#agents of shield x you

[strawwritesfic]

Phil Coulson x Female!Inhuman!SHIELD Agent!Reader: Guard

Summary: Phil doesn’t know where the path you’re on will lead, but he’ll be damned if he lets you walk it alone.

Rating/Tags: T (Post-Season 2 (or maybe during? I can’t remember when half this stuff happened); Phil & May; established Phil/Reader; Reader’s powers are not described; angst; fluff; manslaughter) 

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Notes: Please keep in mind that I didn’t watch Agents of SHIELD very far into season four (I think...Ghost Rider was there), so it is not likely to be anywhere close to canon compliant.

Guard

Phil Coulson had seen S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters under innumerable moments of distress over his years working there. Certainly sometimes distress could bring out the best in agents, sometimes even the best in humanity. This time, not so much. Although the stressful event itself had concluded hours ago, the entire Hub still rang with the odd silence that had started things off. No one moved except for him, and no one spoke but May beside him:

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

She said this because she believed it. That Phil knew. Normally, he would have listened. He respected May a good deal; she was intelligent, strong, and unafraid of saying what needed to be said. If anyone had a handle on the situation, it was her. 

This, unfortunately, was the one time he had no choice but to ignore her advice.

“You don’t have to stay,” he answered mildly. 

May snorted. “Like hell I don’t have to. You think I’m going to trust Bobbi to watch your back on this one?”

“My back is going to be fine.”

“You say that,” said May, “but I’ll only believe it when I see it.”

“She won’t hurt me.”

May’s eyebrows rose, and for good reason. Two good agents had died that day. Mack would make a full recovery, but only because he was tough. Phil hadn’t been out in the field much before making the decision to go toe to toe with the person who had killed and hurt his team. 

His companion did not bring any of this up, however. She was well aware that Phil already knew. Instead, she simply allowed him to move forward.

“I’ve got the door,” she said, and added, “be careful in there.”

“You know me. Careful is my middle name.”

He watched just long enough to see her roll her eyes, then turned his attention to the task at hand. Said task was opening a door–a solid, latched door keeping danger away from the rest of the team. Phil knew what lay behind it: a shaking, sobbing, unsettled young woman. He knew because there were about two dozen security cameras trained on her at every minute, as well as agents whose only task was to watch the video feeds and make an immediate report if anything inside the room changed. 

He also knew because he knew [F Name] [L Name], perhaps better than he knew anyone else in the entire galaxy.

Already he had put things off too long. With a last steady breath, he pressed his hand to the flat expanse in front of him, approximately where a knob should have been. A line of blue light slid up his palm, then the whole door flashed and dissolved. 

Phil stepped through the space left behind just before the door rematerialized behind him. He was sealed inside with a woman most people were now calling a monster.

You didn’t look like a monster just then. In fact, you didn’t seem as though you noticed Phil was there at all. Your eyes stared unblinkingly at the feet you had pulled up onto the cot. Every few seconds, an agonizingly tremulous breath would shudder out from your lips. Your hair was a mess, your fingernails bloodied, and your cheeks streaked with tears.

Phil cleared his throat. 

You jumped about a foot in the air. When you had composed yourself enough to look over at him, said composure did not last long. Your face crumpled immediately. Despite how quickly you hid it in your knees, he saw your miserable expression.

“[Name],” he said carefully.

A pause. A tremendous sniff. You lifted your head. “D…Director.”

“How are you doing?”

Slowly, your eyes drifted away to stare blankly at your toes. “Does it matter?” you asked hoarsely. “How I am?”

Phil glanced behind himself, as though making sure that May really couldn’t hear him. He knew how she felt about the way things were, and Mack, and Bobbi, and Hunter, and most of the rest. But that wasn’t how he felt. Not even close.

“It matters. Why wouldn’t your feelings matter?” he said

You didn’t reply, at least not right away. With one arm still wrapped around your knees, you pushed fiddled with your tangled mess of hair. “What are you doing here?”

It wasn’t the answer he expected. It wasn’t even an answer, really. Still he would accept it. You could refuse to look at him all you wanted; you could pretend you were angry and that you didn’t want to see him if you wished. Phil didn’t care, so long as you kept talking. Ideally, he would have called Dr. Garner in to get you to talk. Unfortunately, Dr. Garner really wasn’t an option anymore, was he?

“I thought it would be good to have a little chat.” 

Your silence was not exactly an invitation to make himself at home in your cell. All the same, he shrugged and leaned against the wall opposite you. 

“Besides, it’s not the same out there without you,” he said.

Much to Phil’s surprise, you looked surprised. “Don’t say that.”

“Don’t say w–”

“You’re Director. You can’t say things like that about a…about a…”

“About the woman I love?” he suggested.

“About a murderer. I killed those men, Phil. Me. I killed them.” 

Your voice grew quieter and quieter as you went on; your chin sank to your knees. To Phil, the distance between you and him felt endless. All he wanted was to cross that distance, sit down next to you, and make everything okay again. He was S.H.I.E.L.D. director now. Wasn’t he supposed to have that sort of power? 

“You were right to leave me in here,” you whispered.

Phil looked sharply over at you. “Leave you in here?”

“When are they going to kill me?”

“Kill you?”

Apparently, you cared nothing for Phil’s obvious distress. You shook your head dazedly and still refused to look at him. “I killed three people today. I killed Mack.”

“Okay, first things first,” he started, “you didn’t kill Mack. Mack will survive because he’s always prepared. That’s the great thing about Mack. That’s why I sent him with you today. Secondly, why on earth would you think we were about to kill you? Third of all, I did not leave you in here.”

Maybe it wasn’t really fair of him to get so frustrated. You were clearly going through a terrible time. He was well aware that it could not have been easy, coming back to base to turn yourself in after what had happened. Knowing that most, if not all, of your friends were frightened and out for blood couldn’t have helped. Yet to find that you lumped him in with the rest hurt. Perhaps that was obvious enough, because you didn’t answer him this time either. All you did was press yourself into a smaller ball.

Sighing, Phil straightened up. “I should have come sooner,” he confessed. “Daisy thought that, considering the circumstances, you might want a bit of space.”

You made a noise at that, but what the noise meant, Phil had no idea. A few moments of absolute silence followed, then you made the noise again. It went on and on and on, a dejected, bubbling cry that you couldn’t seem to smother this time around. 

He took a hesitant step forward, paused, then decided. Staying on the other side of the room wouldn’t do. Not anymore.

The cot creaked as he settled onto it. Most people who wound up in a S.H.I.E.L.D. holding cell weren’t offered comfortable amenities like real beds or real food or real visitors. If Phil could have offered you any of these, he would have. For the time being, all he could do was offer himself, sitting there and listening to you weep. 

You did not react to his closeness like he had thought you would, not even to shift further away. He did not reach for you, much as he wanted to. He simply waited.

“I-I-I didn’t want this,” you moaned, and whether or not you intended him to, Phil heard. “I didn’t want to be Inhuman. I didn’t mean to be.”

“Everyone knows you didn’t mean to, [Name].”

“I don’t even kn-know how it happened. I just–got infected”

“The Terrigan Crystals are everywhere now. You could easily have eaten some when no one else was around to notice the change. It’s not your fault.”

You hiccupped, and closed your eyes as though the thought caused you great pain. It probably did. “I never wanted–even if I did, I wouldn’t want this…”

“[Name],” said Phil, “I know.”

Finally, you wrenched your head up so that you could face him. Your eyes appeared scarlet in the dim light–from crying so much, he assumed, not your powers–and snot glistened on your upper lip. Never in his entire life had Phil ever seen anyone look so hopeless. Somehow, he managed to refrain from touching you still.

“I’d be better off dead,” you said brokenly.

Phil’s heart burned inside him. “Daisy had trouble at first, too. It’ll take practice, but we’ll figure something out for you. We’ll have Fitz and Simmons rig up a whole training facility. You’ll get used to it. No one will hurt you before then. I won’t let them.”

For a long while, you just stared at him. Quiet tears continued to course down your cheeks, but your gaze was steady. He had a good idea of what you were thinking about while you stared at him: That Daisy’s powers were never like yours, that there was no Afterlife to learn from anymore, that no one on the team or in the entire world would ever look at you as a human being again. But the last was a lie. You were still human, and Phil could see that. Human blood ran through your veins, red as his own, even now.

You did not remark upon any of that, though. Instead, you reached your arms out toward him, and your face crumpled once again. “Hold me,” you murmured.

So Phil did, closing the gap to put his arms around you. You pressed your head to his shoulder, quickly soaking his suit through with tears. He didn’t mind. If that was what it would take, he would hold on to you for the rest of the night and into the morning. 

No one else would lay a finger on you–not while he was there, and he didn’t plan to leave until he saw a real smile light up your face once more. It might be weeks before that happened; it might be years. But he wouldn’t leave your side until it did. Never again.

[vbecker10]

I Don't Hate You

Pairing: Loki x female reader (y/n)

Summary: You've worked at SHIELD for years and you were severely injured by Loki when he escaped from his cell on the helicarrier. It's been a year since the attack on NY and one day you finally cross paths with Loki after a month of him actively avoiding you.

Warning: Loki being upset, Loki feeling guilty, Loki feeling like he deserves to be hated, brief mentions of Loki's torture, previous injury caused by Loki... this will have a fluffy end, promise 💚

You shift positions to get more comfortable on the couch then turn the page of your book. I might be able read this whole book tonight, you think excitedly. The Tower was quiet which was a rare occurrence, the whole team decided to go out for drinks so you have the library to yourself. After a moment, you turn the next page but suddenly you feel as if you aren't alone.

Looking up, you see Loki standing in the doorway as if he is frozen with anxiety. He briefly makes eye contact with you and turns to leave.

"Wait," you sit up, closing your book in your lap. "You can stay," you offer and he turns back to face you. "There's plenty of space," you gesture towards the other empty couch.

"I wouldn't want to disturb you," he says, shaking his head as he remains halfway between the hall and the room.

You sigh quietly, that's the first thing he's said to you in the month since you've been back from medical leave. Loki had become almost an expert in avoiding you, the closest you had come to being in the same room with him was during a briefing last week. As soon as you took your seat at the table, he excused himself and left.

He nods in response to your offer to join you but doesn't say anything. He quietly makes his way over to the large bookcases that line the wall and begins to search for a book. You try to focus on where you left off in yours but you can't seem to take your eyes off him. He seems so nervous around you and although you aren't sure what you expected from him, this wasn't it.

He selects a book and walks to the far end of the other couch, glancing towards you as he sits. You both quickly look away from each other and try to settle into your books. After a few minutes of silence he sighs and closes the book. You pretend to continue reading as you watch him return his book and begin the process of selecting one again.

"Can't decide what to read?" you ask after a moment.

He turns, his expression clearing showing that he doesn't expect you to speak to him. He shrugs, "I've read all of these..." He looks at the book he is currently holding, "Some more then a few times."

"Oh," you look at the tall, full shelves. There must be four hundred books in this room. "Wow," you react honestly.

"I read quickly," he offers a simple explanation.

"Why don't you get new ones?" you ask as if the solution is obvious.

He puts the book he is holding away and looks down at the ground, "I'm not permitted to leave the Tower unless its for a mission." He pulls a seemingly random book from the shelf and walks over to the closest seat on the other couch this time.

"Right, I forgot I guess," you suddenly feel awkward for suggesting it.

Loki was given strick orders not to leave the Tower after an incident a few months before you returned from medical leave. He had gone to a small Cafe with his brother in the morning and ended up on the news a few hours later. According to the reports you watched from rehab, he had been on line waiting for his order when a woman who lost her husband during his attack on NYC came in. She walked over to him and started screaming that he was a monster and should be rotting in a cell on whatever planet he came from. Thor tried to defuse the situation while Loki remained completely silent. Her rant finally ended when she threw some bystanders coffee at him and he left.

The two of you sit in silence for a minute then you suddenly get an idea. "Oh," you say and he looks up from the book he has no interest in.

"I think I have something that can help," you tell him. You limp slowly towards him as you unlock your phone. Sitting next to him, you feel self conscious when he shifts away from you, his eyes fixed on the metal brace supporting your leg.

His jaw tightens and his body tenses as he rubs his hands slowly together. You clear your throat, hoping to distract him from your injury and it works. He looks at you, "Here," you hand him your phone.

"What is this?" he asks.

"Its the New York Public Library," you tell him, "Well, their website at least."

He looks at you a bit confused. "What am I supposed to do with this? I'm not allowed to go to the library," he says.

"You don't need to go," you tell him with a smile. "They can bring the books here."

"I wonder why no one told you about this. They've had this for years," you say.

His eyes fill with excitement at the thought of being able to get new books. You explain the book delivery program then show him how to search for books by author, title or genre. His smile spreads as you sign him up for a library card then sit back to watch him scroll through a long list of poets.

The smile leaves his face and he admits, "I never told anyone that I had run out of books."

"Why not?" you ask.

"No one would care," he answers instantly.

When you don't say anything, he looks up from your phone and briefly makes eye contact with you. "I don't understand why you of all people would care enough to help me, to be honest. I have done nothing to deserve even the smallest kindness from you," he says as his eyes fall to your injured leg again. The joy you had seen on his face moments ago has faded completely and in a low voice he says, "I nearly killed you."

