#s.h.i.e.l.d. agent reader

[limerence4u]

gabriel luna is so boyfriend coded <3

[wholelottawidows]

MARIA COME HOME THE KIDS MISS YOU

[soft-mafia]

I need a scientific explanation as to how Jeff Ward’s eyes are so captivating bc omg

[fandomnerd9602]

Daisy adjusts her pants…

Daisy: we should do this again sometime

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

Daisy; (blushes) you’re terrible

A baby’s cry is heard…

Daisy: little Phil needs us!

Y/N: super parents go!!!

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

[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

[biggestsimponhere]

I’m in love with this man too, and he needs to be talked about more, so get on it.

[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

[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

[marie-swriting]

Your gallery if you're dating...

Daisy Johnson

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

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[unholyhelbig]

Around season 4: Skye/Daisy Johnson. Reader is a Winter Soldier like Bucky and has been part of the team since the beginning. Reader’s has always been there for the team especially Daisy, and has a huge crush on her, painfully watching on as she goes out with different people. Now the Reader needs help but doesn’t want it, what will Daisy and the team do?

Title: No Control (Daisy Johnson x Female!Reader)

Words: 2452

Trigger Warnings: Blood, mind control, manipulation, night terrors, talks of death, horrible grammar (Let me know if I should add more)

[A/n: Okay, I may have deviated from the prompt just a little bit, but in my defense, this is technically my first time writing Reader/Daisy Johnson so I had to feel it out a little!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The rope dug into your skin like a nasty row of teeth, biting at the skin, drawing a flourishing flash of bright blood. The image made you pull harder in a vicious tug of strength. Your jaw ached, tasted thick of metal. If you could just get out of this stupid chair, this horrible cell. It was much too small for your liking.

Quake, Daisy as you knew her, watched you with a lifted eyebrow. Her fingers were curled around the iPad that connected her to the controls of your containment. She grimaced, a wetness building in her stare.

When your struggle against the ropes had proved fruitless, you glanced up at her through wild, unkept hair, chest heaving. “What did you do to me? Why can’t I get out of this? Let me out of this!”

It felt like you were underwater, your chest heavy with discontent, even when you went slack in your binds. The first inkling that something was wrong had been swallowed down, the nightmares that ripped through your subconscious and pulled you from sleep.

For weeks, you’d wake up drenched in your own sweat as you tried to draw any type of air into your lungs. It often ended with you sitting, exhausted and scared, in the kitchen of the compound. First, you’d drink a cup of tea, then you’d pace and drink another, before finally succumbing to exhaustion on the common room sofa.

Agent May had found you the first night, just before dawn. She didn’t’ poke or prod, instead, she gently woke you and wordlessly gestured back towards your bunk. Other agents would be walking in and out, scourging for breakfast and their own fix of caffeine.

Those dreams- those nightmares- would soon leak into your everyday routine. As you sparred with Bobbie, you’d thrown a particularly deadly right hook. It was the color of her eyes, the seafoam dusty grey that you’d always found so endearing flashed and ripped into his gaze.

You’d drawn blood and stumbled back on the blue mat. Other recruits gaped at the two of you, floating by the edge of the training room. Bobbi pulled her fingers from the laceration on her cheek, already forming a bruise.

“I’m sorry,” came your whispered response. You grabbed your bag from the nearby bench, louder this time “really, I’m sorry.”

Bobbi called after you as you pushed open the doors of the training room and shoved through agents until you made it to the safety of your room. Except, it didn’t’ feel much like safety anymore. Your fingers were shaking, and your knuckles had a smear of dried brown blood, Bobbi’s blood, against them.

It had been years, nearly a decade, since you’d first been approached by Phil Coulson with his grandiose idea of forming a team to take down hero-level threats within SHIELD, because after all, everyone needs a backup plan. And while you’d been hesitant at first, that single decision in a Montanna bar changed the course of your life. Changed your isolation tactics, the person you had once been.

SHIELD was your family. They’d slowly ebbed away the distant memories of what had created you in the first place: the brainwashing, the torture, the misguided loyalty was all on the backburner. You’d forgotten just how cold it was.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong.

Without warning, the icy hand of your captor was closing around your throat once more, but this time, you were surrounded with people who you cared for. The thought of hurting them had you hunched over the bathroom in your room, retching whatever mint-tea concoction you’d swallowed down hours before.

At one point, you blacked out, and when you came to, when you finally pulled yourself from the scent of bile and blood and regret, you were here. They’d moved you to a containment unit and restrained you with ropes that did no favor to your already aching body.

Your fingers were still coated in blood, too much to be from your outburst in the gym. And while you still panicked, while you were still choked with fear, there was a calmness about the situation. If you were in here, you weren’t out there. With them.

“Whose blood is this?” you asked.

“Hard to say,” Daisy replied. “You did quite the number. It’s hard for agents to fight off a super soldier, you know?”

Your jaw began to ache as you pressed your teeth together, peering at her through strands of sweat-caked hair. The rope wouldn’t hold you for long, but the containment unit would. There was an electric buzz from the forcefield strong enough to hold back ten-thousand super soldiers.

Daisy had a tepid stare trained on you that made you squirm. You tested your strength against your binds, pressing and pressing until the frayed edges drew blood, dripped down the tips of your fingers until the floor was puddled with it.

A laugh bubbled up in your throat. You lolled your head, trying to loosen up your shoulders. Everything was weak and fuzzy and above all else, you felt the hiss of someone’s voice in the back of your mind. Eyes seeing through your eyes, hands gripping past your own.

There was a poison to Daisy’s voice “You just leveled a room full of twenty-five agents and you’re laughing?”

She’d clicked off the iPad, set it aside. Daisy stood and crossed her well-toned arms over her chest. God, even in your disillusioned state, you were acutely aware of your feelings for her. They’d been festering under the surface for a better part of the last three years.

