#john and wilson are tired

[aunhinged]

Sherlock and House: Oddest shows of affection.

Sherlock: I’ve programmed an algorithm that can diagnose medical conditions within 0.05% accuracy. Much better than your pathetic clinic work. I think John will appreciate it.

House: Cute. I just pretended to go into cardiac arrest so Wilson would rush in and declare me his one true love. Try faking death next time, it’s a real conversation starter.

Sherlock: How is that even remotely intellectual? John prefers logic, not melodrama.

House: Wilson likes grand gestures. I know my audience.

John (to Wilson): Are they seriously doing this again?

Wilson: I’m pretty sure I’m dating an emotionally stunted teenager. What’s your excuse?

[kirkenovak]

John accidentally calls Bob a pet name (they’ve been secretly dating) but the rest of Thunderbolts think he’s mocking Bob and are upset.

Bonus: Sam Wilson is there and gives John a lecture about homophobia in a full Captain America Is Making a Speech mode

Bonus bonus: Val is there and decides to do damage control by “outing” Bob and John as a couple to the press— except they really are a couple - and by saying how upsetting it is that Sam Wilson thinks romantic affection between two men is such a ludicrous idea that it has to be a mockery

Bonus bonus bonus: Bucky is not present for any of this. He’s on holidays. He’s resting, he’s thriving, he’s ordering drinks with little umbrellas, hes getting massages, he’s not checking news and texts, he’s out of the loop. Please, let this man rest, he looks so tired, so done.

[sorapricots]

Breaking Point

Summary: In the way where you start to lose your shit after teaching the children in Xavier Institute for so long, your partner Logan decided it's time to take a break.

Pair: Husband!Logan Howlett x Mutant!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Curse words, reader have regenerative healing factor like Logan so she is actually as older as as Charles but look young, reader is married to logan, blood mention, 

A/N: it might seems crazy that I only come back here to write about Logan but damn I just cannot take my mind off from Logan. I might make one for Wade Wilson too tho. Also in all honesty I am not 100% proud with this one, but I just need to write this man so bad. So maybe I’m gonna make another one. 

Wc:  1,8k 

Beep... beep... beep...

You quickly turn off your alarm with a groan as you push yourself to sit on your bed. Another groan escaped your lips when you realized you broke another alarm for the third time this week and your husband is not beside you. You wipe your face harshly as you walk to the bathroom.

You take a cold quick shower in hope it can help you freshen up. A tired sigh was heard as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Eye bags can be seen even though it's not very noticeable. You quickly grab a concealer to hide your eye bags. Once you are satisfied with your concealer you quickly put on your daily-go-to make up and decide to put on a more neutral color outfit instead of your usual colorful one.

A black turtleneck paired with your favorite jeans, as you put on a worn-out brown leather jacket, and you decide to wear your boots for the last touch. You quickly put your wedding band on your finger before you forget it. And you decided to put the necklace your husband, Logan, bought for you almost 10+ years ago. You smile a little bit as your fingers carefully caress the vintage looking necklace.

As you grab your bedroom handle, you stop to kiss your wedding band, a habit you do before you start your day. Deep down in your heart, you hope today will be a more bearable day than the previous day. But of course your wish is only a mere wish when the moment you open the door you see students running past you with full speed almost hitting you. 

"Kids! No running in the hall!" You warned them before you carefully stepped out of your bedroom. 

"Good morning!" Ororo quipped when she saw you step into the kitchen. A mug of coffee in her hand and a muffin in the other. You give her a sweet smile before you grab yourself a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, ro. Have you seen Logan?" You softly asked as you sat yourself in one of the stools. Ororo looks at you for a second before blinking, trying to remember where the last time she saw the rugged guy. 

"Oh I saw him walk to the classroom, looks like he has History class to teach today." You hummed a bit as you took a sip from your mug. Eyes slowly darting to the clock beside the fridge.

"Ah shoot, I have class too. See you later, Ro." You quickly downed your coffee and put your mug in the sink before you walked to your class. You can hear Ororo wish you good luck as you walk away.

As you approach the classroom you can hear some of the students chattering. You take a deep breath before you open the door. Revealing a bit of chaos the students cause. You can feel the corner of your eyebrow twitch but you just let it slide as the students quickly take a seat when they see you.

"Good morning, everyone. I hope you had a nice rest last night. And I hope the assignment I gave last week is finished and ready to be submitted. Please put your work on my desk so I can grade it later." You speak as you grab some of the old literature books that you have. Students start piling up in front of your desk to put their assignments. All of them except one, John. He's known for not being punctual when it's about submitting assignments.

"John, where is your assignment?" You softly asked him as you try to calm down yourself as you can feel your patience running thin. He scratched his head before he let out an apologetic look.

"Sorry, Professor. I kind of forgot about it." He answered with full honesty. You close your eyes for a second before you give him a smile.

"It's okay, but as an exchange I want you to write a resume about this Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen and I want you to submit it tonight." John almost let out a protest but decided not to when he saw you giving a look. His body slumped down on his desk before he nodded. You then continue your teaching session.

Suddenly there's a knock on your classroom door. You let out a quick come in as you write down something about old literature on the board. 

"Professor, Professor Hank asked you to meet him in his class." You turn around to see Rogue standing on the entry door. 

"Okay, thank you, Rogue. The class ends for today then. Make sure you do the assignment that I give you for today and I want it to be submitted next week. John, please do your assignment. I will wait for your resume tonight." Students start to pack up their belongings as you tidying up your desk. Then you walk to Hank's classroom to meet him.

A very chaotic sound can be heard in his class. You also hear Logan screaming. Your brows furrowed as you opened the classroom door. Suddenly you see a beaker with some weird color liquid in it flying and hitting your face. 

The classroom went quiet as sizzle can be heard. You stare at the people in the classroom blankly as your hand slowly touches your face. You can feel your skin sticky with both the weird liquid and blood. Eyes darted to Logan, Hank, and the students making sure no one else hurt as you feel pain on your face start to numb out due to your healing factor. 

"Shit." Logan quickly went to you as he held your face to make sure you heal properly. Ignoring the residue of the weird liquid that is still on your skin. You stare at him before your eyes start to become glossy. You rapidly blink your eyes while Logan pulls you into a hug. Trying to calm you down by swaying both of your body softly. Muffled sobs can be heard as he strokes your back.

"Hey, it's okay Bub. I got you. I'm here." Logan tries to pull you impossibly closer than he already did. He quickly looks behind him, telling Hank that he will be right back. Hank just gives him a quick nod before he starts to instruct the students to tidy up the mess they created. 

Logan quickly picks you up with bridal style and starts walking back to your shared room with you still crying in his arms. Your hands held to his neck as you shoved your face to his neck. Try to find comfort in his musky, pine, and mixed with tobacco scent.

Logan then proceeds to put you on your shared bed softly as soon as you both are inside the bedroom. He quickly picks his shirt and your shorts for you to change as he knows you always find comfort in his shirt. He went into the bathroom to grab your makeup wipes before he came back to you who was still sobbing with hands covering your face.

"Look up, pretty girl." He carefully pulls your hands and holds your chin. Frowning a bit when he saw your mascara ran down on your cheeks and red nose. He carefully wiped your makeup away and his frown deepened as he saw your eyebags. He leans down to kiss your forehead and your sobs get harder.

“Take a deep breath darling. I’m not going anywhere.” Logan starts to cup your face as he starts to lead you on taking deep breaths with him. You follow him soon after and a thin smile creeps up his face.

“Atta girl.” his calloused hand softly stroking your head as your sobs start to calm down. Your husband then continues to clean your face from makeup. You slowly lift one of your hands to hold his wrist that is still busy cleaning up your face. Logan then leans in to give you a quick peck on each of your eyes, nose, and lastly your lips before he pulls away. His hands carefully took off the necklace that he gave for you before carefully storing it back in the box. You slowly peel off your jacket and jeans as he walks back to you.

“Hands up, baby.” He instructed you as he took a seat beside you and he pulled your turtleneck up. You obeyed him by putting your hands up in the air. Allowing him to pull your turtleneck. He then starts to stroke your almost naked back, making you feel his warm palms to let you know that he is with you. 

“I’m gonna take your bra off okay?” he softly asked while his palms were still rubbing your back. You give an affirmative nod and his fingers skillfully take off your bra as he has already done so many times. You let your bra fall to the floor. Logan then pulls you to sit on his lap. Your hands immediately circling around his neck. He then pulls you into another hug while giving your shoulders a lot of soft kisses. It's a different kind of kisses. Nothing sensual, just comfort and love. And you hug him tighter. Letting his stubble tickle your skin.

Logan then pulls away and gives you his shirt and your shorts. You carefully take it from his hands. He stares at you full of love and adoration before he softly pushes you from his lap and walks to the bathroom to clean himself. You quickly put the clothes on and lay down on bed. Pull your blanket to cover your body and wait for your lover. Eyes blankly staring at the wedding band on your finger while your thumb carefully rotates it.

Suddenly a warmth starts engulfing you from the back. For the first time on that day you genuinely let out a soft smile. You quickly rotate your body so you can face your husband. 

"What's on your mind darling?" His voice is rough but there's softness and care behind it. His hand pushes your hair away from your face. You smile again and pull him into a kiss. 

"It's nothing. Just been tired from all of the work I have to do these past few days…" you answered in a low voice. Logan let out a low growl as he looked at you with sympathy.

"Let's take a few days off then. Let's go somewhere quiet. Just the two of us." Logan suggested while rubbing your sides before letting his hand stay on your hips. You stare at his face. Remembering every detail you can catch with your eyes. 

"Okay. Thank you, Lo." Logan smiles as he rolls to lay on his back. Pulling you with him to sleep.

"Anything for you princess." His words and his touch is the last thing you remember before you drift off to sleep

[autisticrosewilson]

It's been bugging me for a while that we have so many canonically queer characters now but none of them ever DO anything! It's like after they get two characters in a queer relationship they just never give them any conflict after. We didn't ask for more representation because we wanted that character to no longer have interesting stories outside of a queer identity we wanted you to stop queer baiting us.

I know that word gets tossed around a lot, but there is very strong evidence for TimKon, StephCass, and GhostBat where they practically confirm it but they never say anything explicitly. Supersons were literally shown to live together, co-parent Lizzie, and were explicitly paralleling other canon couples last week.