With a sigh, he nods, "I remember everyone I've hurt... or killed."

You're caught off guard by the sudden shift in topics but say, "I thought you remembered me."

"Can we just talk for a minute?" you ask, standing with him.

You gently reach out and touch his knee, causing him to jump at the sudden contact. "I'm sorry," he says as soon as you touch him. "I should go," he tells you and he gets up.

He shakes his head. "I'm not supposed to be alone with you," he admits. "Fury wants me as far from my..." he clears his throat, "victims as possible while I am here."

He looks torn about what to do but finally nods and sits down heavily. You sit next to him again but he doesn't look at you, his eyes are fixed on his hands. His knee shakes nervously and you realize he's waiting for you to lash out at him as so many people have in the wake of the attack.

"I- I didn't realize he did that," you say in shock. "I thought you were just avoiding me because of... well because of what happened."

He shrugs but doesn't respond, giving you the feeling that he might still have distanced himself from you even if he wasn't ordered to do so.

You bite your lip and say, "I'm sure Fury means well but... I just want to talk to you. If that's okay with you?"

You had imagined this moment so many times over the last year. What you would say to him and how he would react. You look at him even as he avoids looking at you and say, "I just want to to know, I don't hate you for what happened."

He shakes his head as if he doesn't believe you and says, "You should hate me, everyone does."

"I don't," you tell him simply.

He finally looks at you, a mixture of disbelief and curiosity in his eyes, "How could you not after what I did to you and so many others?"

You sigh and admit, "I used to hate you."

"But... but not anymore?" he asks.

You take a deep breath, this is the part you practiced telling him most often. "When I was in the hospital, I did hate you. I hated you more then I ever thought I could possibly hate another person. I wanted you to feel the pain and fear you inflicted on me when you were escaping. I wanted you to suffer after every surgery, after every fall I had in rehab, after every doctor told me I would never walk without some sort of brace," you tell him honestly and he nods as if he agrees with you.

You pause for a moment and wait for him to look at you again, "It was truly exhausting."

He doesn't say anything but he keeps eye contact with you. "It took so much energy to hate to," you tell him. "It was draining me."

"A few months after my first surgery, I had some of the agents I'm friends with being over your case files and I watched all your news interviews," you continue to explain.

"Why?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

"I wanted to know if you were as evil as everyone said, if you were really a monster from another world who deserved to be hated," you tell him.

"I am a monster," he says, his eyes lowering to the ground in front of him.

His body tenses as soon as you mention Thanos's name. His eyes widen in fear and he says, "What do you know about- how could you know that? My SHIELD files doesn't contain any information about him."

"No," you tell him, touching his arm lightly and he looks up at you slowly. "You're not a monster, you're a victim of Thanos."

You fidget nervously at his reaction and say, "I... I found the restricted files SHIELD has about you, the ones with your interview-"

He gets up suddenly, his voice laced emotion but you are unsure if he is angry, hurt or embarrassed, "You read that?"

You nod, "I'm sorry-"

"No one was supposed to be able to access that. Fury said it would be sealed, that was why I agreed to tell my brother what happened," he says as he paces. He turns to face you and you can see he is holding back tears, "You shouldn't have read that. I don't want anyone to know what he did to me."

You had read all twenty six pages of the typed transcripts and listened to hours of Loki detailing his torture to Thor. He spoke about being physically hurt but also about being mentally broken by the mad titan. He lost track of time, unsure if weeks, months or years had passed while he was under Thanos's control. By the time you finished listening to his account of what happened, you had lost every ounce of hate you once harbored for him. He was more a victim than anyone.

You take a step towards him and he takes a step back, shaking his head. You reach for his hand and he lets you hold it without pulling away. "Loki," he looks at you, the first tear running down his cheek. "I'm sorry Thanos tortured you," you tell him honestly.

He shakes his head as if he can't accept your words.

You take another step towards him, still holding his hand in yours. "I'm sorry he hurt you," you say again and this time he doesn't move away from you.

"No one..." he tries to take a deep breath, "No one has ever said that to me before."

Now it's your turn to be shocked, "Not even your brother?"

He shakes his head and without thinking, you wrap your arms around him tightly. His whole body stiffens in response at first but slowly, he lifts his arms to hug you back and his body relaxes against yours. He rests his head on your shoulder and you rub his back gently.

You hold him until he slowly pulls away. Taking his hand again, you lead him back to the couch.

"You didn't deserve anything that he did to you," you tell him. When he looks at you, you can't help but raise your hand, wiping a tear from his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into your soft touch.

He opens his eyes after a moment and quietly says, "Thank you Y/N. I'm so tired of everyone hating me. I never thought anyone would ever try to understand what happened to me."

You smile at him and quickly kiss his cheek, which is a surprise to both of you. "What was that for?" he asks, a small laugh escapes him.

He smiles and nods, "Can you do it again?"

"I don't know," you admit with a nervous giggle, "I just... It felt like something I should do. I'm sorry, was that okay?"

You smile and kiss his cheek again, "Is that making you feeling better?"

"For the first time in a very long time, yes," he says.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

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[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (1)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Some swearing, work stress, impossible tasks

Summary: You're a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You've been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N: I honestly do not know where this is going and why I even started this. It was an idea that sort of popped into my head while at work. I hope you enjoy it! Please comment/like/reblog. If you'd like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know!

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

Papers fluttered to the ground around Loki as stared down at the young woman who ran into him. He cocked an eyebrow as he heard a low hiss of pain come from her gritted teeth. The impact could not have been that painful, but how was he to know? He was minding his own business, walking down the fairly empty hallway reading a book when something had come crashing into him. It was not the first time he had been assaulted, but it was certainly the first time to be tackled in the middle of an empty hallway. Glancing around, he noticed there were a few people lingering about, watching to see what he would do or see what transpired.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Her voice drew his attention back down to the ground to see her on her knees trying to gather the scattered sheets of paper. He slid his right foot back as she reached for one near it.

“You are excused,” he responded in a level tone that held little emotion, if any at all. She looked up at him in wide-eyed shock which had him raise an eyebrow yet again at her. He hesitated for a moment to speak, feeling the eyes on them.

“Is there something else you wish to say?”

“Huh? Oh, no, just surprised to hear you say anything. I’ve never heard you speak before, so I thought that maybe you couldn’t.” She admitted, tapping the bottom edge of the sheets to make the pile more uniform. “You have a nice voice.” She added, carefully inspecting the surrounding area, oblivious to the bewildered look of the prince before her. “Ah-ha!” She grinned, crawling forward and reaching between his feet. Startled by her actions, Loki quickly took a few steps backward, leaving a noticeable shoe print on the paper she had been reaching for. “Thank you, this was the last one I needed.” She smiled at him, though when she saw the print, her lips quickly curled downwards into a noticeable frown. “That’s not good, Fury’s not gonna be happy.” She mumbled, carefully placing the dirtied sheet on the top as she stood up with her sizable stack of folders and binders in her arms. “Well, it was a pleasure speaking to you, Mr. Loki, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”

He watched as she casually resumed her walk down the hallway, unperturbed by the fact that she had just walked straight into him, Loki, the monster that had wreaked havoc in the world and destroyed their precious city. The very city they were currently in now. What an odd Midgardian, but I suppose this would be the place to find plenty of odd ones. He turned to look at some spectators and watched them visibly flinch or stumble as they met his gaze, scrambling to leave the vicinity and get away from here, away from him. Opening his book once more, he continued on his way towards his destination.

Just as she had anticipated, Fury was not pleased with the surprise print on one of the report pages. He looked between it and her in silence, sliding the packet across his desk in her direction as he leaned back and turned his chair slightly.

“Mind telling me why you suddenly decided to decorate such a vital report with a shoe?”

“It was an accident, sir. While on my way here, I was reviewing the content and ended up crashing into someone on the way. They unintentionally stepped on the sheet while trying to avoid the others. I didn’t have time to reprint the documents prior to this meeting. I will be submitting a clean copy into the record and have this one shredded.”

“I’ll let it slide this time only. Next time, watch where you’re walking and leave reviewing for when you’re at a desk. Everything looks to be in order, reprint and file it.”

“Thank you sir, I’ll have it done right away.” She bowed her head and picked up the report.

“Don’t let this happen again.” He sternly remarked. “The next time it does, you’ll have to deal with the consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, sir.” Y/N nodded. “The next item for discussion is the transition of all physical resources into digital. I do understand that many have requested that all resources be scanned and made digital, but that task is a lot larger than many realize. Also, not all of our sources are safe to scan due to age or they need to be translated and checked prior to scanning. It is not impossible, but a sizable team would be needed in order to have it completed. I propose that the physical sources we have are properly cataloged and organized so they are easier to be found. We can have them scanned in the process, but again, we run into the issues of needing to translate and verify that the translations are correct.”

“Y/N, just get to the fucking point. Can it be done?” Fury cut her off, looking at her pointedly with his good eye.

“In an ideal situation, yes.” She let out a small sigh.

“And what is an ‘ideal situation’?” 

“A team of at least five agents per letter, several translators for the various languages we have to make sure we have them properly translated, and a warehouse filled with scanners and computers to scan, name, and upload. With such a team and ideal conditions always, it could take about five to ten years to complete.”

“Oh just that?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, his frown more pronounced than usual. Y/N knew he was not pleased with her answer, but there was no use in trying to make it lighter than it really was. They had an extensive library in house and warehouses of delicate and confidential artifacts, which included tomes and scrolls. She was the head librarian and managed all of this with only a handful of others spread across the various locations.

“Ideally, yes.”

“And if it wasn’t ideal?”

“Depends on what factors are not present, but without those minimum requirements it could take decades.”

“But it can be done.” He flatly responded, sitting forward in his seat and resting his elbows on the desk. “We won’t destroy any of the physical resources, but you’ll have to make do with what you get. We don’t have the luxury of just handing over a slew of agents for this. We need boots on the ground globally to keep an eye out on things out there bigger than us.” A weight suddenly dropped in the pit of her stomach. Though she was not expecting anything close to what she listed as an ideal, there was something in his tone that screamed out that she was going to hear the worst case scenario.

“And what would I get to work with?” She managed to keep her voice steady.

“State-of-the-art technology per library staff member per location and a god.”

Silence fell over them as she stood there, slowly blinking at her superior. This had to be some sort of sick joke. She knew the organization could not give what was needed, but this? This was hardly anything at all.

“I’m sorry, did you just say new computers and a god?”

“That’s what I said.” He nodded his head.

“You must be joking, right? This task would take more than just decades to do, and what does ‘a god’ even mean? A ‘god’ per person or location, or just one god? And what sort of ‘god’ Do you just have deities on demand or something? Are they just going to snap their fingers and things will be done magically? What can they do for me and this lifelong assignment I have now been tasked with?” She paced in front of his desk, muttering to herself on how this could work and what sort of person this ‘god’ was. He cannot be serious, right? But Fury isn’t the type to just say shit or joke around. She turned and looked at her boss. No, not a joker. She frowned.

“Y/N, calm down. We’ve got two Asgardian gods that have a knack for understanding all languages. You don’t need a team of translators when they can do it on the spot just like that.” His sharp tone made her stop and turn to face him. “So that whole crap can be cut, and you can work with one of them to get all this done faster with fewer people and just get to organizing shit. You’re getting what you get, end of discussion. Anything else?”

“No sir,” she sighed and shook her head.

“Good, I’ll get Agent Hill to talk to them and reach out to you. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes sir.” She slightly bowed her head and left the office, her shoulders dropping the moment the door closed behind her. This was not going to be easy.

Tag list: @vbecker10

[upat4amwiththemoon]

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

Accidental oversharing

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

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

Warnings: none

Word count: 772

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

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

masterlists | guidelines

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s going on?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah! So you do know her?”

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

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

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

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

“Very few people know.”

“Why wasn’t I one of those people?”

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

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

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

“Yes! Yes, I want her number.”

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

[tvseries-writings]

From a great power comes great responsibilities

Wandanat x Bioquake x Bobbi x reader

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

TW: death for a moment(?)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are there others in the base?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where's Dee?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Bobbi, adrenaline and defibrillator. Now!"

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

1,2,3,4,5

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

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

1,2,3,4,5

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

"Bobbi, take my place."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dee, what's wrong?"

Daisy looks at you and then, nods.

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

And then, your heart stops beating again.

"Fuck, Bobbi give me the adrenaline."

Jemma Simmons never swears but there are always exceptions.

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

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

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

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

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

"Daisy...she-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It was worth it."

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

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

"How are you feeling detka?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, hey, detka wake up."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Rest now, we're here malyshka."

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

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

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

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

[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 🥰

[tremendouscreationperson]

Bucky x Agent!Reader imagine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where- where are they?”

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

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

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

Thank god, you were in no condition to fight.

“Evac point A is overrun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cover?” He roared in disbelief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now the radio silence was a curse.

You didn't want to die alone.

No.

No, you wouldn't die.

Not here.

Fuck them!

Fuck everyone!

