#a series of unfortunate events x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anika-ann · 5 months ago

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

Part 1 of 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uh-huh, no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The safest place on Earth.

Steve’s arms.

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

You responded with an embarrassed smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Case on point, you supposed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A caring one too.

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

“We should disinfect that.”

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

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

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

“That was literally a poisoned blade, Steve-“

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

“Steve-“

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

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

“It’s just a-“

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too. Let’s go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s fine,” you sighed.

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

Kinda like Hopkinson himself.

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

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

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

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

An angel by your shoulder.

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

“Hey… here, you can have mine.”

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

Friends, you reminded yourself again. FRIENDS.

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

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

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

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

“I won’t. You know I run pretty hot…”

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

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

Friends. Friends, friends, FRIENDS-

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

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

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

“My pleasure.”

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

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

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

Lucky. You were luckier than most.

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

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

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

A rather cold river.

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

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

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

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

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

Cold water. Cold water.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not the point.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn you, Steven Grant.

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it didn’t.

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

Steve’s hands securely holding your hips.

Your hands on his shoulders.

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

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

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

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

Great. Really great.

You were fucked.

How did it even-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

Funny you should ask.

“Are you?”

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

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

“Thank you, Bucky!”

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

He had lied.

Of course he had fucking lied.

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

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

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

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

The corners of your lips quirked up.

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

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

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

…were you though?

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

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

Always.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Avenging angel indeed.

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

Your eyes went wide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any time, Lee.”

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

Part 2

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!

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

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frost-queen · 5 months ago

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Quiet dreamers (Reader x Klaus Baudelaire)

Requested by anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @alex--awesome--22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @markive-m,

Lunch time.

The cafeteria was quiet. Unlike any other cafeteria one could be accustomed to. Yet this was no ordinary cafeteria. It was Prufrock prep’s cafeteria. Where students were kept in check. Due to the seriousness of the school, there became an unwritten rule that lunch time was being held in silence. Any talking could draw the attention of teachers, would draw the attention to punishment. The silence had woven a way into the school’s spirit.

At one of the tables sat you. Picking at your food as it was never something tasty. Nothing that made you yearn for lunch time with treats. Common food that barely had any taste. You were alone sitting at the long table benches. Your fork going mindlessly around in your plate as your gaze was focused forwards. Barely any movement from your eyes as you were lost. Lost in your own thoughts. It was a habit you had picked up along the way. Since talking wasn’t much allowed. Or at least no one did loudly enough for the teachers.

Eyes barely tracking anything. Locked on the distance as you lived your life in your mind. When on one talked to you, you created the habit of taking comfort in you own company. At first it was very little, then it became more frequent. A bad habit Prufrock prep had enabled on you. It wasn’t that you had much friends. Not until the Baudelaire children arrived. You sort of enrolled into them as you were somewhat friends with Isadora and Duncan Quagmire. Through them you came in contact with the Baudelaire children. No longer so alone anymore.

So caught up with yourself, you didn’t hear the upcoming footsteps. The movement nearing, followed by whispering. The Quagmire’s and Baudelaire’s came sitting around you. – “Midday Y/n.” – Isadora said, seeing you not respond. Violet wanted to snap her finger in front of you as Klaus kept her hand down. – “Allow me.” – he said, getting back up.

Coming around the table to where Duncan was sitting beside you. With a simple gesture he asked for Duncan to make some room. Duncan scooted over, making room for Klaus. Klaus came sitting backwards. Back against the table to get a clearer view of you. Klaus placed his hand on yours.

“Y/n.” – he said softly giving your hand a squeeze. His touch made you blink surprised, seeing your friends suddenly around you. – “How long have you been here?” – you asked, not sure how long they were here. Having lost track of time. Klaus sheepishly back at you.

“You were in your head again, Y/n.” – he replied tapping you on your forehead. – “Oh…” – was your first response, feeling a bit embarrassed. Looking shyly down. Klaus took your hand, placing it fully in his. – “It’s alright.” – he whispered to you, knowing a bit already how you were. He didn’t blame you. Prufrock was a place where you wanted to escape. Even when it was in your own head.

Where it was much saver and much more interesting. Klaus swept his legs over the bench, to sit straightforward. They started whispering, keeping their heads low. You kept a smile up, following for a little while. Till you started to think of other things. Slowly drifting away as their words became muffled mouth movements. Barely paying attention to what they were saying, but still engaging in the conversation with little head nods.

You blinked surprised when they suddenly got up. – “What... what’s going on? Where are we going?” – you asked, getting up as well. Taking your tray in your hand. – “Didn’t you hear anything I said?” – Duncan questioned, quirking his eyebrow up. – “Of…of course…” – you answered, not wanting to sound like you didn’t. You quirked up a silly smile to show him, you understood. Sunny looked up to you, shaking her little head. She knew you were lying. Your friends carried on as you simply followed them. Having no clue of the context of their leaving.

Setting the tray away, you dusted your hands off, jogging after them. Klaus waited for you by the door, coming to step in line with you. – “We are heading for the sport tracks, dreamer.” – Klaus informed you, tapping you on the cheek. – “Oh…” – you responded as it made him laugh. Known to your simple ‘oh’s of recognition that you completely missed the point.

Isadora, Duncan, Violet and Sunny taking the lead as Klaus remained by your side. – “I’m sorry.” – you told him, feeling a bit guilty. Fidgeting with your uniform from the nerves. Klaus noticed it, taking your hand to stop you from fidgeting. He brought your hand up, giving you a little tug that you were closer to him. – “I don’t need an apology dreamer.” – he told you. His response made you smile back at him.

Klaus lowered his hand, slowly taking his hand out of yours. Tugging them in his pockets. – “How are classes Y/n?” – he asked curious, pushing his glasses further up his nose. – “Why do you ask?” – you answered a bit suspiciously. – “I’m just asking.” – Klaus responded with a shrug of his shoulders.

“You think I barely catch up with him schoolwork, thinking I am not paying much attention, don’t you?” – you called out to him with an accusing point. – “Well are you?” – Klaus came to a stop, tilting his head a bit. You tried to keep a serious face, keeping your glare up, but it soon faltered. There was no lying to him.

Your hand dropped, shoulders slouching down with a deep sigh. – “Maybe…” – you said quietly don’t wanting to admit to it much. – “Y/n.” – Klaus groaned out that you weren’t paying attention. – “I can’t help it!” – you shouted back, pressing your palms against your eyes.

Klaus sighed soft, looking back at his sisters and the Quamire’s. – “Wait!” – he shouted loud for their attention. They all paused, turning around. – “Y/n and I am heading for the library.” – he said. Your friends simply nodded, continuing to leave. – “Why are we going to the library?” – you asked him. Klaus gave you a look, taking your hand. – “To study dreamer.” – he told you.

You let Klaus take you to the library to study. Education was important to him. His mind like a book computer. Everything he ever read still vivid in his mind, the information easy to grab. Like picking it from the shelves. You entered the library as it was almost deserted. But a few students who preferred to avoid the cafeteria sat down. Some desperately doing their homework. Others simply browsing through the books to pass the time.

Klaus eyed a table, setting you down. – “Stay here.” – he said, pressing his hands down on your shoulders. Confused, you looked from side to side, watching him leave. He disappeared into a row. Taking his time. You started kicking your feet back and forth. Thinking about being alone with him.

Before you could stop it, your head filled with things again. Thinking away about anything but your surroundings. They became numb as you weren’t paying close attention to them. You got startled when a stack of books dropped with a thud down on the table. – “Arise and shine, dreamer.” – Klaus chuckled out. You shot him a glare. – “I wasn’t dreaming.” – you told him, crossing your arms.

Klaus nodded not believing you, taking a seat beside you. He opened the first book, laying it out to you. – “Must I really?” – you asked him, grabbing hard onto the side of the chair. Klaus nodded. – “Unless you don’t wish to spend time with me alone?” – he asked pushing his glasses just a bit further up. Your eyes widened, making you wave your hands across.

“No of course I want to.” – you told him. – “Good.” – he replied opening another book. – “Consider it a study date.” – he said sheepishly. You turned bashful, turning your head away. – “Y/n.” – Klaus started, taking you by your chin to look at him. – “I need your full attention.” – he finished, gazing into your eyes. You nodded numbly, caught up by his stare.

Klaus started educating you. Whenever he felt like he was losing you, he tapped your forehead. Calling you ‘dreamer’ before continuing again. Each time you chuckled sheepishly that you had failed again. Klaus being very patient with it.

------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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jordiestardust · 5 months ago

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a series of unfortunate events is a mauraders au. the parents are james and lily. olaf is peter. klause violet and sunny are the golden trio but with a twist. please tell me someone understands what im trying to say here- oh and lemony is regulus if he didnt drown </3

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #baudelaires #mauraders #remus lupin #sirius black #peter pettigrew #lily evans #the mauraders #PLEASE SOMEONE MATCH MY FREAK WITH THIS ONE #x reader #golden trio #harry potter #count olaf #jegulus #starchaser #regulus black

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gimmeyourlovepls · 1 year ago

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Uhmmmmmmmmmmmmm I don’t know if your still taking requests for asoue but if you are could I get some headcanons of what it would be like dating Klaus? I feel like i’ve read everything and I need MOREEEE

of course bb! i feel like there is not nearly enough klaus stuff to read, so here!

