#Red Guardian x Reader

[ichigopuddingmuslima]

I wrote a pussy clenching, dick hardening smut fic. It is NASTY. I literally had to force myself to wrap it up because I was getting too carried away. Almost THREE THOUSAND words of smut. 3000. 3K. Let that sink in. I truly hope you enjoy it. Cumming real soon. Like really soon.

I hope you all achieve an orgasm from it.

[romanoffshouse]

POV: Your camera roll if you're a part of the Thunderbolts*

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝖸𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖺 𝖡𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖺 || 𝖡𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗒 𝖡𝖺𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗌 || 𝖠𝗅𝖾𝗑𝖾𝗂 || 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝖶𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖡𝗈𝖻 𝖱𝖾𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗌 / 𝖲𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗒 / 𝖵𝗈𝗂𝖽 𝖺𝗌

↳ 𝖦𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖣𝖺𝖽'𝗌 (𝗆𝗈𝗆)

A/n: I know Yelena is an asexual , so don't get on my ass. ( Female Reader )

❥:Yelena Belova as a Girl Mom

Yelena never thought she’d be a mother, but the moment she holds her baby girl in her arms, she’s a goner. Your daughter has soft blonde hair and wide, curious eyes that remind Yelena of herself as a child—before the Red Room stole her innocence.

Yelena is the kind of mom who straps her baby to her chest in a tactical baby carrier, running drills while softly singing Russian lullabies. “You see, little cub, this is how you throw a knife. No, you cannot hold one yet. Maybe when you’re five.”

She’s overly protective, scowling at anyone who dares to glance at her baby girl the wrong way. But at night, when the world is still, Yelena curls up with her daughter, tracing soft circles over her tiny hand, her heart aching with the tenderness she thought she’d lost in the Red Room.

Despite her gruff exterior, she’s surprisingly soft with her and your baby girl. Late at night, when the house is quiet, Yelena sings Russian lullabies, rocking her daughter while pressing kisses to her chubby cheeks.

Yelena smirks when you catch them like that, rolling her eyes. “What? She was crying.” But you know the truth—Yelena’s heart is completely, irrevocably hers.

And when you find them on the couch together, Yelena asleep with their daughter tucked against her chest, a tiny stuffed bear clutched between them, you can’t help but smile. Yelena Belova, the Black Widow, now a soft-hearted girl mom. Who would have thought?

Yelena is fiercely protective of you, her intensity both endearing and overwhelming. She’s the kind of partner who will call every hour when she’s on a mission, her voice a little less steely when she hears yours. “Did you eat? Did you drink water? Did you tell our daughter I love her?”

At home, she’s a different woman—soft, playful, and always finding ways to make you laugh. Yelena’s love language is physical touch. She wraps her arms around you from behind as you make dinner, pressing her cheek to your shoulder while your daughter babbles away in her highchair.

Yelena is not one for grand gestures, but you wake up to sticky notes all over the house with little scribbled hearts and phrases like, “Good job today, mama bear” or “You’re the hottest MILF in Russia.” "Babe we're not in Russia" "still...do not argue with me."

And when you’re exhausted, dealing with a fussy baby and feeling frayed at the edges, Yelena takes over without hesitation, scooping your daughter up and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Go. Take a bath. I got her.” And as you walk away, you hear her singing off-key lullabies in Russian, her voice warm and steady.

❥:Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier as a Girl Dad

Bucky never thought he’d get a second chance at a family. He’s terrified of being a father—especially to a girl. What if he screws her up? What if she’s afraid of him? But the first time his baby girl wraps her tiny hand around his metal finger, Bucky’s world shifts.

She’s his sunshine. Bucky is the kind of dad who will sit on the floor, cradling a doll in his metal arm while their daughter giggles and tries to braid his hair. And when she cries in the middle of the night, Bucky is the one who gets up, shuffling down the hall in sweatpants to rock her back to sleep, murmuring old stories of Brooklyn in the 1940s.

When she gets older, she’s the only one who can melt his stern Winter Soldier exterior. She tugs on his sleeve, and suddenly Bucky is having a tea party with stuffed animals, a frilly pink crown perched atop his head.

You find them both on the living room floor, her sprawled out on Bucky’s chest, both of them fast asleep. And in those moments, you know Bucky has finally found peace.

Bucky is your safe haven. He’s the kind of partner who reads you like a book, noticing every subtle shift in your mood. If you’re tense, he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his metal arm around you, his fingers brushing gentle circles along your back. “Talk to me, doll.”

He’s incredibly tender with you, always mindful of his strength. When you’re holding your daughter, Bucky rests his chin on your shoulder, his nose buried in your hair as he closes his eyes and breathes you in. “Thank you,” he murmurs against your skin. “For giving me this. For giving me both of you.”

He insists on nightly routines—tucking you and your daughter in, even when he’s the one dead tired. And when your little girl is asleep, Bucky curls up behind you, his arm draped protectively over your waist. “You know I love you, right?” he whispers, his lips brushing the back of your neck. “Always.”

❥:Red Guardian as a Girl Dad

Alexei is the loud, boisterous, over-the-top girl dad who insists that their daughter is the “strongest little bear in all of Russia.” From the moment she can walk, he’s trying to teach her how to wrestle, much to your exasperation. “Alexei, she’s two!”

But Alexei is also the kind of dad who gets teary-eyed when his little girl calls him “Papa.” He brags about her to everyone who will listen, even if she just learned how to say “banana.” He makes her tiny weight sets out of soup cans and cheers every time she lifts one. “That’s my little bear! Strong like Papa!”

At night, he tucks her in with dramatic stories of his “glorious Red Guardian days,” his hands making exaggerated gestures as she watches him with wide eyes. And when she finally falls asleep, Alexei stays beside her bed, his giant hand gently stroking her tiny curls as he whispers, “You will be the greatest of us, little bear.”

Alexei is loud, proud, and absolutely infatuated with you. He never stops boasting about you to anyone who will listen. “My woman, the strongest, the most beautiful, the best mama!”

He’s tactile to a fault, always needing to touch you—a hand on your lower back, a kiss pressed to your temple, an arm slung over your shoulders as you carry your daughter on your hip.

When you’re feeling overwhelmed, Alexei insists you rest, practically shoving you onto the couch and wrapping you in a blanket. “Stay. Rest. I will handle it,” he declares, his chest puffed out as he takes your daughter for a walk.

He always know's how to put a smile on your face and your daughters

But the best moments are at night. You find him sitting on the floor with your daughter in his lap, her tiny hands playing with his beard as he softly tells her stories of his “heroic Red Guardian days.” You lean against the doorway, watching the two of them, and Alexei catches your eye, his expression softening. “Come, my love,” he says, patting the floor beside him. “Our family is waiting.”

❥:John Walker as a Girl Dad

John is the overprotective dad who treats their daughter like she’s made of glass. He’s the dad who hovers at the playground, eyes narrowed at any kid who gets too close. “Hey, buddy, you better watch it,” he mutters, despite the fact that the other kid is four.

He's making up for his past mistakes, you two are his world.

But at home, John is a complete softie. He lets his little girl paint his nails a sparkly pink and wears it proudly, even to work. He’s the dad who always brings home a stuffed animal from every mission, his suitcase overflowing with plushies.

When she gets older, he’s the first to volunteer as her coach for every sport, barking out drills like she’s in basic training. But at night, when she has a bad dream, John’s right there, holding her close as he softly sings off-key lullabies, his hand running through her hair. “Daddy’s got you, princess. Always.”

John is a doting yet overprotective partner. He watches you like a hawk, always ready to step in and help, but he also respects your independence, even if it makes him anxious. If you’re carrying the baby and a bag of groceries, he’s already by your side, relieving you of the weight and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I got you.”

At night, he’s the most vulnerable. John rests his head in your lap, letting you run your fingers through his hair as he talks about his fears of not being good enough. “I just… I don’t want to screw this up,” he admits, eyes shining in the low light. “Not with her. Not with you.”

He's terrified he will make the same mistake again, that he'll fuck it up somehow but you always reassure him with a gentle kiss.

He’s also fiercely proud of you. Anytime you do something—whether it’s calming down a tantrum or making dinner—John is there, staring at you with that awed, boyish look in his eyes. “How did I get so lucky?” he mutters, pulling you in for a slow, lingering kiss.

And when he wakes up to find you cradling their sleeping daughter, John stands there for a moment, his chest tight with emotion. “I love you,” he whispers, voice thick. “Both of you.”

❥:Bob Reynolds / Sentry / Void as a Girl Dad

Bob is a man of two extremes—one side a warm, loving father, the other a dangerous, unstable force he prays his daughter never has to see. But when she’s born, her tiny body fitting perfectly against his broad chest, Bob swears he will be the best dad he can be.

When she’s a baby, Bob is the dad who gets up every time she cries, pacing the floor as he rocks her in his arms, his golden aura softly glowing in the dark room. And when she’s older, he’s the dad who builds entire pillow forts that stretch across the living room, pretending to be the Sentry while she plays the fearless knight.

But the Void looms. Sometimes, Bob disappears for days, and when he comes back, his eyes are hollow, his hands shaking. You’re the only one who knows where he’s been, the only one who sees how he collapses in the doorway, whispering, “I don’t want her to see me like this.”

