for the seniors the night after final grades were due. Being the only two band members in school, it was just you and Madison. Classic story, she was invited out afterwards by a bunch of other English majors, leaving you with no ride. So you called Frankie, and he pulled up in the parking lot within minutes. Fueled by the sadness of leaving him behind post-graduation and a little bit of alcohol, you seized your moment as soon as he parked behind your dorm building. The two of you showed just how badly you were going to miss each other in the back of his pickup.

--

You’re pulled from your memories by the hotel room door opening. Madison and Kate come spilling in, all dressed for the festival. Kate bangs on the adjoining room door, signaling Tyler to come over, and flops onto the bed opposite from Madison. You do one last look over your hair and makeup and emerge from the bathroom to get dressed.

Madison ooh’s in admiration while Kate whistles. “Okay, baddie.”

You roll your eyes and start to strip. Your concert outfit is laid out across the armchair by the window. “Do you guys wanna go over the set one last time?”

“Yeah, as soon as Tyler gets his ass over here!” Kate raises her voice to be heard in the room next door.

“Is everyone decent?” Tyler’s muffled voice comes from behind the door just as you finish buttoning your jeans.

“Yeah,” you yell back and bunch up your top, pulling it over your head as the door opens. You adjust the hem of the cropped tank and sit on the armrest, and the final band meeting is in session.

Right on time 20 minutes later, there’s another knock on the door. Being the closest, Madison hops up to open it and returns with Frankie in tow. “Y’all ready?”

The four of you share nervous and excited glances and you turn to him. “Fuck yeah.”

You and Frankie had kept in close contact after the band moved to LA in pursuit of a record label. He became your security detail shortly after your first tour as an opening act two years ago, fitting into the position perfectly with his military background. You’ve never run into any real issues, still being a relatively obscure group, but you were certainly on the rise.

This music festival was proof. The first single from your second album had just dropped when you got the call: opening the third largest stage on the first day of the event. You were billed third on the promotional fliers. For a band so comparatively unknown, this opportunity would either make or break you.

Frankie drops you off backstage for soundcheck exactly on time. You’re all immediately swarmed by operators and technicians and Frankie disappears off to the sidelines. He listens intently as you all tune your instruments and warm up your fingers and voices. He even catches himself humming along as you play bits and pieces of your setlist to confirm everything is in order.

Frankie’s attention is yanked away by the growing sound of the crowd in front of the stage. The four of you catch on to it as well, Madison and Tyler giddy with excitement and Kate twirling her drumsticks to ground herself. Frankie watches as you fiddle with your hair for the hundredth time, tapping your guitar pick against your thigh. Squeezed perfectly into those jeans you know he loves. Cupping the roundness of your ass just right. The hem of your tank top ends just high enough to give a peek at your midsection that he knows will be on full display once you settle into yourself and start jumping around the stage.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until you’re right in front of him. You laugh when he still gets flustered at being caught, despite being a confirmed couple ever since he joined your team. You hook your fingers into his belt loops and tug him closer, careful to maneuver around the instrument strung across your front.

Frankie tucks a stray hair behind your ear, brushing your cheek with his knuckle as he does. “You ready, rockstar?”

You take a deep breath and nod. “As I’ll ever be.”

On cue, a voice crackles in your in-ear monitor calling everyone to places. Frankie cups your face, pulling you in for a confident kiss. You flash him a wink as you pull away and line up to climb the stage.

Frankie finds a vantage point off to the side of the crowd, their cries echoing across the fairgrounds as you strike the first chords. He knows your pattern: you’ll linger behind the mic stand for the first song and a half or so, only venturing out to interact with Madison and Tyler during the instrumental breaks. Finally, you’ll walk out to the edge of the stage, playing directly to the fans but just out of their reach. By the third song, you’ve got the microphone in your hand and you’re frolicking around the stage unburdened.

He holds his breath as you approach one particular guitar solo that challenges your playing ability, then cheers along as you nail it with a dazzling smile, the crowd going wild at your fingertips.

The air is hazy with smoke as your set comes to a close, both from the festivalgoers and the machines blowing onto the stage. Tyler, Madison, and Kate play an extended outro of your last song as you address the crowd, thanking them for watching and introducing the band one last time before ending with a final flourish of chords and drumrolls. Frankie makes his way backstage once more as you take your bows, picking up your setlists taped to the stage and tossing them into the crowd as souvenirs. He watches the other three descend the stairs as you blow one last kiss to the fans and follow behind. The area springs to life as the workers hustle to prepare for the next band. Once unburdened from your instruments and in-ear monitors, the four of you flock to Frankie, as practiced. You surge ahead slightly faster than the others to fling your arms around his neck and plant an ecstatic kiss on his cheek, right in the bare patch of his beard, breathing him in as you ride your high from performing. Frankie sets you down and shares a smile and laugh before switching back to business and the five of you come up with a gameplan for the rest of the day.

Everything goes smoothly right up until the end. You all stick together for the most part, migrating to different stages together but not too worried about being attached at the hip. Unlike you and Frankie. You know he prefers to linger behind where he can see everyone and you have no problem staying with him. Every once in a while, people will recognize you and get a group photo.

Frankie should’ve never let you go off alone. He got complacent. Sloppy. Even though you weren’t entirely alone, Kate and Madison accompanying you to the bar booth, Frankie can’t help but feel like he failed you.

He thought he had you in view enough. He and Tyler were talking but it shouldn’t have been enough to pull his attention completely. It’s only when Kate’s yell breaks through the back of the crowd in front of them that they realize the situation. The two of them launch forward, Tyler throwing his arm around his sister and Frankie shouldering through the mass of people, his deep voice and broad stature parting the way.

He finds you towards the center. The three of you had been on the way back with your drinks when a group of overly excited and intoxicated fans crowded you. Their volume attracted the attention of other attendees around and pulled them in, everyone suddenly scrambling for pictures and autographs. Being the lead guitarist and vocalist, you were slammed with the brunt of the energy, Madison losing her grip on your arm and Kate being pushed out to the back entirely, where she managed to call Tyler and Frankie.

When he finally reaches you, Frankie doesn’t hesitate to throw his arm around you and secure you against his body, shielding you from any more prying fingers. He quickly scans and spots Madison not far off, veering to her rescue as well. He tucks her under his other arm and rushes back towards Tyler and Kate. Frankie passes Madison off to them as he feels you slipping from his grasp and fully lifts you into his arms, ensuring no one can take you from him. You just bury your face in his neck, gripping his black t-shirt for dear life, and let him carry you away.

Festival security arrives as your group emerges from the crowd and escorts all of you to the security tent. You detach from Frankie briefly so that the on-site medic can check for injuries, but you resume your position in his lap as soon as you’re given the all-clear.

The drive back to the hotel is a blur. You know Tyler takes over as driver so that Frankie can sit with you. He holds your hand the entire way up to your rooms and only lets go to unlock the door to yours. Kate, Madison, and Tyler collectively decide to hide out in the adjoining room to give you time to recover.

You feel yourself coming down from the adrenaline, the chaos starting to settle in your mind. You go through the motions of your post-show ritual. Take your clothes off. Gather your pajamas. Pull your hair back. Take your makeup off. Shower. Bedtime.

Frankie monitors from the corner by the door, watching with a tightly creased brow that he’s definitely going to get a headache from later. You don’t acknowledge him as you move around the room on autopilot. He does his best to stay out of sight of the bathroom mirror as you scrub your makeup off with a wipe.

You open your eyes as Frankie slips back around the corner, caught in the reflection. “I can still see you, you know?” you mutter. You toss the makeup wipe in the trash and splash some water on your face.

You hear him sigh as he gingerly steps back into view, staying half hidden by the edge of the mirror. His eyes are full of guilt and concern, and you feel bad for snapping at him. “I know.” He leans against the wall, face angled down and away from you as he takes off his trademark cap, runs his fingers through his curls, and replaces the cap on his head. “I don’t mean to hover, I know you need your space. I just…” He pauses to take a shaky breath. “What happened was really scary. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

You massage your face wash into your skin as you listen, letting it set for a minute before rinsing it off. “I’m fine. Promise.”

It all happens so fast. You hear the girls gasp, not unlike others had throughout the day. You’re more than happy to interact with them, just grateful to even be at the festival and be recognized by fans in the first place. Their squeals grate your ears as more people gather around. You’re suddenly blinded by a phone flashlight being shoved in your face and Madison’s hand leaves your elbow, her fingernails scratching slightly as she tries to hold on. You can hear her calling your name and Kate’s as the three of you are separated by pressing bodies. The roar is suffocating as you’re bombarded with phones and pens and papers and hands everywhere, screams everywhere, you can’t see, you can’t hear, you can't –

“Hey.” Frankie’s voice snaps you back into your body as you stare back at your reflection, tight and sticky as your face wash dries. You sniffle, shaking your head a little to loosen the memory’s grip, and bend down into the sink to rinse your face.

“I gotta shower, Frankie.” You turn and twist the knob in the shower, holding a hand under the spray until it reaches your preferred temperature. When you move to close the door and undress, Frankie is still there watching. Not just watching – observing. Taking in every minute detail and analyzing to determine the best approach. You start to slowly push the door closed, never breaking eye contact with your boyfriend. Just before the wood makes contact with his foot in the doorway, Frankie nods.

“Call if you need anything.” He disappears around the corner, and you hear his tired grunt as he sits in the armchair.

You try not to think. Try to focus on the steps. Shampoo. Lather. Rinse. Conditioner. Rinse. Feel the scratch of the washcloth on your skin. The burn of the hot water as it washes away any evidence of the madness.

But then it’s too hot, like the air as they all crushed you. It’s too scratchy, like their fingernails as they all tried to tear away pieces of you to keep as souvenirs. You’re blinded by soap in your eyes and you see spots that look too much like the endless sea of faces. You can’t see, you can’t breathe, and all you want is Frankie. Frankie can help. Frankie will save you.

Strong arms wrap around you and you snap, pushing and screaming and clawing to get away. You’re lifted out of the shower and collapse onto the cold tile, a familiar body under you.

“Alright, baby, I got you. It’s okay, just let it out.”

You let out a final cry of defeat and go limp in Frankie’s arms, letting him fill your senses. His smell, dirt and sweat and smoke with a hint of his cologne still underneath. His lips in your hair, the scratch of his beard against your temple. His chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as he holds you in his lap, a warm hand encompassing your thigh and the other tracing feather-light circles on your bicep.

“How did you know?” you manage to choke out in between gasps, fighting to fill your lungs.

“You called me.”

“I did?”

Frankie just nods and sits with you in silence, the static of the running water underscoring the stillness. He doesn’t care that his clothes are now soaked from plucking you straight from the shower. He didn’t think when he heard your choking, he just acted. Like he should’ve done before.

You’re starting to regain control over your breathing when you feel Frankie’s chest stutter. You look up to see his eyes closed, silent tears streaking his face.

“Hey,” you whisper, reaching up to swipe them away. “I’m okay, Frankie. I’m okay now. You’re here-”

“But I wasn’t then.” He fights to keep his voice level as his heart threatens to force its way up his throat. “I was supposed to protect you and I didn’t- I-I couldn’t-”

You trace his lips with your fingertips, interrupting his words as you calm him with a hush. “This was not your fault, Frankie. It all just happened so fast, it could’ve happened to anyone.”

“But it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to you.” Frankie’s voice has an edge to it now. Angry. “I failed you.”

You twist in his arms, moving to straddle his thighs. Cupping his jaw with both hands, forcing him to look at you, “You have never failed me.” Then, you press your lips to his and it feels like your first breath of fresh air through the smoke.

Frankie reacts immediately. His lips move against yours, hungry, as his hands pull you closer. He needs to know you’re there in his arms and no one will ever rip you away from him.

A shiver runs down your spine and you’re not sure if it’s the contrast of his heat and the cold bathroom floor, or the way his tongue expertly works its way into your mouth, exploring and claiming. You grind down against his hardening length and he detaches your lips, arms tightening to support you.

Frankie shifts and rises from the floor, never once letting you out of his grip as he moves into the bedroom. He groans as you nip at his neck, crawling up the bed with you clinging to his front.

You feel the cool sheets press against your damp bare back and you gasp. Frankie immediately flips the two of you over so you’re on top. His eyes are wild, scanning your face for any hint of distress. You nod, letting him know you’re okay, and slowly slip his cap off his head, dropping it to the floor and clutching fistfuls of his curls with both hands. Frankie moans in relief and turns his head to pepper your inner forearm with kisses.

His mouth works up your arm to your shoulder, across your collarbone. He pauses to nip at your pulse point and fill his lungs with your fresh scent and you rake your nails down his neck to his chest, then his belly. You tug his t-shirt up, forcing him to break contact to pull it over his head.

As soon as it’s off, Frankie scoots forward slightly down the bed and lays back, his curls splayed out on the pillow as he shifts into position. Once settled, he cups the backs of your thighs, nudging you forward. He turns his head to nip at your soft skin as you nestle your knees on the pillow, caging his head between them.

He gazes up at you, a haze growing in his eyes. Stroking your leg with one hand, he traces his fingers up the other before reaching your dripping center. He cups your core in his palm, heat surging through your veins, then travels down. Fingers forming a V, he spreads your lips and a growl vibrates through his body, resonating through you as well.

Your head falls back with a moan and you grip the headboard with both hands. “Fuck, please, Frankie.”

He continues tracing your folds with his calloused fingertips, catching at your leaking entrance. “Please what, baby?”

 You look down to see him staring up at you, pupils blown with desire. “Taste me.”

The hand on your thigh slides up to your hip and Frankie practically shoves you down onto his eager mouth. Your head falls back once more and you lace your fingers through his hair, your other hand still gripping the headboard for dear life.

Frankie’s thumb plays with your clit with practiced precision as his tongue explores every inch of your pussy. You lose yourself in the sensation of his digit applying just the right amount of pressure while he eats away at you like it’s his last meal, the scratch of his beard as his jaw works supplying extra friction against your thighs.

You gasp when Frankie finally plunges his tongue into your hole, twisting and sucking down your sweet juices. You can’t help but move your hips in tandem with his strokes and your moans rise in pitch whenever the tip of his nose brushes your bundle of nerves. Frankie removes his thumb, cupping your cheeks with both hands and pulling them apart. You bite back a squeal as his tongue ventures back to your asshole and prods at the tight ring.

He retreats before exploring any further, thirsty again for your arousal. You’re fully riding his tongue as your pleasure reaches its peak. You look down at him between your thighs and find his eyes wide open, drinking in your euphoria, like he’s intent on never letting you out of his sight again. His piercing stare is enough to send you over the edge and you lose your grip on the headboard. Searching blindly for a hold as your back arches, Frankie reaches for your arm, fingers wrapping around your elbow and holding you down on his face. His groans ripple through you, prolonging your high, as his hips rut up into the air, begging for relief.

Frankie releases you as you come down from your orgasm, immediately sliding down his body, placing kisses along his skin until you reach his jeans. Your hands shake as you rush to unbutton them and pull down the zipper. He lifts and shimmies his hips to help you yank them down his thighs, flinging them behind you without looking.

You lean forward to kiss along the waistband of his boxers, licking and nipping at the skin and nuzzling your nose in the coarse hairs trailing below the undergarment. Frankie’s hips buck and he almost whines as he grabs at you. You finally free his cock from the tightening fabric, mouth watering as if in a Pavlovian response. He’s thick and heavy, twitching from the lack of contact. You move to take his leaking head into your mouth as he took you into his, but Frankie’s hands are too fast, too desperate.

He sits up and positions you above his lap, fingers massaging your hips as you grind your still dripping pussy along his length. “So wet for me, baby. I need to be inside you. Please,” he pants in your ear. He’s been apart from you for too long already. He needs to be close, as close as possible.

You nod and breathe out an “okay” and Frankie shifts up the bed to rest his back against the headboard. You lift up and reach behind you to grip his cock, taking a moment to massage his balls. Frankie lets out a strained moan and you guide him inside you, sinking down onto him.

You breathe deep and controlled as his tip parts your walls, practically sucking him in. You pause when your pelvises meet, his hair tickling your clit deliciously. He’s buried deep in your cunt, perfectly molded around him, warm and wet. Frankie mouths at your neck, leaving his mark, and massages your breasts with both hands as he gives you time to adjust. He rolls your nipples in his fingers and you clench around him, signaling that you’re ready.

You start slow, rocking your hips against his and feeling his tip nudge that perfect spot inside you. You start a slow pace, rising off his cock and dropping down. Inch by inch until only his tip is inside, then you speed up. Before long, you’re bouncing in Frankie’s lap with his hands on your hips guiding you. He loves to watch the way your tits move with each impact. Hypnotized, he leans forward and captures a nipple in his mouth, circling it with his tongue. You cry out unrestrained as he lightly bites down and your second orgasm of the night washes over you.

Frankie detaches when he feels your walls clamp down on him. He leans back and bends his knees, planting his feet on the bed. Grasping your arms as he did earlier, he braces you and begins thrusting at a fierce pace. You cry out again as his hips slam up into you, the clapping of skin on skin and his throaty groans filling the room.

You know he’s getting close by the way the veins in his neck pop with exertion. Frankie sucks air in through his teeth and drops one hand down to your clit, your freed hand flying down to latch onto his meaty stomach. Frankie chokes out a moan at the prick of your fingernails. “Come on. Come on, baby. One more. You can do it, give me one more.”

You mindlessly chant prayers of “yes” and “please” at the altar of his hips as you gush around him, soaking his cock and leaking out across his thighs and onto the bed.

“That’s it. Good fucking girl. That- fuck, that’s-” A subdued roar erupts from Frankie’s chest as he pulses inside you, coating your greedy walls with rope after rope of cum. The sensation triggers you to squeeze around him, milking him for all that he’s worth.

Frankie sits up and slides his hands up your back, gripping your shoulders from behind and locking you onto him. You seal your lips on his as your shared aftershocks subside.

Still holding you to him, Frankie leans back to rest against the headboard. He rubs your back with his palm as you both breathe heavily, heartbeats syncing and slowing.

“Frankie?” You murmur against his chest, peeking up through fluttering, sated eyelids. He looks down at you, humming in acknowledgement. “Tonight was not your fault.”

Frankie breaks eye contact, sighing and staring out at the hotel room. You reach up and pull his face back down to you.

“Don’t run away from me. Look at me.” You kiss him deeply again, then whisper against his lips. “I love you. I trust you. I-”

“I got you.”

You laugh softly. “You got me. But I got you too.”

The two of you stay curled into each other for a while. You’re just about to drift off when a knock on the adjoining room door startles you awake.

Frankie feels you jerk and squeezes his arms around you. “Yeah?” he calls.

Kate responds from the other side. “Hate to interrupt you guys but…can Mads and I just come grab our stuff real quick and we can camp out over here tonight?”

You bury your face in Frankie’s chest, still plugged with his cock and his cum, and chuckle. You move to get up and make yourself decent but Frankie keeps holding you. Raising an eyebrow at him, he flashes a mischievous smirk, untucks the sheets with one hand, and covers the two of you with a flourish.

“Make it quick!”

Kate and Madison fly through the room, grabbing their clothes and toiletries while dramatically shielding their eyes from you and Frankie. You can’t help but giggle against Frankie’s skin as you listen to their flurry of activity. Finally, you hear one of them exit the room and Kate calls from the bathroom.

“You guys know you left the shower running?”

[enwrites]

Summer Lovin' (l.hs) – Part One

pairing: ex childhood friend!heeseung x afab!reader 

warning: 18+ MDNI !! (not really proofread so sorry for mistakes)

genre/cw: smut, sexual tension, degradation, fingering, male masturbation, vulgar language, suppressed emotions, asshole!heeseung, very slight basketballplayer!heeseung here, crack, slow burn kinda, jealousy, angst, teen romance, slice of life, you cry a lot, heeseung is very annoying, lots of throwing up is mentioned, enha members (02z & sunoo), aespa members (karina & ningning), mentions of beomgyu txt

synopsis: you and heeseung were super close as kids. being the same age and your parents being best friends, you had no other choice but to be each other’s best friends as well. that was until heeseung’s family moved to another town causing a rift to get in between the both of you. never being able to fully recover from the past, what happens when they move back and old feelings start to emerge? you just knew this was going to be a long summer.

wc: 13.2k words

a/n: part one is officially here!! this was just mainly a build up for the story so i apologize if it's a little lacking. part two will def have more to it and juicier smut so pls bare with me! i still hope part one is still enjoyable <3 happy reading and again, all feedback is appreciated :) (+ lmk if you'd like to be added to my taglist for this fic or my perm!)

[ series m.list ] [ main m.list ] [ part two ]

You let out a sigh of content.

Having just graduated, your senior year finally came to an end. Your last summer before college has just started. Bittersweet feelings linger in your heart as you realize your highschool chapter is over. Scrolling through your camera roll, you reminisce on old memories and experiences. Giggling to yourself finding pictures you had thought you forgot about. Most captured you and your three best friends. Karina, Ningning, and Sunoo.

The four of you have done just about everything together and you couldn’t wait to get your summer rolling, especially as Sunoo wouldn’t be joining you guys in college just yet. You cursed at the world, he was just a year younger than you all. It wasn’t like you guys were going to be separated anyways, he was your next door neighbor, his family having moved in right after Heeseung’s family left. 