You weren't going to die in this shithole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you?” You hauled yourself closer.

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

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

But this was the hard part.

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

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

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

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

Silence.

“Anything doll?” Bucky prompted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any response?”

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

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

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

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

“North?”

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

“Where are your coordinates?”

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

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

Oh.

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

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

“I don't see how.”

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

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

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

“Please Bucky.”

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

That sounded amazing. Dancing with him.

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

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

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

Heights.

He didn't like heights.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘ingo.”

“That doesn't mak-”

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

“Just-”

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything you wanted, baby.”

You hum.

“Y/N?"

"Y/N!"

[itsmoonchik]

Robbie Reyes as textposts

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Uniform Kink with Maria Hill ~Kinktober 2023

Happy October 20th!!! On the docket for the day is a Uniform Kink. This time with another Marvel character and SHIELD agent, Maria Hill. Hope you Enjoy!! 🖤🎃

Previous Day <—found here!

Kinktober 2023 <—Here!!

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, implied smut, uniform kink, teasing, flustering, alcohol consumption, kissing, implied strip teasing, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

“Wear your uniform, today…?” your girlfriend curiously asked through the phone.

You chuckled and processed her request in light shock.

“I… Ok…!” You laughed, “But only if you wear yours too…”

Maria laughed over the phone in response.

“Deal.” She declared, “See you at home.”

“Bye, See you!” You hummed, before the call ended.

You put your phone away and continued filling out your paperwork for the arrest you had made this morning. You were a cop at the MPDC, the DC police department, and your girlfriend worked for the intelligence agency, SHIELD.

The brunette had called you with a new idea for the bedroom that you had to admit, you found quite intriguing… Maria had suggested you wear your uniform.

After that call, you couldn’t wait to get home. As soon as the clock struck 5pm, you were out the door. You drove home in eager anticipation. You unlocked your door and dropped your keys at the side table on your way in.

You had beaten Maria home, so you put your things away, waiting in the kitchen for the brunette. You made sure to keep your entire uniform on, and you grabbed a bottle of red wine, pouring yourself a glass as you waited.

About thirty minutes later, the lock of the door finally jingled. You then heard the door open and shut, followed by your girlfriend walking into the kitchen. She dropped her things on the counter, and then shifted her gaze to you.

“Damn.” Maria sighed, not holding her gaze back from racking up and down your frame.

You chuckled lightly, grabbing and offering her a glass of the wine. The brunette thanked you with a kiss and accepted it whole heartedly. You both then migrated to the living room, sitting and lounging with your glasses of alcohol. Maria crossed her leg over the other, eyeing you in your uniform once more.

“You really are hot, you know that?” The woman husked, before taking a sip of her wine.

“Me or the uniform…?” You teased the brunette.

“Oi!” Maria scolded playfully,

“Both…” she suggestively cooed, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Fair.” You gave her a nod and chuckled, taking a sip of your own wine.

“You don’t look too bad yourself either, Baby…” you hummed, finishing the sip of your wine and taking the moment to admire Maria in her uniform.

It was all black and it hugged her perfectly. There was a zipper in the front center which if you pulled down just a bit, you would get the perfect vantage of her tits, you thought to yourself.

Like the woman could read your mind, her hand went for the zipper, pulling it down a teasing amount, where you could clearly see her tits. She raised her brow at you in anticipation of your reaction. You widened your eyes slightly and blushed lightly in response, hiding your stare behind another sip from your glass.

Maria laughed at the reaction that she had pulled from you.

“Don’t be a tease…” you grumbled, taking another sip of your alcohol.

“You first” the woman chuckled in amusement.

“What…?! I am not teasing.” You exclaimed in a huff defensively.

“Yea well your body says otherwise…” Maria teasingly cooed, shrugging and taking a sip of her wine.

“Well why don’t you do something about it…?” You challenged the woman.

She paused from sipping from her glass and set it down, to look at you. Maria then got up and sauntered over to you. She stood in front of you, placing her arms on either side of the couch, so that she effectively trapped you there between the couch and her own body.

“You are so sexy in that uniform” Maria breathed out, beginning with a sigh.

You set your wine aside and gulped. Her words made you go a shade darker in the face. The brunette obviously liked the reactions she was drawing from you.

“I want to sit back and watch you strip tease for me in that…” the woman huskily told you in a hushed tone, while meeting your gaze the entire time.

Your breath hitched and another rush of heat went to your face. You nodded slowly.

“Or… I want you to pretend like I’m in trouble with you in that uniform…” Maria continued huskily, “Or maybe I’ll punish you while in uniform…”

Your eyes widened and your face was now tomato red.

“I—Yes.” You choked out, “Yes to all of it”

Maria smiled and stood up, releasing you from her entrapment. She gave you hand to stand up.

