YES the Thunderbolts have a fantastic team as family dynamic, yes they are living in Avengers tower, yes history is repeating itself and 2012 tower fics are so back. BUT!
instead of "Alexei eating poptarts" or "Yelena in the vents", we must come up with new headcanons and make history
Bob always does normal domestic chores, often getting in the way of important missions and spy business. "All I'm saying is Bucky is our best sniper" "It would be a much quieter assassination if I just slipped into the condo and cut his—" "Hey sorry guys, anyone have laundry? I'm doing a load"
Yelena and her guinea pig always eat meals together at the dining table. Everyone has their Chinese food or barbeque, meanwhile the rodent is loudly munching on a salad right beside them
Bucky is the mom and always keeps them on track. "Ava you have a dentist appointment in the morning, and bring Bob so they can add him to the insurance. Lena how was therapy? Alexei, I said no vodka until dinner"
Alexei is always coming up with new promotional ideas for the team. Cartoon tv show, cereal, toothpaste flavour...every day he thinks he's come up with the next big thing. Whenever they actually get put into production (Wheaties) he collects and saves it, and won't let anyone use a different product. (He threw out Yelena's frosted flakes and it took both Bucky and John to get her to stop attacking him)
Ava likes to phase and sneak attack her teammates at random. She claims it's for training but really she just thinks it's funny hearing them scream
John gets blamed for everything, even if it isn't his fault. Especially if it isn't his fault: "who ate the last bagel?" "John." "Where's my hair straightener?" "John had it." "Whose turn is it to unload the dishwasher?" "Johnnnn"
How about something smutty for the Thunderbolts headcanons 😳 Like how each of them would react to you making them cum in their pants
thank you so much for requesting and feeding my hyperfixation!! below you will find four separate baby blurbs for bucky, john, yelena, and bob. each section will have it's own summary, warnings, and whole lotta smut! enjoy :D
BUCKY BARNES X READER — you're with him in wakanda when he's cured of the trigger words in his head. he's able to touch you for the first time without feeling scared of himself. (established relationship, post-cacw | 1k words)
Bucky Barnes can’t remember the last time he felt this free. Maybe sometime in 1942, he guesses — before he got drafted, before Hydra captured him, before they put those goddamn words in his head. It feels weird that they’re gone now; to be without the dark cloud of impending doom that, at any moment, someone could utter the words and he’d just snap.
But now, freshly cured and living on the Wakandan countryside, he can touch you for the first time without being terrified of himself.
“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles as his vibranium hand trails up the expanse of your bare back. He keeps his flesh one on your thigh, smoothing his thumb over the plush skin there, and tilts his scruffy chin to smile up at you. He’s got you straddled over his lap, barely clothed and bathed in golden candelight, like some kinda angel brought to life.
“You’re pretty,” you correct with a lovesick grin, raking your hands through his silky, growing locks.
Bucky leans instinctively into your touch. “Don’t make this about me,” he says, squinting.
“It is about you,” you remind him with a giggle, ducking down to kiss his neck. “I’m supposed to compliment you—” Your lips brush his pulse in a chaste kiss. Bucky fights back a shiver. “—Supposed to make you feel good.”
“You do,” Bucky sighs a contented moan, pulling you further into him. “You always do…”
His vibranium hand curls up your back and towards your shoulder. His other one holds tightly to your hip. You wrap your arms tighter around his neck until your bare chest is flush with his scruffy one — until your clothed cunt brushes his cock, half-hard and throbbing within the confines of his boxers.
A moan rumbles in Bucky’s throat. You feel it against your lips when you press them to his adam’s apple. “Do you want to?” you murmur against him, voice low like honey. “‘Cause it kinda seems like you want to.”
Bucky’s head is too clouded to respond properly to your teasing. He just nods his heavy head and flexes his hips beneath you in a desperate attempt to relieve the pulsing ache in his boxers. You let him, and with his consent, begin to rock slowly over his lap.
“Say it,” you whisper in his ear.
“Want it,” he pants in yours. “Want you.”
“You have me, Buck,” you slur, trying to peer at him through the haze in your vision. Your panties drag over his stiffening cock and leave a damp spot at the center of them. You find yourself chasing your high just as much as Bucky’s.
