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Marvel Character Profile: Sarah Howlett

Name: Sarah Jane Howlett

Age: 26

Sex/Gender: F

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Occupation: Xman

Education: programmed from an early age by Weapon x and Hydra to assist the Winter Soldier. Survival skills, reading, writing, treating Injuries using her powers with no regard or concern for her own well being.

Other notes: inherited Logan Howlett's healing factor. Experienced a secondary mutation resulting in the additional ability to heal others by taking on the injuries herself.

Physical Appearance

Eye color: brown

Hair color: brown

Height: 5 foot 4

Weight: 200

Body type: lean

Fitness level: peak (because of her healing factor)

Fashion style: comfortable, tomboyish

Posture/Gait: Soldier-like

Tics: jaw clenching, teeth grinding, chewing on things absently, leg bouncing

Weaknesses: martyr syndrome to a fault, no self worth, programming by hydra

Sarah Howlett's relationship with Logan Howlett, her father, is one of deep connection, love, and complex emotions. Here's a summary of their relationship:

1. **Love and Connection:** Sarah has always felt a strong bond with Logan, calling him "Daddy" and feeling safest when she is with him. Despite any challenges they may face, Sarah's love for her father is unwavering, and she values their relationship deeply.

2. **Complex Emotions:** Logan's past and his role as a father have influenced Sarah's perception of him. She is aware of his dark history and the pain he carries, which adds complexity to their relationship. Despite this, Sarah understands and accepts Logan for who he is, cherishing the moments they share together.

3. **Protectiveness:** Logan is fiercely protective of Sarah, willing to go to great lengths to ensure her safety and well-being. Sarah, in turn, feels a sense of security and protection when she is with her father, knowing that he will always be there for her.

4. **Independence:** Despite her strong bond with Logan, Sarah also values her independence and has a strong sense of self. She is not afraid to assert herself and make her own choices, even if they differ from what Logan might expect.

Sarah's history with Kayla Silverfox is intertwined with Logan's experiences. Sarah was held by Logan as a baby, and they fought desperately together to escape the Weapon X facility.

However, Kayla, who is Sarah's mother, callously passed her off to the Weapon X operatives, separating her from Logan.

This event caused intense emotions in Logan, including betrayal, helplessness, and anguish at seeing his daughter given to the Weapon X organization.

Sarah, however, has no memory of these events due to her memory loss.

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If u want to write a story about a character that’s just you but hotter with a dark twisted backstory and magical powers and a pet falcon or something, I think u should just go ahead and do that. Who’s gonna stop you? The government?? Fuck the police.

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WRITE IT!!! WRITE THAT SELF INDULGENT SHIT!!!

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Shameless self insert moment incoming...

The clatter of dishes faded, leaving the kitchen in a tranquil quiet. The vintage KitKat clock swung with a steady rhythm, its soft ticking creating a comforting backdrop. Then, like a gentle breeze, the familiar melody of Frank Sinatra's "Someone to Watch Over Me" filled the air.

SARAH: (softly) This one's a classic.

I glanced at Sarah, and in the soft glow of the kitchen lights, her eyes carried a glimmer of fond nostalgia. She seemed to lose herself in the music, swaying gently as if each note held a cherished memory.

BUCKY: (curious) You a fan of Old Blue Eyes?

SARAH: (nodding) Big fan. Sinatra's got a way of making you feel every word.

The music invited us to a silent dance, and as Sarah, setting aside the dish towel, swayed to its gentle cadence, I noticed a vulnerability in her that I hadn't seen before. It was a moment, unhurried and unguarded, that made me see her differently.

BUCKY: (softly) Mind if I take the lead this time?

She looked at me, surprise mingled with a playful grin.

SARAH: Be my guest.

As I stepped closer, extending my hand, the kitchen transformed into a dance floor. The vintage clock's swing seemed to synchronize with the music, creating an intimate space within the familiar surroundings.

BUCKY: You know, it's been a while since I danced.

SARAH: (teasing) Careful, soldier. They say dancing is the fastest way to a girl's heart.

I chuckled, appreciating her attempt to inject some lightness into the moment. It eased the tension that had been subtly building.

BUCKY: (smirking) Well, I'll keep that in mind.