“No, no… I just…”

With an extra tug, the mass of rope fell to the ground in a heap of ties and caked blood. You couldn’t distinguish your own from those of the agents that you be felled. Your fingers worked at the lacerations.

“You’ve got a very motherly tone right now. I mean, you’re scolding me, actually scolding me!”

“What do you expect me to do, y/n? What I witnessed in there was one of the scariest, most startling things I have ever seen and you expect me not to scold you? What the fuck is going on?”

Her voice cracked during the last sentence and your heart tugged at the sound. You’d heard it before as she sunk to the floor years ago when Lincon had perished, and when she’d succumbed to the fear of her own powers growing out of control.

The part of you that was still you didn’t want to cause that pain, and most certainly didn’t want the fear to take over. You stood, approaching the barrier. It was the only thing between you both, and it was highly charged.

You’d been tempted to touch it, to place your hand against the electricity save for the pain. Instead, you started pacing back and forth, the length of your makeshift cell. “This is where we held Agent Ward, isn’t it?”

She didn’t’ answer, instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat as you examined the metal frame bed and the cameras that were situated around each corner of the cell. Part of you swelled with pride, being confined in the same spot the biggest threat to the team had been in. You quickly drowned the thought, shaking your head.

 “Does it bother you? Watching two people you love fall down the same path?” The words had slipped past your lips before you could quell them. Instead, you tutted “You’re well on your way to a pattern, young lady. One more good-looking sociopath and you’ll collect all three.”

“Don’t,” Daisy snarled “You need to tell me what’s wrong. This isn’t you.”

You stopped pacing, lilting your head to the side as you stared at her. She was itching to leave, and you wanted her to. It would make all of this easier. Your entire body itched too, wanted to give in to the full control. It wasn’t something you were willing to do in front of Daisy.

“Do you know how much control I have to practice on a daily basis, Zee? Just a little more strength than usual and I rip a cabinet door off. I shatter a mug. I punch a co-worker in the face. It’s a constant push between what’s right to do and what I was designed to do.”

“So what? You decided you’re done watching your strength? That doesn’t warrant an attempt at massacre.”

“You don’t get it!” You punched the barrier, reveling in the feel of electricity that moved through your fingertips, your arm and elbow until it dissipated altogether. She flinched but didn’t step back. “When Hydra… why Hydra trained me it was all I knew. I would wake up, follow orders, and be put back to sleep before I could even register what I had done. Who I had killed, what I destroyed.”

This was something you had refused to talk about. Coulson knew the gist of your containment, of your de-programming because that was all listed in your SHIELD file. But the true horrors of your ordeal were a mystery to the entire team. It was behind you. He was behind you.

“A SHEILD team raided one of Hydras bases and I was there. I was willing to go without a fight and Hydra was willing to leave me there to absolve for their sins.” You chuckled at that, shaking your head “There was months of imprisonment, of interrogation and then deprogramming. And finally, finally after years of trying to prove myself to Director Fury, and Agent Hill, they cleared me for duty. Cleared me to join Coulson’s team.”

You let yourself plop down onto the metal chair, suddenly too exhausted to remember why you were fighting so hard in the first place. Daisy clenched and unclenched her jaw. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Two years of deprogramming doesn’t make up for a lifetime of torture, of molding me into the perfect killing machine.” You swallowed hard “I played my part, I ignored the feeling of being watched, the dark thoughts that tried to break through into my new, good, life. I fought every single day to make sure all of you were safe and unharmed and… suddenly, suddenly the people who were controlling me got stronger.”

Daisy shifted, uncrossing her arms “You’re saying you’re still under Hydra’s control?”

“I’m saying I wasn’t strong enough to fight off their hold on me. A few months ago I started blacking out and the nightmares, they got worse. But everyone was finally settled, finally happy. We were happy”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Daisy’s voice waivered “Y/n, one of the perks of having a girlfriend is being able to talk to them, to tell them things. You should have come to me.”

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I thought I could handle it. I thought I could keep things under control.”

Daisy let out a long sigh and lowered herself back into her own chair. Her elbows resting on her knees. She bounced her leg, staring at you with those deep brown eyes that you could drown in. Somehow, her being there, was enough if only for a moment.

“I have to tell Coulson.”

“I know,” you said.

“He’ll know what to do. We’ll get through this, y/n.” Her words were whispered, eyes glassy with emotion. “I love you. We all do. This is just another challenge, okay? We’re here to help.”

“I admire your perseverance, Daisy, but the hold hydra has on me. It’s bigger than me, it’s bigger than us.”

She swallowed thickly “You don’t mean that.”

But you did, didn’t you? Your skin felt like it was on fire and you wanted nothing more than to peel it off strip by strip until there was a new layer glinting under the industrial lights. Anything to stop the uncomfortable feeling of not being in your own body. You’d gotten to complicit under the watchful eye of SHIELD. Hydra didn’t like that, and at this point, neither did you.

It had been so easy, so simple to rip through those agents as they aimed red dots at your center. You didn’t care if they fired their weapons, you hadn’t a care in the world and it was freeing.

It was hard to wager that with the sad look your girlfriend was giving you now. Her fingers were tapping against her knees, hardly a perfect interrogation technique. It was hard not to crave her touch, her mouth hot on yours. Even if you did give yourself up to Hydra entirely, there would always be Daisy.

You lilted your head, narrowing your eyes at her. She’d be just as easy to break; just a little bit of homegrown brainwashing and she’d be by your side again. Both of you dripping in blood. A power like hers, resting under her fingertips, would be invaluable.

Standing, you gently touched the barrier separating you both. There was a subtle electronic buzz that moved through your fingertips and up to your elbow. It was warming, a constant comfort, almost. “Darling, we could make all of this go away. Just the two of us.”

She lifted her hazel stare from the tablet in front of her, reading your vitals like an open book. They were steady, you were sure of it. There was curiosity in her stare.

