Lingering | Matt Murdock X Reader

Lingering | Matt Murdock x Reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader (no y/n)

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: literally like none. Just a bunch of fluff and Matt taking care of you. This is entirely self indulgent.

Summary: You've been worked to the bone and slept a total of 3 hours, so Matt takes care of you during your burnout.

A/N: there will be a smutty part 2 to this 😌 This was made for ezra and i bc we're tired. Enjoy!

"Sweetheart," Matt whispers, knuckles brushing across your cheek as he pulls you back into consciousness as gently as possible. You had been working on his couch for hours on end, laptop screen now dimmed where it lay on your lap, forgotten as you slip in and out of sleep. His touch stirs you, dreams fading out into the background only to be replaced by the pleasant feeling of Matt’s touch.

Your eyes finally blink open enough that you can focus on him, smiling softly at the sight of your boyfriend kneeling in front of you, his hands warm on your cheeks. The billboard outside his window glows brighter now that the sun has dipped behind the skyline, reds and purples dancing across Matt’s face and you can’t help but wonder how he gets prettier each time you see him.

Then again, maybe it’s the lack of sleep getting to you, because the first words out of your mouth are “you look like a skittle, Matty.” He huffs out a laugh, thumb rubbing against your cheekbone, wiping away the tear that falls from the corner of your eye “care to explain?” You shake your head and lean further into his touch, fighting back against the urge to let your eyes slip shut again. “The candy, Matt. They come in rainbow colors, and the light outside is making your face purple. Need I say more?”

“No, I guess not,” Matt muses quietly, grin dimpling his cheeks, brushing back the hair that sticks to the side of your mouth from where you had leaned into your hand.

His touch drop from your face to take the laptop and move it to the coffee table, then gripping your waist so he can pull you to the edge of the couch. Your thighs press to his sides and you can feel each breath he takes, steady and a bit faster than your own sleepy breathing. “Sorry I fell asleep, I was trying to wait until you got home,” you mumble, leaning forward to place your forehead on his shoulder, cursing under your breath when your head thumps harder against him than anticipated. Damn your heavy head and sleep-deprived reflexes.

Matt hums in acknowledgment, tapping your arms until you get the gist and raise them to wrap around his shoulders. “You should’ve gone to bed sweetheart, especially if you’re this tired. Mind telling me how many hours you got last night?” He knows he has you when your breath hitches, face pressing further into his neck. You don’t want him to know just how late you had been up the night before while he was out deviling, finishing your notes for the day while you waited until you eventually passed out.

But you know that he’s just concerned, so you press a kiss to the junction of his neck and jaw in hopes that he won’t scold you when you tell him. “About three hours,” you whisper, stifling an obnoxiously timed yawn that almost seems like the universe picking Matt’s side. He sighs quietly, though there’s no real agitation behind it, just concern “let's get you to bed, then.” This time there’s no need for a tap before you wrap your legs around his hips, clinging to him as his hands slide under your thighs to lift.

Matt stands with no sign of strain, even as he holds your weight in his arms and carries you across the living room and into his bedroom, bending over to ease you onto the edge of the bed. The exhaustion that had seeped into your bones weighs heavier the second Matt steps back to rummage through the drawer that keeps your t-shirts, hands moving across each article of clothing to feel the fabric. He picks the one softest against his fingertips and plucks it from its spot, moving back to stand in front of you. He quickly picks up on the way that you’re swaying, eyelids moving slower with each passing second “c’mon angel, let’s at least change out of your clothes.”

Your stomach flutters with affection at the use of angel, a dopey smile finding its way on your lips. Matt reserved that name for you, the highest of praise coming from the catholic himself, love and adoration seeping through the two syllables. He loved listening to the way it made your heart leap to your throat, mapping the mental image of your blissed expression that his senses piece together, tucking it away for later examination.

Matt leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, placing the sleep shirt to the side so he could tug the one currently on you over your head, tossing it into the corner. You take the time to shimmy off your pants while he unfolds the replacement, placing it on top of your hair and tugging it down, placing yet another kiss to the tip of your nose the second the collar passes.

