be not afraid— it’s only an angel. fluffy white wings. piercing eyes that draw attention. revived from death to “do good”. always has a cigarette somewhere. lover of many vices. half-sarcastic prayers. learning to be better. soars above the city. an angel in shape alone. hard to impress. reddened eyes (rarely from crying). a bastard with a smile you want to hate, but can't.
they/them prns used, written for the mcu.
✦ angel!reader who can’t remember how they died. hell, they can’t even remember the events leading up to their death. not the week before, nor the month. all that remains from the incident is the feeling of death, a vivid nothingness that haunts them whenever they close their eyes for too long.
✦ angel!reader who came back with a small silver ring with wings melded to it on their index finger. the silver wings curl around the finger protectively, just as their larger, white wings curl around their back. despite just being dead, their heart is calm. their mind is still, with only the sentiment “do good” echoing within their head. a mission from the divine, surely. grateful for their renewed life, angel!reader decides to fulfill the mission. it’s time to do good.
✦ angel!reader who realizes shortly afterwards that doing good is hard— not to mention vague. that’s when valentina comes in, taking angel!reader into her arms after spotting them as an anamoly in the sky. she perverts their mission to her own advantage for a couple months before the thunderbolts team learn about angel!reader’s existence. of course, valentina portrays angel!reader as a new member of the team, a member she’d only been testing. no one believes her, but angel!reader ends up on the thunderbolts team anyways, leading to a variety of antics.
✦ angel!reader who tends to get high before talk show interviews, eating an edible or fumbling with a joint before walking on stage. not that they’re nervous, just that interviews are boring and impossible to finish sober. with a lazy sort of casualness, they answer questions. it helps that people struggle to look angel!reader in the eye, a side effect of angel magnetism; it’s only hours later, when their eyes are good and red along the edges, that other members of the team notice.
✦ angel!reader who likes to snatch things like everything’s theirs, and scoffs whenever they’re chastised for it. bucky’s the only one who’s manages to get an apology out of them, his robotic hand gripping their wrist impossibly tight until he hears the words “i’m sorry” spill from their lips. angel!reader’s eyes flit up to his only to glance away. was his gaze always so stern and intimidating? and was that always so hot? an angel shouldn’t think such thoughts, truly, but angel!reader can’t help the way their wings ruffle and their lips part to repeat the words “i’m sorry” again.
✦ angel!reader who hates how no one can look at them anymore. not in the eyes, anyways. it’s isolating at times, facing their teammates and watching their eyes dart around in search of something else to look at. if angel!reader’s lucky, their teammates just look at their nose; if not, usually whatever furniture is nearby. it’s hard to take any conversations seriously when they’re being had with the couch and not you.
✦ angel!reader who’s not allowed to drink in public. the whole team is discouraged from drinking in public for optics and whatnot, but angel!reader is specifically prohibited from drinking in public. it’s less for optics and more because a drunk angel is an unpredictable one, and no one wants to deal with an unpredictable angel. angel!reader still drinks, but it’s usually in the comforts of the watchtower with someone else, usually yelena, watching over them. yelena participates, too, every so often, but she’s been leaning away recently from alcohol as a crutch.
✦ angel!reader who gets clingy and affectionate when they’re truly high. not just a little buzzed or whatever, but 100% high. whoever’s closest becomes the victim of numerous hugs, pats on the back, caresses, holds, and sometimes even kisses to the cheek. everyone pretends to hate it, except for bob, who’s never been good at pretending. he cuddles back, encouraging angel!reader to be affectionate. and if they end up sleeping together that night, legs entangled as they both snore until morning? well, it’s just another tuesday for the new avengerz.
✦ angel!reader who trains with ava. they’re not an even match at all considering ava is a trained agent and angel!reader has only ever sparred with test dummies and low level enemies of valentina. even so, it’s fun. angel!reader learns quickly, picking up on moves and giveaways before ava can even bother explaining them. ava, in turn, gets to enjoy pinning angel!reader down over and over and over again, each fight always ending with them struggling on the ground before ava finally manages to get on top.
✦ angel!reader whose room smells of weed, booze, cigarette smoke, and cheap air freshener (an attempt at killing the other smells). their room is right next to john’s, who complains about the smell every so often. the two are frenemies just as much as they are besties. both of them are too stubborn for their own good and all too willing to spit out insults at each other. it isn’t rare for angel!reader to block john’s face with one of their wings or blatantly push him out of their path when walking; it also isn’t rare for the two to lay across the couch together or share a cigarette or beer.
✦ angel!reader who’s quietly fond of alexei. angel!reader who teaches him how to use technology properly and what new age slang means. they’re an odd pair, but they give each other a nice change of pace.
✦ this reader is: open to requests & paired with the thunderbolts* team and possibly others in the mcu / works can be found under "#angel!reader ✦" !
NOTE THAT THIS IS A REPOST! i just redid this reader's post completely because angel!reader will be back for avengers doomsday #duh and also i've been thinking of them lol. redid my reader intro format + reader tags slightly as well. here is the og post if anyone's interested. + here's my current masterlist!
Well, Brand New Day was amazing and gave me the will to follow through with Stark! Thunderbolt Reader x Peter and Johnny. So be on the lookout for that!
