#agent of shield imagines

[fandomnerd9602]

Maria grabs Y/N as they come back from an Avengers assignment…

Maria: you are not doing that again

Y/N: yes ma’am

Maria: I am going to take you back to our bedroom and screw you til you see stars

Y/N: (sarcastic) oh work work work

Maria giggles and pulls Y/N off somewhere private…

[overusedtoothbrush]

i’ve seen a couple ppl remake the good riddance x-men/fox marvel movies montage with the infinity saga and i had to do it with agents of shield because like the fox marvel movies their futures r unclear (at best). agents of shield means the world to me and i hope they’re chilling in the void

posting here before tik tok cus i��m pretty sure it will flop but i don’t really care i made this for me

[mythic-vortex]

CASTLE CRASHERS RISE UP!

[upat4amwiththemoon]

can I request a Daisy Johnson x reader fanfic where reader works at shield and is the (secret) daughter of Coulson and May and only a small circle, not including Daisy knows who readers parents are. Reader and Daisy met at shield hq and Daisy ends up ranting to Coulson about the girl she met and after a while Coulson realises Daisy is talking about his daughter?

Accidental oversharing

Summary: The secret daughter of Phil Coulson and Melinda May.

Pairing: Daisy Johnson x female!reader, Philinda x daughter!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 772

a/n: day 1000 of wishing Marvel gave us more Daisy Johnson content

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore

masterlists | guidelines

“Oh shit!” A stack of papers falls to the ground as Daisy’s body bumps right into someone in the middle of the SHIELD headquarters’ hallway.

“I’m so sorry.” The other woman mumbles as she kneels down, starting to gather all the papers from the ground. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“No, it’s my fault,” Daisy picks up the few papers that flew further away.

The woman gives Daisy a small smile as she stands up, now holding all of her papers. She takes a double take, her brows scrunching together. “Aren’t you the Quake?”

“Oh god,” she cringes at the mention of her superhero name, “please call me Daisy. I hate that name.”

“Okay, Daisy. I’m Y/N.” Freeing one of her hands, Y/N reaches it out to shake Daisy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

It’s not that Daisy doesn’t pay attention to the people working at SHIELD, because she does, she makes sure to be at least polite to everyone (who deserves it), but right now she can’t help but stare at the woman in front of her, taking her in fully. “Uhuh.” She nods, shaking Y/N’s hand softly.

“Okay.” She lets out a small laugh before pulling her hand away from Daisy’s weak grip. “I really have to get going, but I’ll see you around, maybe.” Y/N waits for a couple of seconds before walking away.

“Yeah…” Daisy whispers, her eyes following her until she finally registers reality. “Wait what?” Her eyes widen as a visceral need to get the woman’s number comes over her. She desperately looks around to find the woman, but the sea of people has already hidden her from sight. “Shit.”

Daisy has no choice but to continue her way to Coulson, who called for her at least 30 minutes ago.

“Hey, Daisy?” Coulson’s hand waves in front of her face. “Are you listening to me?”

Daisy sighs, coming out of her dreamland as she focused her gaze on Coulson. “No, sorry AC.”

“What’s going on?”

Leaning her head over the back of the couch, Daisy smiles softly as she reminisces what happened not too long ago. “I bumped into someone, a woman, today. I don’t think I’ve seen her around before, because I’d definitely remember her if I had.”

“Someone finally caught your eye?” Coulson has a small grin on his face as he listens to her talk.

“What do you mean finally?” She scoffs, rolling her eyes before going to explaining. “She was so beautiful and nice, so cute, and I was acting so weird around her.” Daisy lays her hand over her face, a small grimace on it. “But I couldn’t help it! I got completely mesmerized by her.”

Though Coulson wanted to tease her at first, his grin turns into a genuine smile. Daisy hasn’t really paid attention to people after everything that happened with Ward and then Lincoln, so he is truly happy for her.

“I didn’t get her number though.” She mumbles. “But her name is Y/N, do you know her?”

At the mention of her name, Coulson’s brows raise. “Y/N? About yay tall, great hair, smiling all the time?” He gestures with his hands, wanting to make sure they’re thinking about the same person.

“Yeah! So you do know her?”

“Ask her number from May. I’m banner from that duty since I apparently don’t know how to judge a person’s vibes well enough.” He says it as if it’s the moat ridiculous thing he has ever heard, but there’s fondness in his tone.

Daisy furrows her brows, now lifting her head up properly to watch Coulson. “You know her well? May too?”

“Mhm.” He smiles, his arms crossed over his chest. “She is our daughter.”

There is a prolonged silence as Daisy tries to wrap her head around the sentence. “Daughter? You-“ she opens and closes her mouth, her wide eyes stuck on Coulson’s grinning face. “I know you two are together, but long enough to have a whole adult daughter?”

“Very few people know.”

“Why wasn’t I one of those people?”

“Security reasons. Don’t worry, none of the people on the team know.” Coulson takes out his phone, informing May that Daisy is now aware of their daughter.

“But-“ Daisy huffs before shaking her head. “Philinda daughter…” she mumbles.

“Please don’t call her that. May might hurt you.” Coulson pats Daisy’s shoulder. “Do you want her number?”

“Yes! Yes, I want her number.”

“Go get it from May-“ Daisy is already on her feet, “she is getting the bus ready.” And Daisy is gone, leaving Coulson to chuckle by himself.

[anika-ann]

Back and Forth - masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x agent! Inhuman!reader

Type: enemies-ish to lovers series

Summary: Calling yourself an Avenger would be overstatement, even if you have been joining them on missions quite frequently lately. Calling them your friends would be an overstatement also. Calling you and Steve Rogers friends, now that would be an insult to the entity of friendship – though unlike him, you have enough self-awareness to admit that he isn't the only one to blame for that. Most of the time anyway.

However, the Avengers need your abilities and so you and Steve tolerate each other – or at least you’re trying, your back and forth visibly annoying your colleagues and exhausting you both.

And then you’re thrown into a situation where mere tolerance isn’t an option. That should end well, shouldn’t it?

Characters to appear: Steve Rogers, ‘reader’, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, mentions of Phil Coulson, Daisy Johnson and few others

Setting: slight AU 'cause everyone lives thank you very much, no Civil War or further, references to Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D without a fixed timeline

Warnings: besides canon-typical violence, this series deals with topics which might be trigerring for some people - please, read with caution and resposibility

Playlist 🎵 (NEW)

STORYLINE:

Prologue 

Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 3.1 // Part 3.2

Part 4.1 // Part 4.2 

Part 5 

Part 6.1 // Part 6.2

Part 7

Part 8

Epilogue 1 and 2

Extras (maaaybe)

Number of parts/chapters is estimated. Did I add one extra already? Yeah, but shhh

Dividers by firefly-graphics, moodboard by me - and created for the vibes, for it does not necessarily reflect the reader's appearance.

Taglist open 🥰

[tvseries-writings]

From a great power comes great responsibilities

Wandanat x Bioquake x Bobbi x reader

Plot: Reader goes beyond her limits with her powers to help others (exhausts her powers)

TW: death for a moment(?)

It all happens so fast that you don't realize it until the building starts collapsing over your heads. You see a chunk of concrete the size of a car fall on top of you, and before your brain can connect, your body acts on instinct, carrying you, Daisy, and Bobbi out of the building. You concentrate on teleporting all three of you, intact, inside the quinjet where Jemma, Natasha and Wanda are running the operation, or at least, were before everything went to hell.

You land on the floor of the plane with a thud, falling forward and coughing hard to expel the dust that has filled your lungs. You glance at your girls making sure they are okay and then, you cross your arms to teleport again but Natasha's hand on your left arm stops you.

"Don’t even think about it, everything is collapsing, you can't teleport in there. It is suicide and you are not going to save anyone if you are dead, do you understand me?"

You swallow, watching the building collapse, and so, with a small smile on your lips, you lean toward Natasha and kiss her. It lasts a few seconds and she is distracted enough to let go of her grip on you.

"I'm sorry but I have to do this," you whisper and then, you close your eyes and feel the earth vanish from under your feet. You focus on the 'one safe place inside the building that you know with absolute certainty will not collapse. The beauty of a secret Hydra base was the bunkers, after all. Those crazy fucking Nazis had thought that sacrificing at least a hundred of their own people was a fair price to pay to take out three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and they had blown up the load-bearing walls of the building with a simple and very trivial click. Nazis, they never change.

When you open your eyes again and realize you are not dead or under some boulder, you gloat internally and mentally thank Natasha for forcing you to learn the floor plan of that base. You remember perfectly her stern look when she had presented you with the mission and forced you to learn every single detail by heart. At that moment you had hated it but now...now you really wanted to kiss her.

You raise your hands in the air when you notice a score of soldiers pointing their guns at you, hiding behind them their "incentives," as Hydra liked to call them. Wives, husbands, children, mothers and fathers hid behind those men and women in black with a crest that did not belong to them.

"It's okay, I just want to get you out of here. I can teleport you all but in multiple groups."

You curse yourself internally, you know you'll never be able to take this much effort, the last time you tried to teleport five people together you fainted and were unconscious for six hours you can't even imagine what would happen with forty, including soldiers and families.

You take a deep breath and think quickly about how you can take everyone out of there. The floor under your feet trembles and just as the children begin to cry, the earpiece in your ear comes alive.

"Y/n, damn it, Daisy can't hold it much longer...you have to get out of there, do you hear me? The structure won't hold much longer" Bobbi yells in your ear and you nod, well aware that she cannot see you, before giving her a verbal response.

"I'm trying honey, thanks for the advice though."

You mumble sarcastically, no longer listening to what your girlfriends are shouting at you over the comms and focusing instead on getting the people in front of you to safety. The soldiers lower their weapons and pull off the bands on your arm, throwing them to the ground.

"Are there others in the base?"

"They're all dead, ma'am" the lieutenant, or who you think is the lieutenant, answers you by looking around as if to confirm what she just said. Your stomach clenches at the thought of all those people who died for a cause they didn't even believe in but you quickly shake off that feeling, you don't have time for it. You quickly count them, noting that there are twenty-five of them before thinking about how to get them all out of there safely.

"So… I can take all the children outside."

You point to the little ones; some of them are crying while others are looking at you with wide, fearful eyes but charged with the same admiration and hope with which a child looks at his favorite superhero. There are nine children but you can make it, they are worth four times one adult, right? You can even take four adults with you, then; you have to do it, you won't have the strength to make three more trips, you are sure.

You gather them around you and have each of them touch arms or legs, depending on where their little hands reach, and do the same with the four women, two old and two young, who accompany them. As they say, women and children first.

"Y/n, we have set up a camp out here, four hundred meters from the base in a southwesterly direction."

-What the hell is the South?" you think, before shrugging your shoulders and closing your eyes. The feeling of the floor vanishing beneath your feet is not something you will ever get used to, if you have to be honest. You hear the children scream, whether from excitement or fear you can't tell, and then, in less than a second, you find yourself at that poorly set up base camp Jemma told you about a few seconds ago. A little dizziness forces you to lean on the ground, on the hot sand beneath you, and small drops of blood color the grains beneath your fingers. You raise your hand, reaching up your nose and finding the source of the bleeding. Children are being rounded up by an officer but you fail to recognize him as your girlfriends run toward you. Jemma has a first aid kit in her hand, but before she can set about playing cheerful surgeon with you, you scan to the side, staggering on your own feet.

"I'm fine, I've got to get back in there."

"You can't stand y/n, you can't-"

You frown, noticing only in that moment that Daisy is not there with all of you.

"Where's Dee?"

"She fainted, tried to absorb as many shocks as possible. She's collapsed y/n and that's also what's going to happen to you if you continue, you're already in a very bad way."

Jemma lifts your head, causing your gazes to cross and looking critically at your pupils and the nosebleed that doesn't seem to have any intention of stopping coming out. You back away a few steps, looking into their eyes.

"Go to Daisy, I'll take care of this," you say and then disappear again.

You repeat the same process as before, surrounding yourself with six soldiers and watching the remaining six.

"I will come back for you, I promise."

And as you disappear into thin air, another tremor shakes the ground.

The landing is more abrupt this time. Your heart beats so weakly that you feel as if oxygen is not getting to your brain. Contrary to what you expected, Natasha grabs you by the arms before your face can splat on the scorching sand. You struggle to stay awake and if so out that you don't even notice Daisy, pale, sweaty, and trembling, over the shoulders of the former Russian spy. You blink a few times to focus on the image in front of you and finally the sounds reach your ears again.

"Y/N!"

Natasha shakes you by the shoulders and you awaken from your stupor. The worried gazes of Wanda, Jemma, Daisy, Natasha and Bobbi are fixed on you as Natasha gently lays you on the ground and Jemma places a bottle of water on your lips, helping you drink it. As soon as you remember where you are, you try to sit up but Daisy stops you, simply putting a hand on your chest to keep you down.

"I'm-I'm fine, mm-missing six people-D-I have to an-go."

You stammer, the effort you've put in doesn't even make you able to utter a coherent and clea sentence. Another jolt shakes the floor beneath your feet and Daisy groans in pain, bringing her hands to her head and squeezing her eyes shut. That small advantage allows you to roll over and with an absurd effort you manage to get to your feet and disappear back under their gazes.

When you get to the bunker, the first thing you do is fall to your knees and throw up. You completely empty your stomach under the disgusted gaze of the six soldiers in front of you. You wipe your mouth with your suit, wrinkling your nose at the disgusting taste of vomit in your mouth and leaning against the wall to pull yourself up without passing out. You must hold on a little longer, just a little, and then you can collapse to the ground.

The six soldiers surround you-diligently avoiding the pool of vomit on the ground and the blood that keeps coming out of your nose-and in a moment you are out.

As soon as you hit the sand, you sprawl to the ground. Your cheek scrapes against the sand and this time Natasha is not quick enough to catch you. Jemma drops to her knees next to you, turns you so that your face is facing her but your eyes are closed. She checks your chest and when she notices that the latter does not rise or fall, she checks your pulse before a gasp of terror and fear escapes her lips.

"Bobbi, adrenaline and defibrillator. Now!"

Natasha tilts your head back, her eyes glazed over as she opens your mouth and blows air into your lungs. Jemma begins compressions.

1,2,3,4,5

Nat puts air into your lungs and your chest rises and falls once before falling back inert. Wanda's sobs and Jemma's barely stifled ones are the only sound before a crack makes your girls nauseous.

"It's okay, it happens during compressions," Jemma's voice trembles as she says it and then, she performs another round of compressions. Your arms burn but that pain is nothing compared to the dull ache that is burning in your chest at that moment.

1,2,3,4,5

Natasha forces your chest up again and then Bobbi arrives with defibrillator and adrenaline in hand. She is sweating and her heart is racing. She has never run so fast in her entire life.

"Bobbi, take my place."

Jemma continues with compressions, then, on her go, Bobbi gets in place and follows her own rhythm.

"Come on rockstar, it's not your time yet, come on."

Bobbi's breath barely hides the tremor in her voice but not the tears that line her cheeks. It takes two defibrillator shocks before your heart starts beating again.

"Oh my God" Wanda bursts into tears, leaning over your face and gently kissing your forehead, brushing a few strands of sweaty hair off your face.

"Good, you did great love" Natasha whispers, taking your hand in her own as Bobbi laughs from relief.

Daisy instead stands by, frowning, and Jemma is the first to notice.

"Dee, what's wrong?"

Daisy looks at you and then, nods.

"Something's wrong, her heart, it doesn't have the usual vibes, non-"

And then, your heart stops beating again.

"Fuck, Bobbi give me the adrenaline."

