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syd-djarin · 11 months ago

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private eyes - jack daniels x private investigator!f!reader (18+ MDNI)

this is for @iamasaddie little lady kinky may challenge! congrats on 2.5k! <333 I was paired with Jack / Voyeurism.

banner by: @cafekitsune

tags: voyeurism (reader watches jack), masturbation (m & f), reader is a private investigator, gratuitous descriptions of my fav cowboy stroking his big cock, dub-con a little? reader masturbates in her car but there isn't anyone around so public but private

a/n: this is the first fic I've completed in months. it's short and to the point, idk how i feel about it but it pushed me out of my writing slump! kinda want to do a part 2 for this, what do y'all think 👀

wc: ~1.6k

smut below the cut

“I want you to catch that son of a bitch in the act.”

The visibly scorned woman, Camilla, sitting across from you asks through tears, ones that she hasn’t allowed to escape down her cheeks; catching them right at the waterline with an overused tissue.

This isn’t the first time a disgruntled, mistreated, or betrayed lover has sought out your services — no shortage of shitty men leaving trails of destruction while they pillage and greedily chase their own interests. She’s no different, seeking closure from the broken-off engagement from her now ex-fiancée, Jack Daniels. The pair had been together for a year, engaged for three months and one day, out of the blue, Jack broke it off. According to her, he didn’t give a concrete reason, something vague about being consumed with his job and that “she deserved a better life than that”.

Of course you get paid a pretty penny for your work, but you take great pleasure in catching a man in the act. Whether the woman needs proof for divorce settlements, custody battles, or to just have leverage. Whatever the case may be, you find a gratification you don’t get anywhere else; the upheaval of a man trying to have his cake and eat it too.

The conventionally attractive woman you couldn’t pick out of a line-up slides her homemade dossier across the coffee shop table, tacky & sticky from previous patrons. You flip through the information presented to you, taking mental notes as you go. You can’t deny the heat that rises up your face as you study the picture of your next target. The deep sable eyes resembling a baby calf’s are staring at you through the glossy photo paper. He’s sporting a mustache reminiscent of Burt Reynolds that is calling your name. His smirk is laced with a charming cockiness.

“He’s quite the looker, I know. Hell of a lay, too,” her words snap you out of your daydream. Her words feel hollow, his looks are the only attributes she’s mentioned during the duration of the consultation. You're not getting paid for moral judgements and you remind yourself you don’t know the whole story.

“Which is why I want to know who he’s fucking. I know there’s another woman, or maybe even a guy… he’d answer calls in the middle of the night and step into another room and I swear I could hear a woman’s voice on the other end, he’d tell me he’s going on work trips… he works at a whiskey distillery, why the hell does he need to go on all these trips?” She explains, putting air quotes around ‘trips’ with her dainty, well-manicured hands, “he’d stay late at work a few nights a week, and then it turned into a nightly thing… Anyways, you come highly recommended, so I’m trusting you won’t let me down,” she adds. You’re not a fan of the passive aggressive, back-handed compliment she gives you, but ultimately you give her an understanding smile as you both rise from the table.

“I’ll be in touch,” you tell her, as you exit. As cliche as that line is, you love saying it every time.

Days of following Jack around have proven to be fruitless. The man has a simple routine: wakes up at six, traipses to the bathroom to begin his morning regimen of a showering, shaving and grooming his beloved mustache, and to conclude, adorns his body in his tight denim jeans, a crisp button-down, a cowboy hat, and boots to match. You hate to admit it, and someone would have to waterboard this information out of you, but the hat is doing something for him.

Or you.

Whatever.

He shops weekly on Wednesdays (he always puts the cart back inside the store, not the cart returns in the parking lot), takes the same route home everyday, watches Jeopardy while he eats dinner – you caught on quickly that he cooks during Wheel of Fortune, it appears he isn’t a big fan of Pat and Vanna, dishes promptly following Final Jeopardy and bed by nine. In three weeks Jack hasn’t had a single visitor, of any gender, leaves work at five like everyone else, the man isn’t adding up to be a cheating womanizer like Camilla had set him out to be. Not to say that he isn’t, but you’re not finding any evidence to support that claim. You’ve actually found yourself developing a crush on the man. He’s undoubtedly handsome, seemingly laid back despite his strict routine, and there’s something mysterious that lies beneath that you’re itching to unearth.

You’re parked discreetly across the street from his house. It’s a nice quiet street, with only two lamps to illuminate the surrounding neighborhoods, allowing you to stay shrouded in the night.

You’re about to call it a night, exhaustion settling deep into your bones, when you notice a lamp turned on in the living room. Fortunately, the window faces the street, making your job that much easier for you. You pick up your binoculars to peer in, adjusting the focus for your prying eyes. Thank the universe he left his blinds open.

He sits on the couch with his back facing you. It looks like he’s reaching for the remote, like maybe he’s having trouble sleeping, but when he settles back into the couch, you notice he’s butt ass naked, in all his glory. Even through the binoculars, you can see how big his cock is. Your mouth salivates at the sight, wanting to feel the stretch of him in all your holes.

You’re not supposed to see this. Not at all. Usually in your assignments, you don’t get the full X-rated view, just the PG-13 suggestive one, and you are more than grateful for that.

But not now.

You’re getting your own private peep show from the man you’re getting paid to spy on. You’re feeling like a grade-A pervert right about now but the sight is too glorious to look away. He spits on his hand, and languidly begins stroking his cock. He runs his other hand through his hair, his toned arms flexing with his movements, his chest heaving.

It shouldn’t turn you on like it does. For one, it’s highly unprofessional. Secondly, he’s unaware he’s got an audience. Morally speaking, it’s definitely not your shining moment. But it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, watching him tease and work himself up. You couldn’t pry your eyes away if you wanted to.

Jack’s not the only one getting worked up; your clit throbs so hard you feel like it’ll go numb. Your heartbeat echoes in your ears thump-thump thump-thump. You let out a whine when Jack massages his tip, precum dribbling out like a sweet nectar you’d like to feast on. He continues his slow movements, dragging out his pleasure at a delicious and excruciating pace. Somehow, this makes the whole scene that much hotter; the display of restraint and discipline. You wonder if he does that with his lovers. Teasing, teasing, teasing, giving just enough to drive you insane before slowing almost to a stop.

Possessed by desire, you haphazardly look for any lingering people outside before unbuttoning your pants to shove your hand to where it's needed most. You gasp at the cool air hitting your thinly clothed pussy, you can smell your own arousal seeped into your panties and it spurs you on further. You mirror Jack’s pace - teasing your lips with a featherlight touch, inching closer and closer to your needy clit, stopping just shy of it, to tease yourself more. It’s agonizing in the best way, taking your time like this. Normally, you like efficiency when making yourself come, rarely going the extra mile to turn the pleasure dial up, but this makes you question why you’re ever in a hurry.

You reach your clit, going in gentle circles to match Jack’s unhurried pace. You wish you could hear the sounds he’s making, all the grunts and whimpers escaping his plush lips.

He speeds up his strokes, now ravenous for his delayed release and so are you. Overtaken by the need to come, you drop the binoculars, letting them fall to the floorboard. You’re not even watching him anymore, having seen more than enough to commit to your spank bank. With your eyes closed and head pushing into the headrest, your mind is flooded with images of Jack fucking you slow, hard and deep, absolutely destroying your pussy – legs over his shoulders, hitting the spot that makes you scream and cry in euphoria. The image of him spilling into you, filling you up with his come is what tips you over the edge, your body shivers in bliss and you rock against your hand to ride out the high, feeling faint from the intensity.

After you’ve recovered and fumbled your chance of ever seeing The Pearly Gates, you dare to look back to his house, to find all the lights back off. It’s a bit of a relief, feeling less shameful of what you’ve done now that you can’t see him at the moment.

You button your pants backup and lean over to retrieve the forgotten binoculars from the floorboard, as your fingers grab them you hear a knock on the window. The sudden rap on the glass makes you flinch, feeling your skeleton attempt to flee from your corporeal body. Your heart drops to your stomach when you see Jack standing outside your car, leaning one forearm against the body so his face is level with yours. Fuck fuck fuck. You’ve been caught. Dizziness and nausea war within you as you roll down the window. You open your mouth to explain the situation, but words never escape your mouth.

“You like watchin’ people don’t ya?” he asks, his tone is dark, but not angry. No, it’s something else entirely.

“I–”

“‘S’alright. Caught onto ya pretty quick. A pretty face like yours ain’t hard to miss.”

“I– i’m sorry, um,” you scramble to find words, any words but Jack interjects again.

“You like watchin’, but darlin’ I want to know, do ya like bein’ watched?”

#snail trail alert 🚨#little lady kinky may #iamasaddie game #2.5ksaddies #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels smut #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #agent jack whiskey daniels #pedrostories #fanfic #smut

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lefteagleblizzard · 1 month ago

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𝔄 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡

Grant Ward x male reader

Summary: a request that I received from a person on tumblr: ”Hey! Could I request a smut fic with Grant Ward after his Hydra reveal? Maybe something intense, with a lot of tension between him and the male reader? Would love to see how things escalate from there. Thanks! You are the best and it’s okay if you won’t do this <3”

Tags: No use of Y/N. Male reader. He/him pronouns used towards the reader. Fight scene. Some descriptions of blood and minor injuries. Possessiveness. Jealousy. Smut. Dom Grant. Heavy make out sessions. Bottom reader. Anal sex.

ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

Words count: 4000

The air was thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder, the echo of distant gunfire swallowed by the deafening roar of blood pounding through your ears. Coulson's team was locked in battle with Hydra operatives, but none of that mattered. Not when Grant Ward stood before you, the man who, with a single reveal, shattered the illusion everyone had of him.

Your fists met his with bone-rattling force, each strike carrying enough force to break him if it landed clean. But Ward wasn't just any opponent. He was trained in the same deadly efficiency that you were, maybe even more so. And he knew your movements, your tactics, the rhythm of your attacks like a song he had memorized.

So when your punch came for his jaw, he dodged just in time, twisting away as if he had seen it coming before you had even thrown it.

But you had expected that. Using the momentum, you pivoted sharply, aiming a brutal kick toward his ribs. He caught it. His fingers clamped down around your ankle with bruising force, using your own power to twist you mid-air, body snapping sideways, feet skidding against the concrete.

And he was already on you. Ward's grip shot out like a viper, his fingers closing around your wrist in a bruising hold. You yanked free just in time to dodge his counter, twisting away as his first cut through the air, narrowly missing your ribs. But he was faster than most gave him credit for. The second your footing faltered, he capitalized, arm hooking around your back before slamming you into the cold concrete floor with brutal precision.

The impact drove the breath from your lungs, pain detonating across your spine. His knee pinned your chest, arm drawn back for a strike that could break bone. You caught his wrist mid-swing, twisting sharply, using his own weight against him. The two of you tumbled apart, scrambling to your feet at the same time, bodies coiled like predators waiting to strike.

His expression was unreadable at first, dark eyes shadowed beneath the flickering emergency lights. Then, something shifted. A slow, deliberate tilt of his head, a calculating glint in his gaze. His lips parted just enough to release a slow breath, the faintest ghost of a smirk curling at the edges.

Your fist shot out, a feint with your left before you drove a brutal kick into his side. He grunted, staggering for the briefest moment. Satisfaction barely had time to register before his hand clamped around your leg and possibly ready to snap it.

Your fist connected with his jaw in a savage arc. The sound cracked through the air like a gunshot, sending his head snapping to the side and your leg was free from his tight grip.

Slow and deliberate, he turned his head back toward you. The movement was predatory, spine-chilling in its calculated grace. His dark eyes locked onto you with an unsettling intensity, heavy with something dark and undeniably dangerous.

His lips parted enough to let out a slow, shallow breath, the barest ghost of a smirk playing at the edges, if it could even be called that. A wrathful stare, something far more chilling that sat in the pit of your stomach like a coiled snake.

A fresh trail of crimson trickled from the corner of his mouth, thick and glistening under the dim emergency lights. It dripped in slow, lazy streams, curling against the edge of his lips before spilling down his chin in a slick, broken line. He barely seemed to notice, his jaw flexed ever so slightly, the muscle ticking beneath bruised skin and his tongue darted out to catch the coppery taste before retreating, tasting it as if confirming its presence.

