#aosficnet challenge

[pizza-is-my-buziness]

So about a year and a half ago I was writing Halloween stories and got a prompt where Jemma was a Victor Frankenstein in the making and managed to bring Daisy back from the dead and I kinda fell in love with the universe and concept and I got more prompts about it and...well they’ve been sitting in my inbox pretty much since then. But something in me really wanted to revisit that AU so here is a companion story to the original Dr. Frankensimmons, which can be found here.

The thing with bringing someone back from the dead is that there's really nowhere else to go from there. For even the best and brightest minds, reanimation is probably a fair pinnacle for any career. Jemma Simmons isn't entirely sure that she's comfortable with the idea of peaking at the age of 25, even if she does theoretically have the ability to reverse the natural order of death.

"Natural order of death?" Daisy repeats with a smirk on her lips. "That's really dramatic. Are you auditioning for the Twilight Zone or writing a paper?"

Jemma frowns, narrowing her eyes. "Apparently I'm doing neither thanks to people insisting on continually bothering me."

She'd just been talking out loud, bouncing ideas off of Daisy while attempting to formulate a letter to Anne Weaver, Dean of the Biochemistry department, suggesting the ways that the human body might be brought back to life if caught within a certain window. She feels like she has to be careful in what she says, dipping her toes so to speak in the possibility rather than admitting that she's done such a thing.

Daisy rolls over, laying on her back on Jemma's perfectly made bed. Well, it was perfectly made before Daisy had decided to flop all over it and wrinkle the sheets. "So you're really doing this, huh?"

"Huh?" Jemma's focus is already back on her laptop and the hypothesis she's trying to formulate for Dr. Weaver. Daisy has become such a continual presence over the past year that she feels like she's only vaguely aware of her. She's comfortable, a constant.

Daisy props herself up on her elbows, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. "You're really doing it," she repeats with an exaggerated eye-roll. "You're going to tell the world what you can do."

Jemma frowns, her brow furrowing at the idea. "Well, I don't want to get carried away. It's not like I have many test subjects or data to pull from and-"

"Hello?" Daisy gestures at herself. "What more proof do you need?"

"Don't take it personally, Daisy," Jemma says gently. "All good theories need to be tested time and time again for scientific soundness."

Daisy gives her a look. "Should I be jealous? Am I going to be replaced by someone less…lively?"

Jemma tosses a pen in her direction. "Oh stop it," she chides. "I'm simply saying that there's no concrete evidence that…what happened with you can be repeated again and again. At least, not without additional experiments and data."

"You should go on Oprah," Daisy says, making herself comfortable on Jemma's bed again. "I'm sure she doesn't care about experiments and data."

Jemma shakes her head. "Well, I do."

Not that she really knows where to go from here. Daisy has a point: it would be odd to find another recently dead body and reanimate them and then have them hanging around. With Daisy things are…complicated at best. She'd originally insisted on keeping her around for constant observation to monitor her vitals and the lasting effects of what she'd done. But now…now it's less about the science and more about…Daisy. It's been over a year since the evening that life had sparked back into the unfortunate, young car-crash victim and Jemma feels like she can almost, nearly safely say that Daisy is, for all intents and purposes, alive. For good. But Daisy is a friend and she makes her smile and keeps her company and yes more often than not she makes Jemma's cheeks turn pink and her heart beat a little faster than normal and all too often Jemma has found herself longing to press a kiss to her lips. Now it's almost like Daisy is just one of the group, like she's always been there.

The fact that Fitz and the others seem to have accepted her as one of their own only further muddles things. Or maybe it only makes them easier? Having her friends accept what she'd done and the fact that she well and truly had brought Daisy back from the dead makes it easier for Jemma to remind herself that she hadn't just dreamt up the whole bizarre thing. Having her friends accept Daisy as a member of their group and even someone they share a roof with…well that only makes things a little more complicated in the wanting-to-kiss-her department.

Jemma doesn't mind that Daisy lingers in her bedroom, sprawled out silently on her bed while she continues working on her theory for Dr. Weaver. It's nice having her there; it's always nice having her around, just listening to the quiet sound of her breathing and feeling relaxed by her presence. It's odd that Daisy has that effect on her. It's even more odd to think about how they never would have crossed paths at all if circumstances had been even the slightest bit different. Not that Jemma wastes too much time thinking about that; no, she has a proposal to write.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Okay, I think I have an idea."

This is the first thing Daisy says when Jemma returns home from the lab the following afternoon. She's sitting at the kitchen table while Daisy is putting a kettle on the stove and Bobbi is sitting across from her, chewing on the cap of her pen while she studies the textbook spread open in front of her.

"An idea about what?" Jemma questions, closing her eyes slightly. It's nice to sit down after a full day of classes and working as a TA and then running a lab for underclassmen. She's grateful that Daisy is already working on getting the water boiling.

"Your letter to Dr. Weaver," Daisy replies, "your science experiments."

Daisy works from the house, doing remote tech support for people who honestly give new life to the "did you try turning it off?" memes. Despite the year of success, Jemma is still nervous about repercussions or side effects that they haven't yet thought of, plus the whole legally dead issue, all of which just made it easier for Daisy to get hired to freelance from home. Because of this, she's in a unique position to watch the neighborhood comings and goings, studying the people they share the street with out the window and from the porch. She knows most of them by name and a few of them she's even on speaking terms with.

Including their next-door neighbor, Mike, and his eight-year-old son. The other member of their family is a gangly Pitbull, recently out of puppy-hood but still a little too uncoordinated for his big paws and floppy ears. The dog, Locke, makes a habit of slipping out of the fence and appearing in their backyard or on their porch, probably because Hunter makes a habit of slipping him scraps of whatever food is handy.