But it's too much for Kon AND Tim to be queer, so they gave Tim a civilian boyfriend that he never has any conflict with and all of the build up and tension that comes with trying to clone your dead teammate 99 times and being a hair away from making out for like 8 years.

Robin AND Super boy couldn't be canonically queer so they aged Jon up and then gave him a civilian boyfriend he never has any conflict with all while parading them around in elseworlds because they knew fans were upset about the lost potential.

Even Harley and Ivy fall victim to this in a different way. I love that they're canonically queer! I just wish that at least Ivy got to keep some of her villainy. I don't think they should have to compromise being menaces to society with being queer.

And it's related but I hesitate to call it queer baiting... what's going on with Dick Grayson. He gets confirmed bi in a non canon video game but he has more pride covers than Tim. Like you can't dangle an extremely queer coded character in front of us and then just never make it canon. And I'm tired of one off implications too. We deserve better representation than a one liner played off for a joke (Batstantine this is about you I fear) but they won't because they know full well they won't do a damn thing with him after.

You wanna know what we should be striving for? Midnighter and Apollo. Messy their whole run time, uncompromisingly interesting whether they're together or not, happily married with a daughter, and yet continued to be unerringly bad ass. John Constantine, with all of his shameless flirting and raunchiness. Grace Choi and Anissa Pierce. The pining, the break ups, the make ups. Obsessed with them.

Joey Wilson!!! You want someone whose already canonically queer who Dick has a lot of tension with? He's right there! The son of Dick's arch Nemesis. Both of their willingness to go over people's heads to protect them. Joey's ability to completely take someone's free will (and his deliberate and spiteful choice not to) vs. Dick's constant fight for independence (and his willing surrender to the pull of his family). Dick's unwillingness to communicate his feelings or experiences with literally anyone ever paired with Joey's uncanny ability to read him like a book. Are you joking. The mess, the tension, the INTRIGUE!!

This got away from me but I want my queer characters to be interesting again pretty please.

[batsandbirdbrains]

Can you imagine the absolute psychotic break Dick would have if he found out Deathstroke was his biological dad? So anyway on that note

The one where Dick is actually Deathstroke’s son

Dick legitimately has no clue in this AU that he’s not actually the son of John and Mary Grayson. Let’s go ahead and make this one also right after the end of young justice season 2 where everyone is pissy bc nightwing was “secretive” and “too much like Batman” bc he did the absolute correct thing in not telling the whole goddamn team abt Kaldur’s deep cover op. I’m still mad they gave him shit for that if u can’t tell like im sorry u all got ur feelings hurt but dick and Kaldur’s plan literally saved the world like hello ur welcome. Anyway.

Dick is utterly Depressed and he’s isolating himself in a Blüdhaven safe house, basically falling apart at the seams bc he’s terrible at taking care of himself when he spirals like this. Everyone’s mad at him and he’s blaming himself. He’s throwing himself into the Nightwing shit and running himself ragged beating up baddies, but he’s also just exhausted and not eating right or sleeping well and he has a shitty job at dive bar or a strip club as a busboy. Should we age him down to 17? Let’s make him 17, for the added angst of not even being a legal adult but having to take care of himself and make a fake ID so he can even get a job. Not that his boss even really looked at it or legally employs him, but still. If he’s 18+ let’s make him a stripper/dancer for the extra tips and to add to the whole desperate for cash thing. Plus he’d prob get a lot of intel for his night job, actually. Idk idk

So also, instead of Artemis going undercover to help out with Kaldur, she refused. She and Wally had no interest in returning. So Dick had to maintain both his role as Nightwing and go undercover as Renegade, Deathstroke’s apprentice.

Slade was surprisingly on board for going along with Dick’s charade, because there’s no keeping secrets like that from Deathstroke of course he knew it was all a ruse. Dick just had to promise to actually follow orders while out as Renegade and to actually put effort in when Slade trained him. Dick couldn’t figure out why it was so easy to get Deathstroke to agree, he knew it would eventually come back to bite him in the ass, but he was desperate and running out of options so he took it.

So one night when Dick comes home after getting the shit kicked out of him by some run of the mill baddies, he finds Slade Wilson sitting on at his wobbly kitchen table, drinking coffee out of Dick’s favorite mug and looking like he’s judging the state of cleanliness (or lack thereof) of Dick’s apartment/safe house. Dick is too tired to even question it and just falls face first on the couch, pressing his face into the cushion until he sees stars.

A muffled “What do you want” brings a short laugh from Slade, and it just makes Dick feel even more exhausted.

Slade basically talks shit about the so called heroes who threw Dick away when they didn’t like the way his plan worked, Dick starts tuning him out because of course he’s going on a monologue when all Dick wants to do is go rot in bed for the next 18 hours. But then he says something in such a casual tone that it takes a moment for Dick to register what the words mean, and he snaps his head up so fast it feels like he snaps a muscle in his neck like a broken rubber band.

“Shut the fuck up,” he chokes out. “There’s no way I heard that right.”

“Denial’s not a good look on you,” Slade snorts.

Because Slade had just said moments ago that Dick is his long lost son, he ran a DNA test and everything.

“Long lost son,” Dick mocks, “that’s bullshit. What is this, a soap opera?”

“You were kidnapped when you were two years old,” Slade says, his voice calm but serious. Not wavering. “I’d been on a job. Your mother was called away by her father. You were left with a nanny we thought we could trust. That was a mistake. And I’ve regretted leaving that morning every day of my life since.”

Dick can’t stop staring at Slade. This has gotta be a joke. He’s so full of shit, there’s no way.

But Slade isn’t wavering at all. He’s not smirking. He’s not smiling. He’s just watching Dick so intensely, and Dick feels like he’s under a microscope.

He shows Dick the documents. The proof Slade even has a third son at all. Pictures that look an awful lot like the toddler he’s seen in pictures from the boxes of old stuff from his parents’ circus trailer. A toddler playing with Slade’s two older sons, Grant and Joey, who Dick may or may not have briefly met while Renegade.

And then he drops another bomb on him.

“Your mother is Talia al Ghul.”

Dick feels like his lungs just popped like a balloon.

He doesn’t know what happens, but next thing he knows, Slade is sitting next to him on the floor, counting out breaths and talking him down from what was probably the worst panic attack Dick has had in at least a solid week.

“I hate you and you’re full of shit,” Dick gasps, his chest aching. Definitely only because he’d been kicked in the ribs earlier by a thug, no other reason.

Slade just laughs. Not like an asshole smug laugh Dick is used to hearing from him, but like he’s actually genuinely amused by Dick and his antics.

It’s only a little bit of a mind fuck.

Slade convinced Dick to come with him, at the very least just so Dick can use the equipment Slade has to run the DNA test himself and confirm whether Slade is telling the truth or not. And maybe to have a meal that isn’t instant ramen or cereal or a rotisserie chicken.

And Dick hates how comfortable he is with Slade, because he slips right back into the role of Renegade like he never left. And Slade actually treats him like a son, like he’s proud of him, like Dick isn’t just a weapon or a pawn to be used. Slade isn’t throwing him away as soon as he’s gotten all he can get out of him.

And if Slade is maybe putting some biased thoughts about how the Justice League and their junior team treated him into his head, Dick steadfastly ignored that fact. Because it’s true, they treated him like shit. Like he was expendable. They needed his plan to save the world from the reach, and then tossed him out on his ass and called him manipulative for it without so much as a “Thank you, Nightwing, for coming up with a plan that saved us from the alien overlords.”

And then he meets Grant and Joey. As himself, as Dick, not as Renegade. And they’re his big brothers, and they’re so excited to see him, they missed him so much, he was so little last they saw him. And it’s such a stark contrast from how Tim was so mad at him last they spoke, because Tim thought he should’ve been in the loop about the deep cover op, but Tim is still a newbie who almost tore his eyebrows off taking his domino mask off wrong not even a month before the invasion ended, how the hell was Dick supposed to involve him in such a terrifying mission?

And if Dick is out as Renegade with Deathstroke one night and runs into members of his old team, runs into a confused Kaldur who doesn’t understand why Dick is still going out as Renegade, well then maybe they should’ve worried about what Dick was up to before Deathstroke sunk his claws into him.

Because now Dick isn’t sure if he even wants to go back to them.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Mr. Barnes Pt.1

Bucky Barnes x reader [pt.2]

When Sam brings someone new to his council meetings hosted in the library, the mystery man becomes the hot topic among the librarians.

2k

Single dad Bucky, librarian reader, Sam still has his counceling job. Imagine John didn't absolutely fuck up and is currently being a decent Cap somewhere in the background.

The library was quiet today outside of the scheduled ex-veteran meetings that were hosted once a month. You barely had any customer interaction today and you were bored. Luckily boredom didn’t last long as the men of varying ages started coming in for their meeting. The retired army men always spoke so kindly to you and your coworkers, especially the older, greying men who’d drink their free coffee and stopped for a casual chat whenever any of the librarians had time for them during their visits.

Like always Sam had shown up early, his ever-present smile and kind eyes drew a crowd like clockwork. He’d always be all sunshine and cheer while he set up the last things for the meetings he hosted and brought comfort food for the elderly. He made sure to bring something extra for "his favorite ladies" as he called you and your coworkers, as well. A few takeout boxes with a variety of foods were dropped off in the break room with a sweet little note telling the librarians to enjoy the food, signed by S. Wilson.

“Say thanks to Sarah for me, will ya?” You mumbled as you walked past Sam, making sure the others didn’t hear you mention the one who’d always prepare the delicious foods.

Today, though. Today was different. The food was dropped off without the usual amount of bravado, and the flirty suave Sam didn’t have as much eye for the ladies as he normally had. No, today there was someone else following him around and held most of his attention. Unknowingly, he held the librarians’ attention as well.

Behind Sam trailed a man looking to be around the same age as him. Although the beard and tired eyes did age him a little. Icy blue eyes framed by loose strands of dark brown hair that sat mostly tied in a messy bun. He wore a leather jacket, worn over what looked to be generations of living. A small scarf sat around his neck, hiding skin behind patterned grey fabric. Off one arm hung a motorcycle helmet, its visor gleaming in the overhead light. He still wore his gloves. Dull black leather covering his hands, leaving nothing of his body except for his face uncovered. 

