#Wilson go to hell and stay there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sceletaflores · 8 months ago

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ghosts, ghouls, goblins, and other things that go bump in the night!

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.5k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, drinking, resident bestie diva wade wilson, matching costumes ofc, established relationship, p in v, semi-public sex (bathroom), rough sex, mirror sex, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, light degradation, light hair pulling, light choking, nasty dirty breeding kink (@guiltyasdave infected me with the breeding kink disease...it's all her fault), 4k words for straight up porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: happy halloween! sort of...i obvi couldn't wait to post this until the actual day cause i have absolutely zero patience so here you go! i thought up this idea in the middle of the night and literally got out of bed to start it. it's a nasty self indulgent mess...hope you love it! kisses <3

cutie divider by icon @saradika-graphics!

you and logan have some fun at wade's halloween party...

Unsurprising to no one, Wade Wilson knows how to throw a party.

Every year since the two of you became neighbors, you’ve gotten a gaudy invitation decorated with cartoon bats and devils slipped under your door just in time for Halloween.

Of course, it’s always in some cheesy font, red and glittery. A crappy pun about “scaring up some fun with your favorite mercenary” with a return address listed as ‘Hell’s Playground’ inscribed on the front.

It's awful. You haven’t missed one yet.

And not just because you’re a sucker for free booze and cheap decorations. It’s like tradition now, you can't have your perfect attendance streak cut off four years in. That's just bad manners.

Besides, this is the first year you’ve gotten to do a couples costume.

“I look fuckin’ ridiculous,” Logan mutters, deep voice laced with irritation as he messes with the wolf ears perched awkwardly on his head. “Can’t believe I let you drag me to this thing.”

You don’t turn to face him, but you can still see the frown tugging his lips down in your mind. Logan’s never been one for costumes, but his options were either dress up or stay home while you went and had fun without him.

He was dead set on staying at home for most of the day.

One look at the frilly white bloomers that came with your costume and he changed his tune.

“Quit being such a baby,” you toss over your shoulder, pouring your second cup of whatever Wade mixed together in the mini cauldron sitting on his bar. “You look great, babe.”

He really shouldn’t complain, his costume is barely a costume. An old flannel with the sleeves ripped off and some mangy jeans.

The fake ears and tail were a struggle and a half to get him on board with, but Logan’s all bark and no bite. He was more than willing to roll over and show you his belly after enough begging.

Logan scoffs, big hand pawing at your hip to drag you to his side. “You owe me for this,” he rumbles low in your ear, the playful threat sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’ll survive,” you tease, a smug grin spreading across your face as you tug playfully on the tail clipped to his belt loop. “Unless you wanted to switch?”

Logan’s eyes drag over your body shamelessly, all the way from the floppy sheep ears sitting on your head to the lacy white corset and matching bloomers that do little to hide your curves.

You don’t miss the way his eyes darken, how he runs his tongue along the sharp point of his canines like he wants to sink his teeth into you.

It sends a familiar heat coursing through your veins, warming your insides just as much as the vodka with a hint of mixer you’ve been sipping at.

You start to wish you shelled out for the fake fangs at the party store.

Logan tugs you closer, his lips curling into a slow, predatory smirk. “Not a chance in hell,” he rasps, voice dipping a couple octaves lower. “Looks better on you, baby.”

You hum idly as his arm snakes around your waist, fingers splayed along your lower back, inching dangerously close to the swell of your ass.

“You better behave,” you chastise, though it’s more playful than stern as you look up at him through your lashes. “We’re in public.”

Logan’s grip tightens, a soft grunt leaving him as he leans in, nosing along the side of your face. “Doesn’t seem like much of a party when all I’m thinkin’ about is how fast I can get you outta this damn costume.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, the warm puff of his breath over your skin makes your knees feel weak. You try to keep your cool, but it’s hard when he’s practically radiating heat and that intoxicating scent of leather and pine fills your senses.

Before you can respond, a loud call of your name grabs your attention.

"There you are!" Wade shouts from across the room, already making his way towards you.

All six foot two and half inches of him is wrapped in blue and white lace, paired with a matching hoop skirt that bounces with every step he takes. His shepherd's staff thuds against the floor when he comes to a stop in front of you. “Fashionably late, I see.”

“We’ve been here for thirty minutes,” you point out, brow cocked as you take in his costume. “Where’ve you been?”

“I’m the hostess with the mostest, honey bunny,” he says, throwing his arm out to gesture towards all the dressed up guests crammed into his living room. “Can’t spread myself too thin.”

He eyes Logan's wolf ears and fake tail, then turns back to you, wiggling his brows suggestively.

"Kinky,” he comments, flicking the little gold bell hanging from the choker around your neck. “You two just couldn’t resist a little predator-prey roleplay, huh? Should I be worried about you getting all ‘Animal Planet’ on my couch?”

Logan’s grip on your waist tightens, his mouth brushing your ear as he mutters, “I’m gonna kill him before midnight.”

“Now, now, big bad wolf, no need to huff and puff and blow my skirt up. We’re all here to have a howl of a time!” Wade continues, undeterred. “Plus, if you behave, I might just let you keep your sheep when the night’s over.”

You can practically feel Logan’s eye twitch, but you snicker, leaning into him just a little more. “Play nice, Wade,” you say, trying to smother your laugh. “The wolf might eat you first.”

“Please,’ Wade snorts, twirling his shepherd's staff deftly in his hand. “If that’s on the table, I’ll lay out the fucking fine china.”

Logan lets out a huff of air, dropping his hold on you and brushing past Wade with a grunt. "I'm gettin' another beer."

“Try not to stab anyone!” Wade shouts after him, loud enough to be heard over the Monster Mash blaring from the speakers. “Al might blow the whole complex if any more blood gets on the linoleum!”

Logan throws a middle finger over his shoulder as he disappears into the kitchen.

You watch him go, a grin plastered to your face at the way the tail swings with every step he takes. Something warm and fuzzy settles in your chest, blooming in the empty space of your ribcage.

You know Logan hates this–the people, the lights, the music, the costumes.

But he’s here anyway, for you.

Here wearing the stupid wolf costume you bought for him, surrounded by drunk people in inflatable dinosaur costumes and witches with dollar-store broomsticks. And despite all the grumbling, he hasn’t bolted for the door once.

All for you. And that makes your heart thump a little harder in your chest, your smirk softening into something sweeter.

"You’ve got him whipped," Wade deadpans, crossing his arms, the lace of his sleeves rustling as he does. “It’s really disgusting.”

You snort, shaking your head softly. "More like he's got a soft spot."

Wade eyes you skeptically. "Same thing, toots."

You hum noncommittally, turning back to him. “Cute outfit,” you comment, eyeing the white bonnet secured by a neat little bow under his chin.

“You like it?” Wade does a quick twirl, the blonde curls of his wig nearly slap you across the face as he does. “The guy at party city kept giving me weird looks, but I think he was just jealous of how well I fill in the blouse.”

You rake your gaze over him slowly, taking another slow sip from your cup. “The stockings are a nice touch, but don’t you think running around as Little Bo Peep will send some confusing messages.”

“Well, duh. That’s only the whole point, Sherlock.” Wade snorts, shaking his head like it’s obvious. “I’m way too emotionally invested in this relationship to not try and wiggle my way into throuple territory.”

You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes. “A throuple? Hate to break it to you, Peep, but Logan doesn’t really strike me as the sharing type.”

Wade leans in conspiratorially, cupping a hand around his mouth like he’s letting you in on a secret. “That’s why I’m playing the long game. Gotta wear him down with my irresistible charm, and when he finally snaps, I’ll swoop in with a bottle of Jack and a promise of no strings attached.”

You shake your head, chuckling into your drink. “You’ve got it all figured out, don't you?”

“Oh, honey,” Wade purrs, winking at you with a dramatic flutter of his lashes, “I've got a five-year plan.”

You roll your head to the side lazily, sheep ears swaying as you do. “I’ll give you points for persistence.”

"Damn straight," he says with a grin, straightening his bonnet proudly. “This level of commitment takes stamina. And by the way, I’ve got great stamina. My record is thirteen.”

You raise your brow, intrigued. “Thirteen what? Rounds? Hours?”

“Wouldn't you like to know,” he scoffs indignantly, rolling his eyes. “I’m more than just a pretty face in a killer dress, thank you very much.”

You groan, giving him a light push. "You’re impossible."

Wade grins, leaning closer to throw an arm around your shoulders. “I’m just pulling your tail, Wooly. You know I’d never come between you and your beefy boy toy. I mean, look at him. He’s practically pacing the kitchen like a caged animal just looking at you in your slutty nursery rhyme getup. How pathetic.”

You turn to steal a glance at Logan, who’s leaned against the counter scanning the room from behind his beer bottle. You feel a thrill at the idea that he’s watching over you like a hawk, making sure no one gets too close, slowly working himself up over the mere sight of you.

But more than that, it’s the slight reluctant smirk tugging at his lips as he takes in the party. You can tell he’s managing to find some enjoyment in all this, even if he’d never admit it.

“Well,” Wade starts, dragging the word out slowly. “Since you’re all cozy over here with your alpha male, I’m gonna go find someone to share these…”

He holds up two shot glasses filled with some unidentifiable neon liquid, “…artisanal beverages with. Maybe that guy dressed like a merman. I’ve always wanted to see what's going on under those tails.”

You snort, raising your own cup to your lips. "You're awful."

“Only on the outside, sugar,” he says leaning down to kiss your cheek with a wet smack before flouncing away into the crowd, his skirt swishing as he goes. “Don’t fuck in my house without at least inviting me to watch!”

You laugh to yourself, watching as Wade fades into the crowd of gyrating bodies. You take another long sip, relishing in the familiar burn as it slips down your throat.

The laughter, the music, the chaotic energy of the party—it’s all intoxicating in its own right, but it’s nothing compared to the way Logan’s eyes are boring a hole through the back of your head.

You can feel his gaze like a tangible force, wrapping around you and drawing you in. Logan’s not just watching; he’s assessing, hungry for something that goes far beyond the Halloween festivities surrounding you.

The heat radiating from his gaze only intensifies your already buzzing anticipation, mixing dangerously with the two drinks swirling in your stomach, making you bolder.

You throw back the rest of your drink, setting the empty cup on the bar and making your way across the room. You weave through the crowd seamlessly, the music pulses around you, drowning out the laughter and chatter.

You feel a daring grin spread across your face as you saunter closer, reveling in the way Logan tracks your every move like a predator zeroing in on its prey.

When you’re finally standing in front of him, you lean against the counter, giving him a good view of the way your corset dips lower. The fabric hugs you in all the right places, teasing him with glimpses of your skin beneath the delicate lace.

"Looks like Little Bo Peep lost his sheep," he mutters, voice like gravel drenched in honey.

You smirk, tilting your head to the side innocently as you step around the counter. “Maybe I was already planning to run away, to go looking for a big bad wolf to play with.”

You slip two fingers through the belt loop at the front of his jeans, tugging him closer with a rough yank.

Logan’s goes willingly, taking a step closer. His breath hitches as he does, the hazel of his eyes darkening as you press your body against his, not letting an inch of space between you.

“You're really pushin it,” he warns lowly, hands finding your waist, fingers digging in hard enough to send a shiver cascading down your spine. "Makin’ me watch you run around in this fuckin’ thing.”

“Am I?” you reply coyly, fingers toying with the button of his jeans. “I’m just—” you start, but the words are swallowed by the thumping bass of the music as Logan’s lips crash against yours, silencing you with a hungry kiss.

His mouth moves against yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless, and you can’t help but melt into him, feeling the world around you fade away.

The taste of beer mingles with the vodka on your tongue as you sink into the kiss, his hands tightening around you as he pulls you even closer.

“You have no fuckin’ idea how hard it is keepin’ my hands to myself,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot and heavy.

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea,” you tease, biting your lip as you pull back just enough to meet his gaze. You can see the fire smoldering in his eyes, the predatory glint that makes your stomach flutter with excitement. “But maybe you could show me just how hard it really is.”

Logan lets out a low growl, and before you can blink, he’s snatching your wrist up and dragging you through the kitchen.

Laughter bubbles out from your chest as you trip over your own feet in an attempt to keep up with him. Adrenaline pulses through your veins, the warmth in your stomach dipping lower to leak sticky and wet between your thighs.

He’s not rushing, but there’s an undeniable urgency in his step, a raw need that makes your pulse race in sync with his heavy stride. Weaving you through the crowd and out into the hallway until the noise of the party gets lower and lower.

You’re familiar enough with the layout of Wade’s place to know where Logan’s taking you, the bathroom.

The door is hardly shut before Logan’s spinning you around and crowding you against the sink. His lips are on you before you can even catch your breath, rough and possessive, as if he’s been starving for this all night.

The kiss is rougher than before, dirty and all consuming as he claims your mouth. A mess of teeth and tongue and spit that sends your head spinning, body arching off the counter and into his instinctively.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he growls, trailing his lips down your neck, kissing and biting his way to your collarbone. “Drivin’ me so crazy, baby.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as his calloused fingers trace over the swell of your breasts, kneading the soft flesh with a possessive grip that makes your breath hitch.

Your arms circle his neck, dragging him down for more filthy kisses. The thick length of his cock pressing against your stomach insistently has you keening, a hard plane of scalding warmth even through the thick material of his jeans.

You let out a soft whimper as his fingers brush against your inner thigh, and he grins at your reaction.

He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "Bet you’re already soaked for me, aren’t you?" His voice drops even lower, a filthy rasp that sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.

You don’t answer, can’t answer, because Logan’s already got his hand between your thighs, fingers teasing over the soft fabric of your bloomers.

His touch is feather-light, but it’s enough to have you gasping, head lolling back to expose even more of your neck to his fever hot lips.

He groans when he feels how soaked you are, his breath coming out in a rough exhale.

“Figures,” he grunts, his fingers pressing harder, rubbing slow circles over the slick fabric. “Could smell it on you from across the room. You’re fuckin’ drippin’ for me, baby.”

You whine, high in the back of your throat, chest heaving with every quick breath. Your legs spread, thighs widening like you can’t help it. His words send a wave of heat straight to your core, fanning the fire of need festering inside you.

“Next year we’ll get you in a skirt,” he says, nipping at your bottom lip teasingly. His fingers slip under your bloomers, running through your slick folds teasingly. “Easy access.”

You let out a breathless moan, your hips bucking against his hand, begging for more.

“Logan,” you whimper, but he just smirks, applying more pressure with his palm as he leans in closer, his mouth hovering over your ear.

“You like that, don’t you?” Logan rasps, his voice thick with desire. Dark tone laced with satisfaction as he dips one finger inside you, making your breath catch in your throat. “Look at you, drippin’ down my hand. You want more, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you nod frantically, your breath coming in shallow pants as he continues working you with skilled, relentless touches.

Two thick fingers plunged in your aching pussy, his thumb rubbing over your swollen clit. "Please," you whimper, gripping the edge of the sink so tight your knuckles turn with it, needing more, needing him to ruin you.

“Please what, honey?” he rasps, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You gotta be more specific.”

You grind against his hand faster, desperate for any kind of relief from the unbearable heat building between your legs. “I need you,” you breathe out, your voice trembling. “Need you to fuck me.”

Logan’s response is immediate. A low growl tearing its way from his throat as he gives your bottoms a rough tug, letting them fall down the length of your legs to pool at your ankles.

He slips his fingers out of you, ignoring your displeased whine and spinning you around to face the mirror, hands gripping your hips as he roughly bends you over the sink.

You find his eyes in the reflection, and the hunger there makes your pulse quicken. His lips are swollen, red and slick just like your own. Hazel eyes blown out and stormy, as he meets your gaze.

The fake whiskers and nose you drew on him before the party using an old eyeliner pen are smudged across the lower half of his face along with the red remnants of your lipstick. You have matching black marks scuffed along your cheeks.

"You’re gonna watch while I fuck you," he growls, popping the button of his jeans and pulling them down just enough to free his cock. He strokes himself once, twice, before lining up behind you, dragging the blunt head along your soaked entrance. "Don’t take your eyes off the mirror, baby. I want you to see what you do to me, what I get to see every fuckin’ time."

You nod breathlessly, eyes locked on his in the mirror as he pushes into you with one hard thrust. You gasp at the stretch, head falling to your chin at the pleasant burn of his cock.

"Fuck," Logan groans, his eyes glued to your reflection as he bottoms out inside you, the sheer size of him making your body tremble.

"Tight little fuckin’ pussy," he mutters, his grip on your hips tightening as he starts to move, setting a brutal, unrelenting pace. "You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to take my cock."

You can’t stop the moans that fall from your slack lips, pathetic little uh uh uh sounds that get punched out of you with every sharp thrust of his hips.

“Take me so fuckin’ well,” he growls, one hand coming up to grip around your throat, tugging meanly at the bell of your choker that rings as he pounds into you, each thrust harder than the last. “Such a good little sheep, lettin’ your mean old wolf fuck you like this.”

"Fuck," you moan, the sound broken and desperate as he drives deeper, the thick length of him hitting that spot that has your knees buckling beneath you. “God, Logan…”

“Look,” Logan commands softly, reverently. His lips brushing your shoulder with every word as he tilts your head back up to the mirror, making yourself watch as you take his cock. “Look at how fuckin’ pretty you are getting wrecked on my cock.”

Your reflection in the mirror is a mess—flushed cheeks, eyes glassy with lust, your lips parted in a constant stream of breathless moans. You feel embarrassment mixing with the arousal swirling through your stomach, thighs shaking wildly from the onslaught of pleasure.

The loud slap of skin on skin rings through the tiny bathroom, underscored by the wet gush of your pussy around him each time he buries himself in you.

If anyone were to walk by, they’d surely hear it. They’d know someone was getting fucked, really taking it. The thought alone has you tightening around Logan’s cock, velvety walls clenching around him desperately.

Logan notices, because of course he does, clever eyes picking up on the way your own drift to the door, lingering.

He threads his fingers through your hair, meanly yanking your head back to the mirror, a feral grin stretching across his face as he watches the way you fall apart for him.

“Want me to howl for you, baby?” he teases, breath hot against the shell of your ear. You can feel the way his lips curve into an evil grin at the pathetic whine that bursts from your lips, at the feel of your pussy drooling around him even more than before.

“She likes that, huh?” he chuckles darkly, his thumb finds your throbbing clit, rubbing tight circles as his hips speed up impossibly faster. “Dirty fuckin’ girl, you want everyone to know how good I’m givin’ it to you?”

You whimper, overwhelmed by the raw intensity of his words and the rhythm of his thrusts. Your thighs are trembling, barely able to hold you up as Logan takes you apart, piece by piece, with every deep, punishing stroke.

"Answer me," he growls, voice dripping with dominance as his hips snap against you, the head of his cock slamming into that perfect spot inside you again and again. "You want everyone to hear what a dirty little slut you are for me, huh? You want them to know how much you love being fucked like this?"

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice shaky and breathless as pleasure floods your system. "Yes, Logan, fuck—ah! Just—just don’t stop."

Logan growls, low and feral deep in his chest. It shakes through your body, rattling your bones just as much as the heavy smack of his metal laced pelvis against the raw skin of your ass.

“Greedy fuckin’ pussy, I can feel the way she’s sucking me in, baby,” he grits out, hips stuttering slightly. “She want my come, darlin’?"

You’re a mess of gasps and whimpers, nodding frantically as his words push you closer to the edge. Throwing your hips back to meet his thrusts as the spring inside you coils tighter and tighter, a hair's breadth away from snapping.

"Yes, please, Logan," you moan, your fingers digging into the counter as you brace yourself for the relentless onslaught of his cock. "I want it, want you to come inside me."

Logan’s hips stutter as he slams into you, his cock buried so deep inside you it feels like he’s splitting you in half. He’s close, his breath coming out in ragged pants as his hand tightens around your throat, fingers pressing against your pulse just hard enough to make you dizzy.

“You’re gonna come for me,” he growls, heavy balls slapping against your ass lewdly. “Gonna come all over my cock, aren’t you? And then I’m gonna fill you up. Gonna fuck my come so deep inside you, you’ll be beggin’ me to give you more.”

That’s all it takes for the coil in your belly to snap, pleasure surging through you in hot, uncontrollable waves. You cry out, your vision blurring as your body clenches around him, and Logan lets out a rough growl, driving into you harder, faster.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, dragging out every last second of your orgasm until you’re shaking, your voice hoarse from how loud you’re moaning.

“Goddamn, baby,” he mutters, his voice thick with lust as he keeps fucking into your trembling body. “You’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—gonna come so deep in you.”

Your breath is coming in short, desperate gasps, your entire body still shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. But Logan isn’t finished. He used the fistful of your hair still trapped in his hand, tugging your head back to meet his wild gaze in the mirror.

“Eyes on me,” he commands, his pace growing erratic. “You want me to fill you up? Want me to come in this tight little pussy?”

“Yes, Logan,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely a whisper. “Please—I need it.”

With a deep, broken groan of your name, Logan slams into you one last time, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and thick. His fingers tighten on your throat, and you moan at the feeling of his cock pulsing, filling you up to the brim.

You can’t stop the whine that falls from your lips at the feel of his come spraying your insides, completely drenching you with it. So much that it just has to take.