As we continued to dance, Sarah's playful remark lingered in the air. I could sense a hesitancy in her words, a mix of shyness and a desire to keep things light. It made me wonder if she was as surprised by this unexpected connection as I was.

BUCKY: You always been this good at defusing awkward moments?

SARAH: Comes with the territory of being a journalist. Gotta have a quick wit.

BUCKY: (smiling) I can appreciate that.

The dance continued, and our conversation flowed naturally, like a gentle stream winding its way through uncharted terrain. The vintage clock swung, a companion to the shared laughter and the quiet understanding that unfolded between us.

As the song reached its final notes, our eyes lingered in a silent exchange. The music, the dance – they became metaphors for something unspoken, a connection that defied the simplicity of the moment.

SARAH: (softly) That was unexpected.

BUCKY: (smiling) Sometimes, the best things are.

The vintage KitKat clock's swing persisted, marking the end of the song and the beginning of a quiet yet profound moment in Sarah's small kitchen, where music, dance, and newfound connections converged.

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🥺 AI is so wonderful

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In the dimly lit chamber, Cayde-6 burst through the door, Ace of Spades drawn, ready for a showdown. His confident swagger faltered as he saw Sarah, battered and bruised, slumped against the cold walls. The air thickened with tension as he rushed to her side.

Cayde-6: "Sarah? No... oh, come on, don't you dare do this."

His usually witty remarks were replaced with genuine concern as he gently cradled her in his arms. Sarah's eyes struggled to focus on him, a faint smile forming despite her pain.

Sarah: "Hey, Cayde. Looks like I... got myself into a bit of a mess, huh?"

Cayde-6's expressive face tightened with worry.

Cayde-6: "You think? What happened?"

Sarah winced, a sharp intake of breath betraying the pain she tried to hide.

Sarah: "Ambushed... got careless. They wanted info, but you know me, not one to spill secrets."

Cayde-6's usual bravado gave way to a rare vulnerability.

Cayde-6: "We're getting you out of here. Hold on, okay?"

As Cayde-6 carefully lifted her, he couldn't help but glance at the damage inflicted on his resilient friend. The usual spark in his eyes flickered with a mix of anger and concern, revealing a depth of emotion he rarely showed.

Cayde-6: "You're tougher than you look, Sarah. Just hang in there. We're going home."

With a solemn promise, Cayde-6 carried Sarah out of the dark chamber, leaving behind the bravado and embracing the gravity of the moment.

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omg if u ever get the chance would you write a follow up for the eddie and shy!reader where they confess? 🥺🩵

first part (u don't have to read if u don't want to) fem!shy!reader and best friend eddie confess, 1.6k

You flick a piece of popcorn off of your knee and smack Eddie square in the cheek. His neck snaps to the side to stare at you, tongue in his cheek in indignation. 

"That how it is?" he asks. 

You smile mock-demurely. "I have no idea what you're talking about." 

It's too close to flirting to deny at this point, but Eddie doesn't ever seem to notice. You've been friends for so long that this slow decline into playfulness feels normal. 

Eddie digs for the rogue piece of popcorn on the couch cushion behind his shoulders and prepares to flick it back. You cover your face. 

"Hey! Cheating, put your hands down." 

"No, you'll flick popcorn at me." 

The popcorn hits you in the hand. You drop your hands, but quickly retreat into yourself on the bean bag in apprehension as he approaches, a devilish smile playing on his pretty mouth. "Eddie, please don't–" You groan as he drops his weight on top of you, kneeing the back of your thigh hard. "You fucking–" 

"Remember when we first met? You never would've cussed at me," he interrupts, boldly putting his hands on you, one at your neck and the other against your cheek. 

You wiggle under him. "Get off." 

He takes a handful of popcorn from the bucket by your side. It smells sweet like taffy, and a kernel falls from his palm onto your shirt as he eats it. You flick it at him. 

"You're aggressively aggressive," he says through chews.

"You're heavier than you look." 

"When we first met," he says, poking your cheek with his pinky, you assume so as not to get popcorn crumbs on you, "you could barely look me in the eye." 

"That's just 'cos you're scruffy." 

"Funny." 

Eddie wipes his hand in his shirt and grabs your face again. You go still at his touch, trying to maintain a facade of calm you don't feel. 

"This is nicer. I love when you get all shy," —his voice softens slowly, like a meandering river calmed— "your smile… you smile when you're nervous, you know that?" 