After the meeting had finished and the crowd had left once more it seemed like everyone on the team had seen the guy that followed Sam like a lost puppy, and Sam himself was all but forgotten. 

The Steady buzz around the front desk made it clear no one was going to be doing any work anymore, only talking among colleagues about the mystery man. 

The man showed up more often after that day. Without fail he was at each and every meeting Sam hosted, shadowing him like he would get lost if Sam stepped out of his line of sight. As time went on he started wandering in on his own, always in long sleeves and gloves. No matter the weather he always kept himself covered up. 

It had become a topic of conversation between the library staff, all wondering what the man was hiding underneath. The answer that sounded most obvious was scars, he was a war veteran after all.

"Leave him be, girls." Sam had murmured as he passed the staring group of women once again. 'Him' being the man you learned was named James. Sergeant James Barnes, who "came to these sessions for a reason" and "did not need a gaggle of horny women trailing after him.". Sam, who used to be the object of the staff’s affection, was now all but waved off as he appeared to be blocking the view of Sergeant Barnes. 

"I'm sorry, Sam. They're being assholes." You sat beside him after he finished another meeting, always staying behind to let his mind rest for a moment and have one last coffee before heading back home.

Sam only chuckled as he watched the other women swoon from behind the counter, over his friend who was making his way out of the door and actively ignoring every single one of them. 

Sam leaned back in his chair, slightly tipping his body towards you and spoke in a low voice. "Oh no I get it. I mean, look at him." 

=☆=

It had been over a month and still the library staff's productivity dropped to zero once the veterans, or more specifically, Sargeant Barnes walked in. They'd all greet the others as well to be less obvious, or at least try to. It didn't work, though.

Sam's sister, Sarah Wilson had prepared extra treats for everyone this time, some special occasion you didn't catch the details of but all the food was too much for Sam alone to handle. 

"Can you grab those last ones? I gotta get started or I'll be wasting everybody's time." Sam came speed walking by with a stack of takeout boxes in hand, giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes. 

“Of course. For you, always.” You smiled kindly as you spun to follow his figure, fishing the car keys from his jacket pocket and heading out to grab the last boxes and bring them over to the meeting room.

Once you made your way through the main area and reached the meeting hall after maneuvering through visitors with the small stack of food you could hear someone speak from the doorway. It wasn't the voice of an elderly man, like you'd usually catch as you passed the doorway, but a younger one.

The words made you slow your step, savor the moment before the speaker caught someone walking in.

You listened to the man speak about remembering..

Remembering victims. Deaths and killing.

He spoke of the violence in a sense of not even wanting to participate. Not then, and not now, here in the room with the others. 

The tremble in his voice had you moving, walking into the room as quietly as possible with Sam's requested boxes that you set with the others, sneaking along the wall towards the table in the back and setting down the food.

You couldn't help but look towards the front of the room where the men all sat in a circle. It was only then that you realised who was talking. The man stood out among the greys that filled this week’s session.

It was Sergeant Barnes. He sat with his head down, a gloved hand gripping his left arm so tight you were afraid he'd tear through his sleeve as he tried to even out his breathing. The leather jacket he wore hung over the back of the chair and the dark red henley he wore did nothing to hide the tension and shaking of his shoulders.

He hadn't seen you, but Sam had. He had given you a quick nod in acknowledgement but returned his attention to his friend immediately after. 

It was after the meeting when you saw him again, still frazzled from speaking up earlier. Sam was at his side, handing him two large takeout boxes of food, giving him a last pat on the shoulder and bidding him a safe ride home.

"I made sure to put in enough for you and Maxie." You heard him say as the two of them parted ways.

Maxie.. You hadn’t heard them talk about that person before, did Mr. Barnes have a girlfriend? Uou wouldn’t go feed Sarah’s spiced foods to a pet.

"Don't worry, girls. There's some for you as well." Sam mused as he passed the front desk where you were keeping busy with administration. You worked while the others swarmed around, pretending to be doing stuff near the front desk only to drool over Sergeant Barnes.

"Thank you, Sam. That's so kind." Taking the boxes from him you made a grand gesture of it and quickly put them away in the break room. You put effort into giving him extra attention, it bothered you how everyone else so easily dismissed Sam’s kindness. He was a good friend of the library staff, or at least that’s what you thought.

The second Sam was out the door as well, the first shoulder shoved into you as your coworker’s face inched closer to yours with a strange look on her face. 

“So, are you planning to share what you heard in there?” 

“Yeah girl, we know you heard Barnes talk, what did he say?” The desk was covered in women begging you to spill but you respected the men who came in to share their trauma in a safe environment and you weren’t planning on ruining something by sharing info that was no one else’s business.

Bucky’s ride home was a slow one. His head still spun from speaking up in front of the group and recalling memories of his time as the Winter Soldier. Even disguised as army talk he still couldn’t shake the voice in the back of his mind. The voice thet sounded eerily like a deeper, darker version of his own, a thick russian accent whenever it decided to speak english.

He almost ran a red light. Twice.

“Goddamnit Barnes, get it together..” He mumbled into his helmet.

Back at the apartment building after retrieving the food from his bike bags and slinging his helmet around his arm Bucky made his way up to his home where he could hear his daughter before he saw her, singing along to the tunes of her favorite movie she could quote by heart. Maxie had watched that movie so many times now that even Bucky wasn't immune to humming along to the tune of ‘Bad Reputation’. He had found himself humming the tune even when he was out and about, something about the lyrics that he tried to keep close. Plus, it made him think of Maxie, who hadn’t noticed him coming home yet with how focused she was on acting along with the movie. 

“Really,” Bucky decided to announce his presence when the song was over. “watching this one again?” He leaned against the countertop with the bag of food in his hand, a knowing smile on his face as he watched Maxie turn around and jump up at the sight of the simple white bag. 

“Uncle Sam brought food? Yay!” Within seconds she had climbed her way onto the barstool, ready for her autie Sarah’s food. 

Bucky got everything ready with a huff and a roll of his eyes. Maxie always got excited when he brough home extras from his meetings, a smile on her face from the second she’d see it in Bucky’s hands or or on the bar counter that separated the kitchen and livingroom and served as their dining table. The place was just big enough to fit the big couch and a coffee table. 

And yeah, Bucky could have picked a different couch to make more room for other furniture, but Maxie had loved this one a little too much. It also didn’t help that it was the perfect size for him to sleep on without having his legs dangle off one end or have his knees hang off the front when he pulled his legs up. No, that couch wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Dad? You there?” Maxie knocked on the counter to get her dad’s attention, pulling him back out of his mind.

“Sorry, sweetie. Had a difficult meeting today, my head is still weird.” Bucky quickly grabbed cutlery while Maxie unpacked the bag and placed a box on either side of the bar top. 

“M’sorry your day was weird.” It was all Maxie really said regarding Bucky’s issues. He hadn’t told her anything besides that he used to be in the army and he was seeing people to talk about it during the meetings he attended. Luckily she was a smart kid and grew up fast enough to stay home alone for the duration of Bucky’s meetings. 

Bucky wished he could talk about it all more with her, but she was too young. She didn’t need all of that trauma dumping just yet. 

Maybe he’d try and start with the simple being a soldier part, to at least create a little base to build up from over time.

He’d have to ask the kind librarians for some help, eventually.

[serumandsteel]

The Shape of Silence | pt 2

part 1

pairing: tfatws bucky x (f) reader

summary: after years off-grid, you’re pulled back into the field by Sam Wilson. a freezing safe house, surveillance feeds and one tense comms line are all that stand between you and the past you’ve been trying to outrun. when John Walker blows the op wide open, you’re forced to step out of the shadows. this isn’t how you pictured seeing Bucky again — and by the look in his eyes, it’s not how he imagined it either.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: cannon level violence, emotional trauma, unresolved tension, swearing, and John Walker, well being himself is enough of a warning on its own.

a/n: I wrote this so quickly, so happy people liked part one & really hope you like this one! appreciate the love - msg me to be added to the tag list for the next chapter xx

You weren’t picky about your accommodations these days — so long as they had four walls, a lock, and zero rats. But this place? This place had the distinct charm of a war criminal’s final hideout. How did Sam even scope out this place. The building looked like it hadn’t seen a tenant since the Cold War. Probably because it hadn’t.

The mattress on the floor to your left looked like it had once hosted either a tragic breakup or a quietly successful murder. The walls were yellowing and cracked, plaster curling away in strips. A TV was bolted crookedly to one corner, eternally stuck on static—though you weren’t convinced it was even plugged in.

Outside, the sky was bruised grey, heavy with snow that hadn’t started falling yet but was definitely coming. The cold was creeping in through the gaps in the window and through the cracks of the wall. Every part of the room felt like it was waiting to collapse.

Across the narrow, cobbled street, the neighbouring buildings leaned inward like they were watching. Judging.  Or maybe you were just tired.

You stood, stretching out your legs, and glanced at the battered radiator under the window. It coughed, sputtered, then made a sound like it had lost the will to live entirely. So, no help there.

But the wifi was solid, the walls were thick, and Sam hadn’t asked too many questions when you told him to ditch the Google Maps pin and send coordinates in a cipher you’d created for Natasha many years ago. 

You sat cross-legged on the floor. There was no way in hell you were putting your ass on that mattress.  The floor wasn’t much better, but at least it didn’t feel like a biohazard.

Your gear was scattered around you in a loose, familiar orbit. Some of it was yours, worn but reliable. The rest, newer additions Sam had left in the room for you. But the essentials? They never changed. Burner phone to your left. Gun to your right. A half-drunk Red Bull within arm’s reach. The only warmth in the room came from your laptop, buzzing steady against your thighs.

The headset clung tight against your ears, the cable coiled at your collar like it belonged there. Like it had always belonged there. It was the only thing keeping you tethered, something solid to focus on while your hands shook and your palms ran cold.

You exhaled, slow. What the hell were you even doing here? You should’ve said no. You could’ve said no. If you’d kept your shit together, maybe you’d be in Fiji right now. Using a rich politician’s credit card you hacked, sipping cocktails and abusing the room service. But instead—this.

