#alexi

[cabysoft]

valentines gift for the boyf <3

[ordinaryluv]

𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨

𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧 :

𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘺𝘢𝘺! 𝘈𝘴 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵/𝘱𝘳𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥, 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦. 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘞𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵. 𝘔𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘉𝘰𝘣 (𝘔𝘊𝘜) 𝘴𝘰 𝘐'𝘮 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 :)

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 :

𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦.

You might be the last person who loves John Walker. But that is mainly because you’re his sister. And anyway, that love is already running out. 

When he left to be a soldier and then got fixed up by the government to be their little hero, you barely heard from him. And then the whole thing went down with his wife and kid and whoever that “innocent” civilian was and everybody hated him. Valentina came into the picture and so went the ghost mode. Your calls never went through so you stopped trying, even changing his name in your contacts to his full, official name (and added asshole in the description). 

It is only recently that he decided to remember he still had a younger sister. It would be no big deal being left behind by him if you two weren’t close, but you spent your childhood together, as siblings often do, and endured a lot of its bad parts by each others side. You were there when Olivia was on the verge of leaving or whenever he urgently needed a baby sitter. So it hurt when he completely cut you off. Going through the grievance of your parents death alone was difficult, no one to tell you it will be okay and that they will always be by your side. 

The phone calls started around the time you moved back to New York. You attended school there before getting an internship in France. At first you were hesitant to take it and leave your family and the life you knew, but as your brother went deeper into his hole of self-destruction on controversy, you decided to take the risk and try something new. 

So now you’re back, and John has been spending a lot of time at your new apartment. He likes to say that the French made you mean, though you know the truth is his absence just made you grow thicker skin. You don’t say that but mentally note it. There is an undercurrent of understanding between the two of you but at first when he started coming around it was a little awkward. Now it became a weekly thing, even a couple of times a week if you and John both had time. He would rant about the constant team arguments and Valentina, and you would do the same about work or classes you’re attending. You two had to watch at least one movie a week because apparently he hasn’t seen all the classics (war and action movies don’t count). 

You were relearning how to be brother and sister and along with that getting to know each other again. John still had that hot-headed and confrontational attitude, along with many controversial takes, but something about him changed. You joke that the team made his softer and he likes to deny it but it is always with a smile on his lips. You became tougher, you stand your ground more and call people out on their bullshit. It is obvious that John isn’t used to that, he remembers his little sister as a people pleaser and a girl who cried over a crushed flower, which by the way is not even embarrassing, what monster crushes flowers for fun? Maybe you both made the same facial expressions and had similar responses to some opinions (like pet names being cute. Ew.) Anyway, somehow being away from each other has made you two more compatible, maybe it’s the maturing that occurred during your time away, or some other factors, but you still denied being alike to him. 

You only denied it because you knew that you would never do to him what he did to you, and though he apologized and you talked it out like adults, you still had that pain rooted deep inside you. Lodged somewhere between your ribs or behind your heart.  Somewhere so far you couldn’t reach it. You didn’t let it come out often, or ever really. In your own words “it’s no big deal, I was too busy to worry over that anyway.” You think John knew it wasn’t true, not with the calls and voice mails you left, but he nodded and clasped his hand on your shoulder. Since then you both didn’t bring it up and silently agreed to move on. 

-

A Thursday night, it is around 8:13 p.m. and How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days is playing on the TV in front of you in the dark living room. John was in charge of snacks tonight so you ended up with a shitty selection of beer, popcorn, and crackers. Thanks John. Your whiteness is honestly overbearing. But you munched on the crackers as Andie is confronting her crying friend (who is the best character in the entire movie, hands down), “John,” you say, not turning your head to look at him.

“Hm?” Comes a quick grunt as he also keeps his attention on the TV. 

“Why have you never invited me to the watchtower?”

A scoff came then “why would I?” 

You looked at him with the expression of utter offense “uh, because its cool?” You threw a cracker at him. “Don’t be an asshole. You have that massive thing right in the middle of the city, probably a whole ass theater inside, but instead you always come here and make my apartment smell like beer.”

John picks up the cracker that landed in his lap and eats it, “its nothing special.” He finally looks over at you, “and anyway then I have to introduce you to the team, and I don’t want them to associate me with your horrible attit-“ He didn’t get to finish the sentence before your decorative pillow hit him square in the face. 

“You are not one to talk about attitude, John.” He throws the pillow back at you but you catch it and hold it to your chest while wrapping your arms around it. “So?” You ask hopefully now, as if you weren’t tormenting him a moment ago, “can you take me there? I want to see it, and I want to meet the group that made you an old softie.” You snickered and John narrowed your eyes at you. 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.” 

“I will burn your suit and that stupid hat that comes with it if you don’t take me there.”

Then came the silence. John looked at you and you looked at him. You raised your eyebrows, indicating you’re nowhere near lying and nowhere above spearing his suit. 

“The French did make you mean.” He mutters. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” he flinches when you lift the pillow again. “I said you can come by next week.” You grinned like a kid on Christmas and the movie night continued. 

-

“Don’t say anything stupid about me. Please.” John said as the two of you entered the elevator to head up into the main area of the watchtower. 