You snuck a few sips of alcohol to quell your worry before watching Ayo recite the wretched words back to the man haunted by them. You feel the consequences creeping up on you now and find yourself rambling before you can stop it, half-deluded with pleasure.
“‘M already yours. My pussy’s already— shit,” you whimper in time with Bucky’s groaning when your clit drags over his lap. Through pants, you beg him, “Say you wanna fuck me. Please. Don’t wanna cum ’til you’re inside me.”
“Oh, fuck,” Bucky whines, face screwed and eyes shut tight. He tries to form the words in his head, but all he can think about is how wet you are — and how his leaking cock has left a damp spot in his underwear — and how the combination of both makes the friction between you so dizzying. “I wanna… fuck—”
“Uh-huh,” you tease with a slow nod when you sense he’s getting close. “You can do it, Buck. C’mon. There you go.”
He can’t tell if you’re trying to coach him into saying the words or push him headfirst into an orgasm. He hopes it’s the latter, ‘cause he feels himself bursting into his boxers a second later.
“Fuck!” he blurts when he cums, half-muffled and half-whined, like it pains him.
He holds your hips in both hands, keeping you still above him in a crueler grip than he means to. The quiet bedroom fills with the sound of crackling candles and his groaning. He tilts his face to the ceiling and moans into the golden darkness with his eyes squeezed shut. The sudden orgasm racks through his body in so many shivers up his spine, three warm ropes spit into the confines of his boxers.
“‘M sorry,” he pants when it’s done, still slightly airy from the aftershocks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— Didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay,” you promise with a soft laugh as your own building pleasure begins to subside. You cup his scruffy face in your palms and try to kiss him through the smile on your lips. “You deserve it, Buck,” you whisper against his mouth, between your delicate kisses. “You deserve everything.”
Bucky shakes his head between your palms and smooths his fingers over the bruises he unknowingly stamped into your skin. “Don’t care about everything,” he murmurs lowly. “Just you.”
Your eyes narrow in a sarcastic squint, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Do you think we can get Shuri to erase the cheesiness from your brain, too?”
“Sure,” Bucky scoffs, smiling still, as he shoves you playfully onto your back. You giggle when you hit the mattress, caging your smile between your teeth as the man crawls back between your legs. He lies flat on the mattress, face-to-face with your clothed pussy. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
You nod, obviously sarcastic. “Mhm. Very much.”
“Maybe I’ll just go get her then,” Bucky murmurs, punctuating his quip with a kiss to your inner thigh as he spreads them apart. You shiver when his scruff scrapes your delicate skin. “Tell her to put me back under the ice—”
Your feet lock behind his back to keep him against you. Bucky laughs and curls his arms around your thighs as you prop yourself on your elbows to shoot him a death glare. “You’re not going anywhere, Sergeant Barnes.”
And, truth be told, Bucky’s exactly where he wants to be.
JOHN WALKER X READER — john hates when valentina pairs the two of you on missions together. until he doesn't. (enemies to lovers, pre-thunderbolts, cw for brief mentions of injuries | 0.8k words)
John Walker can’t stand you most days. You’re too reckless, too impulsive, too quick to put yourselves in situations that might kill you. He hates that Valentina paired you together just as much as he hates that he cares so much about your well-being.
He knows it’d be easier to let you get yourself killed, to have one less thing to worry about, but he somehow ends up kissing you instead.
“I can’t fucking stand you,” he grumbles through labored breaths, with your spit still shining on his swollen mouth. He cages your body between his larger one and the unforgiving wall behind you. The men guarding the vault outside surely won’t mind the sexual tension rising inside it, seeing as they’re half-dead already.
You smile in the face of his anger until the fresh cut on your mouth starts to sting. “But you can fuck me?” you pant, eyes glazed over as they dart back and forth between his dilated ones. “I mean, you want to, right? ’S why you locked me in here, isn’t it?”
“I locked you in here because there were three guys outside trying to kill you, if you forgot.”
“Two,” you correct in a witty deadpan. “I killed the third one.”
“And I killed the other two, who gives a shit—”
“You’re obsessed with me, Walker,” you grin, pulling him close by the belt loops on his suit.