Because Sam called. And because deep down, maybe it wasn’t just Sam you said yes to. You swallowed hard and squared your shoulders. You were here now. No backing out. No running.

He asked for your help—and whether it was about the mission or something else entirely, that alone was enough.

“Okay,” you muttered to no one. “Back in the saddle.”

A chime pinged from the laptop. It was Sam

SAM WILSON (incoming): You live?

You rolled your eyes and typed back:

YOU: unfortunately.

The comms link opened with a pop of static. Sam’s voice crackled through the speaker. “What’s crawled up your ass?”

You dropped your head into your hands to avoid punching the laptop. “I’m running on four hours of sleep in a shithole you call a safe house.”

“So business as usual.”

If looks could kill, Sam would be forty feet under.

“We’re just doing a ground sweep. You’ve got eyes on?”

You toggled to the tactical grid you'd just cracked, four security cams stuttering in grayscale. Two guards on the roof. One smoking near the loading dock. A fourth hunched over some kind of device.

“Eyes on and ears in,” you said, adjusting your headset. “You sure you don’t wanna warn Barnes I’m here?”

“He’ll figure it out.”

You arched a brow. “That your version of easing him into it?”

“Look, I didn’t not mention you. I just didn’t... announce it.”

Anxiety crawled up your spine like a spider up a web. That old, creeping feeling—like your body already knew something was about to go wrong even if there was a slim chance it might not. Your stomach twisted, the same way it always did when you let yourself care too much. About him.

“He’s going to be so pissed, Sam.”

A pause.

Then, as smug as ever: “C’mon. Bucky’s never pissed at me.”

You gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “Yeah, well. He might make an exception.”

Sam hesitated. Just long enough to make you wonder if he was starting to realize this wasn’t just about you disappearing.

“Just promise me you’ll keep your mic on,” he said, switching lanes like he could steer the whole conversation out of a skid. “If something goes wrong—”

“I’ll improvise,” you said, already back at the keys. “I always do.”

You’d been staring at the same cracked patch of ceiling for forty-seven minutes. The waiting was the worst part. Not the gear, not the tech, not even the mission—just the stillness. The kind that buzzed beneath your skin like something old and familiar, the kind that told you no matter how far you’d run, you were exactly who you’d always been.

It scared you, how easily you’d fallen back into it. One call. One voice on the other end. And you didn’t just say yes,  this was you surrendering. Giving in to that voice that you had ignored for so long.

You should be angry. At him. At yourself. At how fragile the illusion of your new life had been, how quickly the walls you built for peace caved in the second someone mentioned his name.

But the anger never really came. Just that quiet hum in your chest. That thing you couldn’t name. Maybe anxiety. Maybe anticipation. Maybe the kind of pull you didn’t want to admit had anything to do with him.

You told yourself it was the mission. That it was about doing the right thing. But deep down, you knew: it was always going to be about Bucky. You would follow him anywhere. You always had. And that truth—raw and echoing—still scared the shit out of you.

So now, sitting in this freezing room with your comms gear spread across the floor and the familiar itch of adrenaline crawling up your spine, it felt like you’d time-traveled. Like the years in hiding never happened. Like you’d never tried to break away.

You were back in it. And worse—you weren’t sure you ever really left.

The low buzz of static in your headset snapped you out of the spiral you’d been caught in. It was go time. No backing out now.

Your eyes swept across the four camera feeds on your screen. You spotted Sam first—he gave the signal you’d worked out earlier. Simple. Precise. It was the first time you’d seen him in a while, and even through the grainy security footage, there was something different about him. Something steady.

Confidence, sure—but not the cocky, reckless kind. This was heavier. More grounded. The kind of confidence that came with responsibility, with leadership. The kind of presence that made Steve hand him the shield without hesitation.

But still—why had Sam given it up?

It was something you never really got your head around. He was the right choice. He always had been.

Your gaze flicked to the next screen—stairwell cam. John Walker. Great.

You didn’t care where he was. Didn’t want to waste so much as a second of bandwidth tracking him. He could cover his own six. If Sam really thought you were going to drop everything and play backup for Walker, then maybe he’d forgotten who the hell he called in.

Then… you saw him.

Mid-movement on the far-right feed. A flicker of motion caught your eye—and just like that, the air left your lungs.

Bucky.

The footage was rough—washed out and slightly off-kilter from the old camera—but even from a distance, there was no mistaking him. His figure cut clean through the frame, sharp and purposeful against the industrial backdrop.

The light skimmed the gold detailing on his vibranium arm as he rolled his shoulder back, smooth and practiced, like it was flesh and not forged metal. The new arm had a quiet menace to it—sleek, dangerous... maybe even a little sexy.

No. Don’t go there.

You’d never really seen this version. You weren’t there the day they gave it to him. By the time you even had a chance, alien warships were tearing up Wakanda and the world was falling apart again.

His suit was black—tactical, minimal, zipped up to the collar like armor he never quite took off. Every piece had a purpose. Every seam looked built to carry weight. It hugged him like it was made just for him. No frills. No distractions. Just Bucky.

His hair was shorter now.

You remembered the way it felt between your fingers that night—the softness, the weight of it. Gone now. Cropped clean. Less wild. More... controlled.

Like everything else about him.

You watched him flex his left hand once, then go still. That kind of stillness that wasn’t calm—just focused. Like a wolf, watching. Waiting. On the edge of violence.

He didn’t look at the camera.

Didn’t need to.

But somehow, you still felt like he knew someone was watching

The feed pinged. Another motion alert lit up red in the corner of the screen. You adjusted the mic.

“Sam—left corridor is clear. Take the next door on your right, and loop around. Avoid the stairwell. You’ve got a nasty surprise waiting if you go that way.”

You heard Sam’s voice crackle back through comms, calm as ever. “Copy that.”

Your eyes stayed on the screens, tracking every shadow, every flicker of movement. You called it like muscle memory. Fast. Sharp. Detached. But your palms were still sweating. And your heart was beating in a way you really wished it wasn’t.

Then—

“Who the hell’s on comms?”

Bucky’s voice cut through the channel, low and clipped. You could hear the annoyance already curling at the edges. Great.

He hadn’t even finished the sentence before Sam sighed.

“Don’t start.”

“Don’t start?” Bucky shot back, dry. “You bring in her, and you think I’m not gonna start?”

Your throat tightened.

There it was. The moment you knew was coming—the crack in the silence you’d built your entire life around for the past few years. All the distance you’d put between yourself and this exact situation? Useless now.

Still, you cleared your throat and forced your voice through. “The Dealer’s moving. Two agents coming up behind you, fast. You’ve got ten seconds.”

Silence.

Then, begrudgingly: “Copy.”

You caught Sam’s faint grunt of amusement. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Bucky muttered.

“No, I did,” Sam shot back. “Because I needed someone who knows what the hell they’re doing. Someone who can watch our backs while we’re in the fire. And if you’ve got a problem with that, Barnes, I suggest you keep it to yourself until we’re not under assault.”

The silence that followed was thick.

Bucky didn’t answer, but the way he moved on the screen told you everything. Jaw locked. Shoulders tense. You’d seen that posture before. It was the one he used to get when something was digging under his skin and he didn’t know where to put it.

And god, you hated how familiar that still was.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Part of you wanted to disappear again. Fade back into static, let them finish the mission and figure the rest out later. But Sam had asked for you. Trusted you.

And Bucky—

Bucky had every right to be angry. Because you had disappeared. Left him in the middle of a war and never looked back. Not really. Not in a way that mattered.

Your voice was steadier when it came through again.

“Third floor corridor, west wing—two heat signatures holding near the service elevator. Might be backup. Sam, take Bucky and flank them from the north stairwell. Don’t go in loud unless you have to.”

Another pause.

Then Bucky’s voice, gritted but composed. “Understood.”

You stared at the screen, watching them move. Watching him move.

And for the first time since this whole thing started, the weight of it all settled in for real.

This wasn’t just a mission. This was the start of a reckoning.

You tracked Sam’s heat signature as he cleared the west corridor, voice calm as you fed him directions through the earpiece.

“Two coming up behind the generator. You’ve got thirty seconds until they cross your path—”

A new voice cut in, all bravado and static.

“This is Captain America. Copying channel—what’s the plan, boys?”

You froze.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

You didn’t even try to filter the disdain in your tone. “Wow. Rolls off your tongue real easy, huh?”

Silence. Then a very slow, very deliberate sigh from Walker’s end.

“Who the hell is that?”

“Someone who’s been doing this longer than you’ve had that overcompensating shield,” you muttered.

Bucky’s voice came in next—low, barely more than a breath, but you caught the huff. It sounded suspiciously like a laugh smothered by annoyance.

“Keep moving, Walker,” he said flatly. “You’re blocking the channel.”

You swore you heard Sam mumble something that sounded like Jesus Christ under his breath, but he didn’t correct either of you.

John scoffed. “Real professional mission you’re running here, Wilson.”

“You’re welcome to leave,” Sam replied, bone dry.

“Gladly,” you added. “I’d put my money on you getting lost in the stairwell anyway.”

You heard Bucky click something—probably a fresh mag sliding into place—but there was a half-second pause before he added, “She’s not wrong.”

You didn’t say anything after that. You didn’t have to. The channel was quiet for a beat, and that silence said it all.

A rare kind of solidarity.

Between you and Bucky.

Not forgiveness. Not even trust. Just… alignment.

You swallowed, suddenly very aware of how cold the laptop had gone against your thighs. Your hands weren’t shaking anymore, but the weight of what came after this—when the mission ended, when you weren’t safely tucked behind a camera feed—pressed in sharp at the edges of your ribs.

Sooner or later, you were all going to have to face each other in the same room.

You were mid-sweep of the external hallway feeds when a sharp crack split through your headset. The kind of sound you knew too well—the kind that meant something had just gone very, very wrong.

Your fingers flew over the keys as you switched to the north wing camera, the grainy feed stuttering before sharpening just enough to catch a flash of movement and pinpoint the source of the noise.

John Walker. Weapon raised. One guard already slumped at his feet. Another bolting, shouting into a radio.

You yanked your headset closer. “Walker, what the fuck are you doing?”

