#and you’re gonna tell me we could have younger peggy and sharon together and you just won’t have them bond? pathetic

[thesharondefenseleague]

Imo i think while Peggy is the subject of bad character writing it's recognized less because unless she had a limited presence in the MCU ( unless you watched Agent Carter which most didn't). Sharon has the same problem tho to a much higher extreme because unless you are following behind the scene stuff or read the comics you get very little of Sharon before TFAWS. Its bad writing but if thats too large a part of what you got for the character its what you now have to judge the character on.

I will say that kind of take on Peggy is much less common and has more to do with not liking how they are handling Peggy now rather than bad character writing alone. But I do think this becomes a problem for many female characters in fandom in general.

Because they are often written badly compared to their male counterparts. And while it's not their fault they are written like that they are fictional characters. How they are written is to a large degree is what they are.

But I think in MCU specifically ( since they are based however loosely on the comics) its also based on fandom latching on to the comic canon vs not. For example its common to hear about comic canon vs the MCU depiction after a movie comes out.

After the Avengers for example people talked extensively about Hawkeye how he is in the comics. And many mcu fans were like damn I know comics and MCU are seperate things but thats a shame they didn't go with that version that seems like so much more fun. Many who didnt read comics started incorporating that version of Hawkeye to their fan content some even started reading Hawkeye comics.

Alternately similar things happened with Bucky and Sharon. People pointing out things like oh Bucky was actually Steve's kid side kick in comics and Sharon had Natasha's role in WS. But unlike with Hawkeye there was less lamenting of what could have been. People felt that the story hit better with Bucky as an adult who was Steve's best friend getting brainwashed. And they felt they liked that position more with Black Widow who they already knew getting this new character dynamic with someone. Rather than bring in another character to put in that position.

So the fan works often didnt bring in that version of Sharon and Bucky.

So imo the frustration with bad character writing is emphasized more when there is a contrast to better wrtten characters ( either other characters bring written better or the same character having been written better in a diff incanation).

And they are shit on that more when there isn't really a version of them a good chunk of people prefer to see instead ( like Sharon for example especially in the movies im seeing more defense now though of the character in the show but might just be people I follow and its actually uncommon).

While the fandom might mourn the loss of good character writing and try to use fandom to fix things in fic if there is a version fandom prefers more ( like Natasha in AOU ).

You get it.

Peggy, Sharon, and Bucky all fall under the same umbrella (with Sam too, and everyone except Fury, Natasha, and Maria) where in a movie starring Steve, their characters essentially worship him. They’re all Steve’s fans who love him unconditionally. In the comics, they had no problem calling him out when he did stupid shit, especially Sharon. But not many people were willing to read their comics because the obsession over how pretty the actors were drowned out any character complaints. Only Hawkeye received enough (very much deserved) complaints that led to the Fraction/Aja series picking up sales and fans. So it allowed Hawkeye to get better writing. They don’t know what to do with the other three, so Bucky’s character plateaus on wanting a new Cap that he approves of, Sharon’s writers bashing her while viewers ask what the fuck, and Peggy just being written to fill in Steve’s shoes because the actress wants to keep working with the MCU and his actor wants to do anything else.

~Mod R

[lovelyirony]

I was wondering if I could maybe ask for some Sharon and Bobbi Morse? But like i don't know if you are taking ideas at the moment and I've been like a week trying to message you to ask 👉👈

 i felt so bad i just saw this and i know you sent this in ages ago! i’m going to try my best. i’m not too familiar with bobbi morse, but i’m going to try my best! i am so so sorry for my late response! 

When Coulson had called and told Morse that she was going to be assisting in a training course, she wanted to put her head through a wall. She hated working with new recruits: they were either so nervous they’d blow the whole mission, or so cocky that they’d blow the whole mission. And then she would have to come and fix it. 

And then she walked into the gym with disinterest written all over her face, and paused when she saw her. 

Thirteen. One of the best agents in the field, also creator of the legendary “hair-flip-into-the-face” move that nearly every agent with long hair used now. 

Also her biggest crush. Bobbi doesn’t even like using that word because it’s so juvenile, but that’s the only real way she can describe it. 

“Hey Morse,” Thirteen says, grinning. God, her smile is gorgeous. “Ready to whip these trainees into shape with me?” 

“Um...yes.” 

They don’t talk for a while after that--at least, not personally. Thirteen shows how to incapacitate your opponent, and Bobbi shows how to do an effective choke-hold. 

It’s a good time. 

Thirteen grins at her. 

“Hit the showers, trainees. Tomorrow we’re gonna go over how to run and also keep going while looking back.” 

There are groans of acknowledgement as they move out of the room like a horde of zombies, completely exhausted.  

“You do well with the trainees,” Thirteen says. “I’m not sure why Coulson said you’d be hesitant.” 

“If I was on my own, half of these kids would be transferring to office jobs,” Bobbi admits. “I’m...not the best with people. Well, new people.” 

“We all heard about what happened in Belfast,” Thirteen says, grinning. “I, for one, think that you do great with trainees. We still use that story to scare them into always double-checking the wiring no matter their level of high education.” 

“Really?” 

“You tend to intimidate some of us, Mockingbird. Especially with all your help of SHIELD clean-up.” 

“No big deal,” Bobbi says, smiling. “Didn’t know you knew about that.” 

“Have a couple of friends in high places. Hawkeye wants your autograph.” 

Bobbi snorts. 

“Clint has it on a dollar bill or something, I’m sure. He’s asked for it about seven times, but six of those was because I got him coffee.” 

Thirteen laughs, and Bobbi can’t lie and say she isn’t honored that she got Thirteen to smile. 

- 

The week goes by easily, and Thirteen gets coffee. 

“You have a certain order you want from the cafe a street down?” she asks. 

“Um. Black. Coffee?” Bobbi asks. 

Thirteen sends her a look. 

“You serious?” 

“No, but I don’t wanna trouble you.” 