“Good. Then you and me have a long night…” she hummed in delight.

~~~

Next Day <—Chocking Kink!!

Maria Hill Masterlist

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

[syngrafaes09]

Break-up Sex | Tony Stark x F! Reader

Word Count : 1657

18+ MDNI!

Masterlist

Peter and Y/N had been together for more than four years and had been dating the summer before she started working for SHIELD and Avengers. Since then, they’d done everything together until the last two months. She had loved him so much – every moment spent on and off the field. But when everything goes so right, it is a prefigurement of everything going wrong. And the turning point of their relationship was the reappearance of his high school love MJ. From never leaving each other’s side to we- don’t- talk -anymore had been the progress they made in the last six months. He had decided to put her in the same state, as he was five years ago when MJ had left him. Y/n felt this was worse than what he had suffered for he didn’t break up straight away. Rather he kept her around showcasing that high school friends were more interesting to hang out with.

As she sat in the airless car, Ned’s words rang in her ears – If I were you, I would back off. It’s better than suffering this way. Grief swept her as she missed the guy who was never going to come back.

Y/n pushed open the unlocked door, comfortably walking into the house unannounced. She had been here many times when they didn’t have any missions. The team had termed it officially as the vacation house. Would this be my last time here?

She walked across the hall towards the French doors that opened to the patio and the bright blue pool.

Tony must have sensed her arrival because he stopped mi-stroke, pushed his wet hair out of his eyes and stared at her with confusion. She had impure thoughts about Tony before. She couldn’t help herself and tried not to feel guilty about them. They were just harmless fantasies, she had kept saying to herself, and were kept safe in her mind.

“Y/N?”

“Hey Mr Stark, didn’t Peter tell you I was coming over?”

He shook his head. “He’s inside. On a call.” Well, this very much explained why he wasn’t where he had texted her to meet. He beckoned her towards the pool. Y/n walked to the edge and crouched down.

“Is everything alright between you two?” Her stomach clenched at the question.

“No,” she said almost in a whisper.

He nodded. “I shouldn’t be saying this but... you should end it.” Tears brimmed in her eyes and she couldn’t respond. “He’s not ready to understand that whatever he is doing is hurting you. He’s at a point in his life where he’s extremely selfish, and he’s not going to get better. At least not for a while. He’s taking you for granted and things won’t go right even if you stick to him, unfortunately, I’m speaking this from experience. You deserve better than this.”

Y/n swallowed thickly and nodded at him. She opened her mouth to tell him that she was here for the same reason but he continued talking.

“I know this all sounds terrible. What a horrible dad am I, telling you to break up with his son -”

“No, you aren’t.” She cut him off. “I came here to bring closure to us. You are right.”

They turned their gaze towards the doors as they opened and Peter stood in the shade.

“Hurry up Y/N, I need to leave in ten minutes,” Peter said, settling into one of the cushioned chairs.

“That’s my cue to leave,” Tony muttered, getting out of the pool, grabbing a towel and disappearing into the house.

Y/n felt gutted as he walked away. Tony came in as soon as Peter left. As she swallowed the lump in her throat, he moved toward her, his arms spread open for a hug. She stepped into it eagerly and let him crush her against his chest.

“Four years and it meant nothing. All he said was fine,” she mumbled into his chest.

His arms wrapped tighter, and she closed her eyes, squeezing back the tears as his hand smoothed down the hair on the back of her head. He moved, shifting the position, and unexpected pleasure jolted through her. It was instantly followed by a wave of shame. He was only offering comfort and this was the most inappropriate time to get turned on. Yet she grew heavier each moment she was in his arms, wanting to get closer to him.

“Everything will go right... eventually.” He murmured.

Y/n pulled slightly just to meet his eyes, they were filled with anger yet relief. When his gaze slid down to her parted lips, she felt a surge from inside and without thinking - tiptoed and kissed him. He was taken aback and when he didn’t respond, she pulled back.

“I’m so sorry,” she stepped away, nearly losing her balance, and he drew her back to him.

“Y/N,” he whispered, looking into her eyes searching for something. “Is it because he left you?”

She didn't know what to answer. Even though she didn't know why she did it, she still wanted to do it.

“You know what, don't answer that.” He said tightening his grip around her waist. “I want you, even if it's one time or just a way for your release.” With that said he crashed the lips onto hers.

Pulling away for breath, she looked into his gaze and her stomach flipped and flopped like a dolphin. She could have never thought that Tony would want to see her as anything other-

All her thoughts were lost as he yanked the buttons of her thin shirt and palmed the curve of her breasts.

“Like that little one?” he whispered in her ear, “You have no idea the things I have always wanted to do to you.” Y/n moaned, arching into his touch.

Tony slid into one of the chairs and pulled her into his lap. Her fingers frantically tugged off her clothing, “I'm no grace,” she whispered, making him chuckle.

“I don't want grace. I like it when you are flustered,” he said tracing his fingers over the valley of her breasts, “Ripe like a fruit,” he tweaked one of her nipples, “to be devoured.”

“God, Tony,” she moaned as he latched his mouth to her scrumptious tits. He continued sucking, swirling his tongue around one nipple while his fingers pinched and tugged the other.

Y/n turned in his grip, straddling him, bringing herself right over the erection in his sweatpants. She rolled and rocked her hips, relishing the friction beneath.

Tony gripped her wait, halting the movements, and looked at her. “Aren’t you a little greedy?”

“I haven’t been spoiled for a long time. I need you inside me. Is that too much to ask?”

“Not at all,” he said, kissing her once again. He moved his hands, grabbed her thighs and got up, making her squeal into the kiss. Walking inside, he placed her over the kitchen island and slid a hand, cupping her between her thighs firmly, massaging her clit first and spreading the wet heat of her desire.

“I'm gonna cum,” she groaned. “That’s the whole idea of this,” he rasped, getting on his knees. His thumb rubbed and pressured her clit while his tongue swarmed in the pool of her wetness.

It took hardly a few minutes before she shuddered and shook above him. Her nails clawed at the marble as he relentlessly sucked and licked her pussy.

“Tony, please,” she whimpered after her body shuddered once again. The pleasure of his goatee scratching her sensitive skin as his mouth and tongue lavished her was too much to take.

A smug smile tainted his features when he stood up. “Peter didn’t do a good job,” he sounded disappointed as he pushed her body down on the island. He dropped his pants to his ankle, pumping himself as he enjoyed her naked form tantalisingly spread in front of him. Her body was still trembling as pulled her hips and lined up to her entrance. “Are you tired already?”

“I want you,” Y/n pouted, pushing up on her elbows.

“Relax little one, you aren’t walking out of this house until I give you three more orgasms at the least.”

Her eyes widened at his declaration and she opened her mouth to speak but his hands jerked her hips pulling her hard and deep into his thrust. She screamed when he pulled out and drove in once again.

His cock pumped fast, hard and deep. He moved inside her with a wild abandon that drove her insane. Pleasure notched higher, nearly unbearable, and she knew she was going to come. She’d wanted him for too long, dreamed of how it would be and the reality was much better than any fantasy. Just him hammering his cock inside her was enough to draw a climax from her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, throwing back his neck. “I knew you would be tight but…” The words died out as his cock twitched, his knees almost gave out and his body shook. “So. Fucking. Amazing,” he punctuated each word with a deep thrust.

Y/n could feel the heat seeping through her from the inside out as his hot semen as it filled her. Her emotions were a jumble when she propped up and caught sight of him. He was staring down, at where their bodies were connected, and his semen was dripping out of her.

“I like being inside you.”

“I love it too, Mr Stark,” she whispered, carefully reaching him while having him deep inside her. She pressed soft, gentle kisses on his forehead, cheeks and lips.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he laughed, nuzzling into her neck.

“Can we take the bed for the next round ?” she asked shyly wondering if he was going to keep his word.

Tony chucked, securing her legs around his waist and marched towards his room.

[levans44]

Apartment #3 Masterlist

pairing: steve rogers x undercover!reader

warnings: 18+ SMUT*, Neighbors to Friends to Lovers, lots of angst, heavy mutual pining, hurt/comfort, eventual smut/romance/fluff

summary: as an undercover agent at SHIELD, her newest assignment involves moving in across the hall from her target. she's strictly ordered to keep her distance—no personal contact besides the absolutely necessary. the only issue? her new target neighbor turns out to be Captain America.

excerpt:

Jessica Grace Parker December 4th, 1989 569 Leaman Place Apt. #3, Brooklyn, NY 11201 Registered Nurse NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital

It’s the undercover alias she’s been assigned as a member of SHIELD’s Special Operations unit. The mission objective was rather simple—monitor the target and report updates as necessary.

She’s gone undercover more than a dozen times, so it’s not the details of the assignment or the temporary relocation she’s concerned about.

It’s just that her target was well… more unusual than most.

author's note: an idea that's been living in my head ever since steve asked sharon for that cup of coffee in their apartment hallway. as a SHIELD agent, the reader's real name has been [REDACTED] to preserve anonymity.

my masterlist

Chapter 1 - the mission

Chapter 2 - the move-in

Chapter 3 - the breakup

Chapter 4 - the sick day

Chapter 5 - the package

Chapter 6 - the brownies

Chapter 7 - the day off

[vbecker10]

Coffee Coffee Coffee

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Your over protective boyfriend, Loki, finds out you haven't eaten anything today and he's not happy about it but in your defense, you did have coffee.

A/N: I didn't even have coffee today so it's weird that this is in my brain lol... enjoy 💚

A series of knocks pulls your attention from the email you are typing and you check the clock in the corner of the screen. There's only one person who could be looking for you this late, the rest of your team went home a little over an hour ago.

You rub your eyes and get up from your desk, "Come in, Loki."

The door opens and the God of Mischief enters, "Hello darling." He meets you in the middle of your office and pulls you into a tight hug.

You reach up and kiss his lips lightly, pulling away much too soon for Loki's liking. He smirks, "Well now that won't do."

"No?" you ask with a smile.

He shakes his head no. You reach up again and as he leans to me you, you change direction slightly so you kiss his cheek. A giggle escapes you as Loki's hands move down to your hips and he pulls you flush against his body. His left hand raises to your cheek and he tilts your head up gently, then he presses his lips firmly to yours. His hand grips your hip tighter and you give into his kiss.

"I'm still working," you tell him breathlessly when your lips finally leave his.

"You work too hard," he tells you as he lets go of you.

He walks towards one of the empty chairs facing you desk and takes a seat. You move past him to sit behind you desk but he gently catches your wrist. Pulling lightly, he brings you towards him and lifts you onto his lap so you are facing him.

"I missed you today," he tells you in a low voice, his hands settle on your lower back.

"I missed you too, I'm sorry I had to cancel our lunch. Today has been awful," you wave towards your desk which is stacked high with files.

"Will you be much longer?" he asks, tucking a piece of hair behind you ear.

You shrug, "Hopefully only another hour. I just need to finish-". Your stomach rumbles, cutting into your sentence and you cringe when you can see in his eyes that he heard it.

"Did you eat anything today?" he asks in response to the sound.

"I had coffee," you answer quickly and immediately know that was the wrong answer.

His fingers drum rhythmically on your hip and he asks, "Did you at least drink any water?"

"Yea a little," you nod but he raises his eyebrow skeptically. "I mean, there's water in coffee."

He groans, his hand raising to cover his eyes. You hold back a giggle, knowing it won't help your situation. "Why are you like this?" he asks in a half joking tone.

You smile wide and shrug, "I like coffee."

"I can see that darling," he says, shaking his head lightly to hide a smile. "Dare I ask how many cups you've had today?"

You pretend to think for a moment then begin to count on your fingers, "One, two, three, four, five-"

"Y/N," he stops you.

"Only two," you answer.

"Are you sure?" he asks in a tone that means he clearly does not believe you.

You look away from his gaze but he touches your chin and guides your eyes back to his. "Four... but they were hours apart," you tell him honestly.

He shakes his head, "Love, you can't survive on coffee alone."

"That's literally how I made it through college," you inform him and cross your arms against your chest.

Without another word, he lifts you off his lap and sets you down so he can get up. "What-" you start to ask but he takes your hand and begins to move towards the door. "Where are we going? I still have work to do," you tell him.

"We're going to get dinner," he says as he opens the door.

You suddenly realize how hungry you are and follow him out into the hallway. "Ooh, can we get dessert too?" you ask with a smile.

He nods, "Of course, darling."

"And coffee?" you ask half joking.

"I think you've had enough coffee for the week," he answers as he pushes the button for the elevator.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @kkdvkyya @animnerd @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @high-functioning-lokipath @winniewings @pics-and-fanfics @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @crimson25 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @chantsdemarins @simone818283 @tonystank8 @im-briana-stan @foxherder @chantsdemarins @catsladen @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @dragonmurray @honeydew3064 @malfoycassimalfoy @kneelingformyloki @newtomofgods

[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (8)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Friendly banter, overworking

Summary: You’re a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You’ve been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N:

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! (If I missed any tags, please let me know, I’ll add you right away!) I’d also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

“You have it?” Loki raised a brow at this, pulling out his phone to see her full name and some extra information about her that Steve had stored on his phone. The sight of it only made his mood even more sour as he shoved the device back into the pocket it came from after saving it. “Quite a bit of information you have saved on here.”

“Yeah? It’s stuff I picked up on overtime.” The innocent, casual shrug of his shoulders held arrogance in the eyes of the God of Mischief. A smug punctuation of how the star-studded super soldier was able to freely come and go from the library and he was not.

“Oh? ‘Just stuff’ that you picked, huh? ‘Overtime’ you say? What kind of ‘just stuff’ did you save overtime?” Tony leaned in closer, a smug little smirk on his face with a twinkle of interest in his eyes.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Tony. Y/N and I are just friends. Don’t go spreading unnecessary rumors. It’s nice to just have someone to talk to and not have to worry too much.” The stern tone in his voice earned a groaning sigh and eye roll from the impulsive scientist. “Also, dating in the workplace is unprofessional and would inevitably lead to complications.” 

Romantic involvements are always troublesome. Loki silently agreed, the tension in his shoulders slipping away as Steve made it clear that there was nothing going on between the two of them. The last thing I need is her feeding him misinformation or him spying for her to see what I’m saying or doing. I require access to the library, not an extended sentence. He reasoned with himself.

“Mr. Rules strikes again, don’t you know any other tricks? Or is justice and teacher’s pet your only ones? I don’t even know why I bother talking to you, give me her number. There’s something there, I know there is!” Loki sat up straight at the words that came out of the short Midgardian. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Share her contact with me.” The prince’s eye twitched at the demand. He could not fathom why all of them wanted her number now that it was clear that none of them actually had it. What good was there in having contact information for someone that would never be contacted.

Especially when his interests were more fickle than the tide, ever-changing from one stupid notion to the next.

“I’ll pass on that,” Steve rolled his eyes at the petulant child look that Tony gave him. Loki silently agreed with this decision. “But you’re more than welcomed to get it from yourself.”