A bruise was already blooming along the side of his jaw, the pain only seemed to sharpen him. He didn’t wipe the blood away. He let it linger and stain his skin, a silent testament to the weight of everything between you, eyes flickering with something dark and possessive.

Before you could react, Ward moved too fast yet again. His hand shot out, shoving you back with a brutal force that sent you stumbling.

His fingers curled around your throat the second you landed, your pulse roaring against the vise of his fingers. He slammed you against the concrete with a force that rattled your skull, his weight pressing down completely, unyielding while cutting off just enough air to leave you gasping. Your hand's clawed at his arms, nails raking against his skin in a feigned struggle, your body twisting beneath him.

But his grip only tightened, fingers digging into your skin with force, breathing rough and uneven. His expression was nothing short of fury, but beneath the sharp edge of his rage, there was something dangerously close to hunger. His pupils were blown wide, lips parted just enough for his breath to fan against your skin, warm and unsteady. Even as he loomed over you like a predator savoring his prey, he didn’t move to end it. No, he held you there, drawing it out, relishing the way you squirmed beneath him.

May intervened in time. Her boot connected with his ribs in a devastating blow, sending him rolling off of you with a grunt. The moment his grip tore away, you sucked in a ragged breath, the sting of forming bruises already settling deep.

Ward barely had time to recover before SHIELD agents were on him, forcing him down, pinning his arms back. Blood smeared his face, his chest rising and falling with every breath, but his gaze never left you. Even as they dragged him away, even as May hauled you to your feet, his eyes stayed locked on yours.

This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

Hours passed after that event, the guard was now lowered and the base was silent now extremely late at night.

The reinforced steel of the walls, security cameras carefully hidden, countless layers of encrypted surveillance. S.H.I.E.L.D. had built its prisons well. You had slipped through them like a shadow.

Your footsteps were soundless against the cold floor as you moved through the dimly lit corridors, each step deliberate, controlled. The weight of everything still lingered in your muscles, the bruises from the fight throbbing in the background like a dull ache.

It was easy to ignore since you weren't here for remorse.

The reinforced door looming in front of you, its small observation window casting a faint rectangle of light into the otherwise darkened space beyond.

Inside, he was waiting sitting on the simple cot of his cell, the dim, almost sterile lighting casting deep shadows across the padded walls behind him. His posture is deceptively relaxed, hands loosely clasped together, forearms resting on his thighs.

He’s clad in a plain gray prison jumpsuit, the fabric slightly loose but doing nothing to hide the definition of his arms. His biceps are prominent, the muscle taut beneath his skin and the short sleeves leave his strong forearms exposed. The muted color of the clothing adds to the bleakness of his surroundings, but it does little to dull the quiet intensity he carries.

His face is rugged, the slight scruff along his jawline making him look both worn and dangerous, as if the hours of isolation have only sharpened him rather than subdued him. His dark eyes, shadowed from the overhead lighting, flicker with something unreadable. There’s a weight to his gaze, a quiet assessment as he looks up, unreadable and yet knowing all at once. His brows are slightly furrowed, adding to the exhaustion and quiet menace in his expression.

Even trapped, he does not look broken. If anything, he looks like he’s waiting.

Watching everything.

The corner of his mouth curled, not quite a smirk, not quite anything. Just the barest ghost of something that flickered and disappeared just as quickly. He simply sat there, head tilted ever so slightly as he took you in. The bruises you'd given each other, the cut on his lip, the faint discoloration around his jaw where your fist had landed.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. running out of interrogators already? Must be getting desperate." He muttered, tilting his head slightly, voice dripping with mockery.

His words were designed to get under your skin. He thrived on pressure. He pushed and prodded, searching for weakness, for tells. He knew how to read people better than anyone, how to twist their expectations until they didn't even realize they were playing right into his hands.

"Or maybe, this is just personal for you." he mused.

You kept your expression impassive. Cold. Unreadable.

He was digging. Pushing past the surface, past the professional veneer, testing just how much of this was real and how much was performance.

And God, was he enjoying it.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, eyes burning into yours now.

"Come on," he said, his voice a little quieter, a little lower. “I know you. I know exactly how you operate. And let me guess—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "You still think there's something left to save here, don't you?"

You clenched your jaw.

"You think that you're different from the others, don’t you?" His smirk deepened, and God, he was enjoying this too much for your liking.

You tilted your head slightly, letting a slow exhale slip past your lips. Keeping your stance controlled.

"You talk too much, Ward."

He laughed. Soft and quiet. A huff of breath through his nose as he leaned back against the wall.

"So what is it this time?" he mused. "Are you here to convince me of something? That I made the wrong choice? That I can still be redeemed?"

His eyes flickered down your body before snapping back up to meet yours.

"Or is it something else?"

Your pulse jumped. He had seen and felt something.

And it was infuriating how easily he could read your mind.

You tapped the security panel beside the door, fingers moving with precision. A soft, barely audible click followed as the locks disengaged.

The door swung open and the shift in the air was palpable.

You stepped inside, slow, deliberate, closing it behind you with a quiet finality.

Ward didn't move.

Didn't have to. Like a predator waiting to see if the threat in front of him was real.

You took another step closer.

"You really think I don't know their security systems by now?" Your voice was quiet, edged with something unreadable. "Cameras are looping."

The mask cracks. Your pulse thrums in your ears and not from fear but because of something far more intoxicating.

For the first time in hours, you breathe without restraint. The weight of the act slips from your shoulders, shedding like dead skin, revealing something raw and unfiltered beneath. The role they forced you to play as the loyal agent is gone, discarded like a useless disguise.

And it feels good.

To stand here, unfettered and look at him and see the way he knows. Everything that you did this far was a performance meant for an audience too blind to question it.

His expression barely flickered, but you saw it. A fraction of a second where his breathing shifted and his pulse jumped at his throat.

He was smart enough to know what that meant.

"Skye taught me that trick," you added. "Months ago."

Understanding dawned in his eyes before smiling. A slow, knowing smile that you knew too well, the barest twitch of his lips.

Satisfaction.

The second the door clicks shut behind you, he moves.

No hesitation or warning, just the sheer force of him crashing into you, hands finding your waist and fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he slams you against the cold metal wall. The impact sends a sharp jolt up your spine, but the way he devours you in the next breath makes it a distant sensation, swallowed whole by something far more consuming.

His mouth claims yours with a brutal kind of hunger, nothing like the deception you played at before when you used to in front of everyone else of the team. There’s no performance here, no restraint. Just teeth and heat and the unfiltered aftermath of hours spent locked away, forced to endure interrogation after interrogation, his body coiled with frustration and mind forced into stillness when all he wanted was this.

His hands roam and he finds those bruises he left on you earlier, the ones he painted onto your skin in the midst of your choreographed battle. His fingers press down, slow and deliberate, grip tightening when you react, satisfaction evident in the sharp edge of his breath. He’s reinforcing every mark, to remind you who they belong to.

His teeth graze your lips, sharp and demanding, then lower, tracing the sharp cut of your jaw, biting hard enough to leave his mark, tongue and teeth working over the same spots his fingers had claimed minutes before, like an apology he has no intention of meaning.

“You have no idea how hard it was to hold back.” His fingers tighten around your hips, keeping you pinned against him with no room to escape, not that you would. Body presses flush to yours, radiating heat, the thin barrier of clothing between you both a laughable pretense.

“Watching you like that,” he continues, voice dark and ragged, the weight of his restraint barely hanging by a thread. “Fuck. I wanted to fuck you right there. Throw you down and pay you back for every little thing you did to me, make you feel just how much you were pushing me.’

His hands skim lower, slow and deliberate, tracing the curve of your waist before digging in. “You wanted it just as bad, didn’t you?” He growls against your lips, voice wrecked and tinted with something close to obsession. “I could barely hold back.”

You let out a breathless laugh, tilting your head back against the bars, baring your throat to him in blatant invitation.

“Who said you have to?”

A deep, guttural sound rumbles in his chest at that and then he’s on you, his mouth dragging over your jaw, your throat, his hands gripping your ass again, hard, pulling you flush against him.

The fabric gives way under his grip, not carefully, not with any patience. Ripped, torn, peeled from your body like an obstacle he refuses to tolerate. The cold air of the cell rushes against your exposed skin for only a second before he’s on you again, all heat and force, shoving you back against the cold iron bars, gripping your ass with no restraint, fingertips digging into muscle with a force that leaves no room for hesitation, no space for escape.

The groan he lets out against your throat is deep, wrecked. His mouth finds your neck again, lips brushing over the bruises he left earlier, the ones that were meant to look like battle wounds but were anything but.

“You better not screw any of this up,” he mutters, breath warm against your lips. “Everything’s riding on you now.”

Your lips curl into something just shy of a smirk, amusement bleeding through the haze of heat clouding your thoughts. Even now like this, he can’t not remind you of the stakes. He’s always been composed, methodical, always one step ahead. Except here, in this cell, in this moment, you can feel the cracks in his control, the ragged edge of his breathing as his lips drag over your jaw, down the column of your throat, pressing against the marks that only he gets to put on you.

“Relax, Ward,” you murmur, your voice low, velvety, teasing. “The team hasn’t so much as looked me in the eye since you got exposed. They think I’m mourning you. Poor, broken, betrayed agent, left to pick up the pieces.”

Your voice drips with mockery, the idea of it so laughable it nearly makes you chuckle. And, honestly? You’re impressed. They bought it so easily, swallowing the lie whole without question.

You exhale, tilting your head slightly as you let your fingers graze down his forearm, deliberate and slow. Testing and pushing.

“Maybe I should get closer to one of them,” you murmur, your voice casual, but you make sure to watch him closely, searching for the telltale signs. The shift in his stance, the tension in his jaw. “Sleeping with one of them worked well enough for you, after all.”

You see how his eyes flicker, something simmering beneath that carefully controlled exterior. It’s not immediate nor obvious. Grant Ward is too well-trained, too deeply embedded in his own control to make it obvious.

It was impossible to see it coming. His grip tightens suddenly, fingers curling around your bicep, yanking you forward before getting turned around and slammed chest-first into the bars again. The impact knocks the breath from your lungs, a sharp hiss slipping past your teeth. Pain flashes through every nerve of your body but it warps instantly into something hot that coils low in your gut and burns.

Thick and hard, his cock strains against the denim of his gray pants, pressing firm and unrelenting against your bare, already red ass. The heat of him is overwhelming, even through the fabric, the solid weight of him sending a fresh pulse of arousal straight through you. A shudder wracks through your body, involuntary, traitorous, the shame of it mixing with the unbearable need clawing at your insides.

Your breath is ragged, your fingers curling around the bars, gripping tight as you will yourself to stay still, to not push back, to not give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much this is already getting to you.

But he knows.

A low, guttural sound rumbles in his chest, deep and unrestrained, reverberating straight into your spine. The vibration sends heat rushing through your veins, leaving you momentarily breathless.

And then he leans in.

His sturdy chest presses tight against your back, his breath ghosts over your ear, slow and deliberate, before he finally speaks.

“You think I give a fuck what you do next?”

His voice is low, husky, like gravel and smoke. His fingers slip lower, dragging down your side, slow, teasing, before gripping your hips tight.

“You think I care?” He’s toying with you. Daring you to believe him.

Your lips curl into a smirk, despite the way your pulse is hammering or how your own dick is aching, straining, desperate for more.

“No?” you murmur, voice just the slightest bit breathless, teasing enough to push at the cracks in his control.

His grip yanks you back, pulling you flush against him.

“No.” His voice is a growl now, his breath hot against the back of your neck. His cock pressing even harder against your ass, making sure you feel him.

“So go ahead.” His tone is mocking now, cruel in the way that makes your blood run hotter, your thighs clench harder. “Go and fuck whoever you prefer.”

His teeth sink hard into your throat, making you gasp, your grip on the bars tightening.

“But don’t forget that you’re still mine.”

His hips roll again, rougher this time, dragging a desperate sound from your lips that you barely manage to muffle.

Ward's fingers dig in like iron, driving the breath from your lungs as he pushes into you harder into the cold metal bars as his thick cock stretches you wide, claiming you all over again with every brutal thrust.