Dating Klaus Headcannons <3

klaus would be so awkward at first

not enough books prepared him for this

so maybe he'd limit things to hand holding, and thats barely

u have to be the one to initiate things, like kissing his cheek or hugging him

eventually he'd fall more into it and give you a kiss on the cheek or wrap an arm around you

he know his parents would have loved you

also he definetly reads to you, his voice flowing through your ears as you lay on his chest, imagining the pictures in your mind

you've both definetly fallen asleep cuddling

and violet has caught you guys on all of those occasions

klaus would find a book that reminds him of you and give it to you as a gift, which made you swoon

and of course you ask him to read it for you

its a romance story

and in the middle of the book, you push the book away from him and kiss him gently

you two are so in love <3

a/n: sorry this is so rushed, i literally havent been around my laptop for a whole good bit on vacay!!!

#klaus baudelaire x reader #klaus baudelaire #a series of unfortunate events #asoue #asoue fandom

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incorrectquotesmcu · 2 years ago

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Y/N: Don’t you miss the vivid imagination of childhood?

Natasha: I never had one.

Y/N: An imagination or a childhood?

#source: a series of unfortunate events #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff incorrect quotes #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel #avengers #avengers incorrect quotes

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augustiscoquette · 7 months ago

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can you do a regina george x reader where regina gets jealous of Gretchen or Karen for spending too much time with them?

Yes I would love to do something more like the reader has to tutor Karen and Regina gets jealous trust this will be in the work soon

#chris rodriguez x reader #klaus baudelaire #a series of unfortunate events #luke castellan smut #luke castellan #percy jackson incorrect quotes #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson spoilers #percy jackson show #regina george x reader #renee rapp

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multifandomfix · 4 months ago

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Bed Bug — Esmé Squalor

Summary: When Esmé, Olaf and his troupe have to hunker down for the night, space is tight, so you and Esmé will have to share a bed.

Word Count: 1,297

Warnings: None

You’re used to the discomfort of living on the run, sharing cramped spaces, squeezing into narrow hideaways, and enduring Olaf’s ridiculous schemes. But tonight, the situation tests your patience like never before.

You’ve always considered your attraction to Esmé Squalor one of the crueler jokes the universe has played on you. Despite all her flaws —her vanity, her arrogance, her obsession with “in” trends— you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest whenever she’s near. It’s ridiculous, really. You should be above falling for someone like her, but there’s something magnetic about the way she carries herself. So, when it becomes clear that you and Esmé will have to share a bed tonight, you’re torn between dread and the thrill of being close to her.

It’s late, and the troupe has settled into a decrepit, abandoned building that seems ready to collapse at any moment. The smell of damp wood and rot fills your nostrils as you follow Olaf into what passes as a bedroom. The room’s sole window is shattered, letting in an icy draft, and the single bed looks as if it’s made from the flattest mattress ever manufactured. Space is so tight that you barely have room to turn around without bumping into a wall, or one of the others.

Esmé, for all her arrogance, stares at the bed with thinly veiled disgust. “This is unacceptable,” she huffs, crossing her arms. The dramatic pout she gives could almost be comical if it weren’t for the fact that you’re facing the very real possibility of having to share that miserable bed with her.

Olaf, of course, couldn’t care less. “Figure it out, Esmé,” he snaps. “We don’t have all night, and I need my beauty sleep.” With that, he throws himself onto the floor, snoring almost instantly. The rest of the troupe scatters into their corners like cockroaches, leaving you and Esmé standing in tense silence.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” she snaps as she pulls back the ratty covers. “You keep to your side. Got it?”

“Got it,” you reply, though a part of you already knows that keeping to yourself might not be so easy. You’ve always been a bit clingy in your sleep, something you’re not necessarily proud of, and the idea of accidentally cuddling up to Esmé fills you with preemptive embarrassment.

You both settle into the lumpy mattress, the bed creaking in protest under your combined weight. Esmé fusses with the blanket, grumbling about the thread count, while you lie stiffly, trying to will your body into staying still. You focus on the drafty air, the cracked ceiling, anything to distract yourself from the fact that Esmé Squalor is just inches away.

Eventually, she huffs, turning away from you with an exaggerated toss of her hair, some of the ends hitting you in the face. “I can’t believe I’m stuck in this dump,” she mutters. “It’s going to ruin my skin.”

You almost chuckle at the absurdity of it all, her vanity, her dramatics, even the situation you’ve found yourselves in. Here you are, wrapped up in criminal schemes, hiding in dilapidated buildings, all while sharing a bed with someone whose biggest concern is whether her skincare routine will be compromised.

But as the minutes tick by, the exhaustion of the day starts to take over. You begin to relax, your eyelids growing heavy. You can hear Esmé’s breathing slow and even out as she finally drifts off. Soon, despite your best intentions, sleep takes hold of you as well.

It’s not long before you start to shift in your sleep, instinctively seeking warmth. You roll closer to Esmé, your body curling into hers. One of your arms drapes over her waist, and you unconsciously nuzzle against the back of her shoulder. If you were awake, you’d die of embarrassment, but in your sleep, all you feel is comfort and contentment.

You’re jolted awake when Esmé’s voice cuts through the haze of sleep. “I had one rule,” she muttered, the haze of just having awoken putting a damper on the bite of her remark.

You blink groggily, realizing you’re practically wrapped around her. Your face flushes with mortification as you immediately pull back. “I—uh—sorry,” you stammer, sitting up and scooting away as fast as you can manage on the narrow bed.

Esmé’s expression is hard to read in the dim light, but there’s a hint of something softer than anything else you’d seen from her. She huffs and rolls her eyes, but it lacks her usual venom. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to make a scene,” she says, though you swear there’s almost a trace of warmth in her tone. “Just stay on your side from now on.”

You nod quickly, wishing you could disappear into the thin mattress. “I didn’t mean to…I just—”

“Don’t care,” she interrupts, waving a hand dismissively. But as she turns her back to you again, you catch a glimpse of her expression, and for a fleeting moment, she looks almost fond, as if your clinginess doesn’t completely repulse her. “Just don’t make a habit of it.”

You nod again, even though she can’t see you. “I won’t.”

Silence falls between you, broken only by the faint snores and shuffling of the others. You expect her to pull away even more, maybe grumble about her ruined sleep or make some other cutting blow to add to your embarrassment. Instead, she remains where she is, her body still close enough that you can feel her warmth, even if she’s turned away.

For a while, neither of you move. You lie there, heart pounding, still not quite believing that she didn’t completely lose it. There’s something oddly intimate about this moment, something fragile, like if you breathe too loud, it’ll shatter.

“Goodnight,” she mumbles eventually, barely audible. It’s as if she could tell your eyes had been fixed on her.

“Goodnight,” you whisper back, a little stunned that she’s even acknowledging you.

You stay awake a while longer, still staring at the back of her head, listening to the quiet. There’s something almost peaceful about this, about being so close to her and feeling a strange sense of acceptance. Maybe she’s not as icy as she pretends to be. Or maybe, for just this one night, she’s letting her guard down a fraction.

But the moment doesn’t last. The sound of Olaf stirring and grumbling in his sleep snaps you both back to reality. Esmé immediately stiffens and scoots farther to the edge of the bed, as if she too were embarrassed by the closeness that just occurred.

When she turns to glare at you again as some kind of final warning, her face is back to its usual haughtiness. “Remember what I said,” she reiterates.

“Right,” you say, trying to act nonchalant even as your heart still races. “Hands off.”

With that, she once again tosses her hair over her shoulder and lies back down, turning away from you as if nothing happened. But you can’t help but feel that something did, something small perhaps, but not insignificant.

When morning finally breaks and the rest of the troupe stirs awake, it brings forward the usual chaos of another day on the run. The moment between you and Esmé fades into the background, replaced by the more familiar routine of hiding and scheming.

But even as you prepare to face another day of Olaf’s madness, you can’t quite shake the memory of Esmé’s rare moment of softness, brief as it was. Maybe it was just a fluke, or maybe it’s something more, though you had your doubt that it would be something you ever really get to explore. Either way, the reluctant crush you carry feels just a little more complicated now.

For @cerseis-fav-maiden

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @trexsuit, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @og-kxsh-420

Esmé Squalor: @volunteerfelinedetectives, @isimpforweirdpeople, @rebeccaswamp, @estelle-leto

#esme squalor #esme squalor one shot #esme squalor x reader #a series of unfortunate events #asoue #a series of unfortunate events one shot #asoue one shot #request #send requests #requests open

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infiniteimaginings · 9 months ago

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hello, good afternoon. Forgive my English, it's not my language so I use a translator. I would love a romantic story between Monty Montgomery with a male reader who also loves reptiles (especially snakes). It could be with a happy ending, with Monty and the male reader taking care of the Baudelaire brothers. thanks in advance 🤗

Caretakers (Monty Montgomery x Male!Reader)

Summary: You and your husband meet the Baudelaire children and take care of them! Pronouns: You/Yours, He/Him Warnings: None Word Count: 2.3k A/N: This is just sweet, I promise. Thank you for requesting. lots of love! <33

The Baudelaire children Violet, Klaus, and Sunny were all taken to their new caretaker's home by the banker Mr. Poe. They were quite wary of their new caretaker as their previous one, Count Ola, had only been chosen through manipulation in order to steal all of their fortune that their parents left for them. All they new about this new caretaker is that his name was Dr. Montgomery Mongomery and that he was their father’s cousin's wife's brother.