“Can you stay for a bit before you go out, Matty?” you speak in a hushed tone, letting your boyfriend maneuver your arms into the holes, limbs too tired to do much other than grab at him.

“Of course I can- lets get you under the blankets, baby,” Matt presses against your shoulder until you lay back, eyes already closing while he tugs the silk comforter up to your chest. There’s an attempt to open your gaze one more time so you can catch a glimpse of him to admire in all your sleep deprived glory before inevitably collapsing back into the arms of slumber, but you sorely underestimate the intensity of your fatigue, eyelids only twitching with the attempt.

Matt sheds his work clothes, head tilted just slightly to listen to the sound of you, breathing slowing until it evens out completely. The bed dips under his weight as he slides in beside you, reaching around to pull your body flush against his chest. Matt always needs to feel you in one way or another, needed to feel the heat of your form against his, smooth skin pressed to the marred flesh of his chest. You’d trace the scars late at night when it was just the two of you, curving your finger along them like his body was a canvas and you were the mastermind behind the art.

Your lips part, slow intakes of breath filling your lungs. “I love you so much,” you murmur against his neck, drifting away and leaving him to follow.

Matt holds you tighter “I love you too, sweetheart.”

—

Sometime around midnight is when you wake up again, hand thumping on the mattress beside you but finding no sign of Matt, only a lingering heat left behind from where he had laid next to you. You know he would probably resort to smothering you with a pillow if you attempted to stay up for him, so you decide against it, instead dragging his pillow to your chest and inhaling his scent, letting it envelop you as you close your eyes once again.

Somewhere on a rooftop, a few buildings away, Matt is listening to your breathing, pausing only momentarily to ensure that you get the rest you need before continuing on with his patrol. Slinking in and out of the shadows as fast as possible so he can get home to you.

this is absolutely hilariousssss

HSHDHS YES and I can imagine just having dinner trying to comfort Derek touching his arm or something and he flinches so hard trying not to elicit a good reaction cuz Chris is watching😭

MONIQUE OHMYGOD I NEED A DEREK VERSION OF CRAZY STUPID LOVE NOW SJFHDH like it’s one of my favorite rom coms ever and it’s fitting perfectly right about now😭😭 and that pose with Der omg!!

CRAZY STUPID LOVE | D.H.

word count: 1k

warnings: age gap, dbf!derek, argent!reader, "I met you while trying to kill you for being a werewolf but then you helped me get a girl to help me get over my wife and now you're dating my daughter" vibes, fem!reader

Derek wore his fancy jacket, his "this is serious" jacket, his "today you're a gentleman jacket"- how was he to know he'd need more than his jacket and his perfect meet-the-family lines to win over his best friend to let him continue dating his daughter? Dinner was awkward to say the very least, neither your dad nor Derek had acknowledged where they knew each other from before meeting tonight, the night of your birthday dinner, but it was clear there was history there and no one was going to say something first so no one was yet to say anything at all.

Your dad was slicing at his steak in a way that made the whole act seem a little personal, his eyes on Derek's every move as the werewolf tried not to react to you slipping your hand onto his knee like you always did, it was one of his favorite little gestures which is why you were a little surprised when he didn't slip his hand onto yours right away, taking a big gulp from his wine glass in the process

"You two are pretty cozy," your dad noted and you were grateful for Allison's presence next to you to share in a questioning stare because does no one remember you coming home from at least a hundred dates talking about just how amazing Derek was? "What's it been like a week or two?"

"Dad, we've been dating for a few months now," you breathed, not even thinking as you scooped the crunchy carrots from your plate into Derek's, smiling your usual sweet smile and silently asking him to get rid of them for you. "I'd say it would be a little weird if we weren't cozy," you scoffed, thumb brushing over Derek's as you leaned into his side, extremely confused when it made him take in a loud breath of air. You didn't want it to be too obvious when you gave him a little look to ask what was wrong, but it wouldn't have mattered because the man wasn't even looking at you to begin with.

"So, Derek, have you two thought any more about moving in together?" Allison had no idea the terror her question would cause both Derek and your dad looking at her with complete horror as she took another bite of the bread Derek made. "What?" you were curious too, finally being able to meet your boyfriend's gaze and having no idea why he would be so surprised by the question when you talked about it just the previous day.

