#inhuman x reader

[valentine-cafe]

[ wrist ] —a tender kiss on the inside of the partner's wrist

For precious bunbun Alessio 164?

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ earth 164 alessio agresta , ask game

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍡 ꒱ corrupt god x reader, sorcerer x reader ⊹ ۪ ࣪

“you are mine.”

it is such a firm statement, yet spoken with such tenderness. similar to the chimes of the gentle breeze brushing through the gold chains and emerald jewels extending from dark horns. a clawed hand is found in yours while a strong arm loops itself around your waist.

alessio dances with you amidst the trees that have seen millennia and the darkness of the forest. his green robes brushing against the floor just as they do your body pressed against his.

“every ounce of you — it is mine to cherish,” he leans over his towering form so that his forehead finds yours, the diamond-shaped jewel upon his skin now flushed against yours.

the emerald glow of his relaxed eyes bore into your gaze. his expression that of certainty, yet sincerity all the same.

“so give me your all and allow me to hold within my palms. mind, heart, body. . .”

his black nails slip to wrap around your wrist delicately and bring it to his dark lips, eye contact ever the same —

“soul,”

— as he presses a long kiss to your inner wrist, lingering even as he dips your body in the final sway.

“with the forest as our witness. be mine, and mine, and mine for all eternity.”

[konigsblog]

tw: stepcest, noncon/dubcon, age gap (20s-50s), pet play, creepy-stepdad-könig, pervy-könig, fem!reader, daddy issues (kinda?) gross&mean men :(.

stepdad könig would love to treat his dumb stepdaughter like an animal, to put you in your place.

whenever your mother is away, your stepfather has full control over you. you're so easily manipulated and influenced; you'll listen to whatever he says and preform it eagerly, just to make him happy in the hopes of getting some validation from a male figure in your life. stuff that consists of you being humilated and taunted, embarrassed and degraded like you're worth nothing, that your only job is to be good for your perverse, greedy, selfish stepfather.

he even has a cage in the basement, something your mother doesn't know about. she's away on a business trip for her work, unaware and fully trusting of her husband to leave him with you. he'll collars you, putting you into the dog cage and locking it there. if you're hungry, he'll treat you to his special. just open your mouth, let him cover your eyes-- oh, and relax your throat a little, schatz!

you're always on edge around him. you know exactly what he's like, his disgusting and deranged needs for his college stepdaughter.

fighting sleep in the dog cage in fear that he'll sneak down and take advantage of you when you're unexpecting and easy. he's done it before. you were awoken to the feeling of pain down between your thighs. feeling sensitive and raw, you opened your eyes, hearing heavy breathing. unable to see who it was, you listened... and when you struggled against him, a familiar voice whispered beside your ear, in an attempt to soothe you. “it’s alright, liebling.-- let your stepfather take what he deserves, prinzessin...”

you can only shake and sob when you're underneath him. it's humilating — humilating to sit in a bath while he watches from above, scarily and eerily perving on you. his hands never leave, the reach lower ‘til they're pumping inside you. and when you're quiet, he pets you like an obedient dog, a good dog learning. he always brushes aside your worries selfishly for his own gross, disgusting needs...

“relax, my dear. let me fill this pretty pussy..-ja, you take it so well, no need to panic, my girl.”

[wolftoken]

Inhuman Vessels: Purring Headcanons

a/n: it gets mildly nsfw with iv for a second but the rest of it is sfw :)

• masterlist •

Vessel likes to nap on top of you (without crushing you, most of the time), and you often hear him begin to start purring when he’s in between sleep and consciousness. He’ll hold you tighter and nuzzle into your skin, breathing in your scent and surrounding himself with you. To get him purring he needs to be completely focused on his comfort and there’s no better way to do so than bringing him into your arms and letting him snuggle you all day.

II finds it hard to relax enough to let himself purr. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable with you, he’s just very protective and prefers to let you sleep in his arms while he keeps guard of the surroundings. You’re trying to convince him you’re perfectly safe inside the house, especially with 4 creatures looking after you, but he’s still getting used to it. But when you wake up held tightly to his chest, hearing a deep and gentle purr reverberate inside his ribcage, you cherish the moment completely. At first, he might stop when he notices you’re awake, out of slight embarrassment. But he lets himself be more vulnerable with you as time goes on.

III sometimes starts purring when he sees you after you’ve been away at work or with one of the others on a day out. His are the most like a house cat, soft and airy as he nuzzles his face into your neck or chest. He can never stop himself from purring when he’s tired and seeking someone’s warmth, grabbing at you gently and trying to tempt you to join him on the couch so he can take in the feeling of you.

IV is the easiest to get purring, you could hold his hand or kiss his cheek and he’ll be sounding like motorcycle. At first he was a little embarrassed of how easy it was to make him purr but he saw how much you liked it and started to embrace it. If you take a nap you often wake up with him draped around you and purring so hard you’re vibrating against him and it’s hard not to rock your hips against his when he feels so nice and warm with you.

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

I was thinking, so before sebastian’s heat actually kicks in his bird side (since he’s a crow demon) will start to be more noticeable. Like when he’s doing his chores he’ll find like a shiny thing and take it to his room. So if you go into his room before his heat there are a lot of shiny things just sitting there.

Yess, ok honestly I think he’d make a lil nest in his room AND your room bc he wants two nest incase you have a large clutch this season (he completely forgets humans don’t lay eggs) and he sings to you on an almost daily basis.

Crows mate for life, making him extra protective of you when his mind is clouded in his pre-heat state.

Sebastian (preheat/inhuman behavior, slight implication of breeding)

-

You had a long day and wanted to sleep, but your bed was COVERED in blankets, pillows, feathers and…fur? You looked closer to see there were ‘fluffy’ clothes on your bed too. Your bed had none of these on it when you woke up this morning and there’s only one person who has access to your room!

“Sebastian!”

You shouted, intentionally sounding more upset than you actually were to get him to hurry to your side. Unsurprisingly he was standing beside you in a moment. “Yes Master? What’s wrong?” You gesture to the bed and Sebastian gives you a blank stare in response.

“Why is my bed covered in rubbish?” You huff out, walking over to your drawer, removing your necklace and rings, placing them ontop of the drawer, you weren’t gonna wear em to sleep. When you turned around, you saw Sebastian staring at the bed, looking a little offended by your remark.

“It’s not rubbish, it’s to soften the nest. It also helps retain heat so the eggs won’t get cold.” Sebastian says, turning back to you with a smile. You scowl back at him.

“Nest? Eggs??? What the hell are you talking about? Are you planning on getting chickens? Why would we keep them in my bed?” You shove the ‘rubbish’ off your bed and get onto it. “We are not turning my bed into an incubator!”

When you looked back to Sebastian, he’s glaring at the spot on the floor where you shoved his ‘nest’. He looks back to you with a crestfallen look. “They aren’t pets, they’d be our children…” You give him a confused look. You hear a low growl escape him when you start to pull apart the ‘nest’ on the floor. You feel an arm wrap around your waist and you’re pulled off of your own bed.