Heeseung… your mind starts to fill up with childhood memories. You couldn’t help but wonder how he was and what he was doing. You turn your head to the side. There on your nightstand sat a hello kitty framed picture of you and Heeseung at the town’s fair. You picked it up, holding it in your hands as you reminisced on your younger days. The two of you being shy of 12 years old, the summer before he left. The picture showcasing the two of you plastered with huge smiles eating funnel cake. You giggle a bit thinking about the events that occurred that day. Your mind couldn’t help but wander to one specific moment.

For some reason both of your parents allowed you two to ride the ferris wheel alone. Your face falls a bit as you start to remember. You wish things had never changed then maybe Heeseung would still be as close to you… maybe he would’ve kept his promise like he said.

“We’ll wait right here for you guys, okay?” Your mom says, ushering you both to the ferris wheel line. Excited bubbled inside the both of you as you two finally were getting to spend a ride alone without having a parent chaperone. Hearty laughs leave the both of you as you enter the ride, sitting across from one another. The sun was finally setting, leaving a sun kissed color in its path. You knew you’d remember this forever.

“The sky is so pretty Hee!” You excitedly said, taking the disposable camera your parents had bought you out of your little hello kitty purse, capturing the sky from your view. Heeseung watched you with so much adoration. He couldn’t help but smile at your actions, loving every second he spent with you. After getting your little picture, you put the camera back into your bag and turn to look at him, a smile permanently etched onto your face as well. 

“Yeah— just like you,” Heeseung bluntly says, eyes never leaving yours. Your face starts to heat up and you look away from him. You had always had a crush on Heeseung, everyone knew that. Your heart pounds against your chest, you want to throw up everywhere. What you didn’t realize was that everyone also knew how much Heeseung liked you. Your little puppy love could be seen and felt from miles away. “I like you Y/n,” he continues, breaking the tension.

“I like you too Hee–,” he cuts you off. “No I really like you Y/n,” he sternly said, leaning into you. Even being across from one another, you felt suffocated, the ferris wheel capsule was extremely small you noticed. You wanted to run away. this had to be a dream right? 

“I do too Hee,” you whispered back at him. The ride comes to a halt, you were at the very top. Your face red as can be, you were waiting for him to laugh saying this was all a joke. But he didn’t. He leans in even closer and that’s when you felt it. He took your first kiss. Your eyes went wide. For a moment you felt like you were floating amongst the stars. He pulls away, giggling at your reaction as a blush painted his face as well.

“We are going to be together forever Y/n, I promise and I'm going to marry you! And we’re going to have a big house and our very own hamster and even a cat! I know you really love cats but I really want a hamster!” he rambled holding your hands as his eyes never left yours again. Your heart was so full you felt like you were going to explode from joy. At that time, it was you and him against the world. 

Forever you had hoped. Small tears formed as you remember the day he moved. Forever was long gone. You wish the world had helped Heeseung keep his promise. The heart shattering memory played in your head. You have tried for years to forget. But can anyone really forget their first love?

“D-Do you really have to go Hee…,” you choked out as tears fell down your face. Your parents gave you both some time to say goodbye to one another as they packed the last of the Lee’s things into their moving truck. The tears kept falling and falling. He reached his hand to your face, wiping them away. His heart shattered that day, he didn’t think his parents were serious. But slowly things were being packed up until this very day and he knew he had to say goodbye eventually.

“I’m sorry Y/n… I have no choice… please don’t cry,” he says to you, your sobs intensify. It was his time to cry as well, tears fell from his eyes as he watched you, this was never a sight he enjoyed. 

“We’ll call all the time, okay? I’ll make sure we do, remember what I said Y/n! I’m going to marry you!” he choked out. “We’ll be like Hello Kitty and Dear Daniel Y/n… I promise, I’ll make sure my parents let us visit, okay?” he rambled on more. Pulling you into a tight hug, he let you cry on him as he wiped his tears away, holding you one last time. You didn’t know it was going to be the last time. You pull away, wiping away your snot and tears. 

“I-I have something for you,” you stuttered, feeling overwhelmed as you pull out a little charm and a tiny picture of the two of you. Before you could say anything, the two of you were cut off as Heeseung’s mother spoke up, letting you two know they had to leave in a few minutes. Your tears always came rushing back but you held them in. You hand him the picture and a charm. A small smile crept its way to his face. There in your hands was a tiny little hamster charm accompanied by a pocket sized photo of the two of you from the ferris wheel, giggling as he remembered how you guys attempted to try and take photos together with your little camera, hoping the pictures came out well.

“I have a matching one!” you said, pulling out another hamster charm except yours pink and his gray. He pulls you into another tight hug, never wanting it to end. 

“Don’t forget me Hee…,” you sadly uttered, his heart breaking right there and then. How could he forget you? 

“I’ll never forget you Y/n, I mean everything I said!” He pulled you away giving you a stern look. You give him a weak smile, your heart feeling like it was never going to feel better.

“Just promise me Hee,” you softly spoke, sticking your pinky out. “I promise Y/n,” he links his pinky with yours, the two of you pressing your thumbs together, solidifying it. And with that, the two of you make your way to his driveway, as your parents called for the both of you. Your families say their last goodbye, promising to keep in contact and to visit. With one last final hug goodbye, they make their way into the truck. Pulling out of what was once their driveway and onto the road, Heeseung waved goodbye from the window up until the truck was out of sight.

You broke down. Your parents consoling you as your never ending tears kept falling down your face. You never really knew what heartbreak really felt like but you knew for damn sure this had got to be it. There you were, inconsolable as your first love headed away for a new town.

You didn’t realize how badly you were really crying. Puddles of tears trickled all onto the frame you held. No promise was kept as the months went by and your contact slowly started to dwindle. The Lee's getting too busy with business trips and Heeseung making new friends and joining so many after school clubs. The Lee’s never visited since then. Your mother telling you they just had a lot on their plate and that they’d make time eventually. 

That was when the silence came.

Heeseung eventually stopped calling. The fantasy of that little house of yours being taken away by a tornado, forever ripped apart and shattered. The only time you heard or saw anything having to do with him was the year you got gifted your very first phone at the start of freshman year. Your mother had reached out to the Lee’s to give them your phone number. He added you on snapchat from his contacts, never once even starting a conversation with you. You never dared to attempt as well. Too many days had passed and you just couldn’t bring yourself to it. You were just glad to see he was alive and well, even if he never used the app. He never posted anything. Hell, he watched your stories for a week and abandoned the app, never once seeing him appear again.

Before you could get deeper into your thoughts and feelings, there was a knock at your bedroom door. 

“Y/n~ are you up yet? Your mom told me to come up here,” you heard a voice from outside your door speak. Sunoo. You sniffled and wiped all your tears away as best as you could, setting the little frame back to its rightful place beside your bed. “Y-yeah I’m up!” you yelled back, hoping you didn’t look as bad as you thought you did. Sunoo opens your door, taken aback by your red puffy face and eyes. 

“Were you thinking about him again?” He softly asked, joining you in your bed giving you a sad frown. He knew about Heeseung, you practically made his life a living hell the day his family moved in next door yelling nonsense about how he will never be Heeseung. He knew how much he meant to you and oftentimes he’d catch you looking at old photos with tear stained eyes. No matter how many boys you kissed and dated, you just never seemed to be able to move on. He was gonna fix that for you this summer. No more crying over Heeseung. Sunoo was on a mission now.

“Maybe…,” you weakly said followed by a sniffle. You were embarrassed to say the least. You hated how he had this effect on you. No matter how many boys you’ve been with, Heeseung was over there in the back of your mind. Even the time you lost your virginity to the school’s hottest boy Beomgyu, you couldn’t help but secretly wish it was always Heeseung. It was sickening and you knew he didn’t care for you anymore but for some reason you couldn't get him out of your head. You tried your best to suppress your feelings but you knew it was always going to be there. 

Sunoo groaned, throwing his head back, tired of seeing you this way. He hated seeing you sad and he especially hated seeing you hung up over some boy you liked as a kid. You were grown now and he was going to make you get out there and forget about Heeseung. 

“Y/n this is your last summer before college, we have got to get some new eye candy,” Sunoo says into your face, shaking you dramatically. “You have got to get over this dude Y/n! It’s been five years! YOU WERE A KID,” He exclaims, rolling his eyes. You sighed, hanging your head low. Sunoo had a point. You have got to try harder.

“You’re right…,” you let out. Putting his hand on his chest with a shocked expression plastered onto his face, he looked at you with his mouth hung open. No way you were finally agreeing with him on this matter.

“I’m gonna take this as a sign to completely come to the conclusion that we will never see each other again,” you glumly uttered. Yes your heart hurt but it was simply the truth. He ghosted you the year after he moved. You needed to get him out of your head once and for all. 

“Well… let’s start with that picture right there,” Sunoo points to the frame beside your bed. You frown. You shook your head a little, reaching over to the frame and just setting it faced down. Baby steps you told yourself. Sunoo lets out an exhausted sigh. Some things he just needed to be more patient with.

“I’ll let you pass with that one for now, now get your butt up and go get changed and ready! If you haven’t seen what Rina said in the chat, she wants to go downtown to shop and eat! So let’s get up! They’re waiting!” It was your turn to groan as he ripped your blanket off of you and dragged you out of your bed, literally.

You were ready to finally get rid of Heeseung. For good.

“Finally you’re here!” you heard a familiar voice shout as you walked into the designated brunch spot you frequented. You spotted your friend Karina waving for your attention next to Ningning. You and Sunoo make your way over, sitting across from the two. “Took you two long enough! I’m starving,” Ningning muttered, picking up the menu to flip through.

“Sorry! We could’ve come sooner but someone had a problem starting with Hee and ending with Seung,” Sunoo said to them. They both gave you a small eye roll. 

“Y/n you have got to get over him,” Karina said, looking down at the menu in her hand. “It’s been literal years babe,” she added.

“Yeah, I still can’t believe you turned down Beomgyu, he was literally in love with you after you both… you know,” Ningning trailed on. You cringe at the memory. Just after losing your virginity to him, Beomgyu started to get clingy real fast, constantly texting you every second of the day, walking you to all of your classes, wanting to be with you even after school, giving you zero time to yourself. Of course you were fine with those things as you were interested in him at first too. But every single day? You couldn’t take it any longer. It was exhausting the way he love-bombed you. 

“Yeah why did you ever end it with him anyways,” Sunoo spoke up, not remembering the details. 

“Because, he was creepy and weird and even if the sex was good, I felt suffocated, PLUS he said Hello Kitty was stupid…,” you said, reminding them, your cheeks turning red from embarrassment as you admitted the last part. No one was gonna hate Hello Kitty and get away with it.

“You are something else…,” Karina said back, shaking her head. They knew how much Hello Kitty meant to you and that was surely something they did not wanna mess with. Before anyone else could speak, the waitress came by to take your order. This was going to be a long day. You ordered a creme brûlée french toast and a caramel iced coffee. Heeseung loved french toast too, you remembered. 

Boy was this going to be a long summer for you.

“Anywaysss, this summer is project “hot girl summer” for miss Y/n over here,” Sunoo breaks the ice. You roll your eyes as a smile crept onto your face. You couldn’t help but feel immense happiness, thinking about how your friends cared for your well being. You felt so lucky that the world had brought the four of you together. They were your entire world. You probably wouldn’t have made it this far if it weren’t for them. 

“Good because I wanna head to the mall and get some new clothes. Perfect timing! We have got to get you sexier things to wear!” Ningning exclaims excitedly. Something inside of you couldn’t help but get a bit excited. You were ready for a change and you were ready to get rid of Heeseung once and for all.

But you couldn’t help but feel as if something bad were going to happen.

You shake the thought off and you engage into whatever conversation your friends are having, laughing your heart away. You had to make this last summer count.  

After about what seems to be almost an hour and a half, you and your friends head to the mall. Thankfully, everything downtown was in walking distance so you didn’t have to worry about Sunoo having to find parking once more.

Walking into the mall, you guys entered the first clothing store you saw.

“First of all, we gotta get you some lingerie or something, you cannot keep wearing all of those Hello Kitty underwear you have,” Karina judgingly said. 

“Heyyy! They’re cute,” you offendly spit back with a pout. “Again, surprised Beomgyu even gave you some dick after seeing— OUCH!” Ningning yelps in pain as you smack her arm. She rubs the inflicted area, trying to soothe herself. 

“Yeah you cannot expect to get laid like that anymo— OW!” you smacked Sunoo next before he could say anymore. Without realizing, Karina was already filling up a little basket full of matching sets for you. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. Were your Hello Kitty underwear really that bad? Your thoughts were disrupted by Sunoo as he called for your name, holding up a few mini skirts. 

“Try these on right now,” he said, pushing the skirts into your hands as Ningning followed suit with some tops and dresses. Already pushing you into the nearest dressing room, they demanded a fashion show. Meanwhile, Karina was hand picking the best lingerie she could find for you, making her way to the checkout, keeping her selections a surprise. Your friends were insane people.

Finally, from hours spent in the mall, you guys were ready to make your way home. The sun was finally setting as you four walked back into the direction of the restaurant your day had started at. With your hands full of bags, you swore you’re never going to spend this much money in one go again. “It was for a good cause,” you hear Ningning's earlier statement fill your mind. 

Was this really going to help? You couldn’t help but feel doubts within you as the thought of Heeseung came crawling back into your head.

The sunset was the same sunkissed colors of red and pink that day you shared at the fair. This was getting pathetic. He doesn’t care about you anymore. 

“Alright, we’re here, thank you guys for helping me with this case,” Sunoo spoke up, opening his trunk to put your bags away. Karina and Ningning smile at you, giggles escaping everyone’s mouths as you all take in the moment. It was days like this you all appreciated each other more.

“No worries, plus I cannot wait for you to see the lingerie, you’re gonna love them!” Karina excitedly squeals, pulling you into a tight hug. She leans into your ear whispering “send pics,” pulling away and giving you a sly wink. Hitting her shoulder, you shake your head with a toothy smile. 

You guys say your last goodbyes as Karina and Ningning make their way to Karina’s car, you and Sunoo pull away, making your way back home. Man was it convenient for him as he lived right next to you. 

“By the way, my mom just texted and asked if you wanted to stay for dinner tonight, she said there are surprise guests?” you asked puzzled. “What is Ice Spice going to be there or something?” Sunoo asks back laughing. You joined in. “Actually, she won’t tell me who it is so we’ll see… so are you down for dinner?” you asked again.

“Sorry not tonight, I already agreed to have dinner with my grandparents today,” Sunoo replied back. You were bummed as meeting new people always made you anxious. “But I’m free other than that so tomorrow we can do something again?” He asks. You nod your head telling him it was okay.

As you guys turn down onto your street, a boy on a bike passes by, catching your eye as he looks at you for a second, riding past Sunoo’s car. There was something oddly so familiar about him. 

“Woah, cute guy… never seen him before, hope we see him again, maybe he could give you some action,” Sunoo piped up as he pulled into his driveway. You smacked his shoulder earning a dramatic yelp from him.

“Yeah… let’s see,” you said back, rolling your eyes as Sunoo helped you gather your things, walking you across the lawn to your house. He gives you a little hug and tells you to tell your parents he said “hi” before making his way back to his house. You opened your door and was immediately met with laughter and some distinctly familiar voices. Yet your head couldn’t quite pinpoint it. The door opening catches the attention of your mother.

“Y/n? Is that you? Hurry in!” she shouts from the kitchen, sounding a bit impatient. “Hold on! I have to bring things upstairs real quick, I’ll be back down!” you shouted back and ran upstairs. Walking into your room, you threw all of your bags into your closet, making a mental note to put them all away later and to try on the things Karina picked out for you. Without a second thought, you ran back down, curious as to who your mother was talking about. 

Heading towards the kitchen, your steps come to a halt.

Were you hallucinating or were Mr. and Mrs. Lee standing right before you? 

“Oh my Y/n— you’ve gotten so grown up and beautiful, I may just cry! Come give me a hug!” Mrs. Lee spoke up, one hand covering her mouth to hold back tears and the other extended to pull you into a hug. “It’s been so long, how have you been Y/n?” Mr. Lee asks you, it was his turn to pull you into a hug. Still stunned, you thought this was a dream. This had to be some sick and twisted dream. 

“I’ve been okay, you know… just graduated and stuff,” you shyly said, suddenly getting anxious. Does this mean Heeseung was here too?

“Yes! We are so sorry for not staying in touch, oh how we wish so much to have stayed here but Mr. Lee’s new job required so much traveling!” Mrs. Lee spoke up, sadness filled her tone. 

“Oh no worries, life happens, it’s wonderful to see you guys, are you two just visiting?” you asked, taking a seat at the dining table, looking at them. They had visually aged but they were still the same sweet couple you remember them to be. 

“There’s something we have to tell you guys actually…,” Mrs. Lee trailed on, a sheepish smile on her face. She looked at her husband and looked back at us. “You tell them honey!” she excitedly demanded, seeming a bit giddy. Mr. Lee gives a gummy smile.

“We moved back into the neighborhood!” He shouts. Your parents both let out an “oh my god” as everyone was shockingly surprised. Your father getting excited that his cooking buddy was back and your mother getting excited now that she has someone other than you to gossip about the neighborhood. 

“Oh my god, that’s so fun! What made you guys come back?” you asked, your interest piqued as you genuinely wanted to know. It’s been five or so years since they last moved. 

“Well, Heeseung actually got into a college here, so we decided to move back and settle,” Mrs. Lee said. “Hmm what was the school name again?” she turns to her husband and asks.

“Decelis University honey, you’re always forgetting,” he laughs. 

Your heart fell to your ass. Your mouth hung open, a visible reaction of surprise shown on your face. No way this was real… you had to be dreaming. Before you can speak up, your father beats you to it.

“Oh? That’s where Y/n is going! That’s so exciting, you hear that Y/n? You and Heeseung can be friends again!” your father joyfully claimed. “Speaking of Heeseung, where is the boy?” your mother asks. 

“He should be here soon, he went on a bike ride before we left to see if anything changed around here. I’m sure he remembers where the house is!” Mrs. Lee speaks up. Bike… riding?

Oh no.

The realization comes crashing down onto you, you already have seen Heeseung. You wanted to throw up right there and then, this could not be happening right now. All of your emotions start rushing back to you as you excuse yourself to leave. Your mother sees your discomfort and follows you out of the kitchen a few minutes later. You make your way out heading towards your room, needing to sit down. Taking deep breaths in and out, your heart felt like it was going to collapse any moment. Your tears come flooding back the same they did this morning. Your breathing increases and you start to hyperventilate.

Was that really him? This can’t be happening, not right now.

Your heart felt as if someone just ripped it out of your chest and through it into oncoming traffic. No matter how much you wipe your tears away, they just keep coming back. Your head shoots up. There was a soft knock at your door. Your mother opens it, a weak smile showcasing on her face. She shuts the door softly, taking small steps towards you.

Your mother had always known how much you liked Heeseung. Your father always thought it was just mere puppy love, thinking you’d move on eventually. I mean who wouldn’t have? You two were only just kids. But your mother knew better. She always did.

The following days after the Lee's departure, she remembered having to hold you in her arms for hours as you hysterically cried thinking about the boy. The following months after, she knew you were still affected despite you telling her you were okay. She’d always occasionally catch you crying, hearing faint sounds of sniffles coming from your room. She always made sure to make your favorite desserts or meals to cheer you up, subtly letting you know she was always here for you. You knew you always worried her so you tried your best to suppress the feelings. But moms know best.

Sitting down on your bed next to you, she wraps her arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a tight hug. You lean your head onto her shoulder as your tears continuously stream down your face. Leaning her chin on top of your head, she hums into your hair to calm you down just a bit. 

“Hey baby, it’s going to be okay, I promise… do you want me to tell the Lee’s an excuse so that they can go home? We don’t have to do this if you aren’t ready yet,” she softly said in an almost whisper-like tone as she rocked you a little from side to side. You shook your head. You knew you had to face him one way or another, you mind as well get it over with. 

“I-I’m okay…,” you hiccuped trailing off. She laughs a little. “Are you sure? I can really make an excu–,” cutting her off you chuckle, wiping your snot filled face and tears away. Your mother was always like this. She was always willing to do whatever it took to make you feel at ease. You couldn’t have been more thankful for having such a wonderful mother in your life. 

“Sunoo said it was “mission forget about Heeseung” summer, so that’s what I'm gonna do,” you let out, untangling yourself from your mother’s arm, sitting back up. You wipe off the non existent dust off your skirt, hoping your mother would understand. She lets out a heavy sigh.

“If this is what you want, you know I’m always going to support you and whatever you choose to do– but I will be checking on you even more than usual, got it?” she sternly ends, squinting her eyes at you as she gives you a harsh point almost scolding you a bit. You both break out into a fit of laughter. 

“Well, whenever you’re ready to come back down, the Lee’s will be joining us for dinner tonight– if that’s oka–,” you cut her off once more. “Mom, it's okay!” you dramatically sighed. “Heeseung is nothing to me now! I just threw him out the window in my mind,” you giggle picturing the scene. Your mother shakes her head, a huge smile plastered on her face listening to your silly thoughts.