“Unless you’re the villain I captured in Vienna two months back and escaped, you’re not going to trouble me a bit.” 

“Vanilla latte, one espresso shot and hazelnut syrup.” 

“Gotcha.” She taps it in her phone, waggling the device a bit. “And now, I shall remember it forever!” 

Bobbi’s heart warms a little bit. 

They share coffee and smiles and Thirteen tells her a little bit about her cousin, who apparently survives solely off coffee and has a problem with creamers. 

“He’s specific,” she says. “Only one certain brand, and only one flavor. If they’re out, he won’t drink coffee and turns into the worst person alive.” 

“Sounds...eccentric,” Bobbi adds, and Thirteen laughs. 

“Yeah, one way to put it.” 

- 

There’s an emergency. Supervillain wants to take over the world, the save-the-world-team is on a vacation. 

“Bobbi, Thirteen, you’re our next bet,” Fury says. “Don’t fuck it up, and be back for dinner. Maria’s catered in pizza.” 

“Oh hell yeah,” Thirteen exclaims, pumping her fist. “Alright Mockingbird, let’s get started.” 

- 

Fighting with Thirteen is a perfect dream. She gets it, really and truly. She can improv like nobody’s business, check in with the rest of the team, and watches Bobbi’s back. 

Bobbi pushes her down to avoid a bullet, and she’s facing her, face in front of face, and too-close. 

“Well if this is how you wanted me, I really wanted you to show me off-hours,” Thirteen says, breathless. 

Bobbi laughs, helping her up while taking out a goon on his way to try to beat them up. 

“I have off-hours on Friday. Hopefully, you do too.” 

“Ooh, on til nine. Switched shifts with Romanoff for an early Saturday. You free then?” 

“Anywhere you want me, Saturday.” 

“Good, I can cross a few things off of my to-do list.” 

“Quit flirting on the battlefield or no pizza!” Maria barks into the communication line. 

Bobbi snickers. 

“Save a slice of pepperoni for me,” she quips. 

They get back to fighting. 

- 

Post-fight, current-pizza is perhaps the best that Sharon’s been feeling in a while. Especially with Bobbi so close to her, thighs nearly touching, and both faces streaked with dirt and satisfaction lining their smiles. 

“My apartment is only a few blocks from here,” Sharon whispers into her ear. “And I know you’re exhausted. What do you say we sleep this one off?” 

“Promise a shower?” Bobbi whispers back. 

“Only if I get a fantastic view.” 

Bobbi snorts. 

“You got yourself a deal. Let me pack up my bags.” 

Sharon hums with excitement as she unlocks her apartment. 

It’s personal, is what it is. Bobbi wasn’t expecting it. Usually, numbered agents were intensely private about their lives. No names, no reminders on the fridge, and definitely not any decorations/reminders of a personal life. 

Thirteen is...not that. 

“Technically, my name is an open secret,” Thirteen says. “I’m Sharon. Nice to meet you, Bobbi.” 

“Sharon,” Bobbi repeats slowly. She sees a hanging picture in the kitchen. She’s with a remarkably similar woman, although years younger. It appears that they’re at some sort of school event, and the young Sharon is holding up a blue ribbon of some sort. 

“That was at my ice hockey championship. Peggy always did like that.” 

“Huh.” 

Sharon grins. 

“Most don’t expect it, right? But enough about that. You want water?” 

“Please.” 

- 

They don’t do anything but exist together that night. Bobbi takes a shower, then Sharon. She wears a shirt that smells of good detergent and rosewater. 

“I’ll make breakfast in the morning,” Sharon whispers, turning off the lamp. “You get rest.” 

Yeah. Bobbi could get used to something like this. 

Coulson is quite smug when she signs up for another training session. 

“Told you that the newbies would grow on you.” 

“Oh, they definitely didn’t. Thirteen, however, did.” 

He pales. 

Bobbi laughs. 

[disrespectfullcalum]

Walk the line (Pt3/?)

Word count: 2,415

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary:  Being the granddaughter of Peggy Carter, you always try to stay away from spotlight. The lure of Hydra is still out in the world, but you get away from it whenever you work at that small diner a few blocks from the Avengers tower. You even befriend one particularly nice customer and let him help you with your language essays for college. But what are you going to do when your family name collides with reality and you finally realise what past is behind those sad eyes and shy smile from your favourite customer?

Warnings: drinking, angst, explosions, cliff hanger, swearing (I, uh, think that’s it???)

A/N: So sorry it took me so long to update!! But I’m not sick anymore so I had to go to work and catch up and also take care of family stuff. I’m gonna try to update every other day until this is finished and maybe start some shorter stuff? If you want? Anyways - please, please reblog if you like it, I enjoy reading tags and/or comments! 

MASTERPOST

It's quarter past eleven, I'm not in the mood to think Mr. band leader, let's kick out the jam

You knew this was a bit ridiculous. The dress, the shoes, the complete make-up – you looked like a clown, ready for the show. Plus, you didn’t even really know any of these people that would turn up and they didn’t know you. They all were just going to talk to you because of your name. Not your first name, no first name was interesting enough for that. It was your family name that caught their attention. Carter, that is. And if it hadn’t been Steve himself who invited you, you probably wouldn’t even go.

This all had started three months ago. After that weird evening where James had come in with his two… friends, yeah, that’s what you would call them. You hadn’t seen him that much since then and when you did, he was almost always covered in bruises from head to toe. There weren’t too many questions asked because you knew he didn’t like that. You would just place a glass of coke in front of him with his usual menu, he’d smile at you with that damn stupid half-sided grin, and then just eat and drink in silence before leaving with a more than gracious tip. There’s was pretty much no talking anymore, no more correcting of essays or anything. It was like that stupid comment his friend had dropped just – broke everything. It made you feel lost, it made you miss the times you would just throw remarks at each other during your shifts and you realised that he actually had made most of your shifts much more fun. He would hum along to the songs in the background, sometimes writing down the titles and artists in a small notebook. He had you so intrigued with his non-existent knowledge of popular movies (old and new) and you happily lectured him hours on end on your favourite ones.