Despite his near palpable rage, he melts into you with ease. The blonde man stumbles closer until he’s towering over you — hair messy from his helmet, face bruised, ocean eyes staring daggers into you.
“Well, that’s very presumptuous of you,” he gripes.
“I don’t think it is,” you lilt lowly and nudge his clothed crotch with your thigh.
You watch the words of an argument form and dissolve on his tongue all at once. John exhales hard through his nose as his eyes go glassy. He hadn’t realized how hard he was until you pressed yourself against him — how sensitive he was — how long it had been since he’d had any sort of release.
“Admit it—” you whisper, pulling him closer until his stiff cock is pressed between your bodies. He smells like cologne and copper pennies, likely from the blood darkening his navy blue suit. You’re almost sure you’d be able to feel his racing heart from here, if it weren’t for the thick layers separating you. “—You love me…”
“I hate you,” he corrects, though his dark eyes cloud with lust.
Your smile widens. The cut on the corner of your mouth begins to weep all over again. John reaches for your jaw without thinking, cupping his palm there and swiping the crimson away with his thumb.
“No, you don’t,” you coo with a shake of your head. The room goes quiet then, filled only by John’s heavy breaths and the clinking of his belt as you undo the buckle. You keep him close with one hand around his belt loop while the other creeps around the front of him. His breath catches in his throat when your fingers dip beneath the hem.
You don’t think he realizes how he’s rocking himself against your thigh. Or the way he subconsciously shakes his head in agreement.
“You’ve always thought about this, haven’t you?” you continue mercilessly, grinning when your fingertips meet the coarse thatch of hair above his cock.
John nods his heavy head and leans further into you, propping himself on the wall as his eyes flutter shut. He deserves this, he tells himself, for saving your ass a hundred times over. You owe him one, really.
“I know you have,” you whisper in his ear. “I bet you’ve gotten yourself off to the thought of me a thousand times.”
Again, John nods in response without ever really noticing it. Just like he doesn’t really notice the release building within him — like a creeping hand up his spine, or a tightening knot in his lean stomach. He just keeps rubbing himself against you, chasing a high he barely knows is there.
“But I think when you imagined me making you cum…” you trail off and smile when John moans against your pulse. “…You always thought it’d be inside me.”
John tenses at the thought of fucking you. He’s left trembling above you as a sudden orgasm racks through his body. The quiet room fills with his poorly heldback groans and your giggling while he cums in his pants. He feels the evidence, warm and wet, blooming in his boxers — just like the red-hot embarrassment exploding in his chest.
He pulls away to find you grinning like the devil.
“Told ya,” you monotone and pull your hand from his boxers, only slightly mourning the fact that you never actually got to touch him. “You’re obsessed with me.”
John scoffs, like he has any room to be ambivalent after humping your thigh like a dog. He zips up his pants, belt buckle clinking as he fastens it again. “You ruined my suit,” is all he can think to say as you walk past him.
You roll your eyes and wrench open the heavy door to the vault, stepping over the bloody bodies littered on the other side of it. “Bill me,” you call over your shoulder.
YELENA BELOVA X READER — yelena is full of adrenaline after a mission, and you only know one way to calm her down (established relationship, post-thunderbolts, cw for very brief mentions of injuries | 0.8k words)
Yelena Belova has you flat on your back. The rest of the Avengers tower is dark, quiet, and asleep — each of you recovering from the latest mission in the sanctuary of your bedrooms. The blonde Russian girl is too full of adrenaline to rest, though, never mind how much she could probably use the sleep. She’s a relentless force on top of you — because of the adrenaline, of course, and not because she nearly lost you.
She tugs your pants down your legs with a pair of merciless hands, bruised knees digging into the foot of the mattress across from you. The mattress squeaks with each of your movements, and you fight back a laugh. “Be gentle, Belova!” you scold in a whisper. “Walker’s gonna hear.”
(John had the misfortune of his bedroom being one story below yours. And the floors were surprisingly thin. Or so he says.)
Yelena scoffs, face screwed. “I don’t care,” she mutters, voice accented and low like honey. “Let him hear.”
She makes a big show of climbing back over your body, moving much more violently than normal over the worn bed frame, so it creaks louder beneath her. “Yelena!” you snap quietly through gritted teeth, but hold her gently by the hips when she straddles you just the same.