Before you can protest you’re placed in a chair and Sebastian is re organizing the nest, this time putting it on the edge of your bed. Sebastian turns to you, picking you backup and tucking you into your bed. You had enough room to sleep with the ‘nest’ in your bed, but it was less than comfortable.

Fuck it, you’ll sleep somewhere else tonight. Why not the couch? Haven’t slept there in a while, maybe it’s comfier than you remember?

You got up, walking back to your drawer, not taking your eyes off Sebastian. You go to grab your necklace from the drawer, but you felt nothing when your hand landed on the drawer. You look away from Sebastian to see that the jewelry you had half hazardly left on your drawer was gone…

“Sebastian.” You glared at him. “Where is my jewelry?” Sebastian huffed as if he was annoyed. “What are you upset about? It’s my jewelry!” You hiss at him, turning to face him only to see he’s five feet from your face.

“Oh Master…I apologize I grabbed it when I walked in here.” He holds out his hand, delicately handing it to you. “It was just so tempting to take it, my bad.”

You grabbed it from him and paused, staring up at Sebastian. “What the actual hell is wrong with you? You’ve never done this shit before but now you feel the need to act up?”

Sebastian gave you an innocent smile, lowering his head a bit. “But where will we keep our eggs if we don’t keep them here? We can protect them better here.” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you towards the bed.

You hiss at him. “I don’t know what you are talking about! Eggs go in the fridge, we,” You gesture between the two of you. “Don’t, and won’t have any eggs, understand?”

He looks surprised by your response and grumbles out something before speaking to you again. “But…it’s the best time to have them, besides-“ He pauses , shaking his head. “Oh that’s right, humans don’t go into heat, it’ll just be me…”

[mimisplayground]

Traveling Buddies ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶ (Vash x fem reader)

Warnings: Monsterfucking :3, inhuman vash, loving sex ngl like making love…, biting (briefly), NOT MUCH ITS A SOFT ONE LET ME KNOW IF U WANT A ROUGH VER :3, made with 1998 vash in mind but really can be read as either!!

—————

Going along with Vash after that one night. You never brought up how inhuman he looked that night, and you felt he almost appreciated it. When all was said and done you were laid out next him, panting like a dog.

When your vision had cleared, the man laying next to you was the same he looked when he brought you to this rundown inn. The next morning when you woke up, you stared wide eyed as you watched him pack his own stuff and yours as well.

You maybe vaguely remember a conversation along the lines of “wanna follow you everywhere Mayfly, wanna bring you with me” as he pounded you so hard you were walking with a limp.

And then next you knew you were out in the deserts of No Man’s Land, riding along with Vash and digging through a sack to give him a donut as he rode. Looking off into the distance as you continue along the path set by Vash. He seemed to know where he was going. On the breaks where you would stretch your legs and drink water in the heat were marked with a soft peck on the lips from Vash. Sharing the canister of water and a small meal that wasn’t very good. The end of the break was always signified with a deeper kiss from Vash where you felt a familiar inhuman rumble deep from his chest.

Coming to the next town was a multiple day venture, leaving you tired and worn out. Sighing in relief when you were able to eat a full meal and wash up.

Settling into the inn’s bed and ignoring the kisses you feel at your neck for a moment before eventually allowing Vash to move his kisses down to your chest. Letting him suck at your nipples as he purrs softly.

He was more open with his inhuman nature this time. Glowing before your eyes get blurry. Working you open on his fingers and letting you see his cock, that seemed to sprout from a…flower of sorts? You couldn’t bring yourself to think about that much. Watching as a tapered and ridged, and almost bioluminescent blue, entered you slowly. Listening to Vash whine in a double toned vocal. You finally get to see the exact ridge that rubs against your clit on his harsher thrusts.

Feathered wings encapsulate you both, leaving you unable to see other than the faintest glow from inside of you where you are both connected and the glow from Vash and his skin all over.

“Mayfly…” Vash groans in your ear “love you, need you so bad. Gonna make me a good man…” He sighs, loud clicks coming from him that you can now identify as a sound of pleasure. He wasnt human, there was no way you were making things up in your head.

He was too fast with his thrusts, bumps that you can feel the whole time as your thighs tighten around him and you claw the only human flesh you feel on his shoulder as you silently scream. Vash rubbing small circles on your clit as you come undone with him, listening to the trill and buzz that comes from him take over your mind again like nights prior. Whining when his teeth sink into your shoulder possessively.

Laying with him and his unusually cold body, wings craddling you both in tight together as clawed fingers run up and down your side. Humming and purring like an engine as he traces your face and leaves kisses all over you.

[anika-ann]

Back and Forth - masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x agent! Inhuman!reader

Type: enemies-ish to lovers series

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

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

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

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

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

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

Playlist 🎵 (NEW)

STORYLINE:

Prologue 

Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 3.1 // Part 3.2

Part 4.1 // Part 4.2 

Part 5 

Part 6.1 // Part 6.2

Part 7

Part 8

Epilogue 1 and 2

Extras (maaaybe)

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

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

Taglist open 🥰

[brokenpieces-72]

Stray

Task force 141 x dog! reader

Author note: in this story, you are 100% dog. Not a hybrid (unless we’re talking mixed breed), not a half human half dog. You are a full on dog. Think Lassie or Littlest Hobo. With that in mind, enjoy.

Let me know if you want to added to the Taglist.

The 141 are taking some time straightening out the base, doing general tasks. Ghost is fixing up some jeeps, changing the oil, making sure the engine is working properly, and loading it up with the proper gear. Soap is doing some inventory stuff, after going through weapons he was asked to help in the kitchen, assisting with meal prep. Gaz has a similar task but it was more based on an accident from another soldier who spilled a couple storage totes of ammunition. He had to sort all of them with the soldier’s help. Price was having to go over some files and paperwork that Laswell had sent over to review and fill, as well as writing some reports.

You wander on to base by sheer accident. You overhear noise and strange smells in the garage. The bay doors are open for Ghost’s safety, as he does need to turn on the engines from time to time (carbon monoxide). You wander in and sniff around curiously, while Ghost is under a vehicle lying on a creeper. Your nose picks up his scent, but it’s very faint from all the stronger ones. Instead you find the toolbox more interesting than the oddly masked man in the black t shirt and overalls. You find an odd metallic tasting stick and bite down on it to pick it up. For a while you try chewing it before getting fed up and shaking your head around. The tool gets out of your grip and flies across the room, hitting the metal walls. The loud bang startles you and you bolt from the garage. The lieutenant rolls out from under the vehicle, to inspect the sudden bang. He looks over and sees the torque wrench across the room. Once he gets to his feet to retrieve it, you’ve long since bolted out of there and into another part of the base. Eventually you smell something else. Food? You notice a couple soldiers hauling cargo towards the base kitchen. Not wanting to be spotted you follow them and duck behind the crates waiting for the soldiers to leave before slipping inside. Once you see an opening you wander in and sniff around looking for what you’re sure is meat. At this point though you would take any scraps, your mouth visibly drooling. At this point Soap has been getting the meat cooked and you smell the remaining juices on his hands. You’re tucked behind an island counter, watching him work away. Soap finishes prepping the steaks and gets them seasoned and laid on foil for them to cook later. You still smell those mouthwatering, delicious smells of prepped steaks as he walks to another spot in the kitchen. Then you hear running water, and small something else. No no no, the smell is disappearing! Where did the meat go? Did he wash it down the sink?!