"So, Mike was outside working in the yard while Ace was at school," Daisy is relaying as she takes the kettle off the stove, pouring the water into Jemma's favorite mug and bringing it over to the table. "And Locke gets out of the fence like usual. And he goes running into the street. And-"

Jemma sits up straighter in her chair, gasping and pressing a hand to her mouth. "Daisy, no," she says softly, her eyes growing wide with horror. "No. He didn't-"

Daisy purses her lips, nodding. Even Bobbi is paying attention now, face twisted in an expression of second-hand sympathy. "Yeah. It was awful." She closes her eyes briefly, shaking her head against the memory. "And then watching Ace get off the bus and Mike was waiting for him to tell him…yeah definitely not my favorite day ever."

Jemma's hand is still covering her mouth and she can only shake her head again. "That poor little boy."

"But there's a light at the end of this tunnel!" Daisy points out brightly and both Jemma and Bobbi look at her curiously. "You did say that you were looking for more test subjects…"

It takes Jemma only a second longer to realize what Daisy is getting at. "Have you lost your mind?" Her eyebrows arch upward, her eyes widening. "How on earth would we explain that? 'Ah, I just dug up your dead dog and brought him back to life to see if it would work and it did so here!' I'm not sure that's actually helpful."

Daisy nods understandingly. "I see your point. But I think it's worth thinking about."

Unfortunately Jemma does think about it.

She thinks about it so much that several hours later she's knocking on Fitz's bedroom door with Daisy hovering over her shoulder. "Come on. I have something I need your help with." She turns to go only to pause, reconsidering. "We need shovels."

Jemma is pretty sure the only reason Fitz and Trip follow her and Daisy outside is sheer curiosity.

Not that Trip looks particularly invested in their late-night excursion when it leads them to the Petersons' backyard and the pile of fresh earth by the flower garden. "Oh hell no." Trip shakes his head, looking plaintively at the other three. "Look, I'm here for Daisy being an undead American and all that but I'm not sure I feel comfortable digging up a little boy's dog and trying to bring it back to life."

"Think of it as a science experiment," Jemma says cheerfully as she digs the tip of the shovel into fresh earth. "You're helping humanity."

Trip settles for helping humanity by keeping watch on the sleeping house behind them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jemma's experiment blows the power out in the entire block.

She's inclined to say that it's all worth it when the lump underneath the blanket spread out on an old card table in their garage starts moving. It's difficult, at first, to see in the light of her cell phone and Daisy's but there's no mistaking the sound of the confused whimpering that fills the garage seconds later.

The sheet falls away as Locke moves unsteadily to his feet, whining when he falls back onto his side. At least he seems to recognize Jemma and Daisy, thumping his tail hopefully when he spots them.

"You did it!" Daisy's arms are around Jemma before she's even really registered that yeah, she did do it. She actually managed to replicate her experiment and produce the same results. Namely she managed to bring another dead entity back to laugh.

But Jemma's mind stops celebrating its scientific discovery when it registers that Daisy is holding onto her tightly. Jemma moves to hold her without a second thought, wrapping her arms tightly around her. Even still Daisy is cool to the touch and her fingers and toes are like ice. Jemma knows this from firsthand experience thanks to their movie nights and Daisy's refusal to see how pressing her feet into Jemma's calves to get her to squirm is anything less than hilarious. But holding onto her isn't chilling in the least; Jemma feels like she's never been warmer.

It quickly becomes clear that they're no longer holding onto each other to celebrate the success of bringing Ace's dog back to life. Honestly, Jemma can't remember anything in the moment aside from Daisy's arms around her.

The dog quickly snaps her back to the present, letting out a loud yip and tumbling off the table, sending all the wires and machinery crashing to the ground.

Jemma and Daisy pull away from each other quickly and Jemma is pretty sure that the color in her cheeks matches the heat that she feels at the tips of her ears. "Oh, um, let me…" She trails off, moving toward the dog tangling itself up in expensive scientific equipment.

"Well you did it," Daisy says again, clearing her throat. "Dr. Frankensimmons strikes again."

Jemma can only roll her eyes. "I can't believe Fitz mentioned that to you," she grumbles. "That really is an awful nickname."

"Or," Daisy muses, "is it a strangely perfect one?"

Daisy joins her in helping free Locke from all the wires and monitors and by the time they finish it doesn't seem like there's anything wrong with the dog at all. Jemma figures it would be even impossible for her to believe that he'd been dead fifteen minutes ago if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes. There are a few indicators: his fur has gone strangely grey, a side effect that didn't happen with Daisy, and his back, right leg doesn't seem to be in working order anymore. But, all in all, she considers it a success.

A terrifying, exhilarating, success.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

There's a knock on her door, surprising Jemma. It's nearly three in the morning but she's too wired to sleep, trying desperately to record everything about the night for her records. Her handwriting is crammed into every available space, spilling out to the margins and she knows that a lot of it is rambling and lacking scientific merit but it still seems important to record everything. It might help her make sense of the strange heaviness that she suddenly feels in her chest, the implications of what she's done that are starting to take root. With Daisy she could have passed it off as a fluke, a moment where science and fate had lined up perfectly to create the impossible. But she's done it again and…honestly Jemma isn't sure what to think.

It's surprising when the knock startles her from her reverie but not entirely unwelcome. Though she knows it's late, Jemma's eyes still glance toward the clock by her bed. "Come in?"

The door creaks open and she's not surprised to see Daisy step into the room. "Hey," she says quietly so as not to wake the rest of the house. She closes the door softly behind her. "I just did another check on Locke: still alive and kicking. Literally. I think he's chewed up a pair of Hunter's shoes."