And every time, you gather him in your arms, pressing your forehead to his. “You’re her dad. You’re her hero. And we’ll get through this. Together.”

When their daughter turns five, she brings him a crayon drawing of the Sentry holding her hand, both of them smiling. Bob looks at it for a long time, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re my hero, too, Daddy,” she says, and he pulls her close, holding her like she’s the only light in a world that’s always threatening to go dark

Bob is a man of extremes, but with you, he’s tender, gentle, and desperate to be enough. He’s the kind of partner who leaves love notes everywhere—tucked under your pillow, slipped into your coat pocket, scribbled on a napkin at breakfast. “You are my light,” one reads. “Thank you for staying.”

When the Void claws at him, threatening to drag him down, Bob clings to you like a lifeline, his head buried in your neck as he whispers, “Tell me I’m real. Tell me I’m here.”

You’re his anchor. You’re the one who pulls him back when his mind begins to fracture, holding his face in your hands and pressing your forehead to his. “You’re here, Bob,” you say, voice firm. “You’re with me. You’re with our daughter. You’re home.”

When he’s in his Sentry form, the golden aura surrounding him, you find him on the rooftop, watching over the city like a silent guardian. You stand beside him, your fingers threading through his, and Bob squeezes your hand tightly. “I’d destroy the world for you,” he whispers, voice cracking.

But later, when the Void takes hold, he comes back to you, shattered and afraid, kneeling in front of you as he presses his forehead to your stomach. “Please don’t leave me,” he begs. And you sink to the floor with him, holding him tight, promising that you never will.

[controld3vil]

midnight snack

pairings: yelena belova, bucky barnes , john walker, robert reynolds/sentry, ava starr/ghost, tony masters/taskmaster (comic), alexei shokstakov/red guardian x gn!thunderbolts!reader (separate)

synopsis: You’re one of the stealthiest members and they catch you making a midnight snack.

notes -> ive never written for marvel before!! tags: inaccurate characterization/take it w/ a grain of salt, i have NOT seen the film, reader is part of the thunderbolts, mentions of minor injuries; canon typical violence, reader making midnight snacks (grilled cheese w/ jam, s’mores dipped in peanut, cheesy noodles w/ cream cheese, chip sandwich, mixed cereal, ice cream w/ cookies), headcanons can be seen either platonic/romantic!

YELENA BEVOLA

-> is consciously disturbed by it. she always feared that your name, reputation, and expertise are not something to laugh about. hell, coming from her, that is enough to say you were beyond her level. however, the obscurity of seeing you making a grilled cheese… with jam? that blows her mind out of proportion.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to eat that…” Yelena doesn’t even attempt to hide her disgusted look. What you’re doing is absurd. Even more, she has always respected your name, representing the standard of Hydra operations that they have always been proud of. She had expected to see you in the morning. Instead, she finds you leaning over the counter, cuts, bruises in all, while you were making a sandwich for yourself.

It wasn’t particularly what you were doing that startled her. Yelena has seen you make a variety of sandwiches — the simple turkey club, egg salad, tuna, and all you’ve seemed to master. You always packed pretty lunch boxes for yourself. It was a simple way to stay motivated. But the jam? The thought of combining grilled cheese with sweet strawberry syrup makes her stomach grimace.

You look at your blonde friend steadily. “I’m hungry, though.” You say, unfazed by the abomination you were making. “I didn’t know what else to make.”

“I could think of plenty of things you can make besides that,” She sneers, almost offended by what you created. You shrug, casually, not even caring about Yelena’s persistent glares.

BUCKY BARNES

-> is confused. so confused about your choice in cravings. he’s survived scarce military rations during the war. the food back then was bland and lacked nutrition, but it was all he had during those grueling days of fighting. he’s survived times when food was difficult to salvage. but you, dipping homemade s'mores into peanut butter?

He doesn’t know what to say. What the hell? No. What the fuck? Too much.

“What are you making?” Bucky questions, dragging the last part partially too long as if he was unsure if he should’ve asked or not. The whole scenario was bizarre. Because never would he, Bucky, catch you doing something like this.

You were just like the rest of them, ruthless killers with no place to call home. Yet along the way, you’ve connected and called it friendship. Bucky especially favored you, believe it or not, because of your kind-hearted spirit. 

“I was craving s’mores!” You raised your hands, holding one s’more between your fingers. “But when I bit into it, it tasted like something was missing…” It was almost comical how innocent you looked during this confrontation. You were still in your tactical suit, with your weapons and all. Your face looked vaguely exhausted, with your droopy eyes and smile.

“So you thought peanut butter could fix it?” The ex-Hydra assassin looked in disbelief, unable to piece together how the two could possibly be a good combination.

“It’s actually good if you try it.” You blink before catching Bucky slowly backing away. “Hey! It is good!”

JOHN WALKER

-> looks at you like a disappointed dad. trust me, he’s seen one too many mishaps from his son. he knows kids playing with their food is normal. how many times has he seen his kid splash spaghetti all over the table? the only difference between you is — well, you’re an adult, a very skilled assassin who could make people disappear without a trace.

“Uh— What the hell are you doing?” John walks into the kitchen with squinted eyes. The bright ceiling lights were blinding him, as his eyes were still trying to adjust to the brightness.

“Making dinner?” As you continued to stir the boiling pot of noodles you cooked up. It didn’t look out of the ordinary, you were cooking instant noodles, thinking it was the quickest meal you could make.

“Yeah, I know that,” the super-soldier points to the opened package of American cheese. “But why the hell do you need cheese?” Shortly after, he noticed the jar of cream cheese you had by the boiling pot. What?

“I saw a video online where putting cheese and sour cream in your noodles would taste better.” You explained simply. Because there was no other way to put it. John looks at you with mild disgust, with one eye scrunched and a frown beginning to form. It was as if his expression was saying, “What is wrong with you?”

“Well, does it?”

“I don’t know! So I’m going to try it.”

“You’re insane.” He doesn’t give you the pleasure of giving you a face palm, knowing you would be annoyingly satisfied with his distaste. Instead, he grumbles like any parent would when their child makes a mess. “You better clean up after yourself.”

ROBERT REYNOLDS/SENTRY

-> genuinely curious what you’re up to! he may seem scared at first, but will eventually show that he is more curious, that’s all! he’s never had such a domestic conversation with you before, so don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions! will occasionally ask about your odd cravings, as if they’re not the most grotesque creations you’ve made, but more so to understand you better.

“This is…new.” Bob appears out of the corner of the island table as you grab two plain pieces of bread. He’s become used to you returning around this time, at the dead of night. Most of the time, he’s awake with his mind too occupied to fall asleep. At times, he’s afraid to walk outside his room, not wanting to disturb the rest of the team’s deep slumber. But on particular nights, when he knows you’re coming back from a grueling operation, he waits for you.

“I saw it from someone on YouTube,” you placed the two pieces of toast into the toaster, dialing the heat to medium. Once you confirmed the temperature, you walked towards the cupboard where all the dry snacks were and scanned the selection. “Thought I’d give it a try.”

“Sounds… good.” Bob didn’t know how to respond. He had never had this kind of experience with food before. Food was always prepared for him in a monolithic and minimalistic fashion. The same proportions and items every day. The more he thought about it, it made him feel like a prisoner, a person out of his skin.

So seeing you, being carefree about what to eat, makes him feel something. Not in a bad way, but a strange, warm feeling. Even if you don’t realize it, he’s probably more attached to you than anyone else in the team because of how relaxed you are with him. You don’t throw insults or glare his way. You just exist, treat him as a human being. Make odd-looking meals in front of him like he’s another friend witnessing one of your many creations.

When the timer runs off, you carefully pull the two pieces onto your plate and lay them next to each other. He watches as you open the bag of your preferred chips and place them neatly on one side. With the other piece of toast, you place it on top, putting pressure on the sandwich. He hears the crinkling of the chips as a few pieces fall out. 

It wasn’t the most exquisite-looking meal. But it wasn’t the worst he’s seen.

“Would you like to try?”

AVA STARR/GHOST

-> the only person who tolerates your creative mind. under her tough exterior, ava cares for the people close to her. no matter how broken or messed up they are, she’ll still choose them. including you, so no matter how strange your meals were, she won’t say anything bad. out of the corner of your eye, she’ll give you a strange look, but otherwise she won’t go any further than that. 

“Whatcha got there?” Even you sometimes had to double-check the corners of the room for Ava. She was quick and could faze through walls, the perfect ability for an assassin. However, you’re glad you trusted your intuition, half-expecting her to pop up eventually. Ava does not look as tired as you expected. Rather, she looks oddly calm and relaxed in her casual wear. 

“Cereal,” You plopped one box of Toast Crunch beside you. However, you know she’s eyeing the Coco Puffs sitting next to your bowl. Do you want a sugar rush? 

“That’s a lot of sugar, don’t you think?” The ex-agent nudges playfully, choosing to sit across from you. She rests her elbow on the granite table, leaning her chin onto her palm. 

“I’m a sweet person,” You grin to yourself before momentarily letting out an agonized groan. Your friend stands up, giving you a sympathetic look. “Ah, it’s okay, I’m fine.” 

“You sure?” Ava inspects you with clean precision. The way you hold your tricep meant something more. You were hurt badly. “You may want to lay off the cereal, then. Let me help you get to the medics.” 