Tags: smut mdni. Gangbang / getting passed around, sub bob but tops the void and sentry
Polybolts ! but instead of john getting passed around its bob because he's just so easy to slide into and he makes such pretty noises — that is until he feels too good and suddenly the void takes over and everyone runs not because they are afraid of the void but because the void has a higher almost infinite sex drive and will fuck all of their holes open to where it hurts to sit down except for you and yelena though because yall take that shit like champs but the real challenge is dealing with sentry who is much worse
Hello new followers! I’m W, I reblog celebs and fandoms I vibe with— mostly Marvel and Stranger Things content. 💌⚡️
I started this blog to write fun one shots & short fics. Jim Hopper and Alexei Shostakov are my most popular & fave works to write! I hope to write more for other characters soon.
I do have a full time job and a baby on the way— but I’m typically online. Thank you for following!!
Notes : reader x alexei is platonic, reader adopts jean grey, domestic life, angst, fluff, mentions of smut, gender neutral reader , mentions of frank, mentions of ned, no beta we die like aunt may
Song for fic : LOVE ME by JMSN
Requests: open
This is me also trying to get more polybolts propaganda i've only seen like one fic
Summary: after a successful spell requested by you and your younger brother to save the multiverse, you knew that everyone would forget you both — You just didn't realize how much you'd be effected by the reality of not being remembered by your lovers.
Very slight bnd spoilers
Laughter filled your house
you were glad that peter got at least one of his friends to remember him, maybe a little envious. Jealous. But at the end of it all, hopeful. Hopeful after seeing ned and peter now back to their joking matters. the ginger haired girl you adopted now lounging comfortably in your home that had a nice field in your backyard, close enough to the city if you ever needed to run errands but far enough to have your own moments of peace.
yes ginger haired girl.
you adopted jean, the girl was most comfortable with you and didn't deserve to be put into world by herself, she needed people to rely on, people that she could call her own people. And that's what you and peter and frank became, her people. you her loving and possibly overbearing parent and peter and frank her uncles that encouraged her to do things they know she had no business doing but did it just to get a reaction out of you.
it took a lot of therapy and trust to get where you currently were at in your relationship.
a lot of it
and it was safe to say that jean preferred you as a parent then the assholes that raised her.
"Jean i'm going out" you called out grabbing a jacket off the hanger and your bag "do you want anything?"
"Whats that thing you got me last time?" Jean asked trying to remember "it was the drink with the little balls that popped juice out"
"The passion fruit tea with popping pearls?" You reminded and she nodded "yea I'll get it for you"
"can i get that as well?" Peter asked from his spot as well, him, ned, and frank where all sat around the table playing uno "frank you can't put a draw four on top of another draw four thats not what we're playing"
"I thought we were doing stacks and doubles" frank defended himself
"When have we ever done stacks and doubles"
You shook your head at the two arguing
"Anything else?" You ask the others and ned looks like he's about to make a request but you stop him "ned if it's sharkfire so help me" ned didn't speak he just looked back down at his cards.
Once you got everyones requests you got in your car and drove into the city, finding the boba shop that had what jean and peter wanted, and you placed your order waiting for it to process as paid for until you heard familiar voices.
You felt the room get smaller.
Six familiar faces siting at a booth at the other end of the shop.
You didn't mean to stare, but you did.
"Don't look but someone is staring at us" ava pointed and everyone looked behind them to see you staring at them from the register "i said don't look you idiots"
"Maybe they're a fan" john shrugged catching.
"hey, do you want a picture?" Alexei asked and you blinked then nodded.
"Uh yeah" you awkwardly cough then take out your phone "can i get one for my daughter?"
You didn't know why you said that
Jean wouldn't care but it was the first excuse you could think of
Bucky gave a charming smile and took your phone, you were squished in the middle but no one noticed that you tried your hardest to not touch bob, but bob did band frowned ever so slightly until your finger accidentally touched his.
Your senses tingled before you could even process what happened.
Then everything became black.
—
No one understood fully what happened until they were back in the all to familiar are of what was bobs maze of shame rooms, only instead of being put in their own nightmares they were all grouped together. Then they saw everything
The fights with them you've been through
Your own personal battles as wall crawler
The intimate moments between all of them they shared with you.
Alexei didnt like the thought of losing someone he found so important, someone he treated like one of his own children, someone his daughter loved dearly.
John had someone who didn't mind his remarks and was damn good at keeping him in line, enough that he pursued them romantically.
yelena, and bucky had someone that was able to break down the walls that they so desperately tried to put up after already losing people who they were so close with.that they promised that they'd protect even if a million times again and again they proved they could protect themselves.
Bob had someone that loved not only him, but loved and accepted void and sentry, treated his counterparts just as they treated him. Which made the void calmer in his mind whenever he spent time with them.
Ava was a wreck , a sparring buddy that let her go as hard as she wanted and still stood back up? Who told her she did good and would finish by bringing her a nice hot drink as they sat all in Yelena's "office" after either training or a rough mission.
They had a whole life planned, wanting to get a nice house that could fit all of them and any kids they wanted to fuck into you.
But it was nice to see that you did buy the house, and you did have a kid — even if it wasn't under what they all planned for.