Like Harry Potter. You probably spent an entire month telling him all about the storylines, the different characters, the canon pairings and possible pairings, the little details – you told him literally everything there was. He was even allowed to borrow your most favourite editions of the books, the well-loved and used versions you had owned since your 13th birthday. That was an honour not too many people in your life were granted and he had thanked you for it with actual notes of his thoughts. He actually wrote down his thoughts of every single chapter and as you read them at night, there was no way you couldn’t smile at them. During the first chapters of the Philosopher’s Stone, he wrote: Snape = suspicious. Probably up to something. Hermione is nerve-wracking, but will likely be useful to the boys in future. The pure thought of James staying up late, reading a children’s book and watching the movies and being so irritably bitchy about their lack of content – that was enough to make your insides warm and fuzzy.

But all of this stopped, and you felt lonelier than before. You hadn’t realised how much you relied on him as emotional relief until you no longer had him around. Sure, you still had your other friends who listened to everything, but you still found yourself missing his presence. He had managed to sneak into your heart without you realising it and now that he didn’t show up anymore – the hole he left was gaping deeply. And as if it was a weird coincidence, another guy had stepped into your life right at that time. And by another guy, you were talking actual freaking Captain America! You had gotten an invitation to S.H.I.E.L.D. which already startled you as you had never actively contacted them. Sure, your family name was like a holy grail and they most definitely had data about anything you did – you had just never expected them to actually contact you. It had been three months before the anniversary of your grandmother’s death and apparently, they had decided to celebrate it. Like, complete with speeches, music, and any other extravagancy they could come up with.

And they wanted you to join. You, as the granddaughter of the legendary Peggy Carter, should hold a speech at this ridiculous event in her honour. You were sure that this was the last thing she had in mind but well, if that meant to get them off your ass, you would do it. You had sent them back a letter in which you were stating you would do it but only under the condition of not being named anywhere. Not on any programme flyers, not on a poster, nowhere. That was the only condition for you and it was funny enough that that one thing made Steve Rogers appear on your doorstep.

It was a late Saturday night, you had been studying your ass off trying to understand this complete ass of a German news article and the whiskey bottle next to you was nearly half empty. Bourbon had been a favourite of yours since forever – Peggy had actually given you your first ever bottle of it when you turned 18 because that was the legal drinking age in England. No other reason needed. It probably also hadn’t helped you that since you still visited your grandparents frequently when you were over 18 and had drunk together with them. It had made you a bit immune to its effects and made you a wonder at every single frat party you had attended. But tonight, you weren’t drinking to feel good or goofy, you were drinking because you wanted to drown that stupid feeling of being lost. This feeling of not really having anyone who knew you. Your parents had died when you were 16 – officially it had been an accident, but you knew they had been working for S.H.I.E.L.D., so it had most likely been during a mission.  And during all this mess, your doorbell rang. Quickly, you wiped your eyes and tried to make your hair look a bit less messy as you walked towards the door. You didn’t even bother looking through the small spy even though you didn’t expect anyone. It shocked you therefore when you opened the door and there was this stupidly hunky man standing there. His shoulders were broad enough to touch both sides of your door frame and his blue eyes felt like they were looking right into your soul. “Hello?” Your voice was a bit smaller than you wanted it to sound, you didn’t want to seem intimidated by his height or anything. “Are you… Y/N Carter?” His voice was calm, a bit worried maybe. And his eyes held a spark of hope that was all too familiar. Your eyes squinted slightly as your head tilted to the side. “I know you. From pictures. I think we should talk about this inside.” And with that, you ushered him inside, quickly glancing up and down the corridor to make sure nobody had seen literal Captain America waltzing over.

He had stayed nearly the whole night. When he left, there had been two more empty bottles of bourbon, a lot of tears shed, and a lot of tissues on your couch table. You two had spent the night talking about your grandmother, him sharing his memories of the younger her during the war and you telling stories about her as a mother and grandmother. It was nice to have someone who could relate to losing someone so close and loved – sure, your friends had lost their grandparents as well for the most part, but none of them had been as close as you and Peggy. Steve met you a few more times and after a while, you grew used to his visits. He reminded you of James in a way: He, too, didn’t know too much about modern movies or music but that was due to him being frozen and you made it a mission to show him your favourite stuff. It also didn’t take you too long to realise that he was dating your only cousin, Sharon. She was unlike you in the most parts, but you both were close nonetheless. And while you had preferred to stay in the shadows, she took part in S.H.I.E.L.D. and worked on the heritage of your grandmother. And bless her, she was good at that.

But tonight, you would have to step out of them. You felt utterly ridiculous and nowhere prepared to talk to all these agents. There was nothing you had in common with them, absolutely nothing. You were a languages and business student, they were field agents who fought one-on-one and some of them had only nearly escaped a certain death. Plus, the fucking Avengers were going to be there. Steve had told you that much about the preparations because apparently, even Captain America himself didn’t know everything. As if the mere presence of Iron Man or the Hulk wasn’t already intimidating enough! Your hands were sweaty, and you wiped them unconsciously on the side of your dress, making Sharon grab them in her own hands and squeezing them. “You’re gonna be alright, Y/N. You have your notes on these cards, you just look at Steve and me the whole time and you’re gonna be fine.” A deep breath escaped your chest. “I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you.” She gave you a half-sided grin and patted your shoulder. “Well, you certainly wouldn’t be here. Peggy would be proud of you.” The last part was merely a whisper, but it echoed louder inside of your head than anything else.