No, he is not! What sort of denial is that?! You may as well have given him the damned number if you’re giving permission to get it! His jaw ached from how tightly it was clenched, his leg rapidly bouncing under the table. Thor noticed the changes in his younger brother’s demeanor, but said nothing. He figured the company of the others was the cause, and as the elder of the two, he thought it best that Loki grew accustomed to the presence of the other Avengers.

“Are you gatekeeping her number? Why not just give it to me?”

“Because, I want you to actually work for something. Plus, this is just you trying to get under my skin, and you’re not actually going to go after her to get her number, Tony, I know you. This is a shiny new toy that you’re going to forget about the moment something else comes along.”

“You do like to play with things and toss ‘em aside when you’re bored.” Clint agreed, sipping his drink as he nudged the empty tray forward. “You’re not actually going to call her anyway.”

“Et tu, Robin Hood?” Tony gasped in horror. “Is that what all of you think of me? That I’m someone so callous to just use a poor innocent maiden like Y/N and just throw her away like yesterday’s newspaper the next day? I am offended. I’ll show you, me and her, we’re going to be like this.” He entwined his index and middle finger of one hand before standing up from the table. “You’ll see, and you’ll all regret it!” He threw his nose into the air and left, the others amused by his dramatics as they continued to not take him seriously. The only person not amused was Loki. They all goaded the chatty Tin-Man into actually getting her number instead of leaving her alone, the exact opposite of what should have been done.

It’s horrible enough that Major Constellations over here frequents the place, and he’s friendly with her, now I’ll have to share my sanctuary with that aluminum can? I refuse to accept this! There has to be some logic I’m missing, unless this is all some ploy to ruin my peace and quiet. No, I can’t be, can it? They’re all trying to ruin what little solace I have here? He eyed the remainder of the group suspiciously. Thor is working with me on that infernal project that started this mess, I doubt he is tied to it. The straight-laced sergeant only comes when he needs to for missions. I don’t think I’ve seen the bird-man there. That leaves just that nuisance of an existence, but his focus is currently on troubling their leader. Perhaps that is all there is to it? If it truly is, then I have nothing to worry about, so long as I get to her first and convince her to not share her contact information. To do that, I need her to first lift this Stygian banishment!

“Well, I thank you for her number, you proved most helpful in this matter of miscommunication. I should start putting my efforts towards composing a proper response, so I take my leave.” Loki stood from the table and left without giving anyone a chance to pry anymore than they already had.

“Director Y/LN, looks like everything checks out here. The programs are all running and there hasn’t been any repetition of the errors we first faced.” The weary voice of her subordinate pulled Y/N’s attention from her laptop screen.

“About time,” Y/N pushed a chipper tone into her voice to mask the true exhaustion that had taken lodging inside her. Lacing her fingers together, she turned her palms outwards and stretched as she sighed. “I swear, technology isn’t as amazing as it’s cracked up to be…especially when it flops like this first thing.” She grumbled as she logged the successful trial and cleared this site as operational.

“When it acts up, I can’t agree more. When it’s working, I have no complaints.” Her subordinate’s soft chuckle could not mask the fatigue. “C’mon, it’s late, but we still have time to grab dinner. The rest of us are heading out to celebrate that we’re finally online!” The eager twinkle in those brown eyes made the offer more tempting, but Y/N had to decline. 

“You gotta join us, Chief!” Another chimed in, hearing her answer.

“Pretty please?” Came another plea.

“I really wish I could, but I’ve got a red-eye to catch. I need to finalize and submit the report before I’m off.” Y/N closed her laptop and pointed to the large clock on the wall.

“Damn, they’re really not giving you any wiggle room, huh?”

“That’s not fair at all! Other directors don’t go running around like they’re making you. This is abuse!”

“Let’s not get too hasty, I choose to handle certain things personally to make sure it’s done properly. It reduces the chances of unnecessary back-and-forth. Next time we can celebrate, I promise. Thanks for all your hard work, everyone. Let’s keep it up and get this project completed as soon as possible.” With a chorus of confirmations and cheers. Y/N packed her things and gave one last wave before leaving back to her hotel. 

She dropped back onto the awaiting mattress, heaving a heavy sigh as she finally let the fatigue show itself. For the last five weeks, Y/N flew between all the S.H.I.E.L.D. locations that had a library department to manage the setup and checks of the new system that was provided per location as promised. She had been formally trained on the software, but sat through the boring session with the staff each and every time it was given. There was no doubt in her mind that if she were to die now, her last words would probably be incoherent ramblings from the lecture. The only good news in all this was that she was finally done. This flight would bring her one step closer to her much-needed comfy bed in her small, cozy apartment.

Forcing herself up, she pulled out her laptop to edit her report one last time before sending it off and logging out for the remainder of the evening. She changed to something comfortable and made sure everything was packed away and ready to go before ordering room service.

At least they don’t cheap out on where I stay and pick up the tab entirely. She leaned back into the padded headboard that was attached to the wall. “Did I check in to my flight? Crap, I don’t think I did.” She muttered, feelings round the covers until she found her phone hidden away under a pillow. A good hour and a half was burned away through all her editing and rechecking the report. Her stomach growled in protest. Gently patting the disgruntled creature, she quickly checked in through the app and sighed with relief at the boarding pass notification on her status bar. It was then that she noticed the message notification that was sitting there unread, still. 

The corners of her lips tugged downwards into a frown. Y/N could have sworn that she read all of her messages. Opening the texting application, she noticed the unknown number had sent about 3 messages to her, the latest being from a couple of days ago. Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the glowing screen, trying to recall anything. When nothing came to her, she gave in and opened the chat. Her jaw dropped as it all cam rushing back to her.

Oh shit, I’m in trouble now! She lightly and rapidly hit the heel of her left hand into her forehead several times. Way to go, Y/N, you completely ignored someone for almost three weeks now! “What do I do, what do I do?! Obviously, I need to reply, but how?!” She bit her lower lip, typing, reading, erasing, and retyping too many times to count before giving up at the knock at her door. Paying the server a tip, she sat at the table and began to eat. Clearly she needed food to get her brain in some semblance of working order as she reread the messages.

<Librarian, this is Loki, the second prince of Asgard. It has come to my attention that you have been working under a misunderstanding. Remove the banishment order.> It was the first text that came roughly three weeks ago.

<Librarian, this is not amusing. You placed a banishment order with no means for me to rectifying your misunderstanding by leaving the facility. Remove it at once.> This second text came four days after the first.

<Why do you not answer me, woman? I have repeatedly asked you to remove your misguided decision, and it has yet to be fixed.>  This text, which made her snort, came almost two weeks ago. <I know you have read my texts.> 

None of this is asking me anything, you’re demanding. She rolled her eyes.

<Perhaps my prior texts were not properly worded. As per the insistent pestering of my brother and the others, I am messaging you again. I did not intentionally ignore you the day you banished me from the library. I had just come from a lengthy training session and review/strategy meeting afterwards. The only thing I had done between then and arriving at the library was to refresh myself in my quarters to be more presentable in public. The ‘promise’ I made slipped my mind completely, but I had no control over that matter due to how long it took. You make ask your precious admiral if you wish to confirm my story, or you can request the data of that session to prove the time. With all that being said, I understand why you would be upset. I would greatly appreciate it if you would remove the order given to the system so that I may read peacefully in the library once more.> She was surprised to see such a lengthy text coming after all the short, demanding ones that came before it. What surprised her even more was the last text sent earlier today when she was fighting with the program errors. <Are you alright? You have not read my last text.><Sorry for replying so late, I was tied up with my work. Also, I accept your ‘apology’. By ‘admiral’, do you mean CAPTAIN America, Steve?> It took her a minute to realize who he was referring to, and she nearly fell out of her seat laughing at the mistake no one has ever made. At least not to her. <Why would I go ask him or check the records? I doubt you’re lying about a long session, I trust you. Sadly, you’ll have to wait until I’m back on site to cancel the order. I can only do those type of changes while on S.H.I.E.L.D. grounds and on their network. Good news is I’ll be back Monday, so just two more days!> She confidently sent her reply and finished the rest of her meal. Glancing at the clock, she sighed and called for the driver to come as she made her way to the lobby and checked out. Soon you’ll be home, Y/N, soon.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @jainaeatsstars @msdjsg7 @tom-hlover @kneelingformyloki @gruftiela @gigglingtiggerv2 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @evalynanne

[marie-swriting]

Your gallery if you're dating...

Daisy Johnson

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

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[tvseries-writings]

Bad addiction

Plot: After an interrogation gone wrong, it is hard not to fall back into old habits and make questionable choices

TW: alcohol addiction, past suicide attempt, depression

Wandanat x Bioquake (Jemma x Daisy) x Bobbi x reader

Many people say that silence is the most deafening sound, more so than any other sound, even more so than the sound of a mine being blasted to extract the precious minerals it contains. And now, as you sit in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, looking down at the still-unbroken bottle of vodka in the complete silence that surrounds the room, you realize that these people are right.

It is 3:45 a.m. on a dreary Saturday morning, and that boy's face, imprinted in your mind, has kept you from sleeping and at the same time made you open the bus locker that Jemma had diligently locked as soon as she learned of your "not-so-little" problem.

In your world, everyone has tattooed on their body the first words their soul mate will say when they first meet.

You have to admit that in the unhappy and violent family you grew up in, it was no big deal to have five different phrases tattooed on your back due to some hideous flaw in the system. Two soul mates was abnormal enough, but five? Inconceivable, and Mark, your stepfather, had reminded you of it over and over again until one fine day he died of a heart attack. Of course, the moment he had collapsed in front of you, you hadn't run for help... Besides, they say there is no such thing as karma.

Bobbi was the first of the five mysterious soul mates you met and fell madly in love with. It was Bobbi who brought you into S.H.I.E.L.D. shortly after recruiting Daisy (then Skye), and who finally put a face to two of the people whose words she had tattooed on her right forearm.

"I want to be your sponsor, I want you to get better."

It was Bobbi who helped you out of the maelstrom that had engulfed you, who helped you to what would become six full years of sobriety. Six years without a single drop of your trusty friend alcohol in your stomach. She became your sponsor, was with you day and night, held you while you puked your guts out in the filthy bathroom of a bar at five in the morning, and whispered tough words to you when you told her you wanted to quit. You don't know where you'd be without her. In fact, you don't know where you'd be without all of them. Jemma, Bobbi, Daisy, Wanda, and Natasha are your rock and always will be. But today, today you have to forget and they may be your rock but unfortunately they have far too many demons to face and yours you might as well keep to yourself.

With a knot in your stomach and nausea, you uncork the bottle. The pungent smell of vodka burns your sinuses as you carefully place the cap on the counter. The concave side facing down, just like at the bar. Your fingers tighten around the thinnest part, the contact of your skin with the cold glass makes you shiver, and for a moment, just a single moment, you think you don't want to throw away these six long years of sacrifice, and then... then the boy's face hits you like a slap in the face. Actually, the slap would hurt a lot less.

He was just a boy, a young soldier molded by Hydra who had killed himself to give in during your interrogation. You had been too harsh and too slow to stop him, and you had not stopped him, and he had broken his right cheekbone, causing the small cyanide capsule placed there, just below the surface, to rupture. That boy was walking around with a time bomb between his eye and his nose, and he had done it voluntarily, killing himself with that same bomb. He had killed himself in front of you, his name was Gideon and he had just turned nineteen. And he was dead, he was dead because you were not focused enough, because you were the one who pushed him to do it and now he was gone. He should have had his whole life ahead of him, he had just been subjugated, but now, now there was no chance of redemption for him. So you punished yourself, nothing new, the bullet in your right leg is proof of that...even though you had stopped the bleeding by now. You just needed to punish yourself, that's all. And the bottle you hold in your fingers serves the same purpose as the bullet.

"What are you doing?"

The sound is so sudden and unexpected that you let go of the bottle and it shatters on the floor of the bus. The plane continues its course as if nothing had happened. How fascinating machines are, so emotionally numbing and yet indispensable.

Bobbi approaches you slowly, as if afraid to frighten you. Her hair is disheveled and her expression is a mixture of concern and weariness. You swallow, begin to shake your head and fall to your knees, repeating the words "I'm sorry" and "I'm sorry" as you fiercely pick up the shards of glass from the bottle.

"Stop or you'll get hurt."

The blonde girl is not even in time to say these words before a piece of glass gets stuck in your hand, causing a deep cut that begins to bleed profusely. You don't notice and Bobbi is scared to death. You don't feel the pain and, on the contrary, you continue to clear your mind.

Perhaps you have become a machine too, emotionally numb. Damn, how you want it; to feel no more pain - isn't that the human dilemma?

Bobbi snaps forward, tired of seeing you hurt again and again, and grabs your wrists with her hands to stop you; it works. You suddenly freeze, avoiding eye contact and not saying a word. Bobbi never loses sight of you for a minute as she gets up to get a cloth to dab the wound and stop the bleeding.

You stay like this for about ten minutes, in silence, while Bobbi bandages your wound with two stitches for "safety". He wraps your hand, but when he is done, he does not pull away, contrary to what you expected. Instead, she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, making your eyes meet before breaking the silence.

"Do you ou want to tell me what happened?"

You always said that Bobbi, as an alternative to super badass spy, might as well have been a psychologist (as well as a model, of course). In fact, her tone is exactly what one would expect from a psychologist; gentle but detached. In a warm but cool clarity of action. In the art of weighing words that only Bobbi is capable of, and in which she is the first even to Jemma.

When she realizes you have no intention of answering, her hand quickly finds your leg.

"Have you been drinking?"

You bite your lip and shake your head slowly.

A small smile curls her lips as she leans in to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"Well... you did good rockstar."

Bobbi rests her forehead against yours, caressing your cheeks as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

"We're both tired and need to sleep, especially you. I'm not dropping the subject, and it's definitely something we'll discuss in the morning, but until then, until then, we're going to bed with the others. And I don't want to hear any objections."

You follow her, whatever she wants, you're going to give it to her. You owe it to her after the shit you wanted to do tonight; not that you wouldn't have done it if you had gone back. But now, now is a thought that has to be put off until the morning.

Bobbi tucks you in and wraps her arms around your sides, hugging you from behind. Your nose breathes in the lavender scent of Diasy and the vanilla scent of Wanda as Nat's soft snoring and Jemma's recovered words accompany you into the world of Morpheus.

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

As soon as you wake up, the weight of the conversation you're likely to have with your soul mates hits you harder than you'd like. And if you hate getting up on other days, today is even harder.