Jemma smiles, tucking her pen into the pages of her journal and setting the book aside. "A necessary sacrifice made in the name of science," she declares, though she's not sure that Hunter will feel the same way.

Daisy sits down on the bed beside her and Jemma can't help but notice the distance between them. It seems larger than usual, as though Daisy is very aware of their proximity. She's not sure what to make of this; is Daisy keeping her distance because the moment in the garage made her uncomfortable or because she hasn't been able to stop thinking about it either?

Jemma feels a pang in her chest to think that it might be the former and an exhilarating rush at the thought of it being the latter.

"I…" Daisy doesn't rush to finish up the thought that she'd started so uncertainly. She lets her eyes travel around Jemma's neat and tidy room, the desk the only source of disaster in the place. Finally her eyes settle on Jemma again. "I really didn't come in here to talk about Locke."

Jemma wonders if her nonchalance looks as forced as it feels. "Oh?" She shifts, uncertain. "What did you want to talk about?"

Even as she asks the question, Jemma thinks she knows the answer. She thinks she can see it in Daisy's eyes. Her heart lurches, making her feel off balance and almost painfully full of anticipation.

"It would be weird, right?" Daisy asks quietly. "For us to…?" She seems unsure and uncertain for the first time since Jemma has known her. "For me to feel the way I do about you…if we…"

Jemma reaches out a hand, gently pressing her palm against Daisy's chest. Beneath her hand she can feel the slow and steady heartbeat there. The reminder that Daisy is alive. That they both are.

"No," Jemma says quietly, unable to focus on anything but that steadily beating heart and the coolness of Daisy's skin beneath her hand.

They move together easily and kissing Daisy is different than kissing anyone else before her. Not because her lips are cold or because the kiss is slow, tentative and unsure. But because it's Daisy that she's kissing and it's all she's wanted to do for so long.

Daisy rests her forehead against Jemma's, a faint smile on her face. "I'm really glad we finally did that."

"Me too," Jemma assures her, moving her hand away from Daisy's chest to curl around her neck, moving her close for another kiss. It makes no sense to stop when they've finally just gotten started.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jemma has no idea how Daisy does it but by the time she arrives home from campus the following day, Locke is back at the Peterson household and running around with Ace in the yard. Mike sees her heading up the walk and waves, a smile on his face; curiosity compels Jemma to walk over.

"I'm sorry about what happened yesterday," Jemma says tentatively, figuring that the statement could be applied to a multitude of things depending on the story that Daisy told him. Her eyes linger on Ace and the dog, uncertainty making her skin prickle. She'd wanted to keep Locke around for further observation but clearly fate had had other plans.

Mike only nods. "Yeah it was hard on Ace," he says with a sigh. "I wasn't sure about getting another dog but Daisy found this one and…he's a little bit like Locke, don't you think?"

There's a bit of doubt in Mike's eyes and Jemma knows the expression of someone trying to talk themselves out of their own skepticism. She nods, watching boy and dog roll around in the yard. "Yes, I can see that."

Jemma finds Daisy in the kitchen, listening to Leon Bridges as she scrolls through something on her phone. It seems insanely easy for Jemma to walk right over and press a kiss to her lips when Daisy lifts her head expectantly. "I see the Petersons got a new dog."

"A new old dog," Daisy confirms. "I think it's a win-win."

Jemma slips her arm around Daisy's shoulders, making a skeptical noise. Daisy only grins at her. "Maybe you've found your true calling: fixing childhood broken hearts one pet at a time."

"Well let's not get carried away," Jemma cautions. "More research might be necessary but I'm not about to start advertising this as a service."

The next day Bobbi comes home with a shoebox and a hopeful expression on her face. Jemma doesn't even have to open the lid to know what's going to be waiting inside.

Well, she does need more data for her research.

[theclaravoyant]

Jemma’s birthday

AN ~ Happy first day of Femslash Feb! Written for my @quakeriderwritersguild  Valentines Day prompt "Skimmons + First Gifts/Presents", and also fills my MCU Kink Bingo Skimmons square (note - it is rated G/T, but you are welcome to prompt me something smuttier if you like!) Enjoy <3

Relationships: romantic Skimmons, some happily platonic Fitz & Daisy Rated: G/T. Fluff.

Read on AO3 (~1100wd)

Jemma’s birthday

Daisy sighed and spun the quarter on the table-top and slapped her hand down on it again. Between that, one of those pinch-free hair ties, and a surprising amount of sand she had laid out in front of her, there was not much else in her pocket, handbag, or otherwise for inspiration.

Spin. Slap.

Spin. Slap.

She turned the question over and over in her mind, but it seemed the more she thought about it, the less answers came to her.

Spin-  

“Christ!” Fitz snapped from across the table, slapping the lid of his laptop closed with an eye-twitch of extreme frustration. “Would you like me to get you a clicky pen? A chalkboard for your nails, maybe?”

“Sorry.” Daisy turned the coin between her fingers this time, pensive. “I’m just trying to think of something good for Jemma. She always gives such kickass presents and this is her first birthday since we’ve been together. I really want to make it special, I just…”

She gestured at the lint, sand, and lonely hair tie. Fitz nodded in sympathy.

“I remember our first year at the Academy. First Christmas away from home and all that, I tracked down a half-decent tea. Was pretty proud of myself ‘til she went and imported a proper care package – baked beans, Hobnobs, crumpets, the whole bit. It’s the fatal combination of thoughtfulness and money. Not easy to compete when you’ve got nothing to your name but twenty-five p and a prehistoric hippie van.”