When the memories were over, they turned and saw you talking to the void, who in return was actually responding and gave a kiss on your forehead.
"Yn ?" Bob asked and you turned over to smile at him and waived the others all rushing over to pull you into the tightest group hug possibly, bombarding your face with kisses and alexei rubbing your head
"All I'm going to say is " john started wiping the tear off his face and grabbed your face gently " if you ever pull shit like that again i will chuck my shield at you full force"
⚰︎ chapter tags: flashbacks are italicized ⋆ post thunderbolts flashback ⋆ post age of ultron flashback ⋆ soft yelena ⋆ sharing a bed ⋆ alcohol ⋆ mentions of past abuse ⋆ minor emetophobia warning ⋆ word count: 3.9k
⚰︎ bones now playing ▹ mad - reneé rapp
The hum of the Watchtower was loud. Your room was too hot. The blankets too restricting. The lights that peeked through your parted curtains was too bright.
You couldn’t sleep no matter what you did. The migraine that shattered your thoughts kept growing. It had been hours since you had laid down with sleep continuing to evade you.
You eventually decided to leave your designated bedroom and find yourself a spot on the couch of the common space. You were sprawled on the cushions with a throw blanket and an ice pack laid across your forehead in an attempt to quell the throb in your brain.
After an unknown amount of time you heard quiet footsteps make their way towards the open room. You remained still, hoping to maybe go unnoticed by your intruder. A small shuffle of the floor and a light gasp indicated you had startled whoever walked in.
“What the hell are you doing?” Yelena’s irritated voice cut through the dark silence. You nearly groaned outwardly in frustration. Of course it was her that had to find you here.
“Can’t sleep.” You shrugged. “What the hell are you doing?” You threw her question back at her. You heard her release a sigh.
“Can’t sleep.” She repeated your words back. You huffed out a laugh of mild irritation.
“Rooms taken.” You announced. You knew having her in here would only continue to worsen the migraine that was wreaking havoc on your brain.
“I do not plan on staying.”
The light of the kitchenette suddenly turned on. You did groan this time as the light spiked the pain, hands coming up to cover your eyes.
“Turn that shit off.” You ordered.
“Woah,” she laughed, “I didn’t know you owned the room.” She noted sarcastically, seemingly pleased with your irritation. Now that you were exposed to the light she could see the ice pack you had placed on your forehead.
“What’s wrong with you?” She asked, loudly grabbing a glass and filling it with what sounded like ice. “Lose a fight?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You mused.
The last thing you needed was Yelena extorting another weakness of yours.
You peeked your eyes open to see her grabbing a glass of liquor from the cabinet. A sense of déjà vu washed over your thoughts.
“It is three in the morning.” You noted.
Yelena hummed in acknowledgment, choosing to ignore your advice.
“Maybe you should drink some water.” You suggested in a softer voice.
“Maybe you should mind your business and sleep in your own room.” Yelena shot back while loudly setting the bottle on the granite countertop.
“This is a shared space.” You reminded her, voice wavering as a spike of nausea rolled over you. She went quiet for a moment, clinking the glass and the bottle together. You groaned quietly while pushing your hands further into your eyes.
“Oh I’m sorry.” She said voice still oozing sarcasm, tone sounding sickeningly sweet. “Do you have a headache?”
“Fuck off.” You didn’t directly answer.
“Okay.” She said cheerily, glasses clanking loudly once again, then followed by footsteps indicating that she was leaving the room.
“Sleep tight, do not let the bed bugs bite!”
“Turn the fucking light off!” Yeah syllable of your shout pounded against your skull.
“You have legs!” Her voice echoed from the what sounded like somewhere out of the room.
The irritation flooded into anger as you realized she was already down the hall and most likely at the elevator by now.
The pain in your head increased as you moved and stood to shut the light off, nausea skyrocketing right along with it. It assaulted you in crashing waves, filling your mouth with extra saliva as the reality set in that you would soon be vomiting.
You gagged once, swallowing down the bile in your throat while steadying yourself against the counter. It resurfaced as you tried to take in another breath. You made it to the sink just in time as you hunched over the basin and emptied out the liquid contents in your stomach.
You blinked awake at the darkness of your bedroom for the countless time that night, only this time lurching forward with the feeling of having to throw up. After a few moments of breathing heavily did you calm realizing it was nothing more than a phantom sensation leftover from your dream state.
You angrily flopped back down onto your mattress and tried to get comfortable once more. The promise of a good nights sleep had been evading you all night. Unable to stay asleep for more than what seemed like a few minutes at a time, the small dull ache in your head persisted no matter what you did. Accompanied by a sense of anxiety kicking you awake every time you seemed to find rest.
This time you had been woken by your dream. It left you with a bad taste in your mouth, but instead of dwelling on it you tried to get yourself back to sleep. You had been able to slip back into a light slumber on your earlier attempts but this time you found yourself wide awake, tossing and turning as fatigue evaded you completely.
After finally watching the clock hit 2:00AM you felt that you had enough.
Slipping out of your bed, your sock clad feet hit the cold floor and lead you out of your room. You had half a mind to think Bucky would have set an alarm on your door to alert him of your next escape attempt.