You bite back a moan, too loud and desperate, but he hears it anyway. His hips snap forward in a sharp, punishing thrust, dragging a ragged gasp from you, a broken, helpless sound that betrays just how much you want this.

Ward fucking thrives on that sound. On the way you shudder beneath him, helpless to the overwhelming heat coiling in your gut, to the brutal and relentless rhythm he's set.

Fuck. He was so big, the thick girth of him splitting you open, making you feel every inch of him as your walls clung to him, squeezing down, swallowing him deeper, taking him all.

Every thrust is a a punishment, a brand seared into your very bones. Ward takes you like he's got something to prove, something to remind you.

His cock drives into you without mercy, thick and unrelenting, stretching you open with every forceful stroke, hitting that devastating spot inside you over and over until the pleasure is unbearable, until your body is caught in the violent push and pull of pain and ecstasy.

He doesn't let up nor slow down. Not when you whimper, nor when you shudder or even when your knees threaten to give out.

Instead, he laughs, breathless and dark against your ear, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise while the other snakes up your chest, fingers wrapping tight around your throat.

His teeth sink into your shoulder, lips dragging down the damp skin of your neck and leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses between the bruises his hands are already painting onto your body.

"Fuck," he groans, forehead pressing against the nape of your neck as his pace turns erratic, desperate. His breath is hot and ragged against your sweat-slick skin, grip punishing as he holds you still, refusing to let you pull away.

His cock twitches inside you, thick and pulsing, buried so deep you swear you'll feel him for days.

With a sharp, guttural grunt, Ward buries himself to the hilt, his body going taut, his breath catching as he comes deep inside of you, his release flooding you in thick, hot pulses. The moment stretches, endless, heavy with the scent of sweat and sex.

Ward's fingers drag over your skin, slow and deliberate, tracing the bruises he's left like they're some masterpiece of his own design. There's a glint of satisfaction in his dark eyes as he drinks in the sight of you trembling in his hold and full of him.

He pulls out. The stretch of his cock slipping free sends a sharp wave of overstimulation through you, your body clenching involuntarily at the loss. You barely manage to bite back a whimper, your muscles weak, sore, trembling from the sheer force of what he's just done to you. The sudden emptiness is almost unbearable, leaving behind nothing but a slick mess between your thighs.

And God, does it ache.

Yeah, he wasn't just a monster on the inside, the one you loved to death, he also had a damn monster at his disposal and it knew exactly how to break you apart.

Ward smirks as he watches you struggle to steady yourself, his amusement evident as he tucks himself back into his pants, the sound of his zipper slicing through the silence was like a goddamn victory bell.

You force yourself to keep it together as you retrieve your clothes and pretend like your legs aren't still shaking, like you aren't still leaking down behind your thighs.

By the time you step outside the cell and turn to seal the door, he's already standing in front of you millimeters away.

The bars are the only thing keeping him from reaching you, but even that feels fragile, temporary, something he could snap if he truly wanted to. His eyes bore into yours, dark and unreadable.

"Go." It's a simple command, voice rough but steady, a sharp contrast to the wrecked, desperate way he'd been groaning your name just minutes ago.

You straighten up, forcing your legs to hold steady despite the dull ache still pulsing between them, determined to not let him have the last word.

So you smirk. Let your eyes flicker down to where his hands are still gripping the bars, where his knuckles are white with restraint.

"You always act so detached afterward, but you're already waiting at the bars like a dog for his master."

His arms shoot through the bars in a blur of motion, his hands grabbing you, yanking you forward until your body slams against the cold iron. A sharp gasp escapes you at the impact, muffled by his lips devouring you.

A feral kiss, all teeth and tongue, his tongue pushes past your lips, licking into your mouth with a desperation that contradicts the cold, unaffected tone he had just seconds before.

His teeth catch your lower lip, biting down hard enough to sting before he soothes over the mark with his tongue.

You moan into his mouth, unable to hold back the noise, unable to do anything but get consumed by him.

He shoves you away seconds later. Hard enough that you stumble, your breath heaving, lips swollen.

He licks his lips, tasting you there, his expression unreadable as he lets the silence stretch between you.

"You know where to find me." He spoke like nothing has ever happened.

Like he doesn't already know that no matter where you go or what you do—

You'll always come back.

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upat4amwiththemoon · 10 months ago

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

Accidental oversharing

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

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

Warnings: none

Word count: 772

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

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

masterlists | guidelines

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s going on?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah! So you do know her?”

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

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

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

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

“Very few people know.”

“Why wasn’t I one of those people?”

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

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

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

“Yes! Yes, I want her number.”

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

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onegayastronaut · 4 months ago

Text

Rekindling the Flame

Requested by anon: Hi could I maybe request a Melinda May & female reader fic where May and reader were best friends at the academy but went on different paths and are now reuniting again. Bonus points if Daisy is convinced they are a couple and is shipping them hard.

Words: 1104

Melinda May wasn’t one for nostalgia. The past was a place she avoided revisiting—its weight far too heavy for her liking. But when Director Coulson assigned her to oversee a new mission briefing, she couldn’t suppress the flicker of emotion that broke through her usually steely demeanor.

The specialist called in to consult wasn’t just anyone.

It was you.

Her best friend from the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy days. The one person who knew her before the “Cavalry,” before Bahrain, before the years of stoic silence and walls built too high for anyone to climb.

May stood near the head of the conference room, arms crossed, her gaze locked on the door. When you walked in, it felt like the years apart melted away, even if the faint lines at the corners of your eyes spoke of your own battles.

You scanned the room, stopping short when you saw her. A smile broke across your face—bright and familiar, just like she remembered.

“Agent May,” you greeted, your voice betraying a flicker of nervousness. You hadn’t seen her in over a decade.

“(Y/N),” May said, her tone unusually soft.

The room fell quiet as the two of you locked eyes. There was so much to say, but no words to fill the void years had left. Finally, you grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

“Still as intimidating as ever, I see.”

May’s lips twitched. “And you’re still as reckless.”

The old rhythm between you two came flooding back, and for a moment, the years and the pain didn’t matter. The rest of the room might as well have disappeared.

From across the room, Daisy nudged Mack with her elbow. “Okay, what is going on there?”

“What do you mean?” Mack asked, glancing at you and May. You were seated close together, heads tilted toward one another as you talked in hushed tones. It was the most animated anyone had seen May in months.

Daisy gestured wildly. “Look at them! The shared smiles, the intense eye contact. That’s not just a friend reunion. That’s chemistry.”

Mack snorted. “You’re reading too much into it.”

“Am I?” Daisy countered, crossing her arms. “They’re giving serious power couple vibes. Like, ‘grumpy mentor meets sunshine bestie’ kind of energy. I’m just saying—I’m here for it.”

Mack shook his head. “You’ve been watching too many rom-coms.”

Later that evening, you found May in the lounge, sitting with a cup of tea in hand. The dim lighting softened her sharp features, making her look less like the hardened warrior the world knew and more like the young woman you’d shared late-night study sessions with at the Academy.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked, taking a seat beside her.

“Never do,” she replied, her voice low.

You leaned back, letting the silence stretch. It was comfortable, just like it used to be. Words weren’t always necessary with May; she appreciated quiet company over hollow chatter.

“I missed you,” you said finally, breaking the stillness.

May’s gaze shifted to you, her expression unreadable. After a long pause, she admitted, “I missed you too.”

Your lips curved into a smile. “You could’ve reached out, you know. I’m not that hard to find.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me,” she said, her voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”

She hesitated, then looked away. “A lot’s changed since the Academy.”

“Not everything,” you said gently. “You’re still my best friend, May. That’ll never change.”

Her shoulders relaxed, just a fraction, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. For the first time in years, she felt something close to peace.

The next morning, Daisy cornered you in the gym. “Okay, spill it,” she demanded, planting her hands on her hips.

You blinked at her, mid-punch on the bag. “Spill what?”

“You and May,” Daisy said, grinning. “What’s the deal? Are you secretly dating? Have you been together since the Academy? Because if not, I’m officially shipping this.”

You laughed, a sound that startled even you. “Daisy, we’re just friends. Always have been.”

Daisy raised an eyebrow. “Sure, Jan. Tell that to literally everyone else who’s seen you two together.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “I think you’ve been spending too much time on fan forums.”

“Maybe,” Daisy admitted, “but mark my words: there’s something there.”

The briefing had gone smoothly, and the mission was executed with precision. You and May fell into an effortless rhythm, working together as though no time had passed since your last joint operation. Your movements were in sync, your strategies perfectly aligned. The rest of the team couldn’t help but notice.

“They’re like a well-oiled machine,” Mack said, watching as you and May coordinated an infiltration with little more than nods and hand signals.

“Told you,” Daisy whispered back. “Couple energy.”

By the time the mission was over, the team returned to the Quinjet in high spirits. You sat beside May in the corner, both of you quietly decompressing. The silence between you wasn’t heavy this time; it was companionable, filled with unspoken understanding.

As the Quinjet soared back toward the Playground, May turned to you. “So...are you staying this time?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with hope.

You smiled, your eyes warm. “If you’ll have me.”

May didn’t reply right away, but the faint curve of her lips said more than words ever could. For the first time in years, she allowed herself to hope.

From the cockpit, Daisy leaned over to Mack and whispered, “Called it.”

Mack sighed. “You’re impossible.”

A week later, the team gathered for a rare evening off. Daisy’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she watched you and May quietly chatting on the other side of the room. Finally, she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“So, when’s the wedding?” she called out, grinning.

The room fell silent. You choked on your drink, and May shot Daisy a glare that could’ve frozen lava.

“Daisy,” May said in a warning tone.

“What?” Daisy said innocently. “I’m just saying, you two are perfect together. The world’s been waiting.”

You looked at May, a mixture of amusement and embarrassment on your face. “She’s relentless.”

May sighed. “You have no idea.”

As the others laughed and the conversation shifted, May leaned closer to you, her voice low enough that only you could hear. “Ignore her.”

“She might be onto something,” you teased, your eyes twinkling.

May gave you a look, but the corners of her mouth betrayed the faintest of smiles. For the first time in years, she felt something she thought she’d lost forever.

Happiness.

#melinda may #melinda may x reader #melinda may imagine #agents of shield #agents of shield imagine #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#agents of shield x reader

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tvseries-writings · 1 year ago

Text

And he is back

Wandanat x Bioquake x Bobbi x reader (soulmate au)

TW: suicide

Plot: In a nightmare, you see Hive whose persuades Diasy killing herself and now he is in your mind, again.

You see him, behind her back, the great and powerful Hive. The shadow of a sadistic smile painting his monstrous face as he whispers in her ear. He did it to you too, and now he's doing it to her. You scream at her to stop but it's no use, she can't hear you, no matter how hard your vocal cords vibrate, begging her to stop, not to listen to him. Daisy, the inhuman who stole your heart, stands in front of him, her back to him as she puts a gun to her temple, her finger firmly on the trigger.

You scream, tears streaking your cheeks as you try to get closer but some kind of barrier prevents you. You slam your hands on that invisible wall; once, twice, three times but nothing you do seems to get his attention.

"Daisy, please," your voice is hoarse and trembling and the Inhuman looks at you but her eyes are glassy, the effect of Hive's drug clouds her mind and your heart aches, you know what she is feeling and you know the effect her control has on Inhumans like you.

"Daisy, look at me, don't do it, love. There's me, there's Jemma, Wanda, Natasha, Bobbi, May, Coulson, Fitz, Mack...please Dee, don't do this."

You plead with her, falling to your knees as your tears fall so profusely that they pool in a small stain at your feet. Your heart clenches as you watch her grip the gun tighter.

Hive walks over to the hacker and girds her hips, bringing his mouth closer to Daisy's neck.

"They'll be better off without you; think about Lincoln, Trip..."

He whispers it as glibly as if he were speaking words of love as he looks at you with dark, malevolent eyes that pierce your soul. He looks at you as if he were addressing those words to you as well.

Daisy looks at you one last time before unlocking the gun's safety.

"You'll be better without me."

You scream and your heart stops when a shot rings out in the dark gray cell where you stand. You fall to the ground and watch the blood gush from her lifeless body. You watch his face quickly turn to ash gray.

"Do not despair, you will soon meet his end, inhuman."