“Do you remember the house in Vermont we talked about?” You dragged your fingers against the barrier, a blue trail following fast. “The two of us can forget all of this, forget SHIELD and Hydra. We can go there, start a family. Isn’t that what you want?”

You could read it in her expression, it was exactly what she wanted. But Daisy Johnson was no fool. Despite your terse begging and manipulative tactics, she remained calm. One knee was balanced on the edge of the chair, the other foot planted firmly on the floor.

“Rae’s Restaurant… the floorplan that we drew out on the back of a placemat. Two stories, a nursery, and office. A massive backyard. I remember it well.” Daisy stood again, facing off against you with nothing but an electrical panel holding you back. “This isn’t the you I imagined it with. Where is the kindness? The selfless woman that I fell in love with?”

You gritted your teeth. “Gone. Nothing but a fabrication, baby. I’m just offering you one last chance to join me. I have no reservations about destroying you right along with this entire organization.”

Daisy swallowed hard, trying to quell the lump in her throat. She refused to let herself cry. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I do love a challenge.”   

[captainsophiestark]

Ragtag

Grant Ward x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Marvel

Day 1 Prompt: "It's not too late, let's go."

Summary: The scene with FitzSimmons and Garrett on the Bus at the end of Season 1 if, instead of FitzSimmons, Grant had found and captured his long-time best friend, partner, and girlfriend.

Word Count: 4,158

Category: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of abuse. No depictions of it, but the mention/realization that a character has been abused in the past, while staring at/standing in the same hallway as the abuser.

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

This had to be a nightmare.

With each step I took, one foot in front of the other, I willed myself to wake up, to realize everything had just been a bad dream. And with each step, I was forced closer to the realization that my situation was heartbreakingly, terrifyingly real.

The past week, I'd had a line of similar thoughts, hoping and praying that the fall of SHIELD and the betrayal of my best friend and boyfriend, Grant Ward, had been some insane fever dream. That I'd wake up in the med pod on the Bus, the team happy to see me awake, and that I'd realize everything had been some horrible concoction of my imagination instead. But just like now, I'd been forced to come to terms with the fact that I was wide awake.

First, I thought the nightmare was Hydra's infiltration. Then it became Garrett, Grant's mentor and basically surrogate father, being a traitor. Then it was discovering Grant was a traitor. Now, it had reached a whole new level, as Grant frog-marched me toward the Bus that he and Garrett had taken over, my hands tied behind my back and his gun forcing me to keep moving forward.

"Grant... what are you doing?" I breathed, trying to keep the tears out of my voice as we neared the ramp of the plane. Garrett had taken things over in the name of Hydra, and he clearly had some hold over my boyfriend. Every step towards that ramp lowered my odds of making it through this.

"We can't have SHIELD following us, that's all," he said. He kept his voice level, trying to convince me he was being reasonable, like I'd heard him do with our enemies on missions countless times before. I shook my head.

"You are SHIELD, Grant," I said. "Please, please remember that."

His grip tightened slightly on my forearm as he led me to the base of the ramp, a comforting squeeze more than anything threatening. A week ago, it would've put me at ease.

"I'm not the man you think I am," he muttered. I sighed heavily through my nose, a little bit of irritation finally flaring up.

"I know you better than anybody else on earth, apparently including you," I huffed. Grant didn't respond.

As soon as we entered the garage bay, where Lola used to sit, Grant and I were flanked by three other agents, who followed us up the stairs. Grant moved ahead, leading me through the physically wrecked and shattered hallways of the plane we'd spent a few, blissful months calling home, and my heart squeezed tight in my chest. How had everything gone so wrong?

"Here she is, sir," he said, and a second later I saw John Garrett's stupid, shitty face staring back at me. I narrowed my eyes and scowled, unable to contain my hate and anger enough to keep a neutral expression.

"What's the matter?" he asked, his tone light and teasing in a way that made my blood boil. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Maybe I've just got nothing to say to you," I replied. He had the nerve to laugh.

"Well, that's fine then. I don't know that I have much to say to you either, especially now that you're here. Thanks to Ward, you won't be much of a problem for me anymore."

Over Garrett's shoulder, I saw Grant's expression flicker and shutter. Like a kicked dog, caught between someone he loved and someone who scared him. An anger I'd only ever felt when our enemies threatened Grant welled up in my chest.

In my entire, almost fifteen-year career at SHIELD, I had managed to get through it without killing anyone. Ever. Even before I had the Icer to knock enemies out instead of shooting them the old-fashioned way, I'd made a point of using non-lethal force. It mattered to me; it felt important to find a way to do my job without killing people in the process.

Grant had never had the same reservations. It didn't bother me, and although we'd talked about it once or twice, I'd never expected him to take up my same system when we'd been partnered on missions, when we'd become good friends, or when we'd started dating. Time and again, he'd gone to the mat for me, tearing apart anyone that existed as a threat to me with a force I'd never have imagined using.

For the first time in our lives, in our decade and a half of friendship, the tables had turned.

Thanks to the rest of Coulson's team, I knew John Garrett had significant organ failure. A Cybertek device in his chest was the only thing still keeping him alive. He'd abused Grant for longer than I'd known him, and for the first time, I could see clearly how it affected Grant, in real time. For both our sakes, I couldn't let this go on any longer. I didn't know if it would kill him, and I still hoped it wouldn't, but for the first time I didn't care enough to make sure it wouldn't. I needed to get away from Garrett, and more importantly, I needed to get Grant away from Garrett. Even if it was for just a few minutes.

The Bus's engines whirled outside, and I felt us lift off the ground. An added complication, for sure, but not enough to change the plan I'd just formed in my head. I took a deep breath in and out, steadying my heartbeat and readying myself for the action ahead, like Grant had taught me years and years ago. Then, I jumped as high as I could, bringing my handcuffed hands under my feet and around to the front of my body as I did. Before anybody could register my movement, I darted forward and struck Garrett in the chest as hard as I could, putting all my weight and momentum behind both of my hands.

