#daisy johnson x reader fluff

[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

[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.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

HI IM BACK COZ I REMEMBERED YOU WRITE FOR DAISY JOHNSON

can i pleaseeeeee request i think its 31 and 40 from the planetary prompts for her and a romantic ftm reader?

im quite sure 31 and 40 are the fever one and the can i stay with you while you sleep!

30. "You're not dying, you have a small fever."

41. "Can I keep you company while you sleep?"

CW: sickness, dramatics, fluff, language, kissing, ftm!Reader

"You're not dying, you have a small fever." Daisy gives you a look, almost managing to hide the upwards curl of her lips.

“I’m dying,” you moan, dramatically draped across your shared bed. “My body hurts and everything feels hot.”’

She huffs and leaves her computer to tug on your shirt. “Come on. Up. You’re hurting because you’re still wearing your binder.”

You sit up, grumbling the whole way. “I am not. That’s a totally unrelated issue.”

You let her help take it off anyway, grateful for the way she immediately grabs a new shirt and slips it on you.

You flop back against the bed, huffing in discomfort. But you have to admit, it did help with the pain. You’re not telling her that, though.

You roll onto your side and gaze at her. “I’m tired.”

“So sleep.” She affectionately flicks your forehead.

“But I’ll be lonely without you.” You pout, a bout of shivers running through you. You burrow under the blankets, covering your head. It only helps a little.

Daisy says something, but you can’t quite make it out.

“What?”

She lifts the blankets. “I said, can I keep you company while you sleep? I can move my computer so you won’t be lonely.”

You don’t hesitate, not even for a moment. “Yes!”

You scoot over, making room for her. She gives you a shrewd look. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

You give her a grin. “Maybe. It worked, didn’t it?”

She sighs and grabs her computer. “Cheeky little bastard. You’re lucky I love you so much.”

Your grin only widens. She gets comfortable next to you on the bed and you snuggle into her, tangling your legs with hers. “I am lucky. I snagged the most badass woman in all of SHIELD.”

Daisy laughs and leans down to kiss your forehead. “Oh? You think I’m badass?”

You lean up to catch her lips with yours. “Always.”

[sunshinesickies]

Daisy Johnson x Reader blurb

Not Quite Better

“Can’t seem to shake that cough, huh babe?” Daisy asked, her voice dripping with concern as she walked into the training room, only to find you at the tail end of a harsh coughing fit. You weren’t sick anymore, yet your cough seemed very persistent to stay around. All you wanted was to get back to training since you were on bedrest for the past couple days but your nuisance of a cough interrupted your session.

You nodded with a sigh in response to your girlfriend’s question, giving her a small smile of thanks as she handed you your water bottle. After taking a few long sips and catching your breath, you turned back to the punching back, ready to keep going. Your inhuman girlfriend had other plans though.

Daisy immediately stepped closer, catching your fist skillfully in her palm before it could make contact with the bag. You looked at her in confusion and was met with wide, concerned brown eyes. “Oh no, you’re done for today.” Daisy spoke and you rolled your eyes which earned you a nasty glare. “I’m fi…” you started to reply but your breath caught, sending you into another harsh fit that had you bending over as you muffled the coughs into your fist.

You felt Daisy’s familiar soft touch as she wrapped her arm around your waist and placed her hand firmly on your chest to steady you until you were done. She handed you your water once more and you took a few more sips before wiping your mouth and turning to see Daisy looking at you with one eyebrow raised.

“ ‘fine’ huh?” She asked, then her tone shifted. “Baby you sound miserable. Please let yourself rest. I know you’re tired of being cooped up but please. If not for you, then for me. I’m worried.” She poke softly, moving to cup your flushed cheek. You sighed as you gazed into her eyes which were swimming with worry and sympathy. Daisy saw your shoulders drop and knew she had won. You were exhausted and honestly she was right, you were in no condition to use push your body like this right now.

“Okay.” You agreed simply, your voice barely above a whisper. Daisy smiled warmly and held out her hand which you gladly took in yours. “Thank you, now c’mon, let’s get some medicine and get you back to bed. We can binge watch whatever you want.” She offered as you started making your way back to your shared room. You squeezed her hand a bit tighter and rested your head on her shoulder, inhaling her sweet, comforting scent. “That sounds perfect.” You hummed, placing a light kiss to her neck as she continued to lead you back to bed.

[samdeancass]

Drunken Confessions

Requested by Anonymous

Pairing: Daisy Johnson x reader

Genre: Fluff, implied smut

Characters: Daisy, Y/N

Description: Both Daisy and Y/N get drunk which is when some confessions make there way to the surface.

It wasn't very often that you and Daisy got drunk together after a mission, but this mission proved to be a tough one and you both needed the freedom that strong alcohol gave you.

You were both sitting at the bar on the plane, helping yourself to the strongest alcohol you could find to wash away that days turmoils and memories. Daisy reached over and grabbed another bottle of bourbon, nearly slipping off her stool and into your lap. You both burst into laughter as you carefully guided Daisy back down.

With a very unsteady hand, Daisy poured bourbon into both glasses and held it in the air. "To us, the most bad-ass crime fighting duo that ever lived!" You giggled and lifted your glass up as well, both clinking in the air before downing the whole lot. "Another?" You held out your hands and shook your head. "None for me, I'm gonna have a killer headache in the morning as it is."

Daisy pulled a puppy-dog face in an attempt to get you to change your mind, which you inevitably did. "Oh, alright. Just one more." She beamed a bright smile at you before, carefully this time, pouring you your last drink and handing it over to you. She looked you in the eyes and smiled once again. "You know, you're the best person that I've ever met. You're brave, intelligent, you make me smile...and also super horny but that's not the point-"

Your eyes widened at the last part of Daisy's statement. "Wait, what? I make you horny?" She smiled and nodded her head. "Yeah, you do. I would never say this sober and it's been annoying me for a few months, so I'm glad I got drunk and told you because now I feel free and-"

You crashed your lips on hers, completely putting a stop to the next sentence she was going to say. Your hands traveled to her hair and wound inside her long locks as her hands explored your body, her dreams of touching you finally coming true.

You both broke apart for air after what seemed like hours and both smiled. "So, I suppose this means you feel the same way?" Daisy lifted her eyebrows at you before you stood up, took her hand and guided her towards your room. "Why don't I show you exactly how I feel about you?"

[spikershoyo]

midnight snacks | Daisy Johnson x fem!reader | fluff

"Baby?" Your tired voice makes Daisy spin around from where she stood. You squinted in the dark as you made out the silhouette of your girlfriend. She was in the kitchen, wearing an old Van Halen shirt that none of you know where it came from, eating snacks at 2:15 am.

Daisy looks at you with wide eyes like a deer in headlights. "Hey, babe," She says as innocently as she can as if she wasn't already caught red-handed. "What are you doing awake?" "I can as you the same question." You cross your arms with a smile.

Daisy finally sighs and looks at you. "I got hungry." "I can see." You step closer to her and look at what she's munching on. Leftover fries, a brownie, and bacon. "Interesting selection." You giggle softly as you take a fry and put it in your mouth. Daisy rests her head on your shoulder blade.

"You should head to bed. It's late." You turn your head to face her. Daisy just pouts before kissing your lips softly. "I'm not tired." "Sure." She places her hands on her hips as you say that. "Seriously! I'm not." You look over at her and raise an eyebrow. "You say that all the time but you practically pass out every time you go to bed."

Daisy huffs softly and pouts. "Dais." "What?" "Don't make this harder than it has to be." She looks at you and sighs. "Fine. But only because I love you." You roll your eyes playfully and put away the food Daisy had been eating. You wrap an arm around her shoulder and kiss the side of her head.

Just as you predicted, Daisy lay on the bed for a few minutes and was completely knocked out. You get in next to her and feel her arms pull you in, her body warm and her hold strong. You smile and kiss her cheek once again before getting the rest you both needed.

[jackiequick]

Meet The Wells - Harry Wells Fic

Tv Show: The Flash

Setting: Season 4

Pairing: Harrison ‘Harry’ Wells x Leanna ‘Lea’ O’Conner

Featuring: One of the best characters on the show, Cisco Ramon!

—-

The morning everything pretty well. Team Flash was doing their usual work at S.T.A.R LABS. Discussing lunch breaks, new metas they possibly discovered, new experiments to create and plans for the weekend. That was until Harry mentioned friends.

Cisco sat up, “No he’s delusional. That’s because the lack of sleep he’s has been having. Uh, Harry friends are in here!”

Caitlin looked at Barry, who stood there confused, guessing that he’s being sarcastic.

“I got friends other than you guys! You will meet them.” Harry respond, siping his morning coffee.

Cisco gave his second girl a look and asked, “Lea help.”

“I-i know nothing about this.” Lea admitted with her hands up in defense.

“Ramon, believes i don’t got any friends. When i clearly do.” Harry yelled and sighed, typing away on his keyboard, “You told me to go make some friends, right?”

Cisco yelled back, “Yeah but last time i checked, you don’t have any friends besides us!”

Leanna who was tinkering with her tools looked up and nodded, “Yup! I did tell you that. Actually I’m curious to meet your friends, but I gotta hand some paperwork over to Joe first.”

She stood up, giving her boyfriend of 3 years now, a quick kiss on the cheek, in which Harry wraps his hand around her waist pulling her in for one more starling kiss. Clearly he was excited for today.

——

Cisco and Harry were in the speed lab being introduced to their scientific ragtag team of friends. But it wasn’t what Cisco suspected Harry’s friends to be. One of them even practically threw Cisco Ramon out of the speed lab for being annoyed and offended. Lea walked in, confused onto why her best friend ran out of there but her confusion came to a pause after what she see saw.

There stood right in front of her brown eyes the doppelgängers of Harrison Wells. Not 1, not 2, but 3 Harrison Wells in the speed lab. And if add Harry, that makes 4! In total stood 4 very different variants of Harrison Wells, going from one with gray hair and a turtleneck to one with war general uniform like he just lost an eyeball for God’s sakes.

She didn’t know to laugh at how insane this is or internally whine about this little endeavor being oddly weird for her. But at the same time she was very much integrated into this new situation. She met versions of Wells beforehand but this was completely different. Before she can even say a word or pull together another set of thoughts, when a voice called out to her. More or less a catcall followed by a cheeky whistle.

“Who is this little beauty queen? She’s finer than a flower on a summer morning!” Yelled out a rusty almost burnt blonde Wells in a red rode and slippers.

Lea didn’t realize they were staring at her that moment, quickly fixing her dark gray shirt with tiny daisies scattered all over and dark jacket she borrowed from her friend, Caitlin Snow, earlier that week. She firstly mouth a small “What the fuck?” to Harry as he jogged over swiftly taking her hand with ease. The man was clearly excited about this.

“Honey, come meet my new friend!” He exclaimed holding a grin, returning back to earlier spot but this time with her next to him, “This is Harrison Wolfgang Wells, H. Lothario Wells and Wells 2.0. Men, this is Leanna O’Conner.”

All 3 of them smiled at the lady. Wolfgang Wells stayed wondering his eyes at the brunette, as if he trying to pin point something in particular.

Lea had to just smile politically for the 3 idiots to go sight seeing on her, if allowed. Without a second later the women dragging Harry out into the hallway for a quick chat.

“Harry, honey, what the hell?!” She whispered yelled.

“What the hell? What do you mean ‘what the hell?’?” He whispered yell back.

“Are you out of your mind? Have you officially lost your marbles?!”

“You asked me to make some friends and that’s exactly what I did!”

“When I told you to make friends, I didn’t mean with yourself!”

“They’re technically NOT me! They’re my double hitting doppelgängers from other earths and one of the biggest baddest brightest mind out there.”

“Again! There’s literally 3 of you in that room, all three of them ready to make goo goo eyes at me and oh yeah, one of you is enough but a friend group of Wells that’s just—”

“Sweetie I can handle this. There is nothing to worry about, they’re just charming and intelligent people with different kinds of backgrounds. It’s gonna go great. I promise.”

“You promise? Cause—”

“Lea it’s fine! I got this.”

————

Once the couple walked back in, Lea announced the plan with Harry, but the second they all heard her voice they looked at her like 3 somewhat trained dogs. Harry had to scuff down a laugh, snorting a smidge.

Sandy hair blonde Wells aka H. Lothario Wells, grinned at her. He found her pretty and said, “Say, gorgeous you got any sisters? Or are you free this Sunday night?”

She blushed chuckling as she shook her head ‘No’ as Harry face them with a glare saying that Lea was HIS girlfriend. So hands off fellas!

Wells 2.0 spoke up, “I had a Lana on my earth…”

“Really? How was I like?” Lea asked, her eyes perked up curious about the answer.

“I wouldn’t know, she died or was it that she left the country? Oh well, i don’t remember! Ladies on my earth aren’t as nice looking as you.”

——————

The four of them kept talking, mainly Harry and his doubles, Lea just stayed sitting back writing on her iPad a few notes on an old equipment and equations. She listened every once in a awhile to their conversation, walking in and out of the lab to other part of the building or heading down to Jitters for some java.

Blowing a kiss to all 3 copies of Wells as she left. All of them stayed with a loopy and cheeky smiles after that. Harry Wells was the lucky one, he actually got a kiss of the cheek.

Returning with a coffee for her boyfriend, after handing one to Caitlin and Cisco she heard it. “Annie..” said the voice. It belongs to Wolfgang Wells, who staying eyeing her for the moment due stepped into the room in the first place. She rarely heard that nickname tossed around but it been said plenty of times beforehand. Only Cisco or Barry will throw that nickname out.