“What?!” she exclaims, louder than necessary for the late, late night, as she tugs her shirt over her head. She throws the fabric to the side, discarding it with the rest of your pajamas littered on the floor — leaving both of you in mismatched sets of old, cotton underwear.
“God, you’re such a child,” you grouse and cross your arms beneath your head.
Yelena grins. “Stop flirting with me,” she lilts lowly and ducks down to kiss you.
Your eyes flutter shut when her plush lips trail from your jaw down to your neck. “We should rest, Lena…” you tell her, sighing when her teeth scrape your pulse. “We’re gonna be sore in the morning.”
You feel her mouth curl into a smile against your skin. “I hope so.”
“Child,” you repeat.
Yelena gets relentless rather quickly, feral in a way only a previous world-class assassin could be. She forgets about the exhaustion and the bruises that ache to the bone, littered across both your bodies. Her head fills only with thoughts of making you feel good, touching you like it could be the last time she ever gets to.
“Lena, Lena, Lena—” you echo, reaching for her wrist where her hand’s shoved into your panties. “Slow down,” you laugh.
“Why?” she whines.
You find her pretty face contorted in a girlish pout when you cup her cheeks in your hands. “Because we have all night,” you coo, smoothing your thumbs over her flushed jaw. “We don’t have to rush.”
Your words strike something deep in her chest. She refuses to let the vulnerability show.
“I know that,” she scoffs, trying to look unbothered as you smooth the top of her tank top down her chest. You tuck it beneath her breasts, and her pink nipples perk when the cool air hits them.
“Good,” you hum, lifting your head to take her left breast in your mouth.
“I just— I wanted to make you feel good—” she whines in her low Russian accent, voice cracking when you nudge her clothed cunt with your thigh. “—Oh…”
You smile into her chest, teeth scraping her sensitive nipple. Yelena keeps you pressed against her with a hand on the back of your head. Your arms curl around her back to keep her flush to your thigh. You feel the warmth of her cunt against your skin, and the wet spot slowly forming there.
The stubborn girl turns into a puddle above you, in more ways than one. You feel her shuddering as she buries each of her moans in your hair. Your mouth leaves her nipple with a quiet pop, and a thin string of saliva threatens to connect you when you pull away.
“Are you gonna cum, Lena?” you coo, swollen mouth curling into a soft smile. “I’ve barely even touched you—”
Her fingers tighten in your hair. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” she pleads in a broken voice.
You return to her chest, sucking on her sensitive nipple until she keens. She exhales a hoarse moan above you, flexing her hips over your thigh to keep her clit flush to your skin. She lets out several pretty “Uh, uh, uh”’s before tensing suddenly above you.
Yelena holds her breath, grips you tight by your shoulder and the back of your neck, and begins to tremble over your thigh. “Oh, shit…” she moans, then sighs. “Oh, shit—”
It comes out more disappointed the second time, as she pulls back from you to flash you a girlish pout. “What?” you laugh, mouth shining with spit, as you smooth a rouge blonde tendril behind her ear.
“I was supposed to make you feel good,” she whines, Russian accent sounding deep in her mouth. “I had it all planned— I’ve been thinking about it all day.”
“Well, then it’s a good thing we’ve got all the time in the world, right?”
Yelena’s frown curls into a more devilish grin at your words.
Neither of you get any sleep that night. Walker, included.
ROBERTY REYNOLDS X READER — a year after the void nearly destroyed new york, you're still teaching bob that it's okay to feel good (new-ish relationship, post-thunderbolts | 1k words)
Robert Reynolds is still getting used to touching you. He’s spent nearly every day with you since you found him — learning how to use his powers for good, how to touch you without hurting you, how to be human again. It’s been a year since then, and he’s starting to get the hang of it. But sometimes he thinks you have more faith in him than he does in himself.
You kiss him hard enough to bruise him on the center of the living room couch, with Sunset Boulevard playing quietly on the large TV behind you. Bob’s anxiety is only partly quelled by the rest of the Thunderbolts’ absence, but he’s still slightly scared of himself — what if The Void returned and swallowed him whole again? Who would be there to stop him from hurting you if it did?