Garrett went down like a sack of bricks. He doubled over, gripping his middle as he groaned. I brought my knee up and hit him again before anybody could stop me, and then I took off running through the familiar passages of the jet that I used to call home.

"Garrett!" I heard Grant cry, distress in his voice that sent a pang running through my chest. I ducked around a corner at the sound of thundering footsteps behind me, and soon the agents that'd followed Grant and I from the minute we set foot on the Bus came rushing into the small common area in front of all our bunks, one room over from Garrett and Grant.

I heard shouting from the other room, and Grant's voice faded as he told Garrett to wait just a second. I tried to keep a piece of my attention focused on that while I engaged the three agents who'd decided to chase me. Even with my hands tied, they weren't much of a match for me.

I wrapped my arms around the neck of the one who'd come in last, using him as a human shield against his friends as I held him in the sleeper hold.

One by one, I worked through my three assailants, until they were each unconscious on the ground. As soon as the last one was down, I paused to tune back in to the goings-on in the other room, and heard Grant's voice as he assured Garrett that he would live. Apparently Cybertek was preparing to treat him in Miami.

I made the quick decision that I had enough time to make sure these three wouldn't continue to be a problem, so I dragged them into my old bunk (right next to Grant's) and then wedged a loose piece of the dining table's structure into the door so it couldn't open again. It likely wouldn't hold them for very long, but it was better than nothing. I took a few extra seconds to wrestle out of my handcuffs, my mind working as I did.

With Garrett and his three goons incapacitated, I had decent hope of getting Grant alone. I heard Raina, an inhuman we'd been struggling with, promising to stay in the room with Garrett and keep him safe. And then, I heard Garrett's voice hissing at Grant, barely above an ugly whisper.

"I need you to put her down."

I straightened, hands on my hips as my handcuffs finally dropped from my wrists, and frowned. There was no mistaking what he meant, but I couldn't imagine he actually thought he'd get very far ordering Grant to kill me.

"What?" Grant's voice, barely louder than Garrett's. I shifted a little closer to the doorway to hear better. "No. There's plenty of time. I won't leave you."

"And I'm telling you to cross her off for me. It's not a weakness, is it?"

The silence seemed to stretch for years. Then, finally, Grant's voice:

"No."

I turned on my heel and ran.

The nightmare continued, apparently, as the man who'd saved my life more times than I could count anymore had apparently just agreed to be my murderer. I couldn't believe he'd actually go through with it, but I also couldn't believe he'd entertain Garrett to this point. I couldn't take any risks, not now.

I slid down the ladder between the sleeping compartment and the cockpit, landing in the maze of pods in the hull just as I heard heavy footsteps overhead. My heart started racing in my chest, a fear like I'd never felt in all my near-death experiences at SHIELD gripping my chest.

Grant wouldn't actually kill me, would he?

I darted between the pods, and just like in a horror movie, I heard Grant's voice call out my name from behind me. I sped up, finally ducking into one of the pods and locking it behind me as I heard his footsteps closing in. My hand slammed on the locking device and it turned from green to red just in time. A second later, Grant appeared before me, his hand on the glass separating us.

"Open the door," he said, his eyes locked on mine. I could only see one of his hands, and my heart raced in my chest as I realized the other was likely level with his hip. I took an involuntary step backward.

"Grant... you're scaring me," I breathed, tears at last rising to the surface and threatening to fall. I'd fought them back once, but this time, I didn't think I'd be able to.

"Y/N, just open the door."

"No. I heard what you said, I heard what Garrett said. You... you wouldn't actually kill me. Would you?"

He grimaced, his jaw setting in the expression I recognized as him dealing with something he DID NOT want to deal with. My heart broke a little more in my chest.

"Just open the door."

"No! Grant, are you kidding me?" The tears were coming now, streaming down my cheeks, and I stepped towards Grant again, pressing up against the glass to get as close to him as possible. "I love you! You're my best friend, you're my partner! You're supposed to have my back through anything! I... I'd started daydreaming about marrying you! About the two of us, having the SHIELD careers recruits would be hearing about for the rest of time, before finally retiring somewhere nice together. Every time I thought about my future, Grant, you were in it... and now I might not have a future because of you? Are you kidding me?"

His expression flickered, and he couldn't keep some sadness and regret off his face when he looked at me through the glass this time. The tiniest spark of hope fluttered in my chest. If he felt bad, maybe I could still talk him off the ledge. Maybe I didn't have to lose the love of my life.

"I'm sorry. I tried to tell you... I'm a bad man. I'm not the man you thought you fell in love with."

"Bullshit!" I cried, slamming my fist into the glass in front of me. Grant jumped a little, surprise registering on his face. "You are exactly who I think you are. I know you, Grant, I've spent the last fifteen years of my life with you. Garrett may think he knows you, but he's wrong. He knows who he wants you to be. But I know who you actually are."

"You don't-"

"The sugary, caramely coffee drinks you secretly love but refuse to let anybody else but me know you drink?" I said, interrupting him with a hand on my hip, my eyes locked on his. "How invested you got in The Circle when I made you watch it on Netflix? All the time we spent planning what our strategy would be if we ever went on the show together?"

He grimaced, but I didn't give him a second to respond.

"The face mask you did with me that you loved, and all the stupid pictures we took together with the masks on? Your aggressive hatred of the Patriots even though you're from Massachusetts? The fact that you sleep best with a sleep mask, and that you have to take your socks off right before you get under the covers? Not a moment before, and definitely not after? All of that shared history, all of those things we've shared and that I've gotten to see, and you think I don't know you?"

Grant just stared at me, looking at a loss for words. I let mine hang in the air for a minute, then continued.