"Are you okay?" Your question was quiet really, only for his ears but it drew your dad's attention still, the echo of his knife hitting the plate enough to steal your focus. "Are you okay?" you reprised your question to the man opposite of you.

"You're dating my daughter," he wasn't looking at you, eyes burning right into the side of Derek's head before he snapped to meet his gaze, explanation already on his tongue. "You're dating my daughter," he repeated and boy were you lost but by the looks of it you'd be caught up real soon. "You want to move in with my daughter? You?" he had stood up now, plate clinking against the table in the process, glass almost tipping were it not for Derek being fast enough to catch it. "The man who taught me the best way to get a woman to sleep with me wants to move in with my daughter?" Allison swallowed a gasp. You weren't sure who to question first but your dad was moving before you had time to think it through.

"Dad!" you didn't even hesitate before jumping up and moving in front of Derek, stopping the man with your hands firmly on his chest and your face blocking his gaze before he could get close enough to Derek's chair. "Let's take a breath."

"Look, Chris, I can explain."

"Maybe not this second, babe," your tongue slipped, you didn't even realize you'd thrown the petname in there but your dad sure did and it did little to aid your case, even less when Derek stood up behind you, hand falling to your waist out of pure habit as you pushed back a little to stop your dad from moving. "You're the guy he's been playing wingman to?" a little angered nod was all you got in reply. ''And, Der, you're the floozy playboy that's been giving him dating advice?" You couldn't hide your amusement even if you tried your hardest.

"Yes, but this was before I met you and heaven knows not even my best tips worked on her so trust me when I say, Chris, this is different," With his voice back he was brave, very smooth when he took hold of your elbow and guided you behind him. "Look if you want to punch me then I'll give you one free shot but then best believe I'm taking a shot of my own, old man."

"Don't tempt me," your dad was less brave now, narrowed eyes shifting between you and his so-called friend with enough disapproval to write a novel but all he offered was a grunt of defeat. "It goes without saying that I do not even slightly approve of this."

"I don't blame you," your hands gripped his biceps as Derek spoke, you gave a little squeeze to his arms before you peeked your head over his shoulder. "You need time, I get it, we need to talk things out but eventually you'll see that this is different."

"Very," you noted, chin on his shoulder as you nodded, and were it another time anyone would be able to recognize just how cute the gesture was. "He talks a big game, Dad, but he's actually a big uncool softie," you teased and you were happy when Derek smiled, even happier when your dad gave a soft scoff.

"Careful, now," Derek warned and it was entirely not his intent to rub anything in Chris' face but he couldn't even stop himself from pulling you around and into his side, smiling lightly as you looked up at him. "I have a reputation to protect."

"Oh, mister womanizer, how could I forget?" you laughed and stole a glance over the table to where Allison was starting to clean up the dirty dishes. "Why don't you take your brooding self over to the kitchen to help my sister with the dishes and I'll try and convince my dad not to try and murder you again before dessert, " you had no doubt the idea was still very much lingering in his head.

"Yes ma'am," and Chris had to be blind not to notice just how happy you were, just how alarmingly different the little moment between you was to anything he'd seen from Derek before but it would take a hell of a lot more to convince him not to take him out in his sleep.

"So, you had any luck with his advice yet?" It was far too soon to joke about it but you'd not be his daughter if you didn't at least try.

"I need a drink."

Daredevil || Jessica Jones

Can I request a Loki x fem reader where the reader is a super kind empath Avenger and comforts Loki, who also has been recruited as an Avenger (very reluctantly) but is still a bit ostracized from everyone else on the team. The reader is able to see how poorly Loki was treated in the past and promises to be there for him. They both end up falling in love but are too afraid to tell each other (the reader is able to feel this weird warm and fuzzy emotion Loki directs at her and she can’t pin point what emotion it is). They end up confessing when Loki sees an avenger member take advantage of the readers sweetness so he steps into comfort her. He confesses and they kiss 😚

Also have an amazing day and take your time with requests!!!

hope you have an amazing day too!

masterlist

If you squint ever so slightly, peer out from the reach of your favorite chair just enough to see into the surrounding hallway, you can almost make out the silhouette of Tony Stark pacing back and forth outside his office door. 