A shudder runs through you at the idea, pussy clenching around his spent cock weakly.

Logan sighs contently, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder as he catches his breath, hands falling to your waist like it's the only anchor keeping him from floating away entirely.

For a moment, the only sounds in the room are your ragged breaths and the faint thump of the music outside bleeding through the walls.

Logan tips his head back up, meeting your hazy eyes in the fogged up glass of the mirror with a shit-eating grin. “Happy fuckin’ Halloween,” he says smugly, dropping a kiss to the sweaty skin of your shoulder.

You huff, rolling your eyes with a reluctant fondness. The thought of walking back out there makes your stomach turn, nerves and arousal churning together at the chance that everyone knows what you two were doing after disappearing for so long.

You only hope the white fabric of your bloomers is good enough at hiding the come already leaking from your pussy.

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strkly · 27 days ago

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something sweet

s.m: after the events of honey; bob spents a lot of time rethinking the past between you and him. he gets jealous. maybe the old feelings still laid below the surface.

robert ‘bob’ reynolds x sam wilson’s avengers!reader

w.c: 5.4k

c.w: not proofread, this also took me forever to write so this might have some inconsistencies between honey but dont think abt it too much. angst, hurt/comfort unhealthy relationship dynamics, mentions of drug usage, exes (with still something there), bob pov, over protective reader, bob and you are really bad at communicating, minor sambucky mention? can be taken as platonic tho, bff joaquin, im too tired to proofread this so really ignore all spelling errors ill go back and fix it soon. asumming its 2027 and bob is 30.

sorry this took me forever ! promise the last part wont take me as long as this one did (hopefully)

honey -> homesick

you dont end up going out to eat together much to your dismay and bob’s disappointment. sam must have gotten word you were off mission and was bothering you to report back to him. it got to the point you could no longer ignore and decided it would be better to head back.

you try to ignore the pout on bobs face as you grip his forearm. “dont worry, ill come back and we’ll get to hang out then okay?” he looks down at his feet before nodding; ignoring the minor ache in his chest at the idea of watching you walk away.

“just give me your phone number and ill call you.” he tilts his head as he looks back up at you, “my,,, phone number?” your face twists into annoyance as it dawns on you val hadn’t given him a phone. theres so many things you want to say, but instead you murmur to yourself, “that fucking bitch.” before you turn away pulling out your phone as you wave your hand behind you, “dont worry about it, ill see you guys!”

as you enter the elevator everyone sends you off with a small wave, right before you raise your phone to your ear you point your finger at them, “dont listen to anything val says seriously do not listen.” the doors close before anyone gets to say anything in return.

the group is dead silent simply staring at the elevator door. “what the hell was that?” no one says anything for a few moments before they all shrug and go all spread out to do god knows what in the tower. bob stays awkwardly staring at the elevator door like it was about to open back up and you would walk back in.

he has always tried so hard not to think about the past but now he finds himself still reminiscing in the memories he finds in his mind. “you know she was talking to you right?” bob is shaken out of his trance by the hand placed on his shoulder, turning quickly to see yelena smiling at him. “h-huh?” she just shakes her head and pats his shoulder, “dont worry we’ll protect you.” “from who?”

she says nothing else and hes far too tired to argue simply walking back up to his room and falling asleep, it was mid afternoon but he ends up sleeping into the next day. yelena realizes the the mental exhaustion must have hit him hard and assures the team he’ll be fine and she’ll talk to him once hes up.

he finally comes back down at lunch time. he weakly smiles at his teammates who look at him with concern as he debates on what to eat.

the three sitting on the couch huddle together as the look at him, “should we ask him about you know who?” “yelena told us not to.” “who’s yelena our mother? lets ask.” bucky walks past the group of them and rolls his eyes, “you know he can hear you right?”

the three of them turn back to bob who had a deathly grip on the open fridge door as he stared at it like it held all the answers. he had dreamed about you. he couldn’t tell if it was a dream or a memory of something that actually happened.

saratosa spring’s 2015

you had your hand tightly wrapped around his, walking in front of him as you dragged him along with you. a big smile on your face as you hummed along to some tune in your head. he was quiet, he always was after coming down from a high but you know he’ll perk up as soon as you get to the lake. you had just finished finals and it was way too damn hot to stay in your apartment with the shitty ac you decide to take a trip with him to the lake an hour out from you.

he actually liked long car rides, staring out the window at the passing landscapes, the wind blowing through his grown out hair while listening to the static radio you had in your beat down car brought him a sense of peace. he hadn’t expected to go on one today, he must have forgotten about it since it seemed like you mentioned it before or maybe you had told him during the haze and he didn’t realize you were even speaking to him. its not like he ever had anything to do so when you came home with some groceries and pulled out the cooler he got ready to go.

the lake is gorgeous. its hidden behind the trees but before you can see it you can hear the wild rushing of water flowing from the waterfall. when it finally comes into view it feels like youve been transported to another planet. he hears you squeal as you rush to set up your stuff, “its been so long since ive been here, its still so pretty.” he hums back at you as he sets up the towels not able to form a response, still not 100% back to himself but he chugs down two ice cold water bottles to shock himself back to reality.

he lifts off his shirt as you strip down to your swimsuit, turning to him the smile you had your face had him staring at you in wonder, you were the most wonderful thing in the world. not even the highs he reached could be a great as you. you hold out your hand to him and he finds himself moving to grab yours before he even knows what hes doing. “lets jump!”

after your conversation he did a lot of thinking when he woke up. it never really occurred to him your dynamic had so much of an effect on you. you did basically everything for him, hell you even taught him how to swim, it never occurred to him you had just gotten him way too comfortable. never pushing him to do more simply content with the routine and life you guys had. he had never really thought about it like that. maybe you were right. but he didn’t want you to be right, he was the problem wasnt he?

yelena had come to his room early in the morning, he was up trying to take his mind off the thoughts he was having by reading a book. “youve been staring at that page for ten minutes.” he looks up alarmed, not even knowing she had entered his room. “oh, um you know,, really interesting stuff.” she walks over to him and gently sits on the bed in front of him before grabbing the book and flipping it around, “its upside down.”

“ah. i knew that…”

when she asked him if he needed anything he’s grown to feel so comfortable around her he confides in her what had happened yesterday and some history between the two of you, leaving out the precious memories he has.

shes quiet for awhile. thinking about how to word a good response before she sighs, placing a hand on his. “i think shes right.” thats not what he wanted to hear. “why.” it wasn’t a question, more so his disbelief spilling out of his mouth but she takes it like a question anyway. “because if what you say is true she would have been successful no matter what, she is a good woman. she would have been happy in life because she was with you. but you would have never been happy because you were with her.”

it bothered him. and rethinking all of his time with you bothered him so much because in all of his memories you are so so happy. and he was, him. sure he was as happy as he could get but he was never truly happy with life and he just thought he never would be.

“the food in the fridge is gonna get hot at this rate.” he snaps back into reality as bucky slips behind him not even sparing him a glance as he fixed himself a drink. without thinking he slams the fridge door shut so strongly it makes a strange sound and everyones heads turn towards him. he just stares at it awkwardly trying to see if it was broken but it looked alright so he left it alone, sparing everyone a quick sorry as he glanced around the room.

the elevator door dings and suddenly all attention is off of bob and towards the door. there was no way it was you. it wasn’t. and he tries not to ket his disappointment show on his face. mel smiles at the group as he holds up the large bag she had in her hand, “i brought lunch.”

everyone cheered before gathering around the large brown bags rummaging around in them for their food. bob stands back, letting everyone else take their pick before he even thinks about heading over towards it. “oh right bob,” he looks over to mel who shuffles through her bag before holding out a phone to him. “courtesy of valentina”

bucky scoffs and laughs as bob hestitantly takes the phone from mel and smiles at her. “she yell at her?” mel hesitates to answer as bob stares at the phone, “off the record,, yes yes she did and she wouldn’t let anyone touch the phone, i was given it just now with someone breathing down my neck.”

you must have thought val or any of her minions would have bugged it. bucky realizes you were likely right and they would have, hes ever shocked you let mel hold it at all it must have been because he talked to you about how mel was a good one.

they continue to talk around him but he tunes them out. he cant even remember the last time he had a phone that wasnt a flip phone, probably when he was with you and you had bought it for him but he left it all those years ago. it doesn’t have a password and had no personality clearly new, but the phone did have one contact in it.

yours.

it was just your name, no nickname no emoji just your name. but with your contact page there was a little note you had left, “text me whenever you want! :)”

he doesn’t. he wants to. yet he keeps on staring at your contact page while he sits in bed. what would he even say? he cant just say hi thats too lame, but if he says anything else would he be coming off too strong?

lost in his own frustration he grips his phone awkwardly not even realizing his fingers slipped over the video call button and suddenly he was calling you. he yelped, his fingers trembling as he tried to end the call but the dark screen and ringing was soon changed into the site of your smiling face and the sound of your voice, “hi! give me one sec okay?”

he involuntarily begins to smile at the sound of your voice and he watches as your face disappears from view but he can still hear you talk to someone off screen. “im leaving joaquin,”

he can hear the sound of you gathering up your stuff. wait whos joaquin?

“who are you taking to? your boyfriend? let me see!”

“goodbye! leaving now!”

the sound of your rushing footsteps fills the air he can hear some voices call after you but you continue to briskly make your way out of the area you were before bring the phone back up and smiling at him.

“hi, sorry about that. its so good to hear from you are you alright?”

he pushes his questions down his throat as he smiles, nodding before he quickly rushes to actually speak, “yes hi sorry i didn’t mean to call you you seem busy…”

“no no no i just left work now i was meaning to leave anyway but i kept on getting distracted.”

distracted talking to that guy, the darker part of his mind thinks. he doesn’t have a right to think like that. the two of you haven’t been together in almost over a decade.

“im sorry…”

still he feels the need to apologize despite your words. he watches the way the afternoon light hits your face, the soft tone of your voice and he melts. “you know, you can call or text me whenever you want honey, ill always answer.”

2017

he was home alone. you were at work and he had gotten fired from the liquor store you managed to get him a job for and he felt terrible.

“dont worry baby, we’ll figure it out we always do.”

you’ll figure it out. thats what you had meant, he couldn’t really do anything. the tv was on yet the noise from it flowed from one ear to the other as he tried to shake the thoughts from his head.

he couldn’t do anything right. why did he even bother? he would be better off dead. his hands shook as he gripped his head tight. he couldn’t hear his fathers voice, angry like it always was he could hear the disappointment from his mother.

he couldn’t breathe.

he gripped his phone and found your contact and called it out of instinct. the ringing of it falling on deaf ears as the only sounds he could hear was his own pounding heartbeat.

it hadn’t even occurred to him you were still at work till you answered with a frazzled look on your face glancing around, he could recognize the ceiling and the walls of your work place, “hey honey did you need something?” he sees your face fall as you recognize the look on his face. “honey are you okay?”

he alway just messes everything up.

“im sorry.”

he hangs up. his phone flies from his hand and hits the wall. it probably breaks but he doesn’t care. he puts his head in his hands as he starts to hyperventilate.

of course you wouldn’t be free to talk to him you actually had things to do. you were actually important. unlike him. who has no place in this world, a worthless piece of space who means nothing.

he doesn’t know how long hes sitting there spiraling, but its not long enough feels cold hands touch his face and your sweet sonnet voice.

“honey, hey please look at me.”

you were looking at him with that sad face you get whenever someone yelled at him or whenever he was in one of his bad moods like he was right now.

he hated that look on your face.

“w-what are you doing here?”

“i was worried about you, are you okay?”

thats how it always was. whenever he was in any sort of peril you rushed to save him. you were like a superhero. it didn’t matter you had to cut your shift early and beg your coworker to cover the rest of the day for you. it didn’t matter rent was coming up and you would probably need to work a double or two to cover for today.

you just came to him. no matter what. and when he finally manages to force a smile you meet him with a gentle look on your face and a bag of hot takeout on the coffee table he felt like everything was alright just for awhile.

“you know, you can call or text me whenever you want honey, ill always answer.”

it becomes a regular thing. the two of you calling and texting each other everyday. the times zones are a little finicky so he ends up talking to you late into the night without a care in the world.

he avoids asking when you’re coming back to visit despite how eager he is. he knows you’re busy but he also knows that the two of you are dancing around the unavoidable.

there were numerous articles day to day about who the real avengers were and every shot with sam or every press he did you stood by his side and supported his cause. the two of you never talked about. when he would ask you what you did today when you had a press conference talking about how sam had the true right to have the real avengers you would say you just did this and that nothing special. you would have to talk about it eventually, but it was definitely not going to be anytime soon.

something else began to bother him during this time. that guy, joaquin he found out was his name. bucky had mentioned a thing or two about him. good guy, captain in the air force, smart, funny. he was gonna be sick.

you would always be standing next to him during conferences, the two or you could be seen chatting and laughing together in paparazzi photos. he has no right to be upset, you two arent together and haven’t been for awhile he cant be upset he shouldn’t be.

it had been a month now, but he hadn’t heard from you for two days now. it was odd. you had both talked everyday no matter how busy you were and you had suddenly gone radio silent. he tried not to let it bother him, you didnt have to talk to him everyday. he did chores he tried to train but it just continued to eat at the back of his head.

yet he finally heard from you once again. it was early afternoon. he was sitting on the couch drinking a decaf frappuccino yelena had gotten when she went go get the team coffee when the elevator door suddenly opened and the sound of people bickering filled the air.

everyone stood up at the sight of you, dragging sam by the ear towards the center of the room while joaquin trailed a little behind looking around the room with wonder.

you were wearing a business suit. he had seen you in a few of them but this one was clearly tailored like he’d seen during your press conferences. you’re had had been done the way you liked it still the same all those years ago, somethings never changed.

his fist clenched in his lap.

“you two are going to talk about it.”

“i dont wanna talk to him.”

“i dont give a shit.”

bucky looked the most alarmed out of the group and took a couple steps towards them. when sam noticed bucky he straighted up and turned his head away. “stop acting like a child wilson.”

only to make it worse bucky begins to match his posture and huffs. “you guys stop acting like babies before i get pissed off.”

“you’re already pissed off.”

“and you’re making it worse barnes.”

after a couple moments of silence you realize neither of them are going to crack you roll your eyes before grabbing both of them and dragging them down to an empty room. “joaquin play nice with them while were gone!” you ignore the sound of bucky and sam trying to argue with you and wiggle out of your death grip as you drag them out the room out of ear shot from everyone else who just stares at the three of you.

“remind me never to mess with her.” walker sits down next to ava and shakes his head, “trust me you really dont want to.” he shakes as a chill overcomes his body taking a long sip from his cup.

joaquin just sort of stares around the room in wonder before turning to the group trying to figure the joyful look on his face with something akin to serious but its very obvious its not genuine.

“serious doesn’t look good on you torres”

“shut up walker.”

bob has to put down his cup as his grip on it grows too tight he fears itll explode. its odd seeing the guy he’s seen only in photos and videos in person, he tries not to stare but he finds his jaw clenching before he even realizes it. yelena notices straight away, looking at him knowingly before turning back to joaquin with a grin.

“so like she your girlfriend?” yelenas finger points towards the way you had just dragged them off. walker spits out some of his drink and covers his mouth in a cough as joaquin tilts his head in confusion.

one of bobs hands reaches over and grips yelena’s jacket tugging it to try and get her to stop. he didn’t want to know, his chest hurts. but yelena ignores his movements and just grins at joaquin.

“who?” “you know, y/n.”

he laughs.

why the hell is he laughing?

his hands fly and out in from of him as he shakes his head, the humor still in his tone as he speaks. “nah nah, i like her shes cool but dating? no definitely not shes a good friend.” “ahh i get it.”

the relief he feels flowing through his body is the closest thing he’s felt to being high since he’s been sober. he doesn’t even fight off the sigh that leaves his body ignoring yelenas knowing look at him.

he notices the way joaquin is staring at him. its a familiar look to the ones he’s seen from the people from his past. its one thats trying to read him, trying to figure him out. he doesnt like it. when he shifts comfortably in his seat joaquin apologizes. “sorry man its just, have i seen you before?”

thats not what he was expecting to hear. even the other guys in the room seem confused by joaquins words. “umm no?” “the news maybe.” ava hits walker on the shoulder but he just turns to her confused, “what?”

joaquin just continues to stare for a minute or two, his hand coming to grab his chin as his eyes squint in concentration. suddenly his eyes light up and he claps his hands together, “oh i know, you’re the one whos her friend right?,” joaquin doesnt even wait for bob to nod his head before continuing. “shes got a picture of you on her desk. damn im good.”

bobs face contorts into disbelief as joaquin looks pleased with himself. “what picture?”

“looks like it was her graduation, shes wearing a cap and gown.”

oh right, he knows what picture joaquin’s talking about.

it was right after the lake trip you had taken him on. your high school graduation, you had originally told him he didnt need to go. you still went to the same school he had dropped out of, not wanting to overwhelm him but he still wanted to go. it was your big day, graduating top of your class you had worked so hard he pushed down all his bad thoughts and managed to show up for you. he hid his face, too embarrassed to be seen by his former teachers and classmates but he still stood up and cheered when your name had been called. his cheeks hurt from smiling while you were giving your speech.

the first thing you did after it was all done was run over to him with a big smile on your face. he wrapped you in his arms and spun you around. “im so proud of you baby.” the sound of your laugher fills his ears as you snuggle your head in the crook of his neck. “im so happy you’re here.” you quickly pulled out your digital camera from your pocket and snapped a picture of the two of you wrapped in each others arms and smiling at the camera.

you should have been off to some ivy league college after that. getting some fancy degree getting a high paying job living in a nice house. yet you werent, everyone was more than confused when you said you were staying local, going to the near by community college and getting a regular business degree. you were meant to be doing so much more thats what everyone had said, but you couldnt leave bob. sure he would follow you anywhere you went but the idea of him being too overwhelmed by a new city put you off of moving all together.

he didnt get to go to your college graduation he had already left you at that point. he wonders what you had looked like, what you wore. he couldnt remember what the school colors were. did anyone even show up for you? you did have many friends outside of casual acquaintances at school and bob was even the only one at your high school graduation. were you all alone that day? he swallows down an ache in his chest at the idea of you standing all alone while everyone around you celebrates with their loved ones.

“right yeah, probably me. i-i mean, i was there so..”

he has no clue what to say. he tells himself its probably the only picture you have of your graduation of course you would frame it and keep it, it has nothing to do with him its just a coincidence he’s in the photo. he’s not special.

thankfully like the angel you are you finally come back into the room sam and bucky on your tail. it seems like the tense has dissolved off of the three of you. “everything good?”

you walk over and pat joaquin on the shoulder and nod. bobs head twitches. “yep, the married couple made up just fine.”

“dont call us that.”

bucky and sam look over and each other and smile. sam places his hand on buckys shoulder and shakes it gently.

“we’ll have to have a long talk with valentina but yeah, i think we’ll be alright.”

a gentle look of affection graces buckys face in a way none of the thunderbolts have ever seen. its strange but no one has the heart to say anything.

bob cant take his eyes off you. the soft smile on your face as you stare at the two guys. when your eyes drift over to him his body perks up and he straightens in his seat like a dog. he must be imagining the way the smile on your face grows at the sight of him.

“who wants to go to lunch? my treat.”

while everyone perks up and gets ready to go you walk over to bob. yelena gets up, shooting bob a knowing look before rushing over to ava. bob stands to greet you. tugging on the ends of his sleeves he grins, “hi.”

“bob, im so sorry. my phone got broken on this mission and i couldn’t reach you.” you grip his forearm and smile at him apologetically. he feels so relieved to see you to hear your voice he laughs. his voice full of joy as he leans closer to you. “im happy to see you.”

you wiggle a bit closer to him and he fights the urge to lay his forehead on yours. the grip you have on his forearm growing ever so tighter. “im happy too.”

“i still owe you a lunch, come on lets go.”

you grip his hand, he doesn’t let you go until you get to the restaurant, if anyone notices they dont say anything.

you had rented out the private room at this brunch spot. on the way there you told him how you always came here whenever you were in the city and were excited for him to try it.

he sat next to you, joaquin sat in front of you much to bobs dismay. sam to his right bucky next to him, everyone else gathered in the remaining seats. different people at the table begin to form their own conversations while looking over the menu.

joaquin was smirking at you as he glances between you and bob who was focused on looking over the pancake options. he only looked up once you kicked joaquin in the shin, giving you a confused look but you just smile and go back to looking at the menu not before glaring at joaquin once more.

“dont even start.”

“i didnt even say anything.”

bobs jaw clenches as joaquin grins at you while you roll your eyes. he places his hand on your thigh without thinking and you turn to look at him. he stares down at the menu with a glare biting his tongue. he doesnt have any right to feel the way he does. he knows the two of you are not even dating but the pit in his stomach doesn’t go away no matter how much he wants it to.

his whole body tightens as he feels your hand grab his. he expects you to rip the hand off and give him a nasty look. yet you simply just flip his hand around and lace your fingers with his. his whole body softens, once his jaw relaxes he notices how much it aches from the tension he had been putting on it. he looks over and you and you caught his eye, giving him a sneaky grin before reading the menu.

orders are taken, its a messy than expected. alexei changes his mind on his order about five times before he settles on something, bob messes up saying what he wants twice but you step in and help him, joaquin had been so distracted by teasing you he had forgotten to pick something so he randomly chose something off the first page.