Jemma Simmons never swears but there are always exceptions.

Jemma performs two more rounds of compressions before injecting adrenaline into your chest. She hooks you up to one of the monitors that Fitz had devised a few months earlier, at the request of the biochemist, for just such situations, and when he sees that the line remains flat, his heart, too, seems to stop for a few seconds.

Your body is shaken by the shock emitted by the defibrillator; it arches upward and then falls back to the sand as hard as a puppet whose strings have been suddenly dropped. The line remains flat and Jemma's tears now gush without limit.

"No no, Jem you have to try again. She can't, she can't..."

Wanda bursts into tears, looking at your lifeless body lying on the ground. Natasha punches the ground with such force that the crack that can be heard echoing cannot mean anything good. Bobbi cries as she takes the former Russian spy's hand and gives her a look. Anything not to think about what just happened.

"No, it doesn't end like that."

"Daisy...she-"

Daisy takes your lifeless body in her hands, shaking it by the shoulders.

"Do you understand me? You can't fucking die, you can't. You promised us, you stubborn idiot, you promised us!"

The Inhuman hits your chest hard, her fist closed, and without her really being able to control what she's doing, a powerful jolt goes through your chest and crashes against the ground, creating a small crack beneath you, and then, the flat line of the monitor disappears, replaced by regular little roller coasters.

"W-what?" Daisy whispers, sitting on the floor suddenly much more tired than before from the effort she has just made. Jemma hurries to personally check your pulse and when she feels the pulse under her fingers, a shuddering breath of joy leaves her lips.

"I...I think your tremors got her heart beating again Dee."

Jemma does not detach her fingers from your wrist, lulling herself into the sweet sensation of your heartbeat, albeit weak. Wanda covers her face, bursting into tears, and the other girls also let out a liberating cry, releasing all the tension and fear they had felt up to that moment.

...................................................................................................

Your body takes five days to heal just enough to open your eyes. You realize you are in the Quinjet's medical capsule within seconds, by now you have been there so many times over the years that you know the smallest details: the familiar beeping sound of your heartbeat, the red button to call Jemma just below the lamp behind the back of the bed, the IV that feeds drugs into your veins, and the glass from which Jemma checks that you are not doing anything the doctor has forbidden you to do. A little unfair of her since she is the doctor. You feel as if a truck has hit you and then a car has run over you to complete the job. You raise your hand to scratch your nose but the oxygen mask prevents you from doing so so you squeeze it between your fingers to remove it but just as you are about to do so, a hasty knock against the clear glass causes you to smile a small smile of exasperation. Even before you turn around, in fact, you already know that you will see your beautiful doctor on the other side. To your surprise, however, she is not alone.

"You just woke up and already you want to take off your mask, I have no words really. Who is the doctor here? You have to do what I tell you if you want to get better, between you and Dais I really don't know who is worse."

Jemma admonishes you and you blush, feeling like a child being scolded by his parents.

"Hey, what do I have to do with this now?" Daisy pouts before slinging herself into your arms. You can't help but notice that his forearm is completely bandaged. When he notices where your gaze points, the Inhuman shrugs.

"It was worth it."

She slides the mask off your face, kissing you with so much passion and love that it leaves you breathless for a few seconds before the Inhuman promptly rushes to slip the mask back over your face.

"You scared us malyshka" Natasha approaches you and her plastered hand makes you frown. The Russian blushes, and for some reason you realize you don't really need to ask her how she broke her hand. Wanda caresses your cheek, leaving a tender kiss on your forehead.

"How are you feeling detka?"

"I'm just a little tired but I'm fine; exactly what happened?"

Their faces darken and that joy you had seen quickly fades.

"You collapsed, your heart couldn't take the strain, and we had to revive you twice." Bobbi's voice trembles as she says this and you reach out your hand toward her; the blonde grabs it and intertwines your fingers, turning a small smile to you.

"You were really a rockstar but if you do that again, I think we might actually kill you."

"Oh yes, don't think we haven't thought about what punishment to give you. Besides not being able to use your powers for at least four months-"

"What? Four months? But that's an eternity-" you jerk back to your seat, removing your mask and immediately regretting it as your vision blurs and the pain in your ribs increases exponentially, so much so that you lean to the right and vomit into the only thing you can grab.

Jemma strokes your back while Wanda holds your hair as you empty the meager contents of your stomach. As soon as you finish, you are so weak that dizziness takes over and your head falls back forward. If it weren't for Wanda, your face would be splattered against the floor. Jemma casts a glance at the heart monitor, and the value it reads makes your heart beat so fast you're afraid your chest might explode. She puts on your oxygen mask and then checks your vitals again.

Your pupils roll back, and as you fall helpless into Wanda's arms, the Sokovian panics a little.

"Hey, hey, detka wake up."

Wanda taps your cheeks but the only thing that changes is the further lowering of your heart rate.

"Jem, what's going on?" Daisy strokes your face, putting her hand on your chest to check your heart vibrations.

Jemma rummages through the drawers of the medical capsule and then, at the fifth drawer she ravages for something, she finally finds what she is looking for. In her hands she clutches a small glass case, inside which she glimpses a metal disk less than three centimeters in diameter and less than two centimeters thick.

As soon as she sees this, Bobbi cuts off your suit exposing your bare chest except for the three electrodes and the black bra you are wearing.

Jemma places the diskette on top of your left breast, just above your sternum, and presses the button above it. The disc blends in with your skin, being invisible to the human eye, and your body jerks, before your heartbeat returns to normal. The small jolt causes you to open your eyes and grimace in pain.

"What the hell-" you mutter, reaching out to massage your chest but Jemma stops you before you can.

"Hey, your heart rate was extremely low and I had to put a pacemaker on you. It's not invasive, Fitz designed one that blends in perfectly and doesn't give any problems whatsoever but you'll have to avoid EMPs but you can't take it off love, okay? I think the effort you put in was such that it damaged your heart, and without a peacemaker you could have another heart attack so until we find another solution and until we have done more tests, you can't use your powers."

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut as fatigue takes over.

"Rest now, we're here malyshka."

Natasha leaves a kiss in your hair while Daisy leaves one on your cheek. Jemma dims the lights to allow you to rest and Wanda lies next to you in the crib while Bobbi closes the glass curtains facing outward to give you all some privacy as you fall into dreamland surrounded by your girls.

You don't know it yet but one of those children you saved is going to become one of the best agents S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had so maybe a slightly battered heart is worth it.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Leave like, comment and if you like support me on ko-fi. Have a great day!

Taglist: @wandanatsbaby @bioquake-archives @bioquakeweek @daisyjohnsonx @wandanatsgirlfriend @chaekhan @station19 @resilientpendragon @so-no-kissing-then @thearchpitbullmx @ashadash0904 @kingshitonly @alwaysgoodnight @callistic @xjule @yuleni18 @simpforwandanat @alexxislexi @mrsdanversromanoff @coollemonsaresour @hushed-woodsman @razorscooteer @eponine-xx @maniacallinc @michelle170 @classyig @elenaguarnieri @scarletwidow @tati3001 @cristin-rjd @your-my-mission @mr-nicely @hi-i-1 @anniethurs @ktstwice @scarlet-raccoon @maria-403 @goldfishthegr8 @wandanatfan @looiegirl-blog @bioquake-blog @daisyjohnsonx

[a-spes]

So.. I have seen an edit about Captain Anderson & Chen, from the Rookie, and maybe I was the only one to ship them, but I really like (love) the dynamic the both of them have 🙃

And so, I can't stop thinking about Maria Hill having a similar bond with Reader when they are both working as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agents. So hope you will enjoy the Maria Hill content you get today 🙆

She is the training officer than no one wants to be assigned to.

She may be the commander, the one you need to impress if you want to be given good opportunities in the job, but she is also the one who could easily make your first day as an agent the last — and it is something she would be happy to do.

They are a lot of rumors about the woman. They are glorious, but they scare the students. She has achieved a lot of great things in her carrer, but it doesn't come without a price ; this job became her whole life. Commander Hill has nothing to loose, she has no one to come home to, and she expects every agent to act the same way, to at least pretend they are in the same situation — "because if you don't, if you are too scared of dying to do your job properly, then it will become a reality. You fail, you loose everything," she had said the first day.

She is strict. She never forgives, nor forgets, when a mistake is made. She has no time to waste, and only trains the best rookies. So it is no surprised that she was assigned to this guy from your promotion. He is first in every class, he is strong, confident,.. in other words, he is the perfect trainee.

At least, he used to be, before he decided to quit S.H.I.E.L.D., only a few weeks after he has started his training by her side. So when time came for the woman to choose a new trainee, and when she pointed at you, making you her new one, you were shaking with fear — because she just sealed your fate.

The first weeks were hard, the woman didn't seem to warm up to your presence despite the time that has passed. She barely talks to you and, when she does, it is only to give cold orders or to reprimand your way of doing things. It feels like you are playing a game you can't win because she refuses to explain the rules to you, and she keeps changing them.

You are trying your best to meet her expectations, but you are only messing everything up. She sees everything you say, or do, as a failure. You haven't heard a single compliment falling from her lips the past few weeks, and it is slowly gnawing at your from the inside.

The worse is probably when she doesn't say anything. In those moments, when she looks at you with a stern glance, and an expression you can't read because she is like a closed book. Those moments when she leaves you alone with your thoughts, and you can only imagine what you have done wrong this time. It keeps you awake at nights.

She does it for your own good, that is what she repeats to herself when she eventually comes to a point when she starts to question her methods. She is strict, and demanding, and that is exaclty what you need because that is what will keep you alive on the field. The world doesn't give second chances.

If you decide to quit, it is that you weren't made for the job. Yet, you are still here, and she has to admit that she is quite surprised because you haven't even snapped at her — something most of the recruits would have done by now. Except you are slighly different. She has never seen someone so eager to obey orders. Someone who is able to put their egos aside, and accept that they have to learn everything again because the real life is nothing alike the academy.

Maybe, for once, she has to admit that her trainee holds the potential to make a great agent one day — yet, it is not something she would tell you directly.

(more is coming)

[tremendouscreationperson]

Bucky x Agent!Reader imagine

“-vac! Anyone out there?!” You frowned automatically as the tinny voice yelled. The voice wasn't directly in your ear, it was further away causing the frown to deepen. Why was it further away? Why was-shit!!

Your eyes blink open as a searing hot pain shot through you. Lighting your right side ablaze with red hot flames.

An involuntary noise tumbled out of your mouth as you attempted to move your hands. Attempted to work out what was happening. Your movements weren't in your best interest but you needed to know what was causing such pain.

“I am in need of urgent evac, making my way to point A!”

You felt your side and it was warm. Warm and sticky. Shit. You didn't have to see your palms to know but in a naive moment you forced one into your line of sight. Red and dripping.

The hand fell back at your side and you took in the surrounding area. Directly in front of you was a ceiling, oh that made sense, you were lying on your back. Of course. You were on a mission, how could you forget?

“ETA to evac point 2 minutes.” The voice called again. It was to your left. In the fight you had lost the earpiece. Your movements were clumsy but you quickly retrieved the com without pulling on your side too much.

“‘ucky?” a cough. “‘ucky.” You tried but your mouth couldn't form the letter ‘b’. How pathetic.

“Thank god, sweet girl.” The sounds of him huffing - clearly running - and gunshots behind him were now clearer as the piece sat snugly in your ear. It sat better than ever now it was covered in a sticky substance. “I was worried the team had left me.”

Team? Oh that was right. There was a team of highly skilled agents and you were their connection to SHIELD. You were their escape route. You needed to move.

“Where- where are they?”

“I don't know. No one's been on this line since 22:00.”

You took a deep breath. That was before the altercation. You'd been set up in this radio tower to feed information to the team, to tell them when the guards were changing, if they had upgraded any of their weapons, your job was basically to sit back and wait. To try to help if needed.

And then they noticed you. They noticed doors were being unlocked and machines were powered down. A trio came looking for you. Two were downed in the hall, because you'd heard on their radio frequency that they were coming but the third managed to get in. Managed to get you on the ground in a scramble. Clearly managed to get you in the side. It didn't feel like a gunshot but you don't recall a knife. Speaking of - where is he? Your head rolled to the left - a broken window and rotting wall - and then the right - the edge of the ancient console - and then you extended your neck to see he was slumped behind.

Thank god, you were in no condition to fight.

“Evac point A is overrun.”

That was twice now you'd forgotten you were here to do a job.

“Has SHIELD made contact? Where's the jet?”

Had they? “Unclear. I'll try to connect again.”

Fuck. Why couldn't you have landed closer to the console?

“I'll need to go to evac point B.” He called over the sound of an explosion. “What's the best route?”

You cried out as you attempted to roll onto your side. “You'll.. you'll have to find cover and wait for me. I don't know the best- they've got bases at all sides I need to-”

“Cover?” He roared in disbelief.

“I can't presently give you the information you need.” You panted, psyching yourself up to roll again.

“Wh-are you okay?” The juxtaposition in his tone was almost laughable.

“Fine.” You grit your teeth and flop gracefully over. “The- the console’s ‘eing funny.”

He was silent for a few beats but did eventually speak, “radio silence ‘til I say.” Then the line was dead.

That was fine by you. Allowed you the opportunity to be as pathetic with your movements as possible. The console being no more than three meters away but felt as though it was three football stadiums.

You panted and cursed and yelled, sweat poured down your temples and mixed with your tears and spit.

It only occurred to you when you were a quarter of the way there that you could die here. You likely would. Bucky would be the last person you spoke to.

Now the radio silence was a curse.

You didn't want to die alone.

No.

No, you wouldn't die.

Not here.

Fuck them!

Fuck everyone!

You weren't going to die in this shithole.

You crawled slowly to the console with a quiet fire lighting the way. You were no quicker but were now fueled by spite.

Each stretch of your arm pulled at your side and then you had to drag your body forward which pinched it.

Your eyes scanned the floor and you sent a silent prayer to anyone that would listen: please don't let there be anything deadly on the ground. It was covered in glass, debris and mixed blood, there were bullet shells and open wires.

Your com crackled to life and you jumped, silently screaming at the tugging sensation.

“How's the console?” He whispered into your ear.

Within reach was the real answer. Fuck him. He knew. “Yeah, still here. Still being funny.” At least you could pronounce “being” correctly.

“Any news on the evac?” His tone was still hushed.

“Where are you?” You hauled yourself closer.

“In a tree.” The laugh that erupted from your gut was worth all the pain. “Shut up.” He warned but you could tell he was smiling.

You were now there. At the console. Fingers brushing the base.

But this was the hard part.

“Bear with me a sec.” You muttered as you hoisted your torso up. It took a few attempts but you eventually sat on your butt.

You were able to reach the old school com. They had it connected to bulky headphones and the mic didn't really work but you'd try. You have to.

Flipping whatever was in reach you eventually set the dial to the right frequency and begged.

“Ramirez? Connor? Hardy? Sillett? Boswell?” The line stayed dead after you repeated every name. You groaned, changing the frequency. “Coming in. SHIELD. We have a code 445. Need emergency evac at point B.”

Silence.

“Anything doll?” Bucky prompted.

“No.” Your eyes flickered across the console. There were bullet holes, old and new, some dials were present and others had missing knobs, only a few lights actually worked. It had been fine earlier, well no but it was usable! The fucker that got you must've shot at it as well. “Pretty sure it's dead.” You caught something. “Wait, mayb- I can try that.”

You pulled the chair you'd previously abandoned closer and attempted to use it to stand. The legs skidded across the floor and you went with it.