A pause—

Then another crack of static flared through your earpiece like a whip of white noise. Followed by gunfire.

Of course. Trust Walker to blow the damn mission.

“Sam,” you said, pulse kicking up. “Shit—Walker’s compromised.”

Your hands blurred across the keyboard, flipping between feeds. Walker’s figure flickered from one hallway to the next—his movements all bravado, no strategy. Too loud. Too proud. No subtlety. No sense.

“Walker, stand down,” Sam barked. “We had a plan—what the hell was that?”

“I handled it,” Walker snapped. “Wasn’t gonna sit around waiting for orders while they closed in.”

You didn’t even try to filter your disgust.

“Yeah, well it shows. So easy calling yourself Captain America when you don’t even know how to work with a team.”

A beat of silence.

Then a grunt. A thud.

“What the hell just happened?” Bucky’s voice, low and clipped.

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” Sam repeated, tighter now.

“I handled it, alright? Situation changed. I moved.” Walker again—defensive, arrogant, like he hadn’t just jeopardised the entire op.

“You moved without backup,” Bucky snapped. “And you just blew our cover.”

You sat frozen on the floor, heat crawling under your skin. Not from the cold. Not from fear.

Because you already knew what came next.

Then Sam again, quieter this time. Grim.

“Hey, Y/N? Remember when I said to improvise?” A pause. “I think it’s time to improvise.”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Bucky’s voice came through like a blade. “You said she was only eyes.”

“She was,” Sam said sharply. “Plan just changed.”

On-screen, more guards were closing in on Walker’s position. Sam and Bucky were two floors over, too far out. There wasn’t time. And if Walker went down—if anyone found out he got hurt when this was Sam's mission. It’d blow back hard.

You stared at the camera feed. At the crumbling mission. At the familiar fury in your chest. You didn’t want to help Walker. You didn’t owe him shit. But you owed Sam. He’d trusted you. Called you in when no one else could.

Goddamn it.

You were on your feet before your brain caught up.

“I’m going,” you muttered into the mic, already yanking on your jacket and sliding the pistol from the floor into the holster at your hip.

You cut the line before anyone could stop you.

This was it. No time to think, no time to prepare.

All those nights you’d imagined how it might go—how you’d run into Bucky again, what you’d say, how he’d look at you—gone.

No carefully scripted reunion. No chance to brace yourself.

This wasn’t about what-ifs anymore.

The only thing that mattered now was whether you remembered your hand-to-hand training well enough to survive this—or if pure adrenaline would do the heavy lifting for you. The only weapons on you were your brain and a gun, and if those failed? You better pray your fists remembered what to do.

Cold wind slapped your face as you sprinted across the alley behind the building, boots slipping on snow-slick cobbles.

The exit you’d mapped as an extraction route had just become your entry point. You yanked open the rear stairwell door, the metal groaning on rusted hinges, and tore up the steps two at a time.

Voices ahead. Movement. No hesitation.

You found Walker in the hallway, back to the wall, still trying to play the hero.

Three guards. One bleeding. Two armed and ready.

They didn’t see you until it was too late.

You ducked the first swing, landed two solid strikes of your own, and drove your knee into the second man’s ribs with a satisfying crunch. The third reached for his weapon—You slammed his head into the wall hard enough to leave a dent.

Walker blinked at you like you’d dropped out of the sky. “Who the hell are—”

“Shut up,” you snapped, grabbing the front of his vest and dragging him behind the nearest cover. “Stay down and try not to make this worse.”His mouth opened—probably to argue—

But footsteps thundered from the stairwell behind you.

“Down!” Someone shouted.

You dropped without thinking. Instinct.

Just as Bucky rounded the corner, gun raised.

Everything stopped. Just for a beat.

His eyes locked on yours.

Not through a camera. Not through surveillance feed and memory.

Right here.

Close enough to hear your breathing. Close enough to see the years in his eyes.

He froze.

You didn’t.

“Sam,” you said into the comms, voice steady despite the burn in your lungs. “Walker’s secure. Threat’s neutralised.”

“Copy that,” Sam replied. “Sit tight. We’re coming to you. Bucky, are you—”

But Bucky didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

He just stared at you.

And you stared right back, bracing for whatever came next—the confrontation, the anger, the past you hadn’t outrun.

Because nothing about this was going to go the way you wanted it to.

a/n: YASSSS they have reunited!!! I'm actually SO excited to write the next chapter! how are you guys feeeeeelingg

Taglist/ @awkwardgiraffe726 @mcira @greatenthusiasttidalwave

[purebarnes]

WE ARENT HEROS

synopis. when the thunderbolts lose a fight. or when reader gets in a heated argument with the team and bucky tries to calm you down

tags. arguments, yelling, reader is mean. yelena and ava are also mean. cursing. violence. angst with comfort, new teams are hard and they all have their reasons and are trying. reader is grieving.

pairings. bucky barnes x fem!thunderbolt

notes. I saw thunderbolts last night but if there are spoilers please don’t continue. this is a warning and i don’t want be yelled at so yeah. thanks!!

also short one. lol sorry

You just got your ass handed to yourself. You were a trained S.H.I.E.L.D agent and you have worked for them by stealing, destroying and even killing for them. But you still had lost a fight. You lost many but they didn’t care about your well being, they would’ve killed you before you could get to them.

Even though, you no longer associate with them, you can’t but help if you would’ve just stayed then maybe it would all work out the way it was supposed to. So you figured that you needed a way out and you took it. You killed and killed. A born killer.

Anyone who had hurt you, you made sure they wouldn’t hurt anyone again. The blood on your hands were drenching. You knew you weren’t a good person but you had no choice. You only did what you thought was right.

You regret ever touching S.H.I.E.L.D because you had hurt so many innocent people. They just manipulated you into thinking they were the bad ones.

When you had out, you were got back in so quickly. You had made quick allies with “the avengers” and fought beside them and soon became what you thought was a family. That was until your family had gotten killed.

Natasha who was your best friend had died.

Tony who had helped you again. To trust. Was dead.

Steve, who you admired to death had died.

You had no one. They all were dead but that was until you got asked to help Sam Wilson. He needed you and you helped him but as a consequence from that, they took away your only light you had left. You had a twin. They had been murdered in your home.

You didn’t understand the purpose of fighting. You had gone to their grave one evening, placing their favorite flowers on the headstone. Until you saw a women who had came up to you one day, telling you that she hoped you’d work for her.

Grunts came out, “That was just great.” Grabbing your knife that you had tried to use but poorly executed and stuck it behind your back pocket.

To say it was a shit show was an understatement.

You groaned, “That was fucking horrible.” John stated.

You rolled your eyes, looking behind.

“Shut up. You all were horrible.” You scoffed.

Ava grunted, “Like you were any better.”

“If you’d go when i said then we wouldn’t have last so fucking badly. But you don’t listen. None of you do.” You stated looking at all of them.

“That’s cause it was a shit plan.” Yelena mumbled.

“Yeah? If i recall you got your ass beat the second you got to them.”

“That’s because I suck! But I’m not blaming anyone- can we all just maybe relax?”

You groaned, “Please. Shut the fuck up Alexei. I’m tired of hearing your voice and the jokes you think are funny.”

Yelena tensed. “Don’t speak to him like that.” Walking slowly towards you, lowering her eyes and sending daggers towards you.

John shook his head, “Okay. Stop. We are a team, we are trying. They kicked your ass also.”

You looked straight ahead, “Oh please. This is a shitty team.”

Bucky looking at everyone tearing eachother up.

“You aren’t any better. You fucking bitch.” Ava spoke up.

“Ava, you are a horrible person. All of you are. You all can’t do anything right.”

“You suck. I hate you all.

“My jokes are funny.”

“That’s enough.”Bucky spoke up finally after hearing everything everyone had said about each other. Putting his hand on your shoulder, “Let’s cool off. Please.” He pleaded looking at you softly.

Yelena scoffed, “Yeah, defend her like you always do.”

Ava took a step back. “It’s always her against us. What’s new?”

You scrunched your nose, “Fuck you. Both of you.” You spat, “I’m out of here. Screw this.”

You spoke turning around immediately and walking away towards who knows what, out in the back you could heard faint arguing.

“Really?”

“Bucky, you always do this. You always take her side.”

“I don’t always take her side.” He defended.

“Yeah right. It’s like she can do no wrong-”

“That’s not true..”

“Bucky, you do tend to take her side most of the time.” John added quietly.

“Maybe cause they are lovers?” Alexei inquired. Looking to see everyone’s head turn towards the older man.

Bucky scowled, “I’m not- That’s not what I’m doing. You shouldn’t be fighting. All of you. Look, she just gets that way…”

“Right. Say that to someone who cares.” Ava muttered, her arms locking tight across her chest. Shoulders pulled, Bucky sighed slowly.

“Ava, it’s not like that. She just needs time..”

“You give her so much time! You still treat us second to her and I’m done.” She yelled.

“Go ahead and go to her. You were going to anyway.” Ava added before her eyebrows had knitted together and her forehead creased.

Yelena paused, “You said we were a team.” Walking towards a small bench were Ava soon would join her.

John and Alexei soon had been next to Bucky’s side, “Go to her. We will stay with them.”

Bucky mouthed a ‘thank you’

Bucky had went towards the way you had gone, took like 5 minutes but he did find you.

“Hey. Please, stop walking away.” Calling out your name, you ignored and kept walking until you spoke up.

“Leave me alone Bucky.” Hoping over a gate as he kept calling your name.

“Doll.” He begged as you stop suddenly.

Your eyelids pulled tight, your gaze turned into a dagger. “Don’t. You don’t get to do that. Not after everything.”

“You didn’t even call. Bucky..” Your voice breaking slightly at him, “I lost my family. Steve, Natasha and Tony. Then found my twin dead at my home.”

“And you fucking left. You didn’t call me or anything.” Pointing your finger at him, like he was the one that tortured you.

He sighed at you, his eyes closing. Looking at you with soft eyes, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know if you wanted me.”

“Of course. That’s all I wanted.”

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Tears forming as they fell down, “I’m hurting.” You gasped as he went to engulf you in a hug, arms wrapping around you waist not letting go.

