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pinepresident · 12 days ago

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—-- windchill

john walker x ex-avenger!ex-widow!reader

—- summary: walker doesn't seem too excited about the fact that captain america just saved your life. arguing ensues. and then making out follows. —- wc: 5.4k —- warnings: no use of y/n, john walker is an asshole, canon-typical violence, reader is also a bit of an asshole, actually everyone is kind of an asshole, jealous john walker, arguing, making out, spontaneous confessions, everybody lives in the tower because i said so —- notes: thunderbolts made me want walker and i will make it everyone's problem. first time writing this freak so hopefully you guys like it lmao.

[тётушка (tyot-oosh-ka) - auntie]

"lost visual on the fourth, anyone got him?"

walker's voice comes through your earpiece, the only sound beside the thrum of the wind in your ears. you shift to look down at him from your vantage point, perched on the roof of a nearby building.

"nothing from up here," you respond, giving the streets another quick once-over through your scope, but between the overturned cars, the only movement on the street is from your team. "must've ducked into an alley somewhere."

he huffs, and you watch him run a hand through his hair. "copy that."

"copy this, copy that, lost visual– you can just say you let him get away, you know that right?" ava's grumbling earns a quiet chuckle from you which you're careful not to broadcast over the radio, but yelena isn't so considerate.

naturally, the three of them start to bicker. as entertaining as it is to listen to them go back and forth, you tune them out as best you can while you continue to watch for the last target. or, that's what you intended to do, but despite your efforts your gaze seems to naturally gravitate to john no matter where you look.

his helmet had been lost a while ago, and you have to admit, he looks good with his hair a mess like that. the blood smeared on his face, the dirt and grime marring his skin – in the back of your mind, you're glad everyone else is too busy to notice you ogling him through your scope.

it crept up on you, how quickly you came to like walker. you weren't expecting to care for him any more than you did when you were chasing the flag smashers, but he's a lot more tolerable when he's not being an egomaniac. lately, though, just being near him is enough to distract you. and when you're twenty stories up and still can't seem to focus? you realise it might have become a problem.

there's a crunch behind you, the unmistakable sound of gravel under heavy boots, but your reaction is too slow. the moment you twist around to face your assailant, you're met with a hard strike to the temple.

your vision blurs from the impact, a trail of warm blood falling down your face, a yelp passing your lips before you can stop it. the blow knocks you onto your back, dangerously close to the ledge, and sends your rifle clattering to the ground below.

you grunt, your fingers immediately reach for the pistol at your thigh, pointing it at him the best you can through the disorientation, but he grabs the barrel and forces it upwards.

there's a struggle, an agonising moment where you fight for the upper hand with him on top of you. voices in your earpiece are white noise in the background, your team no doubt having noticed your situation by now.

your assailant shifts his weight, and you take the split-second opportunity to swipe his legs from under him. the gun slips from both of your hands, sliding just out of reach as he hits the ground next to you.

you lunge for it, and so does he, your breathing ragged. the trigger, taut under your finger, the barrel flush to his chest, the blood roaring in your ears, a hard pressure against your stomach.

a single shot rings through the air, and then you're falling.

the weightless feeling makes your stomach turn, the ground is coming up fast, too fast to think – it all happens quicker than you can react.

you vaguely hear a shout of your name, multiple voices, though one is louder than the rest, but it falls on deaf ears.

then, the air is forced from your lungs by a solid force colliding with your ribs, and suddenly you're not falling anymore. you blink through your dizzy confusion, finding what caught you isn't just a force, but a person – and not just any person, it's sam wilson.

with the wind whipping around you, you can just about discern his voice as he calls out, "happy to see me?"

he'd swooped in and plucked you out of the air, holding you close as he cuts through the air with a speed that makes your head spin.

"holy shit!" you cry, holding the back of his suit with a vice grip. the skyscrapers fly by, and, yes, you've known sam a long time, but you've never been in the sky with him before.

you feel his laugh rather than hear it, the vibrations under your palms as he gradually banks back around to where the other (new) avengers were. and honestly, now that you're not in immediate danger, the feeling of the wind in your hair is actually quite pleasant.

when your feet are finally back on the ground, you're not prepared for how your knees give out from under you. sam catches you, again, his arms winding around your waist to steady you, an amused grin on his face.