“so how long are you all in new york?”

“just for the weekend, we gotta be back in dc by monday.”

joaquin looks at you as he taps you on the arm. “but you’re not heading back with us right?”

you shake your head, taking a long drink out of your glass. “i have the week off.”

“you’re staying in new york?”

he’s hopeful. more hopeful than he wants to admit but you shake your head leaving him heartbroken. “im going out of state.”

“arent you headed back to florida?”

joaquin hisses as you slam your foot onto his. “shut up!”

“florida? for what?”

you lean your head back and sigh, clear irritation riddled on your face as you use your free hand to scratch your jaw. “nothing.”

“you have an apartment down there-“

he groans again as you stomp his other foot, glaring at him. “joaquin if you dont shut your mouth.”

“where?”

bobs not asking you. he’s asking joaquin, who gives him a hesitant look, looking back between the two of you.

“miami.”

bob doesn’t believe you. he turns his head to you. he knows that look on your face, when he would ask you something and you didn’t wanna answer him. “where is it.”

you stare at him, your eyelids rapidly blink as you click your tongue. you stay silent for a few moments before you sigh dejectedly. “i still have the apartment in saratosa.”

you look away, thankfully the food comes out and the two of you are able to get away without saying anything for a few minutes as the waiters come down to place all the food infront of you all.

he doesn’t know what to think. he stares down at his pancakes deep in thought. why would you keep it? from what he’s found out its been years since you’ve lived in flordia. maybe you use it like a storage house? yeah thats gotta be it. theres no way you would keep it cause you actually wanted it… right?

joaquin had moved on to chatting with sam and bucky leaving you and bob to be the only people not engaged in some conversation at the table. he wants to say something to you, anything at all but nothing comes out.

“i get homesick. sorry you must think its really weird, i mean, it was your home too so…”

you mumble it just loud enough for only him to hear. he doesn’t know what to think. he has so many questions, so many thoughts. he wants to talk with you about everything, but what would he even say when he has no clue himself what he’s even thinking?

your palm feels sweaty, probably because he runs so hot but you didn’t dare to pull your hand off of his. he squeezed your hand tightly and let out a shaky breath.

“can i come with you?”

#robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #sentry #sentry x reader #thunderbolts #bob x reader #robert reynolds imagine #robert reynolds fanfiction #sentry imagine #bob imagine #sentry fanfiction #thunderbolts imagine #thunderbolts fanfiction #bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds imagine

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theogonize · 3 months ago

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im like... sick and twisted over sugar daddy wilson who's enjoying his pretty young thing more than he ever anticipated. he's paying your tuition, half your rent and anything else, that you could adorn yourself with. every weekend he makes sure to taking you on a shopping spree, something that wasn't in your deal but he just really likes to see you happy. and also he gets one hell of a show each time.

something about basically paying you, more gifts than cash, dissolves his sexual inhibitions. you won't leave. you can't. he can, if he wants to, be less nice to you. he can fuck the way he was always scared to fuck, do the things he was scared to do with his girlfriends. but you're not his girlfriend, you're his sugar baby. there's a difference, no matter how much he listens to you talk incoherently about your interests, no matter how many nights you sleep over. he doesn't have to treat you like an equal. it's oddly emancipating, the idea of doing whatever he wants with you. the freedom to. unrestrained like he never was. a pet dog without his leash who gets to run wild but keeps pawing his neck, the feeling of the leash.

but he's still restrained. he's a gentleman, he's programmed that way. he would never go beyond your limits, never. when he fucks you particularly rough, the kind that makes your legs weak for days and leaves you feeling the ghost of his dick inside you every time you squeeze your legs, he buys you something particularly expensive. he just can't take without giving. you like it, of course you do, even though you tell him you like the way he fucks you too. he shouldn't apologize for prioritizing his pleasure. you're not his girlfriend, you are his sex doll. the one he likes to dress up in skimpy designer clothes he bought with his hard earned oncologist money.

you're starting to feel bad, kind of, because you're growing quite fond of him. it's impossible not to. he's the only man who isnt a pig. but this... this arrangement negates the idea of anything real ever happening. sometimes you both stay awake dwelling on the possibility at the same time, unbeknownst to each other. his heart beats precariously fast as his hand crawls into your palm one night, wanting so desperately to hold it.

he doesn't know how this thing is going to end.

when his analyst furrows his brows at the receipts from hermes and dior and chanel, he just shrugs. he can't help it, you're the most beautiful financial liability in the world.

#aniya writes ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა #house m.d. (ᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈)#word vomit #house md #james wilson #malpractice md #dr james wilson #dr wilson #gregory house #house md smut #house md x you #james wilson x reader #james wilson x you

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 3 months ago

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DEATHSTROKE!READER HEADCANONS CUZ YALL LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!

Deathstroke reader's hair is fried, like it was back when they used to be Robin. They used to straighten their hair to an unreasonable amount. Actually, think of Steph back in her Robin days—that was literally the reader's hair back when they were Robin, but it didn't work well for their hair type, resulting in terrible and irreversible hair damage. When they joined Deathstroke, they shaved all their hair off and started fresh. Fresh hair. The reader has a buzz cut that is gelled to be spiky and styled; it's actually pretty good. They used to dye their hair a lot, like blonde, which also contributed to the hair damage. Last but not least, the Wilson family loves to rub your freshly buzzed hair.

Deathstroke reader has acne around their face, which is basically your fault because you wear a lot of makeup, causing some acne. Also, your mask makes you sweat, clogging your pores. You've been thinking about getting a skincare routine, but you're too lazy, so Rose does your skincare every now and then. Your acne isn't really noticeable; it's just there. But as long as you keep up with those face masks, you'll be fine.

Deathstroke reader is non-binary; they go by all pronouns and wear both masculine and feminine clothing. They used to only wear masculine clothes back in their Robin days because they hated femininity due to their mother. I'll get into this deeper in a later fic. Deathstroke reader is also around 19 to mid-20s; I wanted to make them older compared to the other readers, who are either in high school or in college. Deathstroke reader is pretty tall, like basketball-level tall, standing right next to Slade's shoulder.

Deathstroke reader smokes; Rose does too, and I'm pretty sure I saw a comic where Slade smokes. It runs in the family, I guess, but you can't find your lighter anywhere—borrowed by Rose, or you lost it some way, somehow. So you find intricate ways to light a cigarette. Hell yeah, the Flash's electric speed definitely helps your Green Lantern boyfriend light your cigarette for you. Totally, Deathstroke reader will literally walk up to Bruce, smoking in his face. The rest of the Bat Family hates the fact that you smoke, scolding you and saying it's bad for you, like you're some child, even though you're about to be pushing 30. It gets on your nerves.

Deathstroke reader isn't much into relationships; mostly, they have meaningless flings. When you're thinking about getting into a relationship, you're already waking up with someone gone. You have an ongoing fling with Constantine—not a serious relationship, really; it’s routine at this point. You call him up for a favor or he does, and you both get a drink, maybe a smoke. You end up at his dank apartment, then you leave the next day. You don't intend on staying, and you don't intend on loving him either, but he's developing warm feelings in his chest because of you. You always have to remind him it's just a fling. Roy, on the other hand, isn't so easily persuaded. That ginger will not believe it started as a one-time thing. The moment he saw you playing around with Lian was the moment he declared you his. So gentle with her, so sweet; you only say it's because you have siblings, but he knows better. The nights you two spent together are passionate and sweet, but you always seem to leave his bed with no intention of coming back. You're breaking his heart.

When Deathstroke reader was Robin, they had internalized misogyny within them, not just because the Robin mantle used to be for guys, but also because of their relationship with their mom. Think about the "I Hate My Mom" song by GRLwood—like, they used to hate almost anything feminine because it reminded them of their mother: long nails, makeup, eyelashes, dresses, skirts, all that stuff. It's not until they worked with Slade that they started to embrace this part of themselves. You're not like your mother; you never will be. It doesn't make you weak, and it doesn't make you any less strong. That's something I can understand—makeup and flashy clothing, embracing yourself more.

Deathstroke reader is brutal when it comes to fights; they do not fight fair at all—biting, slapping, scratching, kicking—almost anything. Sure, they do know fighting styles, but their greatest strengths are brute force and ambushing their attacker with punches to the point where they're unable to react. You had a fight with Cass one time, and you dominated her with hits over and over again, not letting her let up. Sure, she can read body movements, but yours are so aggressive that it's honestly too hard to fight back. You're pummeling Damien like he's not your little brother, more like a stray dog on the street begging for scraps. Your head-butting Jason's Red Hood mask, making cracks in his mask and giving him a black eye in the process. Sure, your head was ringing for at least an hour, but it was worth seeing the shock on his face. You remember one time Bruce visited you at Arkham Asylum—the asylum he put you in—trying to manipulate you into coming home. You jumped across the table, beating the shit out of him. It took multiple nurses to get you off of him. Anytime the Bat Family comes to visit, especially Bruce, you're stuck in a straitjacket with a glass wall in front of you. There's literally a struggle at Arkham to try and get you into the meeting room. They have to roll you in a wheelchair like luggage out of an airport because you tried to escape multiple times, but it always fails, and you're stuck in that meeting room. They're rambling on and on, saying they'll bring you back home. Yeah, right.

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geeky-politics-46 · 6 months ago

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Surgery Headcanon

How would my favorite Marvel men react to you having surgery.

I'm getting my gallbladder taken out in a couple of weeks, it will be my first surgery ever, so this is 100% self-indulgent. That's part of why I've been so absent this year, I've had an organ rebelling.

Doctor Stephen Strange

Will ask who your doctor is to see if he knows them. If not, he may send a referral to a trusted former colleague on your behalf. He's not letting you under the knife unless he knows you have a good surgeon.

Will tell you how routine the surgery is if you are starting to worry. Almost a bit blasé about your concerns, after all, bedside manner was never his strong suit as a surgeon. Plus, it really is a routine, laparoscopic procedure. Way less intricate & dangerous than neurosurgery.

1000% will try to micromanage everything once you're at the hospital prepping for or immediately out of surgery. He wants to see your chart. He wants to know what your most recent vitals are. Hell, he may have even asked if he can observe the surgery. Partly, it's him being overprotective, partly it's because he misses being a doctor.

Definitely breaking into the doctor's lounge for the good coffee, not the instant crap in the cafeteria.

After you are home, he will be vigilant about making sure you take your pain meds & will check your incisions to make sure everything is healing well. You are in very safe, if slightly neurotic hands.

Secretly, or not so secretly, enjoying getting to play doctor again to take care of you. Looking forward to when you are well enough that you can play doctor and patient the really fun way.

Bucky Barnes

May actually be a bigger mess than you are. Thanks to Hydra, medical anything makes his anxiety shoot through the roof. Now piled on top of that, he feels out of control & helpless to make you feel better.

Would have to be physically dragged out of your hospital room, so the hospital staff just lets the whole “visitors hours” thing slide.

The second you wake up, he is by your side asking if you need anything. Probably didn't sleep or even sit down the entire time you were in surgery.

If you even make an odd face, he's asking if you are in pain, and he has become a huge pain in the ass for your nurses.

May have thought about threatening your surgeon about if something went wrong.

Either guard dog mode, or he completely shuts down. There is no in between.

Afraid he's going to break you while you are recovering. Offers to sleep on the floor or on the couch just in case. Doesn't want to let you out of his sight until you are healed.

Steve Rogers

Tells you over and over how everything will be okay and that you are in good hands.

May tell you stories about how much hospitals and medical stuff has improved since he was so sick before the serum.

Reads up on your surgery and your doctors. He wants to understand as much as he can about what is going on. He probably has more questions for the doctor than you do.

Puts on a brave face for you but secretly will be a little nervous. He hates seeing you sick or in pain, and he can't help but worry a little bit.

Will respect hospital rules but will stay up until the very last minute of visiting hours are over. Knows the names of every nurse and doctor treating you.

Definitely has flowers or a stuffed bear for you as soon as you wake up from surgery.

Dotes on your every need once you are home and watches you like a hawk. The first few days, he doesn't even let you go to the bathroom by yourself. You can't get away with shortcutting your recovery under his eye.

Sam Wilson

Buys you a cute, silly stuffed version of whatever you are having surgery on to make you laugh. See my new stuffed sad gallbladder plush as reference here.

All the nurses love him, and he likes to crack jokes with all the staff. Offers to help with anything he can but mostly tries to stay out of their way.

Trying to make you smile all the way until they wheel you to the OR. He doesn't want you to be scared or nervous.

Like Steve, he will put on a brave face but will be nervous once you are in surgery. Lots of pacing back & forth. Lots of trips to the coffee machine.

Takes care of you once you are home but not quite as mother hen as Steve. Will let you judge what is best for you, but will 100% call you out if he sees you doing something the doctor told you not to.

Will also rat you out to your doctor if you don’t follow their instructions. He doesn't want to snitch, but he'd also rather not be the one to scold you.

Loki

Doesn't like the idea of someone operating on you. Trained surgeon or not, they are still just a simple Midgardian.

Doesn't like the hospital one bit. Comments on the color and decor, even the hideous hospital gown you have to wear. Partly to make you laugh, partly because it was all truly hideous.

If your surgeon even hesitates on a question you ask, Loki will assume they aren't the best and demand another doctor. You may have to talk him down a bit. He's a prince, after all, and he wants to make sure you are in the best hands possible.

The whole thing seems a bit barbaric to him. He would much have preferred using magic or Asgardian ways to heal you, but alas when on Midgard.

Secretly terrified something will happen to you, but would never tell you he's worried. Doesn't like that he can't do anything to help you.

Is not very used to taking care of people, and as royalty, he's the one used to being waited on, but he will try his best to do whatever you need him to do.

Will probably mostly ignore instructions from the doctor so you are in charge of that part of your care, but he will beg to accelerate your healing with his magic if he can.

Eddie Brock & Venom

Venom brings you chocolates, which he then eats after you tell him he can, and says not to worry because if the doctors don't take proper care of you he will bite off their heads and eat their brains.

Eddie is nervous but trying to be brave, so you won't be scared. It doesn't help that Venom keeps telling Eddie not to make you nervous, which then, in turn, makes him nervous. He will try to make jokes and keep you entertained however he can.

Eddie and Venom try not to argue while they wait for you to get done with surgery. The last thing you need is to wake up and find out that they ended up in the psych ward for talking to/arguing with themselves in the waiting room. They are on their best behavior.

Both of them try to wait on you hand and foot after you get home. You've had to eat several well-meaning but truly gross breakfasts in bed so as not to disappoint either of them. They mean so well, but neither of them can cook beyond tater tots.

You have woken up to Venom staring at you because “one of us has to watch you at all times until you are recovered”. He took that 100% seriously. He has also stuck tendrils under the bathroom door like cat paws.

One great thing about Venom is the fact that thanks to his tendrils, he can literally get anything you need from around the apartment in seconds without you or Eddie having to get up. This makes him one of the best nurses ever. All you have to do is hint that you want something and boom, it's there.

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fallen-w1ngs · 23 days ago

Text

'' flower shop of new feelings ,,

[ 09 : plans ]

|| pairing : james "bucky" barnes x florist!reader

|| warning : nothing !!

|| wc : 2.2k

“It’s no one, guys. Seriously.”

The past few weeks, Bucky’s life has been.. Full, at most. Everytime he left his room in the tower, he was always surrounded by at least one person. Which was more than he was used to. As of right now, it was Steve and Sam who were pestering him while he was trying to do some pre-mission work out.

“C’mon, Buck. I’ve known you since we were five, I know when you’re lyin’.” Typically, Steve’s not one to try and push Bucky’s buttons, nor is he one to try and push Bucky period.. But I mean seriously. For the past few months he’d been secretly meeting up with someone he hadn’t heard of ONCE? Now that’s serious. “Just.. Tell us their name.”

“Y’know we’ll find out soon, Nat’s already working on finding info on them-”

“Don’t you dare try and scout out their information, Sam.” The super soldier shot a glare at Sam and picked up one of the weights, as if threatening to chuck it at Sam’s head.

“Buck, c’mon.” Steve pushed Bucky’s arm down, moving the weight away with a chuckle. “Just tell us. Promise we won’t do anything irrational.”

Bucky swore he heard Sam go “he doesn’t speak for me” but chose to ignore it. Allowing himself to live in ignorant bliss.

“.. [Name].” He muttered. The two men stayed silent, waiting for more. “They’re a florist, they.. Live near the spider kid.. And I met ‘em when I was getting Barton’s birthday gift.”

“.. Is that it?” Sam snorted.

“Whaddya mean is that it?”

“You’re actin’ all secretive but they seem so… Normal.”

“There’s nothing wrong with normal.”

“What Sam’s trying to say,” Steve pushed in between the two. “Is that it’s a little strange you didn’t tell anyone about your new friend. It’d be amazing if we could meet them, officially.”

“Why would you want-”

“‘Cause we’re your friends, dumbass.” Sam rolled his eyes before giving a genuine smile. “If you have a new friend, we wanna know about them. ‘Specially if it seems like y’have a crush on them-”

“I don’t have-” Bucky cut himself off as his face felt hotter. “I.. Shut the hell up, Wilson.”

“He doesn’t deny it!”

“I said shut up!!”

–

Today, you thankfully had a day off. Well, being your own boss made it easy to “call in sick” to your own shop. It was literally just keeping the ‘Close’ sign up. Ah, but I digress! Today, you were out at the farmers market, sifting through the different stalls, looking over all the cute cardigans, pretty hand-made bags, and your favourite; seeds for flowers you don’t have yet!

Your shopping trip was disrupted by a small vibration in your pocket, as you asked the standee to give you a second you stepped away and took the call, it was just James. Oh, that man has a hold on your heart.

“Hey, James!” Your voice cut through into the phone in a cheerful manner.

“Hey, doll.” His voice seemed so smooth, oh god. But.. There were more voices in the background. Muffled, as if trying to stay quiet. “Uh.. I was wonderin-”

“Yes! Whatever it is, yeah, sure.” You’re so fucking embarrassing oh my god. You felt your cheeks warm up at your enthusiasm and you forced a cough to cover it up. “I-I mean, yeah I’ll uh, hear you out!”

“Great.. Uh, I was wonderin’ if you wanted.. To come over to the Tower,” he took a deep breath before saying the last part. “My friends.. Wanted to meet you.”

Your eyes widened at the prospect, you stood there motionless on the pavement as you let yourself fully understand his words. “Like.. Like.. Captain America? And.. Black Widow?” “And the Falcon!” “Sam, shut!” There was some shuffling on the other end of the phone. Some unintelligible voices on the other end as you waited patiently for it to stop. “Sorry.. Uh, they’re.. Annoying.”

You chuckled at that and shook your head. “No, no! It’s okay, James! I, uh, I’d love to come over and meet your friends.” “Yeah?” “Yeah, of course!” Again, the sweet sound of your laughter filled Bucky’s ears. Unaware to you, he had the most love-sick look on his face now that Steve and Sam were behind him. Unable to see his expression.

“Great, I’ll pick you up?” “Yeah, uh.. How about 6?”

“‘Course, doll.”

You kept your composure at the nickname and nodded. “Alright! I’ll see you then!”

“See you then.”

You both stayed on call for a quick second before Bucky ultimately hung up. Oh my god! Today was a wonderful day. Checking your phone time, it was 3:21 PM, only 2 and a half more hours until you were getting picked up to meet Bucky and his friends for dinner! Or.. Was it dinner? Oh, god this is a disaster, you barely know what to wear or prepare for the dinner, or maybe they won’t have foo-

Your thoughts were cut off again with a ding from your phone.

james <3 : 6 pm, Avengers Tower, wear your usual outfits, just an easy dinner and possible board game or two. (i know you’re already overthinking. don’t, doll, they’re idiots.)

You giggled at the text, thankful that Bucky knew you well enough to know how stressed you got over the smallest things.

florist <3 : thank you, honey <3

You put your phone away, unaware of what you’d texted. Just overjoyed at the idea of James just.. Knowing you really well and feeling comfortable around you to let you meet his friends! Tonight will be fun, you think as you walk towards your car and start driving home.

–

Bucky, on the other hand, was pacing back and forth in his room as Peter sat on his bed, watching as he did. Look, ever since Peter had found out the two were friends, he’d forced himself into Bucky’s life.. And after a little while, Bucky allowed it to happen. After a few weeks of “allowing it to happen” he openly welcomed it, letting Peter barge into his room and just start talking about life. Bucky started to reciprocate. And this moment is one of those moments.

“Do they usually call people honey?” Peter, who was sitting cross legged on his bed, tub of ice cream in his lap as he ate straight from it, stared up at Bucky as he thought for a moment. “Not really. I mean, they called me honey when I was like- 10, but that’s because I was a kid.”

“So.. Wait- so, what does this mean?” “Mr. Barnes, maybe you should just talk to them-”

“No. No, I’m not.. No. They don’t have to see me freaking out like this.” Bucky stopped pacing around and just let out a small sigh before checking the time. He’d been rambling for about an hour at this point. God, he probably lost so much ‘aura’ as the kids say nowadays.