"I highly doubt John Garrett could list even one of those things. And those little things that you do every day, that you can't fake? That's you Grant. I know you. I know you've saved me more times than I can even count, from the demons in the real world and the ones inside my own head. So I get that Garrett's got you believing you're some kind of secret evil supervillain, but I know enough to know how ridiculous that is. You're the best man I've ever met, Grant. Please, believe me over that piece of shit upstairs that never cared enough to know the real you."

Grant still didn't speak for a few long moments, but this time, I just let the silence hang. I held his gaze, the tears having finally stopped. I didn't wipe away the remnants as they slowly dried on my face. Finally, Grant sighed, breaking eye contact to look down at the ground before returning his stare to me.

"And how exactly do you see this going?" he asked, his voice low. He'd leaned in a little, like we were co-conspirators, and I swear I felt a weight lift off my chest. The glimmer of hope had turned into a full light. "What do you expect to happen next, after all this? Don't tell me you still see a happy ending, with us retiring after full careers at SHIELD."

I sighed through my nose and rolled my eyes up to the ceiling, before fixing Grant with a look. He raised his eyebrows, and I had to fight back a laugh, mostly at the relief for that small moment of our relationship back to normal.

"Well, no, I don't think that's in the cards anymore," I deadpanned. "But the only important part of my vision of the future has been you, Grant. I don't care if we get mentioned in SHIELD classes years from now or if we're labeled as failures, examples of what not to do. All that matters to me is you."

He stared at me for a few more long, silent moments. For most people, he would've been unreadable, but I recognized the slightly-wider eyes, the deer-in-headlights look he got whenever I admitted big feelings that he didn't expect me to share. It was a good sign, and when he swallowed and cleared his throat, his expression had all of the grim defeat gone, replaced instead by a shaky hope.

"So what are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting we run," I said simply. "It's not too late, let's go. Let's ditch it all, and go somewhere we can start a new life together. Screw Garrett, screw SHIELD, screw Hydra. All that matters is you and me."

Grant stared at me like he didn't believe I was real. Slowly, swallowing heavy again, he nodded. I raised my eyebrows and smiled.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he finally managed, nodding again, more sure this time. "Yeah, let's do that. You're... you're all that matters to me, too."

My small smile broke into a full-on grin, and at last, I hit the lock on the door. I slid it open the moment the lock flashed green, darting forward to close the space between me and Grant and wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug. I buried my face in his chest, and after a moment, he wrapped his arms around me in return.

"Well. I guess she was a weakness."

Grant and I's heads snapped up in unison to find John Garrett standing just down the hallway from us. I narrowed my eyes. Of course he'd picked this moment to show up.

Grant stiffened under my arms, and I could feel the stress radiating off of him. Garrett took a small step towards us, but I didn't dare move, lest Grant feel anymore trapped than he already did. Besides, holding him tight in a hug we'd shared during and after a thousand traumatic experiences felt like the best leg up on Garrett I could get.

"Agent Ward, I didn't train you to be a pushover. I trained you to be a man who could go in and do the job that needed to be done," said Garrett. "It's not too late. You don't want to disappoint me, son."

At the same time Garrett's words washed over Grant, he took another step closer, and his hand flexed at his side. Grant flinched under me, and I saw red.

In almost fifteen years, Grant had never flinched. Not like this. When something came flying at his face? Sure. When an especially good jump scare happened in a horror movie and he tried to hide how badly it had scared him? Always. But when someone stood apart from us, subtly threatening him? Never. Not once.

Garrett had clearly manipulated him, badly. I knew that. Throughout the course of this interaction, I'd assumed Garrett had crossed the line into mental abuse, too. But now, I realized it had gone even further. To mental and physical abuse. Garrett had hit Grant enough after Grant "failed" him, that my boyfriend, who'd stared down some of the scariest people in the world without fear, stood next to me trembling, caught between a rock and a hard place.

"Think things through here, Ward," said Garrett, continuing his slow walk towards us. "Either you kill her, or I do. Weaknesses are unacceptable, especially now that we've come out of the shadows. A happy ending doesn't exist to this love story that came from your lies at SHIELD. So don't be stupid, son. Don't make this worse on yourself than it has to be-"

My hand moved before my brain actually registered what I was doing. I grabbed the gun out of the holster at Grant's waist, the one I thought he might've decided to use on me only about ten minutes ago, and I levelled it at Garrett. I was aware enough to realize this wasn't an Icer; this had the ability to do lethal damage. And for the first time ever, I decided I didn't care. I shot John Garrett in the chest, twice. He dropped to his knees, the life quickly fading out of him, leaving a crumpled heap on the floor.

The gun fell out of my hand and clattered to the ground, my hands were shaking so bad. I dropped to my knees, a wave roaring in my ears as I stared at Garrett's dead body. Vaguely, I registered tears streaming down my face. What had I just done?

A second later, Grant dropped next to me. His arm wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me to him. Not only had I just killed someone, I'd killed someone important to Grant. In front of him. His abuser, yes, but that wouldn't make it much easier to watch the man he thought saved him die before his eyes.

"Grant... I'm so sorry," I breathed, the words coming out broken around sobs and gulps for air. I shook my head and buried it into his shoulder, the reality of everything washing over me again and again, like waves pounding into the shore. "I can't believe... I just killed someone. I'm so sorry, I... I've always found another way. Always. All life is precious and important, but he was just so rotten- And he was hurting you- I'm so sorry."

I broke, words failing me as I shook, sobbing, head buried in Grant's chest. He wrapped his other arm around me and held me tight, which only made me feel worse. We stayed like that for a few moments, until I finally got a hold of myself enough to look at him. His eyes remained on Garrett's broken form, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

"Grant... how can you be comforting me right now? After what I did to someone you care about, I-"

I broke off again, the words turning into choked sobs as I ducked my head back into his chest. I squeezed my eyes tight, waiting for Grant to come to his senses enough to pull away. Instead, he sighed, and pulled me closer.