Soap finishes washing his hands and goes to another part of the kitchen where a couple of soldiers are sitting around an emptied box with a few other boxes with potatoes inside. Soap is glad he wore his comfortable cargo pants today cause the chairs were not gonna be comfortable to sit on for long periods. He got a new apron, discarding the old on in a bin. It didn’t hold the same smell, to your disappointment. But those potatoes would do. You just needed to get them away from the boxes. You’d learned from experience that kitchen staff don’t like when you take their food, even when you beg nicely. Soap puts a new apron on, not wanting to get wet stains on his grey shirt, if he missed the box.

You wait patiently, which isn’t really patient. It feels like forever that they’re peeling potatoes but you know more people might come, and you’re really hungry. This would have to be a grab ‘n grub. You eye one potatoe, and it goes into soldier’s hand. Okay not that one. That potatoe then, nope another soldier took it. Dang it. They kept grabbing them before you could lock on to a proper target. Screw it, you’re hungry. As soon as Soap takes out the potato from the box, locked in conversation with the others you make your move. You bolt out of the hiding spot, and snatch the food from his hand, just getting his fingers a bit. Soap looks down, only seeing an oddly shaped mass coming towards him out of the corner of his eye. He isn’t fast enough though to stop you from getting your target, and snatching it from his hand and running off out of the kitchen. You do knock over some boxes and cause a soldier to stumble while Soap is still reeling from what just happened.

Finally you’ve got some food! Your tail is wagging while you’re bounding across the base with joy, looking for somewhere to eat. It’s a little difficult as your stunt got you in a some trouble, so soldiers are looking around to figure out what happened. Nothing to high security but it’s clear you’ve cause a bit of a disturbance and you hear the soldier barking and shouting to figure out where you are. While he’s outside you best go inside and you find another door open, this one leading into the big building. You duck around corners and into rooms as you look for a safe spot. Soon you find one just outside a storage room. The potato is nothing compared to the meat Soap had been making but it would suffice. You continue eating, chewing away until you notice a couple men leaving the room. Not noticing you laying on the floor with a potato you go back to it until you hear someone sighing inside the room. Thankfully you’re able to finish your potato and lick up the rest before peeking inside and noticing Gaz sorting cartridges. They were pretty much everywhere with one right by your paws at the door. Gaz was sitting on a bin collecting groups of cartridges and putting them in groups to oraganize back into bins afterwards. After a good stretch you pick up one of the cartridges in your mouth and bring it over to him. Gaz looks up surprised to see a dog, but pleased seeing what’s in your mouth. When he tries to take it though you pull it away. You offer it again, but pull it back again.

“Come on dog, give. Drop it.” He orders. You don’t and instead step back bouncing with your front paws, and wagging your tail. Gaz gives in and stands reaching for the cartridge and you pull it away again, nearly making him trip over the other ammo on the floor.

“Oi! Come here.” He says, but you’re running off again in no time, making him give chase. By now he knows you’re not a K-9 so he wants to avoid damage while he can. You figure it’s all a game though. You keep running and eventually run past Price’s office who by now hears Gaz calling after you to drop the ammo. He gets up and peeks out of office, seeing only your fluffy tail as you round a corner, while Gaz slows outside his office.

“Kyle you want to tell me what’s going on?” Price asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Cap’n I-“ Kyle starts, but soon is cut off by a ticked off Scottsmen further down the hall.

“Ya bloody food stealing mongrel!” Soap shouts. Kyle and Price exchange a look before heading in the direction of the Scottish anger.

They find soap cornering you with the cartridge still in your mouth. You know you’re in trouble now. You finally drop the cartridge, ears going flat and whimpering.

“Sergeant?” Price asks. Soap doesn’t take his eyes off you, keeping you in the corner.

“We’ve got a rogue dog.” The sergeant calls back.

“Yeah I can see that, ease up on it Soap.” The Captain instructs. You whimper in the corner, barking at Soap now. You just wanted to leave now. You didn’t like someone keeping you cornered, and yelling at you.

“Soap let up.” Kyle insists. The sergeant steps back and as you continue to cower in the corner, giving a few more scared barks. Price shook his head. Clearly a stray that had wandered in by accident and was just hungry and wanting attention.

“What do we do with it captain?” Kyle asks. You look up at the burly man who is asking himself the very same question. Price sighed and stepped closer putting his hand out for you to sniff. There’s more whimpers at first, but you give a small sniff.

“You’re okay… you’re okay.” He says softly, and reaches out to touch you. You whimper again but his gently hand in your fur calms you down. It’s not everyday you get someone willing to pet you, or rather show you kindness. You keep your eyes on the captain letting him pet you. In the process Price was checking your collar for any information. Nothing. The collar was pretty rugged and in leather.

“I think this one needs a bath. Don’t need anyone getting fleas.” He says.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @H0n3y_L3m0n @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846

[mrsrookhunt]

♟ Monster Rook Hunt 🪦

Rooktober part three! Tempting @v-anrouge in again lmaooo

Three classic monsters, one extra-extra double pickles Rook.

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Vampire!Rook

Congratulations on winning your way into this man's heart and onto his dinner table.

You're so gorgeous to him.. you make him blush, you make him stutter and gasp, you make him feel his heart flutter and his mouth water.

Absolutely thinks you're more like a creature he can't hunt, a full meal he can only have a snack from, and it is vaguely annoying to him. It's like gardening, but with the extra requirement of cuddling the plant after picking the fruit from it.

But Rook is nothing if not a man dictated wholly by his not beating heart.

Depending on whether he was born a vampire or turned, how he treats you will be different.

If he was born as a vampire: You're a snack, that's all he's been taught. He may treat you kindly but he won't fully understand human needs and love. He'll probably attempt to love you the way other vampires show love. Enjoy those blood bags he set in front of you with wide eyes and a besotted smile, waiting for you to make the first move on your shared meal.

If he was turned a vampire:

"MY LOVE, MY LOVE, I HAVE BROUGHT YOU A GIFTTTTT" and it's a 4-course meal of all his favorite foods as a human he hopes you can enjoy the same.

So extremely and extraordinarily attentive. You may be his meal, but you're also his lover, and he treats you with every bit of love and affection he's been preparing for 350 years to give.

And he's also definitely turning you into a vampire. Don't worry, he'll keep an eternity filled with his antics.

Werewolf!Rook

Very in-touch with his wild side (what's new).

You may or may not have met him at a gas station in the woods when you threw an apple core into the wooded area next to the pump, and a shaggy golden wolf came bounding back to you with wide eyes, a wagging tail, and the apple core in his mouth. Your first game of fetch. Call it a date; that's what he did anways.

