#These guys are dysfunctional as hell | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sceletaflores · 2 months ago

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LAYING IT ALL ON THE LINE...

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｡꩜°‧➵ PAIR: Joel Miller x fem!reader

｡꩜°‧➵ WC: 4.1k

｡꩜°‧➵ CONTAINS: 18+ SMUT MDNI, post-outbreak, hurt/comfort, joel's pov, general violence, minor character injury, jackson!joel, when he picks an unnecessary fight with you because that's all he knows, mentioned age gap, joel miller as a sad old man, joel miller experiences feelings, oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, clothed sex, unprotected sex, erectile dysfunction? we don't know what that means in this house because that old man can fuck like he's twenty AND his knees are made of steel (but only sometimes), porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

｡꩜°‧➵ @retrosabers SAYS: thinking about you almost dying on patrol and joel is FUMING, unable to convey just how worried and anxious it makes him. the only way he can even remotely conceptualize his feelings is through a very PASSIONATE rawdogging ♡

｡꩜°‧➵ NAT'S NOTE: everyone say thank you sid for this absolutely luxurious prompt...i'm waiting. i had so much fun with this! i love love love a good semi-angsty, emotionally constipated man having to come to terms with his buried slash repressed feelings in the gritty wake of a near-death experience, like that's my shit. hope y'all love it!

dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics!

joel miller realizes that love isn’t just a four letter word…

"Southeast perimeter’s clear. Heading west by the river bed."

“Wow, you’re finally gonna stop gettin’ us lost out here, sunshine?”

“Lost? Please, you cried when I found that shortcut through the cedar thicket.”

Joel listens to you and Tommy bicker over the radio, a forgotten cup of coffee going cold at his side. That's all he can do when you're out there—patrolling in the snow with a few others. He's not proud of how he just sits by like some anxious house wife, listening to the static between check-ins, but he can't make himself focus on anything other than the way your bright voice filters in and out.

He tries not to hover. Tries not to keep the handheld clutched like it's a goddamn lifeline. But he does, eyes glued to the thing like it might crack open and spill you out if he stares hard enough.

Joel's really not even supposed to be listening in like this. Maria's chewed him out more times than he can count each time she catches him hunched over an old radio that he's never bothered turning in, says it'll do him more harm than good worrying over it.

Besides, these channels aren't meant for civilians sitting on their asses at home. He knows that, because that's exactly what he is now—civilian adjacent. Half-retired.

Tommy jokes about it every once in a while, the way Joel's slowed down, the way his joints complain louder than they used to. A while back, he might've laughed too. Now, every little twinge of pain feels like a reminder of what he used to be.

Joel used to be the one they all looked to out on patrol. He could track better, shoot cleaner, navigate faster than most of the younger guys. That's not the case these days. His patrolling has slowed down over the past few years. He only goes out a few times every couple of months, if even that.

He tells himself it’s by choice.

It’s not, not at all. He’s tired. His knees ache after long rides. His busted shoulder can’t handle the cold without locking up. Jackson’s got a whole rotation now, young joints, faster reflexes, eyes that don’t blur when the wind hits just right. So he doesn’t go out much anymore. Not unless the group is short. Not unless they really need him.

It makes sense. He knows it makes sense.

That doesn’t make it feel right. You out there, miles away in knee-deep snow with a rifle strapped to your back while he’s stuck here. Not out there. Not beside you.

Joel knows you can handle yourself—hell, you’ve proven that a dozen times over. You’re younger. Strong. Fast. Smart as a whip. You can shoot the cap off a beer bottle and you handle a knife better than most people your age.

Knowing all that still doesn’t quiet the feeling of unease that eats away at him each time you strap on your gear and kiss him goodbye with a, See you later, Miller. Strolling out the door like it’s casual. Like it’s nothing.

There’s a kind of helpless fury in it. A sick twist in his gut every time he watches you ride out. Like he’s some retired goddamn hunting dog. Trusted to guard the porch, but not sharp enough to run with the pack anymore.

Joel adjusts the volume dial on the radio like it’ll make your voice stay longer.

Tommy’s laugh cuts through the speaker. “Didn’t cry. I got snow in my eye.”

“In July? Sure.”

It comes in grainy and light, full of that same teasing bite you always give Tommy—enough to make Joel’s jaw tighten with a quiet, helpless kind of fondness. He almost smiles, but it doesn’t reach past the tight pull in his chest. You’re still picking your way through territory where any tree line might be hiding something.

Joel shifts in his seat, elbows on the table, jaw clenched tight. He tells himself you’re fine. You always are. You have to be.

The channel goes still for a few beats. Then, a crack of static. Some muffled shuffling. And—

“Wait—something’s moving in the trees. Left side, just past the ridge.”

Your voice. Sharper now. Less teasing and pointedly quiet.

“Copy,” Tommy replies, suddenly serious. “Keep eyes on—”

A burst of noise. A flurry of panicked voices overlapping and shouts. The unmistakable sound of gunfire.

Then nothing.

Dead air.

Joel’s heart drops to his boots. “Tommy?” he barks into the receiver. “Come in. What the hell’s happening out there?”

When there’s no answer, Joel shoots to his feet. The chair scrapes across the floor harshly as he crosses the room in two large strides, fumbling for his jacket. “Tommy? Goddammit, someone answer me!”

Nothing.

Joel’s heart thuds violently against his ribcage as he stares at the little black box in his hand like it’s an omen. He feels it rush in all at once—panic, guilt, helpless rage curling cold and mean in his chest. His ears are ringing so loud he doesn’t hear the slam of the door behind him as he tears out of the house and into the cold air.

Something happened. The group was compromised. You were compromised.

And he’s not there.

He should’ve been there.

Joel doesn’t remember the sprint to the stables. Doesn’t remember shouting at Maria when she tried to stop him at the gate. Doesn’t remember half the ride out. All he knows is that his hands won’t stop shaking around the reins and the bile in his throat tastes like ash—a sick, gnawing pit growing in his gut.