“That’s Leanna, not Annie, can you believe this guy fellas?” Replied Sandy Wells with a chuckling, figuring his doppelgänger was nuts in the head or something.

“No, Annie O’Conner..” Wolfgang Wells said once again with curiosity and confidence in his tone.

“Yeah he’s right.” Lea confirmed his wording, “Did you know a version of me, on your Earth?”

“My wife.”

“We’re married?”

Harry’s eyes darted towards them, mumbling, “You married a verison of her? When?”

“Yeah but I left her. Too much of a handful.” Wolfgang said with a shrug.

Lea gasped, “HANDFUL? I will have you know that I’m not a handful, you guys are. No offense, Harry..”

Wolfgang snickered, “You sound like her too! I left her cause we fell out of love, she was too uptight and I was too busy to care.”

“OUCH!”

“But I think still love her very much. Still, love is love. I think we all got a verison of this lady on our earths, right?”

Sandy Wells chuckled, “Mhmmmm! I do. She’s my 2 A.M bootycall. Speaking of which…”

Just like that, blondie wells was gone saying he got business to take care of. Leanna jaw dropped, meanwhile Harry held back a little smile, grabbing everyone’s attention back to the matter at hand.

All 3 men went back to work. But the looks Wolfgang and 2.0 didn’t go unnoticed, glancing at the half Asian brunette every once in a while. Both men saw something in her, and they liked it. Harry had to snap their towards himself instead and looping a hand on his girlfriend’s waist to signify that once again she’s taken!

The men were talking over one another and bickering more often than not about the topic. Honestly it was kinda hilarious.

Cisco walked in soon enough with a smile, “Soo Council Of Wells, how are we doing? Any progress or we just chitchatting about who’s smarter?” 

Leanna chuckled at the last part, because half of it was true.

Harry on the other hand groaned in annoyance, “It’s not going anywhere! We can’t even agree on what method to use.”

“What? You had an entire day.”

“I know! I know!”

“Is it cause Lana is distracting them?”

This time Lea spoke up, “HEY! Right here you know?! First we’re complimenting me, then you’re treating me like a diamond in the rough and now you’re insulting me?! What is it? Leanna Day and I didn’t get the memo?!”

“Well welcome to my life, girlfriend! Theses guys love to do the same thing to me! Ain’t so easy, isn’t it?” Cisco repiled back, tossing her a glare.

“Ohhh, so this is the way your framing this, huh?”

“I guess so, Annie!”

“Cisco I swear—!”

“Wait?”

“What?” Harry asked.

“Isn’t there a 3rd one? Isn’t there 3 of—”

He pointed out there was only 2 Wells standing there, not the original 3 from the beginning of the day. Harry was about to say something about it but as if on cue, Sandy haired Wells reappeared with a cheeky grin blabbing on about something.

Sandy turned toward the trio with a smile, “Oh sorry! Had to take care of some off camera business—”

“OHH MY GOD!” Cisco shouted holding a hand, covering whatever it was he didn’t want to see.

This Wells had his pants down, showing everything his mother gave him. Harry tried to looked away, his face accidentally saw it. Leanna just blinked, gasping as she turned around burying his face in her boyfriend’s black shirt.

“What?” Asked Sandy Wells softly , confused.

“I can see your Frank and beans.” Said Wolfgang, looking rather uncomfortable.

“Come on, now. Do my best thinkin' commando,” Sandy defends himself with a shrug, “Plus, it ain't like we all haven't seen it before. Especially, you little missy.”

“I haven’t seen it!” Cisco yelled, sounding funny and offended by the fact.

He shoots a wink Leanna’s way and she feel like she can’t help but peek her face towards all the men in the room. She saw so much more than clearly expected today! Like Jesus Christ! She rested her head, still sorta hiding her face in her boyfriends shirt.

She didn’t look confident or heroic in that moment.

Harry placed a comforting hand on her head, holding his lady while smiling at her embraced blushing and embarrassment.

Cisco held back a couple of laughs, “Aww! You’re traumatizing the poor girl! But seriously, dude put that away..please.”

Wolfgang agreed with Cisco for once.

“Ah, you Earth Folks. You are so uptight.” Sandy replied pulling up his pants.

“Ah, alright! Can we get back to the take at hand? We need answers.”

Suddenly all men started throwing out suggestions left and right, speaking over one another not allowing Cisco nor Harry to keep a full sentence in.

Lea’s ears were ringing loudly and she groaned in annoyance, “Okay! That’s enough!”

“Enough? We’re just getting started!” Add 2.0 Wells, in which causing another explosion of words being thrown around.

Clearly Harry was losing it having enough of this shit and yelled, “Guys! Guys! Ga—gentlemen!” Grabbing all their attention he continued, “Clearly this isn’t working. And just for the record, it’s not me, it’s you.”

With a simple push of a button, all three holograms disappeared, leaving the trio to themselves.

“This, was a bad idea.” Harry said walking back, placing his hands on his girlfriend’s shoulders whispering, “You okay?”

“It’s like your junk was burnt into my brain.” Cisco answered instead.

“Your welcome.”

Leanna did not answer or add into the previous statement, just walking out with a hand covering her ears silently. Harry and Cisco shared a tired look, figuring something bothered her..

——

Him and Cisco were talking for a bit, the genius still grumbling about what happened. That he needed to accept the facts and himself, since they are technically his doppelgängers but still. He didn’t truly like it too much.

Until he found her.

Harry found his girlfriend in his lab, scribbling in a notebook wearing her noise canceling headphones, that both him and Cisco carefully crafted her due to her meta human abilities, and playing with her bangs.

He sighed, knowing she was flashed today and practically felt just as insulted as he was. But because Leanna was more of a sensitive soul in the relationship, rather busy lately with Iris’s wedding planning, and helping the team with their issues. Along with the overheating bickering wasn’t probably too pleasant to her ears.

He winced, taking a marker to the whiteboard and tapping it against the clear sided screen. Harry walked over to her, tapping her shoulder and simply asked, “Hey, are you alright?”

“Hm?” She asked, removing her headphone registering what he said and chuckled, “Oh! Yeah honey I’m fine.”

“Isn’t that my line? Lea, honey, what happened? You kinda snapped at them.”

“Yeah well, so did you!…I, uh, umm wasn’t expecting today. Part of me knew something was gonna happen! I felt like I was being pulled left and right. I mean 4 Wells in one room, that’s overwhelmingly surprising and kinda chaotic..no offense.”

“None taken! They are just huge self minded, idiots. Uptight, roughly insulting, snooty and just jerks. I—I didn’t think it would go like that! Hell they flashed you and choose to make eyes at you the whole time. Treated you like you were an prize to be won and be thrown away…no one was paying attention to anything and just talking over one another! Jesus…”

Leanna stayed quiet hearing him rant about how he felt about the situation and the protection his mind created, recognizing things she didn’t notice until now. It made her feel better, knowing that she got the best Wells in the multiverse. All he wanted was to make some more friends and figure out a way to help with his teammates issues.

But instead, he realized that rather became a host and solid choice for a complete conversation than the other guys. He also felt sorta good about himself being one to unlock the door to an O’Conner’s heart unlike his counterpart.

“I uh, don’t take you for granted, you know?” Harry said, with a soft grin.

“I figured as much. You stayed.” She replied with a tired smile.

“Wolfgang had a version of you then lost you, 2.0 Wells was just gah not—the best thing with women and uh, Lothario was something else where uh, you know!”

Lea chuckled and nodded, “Oh I know! I..I know!”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh, “But in all seriousness, Leanna I love you and I’m so sorry you had to deal with that—us, today.”

“I’ve been part of Team Flash for so long, where something like that shouldn’t surprise me but it did. It was chaotic chapter for the books, but I really hope that doesn’t happen again!”

“It better not! I can’t take another moment with those guys. They’re one of the most annoying minds of the multiverse!”

“Harry, honey..”

“What?

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

She stood up from her chair, wrapped her arms around his middle and looked up at the man gently grinning. He looked down at her, placing a hand on the small of her back, smiled softly confused since she left her second line incomplete.

“For being you! You came to this Earth and took it as it is, trying to help it. And those idiots, didn’t have to FaceTime us but they did. Because you would’ve done the same thing.” She added.

“Of course I’ve would’ve, I kinda like you guys. Especially you and Dr. Snow.” Harry admitted.

“Most importantly, you fell for me. All those other versions of Lea and Wells don’t know what they’re missing.”

“Well, technically, this wasn’t planned. I came to another earth for one goal. But we sorta happened.”

“Do you regret it?”

He leaned down, cupping her cheek a bit, “No.”

“Why’s that?” She asked, leaning in.

“Because it proves my multiverse theory. Every version of you or me, ends up being with an such interesting partner.”

“I love that theory.”

“I know you do.”

Harry closed the space between them, tossing in a few solid pecks of Lea’s waiting lips. A couple of sweet nothings and laughs were thrown into the mix, chatting about getting Big Belly Burger later.

When suddenly..

“Oh come on!”

Came Cisco’s voice, standing at the door with his hands on his hips.

“Seriously? Y’all didn’t need my help making her feel better.” Cisco said.

Lea snorted and smiled, as Harry tossed his friend a playful grin, only ever reserved for Cisco Ramon. 

“We’re heading to Big Belly Burger later, you coming?” asked Lea.

“Oh hell yes!” He replied, replacing the frown with a smile, snatched up his friend from Harry into his arms for a hug and yelling, “She was mine first.”

——

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[winchesterdreamgirl88]

Masterlist

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Done

NFSW Alphabet

The Other Brother

Sam Winchester

NFSW Alphabet

The Other Brother

Jensen Ackles

Famous in love

Jared Padalecki

Other Supernatural Characters

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy

His Sunshine

Tracker

Colter Shaw

Marvel Agents Of S.H.I.E.L.D

Grant Ward

A Future Without Betrayal

[fandomnerd9602]

Daisy adjusts her pants…

Daisy: we should do this again sometime

Y/N: well I’m free today, we could just go another round (winks)

Daisy; (blushes) you’re terrible

A baby’s cry is heard…

Daisy: little Phil needs us!

Y/N: super parents go!!!

The two run out of their bedroom and into the nursery…

[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!”

[captainsophiestark]

Watch Out For Vampires

Daisy Johnson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: Marvel

Day Twenty-Five Prompt: "It consumes me."

Summary: Skye and her girlfriend are making the most of having an undercover assignment on Halloween.

Word Count: 1,068

Category: Fluff, Humor

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

"Alright, how do I look?"

I glanced up from where I'd been fixing my own outfit to see my girlfriend, Skye, staring at me with her hands held out by her sides as she twirled in her flowing dress. She smiled, showing off the pointy fake vampire teeth we'd managed to make stick in her mouth, and I couldn't help grinning back at her.

"Amazing. I'd let you befriend, romance, and gradually drain me of my blood any time."

Skye laughed and shook her head, and I took the moment to spin around in my own costume, an old and fancy dress.

"And me?"

"Gorgeous," Skye said, grinning and closing the distance between us in just a few steps. "If I were a vampire, I can't think of anyone else I'd want to magically appear in the bedroom of."

I snorted, wrapping my arms around Skye and pulling her the rest of the way to me. We were in a hotel room, rather than one of our small bunks on the Bus, getting ready for an undercover mission with the rest of our SHIELD team. We were infiltrating a Halloween party, which also meant we had to miss actually celebrating Halloween. Skye and I had decided that if we had to miss throwing our own party, we might as well still have fun dressing up.

Thankfully, our cover as a couple allowed us to follow through on the couple's costume we'd been planning since summer. Skye and I were going as Carmilla and Laura, the title and main characters from the original sapphic vampire story. I was over the moon about how our costumes had turned out, and even better, we'd had a whole hotel room to ourselves this afternoon while we established our cover and got ready.

That kind of privacy was seriously rare on the Bus. So, of course, it couldn't last long.

Skye and I were forced to break apart at the sound of a knock on the door. I sighed heavily as I let her go, rolling my eyes now so I didn't do it in the face of whoever'd come to get us. The question of who was answered immediately by the sound of shouting from the hallway.

"Come on, you two, we've gotta go!"

Skye and I shared a look, not needing words to agree that it was time for a little mischief. If Grant Ward wanted to come hammer on our door and shout from the hallway, then he deserved everything he was about to get.

I follwed Skye as she moved to the door, then flung it open. Grant was already mid-breath preparing to say something, probably telling us to hurry up again, but he stopped dead when he saw our outfits.

"...Are you two kidding me right now?"

Skye and I just laughed. She wrapped one arm around my waist, the two of us leaning in with grins even as Grant crossed his arms and scowled.

"You better be careful, Ward," I said. "I heard there's a vampire around here somewhere. You don't wanna get bit. You should put on a cross. Ooo! Or you could dress up with us, as garlic!"

"Absolutely not."

Skye leaned forward, sniffing the air as she leaned even closer to Grant. I barely managed to fight back a laugh, especially at the obvious melodrama my girlfriend was about to deliver.

"You might wanna listen, Ward. The hunger for your blood... it consumes me!"

Grant rolled his eyes as Skye and I absolutely cackled, leaning into each other to keep from falling over in our fit of laughter.

"We're not here to dress up and have a good time at this party," Grant barked. Maybe we could convince him to be a werewolf. "We're here to do a job."