"woah, you okay?" he asks, the wings of his suit retracting into themselves, and you nod.

"yeah, i'm good – nice catch, by the way." you grin up at him, breathless. a hand still rests over the star on his chest as you find your balance, and the other cradles the new ache in your side, "even if you did break all my ribs in the process."

he chuckles, finding the humour in your words and returning it easily. "hey, i don't accept responsibility for injuries sustained while i'm saving your life, and you're more than welcome for that, by the way."

you're still reeling from the shock of almost falling to your demise, but you can't help the breathless laugh that escapes you. it's slightly delirious and adrenaline fueled, a reflex of sorts. near-death experiences weren't uncommon for you, but you have to admit, this was one of the more fun occasions.

steady enough now to stand on your own, you take a step back and meet sam's eyes once more with a sincere expression. "seriously though, thanks."

"any time." he smiles again, softer, and releases your waist, sliding one arm up to rest around your shoulders instead. "just don't make a habit of falling off buildings, okay?"

you chuckle, patting his chest as you take notice of the rest of your team rushing over, "alright, if you insist."

yelena calls your name as she skids to a stop in front of you, taking your face in both her hands and thoroughly checking you over for cuts and bruises.

"тётушка, you okay? you don't have a concussion?" she frowns, tilting your head to meet her concerned gaze. she brushes away the blood at your brow, and the incredulous look she sends sam, as if it was his fault, almost has you laughing again.

you manage to hold back your amusement though, mostly for her sake, and reassure her, "i'm fine, lena, i promise."

her eyes dart to the way you're holding your ribs as you shift uncomfortably in place, and clicks her tongue at you. "no, you're not fine, look at you – you're more injured than before he got to you!"

"ah, captain america, a rookie mistake!" alexei's voice echoes through the empty street, and he's still yelling even as he lands a hand on sam's shoulder. "you are not very good at whole saving people business, eh? that's okay, red guardian forgives you!"

"wh–" sam pulls a face, half offended, half confused, "you didn't see me catch her mid-air two minutes ago?"

"bah! child's play!" alexei dismisses him with a wave of his giant hand, and he's about to continue until he's interrupted by another one of your team arriving.

"yeah, we all saw you wilson, jesus christ…" walker huffs, rolling his eyes as he comes to a stop a little ways from where you stand.

the air instantly thickens. his jaw is clenched hard, the death glare he's sending sam unsettling in a way that's not like him.

"what's the problem now, walker?" there's annoyance in sam's voice, but you can't shake the way john is locked onto sam; like a predator to prey, he hasn't taken his eyes off him once, and it worries you.

something about the way his eyes graze sam's arm, still around you, sticks in the back of your mind. the way his jaw clenches and his fists tighten at his sides, it unearths something more to his anger.

john scoffs, and rolls his eyes again. "my problem is we're the avengers, and yet for some reason you're always right there whenever we're trying to do our jobs!" he throws his arms out to the sides, his breathing fast and heavy. a moment passes where no one moves, just watching him in stunned silence. "look– we get it, you think you're better than us, but you're not, okay?"

"walker, you need to calm down." yelena leaves your side to get between them, but the staredown just continues over her head.

sam drops his arm from your shoulders, holding his hands out as he takes a step towards walker, an attempt to placate him that has little effect. "hold on, i don't think I'm better than you guys–"

"but you do think you're better than me, don't you wilson?" he's shouting, invading sam's space now, his fists twitching with the effort of holding back. the way his voice cracks, subtle but clear as day to you, sends a twinge through your heart.

you hesitate to break the thick silence that follows. part of you wants to shut him up, to defend your friend – but a larger part, the part of you that cares about john, says that this isn't like him.

"walker." you murmur, a low warning just loud enough to catch his attention.

his glare snaps to you, an undertone of something undeniably hurt beneath his burning anger, but then it's gone just as fast as it appeared. "what? you're on his side now?"

there's a deep sting in your chest when he meets your eye with that same piercing scowl. "i'm not on anyone's side–"

"really? 'cause you're supposed to be on ours– your team's!" he spits, "but i guess it's just whatever you feel like in the moment, right widow?"

if he notices the way your face falls, he doesn't show it.

