#mcu humor

[layla4567]

Thunderbolts react to: entering your room when you're changing

BUCKY: *bursts in and sees you in your underwear, immediately closes his eyes and gets ready to leave* "Shit! Sorry, but next time lock the door" *leaves without looking at you again*

AVA: *walks in and grimaces* "Ugh, don't you know the doors are locked? I'll be back in three minutes." *walks away, shaking her head*

ALEXEI: *walks in slamming the door and laughing* "Oh I'm so sorry Y/N!! *slams the door and yells* "Y/N IS CHANGING, DON'T ENTER THEIR ROOM!"

JOHN: *walks in casually opening the door and jumps* "Fuck, don't leave the door ajar if you're changing, damn it!" *closes the door angrily and exclaims* "Does no one know how to lock the door here?!"

BOB: *walks in slowly wanting to ask you something* "Hey Y/n I- *looks at you for a second and quickly covers his eyes scared* "OH CRAP I'M SO SORRY!!" *starts stammering apologies and excuses saying that he didn't know you were changing because the door didn't have a lock, when he wanted to close the door quickly without looking he almost caught his fingers against the frame and leave tripping*

[adaisybyanyothername]

“If you aren't someone the church wanted dead 300 years ago, are you really living?”

— Agatha Harkness, probably, at some point in time.

[emmy-hunterson-schofield]

Bucky in Thunderbolts *SPOILERS*

In hindsight, I do wish we’d gotten visual representation of Buckys past in the void as there’s so many years of what he did as the WS and also as a normal soldier in WW2… kind of a wasted opportunity while we’re only shown what Yelena and Bob went through… I love Florence Pugh, but Marvel lost a chance to have recent GG winner and Oscar nominee Sebastian Stan really display the demons still inside Bucky, no matter how much therapy he’s had

[fashvora]

Funny Cinderella Parody Anthony Mackie Meme – Lemme Borrow 20 Dollars

This hilarious parody design features Anthony Mackie styled as a modern Cinderella in a bold, comedic mashup inspired by a viral interview moment. With a sly smirk, raised eyebrow, and a confident pose, he rocks a sparkling blue gown with muscular arms hilariously on display—perfectly blending fairy tale flair with meme culture. The glass slipper in one hand and the palm-up gesture underline the iconic phrase “Lemme Borrow 20 Dollars” in bold text, adding punchy humor that fans of pop culture and superhero memes will instantly recognize. Ideal for meme lovers, cosplay enthusiasts, and anyone who enjoys a good character mashup, this clean vector design is great for stickers, shirts, and more. Whether you’re into quirky humor, clever quotes, or modern fairy tale twists, this design brings laugh-out-loud personality to your Redbubble collection.

[manicinsaneviolentwokeidiot]

guy at the front of the human centipede: he’s right behind me isn’t he

[the-bi-fangirl-biatch]

bob sends this to their Thunderbolts gc and gets kicked out and yelena has to add him back

[bebx]

me reading smut and calculating in my head the positions the characters are in

[troythecatfish]

[hurtspideyparker]

"What's up small fry?" Tony asks when he catches a blur of red and blue in the corner of his eye.

He continues unscrewing pieces from inside the old car engine at random, deconstructing the machine. Tony looks up at Peter when he gets no reply.

"Pete?"

Peter's hand slips from the door frame, trudging over to Tony across the workshop.

The sun must have gone down without Tony noticing, the only light in the room coming from a few scattered table lamps. Explains all the squinting he's been needing to do anyways. Peter doesn't have his mask on, but his face is too shadowed to read.

"How was patrol? I think someone made dinner, we can heat it up together. Or there's that mac and cheese you like—"

Peter comes closer and doesn't stop until he's crashing into Tony in an all-encompassing embrace. His arms constrict around Tony's waist, face squashed into the older's chest.

"Oh."

Tony looks down at the tuft of gelled curls, a warm sigh leaving Peter's mouth as his body melts into Tony.

Tony's arms jerk to catch the boy, scared he'll simply wash away, but Peter only relaxes further into the hug. Peter secures his grip with an unwavering hold despite the tension that drains from him in a steady stream.

When the hug sustains Tony pulls him closer, tucking his chin over Peter's head and breathing out his own restlessness. One arm rubs up and down Peter's back, thumb drawing a strong pressure into the firm muscle.

They stay like this; Tony's eyes close at some point, their breathing syncing into even exchanges like heart beats. He isn't sure if he should be worried or confused, but all thoughts flit out of his brain at the genuine expression of affection being laid upon him.

It's Peter who lets go first, death grip sliding away until Tony becomes aware enough to unwrap his own self as well.

"Sorry, I just really needed that," the boy mutters.

"Um. No problem."

Peter steps away, and Tony gives him a look up and down. He doesn't seem injured, but a weariness clings to his bones like laundry scent on fresh sheets.

"M'hungry. Can you make the mac n' cheese?"

Normally Tony would refuse, mostly out of the habit of saying 'no' whenever someone asks something of him before he even actually considers it, but Peter's eyes are big and earnest, and he quite possibly has turned Tony into a giant teddy bear with the way he's been appeased and clung to.

"Sure thing. Why don't you go get changed and I'll meet you in the kitchen?"

Tony is plating up the steaming, alarmingly orange food with a side of the lamb chop someone cooked earlier and a peeled clementine when Peter wanders into the room. He's in his signature hello kitty pajama pants and a striped sweater Tony is sure is his girlfriend Michelle's.