When you stepped out into the hallway, you debated on what direction to turn. You could go right, take the elevator to the common space and maybe drink yourself to sleep. Or go left.
Instead of going right, you decided to turn left, finding yourself staring face to face with Yelena’s door. You hesitated, unsure if you should bother her so late. As a sudden wave of fatigue hit you and caused you to sway on your feet a little, you made your decision.
With a raised hand, you were knocking softly on her door. You stepped back a little and waited a few moments. Maybe she didn’t hear it, or maybe she would ignore the intrusion? As more doubts and insecurities flooded your mind, you were relieved when you heard the click of her lock before the door was opening.
Yelena stood before you, her soft appearance indicating that you had most likely woken her up from her own slumber. Her tank top was askew, hair tousled with obvious signs of sleep, eyes squinted in confusion.
“Hi.” You squeaked out.
“Hey,” she rubbed at her eye. “Are you alright?”
You pressed your lips into a thin line, taking in a breath in before answering. The care she was displaying was so far from the attitude you had exchanged in your dream.
“I can’t sleep.” You admitted.
She hummed sleepily along with your statement as she blinked a few times, mind clearly still clouded with sleep.
After casting her gaze down the hallway to find all doors closed and quiet, she stepped back and gestured you to enter the room. Yelena walked back to the bed, reaching to turn on the small bedside lamp. You blinked rapidly at the softened new light.
“After all of that walking,” she rubbed at her eye. “You are not even a little tired?”
You awkwardly stood in the center of the room, eyes fluttering over the new space. You had never been inside of her room before. It wasn’t messy, but it wasn’t impeccably clean. Shoes and clothing were scattered here and there, but no trash. Some art was hung on the wall, trinkets here and there.
“I am,” you argued. “I just- I can’t sleep. It’s the concussion I think.” Or just plain anxiety. You couldn’t really tell the difference.
She blinked again,
“If you are going to ask me to help you sneak out again I am afraid that I will have to sternly decline.”
“No- no I’m not here for that.” You shook your head. “I don’t want you to- I actually don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“You clearly came to find a way to sleep.”
You let a moment of silence pass before you answered, voice quieter than before.
“I just don’t think I want to be alone.”
Another moment of silence passed by before Yelena was turning back to her bed. You stayed in place, puzzled as you watched her flip the rumpled comforter back.
“You can take the right side.”
When you made no intention to move, stunned by her invitation, she was tossing a pillow in your direction. You managed to catch it as it lightly bounced off of your face. You stalled for another moment, watching as she climbed back into her spot.
After a lapse in your cognitive thoughts, you shuffled your way to the other side of her full sized bed and settled down onto the sheets. Her back was facing you as she reached for the lamp, casting the room into darkness before settling his down into the bedding. Silence blanket the room.
“Thank you.” You said quietly. You thought that she was ignoring you until her voice sounded out into the darkness with a familiar phrase.
“Sladkikh snov.”
You stared at your bed with a scowl, bedding still rumpled from when you had ignored to properly make up that morning. You didn’t even want to attempt to sleep. You’ve been having nightmares ever since you had returned from Sokovia. You hadn't even made it home before they even started, exhaustion induced sleep disrupted by horrific dreams on your ride home.
After passing out from the fatigue, you had woken up in a panic thinking that you were back there. The city that floated up into the sky and was attacked by robots. Thousands of innocent lives uprooted and destroyed because of Ultron. Steve had calmed you down, unfortunately while being on the receiving end of a shock that would have been catastrophic to someone that was not a super soldier. He’d taken it like a champ, focusing on your comfort despite his own muscles aching and his hair singed.
It had now been days since your return and you had yet to have a good nights rest despite being medically approved for duty with a clean bill of health.
Instead of sleeping tonight, you made your way to the compound’s kitchen where you found yourself seated with a bottle of wine. You had drank down a third of the bottle, finally feeling your eyes droop a little.
“Really?” Your head bobbed up to meet the disappointed gaze of Natasha. She stood in the door way, short hair messily pushed out of her face, dressed in a baggy S.H.I.E.L.D. long sleeve and shorts. Her arms were crossed, a look of sad disappointment displayed on her face.
“Hey.” You gave her a sheepish smile, cheeks feeling warm with the flush of the alcohol.
“It is three in the morning.” She noted softly.
You shrugged.
“You want some?” You clumsily tipped the bottle in her direction.
“Nope.” She grabbed the cork off the table and plugged the bottle up.
“Hey! I wasn’t done with that.” You shouted out in protest. Natasha sighed.
“Yes, you are.”
You rolled your eyes as her back turned to place the bottle back into the wine cooler.
“I saw that.”
“No you didn’t.”
“You need to sleep.” She turned back around, hands resting on the counter.
“I don’t wanna.” You slurred. “Can’t.”
Your mind was still racing.
The battle with Ultron. Natasha being taken. The images Wanda Maximoff had put in your mind kept reappearing. Resurfacing the buried memories of your childhood when you were forced to be a weapon. For the first time in years you could almost still feel the chains they kept you bound with. The skin of your neck and ankles rubbed raw and burning. You could never remember the details until she toyed with your mind. The vague doorways and featureless faces were clear now. The buildings now completely visible to you, the expressions of your captors were twisted with emotionless sadism.