You don’t seem half as panicked about the whole thing as your lips stamp wet kisses up and down the expanse of his long neck. “You’re so pretty, Bobby,” you murmur into his warm skin. “Such a pretty boy…”
Bob swallows hard at your praise, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He shifts uncomfortably beneath you on the sofa when he feels his cock twitching in the confines of his sweatpants. There’s a need for release inside of him that he can’t ignore, but he cares more about keeping you safe. Safe from himself.
You pull back, mouth swollen from your assault on his neck. “Can I…?” you smile and trail off, hands sliding down his clothed, lean chest to the waistband of his sweatpants.
Bob doesn’t know what you’re planning. It excites him as much as it frightens him. His mouth opens and closes like a fish until he finds the words. “Oh. I— I don’t— I don’t know,” he stammers through an awkward chuckle.
You shrug despite the pang of disappointment in your chest. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to—”
“It’s not that!” Bob blurts, rushing to hold you by the waist when you threaten to move off him. (He forgets, for maybe the first time ever, to be scared of touching you.) He swallows hard at the look you give him, blinking wildly with glassy eyes. “I just… I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“You’re not gonna hurt me,” you assure him with a pretty laugh. “You don’t even have to touch me.”
Bob’s brows furrow. “What?” he wonders aloud.
You don’t answer him with words. You just flash him a mischievous smirk and shift on the couch until you’re no longer straddling him. You press your lips to his — once, twice, and then a third time — in a silent reminder to relax before your mouth trails down his neck once more.
You move past his jaw, to his pulse, and down towards his collarbone, sinking further onto your knees as you kiss down his body.
Bob exhales a shuddering breath and tilts his heavy head towards the back of the couch. He feels his hands start to ache with the urge to touch you. He balls them into fists, instead.
“Relax, baby,” you murmur between the kisses you press to his clothed sternum. “Let me make you feel good.”
Bob tenses beneath you when your hands brush his cock, growing harder in his boxers by the second. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to ignore the need swelling inside him. “Um… Maybe we should…” he stammers, voice shaking. “Maybe we should, like, slow down?”
He covers his desperate plea with a wavering half-smile.
You nod, now fully on your knees between his spread thighs, and give him a kind, tight-lipped smile in return. “‘Course. I’ll go slow. Promise.”
You feel Bob trembling beneath your hand when you lift the hem of his shirt. Your fingers brush the fine hair sprinkled on his lean stomach as you press chaste kisses to every inch of revealed skin. He takes in a shaking breath, burning red hot under your touch.
He doesn’t know how to tell you how sensitive he is — how, if he thinks about you and your soft touches for too long, that he’ll explode. So he doesn’t. He just squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think about anything other than the way you’re making him feel just now.
“I’ll take care of you, Bobby. I promise,” you slur between languid kisses, holding his shirt up with one hand while your other teases the hem of his boxers. “I’ll make you feel so good—” Your lips brush the coarse hair peeking from his waistline. You flash him a pair of glassy, mischievous eyes.
“And maybe—” A kiss. “If you’re real good—” Another, a bit lower this time. “I’ll let you fuck me—”
Bob face twists. His brows furrow, his eyes shut tight, his nose scrunches at the bridge. He makes a strangled noise in his throat, growing so tense beneath you that it makes him tremble.
You just freeze, frightened that you might’ve done something wrong. You did just promise to take it slow, after all — and here he is now, cumming in his boxers.
He feels the warmth of his orgasm wetting the plaid fabric and sticking awkwardly to his skin. He fails to stave off the pang of embarrassment searing his chest.
“I’m sorry,” both of you blurt at the same time.
Bob’s eyes snap open, still slightly glazed over. “You’re sorry?!” he gapes. “What are you sorry for?”
You falter for a moment. “I don’t know,” you answer and start to laugh.
The pretty sound fills the quiet tower, and Bob can’t help but laugh along with you. He tilts his heavy head back against the couch as you rise from your knees, straddling him once more and avoiding the sensitive mess in his pants.
“Did it feel good, at least?” you ask, smoothing your palms over his trembling shoulders.