“Buck, I’m so lost. I’m not a good person. Ava was right.” Muffled into Bucky’s shirt, knowing that you stained it with tears but he didn’t care. All he needed to know was that you were okay.

“She just was upset. Maybe you can make up and apologize. Both of you.” He said, making sure you understood that you both have your reasons and feelings.

You nodded. “I can do that.”

“Good. Let’s go back.”

That night, you had gone into the kitchen to grab a cup of tea. Grabbing the kettle, you heard a shuffle and you turned to see a women who you needed to speak but understood that there was tension in the air.

She looked away and reached for an apple. She had walked towards the fridge when you gave her semi smile, you understand that you were were mad and hurt but you probably didn’t need to say those harsh things.

“Hey.” You uttered grabbing a tea bag.

Ava blinked. “Sup.” Her tone clearly reflected the way she had felt.

“I’m sorry, Ava. I shouldn’t have said those things to you- you said it to everyone.” She interrupted.

“I know. And I feel so bad. I was just hurting and let that all on you. I didn’t mean it.”

Ava kept her hands in her pocket, crossing her arms together. “Well I don’t care.” She honestly felt.

You cleared your throat, “Ava. Please, I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Well you started it.”

“But I’m trying to end it. You are my friend- nice way of showing it.” She scoffed at you,

“You are. What I did was not okay but I don’t want to lose you. You are my friend.”

“What?” Ava tensed, looking at you.

“I don’t want to lose you.. I care so much about you. You do know that right?”

Ava let out a loud cough, “No one has said that to me. I guess that I care about you.. also. A lot.”

You grinned widely, walking close to her. “Oh. You love me!”

Ava scrunched her eyebrows in disbelief. “No. I said care.”

You shook your head, “A lot. Is what you said.” Ava then rolled her eyes at you but couldn’t help but smile at you, “Whatever.”

“I love you too.” You said softly reaching for her and hugging her tightly before letting go.

Ava scratched her neck nervously, “So I might had been a little dramatic and did something.”

You tilted your head, “What?”

“Well I was still mad at you.. so don’t go into the meeting room. I might of borrowed Yelenas knife to poke holes in your photo.”

You gave her a weary look, “Cool. I deserve it..” laughing it off and walking to get a mug.

“And also. I may have been a little dramatic to Bucky. So if he says anything just know, I’m sorry.”

You nodded.

“I will definitely not ask him.”

“He tells you everything. Please.”

“Not everything- he’s in your room isn’t he?”

You scoffed, trying to not get caught. “He- he is not- shut up!” Your cheeks turning red immediately as you ran away to your room.

“Your tea!” Ava shrugged as she took it and turned to her room sipping on it, few seconds of blowing on it. She couldn’t help but smile at her family she had gotten.



[imomnba-x07]

I’m not a troll. I’m genuinely asking a question. I’m on anon because I know your followers would target my blog. I don’t even like John Walker’s character, I think he’s a POS personally, but he was the most recent example from your posts I had seen. See, I just think there’s a difference between hating a movie or character vs spending the amount of energy you do on hating so viscerally that you genuinely hate real life people for having a different opinion on them than you. Maybe it’s just because I’m a lot older than you and don’t see the point of spending so much negative energy on fictional things, but it’s just bizarre to me. You don’t seem willing to actually give a real answer to what I asked so if that’s the case just forget it.

Their original ask 👇🏽

Alright I’ll play ball.

No, I do not spend any “real” energy on John Walker or any of his fans. In order to spend energy I have to care, and I could give less of a fuck. There is too much Sam Wilson that occupies my big brain to have any room for Johnny after I’ve hit post. I have a very healthy and adequately positive life outside of this online shit thank you.

I am a very proud hater tho, you got me there😌 hating John actually brings me a lot of joy especially with my moots.

Let’s get into old Johnny boy now. I will absolutely side eye anyone who likes his character and I won’t apologize for that, especially not with the times we are in and the horrendous vitriol I’ve seen his fans send Sam’s way. Calling him morally grey is in itself questionable because in order to be a morally grey character, you have to have morals. Walker has none. Certainly not in this movie being dumbed down to an asshole jock whose dialogue is meant to make you forget that this is a person who murdered someone in cold blood and tried doing the same to Sam as well. So yeah, I have absolutely no problem blocking his fans who display racist behavior or think he is in any way redeemed.

I’m tired of the idea that I or anyone on here has to shrug off or put up with the racists rhetoric we receive from thunderbolt fans and their disgusting idea of Sam or what Captain America should be. So understand that our “aggressive” disdain does not formulate out of thin air. This is a growing problem that we will choose to fight however the fuck we want. We have nothing to be nice about, we owe no one kindness or the benefit of the doubt if they have not displayed any areas for grace.

Go watch Nicque Marina’s videos on whatever platform you prefer, she lays it out much more elegantly than I care to rn. I’ve made several posts about what I dislike about thunderbolts and why I have such a problem with John Walker. Since you claim to have thoroughly gone through my account, I don’t think I need to rehash the same points all over again. We’d be here all night if I did that, so by all means go find those posts instead of immediately clutching your pearls at my choice of language. I’ll even make it easy for you, they are all under the anti thunderbolts tag for you to search on my account.

I’m not sure where you get the idea that I’d send my small amount of followers after you, I have never done that shit 💀. If you think I hate you on a personal level or if you’re for some reason worried about the people I supposedly hate (for justified reasons) than I’m not sure what to tell you other than the shoe fits. Don’t put that projection on me now.

Idk what age has to do with any of this, almost everyone I know on this app is older than me lmao. But sure whatever helps you sleep at night about your perception of my maturity and the very SMALL part of myself I choose to show people online.

[aunhinged]

Sherlock and House: Torment olympics

Sherlock: I once broke into our flat just to show John how easily I could.

House, smirking: I gave Wilson a key to my apartment, but replaced the lock the next day. He’s been trying to get in ever since.

Sherlock: I told John I was working on a highly dangerous case. He spent three nights staying awake, just waiting for something to go wrong. Spoiler alert: there was no case.

House: I convinced Wilson his favorite book had been banned by the hospital’s HR department. He’s been plotting to smuggle copies in like it’s contraband.

Sherlock: I put a series of misleading clues around the flat that lead to nowhere. John will be searching for days.

House: I told Wilson that his favorite lunch spot closed early for renovations. He’s currently on a hunger strike.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Plinkpump linkdump

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in PDX on Jun 20 at BARNES AND NOBLE with BUNNIE HUANG. After that, it's LONDON (Jul 1) and MANCHESTER (Jul 2).

Every now and again, I reach the end of the week with more stray links that I've been able to squeeze into the newsletter, and when that happens it's time for a linkdump. This is linkdump number 31; here's 1-30:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

It's been five years (to the day!) since Wired killed off "Beyond the Beyond," Bruce Sterling's excellent blog, a wanton act of online vandalism that, among other things, made it much harder to figure out what was on Bruce's mind, a subject I find endlessly fascinating:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/17/cheap-truthers/#cheap-truth

Sterling's got a Medium that he almost never updates. I follow it through RSS, the best way to keep up with both things that update frequently and also hardly ever:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/16/keep-it-really-simple-stupid/#read-receipts-are-you-kidding-me-seriously-fuck-that-noise

This week, he posted a long, thoughtful, and seriously intriguing review of Cafe Europa Revisited, Slavenka Drakulic's followup to her 1996 international blockbuster Cafe Europa:

https://bruces.medium.com/cafe-europa-revisited-2025-be8875c06c4c

I confess that I had never heard of Drakulic, though, as I read Sterling's review, it became clear why he dotes on the acerbic Croatian essayist, a keen observer of the material world and theorizer of political upheaval:

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/602764/cafe-europa-revisited-by-slavenka-drakulic/

Drakulic is well-known for an essay collection called "How We Survived Communism and Even Laughed," and the subtitle of this volume is "How to Survive Post-Communism," which just about says it all. Sterling characterizes it as the start of a new hot genre, "Old books directly written for old people by old people."

"The West" (whatever that is) is getting old. For more than a decade, Bruce Sterling's been predicting a future of "old people, in big cities, afraid of the sky." Original Sin, a new heavily reported book on the 2024 election makes a good case that Biden was indeed in a state of advanced senescence through much of his presidency and the entire election campaign, and had no business occupying the White House, much less running for another four years:

https://www.nytimes.com/2025/05/13/books/review/originial-sin-jake-tapper-alex-thompson.html

Biden's unwillingness to confront his age and frailty, along with Trump's obvious mental and physical decline, has many terrified American political thinkers talking about the gerontocracy that's running the country:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/01/designated-survivors/

Corey Robin got in some good licks on this one, in a piece called "We really are the oldest democracy in the world":

https://coreyrobin.com/2025/05/15/we-really-are-the-oldest-democracy-in-the-world/

"Oldest democracy" as in, "the democracy with the oldest leaders." The Democrats are gearing up for the midterms with such repeat offenders as Maxine Waters (86), Rosa DeLauro (82), John Garamendi (80), Doris Matsui (80) and Bonnie Watson Coleman (80). Also running: David Scott (79) who had to step down as ranking House Ag Committee member over health concerns. And: Dwight Evans (70), who missed most of last year's votes after suffering a stroke.

Meanwhile, Nancy Pelosi (85), Steny Hoyer (85), Danny Davis (83), Frederica Wilson (82), Emanuel Cleaver (80) and Alma Adams (78) won't say whether they're running in 2026:

https://www.axios.com/2025/05/15/house-democrats-age-members-reelection-biden

At 53, I can tell that I've lost a step. Sure, I have the benefits of wisdom, but man, I am so tired. Maybe the reason our Democratic leaders have sat idly by and watched as Trump dismantled democracy and installed fascism is that they're too tired to scale the fences like their South Korean counterparts did?

https://www.theverge.com/24312920/martial-law-south-korea-yoon-suk-yeol-protest-dispatch

I'm not saying everyone over 65 in Congress should retire. I'm saying that a caucus that skewed younger might be more, you know, vigorous. I'm minded of my favorite John Ciardi poem, "About Crows":

The young crow flies above, below, and rings around the slow old crow. What does the fast young crow not know? WHERE TO GO.

https://spirituallythinking.blogspot.com/2011/10/about-crows-by-john-ciardi.html

Meanwhile, young people might just be getting something out of the regulatory apparatus. Thanks to a smashing court loss in the USA and regulation in the EU, Apple is now required to allow app makers to use their own payment processors, skipping the 30% App Tax Apple levies on every in-app purchase, to the tune of $100b/year.