“Hey what's happening?” He asked after hearing you curse.

“Just shshsh.” You try again and instead of landing on your face you’re able to sit on the rickety chair. “I'm remembering morse code.”

“Mors- we're dead.” He let out a humorless laugh as you fiddled with the connections, it looked like it was the only working thing in this tower.

“You'll be alright.” You tapped the key forming a simple sentence and hoped to god the right person would hear. ‘SHIELD. URGENT EVAC B. SHIELD. URGENT EVAC B.’

You continuously tapped the message - zoning out from your surroundings out of boredom or blood loss - forgetting yourself but Bucky coughed and you were sucked back into the room. Back into the mission. “I think I s-saw some old maps earlier, I can try and help with t’ route.”

He let out a sigh. “How bad are you hit?”

Fuck. “Well it's no’ great.” Taaap. Tap. Tap.

“Any response?”

“Not presently.” Your eyelids were getting heavy now. It was difficult to keep them open. Why did you need them open? “There's always someone down in the dungeon, waiting for secret messages.”

He huffed in response. You were right, there usually was some poor bastard in the bunker listening for telegrams and mapping crop circles.

The weight of your eyelids had transferred to your forehead. Your neck struggled to keep it upright. It would be easier if you could just rest it, just place it delicately on the console, and then you can focus all your energy on the message.

“You could try north.” You muttered, fighting the internal battle to stay upright.

“North?”

“The bases are more spora’ic up north.” Cough. “More cover.” Tap. Tap. Tap. Taaap.

“Where are your coordinates?”

As if your brain could calculate that. “I do- I think west.” Tap. Tap.

That was weird. When he sighed you could feel it. You frown and raise your head.

Oh.

He was sitting next to you on your sofa. In your home. Wearing a black tee and gray tracksuit bottoms.

“I think I could get to you.” He nodded more to himself than you. “I'm sure of it.” His hair was clean and tied back with one of your old scrunchies.

“I don't see how.”

“I'm not leaving you behind.” He vowed, his hand covering your own. You knew realistically you were tapping your fingers on the key but his warm digits felt so real, so true.

“Just. Just distract me?” You couldn't add 'from my imminent death' but you could force a weak smile. “Please.”

“I don't know if I can.” His jaw set but you could see the debate in his eyes.

“Please Bucky.”

“I would've taken you dancing.” He looked as shocked as you felt when the words came out, but he eased into them. “If I met you in the 40s. I would've loved to take you dancing.”

That sounded amazing. Dancing with him.

“I wasn't amazing at the jive but I bet with you as a partner we'd be killer.”

“Cat's pajamas.” You must've blinked because he was now clean shaven and his hair was cropped, he wore a button down shirt and slacks. But he was still Bucky. Still your friend.

“Yeah.” He eagerly agreed. “We'd have met at Sal's, got a coke and you'd have decided to take me up on the dancing offer. Or we'd have gone to the fair. I loved the Ferris wheels.” His eyes left yours and he was lost in thought. “I don't think I'd like them any more.”

Heights.

He didn't like heights.

He dealt with them but he didn't like them.

You'd had many conversations about his fears, trying to help him cope with his new reality but he never quite got over heights.

“We could dance now.” You muttered to distract him. “We could find somewhere to danc’.”

“You'd wanna go dancing with me?” One eyebrow twitched and he had a coy smirk.

You let out a hum in affirmative before mumbling a very low, “always.”

“I don't know why I haven't thought to ask you. I-” He cut himself off. “You’ve always been the one. You're my partner in and out of missions. You're my best friend. Even when I was shitty and awful and I didn't want you to be. Yo- I'm only here because of you.” His blue eyes came back to you, and they were glittering. The whites, a vague pink color illuminating the blue even further.

You felt his hand on yours tighten but it was different. It was hard. Consistent. Like a heartbeat. Like-

“Bucky they responded!” You jolt up from the console and zoned in on the letters.

‘D. 3.20. M-E-E-T. U-P. P-O-I-N-T. C-O-N-F-I-R-M-E-D.’

“Bucky, get to number B!” You ordered. “They're coming. You have about 40 minutes.”

“What about you?” He hadn't moved. You knew he hadn't. He was far too stubborn. “Where is your location?”

“I'm in t’ tower.” The words came out slurred. Wow. You really hadn't realized how much energy staying alive took. Now your job was done, maybe you could rest.

“But the others checked- you can't still be in the same tower?”

“‘ingo.”

“That doesn't mak-”

“37 minutes.” You breathily corrected the earlier statement. “Now, 35.”

“Just-”

“Please.” Your voice was smaller than you hoped. “I don't want you to-” gulp. “-aswell. Please just be safe.”

“But they checked the tower. The last message was that it was empty!” He was climbing now, you could tell. His breathing had changed.

“‘aybe it wasn't ‘em.” If you could shrug you would've. “No r'ponse since.”

“I'm going to evac point B and then I'm coming with the jet to you.”

“Wha’ woul’ we have danced to?” The words were so jumbled and far too quiet but he understood.

“Anything you wanted, baby.”

You hum.

“Y/N?"

"Y/N!"

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N, a Deadpool variant, slides up to Daisy…

Y/N: hey gorgeous you seem stressed. what do you say you and me find a quiet place to help you decompress?

Daisy: Pool, you realize the risk right?

Y/N: what risk?

Daisy: if you give me too great of an O, I might kill you with my powers.

Y/N: if I died making you feel like you hit cloud nine, that would be a worthy death!

Daisy rolls her eyes and drags Y/N somewhere a little more private

For @scarletquake-n7

[captainsophiestark]

Exceptions

Grant Ward x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: The Bus kids are stuck at the Triskelion for a while since May and Coulson have a meeting with Fury, but Ward already has important plans that he can't cancel.

Word Count: 1,287

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: To the anon who sent me an idea outline for this, I hope you like it! It got merged with another idea I had, but hopefully, it's still pretty close to what you had in mind :) Thanks for continuing to read stuff for Grant Ward and enabling me to keep writing him- he's my fave, so I'm glad I have at least a few people to share the love with!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Skye's POV

"Alright. May and I will head into our meeting with Director Fury. We'll meet you back here when we're done."

I frowned at Coulson, glancing at FitzSimmons and Ward to see if any of them would say anything. As expected, FitzSimmons just looked at each other, and Ward nodded to Coulson like he'd known this was the plan from the beginning, which I super doubted.

"Okay... and what are we supposed to do in the meantime?" I asked, turning back to Coulson and asking the question that must've been on the rest of our minds. May was already halfway out of the room, and Coulson stopped mid-step to address my question. He smiled.

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

With that, he turned and headed off with May again. I watched him go for a few steps, then put my hands on my hips and turned back to the rest of my group with a sigh.

"Alright, we've been abandoned at one of the biggest SHIELD bases in the world. I probably know the least about this place out of all of us, so... how about you guys? Any ideas?"

I glanced at FitzSimmons, then looked right at Ward. He had his arms crossed, and he shook his head and took a step back the minute my gaze landed on him.

"I don't know what you all are going to do, but I have somewhere I need to be. I'll meet you back here when May and Coulson are done with their meeting. Try not to break anything until then."

With that, he turned on his heel and started marching away. I let him get a few steps, then turned to FitzSimmons.

"So we're gonna follow him, right?"

"Oh, of course."

"Absolutely."

****************

Y/N's POV

A took a slow, steady breath, then refocused on the sample in front of me. I'd been staring through the eyepiece of this microscope for what felt like an eterity, finally getting somewhere with samples I'd been working with for months. I'd been stuck at the Triskelion that whole time, in a lab with the loudest of the loud field and ops agents coming in and out, constant noise and business no matter where we went. All of that was about to be worth it.

The rest of the lab completely faded out around me, even as I scribbled notes without looking at the paper beside me. The handwriting wouldn't be good, but it would be decent enough that I could decipher it later, and it meant I didn't have to take my eyes off the results of the experiment in front of me for a single moment. I'd carefully built my corner of the lab into what it was, a sanctuary from the noise and chaos, the perfect place to tuck away and lose myself in my research.

At least, normally it was. Today, someone had apparently decided to venture into my corner, as a hand on my shoulder made me shoot out of my chair and almost gave me a heart attack.

"Sorry!" came the frantic voice of my best friend, Mandy. "I didn't mean to scare you! I swear, I said your name, like, three times while walking over here."

I put a hand to my chest, taking half a second to catch my breath before turning back to Mandy.

"It's okay. Honestly, I don't think anything could've shaken me out of my focus without scaring me like that. Did you need something?"

"Just wanted to give you a warning. One of the ops agents broke containment and just wandered into the lab. Figured it'd be better if I interrupted you than if he did."

I sighed, long and heavy, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Are you kidding me? How did one of them even get in here-"

I turned to see the man in question and stopped dead in my tracks. Grant Ward, my boyfriend, had just stepped into the lab. I grinned.

"Oh, actually, never mind Mandy. This one's the exception to the rest of the ops people."

"Wow, no kidding. I don't think I've seen you smile like that since your experiment at the Academy won our final projects presentation."

I rolled my eyes, but didn't bother with more than that as Mandy took her leave and Grant finally made his way over to me. His smile matched mine, the two of us bringing out sides of each other most people weren't lucky enough to see.

"You didn't tell me you were coming!" I said as Grant finally reached me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me tight to his chest. He leaned in to kiss me, and it lasted a few moments longer than I would've let him get away with in public if I hadn't missed him so much.

"I thought I'd make it a surprise. Our team got detoured here last minute for Coulson to have some meeting with Fury. Lucky for us, they didn't need me to be there."

"That is lucky," I agreed, the two of us sharing a smile again. Grant reached up and gently cuped my chin in his hand, pulling me back in for a sweeter, slower version of our earlier kiss. I sighed when he pulled back and settled onto the lab stool next to me, his thigh pressed against mine.

"So. Wanna tell me what you're working on?"

"Happily. But I don't want to spend all the time we have together in this lab, so don't let me get carried away-"

"Don't worry, we should have all of tonight and tomorrow morning, with a small exception in a few hours when I have to meet back up with my team. I thought I could keep you company while you finish up here, and then we could grab some dinner. I found a great restaurant in the city last time I had an undercover mission there, and it'll leave us plenty of time for you to tell me all about this project you're working on."

"Grant, that sounds perfect. How did I get so lucky with you?"

"Trust me, the feeling's mutual." We shared a smile, smaller and softer this time, but no less special. Then, Grant turned to the microscope in front of us. "So... I take it you're doing something with this?"

"Yes! I finally have interesting results to look at, so your visit was well-timed. Let me tell you about what you're seeing here..."

Grant leaned into the microsope, bracing one hand on my thigh as I put one arm around his shoulders and rubbed gentle cirlces there, narrating what he was seeing on the slide as I went. Within the lab, I'd gotten a bit of a reputation for liking my space while I worked. But Grant would always be the exception to that. I was on cloud nine that he was here, and I wasn't going to waste a single moment we had together.

****************

Skye's POV

"I've never seen him smile like that!" Simmons hissed.

"And he always complains about 'technobabble' when I say more than a few three-syllable words in a sentence!" Fitz agreed. I just huffed a laugh.

"Yeah, well, he's not kissing any of us either. I think that might have something to do with the change."

Fitz and Simmons scoffed right along with me, the three of us watching the scene in the Triskelion's lab for a few more moments before finally shaking it off and heading back into the hallway. Whether or not we found something else to occupy our time until May and Coulson were done with their meeting, we at least had something to tease Ward about for the rest of our lives, which I'd take as a win any day.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinitelyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

[autism-swagger]

I think one of the most heartbreaking things about season 5 is that we find out that time can, in fact, be changed, and that the future isn't set in stone, which means that Daisy could have succeeded in saving Charles Hinton in season 3, and that Lincoln didn't have to die.

[upat4amwiththemoon]

I love you

Summary: Two kinds of love.

Pairing: Daisy Johnson x female!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1623

a/n: friends to lovers trope! There are still tropes without characters :)

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore

masterlists | guidelines

“Hi, babe!” Y/N squeals as she walks into the communal area, finally back at the base with her teammates after a long mission. “I missed you so much, you don’t even understand.” She walks straight to Daisy, ignoring everyone else in the room.

“You’re home!” Daisy jumps up from the couch, abandoning the shooter game she was playing with Mack.

The two laugh as they pull each other into a big embrace. They’re acting as if no one else is in the room, which makes the others either roll their eyes playfully or share a knowing smirk amongst one another.

“How was the mission?” Daisy holds one of her hands on Y/N’s waist, not wanting to let go of her now that she is finally near.

Y/N shrugs with a small smile. “It was fine.” She is still wearing her suit, but she really wanted to see the others—Daisy to be more specific—before cleaning herself up. “May and I kicked their asses.” She punches the air while doing sound effects.

Jemma walks over to the duo, interrupting their giggling, “do the rest of get a hug or is it just Daisy?” She asks with a smile.

“Shut up.” Y/N pulls Jemma into a tight hug. “I missed all of you.”

“Equally?” Bobbi smirks, her brow raised, as she looks at the from the kitchen side of the room.

“Now, now,” she tilts her head, looking back at Bobbi with a grin, “lets not get too far ahead of ourselves.” Y/N turns to Daisy and kisses her cheek. “I’m going to get cleaned up. I love you!”

“I love you.” Daisy says after her while staring at her back as she walks away from the common room. She has a wide smile on her face even after she is gone.

Sitting back to the couch and picking up the console, she starts playing the game with Mack again. Jemma and Bobbi are in the kitchen area making dinner for the whole team.

“So,” Mack starts, keeping his eyes on the game, “when are you two going public?”

“Huh?” Daisy’s attention gets completely taken off the screen, which causes her character to die. Mack lets out a groan, but she pays no mind to it. “What do you mean?”

He looks at her with his brows raised. He is trying to see if Daisy is being serious. “With your relationship?”

“We’re just friends.”

Mack squints his eyes. “You expect me to believe that?”

“We are! I don’t know where you got the idea of us being together.” She mumbles, but there is an uncertainty to her voice. Is there something else between them? Seeing the conflict on her face, Mack decides to drop the subject and continue the game in silence.

Daisy paces around her room, brows scrunched up and lips raw from the force she is biting them. Her mind is all over the place. She doesn’t know what to think about the situation between her and Y/N. They’ve always been close, they hit it off instantly when they met, and ever since then, they’ve been practically inseparable.

She thinks over every interaction they’ve had during the years. She is trying to search how they could have made their relationship seem romantic without meaning to. Sure, they’re always attached by the hip, and have said they’d never be able to live without the other, going as far as promising they’ll have free reign over each other’s houses if they ever move out of the SHIELD base. But every best friend does these kind of things. It’s not abnormal for them to seek out physical contact with each other, or spend more time huddled together in one bed rather than sleeping in their own ones. Friends call each other cute pet names and say I love you multiple times a day.

Pausing, Daisy closes her eyes. She tries, she really tries to assure herself they’re just friends. That there are things all friends do.

But she doesn’t do these things with anyone else than Y/N. She doesn’t call Bobbi babe, or hold Jemma’s hand whenever they go outside, or sit impossibly close to Mack when they play games.

Y/N isn’t just a friend to her.

She really loves her.

Daisy goes out to the hallway, starting her quest of finding Y/N, so she can talk to her immediately. She peeks into few different rooms, all of them empty. She tries to rack her brain if Y/N mentioned having another mission, but she shouldn’t, not so soon after the last one.

Soon enough, she bumps into Jemma. “Do you know where Y/N is?”