“Everything about you is stupid. I don’t even have to say anything.” You held back a grin as he clenched his jaw. 

“Okay I think it is unfair for you to say that because 8th grade, middle school, you had ridiculous outfits and-“

“Yeah at least I don’t still wear them. Can you say the same? No, mister beret.” 

“It is not a beret is it a military head accessory!” His face was getting red and you were already dying of laughter as the doors opened. The team was all in the huge living room. Some were settled on the couch and around it, talking. Someone else was at what looked like a bar, pouring a drink. You shut your mouth and straightened up slightly. 

John walked out with a confident stride. Some looked up as he walked right into the middle. “I’d like to introduce someone.” Everyones head whipped towards him, “uhm, my little sister.” You smiled and walked to stand by his side. 

John first pointer to a woman with short, white hair. She had dazzling eyes that were adorned with a blue waterline “this is Yelena, she’s rude and obnoxious.” She scoffed and then came her Russian accent. 

“I think he is projecting. I’m Yelena and I hope you’re not as annoying as he is-“

“Okay if we are going to talk about annoying lets talk about the way you never put the milk away after pouring it.” John quickly spoke over her and that turned into an argument of blames and jabs. You stood awkwardly by his side as the semi-argument kept rolling into other topics. There were dramatic gasps and Russian curse words thrown into the mix. The team looked unamused, as if they seem this a million times. 

A figure appeared next to you, as you looked up you caught a glimpse of the metal arm and the slightly long-ish black hair. “Bucky,” he stretched his flesh hand and you shook it, introducing yourself in return. “That’s an often occurrence, so let me take over the introductions.” His smile was gentle and polite and you felt a bit more at ease. “That’s Ava, she goes invisible and creeps up on people,”

“I do not,” she deadpanned “I really couldn’t care less about any of you. You are far too boring for me to spy on you.” 

“Right,” Bucky moved on, pointing to the far corner, you didn’t even notice there was a chair there as it was obscured form your vision by a plant. “That’s Bob,” when Bob heard his name he lifted his head from his book. Eyes wide and unsure, you offered a friendly wave and he did so as well in return. “And uhm, I’m not sure where Alexi is-“ It is almost as Bucky summoned him because two metal doors slid open and there was an older man. 

You assumed that was Alexi, he was tall and dressed in Avengerz merch. His booming voice rang through the entire tower, an already familiar Russian accent you heard just a minute ago was now coming from him. “Who is this?” His smile widened as he came up to you, you titled your head up to meet his gaze, eyes widening a little. “Is this a new thunderbolt, eh? Another one to add to our Avengerz crew?” He made sure to emphasize the Z at the end of Avengers. 

“Oh, no I’m just-“

“Absolutely not!” John said quickly, head whipping around, “don’t even think about it Alexi.”

“What? Do you like the costume eh? I can make you one for free.” He turned towards you again and wiggled his eyebrows and you laughed.

“I would love one.” You smiled. 

“I already like her more than all of you.” Said Alexi in a joking way which made you feel a bit more like a part of the group.

-

You sat on the couch between John and Ava. There was some mindless conversation going on, Ava asking questions she could use against John. 

Bob is standing in the kitchen doorway, looking into the living room with his head slightly titled. Yelena is making popcorn next to him. 

“Who is that?” He asked quietly, and Yelena looked up. 

“Weren’t you listening? Johns little protege.” Yelena’s gaze focused on you from across the huge room before flickering back to Bob. “His little sister.” 

“Oh, yeah that makes- uh, makes more sense. I didn’t know John had a younger sister…” Bob fidgeted with his hands. 

“Yeah, and now Alexi is trying to pull her into this scam of a group.” Bucky appeared besides Bob, looking into the living room along with him. 

“Well if she’s half the fighter John is.” Yelena hummed and poured some butter into the popcorn. 

“No,” Bucky said dryly. “The reason John fights the way he does is because he’s a soldier and the government decided to play puppet again and injected him with serums.”

“We could always use extra people, wasn’t Alexi saying something-“ Bobs words were cut off. 

“Family should never be in the same team. If something goes wrong, if you lose them,” Bucky shook his head. “It is not something he would be able to handle. He’ll go blaming himself forever.” He leaned his shoulder in the door way, his arms crossed over his chest. 

Yelena lifted the bucket of popcorn and squeezed past the two of them. “I don’t know, I like her. I saw John twitch when she lifted her hand,” she grinned at the thought of John’s younger sister fighting with him. And then she was gone, dropping the bucket on the table in the living room and flopping into a reclining chair, joining the conversation seamlessly. 

Bob turned to look at Bucky “do we really need more people?”

“We could use extra help, yes. The original Avengers had a lot more people and… not people too, from all over. But not regular civilians. She looks like she majored in social sciences… or anthropology. I’m sure if she was to express an interest in the team Alexi and I could find her something to do, but I still think its a terrible idea. She is far too young to be here.” 

“Yeah, t-too young…” Bob spoke softly as Bucky patted his shoulder and then walked off. 

-

“John?”

“My terrible little monster of a sister, hello.” Johns voice came out breathless as if he just finished a long workout. 

“You’re going to hate me.”

“More than I do now?” Came his laugh, like he didn’t take you seriously. 