The scent and the aroma refuse to breathe It's more like a haze that's trying to succeed It's drawing me in and pulling me to you And every thought I have turns the language blue

His nose crinkled as he tried to get this stupid tie correct. This had been his forte back in the 40ies, but those times – well, they were long gone now. He hadn’t been wearing a suit or a tie for decades and Bucky swore under his breath as he got it wrong for what felt like the 40th time. A quick glance to the watch on his bedside table showed him that he was already late. Annoyed and frustrated, he threw the stupid thing back onto his bed and fixed his hair one last time in the mirror before walking out. He had been excited for this evening because he had met Peggy during the War. She had been strong and beautiful, and it hadn’t been hard to see how much her and Steve had loved each other. Bucky only wished that he spent more time with her back then and deeply regretted his typically-douchebag behaviour from these days. He hadn’t thought much of women in the army, saw them as too fragile and emotional for the job. But Peggy – she had changed his mind. And every time he had met a female agent at the headquarters of S.H.I.E.L.D., they had reminded him of that strong woman. In a weird way, Y/N had reminded him of her as well. The way she held herself up, this natural confidence, even the twinkle in her eyes.

Y/N. Her name alone made him frown a bit. He had only been down to the diner a few times because he didn't really want her to see him like this. All the missions he went on now, they had left him in desperate need of patching-up and it was a true piece of work to hide all the bruises. Bucky wasn't going to let her see him all messed up. She already worried and if he turned up even more worn-down, she would ask too many questions he couldn't answer - and that was a risk Bucky was not ready to take yet. He liked her, there was no denying that! But he could still remember the person he had been before, he remembered the things he had done, and he was not going to let Y/N anywhere near the danger that came with him.

He took the stairs two steps at a time and had trouble to catch his breath at the top of them. With a quick look around, he managed to spot Steve standing a few meters away together with Sharon. They were giving the thumbs-up to someone up on the stage, but Bucky didn’t give it too much of a thought as he walked towards his friends. “What took you so long, frosty?” The woman greeted him with a bright grin on her face. He gave a dirty look while his hands reached up to fix his hair one more time, but Sharon was quicker and stopped the movement. “You look fine, Buck. Even though a little haircut wouldn’t be a wrong thing to do.” Sharon stated while Steve nodded in consent. But he just shrugged his shoulders and fixed his eyes onto the stage where Director Fury was standing – Bucky had to take a double take because he had never seen the chief in a suit or anything like it, he almost looked unrecognizable. “Next up, we have a very special guest coming. Her family name has been engraved into the minds of all our agents, her very family is the foundation of our organization. Please, welcome the granddaughter of our founder, Peggy Carter – Y/N Carter!”

There was a big round of applause as a young woman walked up the stage, but all Bucky could think of was how funny it was you shared the same name as the granddaughter of Peggy. Before he could make out a face though, there was a loud thud. Within seconds, there was shattered glass, terrified screams, and the sound of guns being loaded. Bucky had instinctively thrown himself onto the ground, as well as Sharon and Steve. Sharing the same panicked and frantic look, they all whispered one thing: “Protect Y/N.”

[bloomsoftly]

take your time (in a hurry), ch. 2

this is part 2 of @ragwitch‘s birthday gift! i’ll have one more up this week, on her actual birthday. if you haven’t read the first chapter, this one won’t make much sense. love you, queenie. ❤️❤️❤️

read: part 1, part 3

Chapters: 2/? Relationships: wintershieldshock (Darcy/Bucky/Steve), Darcy & Tony Rating: T (for now) Summary: Darcy is the bastard daughter of one Anthony Edward Stark, who was banished from New York for getting a girl pregnant out of wedlock. Now that her grandparents have died, she embarks on a quest out west to find her long-lost father. Twenty years later. Should be a piece of cake. (old west!AU)

Despite a restless night, Darcy was up just after dawn the next morning. There was too much to do; at some point in the middle of all her tossing and turning, she’d realized she couldn’t stay here. Not in this house, and certainly not in the shadow of Zola and his scheming machinations. Whether or not Peggy found a way to find her father, she wasn’t staying in New York.

She wasn’t looking forward to telling Maria. Not that she had to—the other woman had a knack for being able to read her thoughts almost before she’d even had them. In this case, it was easy. As soon as Darcy directed some of the servants to start packing up the house—starting with her grandparents’ bedroom and other, lesser-used rooms of the house—Maria was there at her elbow. “Not going to wait for Mrs. Carter to come back before you make your decision?”

“You know she’d yell at you for calling her that, Maria. And no, I’m not. We both know that there’s only one option for me. Can you see me tied down to a man too scared to tell Zola no?”

The other woman only snorted in reply. Dusting her hands briskly on her apron, she said, “Well, that's settled, then. I'll have the maids pack up in here, next.” She waved a hand around Howard’s study at all the books and his strange inventions, plus the keepsakes he’d gathered from his travels. Darcy looked up from where she'd been combing through the loose sheets of paper on her grandfather’s desk. She wasn't ready for this room to be packed up, and she opened her mouth to tell Maria that, but was sidetracked at the next words that came out of the housekeeper’s mouth.

“Then we'll go through your clothing to decide what will survive the trip.”

“What trip?”

Maria leveled her with a skeptical, don't-try-to-pull-one-over-on-me-missy look. “For the journey west. You trying to tell me that you're planning on leaving New York and it's not to go find your father?”

She hadn't said as much out loud, but Darcy couldn't deny that it had always been her intention, ever since Aunt Peggy’s words the night before. Even if she spent the rest of her whole life looking. She looked away. “I'm not ready for the servants to clean up in here.” That was all the answer Maria needed.

With a soft squeeze to her shoulder, she murmured, “I thought not. Well, I hope you find something that hints at where he might be. ‘West’ is mighty vague, even for an intrepid young woman like yourself. I wouldn't hold my breath, though.” She headed across the room, reaching for the chords for the drapes. “And while you do that, I might as well go see to the preparations for our journey. It's never too early to get the ball rolling.”

“Our?” Darcy muttered blankly, blinking owlishly against the light as Maria threw open the curtains. Dust floated in every direction, disturbed by the sudden motion. No one had been in this room in days, not since Darcy’s grandparents had died.