Her eyes turns wide as she takes in the urgency in Daisy’s voice. “Last time I saw her she was going to the locker room, pretty sure she is about to go grocery shopping with Bobbi. Is everything okay?”

The question doesn’t get heard by Daisy, as she is already half across the hallway, practically running towards the locker room.

She barges into the room, scaring Y/N and making her drop the shirt she was about to put on. “Sorry!” Daisy turns around immediately when she notices the amount of bare skin visible, her cheeks flushing red, as if she has never seen Y/N naked before.

“Jesus, Dais.” Y/N lets out a breathe, calming down now that there is no immeasurable threat to fight. She picks up her shirt and pulls it on. “What’s going on?” Giggling quietly, she picks up her bag, slightly put off by Daisy’s behavior.

“Nothing.” She presses her eyes shut, cursing at herself for losing all of her composure in front of Y/N. “Just wanted to say hi, and…add stuff to the grocery list before you leave.”

“Okay.” Y/N stares at Daisy’s back, she still hasn’t turned back around. “What did you want to add?” Her voice is soft and her eyes study her friend as they start walking out of the room.

“Candy?”

The word comes out more of a question rather than a statement, which makes Y/N give Daisy a weirded out look. She hums, slowly nodding. “Pretty sure candy is already on the list.”

“Right, Hunter.” Daisy clears her throat. Of course, candy is already on the grocery list, it’s the first thing Hunter writes on it every time the empty shopping list appears on the fridge door.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, sorry, I think I’m just tired.” She lets out a forced laugh.

Y/N can see right through her, they both know this, but fortunately for Daisy, she decides to let it go. “Okay. Well, I have to go or Bobbi will leave with out me.” She gives her a playful roll of her eyes and a grin.

“I love you.” Daisy says as she stops walking.

“I love you too!” Y/N has a wide smile on her face while she continues making her way towards the door.

However, Daisy grabs her hand, not letting her leave. “No I-“ she hesitates, not sure if this is a good moment for a confession or if she really has the bravery to do it, “I love you.”

“Oh.” She stands there, furrowing her brows while she looks at Daisy, who is giving her a very peculiar look. Y/N’s mind works overtime as she tries to think why Daisy would have to repeat the sentence they’ve told each other multiple times be- “Oh.” Her eyes widen in recognition.

“Yeah.” Her voice is quiet.

The two stand there, looking at each other, Daisy’s hand still holding onto Y/N’s arm. Neither of them know what to think or to do in a situation like this. Daisy’s hands are shaking, and her heart feels like it’s beating out of her chest from the nervousness she is feeling.

“I think I feel the same.” Y/N whispers. She is looking at the ground, her brows furrowed together and lips slightly parted.

“Really?”

The way Daisy’s voice gets a pitch higher when it’s full of hope and happiness makes Y/N smile. She does love her. She always has, but she has never been brave enough to face those feelings. “Yeah.” She laughs, a sudden surge of giddiness overcoming her body.

Daisy pulls her closer by the arm she is holding, and smashes their lips together. The feeling is better either of them could’ve ever hoped for. Their bodies are melting together, like they’re meant to be, and maybe they are.

They pull away, breathless and smiling, still staying close to each other. “I think I want to do that again.” Daisy states, her eyes fluttering open when Y/N’s forehead meets hers.

“No one is stopping you.”

At that, Daisy pulls her back in, moving her arms to Y/N’s hips, holding onto them tightly so she’d never be able to get away.

“No PDA in the hallways!” Bobbi’s sudden loud voice makes the two jump away from each other. Their wide eyes meet Bobbi’s slightly disgusted ones, she is trying to shield her eyes with her hand. “Is it over?” When she hears quiet and embarrassed mumbles, Bobbi crosses her arms over her chest. “I am very happy you two finally decided to stop pining after each other, but we were supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago, Y/N.”

“Sorry.” She tilts her head to the side with a small smile. “I got, sidetracked.”

“I saw it.”

“I’ll see you later?” Y/N looks at Daisy.

“Yeah, my room.” She whispers so Bobbi won’t hear.

Y/N nods, kisses her cheek, and jogs over to Bobbi, finally ready to go grocery shopping. “I love you!”

“I love you too!”

[anika-ann]

Back and Forth - part 7

Part 7 - Step Forward

Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 15000 (cough-)

Chapter summary:  In which the heaviness of the past fall on you harder than before - but there might be someone more than willing to help you carry the weight.

Series masterlist

Warnings: deep-rooted issues with self-worth (result of shitty ‘parenting’), mentions of canon-typical violence and blood, unhealthy relationship with pain and one's self, language  feels and fluff ✨ Please, let me know any time if you think I missed any!

A/N: ALWAYS MIND THE WARNINGS; dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕; moodboard is for the vibes and does not necessarily reflect reader’s appearance

A/N2: hello, loves, thank you for your patience and enjoy the 15k worth of words. I'm afraid I have no advice as where to take break from reading. But stay hydrated and keep the tissues close. Enjoy ✨

Yesterday was a good day, you decided.

Hours had blended together and so it was rather difficult to draw sharp lines between days, even as there was no blessing such as forgetting a single minute of time spent in captivity due to your momentarily enhanced memory; but you had drawn a sharp line.

The gala, the kidnapping, the captivity and the rescue, that all had happened the day before; it might have as well happened in another dimension entirely.

On the other hand, waking up to Natasha and Steve, being visited by Daisy, who was picked up by Mack and May along with their greetings, a brief hello from Coulson, these happened yesterday. Way too much sleep, numerous check-ups and attempts at balancing your meds, finding out about the impending investigation of your mother, a therapy session, report writing and way too much sleep –those happened yesterday, but weren’t important.

Because yesterday was a good day.

Yesterday, giddiness filled you any moment you remembered Steve’s words: I just like you.

His warm smile.

The gentle touch of his hand.

Yesterday, a smile attacked your lips whenever you recalled his large hands holding up your face, tucking loose strands behind your ear, even if that memory was associated with pain and sweat and blood.

You’re being very brave, doll. I’m sorry, sweetheart.

I just like you.

See you soon, doll.

Yesterday, you giggled. You damn well giggled when the echo of his soft voice whispered the endearments to you so sweetly.

Sure, Daisy had a hand in that – she was just as giddy as you, probably even more so, with her eyes shining, so excited and happy for you. Her enthusiasm, despite carrying an air of naivety, was nothing short of contagious. You deserved a win, she said, and you believed her, accepted it as a fact for more than just a moment; and basking in the genuine warmth of hers, you didn’t feel guilty for being greedy, for thinking you deserved such a good thing to happen to you.

You didn’t feel bad for wanting, you didn’t feel bad for being so arrogant as to think you had a chance at not only happiness, but excellence, no matter how out of reach it usually appeared.

Yesterday, you were excited, because Steve said he would see you soon and he might as well have been saying ‘I’ll see you tomorrow’.

Today was the ‘tomorrow’.

And the feeling of glee and the butterflies in your stomach was replaced by a gaping hole filled with a cold coil of doubt, dread and, eventually, panic, as the sense of reality crept in and dug its nails straight into the edge of that hole and climbed out through your still open wounds.

The whole concept of yesterday was utter nonsense, which you should have known right away.

You had been taught better than to believe something as unplausible as this to be possible.

You felt like the stupidest person on Earth for entertaining the thought of this chance at happiness even for a moment.

Steve Rogers had said he liked you. Right.

Steve Rogers, Captain America, drop-dead gorgeous, annoyingly kind, utterly brilliant, absurdly stubborn and righteous and as close as humanly possible to perfect, had said he liked you. In romantic sense, unless your perception of other people’s emotion was entirely off; which surely was the case at times, but you did not believe that it was now.

The thing was, you did not have a single doubt in your mind that Steve had spoken the truth. He was one of those people who told no lie unless their life depended on it and maybe not even then, and he seemed so genuine in his care and interest in your well-being and youthat you would not only giggle with giddiness, but might actually weep.

However, the sudden source of anxiety curling in your stomach might as well be a gut feeling – an instinct you had been relying on ever since you had started at the academy and been told to listen to it at all times, because it was the most reliable tool an agent could ever gain, only improving with every single bit of experience gained. And it was very true, that; this very gut feeling had saved your life and the lives of others a hundred times.

The gut feeling was never wrong; even if it sometimes went against everything your purely rational thoughts whispered you to believe.

Today, the two – rationality and your gut feeling – came to a rare agreement.

Steve Rogers might have said he liked you, but there was no world in this universe in which that would be enough for him not to break your heart eventually. He wouldn’t want to and perhaps he would break his own in the process, because there was no world in which he’d intentionally harm another human being beyond actual physical fight with an enemy agent – but he would still do it.

And the reason for that was simple: Steve Rogers was too good to be true and despite that fact and against all laws of nature, he was true.

A guy like that was one in a million, if not in a billion. He was the impossible combination of kind, caring, fierce and handsome and had shoulders wide-enough to carry the weight of the world; but not even his shoulders were wide enough to carry a relationship based on mere, albeit genuine, care. Because that was what this was; care and lingering sense of compassion and belonging. You two had been through an extreme situation where the essential part of him, driving him to protect others, had been pushed into an overdrive and naturally, he had given in, dotting on you with utmost care and all gentleness he possessed.

And from his position as your superior, he might have approved of how you two had handled the situation. He might be riding on the sweet feeling of victory, even as you two hadn’t truly been the ones to deliver it. He might have been happy with your performance as an agent, as a colleague, even as it had been less than stellar. And there was no denying that you two had found a momentary understanding for each other in a situation that had left no other option, and it had served you as the sweetest relief, a calm shore in the raging sea of pain, fear and despair.

All that was true. And all that was bound to be temporary.

You had cared for him a long time before that, harboured feelings you shouldn’t have long before that. For him, it was much less than that: a feeling of affection having stemmed from crisis, lingering. A feeling that was about to run out of fuel soon enough.

And even if by some cosmic error it hadn’t been, you’d disappoint him eventually; an inevitable failure or even a mere misstep.

And a guy like him, almost the perfection incarnated, who could do so much better than that? He would turn his back to you then. He would get bored. He would have had explored the flare of passion, should you care for that term, and he’d realize that the spark had evaporated a long time ago. You’d be back to yelling and grunting and growling whenever you’d appear in each other’s immediate vicinity. Or maybe there’d be less of that; he’d be perfectly civil, but indifferent, acting like you two had never happened. Or, despite being the paragon of virtue he was, he’d push you away; probably into such elite position in SHIELD which would include zero interaction with him, making it look like an honour to you, while it would only serve to cover up for the fact he was simply looking for a way to kick you off the team to avoid you. Or perhaps the worst possibility of all – he’d stay with you out of pity despite not being happy, because Steve Rogers would never intentionally harm another human being beyond actual physical fight with an enemy agent.

And either of these scenarios would crush you.

When your therapist, whom you had had an appointment due to protocol, pried this information out of you long after you had exhausted the events of the mission, she expressed her compassion, confirmed your fears were valid and understandable, because she loved to do that, and warned you that you could become a self-fulfilling prophecy. To prevent that, she suggested more frequent sessions to help you deal and an extension of the session you were to share with Steve, because of course she did, and more importantly, she recommended you to talk about your feelings to Steve himself.

You nearly leaped for the door and ran despite the bullet holes in your thighs still closing.

Because that, that was not going to happen.

You weren’t sure how to handle with your predicament, but you knew that doing what she had suggested was not going to be it. You were not going to expose yourself even further than you already had, you were not going to show anyone, let alone Steve Rogers, any more of the mess you were; God knew he had seen more than enough for a lifetime and you were humiliated for just as long.

No.Telling him about these fears and doubts was certainly not an option. You would have to work out how to deal with what had happened yesterday and the day before and the night before, but revealing your raging emotions was not going to be the way – not if you wished to stay an Avenger and wanted to avoid pity and being labelled as insane and weak.

Yesterday was a good day.

Today was not.

And then Captain America strolled into your room with a cute bouquet of pink tulips, because of course he would guess you had a beef with roses, and with a slightly nervous smile on his lips, his arm still in a sling, because he healed on normal rate now since you had become the involuntary thief of his enhanced healing and--- your heart leaped to your throat, something ugly digging its nails into your stomach.

You smiled at him tightly, touched and irritated, because he was being his perfect self again, asking about how you felt and whether you had had a good time with Daisy and he smiled warmly when he said Coulson had talked to him; allegedly, he had been slightly star-struck still, wishing Steve an easy and early recovery, but had also warned him to take better care of one of his best agents and people he knew or else.

And you sat there, propped up on the bed, fisting the sheets and swallowing hard against the lump in your throat, painfully aware that you were staring at him, pretending that you didn’t feel the flutters of your heart over the gaping hole in your chest growing in size with every passing second. You should be able to appear calm and indifferent and goddamnit get a grip on your emotions or at least your reactions, but you seemed to lose all control over your body.

Because it was too much to handle even as it shouldn’t have been.

Because you could have this.

You could have this man for a while, this demi-god who, with only one fully functioning arm and actual gaping pain in his chest of his own, placed the flowers on your nightstand, moving effortlessly around the room and looked like he could lean to your face and kiss your cheek or forehead or do something else equally sweet any second.

But you were all to aware; you could only have this in some fever dream.

This scene didn’t only appear wrong because you had stolen his healing ability; this was you stealing someone else’s life.

This wasn’t how your life went.

You strived for excellence, but never succeeded. You didn’t catch an eye of people like him; and when you had, by some miracle, they didn’t stay. And Steve made for such an absurd sight; his beauty alone was blinding, and that was with a ghost of a prominent purple shiner on his right cheek, a cut above his brow and him otherwise injured, dressed in simple comfortable clothes; he had exchanged his hoodie and sweats for a henley and jeans. He was so infinitely good and handsome in his hesitance when he reached for a chair to pull up to your bed, stilling for a moment, his eyes finding yours.

“Can I?” he asked softly, a gentle furrow to his eyebrows, effectively confusing you by asking instead of questioning your silence.

“Of course,” you replied automatically, realizing that you had been, in fact, responding to whatever he had said, even if with a strained voice and in short.

Yeah, I’m better, thanks, the serum works wonders. How are you feeling? Is it time to switch?

Yeah, it was good to see her again.

Really? That’s nice of him…even if kinda rude.

Steve sat down, hands resting in his lap, observant gaze roaming your face, flickering to your own hands, following your line of sight as your own travelled to the flowers again and then reluctantly back to him.

He even brought you flowers. Really pretty flowers, one of your favourites, and he somehow managed to pick the right size of a bouquet for not seeming overbearing nor careless. Who the heck did that?

You noticed, however, that the blue of his irises lost some of its spark since the moment he had entered – and you hated it.

But that was barely a surprise, wasn’t it? You were acting strange, perhaps came off as hostile even. You were the kind of person who’d only dim him light more the longer he’d stay. It was no surprise he noticed your peculiar behaviour, and perhaps even the negative effect you had on his usual greatness. Of course he had noticed; he was a lot smarter than people gave him credit for, an unfortunate consequence of keeping people like Tony Stark, Bruce Banner or Natasha Romanoff for company.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said lowly, a sincere apology as he lightly beckoned with his chin to the vase of tulips – and you felt even worse than before for making him doubt his lovely gesture.

You gulped. “You didn’t.”

His creased eyebrows rose a fraction, along with one corner of his lips, an uncertain but telling smile, wordlessly calling your bluff.

It was a sweet image; your chest ached all the more for it, along with a flash of indignation and – as ashamed as you were for such an intense emotion – despair.

Just… why?