As the old styled, baby blue car pulled into gates, Violet looked out the window, Sunny in her lap securely. She saw the clouds of white in the great blue sky, different from where they last stayed. The sky had been gray, dark, as if the area had not seen light for years.

Violet's brother, Klaus, did the same as she did, looking out the window. Once his eyes gazed to peer out the old car window he was met with lucious green shrubs in the shapes of reptiles. The designed lawn simply continued so the boy shifted to look out the front windshield, VIolet noticing and doing the same.

The three Baudelaire children observed a large stone house they were getting close to, the driveway was quite long, and they passed by beautiful shrubs and a large center piece of green and flowers. The exterior of the home only made the children smile, though they did, they still didn’t get their hopes up. They didn’t know who Dr.Mongomery was, they didn’t know how he acted, or what he would do with them.

Mr. Poe parked in front of the few steps at the front of the car, exiting the vehicle. He gestured for the children to do the same, to which they did.

The four of them walked up the steps and Mr. Poe rang the doorbell, mouth covered with his handkerchief to cover up his cough. The doorbell was ever so loud, ringing in their heads in an echo, Klaus’s hands came to Sunnys head to muffle it for the baby who babbled about the doorbell being unpleasant and deafening.

They stood at the front door for a moment, no one coming to open the door quite yet. Before Mr. Poe got the chance to ring the blaring doorbell again, the brown, wooden front door opened.

When it opened completely they were met with the sight of a man. He was slightly short, he had slightly dark skin, black hair, brown eyes, and a mustache that looked like squiggles at the ends. He had a wide smile and light in his eyes when he took notice of the children, barely paying mind to Mr. Poe other than a friendly nod.

His energy was warm, bright, very different from Count Olaf. When the door opened the scene of cookies and tea filled their senses, and they weren’t even in the home yet. The Baudelaires couldn’t help the hopeful smiles that etched onto their expressions, sighing out a breath of relief to such a kind looking man.

From the way Mr. Poe wasn’t concerned at the sight of him, the children assumed this was Dr. Montgomery. He nodded at a thought he had, “Hello hello hello! You must be the Baudelaires!” He spoke with a seemingly British accent. He was welcoming, his teeth showing as he made silly faces to Sunny who giggled.

Mr. Poe nodded and responded with a ‘yes’, the man in the doorway nodded as the answer, standing straight, showing more of his striped button up. “This is perfect timing, because my husband has just finished frosting this delicious coconut cream cake.” He explained, turning and grabbing forks, telling everyone to take one as he walked into the house.

Everyone followed him, looking around. The entryway had burgundy carpet, a stained-glass light fixture on the ceiling. It was a large entry room and had a grand staircase that led to the second floor.

Violet sniffed the air, smelling the baked goods with a smile. She looked to Klaus who had the same look on his face, everything seemed nice so far. She moved her hair behind her shoulder, “Thank you, Dr. Montgomery.” She spoke, following behind him to wherever he was walking, Sunny on her side in her arms.

Dr. Montgomery turned, shaking his finger with a grin, “Please, call me Monty!” He suggested, opening his mouth to say something more.

“He doesn’t like fancy titles unless they get him a discount at the movies.” A voice said from behind Monty, interrupting him. When the man turned around his eyes softened, at the sight of you. His smile turned from excited to gentle and he walked over to you as you emerged from what seemed to be the kitchen. He wrapped his arm around your waist, kissing your temple softly. You held up a plate of cake since your husband's arms were around you. He continued to hold your waist as he turned to the children, “He’s right." He spoke quietly before turning his attention back to the children, "Do you like going to the movies?” He asked the three who nodded.

The conversation didn’t go much further into that topic other than the promise that they would go a lot. Monty introduced you to the Buadelaires who said their Hellos, you offered them pieces of coconut cream cake.

“You must be Violet, the inventor.” You spoke, handing her a piece of cake to which she took with a smile. Monty unraveled himself from your side, taking a different slice to give to Klaus, “And you are Klaus, the reader.” He hummed and Klaus nodded, taking the cake gently.

You looked at the baby in Violet's arms and offered a piece of cake, “And you must be Sunny, would you like some cake?” You asked but Klaus answered for the baby.

“My sister prefers very hard food.”

The answer was unusual and strange but it wasn’t strange enough for the couple standing in front of them.

Monty nodded, “That’s unusual for a baby, not so for many snakes. Perhaps Sunny would prefer a raw carrot?” He offered and the baby happily took it, munching on it as everyone continued to converse.

There was another piece of cake left that you offered to Mr. Poe who politely declined, saying he should get going. You smiled at him and walked to the kitchen, placing the rest of the cake into the kitchen. “There are plenty of treats, drinks, and snacks in the kitchen whenever you all want some.” You hummed to them and the Baudelaires thanked you quietly. They were polite, but they seemed nervous, you understood that quite well.

Mr. Poe was telling the Baudelaires how they could call him if they needed anything as you walked back in but Monty interrupted him with a genuine smile, “They won’t need anything from you, they are in our care now and we will dedicate ourselves to them.” He spoke, his tone was kind enough, but the implication that Poe had thought they would not be taken care of seemed to have irked him.

Klaus noticed this and quickly spoke up, “Our parents' fortune can't be used until Violet comes of age.”

The comment surprised the two of you, you furrowed your brows in confusion, looking at Monty. He frowned at you, putting a hand on your shoulder, “I understand you all have been through a lot with your previous caretaker.” He spoke softly, eyes showing truth to his words. You nodded, “But, we don’t care about your parents fortune.” You explained to them, the comment made the three a bit skeptical.

You walked to them, crouching down a bit to be leveled with them, “We do not need your fortune, we only care that you all are safe, and feel cared for.” You continued on, your smile was sad, as were your eyes but you were genuine.

The Baudelaires seemed visibly relaxed at your words and that was enough for you to back away from them.

Mr. Poe had noticed it was time for him to leave and Monty hastily rushed him out of the home until the door was closed. “Apologies if I seemed rude to the…banker.” He spoke, stopping himself from rolling his eyes. “He just strikes a small nerve with me, he was the reason you were placed with that-” He was going to continue to speak until he noticed the look on your face. A look he was familiar with, a look that said ‘be quiet’, and he did.

The older two followed his gaze to your hard look that softened when they looked at you. You clapped your hands, “How about we show you all to some rooms and you guys can decide which rooms you would like to stay in?” You offered, the idea made everyone in the room nod and follow you. Monty gently whispered to the group as you walked up the stairs, “Some of the rooms have his touch in them, he really wanted you all to like it here.” He told them, rushing up the stairs to catch up. Violet and Klaus walked up with them, a bit excited. Sunny bobbled along in Violet's arms, curious to see what was in store as well.

The day went on with you and Monty showing the children to their rooms, feeding them, showing them pictures, giving them a tour, and telling them stories. The two of you answered any questions the Baudelaires had for them. They asked anything along the lines of how did you guys know their parents, how you guys met, and what you do for work.

You two happily explained your line of work had to do with reptiles, but more excitedly for the two of you, snakes. The two of you were Herpetologists and met while doing fieldwork to study an extremely venomous snake.

“What kind of snake?” Klaus asked, looking through some of the study books through the reptile room his new caretakers were showing him and his siblings.

Your eyes lit up at the question, “The saw-scaled viper.” You answered quickly, standing in the middle of the room, keeping your eyes on Violet who was near the cages, and Sunny who was on the table near Monty.

Monty nodded, “It’s one of the deadliest snakes found in the middle east.” He explained, showing Sunny some images of snakes as he gave her another carrot.

Violet's fingers ran along the metal of the cage, a bit of her was fearful of grazing the scales of the snake. You noticed her fear and reassured her, “None of the snakes in cages with metal bars are venomous, especially not that one.” You told her, walking over to the area. “This one is an african egg eating snake.” You explained, opening the cage, but looking at her before you opened it any wider.

Violet gave you a nervous look but you assured her with a nod that it was okay. She eventually took a deep breath and let you take the snake out the cage. It wrapped around your hand and you held the head gently, showing her that the snake had no fangs. “She only eats eggs, she’s no bark and no bite, I promise.” You told her and she smiled as she observed the reptile.

After a while in the reptile room the Baudelaires all washed up and headed to bed. You and Monty said goodnight to each of the Buadelaires together, telling them that they could come eat and come get one of you whenever they needed something.

After putting them to sleep, you and Monty went downstairs to eat the last slice of cake.

After a bit of silence you suddenly started chuckling and Monty looked up at you with a raised brow, “What is it?” He asked you, chewing at the cake. You shook your head, “You looked terrified.” You told him, laughing a little louder before clasping your hand over your mouth as to not wake the children.