“Oh, yes.”

“Uh, okay..” You could hear the workout bench creaking over the phone as John sat down. “Surprise me.”

“So you know I love vintage things, right?” There was silence on the other end so you just decided to continue “and you know how my very aesthetic vintage apartment is like… a million years old, yes?”

“Sure?” John said slowly. 

“Well apparently the whole thing is like… collapsing in on itself and so they’re doing reconstructions. The water is out and there no electricity and technically I could stay there if you want me to be miserable before I die under some metal tube that inevitably will fall on my head while I sleep-“

“Oh no.”

“-but since I know you don’t want that, I was going to ask if I could stay-“

“God, no.”

“-in the tower, just for a week until its mostly fixed-“

“No.”

“-I won’t bother anyone, I swear.”

“You will bother me,” John sighed. 

“I won’t bother the important people.”

“Okay wow, fuck you.”

“Please? I like, really need this. I can’t afford to rent another apparent right now or stay in some shitty hotel for a week. Im a gentle creature, I will die in those conditions.” 

“You’re the most difficult people ever. Ever.” You rolled your eyes, “don’t roll your eyes at me.”

You looked down at your phone in bewilderment “what the-“

“Fine.”

“Really?” You actually jumped, in the middle of your half taped and destroyed apartment. “Like actually or are you being cruel and joking?”

“I’m being serious. Just a week though, no longer. And you can’t bother anyone when they’re working, or in general.”

“You know I have been an active member of society for a while now, right?”

“Barely. When should I come get you?”

-

The team didn’t mind having you around, they had way too much space anyway and a new face was always welcomed. Yes, you did have to deny joining thunderbolts every morning over coffee, but it turned into a nice little joke by the middle of the week. 

You usually woke up early, not staying in the tower for long and heading out to work or to complete some project. You stood in the empty kitchen, the sun just came up, casting a pale and dim light over the clouds into the kitchen. The coffee maker rumbled and groaned. What is the point of this multimillion mansion if the coffee maker is 20 years old? You were leaning against the counter, your pajama pants sitting low, leaving a sliver of skin showing between the pants and the hem of your tank top which hung a bit loose on your frame. 

You’ve been in the tower for three days now, and not once has anyone woke up as early as you. Or if they did they did not venture into the kitchen. This morning was different, as you were zoning out you picked up the sound of footsteps. You expected whoever it was to walk by but they stopped for a second or two before walking in. You looked up and saw Bob. You talked to pretty much everyone on this team. Yelena was like a cooler older sister you never had, Ava was the black cat aunt, Bucky was like a dad for the team and Alexi was the half-drunk grandpa. Bob is the only one you haven’t placed in this whole system. 

Bob’s eyes widened slightly when he saw you and he stopped dead in the doorway, like he didn’t expect anyone to be there. “G-good morning.” 

“Morning,” you smiled, “coffee?” The coffee maker stopped with a little ding right on time. 

“Oh it- it doesn’t really work on me,” he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Because of the serum, right?” You turned to pour yourself a cup. 

“Yeah- how… did John tell you?”

“Mhm,” you turned back to face him, smiling as you took a sip. “He gave me a little briefing before I came here.” Bob just nodded and finally resumed his movements, coming into the kitchen. 

“You two are close…” It was a statement but it sounded unsure coming from him. But almost everything did. 

“Yeah, something like that,” you shrugged, “don’t worry, I’m nothing like him.” 

That earned you a little laugh from Bob. It was low and smooth but short-lived. “Yeah, I-I hope so.” You smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Not that he’s bad or anything I just-“ he raised his hands slightly, tensing.

“You’re fine, Bobby.” You laughed softly and sat your mug down, still half full with the bitter black coffee. You gave him a little wink as you walked out, almost like you two were sharing a secret or an inside joke.

Bobby. 

People have called him that before, obviously. But the way it slipped past your lips and the teasing edge it held had him captivated. He wished he could import the memory of you saying that onto a computer and listen to it again. 

Bob had to snap out of it. You were a pretty girl, showing him attention and teasing him. But you didn’t know what he was, what horrible things he has done. How horrible he has been. He convinces himself it is unfair to you to keep this up, you don’t deserve this. But then he has to backtrack, this is the first conversation you two had, he can not go thinking up that you are falling for him or that that interaction even meant anything! And so there goes Bobs famous overthinking cycle that won’t end until someone hits him with a pan, Rapunzel style. 

-

Bob’s brilliant brain came to one conclusion. He has to avoid you. He can’t get attached to you and god forbid you get attached to him. And that gnawing age gap was looming over his morale. Was it huge? No. But it was still there and it was subtly established before, so he felt as if that line has been drawn for him specifically. It was a simple plan; keep to himself and if he sees you, run the other way. 

From then, any time you saw Bob he would keep his conversations short and clipped, he would leave abruptly or make an excuse. At first you just thought he was feeling awkward after the first interaction, but no matter what you tried, any advances of getting him to warm up to you, was all in vain. This slowly turned into you ignoring him as well. You did not want to dislike him, you did not want to think him rude for you noticed just how sweet he was before, but you really had no other choice of what to make of him. 