He looks a bit better now, simply sleepy instead of dead on his feet, the attempt of usual pep in his step as he comes and lays his head down in his arms on the kitchen table.

Tony places the food in front of him, Peter immediately shoving a spoonful of the pasta into his mouth without picking his head up.

"Fank 'ou."

Tony lets a humorous puff of air out of his nostrils.

"You're welcome, now don't talk with your mouth full," he says while ruffling the boys hair.

He swallows, "your hand smells like oranges."

Tony pilfers a piece of fruit from Peter's plate, taking a seat across from the boy and shooting a brief raise of his eyebrows his way.

"I wonder why."

Peter smiles at him.

He smiles back.

[sahind]

DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE (2024) Directed by Shawn Levy

[layla4567]

Karaoke time!

~Headcanons and blurbs!~

《What kind of music do they like to listen to?》

BUCKY: He listens to oldies, rock classics, Frank Sinatra, ABBA, etc. He literally lived through all those decades, so he knows a lot about music, and it reminds him of the good old days. But he's also trying to "modernize" and listen to current music (Yelena insisted on this).

YELENA: She listens mostly to pop but especially indie pop or music from artists who are not very well known or are just starting out in the industry. "Hey Bucks listen to this artist, I know you'll like her. She's Sarah Cothran and she just released a new single"

AVA: She says she doesn't like listening to music, but no one believes her, and they were right because she secretly listens to Evanescence and emo music.

ALEXEI: He listens to everything, and when I say everything, I mean EVERYTHING. He's always open to new horizons, from Russian music that no one knows, to music in other languages ​​like Spanish or Portuguese, and even sometimes you'll hear him humming catchy commercial jingles (One day he even insisted that his group had to have a jingle to attract people.) "Hey guys, I have an idea!! We need a theme song! And it can start with a powerful guitar solo!! *imitates electric guitar sounds*

BOB: Classical or lo-fi music, he also loves Aurora. Any song that's calming and transports him to a better place.

JOHN: Rock, especially from the 80s. John is one of those people who annoys you by telling you that music from back in the day was better and criticizing your musical tastes. Although he sometimes listens to electronic music too.

In their free time (which isn't much), they like to take advantage of it by hosting karaoke sessions, wherever they are. If it's not in the tower, it's in Alexei's limo, or sometimes they go to a karaoke club to sing.

When karaoke is in the limo, Alexei always chooses the music (it is his car, after all), but no one ever complains since he has a wide musical taste and is always open to suggestions. As the stereo blared from the backseat speakers, lights, smoke, and even a disco ball suddenly appeared where everyone was sitting. You were next to Bob, Ava near John, and Bucky was on your other side, while Yelena was in the seat next to her father's in the front.

Alexei was a terrible singer, but he put his heart into it, and you could tell he was having a good time. He couldn't hit a single note and never hit the high notes; he was like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. Everyone in the backseat was holding back their laughter, and you wasted no time taking out your phone to surreptitiously record it. Yelena just covered her ears and closed her eyes, wishing the ground would swallow her up. The Red Guardian continued singing with emotion, deeply focused on the music, unaware of anything. Bob, next to you, leaned his head slightly closer to your phone screen to see better, and soon everyone crowded around you, not wanting to miss the show. Soon, muffled laughter could be heard behind your phone.

"This is why I always missed karaoke days.." Yelena muttered to herself.

The next day, everyone was in the tower's living room, sitting on the couch. The group huddled around you, wanting to see the recording on your phone. Loud laughter filled the room, along with Alexei's shrill, off-key voice coming through the screen. Even Yelena had to admit it was funny. At that moment, attracted by the noise, Alexei cheerfully entered.

"What's all that laughter?"

You, still laughing with tears in your eyes, gave him your cell phone to watch the video. He took it, and for a few seconds his smile faded as he stared at the screen, focused. Everyone tensed, fearing that Alexei had gotten angry. But then a laugh like thunder burst out of his mouth like a torrent. He couldn't stop laughing while his shoulders and entire body shook.

"THIS IS THE BEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN! YOU HAVE TO SEND ME THAT VIDEO!!"

On the other hand, when karaoke was in a more comfortable location, say, the tower or a club, everyone sang along. Some were more inhibited than others (like Bob, Ava, or Bucky), but they eventually gave in (sometimes forced by others, oops!) That said:

《How do they sing/ Who sings better?》

AVA: Surprisingly, she sings really well. No one thought she had such a prodigious voice since she always refused to sing, but after they exhausted her patience, she reluctantly agreed to sing a Katy Perry song even though it wasn't her favorite. She had a rather deep but in-tune voice, always using her chest voice to give character to the notes.

ALEXEI: Well, I've already said that he's not in tune, but he tries! Anyway, he's happy making others laugh and always laughs with them. In his mind, he thinks he sings well tho. And of course he also dances while he sings

BUCKY: Another surprise of the night: he sings well! He doesn't have a great voice, but at least he knows how to hit his notes. He almost always sings in a neutral or flat tone, leaning toward the low end (lack of enthusiasm, let's say), but when the others start encouraging him to continue, he begins to experiment and can reach some high notes.

JOHN: He boasts that he sings well, but he doesn't. He struggles to be in tune like Alexei, the difference is that he doesn't find it funny. In fact, sometimes he'll make up an excuse like, "I'm tired of singing, let's give someone else a chance, okay?" or "Sorry, my throat hurts today *pretends to cough*." And when no one believes his cheap excuses, he'll drag someone else into a duet so he can pretend and let the other person do all the work for him.