Hive approaches you and, finally, the barrier that separated you from Daisy shatters. You start to run toward her but Hive grabs you by the arm, forcing you to turn toward him.

"Your time has come."

"No!"

You scream and as he makes you dependent again, your concern goes to Daisy's body lying on the cold concrete floor and the only desire that pervades you, before Hive takes over, is to hold her in your arms and hear her laugh once more.

………..………………………..………………

You wake up drenched in sweat and with your heart beating wildly. Your chest aches and it takes you a few seconds to realize that what you experienced was nothing but a terrible nightmare.

Chills run down your spine as you sit up; your pajama shirt is so wet that the cold air outside the covers makes you shiver at the mere touch.

You search frantically for Daisy with your eyes, and when you see her chest slowly rising and falling and her light snoring, you breathe a sigh of relief and your heart finally begins to calm a little. You bring your knees to your chest, looking at Daisy and not taking your eyes off your girlfriend. You struggle to extricate yourself from Bobbi's grip and step over Jemma to get out of bed. You need to get some air and you don't want to sleep, not anymore. You don't want to see her face again and, most of all, you definitely want to get the image of Daisy out of your head and- and.

You shake your head, gritting your teeth and trying to breathe deep to get the image of the gun pointed at her temple out of your head.

You look at the nightstand where Bobbi always rests her gun, despite your protests, Jemma's protests, and Wanda's protests. Natasha, on the other hand, along with Daisy, fully supported her. You don't think twice before taking it in your hand, squeezing it with more force than you should. If Hive is back, if he has entered your head again...No, he is dead, Lincoln sacrificed himself to make him dead. His sacrifice could not have been in vain, not-

You can't freak out, not here, not with them sleeping so you touch your bracelet, activating it, before teleporting to the gym. You sit on one of the mats May uses to meditate, turning the gun over in your hands, savoring its weight and the coldness of the metal. You sob, thinking back to the nightmare and what Hive put you through, put you through. You remember vividly the dazzling withdrawal his lack of touch caused you; the physical pain he caused you, not to mention the mental pain. If he came back--you look down the barrel of the gun and turn it toward you,toward your face. If he came back, your last moment of lucidity will lead to your death, is a promise.

"What the hell are you doing?"

May's voice makes you wince and you drop the gun to the ground. May quickly approaches you, kicking the gun away and trying to meet your gaze.

"What the hell were you doing with a gun pointed at you?"

May repeats, punctuating each word harshly as she watches your every movement.

"I-it's not what it looks like May."

You whisper; you don't make eye contact with her, yet you feel her gaze burn into your back.

" Y/n, I really don't think it can look like anything else right now."

Flashbacks of your nightmare return to cloud your mind. You don't even realize that you tried to reach for your gun again and were stopped by May.

"Y/n, y/n! This is not real, what you are experiencing is not real. Listen to me, follow my voice, let's go."

May is frightened, you don't seem to be listening to her, and the Caveman is particularly startled by the blank look on your face.

"Agent!"

May shouts, shaking you by the shoulders, and Hive's face in front of you turns into the face of your SO.

"M-May?" you whisper, your voice shaky and broken as you cling to her as if she were your only lifeline.

"It's all right, it's all right. It was all in your mind."

It takes you a few minutes to realize that you are clinging to your SO; although you see May as a mother -- well, she must not know that. You pull away from her and swing from one foot to the other, looking out of the corner of your eye at the gun a couple of feet away from you.

May follows your gaze and quickly reaches for the gun, taking it in her hands and slipping it into the empty holster on her right thigh.

"Are your girls awake?"

You open your eyes wide, shaking your head firmly.

"No, no May, you don't have to tell them anything. Please May."

The officer sighs, crossing his arms and looking at you with a raised right eyebrow.

"Y/n, you're clearly having problems and you need to talk to someone about it, okay? They are your partners, if-"

"It's Hive!" May stops and you sigh, before continuing; your back hunches, as if you are bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders, "It's Hive, May. He's back, he's entered my head again, he's brought Daisy to-a-"

Tears line your cheeks, you no longer know what is real and what is not.

May looks at you confused and shakes her head as she tries to move closer to you, unsuccessfully as you pull away from her touch.

"No y/n, Hive is dead, Lincoln sacrificed himself to make this happen...Daisy is fine and he is not in your head. Not anymore."

You chase away the tears, wiping them away with your pajama sleeve but they continue to fall copiously; again and again as your body shudders with each sob you emit.

"Rockstar?"

Bobbi's voice makes you hold back a sob. You turn to her, noticing that she is not the only one who has noticed your absence in the bed. After all, your soulmates feel, at least in part, the feelings you have; especially if those feelings are as strong as the ones you are feeling right now.

"We didn't find you and we got scared," Jemma whispers, moving a few steps closer to you.

"And Bobbi's gun was not in its usual place."

The Inhuman approaches you and, before you can pull away, draws you into a hug.

"You dreamed Hive, didn't you?"

You stiffen under her touch as soon as that name slips from her lips. It feels wrong, poisonous, you want to suck it away once and for all. From yours and his mind, knowing the pain he has caused you both.

You nod, slowly. You lean into her touch, tired of bearing all that suffering alone, like so many times before. Daisy caresses your face, brushing a rebel lock from your forehead, before leaving a tender kiss on it.

"He's dead love, he's dead. He will never come back; I will not let him hurt you again, do you understand? Never."

Jemma, Bobbi and May watch the intimate moment between you and Daisy. Although Jemma and Bobbi are dying to hold you in their arms, they understand that in this moment Daisy is the only one who can truly understand your pain.

May approaches the two biochemists, handing them the gun she had previously hidden in her holster.

"I believe this is yours, Bobbi. I would advise you to put it in a safer place, you never know what might trigger an attack, you know."

Bobbi nods, quickly taking the gun and putting it in the back of her pants only after setting the safety. Jemma looks at the gun, looks at you, and then turns her attention to the older officer.

"What did he do? Why doesn't the gun have the safety on anymore, May?"

May sighs, shoots you a look and then drags Bobbi and Jemma away from you and Daisy.

"She...had the gun in her hand and was pointing it at herself."

Jemma gasps, as does the blonde. The weight of the gun, now, is a hundred times heavier and almost seems to drag her down.

"No May, you're wrong, she wouldn't, not-" The biochemist shakes her head, clinging to Bobbi's arm and looking at the blonde for confirmation, a hint of reassurance that, however, does not come.

The blonde agent looks away, thinking about how much Hive's addiction upset you, just a few months earlier, and how you became a different person under his control.

"Bobbi? She can't, right? She can't have done that, not-"

"Jem, remember what Hive did to her, how her powers rebelled against her own control...And now think if she thought she was at his mercy again, unable to do anything. I don't doubt that she could have, though it hurts to admit it."

You only seem to break out of the little bubble you and Daisy have created when Jemma emits her first sob.

Daisy's head snaps toward the biochemist; her gaze is a mixture of concern and confusion as she searches for an explanation for the fact that one of her soulmates is in tears. Bobbi shakes her head, mimicking a "we'll talk about it later" with her lips before leaning close to Jemma's right ear and whispering something that neither you nor Daisy can hear but that makes her stand up and leave the gym.

"Bobbi, what-?" you ask, confusion painting your face as you force yourself away from Daisy and toward the blonde.

"It's okay rockstar, she's just worried about you, we all are really. What do you say we join her in bed? It's four in the morning and I think we all need a good night's sleep."

You're not convinced by his answer, but he's right about one thing-you do need sleep, and even though you're afraid Hive will come back to haunt your dreams, you fear you have to do it anyway. Or at least, you have to pretend you do otherwise your girls will never leave you alone. So you nod, nod a small smile at them, say goodbye to May and leave the gym, joining Jemma. Daisy, Bobbi and May stand there and watch you leave, avoiding talking until your silhouette disappears from their sight.

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

You are holding Jemma in your arms when you see Bobbi and Daisy enter your room. From their looks, you can tell that May has told them everything.

Bobbi stares at you for a few seconds before setting the gun down on the same nightstand from which you borrowed it not an hour earlier. You stiffen a little at the thought of the talk the girls are about to give you and shudder at the mere thought of having to tell Daisy about your nightmare. The girl you're holding in your arms notices; in fact, she lifts her head and looks you in the eye as she lovingly strokes your back two, three, four times before the other two girls also join you on the bed. Bobbi sits cross-legged on the bed, inches from you and Jemma; Daisy, on the other hand, sits beside you, taking your right hand between her own.

"Honey, what did you dream? Did you dream Hive?"

You nod, stroking her hand and playing with the ring on her index finger. You focus on the warmth emanating from her body, on her face, on the face no longer as pale and lifeless as that has invaded your mind in the past few hours.

"L-he...he killed you, Dais. Or, I, he had you under his control again and convinced you to-"

Although you are trying to hold them back, tears line your cheeks ignoring your concern, "I saw you put the gun to your temple and pull the trigger."

The three girls remain silent and you turn away from them.

"And I couldn't do anything, I couldn't teleport, you couldn't hear me and- and finally, he made me go to you and I held you in my arms but it was too late."

Sobs shake your body as you approach the bedside table. Bobbi follows you, not for a moment leaving you uncontrolled.

"Y/n..." the blonde whispers, starting to move, slowly, toward you.

"I can't let him control me again, I can't, he's still inside my head, I-I love you, I really do, but I won't survive if he controls me again."

Your thoughts race frantically, so much so that your hands shake and you suddenly find yourself on the opposite side of the room. You fall to the floor with a thud, watching your girls, previously inches from you, more than a couple of feet away.

"Fuck it, fuck it, it's messing with my head, I can’t even control my powers anymore!"

Tears roll down your cheeks; you jump to your feet and shake your head furiously, over and over again. The last time you weren't in full control of your powers, it was under the influence of Hive. You no longer have doubts. You're not thinking clearly, otherwise you wouldn't do what you're about to do. You sprint towards the nightstand and, despite Bobbi trying to get there before you, you manage to grab the gun and remove the safety.

“What-no, stop!”

Daisy is moving towards you, Jemma is petrified and Bobbi is analyzing the situation trying not to panic.

"I'm sorry, I love you"

You pull the trigger and wait for the gunshot and the pain but none of that happens. The screams of your girls are the only thing you can hear.

"What the hell did you want to do"

Natasha stands in the doorframe, her voice shaking at the sight of the gun pointed at your temple. Wanda, however, is right behind her; her face is pale and her eyes are red as she uses her magic to keep your index finger from pulling the trigger. You look at your hand, see it covered in Wanda's red magic and your heart stops for a while when you realize that you haven't completed your task yet. Bobbi lunges at you, tackling you to the ground and throwing the gun away, but not before stuffing the magazine into the back pocket of her jeans. You collapse against the floor, surrendering under the blonde's grip with the hope that what is happening is nothing more than a nightmare. You could use your powers to free yourself from her grasp but you don't want to hurt her in any way. And suddenly, despite months of therapy, you fall back into the depressive state that Hive brought you to during his time on earth. You remain helpless in Bobbi's arms; your gaze is glassy as Bobbi talks to you, shaking your shoulders when you don't answer her. Your body moves back and forth, with the same ease of an unconscious body but you, on the other hand, have your eyes open, wide open, even if the emotionless and apathetic look in your eyes worries your girls greatly and Wanda does this that you think is best for you. She kneels next to you, caresses your temples and puts you to sleep with her magic.

“What the hell is going on?” Natasha whispers, breaking the silence as all the girls look at your unconscious form in Bobbi's arms.

“I… I think she has some Hive residue in her mind,” Jemma says, knowing she's just released a bombshell. They have to help you, whatever is happening to you, they will help you.

Thanks for reading! I don’t even know what is this but hey, at least it’s something :)- Have a great day and, if you want, you can support me on ko-fi. ☕️

Taglist: @wandanatsbaby @bioquake-archives @bioquakeweek @daisyjohnsonx @wandanatsgirl @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

#mcufam #natasha x reader #wandanat #wanda x reader #wanda x natasha x reader #wandanat x reader #wandanat x you #wlw #wlw fanfic #wandanat x bioquake x reader #bobbi morse x reader #agents of shield #fics #mcu fics #natasha romanoff x you #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #melinda may

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magneticallyyours · 11 months ago

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MASTERLIST OF FANDOMS I WRITE FOR/ACCEPT ASKS FOR (characters may vary, drop an ask to confirm)

Current fixations in bigger font.