As resident empath of the Avengers team, you’re in charge of reconnaissance, general battle backup, and checking in on everyone to make sure they’re still intact. You’ve also gone ahead and assumed that to mean that you can use your abilities to read the hearts of your teammates. Hey, it’s what they hired you to do, right? It’s not like you’re scanning their minds, now that would be invasive. All you’re doing is sensing how they’re feeling. Anyone could do that with a bit of good knowledge on body language.

You shift slightly, and there– you can just make out a cloud of colors circling Tony’s figure. That’s how emotions have always appeared to you ever since you were a kid. When people are having a perfectly normal day and not too much has happened, you’ll only be able to pick up on a tendril or two of colored smoke around their frame, a few hints at happy or sad but nothing too special. 

Conversely, when something crazy is going on, it’s like they’re walking out of a bank of mist, Mr. Darcy at the end of Pride and Prejudice (2005)-style. For instance, at this very moment you can’t even tell what shade of shirt Tony is wearing through the dense emotion rattling around him.

This is obviously a sign that something is going on. Usually, Tony’s pretty laid back, or at least he pretends to be. Cool blue is his trademark. Sometimes, closer to missions or just after them, you’ll see bright lime or sickly yellow lancing through them, panic and stress from too much pressure on his shoulders. You can sense his anxiety attacks before they start. Tony has no idea how many times you’ve used your gifts to divert those things, and if you have it your way, he’ll never figure it out.

Tony’s not panicking right now, though, or not in the way that you’re used to. Instead of purple or blue, all you can see around him is red, blazing red. Tony’s not usually a red kind of guy. Red means anger, outrage, and by the looks of him now, something has happened to cook up a regular bonfire of irritation.

As you watch, though, more colors join the fray. You can spot uneasy yellows and greens, an undercurrent of fear. What could possibly be going on to make Tony so unhappy? The situation is complicated, to be sure, but that’s nothing new around the Avengers. Take it from a S.H.I.E.L.D.- registered empath:  no one ever feels just one thing at one time. There’s always a dozen different emotions swirling in between your heart and head. And right now, Tony’s got quite a few to chew on.

Unable to contain your curiosity, you get up from your seat and pad over to him. Tony almost flinches when he turns and sees you, but he rubs a tired hand over one eye and greets you like normal.

You arch a brow at this attempt at pretending everything is fine. After all this time, Tony should know that you’re not one to get fooled by a pretty lie like that. “What’s going on? You’re totally freaking out.”

“So glad to see you, Y/N,” Tony complains, “I look great? Thanks for telling me. You’re always so quick with the compliments.”

You give him a look. “I know how you’re feeling. What’s up with you?”

“It’s not me you should be questioning,” he sighs, “it’s the newcomer to our team.”

You frown. “I didn’t think we were getting someone new.”

“We weren’t supposed to, but Fury added another guy last minute. Apparently it was either that or have him rot down in a cell for all eternity, and we don’t want to risk pissing off his brother,” Tony clarifies.

“Who’s his brother?” You ask, curious.

“Thor,” Tony says, and then you understand at last.

“Loki is joining the team?” You can’t believe it. Loki attacked New York all of six months ago. Sure, Fury has always been one to maximize opportunity, but you can’t believe he’d let Loki into the ranks of the Avengers so quickly.

“That’s what I said,” Tony harrumphed, “but apparently it’s already done. He’ll be coming up later today to meet us all. You know, without trying to kill us this time.”

You chuckle under your breath. “I can’t wait to see how that goes. How long do you think we have until Steve breaks out a patriotic speech on our or his behalf?”

Tony snorts. “It’ll happen any minute now. Look, here Steve comes up the stairs now. It’s like he marches everywhere he goes. Unreal.”

True to Tony’s suspicions, Steve, upon learning of Loki’s arrival, does indeed treat all of you to a talk about looking past first impressions. If the red flickering around his eyes and fists says anything, though, it’s that he’s just as pleased about the whole affair as Tony.