You tamp your expression into neutrality. "Do not." 

"But it's nicer now that you're not nervous all the time. You're not telling me things, but I can handle it." 

"I tell you things," you mumble.

Eddie locks eyes with you. He rubs your jaw with his knuckles teasingly, before climbing off of you with an apologetic pat to your knee. His positioning had been less than comfortable. You sit up with a sigh, leg and chest aching. 

"You tell me some things," he says. 

"I tell you pretty much everything." 

"Liar." He crosses his legs, sitting applesauce by the mantle. Sunlight coming in from the kitchen behind him has his hair like silver at the edges where it falls around his face, his arms tense where he holds his own elbows. 

"I'm not lying, you know anything worth knowing about me." 

It's hard to make out, but you can tell you've upset him. You aren't sure how, but he goes rigid, looking away from you and toward the TV. His side profile knocks the breath out of you, lashes long where they kiss the skin beneath his brows, his nose a strong line you'd like to reach out and trace. 

"Eddie–" 

"It's alright, I didn't mean anything by it." 

The bean bag groans as you kneel on the rug by Eddie's legs. You look around helplessly for aid, and when none comes you drag the popcorn toward you, eating a mouthful morosely. 

"I'm sorry for being weird, I just…" Eddie leans back on one arm and whines. "I think I'm getting my meriod." 

"That's not funny." 

He puts a hand on his stomach. "Do I look bloated to you?" 

"I don't know where to start with that one." 

Eddie falls onto his back. His act doesn't last very long, and after a few moments he's frowning at the TV again. You look down into the popcorn kernels, white and yellow and brown and fragrant when you give the tub a little shake. You push it away.

"Don't be sad, Eds. If there's something you want me to tell you, I'll tell you." 

You're aflame as you say it, because why the fuck would you say that? There's no way he'll want to know what you're afraid to tell him, he'll never ask, but still. It's like offering to jump into turbulent waters. 

"I just don't want you holding onto stuff, that's all. Kinda breaks my heart thinking you're a bag of secrets." 

"What if it's stuff you don't wanna hear?" you ask with a dry mouth.

"I always wanna hear it if it's coming from you. Can't promise I'll like it, but what, you think I'm gonna care?" 

"It's hard to say." 

He gestures for you to lay down with him. 

You set your shoulder by his and lay down cautiously. Your thigh bumps into his. A line of rings catches the light where his hand covers his ribs. 

"I don't want to tell you something about me and have you see me differently," you say slowly, each word strung to the other clumsily as you piece your sentence together. "I like how you treat me now." 

"What if I swear things won't change?" 

"I don't…" He sounds like he knows you like him. Impossible to describe, only that you know the truth, so he must know the truth too. "You can't, really. Promise me that." 

He turns his head to yours, his hair dragging gentle across your shoulder as he moves. You feel his gaze like a flame on your cheek. 

"I swear," he murmurs. "Nothing will change. Nothing you don't want to change." 

You turn toward him, heart in your mouth, meeting his baby brown eyes head on. You shift your head against the floor to take the weight of it off of your ear, your chin lifting subtly. 

This is going to rip your chest open. "I think I'm," —Eddie leans forward, he closes the gap, "in love–" 

You can't finish your sentence. Like a magnetic pull, Eddie fits his lips against the seam of your own and you close it, alarmed, not sure how to respond. He cuts your face softly and pushes up, encouraging you to kiss back. 

"Wait," you say, eyes painfully open. 

Eddie immediately moves away from you. "Sorry," he says, his eyes just as open, twice as wide, "was I not supposed– you're not talking about me?" 

"I'm in love with you," you say. 

"Yeah, I guessed?"

"I don't know why you're being cranky with me, we both know I won't be able to say it again." 

Your throat totally closes as he rubs your cheek, like there's dirt under his thumb. "I've been thinking about kissing you for months, sweetheart," he says. He looks like he might say more, but he leans in again. 

You sigh at his touching, his gentle kiss. He smiles into you, sitting up to kiss down with slightly more force. Eddie takes the lead, cradling your face in hands you've never felt so adoringly tender before. His hair starts to tip onto your cheek like strands of silk. 

"I think you'll be okay," he says, breaking the kiss to pant in breath. He rubs the tip of his nose into yours. 