Your idea of cuddles is different to his. You may like to lay on his chest and watch a movie. He may like to completely tangle all of your limbs together and bury your face in the crook of his neck, because, Rook. Don't worry maybe you can hear the movie playing.

All of your meals are hand-hunted by your one and only. In human form, he's out hunting, a good thing, since otherwise he's harassing you with incessant French. In wolf form, he just wants to lie down on the bed and be docile. Is it a show so you're not afraid of him? Maybe. I guess it's an excuse for you to stay with him for a few years forever to find out.

He would love if you were into gardening. He takes pride in hunting food for you, and would be thrilled to use some home-grown herbs to make a meal you could both be proud of.

He's very rugged. It's a fight to make him wear nice clothes. If it's not practical ripped up and some hand me down from GOD KNOWS where, he doesn't want it.

Also, shaving. I hope you enjoy stubble because he will not be getting a clean shave. He can tell you he's 'just shaved', but you wonder how many nanometers of hair he even took off.

More like a golden retriever than a wolf. If it weren't for his superb hunting skills he'd be a disgrace to the werewolf community altogether.

And we could talk about how many kids he wants but let's keep this PG

Mummy!Rook

Snuggles? Snuggles.

Rook can't speak very well like this. But he can certainly show you the depths of his affection with body language alone.

You should be honored he came back from the dead just for you. You should probably be less honored that the museum has warrants out for your arrest now because, apparently, you can't take a mummy home, even with his consent.

Have you eaten? Have you?? He keeps trying to shovel food in your mouth with every passing moment that he's allowed in your fridge. Something about 'eating like royalty'. You don't know, honestly. The gauze makes it hard to hear him.

From what you've gathered, he was a highly-revered huntsman in his time. Not high enough to be buried in a pyramid, but high enough to be buried with great respect to his body.

You're not sure what brought him back, honestly, his love for you, your being unsure of whether he was a real mummy or a replica, some cheesy artifact bringing him to life ...we'll never know. His desire to prove you wrong may or may not have been at 100%

Did I mention he loves snuggles?

Do NOT try to remove the wrap. It's not for security reasons. It will not harm him to remove it. HOWEVER HE WOULD RATHER NOT UNDRESS UNTIL MARRIAGE THANK YOU.

Try suggesting he put on clothes over his wrap. It's not comfortable. It's like when you have long sleeves and you try to out a jacket over them. But if it's comfortable for him... just buy two sizes larger and try to ignore it.

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Part two coming soon!

Suggestions for monsters are more than welcome!

-Oct. 16th, 2023

-Kaori

[ickyarson777]

Many Eyed Vessel Fic Thing???

This title will change later I promise.

Anyway! I did some thinking about This Post and I’ve decided I’m gonna go all out and write a fic about it. This prompt is something I think about all the time, so I was very excited to receive it to say the least :)

That being said, I have no idea how any of this is gonna play out. Right now I’m thinking kinda slow burn entities-to-lovers type of thing??

Here it is though!! I promise if you like it, I’ll do my best to keep up with writing, and please, let me know what ya’ll want!! I’m here to please ;)

Chapter 1, 2

Tried to stay as gn as possible, no mentions of y/n or names, readers is just called ‘human.’

Word count: 2,132

Content warning: Maybe a bit of dread, spooky horror type stuff. Bit of violence, not anything horrible at all.

I glance around me as I walk through the quiet woods. Rays of light filtered through the leaves of the trees behind gradually being drowned out by the darkness of the shadows ahead of me.

I had traveled to a new city, and decided to take some time to explore the smaller nearby towns. London was great, but it was nothing compared to the smaller communities that were just outside of the larger city. The town I was in was smaller in comparison, greatly so. A couple of small neighborhoods, a few streets of shops, convenience stores and restaurants. On one side however, there was a forest that wrapped around half of the town.

Anytime I was in a small town like this, I always took the time to learn the local rumors. Any scandal, or story going around. As I was making my rounds through this small town, I’d heard tell of the forest containing monsters, creatures. Things that were definitely not meant for the human eye. Angels, demons.. it had me absolutely captivated. I needed to know more. So of course, after a good night's rest, I packed a backpack of supplies, put on some thermal wear, considering it was a chilly, bleary fall day, and made sure I had food and water to last the day.

And then I drove out to the edge of the forest, and began walking.

Immediately the air turned colder. I had this sense that I definitely shouldn’t be here, that something definitely didn’t want me here. Multiple something’s at that. It was exhilarating.

I stepped farther in, glancing around slowly. The day was already dark, but the canopy of branches were so tightly woven above, the forest seemed to be bathed in midnight, though I knew it was barely a quarter past ten in the morning. Luckly, it wasn’t dark enough that I couldn’t see, so I continued on.

It wasn’t a quiet walk, branches and leaves snapped and crunched beneath my feet, and I could hear birds singing their sweet songs. For how terrifying the image of the dark forest was, it was still peaceful here, even if I did have a small feeling of dread brewing beneath my subconscious.

I walked further in, approaching a small stream, and stepped through. The water wasn’t deep, barely reaching the middle of my shins at the deepest. I could feel the temperature of the water through my boots, which I was very glad to be waterproof. Freezing cold, of course it would be in weather like this. I crossed to the other side of the stream, and whatever sense of peace I’d had before was ripped away from me.

For a moment, I hesitated, unsure if I should continue. I glanced around, trying to steel my nerves. ‘Calm down,’ I thought to myself. ‘You hear a couple rumors about monsters in the woods and you’re scared straight. What kind of explorer are you if you can’t walk through the woods by yourself..’

I shook off the fear and continued walking. I came to a clearing, where the trees opened to reveal the sky above, still overcast with dark clouds. I’d checked the weather before coming out here, there wasn’t supposed to be any rain, but looking at the sky now, I wasn’t so sure. I take a deep breath and keep walking.

At this point, I’m maybe half a mile in, knowing forest monsters, they’re sure to be a bit further in than that. I think aloud while walking, about anything and everything, home, my family, my friends. I’ve been studying abroad for a couple months now. As an anthropology student, traveling has been an incredible experience for me, but that didn’t mean I didn’t miss home.

Eventually, a couple miles into the woods, I begin singing to myself. Nothing particular, and everything at the same time, I sing nursery rhymes and lullabies, and find ways to rework the words, making myself laugh. I counted on like this for another half a mile before I realized suddenly that there’s no longer any sounds around me. The birds have gone quiet, and the wind has hushed entirely, the rustle of the leaves above me silent. I pause for a moment, glancing around me carefully.

Suddenly a horrible, piercing screech sounds and I’m filled with an absolutely overwhelming sense of terror. I make a split second decision and decide to walk in the direction of the horrible sound.

As I come closer to the location of the sound, I begin to notice there’s a slight path that’s been worn into the ground here, and I come up on a large rock formation. Not quite a cliff but not just a boulder either. It looks easy enough to scale, and I silently assume someone might’ve already been doing just that, seeing as the slight path seems to end here.