When he finds the group what feels like hours later, just as the sun starts to rise behind the ridgeline—you’re nowhere to be found. His eyes scan the way everyone’s spread out, some with minor injuries and the others patching them up.

No sign of you.

Tommy plants himself in front of Joel just as he hauls himself off his horse. He doesn’t even feel the way his knees jolt as his feet hit the ground.

“Where the hell is she?” he rasps, voice so rough it sounds like it’s been dragged through gravel. “Where, Tommy?”

Tommy’s hands are out in front of him like Joel’s a wild animal about to snap. He’s got blood on his hands, but no signs of stab wounds or bullet holes anywhere on him. It’s not his blood. Joel’s stomach turns viciously at the sight, at the thought of whose it might be.

“She’s fine,” Tommy says, eyes wide and placating. “Took a hit, it grazed her side. She wouldn’t fuckin’ stay down.”

Joel knows he won’t feel any relief until he sees you, alive and breathing with his own eyes. “Where.”

Tommy steps aside just before Joel nearly shoves past him, nodding his head toward a rock outcrop a ways away from everyone else.

You’re sitting closest to the makeshift fire, Jesse crouched beside you to clean the gash along your side. You’re bundled in someone else’s coat, hair mussed and blood soaked through your undershirt and spattered across your cheeks.

Visibly shaken. Color drained. Bloody. Alive.

Joel’s throat locks up when your eyes meet his. You give him the smallest, tired smile—like you're trying to reassure him. That look. That stupid, brave little tilt of your mouth like everything's okay even when you're the one bleeding through Tommy's jacket.

It makes something in his chest crack wide open.

“Joel?”

He doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t know what to say.

Doesn’t trust himself for it to be anything good.

Joel takes three shaky steps towards you before his knees give out.

He drops hard into the snow. He doesn’t catch himself, doesn’t try. Just falls forward like a penitent man bowing at the altar of a God he doesn’t believe in. His breath comes in short, ragged bursts, eyes locked onto the red seeping through your shirt like it's the only color in the whole damn world.

There’s a beat where nobody moves. Jesse freezes, half-done wrapping gauze, and you’re just sitting there, wide-eyed and shaking like a leaf, lips parted like you’re trying to say something—but Joel’s already reaching for you.

He's on you in the next breath. Not rough, not like usual, not with that greedy, hungry touch he normally has after you come back from patrol. His hands are trembling when they find your face, tilting your chin up gently, his fingers brushing away wet blood and dirt.

Tommy glances away. Jesse too, both men busying themselves with helping the others. It feels too private, even out here in the open.

“Goddammit,” he chokes. “God—baby–”

His voice breaks on the last word. Breaks, something sharp and gutted and boyish, nothing like the hardened man who's grown to guard his emotions like they’re classified. Your hands hover uncertainty over his shoulders, the side of his face. You’re worried. He can see it plain as day, written in the wavering line of your mouth.

“Hey—hey, I’m okay,” you say, voice low and urgent. “I’m fine. Look at me, Joel, I’m fine. It just—it just grazed me, okay? I’m fine.”

You’re not fine.

You’re too pale. You’re stone-cold. Your blood is still tacky on your shirt, drying beneath his body's warmth.

Joel presses his forehead to yours and exhales like he’s been kept underwater, and you were the surface he’d been clawing to.

You whisper his name again, quieter this time, and he shushes you. “Don’t—don’t talk, just—let me—” His fingers press to the pulse point at your wrist like he still needs proof. “Let me feel you.”

You don’t say anything else.

You just hold him.

And Joel doesn’t cry. He can’t. Something won’t let him, but he stays there in the snow for a long time, holding you like a man who thought he’d never get the chance to again.

The ride back to Jackson is quiet.

You fell asleep half-way through, head lolling back against Joel’s shoulder as you both sat in the saddle, your body loose with exhaustion and the emergency pain meds Jesse had in his pack. Tommy rides ahead, checking the trail, but Joel barely looks up. He just holds the reins with one hand and holds you tighter with the other.

You’re taken to the infirmary the second everyone files through the gates. Joel sits by your bedside in stormy silence, hands curled into fists and resting on his knees, the only thing keeping him together.

You talk to the nurse on duty. You even joke with her, cracked voice and tired eyes like it’s all part of the routine. Like getting shot is just another part of the job. And Joel sits there while someone else wraps you in new bandages and checks your vitals.

It makes his blood boil.

All he can think about is the way your voice cut out on the radio. The way he didn’t know if you were dead or bleeding out in some field, alone. And now you’re laughing. Now you’re telling the nurse, “I’m fine really, just sore.” And it makes him want to tear the whole fucking clinic apart.

Joel doesn’t say a word until you're cleared to leave.

Not on the short walk back to your house. Not when you’re walking through the door, cleaned up. Patched. Your shirt’s gone, replaced by his coat and a thermal blanket around your shoulders.

Not when you nudge his arm gently like you’re testing the waters. Not when you say his name soft, like it might keep him calm before you’re heading towards the bedroom.

It doesn’t.

The moment the door shuts behind him, Joel erupts.

“You got a fuckin’ death wish?”

You freeze in your spot halfway across the room, turning to face him.

Joel doesn’t move. Just stands there, fists clenched at his sides. His voice is low, shaking with barely concealed rage. “You gonna tell me why you thought playin’ saviour was worth bleedin’ out in the snow?”

You don’t say anything for a few beats, eyebrows drawn together in a hard frown as you look at him. “What was I supposed to do, Joel? Jesse was pinned, Tommy would’ve taken the hit. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice!” Joel grates, stepping towards you. “You could’ve picked you. You could’ve stayed the fuck down like Tommy told you to.”

“I was trying to keep your brother from getting shot in the head,” you snap, the tension finally striking a flint. “I made a judgment call.”

“You made a stupid call,” he spits, voice loud and blistering. “You don’t get to do that.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you repeat, your body growing stiff and tense.