“Our,” Maria confirmed, her tone as hard as steel, and as immovable, too. “You didn't think I was gonna let my little girl go traipsing off across the country without me, did you?”

In between one heartbeat and the next, Darcy flew across the room. One second, she was staring at her friend from behind the desk, finger still tracing the line of ink across one of Howard’s ledgers. And in the next, she was in Maria’s arms, clinging hard and blinking away tears. The other woman’s arms were light and gentle against her back, rubbing soothing circles against the fabric covering her back.

Once she was sure she wouldn't embarrass herself by crying like a child, Darcy pulled away. Maria’s face was stern, but her eyes were understanding. “It's been a rough week for you, little dove, I know. But you'll get through this. You've still got me.”

Nodding her head quickly, Darcy stepped back. Smiling around a sniffle, she assured, “I know. I don't know what I'd do without you, Maria.”

“You'd figure something out, Darce. You're a resourceful one. But you don't have to. And whenever you find someone you can rely on—”

“—you shouldn't work alone,” Darcy finished.

(read more link here)

“Good girl.” With one last pat to her shoulder, Maria headed for the doorway. “Your grandfather never learned that lesson. I might suggest going through your grandmother’s things, instead. Of the two, she was the more likely to learn from her mistakes, don't you think?” She tilted her head toward the smaller desk in the corner, the one that had belonged to Darcy’s grandmother.

She had a point. It had been her Grandpa’s greatest weakness, to always think he could do everything alone. He’d never hesitated to shove away the people who disappointed him, and he never looked back. With that in mind, Darcy unceremoniously dropped the leather-bound book she was holding to the desktop—she didn't care about being sloppy, now that Grandpa wasn't around to yell at her for it.

Grandma’s desk was much less cluttered, and she was able to pick through its contents easily. The smell of her perfume still lingered on the pages of the books, and Darcy held them up to her nose with a pained inhale. She closed her eyes against the memories and the grief; it had always been so much easier to love Grandma. Less hard edges, without the alcohol and self-imposed isolation that had worn away at Grandpa.

But her work was also devoid of any mention of Darcy's Papa, which brought on grief of another kind. She'd been so hopeful—

“Mrs. Carter and Miss Carter are here to see you, Miss Darcy,” one of the maids said from the doorway, eyeing her with interest.

“Thank you, Anna.”

The girl—well, she was a little older than Darcy, so probably couldn't be considered a girl at all—lingered in the doorway. “Do you want me to pack e’erything up in here, next?”

She sighed. “Yes, you might as well. Thank you.”

With a bob and a curtsy, the maid was gone. Deciding it was best not to keep Aunt Peggy waiting, Darcy turned toward the door. She trailed a reluctant hand over her grandmother’s desk in a final goodbye. Only to stop dead as one of her fingers tripped a little wooden switch. With a quiet click, a secret compartment opened on the desk.

Inside rested a small book, bound in dyed leather and wreathed in dust.

For Darcy, the inside of the cover read. With excitement rising within her, she quickly flipped through the pages. Her heart sank as page after page was blank, but she persevered through to the end of the book. There, on the last page and written in Maria Stark’s distinct handwriting, was a message.

If I die before I’m able to tell you this in person, I’m sorry. Look for a friend near Santa Fe. I love you.

Tucking the book into one of her hidden pockets, she hastened for the door. With any luck, Aunt Peggy would have more information on her father’s whereabouts. Santa Fe. She had a direction, at least. With her pulse pounding in her ears and her heart lodged firmly in her throat, she practically flew down the stairs. She didn't care what any of the servants thought, for once. All she cared about was finally being able to find her father. Twenty years after her birth, she might actually have a way to locate him.

Peggy and Maria were already murmuring to each together as she walked in, shoulder to shoulder as Sharon looked on. “You’ve been doing what?” Maria hissed, dropping her voice as the door opened. Seeing that it was Darcy who walked in, she turned her glare back on the other woman.

“I’ve been keeping track of Anthony over the years,” Peggy repeated. “As best I can, at any rate. His wild streak doesn't seem to have abated at all, as far as I can tell.” She held a letter in her hands, which she brought up in front of her eyes. Peering at it, she said, “My most recent letter indicates that Anthony was holed up somewhere near—”

“Santa Fe?” Darcy cut in, eager to prove Grandma’s hint useful.

Peggy's sharp gaze met hers. “Puente Antiguo, actually. A little desert town near Santa Fe. But that's a hell of a guess, girl.”

Everyone's eyes were on her. “Grandma hid a note for me to find.”

“Ahh.” Aunt Peggy’s eyes were fond. “I always knew Maria Stark had a backbone stronger than she let on. Too bad she didn't use it while she was alive.” Darcy opened her mouth to defend her grandmother—how, she didn't know, when she secretly agreed with Peggy’s assessment—but the older woman waved her off. “But no matter. It looks like your grandmother wanted to reunite you, as well.”

No one knew what to say to that. “So, what now?” Darcy asked into the quiet of the room. “If I leave, what’s to prevent Mr. Zola from getting his hand’s on my grandparents’ estate anyway?”

“I met with the solicitor this morning,” Peggy revealed, heading toward the settee.  The two younger women followed, but Maria headed to the hallway instead. Probably for tea and coffee.

“Mr. Fury?” Darcy liked the man, a lot. He was one of the few people—including Aunt Peggy—who had always been willing to speak his mind around the Starks, social consequences be damned. He had a strange sort of naked ambition that Darcy admired, if only because it meant she wasn't always having to read between the lines to assess his motives. She also liked his courage; as a black businessman—in banking, no less—he had more than his fair share of enemies in the city. But he never gave up. And he was ruthless, which was why Grandpa Howard had hired him in the first place.