Why did he have to be like this? Why did he have to be so devastatingly handsome? Why did he have to be just so… perfect? You didn’t belong with perfect, you never could. You could have belonged with him in some alternate universe in which he was a handsome scumbag perhaps. Or an average-looking good guy. Or a handsome good guy, but at least dumb. Or even a handsome, smart and relatively-good guy, but completely unavailable; not looking at you like he wanted to tell you that you could tell him anything and he’d listen and he’d make everything right.

Your heart hammered in your ribcage almost painfully, pulse throbbing in your temples as your lips acted of their own volition.

“I’m just… I’m scared.”

Steve’s brows arched higher, but much to your surprise, he didn’t laugh; if anything, he pulled back a bit, as if he wanted to give you space.

That ass. He just had to be so scandalously considerate too, didn’t he?

Damn him. Damn him and his pretty eyes, wide with bewilderment, and that barely visible flash of hurt, which made you want to explain yourself even as admitting you were afraid in the first place was an insanity which you had not planned on participating in. What the hell was it with him and that anyway? You had never had a case of a loose tongue with anyone else, not even with him, not before that… stupid charity auction and all that followed it.

“…of me?”

Are you scared… of me?

“What—No!” you blurted out instantly, almost laughing at the absurdity of that idea. “No! Not at all, that’s-- I just-”

You physically bit your tongue, forcing your mouth shut with jaw so tight it ached, but it was for a good cause. Telling him was a terrible idea – you had concluded that already.

But then Steven Grant Rogers was a rare bird and he was also an incredibly annoying one; because once you had mentioned being afraid, you could almost see the metaphorical grip he had got on your words, unrelenting. He was not going to let an admission like that go. The unfairly soft but expectant look in his eyes told you so.

Oh damn you, Steven Grant.

Damn you, damn you, damn you.

Your thoughts were running hundred miles a minute and still, you had no idea what to say and how, not without sounding completely deranged.

“I just… you said you liked me.”

Even as you spoke the words, you wished you could somehow take them back and choose different ones; in a barely visible movement, Steve cocked his head to side, curious.

“Yes, I did,” he said, voice puzzled as much as his expression. “I do.”

You gulped, unsure how to respond to that, vainly searching in your mind once again.

There was no safe way out. Whatever you’d say, you’d only make it worse. If you hadn’t mentioned it at all, had you made literally anything up – though you doubted telling him you were afraid of the HYDRA doctor returning or another plausible thing would have made you look any less unstable – the words spoken yesterday might have been forgotten. But it was too late for that now; you couldn’t take it back. And you had no idea how to move forward.

And the flowers were so pretty.

Silence stretched for a few moments as you kept wondering, kept looking for the right words; but as it turned out, you didn’t have to.

A brief disappointment flashed on Steve’s face as he caught on – or caught on on enough – and then his expression returned to pleasant neutral.

It made you want to scream.

“I see. Well, I also said I’d never bring it up again if you just said the word,” he reminded you, voice absurdly, maddeningly soft.

It pissed you beyond belief; flames of undiluted rage and frustration licked up your fingers, gripping onto the already rumpled sheets.

Nothing but the tinniest hurt had showed in Steve’s expression and then it was gone. A mask, no matter how pleasant, was in its place, compassion almost, tender understanding even as he could understand nothing at all.

Fucking why? Why wasn’t he angry instead? Why wasn’t he letting you see it?

“I… meant that. I mean that,” he continued, the cerulean blue of his irises just a tinge sad, but kind. So irritatingly kind – because of course it was. He was a good guy, hell, he was the ultimate good guy, he couldn’t afford to look offended, or god forbid wounded. He had to keep face, because that who he was, people need someone strong to look up to, need a strong leader – he even told you that for god’s sake. No, nothing could touch him, because the troops needed someone to lean onto. Of course.

Then, naturally, there was another explanation.

An explanation that stung much worse than the idea that he simply wouldn’t let anyone see his true emotion: he had no hurt to hide whatsoever. You had been right about his past words being but a lingering flare of sentiment. And now, with you backing off, you actually offered him the out he needed, the out he perhaps wouldn’t have found the will to create himself in fear of hurting you. He had realized what you knew too – that his interest was a simple consequence of a stressful situation you had handled together.

But that was what you wanted, wasn’t it? You predicted it and you got it. Not a self-fulfilling prophecy – just a prophecy. Maybe the artifact had given you the gift of divine foresight as a bonus. You wished that it hadn’t; because for some stupid reason, having those silly hopes of having him – hopes you hadn’t suffocated soon enough – crushed, that really fucking hurt.

“I promise it doesn’t change anything. You won’t bear any consequences. I won’t treat you any worse for it,” Steve added, reassuringly – or at least he had probably meant for it to sound as such.

It had the opposite effect.

Treat you any worse?

Of course he wouldn’t. He would never. And you were such great friends to begin with, weren’t you?

The sardonic chuckle escaped you before you could stop it, causing Steve’s gaze to snap up from where your hands were gripping the sheets, confusion and slight offence – at last – lacing his expression. Your satisfaction at seeing that however, mixed with guilt for making it so.

“Sorry. I mean… I just--- that’s it, isn’t it? There’s not that much potential for it to get worse,”you spat that word, malice slipping into your voice even as you tried to swallow as soon as you tasted its bitterness on your tongue. He didn’t deserve that; this was your hurt and your problem. All he had done wrong was having a little unfortunate hand when choosing his words. And looking utterly perplexed now. “We don’t really know each other, never talked much. When we did, we argued, pretty much every time, so… you know. Not much potential. Going separate ways is probably for the best.”

A beat of silence. Second ticking by without as much as an exhale.

Yet, the air shifted ever so subtly, but dramatically.

That.

That was it.

Whatever you had mentioned did it and despite the punch to your stomach that seeing Steve’s face distorted with distress felt like, it also hummed of satisfaction. Anger. He was finally angry with you, like he was supposed to.

His jaw tensed, eyes hardening, as did his voice, even if it spoke of an insult you didn’t quite understand.

“I like to think that at least some of those fights stemmed from misunderstandings and lack of will to see each other’s perspective. Which, I believe, is something we started to work on yesterday, and the day before. I think we were communicating just fine during the auction too, and we handled what followed just as well, don’t you?” he argued, a hint of what was a distinctly Captain voice – one you knew all too well, because he had been using it when talking to you more often than with anyone else – taking over.

Your next words – and frankly, you were unsure what they would be – died on your lips.

Well.

It was safe to say you hadn’t expected this when seeing his indignation rise.

Obviously, you hadn’t planned on telling him any of this in the first place, but a part of you knew that had you imagined telling him this, in your mind he wouldn’t have… protested against you parting ways being for the better. He would have rather agreed in a hard collected voice, if for nothing else, than for keeping the stability of team.

But he did protest.

Of course he did.

After all, you two were in opposition more than often, weren’t you?

You swallowed against the large lump that had grown in your throat, your pulse thundering in your ears. Steve’s frown was far from concerned now and you instantly kicked the fraction of your heart that whispered of missing his tenderness to shut the hell up.

Steve appeared as if he was hiding the fact that he was beyond angry and Captain-level disappointed in you.

That was supposed to be a victory of yours of sorts – proving your point.

Because you had known that was coming eventually, hadn’t you? It just came a lot sooner; you had sped it up by slipping and made for it to arrive right away. And that was a good thing, wasn’t it? Because now, it came before you could actually tangle with him enough to make it hurt more later, when he’d leave after having you truly believe that you could somehow, by some cosmic flaw, be worthy of him.

So why did you feel nauseous and weak and like you might start crying? You were a grown-ass woman and you were one of the top agents this country had, an agent who had, no matter how barely, made it to the Avengers Initiative. This shouldn’t affect you, especially since you had known it was coming.

But here you were, desperately trying to gather your scattered thoughts and rendered mute. And your boss, Captain Steven Grant Rogers, was waiting for your response, challenge written all over his expression.

You gulped, sticking your chin up to regain some resemblance of posture and scraps of dignity. You even managed to make your lips not tremble, perhaps even smile a polite and pleasantly neutral smile, as you set off to explain your perspective.

Because this was a rational discussion, an exchange of perspectives Steve had mentioned. This was what your purely rational thoughts and your field-experience gut feeling told you and you should stand by it. Right?

“I suppose. But… well, it’s been pretty intense, hasn’t it? It was… what happened was a forced bonding experience, emotions flew high. I just… know from experience that those tend to settle sooner or later, tend to revert… to its original state.”

It would be almost comical, the perplexion on your Captain’s – just Captain’s – face, if it wasn’t accompanied by his frown hardening, him straightening in the chair, shoulders squaring despite his injuries, his gaze turning piercing.

It would be comical if it only didn’t feel like a stab straight between your ribs, because you had seen expressions so much softer on his stupidly handsome face and they had even been directed at you. Before; and that was long, long gone.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded stiffly, shaking your wobbly mask of confidence.

“I- I mean-…“

He watched you as you found yourself at loss for words all of sudden; expectant, eyes practically drilling into your skull now as you scrambled for words.

“What did you mean by that?” he repeated, defensive.

He wasn’t shouting, didn’t even raise his voice; but the lump in your throat grew suffocating anyway, all alarm bells ringing in your head as that one single emotion of his had crystalized so clear in his expression. Disappointment.

You could not afford having the Captain, your direct superior, so thoroughly disappointed in you.

Fix that. You had to fix that right now, had to get your head down and keep it there, crawl if necessary, because you were toeing the line. The line of being dismissed. The line of getting fired.

And that was not an option.

“I mean… what I mean by that is that I understand people are influenced by intense emotions and… when the dust settles, they can… change their mind,” you explained clumsily, ashamed of how meek your voice had suddenly become – but you couldn’t help it. You had to show remorse. Not for earning pity, but to show willingness to learn from your apparent mistake; it would not save you, but it might salvage a faint image of your determination and skill.

You looked up from your lap carefully; and instantly snapped your gaze back. Steve’s frown disappeared as if you had snapped your fingers, sudden understanding written all over his face instead, clear as day.

But it brought you no relief.

“You think that I said I liked you only… out of some adrenalin-fuelled impulse? Is that it?”

A layer of ice ten inches thick covered his deceivingly calm voice and yet, this time you could hear the hurt in it; the bitter chuckle that followed his words cut into your stomach, screaming how absurd he thought that your idea of what his motivations were was.

Absurd. Stupid. He thought you were stup-

“No!” you blurted out, despite thinking, knowing, meaning, exactly that. “I mean… yes--- I-- don’t know, I just-“

Steve scoffed. Peripherally, you saw him shaking his head, running his fingers through his hair and shaking his head again.

You had never felt so small, not in any of your previous fights – and that was saying something, an ice-cold shiver running down your spine, sweat beading on your burning skin.

Fix that.

“I’m so sorry, St— I’m sorry, Captain Rogers.”

He winced. He actually winced, you saw as much when your gaze flickered up to show the sincerity of your apology. The smile he gave you in return was tight, hard and unforgiving.

Not that you’d deserve forgiveness, would you?

“Well, so am I.”

He spoke the words just as he rose to his feet, his gaze betraying him and flickering to the vase with the gorgeous tulips he had set up. They now felt like an insult on their own.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated pathetically, feeling the tell-tale burn of tears in your eyes.

And god, were you pathetic. Steve had just shown a flicker of emotions he actually felt, just as you had asked him back at the HYDRA base; and now that he had, you wished he hadn’t. Because he was hurt by your assumptions, hell, perhaps by your rejection as well, at least to a point.

He was hurt and you were the one to blame it on.

You hadn’t meant to hurt him. You just didn’t want to get hurt either. You wanted to save you both from inevitable heartache that was to come. Was that really so wrong of you?

Steve took a deep breath, releasing it slowly; you remembered the terrible pain he had to suffer from his spectral injury and you felt like you might actually throw up. That was on you too. Because that was your messy powers to deal with, not his.

“I should go, let you rest. I do hope you’ll feel better soon,” Steve said, almost on autopilot, but once again, so annoyingly sincere in his well-wishes you wanted to yell at him and shake his shoulders. Why couldn’t he just really be angry with you? It was clear you had touched a nerve, you very obviously wounded him, but there he was, as close to stoic as possible, and generously wishing you well.

A part of you – one that you were deeply ashamed of – quite literally wanted to crawl from the bed to grip at whatever part of his body and beg him to snap at you again even as it was simultaneously the last thing you wanted him to do.

Tell me you hate me. Tell me you think I’m stupid, that I’m evil, a bitch. Show me you are fucking angry, show me you feel something, even if it’s hate, you wanted to shout or whisper or rasp. Anything.

But you had some remnants of dignity left and a position on the team to maintain. So you didn’t do any of that.

Instead, you reciprocated in a whisper: “You too. And I… I really am sorry.”

Steve’s smile, while still tight-lipped, turned softer despite his jaw strung so tight it might cut glass.

“Don’t be. I am glad we cleared it up. I made a promise and I will keep it,” he declared lowly before he sighed and turned to the door, adding in a barely audible voice: “I hope you can trust me to do that at least.”

It was always that last straw that broke camel’s back, wasn’t it?

His barely-there whisper, one you likely weren’t meant to hear, because normal human ears probably wouldn’t – and it broke the dam you had so feebly tried to keep together. The tears sprung from your eyes, a rush of shame, desperation and anger bubbling to the surface, making your voice creak as your cried out.

“Goddammit, Steve, I trust you with my LIFE!”

At the sound of your distress, his head snapped back at you – because of course it fucking did, the caring asshole of a Captain – looking over his shoulder. His carefully crafted facade crumbled a fraction at the sight of your tears, his words slow and quiet.

“But not that I know how I feel?” he asked lowly. “Don’t trust me enough to-”

“I don’t trust myself, okay?!” you cried out, spilling the one truth that no one, no one was supposed to know. He turned to you fully, two surprised blinks of the sea of blue you could drown in; but you were drowning in your own tears instead, words spilling from your lips before you could stop them in between your heavy hitchy breaths, someone seemingly having sucked all air from the room. “I don’t trust myself to--- to keep you interested, not to bore you—to disappoint you somehow within a goddamn month! Because I never can-- I can never keep it up! I don’t trust myself to--  They always leave, everyone does--- sooner or later, because I’m never enough for any-- fuck.”

You choked on the last word, hand slapping over your mouth, forcefully suffocating any other words that might spill out at any cost. You had to stop this very fucking second.

Because Steve stared at you, rendered speechless.

You could only withstand the intensity of his gaze for few moments, before you buried your face in your hands, embarrassment enveloping you like a straitjacket filled with itchy powder; a fabric that trapped you without a chance of escape, but with tears drenching your face, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to judgement. An acute sensation of needing to crawl out of your skin tied your hands and your tongue alike.

You bit your tongue to keep the sob bubbling in your throat inside, humiliated enough for a hundred lifetimes; and all the more when it struck you over and over that hiding your face was so incredibly childish – your companion, your superior, had already witnessed your hysteria and could still see you.

And boy had he seen more than enough.

God, what you had been thinking – you hadn’t been,that was the problem – springing all that on him, crying in front of him--- You needed to pull yourself together, you had to do that right this goddamn second, or he really was going to mark you as mentally unstable and kick you out of the team. And hey, Coulson was still nearby perhaps, they could just seat you on a plane and-

“It’s not fair to judge me based on your past experience, no matter how bad,” Steve whispered tightly, interrupting your train of thought, and the sob you had tried to stifle so hard clawed its way out pathetically, a lovechild of a sardonic laugh and a wail.

