Avengers x Reader One Shots

You've Been WHAT? ✨ Jack Thompson

Your POV:
"You know, I'm not some ninny, I can take care of myself," you reply over the comms to Jack's concerned question about your whereabouts.

"I know you can, I'd just feel better if you were beside me so I could know you were safe."

"Look, Jack, it's all clear over here. I mean, if you want I can come over there, but that will leave an open section of perimeter."

"It's fine, I'll have Rose get it."

You sigh. "Why are you even worried about me? Honestly, Chief, I can take care of myself. Why not have Rose with you?"

Silence. Then, "Because. And that's a direct order, get over here now, (y/l/n)."

"Okay," you huff, acknowledging the command angrily.

As quickly as you can, you make it to the abandoned hangar where Jack is. It's a large, open room, with high ceilings—and a rather large amount of wooden boxes.

"It's going to take us all day to search through this," Jack complains.

"Oh, hush. It'll probably take a week if we're lucky."

"Remind me why we don't have Carter doing this?"

You swiftly turn to him. "Because she's staking out her section of perimeter, making sure we don't die. And you could have had Rose here helping you, but no, you have me."

"What, did you want me to call Sousa and have him come do what Rose is doing now?"

You whack him in the side of the head. "Ouch, (y/n)," he whines. You just smirk in satisfaction.

"Chief Sousa is doing important investigation currently, not crying over his situation. Mind you, you could be back in New York, doing your job, but you chose to be here. Now, suck it up, buttercup."

As you say this, Jack begins to open the next crate. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice movement in the opposite quadrant to you. You move your head almost unnoticeably and see a gunman. Barely able to register the situation, you push Jack down, diving in front of him as a shot rings out. A groan of pain comes from you as you land, but Jack was fine.

You stand wobbily, moving forward to try and catch the man. "Armed suspect on the move," you hear Jack yell as he too runs, having recovered from the fall faster than you.

His efforts are futile. When you see the man slip out of the door, you stop and go back to the crates, relying on Jack to radio in the last-known position of the assailant. He does so, turning and heading back to you.

"(Y-y/n)?" He asks, disbelief and concern evident in his voice.

"Yeah?" You look up, confused, as you open another crate.

His eyes widen and he surges forward, grabbing your arm as if to steady you—which you don't need. Your eyes meet his blue ones.

"(Y/n), you've been..." his voice trails off as his gaze drifts to your midriff. Even more confused, you look down, only to notice the red stain soaking through your white blouse.

"Dang it," you bemoan, "this was one of my favorites, and it was expensive."

Jack gives a short, barking chuckle in shock. "You've been shot, and the thing you're worried about is your shirt?"

A crackle comes through the comms. "(Y/n) has been what? Jack, where are you? I'm coming to find you."

You laugh at Peggy's concern. "I'm good," you chastise them both. "It doesn't hurt that much."