Natasha’s touch brought you back from your thoughts. Her hands enclosed around your own. She stilled your movements, where you had subconsciously begin to scratch at your healed scars.
“I think you can.” She insisted, her voice soft spoken with a serious tone, “but not like this.”
Natasha turned to the sink and began filling a glass of water before placing it in front of you.
“Drink. Then we go back to bed.”
“I never went to bed.”
She looked at you with a soft sympathetic expression of understanding.
“You at least have to try.”
“I can’t.” You insisted with a shake of your head.
“How can you know that you can’t sleep if you never tried.”
“Don’t wanna.” You continued to be stubborn.
“Well, we’re gonna try again.” She promised. “Now drink.”
You gave her a doubtful upwards glance from your seat before brazenly chugging the glass of water. You handed Natasha the glass with a frown.
“Thank you.” She quipped, turning to dispose the glass into the sink.
Natasha then held her hands out to you, helping you stand as your body swayed to one side. She kept her hand in yours, probably to ensure you didn’t trip over your feet and fall on the way back up.
Instead of your dorm, Natasha lead you to hers, holding the door open for you as you stepped through. You trudged your way over to her bed, rumpled sheets indicating that that she had been lying there before finding you in the kitchen. You all but fell into her bedding, instantly comforted by the familiar scent that surrounded you as you both got comfortable.
“Sladkikh snov.”
A moment of silence passed.
“What the fuck did you just call me?” Your voice was muffled from where your face was smushed into the pillows. You heard her snort out a laugh.
“Sladkikh snov.” She repeated. “That means shut up and sleep.”
“No it doesn’t.” You insisted.
“Really?” She hummed. “When did you become fluent in Russian?”
You didn’t answer, instead choosing to glare at the back of her head.
“That’s what I thought.”
Another moment of silence passed by.
“‘M still not tired.” You insisted despite your eyes starting to feel heavy. Natasha sighed.
“Yes, you are.”
You stayed quiet. Thoughts still jumbled and unkind. You shuffled to sit up a little, freeing up your vision from the pillow. You stared at the back of her head so hard you assumed she could feel the weight of your gaze.
“I thought you were dead.” You finally admitted. After a moment she sighed lightly, shoulder drooping.
“Well I’m not,” she turned over to face you now. “We’re all safe and Ultron is gone.”
“Hm.” You breathed out, still not completely convinced of your safety. Sometimes when you looked at the Vision you saw Ultron. At least until he spoke- then he seemed like he was J.A.V.I.S. again.
“How about you try to think about anything else?”
“I try… I’ve tried to and then,” you paused. “then I think I’m still there.”
“Sokovia?”
“No.” You whispered, eyes burning with tears. You tried to blink them back as you studied the puzzled expression on her face come to one of solemn understanding.
“I did so many bad things.” Your voice wavered with the admission. “I hurt so many people.”
Natasha bit down on her lips as she took in a steady breath. The broken look on your face mirrored one she’d seen on herself many times.
“You were also just a baby.” Natasha said carefully. You were far older than a baby, but she hoped putting such a young label on you helped to drive the point home. “You no control over what those people did to you.”
Natasha knew how you felt. Ever since her encounter with Wanda Maximoff she had been plagued with memories of the Red Room. Opening fresh cuts into the old wounds she thought she had healed from.
“You’re not a bad person just because bad things happened to you or because you were forced to do bad things.”
You only blinked at her, tears quietly leaking from the corners of your eyes.
“Do you think that I’m a bad person?” She countered.
Natasha predicted your answer before you even spoke it, but she needed to hear you say the words. For your sake and her own.
“No.” You said, voice mumbled against the bedding and the hand that laid in front of your face. “I think you’re the best person.”
Natasha smiled, her own eyes stinging with unshed tears.
“Then that’s that.” She concluded.
You nodded once against the pillow.
Within minutes you were falling into the clutches of sleep.
When you stirred from your slumber, you were immediately confused. Not only did the bed feel different, the smell was different too. The warmth that encompassed your body was comforting and overpowered the curiosity of your surroundings, almost lulling you back to sleep.
After a few moments you cracked your eyes open to find a dimly lit room, sunlight mostly blocked out by curtains. Immediately you noticed the bedding you thought you were wrapped in wasn’t bedding at all.
Yelena was still asleep, resting on her side with her face tucked close to your chest. You noticed your right arm was wrapped in her grip, your left tucked underneath your pillow that she had encroached on. Her left leg was hitched upwards, crossed over your own.
You didn’t dare move, instead focusing on keeping your breathing even as you studied her face. You don’t think you had ever seen her look like this. The scowl that usually painted her features was gone and in its place was a peaceful expression. Her eyelids fluttered as she dreamt some sort of dream. You were curious to know what it was that Yelena dreamt about. Did she share the affliction of occasional nightmares?
You had gotten lost in your thoughts.
“I can feel you staring.” Yelena mumbled out. Her accent sounded heavier than usual, her voice still saturated with sleep. Your eyes widened in surprise as she caught you red handed.
“You are supposed to be sleeping.” She continued.
“It’s light outside.” You pointed out.
“Sleeping.” She reminded lightly.