You, for one, aren’t sure what to make of the whole thing. Something must have happened to make Fury trust Loki, and until you learn otherwise, that’s as good an endorsement as you’ll get around here. Before long, Thor is marching into the Avengers complex with a stranger in tow, and all of a sudden, you have eyes on your new teammate.

It’s strange, your first impression of Loki. Second, technically, but you’re not counting the Battle of New York. That was different, you were trying to kill each other. Now you’re supposed to count on him to save your life.

Tony shoots a quick glance your way, cocking one brow as if to ask, getting anything? The honest answer is no, not yet. Asgardians are always hard to read, you figured that out when you first met Thor. Everything about them is different, even down to how they feel certain emotions. Loki is no exception. At first, you think he feels nothing at all. Then, you realize he’s just very good at hiding it. His back is perfectly straight, spine stiff and unfeeling.

That is, until you look a little deeper and you start to see the threads of colors playing around his clothes, his hands, his blank stare. They’re green in color, green and gold like the stitching on his apparel. They’re not happy emotions, these, they’re–

They’re fear. Loki is afraid. Not that anyone here will kill him, not that sort of fear. He is certain that all of you will reject him, that this great god will have to watch humans laugh at him and just deal with it anyway.

You can understand feeling like that. When you were first recruited to the Avengers, you almost thought it was a joke. Surely an empath wouldn’t be useful in the heat of the battle. They had to convince you of that later, once you could start changing people’s emotions instead of just reading them. Still, you know what it’s like to doubt yourself, even when you’re sure that you are worth more than anyone can imagine.

So, you step forward first, and greet him with a smile. “I’m Y/N,” you say, “it’s good to see you.”

Loki arches a brow, and you don’t have to read minds to know that he’s thinking is it? as strongly as he can. This confusion only grows when you hold out a hand to him. For a moment, you think he’s going to reject you, but your smile stays insistent. He doesn’t have to like you at all, but goddamnit, you’re going to like him. He can deal with that on his own terms.

He must be able to pick up on this sort of stubbornness, and for some reason this is what wins him over at last. Loki extends his hand to shake yours, and just like that, the ice is broken. It’s as if a collectively held breath is released across the room.

That isn’t to say that the rest of the Avengers take to him so readily, nor that Loki is as willing to accept them as you. He tends to stick to himself, avoiding crowds unless he can’t avoid it. He begrudgingly tells you it’s because being around that many people either reminds him of Asgard or the battle or both.

He tells you a lot, actually. It doesn’t all happen at first. He may have shaken your hand, but he seems dead set on despising you. However, you’d made up your mind to win him over at that point, and you weren’t going to rest until you met your goal. It took a lot of slow, deliberate effort, but before long the conversations weren’t so one-sided and you swore he actually smiled when you entered the room.

Also, he stopped hiding his emotions as much. The first time you saw a hesitant wave of goldenrod brush across his shoulders, you thought you were hallucinating. It was there the next time you saw him, though, and the next, and the next, deepening to sunset orange and staying there. Happiness. He liked being near you.

Once trust was built, real friendship could follow suit. Turns out Loki was just as reluctant to join the Avengers as your lot was to welcome him in, but when Director Fury makes a decision, pretty much everyone has to follow suit. Thor had warned him against causing more trouble, so Loki was here to stay. He used to think that was a bad thing, but judging by the way his tone has softened as of late, he might not be so sure of that anymore.

Loki starts to tell you more, once he stops thinking of you as an outsider. He tells you about Thanos, about how he had twisted Loki’s mind so that he could only attack the city. You had suspected something was wrong with Loki during the Battle of New York– his eyes glowed a strange color, the emotions flickering around his chest were almost alien, so unusual even for a god– but hearing it is the confirmation you needed to be sure. Loki had not attacked you in his own mind. He had not tried to kill you, that was someone else forcing his hand.

That last part was especially crucial. The night he finally told you about Thanos’ control, Loki had not been able to leave until he was certain that you understood that it had not been him leading the attack on the Avengers and your home. At last, you convince him that it is alright, and only then can he rest easy.