“.. D’you want me to heat up some leftovers Wanda made yesterday for dinner?” “No. No, I’ll.. I’ll cook something.”

Peter made a face, his brows knitted and his nose scrunched at the mere idea of Bucky cooking.. It can’t be that bad right? Steve loved his cooking when they were younger!

“Are you sure, Mr. Barnes?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t?-” He stared at Peter before sighing and pointing to the door. “Heat up Wanda’s food for back up.”

“You got it!” the teen beamed and kept the tub of ice cream before dashing out of there. He loved Wanda’s cooking! It was the best cooking out of.. Well, let’s face it, everyone’s cooking in the Tower. Though, Sam and Pepper’s cooking could be better.

Bucky just stared at his phone once the kid was out, feeling his cheeks feel hotter at the mere sight of “honey” on his screen.. It didn’t mean anything.. Did it? He shook the thought away before turning to his closet and grabbing his red henley and a pair of jeans. He was told by Sam that the henley made him look “hot” … So might as well wear it, right?

Once changed, Bucky left his room and went to the kitchen. Peter had already put the leftover lasagna back in the oven to heat up. Okay.. So, lasagna goes well with garlic bread right? Bucky decided he'd make some garlic bread as well as some spaghetti. Just in case. It was.. A good combination right?

“Need help, Buck?” Steve leaned against the doorframe as he watched Bucky start up his cooking.

“Tch, not from you.” Despite his words, Bucky accepted when Steve started pulling out the ingredients from the cupboards. “.. I’m not a bad cook, right?”

Steve blinked at him and paused midway grabbing the tomato sauce cans from the cabinets. His brows knitted together before shaking his head. “Well- ‘course not.”

“You hesitated.”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, suppressing a smile as Bucky filled the pot up with some water and heated the stove up, allowing the water to boil. “Look, it’s- times changed!”

“What’s that supposed to mean, punk?”

“You were a great cook when we were teens.. Now.. It’s-”

“Hey, you loved when I made Ma’s casserole”

“That’s ‘cause it was your Ma’s recipe.”

Bucky pushed his lips together and shot a glare at Steve. His nose scrunching up the smallest bit as he put a dash of salt into the water before putting the pasta in.

“I’m not sayin’ you’re a bad cook. Just sayin’ that when we were kids.. We had to ration, there weren't a lotta options. Now there is and you need to learn how to use ‘em.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and locked his eyes on Steve before sighing and scratching the back of his neck with his flesh arm. Keeping quiet as the two worked to cook a good meal. Bucky knew Steve was right, he still had a lot to learn about the modern world. And he did want to learn, trust me, he does. It just scared him a little.

After a few minutes of silence. The only sound coming was the whir of the air fryer as it held the garlic bread and the boil of the pasta as it softened the noodles, Steve’s voice cut through once again. “You really like ‘em, huh?”

“Why d’you say that?”

“You’re going all soft,” Steve put a hand up when Bucky opened his mouth. “It’s not a bad thing, Buck. I think it’s sweet. I haven’t seen you get this excited over anyone or anything in a long while.”

The soldier just rolled his shoulder and looked away. Taking a deep breath as he stared out the window. Letting Steve’s words sink in.

“I’m just.. I shouldn’t be this soft on ‘em. I doubt they even think of me that way.”

“How about we just get through this dinner and I’ll be the judge of that ‘kay?”

To that, Bucky smiled and nodded. Okay.. Good plan.

–

You stood at your door, expectantly. Waiting for the buzzer for when Bucky would call to get you. God, he made you wait like a damn fool. You checked your phone. 2 minutes before he said he’d pick you up. In one hand, you held a big bowl of assorted fruits you’d bought from the farmers market. It was a good snack to bring, healthy and refreshing, albeit rushed, but shh no one needed to know that.

As you stood besides the speaker, you got more anxious as the time went by. It hit 6:00. It was fine. It hit 6:06.. Okay, it was only 6 minutes. Usually when you were hanging out with May, she’d be 30 minutes late, it’s fine.

6:12.

6:18.

6:24.

You felt like an idiot as you waited. It had almost been 30 minutes passed as you waited. Giving up on standing right besides the ringer, you ended up sitting on the couch and started munching on a few strawberries.

Checking your phone for the umteenth time, you sighed and laid back onto your back. Closing your eyes for a few moments then getting startled as a sharp knock noise came from the door.

You stumbled onto your feet and rushed over to the door, opening it to a.. Very flustered Bucky. His hair was tied into a messy ponytail, flour on his henley, and a small bouquet of flowers in his right hand.

“I’m so sorry, doll. I lost track of time. I was cooking spaghetti with Steve, then we decided to make cookies, but that rolled into making cake and-”

He paused as you wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him. Immediately, he closed his mouth and hugged you back. “I’m so sorry for being late.”

You squeezed his neck, a shaky breath leaving your lips before you pulled away. “It’s fine. I just thought you forgot.”

“I’d never forget about you.” Bucky’s voice was steady, sure, as he made his statement. His hand squeezed around the bouquet before handing it to you. “.. It’s not as good as yours but-”

“Hydrangeas..” You mumbled and held it to your nose. Sniffing it before sighing with a smile on your face. “My favourite. Thank you, James.”

He lit up at the thanks and shrugged. “Anythin’ for you, doll.”

You told him to wait a second before you put the flowers into a vase. Making sure it was nicely placed before grabbing the fruit bowl and your bag.

“You ready to meet my friends?”

You beamed up at him. “If they’re important to you, yes. Of course I’m ready.”

|| next part is gonna be the last part guys <3 i might do a super short "epilogue" type thing in the end tho <3

taglist : @iyskgd , @highhopes1008 , @purplefluffycows , @averagetmblrusser , @herejustforbuckybarnes , @turbulentwreck

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urdreamydoodles · 9 months ago

Note

Would it be alright if I asked for some X Men headcannons with all the characters you currently write for where the reader has deals with chronic hip pain however she doesn't tell them that it occasionally pops out and she can pop it back in herself because she doesn't want to bother them with an issue she can resolve herself until she has to do it in front of them while on a mission? I'm so sorry if this breaks any request rules or guidelines I couldn't find a post that had them listed! Also I just wanted to say I really enjoy your writing and I look forward to anything you post!

X-Men x Reader

You have chronic hip pain and they find out about it

You have been hiding your chronic hip pain from your partner, fearing you would be a burden, but during a mission or in a vulnerable moment, the truth comes out.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Jean Grey, Wade Wilson & Rogue

As someone who suffers from multiple chronic pain in different joints, as well as one in the hips, this prompt particularly touches me, so thank you. I hope you like it ♡ And thank you for the compliment! — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

- Being with Logan is intense, both physically and emotionally. You love his fierce protectiveness, his strength, and his unwavering loyalty, but you also know he tends to worry—especially about you. That's why you’ve kept your chronic hip pain to yourself, knowing how he’d react if he found out you were dealing with it alone. Logan has enough on his plate without adding your physical issues into the mix, and besides, you’ve gotten good at managing the pain. It’s not like it affects your life in any major way—at least, that’s what you’ve told yourself.

- On a particularly dangerous mission, your hip starts acting up. You’re deep in enemy territory, and the stakes are high. You manage to push through the discomfort for most of the mission, but as you land from a jump, your hip finally gives out. The pain is sudden and sharp, and you know you need to pop it back into place. Trying to stay discreet, you find cover and do what you’ve always done—adjusting your leg to realign your hip with a grimace. Unfortunately, Logan notices immediately. He’s always been attuned to your every move, and the second he sees you in pain, he’s by your side in an instant.

- “What the hell are you doing?” His gruff voice cuts through the tension as he kneels next to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and concern. You try to brush it off, but Logan isn’t having any of it. “That ain’t somethin’ you hide from me,” he growls, his gaze hard. You explain the situation—how it’s been a chronic problem for years and that you didn’t want to worry him. Logan’s jaw clenches, his frustration palpable. “Darlin’, you don’t get to decide what I worry about. That’s my job.”

- After that, Logan is relentless in making sure you’re taken care of. He’s constantly checking on you, offering to carry you when your hip bothers you, and giving you space to rest when you need it. His gruff exterior melts away when it comes to your well-being, and his protective instincts kick into overdrive. “Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you go through this alone,” he tells you one night as he helps you adjust your leg after a long day. He’s gentle, far more so than anyone would expect from him, his hands careful as he massages the sore muscles around your hip.

- Logan’s solution is simple: he makes sure you never feel like a burden. Whether it’s during missions or at home, he’s always there, watching your back and offering his help without hesitation. “We’re a team, remember?” he says one day, his hand resting on your hip, his thumb brushing over the spot where the pain usually resides. “And that means you don’t have to deal with anythin’ on your own.”

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

- Remy is perceptive, always reading between the lines and noticing things others might miss. That's part of what makes him such a great partner, but it’s also what makes it harder for you to hide your chronic hip pain from him. You've managed to keep it under wraps for the most part, popping your hip back into place whenever it slips without him noticing. Remy is always so full of energy, so carefree, and you don't want to dampen that with your issues, especially when you can handle them yourself—at least, that’s what you’ve convinced yourself.

- During a mission, though, things go wrong. You’re in the middle of a heated fight, dodging attacks and moving quickly when your hip slips out of place. The pain is sharp and immediate, and you know you need to pop it back in before you can continue. Without thinking, you duck behind cover, quickly adjusting your leg to realign your hip. As you do, you hear Remy’s voice in your ear, laced with concern. “Chère, what you doin’? You okay?”

- He catches you mid-movement, his sharp eyes narrowing as he puts the pieces together. Remy quickly makes his way over to you, worry etched across his face. “Dis ain’t somethin’ you been dealin’ wit’ alone, right?” he asks, his usual playful tone replaced with something more serious. You try to downplay it, explaining that it’s been a chronic issue and that you didn’t want to bother him with it. Remy frowns, his eyes darkening as he kneels beside you. “You tink I don’t want to know when you hurtin’? C’mon, chère, dat ain’t how we do t’ings.”

- After that mission, Remy becomes even more attentive. He insists on helping you whenever your hip starts acting up, whether it's offering his shoulder to lean on or massaging the area when the pain gets bad. He’s surprisingly tender, his usual flirtatious demeanor softening into something more protective when it comes to your well-being. “Ain’t no need to be shy wit’ me, ma belle,” he says one night, his hands gentle as he rubs the sore muscles in your leg. “I’m here for all of it, pain an’ all.”

- Remy never makes you feel like a burden, instead turning every moment of vulnerability into an opportunity to show how much he cares. He’s always there, with a wink and a smile, but beneath that charm is a deep concern for your happiness and health. “You don’t ever need to hide from me, chère,” he says one evening as the two of you sit together, his arm wrapped around your waist. “We a team, you an’ me. I’m in dis for de long haul.” And in those moments, you realize that with Remy by your side, you’ll never have to face the pain alone.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

- Kurt has always been so graceful, moving through life with a lightness and ease that’s almost magical. You admire that about him, and you’ve never wanted to weigh him down with your chronic hip pain. He’s so gentle, so kind, always focused on making sure you’re happy and comfortable. You’ve managed your pain well enough, not wanting to bother him with something you’ve been handling on your own for years, especially since it’s always been more of an inconvenience than anything else. But on a mission, when you’re both deep in hostile territory, your hip finally gives out in the worst possible way.

- You’ve trained yourself to ignore the pain when it flares up, but this time, it’s different. The terrain is uneven, and after one wrong landing, your hip slips out of place with a sharp, searing pain. Kurt is mid-teleport, taking out enemies with his acrobatic movements when you feel it happen. You’re quick to duck behind a boulder, gritting your teeth as you try to realign it without making a scene. You don’t want to distract him from the mission, but as soon as you try to pop it back into place, Kurt appears beside you in a flash of sulfuric smoke.

- His yellow eyes widen with concern as he takes in the situation. “Liebes, what’s wrong?” His voice is full of worry, and you can’t bring yourself to brush him off. You explain quickly, telling him how your hip has been a problem for a long time and how you’ve been managing it yourself. Kurt’s brows knit together as he listens, and when you finish, he shakes his head, looking hurt but not angry. “Why did you not tell me?” he asks softly, gently helping you shift your leg to ease the pain. “You should never have to suffer alone.”

- After the mission, Kurt makes it his personal mission to ensure you never have to handle your hip pain by yourself again. He starts incorporating exercises into your routine to strengthen the muscles around your hip, always careful to avoid anything that might aggravate it. He’s patient and understanding, never making you feel like a burden for needing help. “You are my world, Liebes,” he tells you one night as you rest together, his tail curling affectionately around your leg. “I would never want you to suffer in silence.”

- He becomes your constant support, both physically and emotionally. Whether he’s helping you during a flare-up or teleporting you somewhere more comfortable when the pain becomes too much, Kurt never hesitates to be by your side. His love for you is unwavering, and he makes sure you know that your pain will never be a burden to him. “You are everything to me,” he says one evening, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And I will always be here to help you, no matter what.”

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

- You’ve been managing your chronic hip pain for years, never feeling the need to burden anyone with it, especially Scott. He's the leader of the X-Men, always juggling so many responsibilities that your small physical ailment seems trivial in comparison. You've gotten used to popping your hip back into place whenever it slips, and it’s never been a problem—until now. On missions, you’ve always been careful to avoid any situation that might aggravate it, keeping your pain to yourself and maintaining your focus on the task at hand.

- But today, the pain hits harder than usual, probably from the heavy landing you made after leaping from a ledge during a mission. You can feel it—the sharp, familiar ache—and you know it’s only a matter of time before it gives out. In the middle of the fight, you try to ignore it, but the pain intensifies until your hip finally pops out of place. You freeze, desperately needing to pop it back in, but the mission is still ongoing. Without thinking, you quickly duck behind cover and try to discreetly adjust yourself, hoping Scott doesn’t notice.

- Unfortunately, Scott sees everything. His eyes narrow behind his visor, and you can feel his laser-sharp focus honing in on you, even in the chaos of the battle. “Are you okay?” His voice crackles through your comms, calm but laced with concern. You grit your teeth, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine, Scott. Just need a minute.” But Scott knows you too well, and he doesn’t believe you for a second. When the battle ends, he rushes over to you, his face etched with worry. “What’s going on? I saw you struggling back there.”

- You sigh, realizing there’s no hiding it anymore. You explain the hip pain, how it’s been a chronic issue for years, and how you didn’t want to bother him with it. Scott’s expression shifts from concern to frustration—not with you, but with the fact that you’ve been suffering in silence. “You should have told me,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to handle this alone.”

- From that point on, Scott makes it his personal mission to help you manage your condition. He insists on finding ways to make your missions less physically taxing, even if it means altering strategies or teaming you with someone who can assist if needed. At home, he’s constantly asking if you need anything, researching exercises that might help strengthen your hip. And every time your hip starts to hurt, he’s there, offering support, both physically and emotionally, never making you feel like a burden. "You're part of this team," he tells you one night as you lay in bed. "And you're the most important part of my life. Don't ever think you're bothering me.”

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

- Erik has always been a man of immense strength, both physically and emotionally. You admire his resilience, his determination to fight for what he believes in, and you’ve never wanted to seem weak in his eyes. Your chronic hip pain has been a constant companion for years, but you’ve always managed to handle it on your own. Erik has enough battles to fight, and you don’t want to burden him with something as small as your occasional discomfort. But during a high-stakes mission, when your hip finally gives out, there’s no hiding it anymore.

- The mission is intense, with enemies surrounding you on all sides. You’re doing your best to keep up with Erik’s powerful presence, but as you dive for cover, your hip slips out of place. The pain is immediate and excruciating, but you try to push through it, not wanting to slow Erik down. As you quickly duck behind cover, you attempt to pop your hip back into place, hoping Erik doesn’t notice. But of course, Erik is far too perceptive, and his sharp eyes catch the movement instantly.

- “What are you doing?” His voice is stern, and you can feel his eyes burning into you as he approaches. You try to brush it off, but Erik’s not one to be deceived. He crouches down beside you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as he looks at you with concern. “You’re in pain,” he states, his tone softening slightly. You explain the situation, telling him about your chronic hip pain and how you’ve been dealing with it yourself. Erik’s expression darkens, and you can see the frustration in his eyes—not at you, but at the fact that you’ve been suffering in silence.

- “You should have told me,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and disappointment. “I would never want you to hide something like this from me.” From that moment on, Erik takes it upon himself to ensure you never have to deal with your hip pain alone again. He may be a man of power, but when it comes to you, his touch is always gentle, his concern always genuine. He begins making adjustments to his plans, always considering your well-being and ensuring you’re never pushed beyond your limits.

- Erik is fiercely protective, and after learning about your hip, his protective instincts only intensify. He finds ways to make your missions less physically demanding, always checking in to make sure you’re comfortable. At home, he’s constantly asking how you’re feeling, offering massages and making sure you’re resting when you need it. “You’re important to me,” he tells you one night, his hand resting on your hip as you lay together in bed. “And I will never let you go through this alone.” With Erik by your side, you feel safe, knowing that he’ll always be there to help you through the pain.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

- Wanda has always been deeply attuned to emotions, both hers and yours. She’s someone who understands pain and struggle, having lived through so much herself, but you’ve never wanted to weigh her down with your own chronic hip pain. It’s been a part of your life for years, something you’ve learned to manage on your own, and though it’s frustrating at times, it’s never felt like something worth sharing with Wanda—until the day you’re on a mission together, and everything changes.

- The mission is intense, filled with chaos and danger, and you’re doing your best to keep up. But in the middle of a fight, as you dodge an attack, your hip slips out of place with a sharp, searing pain. You bite back a gasp, quickly ducking behind cover as you try to pop your hip back in without drawing attention. But before you can even try, you feel a gentle pulse of energy wrap around you. Wanda’s magic—red and warm—flows over you, and you know she’s sensed something is wrong.

- “What’s happening?” Wanda’s voice echoes in your mind, her concern immediately apparent. You don’t want to distract her from the battle, but you can’t hide the truth. You explain quickly, telling her about your chronic hip pain and how you’ve been dealing with it alone. Wanda doesn’t hesitate. In an instant, she teleports to your side, her eyes glowing with a fierce, protective light. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, her voice filled with worry, but there’s no anger in her tone, only concern.

- Wanda helps you through the pain, using her magic to gently ease your hip back into place. Her touch is soft, her presence comforting, and in that moment, you realize just how much you’ve been holding back from her. After the mission, Wanda makes it clear that you don’t have to deal with your pain alone anymore. She starts using her magic to help manage your hip, casting healing spells and creating charms to keep the pain at bay. “You’re not a burden,” she tells you one evening as you sit together, her hand resting on your hip. “We’re in this together. Always.”

- With Wanda’s support, you feel a weight lifted off your shoulders. She never lets you feel like a burden, and her love for you is unwavering. Whenever the pain flares up, Wanda is there, using her magic to make it easier for you. She becomes your constant source of strength, and with her by your side, you feel like you can handle anything. “You don’t have to hide your pain from me,” she says softly one night, her fingers gently tracing your skin. “I’ll always be here to help you, no matter what.”

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

- Being with Pietro is like living in a whirlwind. He’s always moving, always full of energy, and you love the excitement he brings into your life. But that same energy is part of the reason you’ve never told him about your chronic hip pain. You didn’t want to slow him down, didn’t want him to feel like he had to adjust his pace for you. You’ve been handling the pain on your own for years, and it’s never been an issue—until the day your hip gives out during a mission.

- You’re both in the middle of a high-speed chase, running through the city as you try to outmaneuver your enemies. Pietro’s a blur of silver and blue, darting ahead while you do your best to keep up. But as you leap over a barrier, your hip slips out of place, sending a sharp pain shooting through your leg. You stumble, biting back a cry as you duck behind cover, trying to pop your hip back in as quickly as possible. You don’t want Pietro to notice, but of course, he’s already there in an instant.

- “What’s wrong?” Pietro’s voice is sharp with concern, and before you can even answer, he’s crouching beside you, his blue eyes scanning you for injuries. You try to brush it off, but Pietro’s not having it. “Tell me what’s going on,” he insists, his voice softer now but still filled with worry. Reluctantly, you explain about your chronic hip pain, how you’ve been dealing with it yourself because you didn’t want to bother him. Pietro’s expression shifts, and for a moment, he looks hurt. “You think I wouldn’t want to know?” he asks quietly.

- From that moment on, Pietro refuses to let you suffer in silence. He’s always checking in on you, making sure you’re comfortable and never pushing you too hard. He even slows down for you when he needs to, never making you feel like you’re holding him back. “You’re not a burden,” he tells you firmly one day as you sit together, his arm wrapped around your waist. “I’d rather be at your pace than leave you behind.”

- Pietro’s love for you is as fast and fierce as everything else he does, and he makes sure you never have to handle your pain alone again. Whether it’s carrying you when your hip is acting up or making sure you have a comfortable place to rest, he’s always by your side. “You’re everything to me,” he says one night as he presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “And I’ll always take care of you, no matter how fast or slow we have to go.”