"Which, I believe, does involve going to a party on Halloween?" I asked. Grant glared at me, so I just ignored him and continued. "Since we're supposed to be undercover as guests at this thing, I can't help feeling Skye and I are going to be much harder to spot as SHIELD agents than... oh, I don't know, a tall, grumpy man not even attempting to wear a costume."

Grant narrowed his eyes at me, but from beside me, Skye snorted and grabbed my bicep as she ducked behind my back to hide a laugh. Unfortunately for Grant, that just made me want to do anything possible to make my girlfriend laugh again.

"We don't have time for this," Grant huffed. "I'm going to get FitzSimmons. I better see the two of you in the lobby in ten minutes."

"Be careful inviting a vampire into your space, Ward," I called as he took a step back from the door. Skye followed me, the two of us piling into the doorway to shout after him as he walked down the hall. "The children of the night make sweet music, at your expense!"

Grant ignored us, but I noticed his shoulders hunching a little with irritation as he rounded the corner away from us. I counted that as a win.

"That was Dracula, wasn't it?" mused Skye as the two of us stepped out of the hallway, returning to our room and closing the door. I hummed as I helped her straighten her outfit one last time.

"Yeah, I'm blending my vampire media a little bit. But that's part of the fun. I intend to quote Twilight at that guy all night long."

Skye laughed, then threw an arm around my shoulders when I finished touching up her outfit.

"After the number of pushups he made me do yesterday, he deserves every joke he has coming."

"Don't worry babe, I'll make sure he gets what's coming to him for the training workouts. He might be able to escape us at the party, but there's no rule saying we can't keep celebrating Halloween tomorrow, once we're all back together on the plane and done with our mission. And once Ward has nowhere to escape to."

Skye cackled, and I grinned, heart leaping at the sound of my girlfriend's laugh, as we finally headed out of our room and towards the lobby. Sure, we were technically working tonight, since everyone was undercover for an assignment. But I was also still heading to a Halloween party with the girl of my dreams in a gorgeous, vampire literature couple's costume. Nothing, not even Grant Ward at peak grumpiness, could dull the blissful shine of that combination.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

[sunshinesickies]

Just a fic of Daisy being an amazing girlfriend 🫶 Enjoy!

Daisy Johnson x Reader sickfic

Good Vibrations

Letting out a soft groan, you sigh in frustration as you turn over in bed once more, trying to get comfortable. Your body has other plans, however, and sleep is quickly turning into your newest enemy. No matter how much you toss or turn, you can’t find a relaxing position, not to mention how hot it is. There’s nothing worse than being hot, tired and unable to fall asleep.

Even with the air conditioner on, the summer heat seems to be getting to you more than usual. Feeling a slight shift beside you, a gentle hand rests on your back.

“Babe? What’re doing up?” Daisy asks, her voice low and slightly raspy from sleep and the fact that she’s still half asleep.

You turn to face your girlfriend, placing a light kiss to her forehead. “Jus’ can’t fall back asleep. Don’t worry about me, love. Get some rest.” You whisper back, hoping she would, but instead, Daisy’s brows furrow in concern as she gazes at you through the dark.

Reaching up, she places her hand gently to your cheek. “You sure that’s all…” she cuts her own words off when she notices how warm you feel. Your skin is hot. Way too hot. As her thumb runs along your cheek, her expression turns even more concerned and she sits up a bit, much more awake now.

“You feel really warm, y/n. I’m going to go get the thermometer.” She motions for you to stay in bed but you ignore her and get up to follow her to the bathroom anyway. You squint your eyes at the sudden bright yellow light and make your way to sit on the edge of the bathtub.

While you eyes adjust, you watch as Daisy rummages around, looking for the device. Her bare shoulders showing flexing muscles as she reaches for the highest shelf. You enjoyed summer for many reasons, but one of the was definitely seeing your girlfriend in only a sports bra and small shorts every night.

A few long seconds later and she’s turning to you, a visible wave of worry washes over her face now that she observes you in better light.

“Damn you don’t look to good y/n” She comes over and stands in front of you while getting the thermometer ready. You get out a small laugh, reaching up a bit to place your hands around her waist, feeling the need to be closer to her.

“Wow, Dais, just what everyone wants to hear from their girlfriend.” You joke playfully and the brunette rolls her eyes. “Open.” She hums as a response and gently places the thermometer under your tongue before moving her hand to your equally bare shoulder.

“You know what I mean.” She murmurs softly as she waits for the beep. You shiver, wrapping your arms around your exposed waist. Daisy’s hand rubs your shoulder lightly. “Well, good news is it isn’t too high yet. Bad news is you definitely have a fever.” She shows you the number when it beeps.

“You sure it isn’t negative 99.8? ‘Cuz I’m freezing!” Your attempt at keeping things light coaxes a small smile out of your girlfriend before she quickly goes back to worrying about you. As one of the best things in her life, Daisy is super protective of you. Like overly protective sometimes. But you don’t mind, you think it’s sweet.

Daisy has been through hell in her life and she’s lost so many people she loved, it only makes sense that she would do anything to not lose you too.

Your body shakes harder and you close your eyes. The sound of Daisy moving around fills your eyes and it isn’t until you feel a cool, damp cloth being tenderly held to your forehead that you eyes flutter open.

“Here, should help a bit.” She hums as you meet her loving gaze. She’s crouched down now, holding the compress to your skin and you give her a grateful smile as she lightly dabs it around your face. From your forehead to your cheeks, to your neck and back again.

Taking a slow breath, you revel in how good it feels against your fever. It feels like a life line and you cling to it, and the gentle motion of Daisy’s other hand on your knee as her thumb grazes it softly.

When the cloth loses its coolness, she stands to toss it in the sink before holding a hand out for you. “Let’s get you back to bed, huh?” She hums and places a chaste kiss to your forehead as you stand and take her soft hand in yours. “Thank you.” You rest your head on her shoulder as she leads you out of the bathroom, her arm gently wrapped around your waist.

Turning her head to kiss your hair, her short, soft brown locks brush past your face, tickling your nose a bit. Any congestion that normally comes with a cold hasn’t set in set so you get a full whiff of her sweet shampoo, a smell you love and normally welcome.

However, right now it only makes your irritated nose burn and you have just enough time to pull away before your breath hitches. Daisy pauses, confusion quickly turning to sympathy as you take another shaky breath.

“nnuhhs’Sshshcoo!” You muffle one forceful sneeze into your upper arm, then feel a hand on your back as Daisy gently pulls you back into her side. “Bless, babe” She kisses your temple.

You sigh with a small sniffle. “Sorry Dais.” You mumble, a pink flush rising on your already flushed cheeks and you’re glad it’s dark in the bedroom so she can’t see. “For what?” You can tell her face is scrunched up in adorable confusion just by her tone as you both sit back down in bed.

“Being all sick and gross.” You murmur back and Daisy can’t help the small laugh that escapes her lips. “Baby, look at our lives. We’re secret agents who see gross stuff all the time. Blood, wounds, all of it. If you think I’m bothered by a few germs then your fevers’ affecting you more than I thought…plus I think you’re cute all the time, even when you’re ‘sick and gross’.” She chuckles again, using your own words against you.

You laugh once, seeing her point and letting her pull you into her arms as she brings the blanket back around you both. “Damn, Johnson. You’re such a sap.” You smile looking up into her eyes.

You can see her face now, due to the soft glow from the bathroom light which she left on. The inhuman smirks, amused, and kisses your nose as she holds you closer. “You love it.” She muses and your smile grows as you gaze into her warm brown eyes.

“I do.” You hum, kissing the corner of her mouth, lips mostly catching her cheek and you wish you can kiss her fully but you don’t want to risk getting her sick. She raises an eyebrow at you.

“You remember I’m inhuman right?” She tries and you shake your head at her. “Nice try Johnson, but we both know that doesn’t make you immune to sickn...” You hold your palm to her lips as she tries to kiss you mid-sentence. Instead she kisses your hand and you lower it to meet her full puppy dog pout.

She smirks when she sees your stubborn expression waver for a second. You both know damn well the effect she has on you. “But it does make it less likely! Simmons confirmed it years ago…please babygirl? Just one?” She begs and you glare at her.

Ugh she makes this so hard! “Fine, fine just o…” You don’t even finish when she lets out a happy squeal and kisses you immediately, her touch sweet, warm and loving. Your lips dance with hers a few moments before you pull away, knowing how quickly you can get carried away.

“Thank you.” Daisy whispers with an adorable smile on her face which you mirror with a small yawn. She chuckles softly and pulls you back into her arms. “You should get some rest baby.” Her words echo through your ears as you rest your head against her chest and close your eyes with a tired smile.

You simply hum in response, holding her tighter as you wrap your arms fully around your girlfriend. Soon, with the soothing feeling of her fingers trailing random shapes along your back, you finally drift off to dreamland.

***

Daisy wakes up suddenly, sometime later after following you into a light sleep. She immediately sits up next to your shaking form. You’re coughing harshly into your elbow, your body also being wracked with fever chills. You looks absolutely miserable to say the least.

Daisy wraps one arm around your shoulders, the other she places on your sternum, steadying you as you continue to cough. You vaguely felt her family touch on your body during the fit, but you’re sure she’d woken up when she starts whispering sweet assurances into your ear.

A minute later, the fit ends and you lean back into the inhuman’s protective hold, exhausted and in pain. Daisy kisses your hair when you let out a soft whine. “I know babygirl. I know its hurts.” She coos, running her hands through your now sweaty hair.

Still holding you, she reaches over to her bedside to find a bottle of water which she holds up to your lips. “Small sips baby.” She instructs and you do as she says, the cool water feeling miraculously good on your throat.

“Good girl.” She praises gently after pulling the bottle away when you finish half of it. Too much was probably a bad idea so she’ll make sure you stay hydrated while also taking it slow.

She waits for you breathing to calm and your heart rate to slow before placing the back of her hand to your cheek.

“Hey, is it okay if I get up? Your fevers’ really gone up, you need medicine.” She asks softly while her cool fingers run tenderly along your skin. You nod weakly and she kisses your hair before moving out from under you and helping you back into a cozy position in bed.

“I’ll be right back baby.” Daisy promises with a chaste kiss to your cheek before making her way to the bathroom.

Not even a minute later she returns with a fever reducing pill and another one to help with your congestion. Both are high end and very effective—the upsides to working at SHIELD.

After taking the medicine, Daisy has you drink a bit more water then holds open her arms so you can snuggle back into them. Letting out a tired sigh, you lay your head on your girlfriend’s chest and wrap your arms around her waist as she pulls the blankets back around you.

She kisses your temple as she holds you close and your eyes drift close, unable to keep them open. “Daisy?” You mumble, your voice congested, letters slurring together.

“Yeah babe?” She hums, fingers gently massaging the top of your head. You want so much to just fall asleep but you can tell it won’t be that easy. “Can-can you just keep talking please?” Your voice is full of pure exhaustion.

If you can’t fall asleep, at least you can relax a little more if you have your girlfriend’s soothing voice in your ear—once of the most comforting things you can think of. “Sure, love. What do you want me to say?”

You think for a moment as she waits patiently. “Jus’ something happy? Or anything ‘bout you. I love when you tell me stories.” You murmur sleepily, nuzzling more into her warmth.

The inhuman smiles at your words, a small smirk growing on her lips, though you can’t see it. “Ooh I’ve got a good one. Did I ever tell you about the prank wars I had with FitzSimmons back when we were on The Bus?” You can hear the amusement in her tone, along with a hint of bittersweet-ness from thinking back to that time in her life.

“No! Tell me everything.” You open your eyes for a moment so you can see her adorable face of excitement as she smiles at you, dimples showing and eyes shining.

Closing them again, you settle deeper against her chest and let out a happy sigh, the feeling of Daisy’s fingers in your hair lulling your thoughts away from the icky feeling of being sick.

“Okay so it all started when FitzSimmons decided to trick me when I was still a newbie to the team and…” A small smile falls across your lips as you listen to the story and let the rhythmic feeling of your girlfriend’s chest under your head lull you into some form of relaxation.

However, Daisy notices a while later that you still haven’t fallen asleep and that your fever is still rising a bit, causing massive chills to flash uncomfortably through your body every few minutes. “Hey.” She whispers, face buried in your hair as she places a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

You shift slightly with a groan though your eyes stay closed. You grip her tighter, nuzzling your head further against her chest, her warmth. You don’t want her to leave and she clearly understands as she places her hand on your back, rubbing it gently.

“Hey, hey no it’s okay baby, I’m not leaving you.” She assures quickly, her tone soft and loving. You loosen your hold a bit, trusting her like always. Daisy holds you impossibly closer so you know she’s there.

“Can I try something? I’m not sure if it will but I think it might help.” She explains and you nod slowly against her shirt. A moment passes and you start to feel a soft vibration, a low, gentle rumble coming from all over your girlfriend’s body.

It’s faint at first. Daisy doesn’t want to accidentally use her powers too strongly and end up hurting you. “Mhmm.” You hum as the feeling spreads throughout your body and for some weird reason, it seems to be just what you need because you can feel your muscles start to ease up and relax. The feeling already distracting you from your fever.

You know Daisy can do some cool things with her power, but this one’s new, and you like it. “How’s that feel?” She asks, a soft smile on her face when she feels you relax against her. “Amazing” You hum contently.

“Didn’t know you could do that.” You add and Daisy lets out a small chuckle. “Honestly same. I’m glad it’s helping. Now please, please try and sleep. You need it.” She kisses your hair.