"Come on, is that even a real question?" he asked, his words as shaky as both of us combined. "The same way you forgave me for everything I did. I love you. And... if you, of all people, decided the right decision was to shoot John Garrett? ...Well, I don't know. Maybe he was having a worse impact on me than I realized."

I cried harder at that, relief and sadness and a thousand other emotions that had been warring in my chest all day coming together to be processed as one. After a few moments, I felt Grant's shaky breathing and a few drops of wetness on the top of my head as he cried silently with me. Grief for a lot of things gripped us both, but at least we could cling to each other.

A few long minutes later, we finally pulled apart and helped each other to stand. We were both still shaking, and I did my best to stand between Grant and Garrett's body. It felt wrong to keep my back to Garrett, to let myself avoid facing what I'd done, but I just couldn't make myself do it.

Wordlessly, we wandered back up to the main level of the Bus. Raina still waited here somewhere, but we didn't see her, and we didn't seek her out as we headed for the cockpit. With a few looks, we both knew exactly what we wanted and needed to do. I held Grant's hand tight in my own as we had the Quinjet set down immediately, in the middle of a field in Oklahoma. Neither of us wanted to be on board a second longer.

We walked out of the cockpit and towards the ramp in the back, avoiding any of the cargo bay where so much had happened. We found Raina in the living room, but she didn't try to stop us. Hand in hand, Grant and I walked off the ramp and out into the field. A moment later, the plane took off again, continuing on its original course and leaving us behind.

Grant tugged me closer to him and wrapped an arm around me, and we leaned on each other as the plane disappeared into the sky. Both of us still shook a little, and we were each the only thing keeping the other standing. After a minute, once the plane completely disappeared from sight, Grant spoke in a quiet voice.

"So... what do we do now?"

"...I guess we just start walking."

I looked up at him and our eyes connected for a few moments, holding each other's stares and trying to promise the other that everything would be okay. With Garrett gone, now more than ever, there was nothing stopping us from leaving all the hurt and bad memories behind, and starting over somewhere new. With any luck, Raina would tell people we were dead along with John Garrett, and that would be the end of our involvement with SHIELD and Hydra.

For now, though, none of that mattered. All that mattered was the man standing beside me as we turned, our backs to the plane and its path, and started walking towards our new future, hand in hand and one foot in front of the other.

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

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @luv-ghostie

[epilary]

soothing skye after her powers backfire | headcanons

masterlist | requests are open

- the pain in her arms/fingers are terrible - like pins and needles - so you sit with her and massage her fingers - you take a few minutes for each one - frowning every time she winces - your head resting in her lap as you do so - skye likes looking down at you as you focus on each finger - and the simplicity of it all just calms her down some - the shaking and anxiety slows - everyone feels a bit safer around her - 'thanks.. it's been hard to feel any sort of normal right now' [skye] - 'i'd do anything for you' [you] - she also likes it when you run your hands through her hair - (which you did even before this happened) - it's hard for her to without her fingers feeling sore - it'll become a bit of a ritual for you - dinner, getting ready, and then spending time together - sometimes you'll even fall asleep in the interrogation room w/her - she’ll wake up and the two of you will be squished together - the twin size mattress far too small - but it’s the one thing keeping her together - and she’d take that over anything anyone else could do

[astyrial]

an unwanted offer daisy johnson x gn!reader (fluff) synopsis: skye catches you to give you an offer word count: 818 warnings: guns, handcuffs, cursing masterlist | requests are open

    you open your eyes to a gun in your face. the barrel is resting in just the spot to hit right between your eyes, just over the ridge of your nose. when you look up to see who's holding it, you see the same face you've come to adore seeing. her nose is crinkled and her shoulders raise a little upon seeing the look on your face, "welcome back."

  "i should've known you'd come looking for me..." you attempt to sit up, only to feel the restraints clinging to your wrists and a dull pain in your head. 

  skye looks back at you, crossing her legs in front of her. you can tell that whatever training that agent may had been subjecting her to was working. she's composed, clearly ready to fight whenever. "well, the bird shit covering the cameras was a little bit of a hint," she leans forward in her seat, resting against her legs.

  you hold back a smile while biting your lips. it's kind of become your own crude signature, "what can i say? pigeons are a real nuisance in this city."

  she takes in a breath, shaking her head a little. you can tell she's entertained by you, but also understands that the relationship between a powered person and shield isn't always the best. especially when the first time they came across you was when you were just getting a hold on your powers. so maybe there were a decent amount of animals crowding wherever you went (including dangerous ones).

  "yes, well, i have a little proposition for you. think of it as community service. we would like you to join shield for future missions, of course with restrictions," skye purses her lips, uncrossing her legs and narrowing her eyes a little.

  "work for shield? after you guys got me fired from my job? put some tail on me like i'm a danger to society," you play with the lock of the handcuff some, tapping your heel a little to distract from the metallic noise. 

  she furrows her eyebrows, expression conveying a sense of confusion. you don't know much about her time with shield, but you do remember the leash they slapped on her wrist. you always felt like she knew a little bit about how it felt to always be watched. always on restrictions with what you could accomplish.

  but all she does is look away, her ponytail bouncing slightly. the bangs she now dons suits her. the way it frames her face and highlights her eyes. you also look away for a moment, knowing that finding her attractive doesn't change anything. "all true, but you haven't considered the fact that you won't have keep doing this to survive," skye bites her lip.

  "i don't do this to survive, i thought the all-knowing shield knew that. what, you guys don't track my bank account too?" you raise an eyebrow, finally feeling the sweet release as the cuff loosens.

  however, you continue to sit there, waiting for your moment to strike. and she continues to sit there with a gun pointed towards your face and frown on hers. "no, we don't. so what do you do with the money and stuff you steal?" skye sits back in her seat, resting one arm on the back of it.

  you shrug, "donate it usually, give it out. i mean, weren't you a bit of a fan of it when you were with the rising tide?"