BOB: Oh sweet Bob, he's very shy about singing alone, so you always sing with him, but you're surprised to discover he has a beautiful voice. It's never that loud, as his shyness prevents him from singing higher, but when you're around him, you notice he's in tune almost effortlessly. A sweet voice, not at all pretentious.

YELENA: Like Bucky, she sings almost half-heartedly in a flat tone, but after a couple of drinks, she starts singing with feeling (like her father). Sometimes she misses a few notes, but mostly she does it pretty well. And she also drags others into singing with her (everyone, actually).

[yelenasburnbook]

Lifeline

———————————————————

Pairing(s): Bob Reynolds x Fem! Reader - Platonic! Yelena & Reader Dynamic - Platonic!Bucky & Reader Dynamic 💞

Summary: After a mission goes wrong, you’re forced to confront just how much your best friend means to you, and how far you’ll go to keep her alive.

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Gore, Injury, Blood, Medical Settings, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Distress, Explosions, & Probably too much Dialogue

A/N: Between summer classes, my sisters graduation party, and my job, this took me a lot longer than I thought it would. That being said, I’m very proud of it! I changed up the writing style to 2nd Person POV, because that’s how I used to do it, and I like it better. Enjoy this hurt/comfort that I promised 🩷

Translation: Дорогая - Sweetheart

———————————————————

The mission was going well. Suspiciously well.

Bob and Bucky had already cleared the north wing, taking out the remaining guards and disabling the perimeter defense grid without much resistance. Ava had slipped through the lower floors like a… well a ghost, disabling the compound’s internal sensors and wiping all surveillance data before the enemy even realized she was there. John was waiting on the jet, prepared to take off incase of an emergency extraction.

Alexei was not allowed on stealth missions.

It had all gone a little too smoothly. No alarms, no last minute reinforcements. Just a quick, surgical takedown.

Which made the final step feel almost too easy.

“Intel should be in the west records room,” Ava reported over comms, her voice calm and efficient, “It’s not on the servers, so someone’s keeping hard copies. Probably a hard drive. You might have to search for it though.”

“I sent you the hallway blueprints,” Bucky added, “No booby traps, no guards posted. Should be clean.”

“Should be,” Yelena muttered, side eyeing you as the two of you advanced through the smoky hallway, “Which means it absolutely won’t be.”

You snorted, “Oh come on. Maybe for once a mission could actually go right.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, “You just jinxed us, you know.”

“Please. That’s not real.”

She smacks your shoulder lightly, “That’s exactly what someone would say right before they get blown through a wall.”

You and Yelena moved through the smoke choked hallway side by side, weapons drawn, boots crunching over shattered glass. You were supposed to clear the west wing of the compound; secure the hard drive with intel, take out any remaining stragglers, and rendezvous at the extraction point.

“Bet you five bucks I find the drive first,” You murmured, flicking your eyes across the scorched corridor ahead.

Yelena scoffed, “That’s it? What will I do with that? Buy half of a New York coffee?

You grinned, “Fine, ten bucks says I get to it before you.”

“Make it twenty, and loser has to scrub the showers,” She challenges.

“You’re on.”

The complex rumbled slightly, and Yelena’s arm stuck out in front of you. The two of you halted your movements, listening for potential threats. After a few beats of silence, you both quietly carried on.

She continued the conversation, murmuring, “You’re going to regret it when you’re elbow deep in Alexei’s hair clogs.”

You gagged audibly, “No no no, that’s foul. I take it back. No showers.”

“You can’t take it back you coward!” She hissed softly, her finger jabbing into your shoulder as she stepped over the body of a downed Hydra soldier.

“Fine!” You roll your eyes, “If I lose I’ll clean the showers, but if I win,” You paused for a second, thinking, “You’re doing my laundry and folding my socks into little burritos like you do yours.”

Yelena scowled, “I don’t fold my socks into burritos.”

“You do. I’ve seen it. You treat your socks better than your teammates.”

Before Yelena could fire back, Bucky’s voice came back over comms, low, amused, maybe slightly annoyed, “Is this really happening? Are we wagering chores in the middle of a hostile zone?”

Yelena taps her comms with a smirk, “It’s called multitasking old man.”

A low, familiar hum vibrated through your ears, “Sounded more like flirting to me.” Bob added, teasingly.

You grinned, tapping your own earpiece, “You jealous?”

His dry tone didn’t miss a beat, “Of the world’s weirdest foreplay? Not even a little.”

You shrugged, “Sounded a tiny bit jealous.”

Bob’s chuckle came soft and low over the line, “Eyes up, sweetheart.”

The two of you continued on, stealthy, and silent.

You and Yelena had always moved like this; side by side, shoulder to shoulder, like you were born knowing each other’s rhythm. It hadn’t started that way. She didn’t let people in easily, and you’d spent the first few weeks trading dry sarcasm and fake glares across briefing tables. But something had shifted.

Maybe it was the shared past. The haunted edges. The quiet understanding between two people who knew what it meant to be used, and to fight your way back to yourself. Maybe it was that she never treated you like you were fragile, and you never treated her like she had to be unbreakable.

Whatever it was, it stuck. And before long, she was your best friend.

Not the kind you just trained with. She was the one who’d knock on your door at midnight because she found a movie she knew you’d hate and wanted to make you watch it anyway. The one who made fun of your combat stance while bandaging your hand. The one who stood between you and your demons without a second thought.