You shake your head, insistent on staying where you were. “It’s alright, it’s not that bad.”

“Let me at least look at it first.” She doesn’t leave you a second to refuse. Ava is swift on her toes, grabbing the emergency medical kit on the top shelf. Turning back to you, she fixes you with a gaze, firm yet gentle. “Come on, you have your cereal after I patch you up.” 

TONY MASTERS/TASKMASTER

-> leaves you be. tony isn’t the type of person to barge into your business. but since getting to know you, you’re absolutely certain he’s growing to become comfortable around you. the way he walks over with quiet concern, or offers a slight nod whenever you ask a question. tony is a scarred man, yet somehow you’re able to bring out some kind of softness in him. 

You came home to a quiet kitchen. You hadn’t intended on returning so soon, but due to the nature of your work, sometimes you made choices less advantageous. You’re hurt, bleeding from your head, most likely from a concussion. The medics reaffirmed that you should rest in the meantime. Bucky would not be so pleased to see you so soon. 

You were busy, scooping the last clump of ice cream into your bowl. All day, you couldn’t stop thinking about ice cream, especially cookies and cream, topped with chunks of chocolate chip cookies and syrup. You knew it was a bit of a stretch to add cookies, but your mind was elsewhere already once you added them on top of your dessert. 

Tony was there somewhere the entire time. Whether your mind was too fuzzy or you had no intention of asking why he was standing by the doorway for so long, you didn’t care. All you wanted at that moment was to eat your ice cream in peace. 

Eventually, halfway through your meal, you finally address him. “I know you don’t speak, but you don’t have to just stand there and watch me eat like some animal.” Your eyes lock with his blank mask. You often found yourself talking aloud more around Tony because of his lack of expression. “Come sit.” 

Tony threads out of the shadows like a predator hidden behind the bushes. His steps are intentional, short, and steady. You’ve never seen him out of his suit and mask. It was almost like he wasn’t human, never once allowing his guard down. 

You glance at him, catching the way he’s frozen mid-stepped, scanning you like he’s accessing every wound.

You rub the back of your neck, a hint of embarrassment in your gesture. “It went…bad.” His stillness urged you to go on.. “I didn’t see the bomb. The ceiling came down on me… actually, multiple floors did.” The silence in between your words made the weight of your injuries feel heavier. You glanced back at your ice cream, slowly melting away. 

You feel his hesitancy to move closer, feeling the sense of guilt and frustration through your words. 

“I got checked– they said I needed some rest, that’s all.” You gave a small smile, knowing he could see right through you. Suddenly, the simple act of eating ice cream left an uneasy twist in your stomach. The silence was almost unbearable. You felt you couldn’t look at him properly, knowing now he’s a witness to your failure– your injuries. 

You were careless. Reckless. If you had taken a second longer to search the building, you could’ve avoided the bomb from going off. The more your thoughts consume you, the more you feel bad about yourself. 

Then you spot a vial near the edge of the table, right where Tony stood. However, when you looked around, he was already gone. You pick it up, eyes scanning the bottle.

Pain relief.

ALEXEI SHOSTAKOV/RED GUARDIAN

-> supportive about it! he’s very caring about your well-being, so he doesn’t judge you with whatever you make. as long as you're happy eating it, he’s alright about it. but if there is any chance that he catches you, returning home in a battered state, he will 100% make you a meal. that’s just the dad in him.

“You’re back!” You bring yourself to give him a weak smile, before he engulfs you in a hug. Alexei is one of those people who are naturally affectionate and are not afraid to show it. That’s what you think, at least. 

“I thought you would be asleep by now.” You unlatch yourself from his bear-like grip. The Russian man has started to cook something, which makes you question if he knew you were coming home later tonight. 

“The rest are asleep! But me? No, I could never have you come back on an empty stomach!” Now you see the apron he’s wearing, and the faint smoke coming from the stove. You couldn’t say no now, not while Alexei put all this effort into making you dinner. You owed him big time. 

You found yourself a seat, while the Red Guardian’s back was facing you. Whatever he was making smelled good. It had a rich flavor like barbeque, but better. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until he placed a plate in front of you. 

“Thanks… Alexei. You didn’t have to.” Your stomach grumbled in protest, weak at the aroma of perfectly grilled skewers, fluffy rice, and tangy pickled vegetables. You caught your teammate’s intense gaze as you grabbed a fork and speared a piece of the meat. 

“Wow, this is good,” 

“Of course it is! I made it!” 

“I didn’t know you could cook.” You pulled the skewers free of the meat, digging in with mouthfuls of rice and tangy vegetables. The warmth settled your hunger. You’re able to sleep tonight. All thanks to Alexei. 

“I’ve been practicing!” he said with a booming laugh, wiping his hands on a clean towel. “It’s my specialty– so you don’t have to make any more of those monstrosities when you get home!”

You paused, looking up at him, surprised. “I thought you liked them!”

“I do, I do! But you know– sometimes I think it’s better to eat real, digestible food.”

[homiesexuallaj]

a funny thing i’ve been thinking about but, drunk! reader saying goodnight to the Thunderbolts*,

Yelena: Okay, y/n, let’s say night night to everybody, да?

Reader: Okay! Goodnight Ava!

Ghost/Ava Starr: Goodnight

Reader: Goodnight Antonia!

Taskmaster/Antonia Dreykov: Night

Reader: Goodnight Alexi!

Alexei Shostakov/Red Guardian: Goodnight! Sleep tight!!

Reader: Goodnight Bucky!

Bucky Barnes: Goodnight.

Reader: Fuck you *flips off Walker*

John Walker: Wha-? *offended*

Reader: Goodnight Bucky!

Bucky Barnes: ..goodnight.

Yelena, leading Reader away: You already said goodnight to Bucky

Reader: I know. I like Bucky.. :]

[p-taryn-dactyl]

im taking thunderbolts requests 🙂‍↕️

whether x reader or just the characters (found family in the towers fics are so back im so happy omg)

please send some in i love these guys so much omg!!

(so sorry but actually no yelena x bob i physically can't see them as anything besides siblings)

[heartlogan]

alexei's void (short)

✮-- thunderbolts x platonic!reader

✮-- summary: alexei reveals some of what he saw in the void

✮-- a/n: this is a lil drabble of what i think alexei saw in the void! i didnt execute it very well :( but it's been ages since i have written fr so go easy

✮-- warnings: THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS!, black widow (2021) references!!!, grief, angst, character death, near death experiences, the void (mentioned, references), bad ending, not executed well!!, not proofread xoxo

MASTERLIST

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

This wasn't what you had expected to come from that day. You could never have expected this, especially not in your line of work. Mercenary, gun for hire, clean up crew -- whatever you liked to call it. It was dirty work, not made for good people, which is why you were so adept at it.

You didn't work for Valentina, not like the others did. You were outsourced, selected for one specific job on a one-time basis. She had hired you when her incinerator plan failed, had paid you almost a fortune up front to ensure you were committed to her goal. Kill her mercs.

There was only three of them -- one had already been eliminated -- so it should've been easy. Pick them off. Or, take them out in one go.

Except it didn't go like that. You knew of each of them, so you should've expected it. In fact, you had prepared for one of them, hell, even multiple of them to do something dumb or unexpected. There was just one variable you hadn't accounted for... one that Valentina hadn't told you about, one that hadn't even come up in your own research.

Alexei Shostakov.

Sure, you had known about his connection to one of your targets, Yelena Belova, but you knew that they hadn't been in contact. Their last mission together had been in Budapest, and they hadn't even seen each other in well over a year.

You had the three of them dead to rights, about to take them all out, until it hit you. And that was to say, literally hit you. A limousine came hurtling out of nowhere, sending you flying across the road, at least three ribs broken upon impact.

Now, you were strong, but not being hit by a limo going 50 miles an hour and getting straight back up-strong.

From there, it had all spiralled. They took you along with them, debating on whether or not to kill you, while you stared in shock the entire time. These were the infamous mercenaries you had been hired to kill? How they had escaped before, you had no idea. Pure chaos, you'd have to guess. They didn't seem to have an organised thought between them, and that was including the new addition of the Red Guardian.

Still, they won you over, which had pissed Valentina off to no end, especially when that meant you were included in 'her' new team.

You were pretty sure that the group of you had simply trauma bonded from the entire experience, finally finding kindred spirits due to the horror that sweet Bob had induced.

That wasn't to say that the whole group got along -- in fact, there was plenty of heated arguments and malice between everyone, but it worked. Somehow. Regardless, everybody had one another's backs. Even the likes of US Agent.

Most of you had only grown closer since the fallout, all living in a newly refurbished Avengers tower. This much was true even for you and the very man who had hit you with his limo. It wasn't a pairing most people expected, but Alexei was good to you... when he wasn't running you over, that is.

The two of you often found each other when the evening was beginning to bleed into the night. It started off as an accident, then eventually became more of a habit than anything else. He'd pass a bottle of vodka to you, and you'd give it back after at least two big gulps.

The drinking started off the bat, but the talking came later.

He started it, reminiscing on his Red Guardian days, his voice wistful but also more hopeful now. You could tell he was proud to be a part of this new team. Alexei wanted to help people. He wanted to be a hero.