Yelena still made no move to put any distance between the two of you. It made you wonder if either she was too tired to realize or if she really did not care to move at all. Despite your inner turmoil, her words seemed to have worked magic over you. Within minutes you found yourself drifting back off into a dreamless sleep.
When you awoke again, you were unsure of how many hours had passed by, but the room was a little brighter. Yelena was already awake this time and staring at the skin of your wrists. The crease in her eyes bows had returned, her lips formed a small frown.
The scarring from those chains you wore as a child were not very visible anymore, only a mild discoloration of scar tissue that was only able to be seen up close. Years of hiding them while religiously using lotions, oils and tapes had helped ease their appearance.
Sometimes you could still feel the ghost of them. Still feel the heavy weight of the metal that you were condemned to wear as a child. Still feel the bite of the roughly welded edges and the burns of irritation from when they pulled you. Still feel the cuts on your hands and knees from when they would yank the chains connected to the ankle cuffs out from under you.
You almost wanted to instinctively jerk away from her touch, but that troubled expression on her face had you locked in place. Her fingertips carefully caressed over the expanse of skin, feeling the mild difference in texture.
“I never noticed these before.” She said quietly, apparently aware you were now awake.
You hummed.
“They’re really old.” Was all you could formulate.
Your eyes were focused on where her fingers had stopped to linger. It was a spot where the metal had started to cut into your flesh after a growth spurt. The scarring was most evident there.
“Penny for your thoughts?” You opened the door for her questions. She stayed quiet for another moment.
“How did you get them?”
Your thoughts came to a halt. Unsure how to articulate your experience. You knew she’d understand. Her upbringing in the Red Room was somewhat adjacent to your own in that war camp.
“I - uh, I was used to power weapons.”
You kept your explanation vague. You had been forced to do more than just power weapons. You had assisted in the senseless torture of captives and traitors. Destroyed their enemies technology, supplies and vehicles. Even some executions.
You could see the cogs in her mind turning with the troubled expression on her face. The frown on her face deepening.
“By S.H.I.E.L.D.?” She finally questioned.
“No. This was before. I…” You sighed quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I was sold to mercenaries. S.H.I.E.L.D. got me out.”
“There is nothing in your file about this.”
“Awe… You’ve read my file?” You said in a teasing voice, breaking through the heavy atmosphere.
“Of course I have.” She answered like the question was a no brainer.
“Director Fury scrubbed it.” You decided to answer. “Covered it up as a weapons bust op lead by Clint Barton.” It wasn’t a total lie. You were the weapon they were sent to retrieve.
“There’s a code word in the S.H.I.E.L.D. files where my name should be. When Natasha uploaded everything after Hydra’s involvement in S.H.I.E.L.D. was exposed I conveniently made it out scot-free.”
It wasn’t coincidence. It was careful plotting and planning by Director Fury.
Yelena stayed quiet, eyes finally climbing up to meet your stare. Her expression held something you couldn’t quite read, maybe it was regret or a sense of understanding.
“I’m sorry.”
You frowned at her apology.
“I realize that everything I assumed about you is incorrect.”
Her admission hung heavy in the air like a thick cloud of smoke.
“That is usually what happens when someone assumes things.” You shrugged it off. You’re sure you would have the same feelings if you had all your memories.
“I shouldn’t have.”
“‘S fine.”
“It’s not.” Her fingers curled around your wrist lightly.
You were used to assumptions about you. Throughout your time at the academy you had been treated differently by your peers from the start. Not just because you were so young, but because your classmates could easily fish out that you were being sponsored by high ranking agents. You from your foster rotation, trips to visit the facilities, medical appointments and testing of your electrokinesis. The treatment did not disappear from them when you graduated and were officially placed on the list of options for the Avengers roster by Director Fury. It wasn’t nepotism, more of indoctrination. During your first conversation you had with him, he gave you a choice: train with S.H.I.E.L.D. or face some indefinite imprisonment.
“You didn’t know.” You reasoned, trying to make her feel better.
“That does not make it better.”
Yelena took in a breath through her nose, lips pressed into a line.
“I know you don’t remember all of it, but I treated you terribly.” Yelena finally admitted what she had been so afraid to confront. Your airy laugh did little to quell the feeling of nerves in her stomach.
“From what I do remember, I was not very nice to you anyways.”
“No, no you don’t get it.” She was pushing herself to sit up now. You found yourself missing the close proximity. One of her hands stayed wrapped around your wrist as if she was afraid you would disappear.
“I was unfair and judged you before I knew you.”
You chuckled again, finding her opposing distress amusing compared to your nonchalance.
“Stop laughing.” She whined, the hand around your wrist shaking your arm lightly. “I am trying to apologize.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” You assured, the smile on your face brightening as you turned to lay on your back.
“I do!”
“You don’t!” You mocked her tone.
“Now it is you who is not being nice.” She chided. “Can you just accept my apology? Or you can reject it- I know I deserve it.”
“I’ll make you a deal.” You proposed.
Her eyes brightened in curiosity as she listened to your words.
“If I accept your totally unnecessary apology, you have to make me breakfast.”
“That is it?”
“Sure.” You shrugged. “At least until I remember something worth being mad at you about.”