“Whatever you say Y/n~ The boy should be here soon, so get cleaned up and make sure you look good! Show him what he’s been missing out on!” She excitedly lets out, giving you a kiss on the cheek. She heads to your door, but before leaving she turns her head back giving you a sly wink, then shutting the door. Her footsteps slowly disappear in sound as she goes down the stairs. You stand up, walking towards your vanity. Sitting on the seat in front of the mirror, you sighed heavily. 

You looked insane. Eyeliner everywhere and your hair a mess. You put on a smile as you get on to working on your makeup once again. Fixing your wings and making sure to add your touch of glitter, you finish off with a clear gloss on your lips. You brush your hair out, making sure it was neat enough and definitely didn’t look like you were just crying your heart out. Thankfully, your oh so dear best friend Kim Sunoo, bought you some eye drops not too long ago, making sure you never walk out with red eyes ever. He knew the amount you cried no matter how much you tried to defend yourself. Some day you knew it’d come in handy.

Well today was the day that’s for sure. 

You grab the eye drops, squeezing a few drops into both eyes, carefully blinking them in, hoping they wouldn’t mess your eyeliner up. You set it down, looking once more into the mirror for a final check. To your surprise, your face didn’t look as puffy as you thought it was. Thank you for the wonders of makeup. Satisfied with how you look, you walk to your closet, standing in front of your full length mirror beside it. You check yourself out, taking note that your outfit seemed cute enough already. 

You had on a sort of short light purple pleated skirt, paired with a simple black corset crop top and sheer thigh high stockings. Was this too much? Again, Sunoo did help you pick the outfit out earlier as, in his words, this makes you look “sexy yet cute” and will “attract all the single boys in our area.” Feeling the need to cover up just a tad bit more, you open your closet to grab an oversized, cropped, black cardigan to wear over your top. That should be enough. Giving yourself one last look, you walk out of your bedroom door, happily humming to yourself as you skip down the stairs, going back to where your parents and the Lee’s were. Catching the attention of both sets of parents, they all looked at you as you stood at the kitchen doorway. You give a tiny wave, an awkward smile on your face. You walk to the dining table, pulling a seat out to sit next to your mother. Mrs. Lee catches your attention.

“Oh Y/n sweetie, are you okay? Your mother says you weren’t feeling too well,” she concernedly asked you. A chuckle leaves your lips. 

“Don’t worry Mrs. Lee, I’m okay! Just something going on with my friends,” you lied, smiling back. Your parents definitely knew you were lying and Mrs. Lee couldn’t help but wonder if her own suspicions were true as well. Deep down, she knew how much your friendship with her own son meant to you. She also couldn’t help but feel guilty for how you both drifted apart, always thinking she should’ve convinced her husband to stay in this neighborhood a little harder. “Well, Heeseung should be here any minute now, food’s about done.”

You take a deep breath in, mentally preparing yourself. Maybe you weren’t ready for this. It was a little too late now though… plus you didn’t wanna ruin your parents excitement having their close friends back in town. You loved your parents and there was nothing more you wanted but to see them happy as well, no matter how much you were hurting inside. But man did you have a lot to tell your friends later. Your deep thoughts are soon broken as your dad speaks up.

“Oh Y/n! The Lee’s wanted to know if you wanted to come to their house this weekend for a barbeque party?” You nervously giggle as you weren’t really sure what to say. “You can invite your friends as well! Your parents have told us how close you were with the Kim’s son next door,” Mrs. Lee speaks up. Your palms start to clam up and your heart starts racing. 

“Y-Yeah… sure I’d be happy to go, I’ll let my friends know! Thank you,” you shakily let out. Both of the Lee’s nod as your mom gives a single happy clap, filled with immense joy. “Perfect! And you’ll make your famous tiramisu right?” your mother grins, nudging you with her elbow. Shaking your head with a grin, you couldn’t help but agree. “Ooh Y/n you make sweets now? You’ve always had such a big sweet tooth,” Mrs. Lee said. 

“Oh she sure does, wait till you try some of her macarons!” your mother exclaims dramatically, slamming her palm onto the table for a little smack sound effect. The two women get up filled with laughter, as they start to help prepare the table for dinner. “Do you guys need any help?” you asked, getting up from your seat.

The doorbell rings, catching everyone’s attention. “Y/n dear, could you grab the door? That should be Heeseung,” Mrs. Lee sweetly spoke up, hands filled with plates and utensils. “Uh… yeah… sure,” you sighed out, heart pounding against your chest. You definitely really weren’t ready for this. Again, that same bubbling feeling started to rise, you swear you were about to throw up right there all over the dinner that was being set onto the table. Surely this couldn’t be bad– right?

Making your way out the kitchen, you softly walked to the door. Your steps suddenly feel like you're walking on a floor full of hot lava. You oh so desperately wished you could just disappear into thin air right now. Please world, let you spontaneously combust with no trace of your well-being. As your body trembles a bit, you take in a deep breath as you shakily reach for the door, unlocking the lock and twisting the knob. That french toast from earlier fighting the urge to regurgitate right onto your floor. You pull the door open, confirming the sight you saw earlier from Sunoo’s car. 

Lee Heeseung in the flesh. 

Exactly how you saw him earlier in the day, clad in his gray hoodie and black jeans, bike leaning on the side of your porch. He tucks his phone back into his pocket, looking up to see who was appearing before him. The two of you lock eyes. He looks you up and down, taking in your appearance. He surely looked different, you thought. He no longer wore his glasses, his face was heavenly defined, and he grew to insane heights, towering over you. He had to be at least six foot tall you thought… yeah he was huge. You couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach, you were sure that you were attracted to him. You swear you could just faint any minute now. Without a care or a single word being spoken, he pushes past you, making his way into your house and into your kitchen.

What the fuck? 

Taken aback, you close the front door, locking it behind you. A frown worn on your face as you try to take in what just happened. Following not too far behind him, you hear your parents excitedly yell his name. Appearing before you in the kitchen, you see him giving your parents both a hug, a small smile plastered onto his face. He wasn’t being serious right? It felt as if he was trying his hardest to ignore your presence. You held back your disappointment as tears desperately wanted to fall from your eyes. This effect he had on you was pathetic.

Now feeling offended as you watch them all engage in conversation, you make your way back to your seat at the dining table. You let out a huff, just waiting for this day to come to an end. Aside from his shitty attitude, you couldn’t help but think about the way he surely did grow into all of his features. Though he sported the same black hair he has always had, you couldn’t help but think how cute and fluffy it still looked, or the way his doe-like eyes still sparkled when you looked at them. 

Well to you they still sparkled.

You also couldn’t help but think about how it’d feel like to have him enclosing you against the wall, towering over you or picturing yourself sitting on his lap as he held you with his big hands, making out with you. You squeeze your thighs together, naughty things fill your mind as a blush crept onto your cheeks. 

What was wrong with you? Why were these thoughts filling up your mind? Before getting a little too flustered, you were brought back into reality as the chair across from you was being pulled out to be sat on. You look up, there Heeseung took a seat. He catches your eyes again, an uninterested look on his face. You simply look away. His aura felt suffocating. He was making you feel so small in your own home. It was sickening.

But man was the so fucking hot. Puberty had done him well that’s for sure. Your mothers sensed awkward tension between the two of you as they brought the food out to be set. Your fathers take their seats at both ends. Your mother takes a seat next to you and his mother next to him. Pouring yourself a glass of water from the pitcher your moms had prepared for the table, your throat feeling drier than ever, you gulp down nearly half of your cup. As you all settle in a bit, you start to dig into your meal. Silence fell upon the table as you all took a moment to eat a bit. 

The silence almost made you want to curl up into a ball and cry. Mr. Lee clears his throat. “Heeseung, guess what?” he asks his son in a joyful tune. Heeseung cocks his eyebrow, looking at his father as he takes another bite of his food. Mr. Lee grins, looking at you and back at Heeseung. “Y/n is also going to Decelis University, isn’t that so fun?”

Your cheeks start to heat up as you awkwardly take another sip of your water. Heeseung looks at you. You could feel his stare burning into his skin. 

Why was he being like this?

“What are you studying?” he asked, tone seemingly uninterested as if he was forcing himself to speak with you. Yet that didn’t stop the butterflies from filling up in your stomach. You had missed his voice. His voice, now deeper than it was before, runs through body. Your body trembles just a tiny bit. To you he seemed bored yet that was not going to stop your heart from doing olympic flips inside of your chest. “Um, psychology…,” you trailed awkwardly, playing with the food on your plate. He nods, more immersed into his food than he was in you. 

Maybe people do change… maybe he really didn’t care for you anymore. You purse your lips into a flat line, frustrated at how things were going. Maybe you really did need to forget about him. 

“Well Heeseung just got his very own car! I’m sure he’d love to drive you to school as well,” Mrs. Lee spoke up, trying her best to defuse the tension. “Mom,” Heeseung whines, disappointed in his tone. She gives him a stern look. The younger boy sighs annoyedly. His mother always forced him to do things he never wanted to do in the first place. 

“I-It’s okay really, I’m fine taking the bus when the time comes, trust me, he doesn’t have to,” you shakily let out. Yet again, you felt as if you were going to throw up all over this table. “No he will Y/n, don’t worry, I’ll make sure of it,” Mrs. Lee smiles at you. Heeseung rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed at his mother for offering his services. You awkwardly pick at your food, as the parents started up a completely new conversion amongst themselves.

Stealing peaks at Heeseung every so often, you wondered why he was being so weird. Did he not miss you this entire time? Were you really that forgettable to him? You frown to yourself, finishing what was left on your plate, not realizing how fast everyone had eaten. You get up from your seat, giving a helping hand as you start to clear the table for everyone and making your way to the sink. Finally, away from the view of the table, you set the dirty dishes down. 

You let out a deep shaky sigh. Tears slowly well up in your eyes once more. You tilt your head up towards the ceiling, trying your best to hold them back. You hated that you were such a big cry baby. You decide to start on the dishes, giving your mother a little helping hand, trying your hardest to think positive thoughts.

Back at the dining table away from your line of hearing, your mother speaks up, catching Heeseung’s attention. “Heeseung, you really have gotten so tall and handsome!” she expressed in awe. “Can’t you believe Y/n used to be a little taller than you back in the day? Now look at her! So short,” finishing her statement, she covers her mouth as she laughs, the other parents at the table join in. 

Heeseung simply chuckles back. You were very small, it was almost as if you barely grew in height the last he saw you. If Heeseung was being honest, you caught him off guard. You looked completely different. Your hair is longer, your curves grew in, and even the way you dressed surprised him. Heeseung didn’t mean to ignore you, he really didn’t. He was afraid he’d stutter and embarrass himself. 

You probably hated him anyway. So he made the conscious decision to make it seem like he just didn’t care. You surely had new friends now. But the thought of you, was driving him a little insane. That wasn’t the same Y/n, was it? He kept sneaking peeks at you like a kid having his very first crush. Well you actually were his very first love. For some reason, you were making him feel a bit hot and bothered. He needed to get away from you, he didn’t even think his parents would even move back to this place. He wanted to forget about you. There was no way you still felt the same after so many years. 

It was his fault anyways that you both stopped speaking. He couldn’t forgive himself and he figured it was best to keep you out of sight and out of mind, embarrassed and nervous thinking of the way he must’ve made you feel. It’s been so long, it wasn’t like you cared–  right?

Seeing you today just made him want to jump all over you. The nerve of you to wear that little skirt… Did you know his favorite color was purple? The moment he saw you, impure thoughts filled his mind. Thoughts and images in his head of you, bent over the table with your little skirt, all for him. He knew it was you he saw in that car with that boy.

Who the hell was that guy anyways? There was no way you wanted anything to do with him… you had already replaced him. For all he knew, that guy could’ve been your boyfriend. He needed to put an end to these thoughts. The two of you were no longer friends and here he was thinking about you in compromising ways. He felt like a creep. He felt himself getting a little too excited in hopes that maybe, just maybe, you were the bigger person and would look past his nonsense and maybe talk to him. He missed you, he always has.

But he was the one that ghosted you and he couldn’t forgive himself for what he ruined and he knew there was no hope of rekindling what was once there. It seemed like you had a boyfriend anyways and the thought of that just sours his mood. For some reason, it just made him all the angrier. He wanted to just kiss you in front of everyone to let the world know you were his girl first to begin with. Deep in thought, he hadn’t realized you were already back until he saw his empty dinner plate being carried away by his mother. 

You sat back across from him. He locks his eyes onto you, taking the way you looked in once more. Man did he want to take you right there and then. He felt so filthy thinking about you in such a way surrounded by not only his parents, but yours as well. He shifts a bit in his seat, having to keep in mind that you were already taken. He was always selfish thinking you’d wait for him. To make himself feel worse, the thought of you doing lewd actions to anyone but him, made him feel the need to punch holes through walls. 

Why was he so upset? He couldn’t even bring himself to speak to you normally anyways. 

You felt heavy eyes on you as you sat in your seat, looking up from your lap, your eyes meet Heeseung’s. This was happening way too much for your liking. You look away and back onto your lap, fiddling your fingers together, nervous as to what he was thinking. He looked scary. Your breathing still a bit shaky, you were just counting down the minutes till the Lee’s left. But you knew they’d be here awhile, that was typical of both your families as they loved to linger and talk about nonsense. Your legs shaking nervously, you let out a deep sign, your anxiety getting worse as the time flies by. “Why don’t you show Heeseung to your room and catch up a bit? I’m sure you guys would love to talk amongst yourselves.”

You spin your head at the speed of light to where the voice was coming from. Your father takes a sip of his drink. “Go on, we’ll give you two some space,” he adds on. Shocked, you looked at your mother, hoping she’d save you, but she gave you a little shrug shaking her head. You knew your dad never took your feelings for Heeseung seriously. Taking a mental note to have a stern talk with him later, you stand up from your seat, legs wobbling. “Uh… sure– if it’s okay with you of course,” you hastily spit out, hoping he’d turn you down. 

To your surprise, he stood up from his seat, making his way towards your side. What the fuck was going on. Was he not just ignoring you not too long ago? Your heart pounding against your ribcage, you scurry your way out of the kitchen, Heeseung follows behind.

Heeseung knew where your bedroom was already, your house was still the same aside from minor renovations from the past years. As you lead the way to your room, he couldn’t help but trail his eyes down to your bottom. The thigh highs on your legs not making anything better for what he was going through at the moment either. Walking up the stairs, his eyes catch a glimpse of your underwear… Hello Kitty underwear? He smirked. Maybe some things about you never changed and boy was he right.

When you open the door to your room, he was met with Sanrio galore. Hello Kitty plushies littered your room followed by every possible character that franchise had a hold of. Hell, your bedsheets and bed were splattered with just as much. 

You walked in and sat on your bed, the nerve wracking anxiety eating away at you. You swear you could just jump out of your window right now to escape this. Too deep into your thoughts, you didn’t realize the fact that he closed the door behind him. You were definitely going to throw up sooner or later. 

The tension was awkward and your heart was heavy. What were you supposed to say? 

Lee Heeseung was in your room and he looked extremely hot. 

He takes in your room, it looks completely different. You had taken time to really change things. He scans around and a certain wall catches his eye. There on the wall, littered with many pictures of you and your friends. There he saw you and that same guy he saw you with earlier in so many of the pictures. Why was he always there? It pissed Heeseung off to no end. Old pictures of the two of you nowhere in sight. He was upset to say the least. Did you really hate him that much? His temper starts to get short. What he said next shocked the both of you. 

“Did you really have to dress like a slut for dinner?” he spits, catching even himself off guard. Your head shoots at him, a disgusted expression lay on your face. “What the hell did you just say to me?” You stood up, crossing your arms as you looked at him.

This was not the Heeseung you knew, that's for sure. Your feelings for him were thrown out the window and forgotten. He was being thrown out the window in your head once again. “Did I stutter?” he cocks his eyebrow at you as your face displays offense.

“What the hell is your problem Heeseung,” you bite back, your temper being shortened. You cannot believe this was the same guy you were crying over the entire day. He laughs at your face. “What’s yours? I’m not the one having my ass and tits hanging out for the whole world to see,” he nonchalantly says. Oh he was done for. “You sure have changed.”

He was far too gone to even call whatever he just did some sick joke and make up with you. To him, you looked so cute being all angry at him, it made him a little excited. He wondered how long he could keep this up. Though, he was fighting the urge to just grab you and kiss you right there. But you had a boyfriend, he couldn’t do that. 

You angrily stomp towards him, cornering him against the wall. Harshly jabbing his chest with your finger, you looked up at him, a smug smile plastered onto his face. You wanted to punch his pretty face in. 

“You are so fucking annoying, what do you treat every girl you see this way? Dick too small to get any action, you have to take it out on women?” you spit out at him, venom lacing your voice. One thing you were not going to let men get away with was the way they spoke about women. The sweet Heeseung you once knew, instantly exploding into little pieces in your mind. 

He chuckles. “I’ll have you know, I have a huge dick and probably get more action than you– Ms. Hello Kitty panties,” he smirks at you as you gasped. “You fucking creep!” a loud sound erupted into the room.

You had just smacked him in the face. Heeseung knew he had that coming. You couldn’t believe this was your Heeseung. Someone definitely replaced the Heeseung you knew with a terrible good for nothing clone.

But why were you still so attracted to him?

Heeseung rubs the side of his face that was inflicted. “Can’t handle the truth can you, can’t believe your little boyfriend lets you out looking like that,” he said, rolling his eyes at you. Puzzled, you furrowed your brows together trying to figure out what he meant. Boy… friend? Then it hits you.

Sunoo. You couldn’t believe what you just heard. Heeseung thinks Sunoo is your boyfriend. Forgetting all that just occurred, you pull back and let out the loudest laugh in his face, clutching your stomach. You couldn’t believe he thought Sunoo was your boyfriend. “You really are so stupid,” you said, wiping a tear away. 

Heeseung’s face heats up a bit as he pouts, what could’ve possibly been so funny. “Yeah, my “boyfriend” let’s me out like this, because he’s not actually my boyfriend,” you said with finger quotes on the word boyfriend. Why was he so worked up over Sunoo anyways? 

“Then who is he to you, he’s in all of your pictures,” he crosses his arms at you. You raise an eyebrow, confused as to why he was pressing. “Um, that’s my best friend, he lives in your old house…,” you trailed, feeling a bit awkward bringing up the fact that his old place of residence was now occupied by some boy he knows nothing about.

Heeseung’s eye twitches just a bit, a weird feeling bubbles within him. So you did replace him and better yet, replace him with another boy that lives in his old home. He felt as if you just kicked him in the face. 

“Was I nothing to you? What are you gonna marry him now? I look better anyways,” he disgustingly lets out at you. Was he jealous? You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief.

“You were the one that ghosted me, let’s not forget that now,” you said back sternly. The way his eyes darkened at you, made your knees a bit weak. He strides towards you, causing you to walk backwards, the back of your legs hitting your bed as you stumble on, Heeseung towering over you.

Voice dropping as he looked down at you on your bed, he spoke up. “It’s not like it mattered anyways, seems like you were out here dressed like a whore, leading every boy on.” Your eyes meet his, he leans down, you can feel his breath on your face. 

“Bet you wanted me to look at you anyways, I bet you like the attention,” he whispers in your ear. Tingles run through your entire body. Without thought, you squeezed your thighs together to feel a little friction. You were getting turned on. He lingers just a little as he reaches his hand up to hold your chin, making sure you looked him in the eyes. Your breathing increases as you start to realize how close he was to you. This had to be a dream. He inches his face closer to yours, the scent of your strawberry like perfume fills his nose. You have always smelt sweet. It was intoxicating to him. You close your eyes, hoping this wasn’t real. He looks down at your lips before taking a slight breath in. 

His lips landed onto yours. Your eyes widened, not believing this was happening. You quickly close them again, giving into the kiss. He smirks against your lips, deepening the kiss, his hand still holding your face up. He pulls away, pushing you down. You scoot up a bit, as he climbs onto your bed, now hovering over you.

You felt so small under him. Your eyes fluttered as he stared down at you. A wave of embarrassment wash over you as you bring your arm up to cover your face. He pulls your arm away, eyes hungry for you. He leans back down, pulling you into another heated kiss as he puts his knee in between your legs, opening them slightly. The friction catching you off guard, you let out a small moan. His dick twitches, you start to grind a little on his leg. He moves his hand down to caress your side, bringing it up to give your boob a squeeze over your shirt.

You gasped, taken by surprise. He takes the chance to stick his tongue into your mouth, your panties growing wetter by the minute. Mission “forget about Heeseung” was no longer there. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in. Everything felt so hot and fuzzy, you had long forgotten the things he had said earlier. Heeseung pulls away, moving his mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses. You squirm under him, trying your hardest to keep quiet. He chuckles.

“We just met again after so long, and you’re really letting me do this to you right now while our parents are downstairs?” he spoke against you, he trails his hand down and in between your legs. “You aren’t really helping your case of being a little slut now– are you?” 

Your face turns red, unable to speak. He was right, you guys had barely said anything to each other and here you are letting him touch you after all the nasty things he said earlier. It was Lee Heeseung after all. The one and only boy who managed to make you feel every and all emotions in this world. Your body easily gave in as if this was what it's been waiting for. 

His fingers stroke the outside of your panties, you were already soaked. He rubs his finger up and down your panties, feeling the dampness as he reaches his other hand up to your corset top, conveniently having a zipper on the front, he unzips your top, your boobs spilling out. “No bra? You really are just a slut.”