I take a breath, tighten the strap of my backpack, and begin to climb. Quickly enough, I reach the top of the formation and glance down below me. I stare in horror at the thing I see before me. The thing was at least eight feet tall, and covered in a thick black substance. It’s face could’ve been white, but it was now stained, smeared with whatever covered the rest of it. Its eyes, mouth and nose, or at least what I assumed it was, were nothing but dark empty sockets. It’s body was large and bulbous, segmented, almost like the thorax of an insect, and decorated in skulls, mechanical limbs jutting out at odd angles, and there were many of them, spindly, covered in grime and gore down to the jagged needle-like tips. It clutched a battle ax, dark and covered in rust and dirt.

“What the fuck,” I whisper into the air.

In a split second the thing whipped its head towards me, its empty eyes taking me in. I take a step backwards and almost fall from my perch on the rock, forgetting where I stood.

It begins stepping towards me on its multiple long spindly legs, slowly at first, but then it begins picking up speed. I watch it, safe from its grasp high above it on the rock, but then tense as it shoots one of its legs out into the rock, embedding itself there. I stare in horror as it begins to climb.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” I say out loud, panicking slightly.

I turn and begin descending back down the rock the way I’d come. At the last couple of feet, I let go, dropping to the ground just as the thing makes its way over the top. It doesn’t even bother climbing back down, just throwing itself off and continuing its pursuit, I watch, terrified for a moment before turning and running. I don’t even bother trying to remember which way I’d come from, running in zigzagging patterns, trying to throw off the monster. I can hear it, the metallic grinding and groaning of the half organic half machine thing that was hot on my trail.

I wasn’t even looking where I was going, vision slightly blurry, eyes stinging with sweat that fell into them occasionally. I hear the thing even closer to me now. I gasp out in shock as I hear a sharp whirring sound pass my ear, knowing it was right on top of me, trying to grab me. With every fiber of my being, I pushed myself to run faster, lungs burning and adrenaline coursing through my veins. And then BAM! I slam into something.

I glanced up quickly, thinking I had run into a tree, but realizing a tree would’ve hurt a bit more, and probably wouldn’t have grabbed my arm, and pulled me behind it.

The hands that grabbed my wrists left dark black stains on my skin. I pause for a moment, letting my vision clear. The figure now stood in front of me, facing away, towards the monster. He’s tall, much taller than me, wearing a black cloak and black pants. One shoulder of his cloak is covered by a stark white pauldron, lined with deep red and encrusted with rough gold ore at the curve of his shoulder. He raised a hand towards the monster.

Quietly, in a dark, melodic voice, the man breathed a few words in a language I didn’t recognize. before him, the monster stared, twitching and writhing in its place, swaying on its many legs. It took a gentle step forward, lowering itself and pressing its face into the palm of the man's hand, before turning, lurching forward and walking away from us.

I stand there, taking heavy, shaking breaths. The man doesn’t turn to face me until the monster is out of sight, and when he does, I gasp.

His body is completely covered in black paint, there are streaks running through it, lines of sweat showing pale skin underneath, his chest is broad, toned, but not overly muscled. His hands are large, the paint of his palms, light and mostly missing, though the lines of his hands are deeply stained with dark paint. There are silver rings on many of his fingers, the edge of them tarnished from the paint, like the chains on his chest, stretching across his chest, underneath the cloak is a leather strap, perhaps holding the pauldron in place. He was beautiful, by all accounts, but his face left my jaw slack. The paint covered him up to his upper jaw, if there was more paint, I couldn’t tell as the top half of his face was obscured by a mask. Stark white, a huge contrast to the black on his skin, beautiful and intricate deep crimson lines swirling and curling along the bottom edge of the mask, forming a crescent around his mouth. Six holes in the shape of eyes line the front, dark black and almost sleepy in shape, dark red lines, perfectly symmetrical in shape crossed over under and above the eyes or the mask, forming a sigil or sorts.

I notice my mouth is open, and snap it shut quickly before opening it again, trying to think of something to say. Luckily, the stranger beats me to being the first to speak as words fail me.

“Are you hurt?” He asks simply, voice soft, reverberating through me and sending a shiver down my spine.

Slowly, I shake my head, still staring in awe. “Uh.. what.. what was that?” I ask softly.

Rather than answering my question, the stranger turns, beaconing me to follow him. “The people of the town don’t venture into these woods, you’re not from here.” What he says should’ve been a question, but I can tell he’s stating it as a fact. “You seem well prepared, well traveled in your own right, but that’s no reason to wander into an unknown wood.”

I follow after him, unsure of where we’re going. “I’m studying abroad,” I tell him, struggling slightly to keep up the pace with his long legs. “Heard some of the locals mention monsters in the woods, and I wanted to see for myself. Clearly… they weren’t lying.”

He glanced back at me over his shoulder. “What is it with humans always putting their noses where they can’t protect themselves?” He says it softly, almost in an endearing way.

‘Humans?’ I think to myself.

Before I realized it, we'd approached the stream I’d crossed when I first arrived.

“This is not a safe place for you,” the man says softly. “You are incredibly lucky to have escaped that creature with your life. Leave this place please, and do not return. There are… worse, more terrible things than that one in these woods.”

I turn to face him, ask him what else there is, but he’s gone. Not a single trace of his existence, no rustle or crunching of leaves underfoot, no thud of footsteps on the forest floor. For all I knew, I could’ve played the whole situation off as a psychotic episode. But I knew better. The dark handprints around my wrists and the blood that dripped from the small cut on my ear told me all the truth I needed.

I turn to walk to my car, opening my phone and pressing the call button. The phone rings for a moment before my mother picks up.

“Hello?” She says.

“Hey, Mom,” I say, opening the door and tossing my backpack into the back seat. “So you know how I said I was passing through this small town? I think I’ve changed my mind. I might spend a little while longer here. Something about it…” I mutter glancing into the trees, almost convincing myself that I can see him, blending into the dark shadows of the woods. “Something about it just captivates me.”

~~

OK!! Short little thing to get the story started, let me know if you want more!! I whipped this out in like 20 minutes, and thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it.

[valentine-cafe]

I'd like an order of tiramisu and scars please!

Alessio you worry me so much! Even if you can regenerate the damage has been done :(

[plants soft kiss on a visible scar]

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ earth 928b alessio arias, prompt game

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍰 ꒱ merc x reader, immortal x reader, mutant x reader ⊹ ۪ ࣪

a hushed sigh leaves his dark lips and alessio runs his tongue along his teeth, emerald eyes glancing away from your concerned face for but a moment.

“aye, mi vida, you shouldn't worry your pretty little head over it.” he traces up two fingers to gently run at your head. ”I've survived haven't I? even these scars will heal, they always do.”

his nonchalant behaviour towards his own wellbeing seems to melt away when he feels your lips against his arm. fluttering his thick lashes, the mercenary turns his head to glance upon you for a moment, before his thumb and index are taking your chin into a gentle hold.

leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lip, he mumbles. “well if ya keep doing that I'm just gonna go get more scars —”

he chuckles at your light smack and presses another kiss to the corner of your lips. “I'm kidding, I'm kidding.”