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

- Jean is the most intuitive person you’ve ever known, her empathy so strong that it’s almost impossible to hide anything from her. But you’ve managed to keep your chronic hip pain a secret, not because you don’t trust her, but because you didn’t want to worry her. Jean has so much on her plate, with her powers and the constant responsibilities of being an X-Man. You’ve always handled your hip pain on your own, and it never seemed like something worth burdening her with—until one day, when you’re on a mission together, and it becomes impossible to hide.

- The mission is going well, but as you leap from a ledge, your hip slips out of place with a sharp, sudden pain. You try to hide it, biting your lip as you duck behind cover, quickly attempting to pop your hip back into place. But you can feel Jean’s presence in your mind before you can even move. Her concern washes over you, her mental voice soft but urgent. Are you okay? You sigh, knowing there’s no hiding it from her now. “I’m fine, Jean,” you say out loud, but she’s already at your side, her eyes full of worry.

- “You’re not fine,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. Jean listens quietly as you explain your chronic hip pain, how it’s been an issue for years, and how you’ve been managing it on your own. She frowns, her brows knitting together as she processes what you’re telling her. “You should have told me,” she says softly, her hand resting on your arm. “I could have helped you.” There’s no anger in her voice, only concern and a deep, unwavering love. You feel her empathy wrapping around you like a warm blanket, soothing your fears and making you realize that you don’t have to carry this burden alone.

- From that moment on, Jean makes sure you never have to deal with your hip pain in silence. She’s always checking in on you, using her telepathy to gently monitor how you’re feeling without being intrusive. She even starts researching ways to help manage the pain, from physical therapy exercises to mental techniques for pain management. “We’ll figure this out together,” she tells you one day as you sit together, her hand resting on your hip. “You don’t have to go through this alone anymore.”

- Jean is endlessly supportive, both mentally and physically. Whenever your hip starts acting up, she’s there, offering to help you realign it or using her telekinesis to make the process less painful. Her empathy and care make you feel cherished, and she never makes you feel like a burden. “You’re my partner,” she says one evening as you lay together, her fingers gently tracing circles on your skin. “And that means we share everything—the good and the bad. I’m here for you, always.” With Jean by your side, you know that you’ll never have to face your pain alone again.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

- Wade is anything but conventional, and that’s one of the things you love most about him. He’s chaotic, loud, and completely unpredictable, but he’s also fiercely protective of you. You’ve never wanted to burden him with your chronic hip pain, though. He already has enough on his plate, what with his healing factor and constant battle scars. Your hip pain seems so small compared to everything he deals with, so you’ve been managing it on your own—until one day, when Wade finds out in the most Wade way possible.

- You’re both in the middle of a mission, and things are going as well as they ever do when you’re working with Deadpool, which is to say: absolute chaos. Wade is cracking jokes, slicing through enemies, and generally causing mayhem, while you’re doing your best to stay focused. But then, as you dive to avoid an explosion, your hip slips out of place with a painful pop. You grit your teeth, ducking behind cover to pop it back in, hoping Wade doesn’t notice. Unfortunately, he does.

- “Babe! What the hell was that?” Wade’s voice comes over the comms, full of concern, and before you can even respond, he’s next to you, his mask tilted as if he’s trying to get a better look at you. “Did your hip just do the thing? You didn’t tell me you had a thing!” You sigh, knowing there’s no avoiding the conversation now. You explain about your chronic hip pain, how it’s been an issue for years, and how you’ve been handling it yourself because you didn’t want to bother him. Wade stares at you for a moment before letting out a dramatic gasp. “Bother me? Babe, I literally regrow limbs. I think I can handle a little hip action.”

- From that moment on, Wade makes it his personal mission to make sure you never have to deal with your hip pain alone. He turns it into a running joke, calling himself your “personal hip specialist” and constantly offering to “massage your beautiful, badass hip.” But beneath the jokes, Wade is genuinely concerned for you, and he takes your pain seriously. He starts carrying you around whenever your hip acts up, always cracking jokes to make you laugh, but you can tell he’s keeping an eye on you, making sure you’re okay.

- “You’re my hot, kickass partner,” Wade says one night as you both relax at home, his head resting on your lap. “And if you think for one second that I wouldn’t want to help you with this, you’re crazy. I mean, crazier than me, and that’s saying something.” Wade’s love may be unconventional, but it’s fierce and unwavering, and he makes sure you never feel like a burden. Whenever your hip pain flares up, Wade is there with a joke and a helping hand, making you feel cherished and cared for, no matter what.

Rogue (Anna Marie)

- Rogue has always been cautious with you, careful not to hurt you with her powers. She’s your fiercely protective Southern belle, and you love her for that. But when it comes to your chronic hip pain, you’ve kept it to yourself. You never wanted her to feel like she had to take care of you when she already deals with so much of her own struggles. You’ve gotten used to quietly popping your hip back in place when needed, but it’s something you don’t plan on letting her see—until one mission changes everything.

- You’re both out in the field, dealing with a group of rogue Sentinels. The battle is intense, and you’re focused, trying to keep up with Rogue’s flying acrobatics. But as you leap out of the way of one of the robot’s attacks, your hip slips out of place with a sharp, agonizing pain. You stumble behind some rubble, gritting your teeth as you try to pop it back into place. Unfortunately, Rogue sees the whole thing.

- “Sugar, what’s goin’ on?” she asks, her voice filled with concern as she hovers above you. She lands beside you, reaching out as if to help, but stops herself, her gloved hands hovering just inches from your arm. You hesitate, not wanting to burden her, but the worry in her green eyes convinces you to tell the truth. You explain your chronic hip pain and how you’ve been dealing with it yourself because you didn’t want her to worry. Rogue listens carefully, her brow furrowed, and when you finish, she lets out a long sigh.

- “You think Ah wouldn’t wanna know somethin’ like that?” she asks softly, her accent thick with emotion. “Ah love you, sugah, and if you’re hurtin’, Ah need to know. It don’t matter if it’s somethin’ you’re used to. Ah want to help.” From that moment on, Rogue makes it her mission to help you in any way she can. Whenever your hip acts up, she’s quick to offer her strength—lifting you, carrying you, or even just sitting with you until the pain passes. She makes sure you know that you’re never a burden to her.

- Rogue’s love is as strong as she is, and she refuses to let you face your pain alone. She’s always there, whether it’s helping you get comfortable or making sure you have a supportive cushion to sit on. “You’re mah heart,” she whispers one night as she gently rests her head against yours, her gloved hand resting on your hip. “Ah’ll take care of you, just like you take care of me.”

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sweetpumpkinpieinwithcoffee · 2 months ago

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Beginning, Middle and Everything Else (Part.1)

Gif is from Pinterest, if you own it please tell me so I can properly credit you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: There is something wrong with Bucky's manners around you. Something really weird is at play and you can't yet put your finger on it. Unless...

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: humor, fluff, light language, idiot in love A/N: Hello, I've decided to try writing fanfic again and since I was watching CAWS I automatically thought about a little Bucky x Y/N fic. I think it will be in three part and nothing more since it is me going back to writing. Please, ignore the mispelling as English isn't my first language and I haven't wrote in it in a VERY long time. Part.2 and Part.3 are now available. Enjoy 🥹

At first, it was really nothing. A brush of hand while bumping into the hallway. A glance that linger while giving her her cup of coffee in the morning. A door he was making a point to keep open just for her when arriving at the compound. Really, nothing very outrageously out of the ordinary.

She had joined the Avengers a year ago and wasstill the newbie, even if Peter and Yelena were technically younger both in age and in training but to the team she was still the newbie. It was fine, she could make it work. Everyone in the team was friendly enough and, her being a social butterfly she could fit pretty much everywhere.

Combat training in the morning with Natasha? Sure. Cooking lesson with Wanda and Vision? No problem. Taking Lucky out with Yelena and Kate? They would have never went without her. Even doing administrative work was fine as long as Steve was with her to crack some 50s jokes.

And then, there was Bucky.

While she was a social butterfly, Bucky was quite the opposite. At first, she even thought he straight forward hated her. He would act weird around the girl, staying on the side of everything, not answering to her messages in the Avengers’s group chat. It went to a point where Steve had to said something to make things better. Sam was there too, to crack some jokes. Y/N had felt like a teenager called in the principal’s office for doing something wrong. There she wase, the four of them waiting for Steve to give a pep talk. She should have never been involved in this conversation.

« Clearly, something happened and now we have a problem . » Said the blond man while crossing his arms. « Care to give us an explanation? »

She looked at him, clearly surprised to be addressed. « I wasn’t talking to you Y/N. It was for Bucky.»

« Nothing happened. »

« Yeah clearly. » She mumbled.

« Y/N. » Warned Steve. « Let him speak. »

« I just did. » Said the former Winter Soldier while scolding his lifelong friend.

« What I hear is that you just decided to make the new one uncomfortable just for fun. » Joked Sam.

« If I did I apologize, it wasn’t intotional. »

« You forgot to pick my order on pizza night and almost shot me during our last session. »

« I was distracted. »

« I saw you shot right into the middle of a dummy while blindfolded Barnes. »

« She got a point man. What’s happening? » Asked Steve.

« Nothing. »

There was a long silence in the office. Bucky being stubborn wasn’t something new. Bucky being stubborn with Steve on the other hand was.

« Alright, everybody out. » Finally said Cap.

Bucky needed less to get the Hell out of it. Practically running. That made Sam laugh a little bit.

« Don’t know what you did to him but I’m sure as Hell you need to tell me. Never saw this man this distraught. »

« Shut up Wilson. »

And everything went back to normal. Bucky being weird around her and the rest of the team treating it like it was the funniest joke ever.

————————————————————————————

She wasn't sure when it happened but something went wrong during their mission and everything went to Hell. First, she got caught by a guard, then Y/N got shot, right in her right shoulder.

Impossible for her to continue on. And to be perfectly honest she was in such a bad position that she wasn't even able to stand up to get under cover.

Luckily, she wasn't alone in the HYDRA facility.

While laying on the ground, pretty sure death was the next thing she would welcome, a series of weird event happened. The lights were shut off, making Y/N blind, a variety of mechanical sounds resonated around the room and finally multiple sounds of people falling followed. Her breath was ragged. First because of the pain, secondly because of the stress she was under. Was she the next one? What was happening?

Then, she felt it. The lingering presence. It was his sent though that informed you of him standing there.

« If you find your joke funny Barnes I swear… »

« Are you alright? » It was the tone of his voice that alarmed her. He seemed pained, worried. Nothing like his natural state.

« I’ll live. Nothing Strange can’t arrange. Mean scar though. »

« Can you walk? Or even stand? » She could now feel his presence all around her. He must have been close by the sound of his voice and of his combat boots.

« Can’t do. Shoulder is pretty messed up. Got beaten in the legs. Wanna help … »

She couldn’t finish her sentence before being lifted up as if she weighed nothing. Gear included.

« Fuck Barnes, you could have given me the warns up. »

« Y/L/N is hurt. Bringing her back to the helicarrier. » Shot the man through his communicator.

« You should finish the mission first. »

« Can’t do. » He only answered while straightening his hold on her. « Need a medic asap. She is losing blood. Natasha’s style in Boston. »

« If I remember correctly you were the one who made me bled in Boston. » Shoot the redhead through the earpiece. « Bring her in, we are sending the others after you. »

She last saw Bucky Barnes when he gently put her on the medical bed. While half conscious after losing a lot of blood, she didn’t took the time to correctly thanked him.

When she woke up, she was alone. But someone had left sunflowers next to her bed. And her traditional pizza order was in a container.

————————————————————————————

Being the injured one in the Avengers’s Tower really sucked. It meant being on watch duty for every mission. Meaning having to stay back. She'd rather ripped her arm than accepted this fate. So instead, she decided to take a break and was just staying out of the missions completely.

She went back to her old hobbies while the others were out. Mostly, she was watching old classic movies when Steve wasn’t on duty’s call (only to help him catch up with pop culture), jogging with Sam (who was more than happy to not have a super soldier to compete with) or cooking with Yelena.

She was trying to make cookies when she bumped with Bucky for the first time after the failed mission.

The man was clearly out of sleep and beaten. He hadn’t shaved in quite some time and looked like he had been to Hell and back.

« Hey man. Want some cookies? » Asked Yelena.

« Are they gluten free? » He asked while dropping his duffle bag on the kitchen counter. He was clearly hoping they were not considering the last time they tried a gluten free recipe no one had wanted to even finish a bite.

« No way. We only used the good stuff. Here, catch. »

The small biscuit flew through the air and was caught gently by a metallic hand. Y/A was truly amazed and considering how the mechanical thing was working so it didn’t crush it.

And then, it happened for the first time. Or rather, she caught it for the first time. The glance. The way Bucky was looking at her above the cookie. The way his eyes were following the line of her body resting against the fridge. Man, it was like if he was printing the picture in his mind.

« Something wrong? » She asked while checking her clothes for any trace of flour or butter.

« No. Sorry. Gotta go. » Without a glance back, the soldier took his bag and disappeared into the hallway deserving some of the bedrooms.

« Have I done something wrong? » She asked Yelena who seemed as surprised as the girl was.

« No… I think, I think it’s not that. »

« Then what? »

« Probably nothing. I can be wrong. Anyway. Time for batch number two. »

And just like that, the subject was changed.

————————————————————————————

Bucky was fucked. Clearly and irrevocably fucked. He knew it, Sam knew it and Steve knew it. And if they already knew then it meant Nat wasn’t far knowing the truth. And if she knew, Yelena would soon know. And if that was the case then Y/A would be the next to know and Bucky really didn’t want that to happen.

« Shit. Shit. Shit »

« Language. » Said a voice from the couch in the living-room where Bucky had looked for some privacy. Except, looking for privacy in this tower was as easy as finding a specific needle in a pile of regular needles. « Y/N I presume? »

« She baked cookies with Yelena. »

« And ? » asked Steve from his sitting position.

« She smelled like cookie. »

« I bet Yelena smelled like cookies too. »

« It’s not the same. You know it. »

« Ah. He says it’s not the same. » That time, it was Sam coming from the gym. « Dare I ask if we have drop the subject or is it the same one? »

« Same one. » Answered Steve who made some place on the couch next to him to let Sam sit.

« So she made cookies. Big deal. »

« She is still injured. She should rest. »

« She beat my ass the other day and I can assure you the girl is fine. »

« What if she hadn’t cicatrize well enough? »

« And what if the Earth stopped turning suddenly? Strange is the best doctor. You know it Buck. »

« The girl is fine and she is not made of glass Winter Princess. »

« Don’t call me that. »

« The point is, she is fine. Go talk to her. »

« Does she knows about the flowers? »

« Well she did get them. »

« And you told her it was from you? »

There was a silence. A tense and long one.

« You didn’t tell her didn’t you? »

« No. »

That got a bark of laughters from Sam. « Please do tell me how this man has been a menace for society for more than seventy years, is more than an hundred years old and still doesn’t know how to talk to his fucking crush. »

« And to be honest he was really good at it back in the days. »

« Or you were shit at it. »

« Shut up old prick. »

Bucky watched his two best friends bickering around for a few minutes before taking the last spot available on the couch. Taking his head in his hands he started to breathe slowly.

He was so fucked.

Truth is, he had never planned to develop a crush on Y/N. But again, when did you really plan those kind of stuff? The first time he met her, he had just froze on the spot. Her bright eyes, bright smile and warm energy had just caught him off guard. Even more her kindness toward everyone. And him being so out of himself had just developed a weird habit of being a prick around the woman. When all he wanted was to be with her.

That mission should never have gone the way it did. First of all, she wasn't supposed to be here. But Peter was sick and she had stepped in. But everything had been planned according to Peter’s abilities and specific skills, not hers and when everything went to shit Bucky couldn’t move quick enough to protect his colleague and crush. He had to watch her getting shot and beaten long enough before he was able to step in and finally put an end to her torture. He could see how distraught she was, how she was trying to hold her tears. Worst, he could sense how panicked she was to be found by him. HE had felt guilty for not having been quick enough. Guilty of scaring her.

That was when he had to remember that stupid day in Steve’s office. Truth be told, he hadn’t thought and just went straight to her favorite place and grabbed the same order she had placed months ago. Then he had picked the first flowers that had remind him of her. Sunflowers. He had left everything for her awakening. Chickening too much to then reveal himself.

Instead, he was now back in his original place. Watching her from afar, longing for only for her.

He was fucked.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fandom #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #tfatws #james buchanan barnes #falcon and the winterr soldier #marvel mcu #mcu x reader #mcu x you #mcu x y/n #the winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader

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krillmea · 3 months ago

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There is something about how Frank doesn't want to be called or seen as a victim and how Karen is consistently a victim but never stops fighting.

Seeing her go up against Fisk in season 3 despite numerous attempts on her life and threats to drop the issue she got involved in, telling Fisk how Wesley deserved more bullets than she gave him said with such righteous anger was perfection.

They tried to threaten her, murder her, buy her off but she never stopped chasing. Hell, they want to hide their dealings, murders, drugs and corruption? She did not stay quiet but turned into a reporter to shout it from the rooftops.

They made her a victim of injustice and she made them her target.

You all were right, if Karen Page was in the same city as Wilson Fisk in daredevil born again, she WOULD hunt him for sport.

I believe Frank sees all this in her and that is why he loves her. She too is a perfect punisher.

#I love her and I love her even more rewatching the show #she is the last victim you will ever make and I respect her for it #step up frank 👏#you can do better in ddba #daredevil #daredevil born again #ddba #daredevil spoilers #karen page #frank castle #kastle #wilson fisk #kingpin

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dameronspector · 2 months ago

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How Sam reacts to you doing house chores when you are pregnant

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Pregnant!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Sam and Reader are married, Mentions of pregnancy related stuff like cravings, belly bumps, doctors visits, joint pain, etc. that’s all I think.

AN: i saw a video on this and I was like I NEED to write this w Sam

“Woman!”

You jumped and dropped the mug which was luckily caught by Sam’s quick reflexes.

“What the hell, Sam! I told you not to sneak up on me like that!”, you scolded him.

“And I told you not to do shit around the house! Whatever happened to relaxing on the couch and calling me for help?”, he scolded you back, his face twisted in an incredulous expression.

You rolled your eyes.

“Sam, I’m pregnant. Not bed ridden. I can make myself a cup of tea”, you groaned.

As soon as he had discovered that your baby bump had popped out, he had turned into a helicopter parent. Always following you around the house to make sure you didn’t do anything “stressful”. Not that he wasn’t overprotective right from the moment you found out that you’re pregnant. But now that he could see it, he wanted you to stay seated and order him around (his words, not yours.)

Whenever he was away, he would drop you off at Sarah’s or call her over and he would ask her to keep an eye on you. You loved spending time with Sarah because she had all the experience and she would give you some important tips and cooked amazing food, satisfying your cravings.

If Sarah was busy, he would put Bucky on the job and honestly, he was just as bad because he had no clue what to do so he would treat you like you were the baby. You had banned him from putting Joaquin on the job because he’s a child himself and it makes you feel like you’re geriatric. Plus, you were not going to traumatise him with your unpredictable mood swings.

You were now in your 6th month and your bump was pretty big. Which means that Sam had put you on the bench for every little thing. It was endearing but also annoying because you loved to be independent.

“You’re 6 months pregnant, babe. You can barely walk without your back hurting. I don’t want you to put stress on your back or your bump”, he told you and put his arms around your shoulders to move you away from the counter. He squeezed your shoulders and began preparing your tea.

You sauntered over to him with a hand supporting your belly and leaned on his shoulder, murmuring a “You’re lucky you’re cute, Wilson”, into it before pressing a kiss on the same spot.

He let out his cheerful laugh and turned his head to kiss your temple.

You and Sam had just finished your dinner and you helped him carry the plates to the kitchen. He had not stopped you so far so you decided to push your luck.

You were about to put your plate down in the sink and turn on the faucet, when a hand turned it off and took your plate out of your hands.

“Nuh-uh. You’re out. Go sit on the couch”, he told you firmly.

You gave him your best puppy dog eyes and pouted at him.

“Please? Just this once-”

“Baby, no. It’s gonna put pressure on your belly and your legs. The little tyke is not the size of a bean anymore”, he explained before lovingly rubbing a palm over your belly.

You jutted your lower lip out and he looked at you fondly before kissing it with an audible ‘smooch’.

“Go sit down, honey. I’ll bring you the dessert. What you craving for today? We got the chocolate cake and the ice cream sundae.”

You fell for the bribe and immediately forgot about the dishes. You hummed thoughtfully and pursed your lips.

“How about both?”

Sam flashed his pretty gap-toothed smile.

“I like how you think, Wilson.”

You gave him a sweet smile and kissed him before waddling back to the living room.

You were bored out of your mind. You woke up feeling extra tired today and it must’ve been written all over your face because Sam had immediately told you to, ‘sit pretty and tell me what to do’.

But it’s been hours since you woke up and did nothing productive. You tried reading a book but you couldn’t get comfortable enough so you closed the book with a huff of frustration. You decided to take a walk around the house and you noticed that the laundry was yet to be done.

So you quietly picked up the clothes, put it into a basket and carried it to the laundry room. Sam was making lunch for you two so you hoped he’d be busy enough to not pay attention to you.