Sister. Best friend. Lifeline.

And now she was smiling like none of this was dangerous.

“You coming or what?” Yelena teased, already stepping into the next corridor.

You smirked, “I’m just making sure you don’t walk into another tripwire.”

“Please. I am the tripwire.” You made a face at her that practically screamed, that doesn’t make any sense.

Over comms, Bucky sighed, “And I’m the one with a migraine now.”

You both laughed quietly.

The two of you turned the corner into what looked like an old generator room. The walls were charred, exposed wires were hanging; still sparking, and… a sound. Just a hum at first, quietly buzzing through the walls. Then rising.

A trap.

Your expression dropped, “Yelena-”

A flash of light. A sharp beep. Neither of you even had time to turn around.

The explosion hit like a thunderclap, blinding white and deafening. You slammed into the ground with a force that stole the breath from your lungs. Your back hit something hard, maybe debris, maybe a wall, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that your ears were ringing painfully, the air was thick with dust, and something was burning. Your whole body hurt, head pounding with every beat of your heart.

And Yelena-

Yelena was nowhere in sight.

You blinked rapidly, trying to orient yourself. Blood dripped down your temple, warm and sticky. Your vision swam, and the comms were a static mess in your ear, with nothing but garbled voices and white noise.

You tried to push yourself up, your arms trembling beneath you, and legs unsteady. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to stop, and your powers sparked faintly at your fingertips; weak and unfocused.

Then you saw her.

A pile of rubble. Blonde hair. An arm too still.

“No,” You breathed hard, stumbling forward on instinct, “No, no, no- Yelena!”

The sound of your own voice made your head throb and your vision blur. The vibrations in your skull sent a white hot pain down your neck and you groaned, pushing yourself forward.

You dragged yourself across the broken ground, pushing aside scorched metal and fractured concrete to reach her. Your hands shook, blood smearing your palms, and you weren’t sure if it was yours or hers.

When you finally uncovered Yelena, she was still breathing, but barely. Her body was limp, unconscious, and stained with ash and blood.

Your heart plummeted.

Protocol in this situation was to fall back, to regroup. But you couldn’t move, you couldn’t leave her. Your arms found themselves hooked under Yelena’s, as you fought your own fatigue, and dragged her out of the rubble. Your body was trembling, tired, and nearly collapsing under the weight. But your eyes were wide and frantic, and your heart was thumping faster than you thought it could.

She had to be okay, she just had to be.

“Y/N! Fall back, now!” Bucky’s voice barked through the comms.

But you didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You knelt beside Yelena’s body, your own chest heaving, tears mixing with the soot on your face. For the first time in a long, long time, you didn’t know what to do.

——————

The jet was moving fast, cutting through clouds and sky, but time still felt too slow.

Yelena was laid out across the med-table, strapped in, Bucky and Ava working furiously to stabilize her. Blood was still seeping from the gash in her side, and her breaths remained uneven. The sight of her made your stomach twist. You hovered nearby, trying your best to help. But your vision was still blurry, and the pounding in your head made you nauseous and dizzy.

Bob watched you warily, not straying too far.

“I can help. Just-” You stepped forward, reaching for a roll of gauze someone tossed near the med table. But your hands were shaking too badly to grip it.

“Y/N,” Bucky said quietly.

“I can do it, just let me-” You stammered, your voice ragged as you reached back for the gauze near the edge of the tray. Your fingers barely curled around it before it slipped from your grasp again, hitting the floor with a soft thud. Your breath hitched, short and frantic, “Shit- I can-”

Bucky gently stepped between you and the table, bending slightly to your level. His voice was softer than usual, “You’re not okay. You have to step back.”

“No, no no no, she’s not okay! She needs help! I need- I need to help her, I can’t-” Your voice cracked, raw with panic, “She’s not waking up, she’s not-”

Bucky glanced to Bob, who didn’t hesitate.

He reached out and gently pulled you away from the chaos, wrapping his arms around you even as you resisted, “Hey, hey- sweetheart, look at me.”

“No! Let me go, Bob- she needs-”

“She needs them right now. You need me.”

You shook your head, body trembling in his grasp, eyes still locked on the blood still soaking through Yelena’s suit. You tugged at his arms once more.

“Stop,” he whispered, “Breathe, honey. Just breathe.”

You could only whimper in response, finally feeling the affects of your sudden movements, the throbbing pain fading back into your skull.

Bob held you tighter, “You’re hurt, you’re bleeding, and you’ve probably got a concussion. Let me help you.”

Your hands fisted in his shirt, trembling hard, “I can’t-I can’t think. Oh god what if she-” Bob shut that down quickly.

“She’s alive. You saved her.” He soothed, hand stroking your back softly, but you shook your head, crying now, silent tears streaking your soot covered cheeks.

“She wasn’t moving-” you were cut off,

“Baby breathe. Come on, in through your nose.”

You were gently guided to sit against the wall of the jet, his body pressed to yours, one hand cradling the back of your head, and you took slow breaths, “Good girl. That’s it. I’ve got you.”

As your breathing began to steady, he carefully examined the wound on your temple. The blood still hadn’t clotted. He reached for the medical kit, using its contents to gently dab at the wound. He grabbed the small penlight, testing it before meeting your eyes.

“Follow the light, but keep your head still.” He ordered softly, heightened concern etched into his features.

You flinched, but obeyed.