At this point, he was painfully hard. He gropes one of your breasts as he leans down, taking the other into your mouth. He sucks on your nipple as he rubs circles on your clit, still clothed by your panties. You reach your hand over your mouth, covering it as your moans gradually get louder. The room felt hot and heavy, you couldn’t help yourself as you moaned his name, pleasure overfilled your body.

“H-Heeseung… Hee… please…,” you softly cried out. He moans into your breast, pushing your panty to the side, he feels your wetness in its entirety. His fingers slide up and down your slit as he takes his mouth off of your nipple, eyes on you. 

Fuck, you looked too hot. He couldn’t believe he was doing these things to you right now. He pulls you into another sloppy kiss. He inserts his finger into your hole, a moan erupting out of you as he starts to thrust his hand. You were so wet and he needed to take you right now. The thought of you both potentially getting caught as your parents were just downstairs, turned him on even more. He pulls away, taking your fucked out expression in. He adds in another finger.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, blushing as you caught his eye. Lust overtook him as he increased the pace of his hand, pumping his fingers in and out of you as if his life depended on it. He curled his fingers within you, earning a loud squeal from you. He smirks. 

“Y/n, you gotta keep your voice down, you don’t want your parents coming up here seeing their sweet little daughter like this, now do you?” he menacingly asked. Your cute little moans were enough to almost make him burst all over you. His pants were getting too tight for his liking. He needed to have you. 

You were lost and flustered. His fingers so deep into you, you felt your climax was close. “Faster… please H-Hee…,” you moan, stuttering from the sensation. “S-So c-close, I’m so close.”

With his free hand, he reaches up, grabbing your face. “Look at me while you cum Y/n, I need to see your fucked out face,” his said, his deep voice making you clench around his fingers. Your moans start to increase again, he puts his hand over your mouth, trying to suppress the volume. With one more pump, you cream all over his fingers, screams of his name muffled against his hand as he rides out your high with his fingers. He takes his hand off, allowing you to finally breathe and catch your breath. Eyes hazy as you pant. He pulls his fingers out of you, taking them up to his mouth, sucking on his own fingers and tasting your cum. 

“Fuck, you taste so good Y/n,” he said, leaning down kissing you, letting you have a taste of yourself. Pulling back, he leans his forehead on yours, taking in what he just did with you. Silence filled the room, your cheeks heated up as you looked away from him. Your heart wanted to jump out of your chest. 

You just let Lee Heeseung finger you. 

And you liked it. 

Before you both could even muster up words to say, yells of Heeseung’s name were heard from downstairs. He stands up quickly, taking in the way you were on your bed one last time. Man did he love that skirt on you. He adjusts his hoodie, pulling it down more to cover his raging boner. Without a word, he takes his leave, leaving you there on your bed. Tits out, panties filled with your own cum, skirt hiked up, and flustered. You hastily sit up, zipping your top back up. Like the entire day, the feeling of needing to throw up reemerges. You reach your own hand down, feeling the wetness still there. This definitely was not a dream. Heeseung just fingered you.

Lee Heeseung was here and he just fingered you.

You grab your pillow, groaning as you slam your head repeatedly down onto it. 

How the hell did you end up here?

Heeseung’s heart was beating so fast. He ran down your stairs, almost running into his own mother as she was putting her shoes on by the door. 

“Woah, slow down son,” she laughs. He mutters a sorry as he turns to bid your parents a goodbye. He makes his way out of your house needing a breath of fresh air, still painfully hard. He picks up his bike from the side of your porch and makes his way off of your driveway and down the road, leaving his parents there puzzled as to why he was in such a hurry. He needed to get home now.

Thankfully, his house wasn’t too far from yours, just being down the street by the basketball court. He threw his bike onto his lawn as he hurriedly tried to fish his house keys out of his pocket. Opening the door, he quickly shuts it behind him as he runs up the stairs and to his room. He locks the door. He needed to let one out while the image of you was fresh in his mind.

Heeseung strips himself of his clothes, leaving him in just his boxers. He jumps into his bed, laying his head onto his pillow, palming himself through his boxers. Before getting started, he hears his parents enter the home. He waits until they make their way into their room, settling in for the night. After a bit of time had passed, he deemed it safe enough to finally start his session. He palms himself once more, squeezing his length through his boxers. 

He couldn’t believe you actually let him finger you. He takes the hand he used to finger you with, bringing his fingers up to his nose, taking a whiff of what was there of your essence. His dick twitched. You smelled delicious. Not being able to take it any longer, he pulls his boxers down, his cock slapping down onto his abdomen, pre cum already leaking from his tip. He spits into his hand, carefully reaching down to his cock, giving it a stroke.

Thoughts of you fill his mind. Images of what just happened flipped through his head like a slideshow. He strokes up and down, remembering the way your tits looked amazing. Your moans replay over and over again. He gives his tip a squeeze and continues on stroking his cock to you. His eyes remain closed as he tries his hardest to keep you there. He strokes hard and fast as he can almost still hear you moaning his name over and over again. 

He groans, wishing you were here to help him out. He thinks about how warm and wet your mouth would feel around him. He wishes so badly he got to feel your pussy around his cock, squeezing him the way you suffocated his fingers within you. 

“Fuck… Y/n,” he moans to himself, speed increasing. That damn skirt of yours. Next time he knew he had to have you bent over the nearest surface, pumping his cock deep into your pussy. If there was even a next time.

You were driving him insane. His orgasm getting closer and closer, he gives a few more pumps, ropes of his own cum spilling all over his chest as he lets out curses of your name. He laid there, panting and trying to catch his breath. 

This summer was going to be the death of him. 

The next day rolls around a little too fast for your liking. The events of last night, replaying in your head over and over again. You wanted to go to the nearest bridge and jump off. 

The boy you have been crying over for years was just here… in your house… and he fingered you. 

Your anxiety has been eating away at you since the moment you woke up. Your friends were on their way to your house, any minute now. Thankfully, Sunoo slept over his grandparents and agreed to go pick up the two girls before making his way here. 

After Heeseung had left last night, you immediately looked for your phone, opening up your messages to tell them what just happened. Thinking about it makes you want to run away forever.

Y/n sent a message to group “fuck heeseung!”

Y/n: guys … something just happened…

Karina: what’s up babe?

Sunoo: u good?

Ningning: ???

Y/n: uhhhhhhhh……

Sunoo: bitch if u dont just spit it out! 😒

Y/n: heeseung just fingered me in my room

Sunoo: WTF

Karina: WTF

Ningning: WTF

Ningning: this bitch done took the gc name srsly my gawdddd 😭

Having sent that text, you immediately threw your phone, ignoring the spam texts and calls your friends were sending your way. You could not handle your emotions as you went to get ready to sleep only to wake up to threats from your friends telling you they’re breaking into your house tomorrow and making you spill the tea. You lay there on your bed, covering your face with your hands. One of these days you were really going to throw up all over the place.

Your thoughts were soon broken as you heard loud knocks coming from downstairs. You hear muffles of your friends greeting your mother as she opens the door for her and then asking where you were. You wish you could just cast a spell like Alex Russo and disappear yourself out of here. Rushed footsteps head their way to you and your door was thrown open. You uncover your face and quickly sit up, patting your lap as your friends stare back at you, their arms crossed. 

“Heyyyyyyy…,” you said, awkwardly trying to lighten the mood, tucking your hair behind your ears, giving them a toothy exaggerated smile. This is the part where you wish you could spontaneously combust. Karina closes your door as Sunoo walks to sit on the bed with you and Ningning occupies the beanbag on your floor. Karina sits on the ground next to her. All eyes on you.

“So… how are you guys,” you sheepishly said, rubbing the back of your neck. They all roll their eyes simultaneously growing impatient. 

“How are we? Bitch how are you?!” Karina shouts at you. You pick up the Hello Kitty squish next to you, slamming your face into it and groaning. “If you don’t hurry and get to the detai–,” you cut her off.

“I will! Okay! So like you see…,” they inch closer towards you, not wanting to miss a single detail as mission “forget about Heeseung” was now compromised. You sighed, taking in a deep breath. It was now or never. 

“Okay so you see what had happened was… Heeseung’sfamilyhadmovedbacktotheneighborhoodandtheycameoverand–,” you were interrupted. “Oh my god Y/n slow the hell down, you know I can’t think!” Ningning exclaims, annoyed at your tactics.

“Okay.. okay… so… Heeseung’s family had moved back to the neighborhood–,”

“So they were the “special guest” your mom had told you about?” Sunoo interjected. You nod. “Okay, carry on.”

“Right so, since his family had moved back… that means he’s back… and–,”

“Now how did this get to him fingering you?” Karina speaks up. 

“I’m getting there woman! Okay so–,” 

“Damn Sunoo you missed out on seeing this motherfucker,” Ningning interrupts once more. “Right? Like I was just thinki–,” Now you were the one to cut Sunoo off. “Are ya’ll going to let me finish my story or what?” you annoyedly sighed. The two mumble small “sorry’s” as they allow you to continue. 

“Alright so, my parents invited them to stay for dinner, Heeseung wasn’t there yet and turns out he was the guy me and Noo saw riding his bike down our road,” you start off, palms getting sweaty. “THAT WAS HIM?” Sunoo shouts back at you, hand covering his mouth. “He was so cute.”

“Anyways,” you continued. “He shows up, kinda an asshole now, he practically ignored me all dinner until my parents forced me to bring him to my room and then things got a little… you know… heated… and he uhh… you know, did what he did to me,” you shyly finished as all the blood within you started to rush to the apples of your cheeks. You looked down onto your lap. “He was really mean… but he was so hot… I’m not sure what happened but he went from calling me a slut, to getting weird over thinking Noo was my boyfriend, me yelling at him, and then BAM! His fingers made their way in me I guess…,” you finished off. You look up, catching your friends' confused stares. Sunoo bursts into a fit of laughter.

“He thought I was your boyfriend? Y/n he was so jealous, like seriously, he finger fucked you because he was jealous you were around another boy!” Sunoo says through his laughter. You smack him with your squish, throwing punches at him after. “Well yeah and you’re sitting right where it happened,” you yelled at him. He gagged, disgusted he pushed you off of him and took a seat on the floor next to the two girls. He shook his whole body, cringing.

“Wait a minute, he called you a slut? Like in a “you’re so hot you belong to me” type of way or “you’re a slut and you need to stop looking like how you look” way?” Karina asks, genuinely concerned over the fact that this dude potentially hurt your feelings. You scratch your head. 

“Um… the second one…,” you trailed. Karina gets a bit heated. Her feelings towards this dude grow sour as the seconds pass. She hated him already. She lets out a heavy sigh. “You can’t be serious and you let him touch you after all of this?” She says with a disgusted tone paired with an equally expressive disgusted face. “When I get my hands on this guy, I’m gon–,” you cut her off.

“Rina, seriously it’s okay… everything just happened so fast, I’m not really sure how to feel but I also didn’t hate it,” you painfully admitted. The shame inside of you spilling out of your pores as you try to figure out a way to justify what you did. There was no justification. This was all way too complicated. 

“Y/n… this is the guy you have liked forever… and he ghosted you… if it were me, i would’ve been beating the shit out of him and not letting him put some fingers up my cooch,” Ningning spoke up, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Well I did slap him across his face,” you nonchalantly throw out. “You did what?” Sunoo said, raising an eyebrow genuinely interested. You roll your eyes at him. 

“So… did you even get his number to like… you know talk about all of… this,” Karina asked. She just wanted the best for you but you just alway seem to dig yourself into the biggest holes known to man. You let out a chuckle.

“About that… no…,” you muttered out. Karina picks up the nearest plush she saw that was on your floor and throws it at your head. “You are so stupid sometimes, you know that right Y/n?” she tiredly said. If she gets the chance to ever see Heeseung, she made a mental note to have a long talk with him. He could not get away with these shenanigans, she did not care how much he meant to you. 

“Oh yeah… and he’s going to be attending Decelis–,” this time it was Ningning throwing a plush at you, interrupting your nonsense. “It just keeps getting better and better!” Sunoo sarcastically lets out.

Sighing you felt exhausted, mentally and physically. This whole situation makes you want to pull your hair out of your head. But before forgetting, the thought of the barbeque comes to your mind. “Also, his family is hosting a BBQ this weekend, they said I could invite you guys– but only if you were interested!” you hurriedly finished the last part, worried they were going to throw anything else at you. Ningning and Sunoo shoot up from their seats. 

“Def def def going! If he’s as cute as y’all make him to be, he’s bound to have even cuter friends to invite,” Ningning giggles, fantasizing about the potential boys Heeseung could be inviting. “Maybe they’re gonna be going to DU too~,” the bubbly girl sings. You all roll your eyes at her. She has always been a hopeless romantic.

“I’m just nosy and I’d love to see how this all plays out,” Sunoo lets out, Ningning agreeing with him also. You all turned to Karina, she seemed indifferent.

“So Rina bear… do you want to come too? I’m making my tiramisu for the occasion~,” her face lights up, you can see the twinkle in her eyes. “Okay, but… I can’t promise i”ll behave,” she said, crossing her arms, sticking her tongue out at you. You jump up with joy, jumping onto them and onto the floor, pulling them all into a tight group hug.

“I love you guys so much, now let’s go get ice cream or something, I'm craving something sweet!” You excitedly exclaim. Sunoo snickers. “Yeah Heeseung already gave you something sweet last nigh–OW!” you smack the back of his head before he could even finish his sentence. With that, you all get up, making your way outside and to Sunoo’s car. 

“Alright, where are we heading?” Sunoo asks you guys. Ningning speaks up from the backseat. “Ooh, to that taiyaki ice cream place, you know, the one past the basketball court down there!” Everyone agrees as Sunoo pulls out of his driveway. 

Unbeknownst to all of you, Heeseung has been at the basketball court since the morning, playing some rounds with his friends. As Sunoo drives down the road, he suddenly lets out a gasp, slowing his car down.

“OH EM GEE… Y/n is that Heeseung?” He asked, pointing his finger towards the basketball court. “Oh em gee, WHERE?” Ningning yells, rolling her window down, Sunoo does the same. 

There Heeseung was, in a simple baggy white tee and gray sweatpants. “Wow Y/n… he’s so hot,” Ningning gasps. “And so are his friends! If those are the ones going to the BBQ, I call dibs on the blond one, he looks like a puppy,” she finishes. 

“Fuck are they looking at us?” Karina asked, her eyes bulging out of her face. Your face heats up, there Heeseung was, stopped in his tracks, eyebrow cocked as he makes eye contact with you through Sunoo’s car. You wanted to jump out of the car and run away. All of his friends were staring back, looking to see what had caught their friend’s eye. 

Of course they were, Sunoo and Ningning were not helping the situation. Who wouldn’t notice a bright red car, slowly driving down a quiet street as some weirdos stare at them from inside. To your surprise, Ningning catches the attention of the blond one, giggling as she winked, blowing him a kiss, he winks back at her. Karina pulls her back from the window, smacking her upside her head as she rolls the window back up. 

Sunken down onto your seat, the embarrassment was eating away at you as you oh so desperately wanted to throw up all over the interior of Sunoo’s car. You groan, covering your face, your friends really had to make things even weirder for you. Sunoo steps on the gas as he tries to get you guys out of this awkward situation ASAP. He couldn’t help but laugh at the way you looked in the passenger seat next to him. You ignore him, pulling your phone out to scroll through whatever social media app your finger clicked first. An instagram notification catches your eye.

“heesoswag1015” wants to send you a message!

You click on the notification, leading you to your requests box. Your heart is still racing, you click the accept button. The color drains from your face.

heesoswag1015: stalker much?

heesoswag1015: anyways my friend jake told me to tell u that your friend is really hot

heesoswag1015: and that you’re really fucking weird 

You were definitely not looking forward to the weekend.

© enwrites // tumblr

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Could you write the beach scene where Conrad gets into a fight and instead of Belly getting hit it’s reader. Maybe she was kissing some other guy and that’s why Conrad was drinking?

Continue sending requests for Conrad/Jeremiah!! I added them to my taglists, so please get on it if you want to be notified when I post a new one. Also, season 2 is coming very soon <3 I can't wait for all the Taylor music they're gonna use again

I didn't plan on going over 1k, but my fingers slipped XD

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Music was mixing with the soft swishes of the ocean, marking the first night of summer at Cousins’ beach. After months in the city that never sleeps, it was nice to be back. The smell of the ocean, the feeling of the sand under your feet, the calm swish of the waves, the beautiful sunsets — there were no such things in New York.

Talking about things New York didn’t have, your mouth busy kissing the cute boy you met on the boardwalk yesterday. You didn't plan on kissing him — or anyone — at the bonfire, but he smelled really good and his smile was causing a kaleidoscope in your stomach, and before you realized what was happening, he was leaning to kiss you.

His name was Benjamin…or was it Brad? God, you couldn’t remember. What you knew was the sensation of his body pressed against yours, the intertwining of tongues, and the gentle touch of his hands as they slid to your waist and effortlessly pulled you closer.

This summer was going to be amazing.

Your bubble of summer-lovin' was popped when a sudden commotion about a beer reached your ears, drawing your attention away from Brody. He whined, trying to join your lips again, but you turned your head in direction of the heated voices, one of them familiar to you.

‘’Shit,’’ you muttered under your breath, seeing Conrad shoving another guy and getting shoved back. This was not going to end well… ‘’I’ll be right back.’’

Brody nodded as you stood from the sand and went over, foolishly believing that you could mediate the altercation.

‘’Hey, Conrad that’s enou—’’ you began, only to be abruptly halted by a forceful elbow striking your cheekbone, sending you on the ground.

The sudden assault had drawn Conrad's attention away from the beer-fueled dispute, his drunken gaze fixed upon you with concern. He tried to get to you, see if you were okay, but the other guy wasn't willing to let Conrad off the hook so easily, launching a punch before he could reach your side.

‘’What the fuck is wrong with you?’’ Conrad's anger flared as he retaliated, delivering a punch of his own.

Amidst the chaos, Jeremiah caught sight of the brawl and quickly ran over to you. ‘’Are you okay?’’ he asked, extending a hand and helping you getting back on your feet, his genuine concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, wincing as you covered your aching cheekbone. It’s gonna be bruised tomorrow. Brad, having witnessed the unfortunate turn of events, also approached to offer his support. He tried to cup your face to assess the injury, but you dodged his contact.

Seeing you were relatively okay, Jeremiah pointed towards Conrad and you nodded again, silently telling him to go. You doubted he’ll be able to break the fight, but hopefully someone will come and help.

‘’You should put some ice on that,’’ Brody advised, but all you could think about was Conrad.

Getting into fights was unlike him. But he hasn’t really been himself lately…

A sudden cry of ‘’Cops!’’ echoed through the beach, instantly causing a wave of panic and dispersal among the party-ers. People fled in different directions, seeking to avoid any potential trouble with law enforcement.

While running off, you managed to get away from Brody, no longer wanting to be by his side. It was nothing personal. Old ghosts just pulled you back in.

You emerged on the road, scanning all the cars on each side until you caught the unmistakable red of Conrad's Jeep parked on the road. The backdoor on the driver side was open as Jeremian helped Conrad get in the backseat of the jeep.

‘’Jere! Wait up!’’ you called out at him.

‘’Watch your head. Your legs,’’ Jeremiah said, making sure he wouldn’t be catching any of his drunk brother’s limbs when closing the door.

Conrad grumbled, half laying down on the backseat. ‘’I know how to get into a car,’’ he muttered.

‘’Can I come with?’’ you asked, trying to not glance at Conrad. ‘’I…I don’t have a ride home.’’

Jeremiah nodded, and both of you climbed into the jeep, fastening your seatbelts before driving away.

Only to slam the brakes two seconds later and come to an abrupt halt. ‘’Fuck. Steven.’’ Jeremiah turned to you before getting out. ‘’Watch Conrad, I’ll be right back.’’

Conrad and you were in the car silently. It felt eerily quiet, and even though it was only just past one, you were completely exhausted. In the backseat, Conrad was quiet, lost in his drunken haze. Neither of you spoke for a moment, until he started playing with a piece of your hair.

‘’How did you get into this mess?’’

‘’The guy wanted my beer,’’ he explained simply, softly.

‘’And you didn’t think you had enough?’’ Conrad was silent, so you glanced at him through the visor mirror. ‘’Why did you drink so much?’’

‘’You.’’

A frown formed between your eyebrows. ‘’Me?’’

He let go of your hair and leaned his head against the window. ‘’Why were you with that guy? Is…is he your new boyfriend?’’

No.

Brody was charming and sweet, but you didn’t see him as a potential boyfriend. You weren’t looking for a relationship at the moment. That would be stupid given you were starting college in September.

‘’That’s none of your business,’’ you said instead, brushing off his question.

After playing cat and mouse all summer the year prior — and some of autumn —, you and Conrad decided to call it quits in the spring. You never officially dated, just played around, but a part of you had been hopeful Conrad would change his mind and want to take it to the next level. Unfortunately, he was never yours to lose.

‘’I don’t like when you kiss someone else. You should be kissing me.’’

The atmosphere in the jeep became tense as Conrad's words hung in the air. Had he not been so intoxicated, he would never have said that. You could feel the weight of his emotions and the unresolved tension between the two of you.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to compose yourself, not wanting to lash your emotions at him. ‘’You dumped me, remember?’’ you reminded him, trying to ignore the sleeping pain hidden in a compartment of your heart.