Among other things, this means that every Fortnite skin and upgrade could suddenly get 25% cheaper without costing Epic Games a dime. The only problem is that Apple refuses to obey the regulation or the court order:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/05/01/its-not-the-crime/#its-the-coverup

This week, Apple blocked Fortnite's app from the App Store:

https://www.macrumors.com/2025/05/16/apple-blocks-fortnite-return-to-ios-app-store/

And defied EU regulators by slapping deceptive warning labels all over any EU app that accepts payments without kicking 30% up to Apple:

https://www.theverge.com/news/667484/apple-eu-ios-app-store-warning-payment-system

Apple's in a lot of trouble in the USA (Apple execs who lied to a federal judge about this stuff now face criminal sanctions), and it looks like they're spoiling for a fight with the EU. After all Trump flew to Davos and threatened to destroy any country that tried to regulate US Big Tech. The rest of the world doesn't seem scared – or at least, they're more scared of the risk of trusting US cloud technology that can be cut off to kneecap a rival economy, or used to spy on government and industry, or both. In the EU, Cryptpad – a free, open cloud based document collaboration platform – is luring away Google Docs and Office 365 users at speed:

https://cryptpad.org/

Meanwhile, back in the USA, things are looking grim for Meta, as the FTC's case against the company moves into the end-game. The stakes are high: Meta could be forced to sell off Whatsapp and Instagram:

https://www.bigtechontrial.com/p/from-roadshow-to-expert-witness-courtroom

That is, if Mad King Trump doesn't step in. Seems like nothing is too petty for the Trump admin. How petty are they? This week, Trump's CBP seized a load of t-shirts from the subversive design studio Cola Corporation:

https://www.404media.co/cbp-seizes-shipment-of-t-shirts-featuring-swarm-of-bees-attacking-cops/

Why did CBP seize Cola's tees? Apparently, it was design that featured a cop being attacked by a swarm of bees. Cola knows good publicity when he sees it: he's printing up more of the tees and selling them in a new line he calls "the confiscated collection":

https://www.thecolacorporation.com/collections/confiscated

Get yours while supplies last!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/05/17/odds-and-sods/#cafe-europa

[the-volume-is-astronomical]

In a moment, my world was gone

a/n: INSPIRED BY AVENGERS DOOMSDAY TWITTER SPECULATION, MAY BE PART OF THE FILM!!

Relationships: Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson, Yelena Belova & Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes & Yelena Belova

Characters: Sam Wilson, Yelena Belova, mentioned Bucky Barnes

Word count: 1,609

Another disgustingly cramped alleyway in Madripoor.

“You shouldn’t be here”, he says slowing down, the most isolated place he could find. He doesn’t want to risk his recruitment plan, but being followed by an ex-Widow puts him in the same predicament.

“Could say the same”, she had been tailing the Captain for a while, but with the acknowledgment she doesn’t bother to keep up the distance.

“Whatever you and Bucky’s group have to discuss with me can and will wait”, picking up the pace to end the discussion.

Yelena stops walking, the weight on her shoulders getting heavier at his name. The team had completely stopped saying it by now. 

In the most fragile voice Sam has heard come from her. 

“I wouldn’t know what he wants to talk about because I don’t know where he is”, her voice cracks at the end of the sentence.

One of the most skillfully trained assassins from the age six. The most sarcastic and witty woman Sam has met, is so scared and overwhelmed…she cannot hide that from him.

Sam can no longer hear the violent noise of madripoor, freezes up completely, his heart the only part of him moving, but it feels like that also stills.

“Yelena. Explain.” He turns to face her, body tight, cannot afford to start shaking. 

Her eyes are vulnerable, blurred by tears, unshed, her mouth downturn. 

“I don’t know. Someone took him…I-I don’t think we can get him back, Sam”, she lowers her head, letting the tears directly fall on the pavement. 

He walks over to her, hands on her shoulders. He dedicates his strength to one man, it always had been. 

“Tell me what you know.” Her back straightens, head lifts, drives her emotions as far as she can. She was given an order, ‘status report’, that she knows how to do. 

“It happened near midnight, we were in the tower. He and I had just come back, the team was waiting to debrief with us. It- it happened too quickly, I told Bob to find the file, Ava was near the bar, John was with h-her—”, she starting flubbing her words, speaking too fast. 

She is grateful for the work she’s done to shed the Red Room, but it would still be useful in these moments. 

“Breathe. Focus. Where was he?”, looking directly at her. 

He knew his voice cracked. He also knew saying his name…was not something he could do right now. 

“He likes to stare out the window when we finish a mission, he says it helps him remember better. I think it grounds him… I looked over, and then this rift of energy opened infront of him, it sent waves through the whole compound. It knocked me back— and he was gone.”

She couldn’t reach him, go with him. The same helplessness from Natasha came back to her with a vengence. 

“Have you seen Strange’s portals? Did it look like that?”, Captain America, officially on a mission.

“No— Sam this was different. I’ve never seen anything like it. All I could see was green and then his empty spot”, every moment of respite shes had, she revisited those last seconds, trying to think of something that could help.

“Fuck. Okay- We…we can figure this out. I’ll call Shuri. I read on Wanda’s file that S.W.O.R.D tracked Vision’s vibranium. If they can do it, I’m sure—”, he looked away, eyes scanning the world around him. 

He was formulating plan’s A through Infinity, because the last time they spoke was in anger, and that is not who they were.

“Sam…”, she had gone through every thought he was. They didn’t matter and she knew that. 

Now, it was her responsibility to break that to the only person she knew loved him more than her, than the team. 

Who had barely heard he was in danger and stepped up to the mission. 

That had also been her reaction, soon to be 24 hours ago, and she’s tired, only willing to partly  fall apart because it was someone who understood what she was going through, leader of his own team. 

Maybe they loved him the same amount… just differently. 

As evenly as possible she started, “We can’t track him—”.

“We’ll find him a different way!”, that never give up Captain America, attitude, but she needed to talk to the man behind the title right now. 

The one person who would be willing to scream at her, hold her accountable for not protecting him. 

It wouldn't happen, Sam is a good man. He could scream at her over copyright, never over something like this. 

It was her turn to be strong now. Her moment of weakness needed to be over, she was the only one who truly knew how fucked they were. Every second they weren’t on the same page meant lowering the chances of finding him, alive or…ever. 

 “I need you to listen. Valentina had access to some confiscated Stark tech. We analysed the energy output left behind by the rift—”, she was trying to catch his eye to get him to listen. 

“Did it take him interplanetary?”, he could talk to Quill and beg him to contact the Guardians or any intergalactic ally they had. 

“SAM!”,she had planned to be more tactful, sometimes you need to adapt, “He doesn’t exist anymore!”, slapping him with the gravity of the situation.

At least got him to look her in the eyes. 

They watered, stinging him, tears reflecting their memories. 

The two of them fixing the boat. 

Playing with Cass and AJ. 

On the run with Steve. 

In their Louisiana apartment. 

Your life flashes before you die doesn’t it? 

He only lived when he was with him. If he wasn’t there…

He couldn’t cry, the memories would leave his sight. 

Sam’s overthinking brain was assuming, he was aware, and it was a possibility he would not consider, even if his body did for a second. 

“...What do you mean?”, he whispered. 

“Someone out there, whoever opened the rift has enough power that the radiation they emit can be traced to The Big Bang, just not…ours. They are using the equivalent of entire universes worth of power—” 

“To the point…please”, begging for a clear answer. 

She took a deep breath. 

“He doesn’t exist in this timeline anymore. They were able to rip him right out. And we have no clue why they would want to”, defeat in her voice. 

Sam wobbled on his feet. 

The same sensation from Riley’s fall, except this time, he was on the ground. 

There was a moment of silence between them. 

Finally understanding one another. 

Sam wouldn’t have imagined being on ‘neutral’ terms with Yelena, five minutes ago. Quite literally being in Madripoor to recruit for his team. 

But now he is shaking, crying in front of her, accepting her embrace, and hugging her increadibly tight. 

If he didn't he would float away. 

The centre of his universe, the gravity that made sure his wings would always bring him back down is gone. 

The last words he said to him reverberated in his brain, making him more unsteady. 

They should have been “I love you’s”, because no matter how angry they were with each other, they were going to make their way back together. 

Sarah compared them to magnets. You could try your hardest hold them apart, but as soon as your hands falter or tire, they come back together. 

They were both waiting their time out, before they came back together. Waiting off the anger. Waiting for it to turn into longing so they could work things out. 

Whatever took him away. They were wise enough to escape to somewhere in the multiverse. 

It knew Sam would destroy his universe to find Bucky. 

He pulled away from her, “Joaquin is right outside the city, you can go to him now, tell him to call Banner. I’ll be a few minutes, lord knows we need as many people as possible and I came here for someone”, he said as he wiped his tears. 

Yelena was a little worried and impressed at how quickly he seemed to be gathering himself. 

“Then we are headed to Louisiana to talk to Danvers. How stable is Bob? Capable of becoming the Sentry?”, he was spewing every thought coming through. 

“No, but I’m sure he can help. So can the rest of the team we are all willing to do anything to get him back”, she had left them contacting anyone they could, ‘many worlds’ theorists, the sorcerer supreme, truly anyone of use. 

She knew Sam could gather the bigger team they needed to fight whoever had taken Bucky, but she also knew they needed a way to get them to him. 

There was a chance they would never make it or if they did it would be too late. 

But both of these people need Bucky in their lives. 

Yelena was the leader of their found family but she was completely new, always relying on Bucky’s veteran experience. He was the one keeping them together. 

Sam always talked to Bucky about his doubts, the pressures. They are each others anchors to the present and their futures. 

Yelena wanted to bother Bucky by calling him old and grumpy, wanted to be in the tower, bickering with her family as they filed boring paperwork. 

Sam wanted to be back in Delacroix, hearing his nephews call Bucky ‘Uncle’, watch him bake with his sister. 