He was right. Of course he was right. But that wasn’t what you were doing. It wasn’t that, it wasn’t--- alright, it was that too, but mainly it was your gut feeling, it was what kept you alive-

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m scared. I know it’s not fair, but… what you said, I--- you like me? It’s--- it’s too unreal. It’s too fast. It’s-“ you were mumbling, probably incomprehensible, so you dropped your hands, daring to glance at him through your tears, glad you couldn’t quite decipher his expression. You chuckled bitterly – why were you still talking, what was it about this damn man that made you so unacceptably, unforgivingly and most of all brutally honest? He had already heard more than enough and yet you seemed unable to shut the hell up. “Come on, you gotta know that half of the reason why I always react to you the way I do is ‘cause you’re pretty much perfect-“

Did he just grind his teeth loud enough for you to hear-?

“-and I’m not. I know that in my goddamn bones. I always fuck up. I try my best, but my best is so damn far from perfect, case on fucking point- and I’m just scared even though I know I shouldn’t be scared of anything. I’m scared that as fast as we went from--- from yelling at each other and clashing to… to you bringing one of my favourite if not the most favourite flowers and all your damn sweetness and more respect than I deserve, your goddamn thoughtfulness-“

You gestured to the tulips and him, respectively, with both hands, because damn was he too large to encompass with a gesture of a single hand.

“And we’ll switch back to that--- that antagonism again, or dull indifference just as fast and-“ You gulped, catching your breath, staring at your comforter because you couldn’t admit that when facing him, not even with whatever magical truth serum his presence was, your voice falling quiet-

“-and it will devastate me.”

It will devastate me, because getting a taste of true happiness beyond the one born out of solid work and then losing it… it will kill me. It’s addictive – I know it is. Just like life without pain. And going back to normal will truly, irreparably devastate me.

Heavy silence settled over the room. Even without looking at Steve, you could feel the weight of his judgement and shock. With a wavering sigh, you hid your face in your hands again, squeezing your eyes shut, licking your lips; they seemed dry as sandpaper in contrast to your drenched cheeks.

“I’m truly sorry. About… that, springing all that on you and this—whatever pathetic shit it is,” you croaked, chuckling humourlessly, finding yourself actually too drained to feel as horrified as you should. Polite. You had to gather strength to be politeat least. “Could you--- could you please leave me alone? You should rest too. You’re more like a normal human now, you need time to hea-- that’s--- I’m sorry, that’s none of my business, I-- Captain.”

The lump in your throat had grown to such size there was no space for air to go in and out. Your throat working against it as you swallowed was the only movement of the statue you had become – hoping and praying your Captain to take the hint, pricking up your hearing to know the exact second the door would shut behind him so you could break further, alone.

A shaky inhale. A wavering exhale.

Silence.

A sigh.

Two steps; approaching, not retreating.

A scrape of the chair.

A gentle whisper of your name.

Your hands dropped, a feeble flicker of anger in your chest. You had literally just asked him to leave.

Yes, you had hurt him; yes, you had thrown a fit that would have probably had you hospitalized in a mental institution had you not had medication to blame it on, but did this have to the part where Steven Grant goddamn Rogers decided to be defiant? Couldn’t he have been considerate now, considerate enough to oblige you request to leave you in your laughable state of disintegration?

You attempted to shoot him an unimpressed glare, an uncompromising expression telling him to get the hell out.

It crumbled the second you saw him leaning forward on his healthy elbow propped on his thigh, soft, soft gaze roaming your damp blotchy face and no doubt red eyes. God, you had to look like a mess and he should not see you like this, no one should ever, ever see you like this—

Evading his painfully seeing gaze, you searched for the box of tissues; only to be handed it by him as if to accentuate your humiliation.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry-“

Steve repeated your name calmly, no doubt grimacing when you blew your nose loud and tried to clean your face a bit, probably failing. You inhaled shakily, then exhaled, in and out, licking your lips before you gathered enough courage to look up for at least for a moment.

Why the hell was he still here? Had he texted a mental hospital when you hadn’t been looking, making it his mission to guard you until they arrived? That would have been entirely legitimate thing to do, you were aware of that.

Once you met his eye, he held your gaze firmly, leaving no escape; you had no idea how he did that or how to free yourself. There was just something about this man, you swore-

“Let me clear one thing up. You are everything but pathetic,” Steve said slowly, emphasis on every syllable, practically spitting the last word.

“Really fucking debatable,” you muttered under your breath, wiping your nose again as if to unintentionally prove your point.

But thank god, at least you managed to stop more tears from spilling.

“No, it’s really fucking not,” Steve mimicked your words and it should feel insulting, but for some reason, it made your belly flutter a bit and your heart do a funny flipflop, because you were quite sure you had heard him drop but one F-bomb before despite the fact he had earned the right to curse incessantly with everything he had been through. “Captain’s orders. But now, I need you to clear one thing for me. Really clear it up this time, please.”

You felt bone tired all of sudden; which meant you felt like clearing up nothing. But he was your Captain. And he was, for some inexplicable reason, endlessly patient and even said ‘please’, so you’d answer anything, because there was nothing left to hide anymore. You had already revealed the darkest, ugliest parts of you, leaving you completely naked even as you sat here dressed in a hospital gown and under a thick comforter,.

You sighed, folding your hands in your lap, reciprocating his gaze in a lame attempt at bravery.

“And what’s that, CaptainRogers?”

To his credit, this time he barely moved at you addressing him in that manner; the intense sincere gaze on your tear-soaked face didn’t falter, his irises the most beautiful blue with a light speckle of green you had ever seen; a safe calm sea enveloping you sweetly and seeing right through you clearer and clearer the deeper you sank into it.

“Do you like me?”

All feigned bravery gone, you closed your eyes.

It figured he would ask that; it made sense. You didn’t remember every word of your outburst – well, you probably did, but didn’t wantto look back at it – but you assumed it was painfully clear from what you had word-vomited all over him that that might be the case. That you did very much liked him indeed.

There was no point in denying how you felt, was it? Steve was a smart man, brilliant even; even with the ambiguity of your behaviour, he had figured out the truth already. He was truly only asking for clarification; which was fair, because god knew that besides being hysterical, you had also been sending quite mixed signals.

His question was ridiculously worded, too, like one of a first grader to another, but you assumed that was what you deserved after having thrown a tantrum like a child indeed; and simplicity often carried the most power of all. A single word could break hearts or mend them; it could decide the fate of empires, have them burn to the ground or forge alliances to rebuild them.

A single word could mean the difference between life and death; a single word, and the course of a life could drastically change.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes when you whispered one word just like that, knowing it might change everything.

“…yes.”

A hitch of a breath.

A beat of silence.

A rustle of fabric and faint creak of a chair; he must have shifted in his position, but you refused to check.

“Well… as far as rapid changes go, that’s one for me. A really fast U-turn at that,” Steve said, contemplative – with the faintest hints of non-ill-intended teasing.

You opened your eyes slowly, fully aware of him not having said that he liked you back – but you did not think you’d deserve as much. Not to mention that he had already said so yesterday. Yesterday had been a good day.

Gulping, with your heart racing, you met his gaze again, moved by what you found; his gaze was warm and open and generously nonjudgemental. Hopeful even – and perhaps a little teary too.

Drowning in the sea of blue again, the words were slipping from your lips before you could think twice.

“Not to me.”

There’s nothing new to me about that.

I told myself I hate you. I often acted like I did, but I don’t. I like you. I’ve always liked you. I’ve always liked you and knew I could never compare. I admire you for all you are, I… like you for it. So much that it’s suffocating me.

As your admission brought a lovely smile to Steve’s lips, you were glad you didn’t share the rest of your thoughts.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that, since I feel the same,” he whispered tenderly, almost shyly, before his voice gained its firmness again – one of a leader, a fair one, a kind one. I just like you. “So… to sum up, despite what we believed we thought about each other, we discovered that we actually like each other. That… makes me very happy, but it doesn’t mean we have to-- it doesn’t mean we can’t take it slow.”

Your heart skipped a beat, painfully so, as if it got punched, and then broke into a mad race; your breath hitched, a single stunned word escaping you.

“What?”

The way your voice wavered was incredibly awkward, you were aware – but what?!

“If your concern is about things going too fast and burning out just as fast… then we can make sure to start by building a stronger foundation and take it slow. With no schedule or expectations,” Steve continued with patience you were sure you did not deserve, but with every word, you were only growing more and more confused.

You blinked, trying and failing to process his words. Words that made something very, very warm and fuzzy grow in your chest, your eyes beginning to burn with fresh tears.

It was safe to say that going too fast was not your only concern – but it was the one you admitted to and damn well meant it. And Steve, bless his heart, instantly rolled with the punch, taking it into consideration, because he--- he genuinely seemed to want to make this, whatever it was, work.

It was certainly true that if you walked into the relationship, so to speak, instead of rushing in like fools – if you got the feel of each other in immediate proximity, saw how you worked first, instead of jumping in head first only to find out that you didn’t work all that well – you might end up landing softer instead of meeting a brutal crash and burn. You knew you’d fall for Steve deeper either way, the occupational hazard of being in his vicinity with no intentionally built wall of forced contempt, but it would feel safer.

It was something you’d be much more willing to risk; there was absolutely no denying that and you had to bite your tongue as not to yell an immediate naïve yes.

Because it sounded like a whole lot of work. A lot more effort than Steve should have to put in, with women quite literally lining up to win over his heart, all of them offering him to share love a hundred times easier than this.

And yet, this infuriatingly gorgeous man was watching you patiently, appearing as if putting in that work didn’t bother him at all – and you wouldn’t be as crass as to question whether he realized his options, because you knew he was too intelligent not to. It felt like a conscious and entirely informed decision.

Which made no damn sense.

“You… wouldn’t mind that,” you stated more than asked, internally cringing at your choice of words.

“No. In fact, it might be a good idea, because I do see your point. We don’t know each other that well even as I feel I know quite enough, we didn’t interact outside of our job, so… let’s start there,” Steve suggested as if it was. Not. A. Big. Deal.

As if you weren’t negotiating term of a potential relationship but talked about where to go for lunch.

Except his intent and tender gaze told you he was all too aware of the gravity of his proposal – and that it mattered to him.  And it sure as hell mattered to you.  The fact he was still sitting there instead of shutting the door behind him as he would have stormed off mattered most of it all, telling you already that if there would be an eventual crash and burn, it certainly wouldn’t be on him. He had to know that too.

And yet he was still here, suggesting this.

That feeling in your chest was rapidly expanding and you had no idea how to stop it and whether you wanted to stop it in the first place.

“…as in, let’s try to become… friends, is what you’re saying.”

Steve shrugged lightly, one corner of his lips rising a tad higher; adorably so. “Sure, we can call it that. Or something else, or nothing at all. Just… let’s try get to know each other better.”

“Just like that?” you questioned, still stunned.

“Yes.”

“You-… you’d want that.”

“Yes.”

“But-” He tilted his head, almost looking as if he wanted to scold you for your continued protests which only undermined you, but he stopped himself last minute, giving you a gentle teasing smile instead, as to encourage you to talk about what you genuinely could not wrap your mind around. “I just—I mean… I disappointed you already. You’re rightfully angry – or were at least. I hurt you, just now.”

You felt like a child learning about adult matters for the first time and probably looked that too – but it was simply such an ungraspable concept you couldn’t seem to help it. Especially since Steve was everything but condescending about it and you would be worse than a half-wit not to use that opportunity.

“True. A little,” he admitted and while it stung to hear it, you couldn’t say you weren’t grateful for him not denying it and thus not making you feel like an idiot any more than necessary. “But like I said, I do see your point. I might not entirely agree, but you’re right in one thing for sure. You might trust me with your life – your words not mine, as much as I cherish them –, and I trust you with mine, but this… this requires a different kind of trust. So let’s try to build it and see how it turns out.”

Let’s try to build it and see how it turns out.

Just like that.

You were rendered entirely speechless.

Your lower lip was a second from wobbling and you bit your cheek in hopes to stop it, but there was no stopping the rapid acceleration of your heart; at this point, it galloped faster than in a middle of a taxing mission.

Because you might need to have Steve’s suggestions explained to you as if you were a child, but you had more wits than that. By offering to do this, Steve was putting his own feelings into jeopardy too; to offer this, he really had to have some feelings for you – for some insane reason – and he was risking them growing when entering this arrangement. He was risking he’d get burned too.

And to do that, he had to believe you were worth it.

And goddamn if that didn’t make you barely swallow your tears as it became harder and harder to breathe. It shouldn’t have stunned you, you supposed – not with the words he had spoken before, even if back in the cell, it would have been easy to dismiss the words as a soothing lie instead of the truth.

‘It was never my intention to make you feel like anything less than absolutely incredible. What I actually believe is that you are that and more,’ he had said.

He meant it. He truly did.

Now, he must have mistaken your silence for hesitance, because he carefully spoke up again.

“That is, of course, if that’s something you’d li-“

“Yes! …yes,” you repeated, softer this time. Still, your mind was racing as fast as your heart, in uncontrollable overdrive. “I’d really like that, but… but that doesn’t seem fair to you.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged, features relaxing; he understood he had convinced you to try. He understood you agreed, but he was, as it seemed to be a constant in the past two days, interested in your perspective still.

“How so?”

“What if-” you started off, instantly earning a raised eyebrow. And you got his point, seeing no point in wallowing in what ifs – but he hadn’t heard what you had to say yet. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if we start… building that trust, be--- friends, and it turns out there’s nothing else waiting down the line? You’d waste your time and energy for nothing.”

Worse; you’d waste it on me.

It seemed Steve heard the unspoken too, judging by a small frown appearing on his face, not approving.  But he was prepared – probably because it had taken you forever to put your thoughts into words.

“How is that a waste?” he questioned, not expecting an answer. “Do you consider getting to know me and becoming friends a waste of time then?”

You shot him an ugly, ugly look for hitting the nail on the head, because well, of course you didn’t – and he grinned boyishly, clearly having received your answer loud and clear.

You wished you were as brave and as strong as him – as big of a person. It felt like such a stark contrast, his behaviour and composition and yours. You had made a scene, you had insulted him and made him angry, you had hurt him.

And yet here he was, not only offering an alternative, genuine care and compassion and understanding, but himself too. He was willing to go slow for you. Build a friendship, build trust. For you. And it didn’t feel like the dynamics of the team was the thing he cared about the most. For some reason, it truly seemed to be about you. And him.

How could you measure up to that? a voice in the back of your head asked, a nasty bite to your conscience; but Steve was looking at you as if you already had. And you wanted to prove him right. For him and yourself.

You allowed yourself a brief reprieve before composing yourself, and let all your feelings wash over you, allowing yourself to feel them.

You granted yourself the dangerous luxury of fully entertaining the thought, of believing Steve didn’t give a damn about those women lining up, because he was genuinely interested in you, even if it meant putting in the work from the start. And that while the past two days have contributed to that, it seemed he had harboured certain feeling for longer.

And when you tried your damnest to apply that optics on his past actions, it was nothing short of mind-blowing how it could all actually make sense.

The fact he worried about your safety and well-being possibly being the reason why he had had trouble controlling his frustration around you, when you massively prioritized the mission objective to considering your own safety. He simply wouldn’t want you to get hurt.

The fact you had called him out on being a hypocrite only fuelling his anger, but the feelings he might have struggled with being the match to gasoline, contradiction of, on one hand agreeing, with you – he was barely someone not risking his life in name of protecting others – and on the other hand, utterly hating seeing you do the same. The feelings that got in the way, leading him to yell at you, even when you did what many of his friends did on daily basis and him seemingly appreciating it in them.