The rest of the Avengers aren’t able to share in this peace, however. They don’t want to give Loki a chance, which, seeing as they’re not able to actually see his emotions, you can sort of understand, but at this point it’s growing tiresome. It’s been months now since Loki joined the team, and he has not lied to or betrayed or attempted to murder anyone. You want to yell at them to grow up, but you don’t feel like picking someone else’s fights.

Instead, you’d rather spend your time pondering another puzzle. Loki’s moods have shifted again towards you, but this time you cannot understand them at all. Something’s changed about the way he looks at you, how he speaks, and you have no clue what any of it means.

When you have trouble, though, there’s only one surefire solution:  you need to talk to Natasha Romanoff. Nat’s been your best friend since you joined the Avengers, actually. She gets you. You get her. It’s a good time all around.

So, Natasha doesn’t look too surprised when you all but throw yourself into one of the chairs in her favorite space in the complex one sunny morning. The only question on her mind isn’t to ask what’s up with you but what Loki’s done now.

You grimace. “I don’t know, that’s the worst part. He’s acting weirdly.”

“Isn’t that normal for Loki?” Nat questions. “I mean, he is a disgruntled younger brother/frost giant/Norse god. I feel like weird for him is kind of expected.”

“No,” you argue, “This is different. Something’s changed.”

Natasha furrows her brow. “And you haven’t been able to pick up on anything?”

“Well,” you hesitate, “maybe there’s something. I have no idea what it is, though. It’s happy, I think, but it’s sad at times, too, and flickery, like even he can’t explain it. I don’t know how to describe it in the slightest.”

She nods decisively. “It’s love.”

You blink in surprise. “What? No, I just said I had no idea what this is. There’s no way you would be able to guess it so quickly.”

Nat shrugs. “Actually, your vague description was exactly why I know what this is. Only love makes no sense like that. Love makes you happy, but it breaks your heart, right? It confuses the hell out of you because that’s what it’s supposed to do. There’s nothing else that could make anyone feel like a mess of emotion but love.”

You sigh. “That still leaves the fact that it’s Loki, though. You actually think he’s in love with me? I’m a human. I mean, inhuman, technically, but same difference to him. Why would a literal Asgardian god ever look at me like that?”

Natasha’s gaze is knowing, but you can’t quite meet her eyes. “I don’t know why he wouldn’t. You won him over faster than anyone was expecting. I think the biggest question isn’t what he’s feeling, but what you are.”

You brush her concern aside. “Well, of course I know how I feel. I’ve had this much time figuring out how other people’s emotions work, it’s like a user manual for what certain things feel like in your own head. I just can’t believe that he truly feels the same. Maybe he’s trying to trick me by pretending to feel a certain way, I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Nat scoffs. “I thought you were the president of the ‘Stop Loki Hate’ fan club. What’s gotten you doubting him again?”

You shoot her a look. “I’m not doubting him, just myself. Also, there’s no such fan club. Fury banned us from attending Avengers-based clubs, remember?”

She nods mournfully. “All it took was one bad experience. Look, all of us showing up to the ‘Personally Victimized by Nick Fury’ meeting was funny. He was just being a bad sport.”

You smile fondly. “I remember. I’ve never seen that much red in my life. He was totally outraged.”

“Oh, I know. You didn’t need empathy powers to tell that much. At least we abstained from putting on the fake eye patches.” Nat muses.

You bite back a laugh. “Yeah, that might have been overkill. Anyway, back to the point. Are we sure about this?”

“We’re sure,” Natasha assures you, “I’m sure you’ll get in your own head about it later, though.”

“You can count on it,” you grin, and say your goodbyes.

Natasha is right as usual, as it turns out. Both about your feelings and the fact that you would second guess yourself. You were going to say something to Loki, but you talked yourself out of it later that night. It just feels wrong, that’s all. There’s no way a literal prince of the gods would fall in love when you’re just, well, you.

You do your best to push it out of your head, Nat’s knowing glances be damned. Life is too busy to contemplate men who won’t speak their minds. It feels like a new crisis hits New York every week. Speaking of which, you’ve actually got complaints about that. Namely, the fact that you haven’t been on a mission in quite some time despite your status as an Avenger.