“You shoulda fuckin’ stayed down.” Joel growls. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it—just rips his flannel off, tosses it hard at the wall.

You don’t flinch. Don’t even look away from him as his shirt falls and crumples into a heap on the floor. “What?”

“You heard me,” he snaps, turning to look at you again. His eyes are dark, fiery. “Jesus, you—do you even fuckin’ think sometimes? You were hit. You knew you were hit, and you kept goin’. You didn’t stop, didn’t stay down like you were told.”

He steps closer, eyes boring into yours, face twisted with something too furious to be rational. “You fuckin’ chose to be a goddamn hero, huh? Run into gunfire like it ain’t a fuckin’ death sentence? That it?”

He can see the second your expression changes, your own anger rearing its ugly head now, bitter and hot. “Don’t do that. Don’t make this about me being reckless when you know I was just trying to keep people alive. I did what I had to do.”

“No!” he snaps, pointing a finger at you, furious and stricken all at once. “What you had to do was come home. That’s it. That’s all.”

You blink at him, breath caught in your throat.

Joel can’t stop, all the emotions he’s been dealt over the past three hours finally boiling over and spilling through his lips before he can think twice about what he’s saying.

“You could’ve died,” he growls, pacing now, hands dragging through his hair roughly like he’s trying to rip the anger out of himself. “Two fuckin’ inches to the left and that bullet would’ve torn straight through your gut. You think you’d’ve made it to town in time for that? Huh?”

“That’s not fair.”

“No,” he snarls, spinning on you, voice cracking. “It’s not fuckin’ fair. Nothin’ about this is. You go out there, and I sit at home waitin’ to see if today’s the day I lose you. That the last thing I heard is your voice cuttin’ out in the middle of a fuckin’ ambush. That’s what I got to live with now. That’s what I saw every time I closed my eyes on that ride back.”

You stand there, lost for words. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I know you didn’t,” Joel says, suddenly quieter, throat thick. He swallows hard, looking down, shaking his head like he’s trying to get a grip. “But I still almost lost you. And I don’t—fuck—I don’t know what the hell I’d do if that ever—”

His voice cuts off, ragged. Then he’s in front of you again, cupping your face with both hands. “You’re not allowed to do that to me again,” he whispers fiercely. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that.”

“Joel…” You lean into him, slow. Cautious.

Joel meets you halfway.

His mouth is on yours in a heartbeat—hot and bruising and pathetically desperate. His big hands frame your face, thumbs dragging down your cheekbones as he licks a wet stripe over the plush seam of your lips.

You gasp into his mouth when he pushes the blanket off your shoulders, when his palms skate down your sides to grip your hips hard. Not too rough, not yet, but he’s holding you because he needs you rooted. Anchored. Here.

Joel kisses you like he’s still furious at you, like he hates how much he needs you, like he’s punishing you for making him feel so afraid. It’s not soft, all teeth and tongue as he devours you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When he pulls back, his mouth is wet with your spit, lips pink and swollen. “Need to taste you,” he mutters. “Need to feel you.”

Joel sinks to his knees before you can respond, breath huffing harshly against your stomach. His fingers tug your zipper down with frantic urgency, hooking his thumbs in your waistband to peel your pants down your legs in one swift motion.

There’s no teasing. No smugness. Just a heavy, sharp hunger carved into his face like stone as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing you to his greedy eyes. His hands slide under your thighs, lifting one over his shoulder as he brings his mouth to you like a man possessed.

The first drag of his tongue is slow. Reverent. Hot and wet as he parts the slick seam of your cunt with deliberate strokes that make your spine arch. He groans like your taste knocks the wind out of him, and then he latches on like he’s got a point to prove—to himself or you, he’s not sure. All he knows is that worshipping you is the only penance that could soothe the panic still clawing at his insides.

“Joel.” Your hands tangle in his hair, chin falling to your chest as you gaze down at him.

He sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue relentless, nose pressed deep against you. You whimper, twisting his hair in your grip, hips twitching—Joel doesn’t let you go anywhere. He’s got you trapped, your body pinned with his mouth buried between your thighs like he plans to die there.

It’s filthy, obscene—the way he devours you. Lips slick, beard growing damper with each swirl of his tongue, eyes half-lidded but still trained on your own.

Your eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide and black as spilled ink. There’s sweat beaded on your brow, lips parted and swollen as you let out small huffs of air.

Your thighs are trembling. You're soaked, arching against him, whimpering his name with tears welling in your eyes. And still—still—he won’t let up. He needs this. Needs to make you fall apart. Needs to prove to himself you’re alive by the way your body sings under his touch.

Joel can’t stop. Not until your thighs shake and you’re moaning that you’re gonna come, gonna come, Joel, please—

And you do. You fall apart on his tongue with a broken sob, legs clenching tight around his ears, hips grinding down into his mouth in weak twitches and shudders. He growls and holds you still, licking you through every last tremor until your body goes limp and threatens to sink to the floor.

Joel doesn’t let you fall—he lowers you down gently, like you’re made of spun glass, even as his hands skirt over the hem of your shirt. When he pulls it up, revealing the bandages wound tight around your side, he pauses. His gaze lingers on the wound. Jaw clenched. Something soft and wrecked flickers in his eyes.

Your hand comes up to cup the side of his face, your thumb running over the scar across his temple so gently it has his heart throbbing in his chest. “I’m okay,” you whisper. “Still here.”

Joel takes your wrist in his hand, lowering it down enough to press it hard over his heart. “You feel that?” he breaths. “That hasn’t stopped hammerin’ since I heard your voice cut out.”

You nod slowly. Your fingers curl into his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Joel squeezes your wrist, turning his head to press a soft kiss to your forearm.

He climbs up over you, chest to chest—the jut of his cock where it tents the denim of his jeans grinds over the sensitive span of your cunt as he settles himself between your legs. He’s thick, heavy even through all the layers.