On Friday you got a call from your landlord, apparently the whole place was still in shambles, which resembled your mental state at this point. You had to shamelessly beg John to let you stay another week, you convinced him you will die of paint fumes and nail guns if you move back in. 

You told the rest of the team you will be staying a little longer and they were welcoming as ever, always offering you any help you need and making light of the situation which eased your nerves. Besides Bob, he wasn’t there when you announced it, so you took it upon yourself to find him. You liked telling yourself you were seeking him out because you just had to tell him you were staying another week, it was technically his tower too. But the real reason is… you had to confront him. About his countless excuses, his “got to go” moments, his abrupt cut offs and blatant ignorance. 

You used to hate confrontations, feeling uncomfortable and almost guilty for calling someone out. But you were never in the wrong from confronting. This sort of built a small realization in your mind, you were stronger. You had the power to make those you were confronting uncomfortable and not the other way around. So that same day, you were pacing around the watchtower, looking for the 6 foot something, wet dog looking man. Of course the place you found him is the kitchen, ironic huh? 

His back is to you and you take a moment to take him in. He’s large but subconsciously folds in on himself, never quite letting his full posture stretch out. You stand in the doorway and clear your throat to gain his attention. Bob practically jumps, the spoon that was in his hand a second ago goes clattering down on the floor and he bends to pick it up. You step up, closing in on him though you really had no real way of cornering him. 

“Hi,” there is no warmth in your voice, just that cool and collected tone that makes involuntary goosebumps rise on Bob’s skin. 

“H-hello,” you watch as his Addams apple bobs in his throat and how his eyes are trained on everything else but you.  

You narrow your eyes slightly, studying him. “I thought I should tell you,” you move a little to be in his line of vision but he averts his eyes again, this makes your irritation spike but you put it out quickly. “Would you at least look at me?” Irritation begins to bleed into your words but you try to stop the dam from bursting.

His eyes finally dart to yours, wide and blinking rapidly as if you were too bright to look at for too long. “Y-yeah?”

“I thought you should know, I will be staying here one more week.” You said simply but kept your eyes on his as if you were conveying a deeper message. You can’t hide from me, you can’t escape me.

“Uhm.. okay, yeah. Cool, that’s- I’m glad you like it here,” he tried to smile. “I really should go-“ but as he moved to walk around you, you stopped him with a hand on his chest, pushing him back a to where he was before. He didn’t expect you to touch him, even less expect you to push him back, but he didn’t fight, settling back down against the counter and accepting his defeat. You really had no right to be shoving him around, considering that this was his house and you were technically a guest and also because he was like a billion times stronger than you and could make you disintegrate into air. 

“No, actually I had more to say.” You retrieve your hand, instead crossing your arms over your chest and stepping up a little closer. You can feel the way Bob tries to fuse himself further into the counter that is already pressing into his lower back. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“What? N-no,” a nervous little chuckle slips past his lips, “why would you- I would never.”

“Yeah no, I’m not buying that bullshit. I know you are not that busy to be leaving any time you see or talk to me. You practically do a 180 any time I am in your line of vision. You just tried to leave. So what did I do? Why do you avoid me?”

Blush spread over Bobs cheeks, up from his neck and into his ears. He was practically burning up from all the attention you were giving him. God forbid he found an assertive woman attractive. But he had to remind himself he’s no good for you. Not even good enough for the sliver of your attention. “There’s- really no reason, I-i do have a lot to do and,” but you cut him off. 

“Liar,” you’re close enough to feel the warmth of his body radiating into your bones. “I know I have no right to do this, but you have been acting shitty, and I feel like you should give me some sort of response. Some sort of explanation. Even if it’s just ‘I don’t like you’.”

“It’s not that-“ 

“Then what is it?” But as you’re about to close the last amount of space between you his hands wrap around your shoulders, keeping you a small distance away. 

“Stop, please.” Bob’s words are whispers of pleading, almost like he is embarrassed of the affect you have on him. Like it hurts him to keep you from touching him. 

Your eyes widen in surprise, for a second time stops and all you can do is look at him. He’s not avoiding you because he doesn’t like you, it’s something else. Rooted deep in his soul. His eyebrows are drawn together in a begging expression, his pink lips are parted as he takes in greedy breaths. You can tell he wants to say more, but he can’t. You feel the uncertainty and fear rolling off him in waves. You do not get the chance to say anything before you hear your brothers booming voice. 

“Woah there,” he comes in, not reading the room at all. “Hands off my sister, dude.” Bob quickly lets go of you, as if he got burned and you roll your eyes at your brothers protective act.

“John, not now-“

“No, now. I thought it was obvious that you’re off limits.” John turns to Bob who’s blinking at the ground like a scolded child. “Bob, seriously man? What the fuck. That’s my little sister, I have no idea in hell what the two of you were even talking about, and I don’t care. But this-“ he points between you two, “five feet apart. At least.”

“John I’m not 15, you can’t dictate who I talk to you and how I do it.”

“You know no better than a 15 year old!” Johns temper rises in a familiar way you’ve seen many times.  

“You weren’t even there when I was 15! You do not get to make up for it now by acting like some protective asshole.”