You get frustrated once a couple of months have gone by without you seeing a fight. You pull Steve aside when you hear about something going wrong again. “I saw Fury’s memo about needing an extraction team for a situation over in Spain. Can I sign up?”

Steve shakes his head. “Thanks for the offer, Y/N, but we’ve already got enough guys on that team.”

You frown at him. “You can never have too many guys on an extraction team. It’s, like, Avengers lore that stuff always goes wrong on those. I can at least tag along as backup just in case. I’ll grab my gear and be off in like five minutes.”

Steve doesn’t seem willing to back down, though. “Look, I’m glad you’re passionate about the team, but we’re good, honestly. If you’re getting bored, just join the next mission, I’m sure one will come up sooner than later.”

You sigh. “That’s what everyone said last mission, and the one before that, too. I haven’t been out of the complex on official business in three months. I’m an Avenger, Steve, let me act like one.”

Steve puts his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “Y/N, I meant what I said about being glad you want to help, but this is serious. I’m a supersoldier, that’s why I’m out there all the time. Nat’s been trained for this sort of stuff since she was a kid. It makes sense to send us, right? You know we value your gifts, but we can’t risk hurting you.”

Your stomach twists. “You mean, I’m really best when I’m looking at people’s heads, not actually in a fight.”

Steve doesn’t seem to realize he’s upset you, and he nods emphatically. “Exactly! You’ve got a great skill set, just not for right now. I bet we’ll find something soon, though.”

You flash him a thumbs up, already walking back down the hallway so he can’t see the way your face twists. “Can’t wait.”

You let your composure drop the second you’re around the corner. Is this really how they feel? You were useful in the Battle of New York, you know that, and the other agents say you’ve been improving with your abilities by leaps and bounds. You’re handy with a gun or knife, too, so you know you could survive a fight and be of use. You’ve done it before, why are they so keen on stopping you now?

It makes you feel, well, useless. It’s hard to stop the tears from pricking at the corners of your eyes, and you quickly change course to head for your private quarters. You don’t want anyone to see you like this.

Of all the fantastic timing, though, the one person you want to run into least of all right now steps into the hallway just as you think that. Loki nods at you as usual, but he stops dead in his tracks when he sees you. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head dismissively, trying to physically will yourself to look normal. “Nothing! I’m great. Everything’s good.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, though, and reaches out a careful hand towards you. “Are you sure? It doesn’t seem like everything is good.”

You let out a watery laugh, and that does it. “No, actually, things are terrible. Everyone on the team sees me as a joke.”

Loki frowns, clearly taken aback. “Well, that’s not true at all. I don’t see you as a joke in the slightest.”

“Everyone else, then,” you amend with a messy wave of your hand, “I’ve been trying to convince them to let me on a mission for months and they won’t do it. I know my gifts are damn near useless, but I just want to help.”

“That’s not true,” Loki repeats, “They’re a lot of good, actually, and you know that. You’re the best interrogator they have, even compared to Romanoff. You see through everyone’s lies in a heartbeat, even mine, and I’ve had plenty more time to practice them than most. You can sense a trap or ambush in half a second. They’re fools for not wanting you out there with them.”

You smile weakly at him. “You don’t have to say all of that. Thanks, though.”

“Of course I do,” Loki says blankly, “it’s true, and I need to.”

“Why?” You ask curiously.

Loki swallows hard, looks away, and then you see it again– that faint mist of pink, right over his heart. It’s just like Nat said, isn’t it? Just like that.

He forces his gaze back to you, and you’re shocked by the certainty in his eyes after all this time of ducking around your feelings. “It’s true because I love you, and I would not be able to stand it if you let the rest of them talk you into thinking otherwise. They’re toy soldiers, the lot of them, all the same. They couldn’t see real worth if it was standing right in front of them.”

You smile, and for once it’s not cracked or teary or anything, it’s real, as real as the pink ribbons tying the two of you together. “I love you too,” you say.

“Of course you do,” he replies, but he’s smiling too, and you think– no, you know– that everything is going to be alright.

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