“Huh.” Daisy smiled to herself, imagining the scandal on Fitz’s face – no doubt quickly replaced by undying devotion – as he watched Jemma come in the door she had constructed in her mind with a comedically large hamper of British goodies. She remembered the first gift Jemma had really ever given her; the hula girl from her van and then her bunk, saved from being trashed or thrown into storage. Jemma didn’t really count it as a gift – it was Daisy’s own belonging, after all – but still, Daisy appreciated the sentiment.

Sentiment. Hula-girl. Twenty-five p and a prehistoric hippie van.

Piece by piece, the idea fell into place and suddenly it solidified, perfect, before her. Daisy bolted out of her seat, sending the hair elastic flying.

“I’m a genius,” she declared.

“I- what?”

Fitz, blindsided, blanked on an appropriately witty response, but it was already too late; Daisy was already sprinting down the hall. At least, she was for a few seconds. Then she came back, and stuck her head through the doorway.

“Can I borrow fifty bucks for gas?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“You’re the best.” Beaming, she was on her way.

--

“Where are we?” Jemma wondered, and not for the first time. She had allowed a very excited, slightly nervous Daisy to blindfold her this morning before they got in the car and though she knew the end of their journey would be nothing but a pleasant surprise, her curiosity was insatiable. They had just slowed down, and Daisy had lowered the music. They must be pulling in somewhere. “Are we nearly there?”

“It’s a surprise,” Daisy explained – and again, not for the first time. She couldn’t help but smile, watching Jemma twist in her seat and listen intently at the window, trying to take everything in. “But yes, we’re nearly there.”

“We’re in a forest,” Jemma decided.

“Maybe,” Daisy teased. Of course, they were – with the smell of pines and the sound of the birds it wasn’t hard to guess. “That’s for me to know and you to find out. Now, wait here, I’ve just got to sort something – B R B.”

Jemma nodded, and Daisy stopped the engine. Her feet crunched across something – gravel, leaf litter, pine needles? Jemma compiled a list of suspects in her mind – and she conversed in a low voice with someone. She laughed, and returned to the car.

Jemma reached for the blindfold. Surely by now it was time to take it down?

“Not yet,” Daisy said. There was a smile in her voice. A thrill of anticipation that made Jemma want to break free of the confines of the car, and touch and smell everything their surrounds had to offer and unravel Daisy’s secrets. But then Daisy reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers, and the curiosity – while far from sated – took its pause.

Jemma couldn’t tell how long it was until they finally stopped again. Daisy had lowered the window, letting the fresh air and the birds fill her mind and distract her even as she tried her best to archive what she was smelling and hearing and where in the world they could be.

No amount of mental cataloguing, though, could have prepared Jemma for what she saw when Daisy helped her out of the car and around the back of the van and opened the doors and sat her on something cushioned and finally – finally – announced –

“Okay. You can take it off now.”

Jemma ripped the blindfold down from her eyes, and the breath caught in her throat.

Stretching out before her was a glorious expanse of pine forest, rolling over hills and mountains and valleys like an ocean of rich green life. The sun was starting to set, bathing the whole scene in a soft pink twilight. Birds returned to their nests, others gambolled toward the horizon. Wind rustled the trees.

“Happy Birthday,” Daisy whispered.

Jemma blinked, freed from the entrancing magic of the scene before her for long enough to absorb where they were sitting – in the back of Daisy’s old van, hula girl and all, surrounded by pillows and blankets and trinkets from layers and layers of life.

“Daisy,” Jemma breathed. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

She leaned across the space between them and Daisy was happy to oblige with a kiss. But while Jemma would have been content to make out for hours in the soft pink light, Daisy had other plans. Grinning, she reached behind her and pulled a picnic basket into the space between them.

“Hold on,” she said, “I’m starving.”

Jemma blinked down at their interruption in surprise as Daisy flipped the lid, pulled out a punnet of strawberries, and commenced opening a bottle of champagne.

“You know,” Jemma remarked, “if you’re hungry, you really should have more protein.”

“Disagree,” Daisy retorted. As if to demonstrate, she bit into a strawberry, took a swig of champagne, and leaned in for another kiss.

Jemma had to admit – she had a point.

[accio-the-force]

52 “can we cuddle?” + FS 💕💕

Hey Friend! Sorry this is late but got some good old fashioned Post-FZZT comfort coming your way to make up for it :) Because who doesn’t love some S1 pre-relationship fluff?

Rated G, 300 words

---

Jemma padded down the hallway of the Bus. It was late and the airplane was quiet.

She hesitated for a second before knocking on Fitz’s door. She whispered, “Fitz? Are you awake?”

She heard some shuffling on the other side of the door, before it slid open to reveal a groggy and rumpled Fitz. 

“Jemma? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep. Everytime I close my eyes, all I see is endless blue sky and feel like I’m falling again.”

She had almost died today. If she and Fitz hadn’t been able to synthesize the antiserum in time, if Ward hadn’t gotten to her with that parachute, she wouldn’t be here right now.

“That’s understandable,” Fitz said. “Do you want to come in?”

Jemma nodded and walked into his room. Their bunks were tiny and not designed for socializing. Still, Fitz motioned for her to sit down next to him on his bed.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Jemma hesitated, before blurting out, “Can we cuddle? Like we used to at the Academy?” 

As two homesick teenagers, they had sometimes cuddled together during times of stress, like exams, after Jemma had read a study about how it released oxytocin. They hadn’t done it for years though.

Fitz readily agreed, “Of course.”

“Just for a little while,” she clarified. “I think being close to someone else will help me relax.”

“I already said yes, Simmons. Big spoon or little spoon?”