"alright enough!" bucky yells. he gets in-between the two of them, next to yelena, and puts his metal hand sternly on john's chest. "walker, go back to the car."

john scoffs again. "right. i'm the bad guy – as per usual." he spits, the energy fading from his voice with every word until he just sounds defeated. "why is he even here?"

"just shut up and start walking." bucky growls, pushing him away with the hand on his chest. walker huffs, hesitating like he's debating if he should argue, but eventually spins on his heel and marches off. bucky looks over his shoulder at you, sending sam a somewhat apologetic look, before wordlessly following behind him with alexei in tow.

"sorry." you sigh, massaging the furrow from your brow, and offer sam a regretful look of your own. "he's not always that much of an asshole."

"why do i find that hard to believe?" sam grumbles, watching walker's form retreat. he looks back at you, his expression softening, and shakes his head. "you don't have to apologise."

"sorry anyway." because you are. yelena is waiting for you, her hands on her hips. you pat sam's arm, that guilty feeling still lingering. "i'll see you around?"

he gives you a nod, already starting to walk away. "of course. take care of yourself, alright?"

and with that, his wings extend and he's in the sky before you can blink.

you watch him go a moment longer, before turning back to yelena and gesturing for the two of you to get moving. the others have already turned the corner up ahead, leaving just you and her walking side by side.

"you want to talk about that?" she broaches, looking at you from the corner of her eye with a certain delicate tone that really doesn't make you feel any better.

a grimace crosses your face. no, you wanted to say, not particularly, especially since you're shouldering most of the blame for it. "...what is there to say? i think it might've been my fault anyway."

"don't say that." yelena scolds, her brows pulling into a frown, but you shake your head.

"if i'd been paying attention, then that guy wouldn't have snuck up on me, and then sam wouldn't have had to come and save me, and we could've avoided this whole thing." you release a deep breath, ignoring the sting that radiates from your ribs. "now the energy's all… weird."

she clicks her tongue, and lays a comforting hand on your back. "it's not your fault walker is an asshole, тётушка, nothing we can do about that."

you catch her smile and huff, a weak attempt at a laugh, but it falls flat.

it was more than that, you could tell. more than just walker's typical asshole shtick, but, again, you were hesitant to think about it. he always toed the line, pushed his luck with comments and insults, but that was malicious, meant to wound. you really thought walker had moved past his feud with sam – he didn't seem to harbour the same animosity for you, or even bucky, though maybe you were wrong about that too, since you'd just gotten the same treatment. you shake your head to rid yourself of that train of thought; that's not an idea you want to confront.

so you settle for something vague, a plausible deniability you hoped she would let you keep. "did he seem… off to you?"

yelena lets out a sharp laugh, "oh, so you noticed this time, thank god for that."

"what's that supposed to mean?" you shoot her a puzzled look, your eyes narrowing. she holds herself like she knows something you don't, and it's unsettling.

she chuckles to herself again, a knowing glint in her eye. "it's not all about that shield with him, you know that, right?"

"uh…" you swallow hard, vaguely remembering that odd flash of emotion you'd noticed in john earlier, but you're still confused. "no?"

she doesn't elaborate any further, simply holding your gaze with an expression that reveals absolutely nothing. there's no time to interrogate her further, though, bucky's call of your names from just ahead cutting your conversation short. one last attempt to meet yelena's eye before you climb into the back of the truck, which she shoots down, and you're left with only the rumble of the engine as bucky pulls away.

the drive home is eerily quiet. even ava – who usually jumps at the chance to make a sly comment, at john's expense especially – refrains from speaking.

despite what yelena said, and despite knowing she's right, it still feels like you could've avoided this. you all knew john wasn't really a fan of sam, but he was a good friend of yours, you weren't going to drop him just because one member of your team didn't like him; even if it was the same teammate that held your heart in his hands.

and speaking of walker, he has yet to acknowledge any of the rest of you, taking instead to boring holes in the wall opposite him with his red hot glare. you've been trying to meet his eye the whole ride home, but he fails to notice, like he's somewhere else entirely. with every minute that passes in uncomfortable silence, you're less and less sure that it's not you he's angry at.

when bucky finally pulls into the tower's basement garage, after fifteen minutes that could have easily been hours, he's the first to move. the car has barely even rolled to a stop before walker's standing, hunched over awkwardly as he crosses the length of the truck and throws open the back doors.

the heavy sound of his footsteps echos through the garage, and he's gone before the rest of you can clamber out. the urge to follow him is strong, but you hold off. you're not even sure what you'd say if you caught up to him.