Bob nods and swallows hard. “Yeah,” he mumbles, then clears his throat. “I haven’t— Haven’t been with anyone in a while, so… I guess you could say I’m… a little out of practice.”
“Don’t worry about it, okay?” you coo, ducking down to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. Even with his eyes closed, he can hear the smile in your voice as you whisper, “I’ll whip you back into shape in no time, Reynolds.”
INCLUDES -> yelena belova, bob reynolds, john walker, bucky barnes
WARNINGS -> literally all fluff! no need to fear angst here (there is some minor swearing tho); walker calls the reader beautiful, and bucky calls them 'doll'
NOTES -> y'all i feel crazy about thunderbolts. i haven't had a writing kick like this in YEARS. also, no one hate me for john in this one, he's my problematic wife, ok? also i want wyatt russell bad. anyways, my requests/asks are open! and as always comments and reblogs are much appreciated <3
YELENA BELOVA. — sleepy movie night? you got it. there's snacks, blankets, a random movie, and so many cuddles.
"are you sure you don't want to go to bed, love?" yelena mutters to you. the tv softly glows in front of you both, whatever period piece was playing long forgotten. you've been curled around her side since the movie began, but now your arm is draped over her and your head has fallen to her shoulder.
"no, i'm up," your voice is rough from sleep, but you pick your head up anyways and stretch. "see?" yelena rolls her eyes at your loopy, exhausted smile.
"whatever you say," she replies with a teasing smile.
"mhm..." you adjust your position under the blanket so you can be sitting upright next to her. but the blanket is just so soft and yelena is so warm, and before you know it, it's only a few minutes before you're curled against her once more.
yelena works hard to stifle her laugh when you fall asleep, but she lets you stay there. the movie plays on dully—the man in it has made some apparently irredeemable mistake that the woman he loves will no doubt forgive him for. yelena leans her head against yours, swearing that she'll get up once the movie is over so the two of you can sleep in a proper bed.
the next morning, when bucky is getting coffee he sees the two of you curled up on the couch and can't help but smile. it's nice seeing that yelena's found someone she trusts.
BOB REYNOLDS. — both of you are up late at night, entirely unable to sleep. you because you're working on tech for the thunderbolts new avengerz, and bob simply wandering the tower at night.
bob doesn't exactly sleep well these days, not after the mess with the void. it isn't unusual to find him roaming the tower at odd times, and this time it's your turn to run into him.
you're working in some old lab that you assume was tony stark's back in the day. your back aches, your fingers raw from tinkering with yelena's widow equipment, and you can hardly keep your eyes open. it's a miracle you haven't electrocuted yourself already.
"you're still up?" a voice softly speaks from the hallway.
your heart nearly stops right there and then. "holy shit!"
"sorry," bob steps into the dim lights of the lab, his hands up in a show of peace. "i didn't mean to scare you."
"no, no, it's fine! you're fine." you smile at him. "what are you still doing up, sweetheart?"
"i can't sleep," his response is sheepish.
you stand, stretching your arms above your head, and walk over to him. "let's see if we can do something about that." you pull him along by the hand, fingers entwined.
by the time you both get to bed, your eyes are heavy with sleep. you pull bob closer to you, letting his heartbeat lull you gently to sleep. the comfort of your body against his, a reliable weight to keep him still and grounded, has him dozing in no time.
JOHN WALKER. — he's the one up, unable to sleep. you're fast asleep and he just takes in everything about you. maybe it's the slight frown you have in your sleep, or the way your hair falls into your face just a little, but he's captivated.
john lays opposite of you on the bed, just tracing your features with his eyes. he takes everything in slowly: the flutter of your eyelashes, the curve of your cheek, the curl of your lips. you're so beautiful, and honestly, john has no idea how he got so lucky.
with his track record, it's a miracle you-
"why'd you stop?" you mumble, still half asleep, interrupting his train of thought entirely. his hands, which had been tracing patterns softly over your skin, have long been still.
"didn't wanna keep you up," he mumbles back, and you crack open an incredulous eye at him.
you grumble something under your breath that john can't quite catch before pulling yourself closer to him.