  "yeah.. i still do. but the ways you do it are kind of illegal, even if the thought is nice," she smiles, sarcastically, but it still looks great on her. 

  skye grabs a hold of a water bottle that sits at the table next to her. her eyes stay trained on you as she screws off the lid with one hand, only looking away when she starts drinking it. you take this moment to bring your hand forward, knocking the gun out of hers and rushing to snap the cuff around her wrist.

  she quickly drops the water bottle, not caring about where the water lands. skye hurries to try to stop you, but you cuff her to the table quicker than she could react. "no, no, don't do this y/n. you don't have to do that, shield has benefits," she widens her eyes, pulling at the cuff some.

  you step back, looking at the front door of the motel room. when you look back you shake your head, "but that doesn't matter to me, skye. finishing what i've started matters to me. so i won't be letting shield stop me anytime soon."

  "i hope you enjoy the bracelet though, brings you back to good times i assume," you smile, turning around and grabbing your bag, not waiting for her to say something before opening the door, "i do hope we see each other in other circumstances though."

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N: hey I love you

Daisy: really?! I love me too.

Y/N:

Later at the cafeteria table…

Daisy: I think I screwed up. I meant to say I love you too

Fitz: I’m sure Y/N understood what you meant

Y/N walks by…

Daisy: I love you!

Y/N: I love me too (winks)

Daisy blushes…

[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (3)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Obnoxious coworkers, what is the proper ettiquette when emailing princes, teasing Captain

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!

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.

The meeting was as boring as the fallen prince expected it to be, but he hardly showed his disdain for his time being wasted. Cabinet meetings and audiences with nobility and dignitaries were expected and mandatory for royals. In his opinion, a majority of them were hardly worth the time and could be easily sorted out with logic, but politics hardly worked that way. It was fickle, changing at the whim of whomever is more powerful. And though at times it was fun to see how the spoiled nobles would squabble over the most ridiculous things, the majority of it was always dull.

To think I once found such a thing mesmerizing as a young boy, wanting to follow my father everywhere and prove myself useful to him. A moment to shine, to step out of the immense shadow casted by my brother. The corners of his lips tugged downwards at the miasma of memories that began to stir. He knew the ledge was a precarious one and a single thought could have him plummeting to the depths and ensnare him.

“Do you have any questions?” The agent looked at the members of the group one by one, hesitating and nearly jumping over Loki to avoid eye contact.

“Agent Pruyn, was it?” He watched the man who was addressing them flinch at the call of his name. “Would it not be wiser for me to be the one who distracts them? I am able to change my image to look like anyone. I would merely need some footage of the person I am to imitate to better play the role. You will also be able to monitor my movements since I will be in the banquet hall as opposed to behind the scenes searching through the office.” Minimal footage of me in questionable places is best. Who knows what someone might do as an act of vengeance. 

“No, this is the best plan of action. Hawkeye is better suited for that portion of the mission and needs support while Black Widow distracts the target.” Agent Pruyn cleared his throat. The lack of negative reaction from the others seemed to embolden him a little bit. “Also, are you implying that she can't handle it? Black Widow is the best undercover agent we have. She's successfully infiltrated hundreds of places while you've only failed at discretion.” He scoffed. 

There it was. The bias and condescending tone, the twisting of his words, and the lack of support. Such insolence made his blood boil to the point of physically punishing the fool, but he kept his reactions in check with a blank expression. Silently, he changed the way they perceived him to look identical to the infamous fiery haired operative who was sitting with them. Everyone in the room stared at him in wide eyed shock, looking at him and her to see if there was a difference. 

“Well isn't that a neat little trick.” Natasha was the first to break the silence. “Certainly beats needing to put on that holographic skin.” She leaned in closer, trying to find some flaw.

“Stare all you like, you won’t be able to tell the difference unless I let you.” He said in her voice.

“If he’s so good at keeping up an appearance, why not just swap them? Nat and I are equally able to get in and out without issues if there’s a good enough diversion.” Clint shrugged, though he was impressed at how perfectly Loki copied her.

“I don’t have an issue with that change, I’m the one who can break into the computer system they have. It’s better if I’m with Clint.” Natasha agreed, Loki shifting back to himself.

“So, we’re in agreement. I will be the one to keep the group busy and the both of you will gather the necessary information. As I stated, I’ll require footage and data on the individual I’ll be impersonating.” He turned his attention back to Agent Pruyn who seemed rather cross with the change to his plan but said nothing since the other two Avengers were agreeing with Loki.

“We’ll need to adjust the timeline of the operation then. Everything was set up for this plan, we’ll need to adjust and see if there’s another gathering we can infiltrate.” 

“You say this person of interest has possible ties to this Hydra organization, correct? Why don’t we get ourselves invited to his home or wherever you think he is housing the necessary information? Why must we wait for some large gathering outside somewhere else?” Loki questioned. 

“We can’t just waltz into his home unannounced.” Agent Pruyn scoffed. “Do you think he just calls people over for tea time? This isn’t one of your royal games, Loki.” The condescending tone was back once more with a sense of triumph. This was hardly enough to anger the prince, but he was not so lenient to let it slide for a second time.

“Who said anything about tea?” He looked at the agent with raised eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware you had the time for such frivolous plans. I must disappoint you, my plans do not allot time for such.” Agent Pruyn grit his teeth and glared at the insouciant attitude the Asgardian was speaking with to him. A few of the other members of the meeting snickered at the calm retort, looking away to avoid the ire of the presenter. “This target has questionable connections and has a proclivity to feign a charitable appearance through auctions. We need to approach him as someone equally shady who wishes to either wash their hands of some item or trade an item to someone else and obtain the money under the guise of donating to said charity. We simply need to choose someone from his connections or create someone completely new.”