“The very one. He sent a note for me while I was out yesterday, asking for a meeting. He implied it was urgent.” She paused, and Darcy barely restrained the urge to roll her eyes. Aunt Peggy was wonderful and her stories were so interesting. But she also had a serious flair for the dramatic.

After a few seconds, it was clear that she wasn’t going to immediately continue. Huffing a silent breath, Darcy prompted, “And?”

“Let’s not be uncivilized, dear. We can wait for tea.” Peggy’s eyes were shark-like, sharp and piercing, and her grin was borderline wicked. She’d never been this openly devious when Darcy’s grandparents were alive. At least, not that Darcy could remember. She liked this new version of her aunt.

That didn’t mean she wanted to have to wait, though. Turning her head slightly so that Peggy wouldn’t see, she caught Sharon’s gaze and rolled her eyes. Sharon bit her lip and stifled a laugh behind her hand. A bony hand reached out and pinched Darcy’s ribs, hard enough to make her jump. She squeaked and turned an accusing gaze on the older woman, rubbing the soreness away with a palm. “Aunt Peggy!” she whined. But her aunt wasn’t fazed; she just stared at Darcy with a challenging look.

The door opened, breaking their playful standoff. Maria looked between them with pursed lips, then rolled her eyes and moved to set up the tea and coffee on the low-standing table that sat between the three women. “Why don’t you pinch Maria when she rolls her eyes?” Darcy muttered under her breath.

“Because Maria would skin anyone alive if they touched her without permission.” That drew a reluctant grin from the housekeeper, who ducked her head to hide her pride at the statement. Darcy looked at her with new eyes, then turned back to Peggy with a hopeful look. Her aunt chuckled. “That’s her story to tell, darling. But I wouldn’t try to pinch her, if I were you.”

Maria cleared her throat and handed Peggy her cup of tea. “Anyway. What did I miss?”

“Nothing at all,” Sharon muttered grumpily. “Aunt Peggy refused to get to any of the good stuff while you were gone.” The woman clucked her tongue at her niece’s cheek, but Darcy drowned it out with her laughter. She and Sharon exchanged matching looks of mischief, and a little piece of Darcy’s anxiety drifted away. Sharon had always been the quieter of the two, but it was good to remember that she had a friend through all of this devastation. Someone her own age who could understand how she was feeling.

“It’s true, Aunt Peggy,” Darcy said, still chuckling. “You were playing up the suspense while we waited.”

Her aunt waved that away and turned her gaze on Maria. “Nevermind all that. Maria, I was just telling the girls that Fury sent me a note yesterday, telling me he needed to speak with me on an urgent matter.”

Maria’s cup clattered a little against the plate as she set it down. The hot coffee inside sloshed and turned, but didn’t spill over the edge. Her gaze was curious as it met Peggy’s, and all of a sudden Darcy remembered the fond way Maria spoke about Mr. Fury, and the rumors that had spread below-stairs about the two of them. She’d never given them any second thought; what Maria did and with whom didn’t seem to be her business, quite frankly. But now Darcy wondered whether she’d be taking her away from a man she loved, if she pulled Maria west.

The sound of Peggy’s voice had her putting that thought aside, to ponder over later. “The urgent matter Mr. Fury alluded to was the matter of your grandparents’ estate, Darcy. Zola got one thing right, at least—you are to inherit everything.” The information, for all that it was shared so casually, had the effect of shattering china on the room. Everyone froze. It was ridiculous, really, considering that they’d all expected such an outcome. Well, there’d always been the chance that her Grandpa would’ve changed his mind, especially after the fight they’d had.

She hadn’t said anything to anyone about it, but she’d been worried that in the end they would decide that she wasn’t worthy, their bastard granddaughter. The one whose name carried a smear of shame that wouldn’t ever go away, the product of a son they preferred to pretend they’d never had. Darcy hadn’t ever felt like she truly belonged in the Stark family home—she’d had little fantasies of her unknown mother coming to fight for her, or her Papa stealing her away in the middle of the night so that they could go on adventures together. She’d loved Grandpa and Grandma, at the end of it all, but they hadn’t ever truly felt like home.

Maria’s gentle touch on her knee had Darcy looking up. “They loved you,” she murmured, too quietly for the other two women to hear. It was soft and gentle, a reminder without recriminations. Maria had been a major part of Darcy’s life, practically since birth, and knew exactly how tumultuous the relationship between Darcy and her grandparents had been. Not too bad, clearly, or at least not bad enough that they’d cut her out of the will.

With an aching heart, Darcy found herself wishing that some had been set aside for her long-banished father. A sign of forgiveness, or even atonement, for pushing him away. She said nothing of her thoughts, though. Patting Maria’s hand, she offered a nod and a subdued smile and turned back to Peggy. “And once Zola finds out—”

“He won’t stop,” Peggy confirmed. “He’ll get much worse, if anything. His methods have been fairly subdued until now. But if he thinks he can force you into marriage, well…there’s nothing he won’t do.” The words she wasn’t saying hung in the air over them, and Darcy and Sharon both shuddered. They’d heard the horror stories.

“But the good news, if you wish to call it that, is that a marriage, forced or otherwise, is his only option. Your grandparents named me your guardian until your twenty-fifth birthday or marriage, whichever comes sooner.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

Peggy took one long drink from and set the empty cup on the plate with a decisive click. “Might as well get all the details out of the way, hadn’t we? Then we’ll know what we’re working with, here. Better call for more tea, Maria. This is going to take a while.”

The explanation was a long one, if only because Darcy was new to discussions of inheritance and legal verbiage. In the end, the Carters stayed all day and well into evening. There was a tense moment, right when they were discussing the arrangements that Peggy would have to make with Mr. Fury before Darcy set out west, when a maid scratched at the door. “Mr. Arnim Zola is at the door, Miss. He asked if you’re available to receive him.”

Everyone looked at her in silence, and it took Darcy a second to realize that she was the mistress of the house, now, even if Aunt Peggy was over for a visit. “Please tell him I’m indisposed, Beth.” The girl curtsied and went on her way, but the little ball of terror she’d felt at hearing Zola’s name didn’t fade.