“Can you be big spoon?”

Both laying down, Fitz wrapped his arms around Jemma’s waist. She instinctively nestled deeper into his warm embrace, feeling safe and secure.

“Okay?” Fitz asked.

Jemma nodded, “Thanks for doing this. And for being there by my side today. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Fitz blushed, “What are best friends for?”

[apathbacktoyou]

5: “ Why do you hate me? ” + skimmons

another ship i haven’t written a lot! thanks :D

*

Jemma marches into the kitchen, knowing she will find Skye and no one else. It’s three in the morning, time for the hacker’s peanut butter on apple snack.

“Why do you hate me?”Jemma demands before she can lose her nerve.

“Why do I…?” The apple slice stops halfway. She frowns.“Sorry, why do I what?”

“Hate me! You never want to talk to me, you barely even look at me! I don’t care that Fitz swears I’m paranoid, I want to know why.”

Skye laughs.“I have a crush on you.”

“Oh.” She flushes, stammers.“Well. Alright. Good. Same.”

*

prompt me?

[bobbiamorse]

13 + Fitzmack

“Don’t leave me,” Fitz mutters, burrowing further into Mack’s chest. “It’s cold in here without you.”

“Sorry, Turbo, but the garage calls.” Mack extracts himself from his boyfriend carefully. “You should be getting up, too.” Most of the rest of the base has already woken up by now, and there’s probably just as much work for Fitz in the lab as there is for Mack in the garage.

Fitz grunts unhappily, grabbing for Mack even as he walks away.

“I’ll be back in bad in fifteen hours,” Mack says, chuckling at Fitz’s indignant expression and unhappy noise. “See you then.”

[justanalto]

For the aosficnet drabble challenge! Fitzsimmons + “Is that my shirt?” ❤️

"Is that my shirt?"

The horrified look on Fitz's face is enough to make Jemma check her shirt in panic. Sure as day, "FITZ" is emblazoned on the back of it, and Jemma can feel her cheeks heating to match its bright red hue.

"I didn't -- I wasn't looking when I left the counsellor's cabin this morning --"

Fitz looks around the campsite so quickly Jemma almost gets whiplash following him. "We've got to switch back before Daisy --"

"I KNEW YOU TWO WERE DATING!"

All life seems to drain from Fitz's being. "Before she finds out she lost the betting pool."

thank you, love! 

send me prompts!

[wearethewitches]

sticks and stones

Lance Hunter x Bobbie Morse; double drabble for @aosficnet2:

“Give me a chance.” / “I never meant to hurt you.”

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

“C’mon Bobs – give me a chance, here,” Lance prods his wife arm. Silence follows his pleading and Lance sighs, leaning on his hand as he watches Bobbie stare at the hospital ceiling. “Listen,” he starts again, “I know you’re mad-”

“This is not mad.”

Lance pauses. “Sort of looks like it, sweetheart.”

“Well, it’s not.” Bobbie glances at him, reaching out to run her hand through his short hair. “I’m upset. There’s a difference, Hunter.”

“I had to get Dais out, you know that-”

“But at what cost? You didn’t tell anyone what you were doing and certainly not me,” Bobbie pauses. “My leg is done. Again. There’s no fixing it. I’m going to be in a leg-brace for the rest of my life, or crutches or even a wheelchair, if they can’t-”

He sees her tears and when her voice cracks, Lance is with her immediately, hand encasing hers, his lips pressed to her knuckles.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Lance swears, “but we both know if I’d let Daisy die, you’d never have forgiven me.”

Bobbie chokes on her own tears, sobbing. Lance holds her, thinking, my Bobs, my darling sweetheart. I love you and I’m sorry.

[sadbi-hours]

only hurt you  (triple drabble/300 wrds)

by everythinghappensforareason17 | everythinghappens-love

FitzDaisy/ implied FSK + “Do you trust me?” 

a/n: the drabble is set somewhere in season 6 land but obviously not canon complicate. it has some hinted at post 5x14 references. so warning to those who can’t read stories concerning that episode. it was a love prompt but I can’t do love without a fair bit of angst... so it is what it is. I hope you enjoy it and happy 4th of july everyone! 

written for @aosficnet2 for the july true drabble challenge

“Do you trust me?” Fitz asked her point blank after another disastrous mission between them. His handsome face twisted in suppressed fury, his tone grim and unforgiving. Wringing his hands together in worry…digging at the dried blood embedded in the creases of his palms. She had been wounded again…and it could have been avoided if she’d just let him help her.

“Wh-What happened to us, Daisy?” He implored. His beautiful blue eyes searching…searing…straight into her very soul for answers to the invisible wedge that had been forced between them since they last spoke eons ago.

Daisy closed her eyes at his words, hoping it would hold back her tears. She’d been dreading this conversation. Been preparing for it the moment Jemma had softly taken her hand and led her across time and space looking for—“Ours, Daisy…he’s just as much yours as he is mine.”—future husband.

She’d know he’d figure it out eventually when they came face to face again…and the blazing hot electricity been them had died down and old resentments replaced its intensity. Fitz had always been dangerously perceptive when it came to her and Daisy had never been good at letting bygones stay buried. So it had been a long time coming really…but she still wasn’t ready for it. For her to choose. She’d either finally have to forgive him…or lose him forever.

Both options stung.

She opened her eyes, forcing herself finally face this. To hold onto that tiny sliver of bravery that she had when it came to him. He deserved that much from her. “I don’t know...” She answered honestly…but there was a tried smile on her lips as she gently took his bloody hand. “But I’ll get there…for you, Leopold Fitz, I’ll try…”

He just gripped her hand tighter and grinned back.

the end.