You get out of bed and walk down the hall with the same agony as a condemned man on his way to the gallows.

No, a condemned man is better off than you. At least he has the consolation of death; you, on the other hand, have only the certainty of a head-spanking from your girls.

It's barely 10 a.m., and your girls' voices echo down the narrow, cold hallway leading to the kitchen. As soon as your head pokes through the door, the voices stop.

"Hey."

Your stomach turns as you sit down in the only empty chair.

Wanda is at the stove, Natasha behind her, trying to help, even though you all know the Russian spy is anything but a good cook. Instead, Daisy, Jemma and Bobbi are all three at the table. Needless to say, all eyes are on you.

Wanda places a stack of pancakes on a plate in the middle of the table and with a shy smile invites you to help yourself to her delicious masterpieces.

You are not hungry. The silence between you is so strange, so different... that it has created a knot in your stomach. You are sure that if you even tried to take a bite of Wanda's pancakes, you would immediately run to the bathroom and throw up.

It is not you who breaks the silence, nor is it Bobbi; contrary to what you might have expected, it is Daisy who does so. Well, maybe you should have seen it coming.

"How could you even think that?"

You know very well that it is not a question. The others know it too.

The young superheroine wants to know the reason that almost made you break your promise.

Not that you could forget that promise. How could you?

It's hard to forget the feel of your girls' damp, heavy clothes and the sting of their deeply disappointed stares as you limped into the foyer of your simple, unassuming Manhattan apartment, staggering around with a bottle of vodka in your right hand and a gun in the other with only one bullet in the clip. It is hard to forget the look of terror on her face as you squeeze the trigger three times in a row, the cold metal of the barrel burning your temple. It is impossible to forget their screams as Natasha lunges at you, at the exact moment when you pull the damn trigger for the fourth time in front of their disbelieving, frightened, terrified eyes, and the bullet lodges on the wall behind you; inches from your head, as the gun, now unloaded, is kicked away from the Russian spy. It is impossible to forget the promise you made to them about never touching even a drop of alcohol again.

Over time, you have learned so many terrible things that you have trouble falling asleep at night. And when they say that addictions of any kind don't change a person...they lie. Fuck, how they lie. Lying bastards in an age of lies. An addiction changes you. No choking.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I - yesterday was hard, the mission - I'm sorry."

You don't look up, you don't meet the eyes that you learned to love and accept only after a long time. You don't have the courage, you can't look at the most important people in your life, knowing that you made them suffer again. How many more times will you have to hurt them before they realize they no longer want you in their lives?

Bobbi sighs and shakes her head slowly. He gives you a small smile, just a hint of the one you loved before anyone else. She squeezes your thigh and reaches her hand out from under the table.

"We're not mad, we're just worried rockstar."

"Bobbi's right, Detka, we are scared that what happened years ago might happen again."

Wanda plays with the rings you exchanged when you all decided to move in together.

Natasha doesn't speak; she just watches you in silence. So does Jemma.

Daisy, on the other hand, seems on the verge of exploding, and that's exactly what she does.

"You can't do this to us again, okay? Do you know how long it took us to get over that? We still have nightmares about that night and you know it! How could you even think of drinking? You had to talk to us about it, you had to..."

Bobbi interrupts the inhuman, wrapping her arm around her hips and holding her close as she plants small kisses on the top of her head.

"He killed himself right in front of me, Daisy! He was a young boy, he had his whole life ahead of him and I didn't stop him!"

You slam your hand down on the kitchen counter, carefully away from your soul mates, using so much force that the deep cut you made the night before reopens and the bandage quickly soaks with blood.

A small grimace crosses your face as soon as your hand hits the marble surface.

"Y/n!"

Jemma takes your hand between her own, examining the wound medically and glancing at Bobbi as Wanda runs to the first aid kit in the bathroom.

"Honey, it's not your fault. The only culprit in all of this is Hydra. Yes, the boy was young, but he was aware of his choices."

Natasha strokes your back as Jemma uses needle and thread to sew up the cut on your palm. Jemma is about to put the fourth back on when you pull your hand away from her loving care and turn away from your girls.

"Y/n, please come back, I'm not done yet."

You look away; your left arm falls back at your side and small drops of blood run down your hand and fall to the floor. Your only desire now is to hold on to the bottle and drink until you see the empty bottom. You do not deserve their love, let alone their understanding.

"You're thinking very hard, detka," Wanda whispers, holding out her hand to you, and when you don't take it, intertwining your fingers, the hurt look on the Sokovian's face makes your heart clench.

"I thought I had overcome my addiction, and yet when some event shakes me, I am still in the grip of my emotions and it sucks....You want to know if I still want to drink? Yes, it gets stronger and stronger and it will never go away. That's the problem, I... I don't know if I can live with that for the rest of my life.

You all feel the small gasp that leaves the telepath's lips as she looks into your mind.

"Last night I... I took your gun," you whisper, turning your gaze to Natasha, "I know the password to the safe where you hide it; besides, it's not hard, just remember the day you first came into my life, and yes, yesterday I took the gun and put it to my temple, but I didn't pull the trigger, I didn't, okay? Just like I didn't touch the bottle of alcohol in front of me, so yes, I'm not okay, I'm shaken by what happened and part of me will always want to end it, but I'm not going to make you go through this again. I love you too much to hurt you like that again."

You scratch nervously at your wound, pinching your stitches before a gentle hand stops you. Jemma takes your hand back and makes the final stitches as the girls surround you.

"It's going to be okay honey, we're going to get through this too, but you need to go back and see Dr. Garner."

You sigh and shake your head before being stopped by a rather pissed off inhuman.

"I don't think you have a choice, so you're going to do what we say, okay?"

You sigh, nodding slightly as you begin to find the steel floor beneath your feet particularly interesting.

"Y/n, where did you leave the gun?"

Bobbi whispers and the question that has been hanging in the air until now is asked.

You teleport to your bedroom and retrieve the gun from its hiding place, where it had been masterfully concealed among some of your old clothes, and then Teleport back to the kitchen and hand the gun to Bobbi. The blonde takes it and slides the magazine out of the black Glock she holds in her hands, and when she does, your heart stops. You didn't think he would check.

"Y/n...? One bullet is missing-"

Daisy grabs the clip before Bobbi can finish her sentence,

"Are you fucking serious? You did this? You lied to our faces?!"

"I, it's not what it looks like."

Your throat goes dry as you look for the nearest chair to sit in; you wrinkle your nose as the bandage you've been so busy tightening around your thigh rubs painfully against the wound. And while the other girls are too busy trying to figure out what's going on, Wanda reads your mind and her eyes go wide as she falls to her knees in front of you. The other girls look at her with confusion and concern before the Sokovian speaks.

"Detka, Detka, where is the wound?"

Your breath catches and you freeze. They can't take away the pain you feel, they can't - you don't deserve the relief, you don't.

"N-no! Me, it's okay, I took care of it, I'm fine."

Natasha, who had been silent until that moment, steps forward and pulls your pants down before you can even think of stopping her.

The blood-soaked bandage shifts to reveal the bleeding, red wound; an ongoing infection, most likely -- after all, you didn't put any disinfectant on it, and the only thing you cared about was wrapping it tightly with a bandage so you wouldn't lose too much blood. You don't even know if the bullet got out, but considering your teleportation skills, it probably did. The only reason you don't stay naked every time you teleport is because Fitz made all your clothes out of a dwarf material that apparently allows you to stay clothed.

"Damn it!"

Natasha says, leaning over your thigh and looking at Jemma, urging her to get the first aid kit. The biochemist runs to the bathroom and returns in less than a minute with the kit in her hands. You kneel down next to the former Russian spy before putting on your gloves and cutting off the now completely useless blindfold.

Bobbi walks over to you and places a hand on your forehead to check your temperature before asking Natasha to hand her the thermometer.

"She's warm, I think the wound is giving her an infection."

Bobbi puts the thermometer to your lips, and when you make it clear that you are not going to take your temperature, Bobbi raises her right eyebrow and looks at you intently.

"Rockstar, I don't want to force you to open your lips, but you really messed up, your health is not the best right now and we're really worried, so please, please... help us help you, okay?"

Bobbi's voice breaks as her look of pain and concern finally makes you realize how much this, how much YOU are costing them...so you do everything they tell you and a full twenty-five minutes pass before you are finally patched up and lying on a cot in the infirmary.

"Why did you do this? Are you... do we have to take you off missions? Are you trying to hurt yourself?" Natasha approaches the edge of the bed, resting a hand on your good leg.

"Obviously, considering what he did."

Daisy blurts out, and the fact that she relies so heavily on her sarcasm lets you know that she is genuinely worried about you.You bite your lip, a small sigh rippling the air around you as you trace the bandage on your hand with your thumb, distracting yourself from the conversation you are about to have.

"I... just wanted... I needed to feel physical pain, and not the kind of pain that tears you up inside. I just needed to feel nothing, just for a little while...I'm sorry."

Jemma squeezes the IV bag and, after a final glance at the monitor showing your blood pressure and heart rate, sits down in the empty chair to your left before taking your hand between her own.

"We're going to help you, okay? It's going to be okay, we're going to be with you every step of the way, and we're going to get through this, just like we did before."

"But we need you to help us, rock star."

"And you need to tell us how you feel, especially if it makes you do things...dangerous for yourself, detka" Wanda comes over and gives you a small smile with eyes full of concern, just like the other girls.

Daisy crosses her arms under her breasts and you see worry and anger distorting her face and then, to the surprise of you all, the inhuman bursts into tears. Sobs shake your body and your need to embrace her makes you get out of bed and reach out to her, hiding a grimace of pain.

"Dee, Daisy, hey, it's okay love, I'm sorry, I know how that night left a deep scar on you, I... when certain thoughts come, I can't think straight... I can't think at all, damn it. I don't... I don't think about how much damage what my mind is telling me to do could do to you. I'm sorry, my love."

Daisy throws herself into your arms, causing you to fall back onto the cot as the inhuman wets your shirt with her tears.

"I know what it feels like to want the pain to stop, many of us do it”. Your body stiffens at the thought that at least once both Natasha and Wanda and Daisy felt exactly what you felt and are feeling now, "but you are not alone, I know you feel alone but you are not. We are here and we love you so much it hurts..."

"I am so sorry...I, I will try to get better, I want to, for you and to finally be well without having to resort to pain or alcohol."

You whisper, leaving kisses in Daisy's hair as you hold her close. Your girls stand still, letting the inhuman vent before they too join your embrace.

They say nothing, they don't need to. The fact that they are there, their warmth is more than enough and they bring you a slight relief and the burden you have been carrying for so long finally lightens... at least for now.

Thanks for reading! Spoiler: some poly!aos x wandanat x reader is coming! Comment, like and support me on ko-fi. Have a great day!

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

[anika-ann]

Back and Forth - part 1

Part 1 - Snap Back

Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 7400

Chapter summary: 

In which the mission goes to hell and you and Steve clash. Again.

Series masterlist

Warnings: blood, canon-typical violence, mention of gunshot wounds, hints of unhealthy relationship to pain, mention of death, some angst

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

Steve Rogers was a very large man. Over two hundred pounds of muscle, over six feet three tall, he towered and loomed and hovered above everything and everyone. And yet, his body seemed too small to contain the huge ball of righteous anger, too small to contain the magnitude of the jerk he was being at the moment.

It must have been one of his greatest talents.

And you understood. You understood why he was pacing around, his face the perfect storm with lightning flashing from his eyes, his voice thundering; the mission was a failure, fire and destruction left behind without the important data retrieved. Hell, you understood a little too well how much of that was your fault therefore he had every right to be angry with you.

And yet. Yet, you couldn’t comprehend how that supposedly righteous man spitted around words full of rage when he was to blame himself too.

He was the one to pull you out. He was the one to shake you and break your concentration before your spectre, able to waltz behind locked doors without a key, could deliver the drive to another agent. He was the one to make you snap back, your astral projection dissipating.

Yes, your spectre had been barely walking. Yes, it had got shot in the gut and you really damn felt it. Yes, you – it, really – had been hanging on a tread, with you already at peace with the fact that once you’d snap back, you’d wake up in a hospital bed, because your body wouldn’t handle the strain. Yes, maybe you would have failed anyway, snapping back before you could do what you were supposed to. But now you’d never know, would you?

Because Steven Grant Rogers, Mr. Captain America with the ego of the size of his very moniker, couldn’t have handled you straying from his explicit order to get out earlier.

You were still shaky on your feet, barely having beaten your dizziness and having been walking the fine line of consciousness for way too long, hurting like hell the whole time, but good god, did you have the energy to fight that blonde disaster screaming you down. Especially since he was doing so in front of everyone as you remained seated on the stretcher and kept pulling at the i.v. with custom-made saline to get it from your arm and make the situation at least a bit less humiliating for you.

The audacity. The audacity it had to take for him to call you reckless and scold you for not disappearing faster despite the fact there had been another set of files that caught you eye and needed to be copied. His utter confidence that his plan was as flawless as the first kiss in the early era Taylor Swift songs; confidence that you would have got out safely and the Hydra agent would have never caught you off guard if you just listened to your Captain.

Well fuck your Captain.

You knew you were a failure. You knew that in the end, you were to blame for not getting the intel out in time before the base blown up, the flash drive lying somewhere in the corridor abandoned. Tony Stark might like to tell you that with your abilities defied the basic laws of physics, namely the law of conservation of matter and energy, but you didn’t defy them that much. You couldn’t carry things back by simply grabbing them as the spectre and snapping back to your real body; you had tried countless times, but that wasn’t how things worked, even if you wanted them to – and surely Captain Rogers did as well.

But he was the one to make you snap back. And he was able to do that, because despite the poorly masked hate he appeared to feel towards you at times, he still often made the strategic decision to be the one protecting your actual body; your paraconscious, softly levitating body, completely vulnerable to an attack. Apparently, he was the only one who could be trusted to do it after all.

Whoever called him a golden boy and actually meant it had to be an idiot.  

“You should have let me do it! I would have been able to get it to Lincoln or someone else!” you argued, hands pushing at the stretcher to stand up at last, wincing at the ghost of a sharp pain tearing at your abdomen. Never mind that, that was nothing new – Rogers’ unsolicited attack and complete lack of accountability were.

He only scoffed at your argument, crossing his arms on his stupidly wide chest. The bragger. The impossible cannot-do-wrong arse-

“Would you? You were going to pass out! I know the signs by now-”

“So what?!”

“So what?!” he echoed on full volume, throwing his arm out just as wildly as the whole tantrum. “I carried you out of there because you couldn’t walk!”

How dared he-

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned regret, lowering your voice as you finally managed to rise to your feet. “I must have been such a terrible imposition to your superstrength!”