---------------------------------

1) X-Men (movies, mostly. To avoid inaccuracies)

2) Marvel Cinematic Universe

3) The Matrix

4) Call Of Duty

-> Reboot, Zombies, and OG makarov.

5) Star Wars (also movies/series, I haven't read EU stuff)

6) Resident Evil

7) Honkai: Star Rail

8) Hitman

9) Detroit: Become Human

10) Bleach (I haven't watched TYBW yet)

11) Inglorious Basterds (the Tarantino movie)

12) Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul

13) Fallout (Only Maximus, Lucy, and The Ghoul)

14) The Boys

15) OVERWATCH

16) Bayonetta

17) Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance

18) Devil May Cry

19) JoJo's Bizarre Adventure 20) Arcane: League of Legends

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kining-the-evil · 1 year ago

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Pitty Party

/Summary/: After a mistake on a mission that led to another member of the team getting hurt May is there to help bring you back to earth

/Trigger warnings/: talks of death, talks of being in jail, panic attacks, no pronouns are used but reader is meant to be they/them, may is a mentor to the reader

/Requested by/: @mellifluous-fics

Agents of shield Masterlist. Other masterlists

/AN/: I am so, unbelievably sorry this took almost a year to get out. I’m going back and trying to get all of the old fics out that were the original requesters. I really hope it was worth the wait.

Slap…Slap…Slap…

You listened to the way your fists hit the punching bag in front of you. Your hands were starting to go numb, but you ignored it as you continued to hit the bag. You didn’t want to stop, you couldn’t stop. Not after today. Not after you fucked up the way you did. Not after you let Fitz get hurt on a mission.

You heard someone come into the room, but you ignored it, just like you had every other time someone from the team came in to try and talk to you. You ignored Sky, Colson, and Grant. Even Simmons left Fitz’s side to try and talk to you, but you refused to stop or look over at her as she told you Fitz was going to be okay.

“I didn’t come in here to be ignored.”

You hesitated for a second when you heard May's voice, but the moment you did, a flash of what happened went through your mind and you went back to hitting the bag. May let you continue for a few minutes before speaking again.

“You’ve been at it for two hours, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“‘M fine.” You finally mumbled, but her words got to you slightly. You started to feel the exhaustion from not only the two hours of active work you just did, but the mission you’d been on before this. You felt your body stagger slightly, your arms getting heavy and you could suddenly feel the sweat covering your body.

A hand touched your shoulder, pulling you back from the bag, and you let it. Your hands fell as you were led back a few feet, and you had to work to stay upright.

“Sit.” May commanded, though her voice was slightly softer than it normally was. She pushed you down onto a bench, walking away to grab you some water, not that you drank it. Instead you just looked at the water as you tried to catch your breath.

“Don’t throw yourself a-“

“It’s not a pitty party.” You snapped through labored breath. You knew this speech, it was the same thing May had given you a thousand times. When she was training you and you had a tough day, when you failed a mission for the first time, even when she came to recruit you for SHIELD. You could remember it like it was yesterday, how you were in a ‘correctional facility,’ no one had visited you the entire time you were there, your parents making it clear they didn’t want anything to do with you after the ‘incident.’ That’s when May showed up, offering you a place at their youth training center, and you happily took it instead of being stuck in that facility for any longer than you had too. You could remember exactly what she said; ‘you can stay here and throw yourself a pitty party or you can make a difference.’

“It sure looks like one,” May told you. “You’re ignoring you team, Fitz is going to be fine-“

“He’s not fine!” You finally snapped. “Fitz isn’t fine! He got shot because I could do my damn job and clear the building!” You stood up and threw the plastic cup of water to the ground. May just watched you, her hands crossed across her chest. “Say something!”

“Say what?” She sounded like her calm composed self, and it pissed you off.

“Anything! Yell at me! Tell me I was an idiot that doesn’t know how to do my job! You should be angry with me, everyone should be!” You yelled at her as your eyes filled with tears. “I’m the reason my teammate almost died! I’m supposed to protect you all, that’s my job, and I couldn’t even do that!”

May just watched you yell as tears streamed down your face. You were sure everyone could hear you at this point, but you didn’t care. You wanted May to tell you off like she did every other mistake.

“How many missions have you successfully completed?” You frowned at her words as you cried.

“What-“

“How many missions have you completed successfully?”

“I don’t know… a lot?”

“And how many have ended with a teammate hurt in a way that could have been lethal?”

“Two.” May’s face softened at your answers slightly.

“That time wasn’t a mission-“

“That’s what we called it. And because I didn’t watch the owner of that convenient store we robbed my best friend that I considered family died. And now another friend I consider family almost died because I didn’t watch for any threats like I should have been doing! So don’t make this into a ‘it only happened once, everyone makes mistakes,’ because this isn’t that! These two times matter more than any other mission I’ve completed!”

By the end of your little rant you were full on crying, almost hyperventilating as you wrapped your arms around yourself. A panic attack. You used to get them a lot when you were younger, but you hadn’t had a bad one like this in years.

You were so wrapped up in your struggle to breath and the flashing memories that you didn’t realize May had moved closer to you until her strong arms were being wrapped around you.

“Follow my breathing.” May told you,and you did your best to match your shaky breaths to her strong ones. You don't know how long you stood there together doing that, but eventually you were able to slow your breathing. Even after that May kept her arms around you.

“You aren’t getting sent away for this mistake, none of us are going to leave you because you made an honest mistake. Okay?”

“I should still be punished.”

“Normally I’d agree to a good punishment for a mistake, but I think you’ve done plenary.” May motioned to your split and bleeding knuckles. “Now, come on. Fitz was worried sick that you were punishing yourself over this.”

You nodded and let May lead you out of the room and back to your team.

#agents of shield x reader #agents of shield #melinda may x reader #melinda may #mother figure!melinda may #my wriring

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symp4nat · 1 year ago

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Crush

melinda may x reader (family), daisy johnson x bi!reader

You were laying on your mom's bed and threw a ball in the air while you waited for her. You gave her a slight scare when you told her you had something to tell her, she assumed the worst.

As May walked in, you threw the ball over her head and she raised an eyebrow at you. As she closed the door, she gently asked, "Are you pregnant?"

You gasped and shook your head, "No, no! It's-" She interrupted you, "Are you dating someone? Didn't I tell you that you had to tell me before getting in a relationship?"

You slightly whined, "Mum, just listen! I like someone. Now....no judging..." She nodded hesitantly and said, "But just to clarify, boy or girl?"

"Girl, you can't tell her," you said. Melinda looked at you with a slightly confused expression and then nodded. You continued, "It's Daisy."

"Daisy who? Our Daisy," May looked at you with a horrified look on her face. You frowned and nodded. "I wanna tell her, it's just... 'n I don't wanna ruin our friendship."

"I know you don't and you are aware that you both being together might affect the team," your mom questioned. "But mama, FitzSimmons!"

She shook her head, "They're married, it's different." You looked down and nodded. "Fine. Whatever."

May looked you up and down as you turned to leave. "No scheming. I said no scheming Y/N/N!" You bent down, picked up the ball from the floor and chucked it behind you onto your mom's head. "Y/N/N!"

#daisy johnson #daisy johnson x reader #daisy johnson smut #aos #melinda may #agents of shield #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#leopold fitz #leo fitz #jemma simmons #marvel

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untoldreader · 2 months ago

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Shield File

1942-1943

#marvel #marvel universe #bobbi morse x reader #jemma simmons x reader #daisy johnson x reader #melinda may x reader #and y/n #bobbie morse #jemma simmons #daisy johnson #melinda may #y/n #agents of shield #S.H.I.E.L.D

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 2 years ago

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Sensory Deprivation Kink with Melinda May ~Kinktober 2023

Happy October 6th!! Today is a Sensory Deprivation Kink with Agents of SHIELD, Agent Melinda May 🖤🎃 Enjoy!!

Previous Day <—found here!

Kinktober 2023 <—Here!!

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, sensory deprivation kink, blindfold kink, smut, fingering, kissing, nipple play, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

“Do you trust me?” She asked, holding something behind her back with one hand as she approached you on the edge of the bed.

You bit your lip in anticipation and nodded.

“Good” Melinda hummed, showing you the blindfold, before quickly tying it on your head.

Then it all went black.

Your breath became bated as you felt your senses adjust to the loss in sight. Suddenly you couldn’t feel the weight of the woman anymore. She could be anywhere…

You gasped as you felt a cool hand cup you cheek, and then a pair of warm lips meet yours. You lightly moaned into the kiss, taking all that the brunette would give you. Her hot mouth worked yours with skill, her tongue slipping into your mouth with ease. Her kiss was delicate yet direct. It left you wanting more more more, as the woman eventually pulled back completely. You whined in response.

“Patience.” Melinda hummed in reminder.

You gulped and nodded. You then felt her cold fingers once more, along your shirt line, lightly tugging on it. You quickly got the message and helped her remove your shirt. Your bra, and the rest of your clothing, down to your panties went next. Once you were completely naked, you lost her touch once more. Your lip pouted lightly but you didn’t whine.

“Go to the center of the bed.” Melinda said, chuckling at how responsive you were for her.

You scurried to the middle of the bed, awaiting the woman. A couple of minutes of silence past and you sat still in anticipation, your breath bated.

Suddenly you felt the bed dip at the end. You gasped lightly as you felt the weight come closer to you. You nearly yelped when you felt her chilly hands on your ankles, spreading your legs. Melinda came all the way up, until she was on top of you.

Your mouth was agape from the sensations. The touch was all too much yet not enough at the same time. Then you felt her fingers trail down to your core. You eagerly bucked your hips in the direction of her hand, making Melinda chuckle once more.

And then you felt her digits enter you and you damn near keeled over in pleasure. Soon along with her fingers curling inside you, you felt her hot mouth attach to one of your perked nipples.

