#agntwells

"--Okay, so if you're actually a SHIELD agent, am I in some kinda trouble...?"

The door clicks shut behind him with his shoulder, a little more awkward than usual. Jack steps inside, juggling a diaper bag he definitely didn’t own this morning and a bundled-up baby cradled carefully against his chest. He pauses just past the threshold like he’s still trying to figure out how this became his situation.

“Hey babe,” he calls out, voice a little too casual for what’s happening, nudging the door closed with his foot.

“…We need to talk about something,” Jack adds, glancing down at the sweet tiny face tucked against him before looking back up. “Specifically… a baby.”

@agntwells liked for a starter; Tony -> Liza

Tony had been quiet for exactly thirty-seven seconds, which was practically a medical emergency.

He stood in the middle of the room with one hand braced on his hip, the other dragging over his face as he watched Liza shut him out again. Not physically. That would have been easier. Doors had hinges. Locks had weaknesses. Walls could be hacked, blasted, or bought.

This was worse.

This was her standing right in front of him and somehow still being miles away.

“Okay, see, this is the part where you talk,” Tony said, pointing at her like he was trying to keep the conversation from catching fire. “Words. Sentences. Maybe even a fun little emotional thesis statement.”

His voice sharpened, not cruel, but scared enough to come out wrong.

“I can’t help you if you don’t let me!”

The room went still after that.

Tony exhaled, jaw tight, eyes softer than his tone had been.

( @agntwells pressed the ♡ for a thing )

@agntwells asked : i want to help you. ( @ wren )

Help. She's had such a complicated relationship with that word. When her parents told her what she is, saying she was given up to help her succeed in life. When her parents told her giving her sedatives after growth spurts would help and in the end led to long term issues. When her parents said she is oh so good at helping them bring in money to put towards continued medical expenses to no avail.

No relief. Only anxiety.

Yet this woman, Eliza, had taken her in when the labs were raided, everyone inside handcuffed and charged. So she sits here in a fully furnished home, keeping her wings carefully near her body so she won't disturb anything, hands fidgeting in her lap feeling...anxious.

But maybe the cycle will break. Is about to break. For she's not in a lab anymore. Her parents have no control anymore, of which they pointed out loudly when Wren was being escorted away. She can still hear her mother's cries of...outrage, sending a shiver down her spine.

"And I want to let you." Wren finally settles on, though the spike of adrenaline hits her chest hard with a tingling heat. "But I'm frightened." Everything she's ever known is now gone. So where can she fall safely?

@agntwells sent: 📱(for a late night text from my muse)

continued from here {x}

Jack huffs a quiet breath against her lips when she kisses him, something softer settling in his expression as she pulls back. His hand shifts slightly under Hannah’s back where Liza’s fingers rest over his, grounding in a different way now—steady, real, theirs. “Photo albums,” he repeats, one brow lifting faintly. “Yeah, that tracks. Just don’t start narrating them. I’m not sitting through a slideshow with commentary.”

The edge doesn’t last. Not when she says it like that. His gaze drops to Hannah again, something deeper settling in his chest at finally ours. His thumb moves along her side, slower now, more deliberate, like he’s anchoring himself in it. “In an hour,” he answers quietly. “We’ve got time.” His eyes lift back to Liza, softer than before. “And she’s already ours. This just makes it official on paper.”

At the comment about spoiling her, a faint smile tugs at his mouth, but it’s different now—less teasing, more certain. “She’s not spoiled,” Jack murmurs, glancing down at Hannah like he’s already lost the argument. A small pause, then, quieter, “She’s just taken care of.” His gaze returns to Liza, catching the wink, something warmer settling in his expression. “And for the record,” he adds, voice low, “I’m aware I’m outnumbered here.”