Monty looked at you bewildered, eyes wide as he swallowed his cake harshly. “You could tell?” He asked, his body deflating. He was now completely leaning on the counter and you laughed even more, rubbing his shoulder. “Of course I could, they couldn’t though, believe me.” You explained to him and he just looked up at you with nervousness in his eyes. You rubbed your hand in circles from his shoulder to his back, “They were nervous too, don’t worry.”

Monty sighed, puffing air out of his cheeks as he slowly slid to the ground, you sitting next to him when you noticed what he was doing. “I just want them to feel safe, I mean Olaf just…” He trailed off, putting his face in his hands. You put your head on his shoulder, holding his hand to remove it from his face. “They will be safe, I know we haven’t taken care of actual children before but…” You began, sighing with a smile, “I know we’ll make them feel safe and happy.” You told him quietly.

He turned his head to you, moving your noses together, “How are you always so right and amazing?” He asked you, his brown eyes looking deeply into yours. You smiled at him, rolling his eyes, “Well one of us has to be.” You teased, he laughed a bit at your words. He moved forward, pressing the two of your lips together gently in a gentle kiss that tasted of coconut cream pie and lemonade from earlier.

Through the silence and soft kisses, the two of you didn’t hear the sound of footsteps retreating back up the stairs. Klaus and Violet, who was holding Sunny, were smiling at each other in their pajamas. They wanted to look around a bit, curious to see if the two of you were genuine in your intentions but that was all they needed.

Violet put Sunny back to sleep in her room, closing the door quietly, face to face with Klaus. Klaus adjusted his glasses, “I think this will be good for us.” He spoke in a hushed whisper, Violet nodded. “They’re nice.” She spoke with a grin and Klaus was the one who nodded this time.

The two walked to their respective room doors, opening them slightly.

“Goodnight Violet.”

“Goodnight Klaus.”

For the first time since their parents died, they were excited to wake up the next morning. Almost too excited to go to sleep once they reached their beds, smiles hurting their cheeks. This would be good for them, to live with the uncles who were happy together. Maybe the Baudelaires could be just as happy with them.

#asoue #asoue x reader #a series of unfortunate events x reader #a series of unfortunate events #monty montgomery #monty mongomery x reader #Infinite Imaginings

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agaypanic · 2 years ago

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hi can i req a quigley quagmire x fem reader fic?? maybe has something to do with him being jealous + lots of fluff <33

Jealousy Gets You Nowhere (Quigley Quagmire X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Quigley doesn’t like the fact that Y/n and Klaus are friends.

A/N: AU where the Baudelaires and Quagmires aren’t orphans lol

***

Quigley Quagmire, like his siblings, always tried to stay optimistic. He believed that looking for a light would prevent you from getting lost in darkness. He was very trusting, quick to make new friends.

So it surprised you when your boyfriend didn’t seem to like one of your new friends, Klaus Baudelaire, that much.

You thought they would’ve gotten along perfectly. They were both interested in learning, especially about niche subjects. They were highly intelligent. Duncan and Isadora seemed to take a liking to Klaus, and usually the Quagmire triplets made pretty similar decisions when it came to who to befriend and trust.

Luckily, Klaus didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t notice how quickly Quigley disguised his displeasure when you introduced them to each other. He didn’t mind when Quigley gave a curt nod instead of shaking Klaus’ hand that was reaching out to him. He didn’t voice his confusion when Quigley’s eyes started darting between him and you with anger and accusation.

But you did. You saw it all, but had no idea why he was acting like this. He was just fine before you opened the door for Klaus. It’s not like Klaus was rude to Quigley in any way. But you had to hold back your questions until the Baudelaire boy had left, not wanting to make him feel unwelcome by pointing out Quigley’s behavior.

“Are you okay?” You asked your boyfriend as soon as the front door closed behind Klaus. You turned to see his expression was noticeably brighter.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked, acting like his entire encounter (or lack thereof) with Klaus hadn’t happened. “Come on, Mom’s making lunch.” He held his hand out for you to take. You sighed before smiling at him. Maybe Quigley was just having an off day and didn’t want to be around a new person. So you decided to let it go.

“Okay.” You took his hand and made your way to the kitchen to see what Mrs. Quagmire was making.

***

If Quigley was having an off day, then he must have been having an off month. Whenever you as much as mentioned Klaus, sourness overtook him, and you had no idea why. But you had a plan to fix it. Klaus had invited you to the library for the afternoon and, with his permission, you dragged Quigley along. You had a feeling that if he knew Klaus would be there, he would make up some excuse to keep the both of you from going. So you decided to just “forget” that little detail.

“Hey, Klaus!” You whispered excitedly to your friend when you spotted him at a table, a small pile of books on it with one open in front of him. He lifted his head to smile at you and your boyfriend.

“Y/n, Quigley! Glad you could make it.” He responded in the same hushed but delighted tone. Quigley pulled out a chair for you to sit in and sat between you and Klaus. Your boyfriend looked at you, irritated that you neglected to tell him that this wasn’t a date to the library but a group hangout with someone he couldn’t seem to stand.

“Sorry we took so long. Quigley needed some convincing to get out of the house.” You said. Klaus waved you off.

“I get that. If I’m being honest, I’m really only here because I’ve read every book in our library.” It amazed you how big of a reader Klaus was. He soaked up every piece of information like a sponge that never stopped expanding.

“Every book?” Quigley asked, arms crossed. He seemed just interested in how Klaus could manage to read so much, but you could tell that he was in disbelief that he could do such a thing. As if it was impossible and Klaus only said it to be impressive.

“It took a while, but yes, every book.” Klaus smiled at your boyfriend, before looking at you. “Speaking of books, I found that one you recommended to me. It’s very interesting so far.”

“I knew you’d like it!” You grinned, seeing that the book you had suggested to Klaus was the one he was reading now. You stood from your seat. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna grab a book I’ve been looking for.”

“I’ll come with you.” Quigley said eagerly. He stood up and pulled you away from the table and towards the maze of bookcases, despite not knowing what book you were looking for. You started leading the way when he was about to pass the section you knew the book was in. “Why didn’t you tell me he would be here?” Your boyfriend asked with annoyance as he watched you search the shelves.

“You wouldn’t have come if I told you.” You shrugged. “What’s your problem with Klaus, Quigley? He’s been nothing but friendly to you since the start.”

“Oh, and I bet he’s been just friendly to you as well.” Although your back was turned to him, you could feel his eyes roll. You turned around.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t tell me you’re blind, Y/n.” Quigley huffed. When you didn’t budge, he started to do an impression of your friend. “Look at me, I’m so smart. I’ve read every book in my library. I’m such a genius. Oh, Y/n, I love your book recommendations. I’d read every book under the sun if you suggested it because I love words!” You had to hold back a laugh. Sure, it was funny, but this was your friend that Quigley was making fun of.

“He doesn’t sound like that.” You said as you turned back around, trying to find the book you wanted.

“I don’t know. I think I was spot on.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.” Quigley didn’t respond. Finally spotting the book on a higher shelf, you looked around for a stool to drag over. You set one up and looked at him. “Oh my god, Quigley, you are jealous.”

“No, I’m not.” He rolled his eyes, but he moved to stand beside you when you stood up on the stool. Even though you were balanced, he put a hand on your hip, just in case.

“I think you are.”

“I’m not.” He said with finality. He glanced up to see you pull out a book. “Did he recommend that to you?” You smiled, taking his hand as you stepped down to the floor.

“Nope.” You turned the book cover to him. “You did.” He looked at the title and it was indeed the book that he was talking to you about earlier that week. He didn’t technically suggest it for you to read, but he knew that you liked trying to show an interest in the things he was interested.

“Oh…” He didn’t really know what to say now. You squeezed his hand.

“Klaus and I are just friends, Quigley. I only have eyes for you. I’m dating you, after all.”

“I’m sorry.” He said sheepishly.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to. Klaus has been nothing but kind, and your jealousy made you a bit of a jerk.” You started to walk back to the table, pulling him with you. “Come on. Time to say sorry.”

Quigley tugged you back before the two of you could get too far. Wrapping his arm around you, he kissed your forehead before resting his head on yours.

“I’m sorry, N/n. I just don’t like sharing you, I guess.” You smiled.

“It’s okay. You just have to get used to it.” He nodded and the two of you broke apart, hands still interlocked. “And get used to it fast, because I’m having lunch with his sisters tomorrow.” Quigley groaned behind you as you two walked towards the table.

“There’s more of them?”

#quigley quagmire x reader #quigley quagmire #asoue #asoue x reader #a series of unfortunate events #a series of unfortunate events x reader #agaypanic

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secreciies · 6 months ago

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Echoes of the Muse: Chapter one (Klaus Baudelaire x Fem!Reader)

(Klaus Baudelaire x fem!reader -- Klaus Baudelaire, the son of a Monarch; falls for someone who expresses a desire to pursue her own interests and ambitions rather than conforming to societal expectations of marriage and domesticity.)

IN LIBRAS LIBERTAS

Pretty brown eyes and a mind full of thoughts

The house is filled with chatter with the house staff moving around, The library was filled with the odor of lilacs. Books surrounding (name) gave her the solace that she needed. A slight creak behind the bookworm made her lose her focus on her book. Curiosity took over her body as she stood up and investigated the sound.