Joel’s free hand snakes down his body, making quick work of his belt. He rips his zipper down, freeing his cock from the confines of his soaked boxers and letting it slap up against his stomach.

You moan at the sight of it—hard, straining, the tip a dusty red and wet with pre-come. Your legs widen unconsciously, thighs twitching on either side of Joel’s hips.

Joel takes himself in his hand, fist tight over the base of his cock as he runs himself through your puffy cunt, slicking the skin of his cock with your wetness. “Gonna fuck you,” he breathes, lining himself up between your legs. “Gonna feel you around me, baby, need it so damn bad.”

Joel slides in with one long, smooth stroke, your slick making it easy, and the groan he lets out sounds like pain. Like relief. Like he might lose his mind from the heat of you. Your breath hitches at the stretch, head lolling back against the hardwood as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Mine,” he grits through his teeth, forehead pressed to yours, his hips grinding deeper as you cling to him. “You’re mine, baby. Always—always mine.”

You nod, panting, eyes glassy. “All yours,” you whisper. “Only yours, Joel.”

And then he moves.

Hard.

Desperate.

Unrelenting.

He fucks you like you’re the only thing tethering him to earth, like if he stops, he’ll unravel entirely. One arm hooks under your knee, pushing you open, deeper than before. His hips slap against yours, raw and hopelessly, but it’s not about getting off.

It’s about feeling you.

Every squeeze, every tremble, every gasp that leaves your mouth when he hits that perfect spot.

Joel’s never felt like this before.

So angry.

So scared.

So in love.

He fucks you like he’s trying to imprint himself inside your body. His thrusts stitch you back to him, sealing you inside his chest so you can never leave. A mess of skin-on-skin and heat and slick as the two of you meet again and again and again.

“Could’ve lost you,” he growls against your throat. “Fuck, honey, I could’ve—Jesus—”

You wrap your arms around him. “You didn’t,” you whisper. “I’m here, Joel—I’m yours—”

He groans, hips stuttering, thrusts turning frantic. He can tell he’s close, that he’s been close since he sank to his knees in front of you.

“Say it again,” he pants, slamming into you with a low, wrecked noise. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp. “Always yours—fuck, Joel—”

You wrap your arms tighter around him, pulling him closer. Your nails dig into his skin through the thin layer of his undershirt, legs locking around his waist to keep him pressed against you like you’re scared he’ll let go.

Joel doesn’t let go. He’d never let go. Not even when you moan his name like a prayer, not even when your nails rake down his back, not even when you gasp out a warning, your voice thin and needy. “Joel, I—gonna—”

“I know, baby. I got you.” His hand snakes down between you, finding your clit and rubbing quick circles over it, desperate to feel you come. “Wanna feel you. Need to—fuck—need to feel you, sweetheart. Please.”

You shatter in his arms with a broken sob, clenching hard around him as your body jerks, overwhelmed and too raw to hide it. Joel feels you pulse around his cock, the tight warmth of your cunt milking him.

It’s too much, and he’s coming with a groan that sounds like it’s been clawed from his chest. He buries himself to the hilt, hips jerking with every pulse, breath catching in your ear. “Fuck, fuck—” he pants, voice hoarse, “—love you, I love you, I thought I lost you, baby, I can’t…”

You’re both trembling when it ends.

Joel holds you there for a long time, forehead resting against yours, still buried deep inside you. He still won’t let you go. Not yet.

Eventually, when he’s calmed, he pulls back just enough to look at you.

You expect that same look from earlier—rage, fear, guilt—but it’s not there. Just love. Just deep, aching relief.

“I can’t lose you,” he says quietly. “I wouldn’t survive it.”

You reach up, trace the curve of his brow, the edge of his jaw. “You won’t have to,” you whisper.

Joel kisses you again. Softer this time. Sweeter. A delicate press of lips against lips. His fingers stroke your cheek, pulling back enough for his eyes to trace along your face. He follows the line of your brows, the shape of your nose, the soft curve of your lips.

He can’t feel anything other than love.

Gentle. Solid. Steady.

It’s only love.

mini nat's note: everyone please send good vibes for my hell sent ch*m final on monday...i literally need all the luck i can get. thank you so much for reading! mwah.

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dameronspector · 1 month ago

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He’s a Thunderbolt

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Avenger!Reader

Summary: You find out Bucky gave up his position as a Senator and now he’s doing free agent work with….a new team?

Warnings: Slight Thunderbolts* spoilers!!, First meet with the team, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Reader is an Ex-Shield agent, Tinge of Angst, Banter, John Walker Hate- click off if you don’t want that, no physical description of reader.

AN: they’ll always be the thunderbolts to me guys idc. I wrote this in a rush, hope y’all like this!

Ps: I won’t tolerate any kind of Sam or Bucky hatred on my page.

You spent the night at Valentina Allegra De Fontaine’s gala with Bucky, keeping him company and helping him socialise. It was clear he had no interest in it but had to because, duties. But both of you were bored so you hung around the corners and stuck to each other’s sides. He looked rather sharp in his tuxedo and hair slicked back, so that was an advantage, and he couldn’t keep his hands off you, constantly reminding you how beautiful you looked in that formal black dress.

Although, watching Valentina flaunt all the Avengers property (including the ‘A’ from the Avengers tower) like it was a fucking auction was making your head spin. Your whole life and fragments of your dysfunctional superhero family was just laid out in front of you behind glass displays like they were art pieces. It was weird, it was odd and you didn’t like her from the first time you saw her. You had warned Bucky about her, and luckily he had understood because he felt the same.

So naturally, you assumed Bucky would stay out of her way and do his job. You were happy that he was finally healing, his words lighter and body language more relaxed as the days passed by and if he wanted to work as a Senator now to improve the Brooklyn constituency, then you’d let him do so, happy to see him content in doing what he wants and to let him have the autonomy.

And then, Bucky called you the next morning after he had left for office, to tell you something important, and he started the call with telling you not to get mad at him.

