#thunderbolts and attachment

[the-bi-fangirl-biatch]

what if something happens to yelena in doomsday and that causes bob to crashout and turn into sentry/void again WHAT THEN

[joequiinn]

im not done writing, but preemptively excited and all that jazz~

[dickytwister]

they match each other’s freak to a degree that is dangerous to the public

commissioned the amazing showstopping spectacular @derelictheretic to draw the losers and words cannot express how happy i am with the result!! it's always such a pleasure to work with him so if you want silly art of your pookies RUNNN DO IT anyway thanks so so much once more and now i will go back to staring at these forever <3

taglist (ask to be added/removed):

@paralytic-states @stacispratt @just-in-the-nickleback-of-time @perseus-veil

@daydreaming-fanatic @adelaidedrubman @aceghosts @imogenkol @socially-awkward-skeleton

@shellibisshe @leviiackrman @katsigian @lilywatt @kyberinfinitygems

[paolachatters]

Here's the thing, I love Bucky but I've known Bucky for over half of my life I don't need them to show me his rooms because I know them, I've seen multiple of them from many different angles. But Yelena? I can guess it but it's way more important for me to see those, Bob? I don't know the guy I need to see those.

We all develop a level of attachment to characters we've known since our childhood/teen years it's normal but it's also important to not let that blind us. This need to constantly see Bucky behave in 1 way or else it's "occ", or to have them remind us constantly of what he went through feels like trauma porn. Recovery is a process a life long process but he's way ahead of most of the Thunderbolts in that regard, he went into politics because he's trying to at least do things in a way that follows his rules first.He's finding people like Mel or the Thunderbolts who are in positions where he has been and he's at a place where he can help guide them.

Which is also why by the end he knows that the responsible thing is to stay, he's not happy about it, but they've fallen into this position so he might as well try to use it rather than leaving when the team is full of people who could make dangerous choices at any point. He's also aware that while he (or Yelena) don't LIKE the goverment, right now they are in a position where they have some level of control over an important figure like Val. And he also knows starting a fight with someone like Alexi who says the first thing that shows up in his head or Walker who is an asshole is pointless. He has bigger things to worry about and focus on.

[past-the-blood-and-bruise]

so it turns out the two types of men that i like are mcu loki and bob reynolds from thunderbolts. if anybody wants to psychoanalyze me over this that would be cool thanks

[blakellyl]

I was at cirque du soleil not so long ago so

circus au! 🎪

Bob runs away from home unable to bear his father's abuse any longer and lives on the streets for some time, doing drugs and surviving as best he can, but one day while moving from place to place he stumbles upon a circus. Not just any circus, but the most famous one, even he's heard of it despite the fact that he's never been anywhere near such a thing (it’s not like there was anyone to take him). Bob tries to sneak into one of the trailers to steal money or food or anything useful and that's how he gets caught by Alexei (he’s the ringmaster and it’s his circus), who has returned to his trailer because he forgot something.

Seeing Bob's terrible condition Alexei takes pity and decides not to call the guards, instead asking Bob some questions (is there really no one to help him, how did it happen that such a young guy reached such a life and so on and so forth). Finding out that Bob has no one and nothing in his life, Alexei realizes that he won't be able to let the guy go like this so he offers him to go with them, saying that he will find him a job in the circus (he’ll just ask him to clean up here and there, only to make it look like he actually took Bob to give him some work) but in reality he won't demand anything from Bob and will only try to help him get off drugs (and to feed him bc Bob’s obviously all skin and bones from such a life)

THEN, after Bob gets back on his feet, when he’s completely off drugs and gained a little weight, Alexei will offer him to be part of the group (by that time Bob had already gotten close to everyone, of course, and they also helped him as much as they could, although some of them (John) were a bit cautious in the beginning)

What tricks will be performed by whom – whatever anyone likes, but sentryagent DEFINITELY 1000% is flying trapeze!

(how it’s explained in the au: Bob is lean and easy to catch and throw; John used to perform with Ava, but she had a bad accident (or smth like that) and can't do the trapeze now; while Ava is practicing other tricks for their shows, John has a girl from another circus temporarily replacing her while they’re looking for someone new)

Bob is terrified at first because he's afraid of heights and flying in the air relying on a partner when every time he trusted anyone in his life he deeply regretted it afterwards seems impossible for him. But John says that he’s never dropped anyone during their shows and even if he did there is a net above the floor and everything is absolutely safe; he asks Bob to at least try

And Bob, though not immediately, will agree

In the beginning they will practice for hours on end, every day, starting from the basics and learning to trust each other

Months will pass like that (and, of course, during this time not only will they learn to work in perfect harmony, to move as two parts of the same entity, but their relationship will develop into something far beyond friendship);

And then, when Bob will eventually be ready for his first show, John will whisper in his ear right before the performance, "Don't worry about anything, I'll catch you. You trust me, yeah?"