“That,” Natasha was the first to speak, coincidentally cutting Pruyn off, “is an excellent idea. If we came as someone new, trying to make a name for themself, they’ll be more likely to accept us if we come with an item of great value. Loki can play the part of the client and I can easily play the part of his assistant as needed to keep up the facade. Once we’re invited in, I can get Clint inside and we can get the information we need while the auction is going on.”

“Until the auction takes place, we can build a relationship with him and others. We can record all the conversations and pick up on any codes they use to discuss the secret dealings!” A female agent chimed in soon after, realizing an extra benefit to this plan.

“This makes it a much longer plan than anticipated though, we’ll have to resubmit the plan to our lead agent and to Director Fury.” A male agent pointed out.

“Sounds like it’s a necessary delay if it’s going to be more fruitful than the original operation. I guess Thor wasn’t exaggerating when he boasted about how strategic you are.” Clint slightly nodded his head in approval. “Redraft the plan and submit it, we’ll see what Fury says before moving forward.”

“We’ll schedule our next meeting after that.” Natasha nodded, standing from her seat. The others followed her actions and the meeting came to an end with a very irate Pruyn glaring at the back of Loki’s head. A small smirk of satisfaction tugged at the Asgardians lips as he walked down the halls, feeling lighter at proving himself as worthy to be on the team.

Y/N stared at the screen of her computer, willing it to fill the empty body of the email that was addressed to the two Avengers she was allowed to work with. Glancing at the time, she groaned audibly and turned her chair around so her back was to the screen.

Three hours, I’ve been staring at this blasted computer screen for three hours! Why do I need to message them!? Wasn’t Agent Hill supposed to coordinate this? Why is everything suddenly dumped on me from start to finish? This is ridiculous! Next they’ll want me to manage their schedules and make sure they have time to complete their missions and assist in my never ending task! I am not some over glorified secretary, I am the head of the Resource Management department, the director of it! I attend all the ridiculous morning meetings, check-ins, and any other waste of time meeting that could have easily been an email instead while managing all centers that contain our resources, digital and physical! She pushed herself out of the chair and paced in the space she had behind the desk. “When am I supposed to even meet with them when both are due to be deployed this week!” She threw her hands in the air as she shouted into the empty office. Defeated, she slumped back into her seat and turned to face the computer once more. 

She did not want to wait until their return, she needed it done now so that while they were gone she could have the computers and scanners set up and be ready to start as soon as they returned. Straightening up her posture, she pulled the keyboard forward and quickly began to type a brief email stating she was approached by Agent Hill and wanted to set up a short meeting in person to introduce herself and better understand how to properly utilize their assistance and time. She also added that the both of them are available tomorrow after lunch for a brief period of time. Rereading her email over and over again, she made sure there was no error before finally hitting the send. Now she had to wait for a response. Thankfully, the chime signaling the door opening was a great distraction, letting her escape the panic while waiting for a response.

“Good afternoon, how may I help you?” She happily greeted the person as she stepped out of her office. “Oh, Captain Rogers, how are you?”

“Good afternoon Y/N, I’m doing well. How are you doing?” He smiled, giving her a slight nod.

“Could do with less work, but that’s not going to change anytime soon.” She tiredly chuckled.

“I don’t know how you handle your work at all. I wouldn’t know the first thing to do with a fourth of what’s here. They’ve got the right gal for the job here.” He patted her on the back. “Which is an expertise I’ll be needing at the moment. I’ll be going out on a mission with Thor and Tony to a fairly remote area with indigenous people. Thor will be a great asset with his AllSpeak, but I’d like to get some insight on the culture.”

“Oh, so no “An American Girl” books this time around? Or  the “Hardy Boys”?” She curled her lips inward to keep from laughing as she watched the famous Captain America clear his throat and turn away to hide the hints of a blush that were creeping up onto his cheeks.

“No, not this time. But maybe when I come back you can suggest something for me to read?”

“I would love to, I’ll think up a small list and let you see which you’d like to start with. So, back to your mission, where are you going and do you know the group you’ll be interacting with?” She clapped and rubbed her hands together, eager to be of assistance. “Let’s head to the front desk while you tell me so I can pull up what we have for you.” Nodding his head, he delved into the details of the mission that were necessary, Y/N never asking for more information than necessary as she pulled up anything relevant and jotted it down on a sheet of paper. “Ok, follow me!” She walked back around just as the chime signaled someone else coming in. “Good afternoon, if you need my assistance I will be with you shortly. Please wait at the desk.” She turned to smile at the newcomer only to see the raven haired prince. Oh, good thing I put the book on the table already. “Follow me, Captain Rogers.”

“Y/N, you can just call me Steve. I think we’ve known each other long enough to drop formalities.”

“Captain Rogers, so bold and scandalous!” She gasped. “What would your fangirls think?!”

“Please don’t remind me of those.” He sighed heavily and gave her a stern look. “And I insist you call me Steve, we’re friends.” He flashed her that famous hero smile.

“Alright, alright, Steve it is.” She turned into an aisle and began to skim the codes, pulling out books which were taken from her by the gentleman super soldier beside her. Once everything was pulled, the two went to the nearest table.

“This is great, thank you, Y/N.”

“Anytime Capt-,” she stopped at the pointed look he gave her. “Steve. If you need anything, just give a holler. I’ll come help you.”

“We’re in the library, I don’t think hollering is a good idea.” He chuckled.

“Who’s going to stop us, the librarian? Oh wait, that’s me!” She grinned, earning an eye roll from him before he turned his attention to the books he had as she made her way back to the front desk.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss@softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl@rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie

[biggestsimponhere]

“I’m in trouble, i’m an addict, i’m addicted to this boy”

Y’all need to make more posts for Gabriel Luna because i love him and none of us talk about him enough. Loml gabriel luna.