[suusoh]

let it be known if i had it my way i would give johan 0 rizz. absolutely none. nada. negative.

[wolftoken]

Inhuman Vessels Headcanons [x reader]

a/n: sfw and nsfw down below :3 some of this is inspired by @amourtoken so go check out her blog pls !!

• masterlist •

Somehow, you’ve ended up with four cryptid boyfriends in your newly acquired forest cabin. Don’t ask me why, I’m just here to tell you about them. More cryptid content coming soon…

Vessel

- His claws and fangs stand out to you immediately

- He likes to lick you as a display of affection. His tongue is very long and has small teeth at the sides at the back, sort of like a goose’s.

- Picks you up just to hold you and walks around with you in his arms like a child with a teddy bear

- Will eat a leaf sometimes. A flower or two, maybe a buttercup. He likes to watch cows and sheep and deer munching on grass while he lays on the forest floor in the sun.

II

- He has pretty fangs and his eyes glow in the dark in varying shades of blue.

- He’s very interested in humans, and likes to study you as you go about your day. He also enjoys studying your body and seeing how different humans are to himself.

- Very big fan of your squishy soft bits, and likes to hold them while cuddling. Most often he has a hand splayed over your stomach. He’s very protective and likes to make sure you’re safe so covering your most vulnerable parts makes him feel good.

III

- Probably the most knowledgeable about humans, but he also looks the most inhuman. His eyes are completely black and his canines are long and thin. His height is quite jarring at first, and he struggles to get through your doorways, but he learns to navigate the house pretty quickly.

- He enjoys letting you know (and feel) how much bigger than you he is, holding your hands in his and tracing your skin with his claws.

- He’d like to try your human food, but finds most of it inedible for him. But he really likes salty and crunchy things and enjoys watching you cook or when you put on cooking shows on the magic box in your living room.

IV

- Very like a big house cat. He likes to lounge in the sun outside and watch animals go about their day.

- If he could he’d just cuddle with you 24/7

- Arguably the most human looking out of the four, but his canines are definitely too distinct to be human.

- He has a little more experience with humans than the others, but is still wary of making mistakes and scaring you off. He can be somewhat shy when asking to spend time with you because he’s unintentionally scared humans away before.

- At times he could be naive about human nature and didn’t think they would find him so scary but he’s learned his lesson about strangers.

• All together; SFW •

- They’re very gentle with you, as they’re stronger than any human could be

- They’re very interested in trying human things like food and technology, as well as human behaviours regarding romance. Basically, they want to court you. In their own ways, that would mean bringing you wild flowers and pretty rocks and bones they’ve found, as well as rubbing their scent on you by nuzzling your neck and chest and back. They wanted to feed you but you had to remind them their diet is a lot different than yours.

- They make a lot of sounds. When they’re content and comfy, they might purr or do that big sigh that dogs do. They’ll growl if they sense danger and it’s deep and menacing and unlike any animal you’ve ever heard. Playful whining when you don’t have time to cuddle or for 5 more minutes in bed, and little grumbles when you tell them off for scaring tourists.

• NSFW •

- If you’re afab they’re very much down for period sex. They will be munching, too. Blood tastes good and sure, it’s not all blood, but they don’t care. You taste good.

- Of course, they all share a breeding kink. They can’t get you pregnant but by god they will try.

- Gentle biting and scratching is something they can’t really help, but they’ll be very happy if you’re into it. Seeing their marks on you when they’re done with you makes them proud but only if they don’t hurt too much.

- With aftercare, you’ll have to teach them how to take care of you like you need it. They’re down to cuddle and will bring you blankets and snacks they find in your kitchen.

- If you want to attempt to dom any of them, they might find the idea amusing at first. But when you get started they’ll be whining and begging for you to fuck them. Having huge and powerful creatures at your mercy is a thrill like no other.

- I can’t not talk about the size of their cocks. They’re thick and long and you will need a lot of time spent on foreplay to get them to fit. But they all have a “I’ll make it fit,” mentality and when they do it’s agonisingly delicious.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism ✨delusions✨

Gun Park: Mass murderer? NO. Grumpy and soft? YES.

Goo Kim : Crazy, sells his soul and you for some cash? NO. Fun, slightly chaotic, loyal to you and soft? YES.

Samuel Seo : Unhinged and mentally unstable? NO. Easy to fix, and soft? YES.

Vin Jin : Asshole that kicks puppies? NO. YOUR asshole and soft? Yes.

DG: Calls security on you? NO. Shares everything with you including his past and soft under that hard exterior? YES.

Ryuhei Kuroda: Sexual harassment? NO. Simp and soft (not in the way it matters)? YES.

Eli Jang: Tragic figure that puts Hostel above everything? NO. Happy family with you and Yenna, and soft soft soft? Yes yes yes.

Johan Seong: Slaps you away? NO. Follows you around like a lost puppy and soft under his edgy demeanour? YES.

Jake Kim: Sweet and soft? Well... yes. Sweet and soft. (Delusion off the charts with this guy.)

...Seong Taehoon: Kicks you in the face? NO. Find you adorable and not cringe? YES.

[jackiequick]

Reverse Betrayal - Agent of SHIELD….HYDRA? | [ Flipped AU]

AU —— Amelia has been apart of the Inhuman/Brotherhood Of Mutants and Hydra all along, and is working against SHIELD (Why? We will never know..). After she had to reveal her powers to control a handful of soldiers after them while keeping a few in the process, to try Ward, to save the team and complete the mission. 

He decided to protect her and hide her secret, not knowing she was a spy. She doesn’t want to be saved or protected, in fear of letting her guard down, choosing to run away but Ward always finds her. The young heroes will always find her.

“I was trying to protect you..”

“So was I.” 

“So what are you doing?”

“I took your advice..I stopped running.”

“Look at me, baby, look at me! I won’t hurt you, I promise that.”