All this did you in within minutes…

You were putty in the woman’s hands…

~~~

Next Day <—Breast Worship Kink!!

Melinda May Masterlist

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

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jamiedc-they-them · 2 years ago

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Rise Together (Platonic)

Requested Summary: Melinda May has always been the protector. Now though, she isn’t the only one, but instincts die hard.

It was meant to be a normal mission. Get people out and deal with the Watchdogs. You’d found a bomb, and managed to get everyone else out before it went off. While everyone get out, they realised they were missing one person.

You.

It takes a moment for them to realise; mainly because they’re accounting for everyone else - the civilians - before they realise. It’s Daisy who mentions. The others soon realise where you most likely are as well. They all look at the building. One that may be your tomb.

May runs as fast as she can back to the site, she’s meant to protect you. And she’s failed.

They know they can’t did through the massive parts of the building. But there are small things they can move.

So, they get to work.

They’re desperate with their moments. They’re just clawing away at what they can, calling out to you as well. They just hope their throats don’t give up on them as they keep calling out for you. So far, nothing has come back.

Then, for once, they get lucky. They find a hand, and a whole lot of blood.

“Oh god,” May says, betraying her concern. The others all swarm, helping her move the rubble away. They can’t even describe your state.

May puts pressure on your wound, or well, one of them. This one is deep, something impaled you at some point and went through cleanly.

Jemma is barking orders, but May’s not hearing it. The voices are faded. All she can focus on is you. You’re not breathing. You look dead. May looks at her hands, pretty much caked in blood, get covered over by two more. Looking over, she sees Daisy, who gives May a shaky smile.

Her senses start to come back to her, even with her heart pounding.

“They’ll be ok,” Daisy promises, “they’ll be ok.”

May then realises her hands are off the wound, she goes to move them back, but Daisy squeezes May’s hands and keeps eye contact with the woman, “hey. May, hey,” she says, “we’ve got them now. Y/N will be ok. We’ll make sure of it, alright? We’ve got them.”

Daisy has done her job of distraction, as you’re out of the rubble and being loaded onto a stretcher. It makes May’s stomach churn.

Slowly, the two stand up. May watches you go. Daisy looks as well, biting her lip in anxiety.

It’s May who squeezes Daisy’s hands this time.

They’ve done all they can. They got you out. Jemma and her team just have to make sure you live.

It’s not just her looking out for you anymore. You both have gained a family who will do all they can for you.

She takes a breath, and hopes.

#agents of shield fanfic #agents of shield imagine #agents of shield x reader #melinda may imagine #melinda may x reader #platonic reader #platonic!reader

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jackiequick · 2 years ago

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Bonds were made | Agents of SHIELD Fanfic

Pairing: Amelia Parker & Grant Ward

Timeline: Pre-Avengers (2012), Pre-Agents Of S.H.I.E.L.D. (2013-2020)

Summary: Sometimes the person you see so much respect and kindness for, isn’t the one who you expect it to be. Doesn’t matter how different you may seem, it’s this challenge to themselves and you are going through the process together.

Characters mentioned: Phil Coulson, Melinda May, Natasha Romanoff, Mockingbird, and others

Setting: During SHIELD Academy

—————

Her heart was racing. Pumping. Hunched over her knees as she squeezed her eyes shut. It was late. The sun was coming down. Close to the dead of night. Her phone was buzzing as she let out a deep breath and glared at the guy in front of her.

He chuckled, wearing hid dark clothes and shook his head watching her. Glancing over at the street light, choking on the heat as the world spins around as they’re frozen on the top of the street.

“What you looking at, Ward?” She yelled, as her glares softened as she tossed a water bottle and he lead her to sit down on the bench nearby.

“Nothing.” He repiled, placing a gentle hand on her back and gave her a certain amount of time to rest.

“I can’t do this. I give up. Can we go home? Please?”

“No, sweetheart. This is what it’s all about. You need to build up your own strength and stamina.”

“Now it just feels like I’m not getting everywhere. I’m done.”

“You just started! What are you gonna do when the real mission comes, huh?”

She gave him an odd look and scoffed chuckling, “Stand behind a set of computers and code my way across the hardware. Sitting!”

“Ames, you said it yourself last week. You want to be versatile! Be a field agent and get out there on the action. I’ve seen it before, you can run and give a good punch to defend yourself.” He replied with an certified look.

“That was different, Grant! I was trying to escape stores, get away from cops and stuff.”

“No, it’s the same thing! You gotta—no, we gotta make this a challenge.”

“More challenging than it is?”

“Yes! You gotta race me, y-you wanna race me? Make it a bet!”

“You’re serious? Your not kidding me, right? Cause you like to cheat sometimes to get me riled up!”

“That’s my point! I gotta find your center to get you moving and want to keep going. I think I know exactly what makes you go for the moment! You do too.”

“…I see your point! Make the connection, search for what they want and stand your ground. That’s how I get it.”

Grant just grinned at her words. He only spent a short few weeks with Amelia but she was something else, she always wanted understand the assignment and plays with the ball she’s given. Something he didn’t have to teach her, she just knows.

Just like him.

It surprised him how young she was but how she tended to keep herself grounded. It like playing a game with her, making sense of what she meant and wants. There was a difference she carried in the way she wanted to things and the balance she tried to keep.

However he always needs to keep her up float, it was his self defense and self doubt she carried but hid behind very well.

He respected it, a lot.

Amelia grinning ear to ear. It was this sweetness she carried, this childlike attitude towards others, wanting to see them in a different light. She always knew she saw something different in Ward. The determination, the guilt of challenging himself to do better for someone can give a chance and the away he treated others.

The self doubt, keeping everything leveled and an confidence she saw in him.

It amazes her how he balanced it all so young.

He carried this look on his face like he gave everyone the cold shoulder, but he really just wanted to see what they’re made of. It’s hard for him to let loose and not be so serious with her, due to way he were so different. But it’s this challenge Amelia had with him, to keep Grant bouncing around and smile where his shoulders dropped in relief, keep him in a position to breathe.

She respected him, so much. She seen the tapes of him in action and honestly she would trust Grant Ward with her life.

She love t—

“Amelia?” He asked with a smile, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Hm?” She repiled with a little smile.

“Do you trust me enough, to race against me?”

“Well you do trust me enough to get the job done?”

His smile grew with a nod, “Yeah, I do.”

“Good. I do too.” She replied this time with a bigger smile.

~~~~

Do you trust me?

Little did they know that one line, would be the thing that chained the relationship they would have.

The bond that would make and break them..

~~~~

The bet, or more like the challenge, Grant made to race down 2–3 blocks and make a left onto a few streets as they would reach the step to the museum.

The Metropolitan Museum Of Art to be exact.

Amelia found it to be sounding easy enough, jumping in pace to hype herself up as she popped in her earbuds. Grant found it funny at first and sorta cute that she needed music to get the job done, but he couldn’t blame her. Music alway make everything better as he decided to join on the fun and throw on his headphones.

There a timer on both phones for 15 minutes tops.

Once the countdown started, Amelia speeded off a second half quicker than Grant who smirked at her pace. The two started out going down the same direction across the blocks, becoming careful for people who were walking around and watching traffic.

It was going well. Hearts racing, beats pumping in their ears as Amelia glanced at timer and tried following Grant. He was more athletic than her, so it made it tricky for her to keep up.

“Keep up slow poke!” Grant yelled, flip to start pacing back and sending her a small wave.

His real test was to see her determination and agility to keep up with the task, like running towards a con artist for example. In his eyes, she wasn’t doing bad so far as he turned back to run the correct way.

She sighed taking a breath and grunted, “Ohh—not fair!”

She on the other hand was testing his strategy a bit, since Amelia thought of taking a short cut past a few people and across the street, since sometime you had to take a little detour to get somewhere.

So she whistled at him and pacing over to the around a group of people, sending way at Ward. He rolled his eyes as she then race off.

———

But Amelia Parker being well..Amelia Parker. She didn’t think her idea would thoroughly lead her towards an narrow end. There were buildings, fire escapes, people walking from different backgrounds, alleyways, dogs, and vehicles passing by her.

“Shit..” She muttered, whined as she started wondering where Ward went and added, “..stupid Parker..”

The girl decided to climb up a fire escape nearby an apartment complex close to a few store, such as H&M and Rainbow, hoping she can get a better look. It kinda stunk due to the dumpsters close by.

She took to the top of one of the buildings, feeling a little fuzzy and groans at the garbage.

However once she over the smell, using her phone Amelia zoned in and saw the somewhat crowded streets followed by, the lovely Metropolitan Museum so close. Her location wasn’t so far away, so she glad.

She even saw Grant running before noticing she wasn’t behind him. He looked confused for a moment, almost terrified he lost her amongst the audience of people and started playing back his latest memory as he run off.

Amelia on the other hand shrugged, texting Grant she was on her way sooner rather later. It was looking pretty good until Amelia started to get down the stairs to fire escape she saw it. Both guy, around the 18 or so, jogging up to the alleyway floor started to lock eyes with her.

She tried getting down as quick as possible and jump over to the dumpsters for higher level. But she was too late as they were speeding up towards, about to jump down when they started shaking the latter.

The girl paced herself, taking a breathing trying to fight them off using whatever was nearby to hit them as she jumped down the latter.

She was new to this whole thing, fighting off more than one person and finding their weak spots. But still Amelia tried her best, being pushed and tossed onto the groundwork by one of them guys.

“Guys, come on! C-can we talk about this? Huh?” She asked, douching a hit and grabbed a glass bottle to use as a weapon.

But before one of the guys could swing tightly over her face, he was pulled back against the top of his head and whacked hard stumbling backwards. There was one holding Amelia by the side, letting her go and tossing the girl onto the ground.

She stumbles, standing up against the dumpster and gagged at the smell balancing herself then swinging the glass bottle across his guys head. She hit him so hard he was knocked out cold.

“Ames?!” Yelled the rough voice of her partner of the race.

She turned over to face him, as she connected the dots that it was him who whacked the first guy in the head so hard. Grant just finished fighting him off and grunted, racing over to her helping her stand.

“H-hey, hey, look at me. You okay?” He asked, worry in his eyes as he gently takes her face in his hand searching for damage, “Where did the bastards hurt you?”

“Heheh you really fought him for me, huh?” She replies, with a dry laugh giving him a half smile as she looked at his face.

All Amelia saw were the small bruises, snatches and shiner that could form anytime soon on his face. His hoodie fell off as his chest was still huffing. She never saw him worried before, but then again she just got attacked in an alley.

Grant didn’t realized he was taking her face in his hand and search for damages in just a concerned way. He saw the small bruises on her arms. As well as tiny snatches on her face.

“Damn it, Ames!” He grunted, huffing at her humorous laugh and half smile, “You’re hurt. Where does it hurt?”

“I’m fine now and don’t be concerned or blame yourself. It’s part of..training, getting hurt and standing up right?” She replied, running her thumb over his jaw to notice the bruise there.

“You took a detour and got attacked in the process. Of course, I’m concerned!Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m okay! You saved me, didn’t you?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am i.”

“Always a humorous moment with you, isn’t there?”

“Mhm!”

“Ames, I’m not kidding!”

“I’m fine, your hurt too. A pretty strong attack to the face..a-are you okay?”

“I’ve been hurt far more worse than that. So I’m alright. Coulson’s gonna kill us..”

“He doesn’t have to find out, unless we don’t say anything..”

“At least we’re not bleeding to death, so that’s a plus..”

“I hate you, a lot.”

“Aw, i love you too.”

She huffed pushing the hair out of her face and smirked. He sighed deeply shaking his head, seeing the look in her eyes and returned the smirk.

“No, don’t. You are not going continue the race against me.” He told her with a certain look, smiling softly.

“Come on, we might as well get the job done. Do you trust me to keep going with your challenge?” She asked him with a small grin.

“Serious? Okay I’ll bite. Do you trust me when i say we’re gonna regret this in the morning?”

“Possibly. But um, are we still itching to get it done..i hope..”

“God. One last lap to the museum, Ames. I mean it.”

“Yes! Then off to 7-11 for pizza and extra water bottles…and um, thank you.”

“For what?”

“Having my back.”

~~~~

He smiled at that, hearing those words.

Parker was a wordsmith with a smile that can make or break something inside someone.

He understood that. It’s something that could help or hurt a person, make you want to watch your step.

Almost like Coulson.

Damn.

She returned the same smile, watching his face considering her words.

Ward was a engineer with his attitude that can sending you spiraling down a wormhole of questions and a smile that can lead you down a certain path.

She knew that. It was this skill level and an great balancing act with a mind that help or hurt you if you mess up.

As close to Agent May or even Romanoff.