‘’Seeing you with someone else... it drives me crazy,’’ he admitted, his voice filled with a mix of longing and vulnerability.

Twisting in your seat, you turned to face Conrad.

Conrad and his stupid temper. Had he not gotten into a dumb fight over a beer, the side of your face wouldn’t be in pulsing pain. You also would not be sitting in his jeep with him.

Without saying anything, he reached for your face, gently brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. ‘’I’m sorry.’’

Before you could say anything, the driver side’s door opened, snapping you and Conrad from your moment.

‘’I found him!’’ Jeremiah announced, getting in while Steven did the same, complaining about having to sit in the backseat and having not enough room for his legs. 

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully

[bigtreefest]

Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration!!

I can’t believe it, but I’ve hit 300 followers! Thank you so much for everyone who has helped me get here and all the encouragement and love you’ve shown me. You have no idea how much it means💗 *please excuse the terrible graphic that I made on my lunch break. I tried, I swear. 🥳🥳🥳🥳🤷🏻‍♀️

For the occasion, I’m hosting a writing event! I’d love for you, yes you! to join in the celebration!! I know what you’re thinking: ‘well Essie, how do I do that?’ Let me tell you!!

Gather up all the sweet, summer vibes you can muster, along with one or multiple of the prompts listed below, and write a fic! Prompts and rules below!

Prompts:

*feel free to adjust them accordingly to work better in your fic

- pick your favorite summer song and use it to inspire your fic (optional, and very much not necessary, but encouraged. I love the songs of summer)

Scenarios:

- a character gets a sunburn

- someone lost their bathing suit in the ocean/pool

- a popsicle dripping down someone’s skin

- sand. Sand everywhere.

- beach games got a little too rough

- reading and someone gets the book wet

- putting a flower behind their ear

- babe is a surfer

- watching a sunrise/sunset together

- a long drive together

- putting sunscreen on one another

- rain spoils your summer outdoor plans

- bonfire

- catching fireflies

Quotes:

- “it hurts when I _____” “then stop doing that”

- “I wore this purposely because I thought the tan line would drive you crazy.”

- “what do you mean you didn’t pack snacks?”

- “here, you can share with me”

- “aw man, that was the last one”

- “I’ve got something else you can lick”

- “ew, gross. That’s not what I thought would happen today”

- “who thought a place with mosquitoes was a good idea?”

- “yeah. I know” “I didn’t mean I was hot in that way”

- “you know that one’s my favorite”

- “we’re not supposed to be in here” / “not here”

- “why’s it…sticky?”

Kinks:

- praise

- size

- daddy

- equal partnership? That’s my kink.

- breeding

- oooo! hand

- public sex/trying not to get caught

- overstimulation

Tropes:

- friends to lovers

- enemies to lovers

- hurt/comfort

- last summer together before going separate ways🥺

- vacation fling cut short by having to go home

Environments:

- beach

- pool

- lake house

- ice cream shop/stand

- inside in the ac

- a bar

- resort/hotel

- out on the water/ in a boat

Rules/How to Play:

- Character/love interest must be a CE babe/Bucky (no other Seb babes, however you may be able to make a case for boedecker or destroyer Chris)

- No deeply dark themes, including noncon, murder and death, toilet stuff, incest, or anything you think would be too intense for my poor heart. Dubcon, stepcest, and soft!dark are allowable if you just keep it light and find it necessary, but use your discretion please

- Posts should be at least 300 words, with no upper limit! Please us a ‘read more’ past 150

- fics should be stand-alone. If they are part of a series, they should be able to be read alone.

- tag me @bigtreefest and put the tags #essie’s summer lovin’ 300 follower celebration #summer lovin’ celebration and #essie’s 300 follower special so I can reblog you and add your fic to the Masterlist!!

- be inclusive and considerate!!

- make/write as many posts as you’d like!

- this will run from Sunday, July 13 to Wednesday, July 31, 2024. Late entries will be accepted through the end of summer.

- happy writing and thank you for celebrating with me!!

Tagging those who interacted with my post gauging interest, but all are welcome to join!!

@stargazingfangirl18 @krirebr @ronearoundblindly @witchywithwhiskey @thezombieprostitute @darsynia @jesevans @navybrat817 @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @universitypenguin @gone-to-fight-the-fairies @delicatebarness @biteofcherry @dreamtinblackandwhite @levans44

[anika-ann]

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

Part 2 of 2

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

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

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

But is that such a bad thing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

Crossing it by miles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bobbi followed his example, standing up too.

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

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

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

You rose to your feet.

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

“Whatever works for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hunter… shut up.”

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

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

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

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

What the--- what?!

And did she have to say it like that?

Of course she did. It was Daisy after all.

“Daisy!”

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

It left you dumbstruck.

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

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

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

“That’s not-"

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

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

-abilities.

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

No. She wouldn’t.

Surely, she wouldn’t have-

Oh she absolutely would.

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

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

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

And boy, did she seem motivated.

“…maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re… you’re kidding, right?”

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

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

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

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

“What?!”

What the---- what?!

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

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

You did catch her drift.

Except you didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

Daisy grinned. “Yeah. Oh.”

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

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

A little.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feigning outrage, you yelled back at her:

“Good night, Daisy!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? Tell me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Easy fix.”

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

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

You and Steve had clicked almost instantly.

You had fallen hard.

You yearned for a touch, always.

And so did he.

The perfect match.

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

You were in love.

You were lovers.

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

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

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

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

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

You weren’t sure if the façade would hold.

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

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

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

“…where’s my sleeping bag?”

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

“Don’t know. Do you need it?”

You chuckled, arching your brow, naively clueless.

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

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

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

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

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

“No, we shouldn’t.”

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

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

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

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

Steve released your lips with a sigh of deep contentment and a teeny protest on your part, foreheads resting against one another, a peck to your lips to sooth you, a peck to his to show you didn’t have enough of him. Not nearly enough. You never would.

The smile he gave you was warmer than the midday sun; that much you could see, your eyes finally slowly adjusting.

“Hi,” he breathed out.

Just like that.

Hi.

The simplest greetingwhose true meaning – I missed you – remained hidden to the world outside of you two. Much like other small gestures today.

A smile; I’m happy you’re here with me.

Catching you when you had slipped; I’ve got you.

Treating your wounds; I’ll always take care of you.

Cradling your hands; you’re precious to me.

Checking up on him; I’m here for you.

Squeezing his shoulders, brushing your fingers over his skin; you’re safe with me.

Agreeing to share his tent; I need you close.

‘Not on my watch’; I’d fight the world for you.

‘We shouldn’t’; I want you.

“Hi,” you said back, smiling too despite the reprimand to come. “You’re a terrible influence.”; I adore you.

Steve ran his hand up and down your back gently, chuckling, brushing your nose with his before retreating and finding your gaze in the dark.

“I love you too.”

Unlike the first time he had uttered it during the trip, you whispered the words in return, rewarded by another sweet kiss, slow and deep, a confession of love written into your very soul, bodies so close they could merge into one.

“Missed you. Missed touching you. Almost kissed you on at least ten different occasions. Wouldn’t even care who’d see,” he confessed, sealing his words with another kiss as if to make up for all the lost opportunities.

“Yeah, me too. You are very distracting.”

Steve grinned boyishly into the next kiss, teeth pulling briefly on your lower lip, the hand on your back urging you to erase ever half an inch between you.

“You tell me. Especially now,” he mused, fingers tugging at the hoodie for explanation, a flicker of satisfaction igniting your chest. Good; for all his shameless attempts to break your will, as gentle as they had been, you had been teasing him in return by simply walking around wearing his clothes. Good.

It took a split second; that flicker turned into a wildfire of another kind as his dextrous fingers slid under the hem of the hoodie, tenderly – and so purposely lightly – brushing the sensitive skin under your ribcage. Your fingers dug into his shoulder reflexively, a soundless moan escaping you at the sensation of muscles flexing under your touch.

“You know, this one’s my favourite.”

Fondness battled with desire in your chest, the awareness of why feeling warm and burning at once.

“I know.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve hummed, lips trailing along your jaw, wordlessly asking you to tilt you head back. Oh how gladly you gave him the space... “You know why?”

You did. You were certain of it, but Steve’s hand on your back slid under the hoodie too, teasing alongside the clasps of your bra and the first and only word coming off your mouth was a pleading yes, the clasps undone a fraction of second later, your fingers plunging deeper into his hair, his lips returning to yours.

“What was that, sweetheart?”  

“It’s my favourite too,” you confessed, eyes fluttering open to meet Steve’s burning gaze. “Makes the blue of your eyes pop up…”

He caressed the bare skin over your hip, causing you to almost lose your train of thought again as his fingertips continued their path alongside the hem of your leggings, a deviously innocent smile adorning his lips as he watched your lips part with a sigh and your hips unwittingly buck forward.

The hitch in his voice at that was music to your ears.

“That so?”

“Yeah… and because I-- wore it, the first morning... after,” you whispered, the fond memory of Steve’s lips on your temple coaxing you to greet a new day with a promise of a breakfast and a lazy morning together, both forgotten for a while when you had followed him to the kitchen a few moments later and he had seen you walk in nothing but this very hoodie, deciding he was in a mood for a different kind of a feast and nothing all that lazy.

“That’s right,” he praised, hand sliding under your leggings at last, cupping your heat. Biting your lip to keep quiet, a silent keen of pleasure escaped you still at the relief and the tease all at once, Steve’s lips instantly on yours to drink up the sound with a groan. “Have to be quiet, sweetheart.”

“Thought you liked hearing me-”

“I always hear you… every little sound you make for me, every little sound I coax out of you,” he husked, dextrous fingers working to do exactly that, stirring the flames in your veins hotter, a muted grunt forcing its way past Steve’s lips as his fingertips explored with delight just how aroused you were. “God sweetheart, you’re dripping for me.”

“And whose fault is that? You’re the one who insisted on giving me this hoodie---- ah, and ripped logs apart with bare hands through half of this evening-”

Steve smile tasted devious on yours as you couldn’t but grin at his menacing ways – but by god, what a sight that had been. Lightning could have struck right next to you and you wouldn’t have noticed, entirely hypnotized by the display of sheer strength, the action barely making your lover break a sweat.

Now, when you tugged him closer to take more, to taste more, to get closer, always closer, already drunk on hip lips and nowhere close to having enough, his muscles danced under your hands again, a sheen glow of perspiration forming, the hardness responding to the undulation of your hips a testimony of you not being the only one affected, succumbing to primal desire.

Yet, you felt his obvious upper hand in his voice, the way he preened at your praise, even when hidden under the veil of a faux-complaint.

“You liked that, honey? Like it when I show off my strength?”

He knew the answer and yet you granted it to him in a silent whimper, hand sliding down the hard bulge of his arm, a sensation almost as divine as his fingers sliding past the soaked fabric of your underwear and entering you, the first step on the ladder towards the stars.

“Yes, Steve—love, I-”

“Yes, honey?” he coaxed, lips an inch from yours. “What were you saying?”

“Gentle and strong---and big,” you managed to breathe out as he pumped his fingers in a way he had already learned would lift you higher and higher towards your peak, his gaze hungry as he watched the pleasure distort your features, every little sound you tried your goddamn best to muffle as not to give your friends a show fuelling his effort to make you lose that game and driving him wilder in retun. “Should manhandle me more often-“

“Is that right?” he chuckled warmly, so warmly and content you didn’t have time or space in your mind to feel shame for admitting it, less so since he curled his fingers just like that, mouth pressed to the column of your neck in a demanding kiss, a graze of teeth that nearly knocked your breath out of your lungs, your whole body burning like a supernova about to explode. “I’ll take a note. But for now… I gotta be gentle so you don’t let everyone know how close you are to your Captain.”

And gentle he was; a gentle tease. But as devious as he could be, dark eyes drinking in the sight of you falling apart for him but few second later, a sinful smile on his lips shining with your arousal when he took you apart for the second time, sucking a bruise to your inner thigh as you came down from your high – he drew plenty of his pleasure from your own and was still a giver. He kissed his way up your still trembling body, exposing more and more skin to give love to, until he reached your lips again, muffling both yours and his moan as he slowly entered you at last, taking for himself too, once, twice, no need for rest, but pausing still to feel the shared bliss spreading through your bodies.

Despite Steve’s lips being nothing short of wicked, his hands both tender and all kinds of greedy – an honour you so willingly and enthusiastically reciprocated – the words spoken between you were soft and sweet; and as quiet as you tried to be, there was plenty of space for I love yous without uttering a word.  

A gentle touch to angle your hips.

A caress alongside his jaw.

A kiss to your collarbone.

A hungry kiss to his lips.

The grip on your waist.

The dirty roll of your hips you knew made him see stars.

A press of his lips to your lower back when he flipped you over, a lingering moment of reprieve and torture before he entered you again in one smooth movement.

Confessions whispered to your ear and just as sweet and delicate breathed in return.

Love you; need you; gonna keep you.

Yes. More. Always want more of you.

You have all of me.

I’ve got you, love.

You did have each other. Body humming in quiet aftershocks of bliss, contentment settled deep in your soul, you fell asleep curled to Steve’s front, his arm draped securely around your waist, keeping you close.

The one sleeping bag which he had unpacked was but draped over your bodies, way too small to cover you both fully. And yet, you were perfectly warm and safe from the cold and the outside world, Steve’s breathing lulling you to a peaceful sleep full of gentle fire and stars-littered skies resting just at your fingertips.

Waking up came with flickers of blurry images you could hardly distinguish from a dream; but as you found yourself alone, colder than before despite being safely tucked into a cocoon of a sleeping bag, you smiled as you recognized some of them as real.

A morning ritual of a kiss to your temple; a gentle advice for you to sleep a little longer; your body seeking Steve’s on instinct, the hard planes of muscle relaxing again as he gave in and held you for another while, lips pressed to your hairline, an embrace full of love. Bucky’s grumpy voice whisper-yelling from an immense distance, reminding Steve that he had been the one to plan the morning run so he’d better get his ass out and stop shagging his lady; Steve’s sweet grunt so quiet that perhaps not even supersoldier ears could hear it from outside of the tent that yes, but that had been before he knew he’d have you for himself.

The dreams after that you didn’t remember, but you recalled they were awfully sweet and you wished to be woken up just like the first time.

Still, despite finding yourself alone, body slightly aching, the memories of last night and earlier this morning brought a wide smile to your face. The inside of the tent was already perfectly bright, so sun must have been high despite the relatively early hour. In your high spirit, the idea of warm sunrays even made you consider going for a swim in the lake, just to have the excuse to wear Steve’s hoodie later, discarded in a corner, again.

You pulled it over your head, fingers running through your hair to have the worst of your bed hair go away and pull it into a lose bun, you slowly climbed out of the tent, your smile only widening at the beautiful scenery awaiting you – and you didn’t mean your friends barely just getting out of their tents too. The woods, the sun reflecting in the crystal-clear lake, the remnants of the morning mist, the dew sparkling on the grass like thousands of soft diamonds.

Eyes slipping close to feel the sunrays on your skin, you stretched your arms above your head, breathing in deeply, the slightly crisp and gorgeously fresh air-

“I BLOODY KNEW IT!”

Your heart nearly gave out at the sudden cry, making you wince and drop your arms in an instant, seeking the source.

Pulse thundering in your ears from the fright, your gaze found Hunter, turning to Bobbi by his side with his mouth hanging open with shock as if he had just witnessed a real-life Loch Ness monster peek out from the lake and dive back again. Maybe he had.

The tension melted from your shoulders as you sighed, willing yourself to relax again.

Whatever was his issue, it was way too early for you to deal with his shenanigans – you’d leave that to his ex-wife.

You shook your head and turned back, letting yourself to take inventory; your body was aching all over, a testimony to a long pleasant night, thighs, lower back and neck a little stiff. You rolled your neck to relief the tension a bit, then shoulders, tilting your head to one side and then the other, nearly groaning at the stretch and satisfying ache--- only for your work to be instantly undone by Daisy’s loud voice. 

“Hunter, what the-- oh my god YES! Fucking finally!” she all but shrieked, the undiluted excitement in her voice causing you to snap back to her, panic rising in your chest.

Because you knew that tone.

This was exactly the tone she had used when she told you to shag Captain America, to share the sleeping bag with Steve. Had she seen your sleeping bag packed, assuming you had listened to her? But she couldn’t have possibly known you hadn’t had a head start and already packed it back again, so why would she give into that excitement so easy, that couldn’t have been-

“What is it?” you blurted out, heart in your throat, brain in an overdrive as you tried to think, think, think-

Your gaze found Steve’s as he and Bucky emerged from among the trees, slightly breathless, the loud ruckus clearly having startled them and making them race back to the camp.

You took a precious second to appreciate the absolute god-like appearance of his, red, red lips, chest heaving, arms bulging now that he put his hands on his hips and looked around with slightly worried and entirely confused blues that reflected the colour of the sky, his hair ruffled by the wind, sticking to several directions as it had lined with sweat.

“Nice badge, agent,” May commented dryly.

And yet, her voice dripped with amusement, the corners of her lips twitching in a smile, causing you to frown.

Nice badge? What did she mean by-

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

Your hands immediately flew up to your neck, covering the incriminated spot she was referring to, even as you hadn’t been aware there was one.

But there must have been.

A hickey.

You had a visible hickey, not just the one on your inner thigh which you knew Steve was so bloody proud of.

You had a hickey on your neck and now everyone saw it, an undeniable proof that you and Steve had most definitely not shared a tent platonically, but had shared a whole lot more.

You doubted you could blame the bruise – you didn’t even know what it looked like, oh god, you were mortified,why hadn’t you checked your appearance in a mirror, why – on some super-powered mosquitos drunk on Daisy’s Inhuman blood as Hunter had mentioned. And even if you could – you were hundred percent sure your spy training had flied out of the window and if the hickey hadn’t given it away, your imitation of a deer in the headlights when caught certainly had.

Speechless. You were rendered absolutely speechless and while this wasn’t any kind of tragedy, you felt the world spinning a bit. Oh no.

“Not that it’s any news,” May added, a smirk on her lips as all the gazes of those who did consider it news snapped to her.

“What do you mean?” Hopkinson asked, grumpy and entirely stunned.

Bucky snorted by Steve’s side, clearly highlyamused unlike your love and lover.

“You call yourself spies? They’ve been together for like two months and he’s been giving her heart-eyes from day one-“

“A-HA! Called the heart-eyes!” Daisy cried out pointing at you victoriously – and pausing.

Steve used the opportunity to put himself together, approaching you sheepishly and slowly as if he was worried you might actually throw something at him for leaving a badge of honour and shame on your neck. Which you might. Dammit Steven! If you found out that this was some kind of a ploy to make Hopkinson piss off if he really did have hots for you or whatever, you might spend the next night in your own tent alone just because.

“…wait, that means-- so you’re saying I quaked apart the buckles for nothing?”

At that, all eyes turned to her; and Bobbi let out a small sound of surprise.

“Oh! You quaked the— oh. That makes sense,” she said. “Well, I guess I unsecured the food container for nothing too, then.”

It was like watching a cartoon; at her admission, all heads turned to her in comical speed, stunned – and yours and Steve’s most of all, even as he stood at your side at last, a tender brush of his hand to your forearm for support.

Bobbi had done what?!

Something awesome in Daisy’s opinion, that was for sure. The women exchanged a conspiratory smile full of mutual respect and understanding.

All you could do was stare at them mutely. Daisy, well, she hadn’t surprised you all that much, even as you’d never dream of her doing that – but Bobbi? She had a wicked sense of humour and she certainly possessed a no-nonsense approach to things, but-

“Well, now I feel like a sucker,” Hunter said, glancing at his almost-wife. “I mean, all I did was not to tell her that her shoelaces were undone so she’d trip and someone would give her some TLC.”

You turned to him, gaping, no air coming in or out.

Y tu, Brutus?

All three of your friends had been on this, though apparently without cooperation? You were done. You were so completely done. And to think you had considered Hopkinson had been playing pranks on you. He was probably the only person who hadn’t been on this.

“Hunter, that’s awful,” Daisy commented at the sneaky act, causing him to raise his hands palms up innocently. “What if she’d have twisted her ankle or something?”

“Well then even better, wouldn’t it? He’d have to carry her in those--- arms with the biceps the size of bowling balls. And it worked, ain’t it? TLC, big time. Have you seen them when he treated her hands?”

Daisy paused, briefly lost in thought; then, she made a face. She couldn’t argue about that. Just like you couldn’t argue about the possibility of Steve’s solution being exactly the one and you being very much affected by being carried bridal style in his arms like that.

Not that that was the point.  

They really might have as well all worked in sync even if they hadn’t, huh?

Except all these things, arranged to get you and Steve together or somehow make you realize your feelings and act on them, were a little late to the party.

“Well, good work, everyone. I mean, it was fun to watch you try,” Natasha said, moving to continue packing her tent, slowly setting the scene in motion again.

“Almost as much fun as watching you two try to keep it under wraps,” Bucky smirked, walking past Steve and patting him on the shoulder. “Sorry to break it to you, but when it comes to undercover, you’d be more convincing as a couple of newlyweds.”