When she turned back, there was a sympathetic glint in Aunt Peggy’s eyes. It was immediately swept away in the wake of pure determination. “Whatever you do, Darcy-girl, don’t let him in. Pretend to be ill or overcome by grief or whatever you have to do, but do not allow him entrance. Cease to go out altogether, if you must—actually, it would be best not to tell anyone of your plans, other than those already in the room. Zola has eyes and ears everywhere. I cannot stress how conniving that man can be, and how dangerous he is to your future.”

She already knew—that one conversation from the night before was enough to last Darcy a lifetime. Instead of saying so, she simply nodded her head in agreement. “I understand, Aunt Peggy.”

“Good. Then I will work with Nicholas on the legal aspect of things, Sharon will keep her ear to the ground on her social outings, to see if Zola has been stupid and let something slip. And you and Maria will sort out the house, Darcy. Decide what you want to keep, what you want to take with you, and what you would like me to sell for you. And I will take care of the rest.”

That was the plan.

And it was a good one, for Darcy’s physical and mental health. It was a huge task, to decide to pick up and move west. There was the house and the servants and all of her grandparents’ things—and her father’s, which she’d found hidden away in one of the attics—and even if Peggy could technically handle all of it, Darcy didn’t feel right leaving it all behind without a backwards glance. And she was grateful, too, for the time to breathe, to acclimate herself to the idea of moving west. Perhaps for the rest of her life, when all she’d ever known was New York. It was a daunting thought.

So, all in all, Darcy was in favor of the plan. And for a couple of weeks it went very well, and nothing seemed like it could possibly go wrong: there was not a peep from Zola and Peggy worked with Mr. Fury to make sure everything was in order, while Darcy and Maria took charge of packing up the house, divvying it into what would be kept for Darcy and what would be sold at auction. She should’ve known that it couldn’t be that simple, but she was caught up in the relative ease of the entire process.

Until, that is, someone decided to set the house on fire.

[nessnessquik]

The Nanny

Dr. Melinda May has been looking to hire a nanny. But between her and her daughter, Daisy, Melinda is starting to think she won’t be able to find anyone who can make both of them happy. When she hires Phil Coulson to do the job, however, Melinda finds out just how untrue that belief had been.

A Philindaisy au.

Also on AO3.

Melinda closed the door behind Nanny Candidate #14 before turning around and letting out a short sigh.

Another failed attempt.

Each person she interviewed seemed so promising in the beginning, but none turned out to be a good fit. She was too protective of her four-year-old to leave her with just anybody, and Melinda’s gut instincts told her she hadn’t found “The One” just yet, even though she’d given several a chance. As if Melinda wasn’t picky enough herself, Daisy hadn’t liked a single one of the potential nannies that had watched her for the past month either. Between the two of them, Melinda was starting to think there was no one in the world who would make both of them happy.

Melinda checked her phone for the time. Her young back-up babysitter wouldn’t be able to stay overnight, so it looked like she'd have to call Peggy to watch Daisy again while she worked her night shift. Not that either Peggy or Daisy would mind the extra time spent with each other. Daisy and Peggy’s daughter, Jemma, were the best of friends–as close to each other as sisters. And ever since her brother and his wife died years ago, Peggy was also the guardian of her two older nieces, Sharon and Bobbi. The four of them loved getting a chance to have a “girls night” together.

Melinda pressed Peggy’s icon on her phone and put it to her ear, moving into her kitchen as it rang.

“Let me guess, #13 didn’t work out?” She asked immediately, foregoing a normal “hello” and getting straight to the point. Typical Peggy.

“14. And no.” Melinda replied shortly as she reached into her fridge for a bottle of water.

“Sorry, darling. Want me to keep Daisy over here for the evening?”

“Would you mind? I know it’s a school night, but if you can take her in the morning before your 8 o’clock class, I can pick her up after and–”

“Say no more. You know she’s welcome here anytime.” There was a lower voice in the background. “Steve says he’ll start popping the girls some popcorn.”

Melinda shook her head and her brief smile faded. “Sorry to impose on you two again. I really am trying to find someone…” Melinda shut the door to her fridge and gazed at the most recent picture stuck to the outside. A wide-eyed Daisy at Christmas time, holding up an unopened present to show to the camera. Melinda’s lips turned up involuntarily (as they always did) at her little girl’s big grin. “It’s just never the right person.”

“Have we begun discussing your non-existent love life or are we still talking about finding a nanny?” Peggy asked, her English accent clipped with barely restrained humor. Melinda’s eyes narrowed at the jab. “You’ll find someone, don’t you worry. Not another word, now, Melinda. Bring her over whenever you’re ready and I’ll tell the girls.”

Melinda shook her head as a grateful half-smile tugged her lips upward. Peggy always knew what to say. Melinda grew up an only child, but she imagined that having an older sister would be a lot like having a Peggy. They’d relied on each other through some of the most difficult times of both their lives and now, with daughters of their own, they were closer than ever.

Melinda hung up the phone just in time to hear the sound of Daisy’s footsteps nearing the kitchen. She skip-hopped in, dark hair swinging.

“I’m all dressed, Mama!” She announced proudly, showing off her mismatching pajamas. “I’m glad you sent that nanny away. She was boring. Who were you talking to?” The four-year-old spoke all in one breath, her high, young voice causing Melinda’s heart to melt as it always did.

Melinda set down her water and held out her arms. Daisy jumped into them without hesitation, settling on Melinda’s hip with both arms around her neck. She’d always been very slight in stature, and Melinda was thankful for it. She wanted to be able to hold her baby girl in her arms for as long as possible.

“That was Aunt Peggy. You’ll be having another sleepover tonight.”

“Yay!” Daisy hugged Melinda, grinning, before wiggling out of her arms. “I have to go get my dolls ready–we’re makin’ a team that’s gonna save the world!”