“I’ll try as long as you keep quaking me. Oh and also you can quake me anytime you want.” You joke, an amused smile falling on your face before you are finally able to fall asleep, the sound of Daisy’s soft laugh echoing in your ears.

[samdeancass]

Family Comes First

Requested by Anonymous

Pairing: Daisy Johnson x sibling!fem!reader (platonic)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Characters: Daisy, Y/N

Description: Lately, Y/N has been feeling pushed out by Daisy; as if she's replacing her with the Shield team. When she brings it up, Daisy reassures her.

Daisy was everything to you. She was the only family that you had ever known and you loved her dearly. She taught you the importance of unconditional love and loyalty, always being by your side no matter the circumstances. Her unwavering support showed you that loving relationships go beyond words and can be felt deep down. She taught you to appreciate the small moments of joy in everyday life through the gentleness of her presence. One of your favorite memories was the time you spent an entire afternoon in the park, just the two of you. While Daisy chased butterflies, her laughter filling the air, you sat on the grass, feeling the warm sun on your skin. That day, you realised how much happiness she brought into your life with her carefree, simple nature.

Daisy was so happy when she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. It was as if she had finally found where she belonged. She was able to work out why she had appeared different throughout her teenage years. You always remember her coming and confiding in you about how she was feeling. Through her work with S.H.I.E.L.D, Daisy embarked on a journey of self-discovery, learning more about her unique abilities and the true extent of her powers. She found a sense of purpose and identity, realizing that her differences were actually strengths that could be used to protect others. This transformative experience allowed her to embrace who she truly was, fostering a newfound confidence and sense of belonging. You had always known that she was special but you weren't quite sure how special. That was until Daisy's power made itself known, and she finally felt complete. You were happy for Daisy, you really were, but a small piece of yourself felt as though you were being pushed out.

You weren't like the rest of the team, you didn't have any special abilities or training, but you were still Daisy's sister and you wanted her to know that you still belonged with her. You didn't harbour any anger or ill feelings towards her. Despite being happy that she had found herself, you were upset that she no longer needed you. It was difficult to watch her grow into her new role, knowing that you couldn't follow her into that world. You often felt like a spectator in her life, cheering from the sidelines while she soared to new heights. Though you cherished your bond and supported her every step of the way, there was a lingering sense of loss, as if a part of your shared journey had come to an end.

After her recent mission, you decided to have a talk with Daisy and voice to her how you were feeling. Taking a deep breath, you headed towards her room where she was lying down on her bed, welcoming you with a warm smile. You sat down beside her, your heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and determination. "Daisy," you began softly, "I'm so proud of everything you've accomplished and the person you've become. But I need you to know that even though your life is changing, I still want to be a part of it." Daisy listened intently, her expression shifting from understanding to empathy, as she reached out to hold your hand reassuringly. She smiled and opened her mouth to reply, but you beat her to it. "I've been feeling a little pushed out lately, as if you no longer need your big sister. I know you've grown and I cannot be more proud of you and what you've accomplished, but I still need my sister." Daisy squeezed your hand gently, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. "I never meant to make you feel that way," she said softly. "You've always been my anchor, and even though my world is changing, I still need you by my side. Your support and love have been my guiding light, and I can't imagine this journey without you. From now on, I will try and make sure that I include you in everything. If you want, I could try and get you a job here. I know how fantastic you are at technology. The team would welcome you with open arms." She smiled, her eyes full of emotion. "I promise I will always keep you close," she said. "No matter what life throws at us, I will never leave your side." She hugged me tightly and I could feel her warmth. I knew she was right. No matter what, we would stay together.

[spikershoyo]

Alright! More Daisy Johnson smut!! I'm gonna do another poll to see what type of daisy johnson smut ya'll want!

need help organizing some writing ideas

[anika-ann]

Back and Forth - part 3.2

Part 3 - Bounce Back - 2/2

Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 14000

Chapter summary:  In which you have to survive the charity auction and it's not easy... for several reasons.

Series masterlist

Warnings: overthinking, self-doubt and issues with self-image, A+ parenting and its consequences, mentions of (in)human experimentation, alcohol (briefly as a coping mechanism), SPOILER armed assault, language and charming Steve, because he is most definitely a warning

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: Second 'half' of the 3rd chapter. As you might have noticed, this is a long one. But with hints of fluff. So…yay? 💕 If you wish/need to split the reading, I recommend to end a reading session at the second in-text divider 😊

Daisy Johnson, despite being the legendary Quake, did in fact have a moment – which was enough of a shock to stop your headache from getting worse, even if your hands seemed to get a little clammy as your phone lit up with her response.

You would have done just fine without anyone’s input, you considered yourself competent enough to choose an evening gown, thank you very much. But after the day you had had so far – you could hardly believe it wasn’t even noon yet – there was a small traitorous voice of hope in the back of your head. Despite the heavy feeling in your stomach weighing you down, a dull reminder of being alone in this world, it urged you to reach out to the one group of people that once made you believe that you could share more with someone than workload or more than lust that turned into ashes and smoke once the fire had been lit up too strong. Daisy had been in the centre of it – she and maybe Coulson.

It was a dangerous game you played, indulging in the one thing you knew would come back to slap you in the face; entertaining the idea that there was someone who genuinely cared for you regardless of your abilities was setting you up for disappointment. But there was something about Daisy, so honest and sincere, that had wormed its way through the walls you had sworn to keep up for support, several inches thick and vibranium-strong. And that didn’t change, even as you had been given, not for the first time, the evidence of how volatile a faith in friendship can turn just short of two hours ago.

Knowing that Daisy didn’t turn her back to people, not even to her father after all he had done wrong, knowing she chose to see the good in people and to put her heart into nurturing it in them despite the risk of getting hurt in more ways than one, left you defenceless against her powers that had nothing to do with her genetic code. She was, even if distantly, the closest thing to a sister to you, older, due to her experience with Inhuman powers and in Coulson’s team, and younger, due to her pure heart and excitement about new things; once she had managed her powers which she had got about a half a year before you did, she became your guide and confidant; though you hadn’t dared to taint her with the knowledge of your pain.

While you had started search for the dress without her, she texted you barely a half an hour in; fresh out of a meeting, apologizing she’d only have twenty minutes before they’d be in the drop-zone for their current mission. Twenty minutes. And yet, she had made the time for you. Somewhere, thousands of feet in the air, in between preparing her mission gear, she had decided to sneak in a few minutes for you.

The knowledge alone eased the pressure in your stomach and gave way to a wholly different feeling, equally dizzying. She cared. Yes, you could argue that since she had been tasked to lead the division of Inhuman agents of SHIELD, it was her duty to respond – and at times, you reminded yourself of that, that you really weren’t special – but the fact was that she was. And she truly did care. You hadn’t been wrong to call her a friend yesterday; and Daisy-the-teenager couldn’t have had picked a better role-model in life. For most part anyway.

It didn’t matter in the slightest that Daisy Johnson had barely squeezed you into her schedule; it still carried meaning. And it would be enough, because she could be very efficient, sorting through the dresses you had considered so far as easily as if she had been slicing through the security system of the Pentagon – for a person with her hacking experience anyway.

A set of easy questions you yourself had been asking was her effective tactics.

Mission or fun? she had asked first, no doubt already knowing the answer as she went through the early picks. There was a reason why no dress had bare back, while all of them had necklines designed high enough to hide at least a strapless bra.

Me: They call it a mission to have fun, but I’ll be damned if I go without being ready other kind of mission.

DJ: Fair

DJ: Charming or sexy?

Your lips twitched in a small smile, your mind conjuring the image of Daisy’s face when she was typing the question. She was one of very few people – probably the only one – who could make you feel the teenage-like excitement about challenging authority. There was always a reason to the madness of doing so, but there was something about her attitude that always whispered of poking the bear for the sake of fun only.

Charming, you replied, almost regretfully. As much fun as it would be to see brains of some of those pretentious jerks you were about to meet short-circuit just because they were seeing an extra silver of flesh on a young woman – a thing that would make for as much of an icky feeling as hilarity – your mission was to represent, not cause havoc or seduce.

Blah. Colour-coordinating with anyone? she asked then and you chuckled at her poorly hidden attempt to fish for gossip – and at the idea of actually trying to do what she was suggesting. No. You were not going to go and ask Rogers what colour he was about to wear. Less so since chances were high that he was about opt for a traditional black tuxedo suit with a white shirt.

Me: Nope.

DJ: Come on! At least tell me who you’re going with?!!

DJ: You know this is a much of a secure channel as it gets

DJ: And you said it wasn’t really a mission, so it can’t be classified

DJ: …and I can’t find it within the system.

I’ll tell you if we survive it, you replied simply, even as laughter already bubbled in your chest, cheeks beginning to hurt from disuse and the sudden exercise as to stop you from grinning.

You should have known that she’d hack the system and go straight for the mission database unless you told her the details. Tony, bless him, threw a tantrum whenever she did that – which wasn’t too often, but it had happened before. On days when you allowed yourself to ponder, you wondered why he never told anyone – as far as you knew, that was, because no one came down on you, raining holy fire of wrath, despite it being obvious you were the cause of Daisy’s hacks – and why he tolerated it. Some days, you thought he was amused by it and felt bad for you, seeing you missed your former team, granting you connection with Daisy even if the way she went about it drove him absolutely nuts. Other days, you were sure he simply enjoyed a challenge and this was as good one of those as any – and he’d be caught dead before he’d admit in front of anyone that someone was able to crack into his system. Most days, you were content not to look given horse in the mouth.

Like clockwork, FRIDAY’s mechanical voice interrupted your thoughts:

“Agent Spectre, Mr. Stark would like to know if, I quote, you know anything about some punk kid sneaking into the mission logs again, maybe Little Miss Richter Scale, end of quote,” she stated, causing a snort of laughter actually escape you at Tony’s new and dead-on nickname. You’d have to tell Daisy that later – she’d have a good laugh at that

Me: You’re getting better and better.

Me: He’s onto you now though.

DJ: He should, he’s slacking, took him forever to notice

Sometimes, you wondered what would happen if Tony Stark and Daisy Johnson found themselves in one room and she’d tell him that to his face; but that was a thought to entertain another day.

“Thanks, FRIDAY. Tell Mr. Stark to relax. We’re safe, it is just Daisy.”

“Very well. Apologies for interrupting your free time, Agent Spectre. However, I was also tasked to inform you that Sergeant Wilson prepared enough lunch for an army and extended the invitation to join him to everyone on the team. Even to those who are currently on a mission out of state, which I find odd and, frankly, despicable.”

Even though the corner of your lips twitched at FRIDAY’s comment, your heart skipped a startled beat, a fist of cold feeling squeezing your stomach. The invitation was a nice gesture, even if not meant for you. You could read between the lines: the family the Avengers team had built themselves into, even if the second strangest you had ever seen, did not involve you. You were barely a part of the team, a temporary loan, so to speak, even as you had signed a contract. Extending the invitation to the team meant extending it to friends, to that very family. As kind and welcoming as Sam seemed, you certainly did not belong to that category.

The vibration of your phone startled you; the message as amusing as bittersweet.

DJ: Fine, keep your secrets, Ms Avenger

Right. Ms. Avenger. Case on point. You might be one, technically, on paper, but in spirit… hardly. At best, you were determined to try and prove that the way you controlled your abilities could be at least Avengers-adjacent. The harsh truth however, was that if anyone from your old team would have had it in them to become a true Avenger, it was Daisy herself. Alas, she was too busy running and flying the world with another team, protecting, teaching, and recruiting Inhumans... and saving the world in the process.

DJ: Crap gotta run

DJ: Number four is the one I think

Whoever you’re going with is gonna lose their shit when they see you, she added, once again making you snort, this time without humour.

Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen. If chances of becoming a friend to an Avenger were astronomical, chances that Steve Rogers would be impressed by you dressing up to the nines were outside of all the realms known to Thor himself. But it was a nice sentiment, you supposed; the flicker of affection towards the optimist in Daisy was a testimony to that.

Me: Thank you for the help. Stay safe out there.

DJ: You too

DJ: But from what I saw about yesterday, you got it

DJ: …Ms Avenger

Shaking your head, this time unable to stop the smile taking over your lips, you set the phone down and ordered the dress to be delivered express, and moved onto shoes and a handbag; you ignored the growling of your hungry stomach and distantly couldn’t but wonder if maybe there’d be some leftovers of Sam’s pasta to have for lunch later.

Tony was not exaggerating when he was talking about the charity auction being a mission. A mission required preparation; having documents land in your inbox along with an alert of high-priority intel relevant to your mission lightning up your StarkWatch yesterday evening, you had never been more grateful for being obliged to read up on something.

As you were putting the last touches to your make-up in the quinjet bathroom, you sent another mental thank you to Tony, because the extensive files on all expected guests, besides having potential to be useful to you during the event, gave you the perfect excuse as to why leave last preparations to the flight.

Naturally, the intel itself was a message with a bitter aftertaste, because it highlighted your role and tasks. Represent. Make small-talk. Show interest. Compliment a healthy amount; meaning bootlick a bit, if necessary. You knew the dance and it had always made your head spin in the worst way. To show enough admiration and knowledge about the world’s finest to look professional and a bit of a fan, but not as a stalker, even as there were people among the attendees tonight who would have probably appreciated a stalker-level interest and considered it a compliment.