"what crawled up his arse and died?" ava grumbles, sending you a sideways glance as she passes you. "thought i was about to suffocate in that tension…"

you frown, watching the door to the stairwell slowly fall shut, the only indication that john was even there at all.

"just give him some space." you follow her towards the elevator, and she cranes her neck to roll her eyes at you over her shoulder.

"right. like i was planning on spending the rest of my evening in his glowing company…"

a few paces behind you yelena snorts, ignoring the warning look you give her as the rest of you load into the elevator. it's a squeeze with alexei and bucky taking up most of the space, leaving you and yelena facing each other from opposite sides of the box.

"don't worry, тётушка will talk to him," she begins, leaning back against the cool steel and crossing her arms over her chest.

"i will?" you quirk a brow at her as the doors slide shut and the elevator begins to rise. you're not sure if the way your stomach sinks is because of the elevator, or the thought of having to face walker after what happened earlier. "i don't know if that's a good idea."

"yes, it is. seeing as this whole thing is kind of your fault, i think that's fair." she continues, shrugging in response to the look of betrayal you send her. "what? you said it yourself!"

you throw your hands out to the sides, as emphatically as you can in the confined elevator. "you weren't supposed to agree with me!"

"she's got a point, though." ava chimes in, then leans back to hide from your glare behind alexei's arm. "you did let your guard down, quite critically if you ask me."

"hey!"

"you were distracted, yes?" alexei now grins down at you, a gesture you pointedly do not return, and continues, "too busy watching red guardian's heroic moves, i understand, it happens."

you bring a hand up to cover your face, massaging the bridge of your nose, and mutter a quiet, "oh my god…"

a nudge against your foot draws your attention, and you look up to find bucky looking at you too. "it's not a bad idea."

you stare at him, an image appearing in your mind of the fury in walker's eyes earlier, but then bucky tilts his head at you and you really can't resist that sad puppy look he puts on. you breathe a deep sigh, rolling your eyes at all of them, "...fine. i'll talk to him. but if it backfires and he just yells at me again, it's your fault."

"thank fuck," ava replies, a subtle smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth, and as the elevator dings she's already phasing through the doors with a call over her shoulder, "spare the rest of us from his terrible mood."

the conversation dies there. one by one, the others filter out on their respective floors, until you're left standing by yourself in the elevator which suddenly seems far too big.

you press the button for walker's floor, and the doors slide shut again.

he was angry at you, even if you didn't fully understand why, he made that abundantly clear. that scathing omment directed at you – you know he's referring to the sokovia accords, the fight in germany, and even though you know he was just lashing out, a defence mechanism you're accustomed to from him, it was a low blow.

and it stung that little bit more coming from him, because you trusted him. it had come up, late one night when you had bumped into each other in the kitchen during a bout of insomnia, the topic of the previous avengers. in the early hours of that morning you'd confided in him your worries about being part of a team again, how you couldn't handle losing another family like that. and he had reassured you, that the new avengers wouldn't be like that – only to use it against you in a petty argument.

the elevator dings. the doors slide open.

the hallway feels unusually cold when you step over the threshold. something within you tells you this is a bad idea, that you're only going to get hurt again, but you can't walk away.

your hand is poised to knock, hovering centimetres from his door and staying frozen there. no light seeps through the cracks from his room, making the cool fluorescent lights in the hall seem that much more suffocating. you're still not sure what exactly you're here to say.

as if the universe could sense your indecisiveness, the door abruptly swings open, revealing john with a look on his face that sends a shiver down your spine.

but when his eyes land on you, he pauses, his expression going blank. your name falls from his mouth in a whisper. he'd shed the top half of his suit, leaving him in that skin-tight undershirt that does absolutely nothing to help your already scrambling mind. you blink at him, trying to find something to say, but you draw a blank.

and then he goes to shut the door on you. you manage to wedge your foot in the gap before he can fully close it, a small frown taking over your features.