“Even after the hell I put you though?”

~~~~

Name: Amelia Rachel Mary Morse

Codename: Tempest 

Date of Birth: July 14, 1995

Nationality: Italian-American

Place of Origin: Queens, New York

Age: Varies depending on the timeline

Height: 5’2

Sexuality: Straight (though her loyalty often comes before any personal relationships)

Species: Inhuman/Mutant with the power to control and manipulate emotions

Affiliation: Hydra, Brotherhood of Mutants

Rank: High-ranking operative within Hydra's ranks, trusted member of the Brotherhood

Appearance: Amelia has a striking presence, with expressive eyes that seem to hold a secret. She often wears a confident smirk, giving off an air of mystery and danger. Her attire is sleek and practical, fitting for someone who operates in the shadows.

Abilities:

Emotion Manipulation: Amelia possesses the ability to sense, alter, and control the emotions of others. She can incite fear, anger, or calmness at will, using her powers to manipulate situations to Hydra's advantage.

Mental Resistance: Years of training and exposure to Hydra's methods have given Amelia a strong mental fortitude, making her resistant to telepathic intrusion and manipulation.

Combat Training: Trained in various forms of hand-to-hand combat and armed combat, Amelia is a formidable opponent in combat situations.

Background: Unlike the original timeline where Amelia dreamed of becoming a SHIELD agent to protect and serve, in this AU, she was recruited into Hydra at a young age. Growing up in Queens, she always felt like an outsider, hiding her true nature as an Inhuman/Mutant. When Hydra discovered her abilities in the later years, they saw her potential as a valuable asset. However she made it clear to have her abilities used on her own terms and conditions, she wasn't going to be their little toy.

Under the guise of a loyal agent, Amelia rose through the ranks of Hydra, honing her skills and serving their sinister agenda. She became known as Tempest, a name that struck fear or uncertainty into the hearts of her enemies. "Tempest" symbolize her ability to stir up and control emotions, much like a storm can whip up turbulent winds and chaos. It also represent her inner turmoil and the internal struggles she faces as she grapples with her loyalties and the choices she must make.

Alongside her allegiance to Hydra, she also aligned herself with the Brotherhood of Mutants, drawn to their vision of mutant supremacy.

Motivation: Amelia's loyalty to Hydra stems from a desire for power and control. Having felt marginalized and overlooked for much of her life, she sees Hydra as a means to exert her influence and shape the world according to her will. She believes in the supremacy of mutants and is willing to do whatever it takes to ensure their dominance.

Relationships: While Amelia may form alliances and partnerships within Hydra and the Brotherhood, her true loyalty lies with her own ambitions. She is skilled at manipulation and may feign friendships or romantic entanglements to further her own agenda. However, deep down, she harbors a sense of loneliness and isolation, knowing that her true nature must remain hidden from those around her.

———

Additional Information:

Deep down, Amelia harbors a sense of loneliness and isolation, knowing that her true nature must remain hidden from those around her. Despite this, she found solace in a relationship with her boyfriend Nikolai, where they shared a sense of comfort, understanding, and love.

When Amelia was assigned by her boss John Garrett, an undercover Hydra agent within SHIELD, to work alongside Phil Coulson and his team, she was hesitant at first. However, she discovered a warmth, confidence, and strong sense of compassion when working with Coulson and meeting the Young Avengers. 

Over time, she found herself drawn to them, allowing her walls to slowly fall as she began to desire something more for herself.

During the fall of SHIELD and the revelation of Hydra's infiltration, Amelia's cover was blown along with many other agents.

In a pivotal moment, she betrayed Ward and the team, saving them and herself. Following Hydra's downfall, Amelia went into hiding, forging her own path and rebuilding her guard. 

However, she remained on the radar of both the Young Avengers and SHIELD...

~~~~

This was my excuse to make an baddie Mia haha. Now it’s your turn to flip an characters around ;)

Anyways tell me what you guys think!

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @cherrysft @rickb-chaos @starkleila @infinetlyforgotten @meiramel @parisparker269 @buckysteveloki-me @yetanotherwells @nakiaswg @carellmcu @ximehs @xgoddessoffandomsx

[captainsophiestark]

Weirdest Day Ever

Daisy Johnson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Marvel

Day 12 Prompt: "I'm not saying I didn't like it."

Summary: Daisy and Y/N broke up a long time ago rather than attempting long distance. Now, with a nudge from a terrigen crystal, the very thing that tore them apart might bring them back together.

Word Count: 1,694

Category: Angst, Fluff

Requested by @trekkingaroundasgard! Thanks for the request Nicola, and I hope you like it!

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

The weirdest day of my life, to date, was the day I saw my ex-girlfriend on the news three times in the course of twenty-four hours, as a new superhero working for SHIELD. And until I bit into a takeout sushi roll from my favorite restaurant, I thought nothing could beat it for the number one spot.

Then I'd started transforming.

Inhumans and inhuman transformations had been in the news once or twice lately (at least one of my ex's appearances had been in connection with it), but I hadn't really thought much of it. I'd certainly never imagined I might be one of them, a latent alien gene just waiting in my genetic code. But as a chrysalis started to form around me, fear took over, and I knew what came next.

I didn't know how much time passed for me while I was totally crystalized, but when I came out of it, I collapsed in a heap on the floor. It had felt like floating, through time and space, with no anchor. My body was exhausted and a little sore, and my head hurt. I looked around, finally glancing at a clock to see about four hours had passed.

What the hell was I supposed to do now? Seriously, what did somebody do after a transformation like that? What was the normal reaction?

Slowly, I got to my feet, waiting for some crazy, obvious sign of my change. I walked to a mirror on unsteady feet to find that I looked the same as before, if a little shakier than when I'd been trying to enjoy my favorite food for lunch in peace.

I frowned down at my hands, experimentally shaking one out in front of me to see if anything happened. When it didn't, I flared my hand out, fingers spread wide.

That's when the new weirdest day of my life really kicked off.

A bright purple forcefield bubble appeared around my hand, growing rapidly in size the longer I left my hand extended. I watched it in fascination, until I heard a crashing sound behind me and whipped around to find the door of my apartment busted open. A dozen people in military tactical gear broke through the door, headed right for me.

Reflexively, I flung my hands up in front of my face. With my new powers, the forcefield responded, exploding in a circle around me and knocking the strangers backwards and off their feet. My sushi clattered to the ground, and I leapt over it as I raced past the stunned soldiers and through the door.

I heard shouts from behind me followed shortly by thundering footsteps. My pulse roared in my ears, beating a million miles an hour as I burst into the stairwell and ran down as fast as possible. I had no idea what my plan was, other than 'get away', which felt like a decent first step.

I barreled through the lobby of my apartment building and into the street, the people chasing me not far behind. I staggered a little, unsteady on my feet, more tired than I'd normally be thanks to the use of my new powers. I glanced over my shoulder, then flung my hands up to defend myself again as shots—hopefully nonlethal—fired at me. They bounced off my forcefield, but each hit still felt like a punch in the gut with the effort it took to deflect.

I screamed, flinging my arms out harder and farther away from me, sending another wave of purple force pushing my attackers back. It nearly knocked me to the ground, too, but I managed to stay on my feet and keep running.

I staggered around a corner and into an alleyway, hoping to lose them by going off the beaten path. I realized after a few steps, however, that I'd also just walked into a dead end. I turned around to go back the way I'd come, only to have my exit blocked by the soldier-looking people.

I stumbled backwards, almost tripping over my own two feet and going down. I managed to catch myself at the last second, heart pounding as my attackers advanced. I flung my hands out, but even the smallest forcefield had me seeing spots now.

I was trapped. No way out. And then, my day doubled down on the weirdness.

Like a fever-induced hallucination, my ex-girlfriend Daisy Johnson, formerly known as Skye, landed in front of me in a full superhero pose. She stared down my attackers, who hesitated at the sight of her, long enough for her to level a blast of her own superpower and send them flying backwards. She turned to me with a grin, and when I swayed a little on my feet this time it wasn't just because I was dizzy.