And then you started talking, too. You told him snippets of your training, mostly sticking to stories that could be twisted into something humorous, rather than the horrifying tales of torture and abuse you still kept buried. The ones that you had relived in the void.

Alexei always had big feelings. He was loud about them, especially when it came to his daughter, and the team.

But this... this wasn't big.

You could see the feelings all over his face, the shame, the guilt. He was being quiet. It wasn't like him, not at all. Every wrinkle in his skin was layered with copious amounts of pain, clearly something that had been brewing over the course of years.

"Thanks," You murmured as you took the near-empty bottle of vodka from his outstretched hand. It was usually at least half-full when you arrived, but not today. "You gonna start?" You asked quietly, the burn in your throat easily ignored after opting for a heavy few swigs.

It was quiet, a long pause between the two of you as the bottle hovered between you. Then, it dawned on you.

"The void?"

A silent nod, followed by the swish of liquid in an upturned bottle. He sniffled.

"It is my fault." Alexei said softly, though his voice was rough, and you wondered if it had been him that you had heard yelling earlier on in the day. You waited for him to continue, unsure what to say otherwise. None of you were good people. Not really, despite the implications of the A on your uniforms. The likelihood was that, yeah, it probably was his fault.

You took the bottle when he offered it. Silent, trying to be nothing more than a listening ear. A supportive friend. However that worked.

"What happened to Yelena," He continued finally, his eyes staring ahead, never once having glanced at you. "It is my fault. I did that to her."

You hummed when he was silent after his statements, passing the bottle back. "Wasn't she trained in the red room?" You questioned quietly, not wanting to disrupt the gentle atmosphere between the two of you. It seemed as though if you were too loud, the man beside you may just fall apart.

"Because of me." He spat out, his words filled with more vitriol than you had ever heard from him.

After a moment, you rested your hand on top of his around the bottle of vodka, and you pulled it away from his lips. You left your hand there, against his. "What did you see?" You asked him gently, looking at the side of his face.

He heaved a shuddering breath.

"That day. After we left America." There were tears shining in his eyes, but he still refused to look at you.

"Alexei, you were on a mission. You..."

He cut you off. "You do not understand." Alexei shook his head, pulling his hand away from yours, and taking a swig from the bottle. "Natasha. She begged me not to let them take Yelena. I told her, I said, my girls... my girls are strong."

There was something haunted in his voice. You had never heard him like this before. Throughout all of your talks, discussions, vents, it had never been this.

You knew he was filled with grief, much like Yelena, but he had never revealed how much that grief was brimming within him. This was a crack in his loud persona, and it revealed an inside just waiting to burst. You had no idea he was holding all of this in. He always seemed so... not content with his choices, but something close to it.

"They are strong." You told him hesitantly, because you didn't know what to say to him. There was nothing you could do to heal this wound.

"They had no choice." He answered. "And now, my daughter... Natasha is gone. I nearly lost Yelena," He barely held in a sob at the memory. "Ever since the void, I think, I say what if. If I protected my girls that day, they would both be here. No?"

There was no hesitation from you now. "Or, all of you could have been killed that very day." You told him firmly, brows furrowed as you watched him stare down at the now empty bottle. "Alexei, you can't think like that. Everyone in this building has suffered, and we all should've been protected from it, but we weren't. We learn to live with it. Natasha made something of herself, something she was proud of. And Yelena is doing that, too."

"But that happy little girl... she will never return." Alexei sniffled, closing his eyes.

You frowned, torn between what you should say, unsure if this was a conversation he should be having with Yelena herself.

And then she appeared.

Waltzed through the door as if her father figure wasn't about to have a mental breakdown. "Hey! There you are," She greeted, cheerful considering the time of night and the sight before her. She paused, eyebrows raising. "Is... everything alright?"

You leaned closer to Alexei, knocking his shoulder with your own. "I wouldn't be too sure of that." You murmured to him, seeing that glow within her that he often spoke of.

Alexei nodded to Yelena, smiling tightly, but it seemed mostly genuine.

"Come, it is dinner time. Barnes cooked." She said, seeming amused. And even though it was way later than dinner time, you and Alexei both got up together, following after her.

[umnitsa]

I am not sober right now, so indulge me...

Headcanons for kink: Alexei Shostakov (Black Widow), Jim Hopper (Stranger Things), Santa (Violent Night)

Alexei

He isn't the most sophisticated partner. XD But he is eager and curious, and he will try anything you bring to him. He doesn't really like using rope or other restraints, because he is fully capable of restraining you with his massive body. He will spank you but will giggle like a schoolgirl through the whole process, from sheer giddiness. He will shift to a fully serious, hair-pulling growling dom if you disrespect him though (isn't that the game?)

He loves the idea of roleplaying, but he is so cheesy doing it you WILL feel you're in a 70's porno. It is hot and fun in its own way.

He's mostly a soft dom who loves the idea of using you for his fun. And his fun is making you come again and again. It makes him feel powerful.

He really, really wants to please. So if you praise him, he will be a babbling mess and will become putty in your hands. Use it well, it's the only way you're gonna ride him because he loves restraining you with his body. He doesn't really understand daddy kink, but it's ok if you call him daddy. He does have a size kink, with everyone being smaller than him, but I bet he would pop a boner if you were his own size or bigger (it would be a delightful surprise for him).

Hopper

I can see Big Jim as vanilla as it comes. Mostly because he thinks most things are distractions. He just wants to devour you.

Ok, not so vanilla, he really really likes to spank you.

Well, he also loves manhandling you.

And he loves you on your knees, looking at him with big eyes.

But that is just him! If you bring him the idea of domination and submission, he won't understand how it relates to him. He's absolutely oblivious.

Big Jim has basically two modes. Classic!dom, who will spank you, growl orders, fuck you hard, pull your hair, make you beg for an orgasm. And Service!dom, who will cover you in soft praise, eat you up and finger you for hours, who will suck on your nipples as he rubs your clit gently, make you beg for him to stop and just fuck you already, you're so overstimulated.

Even when you take charge, he has this look of control over things, he smiles at you as if he's indulging you in good nature. He thought it was very cute when you handcuffed him that time.

Calling him daddy is a no-no. He's a bit sensitive. But if you call him sir, or chief in a sexual way... You'll get a raise.

Santa

That is a dirty old man as I have ever seen one. That man is kinky as fuck and nothing you say can make me think differently. He's very respectable, a good man, but he will pop a boner if you call him Father Christmas in a sexual way. He has a daddy kink and it's a severe one.

He is a flirty menace and will talk you into an orgasm. He is incredibly vocal, grunts, moans, and dirty talking. Sweet praise and playful degradation so you don't forget how naughty you really are. He will make you admit to every desire, to admit that you love what he does to you, out loud.

Oh, and he is there to realize all your fantasies, the best he can. If you want it, he will try it at least once. He will judge you? Yes. He will probably mock you playfully a little bit. In a dirty way. The dirtiest. Just so you don't forget you're naughty.

You will be tied up in red ribbons, some day.

He loves when you decide to please him. Santa loves to rest against the pillows and just watch you play with his body. Between grunts and soft moans, he will praise you, his hands gently petting and squeezing you in turns.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

pick me up, pull ‘em down, turn me around - Alexei Shostakov x ftm!Reader

A/N: title is from the song Bed Chem by Sabrina Carpenter, which I will now forevermore associate with Alexei

Divider by @/enchanthings

Written for this request

CW: language; explicit sexual content; smut; Reader is not enhanced; Walker being an asshole; Reader has a nickname not explained in the fic; slight dom!Alexei; implied chubby!Reader; implied short!Reader; implied ftm!Reader; strength kink; making out; marking; ripping clothes; oral sex (Reader receiving); multiple orgasms; no aftercare; mentions of future rounds

1836 words

You knew you were fucked from the moment you saw him.

Yelena’s dad was a big man. Tall and broad and sturdy. He took up space in a way you longed to. He was loud and enthusiastic and unashamed of everything.

You wanted to climb him like a tree. Have him hoist you up with those big strong arms, bury his face between your thighs, and eat you out for hours.

You’re pretty sure you’re in love at this point.

You’re in the gym, taking a break from training with Ava. You’re not enhanced in any way; probably the most normal out of everyone on the team. And you’re sorely behind on training compared to everyone aside from Bob.

Alexei and Bucky are training across the room. You’re not so subtly ogling them. Sure, you’ve seen attractive guys before. But these two are a whole new world of sexy.

Bucky’s shirtless; his toned abdomen gleaming with sweat. His expression is hardened, gaze focused on Alexei’s next move.

And Alexei? He’s wearing a wifebeater and sweatpants. Somehow looking both confident and comfortable at the same time. He’d quieted down at some point; going from booming taunts to a calmer, more focused demeanor. He’s sweaty and grinning. You can see his stomach peeking out from under his shirt.

You’re vaguely aware of your own arousal. It thrums hotly through your veins, making your body ache with ignored need. Your boxers feel gross but you’re too lost in your daydreams to care.

All you can think about are Alexei’s massive thighs. And whether or not he’d let you ride them. Or maybe his massive fucking biceps, so thick and biteable. You’re practically drooling just thinking about sinking your teeth into the meat of his arm and—

“You know that they can hear your heartbeats, right?” It’s Walker. You shoot him a scowl before his words register.

“What?”