Shit.

~~~~

And once again they were off.

Racing against one another, keeping up the pace watching the other person’s six and matching sure they’re alright after the attack.

It was more like jogging.

Sharing tiny smiles. Grant rolled his eyes at her silly little grin as Amelia scoffed at his cheeky wink he would give in return.

Reaching the street across to the location. He stood behind her watching over to see anyone was nearby and if there was space to make the jump up the steps.

A few steps up to the top of the stairs, kneeling to take a breath and nodding as they ran gently.

Grant reach up the steps first, he smile holding out his hand for her to take. Amelia giggled softly, taking his hand gently as she was pulled into his embrace.

He was honestly proud of her and so was she.

“What you giggling at?” He asked with a smile, his arms wrapped around her shoulder as he looked down at the girl in question.

“You listened and kept going.” She replied with a smile, leaning into his embrace as she looked up at him.

“Your proud?”

“Yeah. You’re a good guy, Ward.”

“You make me feel like I’m a good guy. I’m proud of you. You passed my test.”

“Test?”

“Yeah, i wanted to see your determination and I made sure of it. You kept going even if i wasn’t on the same page about it”

“Of course, i took a page out of your book. To keep going and stop when you can’t anymore. And you passed mine, I think.”

“Hmm, i guess so. You’re gonna be a good agent some day.”

“As good as you or better?”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, Parker.”

He walked away from her, nodding for her to follow him as he held out an hand.

She raised an eyebrow and added, “You didn’t answer my question!”

“I didn’t need to!” He responded, waving his hand waiting for her.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Isn’t that my line?”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Not happening.”

“Good answer.”

Amelia paced up, taking his hand gently and walked with him down the path. Grant nodded, taking the lead glancing down at her every once in a while.

As they walked down the street, he notice her smile and tiny bruises that started to take shape.

But she wasn’t angry about it nor upset with him about leading the way. It was her choice and she made a mistake, learning from it.

He knew why she is the way, she is and admired her for it. Hell, he thanked his timing and the position he was in to have her in his life.

Knowing that Amelia Parker would make a great deal of decisions one day and in result make people shine or question their tactics.

And he hopes he can be there to see it.

What happened today and the damaged that cause him to end up hurt—both of them to be hurt—it wasn’t his fault per say. He knew the risk and she knew the way he would think about it.

She noticed the smile on his face, making her own grow. She never expected to find someone like Grant Ward in her life and thanked the whole situation she was in for it.

He made a mistake not watching his back, but he will learn as the time goes and the keystone that follows along that path.

She admired that part of him, since Ward isn’t one to to make small mistakes very often and it shows her that it’s part of the job.

Knowing that Ward will have to become an leader one day, having to help a group during highly trained mission of some kind and make decisions that might cost his life or save it.

And something tells her that she might be there to see it.

___

Little did they know that those hopes and suspensions will become true.

Leading different paths within the same field and bumping into one another weather they like it or not.

But that’s an tale for another day…

——-

Thanks for reading! I wanted to write an story about this pair for a while now. I hope you enjoy it

Please like, share, comment and reblog for more stuff like this one

Tags: @sherloquestea @gaminggirlsstuff @starkleila @msrochelleromanofffelton @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @mandylove1000 @whitewiccan @mallowbee4 @comfortzonequeen @topgun-imagines @rooster-84 and etc

#agents of shield #grant ward #grant ward x reader #agents of shield x reader #agents of shield fanfic #marvel x oc #mcu ocs #agents of shield au #agents of shield oc #phil coulson #melinda may #danielle campbell #brett dalton #aos fanfic #fyeahmarvelocs #agents of shield incorrect quotes #marvel oc #davina claire

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karaslittlesunshine · 2 years ago

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melinda may agere fic <3

Would you write for little!reader with melinda? where she sees r regress for the first time after trying so hard to hide it from melinda<3 I know May would be the best mommy ever🥹

I wrote this over the last week while i’ve been sick with a bad cold :(. I used this request kinda as a jumping point so hopefully its okay and i didn’t stray from it too much! thank you for letting me indulge in my new special interest <3. i can’t wait to write more agents of shield.

also i dont have a title rn lmao sorry 😭

Word Count: 1379

☀️🧸🍄

After a long stakeout with Bobbi and Hunter, you were cold, wet, and exhausted. The tip the team had been given had proven to be false and so the three of you spent the night in the snow for little to no payout. You’d collapsed into bed as soon as you’d gotten back to the playground, taking no time to get out of your wet clothes.

The next morning when Coulson called the team for briefing, you wished you had taken a little more care last night. Your head was throbbing with a sharp pain and your throat felt like razors. With all the willpower you could muster, you pulled on fresh clothes and headed to Coulson’s office.

“Ah, Agent L/N, thank you for joining us. I was hoping that you three could shed some more light on last night?” He said, gesturing to Bobbi and Hunter.

Everyone’s heads turned towards you three, dammit.

“Uh yeah, turned out to be a bust.” You cringed at your voice as you started explaining, so much for trying to hide how horrific you were feeling.

Everyone seemed to brush past it through the rest of the meeting, though you could tell Jemma was holding herself back – as soon as Coulson dismissed you, she was on your tail.

“Y/n? are you feeling okay?” You smiled and nodded,

“Yep, yeah, I’m fine.” May cocked an eyebrow at you as you hurried away from them both.

You hid back in your room, head in your hands. Being sick always made it even harder to not slip, and everything was becoming so overwhelming. The tears just wouldn’t stop.

Slowly, your thumb slipped into your mouth and your hands found your teddy buried beneath your blankets. Rocking yourself gently, you stopped fighting the urge to slip.

Unfortunately, that was when one Melinda May decided to enter your room.

“L/N?”

Your head whipped around to meet your superior officer’s gaze. There had been so many times where May had almost caught you regressed. She was much too observant for anyone in the team to hide anything for too long.

May’s eyes softened as she took in your state,

“Y/N, you’re sick.”

“’M fine.” You mumbled around your thumb.

Slowly, May made her way over to you and placed a gentle hand on your forehead.

“You’re not fine, you’re burning up.”

Your lip trembled as you tried to hold back tears, you truly did just feel so dreadful.

“Hurts” you say as your tears slip out. May softens once more as she wordlessly pulls you into her strong arms.

“Shh” May starts gently combing your hair back as she rocks you both back and forth, continuing your motions from earlier.

“How about we go see Jemma?” You stiffen, you didn’t want the others seeing you little.

“No mama” May composed herself, glad you were finally trusting her with this after so long of watching you hide it. She tried to allow you to come to her with it when you were comfortable, but it seems as though this illness has made the decision for you.

May shushed you softly, “You’re sick, y/n. Do you want to feel better?” You nod against her chest. “Well, I think that a visit to Jemma is in order then, hm?”

You sigh, teddy clutched in your arms. “Jemma here?”, May understands and nods, pulling her phone out to call Dr. Simmons, while also sending a quick text after letting her know of your regressed state. The privacy ship had sailed, and she wanted Simmons to be prepared as to not upset you further.

“Knock knock, just me.” Jemma entered, you curled further in May, refusing to let her go.

“Hi, y/n. May said you weren’t feeling too well?” Jemma knelt in front of you, being very careful not to startle you.

“Y/n, can Jemma give you a check-up? So, we can help you feel better?”

“Mama stay?” May gave a warning glare to Simmons before responding,

“Mama’s right here, honey. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jemma took that as the okay and got out the thermometer, slipping it in your mouth after May took out your thumb.

“Hm, it’s at 102. I can probably try to just get it down with fever reducers and a cool cloth for now. But we’ll have to keep an eye on it, I don’t want it getting above 103.” May nodded at Jemma’s words, brushing a loving hand over your warm face.

You cooperated as Simmons checked your throat and ears but started to whine as she felt around with the cold stethoscope.

“Oh, I know sweet girl, I’m almost done.” Jemma cooed. May rubbed your back as you tried to move away.

“There we go, all done darling. You did so good! I’m going to give you some medicine and we’ll get you feeling better lickety-split!” Jemma said making you giggle.

“Well done y/n, Mama’s proud of you.”

Through some coaxing, you took your medicine and laid your head on Melinda’s chest for a nap. Jemma left the two of you to it, promising to keep everyone away and letting May know she’d be around if she needed her.

It wasn’t too long before the slightest of stirs alerted May that something wasn’t quite right. Your mumbles were incoherent as you woke up, tears starting as you tried to fight through the post-nap confusion.

“Hey, shh, shh” As May pushed the hair off your face, she felt how much warmer you’d become.

“Simmons, we need you down here, now.” She didn’t bother texting, just praying that Jemma had her comms in.

You cried and cried, everything hurt, and it was overwhelming. Nothing made sense and you were freezing cold, but Mama kept taking your blankets away. Why! Doesn’t mama know how freezing you are? Why is she doing that? Why is she looking worried and oh, why is Jemma here now too? She looks worried too, but less than Mama so it must be okay, right?

“Open up sweetheart.” Jemma slipped the thermometer in your mouth again, she frowned at Mama when she took it out.

“It’s climbing, 103.9 now. Do you know if yours or Coulson’s rooms have a bath?”

“Mine does.” Jemma nodded,

“Alright little bee, we’re going to go to May’s room now, alright? Just to have a little bath to cool you down.”

The two women tried their best to placate you before moving you, but you were just so sad. Being sick really sucked.

“Hey Simmons, whats – oh, Y/N? May? What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Daisy rounded the corner just before the three of you got to May’s room.

Jemma gave May a look to let her know she’ll deal with it as May tried to comfort you.

“Hey, hey shhh. Mama’s here. Daisy won’t be anything but supportive, don’t you worry.”

“Right! Shall we run that bath sweetpea?” Jemma turns to the bathroom, guiding you as she whispers that everything was fine with Daisy, that she was more concerned and eager to help than anything.

“Noo! Cold, cold!” you wailed as you wet set in the lukewarm water. You cried and cried as both May and Simmons tried to explain what was happening.

“Sweetheart, we have to do this to help your fever come down. I’m sorry little bee, it’s going to be okay.” Jemma soothed as May brushed your hair back to help you relax.

“Mama m tired. Jemma? I seep?”

“Oh honey, soon, okay? Promise.”

“Mama’s right here, okay? I’m right here, we’re going to get you all dry and comfortable and we can cuddle in Mama’s bed soon, alright?” You nodded as Jemma put the thermometer in your mouth again.

She smiled, “It’s 102, still not great, but it’s coming down. I think we can hop out of the bath sweet one.”

Jemma left and let Mama get you dressed. Leading you over to her bed she sat behind you humming and began to brush and braid your hair back, feeling you grow heavier as you tried to fight sleep.

Melinda pressed at kiss to your head as she put the brush down, “Come here baby, lay on Mama’s chest and rest.”

With Mama’s fingers tracing patterns on your back, you let yourself drift off to sleep.

#Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.#Age Regression #agents of shield #Agere #sfw agere #marvel agere #agere little #reader x melinda may #reader x jemma simmons #reader x agents of shield #agents of shield agere #agents of shield age regression #marvel fanfiction #marvel age regression #melinda may #jemma simmons #jemma simmons agere #melinda may agere

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onegayastronaut · 28 days ago

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The Cavalry's Shadow

Requested by anon: hi can you maybe write Melinda May as a mother ? ? That would be awesome 😍😍

Words: 1879

It had been a long day in the field. You dragged yourself through the halls of the Triskelion, your body aching from the mission. The bruises were already forming beneath your tactical gear, a testament to just how much the mission had pushed you to your limits. But no amount of physical exhaustion could dull the nervous anticipation that churned in your stomach. After all, Melinda May was waiting for you.

The name "Melinda May" struck fear into the hearts of most agents. To you, however, she was something far more intimidating: Mom.

You grew up in the shadow of her reputation, watching her seamlessly transition between being the Cavalry and being your mother. It wasn’t easy—being the child of a SHIELD legend meant you had big shoes to fill. And as much as she’d insisted that she didn’t expect you to follow in her footsteps, part of you had always wanted to prove yourself worthy of the name.

The door to her office was slightly ajar, a sign that she was expecting you. Taking a deep breath, you pushed it open and stepped inside.

“You’re late,” she said without looking up from the report she was reading. Her tone was neutral, but you could sense the underlying tension.

“I had to debrief with Coulson,” you explained, standing at attention despite the exhaustion. Old habits died hard.

Finally, she looked up, her sharp eyes scanning you from head to toe. Her gaze lingered on the faint bloodstains on your gloves and the swelling bruise on your jaw. “What happened?”

“The mission went sideways. Hydra had more reinforcements than we anticipated,” you admitted, shifting uncomfortably under her scrutiny. “But we got the intel.”

May rose from her chair and crossed the room in a few quick strides. She stopped in front of you, close enough that you could see the worry hidden behind her stoic expression. Without a word, she reached out and gently tilted your chin to inspect the bruise.

“You need to be more careful,” she said quietly, her voice soft but firm.

“I’m fine,” you assured her. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

She didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she stepped back and crossed her arms, her face settling into that unreadable mask you knew so well. “You did well out there. But you’re not invincible.”

The words hit harder than you’d expected. Growing up, you’d always admired her strength and resilience. Hearing her acknowledge your vulnerability felt strangely disarming.

“I’ll be more careful next time,” you promised, though you weren’t entirely sure you could keep that promise. Being an agent of SHIELD meant walking the line between life and death on a daily basis.

May studied you for a moment longer before nodding. “Good. Now sit down.”

“I don’t need a lecture,” you protested.

“It’s not a lecture,” she replied, gesturing to the chair across from her desk. “It’s dinner.”