"it was nice," you say, sleep already calling your name. so john continues.
he traces abstract patterns from the nape of your neck to your shoulders to your back. he feels the way your muscles loosen beneath his touch and the way your breath evens out.
and you know what? fuck his track record. if he got lucky enough to be graced by you, he damn well won't mess it up.
BUCKY BARNES. — this time it's you who can't sleep, and it's a good thing bucky has a tendency to stay up obnoxiously late reading his novels despite his other old man tendencies.
a soft knock comes from the door, startling bucky from his book. it's too late for anyone to need him urgently for anything, so he's almost inclined to ignore it until your voice rings through the door.
"bucky? you still up?" you're tentative, almost wary, as you ask for him.
"yeah, doll, i'm up." he sits up, ready to open the door for you when you walk in wrapped in a blanket.
"can i stay with you?" you mutter, still standing a ways away from the bed.
without saying a word, he pats the spot next to him on his bed and leans back against the headboard, leaving enough space for you to curl up next to him.
"what're you reading?" your voice is muffled by his shirt and the blankets wrapped around you.
"the hobbit. mind if i keep reading?" you shake your head, listening to the steady beating of his heart.
"it was at this point that bilbo stopped. going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did. the tremendous things that happened afterwards were as nothing compared to it..." bucky's voice rumbles soft in his chest, gentle despite the intensity of the moments he read out to you.
ongoing bits in the watchtower that everyone hates except for the person doing it:
•bob claims to have a peanut allergy (no one can confirm or deny) and when he doesn’t get his way he takes out a squeeze tube of peanut butter and threatens to eat it
•any time someone compliments yelena on anything she’s wearing she replies “thanks i made it myself :)” it’s never true
•whenever someone drops and/or fumbles anything john says “oh just put that anywhere”
•alexei learned the phrase “you should see the other guy” and uses it liberally and inappropriately
•if val is telling them something important (supposedly), yelena starts beatboxing. she doesn’t know how to beatbox and will never learn
•instead of saying “i’m going to kill myself” bob says “i’m going to find a train to fall off”
•instead of saying “i’m going to kill myself” bucky says “i’m going to walk into the nearest malaysian laboratory”
•every single time on any sort of public transport ava will look at strangers and say “i think we’re going the wrong way”
•john says bless you to coughs/burps/etc
•whenever someone brings up plans/ideas/etc that bucky has no interest in he claims to have to take alpine to the vet
•yelena pretends non-cigarette things are cigarettes (forks, pens, her baton once, baby carrots, john’s toothbrush that she took as he was using it, chopsticks every time they get takeout)
•bob replies “wow where was my invite” to any story from the others that he couldn’t have ever possibly been around for. he uses this the most on bucky and alexei (obviously)
It probably took John a while to realize that Yelena and Ava don’t fully mean it when they make fun of him. But he finally figures it out when he invites some of his old army buddies to the tower.
Yelena and Ava are giddy at the thought of teasing John in front of his stupid military friends- but they never get the chance. His army buddies beat them to it, and there’s nothing good-natured about the way they’re mocking him.
So they start laying into them, subtly at first, hitting them with insults twice as cutting every time they make an underhanded jab at John. Eventually it escalates into a fight, and they all run away with their tails between their legs after Yelena and Ava kick their asses without even getting up from the couch. John is furious at them until Ava tells him that they were treating him like shit and Yelena mutters that “only we get to talk to you like that.” Then suddenly John is all smiles, because he finally realizes that they bully him out of love.
John becomes insufferable after that, responding to every single insult with “you like me” in a singsong voice. Yelena and Ava bully him extra hard because of it, but they never deny it.
hello hello, you are the best writer on earth and your writings lift me up, expecially bucky, he's my comfort character hehe, imma so the signature anon things so you'll recognize me HAHA. Can I request one during movie night when the reader curls up on one of the Thunderbolts lap and how each of them react to it? Like a preference. Thank you thank you :DDD
-😎
AAA THIS IS SOSOSOOSOSOSO CUTETETETETEEEEEEE YEYSYSYSSSSSS AAAAAAJWIWKSBEB
Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader
✦ Thunderbolts Reacting To You Falling Asleep On Their Lap Headcanons ✦
∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗
✦ John Walker
John freezes the second he feels a weight on his lap. He glances down, confused at first, then sees your head resting there, your eyes fluttering shut.