He nods. Tapping the side of his head. “Enhanced, remember? I hate to break it to you, Duckie, but you’re in a room with three super soldiers.”

You stare at him dumbly for a moment. Then you swallow. “Right, well, I’m just gonna—“

You scramble to grab your water bottle as you hightail it out of the room, face burning with embarrassment. Walker’s laughter following after you.

It’s not until later that you realize the full extent of their enhancements. And just exactly what that means for you and your daydreaming sessions.

The common room is quiet. It’s getting late and most of the team has retired to their rooms. You’re making yourself a late night snack, humming quietly to yourself.

You don’t look up when the elevator dings, but you do when heavy footsteps approach. You already have a stupid little grin on your face. “Hey, ‘Lexei.”

“Duckie.” He greets, voice deep but softer than usual. The nickname sounds nice coming from him. Like a quiet little shared secret instead of the irritating taunt Walker made it out to be. It sends a thrill down your spine

He takes a seat on a barstool, watching you finish up your late-night sandwich. The silence rests comfortable between you two for a moment as you eat.

Your gaze quietly flicks to him, watching him watch you. With anyone else you’d be self-conscious. But something about Alexei has always made you feel safe. It doesn’t matter that you’re in pajamas or that your shirt doesn’t quite cover all your stomach rolls. You don’t feel ashamed around him; something about his confidence that transfers over.

He’s proud of his size, of his strength. And it soothes your brain somehow.

He casually sets an arm on the counter, flexing enough to make the veins in his muscles stand out. And you promptly choke on a bite of sandwich.

You twist away, coughing, cheeks burning with heat. Your boxers, which you’d already changed once today, suddenly soaked with slick.

“Duckie?” Alexei sounds concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Mhm!” You whip back around, forcing a smile. Your eyes watering a little from your coughing fit. “Just peachy!”

He studies you for a moment, then scratches his beard. His expression is strange. Almost… sly. “When I was in Russia, I was adored by everyone.” His accent gets a bit thicker as he speaks and you internally melt.

You shift from foot to foot and nod, wishing you’d chosen anything but light colored pajamas to wear. You can already tell your boxers won’t last; you’re aching just from a few minutes around him.

“I had…” He spreads his hands wide. “… many lovers. I was a hero.”

Jealousy prickles in your chest at the mere thought of someone else getting his love and affection. But you keep your smile plastered on. “Oh, yeah? That sounds nice.”

He continues to watch you. After a moment, he huffs softly. “‘Lena says you are watching me during training.”

Your smile freezes. You cough and look away. “Huh. Weird. I wonder why she said that—“

“Duckie.” Alexei’s tone change is subtle, but it’s effect is catastrophic for you. It’s the quiet edge of hardness; the slight command to his tone.

You shiver, face growing hot. Your quiet, “Yes, sir?” just sort of slips out.

But the whole atmosphere seems to shift. Suddenly his gaze feels hot on your skin; a new sort of tension in the air.

“Do you watch me?” He asks. You swallow and nod. Gaze fixed firmly on the countertop. Your heart is pounding in your chest. Your breath fluttering in your lungs. Your heartbeat pounding between your thighs.

He scoots his stool back, heavy footsteps slowly making their way around to you. Thick, rough fingers slide against your cheek, lifting your chin up. Forcing your gaze to meet his.

“Duckie,” he says lowly. Voice all rumbly and delicious. You feel lightheaded at it all.

“Why do you watch me?” His grip is firm but not rough. Like even with the serum he knows just how much pressure you need.

“Coz you’re…” You gesture to him.

He quirks an eyebrow. “Do you find the Red Guardian to be… attractive?”

“Yes.” The word slips from your lips. And then it’s like the floodgates open. “Fuck, ‘Lexei, you’re like sex incarnate!” You gesture again, face hot. “You’re hot and I’m so horny all the time around you and I don’t know what to do about it and—“

His grip on your chin tightens and your words get cut off as he tugs you forward. He leans down, crashing your lips together in a heated kiss.

You moan and press up into it. His kisses are firm, steady and confident. You kiss back like you need him to breathe.

You coax his mouth open with soft licks of your tongue against his lower lip. The second your tongues brush, he’s groaning. Melting into the kiss and cupping your face like you’re all he’s ever wanted.

It makes you feel powerful. Wanted. Sexy.

He pulls back only to press his mouth to the column of your throat. He kisses slowly, sucking on your skin like he’s trying to mark you up. The thought makes you pathetically wet and you whimper his name. “‘Lexei, please…”

“For you,” he murmurs, “I’d do anything, Duckie.”

You really just meant for him to go back to making out with you, but when his large hands drop to your thighs and he hoists you up, you aren’t complaining.

In fact, your mouth drops open. You’re half certain you cum in your boxers just from that.

He sets you on the counter and runs his hands up to your tummy. “You are…” He shakes his head, gaze almost awed. “Magnificent.”

Your face heats. You duck your head, but he pushes your chin up. His gaze searching yours.

“May I?” He asks, low and quiet. You nod, not quite sure what he’s asking for.

The way he manhandles you is nothing short of mouthwatering. He shifts you around, nudging you to your knees. Your ass up in the air. He grips the back of your pajama pants and pulls at the seam. They rip with a loud tear, revealing your soaked boxers.

“‘Lexei,” you whine, squirming a little. But he lightly smacks the inside of your thigh.

“Shhh, Duckie.” He murmurs. Running his thumb along the damp fabric. Right over your aching dick.

You gasp and jolt. “Fuck!”

“I said, shhh,” he scolds. Giving you another smack. “You must be quiet for me, Duckie.”

You bite your lower lip and nod, stifling a whimper.

It takes a moment of awkward shifting and squirming, but Alexei tugs your boxers off you. Groaning the second he sees you all bare and wet for him.

He drops to one knee and pulls you to the edge of the counter, growling something in Russian.

“‘Lexei,” you whimper, bracing your hands on the countertop. “You don’t have to— Fuck!”

All thoughts of being quiet fly from your head as he licks at you. One long stripe, from your dick to your hole. Your hips jolt, but he keeps you firmly in place.

“Fuck, Alexei!” You gasp out as he starts to go down on you. Your toes curling as he sucks on your dick. “Just like that; oh god!”

“No god,” he mutters against you. “Only the Red Guardian.”

You can’t even huff in laughter at that. He presses one thick finger to your hole and you clench hard at just the tease.

“Please, oh god, Alexei, please!” You beg, dropping to your elbows. He presses his finger in and you cry out. Your head dropping forward against the counter as he slowly fucks his finger deeper into you.

You pant and moan, stars bursting behind your eyes when he crooks his finger just right and swirls his tongue around your dick. You don’t mean to cum so quickly, but you have no warning. Your orgasm smashes into you, making you arch against his hold.

He doesn’t stop there. He groans at the taste of your cum, lapping it up like he’s greedy for it. He presses in another finger, licking and sucking at the slick that spills from your hole.

You’re babbling, mouth dropped open. You can feel his beard rubbing against your sensitive skin and the scrape only adds to your pleasure.

”’Lexei,” you moan. ”’Lexei, fuck, that feels so good! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t—“

You cum again, a yell spilling from your lips. Your vision whites out, everything going hazy around you.

When your vision returns and everything feels less floaty, you weakly turn yourself around to look at Alexei. He’s smirking at you, but it’s somehow soft. He rests his chin on your hip; his hands gently rubbing your thighs.

You exhale and manage a shaky grin. “Okay, I’ll admit it. The Red Guardian rules.”

He chuckles and kisses your inner thigh. “You are a feast, Duckie. I would be delighted to do this again with you.”

“Alright.” Your grin gets bigger. “Promise?”

His answering look makes your stomach flip in anticipation. “Promise.”

[apomekhanes]

my baby here on earth | fic playlist

Alexei Shostakov x OC / Alexei Shostakov x Reader | Thunderbolts | Rated M

What happens when the real you and the real Red Guardian discover you need each other—badly enough to risk it all and throw in with the dysfunctional Thunderbolt family? Is this worth your life if, and when, it goes south? Is it worth trying to trust the man who burned every loyalty he'd ever held?

But you need him as much as he needs you. Maybe it's time to stop pretending and become who you need to be to keep the only real love you've ever had.

read on ao3

[ichigopuddingmuslima]

Do Alexei and John going shopping then bumping into reader who they decide to flirt with (I don't mind picking either but both can be pretty good up to you tho)

Thank you so much for the request!

Warnings: slightly suggestive

Word count: 544

P.S. Afab reader

You casually browsed through the grocery aisles. Your list was completed and now you were just browsing for a sweet treat. There was a pep to your step as you walked and a confident energy oozing out of you. You felt good. You looked amazing. Your hair was pulled back into a messy bun, your lips glossy, jeans tight, a cropped white tank top, and black high heels. You looked like a supermodel. Every person you encountered either gave you a compliment or an envious stare. As you approached the ice cream aisle, you saw two men debating which Ben and Jerry’s flavor to buy. One man was older with greying hair, a large salt and pepper beard, and a large build. He was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a flannel button-down shirt. The other man was younger- only a few years older than you- with blonde hair, neatly shaven beard, and a muscular build. He wore jeans, sneakers, and a WWE t-shirt. As soon as they saw you, they exchanged eye contact and stopped talking. You cocked your head as you tried to recall if you knew them. They looked familiar. 