Johns face is painted in guilt but he covers it with anger that overtakes any rational thought. “I’m a soldier, sorry that added to your pathetic sob story. I had to face things you can not even imagine! So I know more and I know better.” You could feel the venomous words brewing on his tongue but he holds back, not something John was used to. His words held a firm, cutting edge, but you weren’t going to let them make you bleed. 

Your eyes flicker over to Bob who hasn’t said a word, who hasn’t offered some kind of defense or explanation.

With a scoff you bit out “allez au diable, tous les deux.” You walked out. Calmly and steady but fast, your steps held a purpose, walking you back to your room to collect your things. 

Bob is left staring at the space where you were just standing, hating himself even more for not being able to speak up. This contributes more to the “not good enough for you” agenda in his mind. 

John’s fire is extinguished as he realizes he hurt you, again. He knows the protective, older brother act is not what you need, but he feels as if he has to make up for the missed time. He hits his fist against the counter and curses, running his hands over his hair. “Great, just awesome.” 

-

So the plan to avoid you didn’t work. Now John knows there is something between the two of you and it does not help at all. The tension is at an all time high between the three of you.

You packed most of your things, ready to leave the second your landlord calls you, which takes a couple of days. In those days you ignore Bob. You do not go out of your way to avoid him like he did, but you pretend not to hear or see him. Being invisible to you somehow hurts more than being yelled at by you. With John it was different, the very first time he tried to approach you after the blow-up, you told him that you do not wish to talk to him right now, and to leave you alone. No bitter words and no screaming, just clam and cold attitude you mastered. Maybe that’s what John meant when he said the French made you mean. 

You got the faithful call on Wednesday, so that night you were putting away last of your things. You did not want to wait till morning to leave, better to do it now and not cause any commotion. 

A knock at your door comes as you stuff the last of your belonging into an already overflowing suitcase. You weren’t expecting anyone, no one knew you were supposed to leave tonight, so you assumed it might be Yelena coming to ask for something. “Come in!” You foolishly called and the metal doors slid open. What you did not expect to see was Bob, his hair a little wet from the shower he just took and just slightly curlier than usually, long linen pajama pants hanging from his hips and a simple navy shirt covering his torso. 

“I thought you were someone else,” you look back down at your suitcase, pretending to fold a shirt you just packed.

“Were you waiting for someone else?” Bob asked quietly. 

“What do you need?” You ignored his question, looking up with an annoyed expression, as if his simple existence wasn’t welcomed. 

Bob tensed at the sharpness of your tone and as much as he wanted to turn around and run away, he didn’t. “I-I wanted to apologize, to… ask you not to leave yet.” He swallowed hard as if the words felt like sandpaper against his throat. 

“I do not want your apology and I most definitely do not want to stay here.” You kept refolding the shirt. 

“Can you please hear me out-“

“Leave.”

“It is just a couple of words-“

“I said, leave.”

As Bob is about to accept his defeat and turn back to the metal doors, they shut right before him and the lights go out. “I didn’t do that.” He says nervously, just in case you thought it was another one of his tricks. “And… the door won’t open. Its jammed.”

You groaned, “great, really perfect.” 

“I-i don’t know what happened it just shut-“

“Bucky was saying something about checking the security system tonight, I guess this is it.” And then silence. You two, locked in your room, in complete darkness. “I guess your wish came true.”

“W-what?” Bob’s mind went to slightly different wishes he had of you in a dark bedroom but snapped back to the situation at hand. “Right. Yes.”

You grabbed your phone, turning on the flashlight and placing your phone face down so the light illuminates most of the room. “Go on then, since I have no where to run.”

Bob took that as an invitation, sitting down in front of you on the floor, the suitcase rested open between you two. You’re still giving that damn shirt more attention than him. “I’m sorry I didn’t s-say anything when John blew up I just… I don’t do well with yelling.”

“I do not need your protection. It was an argument between him and I.” He couldn’t handle watching you refold that shirt one more time so he gently leaning over and coaxed it out of your hands, folding it and setting it on the suitcase himself. 

“I know. But he was yelling at you because of me, at least partially because of me and… and I just let him, and its shitty. I know it.” 

“I don’t sit around thinking why you didn’t say anything, I have better things to do, Bob.” He knows it was selfish of him to think that you spent your days worrying over his silence. “I wanted to know one thing,” you looked up, serious and unyielding in your eye contact, “why you avoided me. That’s what I came to ask you that day and you never gave me an answer.” 

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

You push once or twice again.

“You can,” you cut in again, “but you’re scared!”

“Fine!” Bobs eyes widened at his own volume and he lowered his voice, “yes. I’m scared, terrified. I-I can’t allow myself to feel that way, towards anyone. Do you know how much of a monster I am? You think I can allow myself to hurt and ruin someone else? Someone as good, as young, as you? God I-“ he rakes his hand over his hair and lets out a humorless laugh, “it’s not fair to you.” And that catches your attention more than anything. “It’s not fair for me to even have this conversation with you right now, to harbor your attention and drink in the way you say my name. Because I do not deserve it. I do not deserve your hand on my chest, I don’t deserve the soft way you teased me once. Do you understand?” He is begging for you to see the pain he carried with him. “I am a mistake. A burden. And I couldn’t let you get attached and ruin you.”