The way his eyes had lingered on you in the quinjet the night of the charity auction. The bold thought it might have not been strictly mission-related, might not have been memorising the dress which would have taken him a split second to do with his enhanced memory. Just maybe, maybe appreciating the sight of you, his compliment reaching beyond professional courtesy.

His behaviour the whole night perhaps being beyond what he considered being civil, being a gentleman, beyond trying to put out the dumpster fire the team dynamics became when you clashed with him. That it might, just might be him taking the opportunity to smoothen things out and make the most of the night in the sense of building a base for something not only much more amicable, but even something beautiful and fragile.

His soft, careful touch, a little tremble to his hands when he had taken care of you back in that base, nerves and fear and reassuring, affectionate and entirely unnecessary touches to comfort you rather than treat your wounds.

Entertaining all these thoughts was dizzying. It felt like walking on the ledge twenty stories high. And you were terrified of the fall.

It wasn't that the idea of a man being interested in you was a foreign concept; Steve would hardly be the first one. You weren't stupid enough to believe men never found your line of work or your appearance attractive; but entertaining the idea of Steve being that man to truly want you, even as it seemed more plausible by the minute... that did feel like you were balancing on your tiptoes on that ledge, just to tempt fate.

But what you had agreed to try, that felt like Steve standing on that ledge with you, just as prone to slipping and falling as you. He had given you power. You could easily push him off that ledge, throw it back to his face, try to turn that vulnerability he had shown against him, through HR if nothing else, twist it into some sort of unwanted advances, even as it was the farthest things from what he was doing or what you wanted to do.

And as he stood all the way up there with you, he was holding your hand. He was there and you knew he would strap you into a parachute himself to keep you safe even if he didn’t have one himself in case you were to fall; he'd dive right after you to save you without wearing any protective gear himself, just to take the brunt of impact, because that was who he was, on the battlefield or outside of it, because that was the standard he held himself against. This was how he lived and already died once.

You two were talking about building trust; but the truth was that deep down, maybe you knew you could put that trust in him already, and it wasn’t just about keeping you safe during missions.

You were kidding yourself when you spoke of nothing waiting down the line; whether you liked it or not, you were already falling for him, already had, because there was no other way with this gorgeous bastard.  

“Well… I’d like that very much then,” you choked out at last, Steve’s smile shining all the brighter for that.  “But I really am sorry I hurt you.”

He made a noncommittal sound. “I’ve had worse.”

Like getting shot in the chest?

Being leaned forward to you like that had to hurt like hell – but you hadn’t realized it until now. He was very good at hiding his pain, but you supposed that didn’t really surprise you.

He had been good at hiding a lot of things, apparently.

“Still sorry.”

“And I appreciate it.”

His smile remained genuine and warm as he said so, even as comfortable silence settled after that. It reminded you of the way he had introduced you during the function – and damn if that didn’t feel like it had happened at least a week ago – full of pride and faith. Like he believed without an ounce of doubt that you were able to do anything you’d put your mind to. And it helped you remind yourself that there had been rare times when you had believed that to.

The sudden urge to repay him, to reciprocate the kindness he was more than worthy of, to be as good as he was – the best possible version of yourself at least – had you blurting out the words before you could think twice.

“Is there anything I can do to make up for it?” you asked, instantly wincing at the overenthusiastic tone, the stupidity of the question and its – genuinely unintended – sexual subtext. “Sorry, that was a stupid question, I don’t know what I was-”

“Actually, there is,” he interjected, your eyebrows arching in surprise, heart skipping a startled beat. “You could finally join us for a board game night for once. Sam is in, Pepper and Tony too, Natasha should be back from her recon mission later. I’m sure Wanda will join in too and Bucky never misses an opportunity to show off.”

Oh.

Even as the last remark had the corners of your mouth twitch, you worried your teeth over your lower lip.

A board game night sounded… overwhelming, to say at least. But also rather fun. There had been maybe one or two nights together like that since you had joined the team, events you hadn’t participated in; but the laughter could be heard all over the Tower to your rooms. It had always made you question whether you shouldn’t try to join, feeling out of place in your room as much as you feared you would have felt out of place with them.

Perhaps joining this little event would be a nice, safe first step into the ‘friendship’ you and Steve had agreed on entering; with other Avengers around, you would still be spending time together, but there there would be less pressure to interact only with exclusively.

“No pressure. Honest,” Steve added quickly, clearly noticing your hesitation. “Just a night in with friends – if you want.”

Because that is what they are to you too – your friends, you heard unspoken.

And maybe it was the serum coursing your veins still, maybe it was the hint of uncertainly in Steve’s voice as he suggested it, the quiet hope – the olive branch extended even if you didn’t quite deserve it. Affection wrapped in a simple offer of spending time together. He believed you were worthy of it; whether this view of his would last or not, you’d take the chance. Because he deserved it.

And perhaps so did you.

Steve watched you, expectant but careful, truly trying his best to show there was no obligation. Too good; too kind.

It felt like you needed to remind him that despite what he had witnessed a few moments ago, you were not entirely made of glass. That beyond being an utter mess, you could hold your own at times too.

“I don’t know, Steve…”

He breathed in, a quick flash of disappointment in his expression, one he was just as quick to hide. Your gaze fell to the covers as you bit back a smirk. You almost, almost felt bad when he rushed to assure you.

“That’s perfectly fine. I understand. You-“

“I just don’t see how kicking your ass in a board game could make up for anything, you know?” you interrupted him quietly, peeking up at him from under your eyelashes, just in time to see his jaw fall slack a fraction, his back falling back to the chair with a barely-there astonished chuckle.

Laughter danced in his irises now, one corner of his lips lifting in a smirk.

“Oh, is that how it is, huh?”

“Yup,” you popped the p, a grin shyly tugging at the corners of your lips when you saw his amusement. Amusement you brought there.

“That’s quite the confidence, Agent Spectre. You don’t even know what games we play.”

You shrugged, the smile tugging insistently on your lips now; you caught yourself leaning forward, closer to him – and for some reason, an unexpected surge of confidence told you it was okay. More than okay.

“True. Then again, I never really played any, so I’ll be lost anyway. But… I’m a fast learner when I want to be.”

Something flashed in Steve’s eyes, be it at your words or your posture; something that made your stomach somersault a bit, pleasantly so.

“I bet you are, doll. I know you are.”

You had not been prepared for the shot of heat flooding your veins, but you certainly didn’t find it unwelcomed. If anything, you drank from with vigour it like from a glass of a fine sweet wine, going into your head just as fast, your gaze involuntarily flickering to Steve’s  lips, the sight of them making your stomach do a funny flip-flop.

“Oh? And what else do you know?”

“A thing or two. Like that I’d rather have you on my team.”

You could melt at him saying that, both painfully sincere and playful. That was an awfully sweet sentiment, wasn’t it? You swallowed the brief hysteria that tried to overtake over your brain at the idea of him talking about your place in the Avengers instead of simply joining him in a team-up in a boardgame, sinking into his gaze instead, growing more intense by the second, feeding your confidence further.

“Is that right? Don’t want to play against me? Am I that intimidating to our mighty Captain?” you teased him lightly in a low voice.

And once again, you found yourself entirely unprepared for his reaction. Thoroughly unprepared.

God, his eyes darkened so prettily, pupils dilating a fraction, gaze flickering down to your lips and lingering for a moment, body leaning forward, the predator and the prey caught in a trap at once.

Challenging. Teasing. The mighty Captain. He liked that.He had asked you multiple times not to call him that; now with what he had confessed to before, it dawned to you that maybe, just maybe, there had been more to that request than he had felt mocked. You saved that important observation for later use.

“Maybe you are,” he whispered, his voice earning a huskier quality that spoke of that not quite being the case – and spoke of an entirely different emotion. “Or maybe I just know what I want.”

Fresh surge of burning heat spread all over you, your stomach making another mad flip. Your heart reached its speed limit, every beat painful with its ferocity, but oh so thrilling.

You were in a process of quite literally melting from inside out, searing hot sensation in your belly, when Steve suddenly winced and backed away into his chair, his intrigued expression rapidly shifting into an apologetic one.

“I’m sorry, that was--- I wasn’t—I meant that when I said there was no pressure, of any kind. I said we should—and you agreed and I’m more than fine with it, I just got carried--- which isn’t an excuse-“

You rushed to lean in further, ignoring the stab of pain in your legs as you did so and placed your hand over the fist curled on his thigh, effectively shutting him up as the warmth in your chest bloomed. You couldn’t seem to stop your smile from turning softer and wider, as Steve had stumbled over his words, so mindful of not coming off as forceful. Considerate. Kind. Sweet. But goddamn also so insanely attractive, his words having whispered of passion humming under that composed gentle exterior, passion you’d like to explore thoroughly… and repeatedly.

What did it matter your cheeks burned at initiating the touch when in reality you wanted to do much more? Preferably to smack your mouth on his to shut him up for real and show how you felt about his flirting and consideration alike, how the look in his eyes had almost literally set you on fire? How you had to remind yourself that going slow was a reasonable idea you appreciated, because that flicker of something in his expression had nearly made you want to forget all about reason?

He deserved to know; but you searched for gentler words, less rushed. Because building that firmer foundation he had talked about was worth it.

“Steve. It’s fine. You did not exactly hear me protest, did you? …thought so. If anything, I’m… flattered. And I’m not entirely made of glass,” you added self-deprecatingly, earning a quiet but decisive ‘I’m well-aware.’ “Now, if you want me on your team… I’ve got your six. Like I know you’ve got mine. Plus… someone has to protect our fearless leader, right?”

Your words echoing the ones back from the Hydra base had not been an accident; and Steve recognized them even in a vastly different context. He had to, because his tensed shoulders sagged a bit, torso leaning closer again; his fist relaxed too, turning palm up, opening for your hand to slip into his. The firm yet careful squeeze to your hand was only the warmer as it was joined by his smile.

“Well. I can’t say I have ever felt safer then.”

The flutter of your heart at the sincerity of his words was unexpected, but all the sweeter. Because once again, he seemed to mean it; and you had never realized not only how true these words were for you too, but also how insanely the idea of Steven Grant Rogers, the kindest and strongest human you had met, feeling safe with you, would take your breath away.

“Good. Me too,” you agreed softly. In the back of your mind, a familiar tune hummed tenderly, your heart fluttering again at the sheer warmth in Steve’s gaze. “I think we’ll make a good team, stranger.”

His thumb swept over the back of your hand as if there was nothing more natural in this world. And perhaps there wasn’t.

“Yeah. I think we will.”

The evening found you in the common room indeed, the space already buzzing with low chatter and clinking of glasses and mugs, nondescript radio music playing in the background.

Scattered around the living room adjoined to the communal kitchen, Tony, Pepper, Natasha, Sam, Bucky and Wanda were distributing drinks and plates with various snacks, mock-fighting for what they believed to be the best spot on the couch or this armchair or that one, or simply talking, giving the room an air of a venue of a nuclear family gathering rather than one of the couple of colleagues. As you and Steve walked in together – well, he walked, you rolled in on an electric wheelchair for the time being – it gave you a brief pause, an unpleasant feeling of being an intruder crawling up your spine, an instinct to turn on your wheels and roll away tugging at your mind even though you had once or twice reluctantly joined a very similar family back at the main SHIELD base.

Back then, you’d have Skye to nudge you in, even going to such lengths as loudly announcing your presence in various ways so it would be more embarrassing for you to flee; a sneaky, evil way of making you stay she’d pull every single time she believed you had had even the faintest desire to be there and socialize with other people than her.

Now, you had Steve by your side; and he didn’t push, not even when you caught Wanda’s encouraging smile, her lips curling up just a bit when she spotted you; just as warmly as when she had brought you a few essentials and outfits from your rooms at the Tower. Apparently, the system only permitted another Avenger to enter your quarters upon your request unless you were present at your door – which was a regulation you’d complain about since you had needed to get your things and you had been on a strict bedrest for at least a few more hours, which had forced you to bother an Avenger. You had a creeping suspicion it was a regulation Tony had made on spot when you had been bedridden, to make you socialize – it wouldn’t be the first time now, would it – but there was nothing you could have done about that. Wanda had been kind enough to answer your awkward plea, entering your mind as respectfully and briefly to find out what you wanted as she did with your private space.

You reluctantly reciprocated her smile, hearing Steve shift behind you; yet, he didn’t rush you to take the final step.

He had picked you up in your hospital room just as one of the nurses was helping you settle in the wheelchair, a concerned scowl on his face as if he was scolding you for not waiting for him to help you instead; and while you tried not to let it show, you did have to admit that even without the serum coursing his veins, he would have probably been able to help you avoid putting so much weight on your legs better. That was, had he not still had his arm in a sling which he conveniently seemed to forget. You were willing to forgive his hypocrisy this time only because it truly hadhurt and because his scowl gave way to a smile after your simple “shall we?”

“Of course. It’s good to see you out of the bed,” he had said, his eyes lighting up a bit indeed as his gaze roamed your body. “Anything I can help with?”

‘Clear the way if I decided to run – roll away – at the last moment,’ you wanted to retort, swallowing the remark and shaking your head instead with a silent “thanks”, deciding to focus on little joys offered instead – like Steve’s soft smile or the way the blue of his henley brought out the cerulean of his eyes or the faintest traces of smile lines framing them.

“Then into the lion’s den we go.”

Back then, you could hear the hints of humour in his voice; but as you took a deep breath before finally taking the figurative last step, your ribcage tight, it felt like you were entering exactly that.

“Heeey, look what the Cap dragged in!” Bucky greeted you loudly, causing you to jump at the noise and mainly at all heads snapping to you and Steve.

Starting just stellar, you thought to yourself darkly, arranging a polite smile despite your heart thundering and screaming at you to run with every rapid beat. 

“Har har, Buchanan. Mind your own business,” Steve snapped from behind you, his voice carrying tension, but no malice. If anything, there was a light humour laced between his protective words.

“Ouch, full name, you’re in trouble, James Buchannan Barnes,” Sam commented with a grin, earning an eyeroll from the supersoldier – and a second later, Bucky was staring at you and Steve again, grinning as well.

“I think he’d much rather mind yours,” Natasha hummed as she set down her cocktail, beckoning at your pair in greeting. “Hey you guys.”

“Well too bad for him,” Steve said, stepping further into the room, a wordless prompt for you to do the same.

Into the lion’s den indeed. But at least they were friendly lions. Right? Why did it still feel like it would be safer to jump into the literal snake pit with no weapon but your own fists?

“Do you need any help?” Wanda asked sweetly, practically rushing to your side.

It reminded you of her earlier enthusiasm; your smile automatically grew, genuine. You simply shook your head with a low but heartfelt ‘no, thank you’.

“Is she here voluntarily?” Tony questioned, stealing your attention. “Casper, if you want to get out of here, blink twice, I’ll save you. Blink thrice if he threatened to shoot you to get you here.”

“Stark!”

“Tony!”

Despite all the heads snapping back at the man, it was Steve and Pepper who cried out; and you couldn’t but snort undignifiedly when Tony’s head whipped to Steve on instinct, and only then slowly, oh so slowly as if he was terrified, he turned his head from the hulking form of a semi-supersoldier to the petite woman that was his wife, clearly indicating who was the one inspiring more fear in him.

“What? It is too soon?”

Pepper just kept glaring at him, without a word – an answer in its own right.

It only now dawned to you why they had snapped at him, why Tony had asked if it was too soon. They were worried. About you. About how you’d react, about whether you’d fold down like a house of cards at a mention of a gun, whether you’d break like a weakling, like—

Except it wasn’t that, was it? the kinder voice in your mind questioned, growing stronger when you felt Steve step closer, your enhanced senses picking up on the warmth of his hand nearing your shoulder, even if not touching. They weren’t worried because they thought you were useless; they were worried and considerate, because that was what friends did for each other.