“That’s not the problem and you know it!”

Then what was his problem, you wanted to ask, but you knew that question was futile. You knew the answer already and it was annoyingly fitting to a considerably newer Talor Swift song: it was you. You were the problem he had. And the even bigger problem was that he couldn’t have you delivered back express to Coulson, because lately it seemed this team needed someone with the ability to project more than the new SHIELD did. He was stuck with you; with your apparently incapable ass.

“Do I?!” you questioned. “Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t just walk off a massive blood loss!”

Rogers winced as you spitted out the words; good. Maybe he’d think twice before yelling at you next time when the Quinjet hadn’t even touched the ground yet and everyone could watch your failure in HD since he served it to them on a silver platter.

You winced too as you breathed in deeply and fresh claws of pain dug into your abdomen again; really not good. But not unusual, even as there was no trace of the bullet wound on your body – because it wasn’t your actual body that got hit, not really. Still, the pain remained.

Yet, that was nothing to stop you from staring at Rogers as he glared at you with hard eyes, leaning forward, jaw so damn tense you might cut yourself on the tendons if you touched it.  

“You wouldn’t have suffered-- that if you’d have just followed orders!”

“Oh really?! Get over yourself, oh Mighty Captain!”

“Get over-” he repeated as if he couldn’t comprehend you just said that, breathing in deeply to ground himself and failing spectacularly since his voice was still full of accusation. “You should have brought us intel and instead we have nothing!”

You stepped forward to get your retort across almost as quickly as you felt everything in you recoil in guilt – because Rogers was right. Of course, he was right. And you knew that. You wanted to scream and cry and throw up and take a damn nap or maybe just wake up from this fucked up dream but you couldn’t, could you?

You could barely do anything.

“Well, I’m sorry! Okay?! I couldn’t do it and I’m fucking sorry! I know I fucked up! I should have pushed through more, I know, and you have no idea how pissed I am at me! But maybe I would have been just fine, if--- you shouldn’t have stopped me!”

“I wouldn’t have to snap you back if you just did what you were supposed to do!”

You grinded your teeth. Stupid, big-headed pig-headed supersoldier, if he had had any idea-

“What were you going to say just now?” he demanded, standing even taller than before, the mask of anger and disappointment shifting towards challenge.

Fight me. Yell back. Try telling me I’m wrong, when you know I’m not.

Goddamn him. He was so damn self-assured, so overconfident it would get him killed one day and you’d be there to watch like a useless dumbass, because you couldn’t do the one thing every single agent on this team should do: have your teammates’ back.

But you couldn’t tell him that. You couldn’t.

Your shoulders sagged, exhaustion washing over you.

“Doesn’t matter,” you said, minding your volume even as most Avengers and other agents got the memo and tried to give you as much privacy as possible. Bless that useless gesture. “I told you, I’m sorry. I know I need to learn to push myself more despite the pain when the stakes are high, but it’s…” You caught a flash of a new emotion you couldn’t decipher in his eyes and you looked away, scoffing, frustration flaring up again. “Why am I even telling you, what would you know about that, huh?”

What would the perfectly mighty walk-it-off Captain know about you peasants and your struggles. Ziltch. He was perfection personified, never wrong, never weak, never-

The sharp intake of breath had you snap your gaze back – and your heart stumbled in your chest. One brief glance at him and you regretted your words instantly. For one, you were too well-aware of the fact that they were bullshit. For two, you might as well wave a red cloth in front of an already enraged bull.

Steve Rogers bristled, teeth practically bared like those of an animal; he snarled like one too, but it was the tone that had cut you. The tone said so much more than his actual words and that message was like a muleta for you for a change.

“Is that what you think? You think I don’t feel pain?!”

“Maybe you don’t feel anything at all!” you snapped, throwing your arms up, gritting your teeth and closing your fists at the sharp bite at your belly at the movement. For fuck’s sake- “It sure as hell looks like it to me, to everyone! Especially since you’re yelling at me right now! I know I fucked up but it’s not easy on me either!”

The realization that he was acting like an asshole must have been quick – he froze for but a split second – but the fact he cared little for that was even faster, his counterattack coming in hot.

“Well, allow me to correct you, agent, I do feel pain – and I don’t have the luxury to switch it off when I snap back into my real body because I only have one!”

And you laughed. The burst of sardonic laugh tasted like hysteria on your tongue, actual tears burning in your eyes.

Switch it off. Switch it off as you pleased. God, that was funny. That was hilarious. So hilarious you wanted to cry. You pretended that the palm that you lifted to your face was to muffle the laughter and not to check whether some of your tears didn’t escape.

“Ooooh, ohohohooo, you think being me is so great, don’t you? Walk a mile in my shoes, Captain, we’ll see how you’ll like it!” you spat, laughing again. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t only walk, would you? You’d fucking dance en pointe and throw in a few grands jetés en tournant just for the kicks, huh? Because you are Mr.Perfect!”

Despite your challenging words, his demeanour changed in as if you snapped your fingers and the reason for that had your chest tighten in panic.

He noticed the tears. You could tell because he blinked, eyes suddenly roaming your face, his voice falling so quiet you barely heard it all of sudden; but perhaps that was only due to the ringing in your ears, the pulsing in your temples.

“That’s not--- I didn’t mean to--“

You cared shit about what he meant or didn’t mean at the moment. He saw you weak. Again. Not only you had failed, hadn’t handled the mission physically, now you were falling apart mentally right in front of him.

He was going to bench you. Worse, he was going to send you express to Coulson despite needing someone with your abilities and he would never ask you to join the Avengers again.

Fight. Show him you have the fire. Show him you’ve got what it takes. Don’t let him think you gave up.

“Well guess what, Captain, I feel pain too and I don’t have the luxury to heal in a few seconds!”

“I don’t heal that-“ he objected lowly and that was the last drop. The last drop and you cracked.

“I KNOW, okay?! You heal faster than anyone, but you still need to heal, because you can get hurt and you can get killed!” His eyes went wide and you gulped; he heard your voice break. Fuck. “Even if you don’t act like it, because you’re the mighty Captain, after all-“ you added quickly to divert his attention.

And the distraction worked. Too bad it didn’t work for you, words still spilling since the dam had been broken.

“Would you stop calling me-“

“Not all of us can be perfect soldiers, the ultimate heroes! Not all of us can do what you do, just push through everything! We fail, we hurt and we barely survive only to disappoint people like you!” you cried out.

It was the line about disappointment, you were certain – something in his expression shifted again and this time, all fight left your body for good, something inside you breaking. The new emotion on his face almost looked like compassion and you didn’t need that. You didn’t need the demigod amongst men and women to pity you and feel for you, especially not now. Not now when you didn’t deserve it because he was right and now this? You hadn’t been fast enough and strong enough – and he might have scolded you for in front of everyone, but now it seemed as if he regretted that because he needed to be the bigger person just to be fucking more perfect and you couldn’t bear it. You never could.

There was a reason why you always jumped to defence when he showed disappointment in you.

Your voice came out as but a whisper, but you made sure it was firm one. “I failed. I disappointed you and everyone else, I know. I’m sorry. I shall accept the punishment as you see fit even if that doesn’t make up for my failure.”

Nor blind nor deaf, Steve’s demeanour changed too; his eyes were suddenly as kind as his words and that was the worst part.

“I have no doubt you tried your best, Spectre, and that’s all we can ever do. The only punishment which will come is one for not following orders.”

You couldn’t help it. You should have, since you were already in such a mess, most of it of your own making, but hearing him utter those words, him of all people. The irony. You scoffed.

And like a charm, all of his benevolence evaporated in an instant; his back straightened, head held high.

“You’ve got anything to say?”

The words prickled at your tongue but you swallowed them. No. Don’t say it.

“No, sir.” Good girl.

“Clearly, you do,” Rogers opposed, eyes dark as they watched you sharply.

Well, then. Bad girl it was.

“Do I? Fine. You’re a big fat hypocrite.”

You might have as well stuck a bar into a bee hive and poked around, aiming for the queen. Rogers went from slightly annoyed to ballistic in a split second, back in your face.  

“Excuse me?!”

“Excused. I bet you were aaaaaaall about following orders in your time, weren’t you?” you mocked him, knowing you were so on point it had to burn him – that was, if he took a moment to actually consider your words, the words of the inferior, painfully imperfect being. “Even now. Never reckless, never out of line if you feel like it’s the right thing to do. Never pushy with your superstrength, never just removing people who stand in your way, because you can and you will get away with it, because you are the saint who does no wrong, not at all-“

It was his turn to scoff, his eyes burning with bright blue flame of righteousness – and disdain.

“You think being me is so great, don’t you?” he threw back your earlier words, bitter, clearly regretting the sympathy he had found for you earlier. He crossed his arms on his chest again, shaking his head, a sardonic smile on his lips. “You have me all figured out.”

“Yes. Yes, I do. So I know you’d do the same in my place and I know that’s why you’re so angry with me. We always get mad when we’re offered a mirror, don’t we?” you pressed, mirroring his bitter smile indeed.

Something flashed in his eyes, voice dropping low. Dangerously low. “I am angry. You have no idea, Spectre.”

Good. Then you had at least something in common.

“Well, so am I. You have no authority to decide when I have enough-“

“As your captain, I actually do-” he interjected, raising his voice again and you just rolled your eyes.

You were insanely grateful for the familiar sensation of slight popping in your ears, the gentle swing of the floor under your feet. You’d be more grateful for it if you didn’t have to stifle a cry, when your body naturally attempted to balance it out and didn’t feel the burn in your abdomen, but you couldn’t always get what you wanted, could you?

Case on a damn point.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, right,” you said, looking straight into your captain’s eyes, sticking your chin out defiantly, saccharine voice of obedience dripping from your lips, heavy with sarcasm. “Well, if you, sir, have anything else to say, say it now, because we’re landing and I’m about to take a shower and sleep for a week. That is if I am allowed. Or do I need to submit an official request?”

You couldn’t tell whether he wanted to shout again or do exactly what you suggested you would do; because suddenly he, too, seemed dead tired, as if your shouting match exhausted him more than the mission or your failure. He stared at you, silent, for a few long moments – a few too many, almost enough to make you feel guilty again for calling him out on his bullshit, enough to make you consider apologizing for that.

Then he sighed. “No, you don’t, Agent. I hope you’ll rest well.”

You blinked, your heart skipping a shocked beat. His voice was surprisingly soft and sincere, his gaze roaming over you head to toe, seemingly concerned.

Did you just break him? Kindness was far from uncommon in him – once you’d calm down, you’d be more inclined to believe that again, you knew as much – but the sudden change genuinely startled you.

“Uhm… thanks,” you muttered, too taken aback to talk back as you walked backwards. He truly looked worn down to a bone, his brain no doubt racing, already figuring out how to fix the mess you had left behind. He looked like he needed a goddamn nap himself. Except you didn’t think he’d take it; that was part of his problem.

Hypocrite.

You swallowed the you too and simply nodded sharply before you walked away, emotions swirling wildly; and at the centre of them all, remorse and puzzlement, wrapped in a familiar sensation of agony.

Winter Soldier was a moniker Steve Rogers loathed; but the reputation which came with that name was not unearned.

When Bucky appeared behind his shoulder out of nowhere, no sound having been made, Steve nearly jumped out of his skin; and it was a true testament to how upset he was that he hadn’t heard Bucky sneak up on him despite his slightly enhanced senses.

“Well, that went spectacularly,” Bucky hummed, instantly making Steve groan internally.

He did not want to deal with this – he wanted to forget about this whole ordeal. The fact itself that Bucky was cheery about a sleeper Hydra cell simply because he had an opportunity to tease him about what had just gone down only added to his annoyance.

He was tired. He was mad. He was confused. He was disappointed – both in you and himself. He was… frustrated. So frustrated; then again, those emotions and the last one in general were no news in your presence, much like many others, but those in particular he wanted to ponder over even less.

“Bucky, don’t,” he warned his friend lowly, glancing at him from the corner of his eye as they made a slow way out of the jet.

It was a waste of words, really: Steve didn’t know what he was thinking, believing the warning would actually discourage Bucky from speaking.

“You know, maybe if you told her that the main reason why you’re so pissed-“

“Buck-“

“- is the fact that she’s challenging your authority which makes you question yourself, and that you’re terrified every time she gets hurt or loses consciousness, be it her projection or, god forbid, her real body, because you care juuuust a little too much for her, then maybe… “

Steve loved his best friend; but if looks could kill, the one he shot him at the verbalized implications, however truthful, could have murdered him on spot.

“Just saying,” Bucky said, shrugging as he kept up with Steve’s sudden strut, a grin audible in his voice. “Communication is key.”

“You need to stop hanging out with Sam,” Steve grumbled. “And I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Bucky snorted, causing Steve’s head to whip in his direction in annoyance. Didn’t Bucky have a lady to tend to? Why did he have to stick around and poke around Steve’s already exhausted brain and feed the already messy whirlwind of emotion? Oh right. Bucky would say it was payback for all the years Bucky spent saving Steve’s puny ass from the back alleys.

“Right. Just like you had no idea what she was talking about when she called you a hypocrite, because you wouldn’t do the same, try to deliver all the files you could even if it meant you’d bleed the heck out, right? Your real body, that is, because you only have one…”

Goddamnit Bucky.

“Bucky, that’s enough.”

“Nope,” his friend quipped, smiling charmingly at the group of agents they passed in the hallway and briefly, Steve imagined what they had to look like; a brooding Captain practically running away from the sunshine-like Winter Soldier. Clint would call them comedy gold; and Steve didn’t give a damn. Today had been a clusterfuck of disasters with you and him in the centre of it.

“It’s enough when I say it’s enough,” Bucky said matter-of-factly. Steve just shot him another glare as they rounded the corner, the corridor now blissfully empty. And sadly, endless with nowhere to hide. “Too bad, punk. You might be the Captain, but you’re still my friend. I’ll be bothering your reckless ass and call you out till the end of the line. And I’m telling you – you two need to get your shit together and make up. And maybe you should finally tell her you’d like to make out. But if I were you, I’d start with that apology.”

Steve stopped so abruptly Bucky nearly collided with him. The flare or anger – because goddammit was Bucky right in certain things and it was truly bothersome to hear those – licked at his gut. As he turned to give his most loyal and precious friend a piece of his mind in return, he found him with a knowing smirk on his face. Why were they friends again?

“Really? An apology?” Steve questioned, the idea absurd even as guilt had already joined the party a while ago. “For what exactly? She should have--- one of those days, she’s gonna-” Steve swallowed against the lump in his throat. He did not like the way the sentence could end. How you could end. But he’d scream at you again before he’d admit that; you brought out that side of him for some reason. You brought out a lot of things, most of them unpleasant. Most of them. “She should have followed orders.”

Bucky’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline – which wasn’t too high given how much he’d let his hair grow, but it still served the purpose of irritating Steve.

“Sure she should. And if you have always followed orders, I’d be dead.”

Steve winced as if he got punched in the gut, all flames of anger put out at once. Bucky just shrugged, unbothered by his hypothetical death.

“That’s a fact, punk. And here’s another: your mother would have boxed your ears for treating a lady the way you just did.”