“Deal.”
tag list: @s0urw00lf @callsignwidow @charlothee @lovesflourmorethananything @iminlesbians @loverofwomenswrongs @baylegend6 @ghostofjuliuscaesar
brand new day was so good! i would rank it as the best spider-man film out of all tom holland’s spider-man performances.
Fluff, implied smut, fade to black if u will , readers gender not specified, no use of y/n, edited vaguely so ignore any mistakes or let me know nicely ♥︎
….heyyyy….hi…… what up……sorry to dissapear for a year was busy dropping out of college and working three jobs…..missed me?
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Yelena who decides to get a side job outside of doing Val’s dirty work because despite the fact that she doesn’t really need the money she’s grown bored of drinking herself into a stupor during the day and ends up a mechanics apprentice, quickly turned fulltime mechanic at a little auto body shops on one of the quieter streets of east harlem.
Yelena who only knows so much about cars because she’s done a great deal of hot wiring and sabotaging of government vehicles that she finds fixing things is pretty much as easy as blowing them up.
Yelena who grows to be a big part of the shop and community surrounding. Who likes drinking with the other older guys instead of by herself and overtime ends up invited to numerous backyard barbecues and finds herself ignoring Val's calls on occasion in favor of hanging out with old men and their wives.
Yelena who spots you at one of said barbecues she’s invited to and thanks her lucky stars that you're no one's wife or daughter, but instead her boss’s neighbor. Making her way over to you with the most subtly pick up line she can manage on the tip of her tongue, and mentally punching air as she’s met with a smile and laugh.
Yelena who asks you out to dinner the next weekend , only for you to call the day of asking if she can pick you up instead of meeting there because your car is having ‘another one of its temper tantrums’.
Yelena who does so but not before offering to fix it right there and then. WHo is consistently shot down because you don't want to make her work on her night off.
Yelena who keeps taking you on dates and keeps offering to fix your car until she can't help herself. Who cons you into bringing her food while she's working late just so she can get your car in the garage and is popping the hood as soon as you turn it off.
Yelena, who is genuinely astounded that the heap of metal hasn’t exploded and almost wants to be angry at how little maintenance you’ve been keeping up with. Not because she cares about the car but because she’ll be damned if the first partner she’s ever had explodes in a fiery death because of a two decade old car.
Yelena who spends the next two hours fixing what she can and making you write down what parts she’s going to order for you, she can fix the rest. Coming out from under the car only to shoot you a glare when you say you can't afford this, making it exceedingly clear that she can and will.
Yelena who finishes what she can a few hours later, standing up to peel off her cloves and push back her seat soaked hair. White shirt smeared in grease and oil to match her tattered cargos. Who leans against your car like she owns it and tells you the next time you need something, anything, just ask;with those stark blue eyes boring into your own.
Yelena who watches the way you drink her in before nodding and decides to give up on the whole taking things slow and steady thing she’d agreed on in her head. Instead motioning you over taking great pleasure in how genuinely flustered you seem to be at just being in her proximity before pressing her lips to yours, firm and sure.
Yelena who tilts your head with her hand thats found its way to your hair so she can deepen the kiss. Who switches your positions just so she can press you against the hood of your car, pressing you against the metal so your legs hug her waist.
Yelena who’s jean clad knees hit the cracked concrete of the garage floor, but she’s never been one to complain and she wouldn’t be starting when she had this great of a view.
Yelena who drives you home in favor of leaving your car at the shop and giving your legs a little more time to recover.
Yelena who’s your incredibly hot mechanic girlfriend
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Yuh hope this was a good come back. I’ve missed writing and I missed you guys. This one for all the ppl who got garbage cars and dream of someone fixing them free of charge
hiiii! am i ok to join in the summer sleepover? if yes, could i pls play ‘would you rather’ with bucky barnes and either 8 in angst or 4 in tropes? thank you lovely and well done on 3000!!!
thank you love! i choose … fake dating! || join the celebration!
"You know, you really shouldn't be lugging those heavy gear crates all by yourself," John quipped, leaning against the doorway of the compound's equipment bay with an overly familiar smirk. "A skilled hero like you deserves a partner who knows how to lighten the load. How about we wrap up early tonight and grab a drink down in the city?"
You didn't look up from your locker, sliding your tactical vest onto its hanger with a pointed, heavy sigh. "I've told you three times this week, John. I'm busy. And I don't need a hand with the crates."
"Come on, don't be like that," Walker pressed, stepping further into the room and blocking your exit route with a casual, looming posture. "Just one drink. I'm practically begging here. You can't spend all your free time hiding out in the tactical wing."
Before you could offer another sharp refusal, a quiet, heavy footprint sounded behind you. Suddenly, Bucky was there, slinging a warm, heavy arm over your shoulders and pulling you flush against his side. Before you could even register the movement, he leaned down and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the side of your head.
"Hi, sweetheart. Is there a problem here, Walker?" Bucky asked, turning his cold, unreadable gaze onto the other man. His tone was deceptively casual, but the hard edge underneath was unmistakable.