"Hey. Long time no see," said Daisy. She started walking towards me and I just watched her, still not totally convinced this wasn't a dream.

We'd only broken up because she was taking off with SHIELD, and I was moving across the country for work. We'd decided long distance with spies probably wasn't a good idea. To have her magically reappear in my life, right when some crazy latent superpower had been awakened in me... it felt too good to be true.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

I shook my head as Daisy reached me, putting her hands on my arms and gently squeezing to try to ground me back to reality. It didn't really work.

"It's okay," she said, glancing over my shoulder before stepping even closer to me. "It's gonna be okay, I promise. We're gonna get you out of here."

I nodded. Despite not seeing Daisy for the past few years, I trusted her. I knew she'd get me out of here, that I could feel safe with her. As a result, the adrenaline quickly faded, and my light-headed exhaustion only got worse.

"It's... good to see you again," I muttered, giving Daisy the best smile I could muster. She returned with a confused frown, and I thought I saw her mouth my name, but the sound didn't make it past the encroaching blackness. The next thing I knew, I was toppling towards Daisy, the rest of the world completely slipping away.

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

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the splitting pain in my head. I frowned before I even opened my eyes, memories of the events right before I blacked out only making my headache worse. I heard a snort, and my eyes flew open.

Daisy. Sitting on the edge of the bed I was laying in, looking at me with a fond smile. She'd swooped back in to save my life, and she looked absolutely fantastic doing it.

"Out of all the reactions of Inhumans we've saved, scowling before even waking all the way up might be my favorite," she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. I sat up, my heart racing faster at the sight of her.

"You... saved me," I breathed. She nodded a little, her worried eyes scanning me from head to toe.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner."

"No, Daisy, oh my gosh," I scooted forward, unable to resist the pull towards her. After everything that had happened, to have her suddenly back in my life after I'd literally been attacked? I didn't want to waste another minute without her. "You saved me. You came at the perfect time, please don't apologize. I- I'm so happy to see you again."

She smiled at me, the small, soft smile that had been reserved just for me for so long when we were together, and I found myself leaning forward, pulled towards Daisy by some gravitational force. I brought my hand up to the back of her head, tangling it in her hair as I kissed her softly, every happy moment from our lives together rushing back. After a second, she pulled away, a rueful look on her face.

"Y/N-"

"Oh my God. Daisy, I am so, SO sorry. I wasn't thinking, I shouldn't have just kissed you like that, I-"

"Whoa." She held up a hand, stopping me in my tracks before I could really get rolling and rambling. I stared at her with wide eyes, and she gently took one of my hands in hers before giving me a soft smile. "It's okay. I missed you too, and when you kissed me... well, I'm not saying I didn't like it. But we haven't seen each other in a while, and you just survived a really, really big trauma that's gonna take some time to process. I think it might be a good idea if we take things a little slower."

I nodded, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Yeah... yeah, you're probably right. But Daisy? I do still want to head that way, if you do, of course. You know, back towards... something like what we had before."

She sighed. "I want that. For sure, I want that. But maybe you should take a little more time to process, make sure it's actually something you want and not just the delayed adrenaline dump or something-"

"Daisy." I shifted a little on the bed, taking my turn to stop her worry train before it got rolling, taking both her hands more firmly in mine. "Honestly, while forcefields will probably be a sick power, this whole experience has completely sucked. Every single minute of it... except for the fact that it's brought me back to you. So... if you're sure, I'm sure."

A smile steadily grew on Daisy's face, mirrored on my own until we were positively beaming at each other. SHIELD had been the thing to tear us apart, but now, it had brought us back together. There was some interesting kind of poetry to that, but I didn't care enough to analyze it. All that mattered to me was that Daisy and I would be side by side, working through all the weirdness together, today and for every new weirdest day that was sure to come our way in the future.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @luv-ghostie @songbirdcannabe

[anika-ann]

Back and Forth - part 7

Part 7 - Step Forward

Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader

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

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

Series masterlist

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

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

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

Yesterday was a good day, you decided.

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

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

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

Because yesterday was a good day.

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

His warm smile.

The gentle touch of his hand.

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

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

I just like you.

See you soon, doll.

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

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

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

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

Today was the ‘tomorrow’.

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

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

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

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

Steve Rogers had said he liked you. Right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And either of these scenarios would crush you.

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

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

Because that, that was not going to happen.

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

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

Yesterday was a good day.

Today was not.

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

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

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

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

Because you could have this.

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

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

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

This wasn’t how your life went.

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

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

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

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

Yeah, it was good to see her again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gulped. “You didn’t.”

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

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

Just… why?

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

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

“I’m just… I’m scared.”

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

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

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

“…of me?”

Are you scared… of me?

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

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

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

Oh damn you, Steven Grant.

Damn you, damn you, damn you.

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

“I just… you said you liked me.”

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

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

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

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

And the flowers were so pretty.

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

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

It made you want to scream.

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

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

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

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

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

Then, naturally, there was another explanation.

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

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

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

It had the opposite effect.

Treat you any worse?

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

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

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

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

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

That.

That was it.

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

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

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

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

Well.

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

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

But he did protest.

Of course he did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I- I mean-…“

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

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

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

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

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

And that was not an option.

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

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

But it brought you no relief.

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

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

Absurd. Stupid. He thought you were stup-

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

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

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

Fix that.

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

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

Not that you’d deserve forgiveness, would you?

“Well, so am I.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because Steve stared at you, rendered speechless.

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

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

And boy had he seen more than enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“-and it will devastate me.”

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

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

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

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

A shaky inhale. A wavering exhale.

Silence.

A sigh.

Two steps; approaching, not retreating.

A scrape of the chair.

A gentle whisper of your name.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what’s that, CaptainRogers?”

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

“Do you like me?”

All feigned bravery gone, you closed your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

“…yes.”

A hitch of a breath.

A beat of silence.

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

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

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

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

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

“Not to me.”

There’s nothing new to me about that.

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which made no damn sense.

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

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

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

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

And yet he was still here, suggesting this.

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“You-… you’d want that.”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

Just like that.

You were rendered entirely speechless.

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

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

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

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

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

He meant it. He truly did.

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

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

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

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

“How so?”

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

Worse; you’d waste it on me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like getting shot in the chest?

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

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

“Still sorry.”

“And I appreciate it.”

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And perhaps so did you.

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

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

“I don’t know, Steve…”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, is that how it is, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? And what else do you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. I think we will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then into the lion’s den we go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stark!”

“Tony!”

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

“What? It is too soon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They are your friends too, you know.

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

“I mean… I don’t mind at all-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Coming right-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

You froze.

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

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

And then you noticed.

No one was looking at you.

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

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

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

Several things happened at once.

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

Next to you, Steve made a small offended noise.

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

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

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

“Is that a challenge--?”

“Maybe-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well… no promises.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next chapter

Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist

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

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

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

May June be kind to you and your loved ones 💕