Seeing as nobody was in the library other than her she spun around, she was taken back by the face of her older brother.

"Goodness, brother!" placing her hand in her chest while she breathed heavily. Closing her eyes for a moment before composing herself.

"Must you approach me unnoticeably? You could have yelled my name" she groaned while brushing off her dress from the slight dust from the books.

"Even if I did that you would not hear me because of your constant day dreaming" Jasper answered, he was about to insult her again before they heard their mother furiously shouting for the both of them.

"Oh did you hear that mother is looking for us. Save your unnecessary words for the woman at tonight's ball" (name) said satirically, strolling towards the door and leaving her brother at the library flabbergasted.

"I will burn your books after tonight's ball!"

"I cannot breathe in this corset mama, Do I have to accompany you to Lady Bennington's ball? Goodness, I look like a prize calf, trussed up for auction" (Name) complained, squirming in her seat and touching her corset constantly before her older sister, Ivelle , lightly slapped her hand.

"Stop fussing with your dress. You mustn't forget that you are already in the need of a husband." Ivelle scolded

"Ivelle is quite correct dear. It is now time to find yourself a husband, A remarkable spouse whose presence will bring you profound joy and fulfillment. Look at Ivelle! She almost fainted at her first official ball but look at how well it turned out. She has a husband who loves her dearly, so do not be so nervous" Mama murmured while she rested her hand in (name) hand.

"Now you are just exaggerating, I am not in need of a husband. I am well even without a husband! Ivelle is already wedded, why must I do this" She sighed before removing her hand and adjusted in her seat.

"We are not forcing you to marry dear, you know how society acts when a woman is unwed. Precisely why we have Jasper by our side this evening. He is well acquainted with numerous gentlemen of noble standing who would be ideal matches for you" mama reassured before the carriage came to a stop. Coachmen opening the carriage doors for them and mama stepping out first.

The palace was enormous, It was filled with beautiful roses and tulips. People outside were either gossiping, drinking, or just simply enjoying themselves.

Ivelle interlaces her arm with (name), smiling at her "Do not feel intimidated. Simply relax and savor the occasion" she whispered.

Smiling back at her, they started walking toward the entrance when Jasper also locks his arm with (name) "while finding yourself a husband too" He smiled widely. The duo groaned while he chuckled.

"Haven't you heard, King Bertrand, is coming home?" "He's returning from France?" "I have heard that he has a a son and two daughters" "A son? Now I must see him" "perhaps he's handsome"

"We just walked in and the mamas are already gossiping" Jasper mumbled before picking up a drink from the butler "We just walked in and your plan for tonight is to get drunk" Ivelle joked.

Smiling sarcastically, Jasper placed his glass on the nearby table. (Name) placed her hand on her mouth to muffle the chuckles leaving her mouth at her sibling's silly banter, their mother shook her head however, as soon as she saw a gentlemen approaching them she lit up, Jasper immediately offered his arm to his younger sister for a dance. Leaving both women and the man.

Ivelle cleared her throat and avoided eye contact before she set her eyes on her husband "excuse me, but I would also like to dance with my husband" she smiled at the two before she hurriedly walked towards her husband.

Their mother, dumbfounded, smiled in an apologetic way at the lad and walked away.

"Brother, may I stop dancing for a moment. My feet is sore already" (name) whined, looking at her brother with begging eyes "I suppose you shall take a little rest. Are you hungry? Theres plenty of food, and I would like if you do not look at me like that. You look like a wounded dog" Jasper insulted before taking another drink from the table.

He looked at his younger sister, It was clear as a sky that she was uncomfortable with people all around her. She was nervous and repulsed from the constant questioning from men all evening. Asking her hobbies or how many children would she like to have, which made Jasper infuriated and repeatedly danced with her to avoid them.

"If you would like to have a moment, I shan't stop you. I do not blame you for not wanting to come or stay here." Placing his hand on her shoulder for reassurance, (Name) was about to thank him but then he was swarmed with ladies, fanning their fan at him and starting a conversation.

(Name) took the chance to walk away and quickly find a room. As soon as she saw her mama looking around, scared that she might have someone to introduce to her, hurriedly looked around and as soon as she saw a staircase, she went up, opening the first door that she sees.

She panted as she softly closed the door and placed her forehead against the door.

"Excuse me miss..?"

(Name) yelped at the sudden voice and swirled around. A boy with brown hair, round glasses, and a book in hand was seated across the room, a library.

"Pardon me for interrupting you with your reading sir, I was not aware that someone was in here, considering that everyone is enjoying the ball. I shall leave you alone with your books. My deepest apologies." (Name) rambled, placing her hand on the door knob before the boy interrupted her.

"It's alright miss, you do not have to apologize to me. If you would like to read, I will leave you here. I have read enough anyway" the gentlemen reasoned. Standing up, (name) was quick to shook her head and wave her hand around.

"No, sir. I assure you it is alright, and besides my mother might be looking for me. Apologies again sir." (Name) bowed and twisted the door knob before seeing Ivelle and her husband, Lucien, at the end of the staircase.

"(Name), pray tell, where have you wandered? Just a second you were with your brother. Save your explanation to mother, we will be going back home" Ivelle sighed before going down.

(Name) pursued her lips before setting her eyes back at the library door. She was curious on who was the gentlemen, she has not seen him before she is sure of it. He was alluring, but she knows better than to take interest on a boy who is still a mystery to her. The boy could possibly be a serial killer, which is merely impossible as nothing of that sort has happened in town. Perhaps he is a cook? But he is dressed well. Or could he possibly be-

"(Name)! Stop with the daydreaming and make haste!" Her sister shouted causing the people to stop whatever they are doing to look at them. She ran down the stairs and pulled her sister by the forearm to refrain herself from embarrassing her.

(If there is any wrong grammar I apologize, English is not my first language. the rest of the chapters will be up on my Wattpad @/_loeneliest, but I will also slowly upload the chapters here!)

#klaus baudelaire x reader #a series of unfortunate events #klaus baudelaire #asoue #the baudelaires #asoue fanfic

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anika-ann · 5 months ago

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

Part 2 of 2

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

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

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

But is that such a bad thing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

Crossing it by miles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bobbi followed his example, standing up too.

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

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

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

You rose to your feet.

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

“Whatever works for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hunter… shut up.”

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

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

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

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

What the--- what?!

And did she have to say it like that?

Of course she did. It was Daisy after all.

“Daisy!”

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

It left you dumbstruck.

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

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

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

“That’s not-"

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

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

-abilities.

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

No. She wouldn’t.

Surely, she wouldn’t have-

Oh she absolutely would.

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

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

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

And boy, did she seem motivated.

“…maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re… you’re kidding, right?”

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

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

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

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

“What?!”

What the---- what?!

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

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

You did catch her drift.

Except you didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

Daisy grinned. “Yeah. Oh.”

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

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

A little.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feigning outrage, you yelled back at her:

“Good night, Daisy!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? Tell me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Easy fix.”

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

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

You and Steve had clicked almost instantly.

You had fallen hard.

You yearned for a touch, always.

And so did he.

The perfect match.

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

You were in love.

You were lovers.

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

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

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

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

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

You weren’t sure if the façade would hold.

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

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

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

“…where’s my sleeping bag?”

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

“Don’t know. Do you need it?”

You chuckled, arching your brow, naively clueless.

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

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

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

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

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

“No, we shouldn’t.”

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

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

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

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

Steve released your lips with a sigh of deep contentment and a teeny protest on your part, foreheads resting against one another, a peck to your lips to sooth you, a peck to his to show you didn’t have enough of him. Not nearly enough. You never would.

The smile he gave you was warmer than the midday sun; that much you could see, your eyes finally slowly adjusting.

“Hi,” he breathed out.

Just like that.

Hi.

The simplest greetingwhose true meaning – I missed you – remained hidden to the world outside of you two. Much like other small gestures today.

A smile; I’m happy you’re here with me.

Catching you when you had slipped; I’ve got you.

Treating your wounds; I’ll always take care of you.

Cradling your hands; you’re precious to me.

Checking up on him; I’m here for you.

Squeezing his shoulders, brushing your fingers over his skin; you’re safe with me.

Agreeing to share his tent; I need you close.

‘Not on my watch’; I’d fight the world for you.

‘We shouldn’t’; I want you.

“Hi,” you said back, smiling too despite the reprimand to come. “You’re a terrible influence.”; I adore you.

Steve ran his hand up and down your back gently, chuckling, brushing your nose with his before retreating and finding your gaze in the dark.

“I love you too.”

Unlike the first time he had uttered it during the trip, you whispered the words in return, rewarded by another sweet kiss, slow and deep, a confession of love written into your very soul, bodies so close they could merge into one.

“Missed you. Missed touching you. Almost kissed you on at least ten different occasions. Wouldn’t even care who’d see,” he confessed, sealing his words with another kiss as if to make up for all the lost opportunities.

“Yeah, me too. You are very distracting.”

Steve grinned boyishly into the next kiss, teeth pulling briefly on your lower lip, the hand on your back urging you to erase ever half an inch between you.