“What happened? Are you okay?”, you panicked, thinking someone had threatened him or worse.

Bucky let out a weary sigh, “Um- well..you see..”, his voice trailed off, like he was dreading this conversation.

You straightened up, “What is it? Just say it, Buck, don’t stress me out like that.”

“I-uhh…I resigned…from my…position”, he replied in a guilty voice. You paused.

“I’m sorry, what? But- why? Did something happen? Did Valentina do something?”, you growled.

“No- I mean, she’s sketchy but I didn’t resign because of her. I resigned because I am…I want to work as a free agent again. Actually, I’m in the middle of the Utah desert right now with uh- some people”, Bucky confessed, his usual light and unbothered voice a little heavy and subdued.

You quirked an eyebrow, “You…resigned..to work as a free agent again…with some people and you’re in the middle of nowhere”, you deadpanned. Bucky winced.

You couldn’t believe this man. Everyday there’s a new discovery with him.

“Bucky, what the hell are you upto?”, you sighed out.

“Sweetheart, I’m coming home with… these people. I’ll explain it to you once I get back, okay?”, he tried to reason.

“Yeah, alright. I’ll be waiting. Love you”, you murmured.

“I love you too, honey”, Bucky replied softly.

The doorbell’s sound echoed throughout your and Bucky’s house and you went over to open the door to see-

Bucky in an all black outfit, his black jacket, his knives and guns holstered around his legs and waist band, hair messy and there were 4 other people standing behind him- 2 women and 2 men.

The blonde woman had a cropped bob and piercings with hazel-green eyes, she looked worse for wear but she was beautiful, the other woman was a brunette with striking blue-gray eyes which were observant and you noticed that her suit was very cool. One of the men was large, with a graying beard and a shaved head, he was wearing a red suit that looked, well, trashy. And of course, you recognised the fourth one right away.

“What the hell is he doing here?!”, you stared daggers at John Walker and questioned Bucky. The other three stared at Walker in shock.

John pursed his lips and waved at you before Bucky blocked your view from Walker with gentle hands on your elbows. The three of them stared between you, Bucky and Walker and the blonde woman let out a low whistle at the look of anger on your face.

“Sweetheart-hi. I can explain. Can we come in?”, he pleaded with his ocean blue irises shining earnestly and you huffed in disbelief. Everyone, minus Walker, stared at the scene in shock. Bucky had a girlfriend?

“First of all, why are you hanging out with him? And why is he here? Why should I bring him in our house, Bucky-”

“I know, I know. You can punch him all you want but please- let me explain to you first, honey”, he almost begged and the two women snickered under their breath, Bucky turned around momentarily to glare at them before the large, bearded man clapped Bucky on his shoulder.

“It’s not good to hide stuff from your lady, Mr. Soldier”, his voice boomed, Russian accent prominent.

You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“And who are these people? And what are you wearing, Barnes? You wore your formals this morning”, you glared at Bucky and he grimaced. He didn’t think about the details before coming home and now he was in so much trouble.

Bucky cleared his throat before gently moving you inside, making his way past the threshold of the door to enter your living room. The four of them followed behind Bucky and Walker actually had the decency to close the door.

Bucky made you sit at the dining table while the others awkwardly stood by the door.

“Okay, baby, listen. We know Valentina was being odd, right? Well, she’s involved in something known as the Sentry Project. She’s been experimenting on civilians unethically. One of the casualties is a guy named…”

“Bob”, all of them chimed in exasperated.

“Yeah, Bob. The rest of the participants died, he’s the only one who responded to the experiment. And she’s gonna use him as a weapon. He’s-he’s very unstable and she knows it. Airlifted him to New York to try and manipulate him into turning himself to OXE again. We’ve been trying to rescue him”, Bucky finished and squeezed your shoulders lightly.

You furrowed your eyebrows. A crazy experiment like this and nobody bats an eye? Crazier things have happened, but with your experience and contacts you developed as an Ex-Shield agent and Avenger, you should have probably found out about this before.

“Wait, what? How does nobody know about this?”, you asked in confusion.

“She was experimenting on him in Malaysia and she has a secret vault in the middle of nowhere which was heavily guarded. Plus, she’s got the money and influence—Likely bought a lot of the security and government officials as well”, the blonde woman responds, her Russian accent just as prominent as the large man next to her.

“Hold on, who even are you guys?”, you grumbled and pointed at them.

Bucky let out a breath, “Yeah, uh- That’s Yelena”, he pointed at the blonde woman and she waved at you with a smile.

“That’s Ava”, he pointed at the brunette, “Hi”, she greeted you and you gave her a tentative nod.

“That’s…Alexei”, he pointed at the big man. “Greetings, my lady, it’s an honour to meet the woman who made an honest man out of Mr. Soldier”, he exclaimed and smiled big before approaching you with his hand extended.

You stared at his hand and nervously extended yours before Bucky stepped in between. “Yeah, no. That’s enough”, he announced and pushed Alexei back towards the group.

“And…you know Walker”, Bucky replied meekly. John grinned, “Hey, haven’t seen you in a while-”

“Shut up”, you and Bucky cut Walker off and he raised his hands in surrender. “And this is (Name), my partner, who’s also an Avenger”, Bucky introduces you to the team and they all “ooh” at that, Alexei being the most excited.

You gave them a close lipped smile before turning back toward Bucky, “What the hell are you doing in a team with him, James?”, you asked Bucky in a stern manner.

Yelena, Ava and Alexei stared at Walker and Bucky and chuckled amongst themselves. “Honey, we have to work together. And…he’s kinda useful”, he tried to convince you, Walker smirked smugly.

You gave him a look before turning back towards the group. “You”, you looked at Yelena. Something about her was familiar, “are you sure we haven’t met before?”

Yelena blinked and before she could reply, Alexei’s voice boomed again, “Oh, you must be friends with her sister, Natasha. She was very brave, my Natasha. I was so proud of her”, he announced in a somber yet proud manner.