There is a moment of silence where both of you do not say anything. You let his words sink into you and settle against your bones. The flashlight is casting shadows all around the room, both of you are too raw to move. 

“So you made that choice for me?! I am so sick and tired of having to prove to everyone that I am an adult with my own mind. You are not much older than me to be choosing what is fair or not, to be dictating my life. I can make my own decisions and I can analyze what is good and bad for me myself.” 

“I know, that-that came out wrong I didn’t mean,” he clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath. “All I meant is, you have this whole life ahead of you and in my mind I just saw how I dragged you down. I want you- to know you, to see deep into you, lord I just- ever since I saw you, ever since the image of you has imprinted itself into my brain, I haven’t been able to think. I want you so bad, it hurts, but it’s selfish. It is so selfish for me to have you, for me to even want you.” 

“Bob, what are you so afraid of?” 

Bob stands up and you can see the way his entire frame shakes like a leaf. “Do you know what I’d do to someone like you if I let myself-“ The lights flicker back on and the door slides open with a soft metallic groan. 

“Finish it.” 

Bob stares at the ground now that you can see him clearly. He just shakes his head, unable to give you that last piece of information. That last piece of confession. 

Yet again someone else decides when you get your closure. 

You zip up your suitcase and push past him into the hallway. His arm brushes yours, warm and unsteady, but he doesn’t follow. He has said too much, overwhelmed you with his own messed up emotions. 

You sit in the cab, cracked open and filled with feelings that aren’t your own, feelings you can barely comprehend. It feels like hours though the drive takes fifteen minutes at most. The street lights blur as you pass them, blending into one incomprehensible image. You hoped returning back to your apartment would lift this heavy blanket of secrets and truths, but it didn’t. In fact, it seems to suffocate you even more. 

-

It has been weeks since you moved back into your own apartment. The air feels lighter but also hallowed. You miss the laughter and banter of the team, you miss your brothers movie nights, you miss… You do not let yourself think of what else you miss. 

You had all of your ingredients laid out on the kitchen counter, preparing dinner as a way to calm yourself. When the day reached it darker times, you could not help but think about everything that has happened. The spark that should have been an explosion. You rather cut and stir and boil to busy yourself with something. 

You hear a knock at your front door — tentative, uneven. You recognize it before you open the door. This is exactly how the last interaction went down, and deep down you want to tell yourself no, you want to shut him out. But he went through the trouble of leaving the tower and getting here, probably not unnoticed, weeks later, just to see you. 

Lastly you slide the door chain and let it creak open. Bob is standing there, not dressed much different from when you last saw him. He has nothing else with him, he has lowered his guard. Just his tired eyes and trembling hands. And for the first time he doesn’t start with an apology or begging. 

“I don’t know how to be good at this. But I know what I feel. And I’d rather ruin myself trying than lose you pretending I don’t.” 

He doesn’t let the silence swallow him, doesn’t let the doubt keep him shackled. He steps inside and you let him in. In no time his lips are on yours in a way you never imagine he would kiss. It is messy and desperate, like two people finally giving up fighting against gravity. His hands on your waist only pull you closer and your fingers are buried deep in his soft hair. 

Someone shuts the door, you’re not sure if you shoved it with your elbow or if Bob kicked it with his foot. You two progress towards the couch, pulling back to catch air and falling down together. Bob’s hands are greedy, making up for the time he lost with you. Both of you are panting like you came back from a marathon.

He settles you on top and you get the chance to take in some air, “I was making dinner,” but his lips are on yours again before he realizes how rude it was to cut you off. 

“I’m so sorry, dinner.. yes?” This elicits a giggle from you.

“Yes, dinner. If you want some,” but the impatient look in his eyes spoke volumes even though you knew he would agree to have dinner first just to please you. “After,” you add. Bob’s eyes light up and he accentuates his excitement with an openmouthed kiss to your neck and more little kisses peppered down. 

You two do end up eating later. Clumsy, laughing, sharing bites straight out of the pan because you were too tired to plate it properly. And it is not like either of you cared. It feels strange and easy at the same time. The heaviness is not completely gone, but it has loosened enough to allow you to talk about it, to chip away at it. Even if it takes a little while. 

-

It is not until about a week later when you and Bob were leaving a museum that John corners the two of you, his arms crossed and eyes sharp. Bob tensed by your side and you prepared yourself for another argument or another insult. 

Instead John only shakes his head, something unreadable crosses his face. “I’m sorry.”

“What…?” That is the last thing you expected to hear from him.

“I just… I guess I wish you told me there was something going on. I know you do not need this protective older brother act I like to put on, but that is just how I show that I care. And you were right, I wasn’t there for you and my excuses are hollow and shitty.” He opens his mouth to say more, but you slide your hand out of Bobs and pull John into a hug. 

You two aren’t the hug type of siblings, rarely ever say nice things to each other. But this was earned and it was the right way to seal this argument. You whisper your forgiveness and your own apologies. The three of you spend some time talking about the whole situation and how the constant boiling of feelings just drove you all to the edge. 

You had to admit all of you are work in process, but you don’t let that scare you. 

That night, back in your apartment, Bob slips besides you on the couch, pulling you into his side as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The same man who once could not finish a sentence without choking on it now presses his forehead to yours and breathes confessions. 