And Bob will nod, because after all the months they have spent together and all the training and all the times that John has confidently caught him with his strong arms, he does trust him, he trusts him fully, without any doubts.

(In the end Bob, who was extremely anxious before the show, will be surprised to find himself completely calm just before performing the stunt. At the same time John, who has done this a million times and was absolutely calm before the show, will be very nervous just before the stunt, even though, again, there is a net at the bottom, even though he never dropped his partners, and yet).

And lastly:

The show will go perfectly ofc, everyone will fall in love with Bob at first sight ofc (there is no other way) and sentryagent will be in love with each other and live happily with their thunderbolts* circus family

bonus:

Yelena filming one of Bob and Johns practices

+

[thatgirlwithasquid]

matched set. do not separate <3

[lanasgirlfr]

okay but the few times when val called mel a good girl.....😣

[keepstandingbi]

i genuinely didn't expect to watch thunderbolts* and feel like i got a warm hug from some really fucked up depressed people

and most definitely didn't think i'd fall in love with the mcu again to the point of looking at the tag on tumblr or searching for some 'team that's actually a family' fics

but here we are...

[aew-kun]

made my bed today . . ! — also made some new bracelets!!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

[cloverstellar]

I just know thunderbolts ao3 tag gonna piss me off bc im already seeing Yelena/Bob GET OUTTA HEREEEE

[themediocreprince]

[galatially]

lewis pullman, i'm getting the hype, babe. keep doing what you're doing

[dickytwister]

BEY LEVAC & JOHN WALKER

you could say it’s mental dancing in your blood but all is fair in war and love || [x]

taglist (ask to be added/removed):

@paralytic-states @stacispratt @just-in-the-nickleback-of-time @perseus-veil

@daydreaming-fanatic @adelaidedrubman @aceghosts @imogenkol @socially-awkward-skeleton

@shellibisshe @leviiackrman@katsigian @lilywatt

[trafficpan-ic]

Crying while seeing the Thunderbolts* movie, well that promise for the movie.

[ilovemilestellersmoustache]

Say my Name and Everything Just Stops

Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolts!reader

Summary: If Bob and you were only platonic, absolutely no other feelings… Then why do you feel sick to your stomach when he looks at her like that?

WC: 3.K

*Might have to remake this with more specifics to the song because I added the song after writing it because it lowkey fit the storyline a bit*

⸻

You weren’t sure when it happened.

One day, you were just another warm body at a mission briefing, nodding through tactical discussions, biting your tongue through Alexei’s grating pep talks and Valentia’s obligatory press training. You showed up, suited up, cleaned up, and tried not to get killed. That was the job. That was the team.

Then, somehow, somewhere along the line… you and Bob Reynolds got attached at the hip.

Not officially. Not romantically. Not even consciously, really. You didn’t talk about it. There were no glances across the room filled with meaning, no loaded conversations behind closed doors. It was never dramatic.

It was something quieter. Subtler. Like gravity.

If you were in the kitchen making coffee in the morning, hair tied back, hoodie halfway off your shoulder, still trying to blink the sleep from your eyes, Bob was always there, standing beside you like he’d been summoned. Making tea. Or at least pretending to. Half the time his mug stayed empty, forgotten on the counter while he hovered behind you, offering sugar before you even asked, or opening the fridge before you could.

He wasn’t loud. He wasn’t even particularly expressive. But he was there. His presence made the sterile, metal and glass Tower kitchen feel less like a military bunker and more like home. It was in the little things. The way he shifted when you reached past him. The way he knew how you liked your coffee and made sure no one else drank from your favorite mug. The way he stood just close enough that you could feel his heat at your back.

Game nights made it worse.

Or better, depending on who you asked.

Every week, like clockwork, someone would suggest it usually Alexei or Yelena, high on boredom and low on impulse control. Uno, Jenga, some Russian board game that none of you understood but that Alexei insisted was “better than Monopoly.”

No matter the game, no matter the teams, somehow you and Bob always ended up on the same side. It wasn’t on purpose. No one assigned you to him. It just… happened. You’d be sitting on opposite couches, and by the time the game began, you’d be side by side. Synced up. Aligned.

Charades became a blood sport. You and Bob didn’t even need words. One raised eyebrow from you, and he was guessing the entire plot of The Matrix. He mimed a single motion, and you blurted out Jaws before anyone else even understood it was a movie.