You paused, “You’re…you’re Natasha’s sister?”, you whispered in disbelief.

Yelena frowned, her chin quivering and she nodded at you. Bucky smoothed a hand on your back, his face shifting in empathy, “Yeah, baby. Yelena and Alexei, they’re Natasha’s family.”

Your eyes widened. Natasha was one of your really good friends. Ever since she passed away, you have felt a hole in your soul. Her absence was visible and huge. She would always talk about her guiding light—her sister. You never thought you’d get a chance to see a part of Natasha’s life again and felt your eyes tear up.

“Oh my god, Buck”, you whimpered and looked at him, he gave you a sad smile and encouraged you to go towards Yelena. You walked over to Yelena and grabbed her by the shoulders, eyes taking her in.

“You- oh my god. You’re so much like her”, you whispered, kicking yourself for not realising that before. Her mannerisms, the way she carried herself—it was all Natasha.

Yelena’s eyes shone with tears, Alexei smiling tearfully next to her.

“She used to talk about you all the time. Called you her guiding light. I’m- oh god. I’m so happy to see you. She was so proud of you, Yelena”, you confessed sincerely.

Yelena frowned and his lips quivered, tears falling down her cheeks, “Really?”, she asked in a small voice. You nodded and gave her a fond smile.

Yelena let out a soft cry and leaned in to hug you, her arms going around your shoulders and her face smushed against them. You stumbled back before catching her and hugging her back just as fiercely. After a while she pulled back and stared at you with bloodshot eyes, “Thank you. For being my sister’s friend”, her shaky voice confessed.

You gave her a wet smile and squeezed her shoulder before turning around to face Bucky, who was looking at you with a soft smile.

“Well, what’s the plan?”, you huffed out in reluctance and wiped your eyes.

Bucky opened his mouth before Alexei cut him off, “Well, we have to take down Valentina and OXE! And we will go to New York and ride to her place like soldiers!”, he yelled in enthusiasm, “For the Glory!”

You stared at him with wide eyes and everyone else groaned loudly.

“Dad, stop it!”

“That’s not what we’re doing-”

“How are we just going to storm her place-”

“Well, if you listen to me-”

“Oh my god, shut up! All of you!”, you shouted and all of them quieted down and stared at you like bugs under a log.

“You guys don’t even have a plan! You’re talking about storming her place, you think she’s not smart enough to amp up her security?”, you questioned Alexei. He sputtered and looked around the room in shock.

You sighed, “Anyways. Where is her place, Buck?”

Bucky swallowed, “Well, she’s the one who bought the Avengers tower, so she’s going there now.”

You paused, momentarily forgetting that the tower belong to the OXE group and by that extension to Valentina.

“Right, of course. Uh- let me know if I can be of any help. I can order something if you want?”, you asked the group.

“Actually, some food would be great”, John spoke up and you glared at him. Bucky turned you around and walked you into your shared bedroom before grabbing your phone to order some takeout.

You turned around to face Bucky, “Does Sam know?”

He froze, his face locked in with a guilty expression and you knew right away.

“Barnes, don’t tell me you just teamed up with these people without informing Sam. You’re doing that isolation shit again”, you asked him sternly.

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, “I mean- no? No. I haven’t talked to him…yet”, he murmured.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, “You cannot be serious, Bucky! You just met him. What’s wrong?”

“I’ll call him soon, I swear. It’s just a lot, for now. This Bob guy, he’s very vulnerable and very strong. We cannot let Valentina use him for whatever motive she has. Just let them crash over for the night, we’ve had a long day…Please?”, Bucky requested you with his hands cradling your face.

You stared at him in mild irritation and grumbled, “The girls can take the guest room.”

Bucky smiled at you and pressed a loving kiss to your lips, “You’re the best”, he murmured against them and you finally cracked a smile, leaning into him and kissing him deeper.

You stepped out in the living room to see that Ava and Yelena had taken their seats on the kitchen island, bantering loudly with Walker and Alexei who were trying to find something in the kitchen, knocking over your things.

“You can take the guest—What the hell are you two doing to my kitchen?!”, you screeched and pushed them out of the way, putting things back into their place.

“Get out of our kitchen”, Bucky sighed in annoyance and pushed Alexei out before gesturing Walker to join him as well.

“I told you not to touch-”

“I just wanted some water!-”

“Well, you could just ask-”

“I want something stronger-”

You and Bucky looked at each other and shook your heads. These were children in adult bodies.

You silently filled up a glass of water and another glass with one of Bucky’s leftover rum before placing it in front of Walker and Alexei.

The whole room quieted down and the two men picked up the glasses, gulping the liquids down.

“You guys want something?”, you asked the Ava and Yelena.

They gave you sheepish smiles before asking for a glass of water each.

Alexei finished his glass of rum and gave you a huge smile, “Thank you, (Name), you have been so kind to the Thunderbolts.”

You paused and the others groaned loudly. You smirked, “Thunderbolts?”

“Yeah! That’s us! Inspired by the West Chesapeake Valley Thunderbolts, Yelena’s peewee soccer team-”

“Okay! Shut up!”, Yelena yelled and Alexei gaped at her.

“Lena, don’t yell at your old man like that!”

And the room erupted in chaos, again. Their voices overlapping each other’s and arms waving around wildly.

Bucky was standing there with his vibranium hand covering his face and the human one resting on his hip. Pursing your lips to stop the laugh from escaping your mouth, you made your way over to him and circled an arm around his waist,

“So…you’re a Thunderbolt, huh?”, you cooed teasingly in his ear.

He groaned loudly, “Don’t start, sweetheart, I swear to god…”

You giggled and looked around the messy assassins and soldiers in your living room, their chaos and banter making your house feel lively. Maybe, you could adjust with them. (Except, a particular someone.)

“They’re nice”, you murmured and Bucky scoffed, bringing you closer to him with his metal arm around your waist.