Your left eye lagged slightly, and the dilation of your pupils was severely delayed. Bob’s expression turned grim, as he turned to the others, “Concussion confirmed,” he relayed, and Bucky grunted in response. He turned back to you, “You’re gonna sit still for the rest of the flight.”

You grimaced, “But-”

“No buts. Head down pretty girl. Let me wrap this.”

You let your head fall against his shoulder as he gently patched you up, arms still trembling. Your eyes flicked back to Yelena every few seconds, never staying away for long.

Your breathing was slow again, but still ragged, trembling hands clinging to his sleeve as he cleaned the wound, pressing gauze gently to the side of your head.

“I thought she was dead.” You whispered.

“She’s not,” Bob replied, firm but gentle, “You saved her.”

——————

Back at the Tower, the med team was waiting on the landing pad. Yelena was whisked away on a stretcher. You immediately tried to follow, stumbling forward with glassy eyes.

Bob’s hand closed around your waist the second you tried to push forward.

“Y/N,” he said gently, voice edged with urgency, “Slow down.”

But you didn’t. You twisted in his grip, eyes locked on the medbay doors just ahead. Your boots skidded on the tile as you tried to wrench free.

“I have to be with her-”

Bucky stepped in from the left, cutting off your path completely, “You’re next,” he said, voice low but unmoving, “You don’t look good, Y/N.”

“I don’t care,” you protested, throat tightening.

“You need to let the doctors take a look at you,” Bob murmured behind her, voice low and soft, “You’re not okay.”

“I’m fine!” You snapped, louder than you meant to.

Then your knees dipped.

Bob stepped in closer, bracing you as gently as he could, “Okay, hey- hey. I’ve got you. Just breathe for a second.”

“You’re not fine ,” Bucky said quietly, “You’re disoriented, bleeding, and barely staying on your feet.”

You closed your eyes tight, forehead pressing into Bob’s shoulder as the hall tilted sideways. Your legs felt too far away, and your heart wouldn’t slow down.

“I don’t want to leave her,” you whispered.

Bob pressed a kiss to your uninjured temple, “You’re not leaving her, honey. You’re letting someone help you, so you don’t end up needing that hospital bed too.”

You hesitated, then looked up at Bucky, eyes brimming with tears.

“Promise me,” you whispered, “You’ll stay with her.”

“Swear it,” Bucky said, firm and sure.

Bob gently brushed the hair off your cheek, “And I’m not leaving you either.”

Your shoulders sagged, finally giving out.

“Okay,” you breathed, “Okay. Just please, hurry.”

“We will,” Bob murmured, adjusting his hold as he started guiding you back, “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you patched up.”

——————

The moment the med team cleared you (mild concussion, bruised ribs, no internal bleeding) you were already halfway out of the room.

You didn’t wait for the nurse to finish her sentence. You slid off the exam table and made it three steps toward the door, heart pounding and legs ready to sprint.

But Bob was faster.

He stepped in front of you just as you reached the hallway, one hand gently pressing to your shoulder, the other hovering at your waist in case you stumbled.

“Easy,” he said softly, but firmly, “You still look like you might tip over.”

“I have to see her,” you said, voice hoarse, “I’ve waited long enough.”

“I know,” Bob murmured, gaze searching yours, “And you’re going to. But not if you faceplant in the hallway trying to run there.”

You faltered, chest tight, the instinct to bolt still coiled beneath your ribs like a spring.

Bob softened, “Walk with me. Please.”

Your shoulders dropped, groaning in annoyance as you agree, “This whole concussion thing sucks ass.”

That elicited a chuckle from him as he guided you down the hall to Yelena’s room, “I could always grab one of the wheel chairs. Strap you in, blanket over your lap, maybe even a juice box. Really complete the whole ‘I’m severely concussed’ look.”

That earned him a light slap to the shoulder and a correction of being “mildly” concussed, the air feeling lighter for the first time in a few hours. That was, until you reached the recovery room.

Yelena was still out cold, pale and bandaged, but breathing steadily.

Bucky stood up from the bedside chair, gesturing for you to take his place. You took him up on that, and dropped into the seat beside her. You were curled in on yourself, one arm hugging your middle, and the other resting lightly on the edge of the bed. Bucky stood in the doorway, watching quietly.

“She’s okay,” Bob whispered again, laying a hand on your shoulder.

You nodded, chewing on your your bottom lip nervously. You believed him, but that didn’t mean you were going anywhere.

——————

Four more hours passed, and you didn’t move.

Not when the nurse came in to check vitals. Not when Bob quietly tried to coax you into eating something. Not when Bucky mumbled that you should at least stretch your legs or, “your spine’s gonna fuse to that chair.”

You barely blinked, eyes fixed on Yelena’s still face. Her head was wrapped in bandages now, and you imagined the gash in her side was the same way under the gown. An IV line fed fluids back into her, and the color just was just barely returning to her cheeks. But she hadn’t moved.

So you stayed.

Bob stayed too, right beside you in the other chair, one knee bouncing anxiously. Bucky leaned against the far wall with his arms crossed, chewing silently on the inside of his cheek, watching you more than her.

The other’s were coming and going, not wanting to crowd the room, but still wanting to make sure Yelena was alright.

Alexei didn’t stay long. Couldn’t stay long. Even though he knew she would be alright, he couldn’t bare to see his daughter like that. He left quickly, mumbling something about, “-preparing her favorite soup for when she wakes.”

Now the room was quiet and still, and you were trying your hardest to keep your eyes open.

Then, without warning, Yelena stirred.