“I don’t even know how they’re communicating,” John muttered one night, tossing a card at Bucky. “They didn’t say a word. Are they cheating? They’re probably cheating.”

“Y/N and Bob have their own frequency,” Ava mumbled from the corner, arms folded but the ghost of a smile tugging at her mouth.

Then came the promo events.

Photoshoots. Talk shows. Those absurd staged press moments where Valentina shoved you all into matching black tactical gear and called it “branding.”

You and Bob migrated toward each other like it was coded into your DNA. Unconscious. Effortless.

Cameras flashed and you were already beside him your shoulder brushing his arm, his hand resting just near the small of your back, not touching, but almost. Always almost. And somehow, no matter how stiff or awkward he looked beside the rest of the team, when he stood next to you, Bob’s shoulders loosened just enough. His eyes softened. His lips curved, barely.

Protective. Steady. Yours.

That’s how it felt.

And still, you told yourself it wasn’t anything.

Just comfort. Just familiarity.

But at night when the compound dimmed, and the war room was dark, and the wind whispered against the windows you started to hear it.

The softest knock. A pause. Then the door creaking open.

He never needed to ask.

He stepped inside like he didn’t want to make a sound, curls still damp from a rushed shower, wearing the same old hoodie that hung loose on his tall frame. Sometimes he’d say your name like a question. Most nights, he just climbed into your bed with a sigh so deep it curled in your chest.

He never reached for you. Not at first.

He just drifted closer, closer until his forehead was resting on your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin, his body folding around you like ivy.

And you’d always find your fingers in his hair. Threading, soothing, grounding. Like they were meant to be there. Like you’d done it a thousand times.

He always fell asleep that way. The Sentry. The most powerful being on Earth. Curled up around you, clinging to the quiet, tucked in by your heartbeat.

And you thought you were subtle. You thought it was private.

You thought no one knew.

Until the night John Walker walked in.

You’d been half asleep, humming something soft while combing your fingers through Bob’s tangled curls. He was a deadweight against you, long limbs twisted around yours, chest rising in the steady rhythm of someone deep, deep asleep.

The door slammed open.

“Y/N! You gotta see the new tech—I finished the—”

He froze.

You cracked an eye open.

Bob didn’t even stir.

And John… just stood there, blinking. Processing. His mouth opened and closed twice before he backed out like he’d walked in on a hostage negotiation.

“…I’ll come back later,” he muttered, nearly tripping over your laundry basket on the way out.

That was the end of the secret.

The next morning at breakfast, the teasing came with knives.

Yelena leaned across the table with a smug little grin. “So… Bob. Y/N. How long has the co-sleeping initiative been active?”

You choked on your coffee. Nearly died.

Bob flushed so red his ears matched his hoodie.

Ava didn’t even try to hide her smirk. “Please. We’ve all seen it. They’re like cats. Always draped over each other. It’s gross. It’s adorable. I hate it.”

“Just don’t bring it on the jet,” John muttered into his eggs. “Some of us like to fly without PDA-induced nausea.”

You didn’t answer. Neither did Bob.

You didn’t have to.

It wasn’t like that, you told yourself.

It was just Bob. It was just you.

But when your eyes met across the kitchen when his hand brushed yours reaching for the honey, and his fingertips lingered just a little longer than necessary, you wondered if maybe it wasn’t just anything.

Maybe it was everything.

And you’d just been too scared to name it.

⸻

Until the charity gala.

You’d pulled out all the stops.

The gown was custom silk that hugged every curve like it was made for you (because it was), with a low, sloping back that shimmered under the chandelier light like molten metal. The color was blood-red, deliberate. You wore it with graceful confidence . Your hair was swept into soft waves that kissed your collarbones. And your eyes, lined lit with something vulnerable and electric, scanned the ballroom for one person.

Bob Reynolds.

He arrived late.

Tugging awkwardly at the cuffs of a tailored suit that fit too well for how uncomfortable he looked in it. Hair combed, clean shaven, tall as hell and radiating nervous energy. You turned the moment he walked in.

He stopped in the doorway when he saw you.

And for the briefest second, everything else in the glittering, champagne soaked ballroom dimmed. His eyes locked on yours across the crowd and something passed between you. Something that hit you low in the chest, unspoken and sharp. You almost smiled.

But then he looked away.

Fast. Like it burned. And he didn’t approach. Not even close. In fact, every time you started to drift toward his side of the room, champagne in hand, casual and hopeful he moved. Ducking away under the guise of conversation or needing air. It was obvious. Painfully so. He was avoiding you.