You don’t say anything. Just let yourself go still, like this was totally normal. And maybe it is, for you.
John... doesn’t know how to handle that.
He’s not great with quiet trust. It always hits him in the chest like a sucker punch. There’s something raw about it, this unspoken "I feel safe with you" that you just laid on his lap like it’s no big deal.
He tries not to shift, but he’s got long legs and the couch’s tiny. Still, he stays still. The others are half-laughing at something dumb on the screen, and he zones out to the sound of your breathing, steady and slow.
A few minutes pass.
Then your hand twitches a little, like you’re dreaming. And John, he barely breathes.
Because for a guy who doesn’t think he deserves softness, you trusting him like this? It’s wrecking.
He reaches for the blanket at his side and drapes it over you with clumsy gentleness.
“Sleep tight, kid,” he mutters under his breath. “I got you.”
✦ Bob Reynolds
Bob notices the shift in weight before he notices you. One second he’s half-watching the movie, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie, and the next, your head’s on his lap.
He flinches at first. Not because he minds, but because touch still catches him off guard sometimes.
You don’t even say anything. You just curl up a little closer and let your eyelids drop.
Bob’s whole body goes still.
You trust him?
He glances around the room, no one else seems to notice. His hand hovers for a second before he lets it gently rest on your shoulder, not pressing, just.... there.
He doesn’t smile. Not on the outside. But something soft unfurls in his chest.
You’re safe. With him. And he didn’t mess that up.
✦ Bucky Barnes
Bucky’s quietly watching the movie, arms crossed, not really paying attention, until you lean into him and rest your head on his lap.
At first, he thinks you dropped something.
Then he looks down and sees you’re just... there. Asleep. Breathing soft and slow like this is the most normal thing in the world.
He stares at you for a solid ten seconds.
You didn’t even ask. Just.. trusted him like that.
He doesn’t move. Can’t. His chest feels tight in a way he’s not used to. No one’s ever done this with him, not without fear, not without flinching.
So he lets you stay. Quietly. Still as a statue, like he’s afraid he’ll mess it up.
Eventually, he brushes a hand over your hair, hesitant but careful.
“You’re a weird kid,” he mutters.
He doesn’t mean it unkindly.
Not at all.
✦ Alexei Shostakov
Alexei grins the second he feels your head drop onto his lap.
“Aha! Look at this!” he says, nudging Yelena beside him. “They love me the most.”
He’s loud enough that you shift in your sleep but don’t wake. He instantly freezes and shushes himself with a whispered, “Sorry, sorry... shhh.”
He adjusts your position carefully, tucking the throw pillow beneath your head so you’re not at a weird angle. Then he rests one massive, calloused hand gently against your shoulder.
You remind him of his girls. The way they used to crash on him after a long day. Back when things were simpler.
He lets out a soft sigh. “Don’t worry, malyshka. I’ll keep watch.”
And for once, he’s quiet the rest of the movie.
✦ Ava Starr
You lean your head on her lap mid-movie, and Ava tenses like a spring.
Her first instinct is to shift away, distance, pull back. It’s automatic. But she sees your face, calm and asleep, and suddenly she can’t.
She’s not used to being trusted like that.
Or... liked.
For a long moment, she just sits there, awkward and still, trying to figure out what she’s supposed to do. Then her hands hover, uncertain. Should she touch your hair? Do people do that? Would you hate that?
She ends up doing nothing. Just sitting. Guarding.
By the end of the movie, her posture has relaxed. Only a little.
She watches you breathe and decides maybe being close like this.. isn’t so bad.
✦ Yelena Belova
Yelena looks down at you with one eyebrow raised when your head plops into her lap. She’s got a bowl of popcorn in one hand and a remote in the other.
“You good?” she mutters, more amused than annoyed.
You’re already out.
She grins.
“Look at this little baby,” she says, nudging Alexei with her elbow. “Too soft for the horrors of film night.”
She finishes the popcorn with one hand, then sets the bowl aside and gently starts braiding a strand of your hair, just for fun.
“This is payback for all the times you made fun of my playlists,” she whispers dramatically.
She finishes the braid, tucks it behind your ear, then leans back with a fond little smirk.