[the-nerdy-stjarna]

New fic: No place like home for the holidays

From the 25 Days of Christmas Romance Challenge

Prompt: Character A doesn’t feel the Christmas spirit but Character B, who lives above them, keeps playing Christmas carols really loud. 

OTP: Fitzsimmons

[Or read on AO3]

Oh, there’s no place like home for the holidays, echoed Karen Carpenter’s voice from above into Fitz’s living room.

Fitz dropped his head back, rolling his eyes and glaring in agitation at the ceiling. “Oh, for fucks sake!”

He’d only moved into the flat three days ago, most his boxes still unpacked. Maybe moving across the Atlantic a week before Christmas wasn’t the most brilliant idea he’d ever had, but Stark’s offer had been too good. So good, even his mum had urged him to take it even if it meant spending the holidays without her.

No. Not just without her. Without her in a new city, new country, new continent.

He wasn’t a mama’s boy, except he kinda was. She was the only family he had, and now he felt both guilty for leaving her alone and incredibly lonely in unfamiliar surroundings. They’d always celebrated together, when he was at uni, when he worked in Edinburgh, when he worked in London. Christmas was their most treasured time together. And now he was here and his upstairs neighbor from hell, whom he had yet to meet and who’d blared Christmas music every day since Fitz had moved in decided to send the worst possible reminder that Fitz would spend the holidays anywhere but home.

If you want to be happy in a million ways, for the holidays - you can’t beat home, sweet home…

Fitz growled, pushing himself to standing and staring at the ceiling again.

I met a man who lives in Tennessee, and he was headin’ for Pennsylvania and some homemade pumpkin pie…

He exhaled sharply and headed for the front door, swinging it open and grabbing his keys in passing. It fell into its lock behind him with a loud bang.

From Atlantic to Pacific. Gee, the traffic is terrific.

Fitz sprinted up the stairs. “Oh, I’ll give you terrific,” he grunted through his teeth, knocking angrily at the door.

He placed his hands on his hips, his chest heaving with fury.

Oh, there’s no place like home for the holidays, ‘cause no matter how far away you roam…

“Bloody key change.” Fitz rolled his eyes as the song neared its grand annoying finale.

He heard footsteps and drew in an angry breath, ready to give his neighbor a piece of his mind.

The door opened and Fitz froze. She was about his age, forcing a friendly smile that nonetheless never reached her puffy and tear-rimmed eyes.

“Yes,” she asked, a hint of a sad tremor in her voice.

For the ho--li--days you can’t beat home, sweeeeet hoooooome, the song ended, and her face distorted.

She bit her lower lip as tears jumped off her lashes. She quickly wiped away with the heel of her hand. She drew in a shaky breath, looking back at Fitz and trying in vain to smile.

“How can I help you?” she asked breathlessly.

Fitz stared at her, his lips slightly parted and his eyes wide and confused.

“You’re alone for the holidays, too, aren’t you?” he mumbled quietly.

The corners of her mouth turned down, fighting a new wave of tears.

“That’s why you’re playing those bloody Christmas songs all day long,” Fitz muttered to himself more than to her, but it nonetheless caused her to cover her mouth as her body was shaken with quiet sobs.

“You’re trying to get in the spirit,” Fitz concluded.

She nodded, shrugging apologetically. “It’s going splendidly as you can see,” she said, a sound between a sob and a chuckle escaping her lips.

Fitz gazed into her whiskey-brown, watery eyes. He couldn’t quite tell what compelled him to do it, but suddenly he wrapped his arms around his upstairs neighbor, pulling her into a tight, comforting hug. Her arms snaked around his waist and he could feel her body shake with more tears, his shirt being soaked by her tears.

He stroked her hair with one hand. “I’m Fitz,” he whispered.

Her arms around his waist tightened. “I’m Jemma,” she breathed against his neck, and Fitz knew in that moment that he wouldn’t be spending Christmas alone after all.

[jemmafitzsimmons]

Written for the anon who requested FS + Can I hold your hand?  Read on AO3 or below! 

~

It was Coulson’s idea to head to the diner, but Jemma would have probably made the suggestion had he not. A hot meal seemed like the biggest luxury after everything they’d been through as a team, and even if they were being tracked down and would likely be taken into custody within a few hours at the most, a small escape like this sounded like the best thing for them at the moment.

The team was relatively quiet on the drive over with everyone still mulling over Daisy’s speech about Fitz, as well as exhaustion weighing heavily on their shoulders. Jemma sat between Fitz and Daisy in the back row of the van with Fitz noticeably leaning into the side of the vehicle. While Mack drove, Jemma could sense a friendly energy between him and Elena up front, which made her smile contently. She was happy to see them already healing after their time in the Framework, but a small part of her wished it could be that easy for her and Fitz. But she knew that wasn’t the case.

The look they shared a few minutes ago when they promised Fitz they were in this together as a team was all that consumed Jemma’s mind, and she hoped it meant there was still something between the two of them. But they had yet to share any words with each other since they departed, and she was getting antsy not knowing where they stood.

No matter how hard she tried to convince Fitz it wasn’t actually him doing all those…things in the Framework, she knew some part of him would never believe it. And she didn’t know what it was like to now have two sets of memories, to feel like she’d lived two separate lives as two different people. But she did know that what they shared in this world was real and that it mattered and still matters. So starting now, no matter where they were headed next, she planned to do everything in her power to convince him of that. It wasn’t the end of the road for her, so she hoped she could convince him to feel the same.

Before she could change her mind, she turned her head to the side and found him staring out the window nearly in a daze.

“Fitz?” she asked at a half whisper.

“Hmm?” he replied without looking her way.