You sputtered at that remark, still to stunned to react otherwise, your famed ability to work under pressure and in unexpected circumstances suddenly nowhere to be found. You guessed it only applied to the field.

“I-” you started, unsure how to continue, feeling too busted – but also relieved somehow – turning to the man whose fault all this was. “Steve?”

He just opened his mouth, too taken aback as well; which you took as a prove that he hadn’t been aware of that hickey, bless him. Which… was curious at least, but he had enough wits to look guilty, so you’d leave that for after you’d process this.

May cleared her throat loudly.

“Alright, now that we established the bad luck that’s been following you was not bad luck at all, I believe we have a long hike ahead? We should move on with packing…”

Yes. Packing. That sounded wonderful. Anything to get the attention off you – though you weren’t sure it would help all that much.

Daisy, Hunter and Bobbi seemed simply too amazed by the revelation and satisfied with their work all the same. And Hopkinson was… something. Processing probably. Certainly not happy for you; you didn’t want to examine why. Even if it would support Daisy’s theory of him actually liking you, which was a wholly different can of worms you did not want to open at the moment.

You shook your head, your smile tight.

“Good call, Agent May. Thank you.”

She casted a small smile your way, actually shooting Daisy a pointed look so the younger agent would stop staring at you. She did; but not before she showed you a pair of painfully unsubtle thumbs-up, setting your cheeks aflame even more than earlier.

Once no one was looking, you lightly slapped Steve’s thigh with the back of your hand, staring him down despite truly feeling relieved you wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the trip hiding anything besides the incriminated spot on your neck. …and your inner thigh when you’d go for a swim.

He observed you sheepishly and gently took hold of your left wrist, lifting your palm from where it had been covering your neck still; his gaze zeroed on that side of your neck – the very side on which you had been lying on when you had woken up, probably having been hiding the testimony to your passionate night from him when he had left you.

His pupils grew a little wider, eyes a shade darker, the hold on your wrist tighter-

“No!” you whisper-yelled at him, the corners of his lips twitching even as he seemed genuinely apologetic. He let you go when you tugged your hands free. “No, mister. You’ve already done enough.”

“Yes, I did… four times,” Steve whispered as lowly as possible, a loud responding groan sounding from both you and Bucky, who probably regretted having enhanced hearing at the moment.

“What?” Natasha asked.

“Believe me… you don’t even want to know.”

Your plan was to pack as fast as possible and get on your way; but there were things to be done. The team was onto packing, cleaning up after the yesterday’s fire, rinsing in the lake – and thankfully, chatting about various things of which none was you.

With Steve’s help, you had put down your tent, now finally dry, and moved on to a the group of trees where you had hung your clothes – now also dry and clean of the smell of marinade if not the stains.

You heard the shuffle of feet before you saw him; you froze in your movements, recognizing the pattern.

Hopkinson cleared his throat, signalling his presence, causing you to sigh and slowly turn to him.

You expected a snidey remark, bracing yourself for him boasting about how he had been right, about the pimping all those weeks ago and about Steve keeping you warm through the night – but to your surprise, his face was set in a pleasantly neutral mask.

It took you aback so much you didn’t make a sound before he spoke.

“So uhm… I’m all packed. You need any help?”

Your eyebrows shot up near your hairline before you could school your expression, your jaw falling a bit slack; a voice in the back of your head, one that sounded a lot like Daisy saying ‘Grade-A display of jealously’, whispered of the guy actually liking you,as unlikely as it had seem.

It did not seem all that impossible now; his posture was stiff and careful, which could be just him being nervous now that he knew you were under Steve’s protection on a whole new level, or being unsure how to approach you – but there was a hesitant interest and warmth in his eyes when you allowed yourself to look at him for long enough. And despite the tension in his shoulders, there was something rather welcoming. As if he was genuinely offering help.

Well, you’d be damned-

The creeping realization must have shown on your face, because his own expression fell, heat colouring his cheeks, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Oh. You know. Well, this is embarrassing.”

“I little, yeah,” you admitted, your voice a little breathless and a little too high. Did an exchange just happen between you without a single insult yet? Did he really just admit to feeling anything else than the grandiosity of his ego, pointing out he was rather uncomfortable because of something? Wow. Just… wow. “I mean… I didn’t even realize. I’m… sorry.”

Your felt your features twist into a frown, confused by your own words – and feelings. The ‘sorry’ sounded strange to your own ears and tasted even stranger on your tongue, because from the two of you, it wasn’t you who should be apologizing. It hadn’t been you who had been the absolute douche.

And yet, here you were.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. A guy can’t exactly compete with… that, can he?” he suggested, chuckling bitterly.

Your eyebrows, having return to their normal position, arched again.

You understood his point: Steve truly was quite the competition for about anyone. But not for the reason you just knew flashed through Hopkinson’s mind. It had little to do with the size of Steve’s shoulders, the mantle he carried or his absolutely brilliant smile – as much as you admired or adored these things about him. It had much more to do with who he was without the shield; whom he’d still be if the serum fell out of him tomorrow.

You didn’t think he’d understand; he wasn’t in love with Steve Rogers.

“You mean… compete with the guy who’s not acting like an asshole around the woman he likes?”

Hopkinson grimaced, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“…I kinda deserved that. I’m… sorry.”

“Yup. You di-”

You stopped mid-sentence, his words actually registering in your brain. Did he… did he just apologize? And acknowledged that he had been an ass? Today really was full of shocking revelations.

The satisfaction of this one was too good not to enjoy. And yet. Maybe it was the emotional turmoil you had been riding out the whole morning, maybe the relief of you and Steve not having to hide, maybe it was the lingering euphoria of the previous night – but seeing Hopkinson stand there awkwardly, him, awkwardly, you did feel a little bit sorry for the guy.

You sighed again, this time mostly at yourself. “But hey. Some people are into the whole… golden hearted jerk thing.”

“What?!” he snapped, arms crossing on his chest defensively, as if the word jerk wasn’t the nicest one you could think of when it came to his behaviour. Then, he apparently heard past it – and his face cleared up. “Oh… what?”

Oh you were so going to regret this… and yet, it felt somehow right. Setting your folded clothes on the ground next to you, you met his gaze reluctantly, resisting the urge to sigh again.

“Look… have you’ve been a jerk? Yes. Absolutely. Jealous too, even when not entitled to it. But… I’ve seen you cover people in the field with your own body. Catch a bullet for them too. Save people. I’m not an idiot. Someone who does that? They’re not all bad. Hence the golden-hearted added to the jerk,” you said softly, unable to smirk as you threw in the insult just once more, because damn did it feel good to say it to his face after having to deal with his assholery. “And someone, like, I don’t know, maybe Agent Summers for example, are into that-“

“Wait what?! Angela?”

You had to blink as he interrupted you swiftly, surprised he knew who you were talking about – and that knew her first name. That was a good sign; maybe he wasn’t a completely lost cause yet. A flicker of warmth in your chest lit up, a silent reassurance that you had done the right thing telling him that. It seemed he did care for someone else than himself.

“Uhm, you didn’t hear that from me, but… let’s just say that maybe if you look around back home… you’ll be surprised there are people who have an eye on you,” you concluded.

Hopkinson watched you for a few beats of silence, something in his face softening in a way you didn’t think was possible. There was a hint of a smile, a genuine one, without a biting edge – and to your surprise, without the air of irony, it made for quite an attractive image. You hadn’t been blind to the fact he was a handsome man – one who was all too aware of it – but combined with something resembling kindness, it simply hit different. 

“Thanks, Libra. Really.”

A small smile spread on your lips as you hesitated for but a moment before you extended your hand – the final gesture of offering peace even as you hadn’t been the one to disrupt it. Surprised flickered on Hopkinson’s face; but he shook your hand, almost a gentleman’s grip.

Almost.

“But if you break her heart, I’ll break your arm. Minimum,” you said, deadly serious.

He retreated his hand, observing you with uncertain smile.

But oh he’d better be certain. Because you would. If he’d muck up his chance to be better, he’d pay.

“I’d trust her if I were you,” a familiar voice carrying a weight of authority and promise sounded behind you. “And you should know that I’d help her do it if she wanted.”

Hopkinson shot Steve a respectful glare and took a step back, causing the corners of your lips to twitch when he looked back at you. “Understood, ma’am… sir,---Captain.”

You bit your lips to stop the laughter at his sudden nervousness and prompt leave – but seeing Steve squared to a fight, wrapped in an aura of an uncompromising protector, did things to you, so you couldn’t say you blamed Hopkinson for being affected, albeit drastically differently than you.

Heat swelling in your belly, you tried to gather your wits by gathering your clothes; before you could, warm arms wrapped around your middle from behind, gently pulling you to Steve’s front, lips pressed to your neck, right over where your hickey was, now hidden by a scarf.

Smiling and revelling in the contact, you chastised him all the same. “PDA, Steve… and I’m not forgiving you that hickey, by the way. You’re possessive, mister. You’re gonna get me into trouble with my boss.”

“Can you blame me? And I have it on good authority at least one of your bosses approves,” he said decisively. You couldn’t feel his smile over the scarf, but you heard it in his voice, a silent whisper of an apology and seduction at once. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you or get you into trouble. I honestly didn’t even realize. I just got… lost in you. Always do… you drive me crazy in the best ways.”

The little sweep in your belly at his flattering confession was undeniable; smiling wider, you melted against his body, earning a brush of lips against your temple, drawing a content sigh from your lips. You could get used to that. Steve’s voice in your ear, his arms around you, a beautiful view of nature…

What had you been talking about?

Ah.

“Same… but your hickeys heal right away. It’s so unfair.”

“True,” he hummed, nuzzling your neck softly when your hand settled over his. “Speaking of fair and unfair… you were far too kind to that jerkface. You’re a good person.”

“I try,” you said with a grin, pleased all the same.

Suddenly spun around, you couldn’t help the small yelp erupting from your lips, and neither the laughter as you landed in Steve’s arms, palms steading you against his chest as he looked down at you with a heart-melting smile.

“And I love you.”

Hopkinson who? The guy had been right. There was no competing with Steve and this moment, seeing him so happy from something as simple as holding you, four simple words that made the world shrink into the small bubble of your embrace, was just one of million reasons why.

Why even after barely two months, you were utterly, undeniably his.

Utterly and undeniably in love.

“I love you too… even when you’re about to drag me god knows how many miles,” you added cheekily, your breath hitching in anticipation as he leaned his head down, alluring lips you already craved again but an inch away.

“I’ll carry you if it comes to it-”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time-”

“Always, sweetheart,” he promised, finally erasing the distance, mouth pressed to yours softly, warm hand between your shoulder blades pressing your closer as your hand slipped to his nape and into his hair.

The awareness of not being alone was but a distant thought in the minuscule corner in the back of your mind. You sighed when Steve moulded your lips to his liking, mouths parting for but a split second and then connecting again, your head beginning to spin, heat spreading through your veins that had nothing to do with the sunrays caressing your skin. You didn’t fight the sensations, letting them consume you, revelling in the fact you two could do that now, publicly; and whenever you would say no to Steve?

When he retreated with a smile, nose nudging against yours, you found yourself grinning like a fool and griping on his t-shirt, the profound happiness in his eyes causing your heart to flutter.

God, you were so very, very lucky. The fact you had good friends looking out for you in their questionable but well-intended ways, only spoke in favour of that assumption.

“Well, I guess that with that… despite all the little misfortunes I had on this trip, I feel pretty lucky then.”

“Yeah? That makes two of us.”

Steve’s grin tasted sweet as he kissed you again, your fingers caressing along his throat awakening a silent rumble in his chest, his hand moving to your nape to keep you in place as his lips grew more demanding, your lips parting oh so willingly to accommodate him, your core burning as the kiss became so fierce you felt a strain in your back from bending backwards just a bit.

“OI PUNK! Just because they all know now, doesn’t meant we want the front row to you necking your girl!” Bucky yelled with too much laughter to his words for anyone think he was truly annoyed. “Knock it off!”

You grinned into the kiss at Steve’s not-so-gentlemanly curse, blinking away the daze when his lips left yours with a muted pop, hands remaining exactly where they were.

Wow, okay.

“Speak for yourself. I’m super happy to finally see them together…” Daisy said, crossing her arms on her chest, a cheeky grin on her lips.

“Oh, it gets old pretty quickly, trust me,” Natasha uttered with a fond smile. “They’re gross.”

“Amen…”

“Come on, guys… we have a long trail ahead,” May reprimanded you all, throwing her backpack on, nodding towards Steve. “Where to, Cap?”

That finally had Steve release you – not before pecking your lips once more, much to your shared delight – his figurative leader suit slipping on, making him stand taller, his voice earning a quality that made everyone fall in line; and you look at him with pride.  

“I’m on it, Agent May,” he said dutifully. “Let’s go.”

With that, gathered your clothes in one arm and he headed up towards the rest of the group and to your backpacks; the pile of clothes on one hand, his other wrapped securely around yours.

You were still wearing his hoodie; if he’d let you, you’d proudly wear it for the rest of the trip.

Something told you he’d be more than happy about it.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Here we go! I hope you enjoyed the little twist and the shenanigans 🤭 I certainly did. But also boooooy this is so much longer than intended.... ah well, Story of my life.

Thank you for reading and should you leave feedback, I thank you tenfold 💕 May your August be generous to you 🥰

P.S. - check out the rest of the masterlist for the challenge/celebration! I sure have my eye on it 👀

P.P.S - just because I can:

[missredherring]

No Solo Riders

Dieter Bravo x Fat F!Reader

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1.1k

Contents: fluff. allusion to drug use.

Summary: The ride operator calls out, the music explodes, and the world falls away around you.

A/N: This is for the Summer Lovin' '24 event! This is a silly little thing but I love the idea. Thank you to @pegito @chaotic-mystery and @amanitacowboy for setting this up. <3

Lovely moodboard by @pedgito.

Not beta read; all mistakes are my own.

You might have to get new friends, you think, as they pair off to get in line for the Zipper. They’re close together, heads bent over a phone, oblivious to the problem they left you with. Jesus, they didn’t even offer to do rock-paper-scissors or for one of them to come back and ride with you. Did they just assume you were over the weight limit? No, issues with weight limits and fitting into seats never even occurs to them. 

Knowing this doesn’t make it sting any less.

“No Solo Riders” the sign says in big bold letters. The sign is dirty and half covered in graffiti, but there’s no missing it. It’s probably for safety and weight distribution which is important when you’re being spun around in a metal cage. At least it's posted at the beginning of the line so you don't have to endure the embarrassment of the operator yelling for volunteers to ride with you.

More people pass by to enter the line, and you resign yourself to waiting, your mood souring as you wonder if they’ll just rush past you on their way to the next ride.

“You wanna do it with me?” A voice asks at your elbow. Being propositioned was not on your list of possibilities tonight and all you can do is stare at the man who’s standing next to you now.

He’s tall and broad enough to block out some of the neon lights behind him. How far into your own head were you that you didn’t notice him coming up to you? That’s just unsafe.

He has a big nose and pouty pink lips beneath it surrounded by salt and pepper facial hair that hints at being groomed at some point. It’s wild and patchy across a nice jaw and you immediately want to scratch along the line until your fingers meet at the point of his chin. His hair is just as chaotic with wild brown curls haloing his distracting face. 

He dips his head to look at you over his sunglasses, his thumb jerking towards the sign and showing off the collection of bracelets around a thick wrist. You don’t even care why he’s wearing sunglasses at night. It completes his casual outfit of a threadbare t-shirt and lounge pants. Like he’d just rolled off the couch and decided to come to the carnival because why not?

Holy shit, he’s hot.

“Yea- yes! That’d be great, thanks.” 

“Amazing.” he says and waits for you to join the line before following behind you, stuffing his hands in his pockets and slouching a little against the metal barrier.

In between rounds of people screaming as they're tossed around he tells you his name is Dieter.

As the line moves you try for small talk, but the only response you get is a mumbled declaration about something “kicking in” before he goes quiet, entranced by the flashing lights of the ride. 

Maybe he’s afraid of heights and trying to get better with some immersion therapy? If so, the Zipper is an extreme choice. You leave him to it, not wanting to make his fears worse with good intentions and end up at the front of the line.

The gate opens and you’re ushered into the car, Dieter is squishing in next to you, and suddenly he's touching everywhere from your calf to your shoulder.

It would be nice if the hot humid air of the night wasn't making everything sticky. 

The operator swings the door closed and the lap bar pushes uncomfortably into your stomach, but it latches and you relax all the muscles you’d been clenching. 

“Oh, shit. Ok.” he says, his voice a little shaky as the car tips back and forward just from the little momentum of moving up so the next car can be filled. 

He looks green when you study his face, even after the lights change color from green to blue to red. 

Your thigh is pinched between the lap bar and the side of the car so you press back to move the skin, sending the car rocking and he makes a noise and grabs for purchase.

“Is it ok if I hold your hand?” 

You don’t bother answering, just offer him your hand and he takes it, squeezing hard already. His other hand is already on the padded bars attached to the door. You mirror him and adjust his sweaty hand in your for a better grip. 

The ride operator calls out, the music explodes, and the world falls away around you.

Outside of the car it just looks like they’re swinging back and forwards, but inside it feels like your stomach is trying to escape via your throat. 

Adrenaline spikes and you can’t stop your eyes from squeezing shut when a wave of dizziness washes over you as you spin and spin and spin. 

Dieter is screaming next to you, and you hope it’s in delight and not terror. You feel more movement from him and squint over to see him actually moving out of his seat, the lap bar that stopped at your stomach allowing him more wiggle room. 

You feel it too: the second your ass lifts off the seat and thuds back down. It startles a yell out of you and Dieter answers with a yell of his own. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve made so much noise; always keeping quiet, keeping to yourself to be out of the way when you unintentionally take up so much space in the world. It’s a giddy feeling and you let it bubble out and keep going: screaming with all the air your lungs can pull in while you flip around.

His hold on your hand is getting sweaty and you’re sure you’ll have marks from where his nails are digging in, but it’s all a blur and it’s over after a few exhilarating moments. 

The door is opened and you stumbled out on shaky legs. Dieter blindly leads you away, only dropping your hand to brace on his knees when he bends over, gasping like he’s trying not to throw up. 

“Can you hold my hair back?” He groans out. His hair doesn’t even come down past his ears, but there’s some curls sticking to his forehead and maybe it’s too much after the ride.

You only hesitate for a moment before swiping his hair back until the curls start to spring free. God, why is his hair so soft? It’s unfair and you can’t stop the small motion of your fingers to feel more of it.

He sighs and breathes deeply in through his nose and out of his mouth. At this angle his dark eyes sparkle with the carnival lights as he looks at you over his sunglasses, like you’re holding his heart instead of his hair. 

Dieter brings up his other hand, his closed fist catching on his pant’s pocket, to show you a wad of crumpled tickets. 

“Wanna see how many times we can flip?”

[ladamedusoif]

El Mar (The Sea)

Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader - Part of the Summer Lovin' 24 Fic Event

Prompt: By The Sea #1

Word count: 6.4k (this got out of hand)

Content Notes and Warnings: Explicit; 18+ MDNI; set after the events of TUWOMT; we can assume things just didn’t work out with Gabriela because in this house we love her; no physical description of Reader beyond her clothes; references to implied infidelity (not involving Javi or Reader); references to alcohol consumption; Reader understands at least some Spanish; Reader can swim; likely errors about yachts and how they work because I have never been on one; some angst but so much softness; friends to lovers; oral sex (f receiving); mutual masturbation; safe PiV sex; did I mention the softness

A/N: For @pedgito, @amanitacowboy, and @chaotic-mystery's wonderful Summer Lovin’ fic challenge event, with love and SO MANY apologies for how goddamned late this is. (This is what happens when you are an overthinker and a perfectionist).

And huge love and thanks to @doscharolastras for being such a supportive beta for this, and for everything.

(header by @pedgito and divider by @cafekitsune)

“You’re a great guy, Javi, truly.” Etta hastily rolls up a couple of her light slip dresses and pushes them into her Longchamp weekend bag. “But it’s over. I hope you find someone who’ll make you happy, who’ll love what you love, who’ll love you for you. I mean that.”

Her eyes scan the room for any belongings she might have left behind, but purposefully avoid the perplexed face of her boyfriend of almost a year. Javi Gutierrez is still struggling to make sense of it all. One minute he was kissing Etta on the cheek, leaving her on a sunlounger by the hotel pool while he went for a stroll along the Croisette, keen to soak up the atmosphere of the Cannes Film Festival. The next, he was standing in their comfortable hotel suite, watching his girlfriend packing her bags.

”Etta, amor, please wait. Please. We…we are going on the yacht tomorrow, remember? A week on the Mediterranean, just you and me.” He wrings his hands, helpless. “Maybe it is just what we need, no? Time together, time to see how we can save what we have.” Javi’s dark brown eyes sparkle with a mixture of hope and heartbreak. 

She exhales and zips her bag, slipping it over the handle of her large suitcase. “Is this even worth saving, Javi? Seriously?”

Javi, blindsided, is lost for words. All he can do is repeat her name, over and over, pleading, disbelieving, as Etta gives him a chaste little kiss on the cheek and leaves the room.

Later, lying on the bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling, Javi realises that in all her hasty explanations and excuses, she never once looked him in the eye.