You gave a friendly wave, “Hey, boys.”

“Hey.”, the young blonde man said. The older man next to him said something in Russian. You didn’t need it translated to know that he thought you were beautiful. You walked closer to them and took the ice cream out of the older man’s hands. 

“Rocky road? Not a favorite of mine.”, you commented as you tilted your head to the side. You knew him but where? You placed the ice cream back in the freezer. 

“What do you recommend?”, the Russian man asked. He looked you up and down. A blush appeared across your face. Then it hit you. He was the Red Guardian, Alexei something and the guy with him was the old Captain America, John Walker. You forced yourself to remain composed. It wasn’t every day that two super soldiers flirted with you. 

“Hmm. I usually prefer the Häagen-Dazs. Ben and Jerry’s is too good. I’ll eat it all in one sitting. While the Häagen-Dazs, I can savor it.”

“So you lack self-control and just have to indulge yourself?”, John asked as he stared at your chest. Instead of hiding yourself, you stuck them out towards him. 

“I can’t get enough of a good thing. I’m a glutton for anything tasty.”

“I'm tasty.”, Alexei says without any shame. Such a line would normally have you rolling your eyes but he said it with such confidence that you couldn't help but giggle. 

Playfully, you swat at his arm. “You're funny. I like you.”

“He's an old man. I think I'm more your style.”, John cuts in. 

“How about both? You think you boys can share? There's plenty of me to go around.” You couldn't help but wink. Alexei let out a laugh and John blushed. 

“Little girl, you don't know what you're getting into.”, Alexei states as he puts a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. You give him and John a bright smile. 

“It wouldn't be the first time I've had two of my holes filled at the same time.”, You reply as you grab a Ben and Jerry's ice cream. 

[romanoffshouse]

POV: Your camera roll if you're a part of the Thunderbolts*

Part 1

[eyelessfaces]

[controld3vil]

letting them pick your weapon

pairings: yelena belova, bucky barnes, john walker, robert reynolds/sentry, ava starr/ghost, taskmaster (comic ver.), alexei shostakov/red guardian x gn!thunderbolts!reader

synopsis: The fact that you value their opinion catches them off guard.

notes -> working on requests rn, but inbox’s still open !! I WANNA WRITE MORE tags/cw: inaccurate characterization/have not seen the film, minor scene mention (it’s in the trailer!), descriptions of weapons (flash bombs, bucky’s grappling hook, retractable shield, emergency teleporter, static boots, weapon gauntlet, combat enhanced gloves) headcanons can be read as platonic/romantic

YELENA BELOVA

-> believed you were joking at first. her? you have lost your mind if you thought she would be a good idea to offer advice to. but because it’s you, she’s willing to consider your preferences and style of combat. most of the team already use guns, tactical knives for hand-to-hand combat. you’re a great candidate for any challenge, so she’s not going to pick something easy. if you wanted easy, you would’ve asked someone else. 

“Well, I’m flattered you think so highly of me,” The former Black Widow turned to you with a delighted grin slowly spreading across her face. It’s obvious how smitten she is after your suggestion regarding the weaponry. Valentina had experts for those kinds of things: weapons, gear, and training. Yet, you sought her out for her opinion. Yelena rarely swoons at compliments, but you make her feel lighter on her feet on rare occasions. 

“Is it so wrong not to?” you jest with a smirk. You continued down the hallway of the Tower. The armory is built with a fingerprint pad at the end of the hall. Once you are allowed access, the bulletproof doors open. 

“You’ve got quite the selection,” Yelena notes, her eyes scanning the close-combat display. A few new additions catch her eye – one’s she’s certain weren’t there last week. It’s obvious you favor hand-to-hand combat over long-range, but she has no intentions of making this easy for you. Yelena knows you enjoy pushing boundaries, not just with weapons, but with strategy, roles, anything that keeps you one step ahead. “You’re still positive you want my advice?”

“Of course!” You beam, scanning down the aisles of the collection Valentina has managed to grab for the team. This was something you wished you had, and not just a temporary use. Still, you’re unfazed by Yelena’s pondering. “You’re one of the best I know of.” 

“That you know of,” She corrects, placing her hands on her hips. She’s thinking carefully now. What to give you. Would you like what she suggests? It shouldn’t matter as much, but Yelena now considers your combat style. The way you navigate around the battlefield, how you look both ways before crossing an alleyway. You’re very meticulous when it comes to closed operations, which is why she works so well with you. 

You see her grab something from a barrel, close to the heavy weapons. She holds it in her hand, feeling the weight of it. Her palms bounce the spherical object up and down as if it were a baseball and not something to be messed with. Yelena seems satisfied, as you can tell by the glint in her eyes when she turns to you. Her grin is devilish as she picks up a few more and lays them out in her hands. 

“Flash bombs, huh…” Your expression is neutral, studying them like an ancient artifact. You rarely use them, as it really depends on the mission. If it were a search and rescue, you wouldn’t think to use flash bombs. But then again, it’s slowly that you realize how typical your preferences are. “Never used them.”

“Exactly the point,” the ex-assassin beams with a lighthearted jab. “We rarely use flash bombs– makes it more fun when we do.” 

“So you’re suggesting them because you think they’re fun?” You crossed your arms, a smug smile tugging at your lips. You knew better than to expect Yelena to take your request seriously. She was trying to make peace with a past she rarely spoke of. But still, she had a way of making her life a hell of a lot more interesting.

“Flash bombs are like party tricks–best when no one sees them coming,” she said with a pout, holding one up like it was a priceless treasure.

BUCKY BARNES

-> question your mental fortitude. are you serious? but then he listens to you spouting about his days as the Winter Soldier. he doesn’t think highly of those days but the way you boast about his expertise is almost bizarre. do you admire him? that makes him feel oddly appreciated and conflicted. however because of your persistent pleas (you said please once!), he complies and leads you to his room. 

“Where did you think we were going?” The team leader grumbled, eyes fixed ahead as he passed Walker’s door without so much as a glance. There was a hint of playfulness in his voice–subtle, nearly invisible–but you caught it. You always did with him. 

He didn’t look at you. He rarely did when he was in one of these moods. Still, you followed close behind, practically on his heels like a loyal, overly eager puppy. And you couldn’t have looked more pleased. Because the truth was, you never expected to be allowed into Bucky’s room. 

“I mean no one’s allowed in your room,” you said, your voice light, stating the obvious. 

That made him stop. 

Bucky turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. To anyone else, he probably seemed annoyed–grim even. But you had spent enough time watching the subtle gestures to notice the truth. The slight droop in his eyes. That flicker of something softer. 

“Well– you’re the leader,” you added quickly, voice quieter now, “and out of respect, I just… never thought I’d be invited.” Now he looks at you even more deeply. Great, now he looks like a kicked puppy. 

“I mean, I appreciate the kind assumption, but really–” he pauses, eyes locking onto yours with surprising intensity. “You’re always welcome. If you need anything, that is.” 

You nod, taking in the quiet sincerity in his words. For a moment, it felt like you two had cleared the air. The weight of the conversation felt lighter, more comfortable. 

When he opens the door, he steps aside to let you enter first. 

Bucky’s room is nothing out of the ordinary. It was plain and expected, maybe, but not without hints of the man who lives there. A few photos hang crookedly on the wall. Clothes are scattered on the floor, like they were left there in a hurry or maybe forgotten. He doesn’t spend much time here, but it’s undeniably his space.  

“Sorry for the mess.” He passes by you and heads to his closet. You watch as he grabs a case, pulling it down with the kind of care that says it’s something important. You have no idea what’s inside, but you can guess. What screams Bucky Barnes? Probably a custom-modified handgun. Maybe a combat knife with a story behind it.

“Here it is,” he says, setting the case down on the bed. You stare at it, curiosity buzzing as he unlatches the safety lock. His gaze flicks to yours for a split second before he opens it. And when you finally see what’s inside, you can’t help it. 

You laugh.

Bucky turns to you, almost abruptly. “What’s so funny?”

Your eyes cross his. “Is this the grappling hook you used to destroy that military vehicle when you were chasing us?” Recognition flickers in his face. The realization hits him–it is the same one. And for a moment, his expression is as unforgettable as the day you first saw him, tearing across the empty drylands on that motorcycle like something out of a war film.

“Oh… right,” Bucky says, rubbing the back of his neck, guilt creeping into his voice. “Sorry. I didn’t exactly plan that part out.”

“It’s alright…” You said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. The light streaming through the window catches the gleam of his metal arm, making it shine with an almost haunting beauty. “We're past that now.”

His eyes held a longing, a deep, mysterious intensity that you couldn’t quite figure out. He glances back at the grappling hook, it’s been since the beginning of your journey together as a team. He hasn’t used it since then, storing it as a keepsake, but now he’s looking at you.

“It’s yours now."

JOHN WALKER

-> gives you a skeptical look. you know yourself best, why would you go out of your way to ask him? doesn’t turn down the suggestion, but will constantly ask you why. He's been in the military, served two tours in Afghanistan. All he’s ever good for is punching things and shooting. And now, Valentina has given him a mediocre shield in place of Captain America’s. It’s safe to say he doesn’t choose his weapons, he earns them.