You started the washing machine and began putting the clothes in. Just as you were about to bend to pick up a shirt-

“Oh my god, what are you doing?!”

Sam.

You let out a deep sigh.

He rushed over to take away the shirt from your hands and steadied you with a hand on your back and his free hand holding one of yours. His face was twisted in panic.

“What were you doing? I told you to call me if you need anything. Just go and sit-”

“Yes! I know! I know you told me to let you know if I needed anything but, Sam! I’m bored. I’m so bored. I need to do something productive. Sitting and doing nothing for hours is making me more irritated and makes my body hurt. I need to move! Please, let me do this”, you whined in irritation and felt your eyes prick with tears.

Sam’s face softened as soon as he saw your tears and he hugged you, your belly pressing into his gently. He rubbed your back with a hand and held your head close with the other.

“I’m sorry, baby. But, doc has told us not to bend at the waist, yeah? What if you end up hurting your back? Or your knees? Your centrifugal force is kinda off right now with the baby”, he explains to you calmly and runs his hand through your hair.

You sniffled.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just need to do something. Anything. Can I help you with the lunch, atleast?”

He kissed your head and leaned his cheek on it before humming.

“Well, lunch is almost done. How about we go on a walk after that? We’ll get some ice cream and when we get back home, you can help me dry the dishes, how about that?”

You closed your eyes and buried your head in his neck.

“Yeah, okay”, you replied with a shaky voice and hugged him tighter.

The two of you were quiet for a moment before you let out a giggle.

“What’s so funny, baby?”

“Centrifugal force? Since when do you have that in your vocabulary?”

He huffed over your head and poked your belly gently.

“Ha ha, very funny. I read!”

“Oh I’m sure, Sammy”, you broke into a fit of giggles.

“Shut up!”

AN: he’s so cute 💔 need to have his babies

#sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson x pregnant!reader #husband!sam wilson #marvel cinematic universe #sam wilson #captain america brave new world #fluff #marvel #dad!sam wilson x mom!reader

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loverstrings · 1 month ago

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Something Like Home - Bucky Barnes x F!Reader | Platonic!Sam Wilson x F!Reader

In the sun-soaked calm of Delacroix, Louisiana, the world slows down for once—giving Sam, Bucky, and Y/N a moment to breathe. As Sam trains with the shield that now bears the weight of legacy, Y/N brings levity and light, her telekinetic powers flickering like fireflies in the Southern dusk. Between laughter, shield tossing, and quiet porch conversations, bonds are strengthened and love quietly blooms.

a.n - i was at work thinking about writing this LMAOOO but im happy with how it turned out. its so cute and fluff that it physical makes my heart melt. ooo project spindle edits have been made and will get posted tomorrow!! im so excited for you guys to read the next chapter!

| can be read as a standalone or apart of project spindle |

The shield gleamed in the golden light of Louisiana.

It had been days since the confrontation. Days since John Walker had been stripped of the title and the weight of it passed—finally, rightfully—to Sam.

Now, it rested against a weathered wooden railing on the Wilson family dock, catching bits of light off the water. Sam stood beside it, sweat on his brow, muscles taut from training. Y/N sat cross-legged on an overturned cooler, sipping from a bottle of water and watching with a grin that only grew each time he missed a catch.

“I think the shield’s mad at you,” she said with a lazy smirk.

“Oh yeah?” Sam caught it mid-flight this time, turning with practiced grace. “Think you could do better?”

“I know I could.”

He arched a brow, playful challenge blooming across his face. “One rule,” he said, holding up a finger. “No powers. You use that pink sparkle magic, you're disqualified.”

Y/N stood, rolling her shoulders with exaggerated drama. “Fine. No powers. Just raw talent and pent-up aggression.”

Bucky snorted from where he leaned against the railing, arms crossed and clearly enjoying himself. “This should be good.”

Sam stepped aside, holding the shield out to her like an offering. “Go on, then. Impress me.”

She took it, feeling the surprising weight, letting it settle in her grip. “Okay,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “Easy. Death frisbee. Nothing fancy.” Bucky said with a grin.

Y/N inhaled, planted her feet, and with one clean movement, flung it. The shield arced through the air perfectly—slicing across the open yard, hitting a tree trunk with a satisfying clang, and bouncing back cleanly.

She caught it on reflex, though the impact nearly knocked her on her ass. “Holy shit,” Y/N breathed, eyes wide.

Sam blinked. “...What the hell.”

“Told you,” Y/N said, panting a little, a smug grin stretching across her face.

“You cheated.”

“Did not.” She held out her hands dramatically. “Not a flicker.”

Bucky tilted his head. “I’ve never seen Sam look so betrayed.”

Sam was already walking toward her, mock horror written all over his face. “Alright, alright—new rule: No secret assassin training while I wasn’t looking.”

She giggled, clutching the shield to her chest. “I didn’t train. I’m just better than you.”

“You’re infuriating,” he said, taking it back from her, trying not to smile.

“You love it.”

Sam gave her a look, then passed the shield to Bucky. “Okay, Barnes. Your turn. Let’s see if you can beat Sparkle Fingers.”

Y/N groaned. “That’s not going to stick.”

“It absolutely is,” Bucky said, already winding up for a throw. “You just made it worse.”

They stayed like that for the rest of the afternoon—laughing, ribbing each other, tossing the shield around like it hadn’t just been a symbol of war and loss. For once, it felt like something else. Something hopeful.

The next morning came slow and warm.

By the time the sun was high again over Delacroix, the air had thickened with bayou heat, the kind that made the wood of the Wilson family boat steam where it met the water. Mornings bled into afternoons with the steady thud of tools—hammers tapping, wrenches clanking, old rusted bolts groaning their last under Sam’s determined grip.

And laughter. It was always louder with her around.

Y/N stood near the stern of the boat, sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back messily, a streak of oil on her cheek. She was attempting—badly—to loosen a corroded panel, muttering curses under her breath when Sarah walked up behind her with a grin.

“You planning to sweet talk that thing loose or what?” Sarah teased.

Y/N jumped, then grinned back. “Hey, I was just about to get it.”

“Oh, I bet,” Sarah said, arms crossed. “You’re cute with all that fake confidence. Come on—I need backup. The vendor brought the wrong parts again and I need someone with a terrifying death glare.”

“I’m honored,” Y/N deadpanned, mock bowing.

She wiped her hands, tossed a wink over her shoulder at the boys, and let Sarah drag her down the dock. Sam raised an eyebrow as he watched them go.

“She likes her,” Bucky said, nudging a loose nail with the toe of his boot.

Sam squinted at him. “Sarah?”

“Y/N.”

“Oh, I know Y/N likes Sarah. But the real question is—” He dropped the wrench and leaned back against the hull of the boat, arms folded. “What’s your deal?”

Bucky blinked.

Sam smirked. “You and Y/N. Are we pretending you’re not already halfway in love with her? ‘Cause I’ve seen the way you look at her like she might vanish if you blink too long.”

Bucky paused for a beat, eyes fixed somewhere distant, toward the path Y/N had just taken.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said finally. “But yeah. I think I’m ready to try. With her.”

Sam tilted his head. “And does she know that?”

“She will.” Bucky scratched the back of his neck. “Just need to make sure I’m... not dragging her into something broken.”

“She already knows you’re broken,” Sam said. “We all are, man. But she keeps showing up. She’s not afraid of the mess.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said quietly. “She never was.”

They worked in silence for a few more minutes, the creak of the dock and the slap of water against the shore filling the space. Then:

“I’ll say this,” Sam added. “She’s been through enough. If you’re gonna be serious, be serious. She deserves that.”

Bucky nodded. “She’s getting all of me.”

“Good,” Sam said, handing him a wrench. “Because if you screw this up, Sarah’s the least of your worries.”

Just then, laughter rang out again—Y/N and Sarah returning, carrying a toolbox and a sack of parts. Sarah was smirking. Y/N had that telltale pink shimmer on her fingertips, barely noticeable.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Did you use your powers to get a discount?”

“Depends,” Y/N said, hopping up onto the dock. “You want the good news or the illegal news?”

Bucky grinned, catching her hand as she passed by him. She smiled at the contact—fingers brushing for just a moment too long.

And Sam? He just shook his head and muttered, “Lord help me, they’re so in love.”

That night, the Wilson household was alive with the soft chaos of dinner—dishes being passed, glasses clinking, laughter cutting through stories. The air smelled like spice and salt, like gumbo simmering in the kitchen and the marsh breeze rolling in through open windows.

“Okay, okay—but wait,” AJ interrupted, halfway standing in his chair. “Uncle Sam says you can fly, but I didn’t see any wings. Do you have wings like him?”

Y/N chuckled, resting her elbow on the table and leaning her chin into her palm. “No wings, kiddo. That’s all Sam. I’m a little more… glowy.”

“Glowy?” Cass piped up, wide eyed. “Like, sparkles?”

“Like fireflies?” AJ asked, visibly vibrating with excitement.

“Like this,” she said, and lifted her hand.

It started slow—a soft, warm pink mist gathering in her palm, coalescing into threads of light that danced upward like tiny ribbons. They shimmered gently in the air, humming with something ancient yet tender, until they formed a swirling little sphere that floated above the table, pulsing like a heartbeat.

Both boys gasped. Sarah froze mid-sip of sweet tea, her expression somewhere between impressed and “oh lord, not at the table.”

“It’s not dangerous,” Y/N said quickly, giving Sarah a sheepish grin. “Just... pretty.”

“Can I touch it?” Cass whispered.

“It won’t hurt,” she said, guiding the orb closer. Cass reached out, and it brushed against his fingertips like warm velvet before vanishing into a burst of glittery sparks.

“WHOA!” the boys shouted in unison.

Bucky leaned back in his chair with a lazy grin. “She didn’t show me that until, like, our fifth mission.”

“Fifth?” Sam scoffed from the head of the table. “You mean after she threw a Hydra agent through a cement wall.”

“Oh, don’t tell the kids that,” Sarah scolded.

Y/N smirked. “Fine, I’ll keep it PG. Only sparkles and floating fruit.”

As if to prove her point, she flicked her fingers and made a single grape rise from the bowl near Sam, floating it across the table like a tiny UFO before gently landing it in AJ’s mouth.

He cheered. “Best. Dinner. EVER.”

Cass was already halfway out of his chair again. “Do you do that when you fight bad guys? Do you make them eat fruit?”

Bucky nearly choked on his cornbread.

“She does a lot more than that,” he said, laughing. “But only if they’re really bad.”

“Are you two superheroes?” Cass asked suddenly, his gaze flitting between them with something like awe.

Y/N’s smile softened. “We try to be good people. That’s what matters most.”

Later, as the dishes were cleared and the sky darkened to a soft velvet, the porch swing creaked gently under Y/N and Bucky. The boys were still wide awake inside, retelling the “sparkle magic” story for the fifth time while Sarah rolled her eyes and quietly smiled.

“You’re good with them,” Bucky murmured, watching her face under the porch light.

“I like them,” she said, pulling her knees up and resting her head on his shoulder. “They’re loud, but honest. You can’t fake it with kids.”

He reached for her hand, gently rubbing his thumb across the inside of her wrist where that pink glow still lingered.

“You scared of them seeing who you really are?” he asked.

“I used to be,” she admitted. “But tonight felt... right.”

He was quiet for a second. Then he pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered, “You are magic, sweetheart. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

She smiled, her eyes already on him.

“You ever think about it?” he asked.

Y/N tilted her head. “Think about what?”

“Settling down,” he said. His voice wasn’t unsure, but there was a vulnerability in it—one that only surfaced when the world was quiet and his defenses slipped. “Stopping the running, the missions, the war.”

She let out a quiet breath, her fingers brushing along the edge of the swing’s armrest. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “I never used to. I didn’t think I’d get the chance. But now... maybe. With the right person.”

She turned, looking him fully in the face now. Her eyes, glowing faintly from the residual energy of her powers, locked with his.

“What about you?” she asked. “Will you ever settle?”

Bucky didn’t hesitate. Not this time.

“With you,” he said, his voice steady and low. “’Till the end of the line.”

Her breath hitched.

That phrase—so simple, so familiar—held the weight of decades. Of loss, survival, and choosing someone, again and again.

Y/N reached for his hand, interlocking their fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was. The porch light above flickered once, like even the house was holding its breath for them.

“Guess that makes two of us,” she whispered.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #marvel masterlist #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluff

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yuta-nakamots · 3 days ago

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Buck Off - B.Barnes

Pairing - TFATWS Bucky x C.I.A. Agent!Female Reader

Genre - Fluff, Action

Warnings - featuring Sharon Carter and Sam Wilson, canon typical violence, John Walker negativity, slight canon divergence (i haven’t fully watched TFATWS)

Summary - When you follow Sharon Carter into the shadows of Madripoor, you break every rule you were trained to follow. You’re not a soldier, not a spy, but somehow you end up standing beside them anyway, navigating secrets, snark, and the slow-burn of gravity towards Bucky Barnes.

Word Count - 3.5k

Author’s Note - I can’t believe I wrote all of this just because I wanted to tell Bucky to buck off. Here's to my longest work for Bucky yet

Now Playing: Love At First Fight - LANY

You used to work in a glass building with clean desks, badge scanners, and coffee that tastes like burnt-out optimism. Now? You work in Madripoor, where the streets never sleep and the air smells like sweat, sea salt, and secrets.

Your official title is ‘Logistics Consultant’, but unofficially, your role is to do whatever Sharon Carter needs you to do without asking too many questions. That was the unspoken rule around here. Don’t ask, don’t look, don’t get involved.

But lately, Sharon’s been disappearing for hours, sometimes days on end, coming back looking like hell and brushing it off with lines like, “you should see the other guy.”

You try not to worry. You try to stay in your lane. But it’s hard not the notice the bruises hidden under the collar of her trench coat, or the blood she wipes off her knuckles before coming into briefings, or the way she sometimes stares off in the middle of a conversation, like she’s calculating five ways to kill someone using only the cup of coffee going cold in her hands.

It’s even harder when she won’t tell you anything. So you do what you probably shouldn’t. You snoop. Not in a spy thriller way. No hacking into mainframes or dramatic rooftop chases, just checking her badge scans, watching her body language, tracking the patterns in her absences. And when the pieces start clicking together, when you see the same coordinates pop up again and again, something shifts in your gut. Because wherever she’s going…it’s not about trade.

You follow her one night. Just once. Just to make sure she’s safe. But that’s the night everything went sideways. There was gunfire and shouting. Meanwhile, you’re hiding behind an overturned crate, praying you don’t die because you didn’t listen to the one rule: don’t get involved.

That’s the night you met him. James Buchanan Barnes. He doesn’t introduce himself, obviously–he’s a little busy tossing a Flag Smasher into a stack of shipping containers like he’s playing dodgeball with human beings. You only recognize him from photos and footage. The vibranium arm kind of gives him away. Also, the glaring. So much glaring.

You’re frozen behind a crate, heart pounding, too terrified to move, too stupid to run, which is exactly why one of the Flag Smashers spots you. You duck, but it’s too late. He’s sprinting toward you, and you’re trying to remember anything from that one self-defense course you were forced to take at the beginning of your time in the C.I.A., when someone grabs the back of your jacket and yanks you backwards like a sack of groceries.

“Stay down,” a voice growls–gritty, low, and very, very pissed.

You look up into sharp blue eyes and a scowl carved out of years of trauma. “What–”

Before you had the chance to piece words together, Bucky Barnes is already gone again, charging into the fray like a human wrecking ball. You’re left sprawled behind a wall, heart hammering in your chest, adrenaline buzzing in your fingertips.

That was how it felt to break every rule in your career in one night.

When the dust settles, Sharon finds you. She’s bleeding from her shoulder and furious in that quiet, clipped way she gets when she’s too tired to yell but too mad not to say something. “You followed me.”

“Technically, I saved you.”

Sharon scoffs, eyes flicking over you like she’s deciding whether or not to punch you. “You saved me?”

“I distracted the guy. He almost took Bucky’s head off.”

She pauses. “You know who that was?”

You roll your eyes at the question. “I’m not an idiot. Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, the arm, the serum. I connect dots for a living.”

Sharon crosses her arms. “You can’t tell anyone what you saw tonight.”

You cross yours right back. “I want in.”

Which is how you end up, two days later, standing awkwardly near a coffee machine in a makeshift safe house, wondering how you got roped into the most dysfunctional after-action report on Earth. Sam is talking with his hands. Sharon is pacing. Bucky is slouched in a chair in the corner, glaring into his cup like the liquid inside it personally insulted him.

You’re trying to mind your business. Really, you are. But something about Bucky Barnes’ silence is loud. It’s not just the brooding, it’s the judgment. You can feel it across the room, pointed directly at you like a sniper scope.

Eventually, he speaks, voice flat and cold. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

He finally looks up, expression unreadable but sharp around the edges. “You followed someone into an active op without backup, weapons, or training. You think that’s brave? It’s reckless…and stupid.”

His words hang in the air like smoke. Sharon sighs but doesn’t intervene. You set your coffee down. “I didn’t exactly have time to enroll in Avengers Academy before the bullets started flying.”

“You shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” he insists.

“I was trying to help.”

Bucky scoffs, muttering, “yeah, well, next time try helping from behind a desk.”

The burn hits. Hard. It shouldn’t, but it does. Because maybe you don’t have combat experience, or a vibranium arm, or a legacy that spans over seventy years like he does, but you do have instincts. And heart. And you’re sick of people treating you like you’re fragile just because you’re not wearing tactical gear.

So before you can stop yourself, you cross your arms and fire back. “Oh, Buck off, will you?”

The room goes still. Bucky lowers his cup slowly, his brow furrowed like he’s not sure he heard right. “Did you just–”

“Yeah,” you deadpan. “Buck. Off.”

He stares at you for a long moment, jaw working like he’s trying to decide whether to be annoyed or impressed. Then, he leans back in his chair, arms crossed, and gives you a look so unamused it might be classified as a war crime against humor. “Really? That’s what we’re doing now?”

You shrug. “You walked right into it, Buck.”

He lets out the longest, most exhausted sigh known to man, shaking his head. “I fought in a way, survived HYDRA, got blipped out of existence, and somehow, this is what I get for surviving it all.”

Sam bursts into laughter. Sharon tries to hide her smirk behind her hand. And you? You take a long, satisfied sip of your coffee. Later, when he thinks you’re not paying attention, you catch Bucky half-smiling into his cup like he’s almost forgiven you for existing.

The shift is subtle at first. You’re still technically the outsider, no super serum, no wings, no shady government past, but after a week of close quarters and several heated strategy debates, you find your rhythm. Sam calls it chaos with purpose, Sharon calls it tolerable, Bucky doesn’t call it anything, but he stops flinching every time you walk into the room, so you’ll count that as progress.

One morning over rationed protein bars and stale coffee, Sam nudges Bucky with his elbow and grins. “Still can’t believe you let her call you ‘Buck.’” Bucky’s chewing, slow and silent, but you don’t miss the way his eye twitches. Sam presses on. “I call you ‘Buck,’ you threaten to break my fingers. She calls you ‘Buck,’ and you smirk like she invented sarcasm.”

“I did not smirk,” Bucky says flatly.

You raise an eyebrow. “You kinda did.”

Sam slaps the table. “Exactly! And I’ve known this guy for years. Years!”

By the second week, you’re tagging along on recon runs. Your Madripoor connections come in handy. Grease-stained club owners, quiet couriers, shady tech dealers who trust your face more than they do a man with a metal arm. You translate coded whispers and identify subtle shifts in loyalty long before the others catch on. You’re not a soldier, but you are something else. Useful.

Bucky pretends to be annoyed. “You’re loud,” he says one afternoon, watching you bribe a bouncer for intel.

You cringe. “You’re broody.” He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t argue either.

The real turning point comes during a supply drop gone wrong. Three ambushers. Close quarters. Sam is airborne, Sharon is pinned, you and Bucky are on the ground. One attacker comes up behind him. You don’t hesitate, you pull the knife from your boot that Sharon insisted you carry just in case, and bury it in the guy’s side. Bucky spins, catching the body before it hits the ground. His eyes meet yours, wide, surprised, grateful.

“You okay?” you ask, panting.

He nods once. “Yeah.”

You barely make it back to the safe house before the arguing starts. Sam hits the ground, keeping stride with his wings still folding down as he rounds on Bucky. “You wanna explain what that was?”

Bucky doesn’t answer. He just peels off his jacket like it’s the most important task in the world.

“I saw the footage,” Sam continues, gesturing toward Redwing, who’s docked in a corner like a smug little drone. “You were this close–this close–to getting stabbed. And who bailed you out? Not me. Not Sharon. Her.”

You try to fade into the background. You’ve mastered this particular tactic. Blend into the walls, sip your water, pretend not to exist. It doesn’t work this time, though.

Sharon tosses her jacket on a crate and levels you with a look. “You carry that knife like you’ve done it before.”

You blink. “I mean, you said to keep it on me.”

“Yeah, for self-defense. Not for saving the goddamn Winter Soldier.”

“She didn’t even hesitate,” Sam adds, eyes darting between the two of you. “Like she knew he wouldn’t be watching his six.”