Your protest died on your lips as you noticed the neatly packed containers sitting on her desk. She must have ordered takeout from your favorite Thai place—a rare indulgence for both of you. With a small smile, you sank into the chair and accepted the container she handed you.

For a few minutes, the office was filled with the sound of clinking utensils and the faint hum of the air conditioning. The familiar flavors of pad thai and green curry brought a sense of comfort that you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” May said finally, breaking the silence. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

You looked up, startled by the vulnerability in her voice. “It’s not about proving something to you. I just… I want to make a difference.”

Her expression softened, and for a moment, you saw not the Cavalry but your mother. “You already are. But you can’t help anyone if you’re not taking care of yourself.”

You nodded, letting her words sink in. As much as you hated to admit it, she was right. The mission might have been a success, but it had taken a toll on you—physically and emotionally.

“I’ll try to take it easier,” you said, offering her a small smile.

May’s lips curved into a rare smile of her own. “Good. Now finish your food before it gets cold.”

As you dug into the meal, the tension in the room began to dissipate. For a little while, you allowed yourself to forget about the bruises, the missions, and the weight of expectations. In this moment, you weren’t just an agent of SHIELD. You were Melinda May’s kid, and that was more than enough.

The next morning, the team gathered in the common area for a debriefing. You’d barely walked into the room when Daisy’s voice rang out. “Look who decided to show up! Took you long enough.”

“Sorry,” you quipped back, setting your coffee down on the table. “I was busy saving the world. You know, the usual.”

“Oh, please,” Daisy shot back, grinning. “I was the one hacking Hydra’s mainframe while you were just running around dodging bullets.”

“Dodging bullets is an art,” you countered. “One you clearly haven’t mastered.”

Fitz chuckled from his spot by the monitors. “I’d argue that hacking a Hydra mainframe is more impressive. No offense.”

“None taken,” you said with a smirk. “It’s not my fault you’re all tech geniuses while I’m stuck doing the grunt work.”

“Grunt work?” Simmons interjected, raising an eyebrow. “I seem to recall you being quite integral to yesterday’s success.”

“Thanks, Simmons. At least someone appreciates me,” you said, shooting her a grateful smile.

“Enough,” May’s voice cut through the room like a knife. The playful banter died down immediately as everyone turned to her. She stood at the head of the table, her expression unreadable as always. “Let’s focus. We have another mission briefing in twenty minutes.”

As the team settled into their seats, you caught Daisy’s eye. She made a face, and you had to bite back a laugh. May might have been strict, but that didn’t stop the team from finding ways to lighten the mood.

Later that day, the team was preparing for the next mission in the armory. You were checking your gear when Mack walked in, shaking his head. “Let me guess, you’re going to try and outdo yourself again?”

“It’s called being thorough,” you replied, adjusting your tactical vest.

“It’s called being reckless,” he shot back, giving you a pointed look. “You’re starting to remind me of someone else I know.”

“Oh, come on, Mack. I’m not that bad,” you said, though you couldn’t keep the grin off your face.

“If you say so,” he muttered, but there was a hint of a smile in his tone.

Nearby, Daisy was testing her gauntlets while Simmons double-checked the medical kits. The atmosphere was tense but familiar, the kind of pre-mission routine that had become second nature to all of you.

“Everyone ready?” May’s voice cut through the room. She entered with her usual air of authority, her sharp eyes scanning the team.

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” you replied, slinging your weapon over your shoulder.

May’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, and you knew she was silently assessing your readiness. She gave a small nod before addressing the group. “Let’s move out.”

The mission was intense, as expected. Hydra’s defenses were formidable, and the team had to work together seamlessly to achieve the objective. There were moments of chaos, moments where it felt like everything could fall apart, but you’d trained for this. You trusted your team, and they trusted you.

In the midst of the firefight, you found yourself covering Simmons as she extracted crucial data from a terminal.

“How’s it going?” you asked, firing at an approaching Hydra agent.

“Almost there!” she called back, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

“No rush,” you muttered, reloading your weapon. “It’s not like we’re in a life-or-death situation or anything.”

“Very funny,” she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

When the mission was finally over, you regrouped with the team outside the Hydra facility. Everyone was exhausted but alive, which was the best outcome you could hope for.

“Good work,” May said as she surveyed the group. Her praise was rare, and it carried weight.

As you climbed into the Quinjet, Daisy plopped down beside you, a smug grin on her face. “So, who saved whose butt this time?”

“Pretty sure I’m the one who did all the saving,” you shot back, leaning your head against the wall.

“Keep telling yourself that,” she said with a laugh.

May’s voice from the cockpit interrupted your banter. “Enough chatter. Rest while you can.”

Despite her stern tone, you caught the faintest hint of amusement in her expression. She might have been the Cavalry to the rest of the world, but to you, she was Mom.

Back at the Triskelion, the team celebrated their successful mission with a rare night off. Pizza boxes were scattered across the table in the lounge, and laughter echoed through the room. Mack and Fitz were locked in a heated debate over the best way to build an EMP device, while Simmons rolled her eyes fondly at their antics.

“You know, you’re not bad out there,” Daisy said, nudging you with her elbow. “For someone who’s basically SHIELD royalty.”

“Royalty?” you scoffed. “Pretty sure I’m just a foot soldier.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” she teased.

Across the room, May stood with Coulson, observing the scene with her usual composed demeanor. You caught her eye, and she gave you a small nod. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. In her own quiet way, she was telling you she was proud.

The following weeks brought more missions, each one as demanding as the last. But no matter how tough things got, the bond you shared with the team—and with May—kept you grounded. Whether it was Daisy’s relentless teasing, Mack’s sage advice, or May’s quiet support, you knew you weren’t alone.

One night, after a particularly grueling mission, you found yourself alone in the training room, working through a set of drills to clear your mind. The sound of the door opening made you pause, and you turned to see May standing in the doorway.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, stepping inside.

“Something like that,” you replied, setting your training sticks aside. “What about you?”

She didn’t answer immediately, instead crossing the room to stand beside you. “Just checking in.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. Finally, she spoke. “You’re doing well. Better than I expected.”

“Thanks,” you said, surprised by the rare compliment. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

She gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

As she turned to leave, you called out to her. “Mom?”

She paused, glancing back at you.

“Thanks for everything.”

Her expression softened, and for a brief moment, the stern façade fell away. “Always.”

With that, she was gone, leaving you alone in the training room. But for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel alone. You had your team. You had your family. And that was more than enough.

#melinda may #melinda may x reader #melinda may imagine #agents of shield #agents of shield imagine #agents of shield x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #mcu x you

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hoe4hotchner · 3 months ago

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the team meeting aaron's lawyer!wife who's personality is similar to his + she's the best in her field

Langston & Bell | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Lawyer wife!reader | WC: 1.2k | CW: Not really anything except for a little law jargon and mentions of a case the BAU is working on.

A/N: My brain hurts from looking up law terminology, and I'm not even sure if I used all the words correctly

The glass doors of Langston & Bell opened as Hotch led the rest of his team inside. The air felt heavy—as they entered—from the scent of freshly brewed coffee and a faint lemony aroma.

The firm itself was one of the most prestigious ones in all of Virginia, and its reputation suited it. Everything about the space was designed to impress—shining marble floors in the lobby, towering bookshelves filled with thick leather-bound volumes of law books and journals, and abstract art that screamed of a space aimed to do business with rich and pretentious people.

Emily glanced around, clearly trying to process how they’d ended up here. “Langston & Bell?” she muttered under her breath. “Isn’t this place out of our league?”

“They’re not dealing with criminal justice,” Spencer pointed out. “They specialize in corporate litigation and high-profile estate law. The firm is known for taking on cases that require absolute discretion.” Emily tried her best not to roll her eyes at Spencer's outburst of knowledge but failed.

Hotch didn’t respond, he kept his pace steady as he approached the front desk. His usual stone-faced demeanor was on full display, his features—although set not completely in a frown—were unreadable. He seemed unbothered by the hushed stares they received from the staff as they had entered with their badges held out in front of them.

The receptionist, a young woman with a straight posture and a sharp smile, greeted them. “Good afternoon. How may I assist you?”

Hotch stepped forward, his voice even. “We’re with the FBI. We’re looking for the attorney who handled the probate case for Samuel Larkin.”

The receptionist’s fingers danced quickly over her keyboard, her expression unchanged. “That would be Attorney Hotchner.”

Dead silence.

Emily blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say Hotchner?”

“Yes,” the receptionist replied, unfazed, almost on the brink of annoyance. “Would you like me to see if she’s available?”

“She,” Morgan echoed, his brows furrowing a little as his gaze flipped from the receptionist to Hotch.

Before anyone could recover from their shock, the sound of sharp heal clicks echoed through the lobby.

“Aaron,” came a clear voice from behind. “If this is your idea of surprising me, I’ll admit it’s more creative than flowers. But I have a deposition in thirty minutes.”

The team turned as one, their collective gazes landing on the woman who had just entered the room. You were dressed in a tailored navy suit that emphasized your poised demeanor. Your expression was both curious and faintly amused as your eyes locked on Hotch.

“Counselor,” he greeted smoothly, his tone carrying a subtle warmth that the team rarely heard.

“Counselor?” Rossi asked, a slow grin forming as his gaze flicked between you and Hotch.

Your lips quirked up in a small smile as you approached, your heels clicking against the marble with each step. “I assume this is your team?”

“It is,” Hotch confirmed.

You turned your attention to the group, giving them a brief once-over with an expression that wasn’t unkind but clearly measured. “Well, where are my manners? I’m Y/N Hotchner, senior litigation partner here at Langston & Bell. And yes, I can see the wheels turning in all your heads.”

Morgan crossed his arms, already grinning. “Oh, I’ve got a lot of questions right now.”

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Feel free to ask them, Agent Morgan. I’ve been cross-examined by some of the sharpest minds in the country—I’m sure I can handle you.”

JJ stepped forward, clearly trying to keep her surprise in check. “Wait, you’re married?”

You tilted your head toward Hotch, your expression softening just a fraction. “You didn’t tell them?”

“It never came up,” Hotch replied with a shrug, though the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes didn’t escape you.

You shook your head, exhaling a soft laugh. “Aaron’s great at compartmentalizing, isn’t he? Well, to officially answer your question—yes, I’m his wife. And judging by your expressions, this is news to you.”

“Big news,” Emily muttered, still processing.

Hotch cleared his throat, subtly redirecting the conversation. “We need access to the probate records for Samuel Larkin. Anything that might help us build our case.”

Your demeanor shifted instantly, professionalism overtaking the playful edge. “Aaron, you know I can’t just hand over client information without a court order.”

“We’re only asking for publicly available records,” he clarified.

You studied him for a moment, a silent exchange passing between you. Then you turned to your assistant, who stood nearby. “Jane, pull the Larkin docket and bring me all publicly filed documents. Annotate them if you have time, and leave them on my desk before your shift ends.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jane replied, already moving toward the elevator.

“You always find a way around the rules,” Hotch said, his voice was low but carrying a note of fondness.

“And you love that about me,” you shot back with a wink, your eyes glinting with mischief.

Morgan leaned closer to Emily, his voice just loud enough for her to hear. “I don’t know what’s more surprising—the fact that he’s married, the fact that she's a lawyer, or the fact that she might be scarier than him.”

Although Jane hadn't gone through the records yet, she sent you a digital copy as soon as she had found them. You walked the team through them with ease. Every legal term you used was calculated, giving away as little about your client as you could, while still helping your husband and his team. You made sure to translate every dense legal jargon into actionable insights every time you saw one of their faces pull an expression.

“Here,” you said, pointing to a transaction on the financial statement. “These wire transfers are from an offshore account linked to Larkin. It’s not evidence of criminal activity, but it raises enough red flags to warrant further investigation.” If Larkin found out you had helped the feds, you could be in big trouble, you thought as you revealed the account.

Spencer leaned in, his eyes lighting up with understanding. “If we trace the accounts, we might uncover a connection to our unsub.”

“Precisely,” you replied, offering him a small nod of approval.

By the time the team wrapped up, they had everything they needed to move forward. As they gathered their materials, you leaned against the edge of the table, folding your arms as you looked at Hotch.

“Dinner at seven?” you asked, your voice softer, the edge of professionalism giving way to something more personal.

“Seven,” he confirmed, his tone lighter than usual.

You smiled, leaning in just enough to lower your voice. “Try not to scare anyone off before then, okay?”

“No promises,” he replied, his lips twitching upward in the faintest of smiles.

As the team exited the building, Morgan shook his head in disbelief. “She is definitely scarier than Hotch”

Emily grinned. “I think I like her better.”

“I like her too,” Rossi added with a chuckle.

Hotch walked ahead, the faint smile still playing on his lips, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. The team had seen enough to know he’d married his perfect match—an equal who could still challenge him enough to keep him on his toes.

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