Walker blinked, his confident smirk faltering into a look of genuine confusion. "No, Barnes, I was just—"
"Because if you need someone to review your tactical briefs with you," Bucky interrupted smoothly, his metal hand resting securely on your shoulder, "I'm sure Alexei is available. But my partner and I were just leaving for dinner. So, if you'll excuse us."
"Right. Yeah. Sure," Walker muttered, backing away awkwardly while raising his hands in defeat. "Didn't realise. Catch you two later."
Once Walker’s footsteps faded down the corridor, Bucky let his arm drop, though he stayed close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. He looked down at you, a faint, wry smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "He’s relentless, isn't he?"
"You have no idea," you breathed, leaning back against the cool metal of the lockers as your heart finally began to slow down. "Thank you. Though now he probably thinks we're..."
"Dating?" Bucky finished, raising an eyebrow. He leaned his back against the locker beside yours, crossing his arms over his chest. "Look, Walker's the type of guy who won't respect a clear 'no', but he'll respect another man's territory. It's ridiculous, but it works. We could keep it up for a bit. Just until this mission cycle wraps up and he gets out of our way. Give you some breathing room."
You stared at him, trying to keep your voice entirely neutral despite the sudden flutter in your chest. "You're offering to fake date me?"
"I'm offering a tactical solution to an annoying problem," Bucky corrected softly, though his dark eyes held a strange, lingering warmth as he met your gaze. "Unless the idea completely repulses you?"
"No," you said quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. "No, it's... it's a good plan, Buck. Tactical."
Except, of course, for the minor detail that you had been hopelessly in love with him for nearly a year.
Over the next few weeks, the line between an act and reality disintegrated entirely. It started with subtle, performative touch. Bucky taking your hand as you walked through the briefing rooms, or resting his palm firmly at the small of your back in the mess hall. But soon, the audience didn't seem to matter anymore.
"You're doing it again," you murmured one evening in his quarters, looking up from the laptop where you were filing mission reports. Bucky was sitting beside you on the sofa, his thumb lightly tracing small, absentminded patterns over your knuckles.
He didn't pull his hand away. "Doing what?"
"Holding my hand," you pointed out softly, your voice dropping. "Walker isn't even in the building tonight, Bucky."
Bucky went still for a fraction of a second. Then, his thumb resumed its slow, soothing motion against your skin. "Habit," he offered quietly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. "Besides... do you want me to stop?"
You swallowed hard, looking at the contrast of his rough fingers wrapped around yours. "No. I don't."
The breaking point finally came on a rainy Tuesday evening in the training room. After two hours of intense sparring, you were sitting on the edge of the mat, nursing fresh bruises and attempting to wrap a bandage around your strained wrist with one hand.
"Here. Let me," Bucky said, dropping down onto the mat beside you. His hair was damp with sweat, his breath coming in soft, steady even rhythm.
He took the elastic bandage from your fingers, his cool touch sending a shiver straight up your spine. He worked carefully, wrapping the fabric around your joint with incredible precision and gentleness.
"I talked to Yelena earlier," you said, breaking the heavy silence of the room. You watched the shadow of Bucky's eyelashes as he focused entirely on your hand. "She said Walker is going on some European mission on Friday. Should last a few weeks.”
Bucky didn't look up, his fingers carefully securing the metal clip of the bandage. "Good. You won't have to deal with him for a little while."
"Yeah," you whispered, feeling a sudden, suffocating knot of something tightening in your chest. "So... we don't have to keep doing this now. You're off the hook. No more pretending."
Bucky’s hands froze over your wrist. For a long, tense moment, the only sound in the room was the rhythmic patter of rain against the high windows. Then, slowly, he looked up. The guarded, calm composure he usually wore was completely gone, replaced by a raw, desperate vulnerability.
"You think I've been pretending?" he asked, his voice low and rough.
You blinked, caught off guard. "Bucky, the whole thing was your idea to get Walker off my back—"
"The idea was a cover," Bucky interrupted, his voice rising slightly before softening into a quiet confession. He shifted closer on the mat, his heavy shadow falling over you. His metal hand came up, his cool fingers resting gently against the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. "It was a selfish, desperate excuse to touch you. To stand close to you. To finally have a reason to hold your hand without terrified that I was crossing a line."
Your breath hitched, your heart hammering against your ribs. "Bucky..."
"I've been in love with you for months," he admitted, his eyes searching your face with a quiet, terrified honesty. "Every touch, every look, every single minute of this ridiculous fake arrangement... it was the most real thing I've felt in decades. If you tell me to walk away now, I will. But please don't tell me it was just an act."
A breathless, incredulous laugh escaped your lips, the sheer relief of it washing over you so hard it made your eyes sting. You reached up, placing your hand directly over his metal fingers resting on your cheek.
"You are such an idiot," you murmured, leaning into his touch. "You really waited for an obnoxious teammate to force us into a fake relationship before you told me?"
A faint, breathless laugh shook Bucky's chest, the tension melting out of his shoulders. "Does that mean you're not mad?"
"It means I've been in love with you for a year," you answered softly. "And if you don't kiss me right now, I'm going to start asking Walker for tactical advice."
Bucky let out a low groan, closing the tiny distance remaining between you. "Don't even joke about that," he muttered against your lips, before pulling you in and kissing you properly, slow, deep, and without a single pretense left between you.
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