“You tell me. Especially now,” he mused, fingers tugging at the hoodie for explanation, a flicker of satisfaction igniting your chest. Good; for all his shameless attempts to break your will, as gentle as they had been, you had been teasing him in return by simply walking around wearing his clothes. Good.

It took a split second; that flicker turned into a wildfire of another kind as his dextrous fingers slid under the hem of the hoodie, tenderly – and so purposely lightly – brushing the sensitive skin under your ribcage. Your fingers dug into his shoulder reflexively, a soundless moan escaping you at the sensation of muscles flexing under your touch.

“You know, this one’s my favourite.”

Fondness battled with desire in your chest, the awareness of why feeling warm and burning at once.

“I know.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve hummed, lips trailing along your jaw, wordlessly asking you to tilt you head back. Oh how gladly you gave him the space... “You know why?”

You did. You were certain of it, but Steve’s hand on your back slid under the hoodie too, teasing alongside the clasps of your bra and the first and only word coming off your mouth was a pleading yes, the clasps undone a fraction of second later, your fingers plunging deeper into his hair, his lips returning to yours.

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“It’s my favourite too,” you confessed, eyes fluttering open to meet Steve’s burning gaze. “Makes the blue of your eyes pop up…”

He caressed the bare skin over your hip, causing you to almost lose your train of thought again as his fingertips continued their path alongside the hem of your leggings, a deviously innocent smile adorning his lips as he watched your lips part with a sigh and your hips unwittingly buck forward.

The hitch in his voice at that was music to your ears.

“That so?”

“Yeah… and because I-- wore it, the first morning... after,” you whispered, the fond memory of Steve’s lips on your temple coaxing you to greet a new day with a promise of a breakfast and a lazy morning together, both forgotten for a while when you had followed him to the kitchen a few moments later and he had seen you walk in nothing but this very hoodie, deciding he was in a mood for a different kind of a feast and nothing all that lazy.

“That’s right,” he praised, hand sliding under your leggings at last, cupping your heat. Biting your lip to keep quiet, a silent keen of pleasure escaped you still at the relief and the tease all at once, Steve’s lips instantly on yours to drink up the sound with a groan. “Have to be quiet, sweetheart.”

“Thought you liked hearing me-”

“I always hear you… every little sound you make for me, every little sound I coax out of you,” he husked, dextrous fingers working to do exactly that, stirring the flames in your veins hotter, a muted grunt forcing its way past Steve’s lips as his fingertips explored with delight just how aroused you were. “God sweetheart, you’re dripping for me.”

“And whose fault is that? You’re the one who insisted on giving me this hoodie---- ah, and ripped logs apart with bare hands through half of this evening-”

Steve smile tasted devious on yours as you couldn’t but grin at his menacing ways – but by god, what a sight that had been. Lightning could have struck right next to you and you wouldn’t have noticed, entirely hypnotized by the display of sheer strength, the action barely making your lover break a sweat.

Now, when you tugged him closer to take more, to taste more, to get closer, always closer, already drunk on hip lips and nowhere close to having enough, his muscles danced under your hands again, a sheen glow of perspiration forming, the hardness responding to the undulation of your hips a testimony of you not being the only one affected, succumbing to primal desire.

Yet, you felt his obvious upper hand in his voice, the way he preened at your praise, even when hidden under the veil of a faux-complaint.

“You liked that, honey? Like it when I show off my strength?”

He knew the answer and yet you granted it to him in a silent whimper, hand sliding down the hard bulge of his arm, a sensation almost as divine as his fingers sliding past the soaked fabric of your underwear and entering you, the first step on the ladder towards the stars.

“Yes, Steve—love, I-”

“Yes, honey?” he coaxed, lips an inch from yours. “What were you saying?”

“Gentle and strong---and big,” you managed to breathe out as he pumped his fingers in a way he had already learned would lift you higher and higher towards your peak, his gaze hungry as he watched the pleasure distort your features, every little sound you tried your goddamn best to muffle as not to give your friends a show fuelling his effort to make you lose that game and driving him wilder in retun. “Should manhandle me more often-“

“Is that right?” he chuckled warmly, so warmly and content you didn’t have time or space in your mind to feel shame for admitting it, less so since he curled his fingers just like that, mouth pressed to the column of your neck in a demanding kiss, a graze of teeth that nearly knocked your breath out of your lungs, your whole body burning like a supernova about to explode. “I’ll take a note. But for now… I gotta be gentle so you don’t let everyone know how close you are to your Captain.”

And gentle he was; a gentle tease. But as devious as he could be, dark eyes drinking in the sight of you falling apart for him but few second later, a sinful smile on his lips shining with your arousal when he took you apart for the second time, sucking a bruise to your inner thigh as you came down from your high – he drew plenty of his pleasure from your own and was still a giver. He kissed his way up your still trembling body, exposing more and more skin to give love to, until he reached your lips again, muffling both yours and his moan as he slowly entered you at last, taking for himself too, once, twice, no need for rest, but pausing still to feel the shared bliss spreading through your bodies.

Despite Steve’s lips being nothing short of wicked, his hands both tender and all kinds of greedy – an honour you so willingly and enthusiastically reciprocated – the words spoken between you were soft and sweet; and as quiet as you tried to be, there was plenty of space for I love yous without uttering a word.

A gentle touch to angle your hips.

A caress alongside his jaw.

A kiss to your collarbone.

A hungry kiss to his lips.

The grip on your waist.

The dirty roll of your hips you knew made him see stars.

A press of his lips to your lower back when he flipped you over, a lingering moment of reprieve and torture before he entered you again in one smooth movement.

Confessions whispered to your ear and just as sweet and delicate breathed in return.

Love you; need you; gonna keep you.

Yes. More. Always want more of you.

You have all of me.

I’ve got you, love.

You did have each other. Body humming in quiet aftershocks of bliss, contentment settled deep in your soul, you fell asleep curled to Steve’s front, his arm draped securely around your waist, keeping you close.

The one sleeping bag which he had unpacked was but draped over your bodies, way too small to cover you both fully. And yet, you were perfectly warm and safe from the cold and the outside world, Steve’s breathing lulling you to a peaceful sleep full of gentle fire and stars-littered skies resting just at your fingertips.

Waking up came with flickers of blurry images you could hardly distinguish from a dream; but as you found yourself alone, colder than before despite being safely tucked into a cocoon of a sleeping bag, you smiled as you recognized some of them as real.

A morning ritual of a kiss to your temple; a gentle advice for you to sleep a little longer; your body seeking Steve’s on instinct, the hard planes of muscle relaxing again as he gave in and held you for another while, lips pressed to your hairline, an embrace full of love. Bucky’s grumpy voice whisper-yelling from an immense distance, reminding Steve that he had been the one to plan the morning run so he’d better get his ass out and stop shagging his lady; Steve’s sweet grunt so quiet that perhaps not even supersoldier ears could hear it from outside of the tent that yes, but that had been before he knew he’d have you for himself.

The dreams after that you didn’t remember, but you recalled they were awfully sweet and you wished to be woken up just like the first time.

Still, despite finding yourself alone, body slightly aching, the memories of last night and earlier this morning brought a wide smile to your face. The inside of the tent was already perfectly bright, so sun must have been high despite the relatively early hour. In your high spirit, the idea of warm sunrays even made you consider going for a swim in the lake, just to have the excuse to wear Steve’s hoodie later, discarded in a corner, again.

You pulled it over your head, fingers running through your hair to have the worst of your bed hair go away and pull it into a lose bun, you slowly climbed out of the tent, your smile only widening at the beautiful scenery awaiting you – and you didn’t mean your friends barely just getting out of their tents too. The woods, the sun reflecting in the crystal-clear lake, the remnants of the morning mist, the dew sparkling on the grass like thousands of soft diamonds.

Eyes slipping close to feel the sunrays on your skin, you stretched your arms above your head, breathing in deeply, the slightly crisp and gorgeously fresh air-

“I BLOODY KNEW IT!”

Your heart nearly gave out at the sudden cry, making you wince and drop your arms in an instant, seeking the source.

Pulse thundering in your ears from the fright, your gaze found Hunter, turning to Bobbi by his side with his mouth hanging open with shock as if he had just witnessed a real-life Loch Ness monster peek out from the lake and dive back again. Maybe he had.

The tension melted from your shoulders as you sighed, willing yourself to relax again.

Whatever was his issue, it was way too early for you to deal with his shenanigans – you’d leave that to his ex-wife.

You shook your head and turned back, letting yourself to take inventory; your body was aching all over, a testimony to a long pleasant night, thighs, lower back and neck a little stiff. You rolled your neck to relief the tension a bit, then shoulders, tilting your head to one side and then the other, nearly groaning at the stretch and satisfying ache--- only for your work to be instantly undone by Daisy’s loud voice.

“Hunter, what the-- oh my god YES! Fucking finally!” she all but shrieked, the undiluted excitement in her voice causing you to snap back to her, panic rising in your chest.

Because you knew that tone.

This was exactly the tone she had used when she told you to shag Captain America, to share the sleeping bag with Steve. Had she seen your sleeping bag packed, assuming you had listened to her? But she couldn’t have possibly known you hadn’t had a head start and already packed it back again, so why would she give into that excitement so easy, that couldn’t have been-

“What is it?” you blurted out, heart in your throat, brain in an overdrive as you tried to think, think, think-

Your gaze found Steve’s as he and Bucky emerged from among the trees, slightly breathless, the loud ruckus clearly having startled them and making them race back to the camp.