But despite the slight nausea hitting you when leafing through the files, you had appreciated the out Tony had given you, whether it was intentional or not; because with an excuse of mountains of intel to try to learn by heart, you didn’t have to sit opposite to Steve in the quinjet in awkward silence. Or worse, trying to make small talk with him, just as awkward. Or, in the worst-case scenario – which would be in the direct conflict with one of the mission’s laughable objectives, specifically trying not to kill each other – fight with him.

And you probably would have done exactly that because there was no way Captain America himself had been wrestled into this the same way you had. They might have had to twist his arm to make him go with you, but not to go. He had been given a choice and chose to attend, despite the concerns you had voiced. And you probably hadn’t been the only one, which meant Steve had to be hyperaware of the potential security issue and he deliberately ignored it. Of course. Why wouldn’t he? He was Mr. Captain America and nothing could ever happen to him; be it because he thought there was no danger and you were allegedly making it bigger deal than necessary or – which drove you all high up the wall and made you want to punch him into his damn perfect teeth or at least punch his stupidly firm pec – the threat was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Goddamn him.

You crumbled the fabric of your dress between your fingers in a firm grip as you breathed through the rush of pure indignation with him being a brave stubborn dismissive dumbass and breathed in slowly; you held your breath for a few seconds, and only then released it along with the grip on your dress. You blinked at yourself in the mirror and repeated the action, arranging your face into a neutral expression at least.

Tony might have as well come up with the idea to send the intel solely to prevent you from attempting to strangle Steven Grant Rogers before you even landed, so it would be polite to honour his efforts.

When you finally exited the bathroom and entered the main space, you found Steve in one of the seats with a tablet in his hand, the screen dimly illuminating his face. He looked up as you approached, rising to his feet almost as if on instinct, his lips slightly parted for a brief moment. His gaze glided over the dress from where it brushed your ankles, over the line of the skirt, the slit reaching mid-thigh opening and closing as you walked, revealing a silver of your leg tastefully and covering you again, then over the waist, V-shaped neckline ending mid-sternum, short sleeves with delicate frills. For a moment, the intensity of his gaze surprised you; but then you realized that he was committing the dress to memory to find you easily in the crowd in case any Avengers-related business came up.

Then, an obtrusively gentle thought nudged at your mind; he was an amateur artist. You had got a glimpse of him several times, a sketchbook and a pencil in his fingers, look distant or extremely focused on the paper in front of him. He could appreciate beauty – and the dress you chose was without doubt an embodiment of it. The glimmer of it was subtle and the sparkles sparce; in the rich dark blue blending into a purple just as dark, it resembled the sky just after dusk, with the first stars coming out. Whether he had a sense for fashion or not wouldn’t matter – the dress was, at least in your eyes, gorgeous. Not flashy, not too shiny to attract too much attention, but with an idea making up for the otherwise simple design.

When Steve met your eyes, the light of the quinjet made it appear as if there was a tinge of pink in his cheeks. And there actually might be, since his eyes lingered on the dress for a moment too long; which wouldn’t be a crime if you weren’t already wearing them, making it seem like he was staring.

“You look beautiful,” he said, the soft tone making it sound almost as if it escaped him unwittingly.

It was the most ordinary of compliments and yet, it surprised you that he had even paid it. Perhaps it shouldn’t have, as he was a product of his time – a time in which if men didn’t compliment a woman’s appearance, they were probably called louts. And yet. Even with that knowledge, something akin to warmth fluttered in your chest, a brief smile passing over your lips, the silent ‘thank you’ the least courtesy you could give in return.

If he had tried to commit your dress to memory, you’d allow yourself the same luxury. A quality black tuxedo with a faint navy-blue glint, pristine white shirt, a black bow-tie. His outfit would be but a drop in the sea, nothing that would stand out among those of other men; but you had the advantage of him being easily found in the crowd thanks to his physique alone. The broadness and strength he radiated could carry the weight of the world – and it felt like it did – narrowing beautifully into the trim waist in a ratio not even a loose jacket could hope to hide, let alone such well-fitting one which seemed to accentuate it a little more than was strictly necessary. With him towering over about ninety-five percent of people and having shoulders wider than about ninety-nine percent of the usual present company, he was truly hard to miss.

Unfortunately, it also made him an easy target who was truly hard to miss indeed.

And now you were staring and he was no doubt aware – it was impossible not to, less so with how much attention he paid to things. So you stood there in silence, awkward one, precisely the one you had wanted to avoid and yet managed to reach it in thirty seconds flat – but at least neither of you were yelling. Yet.

As glad as you were to see that Steve Rogers had clearly decided to leave whatever disagreements you had ever had back at the Tower for the sake of this mission, trying his best to be the exact opposite of antagonistic, you were not going to tell him he looked extremely good to make things even more awkward. You wouldn’t even think it, as right as the assessment was. It would be inappropriate, even as he had complimented you first.  You needed to be professional. There was a task at hand.

Right. The mission.

Steve was still watching you, something akin to curiosity in his gaze.

You cleared your throat, nodding towards the tablet in his hand.

“You were going through the files on the guests?”

Steve blinked, seemingly snapped from his thoughts.

“Yes. Have you?” he asked as he laid the tablet on the seat, straightening to his full height again; it was ridiculous how tall he seemed in the low-ceiling cabin of this type of quinjets. There was a faint smile on his lips, no tension in his jaw as he watched you; he already knew the answer and he wasn’t trying to provoke you.

Small talk it was.

“Yes, Captain,” you replied dutifully. You would swear a little twinkle of humour appeared in his eye – but it was probably just the lights reflecting in his cerulean blues. “Yesterday and today. Should be more than enough to represent properly.”

Alright, it must have been humour, because the corner of his lips twitched now at the lightest trace of defiance in your voice. Then he smiled fully, the spark burning brighter, your stomach somersaulting a bit.

Who were you kidding you had no idea; he looked more than just extremely good and handsome. In a different kind of suit than you were used to, bright eyes with their blue accentuated by the colour of his tuxedo, with uncharacteristically relaxed features and even a smile aimed at you, the beauty of him seemed so surreal you might have as well entered another dimension. Which, given your experience with Coulson’s team, was not unplausible. And yet, your heart fluttering had nothing to with fear as he went to sidestep you.

What was wrong with you today?

“Well… good. I’m sure you’ll have the two remaining objectives handled as well,” he said kindly.

You blinked, neurons firing in all directions, heart leaping to your throat. Surely, he didn’t just—the two remaining objectives. That wasn’t--- that didn’t mean anything. He probably didn’t receive the same documents, his mission package different from yours as he was one of the original Avengers, the strategist.

And yet, a worm of curiosity had already chewed its way through to your brain, an itch you needed to scratch otherwise you’d go crazy. Certainly, he couldn’t have implied-

He stepped out towards the bathroom, only to be stopped in his tracks by your impulsive words.

“Can I borrow your tablet for one more moment?” you blurted out, clearly taking him by surprise; but not unpleasantly. “I just… I just want to check on some of the guests again.”

“Sure.”

With the same faint smile adorning his absurdly handsome face, he took a few steps back to reach for the tablet, unlocking it for you and opening the file with individual documents for you to browse before taking his leave.

You weren’t sure why you needed to check – if you were a sucker for pain, needing to know your assumption he had only received three objectives was correct – but you opened the mission overview anyway.

A lump grew in your throat as you skimmed through the document, your stomach suddenly unbearably warm.

He didn’t mean it. He forgot there were four not three objectives, a sharp voice in your head argued, instantly opposed by another, even if less insistent, reminding you that Captain Rogers was believed to have eidetic memory and you had seen his impressive memory indeed in action before.

It didn’t matter. You were making a big deal out of nothing; and ocne you came back from this excuse of a mission, you needed to have your heart checked, because the irregularities in rhythm and the palpitations upon simply reading had to signal an underlying health issue.

But it was right there, in his device, in one of the documents he had just been reading through. The overview.

Location.

Time.

Two names.

Four objectives.

Four objectives which were no doubt written down by Tony, given the choice of words and their existence to begin with, because no one else would have treated an official document this way.

Make Avengers look good; Look good; Have fun (includes using Stark/Avengers card in the auction); Try not to kill each other.

You felt your cheeks heat up even though there was not a single reason to feel that way. You were a grown woman. You had been complimented countless times before, in much more flattering ways, though less playful ones. Steve was just being… polite. And a little teasing, trying to put you at ease, probably thinking you couldn’t handle yourself, having been informed about your… reluctance to attend the auction. His niceness was in overdrive since he had been literally given orders not to treat you as if he wanted to kill you. He didn’t mean it and even if he did, you had no business reacting this way.

But still. It seemed that Steve Rogers decided that for the sake of the mission, he would more than just leave your differences of opinions behind for the night; he decided to truly work hard on the one single objective that did not come easily to him. There was no other reason for that, but despite your better judgement, it brought a ghost of a smile to your face, one that felt a little stupid.

As you heard him open the door, you were quick to close the document and tap on a random one concerning the guests, just in case Steve would want to check. You pretended that you were too immersed in reading to address him as he walked to you, but there was no need.

The gentle swing of the quinjet slowing down made you forget about whatever he had been trying to imply alarmingly fast.

You were almost there; in the lion’s den. It was time to pull yourself together, be the picture perfect this mission required even if you were not. Just because your idea of a useful mission was different, you wouldn’t treat this one with any less focus or professionalism; even if you’d rather find yourself tied-up and gagged an abandoned warehouse in a middle of nowhere, with no back-up in sight, than kept a fake smile plastered to your face for hours.

Avenger or not, your task was to represent. And so you would, conveniently with the man who represented the goals and values of the team better than anyone else ever could. You’d do your best to support him in that, and you’d do so while fulfilling all the objectives of the mission indeed, even if you doubted that you’d be any better than an accessory the size of Steve’s cufflink. You doubted that Steve Rogers would need the slightest support in charming rich people and the staff alike.

Just for that, you mentally added a fifth objective, an objective anyone drawing up the document should have added themselves. For Steve, it would be not to be a dumbass and not to get himself hurt, hit by anti-serum, kidnapped or killed. For you, not to let any of these things happen to him.

It wouldn’t have been an issue in the first place if it was anyone else with you, but since Steve goddamn Rogers had decided to--- no. Not today. He truly was trying to be bearable. You’d meet him halfway; but you’d be damned if you didn’t keep your eyes open.

“I forgot to tell you earlier,” you murmured as the quinjet touched down on one of the rooftops on a nearby hotel, courtesy of Tony’s negotiating skills – his irresistible charm, as he would say – earning you Steve’s startled look. “You clean up well too.”

His shoulders sagged, eyebrow arching subtly, but his surprise melted into a slight smile again. “Thank you. Shall we?”

Like the gentleman he had been raised to be, he offered you an elbow as the ramp of the quinjet opened for you to step out. There was no need – you had walked on far worse surfaces than this in heels before, you had been forced to run and kick in them too – and you had to physically swallow the remark that would inform Steve about that. But you’d be an idiot to not see that he didn’t offer you an arm to be condescending; he did so to be nice. You could work with nice.

“Thanks.”

And with that, you stepped out, counting steps until you’d walk into the lion’s den indeed.

To say that functions, balls and auctions were not your scene would be a serious understatement. Not in the sense of you being unable to tackle them, no – you had plenty of experience – but in the sense of you absolutely despising them. Specifically, you couldn’t stand what people pretended to be when in that environment; and that included you.

It hadn’t always been like that; visiting events like this started off pleasant. People in luxury robes with wide smiles and subtle laughs echoing in glimmering halls were a thrilling environment before. Before you could fully understand what was happening, before you could read the room. It was only much later when you’d identify these events as necessary evil when working for SHIELD and the time between the two points was a long journey.

Your father would have sneaked into these, either in his own ways or through your mother’s alleged renown status; and you, naturally, went with them. She’d often leave you and your father to your own devices, charming guests into adoring her, speaking of her dedication to both her work and her family, particularly to her daughter, her tone speaking louder than her words in the case of the latter; contempt.

Meanwhile, your father was the complete opposite. He had you joined at his hip, a crutch for when his own tactics of pretending to be someone truly indispensable to SHIELD failed. If people roaming higher circles of society didn’t recognize him as the god’s gift to humanity he hoped to come across as, you’d come in; a charming young lady ready to take the world by storm, his beloved daughter, his pride and joy. Errors made that day, that week or past months didn’t matter – they didn’t exist at the moment, your performance always painted as perfect for the sake of the bragging.

It was a divine experience to receive so much praise, him sounding so earnest in front of all those people; it got sicker and more twisted the older you got, seeing the mask slipping on and off as it suited him, knowing that in the discomfort of home, you were none of what he described you as that to him. And yet. To be finally loved and seen as exceptional by your own father, the one person who had always believed in you and told you so; who wouldn’t want that? Just a taste; like melting hot chocolate on your tongue, thoroughly warming your very being, the softest of blankets that turned scratchy the moment you left the room, snatched away to leave you out in the cold reality of being born a hope and growing up a failure. But those moments, those moments you craved as much as you hated them. Because you knew they would never last.

It was one of the many contradictions of your childhood and adolescence, one of many topics of your therapy sessions that seemed to have no end. It reminded you of what Lincoln always said – that every Inhuman had a purpose and that every Inhuman’s power reflected, to a point, who they were. The way you felt you were often being pulled in two directions, loved and despised, dotted on and ignored, obedient and rebellious, to be exactly who your father had always intended for you to be and find your own path – or pretend you could, for a bit at least, to give him a glimpse of a real disappointment; all goals in direct opposition to each other. You were surprised your ability wasn’t the same as Alisha’s who could literally split herself into several images of herself. But you were hardly an overachiever, were you? You had learned long time ago that perfection was out of your reach, no matter how much you’d cry and bleed and clawed your way through to it, only to see the top of the mountain move when your fingers had almost touched it at last. And on top of that mountain; people like Steve Rogers. The man who could shove it into anyone’s face that it wasn’t that the summit was too high; it was just that they were too small of a person. That you weren’t enough.