It was subtle; a twitch of her fingers, the barest shift in her brow, but it might as well have been an earthquake.

You straightened so fast you startled Bob, and your breath caught in your throat, hand reaching for hers instinctively.

She groaned softly, her face scrunching. Her lips parted, dry and chapped, and her eyelids cracked open just the tiniest bit.

Her voice came out rough and low, “I told you so.”

You blinked, “What?”

“You jinxed it”

Bucky snorted from across the room, “Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

You let out a soft, watery laugh and covered your mouth with your hand. The sound surprised even you, half-sob, half-relief.

Bob chuckled under his breath, “She’s awake five seconds and already picking a fight.”

Yelena’s mouth twitched into the faintest, sleepy smirk, “Felt wrong to leave you unsupervised.”

“Shut up,” you whispered, smiling through the sting in your eyes, “I should’ve left you under that pile of rubble.”

Yelena opened her eyes a little more, focusing on you slowly, “You didn’t?”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, voice tight with affection.

She didn’t comment further, but her lips twitched upward for just a moment. She looked around the room with exaggerated slowness, “Ugh. Medbay. Lame.”

“You almost died,” you said pointedly.

“Keyword there is almost,” she croaked, “I am not so easy to kill Дорогая.”

A fond smile reached your lips, glad for her to finally be back, “You’ve been unconscious for hours.”

“Yeah, well… I needed the nap.”

Bob raised an eyebrow, “You almost gave her a panic attack.”

“She did panic,” Bucky said, now walking over with a smirk, “Went full ‘deer in headlights.’ Even tried to assist with field surgery in the jet while she could barely stand.”

Your mouth dropped open, “Okay well-”

Bob leaned in slightly from his spot beside the bed, his voice low but laced with just enough dry humor to soften the reprimand, “You also almost collapsed. Twice. And then proceeded to argue with me, Bucky, and the doctor, about how you were ‘fine’ while bleeding from the head.”

You winced a little at the reminder.

“I didn’t argue…”

Bob raised his brows, unimpressed, and Yelena blinked at you slowly, like her brain was still buffering.

“You’re hurt?” she asked, her tone shifting just slightly; still scratchy, still dry, but gentler now. Concern lingered behind her tired eyes.

You hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod, “Concussion. Couple bruised ribs.”

She stared for a second longer, processing.

Then, “You absolute dumbass.”

You laughed, relieved at the familiar edge in her voice, “Oh come on.”

“You dragged my unconscious body through a half-collapsed hallway while you were concussed and barely standing?”

“…Yes?” You deadpanned, with an attitude that said, and I would do it again.

Bucky gave you a pointed look, “She also refused help, wouldn’t sit down, forgot how breathing worked…”

“Okay,” you mumbled, holding up a hand, “Everyone here is being a little dramatic.”

Yelena’s voice was a raspy mutter, “You’re like a baby duck with a death wish,” she gave a tiny shrug, or tried to, but winced halfway through, “All wobbly and confused, just waddling into danger.”

You let out a shaky laugh, pressing your palm to your face, “That is… the most insulting and adorable thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Bob, still hovering nearby, smirked, “Honestly? She’s not wrong.”

You turned to him, offended, “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I am,” he said, already grinning, “That’s why I helped stop the baby duck from passing out on the jet.”

You didn’t even try to fight the grin that crept its way to your face.

She rolled her eyes, but the concern was still there in the tight way she held your hand, “I missed being conscious, not being able to mock you was really boring.”

“Shut up!”

Bob smirked at that, but gently laid a hand on your shoulder, “Mock her later. She’s got about fifteen minutes of energy left before I physically carry her to bed.”

Bucky cleared his throat, “Speaking of that, I’m getting some sleep.”

You looked up, “You alright?”

He gave a small nod, eyes steady on the two of you, “You’re both still breathing. That’s enough for me tonight.”

His tone was quiet, but the weight behind it said everything he didn’t. Relief, worry, care. All packed into that single sentence. Yelena tilted her head slightly, “Wow. That was almost… sweet.”

You smiled, “A little poetic, even.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at both of you, deadpan, “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, we won’t,” Yelena replied, grinning through the soreness, “Wouldn’t want you pulling a hip trying to express feelings.”

You bit back a laugh, and he sighed dramatically, shaking his head as he walked to the door, “Every time I try to be nice…”

“Night Bucky,” the three of you said in unison, still smiling.

He glanced back one last time, “Proud of you. Both of you.”

Then he was gone, leaving the room a little quieter but warmer. The moment he disappeared through the medbay doors, Bob turned back to you with that knowing look; part patient, part amused, all gentle concern.

“Alright, duckling,” he murmured, brushing his fingers lightly over your temple where the bandages still sat, “Time to sleep before you collapse in this chair and I have to explain to the nurses why you’re drooling on the floor.”

You rolled your eyes, too tired to come up with anything clever, “You are obsessed with dragging me places.”

He grinned, “Only when you’re too stubborn to go on your own.”

With a little help, you stood. Your legs felt unsteady, and you leaned into him without thinking, letting his arm wrap around your waist, solid and steady. You glanced down at Yelena, your smile fading a bit.

She was still propped up a little, eyes half-lidded, but awake enough to catch the shift in your demeanor, “I’m fine,” she said. “Go.”

You hesitated, gaze flicking to the chair beside her bed, “Do you want someone to stay with you?”

Yelena snorted softly, “What, you think I’m scared of the dark now?”

You gave her a sheepish smile.