You smiled when you opened the file with details of the client for the next week. Javi Gutierrez was a regular, usually hiring a yacht at least once a summer for a week or two of sailing around the Med. You took a certain satisfaction in the fact that he always requested that you be his chief stew (short for chief steward; in non-yacht speak, the person responsible for managing everything from dinners to room requests to on-board entertainment). 

He told you why, once. “You are…what is the term? Unbothered? It does not matter who is on the yacht, how famous or not, you are wonderful to everyone.”

You chuckled. “People are people. My job is to make sure you all have a perfect holiday.”

You suspected that Javi was thinking of the time when, on his first trip, you had somehow managed to transform a stateroom into a dojo at very short notice - and had not batted an eyelid when it became clear that it was a special request for Nicolas Cage. 

You knew you were nursing a little crush on him, there was no doubt. But that’s all it was - a little crush, harmless, inconsequential. After all, anyone would end up with a little crush on Javi Gutierrez if they met him. 

This year, Javi had hired a yacht and plotted an itinerary that would pick him up in Cannes, after the film festival, and travel across the Mediterranean to its final destination: his home in Majorca, docking in Palma. The reservation was for two guests. You arched an eyebrow, swiping down to the section of the form marked “Special Requests”.

”Mr Gutierrez and his guest (Etta Balbay, actor, model) will be celebrating their first anniversary as a couple on this trip. Please arrange for flowers and champagne in the stateroom, and intimate meals and atmosphere.”

Javi generally kept the details of his personal life close to his chest, though you knew that it had been a while since he’d had a serious relationship. You smiled as you opened up your go-to contact list for florists in Cannes, heart gladdened that this kind, funny man had finally found someone to love.

***

Javi can’t remember how long he’s been lying on the bed, fully clothed. He must have slept for a while, he thinks - the light creeping through the drapes is bright and fresh, suggesting early morning. He reaches for his phone. Seven AM. 

He had tried calling Etta a few times in the hours after she left, but the calls went unanswered. Eventually, he got a voice note from her.

“Javi, sweetheart, I think it’s best for both of us if we just do no contact for a while. I’ll make arrangements with your people to get my things from your place in LA.”

He listens to it again and flops back onto the bed. 

He’s woken the next time by the hotel room phone, ringing furiously. He looks at his wristwatch, this time. 

Eight thirty. 

“Hola, hello?” Javi’s voice is heavy and groggy.

“Javi?” Pablo, his assistant, sounds frantic on the other end of the line. “I’ve been trying to reach you! Did you two forget about the early departure?”

Javi rubs his face and runs his fingers through his curls. “Early departure?”

“The yacht, Javi. You’d arranged to leave at eight, remember?”

The fucking yacht. He’d completely forgotten. 

Pablo’s impatience hangs in the air. “What do you want me to do, Javi? I’m at the marina now, they called me when you didn’t show up.”

Javi would really rather curl up under his duvet and sleep for a thousand years. But he also really wants to go home. And maybe a week at sea will clear his head.

“Uh, tell them I am very sorry, I overslept… I will be there in half an hour, okay?”

Pablo sighs. “Sure.”

In Javi’s frantic state, he neglects to tell Pablo he is travelling solo. And his frazzled assistant doesn’t notice that his boss has used first person singular “I”, not “we”.

At the marina, Pablo exhales and slips his phone in his pocket. “He’s really sorry, he overslept, but he’s en route. That okay with you guys?”

You nod. “I’ll let the captain know, as he might want to replot the course depending on weather, but that’ll be fine. Mr Gutierrez knows where we are?”

Pablo sighs, again, and whips out his phone, tapping rapidly. “He does now.”

***

You smile and straighten your blouse when you see the black car pulling up at the end of the jetty, waiting for the familiar figure to emerge. Javi, typically, insists on helping the driver with his luggage as he makes his way to the boat. 

“Mr. Gutierrez, welcome back! A pleasure to host you, as always, and I’m looking forward to meeting Ms Balbay, of course…” You scan the jetty, wondering where Javi’s guest is. 

Javi’s face falls and he takes off his wayfarer sunglasses. “I am afraid that Etta…Ms Balbay will not be joining me on this trip, after all. We are no longer together.”

His eyes, usually so bright and warm, are filled with sadness. He looks exhausted. 

“Oh, well… that’s absolutely fine, Mr Gutierrez. Let me take your bag, please.” You turn on your best, brightest smile. Professional, always, to the last. 

He offers a slight smile in reply and follows you on board the yacht. “If you do not mind, please call me Javi? I know you like to be professional, but…we know each other so well now, no?”

You gesture towards the main living area and Javi enters, taking a seat on one of the large, comfortable couches built into the room. 

“Of course, Mr Gut- I mean, of course, Javi. I’ll bring this to your stateroom - would you like some refreshments? Coffee, maybe?”

He nods, slowly, and you head towards the staterooms, making a mental note to tell the on-board chef that he would be cooking for one, not two, and that -

Oh, shit. 

The stateroom has, per Javi’s original request, been decorated with a beautiful, tasteful floral arrangement. You had freshly opened a bottle of Perrier-Jouet champagne just prior to Javi’s scheduled arrival time, and it stands in an ice bucket alongside two vintage champagne coupes. And in front, an elegant, hand-written card wishes the now-defunct couple a happy anniversary. 

Shit. At least you’d got here first. Swiftly, you move to remove any trace of the special additions before he sees them, hoping to spare his feelings. Frantically, you search for the champagne cork - a futile exercise, seeing as you’d never manage to squish it back into the neck of the bottle, but you keep trying to find it.

”If I could at least save this…”, you mutter to yourself, holding the dark green bottle as your eyes scan the stateroom.

”Is it even worth saving?”

Javi stands just inside the door, a sad half-smile on his face. 

“Oh, Javi, I’m sorry, I was just -“

He shakes his head, his curls noticeably mussed and unattended to this morning. “Please, no apologies necessary. You were not to know. But thank you for thinking to tidy…this away.” He points at the champagne. “Please. You take it.”

He won’t hear your protestations, your insistence that you cannot drink on duty and won’t have enough time to enjoy the vintage champagne either way. When he finally accepts the bottle, he has one condition.

”You must come and have a glass with me on the deck this evening. Please? We can talk about the festival. You like film, don’t you?”

“Like” was an understatement. You adore cinema. And, as you nod your head, you think to yourself how nice it was that Javi remembered your passion for it. 

“Well…okay. But one glass and one glass only for me. I have a ship to run, after all. And now, Javi, I’ll leave you to get unpacked while I check with chef about lunch.”

Javi offers a sweet, semi-formal little bow as you leave the room.

***

You held fast to your limit of one glass of champagne. Javi did not. 

As he retired to the stateroom that night, a little the worse for wear, he thought about Etta, about whether there had been signs that something was wrong, whether he had misread the extent of her commitment to him. 

She had seemed…different, the last few months. Nothing major, just - a little distant. She put it down to work, juggling some minor acting gigs with modelling, and with the strain of spending most of her time many thousands of miles from Javi. That’s why he’d invited her to Cannes, planned the yacht trip. Time together, away from the demands of their careers. 

He’s haunted by her words, her wish that he would find someone who “loved you for you.” What did that mean?

He’d started to speak to you about her, sitting in comfortable seats on the deck as the sun set, his tongue loosened by the champagne. You were typically comforting, kindly suggesting that maybe Etta might just need space, that this might not be the end. 

It would be tempting to believe that, Javi muses, as he brushes his teeth. He spits out his toothpaste and reaches for the mouthwash, studying his features in the bathroom mirror. He searches his eyes, as if seeking some hint that hope was an option, that something could be salvaged from the wreckage.

Try as Javi might, he saw only exhaustion. Deep down, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he knew that Etta was never coming back.

***

After a couple of days at sea, Javi seemed a little brighter. He read, he sunbathed, he wandered amiably around the yacht chatting to you and the other two members of the tiny crew: Tony, the taciturn chef who was desperately homesick for his wife and new baby and spent every free moment on video calls with them; Andres, the ship’s engineer; and Vico, the captain. He asks you, shyly, if you would mind sharing lunch and dinner with him. 

“For company,” he explains. “And you are such good company.” 

Technically, you probably shouldn’t do it. But he’s on his own, and his girlfriend has left him, and so you take your main meals together each day. You talk about cinema, about travel; you tell him about the history of some of the places you can see from the deck of the yacht; he thanks you every time for being so kind and generous with your time.

”All part of the service,” you say. But in truth, he’s very good company too.

You see him deep in conversation with Vico one morning, over a simple breakfast of tostadas with sliced tomato and olive oil. He beams when he sees you approaching. A couple of days of sun and sea air has deepened his tan, brought his freckles to the fore, and picked out lighter strands in his hair. The loose blue linen shirt and white pants he’s wearing enhance his golden aura.

”We are going to make a little stop today, to swim,” he explains, glancing up at the bright sky. “It’s so beautiful, but oof, I need to cool down.” He mimes fanning himself, eyes rolling dramatically, and you laugh.

”Perfect. Let me know a likely time and I can reschedule lunch or dinner.”

As you walk back into the bowels of the yacht, you hear Javi calling you and turn to see him trying to catch up with you. 

“Everything okay?”

”Sí, sí.” He catches his breath and smiles that bright smile again. 

Yep, you still have a little crush on him.

”I was going to ask… would you like to join me? You have been working so hard, and it’s so hot, think of the cool water!”

He gestures with his broad hand towards the glittering blue of the Mediterranean, like a salesman making his pitch. 

It is tempting. You are somewhat used to the summers on the boat, but you still find your blouse damp and clinging to you by the end of the day, your body crying out for a cool shower. 

But he is a guest, and you are the chief stew.

”I’m not sure if I can, unfortunately - I am at work, after all…”

Javi looks crestfallen, dark eyes at their most puppyish. “Could it be a break? You break for lunch, no?”

Javi Gutierrez, you’re a hard man to say no to.

”Yes, I do, but…”

Those puppy eyes work their magic. A couple of hours later, you find yourself in the dark green swimsuit you had packed for this job, just in case it was needed, standing on the deck beside Javi. You realise, with a jolt, that you’ve been checking him out - though it’s hard not to. He’s still wearing his blue shirt, but a couple more buttons are undone now, exposing the breadth of his tanned chest. The white pants have been replaced by a pair of tight navy swim shorts that highlight his strong legs and leave very little to the imagination.

You avert your eyes and blame the heat in your face on the bright sun.

He peels off his shirt and you feel yourself heating up even more. “Ready?”

“Javi, you go first. I’m… I need to get up the courage.”

He raises his eyebrows and extends a hand towards you. It takes you a moment to realise he means for you to take it. 

“Come. We will jump together, sí?”

“If I drown, this is your fault.”

He laughs, then turns somber. “I will take care of you.” 

He means that. 

You grip Javi’s big, strong hand securely. 

“Okay. Uno, dos, tres…”

You shriek with joy as you leap into the unknown, Javi still holding your hand. The cool water of the Mediterranean shocks your system as the two of you are submerged, rapidly rising again to the surface. 

His smile is as bright and warm as the sun itself when he reappears from under the water, hair slicked back by the waves. Javi looks born to the sea, confidently treading water as you compose yourself. 

“Es bueno, sí?”

You nod, still working through the shock of the cooler water, and a huge smile creeps across your face. “It’s incredible. I didn’t realise how much I needed that.”

He laughs and lies back on the water, languidly kicking about to maintain his position, before turning smoothly round and starting to swim. Javi cuts through the water with ease, long arms and broad torso moving smoothly, sun glittering off the droplets that cover his shoulders. 

He dips down into the water in a seal-like dive, feet kicking above the surface before he reappears and grins in your direction. 

It is, you realise, the first moment on this trip that he has really seemed like himself.

***

He does not emerge after he goes to his stateroom to shower and change. When he doesn’t appear for dinner, you knock on his door.

”Javi? Dinner’s ready, if you are hungry?”

No reply.

”Javi?”

His voice comes through, low and sad. 

“I will take dinner in my room this evening, if that is okay.”

”Of course. I’ll prepare a tray.”

You eat with Tony and Vico that night, enjoying the tagine Tony has had simmering away for most of the day but wondering what, exactly, had served to put an end to Javi’s sunny mood. Was it you, too familiar, too comfortable with the guest? Had you unsettled him? 

The logical part of your brain would remind you that it was Javi who asked you to come swimming with him, who had sought your company throughout. But in your panicked state, you could only think that you had crossed some unseen line and upset him.

As you nestle into your little bunk that night, you spend a few minutes scrolling mindlessly on Instagram. A suggested post from a celebrity gossip page catches your eye. 

ETTA BALBAY AND JON MARCUSO: LOVE ON SET

Your stomach lurched as you swiped through the pictures. There was Etta Balbay, walking hand in hand in New York with her co-star on her most recent movie when she was supposed to have been here, on this yacht, with Javi. Her boyfriend.

”Oh, fuck.” 

***

The tagine was delicious, but Javi’s appetite was not up to much and his portion went largely untouched. He felt a little guilty, and made a mental note to apologise to Tony tomorrow.

He had been curled up in bed for most of the evening, ever since he’d checked his phone after the swimming pit stop and seen the pictures. Etta, looking very cosy with the lead guy from a film she’d had a minor role in. Etta, casually kissing that guy’s cheek in public, like she hadn’t just walked out on a relationship of almost a year. Etta, laughing a little too uproariously to be natural, hand resting on Jon Marcuso’s arm, in the middle of Manhattan.

”You are a fool, Javi Gutierrez.” He turns over and presses his face into the pillow, emitting a low, pained whine.

Another knock at the door. He swears under his breath and tries to decide whether to ignore it. He’d left his dinner tray at the door; you couldn’t possibly need anything else. 

There’s no second knock, just the sound of paper slipping under his stateroom door and soft footsteps receding. Javi allows a couple of minutes to pass before he climbs out of bed and gingerly picks up the note. He recognises your handwriting.

In case you wanted a late night snack. I have arranged with Tony for breakfast to be brought to your room at the usual time tomorrow. Good night, Javi.

He opens the door. A small, round tray sits on the plush carpet, bearing a small jug of tinto de verano, some cold cuts and slices of cheese, and a little plate of old-fashioned cookies. He shakes his head as he remembers a voyage a couple of years before, when he’d made up some of the beverage - a cooling mixture of Spanish red wine and cloudy lemonade - for his guests and the entire crew, you included.

He picks up the tray and carries it into his room, placing it on his bed and taking a deep draught of the summer wine. It feels like comfort itself, refreshing and sweet and kind. 

It was exactly what he needed. And you had remembered.

***

Javi reemerges just before lunch the next day, making a beeline for you as you oversee preparations with Tony. He gestures for you to join him outside on deck.

”I would like to apologise. For yesterday. And to thank you, of course. You… obviously worked out what was wrong.”

You swat away his apology and his thanks, reassuring him that it was all part of the service. “I did see the, um, photos from New York. I’m so sorry, Javi.”

He shrugs. “I feel like a fool. But at least I know for sure, now.”

”The only foolish one is her.” You clap your palm over your mouth, aware you might have gone too far. “Oh, I’m sorry, Javi, I shouldn’t have said that.”

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “It’s good to know someone thinks that highly of me. And that they remember how to make tinto de verano.” With a wink, he pops on his sunglasses and heads with his book in the direction of a deckchair.

***

”Need anything from the shops?”

On the morning of the penultimate day on board, Tony stands at the door to your tiny office, dressed in his street clothes and holding a couple of cotton tote bags. You raise your eyebrows in surprise.

”Shops?”

He nods. “Javi and me are going to take the motorboat and call into that little fishing village near the cove, get a few things for tonight’s barbecue. I keep telling him we’ve got supplies but he seems dead set on making stuff for us, as a thank you.” 

A final night barbecue on the beach was a typical feature of the itineraries offered by the company you worked for, the yacht dropping anchor near a quiet cove and guests ferried to the shore in the on-board motorboat. You usually stayed on the yacht for these events, helping to sort out the food and supplies but leaving the guests and their chef to enjoy the evening. 

Javi, however, wanted the party to be as much for the crew as for himself. As evening falls over the Mediterranean he stands commandingly over the grill set up on the white sands, his red and green-patterned shirt standing out against the blue of the sky and sea. He refuses to let Tony do any work, shooing him back to his deckchair with a cold beer whenever he threatens to help out. Instead, you act as his sous-chef, setting out large bowls of salad and platters of cheeses and slicing impossibly fresh, crusty bread. 

“They smell incredible, Javi.” 

He smiles proudly as he turns the enormous langoustines on the grill. “I wanted to cook for you all, as a thank you. You have been so kind to me this week.” He shifts his attention to the potatoes baking on the coals, then looks up at you, eyes soft. “But then, you are always so very kind to me, when we travel together.”

You take a sip of your mug of tinto de verano and hope it will cool the ardour burning in your face. “It’s easy when you are travelling with your favourite guest.”

Javi flushes a little and looks down at the grill. “I mean it. This week, especially… it has been just what I needed, and you…”

”EVERYONE SAY HI!”

The moment is interrupted by Tony, running in your direction with his phone in hand. His wife and tiny baby are visible on the screen, albeit somewhat pixelated. You and Javi wave enthusiastically as Tony holds the phone at arm’s length, attempting to get everyone in shot. Even Vico cracks a little smile as he takes a swig from his beer.

”I’ve never met anyone so homesick. Tony might need to rethink his career and stick to dry land.”

Javi lifts the fish from the grill and fills a large platter with the beautifully-charred food. “It must be wonderful to have someone to be so homesick for, no?”

***

It was a perfect night. The food, the drink, the company, the setting: all picture-perfect. Javi toasted the crew ten times over, Vico revealed a surprisingly strong singing voice as he performed mournful Sicilian melodies, and Tony began a makeshift disco with music blaring from his phone’s tinny speaker. Everyone danced together in turn, and you fell into Javi’s arms just as the song changed to Françoise Hardy’s “Le temps de l’amour”. 

On the ride back to the yacht, you wondered why, exactly, the world seemed to fall away when he spun you on the sand, pulled you to him in hold, swayed with you to the music, as if you were the only two people on earth. It’s just a crush, you reminded yourself. You’ve been together for a week, it’s natural to feel close. And he’s just had his heart broken.

Tony and Vico head to their bunks as soon as you get on board, keen to get a solid night in before the next day’s final stage to Palma. You walk with Javi down the narrow corridor that leads to your small cabin and his stateroom, talking companionably about the evening and joking about Tony’s dance moves, until you reach the door to your cabin.

”Well, this is me. Thank you, so much. It was magical. And you need to give me that recipe for the langoustines!”

He smiles that half smile, soft curls falling over his brow and eyes the colour of melted chocolate glittering in the low lighting. His voice is warm and low. “I meant what I said. I did not know how much I needed this time, how special you would make it for me.”

Before you can respond, Javi leans in and kisses you, soft and slow. A gasp of surprise catches in your throat but you cannot help but kiss him back, hands winding through his hair as he pulls you tight to him. He tastes of beer and wine and salt and sun, of the sea, of summer.

You moan as he pushes you against the wall, but force yourself to break the embrace. “Javi… I’m sorry. I can’t. We can’t, not with guests, not - oh god, I’m so sorry.”

He tries to disguise his hurt, but his eyes give him away. “No, no. It’s okay, I should not have done that.”

Yes, you should have. But you keep quiet.

You lean in and take his hand. “And maybe this is just a rebound thing, you know? You’ll probably wake tomorrow and be glad it stopped here, that you didn’t go any further with me.”

For a moment, Javi looks like he is about to speak. But he just nods and kisses you on the cheek, wishes you goodnight, and quietly enters his room.

***

The crew line up on the jetty in Palma the next day, ready to give Javi the traditional goodbye. He has changed into more formal attire, a light blue jacket and cream pants with a light coloured shirt, and his driver quickly carries his luggage to the waiting car as Javi embraces each of you in turn. He hands Tony a little Paddington Bear toy, a gift for the baby waiting for him at home.

You are the last in the lineup, and he kisses your cheeks before pulling you in for a slightly nervous hug. “I meant it,” he whispers in your ear. “Thank you.”

You watch with uncertain feelings as Javi waves a final goodbye. You make a quick return to your quarters to collect your things, call a cab, and get off the yacht. Two weeks of long-overdue leave lay ahead, and you would spend it in a tiny apartment near Palma’s cathedral, exploring the city and enjoying the nearby beaches. It would, you tell yourself as you wait for the taxi, clear your head: of Javi, of those sad, beautiful eyes, and of the memory of a perfect kiss that is replaying on a loop in your mind’s eye.

***

A voice calls your name, the sound cutting through the crowds meandering through the city’s narrow streets that sunny evening, about a week after you’d left the yacht. At first, you think you must be imagining it - until you turn and see Javi Gutierrez moving towards you through the crowds, somehow looking even more handsome than you remembered in his dark green suit. His eyes widen as he reaches you and takes you in, before kissing you on the cheek.

”Hermosa.” He almost breathes the word as he surveys your long sundress and espadrilles, newly purchased in Palma as a much-needed respite from your usual wardrobe. 

“You are too kind, Javi,” you respond, suddenly conscious of his gaze. “And you are looking rather guapo.”

He grins and nods shyly. “I have been having meetings in the city the last couple of days, staying at our little apartment here.” He gestures to the perfectly-cut suit. “So, I must dress to impress.”