You took a precious second to appreciate the absolute god-like appearance of his, red, red lips, chest heaving, arms bulging now that he put his hands on his hips and looked around with slightly worried and entirely confused blues that reflected the colour of the sky, his hair ruffled by the wind, sticking to several directions as it had lined with sweat.

“Nice badge, agent,” May commented dryly.

And yet, her voice dripped with amusement, the corners of her lips twitching in a smile, causing you to frown.

Nice badge? What did she mean by-

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

Your hands immediately flew up to your neck, covering the incriminated spot she was referring to, even as you hadn’t been aware there was one.

But there must have been.

A hickey.

You had a visible hickey, not just the one on your inner thigh which you knew Steve was so bloody proud of.

You had a hickey on your neck and now everyone saw it, an undeniable proof that you and Steve had most definitely not shared a tent platonically, but had shared a whole lot more.

You doubted you could blame the bruise – you didn’t even know what it looked like, oh god, you were mortified,why hadn’t you checked your appearance in a mirror, why – on some super-powered mosquitos drunk on Daisy’s Inhuman blood as Hunter had mentioned. And even if you could – you were hundred percent sure your spy training had flied out of the window and if the hickey hadn’t given it away, your imitation of a deer in the headlights when caught certainly had.

Speechless. You were rendered absolutely speechless and while this wasn’t any kind of tragedy, you felt the world spinning a bit. Oh no.

“Not that it’s any news,” May added, a smirk on her lips as all the gazes of those who did consider it news snapped to her.

“What do you mean?” Hopkinson asked, grumpy and entirely stunned.

Bucky snorted by Steve’s side, clearly highlyamused unlike your love and lover.

“You call yourself spies? They’ve been together for like two months and he’s been giving her heart-eyes from day one-“

“A-HA! Called the heart-eyes!” Daisy cried out pointing at you victoriously – and pausing.

Steve used the opportunity to put himself together, approaching you sheepishly and slowly as if he was worried you might actually throw something at him for leaving a badge of honour and shame on your neck. Which you might. Dammit Steven! If you found out that this was some kind of a ploy to make Hopkinson piss off if he really did have hots for you or whatever, you might spend the next night in your own tent alone just because.

“…wait, that means-- so you’re saying I quaked apart the buckles for nothing?”

At that, all eyes turned to her; and Bobbi let out a small sound of surprise.

“Oh! You quaked the— oh. That makes sense,” she said. “Well, I guess I unsecured the food container for nothing too, then.”

It was like watching a cartoon; at her admission, all heads turned to her in comical speed, stunned – and yours and Steve’s most of all, even as he stood at your side at last, a tender brush of his hand to your forearm for support.

Bobbi had done what?!

Something awesome in Daisy’s opinion, that was for sure. The women exchanged a conspiratory smile full of mutual respect and understanding.

All you could do was stare at them mutely. Daisy, well, she hadn’t surprised you all that much, even as you’d never dream of her doing that – but Bobbi? She had a wicked sense of humour and she certainly possessed a no-nonsense approach to things, but-

“Well, now I feel like a sucker,” Hunter said, glancing at his almost-wife. “I mean, all I did was not to tell her that her shoelaces were undone so she’d trip and someone would give her some TLC.”

You turned to him, gaping, no air coming in or out.

Y tu, Brutus?

All three of your friends had been on this, though apparently without cooperation? You were done. You were so completely done. And to think you had considered Hopkinson had been playing pranks on you. He was probably the only person who hadn’t been on this.

“Hunter, that’s awful,” Daisy commented at the sneaky act, causing him to raise his hands palms up innocently. “What if she’d have twisted her ankle or something?”

“Well then even better, wouldn’t it? He’d have to carry her in those--- arms with the biceps the size of bowling balls. And it worked, ain’t it? TLC, big time. Have you seen them when he treated her hands?”

Daisy paused, briefly lost in thought; then, she made a face. She couldn’t argue about that. Just like you couldn’t argue about the possibility of Steve’s solution being exactly the one and you being very much affected by being carried bridal style in his arms like that.

Not that that was the point.

They really might have as well all worked in sync even if they hadn’t, huh?

Except all these things, arranged to get you and Steve together or somehow make you realize your feelings and act on them, were a little late to the party.

“Well, good work, everyone. I mean, it was fun to watch you try,” Natasha said, moving to continue packing her tent, slowly setting the scene in motion again.

“Almost as much fun as watching you two try to keep it under wraps,” Bucky smirked, walking past Steve and patting him on the shoulder. “Sorry to break it to you, but when it comes to undercover, you’d be more convincing as a couple of newlyweds.”

You sputtered at that remark, still to stunned to react otherwise, your famed ability to work under pressure and in unexpected circumstances suddenly nowhere to be found. You guessed it only applied to the field.

“I-” you started, unsure how to continue, feeling too busted – but also relieved somehow – turning to the man whose fault all this was. “Steve?”

He just opened his mouth, too taken aback as well; which you took as a prove that he hadn’t been aware of that hickey, bless him. Which… was curious at least, but he had enough wits to look guilty, so you’d leave that for after you’d process this.

May cleared her throat loudly.

“Alright, now that we established the bad luck that’s been following you was not bad luck at all, I believe we have a long hike ahead? We should move on with packing…”

Yes. Packing. That sounded wonderful. Anything to get the attention off you – though you weren’t sure it would help all that much.

Daisy, Hunter and Bobbi seemed simply too amazed by the revelation and satisfied with their work all the same. And Hopkinson was… something. Processing probably. Certainly not happy for you; you didn’t want to examine why. Even if it would support Daisy’s theory of him actually liking you, which was a wholly different can of worms you did not want to open at the moment.

You shook your head, your smile tight.

“Good call, Agent May. Thank you.”

She casted a small smile your way, actually shooting Daisy a pointed look so the younger agent would stop staring at you. She did; but not before she showed you a pair of painfully unsubtle thumbs-up, setting your cheeks aflame even more than earlier.

Once no one was looking, you lightly slapped Steve’s thigh with the back of your hand, staring him down despite truly feeling relieved you wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the trip hiding anything besides the incriminated spot on your neck. …and your inner thigh when you’d go for a swim.

He observed you sheepishly and gently took hold of your left wrist, lifting your palm from where it had been covering your neck still; his gaze zeroed on that side of your neck – the very side on which you had been lying on when you had woken up, probably having been hiding the testimony to your passionate night from him when he had left you.

His pupils grew a little wider, eyes a shade darker, the hold on your wrist tighter-

“No!” you whisper-yelled at him, the corners of his lips twitching even as he seemed genuinely apologetic. He let you go when you tugged your hands free. “No, mister. You’ve already done enough.”

“Yes, I did… four times,” Steve whispered as lowly as possible, a loud responding groan sounding from both you and Bucky, who probably regretted having enhanced hearing at the moment.

“What?” Natasha asked.

“Believe me… you don’t even want to know.”

Your plan was to pack as fast as possible and get on your way; but there were things to be done. The team was onto packing, cleaning up after the yesterday’s fire, rinsing in the lake – and thankfully, chatting about various things of which none was you.

With Steve’s help, you had put down your tent, now finally dry, and moved on to a the group of trees where you had hung your clothes – now also dry and clean of the smell of marinade if not the stains.

You heard the shuffle of feet before you saw him; you froze in your movements, recognizing the pattern.

Hopkinson cleared his throat, signalling his presence, causing you to sigh and slowly turn to him.

You expected a snidey remark, bracing yourself for him boasting about how he had been right, about the pimping all those weeks ago and about Steve keeping you warm through the night – but to your surprise, his face was set in a pleasantly neutral mask.

It took you aback so much you didn’t make a sound before he spoke.

“So uhm… I’m all packed. You need any help?”

Your eyebrows shot up near your hairline before you could school your expression, your jaw falling a bit slack; a voice in the back of your head, one that sounded a lot like Daisy saying ‘Grade-A display of jealously’, whispered of the guy actually liking you,as unlikely as it had seem.

It did not seem all that impossible now; his posture was stiff and careful, which could be just him being nervous now that he knew you were under Steve’s protection on a whole new level, or being unsure how to approach you – but there was a hesitant interest and warmth in his eyes when you allowed yourself to look at him for long enough. And despite the tension in his shoulders, there was something rather welcoming. As if he was genuinely offering help.

Well, you’d be damned-

The creeping realization must have shown on your face, because his own expression fell, heat colouring his cheeks, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Oh. You know. Well, this is embarrassing.”

“I little, yeah,” you admitted, your voice a little breathless and a little too high. Did an exchange just happen between you without a single insult yet? Did he really just admit to feeling anything else than the grandiosity of his ego, pointing out he was rather uncomfortable because of something? Wow. Just… wow. “I mean… I didn’t even realize. I’m… sorry.”

Your felt your features twist into a frown, confused by your own words – and feelings. The ‘sorry’ sounded strange to your own ears and tasted even stranger on your tongue, because from the two of you, it wasn’t you who should be apologizing. It hadn’t been you who had been the absolute douche.