“I’m okay,” she assured, her voice softer this time,“I’m sure the nurses will be in and out. They love to bother me. Go let Bob hover over you for a while. He lives for it.”

“I do,” Bob said, not even pretending to deny it.

Yelena looked over at him, “If she doesn’t sleep at least six straight hours, lock her in her room.”

He gave a short nod, “Already planning on it.”

You exhaled a quiet laugh, leaning down to gently squeeze her hand one last time, “Don’t scare me like that ever again.”

“No promises,” Yelena muttered, smirking, but then her features softened, “Thank you. For saving me. For staying.”

You smiled again, but it felt a little heavier this time, more vulnerable, “Always.”

Yelena’s voice was quiet now, sleepy, “Goodnight, little duck.”

“Goodnight, Lena.”

Bob gave her a two-finger salute, then gently turned you toward the door, his hand warm and steady on your back.

And as you let him lead you down the dim corridor back to the living space section of the tower, you felt that weight in your chest finally start to ease; not gone, but softer. Safer.

Because she was okay.

And so were you.

[pandapetals]

Chores

You try to get out of doing chores by flirting with Logan.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

"I love you," you said, standing on your tiptoes to press a sweet, lingering kiss to Logan's lips, giving him your best wide-eyed, innocent look as you pulled back.

Logan narrowed his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Sweetheart," he said, his voice low and amused, "I love you too, but you can't say that just to get out of chores."

You sighed dramatically, making a big show of taking the laundry basket from his hands. "Fine," you huffed, "though it usually works."

Logan’s eyebrow shot up, his smirk widening. "Does it, now? Pretty sure it never works," he drawled, crossing his arms as he watched you with that glint in his eye.

"Oh, please," you scoffed, giving him an exaggerated eye roll. "Usually, I just look up at you with these adorable, puppy-dog eyes…" You leaned in closer, batting your lashes dramatically, “…and then you fold like a cheap lawn chair."

Logan scoffed, leaning back slightly as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "I do not fold," he replied, though you could see the hint of a smile breaking through his mock-serious expression. "I’m not that easy, darlin’."

"Yes, you are," you teased, nudging him playfully. "I bet you’ll fold right now if I try hard enough."

Logan’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he crossed his arms, looking down at you with a challenge in his gaze. "Alright, then," he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, rough tone that always made your stomach flutter. "Let’s see who folds first."

You grinned, accepting his unspoken challenge. You sat the laundry basket down. "Fine," you said, stepping up close to him, your fingers lightly tracing the collar of his shirt. "I’ll just keep saying cute little things until you’re putty in my hands."

He chuckled, though you could tell he was already fighting to keep a straight face. "Go on, then," he challenged, his arms still crossed. "Give it your best shot, sweetheart."

You tilted your head, giving him your sweetest smile as you trailed a finger along his jawline. "You know, you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met," you said softly, batting your eyelashes. "All gruff and rugged… but with a heart of gold."

Logan’s lips twitched, but he held firm, his arms tightening across his chest. "Nice try," he replied, his voice sounding a little strained. "But flattery ain’t gonna cut it."

"Oh, really?" You bit your lip, pretending to think, then leaned in even closer, your face barely an inch from his. "Did I mention that I’m hopelessly, madly in love with you? That I think about you every second of the day, even when I’m supposed to be doing something else?"

Logan let out a small, almost inaudible breath, and you could see his resolve beginning to waver. His eyes flicked down to your lips, and you knew you were getting to him.

"That all you got, darlin'?" he murmured, though his voice had dropped to a whisper.

You smirked, sensing victory. "Oh, no," you whispered back, reaching up to gently trace your fingers along the back of his neck. "I’ve got plenty more."

Before he could react, you stood on your tiptoes, brushing your lips along the line of his jaw, then murmured against his skin, "You know you can’t resist me, Logan. You’re already melting."

Logan's breath hitched, and he exhaled slowly, the last of his resolve slipping away as he dropped his arms and wrapped them around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "Alright, alright," he grumbled, but his voice was soft, his eyes locked onto yours with that familiar warmth. "Fine. You win."

You grinned triumphantly, wrapping your arms around his neck as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. "See?" you whispered between kisses, "Told you you’d fold."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips quirking up in that lopsided grin. "You might’ve won this time," he murmured, "but don’t think I won’t make you pay for it later."

"Oh, I’m counting on it," you replied, your voice filled with laughter as he pulled you in again, his grip on you tightening.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

A sassy Bob that gets worse with everything Walker says and the reader has to meditate between them but it still doesnt work?? (Im bad with ideas sorry.)

Thank you so much for the request (and all the request you've sent🩷) I loved writing it, I hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: just as a heads up this can be seen as either the reader being with Bob or just platonic I didn't really specify. There is language, sassy Bob being a bit unhinged, John is...well he's himself, reader stuck as the team babysitter

Why the hell were you three paired for this mission??? You'll never know. The mission was over. However, the debrief was not. And unfortunately, with how loud Walker's mouth was it seemed like this debriefing would never end. “Listen,” Walker said, crossing his arms as he paced around the meeting table, “if you’d stuck to the plan my plan; we’d have been out twenty minutes earlier. And nobody would’ve had to back track.”

You saw Bob’s expression change before he even opened his mouth. It was subtle. The shift in his jaw. The way his eyes narrowed, just a bit. You groaned under your breath and braced for it. Fuck here we go...