But they are in the disgusting streets of Madripoor, in a claustrophobic alley way. 

Without Bucky. 

All they could do now, was rectify that.

a/n: I like the title because it could be from Sam, Yelena, or Bucky's perspective. Also if any part of what i'm yapping about comes true ill tweak

[sorencd]

could we get dating wilson hcs😼

ofc 😏😏😏 he's so pookie wookie i lovf him

dating wilson headcannons

you two love watching sitcoms every night (if the both of you aren't tired) like seinfeld, the mary tyler moore show, fasier and friends while cuddling in bed! usually since he's the first one to leave in the morning, he'd prepare your coffee for you and wake you up with a kiss on the forehead, telling you that he's off to work and u should wake up soon. he’s like ur personal alarm clock!! he even calls a few minutes later from his office just to make sure you really woke up, because you have a habit of waking up but as soon as you check the time and decide that it's still early, you would immediately fall back asleep so easily. he’s amazed honestly.

"yeah, 'm awake.."

"are you sure?"

"...mmh.."

"you're still in bed aren't you?"

"no..'m up i swear.."

so you end up having no choice but to get ready for work because now your brain is no longer sleepy :( you love trying new restaurants and food with him. if there's a new restaurant, no matter how bad the reviews are, that won't really stop you two from eating at the place, you'd still go there. but it does often result to never returning there ever again. and when you don't feel like going out of the comfort of your home, you would instead cook something up together. matching aprons and all that stuff!! while preparing the food, u can never cut the veggies properly without some good music playing in the background! there'd be songs from artists like the beatles, abba, huey lewis and the news, daryl hall & john oates, and the beegees!

i can see him singing and dancing to 'more than a woman' while straining the pulp from the tomato soup and you have to get him to stop moving too much or he'll burn himself in the process.

"james!"

"i know that in a thousand years, i'd fall in love with you again~"

"be careful! it's going to pour out!"

if u don't know how to play poker, wilson will gladly play something like monopoly or uno instead. though monopoly is more fun with a lot of people, he’s happy to do anything with you! one time, you played snakes and ladders instead of uno and each time wilson went down the snake he'd shout 'what!?' and sneakily try to change the number he rolled on the die without u noticing. he always plays like his life is on the line.

"another five?!"

"down you go, james!" you evilishly laughed and moved his piece for him, feeling triumphant. while you were dancing in joy because you're so close to winning, he tried flipping the die.

"i saw that."

"no you didn't."

stealing his clothes is a must! you've reached a point where u even hide his stuff as soon as they're fresh out of the dryer so he won't beat you to his own shirts. singing doesn't only limit to the kitchen, it also extends to the car and late night drives after work! you two would have songs blasting and the windows rolled down!!

masterlist

© sorencd . 2023 ─ do not copy, repost, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[crazysandwich]

MCU Fic Recs #1

Welcome to my very first rec post! I’m hoping to make this a weekly thing. These are my personal favorites from what I’ve read recently. It’s a mix of old and new, because let’s be real, there are some tropes and relationships I’ll never get tired of. I constantly find myself going back to fics from years ago that still hit just right. 

Hope you enjoy these as much as I did. I definitely recommend checking them out!

going round and round (back to where we started)

Relationship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson

Relevant tags: Fix-It, Communication Spoilers for Movie: Thunderbolts (2025) Light Angst Hurt/Comfort

Summary: The phone call is going even worse than Bucky’d thought it would.

“C’mon, Sam, just work with me here,” he begs, metal fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. His phone’s speaker rasps an approximation of Sam's heavy sigh. It’s not a very promising sound.

Something Rude

Relationship: Robert "Bob" Reynolds/John Walker (Marvel)

Relevant tags: Internalized Homophobia, Bi-Curiosity, Shame, Bipolar Disorder, John Walker Being an Asshole, Redemption, Closeted Character, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Fighting, Eventual Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forehead Kisses, Non-Sexual Intimacy

Summary: As much as John wants to deny it— there’s no denying his twisted feelings.

Or;

John is a very closeted man.

Love and Liberty

Relationship: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Relevant tags: Fluff, Getting Together, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Tony Has Issues, tony is a father, Kid Fic, Misunderstandings

Summary: Tony became a father. It was Complicated. Her name was Libby--Liberty for you, thank you very much. She was perfect and that was all he would say on the matter.

And then, he met Steve.

Dreams of The Future, Memories of the Past

Relationship: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Relevant tags: self-destructive behaviour, Depression, Steve Struggles with The Future, Happy Ending, Pining, Post-The Avengers (2012), Romance, Recovery, Feels, Optimistic Tony

Summary: Tony’s got a pretty serious crush on Steve Rogers, how could he not? Dude is smoking hot. So when he invites Steve to come live at the tower with him and Bruce after the Chitauri, he’s expecting it to be all fantasies, flirting, and How It’s Made marathons. Instead, he finds himself with an unhappy, angry Steve on his hands, and it isn’t long before he finds out that the object of his affection is hiding a worrying secret.

Eigengrau

Relationship: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Relevant tags: Captured Together, Kidnapping, Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Blindness, Steve gets temporarily blinded, Sharing a Bed, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Civil War Fix-It, Mostly Tony's PoV, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark

Summary: Tony is captured; he doesn't know by whom, or why. He doesn't know how much time has passed since. What he knows is, he can now hear something in the adjacent cell, and that 'something' sounds a lot like Steve Rogers.

Tear Down These Walls for Me

Relationship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark

Relevant tags: Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Aftermath of Torture, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Kidnapping, Captivity, Hunger and Injuries, Hydra (Marvel), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, developing feelings, Misunderstandings, Huddling For Warmth, Self-sacrificing Idiots Alert, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, not team Cap friendly

Summary: It was mostly embarrassing, really, to be snatched off the streets by Hydra’s unwanted leftovers and tossed into a dark, cold cell without so much as a by-your-leave. Tony thought the worst of it would be the mind-numbing boredom while he waited for days for his chance to escape, or the stale, gray mush these goons dared call “food”…

…or the guards tossing an unconscious, beaten body right into Tony’s own cell two days later and Tony realizing it belonged to the very same Winter Soldier Tony hadn't seen since their fight in Siberia.

A Beast That Few Can Master

Relationship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark

Relevant tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Misunderstandings, Love Confessions, Modern Royalty, Tony Stark Has a Heart, Near Death Experiences, Enemies to Lovers, Contracts, Repaying Debt, Fluff and Angst

Summary: When Bucky offers to take Steve's place and work off his debt to a reclusive prince, he has no idea just how much his life is about to change.

A Prosthetic Heart

Relationship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark

Relevant tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Prosthetics, Fluff, Angst, Smut, Enemies to Friends to Lovers (sort of), Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has a Heart, Hurt Tony, Canon-Typical Violence, Mentions of non-con, Abuse (domestic & child), Panic Attacks, 

Summary: Beggars can’t be choosers, and all that. However, somehow his bigger worry is if he’ll be able to put up with Stark long enough to even get the upgrade, you’ll have to, Barnes, you can’t keep going with this hunk of scrap metal for much longer.

Bucky only just managed to bite back a curse after moving into a certain pose, and knows his thoughts, for once, are right.

Visiting Hours are Nine to Forever

Relationship: Clint Barton/Tony Stark

Relevant tags: POV Clint, Getting Together, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Clint is a Walking Disaster, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Car Accidents, Meet-Ugly, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Lonely Tony Stark, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Fluff and Humor

Summary: Look, Clint didn't mean to hit the guy, it just sort of happened. He was distracted, and the guy was distracted, and then things were a little bit out of his control. And even if it wasn't completely his fault, he still feels pretty bad about it. He had to go see the guy, didn't he? It was only polite, so yeah. He'd do that.

And look, he doesn't mean to start fake dating his accident victim either, but sometimes life is weird that way. You just gotta go with the flow when it happens, and learn to be the best fake boyfriend ever.

the road to hell is paved with good intentions

Relationship: Harley Keener & Peter Parker

Relevant tags: Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, Protective Harley Keener, Hurt Peter Parker, Whumptober 2021, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Peter Parker, Prequel, Anger Management

Summary: Harley will take the beatings if it means keeping Peter in a warm home and ensuring there will always be food in his stomach.

Then, Harley comes home from school one day and finds a handprint on Peter's face.

[saintchiron]

tagging sam wilson in your defense of john walker, i’m so tired

[housethemd]

Autistic House Headcanons

Because come on. Obviously.

- House often stims with objects (his cane/ball/anything he can get his hands on) but he used to stim with just his hands/body. John House would get really mad about it when House was a child however, so he represses those urges a lot.

- Sub headcanon: Sometimes when House and Wilson are having fun/laughing/having a good time (see: when House is happiest) House will flap his hands as a happy stim. He doesn’t even notice he does it, but Wilson does and it makes him so happy to see House expressing himself like that.

- Monster Trucks are one of House’s special interests. He can name the trucks, their stats, the whole nine all from memory. It’s why Wilson doesn’t want to admit he doesn’t like them. He knows how important they are too House, and furthermore how important it is for House to have someone to share his special interest with.

- House has issues with sensory processing. He hates his lab coat, prefers comfortable clothes and sneakers, and is very particular about his food. One of the reasons he avoids the clinic because he finds the atmosphere (people always coming and going, multiple conversations happening in the same space, bright lights, etc) very over stimulating. He has a love hate relationship with touch (see next point for details.)

- House has some sensory seeking behaviours. His motorcycle and his ball both feed these desires. He likes going fast on his bike, making tight turns, feeling force and gravity against him. He likes throwing is his ball, often quite hard against other things (walls, cupboards, etc) to make it bounce back into his hand. He likes how it feels when it smacks into his palm. House likes pressure. He has a hard time with touch because they are often gentle and light, and those types of touches make his skin crawl. Firm touches, that he is made aware of ahead of time however, he loves.

- House has a hard time noticing his body’s needs. Since the infarction it’s worse because he always in pain. He doesn’t notice he’s hungry until he’s starving (or until Wilson has food and it reminds him eating is a thing.) He doesn’t realize he’s tired until he’s exhausted. He’s chronically dehydrated because he forgets water exists and spends his whole day drinking coffee.

I have a ton more so if you want them let me know! I might write some fics involving these.