"john," you begin, your tone something almost pleading. "i want to talk."

hesitation dances across his face, and you briefly wonder if hes just going to jist the door on you again. but, to your surprise, he lets the door falls back open, screwing his eyes shut as you move to lean in the doorway.

"about what?" he avoids your gaze as he mumbles, a distinctly defeated feel to his voice. he looks so tired, even more so than he did when you last saw him not even an half an hour ago.

you frown, and answer in a murmur, "you know what."

"yeah, i screwed up, okay? i know that!" he snaps, still dutifully avoiding your gaze as he lets go of the door and turns back into his room. "you don't have to rub it in!"

"i'm not– what's going on with you?" you follow him in, leaving the door ajar behind you, and stare at his back a few steps away, "and don't try and give me the 'i'm just tired' excuse, because i know it's more than that."

he sighs sharply, running a hand over the back of his head, but doesn't turn to face you when he answers, "you wouldn't get it."

it's a lame excuse, and he knows it – it's why he refuses to look you in the eye – but you're not discouraged by his attempt to brush you off.

"oh, come on, john." you roll your eyes, your concern quickly morphing into frustration the more indignant he becomes. "it's something to do with sam, right? i know he's my friend, but if you have something to say, or–"

finally he whips around to face you, his eyes wide with the same kind of anger as before. "right– everything's always about sam! you can't even stop for five seconds to back me up when you know I'm right!"

"why the hell would i back you up when you're being a complete asshole to the guy who just saved my life?" you retort, standing your ground against him despite the way it prickles the hairs on the back of your neck. "he's my friend, i'm not gonna let you, or anyone, talk to him like that!"

"it's not about him– it's about none of you guys ever having my back like i have yours!"

"so i'm the problem? seriously, what did i ever do to you? and bringing up the accords thing, really john?" you glare at him with a scoff, exasperation bleeding into your expression. he goes to turn his back to you again, but you grab his arm before he can, forcing him to hold your gaze. "you're lashing out, you're pissed at me, i know you are, so just tell me what i did!"

he groans, a deep rumble of frustration in his chest as he presses the ball of his hand into his eye. "you didn't do anything!"

"so it is sam?" you press him further, but he just grits his teeth. "i thought we were over this, why do you have such a problem with him?"

a beat passes, a fleeting second where he seems to hold himself back, but the words spill from his mouth against his better judgment.

"because it should've been me!"

you don't say anything. something changes in the air as he catches his breath, feeling thicker than before with the weight of everything still unsaid. he takes your wrist in his hand and brings it between you, taking a tiny step forward.

"...because i could've saved you! he's not–" his voice catches, breaking in a way that squeezes your heart, and his gaze is just short of desperate. "...i could've saved you, and then maybe you would've looked at me the way you looked at him!"

his eyes gloss over, you catch a glimpse just as he drops his head to hide it from you. it's hard to find a single word to say.

"...how did i look at him?" you whisper, hesitant to disturb the fragile air between you.

against your skin, john's fingers twitch, a barely noticeable tremble. there's another oppressive pause where he doesn't speak, just holds you there in unbearable silence. you can almost feel the embarrassment, the shame, radiating from him, see it in the way his shoulders are bunched up.

"like he was your hero. like– like he was everything…" he finally answers. he tilts his head back up, his eyes darting between yours and looking beyond you.

"john…" you murmur.

it seems so obvious now, what all of this has been about – the weird feeling about him you got earlier, yelena's cryptic remarks, you're embarrassed it took you this long to realise.

warmth rushes to your face as you come to the conclusion; john was jealous of sam, not because of the shield, but because of you.