It wasn’t fair to despise him for it. But it wasn’t fair that some of these people could insult you to your face and imply you were a lesser Avenger – while representing them nevertheless – and you had no chance to truly fight back without somewhat proving them right.

About a hundred and then some boring conversations later, encounters in which you felt your skin crawl because you hated rubbing elbows, facing fake smiles and carefully crafted politeness with veiled insults weaved between the words of those who could afford it, you were ready to take a break and you were afraid it was beginning to show too.

Captain Steve Rogers, of course, did not seem tired of pleasantries in the slightest; the golden boy still roamed among the crowds, more than willing to engage in any conversation, shaking hands and rubbing elbows indeed as if he had been born to do exactly that. Crowds loved him and that was a fact, whether what Tony had insinuated was correct or not and Steve couldn’t stand this kind environment either indeed.

You had to give it to Steve, however – and truly, you should have expected it, because this was Steve Rogers, originally a little man who could not stand people looking down at others, less so diminish someone’s worth, and he was the protector, the ultimate good guy, the perfection personified – the encounters you had handled side by side with him did not see you neglected. Quite the opposite. If someone didn’t recognize you, which applied to the majority, he was happy to introduce you, or, as it had been in most cases, he had you introduce yourself and only then he highlighted your importance to the team if anyone seemed less that impressed.

Contrary to what you would believe, his words and demeanour, however, pushed the icky sensation of the scene away rather than intensified it. Unlike your father, Steve didn’t have you trail after him. He didn’t belittle you to lift himself up. He didn’t boast about his brilliant decision to reassign you to the team since you were so useful When he spoke of you as the new addition to the team, he didn’t highlight your most recent accomplishment either, not with a condescending or patronizing tone or words that would make it sound as if he as saying oh she saved a few people just two days ago, including Natasha Romanoff, someone give her a candy.

Steve didn’t speak of you as if you were hisachievement, didn’t speak of letting you join the team, of the cooperation being his or their choice.

“We are honoured to have her join the team,” he’d say instead.

“With every mission she takes on, she proves how fortunate we are that she is one of us.”

“Her contributions to our common goal are invaluable.”

“She is an essential part of our team and we are thankful she continues to make this world a safer place with the rest of us.”

On one hand, it was almost sweet; on the other, it was irritating. You didn’t need him to earn you their respect and it should make you livid he was trying to do that, to play the hero who’d rush to your rescue. To a point, it did, because you could fight your own battles; but this battlefield tended to make you slip into a mindset you hated – made you slip into a skin you hated wearing. Still, Steve’s tendency to make it his personal mission that you were not overshadowed by him – a futile effort truly – should make your blood boil, because there he was, the world’s mightiest saviour in action again.

But the way his body language changed when someone eyed you as if you were an unwanted addition to the conversation seemed to whisper of other things than self-proclaimed white knight needing to sweep in; it expressed itself as a personal insult to him that your supposed brilliance was not acknowledged. It seemed almost as if he was gesturing to you wildly with his large palms, his voice as if demanding from the people he spoke to: do you really not see how amazing she is? Are you an idiot? Naturally, he was doing so in much distinguished manner, but that was how it felt.

You were certain someone must have got to you before Tony did back in the park, landing a hit to your head or two, causing a microtrauma that only now manifested in your entirely skewed perception and hallucinations. They must have, there was no other plausible explanation. Or maybe you had actually died; laying your life for Natasha’s would have certainly been a worthy cause. Or perhaps it wasn’t so dramatic and you had simply slipped into a coma and this was some weird manifestation of your brain recovering.

And yet, you had a feeling that if you pinched yourself, you would still feel as grounded in this strange reality as you did now, the intense surge of affection for the man still overwhelming, the satisfaction of seeing the swellheads meek and slightly embarrassed at Steve’s tone upon them dismissing you curling hot in your core. You needed to stop revel in it so much.

But be as it might, despite trying to carefully shield yourself from the effect of Steve’s very public words of appreciation due to knowing it wouldn’t last, you felt yourself grow taller than you ever had been in an event like this. You didn’t feel as obliged to smile politely just for the sake of pleasing others, even as you did smile. Despite the presence of Captain America, larger than life, you felt confident and powerful, even if this kind of feeling normally only came when you were on a mission with the target already in your pocket.

And yet, this surge of courage – and all the wondering about what an alternate reality you had entered – didn’t make the game of social chess less exhausting or brought it closer to your ideas of fun. After almost another hour of wandering on your own, tending to every conversation necessary and even those less necessary, you did find yourself in a need of a break and you liked to think you deserved one.

Naturally, fate – if there was such thing – did not grant you such courtesy.

When you finally did find yourself at the bar, it was one godawful encounter later – a single polite conversation that had sucked all life out of you, all of the little glow you felt you had gathered swept away with a single snap of fingers. It was unfair. It was unfair that your mother still had such hold on you after a lifetime of you being nothing but a bug on her windshield as she tried to drive into the sunset of her own glory, even months and months after her final abandonment.

The matter was only worse since it wasn’t even her. Just a distant colleague – her superior, no less. A few minutes, every second dragging since the moment Doctor Franklin had mentioned your mother, and you were ready to hit the bar for something far stronger than champagne.

“Ah, I knew I saw a resemblance. You must be so proud to wear your mother’s features and name. A strong woman, a survivor, truly dedicated to science, exploring the wonders of the nature of Inhuman transformation. Examining her own genetic code to be able to share fascinating facts of the uniqueness of her case. Even the draft of her study was most intriguing… pardon me, what was it that your abilities are after you, unlike her, simply acquired powers like everyone else?”

It shouldn’t have affected you; but it did. With what felt like chunks of metal in your stomach, the tickle of nausea in the back of your throat, you were almost proud you managed to hold somewhat of a smile, actually uncertain if the woman was clueless in the matter of politeness and tact or whether she was making a calculated insult.

“I’m afraid the exact nature of my abilities is classified, ma’am,” you replied. The words, even if they should feel full of vindication, tasted bitter on your tongue.

Trust your mother to finally find her exceptionality and built the pinnacle of her career on a flaw in her genetic code. Of fucking course. Making herself the centre of attention while being the primary source of that attention at the same time; what a brilliant move. Someone should give her a damn Nobel. You really were doing something wrong in your life.

So truly, you felt like were entitled to a breather as you walked away with a polite nod, trying not to throw up in your mouth as the world got slightly blurry at the edges for a moment, your heart pounding, knees feeling a little weak. You felt the sticky remnants of Doctor Franklin’s words linger on your skin, resisting the urge to rub it off.

You deserved a shot of something stronger. You weren’t sure anything weaker than absinth would do the trick and help you snap from the strange haze your body slipped into; but facing the man behind the improvised bar, you couldn’t make yourself ask for that however.

Well-aware that you needed to keep at least some face since the mission of the evening was to represent, you opted for vodka, small shot only. And despite the weary conversations, you didn’t forget: in addition to representing, you wanted to be ready to fight whoever could possibly go after Rogers. As much as you’d like to get wasted to feel actual nausea instead, something tangible and real like the burn of the strongest alcohol known to mankind, you couldn’t. Vodka it was.

You turned the shot bottoms-up, focusing fully on the hot trickle down your throat, the fire dampening all your other senses; and for a few second, it was bliss.

Until your nostrils were hit by an unfairly familiar cologne and aftershave, a deep timbre soaking into your bones whenever spoken despite how much you tried not to let it do exactly that.

“Having fun as we were ordered?”

You froze, shame, indignation and the alcohol lightning you up like a wildfire.

Great, Mr. Morality is here, you thought darkly, setting the glass down, turning to Steve with poorly masked annoyance. Annoyance which was quickly wiped out, the flames licking at your gut put out.

You expected his face to be full of judgement, anger and disappointment; but much like his voice had been, you realized, it was free of any bite or sting, simply showing light amusement and compassion, a slightly worried crinkle between his brows.

His voice had been quiet, purposely so, as not to attract lookers-on. It was a little naïve – to think he could walk in anywhere without at least ten pairs of eyes following him – but it was nice of him that he was trying not to embarrass you by publicly calling you an alcoholic.

But the gentle mix of emotion adorning his expression only made your stomach twist. It was a great paradox really; it would be so much easier to deal with tonight if he was being insufferable and judged you. But that bastard, the irritatingly handsome bastard, was being simply amazing. A much greater person you could ever be. And he didn’t mean to, probably – but he was just screaming exactly that to your face with every little action he had opted for tonight.

Not his fault, not his fault, you tried to remind yourself as he continued to watch you, curiosity sneaking into his gaze now.

Make Avengers look good.

Look good.

Have fun.

Do not kill each other.

Do not kill each other. Got it.

“Guilty as charged,” you said finally, the light tone you had hoped for not coming out quite right; but he didn’t hold it against you.

“Nothing to be guilty about,” he said, shrugging subtly. “I… might have gone for one of those myself had it had any effect on me.”

Right, you realized. Supersoldier. Accelerated healing, fast metabolism. You did happen to know he burned off most things even faster than other men built like mountains. Shorter and less broad mountains, that was.

You felt you head instinctively tilt to side a bit, contemplating what he said without spelling it out. He didn’t seemlike he needed a strong drink. In fact, he seemed perfectly like a fish in water among the sea of piranhas of people – and yes, you were aware that was a harsh judgement on some of them who were indeed rather pleasant to talk to – but Tony’s words echoed in your head.

He’s good at rubbing elbows, even if he hates it, he had said. Steve was exactly that; but apparently, he was also pretty great at hiding his distaste.

Of course that he was, you thought bitterly, even as a hint of compassion nudged at your mind; just because he was good at disguising it, it didn’t mean he didn’t feel just as sick filling the role of the most excellent companion.  

“You could do it just to feel the heat,” you suggested half-heartedly, regretting the words as soon as they left your mind.

You had to phrase it just like that, didn’t you.

Steve watched you with unnerving intensity for a moment, before he seemed to shake off whatever dark thought had occurred to him, a small smile appearing on his face.

“That is true, but somehow it’s even more disappointing if that’s the only consequence, you know?”

“…right.”

He cleared his throat, your gaze falling to his bowtie as he released you from the trap of his gaze.

“Either way. Would you like to dance?”

Your head snapped back up, shock no doubt painting your face, rendering you mute. He wasn’t--- oh he was.

Despite your expression – one painfully resembling of a deer in the headlights of an off-road SUV coming at it at hundred miles an hour – he seemed unfazed, a slight twinkle of amusement in his eye barely noticeable in the otherwise genuine demeanour. You frowned, suspicion dying out as fast as it had arisen.

Whatever motive he had to ask, it couldn’t hurt the mission, you supposed. And it would be impolite to decline. You had promised yourself to meet him halfway in his attempts to be civil; and he had gone far beyond that. For the past two weeks, not having confronted you about either the flash-drive situation nor the went-full-spectre-in-a-public-park incident, that had been him being civil. Tonight, he was courteous even. Pleasant. Kind. You had no idea why he hadn’t sought you out to get answers or scold you, nor why he went this far out of his way to treat you like this tonight, but you had enough common sense not to poke even as it had been eating away at the back of your mind.

You just needed to accept it and be thankful, and needed to aid the common goal; and maybe, just maybe, revel in it and store the memory for later, even if such luxuries only burned with emptiness once they were gone.

But how could you do any different?

“Sure,” you said simply. “Why not.”

How could you feel any different when his lips smiled half-heartedly, but his eyes showed true warmth? A startling warmth almost; but it was nothing in comparison to the heat of his body when he offered you his elbow and led you to the small dancefloor in the adjacent room with only a few high tables lining the walls; it was nothing in comparison to the soft jolt of electricity that ran through your nerves all the way down your spine when his hand took yours carefully, eyes fixed on your face, checking for any sign of discomfort when he pulled you close at the first notes of a waltz.

Up close, without either of you screaming into each other’s faces, he was painfully beautiful; you knew that. You knew that already, because you had played the forbidden game of imagining what it would be like to see his face from this distance; but the reality of it was startling, a tingle of a thrill and pain at once. Inches close and miles away from reach. To be at the receiving end of the look in his eyes, painted partly by delusion and the aforementioned hits in the head you had probably suffered, was the sweetest torture.

It was impossible to ignore his firm but gentle grip, his confident lead; a wall of perfectly controlled muscle, hard planes of his body and yet its surprising softness and warmth, leaving your head spinning and sending your thoughts to an indecent dangerous direction; what would it be to feel him even closer? What would it be like to—

You’d never know. For a large part, of your own doing; for another part, of his own, because you had never met a more irritating person in your life and you had met a quite a few. He was impossible in his very unique different way – even as you knew that was tainted by your own perception – he was impossible in a way you couldn’t but want anyway.

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear, snapping you from your useless musings back to reality.

Yeah, thanks, I was signed up for ballet class about as soon as I could walk, because it should have helped my posture and body coordination in preparation for working for SHIELD before I could attend martial class lessons. Because a kid younger of six years getting punched would have been a bad image for my parents. Not that I knew any of that at that time. Anyway, I had to rediscover my love for dancing much later on-

You cut off your train of thought, swallowing the unnecessarily hostile and dark truth. Instead, you reciprocated his easy subtle smile, something inside your quivering at the casualness and sincerity of the compliment.