She hesitated for a moment, still thinking over the idea as if it were this extraordinary request. But then she shook her head slightly and deemed herself ridiculous. It was simple, and even if he said no, it wasn’t the end of the world.  

She leaned in a little to his side so she could speak even softer. “Can I hold your hand?”

He didn’t respond immediately, which didn’t surprise her. She knew he was still processing the last twenty-four hours or so, and she didn’t want to push him in any way that he wasn’t comfortable. But it still made her heart sink knowing the simple gesture of holding her hand required him to think before responding. 

It used to be second nature between the two of them once the team was comfortably aware of their relationship. They weren’t too keen on public displays of affection, but handholding was almost sacred. Because it reminded them that the other person was there even if they were in the middle of a crisis. That even if it felt like the world was crumbling around them, and their end was likely near, they were okay for that moment.

Without even a glance from Fitz, Jemma was about to give up and turn her head to face forward. But a few moments later, he looked down from the window and uncrossed his arms from his chest before gently placing his arm against hers, his palm facing up. Jemma let out a soft sigh of relief before slowly intertwining their fingers.

Even though she had held his hand only hours ago when they had shared a painful moment together in the containment pod, silently telling him she would be by his side through this next step of their lives, this moment felt completely different. It felt familiar and effortless, and his warm hand complimented her cold one to reach a balance only the two of them could achieve. As she began to slowly move her thumb across his, he finally looked up to find her eyes. She didn’t know what to expect, but the sight of his content and even hopeful expression gave her some much-needed comfort. She knew he wasn’t okay, that they weren’t okay, but they were trying. And that was enough for now.

Once the van came to a stop outside the diner, Jemma let go of Fitz’s hand and hovered by the door waiting for him after she got out of the vehicle. She didn’t want to pressure him – she assumed he allowed them to hold hands due to the privacy of the dark back row of the van with only Daisy able to witness this small yet significant progression between the two of them. But once he got out himself and came to her side, it only took him a few seconds before he extended his hand out again for her to take. She smiled softly as she intertwined their fingers once again, and then led him forward as they followed the rest of the group into the diner.

With the bar empty, the team took their seats, Fitz picking the one on the far end next to Jemma. As he sat down heavily onto the bar stool, the waitress behind the counter moved forward with her notepad.

“Well, you look like you could use a pot of coffee,” she said, gesturing towards Fitz. 

Jemma smiled sweetly at the woman and then at Fitz. She was happy to see him smiling as well, a particular light returning to his eyes. 

After giving him a quick wink, she turned back to the waitress. “Two cups of tea would be lovely.”

[tashonix]

Adventures in space (M)

For @cassiannandor and @whatlighttasteslike <3 

--- 

Space. The final frontier.

At present the only frontier Jemma was interested in was her knickers and Fitz’s fingers burrowing underneath them.

“Fitz,” she canted her hips as she nibbled at his earlobe, urging him on.

He chuckled as he started working his fingers against her, rapidly bringing her to the brink.

Jemma started panting and tilted her head to find his, their kisses frantic, as if they only had moments to spare. Which she supposed they did if someone happened to walk along the dimly lit service corridor behind their new lab or bothered to look at the security footage.

“God, Fitz, now, now,” she demanded, his fingers now working busily inside her.

Fitz laughed again, shoving his trousers and boxers down then hoisting her against the wall.

There was no finesse as he quickly entered her, but damn, if it didn’t feel good after so long.

Jemma groaned and bit into his shoulder, ankles and arms locking him in place as she clung to him like a monkey and he rocked against her.

All thoughts left her mind as he brushed against her g-spot, and as she broke out into a moan, Fitz swallowed the sound with another desperate kiss.

They were both panting hard, so close to the edge, as she snaked a hand down between them. It was Fitz’s turn to groan when her hand brushed against where they were joined as she started rubbing her clit.

“Fuck, harder, Fitz, almost-,” Jemma muffled her groans by working up an impressive hickey on his shoulder.

He grunted and picked up the pace, her hand adding wonderful friction until she exploded, shuddering against him and hanging on for dear life as he threw his head back and joined her.

Breathing hard, neither were in any great hurry to move. She rested her head on his shoulder as he supported her against the wall.

Jemma’s world was at peace when she heard his voice again.

“Je-Jemma?”

Jemma smiled. Fitz always was attentive after sex.

“Jemma?” His voice was louder, more urgent.

She slowly opened her eyes, drowsy in the afterglow, registering his shape in the doorway.

Doorway…

Suddenly alert, she raised her head, as the realisation dawned on her that she was still touching herself and her trousers were halfway down her hips.

“Fitz…” she whispered, though it sounded incredibly loud in their room.

After a short period of awkwardness and adjustment to their new surroundings, their relationship and communication had improved though they’d yet to really touch each other beyond a few kisses goodnight. And well, a girl had needs. Especially when stuck on a space station.

“You, ah, come here often?” He flashed her a sheepish smile as he scratched his neck.

Jemma burst out laughing as she straightened her clothes. She’d missed this Fitz and was glad he’d appeared to break the tension.

“I’ve been known to fly solo on occasion. You see, my boyfriend has been swamped with work,” she smiled coyly at him.  

“Well, uh,” he blushed as he cleared his throat, “I always wondered about the various effects on the body in space.”

“Ugh, Fitz!” She couldn’t help laughing again, grinning broadly and feeling for the first time in months like everything was truly okay. “Come here and find out.”  

[theclaravoyant]

It’s the last day to sign up for the @aosficnet2 spring exchange! Get amongst it!!