“I thought Yelena would be the one to ask, not you.” Walker doesn't seem just mildly annoyed; no, he’s genuinely in disbelief. No one’s ever asked him for a weapon before, and while his options were somewhat limited, he’s beginning to think that with the super serum coursing through him means he’s capable of more than he used to be. But his go-tos have always been the same: his shield and gun.

“You’re a strong guy,” you shrug casually, stripping off the protective gear you’d brought along. The two of you had just finished an operation, and the exhaustion was settling in, yet you couldn’t ignore the curiosity that spurred your suggestion. “I trust your instincts.”

Walker just stares at you, the look on his face speaking volumes. Seriously? He’s caught off guard. After everything that’s happened, now you’re asking him? But you can see he’s weighing your words, even if it’s only for a moment.

“You should trust your intuition,” he says, his tone softening just a little, though the faint skepticism still lingers. “Choose whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

“Comfortable?” You raise an eyebrow, pretending to think it over. “Well, if comfortable means picking a weapon that might get me killed, then… sure, I’m all in.” You smile, as if this were no big deal, even though deep down, the weight of your decision isn’t lost on you. “I trust you enough to make it interesting.” 

The former soldier exhales, clearly irritated, though mostly with himself. You weren’t going to give up, and he knew it. If he let this go now, you’d just come back tomorrow with the same question. You were rarely this persistent, but when you were, there’s no way of convincing you out of it. He could either make a decision now or risk you asking him again later. 

“Fine,” he muttered, scanning the armory. 

As you busied yourself, putting away gear and organizing supplies, Walker moved around the racks, his eyes flickering over the options. But the more he looked, the more he found himself caught in a mental loop. 

The rifle? Too heavy. That pistol? Not enough range for someone with your skills. That polearm? Too awkward for you to wield efficiently.

Finding a weapon that matched your needs, something that fit your style, was proving to be harder than he anticipated. He muttered under his breath, his frustration slowly building. Then he stole a glance at you, assessing. His eyes narrowed, running through the possibilities. He paused. The mission… in that moment. He remembered how you struggled to dodge the bullets while also taking down some thugs. His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he sighed and reached for something on a high shelf. 

Before he makes it down, you’re already by his side. 

“Whatcha got there?” You look eager, excited by the fact that Walker was this tolerant of your persistent pestering, that he’s willing to go through with his promise. 

“A retractable shield.” He removed the cover, and there it was. The shield was smaller compared to Walker’s, but confident in size to contract in and out like a gadget. It had a charred black matte finish, with dark silver lining across the edges. It had an adjustable cuff. It resembled similarly to a Wakandan shield, which Bucky saw during his time there. It was beautiful. “It was a prototype Valentina had ordered for me, but I never used it. I got this one already,” he gestured to his shield, clasped behind his back. 

“If you like, you can keep this one.” 

“Wait—really?!” 

“I mean— I don’t use it, so it’s all yours,” he says delicately, placing it into your hands. “I can teach you a few tricks, too, if you like.”

ROBERT REYNOLDS/SENTRY

-> extra extra nervous. you asked the guy who doesn’t need weapons or any kind of gadget to fight. if any of the members were in the room, they would be looking at you like you were crazy. bob’s first answer is no, but after seeing you pout at his refusal, he’s quick to please you. but then again, he has no idea what he’s doing. 

“Okay! Knives, guns—uh, what are you looking for?” You appreciate the effort of his trying to act like he knows what he’s doing. But he’s trying desperately to meet your expectations. Bob looks nervous, like a lamb to the slaughter in the weapons room, jumping from cabinet to cabinet, looking at all of the variety. 

“Just something new to try out,” You grin, letting his nervous energy follow him around. You stand by the doorway and watch as Bob tries to analyze each piece of equipment. 

“Uhm—are you looking for something practical or—“ 

“Bob,” that startles him, making him freeze momentarily before meekly turning to face you. He was expecting you in mad rage, yet you weren’t. You just had a cute, goofy smile on your face. “Pick something with your heart. I know whatever you choose will be fine.” 

It’ll be fine. He thinks to himself, before nodding, allowing his nerves to slowly subside. Bob takes a deep breath, and in slow strides, he reaches out to something. 

When he turns, your gaze follows, all innocent and cute. 

“Ahh, an emergency teleporter!” You’re in awe because it was something you didn’t think Bob would pick as his first choice. There were plenty of gadgets you thought of— force fields, bulletproof vests, iron-plated brass knuckles. 

“Thought it might come in handy,” he nervously laughs, fiddling with the device, not knowing what to do with his hands. “Uhm— you know, in case you have to go on missions with me— and I don’t know— if something were to happen—“ 

You could practically see his thoughts unraveling from where you stood, Bob always rambled when he was anxious. But the fact that he was worrying about your safety left a warm, fluttery feeling in your chest. 

“Hey– I get it,” you say gently, taking the teleporter from his hand. Only then does he realize he’d been speaking out loud, not just thinking it. He freezes, suddenly stiff and wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights. Embarrassed and tense. You offer a reassuring smile, one that says you don’t mind if anything, you appreciate it.

“It’s smart to have a backup plan,” you add. “And hey, maybe once this mission’s over, we’ll use it to teleport straight to that pizza place.”

AVA STARR/GHOST

-> pokes fun at you. jokes about all the possibilities of how you’ll slip up with whatever item she picks. obviously you don’t take it to heart, but ava’s light-hearted nature is a breath of fresh air— after so many grueling missions, her jokes are something that keeps you motivated for the next. need advice on using the element of surprise? she’s your gal! 

“I mean, come on–sneaking in with suppressed pistols but still blowing the whole operation?” Ava giggles, clearly enjoying herself while you look away, pretending to be interested in the horizon. 

“It was one of my first missions, okay?” you snap, pouting as a hot mix of embarrassment and irritation bubbles up inside you.

“Yeah, yeah—amateur,” she teases, ducking her head and biting back another laugh. 

“Oh, like you didn’t have any screw-ups when you started?”

“Don’t even get me started.” 

You raise a brow. “Well? I’m listening.” 

“I’m not telling you,” Ava says with a teasing hum as she strolls toward the armory, already scanning the gear selection menu. You trail after her, fuming. 

“I just told you my most embarrassing story, and you won’t even share yours? That’s not fair!” Steam practically pours from your ears. You’d laid bare your humiliating failure, and Ava–cool, composed Ava, refuses to give even a scrap in return. 

But instead of responding, she flashes a sly smile. “Because I got you something better.” She stops in front of a reinforced gear locker, a sleek metal container stacked with tactical essentials: vests, gloves, helmets. Everything you’d expect. But apparently, Ava has something different in mind. You pause, watching as she places her hand on the scanner. With a soft click and mechanical hiss, a hidden shelf slides out. 

It gleams. Brand new. Sleek like fresh sneakers out of the box. Ava hums before she accesses the armory, heading to the gear selection. 

“For when you’re trying not to sound like a herd of elephants,” she smirks, nodding to a pair of matte-black static boots. She leans casually against the frame, one eyebrow raised in silent amusement.

You blink at her, deadpan.

“Seriously?” 

“I mean, I can hear you walk from your bedroom to the kitchen–from my room,” Ava says, casually shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

You blink. That’s new information.

“Wait… I’m just a loud walker?” She gives you a pointed look, and suddenly it all clicks. “That explains why Walker’s always giving me weird looks,” you mutter, half to yourself. “Guess my feet have a mind of their own.”

Ava snorts. “No, love–you just have really bad shoes.”

TONY MASTERS/TASKMASTER

-> looks your way in deep silence. for how long you’ve known each other, you’re starting to believe tony chooses not to talk. he expresses much more with his actions, such as offering you extra bullets, or medical tape if things go south. tony is an experienced man with many talents, he’s able to copy and replicate his opponent’s moves. he’s done the same with teammates, with you when training, allowing you to point out the mistakes you hadn’t seen there before. sometimes you think he knows you better than yourself. 

“A weaponized gauntlet, huh?” you say, not even pretending to be surprised when Tony hands it to you, seemingly out of thin air. No trip to the armory, no formal request. Apparently, Tony knew you were going to ask him about this and waited for you to ask. 

You study the gauntlet closely, fingers tracing its sleek design. Every button, switch, and panel feels deliberate. Precise. You press one. Click! A retractable blade slides out with satisfying ease. Another press–a grappling line. Then a short-range stun charge. Then a blinding flash ejector. You can’t help it. A grin creeps across your face.

This was so him. 

Tony embodied versatility in his work. He didn’t rely on brute force–he struck with speed, precision, and timing. This gauntlet? This gauntlet was just like him: tactical, efficient, and sharp.

“Thank you,” you say softly, still a bit in awe as you reset the device to its default mode. Your eyes are locked on the gauntlet, taking in every detail. But Tony’s? His eyes haven’t let you once. 

If the circumstances were different, you might’ve mistaken this moment for something romantic.

“It’s pretty neat, has everything I need,” you say, trying to fill the silence with something, anything. You don’t mind the quiet, not really, but sometimes the stillness between you feels too heavy not to break. Tony doesn’t reply. Not verbally, at least. But you can tell his focus has shifted, drawn in closer. He’s leaning slightly toward you now, just enough for you to notice the space closing. 