“Depends on the lead, right?” you murmured.

Mentally, you sighed, cursing yourself for your loose mouth.

You could have said something along the lines of you too, and it would be an understatement; Steve’s lead indeed was firm but not forceful, elegant ease without a shred of indecency, his sense of rhythm impeccable, which was much more than you could say about some of your companions on the dancefloor. But no; you chose to mention his leading skills, instantly circling back to what was bothering you – you having standing up to his lead as a Captain before and him not mentioning it. He had kept blissfully quiet and here you were, dangling the topic you should have been glad had been put to rest in front of him as if you wanted him to take the bait no matter the cost.

You really must have been hit in the head; or perhaps you were finally returning to normal yourself.

But Steve Rogers was a man of many faces and surprises up his sleeves, apparently. His smile only widened briefly at your note, eyes flashing with amusement, before a little frown creased his brow.

“Don’t sell yourself so short.”

You gulped. Again. He complimented you with such ease, as if it was the most natural thing in the world; and it seemed like he meant every bit. The way your heart fluttered at that ached pleasantly. Hadn’t it been for the sober voice in the back of your head, telling you were on a borrowed time of this kind of treatment, it wouldn’t ache at all. It almost, almost didn’t.

Because the one word you had left out when thinking about his lead on the dancefloor, having avoided it on purpose, was safe. You entered an uncharted territory tonight; you knew Captain America’s lead from your numerous missions you had been chosen for under his command. And even as you had challenged his leadership before, you trusted him on that front. But tonight was a very different thing; and still, he somehow emitted the same aura, in a considerably more intimate way.

It was terrifying.

But as much as you were taken aback, with no clue how to even respond to that, your instincts – probably all over the place, because had you been in sound mind, you would have run for the hills before accepting his offer in the first place – whispered you were safe indeed.

And if you’d turn it into a joke, you’d be even safer.

“If that was a reference to my height, I’d like to point out everyone is short compared to you. And that is with all the extra inches--- that my heels have.”

Oh for god’s-

Your fingers flexed reflexively on his arm; your hand in his would have twitched if he hadn’t held it so firmly. You did not just say that, did you? Closing your eyes briefly, you felt your face burn hot, the furnace of Steve’s body suddenly feeling like ice in comparison. Why on Earth did you talk about inches? First feeling the heat, then this, damn Freudian slips, damn his well-fitting suit and handsome face-

Bless him, his chuckle was good-natured and not in the slightest dirty – then again, you should have expected nothing less from the golden boy, shouldn’t you? He wouldn’t hold it against you and had it been anyone else, you would have been grateful, much like in any other situation. But this was him and tonight your mission was literally to avoid this kind of embarrassing phrasing.

“You know what I meant,” he said, not unkindly – much to your relief and irritation.

You hummed noncommittally, still processing this was somehow a reality you had found yourself in. A reality in which Steve Rogers was a pleasant company, kept you close and safe enough that you had spent several moments with your eyes closed while dancing without fearing you’d end up with a broken ankle, a reality where-

“I wanted to apologize.”

-he just said he was sorry.

Your eyes snapped open, your step, a second nature you barely needed to think about, faltering just a fraction. You found your footing with the very next step and perhaps not even Steve had noticed; but he for sure must have noticed the undiluted shock that overtook your features.

Yet, he held calm in the face of your awe and bewilderment, gaze fixed on yours whispering of nothing but sincerity and regret indeed.

He was apologizing.The sudden lump in your throat was the only thing in physical reality that felt real at all; the rest truly must have been but a fever dream. That and the frantic beats of your heart.

“For what?” you asked quietly.

You weren’t trying to be petty, if he truly was apologizing. You meant it.

Naturally, you had a good idea what he was referring to, but that was part of the reason why it was so puzzling; more so since he now knew what the intel was about, since he was aware who exactly you put in danger by failing. Then again, the fact you were both here despite it told you all over again that he didn’t let that bother him too much.

But even with him deliberately ignoring the threat…

Yes, he had not acted very thoughtfully, but whether you liked it or not, he wasyour superior, he had put together that mission and so you understood the frustration he had felt at the moment. Hell, you had felt it yourself – you would have yelled at yourself too. And looking back, you knew that some of your momentary view of his behaviour and attitude, of his actions, stemmed from the fact you had been disappointed in yourself too; and that most time, he did in fact realize he could do wrong and that he in fact did care for every single member of the team. He probably did give a damn about the fact that you – your spectre anyway – got shot. He probably cared about the fact that two days ago, you left a big damn opening when you projected in public without making sure you had someone in your corner.

You weren’t sure that there was any need to apologize, even with him yelling at you in front of everyone to the point where you hadn’t been able to stand it and a few tears had escaped you – because damn, did he touch a nerve – even if he had been a bit of an asshole.

Most people apologized because they felt the need to ease their conscience, to keep up appearances; but seeing Steve now, the soft and strict lines of his face, told you that he was apologizing for your benefit mainly. It would be sweet if it was so irritating.

Golden boy. Shoved straight to your face. You could never be as good as him, because he simply wasn’t human – and you were the Inhuman from the pair. God, he had his hands on you and he didn’t even try to cop a feel or anything for crying out loud. He was being kind and respectful and so damn beautiful and tall.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he said slowly, gaze intent as if he wanted to make sure you absorbed every word. “I shouldn’t have done that to begin with, but the witnesses made it even worse. And all you did was making a quick decision in a difficult situation, according to your best conscience no doubt. I might not have agreed with it, but you still didn’t deserve such treatment.”

“And you’d do the same,” you added.

You almost slapped your hand over your mouth as soon as the words were out.

This was what happened when you felt safe. You talked back. Dammit.

You could see – and feel, because his chest was practically brushing yours, something you were hyperaware of even as you tried your best not to be– him breathe in to retort.

You really needed to have your head checked out. You should have just taken the apology and cherish it, like any normal person, even if it irked you that Steve Rogers was capable of self-reflection and had enough strength to admit his shortcomings. He was simply better than everyone else. It was easy to see that with no emergency in sight, but that didn’t make it easier to accept that and act accordingly every second of the day.

Yet, you tried at least now.

“Sorry! Sorry. Don’t push it, Spectre. Got it,” you blurted out, fixing a quick smile and you would have sworn you had seen a sparkle on mischief in his blue irises under the indignation. You cleared your throat. “Apology accepted, Captain.”

His relaxed his tense jaw, gaze softening further; painfully so.

“Thank you. And I thought you knew you could call me Steve.”

Golden boy – case on point. You swallowed, unable to keep the swirl of warmth in your chest from creeping into your voice even as you knew you were diving into dangerous waters with reckless abandon by following his request.

“Apology accepted, Steve.”

If your voice was warm, his smile was half the power of the sun, heating your very bones, your heart stumbling in your chest. You should run; you should run because you were never going to receive a gift like that again and the longer you basked in it, the worse it would be when it was gone. But you had already established that sometimes, you couldn’t help but throw caution out of the window despite knowing how much it would hurt later when you’d have to go and scramble to gather it again, hadn’t you?

And so when the song blended into another, the smallest squeeze to your fingers a wordless question, you nodded against your better judgement.

Steve’s smile grew a fraction, feet quick to adjust to the new rhythm, the air around you warmer another few degrees. It was hard to let his apology and kindness linger in the air and not react to it; even as you needed to breathe in and out a few times, eyes examining his face carefully as to predict whether what you were about to say would come back stabbing you in the back.

“I’m sorry for my outburst too. I… acted emotional.” As you recalled the traitorous tears that had escaped you, you thought that to say that was an understatement, but Steve didn’t seem to hold it against you. Instead, he listened with unnerving intent to all you had to say. “Which isn’t an excuse, but I’m still sorry. I… didn’t exactly watched my tongue. I mean, I didn’t-“

­-I didn’t mean what I said, you wanted to say, your voice dying in your throat at the startingly gentle blue of Steve’s eyes, your breath hitching at the sudden vice squeezing your chest. This moment, whatever it was, was becoming overwhelming fast; and you found yourself unable to force the words out.

Because they weren’t true; you had definitely meant a few things, your anger with Steve snapping you back when you had been this close to gathering intel on something that threatened, without exaggeration, his life, just because he had been outraged at… whatever, that was very real. Much like him, you had had a reason for your outburst; and for that itself, you couldn’t apologize. Not when you wouldn’t mean it. Not when he was looking at you like he’d trust anything you said. You couldn’t but reciprocate his honesty even if it should earn you an official demerit from Captain America himself.

“…I didn’t mean at least half of the things I said.”

Steve’s welcoming expression shifted in an instant, your heart already startling in reaction to the change, muscles tensing in an instinctual fight-or-flight response.

And then your brain caught up.

Steve was grinning. He was grinning with mischief lightning up his face bright, humour dancing in his eyes – good-natured humour without a single trace of offense, but maybe with a little speckle of surprise; and if you looked close enough and entertained the thought, pride.

And by god he was breath-taking, leaving you feel like you had flown too close to the sun for a moment unaware that the inevitable fall would kill you.

“Well, as long as it was only a half,” he hummed, his amusement audible in his voice too. There was a strange but not unpleasant tilt to it; almost as if he knew that if he simply accepted your apology right away, the situation would have had you run for the hills indeed. “Apology accepted, Spectre.”

You gulped, taking a wavering breath, flying just a little higher. “You know you can call me by my first name too, right?”

That was only fair, no? That was what you told yourself until Steve smiled softly and repeated himself slowly, this time with your name indeed. That was when you realized you really had caught yourself in a foolish indulgence, because the feeling washing over you was… nice. Very, very nice. His tone, his words were both indescribably nice, and so was the way he held you to lead your through the room without an ounce of indecency, and so was his proximity and his warmth. It was dangerously nice and you felt your chest, having briefly be filled with that tender fragile feeling, tighten instead.

And then Steve spoke up again.

“…and you’re probably right.”

Your eyebrows shot up, gasping; and had you any different company than a room full of important or at least self-important people dressed in black-tie attire, you wouldn’t have stopped your jaw from falling.

Did he just-

Stop the presses! you wanted to shout.

Did he just admit he himself was a hothead?

What peculiar kind of an alternate reality had you entered indeed to see Steve Rogers admit he had been a hypocrite?

This was simply too satisfying to be true.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m the best example,” he added.

You found yourself chuckling through your shock, earning a glare that might have no anger in it, but certainly emitted indignation and gravity. Except the corners of Steve’s lips were twitching.

Damn him. Damn him and his charming side. Since when did he have a charming side and engaged in self-reflection so deep?

Since always, an annoying voice whispered in your head, reminding you that at certain times, you were, in fact, very well aware that Steve Rogers was just as golden as people claimed – even if in way they couldn’t hope to fathom and neither could, not fully.

“Nah, I think it’s one of the very rare traits of yours that should definitely be copied,” you retorted cheekily, never having time to wonder if you went too far since Steve simply kept him mouth shut.

It was a good thing he did, because if he didn’t, you might get tangled in your lie; and might have to admit that you believed that while there were a few of those that shouldn’t be copied in order for the world to maintain some shreds of sanity, there were many more of those which, should they be replicated, would make the world a better place. He probably knew that anyway; he strived to be the example to all. He didn’t need to hear it from you, didn’t need to know that despite your disagreements, you felt everything but contempt for him, with respect on top of the list. And then there was the fact that you were not blind to him being literally meant to be built like the peak of man and looked precisely like it.

And still, his silence surprised you. Despite what you thought of him on better days, it was still a wonder he didn’t try to disprove you; he was full of surprises tonight.

Then again, that was probably the point.

“You know, Tony and Pepper would probably have had no problem coming here tonight,” you spoke lowly into to the silence that settled between you. “They just pushed us together to do something like this.”

Steve’s eyebrows jumped a bit, a brief smirk passing his lips.

“Well-aware. Does that bother you?” he asked, head tilted to side slightly.

You pondered his question for a bit, not sure why. You could have easily said anything, the first or the second or third lie popping up in your mind. But his genuinely curious gaze observing you as he waited for your response, his demeanour the whole evening, and his surprisingly open expression made you want to tell the truth again.

“Not that much. You’re not a bad dancer yourself,” you teased him lightly, feeling your lips permanently stuck in a smile now.

His own smirk melted into a smile again as well, soft crinkle in the corner of his eye.

“Thank you. I know I said it before, but you do look beautiful.”

You blinked.

There he went again, driving his point across; he wanted you to think, to believe perhaps, that his compliments were genuine, not a turn of speech. Why? And what could you even say to that when he kept looking at you like he meant it, the world around you blurring a bit, falling into but a background noise, years of training and his confident hold on you leading you through the dancefloor with ease still, even as the song must have changed again. Had it?

You wished conversation would come just as easy, even when emotions swirled in your chest wilder than your skirts around your calves.

“…thanks. Uhm, Tony said to buy something nice-“

“Mission accomplished, it suits you-“

“-I think he was probably sick of us clashing a lot lately,” you added quickly, almost speaking over him.

He was a lot smarter than people gave him credit for – after all, he had brought up the topic of your fight in an environment where it would have been rude of you to flee just in case you wanted to and he wasn’t called a master strategist for nothing – so he caught your attempt to deflect. And he graced it with brief silence, not pushing, letting your words hang in the air for a moment. Golden boy. Perfect. Too good.

“I suppose that’s fair,” he hummed, one corner of his lips rising higher, his smile almost boyish now. “Did I mention I was sorry?”