“I’m sacred out of my mind,” he murmurs into your temple, his lips brushing your skin. 

“I’m here, happy. Not ruined. Not dragged down.”

He swallows and you can tell your words have an affect on him. He’s vulnerable, but he won’t hide. “I’m all in. Every part of me that I used to hold back — it’s yours now.” 

[superbpiratesandwich]

NOT TOGETHER JUST IN THE SAME BED pt.2

JOHN WALKER X GN!READER

tags: fluff, slight angst, gender neutral reader, no body description

a/n: yet another fic that came to me in a dream, im a believer in dad bod Walker and youll have to pry him out of my cold dead hands 

2k words 

Its late again, and you're still up, again. Should anyone be surprised by now? It's cold in your room, you're tucked underneath three blankets, cozy and warm, but you still can't get your mind to shut off. Too many things bounce around inside your brain, the op you just came back from, the one you were briefed on today, what Val might make the team do tomorrow. It all stops your eyes from shutting. You slowly sit up, rubbing your tired eyes as you glance at the alarm clock, 12:02am, it seems to blink mockingly at you.  

You pad down the sleek grey hallways of the Tower, moving swiftly and silently towards the living room. No one is awake, that you know of, you sit on the couch, not turning on the tv, just staring at the dark screen. You don't even turn any lights on, you sit in the dark, your eyes tired, your body exhausted, but your mind is running at a million miles per hour. Not even about any particular thing, just past missions gone wrong, plans for the next week, how you're hungry, but not hungry enough to eat a full meal, but Alexi ate all the good snacks, so really what's the point of leaving the couch to go to the pantry to cook something? 

You mentally list everyone in the Tower who you could possibly go annoy/wake up and not feel guilty.  

Alexi is a big no; you may slit his throat for eating your specially bought cookies.  

Bucky... last time you tried to wake him up in the middle of the night, he nearly throat punched you. 

Bob seems like he’d be a good late-night companion, but the man hardly sleeps as it is, you don't wanna wake him up just for some company.  

Ava or Yelena seems like they’d be good late-night sleepless buddies, but if you know the pair well enough, they will sleep through anything, especially you trying to wake them up.  

That leaves Walker. 

You and Walker have what you like to call a ‘no words needed’ relationship. When the two of you first met in the vault, he had tried to kill you and you him, but when all was settled with Val there was no harm done. Over a year, the two of you had become accustomed to each other, moving in sync on ops without realizing it, getting up at the same time every morning. 

Walker would silently make your coffee for you while you toasted four pieces of bread, two for each of you. Hed make sure the pantry was stocked up on your favorite snacks after Alexi raided it. Taking extra care to write the words “Touch these and die” on a sticky note, placing it on the box.  

Eventually, he found himself getting tired around you, not because of you, not because you drained him, but you made him sleepy in a way he couldn't really explain.  

Truthfully, Walker has been tired since high school, since pushing himself past his breaking point due to his father’s constant comments of “You’ll never be a real man if you can't handle a few classes and football,” or “You don't know tired,” but even at sixteen, he felt tired, the kind that seeps into your bones and turns into a dull ache.  

So, when he started to get sleepy around you, at first, he tried to combat it. He tried drinking red bulls whenever he felt that soft exhaustion pull at his eyelids, threatening to drown him. He tried pinching himself whenever he felt tired around you, making sure to give his head a little shake to keep himself cognoscente. Of course, you never noticed, you just kept being you. Not to mention, you got tired around him as well. The way his voice, however cocky and arrogant it may be, would carry into a cadence that would lull you to sleep. Or how his presence just seemed to make you want to curl into his side. 

Which you had done multiple times.  

You caught him napping, Mr. John—I don't take naps—Walker, taking a nap. You couldn't say much though, looking around the communal living room before pressing your knee onto the outside of his hip. He was laid on his back, an arm thrown over his eyes to block the afternoon sun pouring in through the windows. You slowly leaned over him, your arms scooting under his warm back. His middle soft against your chest, the slight pudge there providing body heat you were so desperately craving that day.  

He blinked a little, moving his arm off his face with a quiet, “Wha—” 

He didn't say anything else; he just wrapped his free arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his chest.  

Not to mention the countless times the both of you have fallen asleep on each other's shoulders after a rough op.  

He was the first to do it, after a particularly rough mission, no one was hurt, it was just a lot. Walker sat next to you in the jet, taking his designated seat next to yours before you sat down. He could already tell he was close to falling asleep sitting up, but when you sat down next to him, that was the kicker. His head slowly found its way to your shoulder, his eyes shutting as he relaxed more onto you. You smiled to yourself, resting your head against his and shutting your own eyes.  

Yelena still uses the picture she took of you two against you, you don't care though, but he does. He can't stand the thought of her and Ava making fun of him, but the more he thinks about it, the more he wants to just say ‘fuck it’ and let them send the picture into the group chat.  