“I’m pretty sure that about thirty hours after is still rather soon, yes,” Natasha hummed, breaking the silence with light amusement in her voice, eyeing the billionaire who was smiling at Pepper with clueless innocence. “You’re lucky you’re tech-smart at least, Stark, even if Johnson keeps giving you run for your money.”

“Oh gimme a break!” Tony cried out, abandoning his post of a scolded child, turning to Natasha fully. “She basically grew up in the Rising Tide, that’s like… that’s like she’d been to Hogwarts of hacking and became Dumbledore’s protégé, or something, okay-!”

The corner of your lips twitched up, a feeling of unjustified pride swelling in your chest at the mention of whom you certainly considered a friend of yours; and at the rather accurate description, even if wrapped in a literary reference.

You fought the urge to grin fully when you heard Sam tease Tony further.

“Ooooooh, look at the well-read man with such apt metaphors!”

“Please, I’m pretty sure he only watched the movies, like you lots with The Hobbit,” Bucky added, a look of mutual respect for roasting a friend exchanged between the two men, until indignation coloured Sam’s expression when he realized he was being teased as well.

It was the most surreal scene to watch; but it was even more surreal scene to feel.

Feeling of knowing Daisy, knowing someone so capable and knowing you belong among her favourite people somehow, was one thing – but it was a whole another thing to realize that watching the Avengers, literally the mightiest heroes on Earth, poke fun one on another, didn’t make you feel out of place. In fact, it made you feel quite welcomed. As if you… as if you could almost, almost belong one day, if not as one of them, then at least alongside them without sticking out.

And it was that dizzying feeling, that traitorous feeling, that made you speak up too.

“Hmm… I don’t know, Tony. I’m pretty sure it was more like the Hogwarts sent her an encrypted message begging her to join so Dumbledore could learn a few new tricks,” you corrected him with a gentle humour; or at least you believed so.

Until you found the whole room suddenly staring at you, Tony even mutely pointing his index finger at you, unable to retort.

The image he made for should be preciously hilarious; you had a feeling that now you truly should be proud, because you had managed to render him speechless. He had to be utterly shocked to be at loss for words. But he wasn’t the only one – and that was the thing that stunned the warm feeling blossoming in your chest, the air in your lungs freezing, a cold coil of anxiety settling in your ribcage instead.

Alongside them. Not one of them. In fact, not even close to the latter, forever stuck in the former.

It wasn’t your place to join the teasing; that was a gross overstep.

You had said too much. You had overstepped by miles. Tony’s face was pure shock. Bucky’s and Sam’s and Wanda’s, when you checked subtly, were unreadable. You had missed by thousand miles. Steve behind you remained quiet and you didn’t dare to turn to him. Pepper appeared somewhat scandalized, even as she was still looking as perfectly put-together as ever, not a hair out of place in her elegant overall and a loose ponytail. You messed up. You had to apologize-

A levelled voice, warm with amusement, interrupted the noise of your mind and the quiet that had settled in the room alike.

“Not wrong, from what I read up on her,” Natasha said.

Tony, still pointing an index on you still, opened his mouth. “How dare you, Casper. I’m always in your corner and that’s what I get? Jail, I say!”

Your shoulders sagged in relief, lungs expanding again with a generous inhale; you felt yourself grin and letyourself do so, lifting your hands in surrender. That was very true, he had been in your corner – and you were grateful for it. Yes, Tony did whatever Tony wanted and you had no doubt he had pushed you and manipulated you into that charity gala, but much like in the case of Steve, you realized now, as reluctantly as it was, that his behaviour was coming from a good place. From a place of a wanting to be helpful and useful and good and supportive… an ally. A reluctant friend, perhaps.

He deserved the same from you. Your grin widened, heart stumbling even as your voice carried confidence.

“Hey, just saying what I know... Don’t shoot the messenger.”

A distinct sound of someone choking on their drink had you snap your head to the couch, taking note of Bucky doubling over as he coughed; several snickers sounded around, causing satisfaction fill your gut – and warmth your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hold on, how come she gets to joke about it?!” Tony complained loudly, taking steps closer to you as he gestured in – hopefully mocked – accusation.

“I think that for starters, she’s the one who got shot-“

“So did he!” Tony cut Sam off, pointing at Steve this time. “What if he’s uncomfortable with it?”

You finally dared to look up at Steve, who was still by your side, now silent for a while – and whose stare you felt for just as long. There was a mischievous grin on his face and if you looked further, a speckle of what looked like a little bit like pride.

They are your friends too, you know.

He glanced up at Tony, shrugging with his healthy shoulder without care for the world.

“I mean… I don’t mind at all-”

“Ooooof course you don’t,” Tony stated, grimacing and looking at Steve somehow both with indignation and uncomfortably knowing look. “When it comes to her, you’re already whi-“

Pepper shot Tony another warning glare and he hesitated as he glanced at you in the least subtle way, causing heat rise to your cheeks, a small swell of panic swirling in your chest at his implication – panic and bottomless source of warmth.

“-spering behind my back, like the whole team,” Tony finished, clearly entirely differently than he had intended. “You know what? Just for that, Rogers, I’m gonna crush you in Monopoly.”

A collective groan sounded around the table, various protests against the game rising, incomprehensible words with a very comprehensible message.

You used the momentary chaos to move, glad to have a second of reprieve at attention was no longer on you.

You had been childishly naïve. Sam’s eyes instantly turned to you as he stood up and offered to take care of your drinks.

“Oh- uhm, thank you. Can I… can I have a cup of tea?”

“Coming right-“

“Tea?!” The exasperated cry genuinely made your heart skip a startled beat, upper body whipping the direction of its origin. “Did she just ask for TEA? It’s a party, Casper, for the love of god. Live a little.”

You could hear Steve, who magically appeared by your side just as Sam had disappeared to the kitchen area, breathe in to protest – but there was no need. This, you got.

“I’m on pain meds, Tony. Not to mention I literally can’t get drunk now. I mean… probably.”

At that, Tony’s eyes snapped to Steve, bright and mischievous. “We can get you drunk now, even without Thor’s help. Wilson, get some tequila in here while you’re at it!”

“You… do know he’s on pain meds too, right?” Bucky deadpanned, voicing the very protest you would have – as amusing as seeing drunk Steve might turn out. It would be quite an experience to see him without a filter, wouldn’t it?

“So? He’ll live!” Tony called out, waving the concern off with a theatrical swipe off his hand. “And I’m sure his liver will recover once they switch again.”

You froze.

Just a joke. A simple sidenote – and yet, you found yourself going rigid, anticipating pain, the kind that had no relief no matter the amount of medication; as if it was going to return any second. And then, cold creeping up your spine, dreadful anticipation of justified judging gazes turning to you; because you were the cause of Steve’s momentary lacking healing factor, the cause of his condition – a condition they didn’t even know the worst part of, from what you understood.

You were the reason; you were the thief. You were the sole reason why Steve wasn’t healed yet, even if that was his very own choice, one you hated him for as much as… appreciated him.

And then you noticed.

No one was looking at you.

There were no glares filled with contempt. If anything, the company seemed both amused and slightly annoyed at Tony’s half-serious suggestion.

Breathing in and out, you forced yourself to relax, consciously lifting the corners of your lips when Bucky seemed highly unimpressed, his voice dripping sarcasm.

“Will it now, Doctor Stark? I mean… we didn’t try any antiserum yet. Switching powers, or bullets weren’t enough. So let’s try if a cocktail of alcohol, salt, citrus and fentanyl does the job, shall we? Come on, Stark. It’s like you don’t know him, he does enough reckless shit on his own… please don’t encourage him.”

Several things happened at once.

Natasha hummed in agreement, her face speaking volumes about how truthful she found the statement.

Next to you, Steve made a small offended noise.

Tony rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “buzzkill.”

You barely stifled a snort of laughter, managing to mask it as a cough; yet, Bucky’s gaze flickered to you, something pleased flashing in his eye.

“Honestly, I think I could beat you even in that state, but Bucky’s right. Let’s leave that to another time,” Steve offered in a conciliatory manner, causing Tony to arch his left eyebrow.

“Is that a challenge--?”

“Maybe-”

Bucky flung his hand towards Steve with what could only be read as mute despair, leaving no hopes for your snort to stay silent this time; but also earning much of your sympathies, as you immediately marked him as your ally. He got it. He agreed with you on Steve being a hypocrite when calling you out. He was, as you had assumed before, the one keeping Steve in check – or to least was trying to do so. Good.

At the sound you failed to stifle this time, Bucky’s gaze found yours again, even if briefly. What you found was warm understanding.

“Aaaalright,” Natasha interrupted the playful – but not quite so – exchange between Steve and Tony, a gentle gesture of stepping between the two. “Down, boys. Let’s get back on track, some of us had an early morning, some of us are on painkillers indeed. What are we playing? Not Monopoly, so…”

At that, you proceeded to tune the noise out, unable to help them decide anyway. When you glanced Steve’s direction again, he charmed an easy smile for you, gently brushing your arm with his fingertips before he sat down, sending both shivers and pleasant tingles through your body, your heart making a funny little flip in your chest at the tender subtle touch.

When you smiled back, genuinely unable to help it, his smile turned blinding and he leaned in, whispering only for your ears – and probably Bucky’s.

“Thank you for joining me in the madness. I’m sure you already see why I needed some strong and reliable back-up.”

It was an easy compliment, a barely-there acknowledgement wrapped in a joke; and yet, you felt yourself smile wider, meeting Steve’s gentle blues, something deep within your stirring.

“I’ve got your six, Captain,” you reminded him. “And thank you for inviting me.”

“My absolute pleasure… but if we end up in different teams, just don’t win with too many points over me, will you?”

You smirked, even as you had a lot less faith in your board game skills than he apparently did; it gave you a confidence boost you weren’t aware you needed. It seemed so effortless to let the playful competitive atmosphere of the night affect you, when Steve’s literal and figurative warmth radiated off of him, caressing your skin even as he was no longer touching you. 

“Well… no promises.”

“Hmpf… a wolf in sheep’s clothing...” he muttered, suddenly turning to Tony with a stern look on his face as the billionaire held one of the board games. “No, we will not play Twister, that had better be a joke, you have two people who got shot and one with a sprained wrist-”

You hadn’t noticed, but since the only conclusion of the other injured person was Natasha, you were not surprised she was able to hide it, especially with her sweatshirt sleeves having a thumb hole, easily disguising a splint. And perhaps you had been a little distracted; by your pain medication, of course. There was nothing else to draw your enhanced senses to itself with the force of gravity. Nothing at all.

Even as your heart raced at the turn your thoughts seemed to be running to, you accepted your tea from Sam’s hands with a silent thank you, missing the wordless exchange of meaningful look between Natasha and Bucky, who in turn had not missed how close Steve had leaned in to whisper in your ear even though you were momentarily an owner of enhanced hearing indeed.

But even without seeing that, it felt like what you were doing – something as trivial as being present at a little party in with your colleagues – was moving forward.

And no matter where you’d end up, it felt like it would be a good place; and you’d have a good person by your side, always, be it Steve, or one of his – and one day perhaps yours as well – friends. You’d count your blessings, even as Wanda pulled out the box with the chosen game at last, the number of rules she started to list already making your head spin.  

Being surrounded by so many voices had rarely ever felt better; and rarely quieted the ones in your mind. It had rarely felt safe. And as a sweet cherry on top, Steve’s fingers brushed your elbow, his reassuring smile feeling soft even as you didn’t turn your head to see it.

Yes, it was slow; but you were moving forward. And it felt really, really good.

Next chapter

Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist

Dear reader, apologies for the long wait on a long chapter. Life got busy, specifically work did, draining all my (creative) energy. And frankly, a part of this chapter fought me tooth and nail – I can only hope you, too, will think I won the battle eventually. But oh, did you think only pure fluff was coming? Well. Sorry to disappoint 🤭 ehm. Anyway.

As always, many thank you for your support – and a gentle reminder I’m always happy to hear your thoughts if you’re willing to share them.

Also, I feel like there might be one more chapter before something I can actually call an epilogue, so stay tuned.

May June be kind to you and your loved ones 💕

[marie-swriting]

Your gallery if you're dating...

Daisy Johnson

Those pictures aren't mine, credits to owners !!!

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[a-spes]

Hii, I am back with more thoughts about Maria Hill 🙆

It is kinda in the same lines as the one I posted yesterday, and even though it can be read separately, you should really get a look at it :)

The woman is known for being rough with the new recruits, and you are no exception, but if there is something she can't bear is witnessing someone else being rude to her trainee. That is her privilege to roughing up her recruit.

Especially when those people have no reasons to do so because they are definitely not as good at the job as you are.

She knew something was up. She is not an idiot, she has seen the way you were so distant with your teammates and other people from your promotion. Yet, you were too stubborn to talk, keeping everything to yourself, insisting that you were fine despite her attempts to push you to share with her what was wrong. So the woman had to keep an eye from afar, and to figure out by herself what was happening.

It is weird the urge she felt to protect you from everything and everyone. She tried to ignore it, and it made the woman stricter during your training, but no matter how hard she would try to push this feeling away, it won't go.

When she saw you that day, starting a fight in the corridors with some of your teammate, she didn't hesitate before stepping in — "Get out of my view. Now," she said, and you were about to leave with the rest of them, maybe you were hoping that she hadn't even notice that you were here in the first place. "Not you," she added, and you should have know that it was a vain hope.

You have no idea what she is thinking about. Her expression is unreadable, as usual, and you can only imagine the things she is going to yell at you once you have reached her office — Probably how disappointed she is. Yet, you are surprised, because the door she eventually pushs is not her office's but the medbay's one, and nothing bad happened when you stepped in. The explosion you were waiting for never came, the woman didn't yell, she just signed for you to find a place to sit.

The screaming part never came. She just silently took care of the wounds in your face, and her touch was so gentle that it surprised you. She usually doesn't care about hurting you, especially not during training. Somehow, the realization made you cry, because it has been so long since the last time someone has been that gentle with you, and you are just realizing now what you have been missing.

You do not exacly know why, but you are not really getting along with the rest of your team. They keep pushing you away, hating you for stuff you haven't do. Before you could realize it, yourself was the only person you could count on, and you were slowly falling apart. The exhaustion, and the rought training with Commander Hill, made it harder to keep your emotions in check lately.

The woman was almost expecting it, when you started crying in her arms. She knows how rude the first weeks as an agent can be, especially when you don't have a team to help you to get through it. She is surprised that you didn't reach your breaking point earlier. Usually, recruits would snap at her out of her anger during the first few days of their trainings, or they would cry, but you haven't. Not until today.

And because she understands your situation, she didn't say a word. The woman just wrapped her arms around you, craddling you, and whispering soft words in your ear until you calm down. It is safe to say that, since that day, none of your teammates dared to try to annoy you again.

[tremorsmackenzie]

currently busy imagining what last week tonight episodes in the mcu about shield, powered individuals, and hydra etc. would look like.

like just imagine john trying to explain the clusterfuck that is the sokovia accords and using daisy and cap as examples for what theyre trying to curtail and why theyre controversial despite seeming reasonable at first.

or how there are concerning and numerous connections between the gop and hydra donors.

or explaining how shield is responsible for quite a lot of issues, but the organization now and before is not the same and they need reauthorization and funding to better engage with the powered people crisis, because the government is currently ignoring that situation as much as it is the domestic terrorist group of the watchdogs.