“Spend a whole day with them and then we’ll talk”, he kissed your cheek.

You held the back of his neck gently and looked at him, his eyes exhausted and lips cracked.

“Don’t scare me like that again. I expect you to, at least, give me a heads up before making such big changes, okay?”, you pleaded with a soft voice.

“Yes, I’m so sorry, baby”, he nodded and kissed your cheek again.

The room had quieted down suddenly and you turned your head to look at the four of them smirking at you two. Bucky let out an exhausted sigh next to you and you chuckled lowly.

These four combined with your grumpy boyfriend was going to be an interesting and entertaining bunch, for sure.

AN: I’ll make a second part to this where we talk about #that post credits scene. I’ve written a similar fic for Sam but i wanna write it for Bucky as well, hehe.

Please like and reblog!

#bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #thunderbolts!bucky #thunderbolts #yelena belova #ava starr #john walker #alexei shostakov #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #fluff #sam wilson

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spaceyaemonds · 2 months ago

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god i love this premise, it’s so hilarious that Jack would wind up with a young baby mama. It’d be fun to think of this as pre-canon. So she can kinda fit in the whole first season, like a super young mom coming in to treat a burn or something with a little kid, she’s being seen by a resident whose like so unaware and then boom, Jack walks in and the gossip/stares start. I think Jack can’t really ignore what it looks like but would be annoyed by the stares but ultimately wouldn’t care. And she would just be like *shrugs* “he’s super hot”

Also I am eagerly waiting on the hilarious interaction of Jack telling Robby and Dana. “What’s worse than knocking up your one night stand?” “Um, she’s 23.” “Jesus Christ”

Or maybe when they go out they keep calling Jack grandpa. Or just the heavy looks when they see this very young milf smile around Jack. Just the heavy stares from Robby and Dana as they watch this young family grow lol.

I also think they could have this really cute but kinda dysfunctional family dynamic. Yes they have a healthy coparenting relationship. Dad is teaching the kid survival skills and taking him on camping excursions where they test said survival skills. Yes Mom is chill as hell, and spills tea about the crazy office dynamics while she crafts with her kid. And lowkey loves being a hot mom. Like yes mom and dad sometimes smash because they have needs and it’s just less mess and complication when they have this somewhat dysfunctional FWB situation, that has potential to blossom into something bigger.

Anyways I love this mini series it’s serious feeding me, that man is so fine with the salt and pepper hair. I can’t wait to read more.

hi friend!!! i am so so glad you have been enjoying this mini series!!!! i have loved sharing it with everyone here!! omg same, i am so obsessed with him he makes me SICKKK!

ahh!! i have a lot to say on this so answering under the cut!!

it is very funny to imagine jack getting off of shift on the day and hours into the day reader shows up in the ed with their (fat, because i love fat babies) baby, maybe two years old. baby slipped and bumped their head, and she doesn’t want to bother jack so she takes baby alone. she somehow misses robby and dana, ends up with whitaker, of all people. maybe perlah or princess notice baby abbot’s name on the board, immediately tell dana, who makes a quick call to jack. whitaker goes to check over the baby, and jack immediately jerks the door open, “get the hell away from my kid.” and whitaker just looks between reader, the baby, and jack, on the verge of throwing up. santos and mel are right outside when they hear everything and immediately are all 😮👀

dana and robby’s reactions are as expected. dana is majorly side eyeing, and robby is just like “jesus christ! twenty-three?!?!” and jack doesn’t even really try to defend himself. standing there like a puppy getting scolded lol.

i like to think that reader very often gets hit on, guys closer in age to her walking up to her when she’s with jack and baby abbot at the park, asking if her dad can keep an eye on the baby and maybe they can grab dinner. it always makes her laugh, and infuriates jack, has him mumbling all kinds of stuff like “sure, dad can watch baby.” because he understands that she’s a beautiful girl, but he can’t deny the jealousy he feels when people hit on her in front of him.

jack loves nothing more than spending time with his baby. more often than not, after a hard shift, he finds his way to her house, just asking to take a peek at baby but ends up sleeping on the floor next to the crib. and more often than not, he spends his nights off there, ending up in readers bed. he isn’t interested in seeing anyone else, and she can’t imagine dating when there’s so much tension and longing between her and jack.

i think it takes some time, but they do eventually end up together. they’ve lowkey just been together, though, just not official. jack never felt the need to try to put a label on it because he’s worried about “forcing” her into something she doesn’t want. he knows how he feels, and though is never 100% on how exactly she feels, he knows there’s something there. i also don’t think they ever really officially date. i like to imagine jack maybe just slips a ring on her finger one night, and they get married not long after!

#🐝 answers asks #🐝’s anons #bee chats 🐝#🐝 talks: the pitt #dr jack abbot #jack abbot #dr jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x reader #the pitt x reader #dr jack abbott x reader #jack abbott x reader #i do think they do eventually get married #and maybe have one other kid #but definitely get pregnant before the first baby turn 3 or 4 #because jack is like #i’m not getting any younger

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ohtobeleah · 1 month ago

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CHAMELEON IS SOOOO GOOD UGH im obsessed with this dysfunctional couple trying to be functional again! thank you so feeding us!!

i would love to see that breakfast scene btw 👀

Chameleon // Jack Abbot

“Do you still get the usual?”

It wasn't supposed to be such a loaded question. But the reality was, no. No, you didn't get the loaded avocado, with smashed pumpkin, pickled onions, tomatoes and feta on sourdough anymore. You didn't get the dish you and Jack had often shared. The meal was balanced well rounded. Filling. But you'd stopped ordering that when Jack moved out.

Now? You didn't have an order. You hadn't been to Willows since you asked for a separation. It wasn't the same without Jack.

“I'll just have whatever you're having, with a chai latte.”

But here you were. Sitting across from the love of your life, at a table set for two, feeling like the third wheel. Jack…the silence, and yourself.