You feel a smile creep across your face, an unconscious sign of how happy just being in his company makes you. 

Javi places a hand on your arm, gently. “Are you free? We could have a drink, perhaps - some food? Unless you do not want to, perhaps you have plans. No, you probably have plans, of course, what am I -“

“Javi? I would love to have a drink with you. Lead the way.”

***

Over some ice-cold glasses of local vermouth with orange slices, he regales you with stories about his future projects, seeking your thoughts and opinions on the various concepts and scripts he is working on. You talk about the city, about your plans for the rest of your time there, your next voyages.

He orders a second round, as well as a platter of cheese and olives, and you broach the subject. 

“So… how are you doing? After, well, everything.”

Javi pops a green olive in his mouth and chews thoughtfully before spitting out the stone discreetly. “I am okay, I think. Still shocked, perhaps, but a week at sea, then being alone the last few days… Well. It gave me time to reflect, to think about what I want.”

You sip your drink, not wanting to interrupt, and he continues.

”Perhaps I should have noticed that it was not going as well as I thought it was, that we were perhaps not as connected as I believed.” He shrugs. “She told me that she hoped I would find someone who ‘loved me for me’. It seems that she did not love me for me, no?”

His expression is so open, so genuine, that it makes your heart ache as you struggle to imagine how anyone could not love this man for who he was. 

“You deserve that, Javi,” you say quietly, emboldened by the vermouth. “And I don’t think there’s anyone in the world who couldn’t want you for who you are.”

He looks at you with a wry smile, eyes twinkling. “Except for Etta Balbay, of course.” 

You chuckle. “You’ve got me there.” 

He sips his drink before turning back to you, studying your features in silence before speaking a little hesitantly. “I have to tell you something. When I kissed you on the boat - it was not a ‘rebound’ thing, like you said. I…care too much about you for that.”

Your eyes widen as they meet his, warm and earnest. Fuck. He means it. 

Gingerly, you reach to tuck an errant strand of Javi’s honey-brown locks behind his ear, fingers gently caressing the side of his face as you test the waters. He smiles softly, leaning into your touch. 

“I care about you too, Javi. And not just because you’re my favourite guest.”

You lean in before you can second-guess yourself. His lips are as soft and enticing as you remember, the slight bristle of his moustache against your mouth making you sigh happily as you deepen the embrace. He cups your face in his hands as he kisses you, full of want and desire, right there on the café terrace. He leaves you panting when he breaks away, a confused look on his face.

“What about the rule? Not with guests?”

“I’m on holiday, and you’re not a guest now.” You smile knowingly, before leaning in for another kiss. “Would you…like to get out of here? My rented flat is five minutes away.”

He grins, and signals for the bill while you disappear to powder your nose.

***

You give in to a shared, surprisingly intense desire as soon as the door of the apartment closes behind you. Javi knows exactly how to handle you, guiding you against the wall of the tiny flat and kissing you deeply as he fumbles to undo the buttons on the front of your sundress while you tug off his jacket and unbutton his shirt. He pauses for a moment in the half-light to admire your breasts, cupped by the red lace of your bra, before bringing his mouth to your nipples, sucking each one in turn through the delicate fabric. He moans against you when you unbuckle his belt and undo his pants, slipping your hand inside his black boxer briefs to feel the stiff length of his cock.

“Good?”

He closes his eyes and sighs with pleasure. “Sí. So, so good. Keep going.”

He pulls down the fabric of the bra to expose your tits, grunting and muttering sweet nothings in a hybrid tongue of English and Spanish as he grinds against your palm. With your free hand you reach for his, guiding it under the skirt of your dress and to the apex of your thighs. You gaze into each other’s eyes as he roughly pulls down your panties and slips two thick fingers between your folds, fingertips expertly working your clit. 

“God, I want you, Javi.” You whine with pleasure as you ride his fingers, still stroking his cock. “Want you, want to fuck you so much.”

He groans with need and pulls you to the little bedroom, laying you down on the edge of the bed as he gets to his knees and drags off your red panties before tossing them behind him. His pinky ring glints against your thigh as he parts your legs and looks up at you, admiring your pussy as he prepares to worship. 

“I want you too - so much. Eres tan hermosa,” he murmurs, peppering the delicate skin of your inner thighs with kisses before he places his lips over your wet cunt. He has you bucking and moaning within seconds, sucking your clit over and over, working it with the perfect line of his nose, before slipping his tongue in and out of you until you come, loudly, against his face.

As you ride out your orgasm, you sit up a little and beckon him to you, opening your legs a little wider to accommodate his beautiful body. 

“C’mere, Javi.” You take one of the condoms you bought in the café bathroom out of your purse before pulling down his pants and boxers. It’s difficult not to exclaim in anticipation at the sight of him, so hard and ready for you. 

He’s already nudging against your entrance as you pull the rubber carefully over his cock and line him up to take you. The stretch is slow and intense as Javi pushes inside you, your walls already clenching around him. He squeezes his eyes as he adjusts to the feeling before he starts to rock against your hips.

“Feel good?” You wrap your arms around his broad back as he fucks you, wanting to feel every inch of him inside you. Javi pants and whines with pleasure.

“Incredible. So good, so tight for me.” He picks up the pace a little as he learns what you like and what you can take, hooking an arm under one of your thighs and pressing into the flesh as he fucks you ever deeper and ever harder. “You’re delicious, amor, so perfect - fuck!”

He grunts loudly when he sees you slip your hand between your warm bodies, massaging your swollen clit until you come again, clenching around him. When you open your eyes, he’s gazing down at you, handsome face full of pleasure and desire and a kind of wonder.

“Hi.” He slows the roll of his hips a little, taking you at a more languid pace, and leans in to kiss you. It’s soft and tender, a perfect accompaniment to the more heated passion that led you to the bed and a delicious sensation as you come down from your orgasm.

You savour the taste of yourself on his lips and smile at how utterly gorgeous this man is, hair mussed and falling forward, eyes warm and pussy-drunk and a little grin dancing around his full lips. God, he’s beautiful. 

“Hi, you.”

“Es bueno?”

“Mmmm, sí. So, so good, Javi.” With a gentle nudge of your thighs, you move together to shift positions, riding him slowly and steadily as his broad hands grip your thighs. You arch an eyebrow when he almost seems to giggle at one point, embarrassment immediately flushing over his face. You slow down and pause.

“What’s funny?”

He smiles and shakes his head, cheeks pink. “I - I don’t know. You are so beautiful, this is so good, I feel…”

You lean forward and kiss him, feeling his smile spread against your lips. “You feel…happy?”

He nods, unable to say anything more as you begin to fuck him again with a slow, deep roll of your hips and a huge smile on your face.

***

He wakes you with tender kisses after a night that involved very little sleep, beard bristling against the bare skin of your neck, your arms, your breasts. The smile that greets you as you blink awake is like your own personal ray of sunshine.

“I hope you don’t mind waking up to me in your bed.” 

You giggle. “Not in the least. I love waking up to you in my bed.”

He grins, rolls over, and spoons you, holding you to him with those strong, tanned arms. He nods to the little side table, where a tray with two cups of coffee sits, before nuzzling against your neck.

“Good! I love waking up in your bed too. And I made coffee.” He stops nuzzling for a moment. “I hope I remembered the way you like it.”

You wriggle over and turn to face him, tracing the outline of his features with the tip of your finger and kissing him gently. “I’m sure you did.”

He smiles. “I meant it yesterday, when I said I care about you. I think I have cared about you for a long time, but…I did not know if you cared about me.”

“I cared - I care - about you, Javi. More than I think I realised. Do you know now?”

Javi nods and kisses your forehead. “Sí.”

Further A/N: My choice of the late, legendary Francoise Hardy's "Le temps de l'amour" for Javi and Reader's dance on the beach was directly inspired by this scene from Wes Anderson's Moonrise Kingdom, which I just adore. Please enjoy, it's so sweet. (Pedro in an Anderson movie when?!)

[urrockstar-xe]

got your back - j.m x fem!reader

posted may 16th, 2023 2:13 pm

anon asked: HII for your summer lovin requests how about prompt 9 “don’t have enough middle fingers to tell you how I feel” and 14 “i’m personally offended you didn’t get me to be your fake date” with JJ maybank with an enemies to lovers arc🤭 (fem!reader please!) thank you so much 🫶

9:“I don’t have enough middle fingers to tell you how I feel” | 14“I’m personally offended that you didn’t get me to be your fake date”

picked gorgeous bc i thought it fit :))

this is my first writing enemies to lovers so i'm so sry if it's not that great but i tried and it's kinda cute imo lmfao, it's also Not at ALL canon. i hope you enjoy, ty for requesting *heart* (it glitches out whenever i put an actual heart) - xx

masterlist

word count: 1.4k

“I’m personally offended that you didn’t get me to be your fake date” You glared at JJ as he spoke, earning a wink in return before you looked back at John B. 

“You’re working the event so I’m the fake date,” John B explained, though no explanation was needed. 

“We really have to do all of this? Can’t Sarah just hang with us tomorrow? It’s not like we have all summer or anything” Kie teased. Sarah had this kook party with a bunch of adults and fancy alcohol and appetizers that she really did not want to attend, and because John B had to save the damsel in distress, he devised a plan to whisk her away into the night. 

“Hey, why aren’t you going?” Pope asked, looking at Kiara. “My parents have to sort out something for the restaurant tonight” 

“Meaning, Kiara is our getaway driver” John B smiled, confident in his planning abilities. Pope looked back at John B, “Heyward’s not working this event, what do I do?” John B then looked at JJ, hoping he’d come up with something on the spot. You sighed as Kie stood up.

“You could just chill in the Twinkie with me while we wait or something?” She shrugged, John B clapped his hands together, “Yes that’s perfect!” 

“Alright, guess that’s what I’m doing then,” 

“Great! We’re all ready then?” John B asked, backing up as he looked at his friends. “Yeah, Jb you can come get ready at mine,” You said, almost missing the look of distaste on JJ’s face as you spoke, John B nodded in response. “See you all there then?” Everyone agreed, settling on this unnecessary plan. 

Two hours had passed before you finally made it to the Cameron residence, you and John B spotted Sarah almost immediately, she was helping her sister with something. You tried to stay tuned in to what John B was explaining but you were sidetracked, looking for JJ among the group of kooks. Once you spot him you sighed, almost with relief? No, JJ was reckless and kooks were scary. You were just glad to know he’d be on your side if any of Topper’s friends managed to corner you. At least you had hoped he would be on your side, sure you bickered a lot but you were pogues and when it came to a kook, you’d have each other’s backs.

You watched as he charismatically smiled and laughed at any of the dumb jokes made by the older kooks there, no doubt hoping to earn a few tips before you all had to make your exit. His hair slightly bounced whenever he moved and his skin looked pretty with the orange and yellow hue thanks to the sunset, he looked pretty all fancied up. 

You jumped at the sound of John B’s voice snapping you out of whatever trance you were just in, you felt his hand on your shoulder. “You okay?” you looked up at your friend, nodding in response. He nodded with you, looking over your face as if to check if you were lying before he held up a small folded piece of paper. “I’m gonna go get this to JJ, you stay here or mingle or whatever, I’ll be back in like 5 minutes.” He explained, not giving you much time to answer before he walked away. 

Looking back in the direction of JJ you saw him already looking at you, he winked at you before he downed one of the cups on his tray and continued his best act yet. You scoffed, not being able to help the smile on your face. 

You watched as John B tried to be stealthy, giving the note to JJ before turning in your direction and motioning behind him, implying he was going to the Twinkie. You raised your hands in a “what do you mean?” motion as a response and got a shrug in return before John B turned and made his way out of sight, leaving you alone. 

You sighed and attempted to look for Sarah among the people there, hoping you could make the escape with her. You found her not too long into searching, she was talking to JJ, well She was talking, JJ was just handing her the note and then almost dancing away. 

Before you could get to her she was already gone, following the direction you had just watched Jb leave in. “fuck” you muttered to yourself, hands falling to your sides in defeat as you examined the crowd once more for the familiar blonde. 

You watched as he walked inside, assuming he was trying to leave without getting interrupted by anyone wanting a fresh drink. This was your last chance to not have to worry about finding the Twinkie on your own so you practically ran trying to catch up to him. 

Hearing the voice of Rafe stopped you dead in your tracks, and the way JJ responded meant Rafe was intentionally starting shit, but that of course didn’t surprise you. 

The situation was obviously escalating so, taking a breath in, you began walking again, straight into the lion's den. “Hey,” the sound of your voice caught JJ’s attention first, he was currently pinned against the wall thanks to the oldest Cameron sibling being on a power trip. JJ’s busted lip was clear as day from where you stood, finally, Rafe turned to you absolutely fuming. 

“Fuck are you doing here?”

You crossed your arms over your chest hoping it didn’t look like you were shielding yourself from him before responding. “Don’t you have something better to do than pick on a teenage boy?” Your tone was harsh and mean, exactly how you wanted it to sound. 

JJ’s eyes flicked between you and Rafe for a minute before Rafe let him go, his eyes not leaving yours as he did so. JJ looked back at you, not missing the way your harsh demeanor faltered ever so slightly once Rafe was no longer preoccupied with JJ. “C’mon, J, they’re waiting for us” Your eyes remained locked on Rafe as you spoke, JJ nodded, “Good talk, man,” he said, making his way to your side before you grabbed his hand and practically dragged him out of there.

Your hands were still interlocked when you made it far away from the house enough to yell at him. “What the fuck was that about JJ?” he shrugged, “you know how Rafe gets, he needed a punching bag” “How come that punching bag always ends up being you?” “Must have a crush on me or somethin’” he joked, a smile covering his lips. You scoffed.

“Did you at least get one good hit in?” his smile grew bigger at the question, “oh yeah, nice big ol’ bruise will be on his jaw within an hour” You smiled at this, rolling your eyes and shifting your gaze behind the boy instead of on him. “Worried about me, mama?” his tone was teasing. “You get murdered on my watch I’ll be cast out of the friend group,” you teased back, not missing the way he stepped closer to you, only inches away from your face now. 

He nodded, “damn, tell me how you really feel, Y/n/n” You grinned back. “I don’t have enough middle fingers to tell you how I feel” 

JJ laughed in response, your face softened before you spoke again, “Seriously, try to steer clear of Rafe Cameron for a little while” 

“So you are worried about me” you rolled your eyes, “if that’ll make you listen, yes, I am worried about you” JJ smirked in a way he only does when he’s up to something, eliciting a sigh from you. “I’ll listen even better if you let me take you out sometime?” you looked up at him through your eyelashes, studying his face to make sure he wasn’t fucking with you. The way his face softened the same as yours had a few seconds ago confirmed he was genuinely trying to ask you out. 

“For real?” You ask, he nodded eagerly, his smile returning. You smiled back, nodding your head “Okay, you can take me out,” JJ fist-bumped the air, you laughed.

“C’mon, everyone is waiting at the Twinkie” 

“John B is not gonna believe that you actually said yes,” 

“I can’t believe I actually said yes,” you joked, getting a laugh in response as JJ threw his arm around your shoulder.

[snowxstormworld]

Jonerys Summer Lovin '24

What a wonderful turnout we had for Jonerys Summer Lovin 24. We want to thank everyone who contributed to the event and let the fandom know we appreciate your continual support in celebrating Jon and Dany’s love story. 

Pour yourself a cold drink, sit back, and enjoy the summer heat with one of the stories from the #JonerysSummerLovin2024 master list below.

Day 1: Turn up the Heat

☀️ Sepia Sick by JustheOreo

☀️ ready for it? by @magalidragon

☀️ When Dreams Become Reality by @leesielex

☀️ Heat by @rhaegarblackfire

☀️ Elevation by daewitch and @queendtarg

☀️ I Think He Knows by @miss-celestia13

Day 2: Pack Your Bags

🏕️ Forced Vengeance by @rhaegarblackfire

🏕️ It's Always Yes with You by @axdragons and @littledancer9

Day 3: Sizzling Sumer Nights

🎆 To claim a son by @rhaegarblackfire

🎆 A meeting under the moon @rhaegarblackfire

Day 4: Fun in the Sun

🍦 I Want You by @rhaegarblackfire

Day 5: Summer Staples/Free Choice

🍉 The story of Jon & Daenerys video edit by @toadpeee

🍉 it's a cruel summer by @magalidragon

🍉 My home is you by @rhaegarblackfire

🍉 Swept Away by @libradoodle1

Credit for all edits go to @youwerenevermine

[magalidragon]

ready for it? | a smutty criminal Jonerys fic

For the @snowxstormworld Jonerys Summer Lovin 2024 event, Day 1: Turn Up the Heat. 😈

And for @libradoodle1 , I give you trashstache Jon. Enjoy him while he lasts. 😂

A tiny little thing, but he would never misjudge based on small packaging. Arya was a wisp but she had a bodycount that was uncountable at this point in her short life. He wanted another cigarette, but refrained from reaching into his jacket, lest one of her bodyguards shoot him. He sized up the driver pretty fast as her "bodyman" who was responsible for her singular protection, while another, a woman who got out of the other side of the car, probably could also take him down in seconds.

The other woman, her dark hair in springy curls, pushed back from her face with a jeweled headband, approached first. He could see in the headlights that she had caramel skin, golden-brown eyes, and wore shiny gold jewelry, but he also knew she had a knife at her hip and probably at least two guns on her person, if not another knife. She offered her hand, smiling warmly. "You must be Mr. Snow, my name is Missandei Naath."

He did not confirm, but shook her hand, and she did the same with Arya, who grunted an acknowledgement when Missandei said she must be Arya Stark. He kept his gaze fixed on Daenerys.

The Dragon Queen.

In the headlights, her silver hair glowed, its own beacon. He couldn't see the shade of her eyes in the darkness, but he knew they were purple. Some shade of it, at least, and they weren't contacts. He ran his tongue over his teeth again, wondering what she had between her and her crisp black dress. It slicked over her like a second skin.

Missandei stepped backwards, folding her hands in front of her and smiling politely. "I hope you do not mind, but Grey will have to ensure you aren't carrying weapons."

Arya hissed between clenched teeth. "We were informed that part of this arrangement would be that no one would be carrying."

"And you and I both know that neither of us intended on following that," Missandei said, still smiling, only now there was a bite to it. Her eyes flashed. "Place them on the SUV and we shall do the same."

Arya glanced at him; he barely nodded. She growled and began to disarm. Knives, guns, all manner of objects began to emerge from beneath her jacket and in her boots. He simply took out the handgun from his back and the one on his ankle, setting them down, and watching as Missandei and Grey did the same.

Daenerys continued to stare straight at him, not a single expression on her face.

She was one cool dragon, Jon figured, cocking his head a little, trying to size her up further. The Dragon Queen. He nodded in her direction. “Ms. Targaryen,” he acknowledged, letting his Northern accent drawl her name. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. He smiled, flashing his teeth, wolfish. “It’s a pleasure.”

To his surprise, the woman smiled, long and slow, her eyes crinkling in the corners. She smirked, walking closer, and he got a whiff of jasmine perfume.

She spoke, her voice lilting with a slight Valyrian accent, “We’ll see.”

[rexobiweek]

Announcing 2024 RexObi Fest!

It's that time of year again where we are on the cusp of everyone's favorite season of relaxation! Think past the spring rains toward the sunny beach days and fantastic adventures of summer vacations! Think of meeting the boy cute as can be, bowling in the arcade, making out under the dock, the summer heat and summer nights. Think of the summer lovin’ Rex and Obi-Wan can have during a vacation over the summer and early fall.

Announcing RexObi Fest 2024!

We are a laid-back RexObi event with no minimum requirements for any fanwork created for the event–so long as RexObi is the focus of your fanwork, anything goes!

The 2024 theme for RexObi Fest is vacation!

As always, our prompts have been set for this event. We have 13 word prompts and 6 image prompts to spark your creativity. Content creators will have 8 weeks to work on their creation(s), so you can do as many, or as few, as you want.

Dates to be aware of:

Prompts will be announced the first week in July (between July 1 and July 5)

AO3 Collection will open in mid-August

Posting week is from September 1 through September 7, 2024

Kick back, relax, take a vacation away from life's stress, and find some summer lovin' with Rex and Obi!

please reblog if you’re interested to help spread the word!

@swfandomevents for visibility! Art by the AMAZING @omaano!!!!

[leesielex]

Chasing Nightmares: When Dreams Become Reality

Written for @snowxstormworld Jonerys Summer Lovin 2024 event Day 1; Too damn hot. 🥵

Summary: Jon wakes up in the abandoned village in the Red Waste, the blazing sun melting away his skin. His chest is aching and his mind confused and desperate for blood, her blood. 🩸

Preview: The first gulp of the viscid liquid catapulted him into a trance, transported back into whatever delirious spell she had him under last night.

He shivered as he heard her whispered words on his neck, felt her teeth dragging down his jaw and her tongue licking a path across his adam’s apple. Enveloped in the heat and smell and life of her, his dick was hard as Valyrian steel and he felt near to completion as he stuck his face in the bowl and suckled obscenely, determined to consume every last drop until all he tasted was porcelain and his own breath.

He felt Robb’s eyes on him, but he didn’t face him, still transfixed with indulgence and gluttony. His chest was heaving with her blood filling him, giving him strength, her essence all around him and inside him. For centuries he had been undead, but now he felt alive again.

Click here to read on AO3