"There's popcorn in my teeth, please don't kiss me again," you say quietly. 

"I love you. I don't care if we swap kernels for the next hour."

"Hour?" you ask, though you're thrumming with a strange anticipation. The reality hasn't dropped, but it's falling fast. 

"I've been waiting months," he reminds you, lips at your cheek as he needles his arms under your shoulders. He hugs you. "Aw, sweetheart. I've been seeing you try to tell me now for months, the whole time thinking I couldn't get any more obsessed with you." 

"You're obsessed with me? You knew?" you ask. 

"Don't freak out." 

"I'm gonna." 

"Okay, fine, freak out." 

You hug him, burying your nose in his hair. He's soft, and warm, and he's heavy where he leans on your chest, but it's perfect. You wonder if this is the precipice of forever now, if you get to have him in your arms like this all the time. You freak out. 

"You're in love with me?" you ask. 

"Sickeningly." 

"I think my face is on fire." 

Eddie peels back to look you over. "You're melting," he says agreeably. "But lucky you, your best friend gives the coolest kisses ever." 

"You're gonna make it worse." 

"Can I?" he asks. 

"I have popcorn in my teeth," you whine again. 

Eddie knows you better than anyone in the whole wide world. He demands you open your mouth for kernel extraction and you burst into squeamish giggles, squirming out from his arms and whacking your head on the seat of the couch. Eddie chases after you to start a wrestling match you can't win. He doesn't break his promise —the things you don't want to change stay the same. And the things you do want to change? They're perfect, even if it all tastes overwhelmingly of butter and toffee. 

-

i hope you enjoyed reading!!

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Total garbage and I love it....

The night was silent, the city draped in shadows as Bucky Barnes walked through its deserted streets. The moon cast an eerie glow, revealing the tense lines etched on his face. Sarah's kidnapping had unleashed a storm within him, a storm fueled by fear and a burning determination to bring her back.

Every step echoed with the weight of his worry, each heartbeat a relentless reminder of her absence. The Winter Soldier, once accustomed to the art of detachment, now grappled with the ache of an emotion he thought he'd left behind.

The note had been cruelly left on his doorstep—a chilling demand that mocked the stability he thought he had found. It promised pain if he dared involve others, but such threats fell on deaf ears. Sarah was more than just a teammate; she was a beacon of light in a life overshadowed by darkness.

His search took him to the fringes of the city, where dimly lit alleys whispered secrets only the desperate dared to hear. A clandestine meeting with an informant led to a trail—breadcrumbs of anguish and desperation. Bucky followed them, his every instinct honed to a razor's edge.

The journey took him through the underbelly of the city, a place where shadows clung to secrets and despair hung in the air like a tangible force. Bucky moved with purpose, his eyes ablaze with a fire fueled by love and an unyielding determination.

Finally, he reached the ominous warehouse—the heart of the darkness that swallowed Sarah. The door creaked open, revealing a chilling tableau. Sarah, bound and bruised, her eyes locked onto his with a mixture of relief and fear.

"Bucky," she whispered, her voice a fragile thread in the oppressive silence.

In an instant, the Winter Soldier emerged, a storm of violence and fury. His metal arm clashed with his enemies, a symphony of relentless force. The world blurred as he fought his way to her, a silent promise echoing through each calculated strike.

Finally, he reached her side, his trembling hands gently freeing her from the restraints that bound her to the nightmare. Their eyes met, a shared moment of profound relief amidst the chaos.

The journey back was a silent one, the weight of the ordeal lingering in the air. Bucky held Sarah close, as if fearing that the world might snatch her away again if he let go. The streets, once shrouded in shadows, seemed to brighten in the aftermath of their shared victory.

In the quiet moments that followed, as they returned to the safety of their sanctuary, Bucky's gaze lingered on Sarah—a silent acknowledgment of the depth of his emotions. For in that harrowing night, he had discovered a truth he couldn't deny: Sarah was not just an ally; she was the heartbeat of his newfound humanity.

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is your comfort character also a sad pretty boy with trauma and questionable morals or are you normal

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Sam : Hey y/n, do you have a crush on anyone?

Y/N : Only crush I have is crushing anxiety.

Y/N : And also Bucky.

*suddenly from behind y/n*

Bucky : Also Bucky what?

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