By the time everyone was seated and smiling for cameras at the table, your chest ached from it.

Had you misunderstood everything?

The closeness, the late nights, the way he always reached for you without thinking, was that just friendship? Just comfort? Had you embarrassed yourself in front of the whole team?

And then came the woman.

An older socialite, jeweled and charming, grabbed Bob by the elbow with a too-knowing smile. She gestured to a girl in satin blue, pretty, long-limbed, her laugh high and flirtatious. Bob looked panicked for a split second. Then he smiled. Small. Polite. He let the woman lead him away.

From across the ballroom, you watched.

The girl touched his arm. He leaned in to hear her. Laughed at something she said. All the alcohol he downed making his eye contact extremely well, didn’t matter that he looked a little stiff. A little out of place. From where you were standing, it looked like he could love her.

And it broke you.

You didn’t say goodbye. Just slipped your clutch under your arm and moved. Valentina caught your elbow at the door.

“Where are you going? You haven’t even spoken to—”

“I don’t feel well,” you said, voice brittle.

“Y/N—”

But you were already gone.

⸻

The Tower was silent when you returned.

You didn’t turn on the lights. Didn’t go to your room. Just stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the roof like muscle memory.

The city stretched below you in a haze of gold and glass. Cold wind bit at your shoulders through the fabric of your dress, but you didn’t care. You needed the air. The silence. The distance from the noise in your head.

Why had he avoided you? Did you look bad? Did he regret all those nights he spent in your bed not with you, but beside you? Holding onto you like you were his only anchor?

You blinked hard against the tears stinging your lashes.

Don’t cry. Don’t be stupid. You’re not sixteen.

The door creaked behind you.

You didn’t move. But your heart knew.

Bob.

He stepped out slow, breath ragged, suit jacket flapping slightly in the wind. His tie was crooked. His hair was messy. He looked like he’d been running.

“You left,” he said quietly, almost breathless.

“I did,” you murmured, arms crossed against the chill.

“I couldn’t find you.”

“I saw you,” you replied, voice sharper than you meant. “You were busy.”

A pause.

“Y/N…” His voice cracked. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“I’m not stupid,” you snapped. “She was gorgeous. Polished. Exactly the kind of girl a mother would want for her son-in-law.”

He flinched. “That’s not what I want.”

“No?” You turned now, eyes shining in the low rooftop light. “Because you looked like you were having a great time. Like you were relieved not to be around me.”

“I was avoiding you.”

That stopped you cold.

“I know.”

Bob took a step closer, then another. “You walked into that room and I forgot how to breathe. You were… radiant. Like something out of a dream I wasn’t supposed to be having. And all I could think was, Don’t ruin this. Don’t touch her. Don’t make it weird. So I panicked.”

You stared, wind whipping your hair around your face.

“You avoided me because I looked nice?”

“I avoided you,” he said, stepping right into your space, “because if I didn’t, I was going to tell you I loved you. In front of Valentina. And three senators. And six photographers.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

He laughed, but it was soft. Raw.

“You don’t know what you do to me, Y/N. I can’t think straight when you’re near me. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep unless I’m next to you. You touch me just, like, hand on my arm or fingers in my hair and the world goes quiet. You make me feel like I’m not broken.”

“Bob…” you whispered, tears threatening again.

He took your hands gently. “I don’t know when it happened. I just know I’m in love with you. And if I messed this up tonight… I’m sorry. But I had to tell you.”

You let out a laugh. Choked and wet and unbelieving.

“You idiot,” you said, pressing your forehead to his. “You beautiful, stupid, sweet idiot. I’ve been in love with you since the first time you handed me coffee without asking how I take it.”

His breath hitched. “You have?”

“Obviously.”

The kiss came easy.

Soft, like first light. Like every moment between you had been leading to this, every brush of hands, every shared blanket, every look across the table when no one else was watching. He cupped your face like it was sacred. You buried your hands in his curls like they belonged there. Because they did.

The city sparkled below. And in the quiet, with the wind, and the stars above, the noise finally stopped.

⸻

You woke up in his arms the next morning. Again.

Only this time, your lipstick was smudged on his jaw. His tie was still on your bedroom floor. And when Bucky walked in to grab the TV remote, he paused at the sight of you two curled up, a sleepy smile tugging at his mouth.

“About damn time,” he muttered, shutting the door again.

Neither of you moved.

You were too busy holding onto everything you’d been scared to lose.

—

A/N: PLEASE I NEED MORE IDEAS OR LIKE SONGS TO WRITE THINGS BASED OFF 💔