Bucky finally speaks, voice low. “She did well.” You look at him. He’s already looking at you.

Sharon notices, of course, she does. “Oh no,” she says under her breath, grabbing a first aid kit but not breaking eye contact with you. “Absolutely not.”

You frown. “What?”

“That,” she says, pointing vaguely between you and Bucky. “Whatever that is.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sharon hums, snapping on gloves.

Bucky sits on the edge of a crate, adjusting the bandage on his shoulder, pretending he’s above it all, but his ears are pink.

Sam snorts. “So let me get this straight, I call him ‘Buck,’ and it’s a federal offense. She stabs a guy once, and suddenly he’s a poet about her instincts?”

“Shut up,” Bucky mutters.

“You’re unbelievable,” Sam continues. “You grumbled for three days straight because of the one time she almost got herself killed following Sharon, but when she almost got herself killed saving your ass, you’re all ‘she did good’ like it’s a line from a war diary.”

“I bet he still has his war diary,” you quip.

“Not the point!” Sam interjects. “The point is, if you die, I have to deal with grumpy Barnes again, and no offense, but I like the current level of grumpy just fine.” You can’t help but smile. And so does Bucky, just barely, but you see it.

Later, when the teasing dies down and Sharon is disinfecting a graze on your arm, she says under her breath, “you like him.”

You sigh. “No.” She raises an eyebrow while dousing your wound with a little more disinfectant than necessary. “Okay, maybe,” you manage to get out while grimacing.

She doesn’t say ‘I told you so.’ She just grins smugly, knowingly. And that’s worse.

It starts with a call that cuts out mid-transmission. Sharon’s tracker goes dark fifteen minutes into a solo lead she insisted on taking. The safe house goes quiet, too quiet, as Sam scrubs Redwing’s last feed frame by frame.

“She’s gone,” he states finally, jaw tight. “They planned this.”

You and Bucky exchange a look. You’re already moving before anyone gives the order.

Madripoor is darker tonight. Meaner. You navigate back alleys and coded passphrases while Bucky stalks behind you like a shadow, silent but coiled. You know the look in his eyes. It’s the same one he wore the night you met, only sharper now, more brittle.

You’re halfway through interrogating a guard when it happens. The crowd parts just enough for you to see who’s on the opposite end of the street, flanked by two other operatives and wearing that god-awful knockoff of a symbol you no longer trust.

John Walker.

You feel Bucky freeze beside you. His breath comes out hard, his shoulders square. Every muscle in his body locks up like a loaded weapon. “Bucky,” you whisper. “Don’t.”

But it’s too late. Walker sees him and smirks. That was the match to the flame. Bucky lunges.

It takes everything you have to catch up, to push through the crowd, shouting his name, shoving yourself between his body and Walker’s like a human buffer. Walker steps back, smug and satisfied, letting the chaos erupt around him like some twisted sport.

“Bucky!” you snap, grabbing his left arm. He shoves you off without thinking, sending you flying into a wall. His eyes are wild, frantic. You take a breath, bracing against the pain in your shoulder where you hit the wall, then step back into his space again. “Buck,” you say, louder this time. Nothing.

So you do something rash, something stupid. You place your hand on his chest, right over his heart, and press. “Hey,” you say, firm but not unkind. “It’s me. I need you to come back to me. Now, Buck.”

He blinks a few times, and his jaw unclenches. The seconds drag, but finally his fists loosen and Bucky Barnes returns to himself, though Walker is already long gone.

You find Sharon two hours later, bruised but alive, in a shipping container turned holding cell. She gives you a once-over when you cut the lock and heave the door open without help from the super soldier watching your six.

“What took you so long?”

You glance back at Bucky, who’s watching you like you hung the stars. “Got a little sidetracked.”

Back at the safe house, Sam and Sharon disappear into a conversation about John Walker’s relation to the Flag Smashers, but Bucky lingers outside the doorway, like he’s debating something. You find him leaning on the wall with the kind of heaviness that doesn’t just come from battle. You join him without a word, and that’s when he speaks first.

“I saw red.”

You nod. “I know.”

“I couldn’t stop myself,” he admits. “Not until…It was almost like…”

“Until you heard me,” you finish.

Bucky nodded, going silent for a beat. “You’re not supposed to be able to do that,” he says quietly.

“I didn’t do anything special,” you reply.

He turns his head, just enough to meet your eyes. “Yeah, you did.” The wind shifts. Somewhere beyond, Madripoor simmers, but here, it’s just the two of you and a truth too fragile to break. “I don’t know what I’m doing most days,” he shares. “Feels like I’m just…waiting for something to go wrong so I can blame myself for it.” Your heart aches at the honesty in his voice, at how small it sounds coming from someone who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. “But with you, it doesn’t feel like punishment. It feels like…possibility.”

You don’t say anything right away. You simply reach out, tentative yet steady, and let your fingers brush his. He doesn’t pull away.

It didn't take long until the moment was ruined. Sam slams the door to the safehouse shut and turns on Bucky, eyes blazing. “What the hell was that?” Bucky doesn’t answer. “Don’t make me say it twice,” Sam growls. “You lost it. In public. In front of Walker. You know what that looks like?”

Your stomach knots. You try to step in. “Sam, he just–”

“I’m not talking to you,” Sam cuts in sharply, not mean but not soft either. “You’re a civilian asset. You don’t get to be a part of this conversation. That’s half the problem.” Bucky’s jaw clenches.

Sam doesn’t let up. “You’re already skating on thin ice with the U.S. government, and now you've got footage showing you lunging at a government-assigned, albeit a knockoff, Captain America while endangering a civilian on foreign soil. You think they’re gonna look at the context?”

Bucky finally speaks. “He was baiting me.”

Sam nods. “Yeah. He was. And you bit.” There was a long pause. Sam exhales. “I’m not saying you were wrong, but this thing we’re trying to build? It only works if we’re not giving them excuses to shut us down.” He looks at you then. “And you, you’re valuable. But if something happened to you tonight, it wouldn’t just be a loss. It’d be a scandal. You get that right?” You swallow hard, guilt settling in. You do get it, all of it.

The next day. Sharon pulls you aside. “This isn’t personal,” she starts, which is how you know it absolutely is.

You’re still bruised, exhausted, and blood dried under your nails from the ambush. “You’re benching me?”

“I’m pulling you out of the front lines. For your sake, and ours.” Her tone is clipped. Final. “You’re being reassigned. You’ll get a new ID and a new post in D.C.”

“You’re exiling me.”

“I’m protecting you.” Her eyes soften, just slightly. “And maybe giving a certain super soldier with a staring problem some time to realize what he’s losing out on.”

You freeze. “What?” Sharon just smirks. “No. Absolutely not,” you mutter. But you’re already packing and shipping out two days later.

D.C. is cold in a sterile kind of way. The office is quieter, the suits blander, and the coffee weaker. You file reports, write threat analyses, and review flagged footage from Madripoor like it’s someone else’s war.

Every once in a while, you catch yourself wondering where they are. If Sam’s suit still squeaks when he moves. If Sharon finally cleaned that one knife she always uses. If Bucky…is still pretending not to brood.

You’re in the middle of one such thought, halfway through a boring intel summary, when someone knocks on the glass wall of your office. You glance up and your jaw nearly drops.

“Hey,” Bucky greets, hands in his pockets, smiling sheepishly while leaning against the doorframe.

“What the hell are you doing in a C.I.A. office?”

He shrugs. “Thought I’d stop by. You missed out on all the action.”

You cross your arms, leaning back in your chair. “And?”

“And…” he steps inside, voice softening. “Maybe I was wrong. About you being behind a desk. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you look good behind it. Very intimidating. But…” He trails off, then clears his throat. “Look, I’m sorry. For before. For snapping at you. For not trusting you sooner. You saved my life, and I treated you like you were just some liability. That was unfair.”

You sit forward, resting your forearms on the surface of your desk. “You feeling okay?”

Bucky chuckles, looking away from you. “Don’t make me regret this.” When he speaks again, it’s quieter. “You helped me. More than I probably deserved. So, thanks.”

You look at him for a long moment, then grin. “Are you going to cry in my office?”

“Oh, Buck off,” he mutters. You burst out laughing. “You want to get dinner?” Bucky asks, like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just blow into your little office like a hurricane and drop apologies and thanks like landmines.

You stare him down, trying to figure out if this is some sick joke he’s playing. “Like…dinner dinner?”

He shrugs again, hands still in his pockets. “Yeah. You know, food, sitting, maybe fewer life-threatening situations this time.”

You narrow your eyes, amused. “You do realize I work for the C.I.A., right?”

“Mmhmm,” Bucky hums.

“And you’re still technically an unstable asset who goes rogue more often than he follows protocol.”

“I’m improving,” he states.

“Barely. You’re still on half a dozen watchlists.”

“Only the interesting ones.”

You tilt your head. “Buck.”

“What?”

“You’re a walking liability.”

His lips pull into a sly grin. “And you’re still considering it.”

You sigh, dramatically. “Maybe I’ll get dinner with you when you’re not a threat to national security and my employment.”

He leans forward, resting his palms on the edge of your desk. “So…I’m hearing I’ve got time to prep then.”

You shake your head with a laugh. “Charming.”

“I meant it,” he says. “You make things feel less like punishment.”

You study him for a long moment. “That sounds dangerously like a compliment.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

You roll your eyes. “Get out of my office.”

He starts backing away, pausing at the door. “Soon, though. Dinner.”

“Only if you promise not to bring Sharon or Sam.”

He smirks. “Only if you promise not to stab anyone this time.” And with that, he’s gone. Footsteps fading down the hall, tension lingering like static in the air.

Maybe this desk job wasn’t so bad after all.

Autoplay: If you like this, you may also like [2:39pm] Bucket - B.Barnes

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff

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bardoftheshire · 5 months ago

Text

Goddamn It, House

James Wilson x Reader (truth serum fic)

Summary; House has had a history of drugging Wilson, but what happens if he drugs both Wilson and Y/n with sodium thiopental? Seems like an amazing plan to him.

Notes; I love these things, but I would be horrified if truth serum was a real thing. (Nvm I looked it up, Sodium Thiopental is the closest thing.)

Warnings; Drugging, drugs, "prescription" drugs, foul language, sexual innuendos, mentions of vomit, House in general, and more drugs..

James Wilson Masterlist

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You did NOT want to go into work today.. you were groggy, dressed half assed, and overall looked like shit.

God, I need coffee or an energy drink..

"L/n! Hey, do you- woah. Are you okay, man?" Kutner asks with genuine concern, despite his use of words.

You look at him with your eyes half lidded, there were most definitely dark circles under your eyes.

"Yup, I'm doing fantastic," You say flatly.

"Okay, man. Do you want a hug, or something?" Kutner offers.

You dismiss him, but thank him for the kind offer, and go up to the meeting room with him alongside you, where Thirteen, Foreman, and Taub had already been in, sitting down and talking amongst eachother.

"Holy shit, L/n. You look like death.." Foreman says, definitely out of his character. You knew how bad it was when he commented like that.

"Thanks," You say sarcastically, throwing in a fake smile as you sit down, placing your head onto the table face down, your arms dangling.

You were about to fall asleep despite only had being in the hospital for at the most 10 minutes.

"Is L/n finally dead?" House says, poking your side with his cane.

You let out a groan, too tired to even react to the poke.

House hums, knocking your head with the end of his cane. "Anyways! What do we have today, Thirteen?"

"Ow! What the hell?"

"A 27 year old man began to get pains in his lower leg. He's perfectly healthy but has an unsteady heartbeat, and has had 3 strokes since he got here," Foreman explained.

"That's interesting, I thought I asked Thirteen, but I guess I must be going insane." House says sarcastically, looking at Foreman.

"It could just be atrial fibrillation. That would explain the irregular heartbeat and strokes," You say.

Thirteen shakes her head, "But what about the random pain in his leg?" she argues.

"And the fact that this man has had a healthy diet and lifestyle his entire life. He wouldn't be getting the strokes if he's had this healthy lifestyle the entire time." Kutner adds on.

You think to yourself. "Are his bones brittle? It could be atherosclerosis,"

"Are you okay, or are you just getting dumber?"

"I'm just tired, House.. And I'm being serious about the atherosclerosis."

"Whatever. Go run a bone biopsy or something," House dismisses. "but you, stay." He says, pointing at you.

You sigh, you just wanted to take a nap at the least. Maybe if you beg him, he'll let you sleep in his office on the floor or something. Or maybe Wilson would let you..

"Coffee run. Want some? It was supposed to be for Wilson but I haven't seen him yet. You can have his,"

"Wow, is this the real Gregory House?" You look at him, nearly falling asleep where you stood.

"No, I'm actually an extraterrestrial robot clone of this "House" character you are talking about."

You laugh and walk with him to his office where two to-go cups of coffee sat on his desk. "I think the one on the right is the black coffee, the other has creamer in it." House says, pointing to the cups with his cane.

You figured it would be best to check. You couldn't do dairy, coffee was already not good for you, dairy added to that would make it so much worse. You open one of the lids and see completely dark brown coffee, so you put the lid back on and take it.

"Thanks, House. I appreciate this very rare and odd gesture." You say, raising your cup.

"No probs bro. Now get out of my office and do something for once."

You roll your eyes and leave his office, spotting Wilson just walking into his own.

"Oh, morning L/n. How are you?" Wilson greeted.

He was always the one that never commented about your appearance like how Foreman and House just did moments ago. It was a kind thing to do, but it was also "dangerous" at times, especially if you had something wrong like messy hair, only half of your makeup done when you were wearing any, undone or messily knotted tie, or a wrinkled shirt.

You still appreciated it, though.

"Morning, Wilson. I'm just a bit tired is all, but other than that I think I'll be fine." You smile.

"Ditto," He laughs.

"I'll see you later though, alright?" He finishes

"See ya, Wilson." You say, with both of you parting your ways.

House walks (barges) into Wilson's office as soon as he saw that you were gone, two coffee cups in hand.

"I got you coffee, just the way you like it. Diabetes added into it and everything." House says.

Wilson sighs, already being used to his antics to the point where he isn't affected by them anymore. "Thanks,"

House hands him the one from his left hand.

Wilson remembered what happened when he took the opposite one last time, so he took the one that House presented to him and took a drink.

It wouldn't have mattered which cup he took, because House drugged both.

Manipulative bitch.

"So, you and L/n?" House asked.

Wilson choked on his coffee at House's random comment. "I'm sorry?"

"You and L/n, I see you two are still friends again, right? Cameron told me that you two got into a big argument and had a falling out,"

"That is not in the least bit true but the fact that me and L/n are friends. When did Cameron tell you this?" Wilson asks, clearly baffled that Cameron would say something like that.

"Tuesday. I asked why you two were avoiding each other the whole day, she said you two stopped being friends the day before because of an argument," House replies. Or, more so, lies.

"The both of us were busy that day? She didn't even have time to eat lunch with us, House."

"Oh, well that makes a little more sense," House acted clueless, something he tended to do often.

He knew something that Wilson didn't. He overheard you talking to Thirteen one day, asking her for advice on "how to stop loving someone," or something like that. Stupid, right?

Wilson wasn't too hard to figure out. House could practically read his mind at this point after knowing him for as long as he did.

So, House being House, he decided to come up with a solution, or more so a plan. A opioid cocktail if you will. It's surprising that this didn't kill the two..

House's pager beeps, indicating that the team had either something, or something going on.

"Gotta go! The children need tending to,"

"House-" Wilson starts, but is cut off with House walking away.

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

You enter the room where the patient and team were in. The man was laying down, his bed messy and a tired and dazed look on his face, most likely from another stroke.

"Another stroke, I assume?" You sigh, drinking more of your coffee, which was now already mostly finished.

"We came in and he was already having one, but apparently more aggressive than the last ones according to the nurse, and his leg pain is only getting worse," Thirteen responds.

Then it's atrial fibrillation. You decide before yawning.

"Do you need an energy drink or something? I've got one in my locker," Kutner offers.

"Kutner, she already has coffee. Don't you think that'll give her a heart attack or something," Taub whispers.

Kutner shrugs, "She's in a hospital if worst comes to worst at least," He whispers back.

"Oh my goodness, if you could do that, it would totally be awesome," you praise.

You knew that so much caffeine wouldn't do too well for you, but this is definitely not the most you'd have.

Kutner leaves the room, and you stand with the others.

"It has to be atrial fibrillation, no doubt about it. I mean, that would explain the strokes and off rhythmic beating of his heart," you explain.

"No, he hasn't had a heart attack and said he hasn't had a history of them, ever." Thirteen argues.

Suddenly the vital machine starts quickly beeping, indicating that something was wrong.

The patient starts groaning as he clutches the left side of his chest.

He was having a heart attack.

You were right.

"Stabalize him, he's clotting up, get me some heparin quickly!" You shout anxiously, yet full of excitement that you were right.

Holy shit you're turning into House..

"We don't have any! He didn't clot before so we only have anything to stop the clotting," Foreman says.

The nurse that was in the room with you as this happened suddenly came back with a syringe of heparin, "It's all we had," She says. The syringe wasn't ideal with patients. It's usually preferred through the IV, but it'll work nonetheless.

The patient calms down and pants, "He's stabilized,"

"And I was right." You finish.

"We don't know that yet." Foreman scoffs.

"Yes I do you fuckin' idiot," You roll your eyes.

"What?"

"I called you a fuckin' idiot. Look at the state of this sad sop, why keep him miserable and in pain? He needs the proper medication, and he would have that if you would just fucking listen to me, you idiots, *hic!*" You shout.

You now suddenly realize what you had just said, this was unlike you. "I- oh my gosh I'm so sorry, I- I didn't mean that I promise. I don't know what came over me, just *hic!*, keep doing what you guys are doing right now, youre doing incredible, I'm so sorry," word vomit is what you would explain it to be.

You back out of the door, covering your mouth as to not say anything else stupid.

You bump into someone behind you and turn around to see Kutner standing in front of you with a Nos energy drink in his left hand. "L/n I had- " Kutner tries to say as he hands you the can.

"Thank you so much, I appreciate it tons, I've really got to go, thank you!" You say quickly before rushing off to an unoccupied room and close the door and curtains.

"What the fuck, what the hell just happened why did I say that? Oh my gosh I'm going insane I'm going fucking insane," You pace around the room and take fists of hair in your hands.

You crack open the energy drink and take a big gulp of it, "I'm just tired, I'm just tired is all. *hic!* How am I going to tend to my patients all day? I'm going to say something stupid again, why did I say that?"

Wilson wasn't doing any better. He was going along with his regular tasks as usual, when he realized that as the minutes, minutes, started to go by, he was starting to get more and more.. how should you say, iffy, with certain patients.

Saying things he should never say in his professional place of work, things he would only ever say to certain people, such as House with the "sassy" remarks he's been making.

"Jeez, what's up with you? Telling the patients that you-"

"Shut up, House.." Wilson grumbles before sneezing.

"Okay, whatever. Since when did you have the attitude and temper of a teenage girl?" House teases.

"House, please just- leave me alone," Wilson pauses for a brief moment. This was exactly like the last time not too long ago when he drugged him with that coffee.

"Did you drug me? Again?" Wilson scoffs.

"Probably," House shrugs, picking up a file off of Wilson's desk and examining it. "27 year old female with possible breast cancer. Wow, wonder what you said to her,"

"I- I didn't say anything I haven't gone to this one yet.." Wilson knew that if he went to certain ones, he would definitely get in trouble for them, so he put the ones he knew would cause trouble aside. Aka; the smart thing to do.

"Dr. L/n? You're asked for in Dr. House's office," One of the nurses calls, interrupting your mental breakdown.

You cover your mouth with one hand and give him a thumbs up before he leaves.

You could close the curtains for the main glass window, but you couldn't with the glass door, unfortunately.

The nurse nods and leaves, closing the door on his way out.

You sigh and grab the can Kutner gave you, well, more so that you took from him.

You bit your tounge on the way there and responded only when needed to in nods and shakes of the head. There were some doctors and nurses you pretended to like, just to avoid any conflict and drama, that's what horrified you the most. If you said anything to them, it was over. You're not even sure if Foreman was going to talk to you again.

"What the hell do you want," You sigh, placing the energy drink down on a desk as you enter House's office to see him shaking his magic 8 ball before looking up at you.

"What's got you so snappy today? You're starting to act like Wilson right now,"

"*hic!* What?" You question, your brows furrowed.

"I mean, have you talked to Wilson yet? Because man is he hor-" House begins before being immediately cut off.

"House!"

House looks up and you turn around to see Wilson standing at the door.

"Oh, I'm sorry did you finish verbally harassing those other patients?"

You look back at House with a questioning look, "He's finally the one harassing them now and not you?"

"Did he- did he drug you too?"

"Did he WHAT?" You snap your head back to Wilson.

This back and forth was going to give you whiplash.

"He drugged me with sodium thiopental this morning in my coffee. Along with other opioids I don't even want to know,"

"Goddamn it House! Are you kidding me? Do you know what I just said to Foreman's dumbass?? I can't fucking believe you, how old are you?!" You yell.

That explained it.

"I don't care. Hey, how about we spice this up a little, get some drama?" House says, placing his 8 ball down and getting up from his chair.