"...how is it fair? that he gets the shield, the fame, the life, the legacy…" the hand on your wrist moves up to grasp your own, his thumb pressing into your palm. his voice is low and raspy, a jarring contrast to his usual blunt confidence. "he already has everything, how is it fair that he gets you too?"

your mouth falls open, confusion replacing the surprise from his confession. "i don't…"

"it doesn't matter." he mumbles quickly, releasing your hand and taking a step back from you. his eyes are still glassy as he turns away, a strain to his voice when he continues, "it doesn't fucking matter, you don't see me that way."

you step forward with him, reaching for his hand that drags through his hair. "you don't need–"

"no, don't do that. don't try to make me feel better." he pulls away from your touch, back to avoiding eye contact, his brows pulling tightly together.

he's spiralling, that much is clear, but you can't manage to get a word in without him interrupting you. "i–"

"just get out, okay? i need to be alone!"

"will you listen to me!" you yell, taking the front of his shirt in your fist to force his gaze back on you. he freezes, his jaw clenched tight, but he stays quiet. "you don't need to save my life in some grand gesture for me to look at you like that!"

he opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but the words get stuck in his throat. the way the light from the hall catches in his eye, you can't bring yourself to look away, even when the vulnerability feels too much.

"you don't need to be the hero, john, i don't care about any of that. is it so hard for you to understand that i might just like you how you are?" your voice is quiet again now, the room closing in around you as if you're the only two people in the world – and in this moment, you might be.

the air is warm, bordering on stifling, but your skin prickles under the ghost of his touch on your waist. he lets it hover there for a moment, as if he was afraid you'd change your mind. you don't, though, and a shiver rolls through you as he plants his hand firmly there. the bruising is just a distant ache under his touch, all but forgotten as you gaze deep into his eyes.

"i like you how you are." you utter. the words are little more than a whisper, reverence in the miniscule space left between you.

he walks you backwards – one, two, three large strides, until his hand can reach to shut the door and crowd you against it, plunging his room into total darkness.

"you shouldn't…" he mumbles, his breath fanning over your lips, tantalisingly close but still much too far, "...i'm not a good person, everything i touch… just…"

you huff, bringing a hand up to curl around the back of his neck, grazing your nails over his skin. "don't care."

the press of his lips to yours is hungry, and it steals the air from your lungs. the force knocks your head against the door, earning a muffled groan into his mouth.

"sorry," he breathes against you, a hint of a smirk in his voice that you can picture even without the light. you click your tongue, fighting a smile of your own, sliding your hand up through his hair and use it to pull him back in. he doesn't resist, following your unspoken command with the diligence of soldier.

then he's on you again, gentler this time but no less desperate. he brushes his fingers over your cheek, moving to cup your jaw and tilt your head to close whatever distance was left between you. the feel of him is overwhelming; the maddening scratch of his beard, how his broad shoulders box you in and his arm snakes around you to pull your body flush to his, it's so much but still not enough at the same time. his skin under your hands is hot, and you absently wonder if he always runs this hot, or if it's just for you.

he sighs against your lips, rough and needy, barely moving away to draw in ragged breaths. your other hand flattens across his chest to feel the rapid pace of his heart, pounding out of control beneath his sternum just like your own.

there's nothing else, in this moment, just him and you. the argument from before is long forgotten, replaced with the feeling of his mouth on yours, his hands all over you, seared into your mind even after he finally leans back.

you can't help the bashful smile that spreads across your face as you catch your breath. you're thankful the room is dark enough to hide it, though you're not sure it matters with his super soldier eyesight.

"i'm…" john murmurs lowly, feeling the vibrations from his voice under your hand as he continues, "...i'm sorry, i shouldn't have yelled at you, earlier. you didn't deserve that."

you sigh, resting your head in the crook of his neck. "i wish you'd just talk to me."

"i will." his hand comes to cradle the back of your head, and he presses a soft kiss to your hairline. "i'll try. i promise."

"then i'll hold you to that." you grin against his neck, placing a kiss of your own against the barest stubble there. "...so, are you gonna apologise to sam, too?"

john scoffs. "what? no, i stand by what i said." you tighten your grip in his hair, drawing a sharp breath from him before he begrudgingly continues, "...but i guess i could thank him, y'know, for not letting you die?"

an airy laugh escapes you, not surprised by his stubbornness. "y'know what? just don't talk to him."

"probably for the best."

#is it cringe to say that i want to chomp on this fic like a chew toy????#it feels cringe so nvm #but yes but no

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