“Yeah... did I?”

“You did.”

“Good,” you muttered, blissfully lost in his gentle gaze, even as you had to crane you neck a bit.

The moment was sweet. Slightly electric. Surprisingly comfortable. Peaceful.

Peace.

That was a specific word. With a pang in your chest, it occurred to you that was precisely what it was that Tony intended to achieve when he assigned you to this. To begin to renew the peace that had been within the Avengers family before your presence disrupted it. And Steve had accepted the invitation with you attached to it because he saw the importance of the team holding together from the strategic point of view.

Tonight was a mission. Necessary networking, even as Steve had tried to make it feel like anything but, and necessary attempt at smoothening the relationships within the team. Yes, it was beautiful, but Tony himself had called you a Cinderella. This was but a fairy-tale. An illusion. A projection.

The very spectre of you and Steve, of you being a full Avenger.

Once tonight was over, you’d have to snap back, like you always did. And like always, the pain of what you had lost as a spectre, be it blood or a warm embrace, would linger too. Back in your cold aching reality.

But not in Steve’s; Steve would remain who he was, to the world, to his team, to his friends. To you. It had been a sweet sentiment, a good-natured attempt; and for the night, it lasted. Once again, you felt played by your own naivety, already feeling your waxed wings melting and slowly prepared yourself for the brutal landing.

You kept up your smile, even as you felt the pleasant hum in your ribcage fall silent, your eyes not burning, because there was no reason for it, was there?

“You have good friends, Steve,” you whispered, the blue of his gaze warming up with fondness as he no doubt agreed. “They might be nosy, but they mean well.”

“And they are your friends too,” he replied softly, the pang in your ribcage stronger this time. He believed that, he genuinely did. Maybe that was why it hurt so much; he had seen the worst of the world and believed in the best still; you could read it in his actions, in his expression right now.

But you couldn’t bear it anymore, your gaze falling to the smooth fabric of his bowtie, contrasting with the pristinely white shirt indeed, just as you had known from the start he would wear. Pure. The symbol of all goodness in your culture. Just like him.

You heard what he was saying and yes, it was a tempting thought you had fallen for before. That you could be friends with the team, that the others cared – but you could count the number of people who cared for you on one hand and still had fingers left. People cared for your abilities, admired them maybe, sure. But you were a realist. Even before the Natasha incident – which truly was just her doing her job – you knew and you kept repeating it to yourself, because entertaining any other possibility was dangerous: your abilities, your results or the lack of them, those were what truly mattered. To everyone. To your father, eventually your mother too, to your SHIELD team, to your fellow Avengers. To Steve too. Had those powers come in a different meatsuit than yours, it wouldn’t change a thing. You were just a casing for what they needed.

It wasn’t okay, but it was alright.

The thing was, you couldn’t make Steve admit that – not him. He was a good man – infuriating one, yes, not without fault, yes, but incredibly undeniably good in his core. All the Avengers cared for people too, you would be an idiot not to see it, but if there was one person who would try to look the furthest beyond the abilities you carried, it would be him. Perhaps that was the scariest part of tonight – of him being not only civil, but perfectly pleasant and meaning it. Because he was just that perfect.

And perfect was never in your reach.

“Sure,” you replied absently as you looked up again.

You could tell his own gaze never left your face; and he no doubt noticed the change. His eyes were roaming your features, searching, wondering and seeing; you found yourself slipping into a neutral mask, your way too relaxed stance straightening, muscles tensing.

You only tensed further when you recognized softness and understanding creeping into his gaze, his voice quiet.

“You know-“

You thanked your lucky stars when the song ended and you were allowed to step back from him with an awkward smile.

“I’m going to find the restroom, excuse me.”

You swallowed heavily upon seeing something akin to disappointment and exasperation on his face; but when you pulled away, he didn’t stop you, didn’t use his strength to keep you in place, leaving the choice – as much as he clearly not approved of it – to you. You tried to force your smile further, grateful for that if not for nothing else.

“Thank you for the dance, stranger.”

And with that, you disappeared to the crowd, well-aware that if he wanted, he could have followed, because even in the sea of robes, his eidetic memory told him exactly what yours looked like.

Getting a fifteen-minute break from people, one in particular, was more than generous and yet you granted it to yourself; because putting yourself back together took time. Not for the first time, you sent a silent thank you to Agent May for having taught you her ways of accepting your emotions as they were, locking them away for later and channel them in the right direction when needed.

If you counted your dances with Steve – even as you tried very hard not to think about them – it added up for almost half an hour of the breather you had planned when getting the drink. You needed to go back to work, back to networking, because it was getting late; you had no doubt there were still people to talk to, no matter how efficient your colleague had been.

As you walked the halls with a smile arranged on your face, nodding politely at people admiring the various pieces of art of all forms, from drawings and paintings to sculptures and installations, your gaze fell on one of auctioned objects.

You smile slipped, your steps faltering along with the steady beat of your heart; and then you forced the corners of your lips back up, nails digging into the back of your hand as you folded them in front of your abdomen, to stop yourself from running to the glass stand where what seemed like a very old artifact was laid proudly on display.

And by old, you meant thousands of years old. And you really, really prayed that you were wrong, that your mind was simply playing tricks on you to avoid the emotional turmoil of today, to-

“Son of a-”

Three more steps closer and the curse was on your lips before you could swallow it completely, heart thundering in your chest against the sudden tightness. You didn’t like to be wrong; but in this particular case, you really wished you had been.

But apparently not.

See, this is why we can’t have nice things, you thought to yourself as you released a wavering breath and took off in the search of Steve, as if you hadn’t run from what seemed to be particularly nice things yourself only a little over ten minutes ago.

You swallowed the panic rising in your throat as you caught a glimpse of him talking to an elderly couple, telling yourself that your discovery was the only reason for that. Because that would be plausible and completely valid; an appearance of what SHIELD called an 0-8-4, an object of unknown origin, was never good news.

Except you were rather certain of its origin and that only made it worse.

Steve spotted you now, a small smile lighting up his face as if you hadn’t just taken an escape from when he tried to convince you were a part of the team in the friendliest sense of the word, gesturing to you lightly so the couple turned to you as well.

You smiled wider, squeezed your hand stronger. Too bad – the Lewises – had seemed nice enough when you had read up on them, were one of the rare attendees who were here for their genuine interest in art.

“Good evening, I am so sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Lewis, Mr. Lewis,” you said sincerely, introducing yourself as the lady already extended her hand to you, followed by her husband’s. “It is a pleasure to meet you and I would be very happy to talk to you if you’d be willing, but I need to borrow Captain Rogers for a little bit-“  

“By all means, Agent, don’t let a couple of old folks keep you two,” Mrs. Lewis chuckled, gently touching Steve’s forearm as she smiled at him almost motherly. “Thank you, young man, it’s nice to see bright young minds interested in conversations about thought-provoking art. Do find us if you can spare another minute later.”

“I would personally use the words lovely couple, Mrs. Lewis,” you said warmly before turning to Mr. Lewis. “I promise to bring him back as soon as possible.”

“It’s been a pleasure,” Steve added as he covered her feebly hand on his, squeezing gently. “Agent?”

“Just a small issue, I’m sure it can be dealt with quickly,” you assured him in front of them, your face growing more serious the second you turned away, your voice falling so low only his enhanced hearing could hopefully catch it. “Thought-provoking art indeed. There’s an 0-8-4 on the items list.”

The way Steve’s back straightened, a sign of him turning mission-alert in an instant, would have been a treat to watch in any other circumstance, you supposed. But not in yours. And not in this case.

As you walked away, he followed your unhurried tempo, stopping by the displays briefly when you did, as if you were simply admiring the art. His face gave away nothing unusual happening beyond a minor inconvenience; you weren’t sure if he believed you were making a big deal out of nothing or if he was that good of an actor.

“Anything you encountered before? Potentially how dangerous are we talking?”

His voice had dropped too, but barely enough for you to hear. To an untrained eye, it probably looked like a normal hushed conversation, a couple – of friends – sharing opinions on the auction items indeed. Good. You didn’t need to spread panic on top of barely containing your own.

“Yes and no, I only recognize the symbols. And I can’t tell, but I wouldn’t underestimate it,” you uttered as you gradually moved closer, the artifact now in sight.

Steve stood diagonally beside you, barely a step behind your shoulder; he could keep his voice very low that way, practically whispering to your ear, while you could keep talking almost soundlessly.  

“Should I recognize this? I’m not familiar.”

You bit back a bitter smile, stepping in front of the display together at last. The item itself looked unassuming; a stabile built of plates of metal, interwoven and reaching out of the tangle like tentacles. Except the surface of the plates wasn’t smooth; an intricate pattern of lines and circles rose slightly above it, a geometrical masterpiece only a few people on Earth knew the meaning of. Outside of Earth, well; you wouldn’t dare to guess.

The good news, hopefully, was that the sculpture meant to be in one piece was broken into two; that meant that if the effect was, like with many others you had encountered, tied to breaking the casing of whatever weapon it could be hiding, it had been out for a while and thus might not pose danger anymore. But you weren’t willing to take that chance.

“I’m not sure,” you whispered, almost choking out the words, wary of one word in particular as not to alarm anyone in vicinity just in case. “It is mostly Coulson’s team that handles all the… Kree mess.”

Short silence followed, only for Steve to draw in a shaky breath.

“…are you positive?”

It probably wasn’t meant to be a challenge, but you took it as one anyway, a flare of anger rushing through your veins, because was he serious? That was genuinely insulting. You spent practically your whole post-academy service to SHIELD with Coulson’s team following the trail of artifacts left behind by the lovely alien race Kree were – in fact, artifacts uncomfortably resembling this one. So yes, you were pretty bloody positiveyou were right.

You turned to Steve and took a step back to throw to his face – in as calm manner as was socially acceptable despite wanting to just spit it out – that you were pretty damn certain, because one did simply not forget a single thing about the literally blue aliens that indirectly gave them powers. Except you never got to make a single sound, because Steve’s eyes widened all of sudden, gaze still fixed on the display you had just turned your back to and his fingers closed around your wrist and tugged you closer to him again with surprising force given how gentle he had held you when you-- so not the time.

“Alright, point proven,” he whispered hastily, stepping back and releasing you before you could question him just turning from a gentleman of the year to a lout who just… grabbed a woman and manhandled her.

Frowning, you glanced over your shoulder just in time to see a faint light of the symbols dying out, your panic skyrocketing and making you forget all about your exasperation.

Oh. Oh, that was not good at all.

It recognized you. It sensed the Inhuman in you as you had unwittingly moved closer to it. It was reacting even sooner than the Diviner had, the first Kree artifact your team had encountered, whose symbols only lit up upon being touched by an Inhuman, or a person carrying Inhuman markers in their DNA yet to be turned into one.

“Sorry for-“

“It’s fine,” you interrupted his apology, appreciating it nevertheless. Yet, your smile probably turned out to be more of a grimace, bitter sarcasm bleeding into your tone. “Well, Tony said we should bid on something anyway, right? I’ve got my pick”.

Steve’s eyebrow twitched without a hint of amusement, but he didn’t disprove you, moving to scan the room for any vendor to start bidding indeed; you automatically reached for your black-tie-attire-friendly StarkWatch, to alert the HQ.

You never got to finish the message.

Steve never got to even step out.

A tell-tale metallic sound, a clink of a grenade hitting the tiled floor had both of you snap your head to the source, losing two precious seconds by looking for where exactly it landed, startled intakes of breath taken before a scream could gather in your lungs to warn people to get down.

There was no time to react. The screams aligned with the eardrum-rupturing noise of an explosion, a blur of a movement to your right and a force to be reckon with slamming into you.

Even without his signature weapon, Steve automatically threw himself between you and the grenade, pushing you down and shielding you with his body at least. The heat licked at your skin just as the pressure wave slammed into you both, sending you flying and crashing hard into the glass cabinet, Steve’s arm taking large portion of the brunt of impact.

A jolt of electricity rushed through your nerves along with the pain, a dull crack in your head, the edges of your vision blurring. You barely registered the stream of agents in black gear cutting through the clouds of smoke and vapour tear gas. Smell of copper and iron hit your nostrils, strong enough to make you nauseous; blood and fire. Steve’s cologne; then more blood. Lights and shadows bleeding into one, the former too bright for your smoke-filled teary eyes. The noise was deafening too – shouts and shrieks of terror you knew you should respond to, because it was your duty as an agent and as a half-baked Avenger.

But you didn’t seem to control your body for long enough to as much as lift your hand to check if the sharp pain in the back of your head was an open wound or not, let alone to climb to your feet as Steve’s voice echoed in your ears, warm hands firm on your waist, prickling sensations like thousand needles piercing through your skin all over.

The pain tore through every single cell of your body without warning, but you didn’t have time to find the cause or wallow in it; darkness enveloped you completely and you sank into its thick waters without a chance to fight it, until it swallowed you whole.

Next chapter

Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist

Hope you don’t mind a little cliffhanger, hehe... as a treat for reading! I wanna say I was really excited about this chapter, sneaking in something soft and fluffy in between the angst, but I’m excited to share everything so... yeah.

I would like to take a moment or two to thank you, again, for your comments. They give me a rush of joy and I read every single one of them more than once; they give me strength to continue even when sudden feeling of ‘this is meh’ attacks me and the thoughts you share ground me back in the story when I feel like I’m slipping away from where I wanted to take it. I cherish your feedback, no matter the form, so much. Thank you 💕