So maybe that's what carries your tired form up four flights of stairs to his floor. You pad through his door, just to see warm light spilling from his small kitchen. Dark grey walls not decorated aside from a few pictures of him and Lemar, a time when he was Captain America. Your steps are almost silent as you walk down the hall to the kitchen. You turn the corner to see a shirtless Walker, sweatpants low on his hips, showing off his thick waist, the dimples on his lower back, the dips of muscle on his upper back, the freckles and scars that litter his pale skin.  

You swallow hard, your overthinking mind now overheating. You stare for a long while, fidgeting with the hem of your oversized t shirt, your pj pants a size too big. You can hear him humming My Way by Frank Sinatra as he flips what looks to be a grilled cheese on the stove.  

Your eyes land on the silver necklace gleaming against the back of his neck, his dog tags. He moves a little, his head turning a fraction as he stops humming. “You’re up late.” 

You shrug, moving further into his kitchen, “Can't sleep,” you complain softly, walking to lean against the counter next to the stove. He gives you a half smile as he side eyes you, “Neither can I,” he raises an eyebrow at you, nodding to the food on the stove, “Y’hungry?” 

You shake your head, rubbing your eye with the back of your hand, “Just tired,” 

He gives you a soft look, “Than go to sleep, honey,”  honey, something he only calls you late at night, when you can't sleep, when the two of you have meaningful conversations.  

You shrug again, “Tried that,” 

He says nothing as he plates his sandwich, cutting it in half and letting you have the half on a plate. You go to refuse it, but he just pushes the plate towards you. You eat your halves in silence, his big form standing in front of the stove, staring at the cabinet above it. Your eyes drift to the thickness of his waist, no longer bearing a perfect six-pack as your sure he had one earlier in life, no, now he's got muscle and fat. He’s admitted to you that he hates looking in mirrors because of it, hates to see how much he looks like his father.  

You admire the strength you see in him, the resilience, the fight, but you also love seeing the soft sleepy side of him no one else got to see, the side that calls you honey, the side that gives you half of his sandwich. 

He brushes his hands off, wiping down the counter and putting away the food silently as you finish your half, grabbing a napkin and wiping your face. He walks out of the kitchen towards his bedroom. You don't follow at first, making a small, surprised noise as he turns off the kitchen light, 

“Well maybe if you followed me instead of acting like I'm gonna leave you out here alone...” he grumbles, shaking his head as he flicks on the light again, waiting as you follow his lead to his room.  

He walks past his bed, walking into his bathroom and closing the door. You make yourself comfortable, dragging his dark comforter over your shoulder as you lay on your side, curling into a ball. You hear the door open. 

“It's real—think you're—” his words are mostly muffled by his toothpaste foamed in his mouth, you turn your head, “Huh?”  

He spits into the sink, rinsing his mouth, chucking his toothbrush onto the counter before flicking off the light, “I said,” he grabs the blanket off of you, “It’s real cute that you think your just gonna hog my blankets and curl into yourself on the edge of the bed,” he lays down, his right arm laying over the pillows, “When we both know you're gonna end up koala bear-ing me in the middle of the night, trying to cover the both of us with a blanket when you know I run hot.” 

You turn to face him, noting how he has the blanket draped over him holding it open like an invitation, “C’mere honey,”  

You accept the invite, scooting until your face is buried in his bare chest, your hands curled up under your chin. A few minutes pass and you’re still awake, blinking against his bare skin. “You ever think about the people we can't save?” you mumble against his chest. He lets out a soft, “Hmmph,” in response and you assume he's asleep already falling silent. 

You feel his hand rub at your back, “What’d you say honey?”  

You take a minute to respond, “You ever think about the people we can't, or didn't save?” 

He goes stiff for a moment, pulling his hand away to flick on the lamp beside his bed, he pulls away to look at you, “Is that why you couldn't sleep?”  

You nod, “Sorta, I've just been overthinking a lot,”  

He nods in understanding, his expression softening, “I think about it all the time, Lemar, the men in my unit who took a bullet for me, yeah honey, I do.”  

you stare up at him, “How do you stop the thoughts?”  

He gives you a soft smile, almost pitiful, “Oh honey... they don't really stop for me, they just get quieter, usually when you're around,” 

You smile up at him, “Mine get quieter when you talk,”  

Who would ever say no to those big doe eyes, all tired and soft, staring up at him, pleading silently? He reaches over and clicks off the light before wrapping his arms around you, pressing his lips to your forehead, 

“Did I ever tell you about the time I got stranded on a ten-mile ruck?”  

You shake your head into his neck, already feeling the thoughts quiet down to a whisper.  

“So it's me and seven other guys, plus our drill sergeant, Mike, couldn't call him that or you'd get chewed out, but anyways...” his soft baritone voice, accompanied with the slight southern accent that had started to slip into his words made your eyes feel heavier, your nose tucking into his neck.  

He only shuts up when he can feel your breathing evening out, his lips move against your ear, “G’night honey,”  

[wyyrmwood]

The rest of the image dump of screenshots from my morning tumblr scroll + thunderbolts, please steal and use i made these out of the joy and whimsy in my heart for the good of the people. Sorry some of them seem to be compressed to three apples tall not sure what happened there

Part 2/2

(Part 1)

[beaglehug]

I love you!

[awound2close]

exactlyyyy

[rosedevoir]

watch where you point that thing, birthday wasp! 🎁🎈🍰💕