You sigh and laugh, "I can't believe you right now! You did this just to stir some drama?"

"Yes and no. Hey, L/n, who were you talking about when you were talking to Thirteen asking about 'how to stop loving someone'? I'm just curious, love the workplace drama if you didn't know," House asks you, getting in your face.

What.

"I-" You quickly place your hand over your mouth.

Wilson.

How did House know? Did Thirteen tell him?

"Who told you that? Was it Thirteen? You *hic!* shouldn't know about that," You blurt.

"Oh just happened to be passing by, but not in time to know who you were talking about. I just want to know, you know?" House shrugged.

"It was-" You slap your hand over your mouth again, this time biting your tounge as well.

"Come on, spit it out already,"

"Wait, what's going on?" Wilson asks.

You shake your head and leave his office with your hand still over your mouth, rushing to another empty room.

"What the hell!" You scream, getting the attention from other doctors on the other side of the glass. Totally not soundproof.

You grab your pager and click on Thirteen's contact, putting a message to quickly come to the room you're in.

"*hic!* This can not be happening right now," You muttered to yourself.

You told Thirteen everything. You knew or at least felt that if you told anyone else what you tell her, they'd blabber it to someone else right away. Just like you were doing against your own will.

The urgency wasn't incredibly needed, but that didn't mean that you weren't anxiously waiting, as each second felt like 5 minutes and your nails were now dug into the skin of your arm.

You paced around before finally settling on just sitting down at the edge of the bed.

"L/n? Are you doing okay? You went a little crazy earlier. I think you hurt Foreman's feelings," Thirteen says with a smile.

You look up and quickly walk up to her, "Oh my gosh, Thirteen, thank god you're here,"

"Are you okay?"

"Uh, well, House is kind of a jackass and laced my coffee with sodium thiopental and god knows what else this morning so now I've just been telling everyone I come across what I think without thinking, so I've just been without a filter since I drank that coffee. I've spent most of my time hiding in rooms until it maybe wears off," You rambled, unable to stop everything that was coming out of your mouth all at once. "He also drugged Wilson." You added

"Wait what?"

"House drugged me and now I won't shut up!" You shout.

Thirteen furrows her eyebrows and crosses her arms, "So he basically gave you a 'truth serum'."

"Yes? Is that what you'd call that? *hic!*"

"And House did this just to be a jackass?" Thirteen questioned. She knew that was most likely the answer.

"*hic!* Probably! I mean, the guy is miserable so he makes others even more miserable for his own entertainment so, *hic!* yeah!" You raised your hands up in the air and shrugged.

The thing about House, was that he never did something for no reason. Everything was always for a reason, like the last time he drugged Wilson...

Wilson.

"You said he drugged Wilson too, right?" Thirteen questioned, knowing exactly where this was going.

You nodded quickly.

Thirteen smiles and walks out of the room.

'What the fuck was that?'

You were going to to crazy! Why did she just leave? Is she coming back?

Then you suddenly realized just what House was planning, and what Thirteen knew would happen.

"*hic!* Oh my god.."

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

Your pager beeps coming from Kutner, if you could guess, it was most likely due to the patient, something that should've been much more important.

"Shit.." You look at it and bite your tounge as to not say what you were thinking out loud about patient's, nurses, doctors, etc. on your way to where the patient's room was.

Only to find that he wasn't there with the rest of the team.

"Where the hell is Kutner? He paged me for no goddamn reason or what?" You shout, clearly frustrated.

"He went to the break room," Cameron responds, focused on putting a new bag of saline.

"*hic!*"

"Goddamn it. I hate this fucking job sometimes," You groan and leave the room without saying anything else, not even bothering to bite your tounge around them as you've already said your worst.

You mumble all sorts of profanities and insults to the people you saw around you as you made your way down into the break room where stood House, and Wilson.

"What is this, some interrogation? Haven't you already had your daily dose of your dumb shit for the day or *hic!* are you going to overdose on that shit, too?"

"Oh, no I'm addicted to it. Maybe more than the Vicodin, though it might come close," House says carelessly.

You ball your fists up, nails digging into your skin.

"I'm going to kill your crippled ass," You say, gritting your teeth.

"That's cool, but first, tell me how you feel about good ol' Wilson here," House says with a coy smile on his face.

"Wait what do you mean?" Wilson asked cluelessly.

"Shut the hell up, what the hell did you give us House!"

"Hard question, next one please,"

You groan and go to the nearest wall to lean against it. Whatever he gave you was DEFINITELY not helping you.

You actually felt sick. You were so tired too, because the coffee that was supposed to be helping you, did the opposite.

"*hic!* god fucking damn it why can't this shit stop!?" You were getting sick and tired of the hiccups, it's all that's been happening to you the whole time you've been here.

"Achoo!"

And apparently Wilson's had been sneezing. Gross..

You slide down the wall and curl up once you meet the carpeted floor.

"House, I need to know, was this really nessasary for you to do.. both me *hic!* and Wilson have jobs here and I can't hide in a room all day.." You ask, rubbing your temples.

"Yes. Yes it was." House gets up and towers over you, "Have fun!"

Unfortunately, the door locked from the outside. The one House now just locked judging by the click you heard after he left.

You run to the door and attempt to turn the door handle, but to no avail, it didn't open. Meaning, you were now stuck in a room with Wilson, and only Wilson.

You take a deep breath in and out, "I'm keeping my mouth shut, don't take it personally.." backing away from the door, you take a seat on the floor next to the foosball table.

Wilson shoots you a thumbs up.

Minutes pass, then an hour, and more minutes. You hadn't even tried to busy yourself, you just sat in the same spot the whole time.

The lock clicks open and your head shoots up along with Wilson. The both of you rush to the door in hopes someone would let you out.

Only for it to be House.

"Have either of you still not said anything?" House scoffs.

You make a zip movement over your mouth, indicating you hadn't, and wouldn't say anything.

He turns to Wilson, giving him the same look and getting a shake of the head from him.

"Fine then. If you won't say it, I will. Alright, how should I go on about this? Wilson?" House hobbles over and taps Wilson with his cane.

Wilson shakes his head once more, though quicker.

"What about you, Dr. L/n? What do you have to say?" House whips his head around.

You slap your hand over your mouth and pinch yourself to stop from saying a single word.

"Okay, if you want it that way. Wilson, L/n, or should I say Y/n, has a total-"

You quickly cut off House, tackling him to the floor with your hand over his mouth. "Shut the hell up, House! I'll murder you I swear!"

"Do it then, coward." House challenged you.

You pause, suddenly unable to form a coherent sentence, let alone a single word.

"L/n totally has the hots for you, Wilson." House says, pushing you off of him with a big grin on his face.

Your jaw practically fell directly onto the floor, a million thoughts going through your mind yet despite the drug cocktail, you still stayed quiet.

The three of you stayed silent. Not one of you making a peep for what felt like hours. You felt like crying, throwing up maybe?

"Well! Have fun with this. I'm going to go bother Foreman." House dismisses himself and leaves, locking the door as you could hear from the other side.

"I- I'm so sorry, Wilson." You apologize, shutting your eyes tightly closed.

"Do you..?" Wilson asks after a couple seconds.

You open your eyes and look up to see Wilson giving you a look of sympathy and confusion.

Giving him a look of confusion yourself, you question, "what?"

"God, this feels like middle school," Wilson lets out a chuckle before continuing, "do you like like me?" He raises an eyebrow.

Furrowing your brows, you respond, "What do you think, James?"

He smiles sheepishly, now suddenly shy. "I wish I would've known sooner."

Wilson was typically a quiet man, kept to himself and usually stuck with House, so seeing him like this wasn't surprising, though that didn't mean you didn't find it a little silly.

A guy with a title such as his? Shy? No way.

"Do you?" You asked the same question, causing him to rub the back of his neck and mumble with a nod.

You smile. Maybe House being a dickhead wasn't too bad of a thing sometimes. Sometimes..

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

Has no clue how to end this. *But* finished it nonetheless!

#james wilson #robert sean leonard #james wilson x reader #greg house #house #house md #medical malpractice md #malpractice md

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queen-of-the-avengers · 10 months ago

Text

Break Free

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.8k

Warnings: angst, prison!wanda

Summary: Four new prisoners get admitted into the Raft, and you now have four new clients as the resident psychiatrist. Wanda is an interesting person and the more you get to know her, the more you understand the position she’s in. She’s a hero even if she doesn’t see it.

Squares Filled: "I won't let you be hurt anymore." for @scarletwitchbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

When you got into the psychiatric field, never did you think you would be at one of the most dangerous prisons on Earth. The Raft houses the most dangerous criminals known to man. They started letting superhumans into the prison since it’s the only safe place to put them.

Never did you think you’d ever see any of the Avengers here, either.

You’ve seen some of the worst humans known to man, so why the hell are heroes locked up here? They didn’t do anything wrong. It’s no secret that the Accords were put into effect, and you know some of the Avengers signed it and others didn’t. Everyone heard about the fight at the German airport.

If you were on the team, you wouldn’t have signed it, either.

Thaddeus Ross walks with you down the hallway where the Avengers are staying. You’re the on-call psychiatrist where you work with each prisoner one-on-one and provide them with a bit of therapy and medication to help them. Since they’ve just arrived, Ross is introducing you to them since they are now your new clients.

“We will be giving most of the other prisoners to Dr. Farrow so you can focus solely on our new guests.”

“Are you sure this is the best option? They didn’t do anything wrong.”

Ross stops walking and looks at you with an unreadable expression.

“They violated the Accords. They’re criminals.”

He won’t listen to reason so you don’t say anything more of the matter. Everyone knows who the Avengers are but Ross takes you to their cells to do introductions anyway.

“Meet Sam Wilson a.k.a the Falcon.” Sam paces the entire cell and only pauses when he locks eyes with you. “Steve Rogers right-hand man. If he gives you any trouble, don’t hesitate to punish him how you see fit.”

“Real mature,” Sam rolls his eyes and goes back to pacing.

Ross takes you from his cell to the next.

“Clint Barton a.k.a Hawkeye.” Clint looks at you but doesn’t say a word. He’s known for being stealthy and not making any noise. He’s not a big talker which is going to be a problem for you. “He’s one of the most notable spies besides Black Widow. Don’t let him manipulate you.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Clint bites out.

Ross takes you to the next cell.

“Look, I have a family. They’re going to be worried about me. I’ll do whatever, just get me out of here.”

“Scott Lang a.k.a Antman. He’s a talker. Won’t shut up. Wouldn’t blame you if you skipped his session every once in a while,” Ross scoffs.

“Come on!” Scott begs, but Ross ignores him.

The final cell he takes you to is the one you’ve been looking forward to the most.

“Wanda Maximoff.” She is sitting on the ground with a straight jacket on and a blank look on her face. She looks so broken. What have they done to her? “The witch.”

“Why is she in a straight jacket?”

“We can’t allow her to use her magic. Be careful with her. She’ll get in your head.” Ross takes you back to his office before you can say anything else about it. He must know that what he’s doing is wrong, right? “You’ll be given two hours with each person a day while also tending to some of the other prisoners. I don’t care who you start with but plan your time however you’d like. Any questions?”

“Are you sure they belong here?”

“Yes. They’re criminals. They went against the Accords that over a hundred countries had signed.”

You don’t think the Accords should have ever happened, but you keep your opinions to yourself. You start the day by having sessions with the other prisoners because you’re unsure how you’re going to go about treating the Avengers. They have nothing that needs to be treated but if you don’t do your job, you’ll get fired.

After lunch, you decide it’s time to talk to the Avengers. You wanted to start with an easy one, Scott, but you find yourself in Wanda’s cell with her.

“We didn’t get to meet last time but my name is Dr. Y/N. Can you tell me a little about you?” Wanda doesn’t speak. She looks at you but you don’t think she’s seeing you. She’s distancing herself from the situation. “Wanda, don’t do that. Don’t disassociate.”

“What do you know? You have no idea how I’m feeling,” she says and looks at you.

“You’re right. I don’t, but I do know that disassociation hurts more than it heals. I’ve been doing this a long time, Wanda. I want to help people and understand them better. I believe in the power of medicine which is what I give out.”

“Do you think I need help like that?”

“No. I don’t think what they’re doing to you or the others is right.”

“It’s fine,” she sighs and looks down.

“No, it’s not. It’s not humane.” She looks at you. “I don’t think you did anything wrong here.”

“They seem to think so.”

“For now, don’t think about them. Think about us. It’s just you and me in this room. I just want to get to know you.”

“Because you have to.”

“Because I want to. I could just sit here and pump you full of so much medicine you’ll forget your own name or I can get to know you and understand you as a person.” You hate that she’s in a straightjacket. You fight the urge to take it off her but then Ross will blow a fire under your ass for doing it. “Your choice.”

Wanda doesn’t say anything for five minutes as she contemplates her options.

“What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with your interests. What do you like to do in your free time?”

“Before… Sokovia… I loved going to the movies with my brother. We’d sit in the back and make fun of the characters.” She has a faint smile on her face from the memory. “We’d do everything together.”

“You must miss him.”

You’re no stranger to what happened in Sokovia.

“He was my best friend.”

“What about afterward? How did you cope with the loss of your brother?”

“I didn’t. My home was ruined. My parents were gone. My brother was gone. I had no one left. I was living in a place with strangers. I usually kept to myself. I liked playing guitar. Tony got me one. I watched a lot of TV.”

“What were your favorite shows?”

“The Dick Van Dyke Show. My family and I used to watch those when I was a kid. It makes me feel close to them.”

“What made you feel safe?”

“Vision.”

“What will make you feel safe now?”

Wanda looks at you in surprise. She didn’t expect you to ask her that question. Normally, prisons don’t care about the comfort of their prisoners but you do. She looks down at the jacket wrapped around her and you nod in understanding. She flinches back when you approach her but she doesn’t move away from you. You step behind her and undo her jacket so that her arms aren’t restricted. You take the jacket off her and lay it over your arm.

“I can’t do much but I can do this. You don’t deserve this.”

Wanda looks up at you with unshed tears in her eyes. Your phone rings and you look at the message Ross sends you.

My office. Now.

“I gotta go. I look forward to talking to you again.”

You leave her cell and make your way to Ross’ office. He doesn’t look too happy and you have a feeling it has something to do with the jacket still over your arm.

“Who gave you the authority to remove her jacket?”

“Me. I did what was best for my patient. Isn’t that why I’m here? To help them become the better versions of themselves? Isn’t that why you hired a psychiatrist and not a psychologist so I could prescribe them medicine if needed?”

“Yeah, but--”

“Then let me do my damn job. No one who isn’t clinically insane deserves to be in a straightjacket.”

“I don’t like your tone, Y/N.”

“You want to fire me? Go ahead. Good luck finding someone who will want to come out here.”

“You’re dismissed,” he says through clenched teeth.

You’re the only one here who doesn’t put up with Ross’ bullshit and he knows it. Everyone else is afraid of him but you won’t let him control you like he does everyone else. You respect yourself too much to let him.

Scott is the easiest to talk to since he won’t shut up. You ask him one question and he’ll go off on a tangent that has nothing to do with what you asked him. Clint is more reserved and will only give you one or two-word answers. It’s clear he isn’t interested in talking with you. Sam is more talkative than Clint but loves to compare this to his experiences with the Air Force. Wanda is the only one you connect with on a personal level. There’s something about her that’s pulling you to her, and you know it’s not her magic.

The next time you see Wanda, you’ve brought her something to eat. She is lying in her bed when you enter, and she sits up to greet you.

“I don’t like what they serve. I brought you something from my personal stash,” you wink at her.

“Thank you,” she smiles.

You sit down on the other side of her bed and share your food with her even though you let her eat most of it.

“Tell me, do you like your powers?”

“I’m kind of stuck with them so I have to, right?”

“That’s not what I asked. Do you like them?”

“Sometimes, no.”

“How did you get them?”

She knows you know how she did but talking about it helps the mind come to terms with what happened so that it may start to heal from it.

“Do you want the short version or the long version?”

“Whatever version you’re comfortable with giving.”

“My parents were killed by a bomb hitting our complex. The bomb came from Stark Industries. Pietro and I grew up to hate Stark and anything that he did. We attended every protest against him, did everything we could to try and stop him from making weapons and destroying cities for his selfish purposes.

“Hydra saw us and gave us an opportunity to strengthen our country. They gave us a way to fight back those who had too much power. They had Loki’s scepter. Apparently, I was born with the ability of magic but it was so weak that had I not been with Hydra, it probably would have diminished into nothing. The experiments they did allowed the mind stone to reactivate that side of me. It gave me my abilities.”

“Did you want to volunteer for their experiments or do you think Pietro had to convince you to?”

“I think we wanted to matter. I think we were looking for a reason for why all the bad things were happening to us.”

“Do you think you’d do the same thing if you had the chance?”

“No, I don’t,” she sighs. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you do what you do? Why prisoners?”

“I believe in helping everyone regardless of what they’ve done. Some prisoners think prison is a rehab and use that to get better. Some don’t, but I believe in the power of medicine. I just want to help people.”

“And us?”

“I’d use medicine if I thought it would help. Honestly, I don’t think you guys have done anything wrong. I don’t think you guys deserve to be here. You’re heroes in my eyes, especially you.”

Wanda looks into your eyes and tries to understand what you’re thinking. Her cell has power-dampening technology in the walls so she can’t use her magic. She glances down at your lips. Time stops and the only thing that matters is Wanda. She barely moves an inch when the alarms go off and the red light flashes in the hallway.

“Shit, I gotta go.”

“What’s happening?”

“A prisoner escaped. Finish the food. I’ll be back for it later.”

Wanda watches you leave and she doesn’t realize she’s smiling until she sees her reflection in the glass. Ross got a handle on the prisoner who escaped. One of the nurses came by to administer medicine for him but they didn’t know that the prisoner doesn’t like to be touched without warning. He knocked her out. You’re the only one who knows this about him since he’s worked with you since he came here.

That took the next three hours of your time, so it’s nearing dinnertime when you’re finished. Wanda deserves more than the slop they serve, so you’ll fix her a plate from the nurses’ station. You’re plating the food when you hear commotion come from the other nurses.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Tony Stark is here.”

You drop what you’re doing and head over to the command center where you spot Tony talking to Ross.

“If Sam’s going to talk to anyone, it’s you, Tony.”

“Yeah, let me see what I can do.”

Steve and Bucky are men on the run, and Ross is searching for them since they violated those stupid Accords. Ross thinks if Tony talks to Sam, he’ll tell him where they are. Tony leaves Ross’ office and you rush to catch up to Tony.

“You’re not on Ross’ side, are you?” you whisper.

Tony pauses and looks at you. He doesn’t know who you are and he doesn’t trust you to reveal his true motives.

“Get back to work before you get in trouble.”

Yeah, he’s not on Ross’ side. Tony and Steve are best friends. He’s here because Steve needs him. If he is going to get Sam to tell him where Steve is, then he can’t let Ross know. Tony has a plan. You’re not sure what it is but you’re going to use it to your advantage. If this goes sideways, you’ll get fired but if it works, you can get Wanda out of here. You rush over to her cell and open the door without letting it close.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“I need you to trust me for the next ten minutes. Come on, I’m getting you out of here.”

“What?”

“I don’t have much time. Tony is here talking to Sam. I don’t even know if this is going to work but I have to try. You don’t belong here, Wanda. None of you do. I won’t let you be hurt anymore. Come on.”

Wanda jumps out of bed and follows you out of her cell. She feels her powers heighten inside of her now that she is no longer under the influence of the power-dampening technology. All eyes are going to be on Tony so you’re banking on none of them seeing you and Wanda escaping.

You hold her hand the entire time you’re running with her to where Tony’s helicopter is. Of course, there are guards patrolling the area and moving shipments in and out of the area. If you go now, you’ll be spotted and she’ll be in even more trouble than she already is.

“Shit, that’s a lot of guards. I really didn’t think this through.”

“I got this,” she whispers.

She uses her magic and puts each and every one of the men to sleep. They all fall to the ground like dominoes, and you know you’ll have even less time to get her on that helicopter.

“Yeah, that works,” you nod. “Come on.” You run with Wanda to the helicopter and practically shove her inside. “Keep your head down and don’t let Tony see you.”

“Wait, what about you?”

“I have to stay and make sure they don’t find you. Don’t tell me where you’re going but I’ll find you, okay?”

“No, it’s too risky. You have to come with me.”

You pull her in for a hug and run your hand down her back.

“I have to help the others. It’s what I do, remember?” You pull away but keep your hands on her. “Wanda, you deserve to be free. Now, go before Tony comes back.”

You’re about to leave when she pulls you back into her. This time, her lips plant themselves on yours. You kiss her back feverishly, not knowing when the next time you’ll be able to do this again. You pull away seconds later and run away so that Tony doesn’t spot her. He comes walking out moments later with Ross on his heels.

Wanda peeks her head out one of the windows and looks at you. You give her an encouraging nod and disappear back into the prison. You have to have faith Friday disabled the audio and video but you’re prepared for the ugly alternative.

In case Ross figured out Wanda is gone and you helped her, you have to get the others out as soon as possible. They don’t belong here. They’re heroes and it’s time people start seeing them as that.

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