And this isn’t you, Steve heard the unspoken words and with those he couldn’t argue.

The truth was, Steve didn’t recognize himself around you. He hadn’t more than once but it had never got as intense as it had just now. He felt almost possessed, an astral projection of his own, except he couldn’t control it as it raised its voice like that, in front of the whole team no less. And the worst thing was, it wasn’t a projection; the blame was entirely on him as he failed to contain the onslaught of emotion so sharp and large that he just let it all out. Almost all of it.

The one urge he tried to contain was the one to just slam you to a wall and scream the whole truth before he’d vent his frustration with you in a completely different way, with nips of teeth on that lower lip of yours, always pouting a bit when you got into one of your not so frequent but not so rare arguments, having you scream his name in ecstasy instead of defiance, a breathy whine of Mighty Captain without the snark. He was sure that would have raised a few eyebrows, but hopefully the room would clear in three seconds flat after your back would have hit the wall.

In all honesty, the whole scene had been surreal as it was; Steve had had trouble recognizing you as well. You had disagreed with him a few times, yes, you challenged his authority and questioned his decisions, yes; he had a pretty strong feeling that he was most definitely not your favourite person and more often than not, he didn’t quite understand you – but you had never so blatantly disobeyed an order. You had never endangered a mission or your teammates, never played this much of a Russian roulette, even if one might call you an overachiever which sometimes came with a bit of recklessness by default.

It was true that you could be unpredictable at times; one day you followed instructions to a tee, dutiful, meticulous even; another day, you stood firmly in opposition. One day you dotted on others in almost an overbearing quality, another day it was like you evaporated from the face of Earth, completely absent. But what came over you today, Steve had had no idea – you had been not only reckless, but to a great point, careless. Steve’s mind was blown, but not in the good sense.

That said, he was not pleased with himself either, particularly with the fact was that he had acted impulsively during the mission too. You were definitely right to call him out on it; but that didn’t mean he liked it.

He glanced at Bucky, who was watching him with one corner of his lips still raised knowingly, only fuelling Steve’s ire. Despite all that, Steve knew Bucky was right. And unlike when he was in your presence, he didn’t feel the need to deny that completely.

Sarah Rogers, god rest her precious soul, would have been profoundly disappointed in his behaviour and she would have let him hear it too, despite the infinite kindness and forgiveness she had carried in her heart.

“I know,” Steve sighed. “I shouldn’t have--- she’s just so- I-“

“I know, punk,” Bucky said forgivingly. “I know. That girl has some serious fire in her and she’s not the easiest to deal with, even if she means well, no doubt. Who does that only remind me of…?”

Steve glared at him, unimpressed – he was aware, thank you very much. Not only opposites attracted. Though he was quite certain this attraction was one-sided; and completely insane.

Bucky just grinned and patted Steve’s shoulder.

“Take a nap, Steve. We all deserve one, even if things didn’t go as planned. We’ll get them next time – as a team. Share some of that burden you strap to your shoulders every time to strap on that shield, would you? It can do wonders, believe me.”

“You really do need to stop hanging out with Sam and spend more time with Nat,” Steve uttered, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Shut up, punk, you love me mental health conscious.”

A full grin attacked Steve’s lips now, troubles forgotten momentarily, unlike the fact why Bucky Barnes was his best friend.

“Jury’s out, jerk” 

Even as you felt the fire of rage slowly dying, you tried to feed it; because it kept you on your feet. You had not in fact went to lie down, even as you felt those feet dragging more than walking to Natasha Romanoff’ office. She didn’t spend too much time in it, always having better things to do than paperwork, but you knew she’d want her report to be done as fast as possible to move on exactly to those more important things.

And you knew that as long as she was there, her office was conveniently the best place to talk, the camera system disabled.

“Well, hello,” the redhead hummed as she had Jarvis let you storm in, breathless for more than one reason.

Your abdomen was throbbing, but you didn’t have time for that. It wasn’t like you were going to bleed out from a non-existent wound.

“We need to go back there and fix it.”

The infamous Black Widow only raised her eyebrow at your dishevelled state and frantic words, leaning back into her chair. You admitted you had to be a sight to the devil himself since you probably looked like hell, but you rarely let that stop you.

“Water under bridge, Spectre. The base is blown so there’s nothing to go back to and the rest of them will go deep under-“

You shook your head, stalking to her desk, leaning onto your hands, fingers spasming at the bite of pain. Bad idea. And bad phrasing.

“No, Natasha, we—” She scanned you head to toe, her other eyebrow arching as well as you had boldly invaded her space, practically asking to be removed. Violently. You didn’t have the energy to lean back, not right away. You weren’t friends, so you had no right to be so close, but she’d get over it, you were sure. The worst thing to happen would be her breaking off your wrist or something. “What I mean is that we have to act now and get those files. All of them.”

Her gaze zeroed on your face, unnervingly searching and seeing, head tilting to side in genuine curiosity.

“What exactly was in those files that it made you hesitate? You rarely ignore orders,” she stated matter-of-factly, causing you to retreat and step back. Oh. Crap. Black Widow in offensive. She walked around the desk, leaning her weight onto it, crossing her arms over her chest. “What did you see, Spectre?”

You gulped; there was no way around it, even as panic made your breathing even harder. There were so many things wrong with what you were about to say and you had no capacity to analyse why you felt the way you felt about it, let alone why you felt even worse about the fact you were the reason why you hadn’t got the intel to others.

“Steve’s initials.”

Even as her brows had smoothened, they arched again now, eyes growing wide. You swallowed against the lump in your throat.

“I tried to copy it and just opened it for a bit, too immersed to notice the unfriendly. Naturally, I got the bullet for my trouble before I neutralized him, but that’s beside the point,” you said, not missing the corner of her lips twitching. “They were… Natasha, they weren’t just some photos or whatever. Those were… they were inventing some shit. It was physics, chemistry, half of the things I didn’t understand, but I don’t think they were replicating the serum – I think they were trying to neutralize it, neutralize Steve specifically.”

And there was no way I was going to leave that there, was left unspoken, but she heard it. Of course she did; this was Natasha Romanoff you were talking to. She didn’t need you two to be friends to read between the lines of what you were saying.

“I see,” she said slowly, the damn intensity of her gaze not relenting. “And you didn’t tell Steve that when he was yelling you down, because…?”

“It was irrelevant.”

“Bullshit.”

“He wouldn’t believe me.”

She scoffed, glaring you down. “That’s bullshit too and you know it.”

Okay, that was fair. But believing was a lot different from taking action. His damn pride would have still had him snapping you back to your real body even if you had yelled at him through the comms what kind of intel you had been carrying on the drive before he messed it up for you – and him. What the heck had he been thinking, breaking your concentration like that? The utter confusion at his actions – because surely it couldn’t have been he had been so angry with you to endanger the mission – only made the matter of your fight worse.

Natasha was right, however – that was just water under bridge. You sure as hell weren’t about to go ask him what possessed him to be more insufferable than normal and you could hardly fly to the pile of debris you had left behind when the place blew up to search for scraps of hard drives.

“Fine. I didn’t think he’d take it seriously,” you admitted at last.

“Now we’re talking,” Natasha said, nodding, a small smirk appearing on her lips, making you frown.

She sure was taking it in stride all of sudden, almost as if--- was she amused? You hoped that was only a mask and in her sharp mind, she was already building a battleplan. She had to. She was one of Steve’s closest friends, real friends, you knew as much. Sometimes her nonchalance truly irritated you. Would it kill her to show more emotion?

Hypocrite.

“But that’s not enough,” she added. “Steve, bless his heart, can be an ass, but not a complete idiot. Any other particular reason why you’d keep it from him?”

Your face was a mask of neutrality. Or you hoped so.

“Nope.”

Natasha watched you sceptically and you swallowed against the lump in your throat.

Naturally, there was a plethora of reasons and on top of them sat the fact that he’d know. He’d know how much you cared. He probably figured out anyway and maybe he wasn’t one to make fun of you for that – scratch that, he definitely wasn’t, he was too much of a good guy for that – but that meant nothing. Caring for people was dangerous; caring for people when you failed meant they’d be taken away. Having people to care for – good people – was a privilege, a reward, one that could easily be confiscated unless you reached perfection.

And yes. You knew Steve Rogers was a good guy, even when he decided to yell at you in front of everyone and challenged you and made you want to smash him against the wall and bite into his stupid plump lower lip and then cuddle him and tell him he didn’t have to be so strong and that people cared about his safety too. Of course you knew he felt pain, but he just never showed it, and it was just so damn irritating, because you needed him to be only human too, so you wouldn’t feel so pathetic despite your powers, so you’d feel a little more worthy. You were well-aware that your way of thinking wasn’t healthy, especially since Steve was a person you could never and should never compare yourself to because that standard was just impossibly high, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t try to meet it. That didn’t mean your family hadn’t set the standards just as high. Perfection was not an unreachable standard, even as it always seemed to be out of reach for you.

However, knowing that precisely that was one of the main reasons why you admired Steve as much as you wanted to punch him to his perfect teeth didn’t help you coexist with him or stopped you from acting like a five-year-old in his vicinity.

On top of that, you were fully aware of how disappointed he would be in you for failing in one particular task which you were sure he considered the most important one: to have your teammates’ six. And you wouldn’t handle that; you were selfish even to that point. To have Captain Rogers learn you hadn’t been strong and fast enough to retrieve data which increased the chance of keeping a key member of your team safe and watch his reaction up close would break your damn barely patched up heart.

Natasha continued to watch you as you zoned out, her smirk growing. “Right. No other reason at all then.”

Oh, she knew about it all, alright. You had no doubt. She might not show much emotion, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t mastered reading other people’s tells. If you had any emotional capacity left, you’d be ashamed at how your face burned under her watchful gaze.

“Will you please tell the others about the files?” you asked instead, causing her to tilt her head to side a fraction again.

“I will, but why should I? Why, when you can be the one to do it? If nothing else, you should tell Steve,” she said, almost motherly you supposed – not that you’d know. “Those were files about him – he deserves the truth and to hear it from you. I’m sure he’d be less angry with you too.”

Somehow, her last suggestion was even more terrifying than Steve Rogers being all in your face and snarling. You attempted a smile, masking the anxiety curling in your gut by exhaustion.

“Maybe. I just… it might be childish, but I don’t… I don’t have the energy for that now. Tell me what else I can do and I will, but not that.”

She watched you silently for several long moments, a small smile curling up her lips – almost a compassionate one. What was it with people and their damn compassion today? You had fucked up. Why was Steve the only one to acknowledge that and why was he relatively nice about it in the end, just like Natasha now? Frankly, as much as you preferred not being completely on Black Widow’s bad side, earning her pity was exponentially worse.

“You know, most things are not going to go away just because you pretend that they don’t exist. Least of all feelings.”

It’s been working out pretty well for you, you wanted to throw back, but Bucky Barnes, the love and the lover who was one of the few people who could slip under the hard shell of Natasha Romanoff, would probably argue with you that it worked for her the best when she did let someone in. But unlike you, Natasha Romanoff did not make mistakes and was an epitome of perfection herself so she could afford that. Natasha Romanoff was terrifying; you’d like to watch someone try to mess with her.

You, on the other hand, were no Black Widow. You could and even had to keep pretending in order to exist.

“Just watch me.”

She sighed, letting her hands fall to her sides. “Go to bed, Spectre. I know you still feel that gunshot wound.”

You froze.

Your heart skipped a beat – several beats, you were sure – because your chest suddenly hurt, panic clawing up your throat anew.

She knew. She knew.

How did she--- how? You always fought so hard to hide it, as much as of a pain that was; horrible pun included.

Yes, you sure as hell still felt the gunshot wound. With every move. With every breath. Every time you had strained your muscles to yell back at Steve.

The pain of whatever injury your spectre sustained alwayslingered. Ironically, it was only thing you actually were able to carry when you snapped back. It stayed with you for a while; not the whole time that it would take for the wound to heal, but it still took days sometimes, days of pain whose intensity slowly faded away. An invisible aching wound – like a pain in a phantom limb. There was no evidence of an injury in your body, but your brain still registered it. No therapeutic approach had worked when you finally accepted that despite what you had been taught, this wasn’t normal; only for having to accept that with no solution in sight, it actually was normal. Then again, what was normal when you only had one sample to examine?

“You mostly hide it well, don’t worry,” Natasha’s voice snapped you from your dark thoughts, uncharacteristically soft. “Your secret is safe with me. But that doesn’t mean it should.”

“It definitely should,” you said in at instant, eyes hard despite the tell-tale burn of tears you felt. If anyone knew – anyone else, that was, apparently – you’d be done. Benched forever.

I do feel pain and I don’t have the luxury to switch it off when I snap back into my real body, Steve had thrown at you. If he hadn’t noticed, you were good; you had indeed hid it well enough and that was all that mattered; despite bickering and yelling, he was still willing to work with you. But that would change very quickly; and he had the authority to kick you out of this team and this business completely.

Sure, Natasha had the power to bench you and even fire you as well, but judging by the way she was looking at you now, no matter how disapprovingly and somewhat proud at once, she wouldn’t. It would be okay – as long as she’d keep her mouth shut about it just as Andy had. Andrew Garner, the only person who had known your painful secret and encouraged you to engage with various therapy approaches to rid you off your burden. He had taken the secret to the grave, never having told nor Coulson, nor the rest of his team.

The one person who had known about this was dead; and if that wasn’t a clear enough message that no one else was supposed be trusted with this, you didn’t know what else would.

“It should,” you repeated, inhaling and instantly regretting it. You swallowed as Natasha didn’t miss the tiny hitch in your breath. Dammit you needed to get better at hiding it. And you would. “Please. Tell me what else I can do.”

Perhaps it was your true superpower to make people sigh, not to project into another room, because the redhead observed you for another long moment before sighing again.

“I meant it, Spectre – go to bed. After I’ll tell the others, we might need you. Rested. With as much as you can give.”

One corner of your lips rose in a tired defiant smirk. “I can give everything.”

The look Natasha gave you before you spun on your heels told you that precisely that was both the blessing and the problem. But you didn’t need to be told more than twice to go to bed.

As you walked out, trying your hardest to walk completely straight and not hunch over even a bit, you heard Natasha’s completely exhausted sigh.

Next chapter

Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist

Alright folks, life's been quite busy so this was born through sweat and tears and I don't think it will get better any time soon, but hopefully the result will be worth it 🥰

There are and will be a few distant references to Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. I think you should be fine whout having watched the show.

Thank you for reading 🥰 As always, if you have he time and energy, I'd greatly appreciate your reblogs and feedback, be it even a key smash or yelling at me should the need arise 🤭