Bob leaned back in his chair with a lazy, syrupy grin. “Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware your plan included me getting shot in the ass because someone forgot to mention there was an extra sniper nest on the west tower.”

“That wasn’t on the intel,” Walker snapped making Bob roll his eyes, “Well damn, maybe if we got your ego out of the way, the satellite feed might’ve picked it up.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Guys---”

“No, no,” Walker said, waving you off. “I’m not gonna stand here and be disrespected just because Bobby boy got his feelings hurt.”

“Oh no,” Bob said, standing up so slowly it made the room feel five degrees colder, “my feelings are fine. But your so-called leadership skill? That’s a damn crime scene.”

You tried to wedge yourself between them physically, which was laughable since they were both taller and much broader but at least it made them pause for a second and look at you like you were crazy. “Okay, timeout. We're gonna just take a breather. Bob, Walker, just take a deep breath —”

“I’d rather inhale bleach,” Bob muttered. Walker rolled his eyes. “This is pointless.”

“You know what’s actually pointless?” Bob shot back. “Having a team leader whose IQ matches the number of his ‘hot takes’ per minute.”

“Bob,” you hissed. “Darling. Dial it back.” But he was practically sizzling now, full of momentum and honestly, he was just an unstoppable sass machine.

“No, seriously,” Bob said, stepping around you and blocking you from John's view just slightly. “You walk into every mission like a discount Captain America and act surprised when your plans blows up. Literally. Like, John, babe, sweetheart, how do you keep forgetting the basics of cover fire?”

Walker’s jaw twitched. “I don’t need to take this from some guy who talks like his entire personality is just sarcasm and chamomile tea.” Bob blinked. Then smiled sweet and slow, like a knife being unsheathed.

“I do drink chamomile. Because unlike you, I sleep at night knowing I haven’t endangered my entire team because I wanted to LARP as Steve Rogers with a fucked-up superiority complex.” You walked around Bob again and held out both of your hands like you were directing traffic. “Okay! Okay. Let’s all take a moment to remember we’re on the same team here!”

“No,” Bob said, clapping once. “I think it’s time someone told John that just because he carries a shield doesn’t mean he knows how to protect people. Shocking news, I know this has to be new information for you.” Walker made a low sound that didn’t bode well. “You think you can do better?”

Bob raised a brow. “Do I think?" Bob turned to you mockingly, "Baby, do you think I can do better?" He turned back to Walker before laughing humorlessly. "Johnny boy, I know I can do better, and I don’t even like leading.”

“Okay,” you barked, turning and pointing at both of them. “You—Bob, sit your sassy ass down before I find duct tape to make you. And you Walker, shut your mouth for two minutes or I’m putting your comms on permanent mute.”

There was a tense beat.

Walker opened his mouth. “Don’t,” you warned. “I swear I will set this base on fire.” Bob muttered, “Bet you he doesn’t even know how to use a lighter.”

Your entire face scrunched up completely fed up with the two boys. “ROBERT.” He held his hands up. “Fine. I’m done. I’m silent. Kind of like his tactical awareness.” You made a strangled sound and collapsed into the nearest chair. “I hate both of you.” Bob patted your shoulder, unbothered. “You love me.” Walker grunted. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m charming,” Bob corrected, “and you’re just mad you can’t keep up with that.” They kept bickering. You gave up trying to mediate. Instead, you pulled out your phone, opened a food delivery app, and ordered two milkshakes.

One vanilla. One strawberry.

With a note for the delivery driver:

"Please label these 'For the Problem Children'.Thanks!"

If you like my work please let me know! Reblogging, commenting and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Request are open <3 If you'd like to be tagged in future Bob post lmk!

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[bebx]

DoomReed crack because I love them. @vonxdoom

[iamthatonefangirl]

vacation - fatws bucky barnes

this is insanely short but it came to me in a vision. not tagged as nsfw but brief nsfw joking/talk.

imagine you and Bucky are planning on going on a little weekend trip or something from Brooklyn where your apartment is.

"baby we should drive, I want to see the sights along the way. and we can stop and take cute pictures..." you tell him.

"you're the photogenic one, doll, not me," he retorts.

"you liar," you scoff. "I mean, I suppose we could take the train if we wanted to get there quicker."

he freezes in place, glaring at you.

"what?"

oh my god, you realize.

"OMG baby no! I'm so sorry..." you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. he can't help but laugh with you.

"yeah, uh-huh. let's take the train, see how many limbs I have left after that," he jokes.

"oh, shut up, you goof," you tease, smacking his vibranium arm.

"yeah, just your luck, I'd lose my dick this time," he jokes. he continues, with a pouty lip and a mock-wounded tone, "would you still love me if I didn't have my dick, baby?"

you bury your head deeper into his neck as you laugh harder.

"nope," you laugh, popping the 'p.' "get someone else to change your catheter."

"aww, baby, you wouldn't do it for me?" he teases, pulling you back so you have to look him in the face, both of you giggling like idiots. "I mean, it would be your fault, since it was your idea to take the train."

"oh, please, if you lost your dick it would be your fault. how the hell would that even happen, anyway?"

"dunno. let's not find out. but first, you have to promise me you'd change my catheter."

"fine, I promise. that's my karma, isn't it?"

"yup. maybe I should make you a silicone clone of my dick now, huh?"

"dear god, you're horrible," you laugh. "but I won't complain if you do."

"we're not taking the fucking train. and don't worry, I'll make you a toy copy of my dick, doll, maybe watch you fuck yourself with it..."

~~~

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