“I had a pretty rough end to the shift,” It's Jack that breaks it though. He sounds tired. You recognise a little exhaustion, maybe even a hint of despair laced through his words.

“Oh, wanna talk about it?” With a scowling brow, you probe. It's not like Jack to offer up the things that trouble him for free. At the very least, he'd developed a rather frustrating habit of just not offering it to you.

“I had a guy come in who'd come off second best after being hit by a car on a run,” Jack explained as he rubbed his palms on his knees. He was sweating. Why did you look so perfect? Even after a fifteen-hour shift. “His fiancée was, rightly, devastated. But she told me they'd had one of their first big fights and he'd decided to go for a run to cool off.”

You didn't reply. The heaviness that surrounded the two of you was all that needed to be focused on. Jack sipped his long black. You stirred your Chai. Both the bacon and egg rolls that Jack had ordered for both of you were now going cold on their respective plates.

“Made me think about us,” He broke the silence again. Only this time, your heart dropped into your stomach. “How…complicated things have gotten.”

It was never meant to become out of control. The sadness, that is. Jack thought he had everything under control. He was managing. He was working. He was coping.

Until he woke up with his hands around your neck.

“I never want to experience that level of regret; that look on her face was something ripped right from a horror movie.” Jack could picture it as clear as day. He was sure he'd remember this woman's grief for years to come. The permanence of it all. The end. The ‘that's it, you can't take back what you said’ in her eyes when she realised her soon-to-be husband was dead, and the last thing she said was ‘Fine, but don't come back with an attitude still.’

It made Jack reflect…

“Makes you wonder if you'd turn back the clock, doesn't it?” You signed, picking at the crispy outer edges of the fried egg on your burger.

“Or you could have just…not left.” He didn't mean for it to sound so one-sided. Like everything had been so perfect before you walked away. Jack didn't mean to make it sound like this was your fault. It wasn't, but god, why did you have to leave?

“That's not what this is or ever was, Jack? You know why.” You replied, shock made its home across your face as you did so. Where the hell did that come from? “I'm sorry about your patient, but seriously, watch what you say to me.”

“I needed you the most and you—” Jack watched the fake reality he'd found himself surrounded by, shatter around him. He'd gotten lost in the flirtatious nature of your breakup. He thought he could repeat the cycle… But you pushed back.

“Forgave shit you would have hated me for, that's the conversation you aren't ready for yet! That's what I did.” It was clearly not the first time you'd had to remind Jack what the reality of the situation was. At least that's probably what the older lady sitting at the table adjacent to you thought. She sent you a small look of sympathy…but although intended as a gesture of kindness, it just felt like a knife to the chest.

“It wasn't that I left you when you were at your lowest, because I made sure you got proper help before I got myself help.” Jack didn't interrupt as you spoke. He simply sat across from you, thinking about how he shouldn't have opened his mouth.

“If I didn't love you and didn't want you to be a part of my life, I wouldn't be sitting here trying to figure out if this was just some half thought out attempt at an apology, or if you really are just reaching an age where critical thinking skills start to rapidly decline.”

“Sorry, I am.” Jack groaned as he ran his hands over his face. You knew he was, you could see it in his eyes when he looked at you. His soul had aged, but they were still the same eyes you fell in love with.

“You should be,” You scoffed in disbelief, although it wasn't too far out of the realm of possibility for Jack Abbot. “My god, this was a mistake.”

“I didn't mean it to sound like that,” Jack admitted with a softness in his voice. The guilt was already eating him alive. Sitting this close to you, yet so far away, was driving him wild. “I just mean, I wish things hadn't gotten so bad that you felt like leaving was the only option you had.”

“Yeah, well,” You groaned, reaching for your chai latte. The sip was heavenly. Maybe it had something to do with the fact you'd been stirring it absentmindedly for five minutes. Or maybe it was just the fact that you hadn't been to your favourite cafe since your separation. “Can't take it back now, just—think.”

The frustration in your voice was extremely difficult to hear. The last thing Jack ever wanted to do was be the cause of your pain, discomfort or anger. Yet here he was…the cause of all three.

“You don't usually like it when I do that?” Jack tried to lighten the mood. He smiled, just barely. But you saw it.

“Beats the alternative where you're just an outright jerk.” You replied. The giggle the two of you shared was as pure as your love. It was a nice moment of reprieve as the hustle and bustle of Willow's cafe filled the comfortable silence.

“I said I was sorry,” Jack smirked. His eyes never left yours. He had a way of making the world around you stop when he had you locked in a state so fierce, it nearly took away your ability to breathe.

“Yeah, you say that word a lot, actually.” It was the way you rolled your eyes that broke the stare off. The contest filled with nuance and context that others just passing by would never catch. “To the point where you'd think the definition would be easier to understand.”

Jack faked a pained chest. You laughed. He smiled softly. It was definitely a moment. It was…nice?

“You look beautiful, by the way, I haven't told you that in a while, but you look,”

“Thanks,” You accepted the compliment. “You look like you've been up for three days.”

“Bed's a lonely place.” Jack shrugged. It was the truth. Sleeping was hard at the best of times. But sleeping alone really made the voices echo.

“Might need to fix that, pops.” You teased. It was your way of telling Jack he had to keep trying. Keep fighting.

“I never should have listened to Robby.” Jack offered up as he shook his head. A mouth full of burger had him muffling his words. But you understood perfectly.

“Was he the one who told you to take your wife to breakfast and insult the shit out of her?” “I might have to tell Robinavitch to back off?”

“My wife,” Jack repeated. He heard it loud and clear. You had just referred to yourself as his wife. It sent electricity shooting through his body like he was designed just for you. “I haven't heard you say that in a long time.” That very statement alone was enough to have your heart aching inside your chest.

“I haven't felt like it in a long, long time.”

#jack abbot fanfiction #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot imagine #jack abbot x you #jack abbot #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #jack abbot fanfic #jack abbot fic #jack abbot angst

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