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message me or the Net to check if we’ve got you if you’re not sure, or to get more info! i would link the post here but apparently that interferes with it showing up in tags so... :/ happy to link you just shoot me a message

[accio-the-force]

73: “ Oh, Are you ticklish? ”

Hey Friend! Thanks for your patience here :) When I got your prompt, the idea for this fic came into my head almost immediately. So what took so long? Well. it’s definitely outside of my comfort zone and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to execute it properly :) I’m still not convinced I did, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Some not-quite-smut S3 fluff for one my favorite smutty authors :)

Rated T, 300 words.

—

Making out with Fitz was unlike anything Jemma had experienced, and she had to say she was quite enjoying herself.

When they crossed the event horizon in their Bucharest hotel room, it had been fast and furious. A ticking clock and ten years of build up had made sure of that. But now, in the privacy of Fitz’s bunk, they had time to slow down and explore each other’s bodies.

Jemma was relishing in cataloging every touch and reaction.

“Oh, are you ticklish?” she asked, when she noticed Fitz squirm as she ran her hand up his side.

“No! Definitely not,” Fitz said defensively.

Eyeing him suspiciously, Jemma repeated the action and again, Fitz shuddered involuntarily.

“Ha! You are!” 

“You don’t have to sound so happy it,” Fitz muttered.

Jemma traced his jawline, “I am happy about it. Do you want to know why?”

Fitz nodded. 

“Because after 10 years, I get to learn all these new things about you. I’m able to explore this whole new side of you and figure out what makes you tick. You know how I get when I have a puzzle to solve.”

Fitz laughed, “That I do.”

“Do you want to see what I’ve learned so far?”

Jemma didn’t wait for a response before blowing and sucking on his ear, “You quite enjoy when I do this.”

Peppering kisses down his neck, she narrated, “And you make the most delightful sounds when I kiss your neck.”

As if on cue, Fitz let out a little moan.

“Your nipples are also surprisingly sensitive.”

Fitz grinned, “As always, you’re a quick study.”

“I can’t wait to spend a lifetime discovering what makes you happy,” Jemma said, followed by a quick kiss.

“Me either,” Fitz smiled. “But for now, it’s my turn to make you happy.”

[apathbacktoyou]

36: “ I’m so in love with you. ” + mackelena

“There she is!”Mack exclaims, stumbling through the door.“Mi amor!”

Hunter helps him into the living room, grinning at Elena.“He’s been banging on about you all night.”

“That’s ‘cause she’s everything,”Mack slurs, trying to get back off the sofa.

Elena gently pushes him down and lets him pull her into his lap.“Had a little bit too much, Turtleman?”

“You got it from here?”Hunter asks.“Or should I tell Bob boys’ night’s gonna turn into babysitting?”

Elena chuckles.“We’re good, thanks for bringing him.”

“Thanks for bringing me to her,”Mack agrees, nuzzling at her neck.

“Don’t sweat it,”Hunter says as he turns to leave.“I’ll call to make fun of him in the morning.”

Mack doesn’t register those words, wrapping his arms tighter around Elena with a happy little sigh.“I’m so in love with you.”

“Yo también te amo, Mack.” She twists in his arms until she can kiss his cheek.“Let’s get you to bed.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at her suggestively.

The moment his head hits the pillow, he starts snoring.

She puts some water out for him - then a bucket, just to be safe - and curls up against his side.

-

still taking prompts :)

[bobbiamorse]

daisyhunter + "you're a disappointment"

Hunter’s sitting alone in the kitchen, drinking a beer, when Skye appears in the doorway. He sighs, putting his drink down loudly. “What do you want?”

“Woah, no need to get all pissy on me. Just wanted to talk.” Skye crosses her arms over her chest. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“Whatever.” Hunter picks his drink up again, taking a long pull.

“You don’t need to be so grouchy.”

Hunter wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “The only reason anyone in this place talks to me is to insult me or tell me I’ve done something wrong. So, not too keen on talking.”

Skye perches herself on the table in front of Hunter. “I’m not here to insult you.” Hunter flaps his hand in a ‘go on’ gesture. “I get it, you know? You’re a disappointment, or you feel like you are, because you can’t be everything they want you to be.”

Hunter puts his beer down again, cocking his head at Skye. She’s always seemed like a goodie-goodie, May’s perfect little protégé. He couldn’t imagine she’d ever disappointed anyone.

“The way I see it,” Skye continues, “you have two choices. Keep moping around, or prove them wrong.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Dude.” Skye snorts. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know playing dumb. You wouldn’t be alive if you were a merc who didn’t have the skills. Even May knows that.”

Hunter’s silent.

Skye raises her shoulder in a shrug. “Take it or leave it. But I like you, Hunter, and I think everyone else could, too, if you took your head out of your ass occasionally.”

“Real great pep talk there, love.”

“I don’t give pep talks. I just drop truth bombs, and occasionally great advice.” Skye grins, hopping off the table. “See you around.”

(i’m still accepting prompts! check out the one’s i’ve completed and the ones i still need requests for!)

[justanalto]

For the Drabble challenge simmorse + 79: “ Stop hogging all the blankets! ”

"Jemmmaaaaaaa. Gimme. My feet are cold." 

Shortly following Bobbi's statement, their prized knit blanket (bestowed to them by a surprisingly misty-eyed Melinda May) was yanked towards her side of the bed, leaving Jemma to shiver at the sudden draft of air that washed over her.

She pouted only for a second before snatching the blanket back. "Well, your feet wouldn't be cold if you weren't so bloody tall now, would they? And stop hogging all the blankets. It's cold tonight."

"I mean --" Bobbi's responding wink warmed Jemma's body more than a blanket ever could. "I could always warm you up."

thank you, love!

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