With that, Daisy raced off to her room. Melinda shook her head fondly and called out to her daughter. “Slow down, Daisy.”

Picking her bottle of water back up, Melinda followed behind Daisy (who obediently slowed her pace down a fraction) up the stairs to put on her scrubs.

It was going to be a long night.

“May! I have the perfect candidate for your nanny problem!”

Melinda turned from her meal (consisting of a PB&J sandwich and carrot sticks) to see Pepper hurry through the door of the break room to the table where Melinda was sitting–alone, as usual. Her smile was one that put all her young patients, their parents, and even other doctors, at ease. Which, along with her intelligence and compassion, made her a naturally talented head of pediatrics and a good friend. There weren’t many doctors at Providence Hospital that Melinda trusted fully, but she and Pepper had become close colleagues and friends over the past few years–despite the fact that several other doctors were very intimidated by Melinda’s personality and intelligence.

Melinda prompted Pepper to speak with an "I’m listening” eyebrow raise before biting down on another carrot stick.

“His name is Phil–”

Melinda’s internal commentary immediately began interjecting: A boy?

“–and he moved back into town recently–”

Okay, so an adult. Most likely doesn’t live with his parents.

“–he’s super great with kids–”

Hmm. No word on professional experience.

“–and he’s an old friend of Tony’s–”

Ah, there’s the catch.

Melinda raised her hand to stop Pepper from continuing. “Never mind. I’ve met some of Tony’s ‘old friends’ and have always regretted it.” She took a bite of her sandwich as if to finish the conversation.

Pepper opened her mouth to protest, then closed it and shrugged. “Point taken.” Her smile returned. “But this guy is different. Ask Clint or Natasha. I think even Steve and Peggy know him! He’s always been great with kids, so Tony asked him to watch Fitz for us a few times and Fitz adores him. Makes Tony jealous sometimes, actually.”

Melinda considered it. Male nannies were not as common as females, in Melinda’s experience. There weren’t many qualified men looking to nanny a child. But she was getting nowhere with her current findings, and Pepper wouldn’t trust her son with anyone who was incompetent or dangerous, of that Melinda was sure. But still, this was Daisy…

Pepper continued her pitch. “You know, just the fact that he has patience enough to be friends with Tony should tell you he could handle anything. Plus, he’s excellent in the kitchen, which would be good for both Daisy and you.” Pepper looked pointedly at her PB&J, which had grape jelly oozing out of one of the sides.

Melinda sent her an exasperated look, which Pepper received with wide-eyed innocence. “Plus,” she continued. “He’s very reliable and trustworthy. He’s older, probably around your age.”

Melinda folded her arms in mock offense.

“Okay…yours and...you know, Tony’s age.” Pepper grabbed one of Melinda’s carrots and grinned when Melinda rolled her eyes. They both knew Pepper wasn’t all that much younger than her.

“Have you asked him what he’d think about being a nanny?” Melinda finally asked aloud.

“No, but I think he’d love it. He’s been talking about trying to find a better job so he can save up enough to start his own bakery. He works at one now but hates the management. And he’s taught in public schools for years, although he’s just a substitute now, but that means he’s already cleared a background check.” Pepper bit into the stolen vegetable and nudged her. “What do you say?”

Melinda sighed in surrender. “I’ll look into it.”

“Great!” Pepper’s smile lit up the room. She popped the rest of the carrot in her mouth and took out a folded piece of paper from one of her pockets, sliding it over to Melinda before standing. “I’ve got a patient to see, but you should call him.” With that, the strawberry blonde strode out of the break room.

Melinda opened up the piece of paper and looked at the name and number there, written in Pepper’s neat handwriting. Phil Coulson. Already had a background check, Pepper said? Well, no harm in checking twice.

Melinda picked up her phone, but instead of calling the number on the paper, she dialed the number of a old police friend she knew could help her.

Fury and Peggy had worked with each other years ago back when Peggy had been a part of the county’s police force. He always told Melinda she could have been a policewoman rather than a doctor. More than that, despite his off-putting personality, Daisy had him wrapped around her little finger. He wouldn’t mind doing some sleuthing if it was for her, Melinda was sure.

Natasha was leaning on the wall, clipboard in hand as Pepper exited the lounge.

“Well?” The ER nurse prompted.

Pepper smiled proudly. “She’s gonna call him.” The two women gave each other a subtle high five and began walking down the hallway.

“Daisy will love him, and I think Melinda won’t be too far behind her.” Natasha smirked, pleased with their matchmaking plans.

“Agreed. And Phil will be head over heels, no question.” Pepper added. “They’re definitely going to owe us.”

“Agreed. And I’ll officially be Daisy’s favorite aunt. Peggy and Maria can’t top this.”

The two redheads shared a quiet laugh before going their separate ways.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m telling you, May, the guy hasn’t done a d–” Fury caught Melinda’s glare and glanced at Daisy eating macaroni and cheese at the kitchen table. He corrected himself with a huff. “A darn thing when it comes to breaking the law, except for that one speeding ticket when he was in his twenties. And if I owned his car, I know my record wouldn’t be that tame.”

Melinda nodded and pulled the broccoli out of the microwave, spooning out some onto Daisy’s plate.

“Look, you know I’m instantly suspicious of any ‘old friend’ of Tony’s too, but I’ve actually met this guy, thanks to Steve, and he’s good. One of those nerd types, talks too much, but clean.”

“How has everyone met this man but me?” Melinda muttered before sighing and nodding again. “Thanks, Nick. Want to stay for dinner?”

“Yes, stay! I wanna hear your eye patch story again!” Daisy bounced at her seat excitedly. “Please?”

“Well...okay, just for one quick story.” Fury held up his pointer finger and raised his eyebrows seriously. Daisy nodded back with a smile.

Melinda handed Fury a plate with a smirk.

“Shut up.” He said grouchily.