And yet, here you were.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. A guy can’t exactly compete with… that, can he?” he suggested, chuckling bitterly.

Your eyebrows, having return to their normal position, arched again.

You understood his point: Steve truly was quite the competition for about anyone. But not for the reason you just knew flashed through Hopkinson’s mind. It had little to do with the size of Steve’s shoulders, the mantle he carried or his absolutely brilliant smile – as much as you admired or adored these things about him. It had much more to do with who he was without the shield; whom he’d still be if the serum fell out of him tomorrow.

You didn’t think he’d understand; he wasn’t in love with Steve Rogers.

“You mean… compete with the guy who’s not acting like an asshole around the woman he likes?”

Hopkinson grimaced, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“…I kinda deserved that. I’m… sorry.”

“Yup. You di-”

You stopped mid-sentence, his words actually registering in your brain. Did he… did he just apologize? And acknowledged that he had been an ass? Today really was full of shocking revelations.

The satisfaction of this one was too good not to enjoy. And yet. Maybe it was the emotional turmoil you had been riding out the whole morning, maybe the relief of you and Steve not having to hide, maybe it was the lingering euphoria of the previous night – but seeing Hopkinson stand there awkwardly, him, awkwardly, you did feel a little bit sorry for the guy.

You sighed again, this time mostly at yourself. “But hey. Some people are into the whole… golden hearted jerk thing.”

“What?!” he snapped, arms crossing on his chest defensively, as if the word jerk wasn’t the nicest one you could think of when it came to his behaviour. Then, he apparently heard past it – and his face cleared up. “Oh… what?”

Oh you were so going to regret this… and yet, it felt somehow right. Setting your folded clothes on the ground next to you, you met his gaze reluctantly, resisting the urge to sigh again.

“Look… have you’ve been a jerk? Yes. Absolutely. Jealous too, even when not entitled to it. But… I’ve seen you cover people in the field with your own body. Catch a bullet for them too. Save people. I’m not an idiot. Someone who does that? They’re not all bad. Hence the golden-hearted added to the jerk,” you said softly, unable to smirk as you threw in the insult just once more, because damn did it feel good to say it to his face after having to deal with his assholery. “And someone, like, I don’t know, maybe Agent Summers for example, are into that-“

“Wait what?! Angela?”

You had to blink as he interrupted you swiftly, surprised he knew who you were talking about – and that knew her first name. That was a good sign; maybe he wasn’t a completely lost cause yet. A flicker of warmth in your chest lit up, a silent reassurance that you had done the right thing telling him that. It seemed he did care for someone else than himself.

“Uhm, you didn’t hear that from me, but… let’s just say that maybe if you look around back home… you’ll be surprised there are people who have an eye on you,” you concluded.

Hopkinson watched you for a few beats of silence, something in his face softening in a way you didn’t think was possible. There was a hint of a smile, a genuine one, without a biting edge – and to your surprise, without the air of irony, it made for quite an attractive image. You hadn’t been blind to the fact he was a handsome man – one who was all too aware of it – but combined with something resembling kindness, it simply hit different.

“Thanks, Libra. Really.”

A small smile spread on your lips as you hesitated for but a moment before you extended your hand – the final gesture of offering peace even as you hadn’t been the one to disrupt it. Surprised flickered on Hopkinson’s face; but he shook your hand, almost a gentleman’s grip.

Almost.

“But if you break her heart, I’ll break your arm. Minimum,” you said, deadly serious.

He retreated his hand, observing you with uncertain smile.

But oh he’d better be certain. Because you would. If he’d muck up his chance to be better, he’d pay.

“I’d trust her if I were you,” a familiar voice carrying a weight of authority and promise sounded behind you. “And you should know that I’d help her do it if she wanted.”

Hopkinson shot Steve a respectful glare and took a step back, causing the corners of your lips to twitch when he looked back at you. “Understood, ma’am… sir,---Captain.”

You bit your lips to stop the laughter at his sudden nervousness and prompt leave – but seeing Steve squared to a fight, wrapped in an aura of an uncompromising protector, did things to you, so you couldn’t say you blamed Hopkinson for being affected, albeit drastically differently than you.

Heat swelling in your belly, you tried to gather your wits by gathering your clothes; before you could, warm arms wrapped around your middle from behind, gently pulling you to Steve’s front, lips pressed to your neck, right over where your hickey was, now hidden by a scarf.

Smiling and revelling in the contact, you chastised him all the same. “PDA, Steve… and I’m not forgiving you that hickey, by the way. You’re possessive, mister. You’re gonna get me into trouble with my boss.”

“Can you blame me? And I have it on good authority at least one of your bosses approves,” he said decisively. You couldn’t feel his smile over the scarf, but you heard it in his voice, a silent whisper of an apology and seduction at once. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you or get you into trouble. I honestly didn’t even realize. I just got… lost in you. Always do… you drive me crazy in the best ways.”

The little sweep in your belly at his flattering confession was undeniable; smiling wider, you melted against his body, earning a brush of lips against your temple, drawing a content sigh from your lips. You could get used to that. Steve’s voice in your ear, his arms around you, a beautiful view of nature…

What had you been talking about?

Ah.

“Same… but your hickeys heal right away. It’s so unfair.”

“True,” he hummed, nuzzling your neck softly when your hand settled over his. “Speaking of fair and unfair… you were far too kind to that jerkface. You’re a good person.”

“I try,” you said with a grin, pleased all the same.

Suddenly spun around, you couldn’t help the small yelp erupting from your lips, and neither the laughter as you landed in Steve’s arms, palms steading you against his chest as he looked down at you with a heart-melting smile.

“And I love you.”

Hopkinson who? The guy had been right. There was no competing with Steve and this moment, seeing him so happy from something as simple as holding you, four simple words that made the world shrink into the small bubble of your embrace, was just one of million reasons why.

Why even after barely two months, you were utterly, undeniably his.

Utterly and undeniably in love.

“I love you too… even when you’re about to drag me god knows how many miles,” you added cheekily, your breath hitching in anticipation as he leaned his head down, alluring lips you already craved again but an inch away.

“I’ll carry you if it comes to it-”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time-”

“Always, sweetheart,” he promised, finally erasing the distance, mouth pressed to yours softly, warm hand between your shoulder blades pressing your closer as your hand slipped to his nape and into his hair.

The awareness of not being alone was but a distant thought in the minuscule corner in the back of your mind. You sighed when Steve moulded your lips to his liking, mouths parting for but a split second and then connecting again, your head beginning to spin, heat spreading through your veins that had nothing to do with the sunrays caressing your skin. You didn’t fight the sensations, letting them consume you, revelling in the fact you two could do that now, publicly; and whenever you would say no to Steve?

When he retreated with a smile, nose nudging against yours, you found yourself grinning like a fool and griping on his t-shirt, the profound happiness in his eyes causing your heart to flutter.

God, you were so very, very lucky. The fact you had good friends looking out for you in their questionable but well-intended ways, only spoke in favour of that assumption.

“Well, I guess that with that… despite all the little misfortunes I had on this trip, I feel pretty lucky then.”

“Yeah? That makes two of us.”

Steve’s grin tasted sweet as he kissed you again, your fingers caressing along his throat awakening a silent rumble in his chest, his hand moving to your nape to keep you in place as his lips grew more demanding, your lips parting oh so willingly to accommodate him, your core burning as the kiss became so fierce you felt a strain in your back from bending backwards just a bit.

“OI PUNK! Just because they all know now, doesn’t meant we want the front row to you necking your girl!” Bucky yelled with too much laughter to his words for anyone think he was truly annoyed. “Knock it off!”

You grinned into the kiss at Steve’s not-so-gentlemanly curse, blinking away the daze when his lips left yours with a muted pop, hands remaining exactly where they were.

Wow, okay.

“Speak for yourself. I’m super happy to finally see them together…” Daisy said, crossing her arms on her chest, a cheeky grin on her lips.

“Oh, it gets old pretty quickly, trust me,” Natasha uttered with a fond smile. “They’re gross.”

“Amen…”

“Come on, guys… we have a long trail ahead,” May reprimanded you all, throwing her backpack on, nodding towards Steve. “Where to, Cap?”

That finally had Steve release you – not before pecking your lips once more, much to your shared delight – his figurative leader suit slipping on, making him stand taller, his voice earning a quality that made everyone fall in line; and you look at him with pride.

“I’m on it, Agent May,” he said dutifully. “Let’s go.”

With that, gathered your clothes in one arm and he headed up towards the rest of the group and to your backpacks; the pile of clothes on one hand, his other wrapped securely around yours.

You were still wearing his hoodie; if he’d let you, you’d proudly wear it for the rest of the trip.

Something told you he’d be more than happy about it.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Here we go! I hope you enjoyed the little twist and the shenanigans 🤭 I certainly did. But also boooooy this is so much longer than intended.... ah well, Story of my life.

Thank you for reading and should you leave feedback, I thank you tenfold 💕 May your August be generous to you 🥰

P.S. - check out the rest of the masterlist for the challenge/celebration! I sure have my eye on it 👀

P.P.S - just because I can:

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

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