You feel compelled to try the gauntlet on. As you unfasten the straps and slide it onto your wrist, it clamps down, not tightly, threatening. More like a perfectly fitted bracelet. Secure and purposeful. There’s a subtle hum as the device calibrates, adjusting to the shape of your hand. The pressure eases, and it begins to feel more like a part of you than an accessory. Almost like a second skin. 

Tiny scanners flicker along your fingertips, mapping them precisely–each digit now linked to a specific function, a silent promise of the power you had. You lift your pointer finger, and almost instantly, a blade slides out with fluid precision. 

“This feels like straight-up nanotech…” You murmur, raising your wrist toward the ceiling light, eyes wide with wonder. You probably look like a kid on Christmas morning. If a civilian saw you now, they might assume you’d completely lost it. 

“Where did you even get this?” you ask, unable to hide your curiosity. Tony tilts his head, deliberate and unreadable. You already know he won’t answer, but that never stopped you from asking him pointless questions anyway. It’s become a quiet repetition between you. 

You lower your arm, bring the gauntlet down to chest level–just enough to create a sort of invisible line between you and him. A barrier, but a playful one. 

“If you ever need it,” you say, mimicking his earlier head tilt with a smile, “just ask.”

ALEXEI SHOSTAKOV/RED GUARDIAN

-> very excited. so excited you asked him! alexei is really a lovable guy— even though he often doesn’t use any weapons or gadgets, he thinks of his teammates whenever he goes out window shopping. he sees a new brand Glock 19 by the window? yelena would love it! an energy stabilizer on the dark web? bob’s gonna flip! but you? good old you get special treatment because he’ll personally get you whatever you want. 

“When I heard you needed a new weapon, I was so happy!” Alexei beams as the two of you make your way into the living room. His accent thickens with excitement as he waves a hand. “Not in a bad way, of course, but it’s good, da? Trying something new!” 

“You get me, Alexei,” you say, arms crossing instinctively. Apparently, you weren’t the only one picking up on your growing restlessness. Same weapons, same tactics, and same rhythm, it all started to feel stale. You figured switching things up might help you see things differently. 

Everyone on the team had their niche. Alexei, with his brute strength. Bucky, his guns, and that metal arm. Ava could phase through about anything. Everyone had their thing. And you? You’d been stuck in the same position for far too long. 

“That is why I was so excited when I found this,” he says, crouching to pull a box from under the couch with a mischievous grin. 

Your brows lift, your curiosity piques. “What’ve you got?”

“Close your eyes!” he orders, and you obey, hands outstretched like a kid waiting for a surprise. Behind your closed lids, you hear the ripple of tape, the crinkle of bubble wrap, and then clank... a solid metallic sound, followed by the stretch of fabric. Then something is gently placed into your palms. 

It’s lighter than you expect. Smooth and flexible, but as your fingers trace further, you find the contrast, the cold, hard metal beneath the fabric. 

“Open your eyes!” he announces, barely able to contain his excitement. 

You do. And you’re impressed.

Combat-enhanced gloves, sleek Kevlar-weave across the surface, making your hands feel impossibly light and agile. Carbon-titanium plates reinforce the knuckles and strike zones, and the inside? A smart gecko-grip polymer, designed to boost grip on any surface. 

You stared, stunned. Not just by the gloves, but by the fact that Alexei went through the trouble to find them. Valentina might have gotten you something, if she wasn’t constantly ranting about budget cuts. But this? This came from someone who genuinely wanted to help. 

“You really are the best,” you say, laughing softly as you wrap your arms around his neck, the gloves still clutched in your hands. He lets out a big, satisfied huff of a laugh, and when you pull back, his smile nearly outshines the room.

Who could hate him? You hadn’t known Alexei that long, but somehow he already understood you better than most. 

“I know you like your shooting and whatnot,” he says, mock innocent. You roll your eyes and give him a playful jab to the shoulder. 

“But I also know,” he grins, “you really like punching things. So I thought–'Hey, you know who’d love combat gloves?’”

You can’t stop smiling. It actually hurts a little, but you don’t care. 

“Then I saw them, just sitting there in the market! I couldn’t believe it. Like the universe wanted me to buy them for you!”

“Universe said received,” you say, voice bubbling with gratitude and affection. You look down at the gloves, then back at Alexei. You’ll get him something too. Not because you owe him, but because it’s rare to be known like this. And his gift? 

It’s perfect.

[lives-in-midgard]

Some new behind the scenes picture of the Thunderbolts*

[starrbishops]

⟡Risk⟡

(Bob Reynolds x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob have feelings for each other. Which would be great, considering you're best friends; the problem is neither of you thinks the other likes you back. - ao3 version

Word Count: 3.8k

Notes: Set after the events of Thunderbolts*, friends to lovers, fluff, a little hurt/comfort, terrible wingman Walker, Bucky and Alpine (my beloved), New Avengers movie night, discussion of pipe bombs/mail bombs (not plot relevant but stay with me here), first kiss

a/n: It's me again. Thunderbolts fanfiction author starrbishops. And I'm bringing you another cute, fluffy friends to lovers Bob Reynolds Avengers Tower story that is sure to give you a cavity. I give you, Risk (titled after the Gracie Abrams song of similar themes)

At first you think you’re imagining it. 

The fact that Bob always sits next to you on movie nights, smiles whenever you walk in a room. You chalk it up to friendship. After all, you and Bob have grown close ever since the Void incident. You’ve made sure to let him know you’re here for him, no matter what, any time of the day. He’s taken you up on it a couple times, coming by your room in the middle of the night when the thoughts in his head are too loud. You’ve sat with him, held him till it quiets and he could finally sleep.

Watching Bob sleep, you forget he’s the most powerful being on earth. He’s just Bob, snoring quietly, clinging to you like a koala. He looks peaceful, cute even. It’s one of the things you like most about him. And you like just about everything about him.

Because it’s more than just the late night sleepovers and the kind greetings in the morning. You notice Bob pays just a little more attention to the household chores that pertain to you than to anyone else. He’s doing a load of laundry? Yours is the first done, already folded and left on your bed. Meanwhile, he texts Walker to let him know his clothes are in the dryer and to go get them in 30 minutes.

If you’re doing the dishes after dinner one night? He joins you. Sometimes it takes over completely. You insist you’ve got it; he insists he wants to. After a few nights of this, you give up on trying to stop him; you hate the dishes, and besides, he always seems happy to take over for you. In fact, once you start letting him take over, you find him joining you for the most mundane tasks. When you’re putting the dishes away, he’s suddenly there sorting the utensils. When you’re going to the grocery store, he’s the first to volunteer to go with you.

It’s not that you’re mad about it; you love spending time with Bob. He’s more than just the nervous guy from the vault, he’s sweet, funny, considerate. It’s just that the more he does these things, and the more time you spend with him, the more you fall for him.

It’s like everytime he smiles, your heart stops beating for a second. Any time his hand brushes yours, you feel like electricity is running across your skin. Once when he stretched, his sweatshirt rode up just a little, revealing his cut abs and a sharp v-line dipping into his sweatpants. You swear your brain waves turned into static for a minute.

You don’t know what to do. You could just tell him, except you can’t work up the nerve. It’s a little laughable, actually. You, an Avenger, someone who’s killed and fought more people than you can count, can’t tell a guy you like him.

You’re not even sure if Bob himself likes you back. Sure, he does seem to seek you out in every situation, always putting you first on his to-do list, but that could just be him being friendly, right? Why would he like someone like you, of all people? Besides, he’s still struggling with his mental and physical health after the trauma of the Sentry Project. You don’t want to be the thing that curbs his improvement, or makes him worse. Besides, if he doesn’t like you, you risk ruining the entire team dynamic. You’re a ragtag group of weirdos, but you love these weirdos like family, and you wouldn’t risk anything that might destroy your bond. Even if that means dying inside every time Bob sits a little too close to you.

Like now, as the seven of you sit together in the common room, watching some old Russian action movie Alexei picked. Yelena had begged him to choose something normal for once, but he’d insisted it was, in his words, ‘cinematic excellence.’ Honestly, you couldn’t tell if it was good or not, considering it was entirely in Russian with no subtitles. From Bucky’s confused expression and Yelena’s look of embarrassment, it wasn’t very good.

You couldn’t be paying less attention. You were seated on the couch between Bob and Walker, relaxing against the cushions. It’d been a long week for all of you. You’d just gotten back from a mission in South America, and you all needed to take a load off. The minute you walked in, Bob was sitting on the couch, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. He rushed over, immediately giving you a hug, making your stomach drop. 

“I missed you.” he whispered in your ear, and you felt like your knees were going to give out.

But you survived, and here you sat, just another Friday movie night to make it through without either snapping and kissing Bob senseless or spontaneously combusting.

“This is an…interesting movie.” he muttered into your ear. 

“Interesting is an understatement.” You chuckled as you watched Alexei cheer as one of the bad guys was blown up with comically bad special effects. “At least he’s enjoying it.” You were enjoying it a little too. Not the movie itself, but the fact you got to spend time with Bob. He'd been whispering comments into your ear all night, ranging from jabs at the poor quality of the film to just random tidbits about his day. You smiled at each one of them, just at the sound of his voice in your ear. You’d missed him too, his comforting presence always beside you, his kindness that lifted just a little bit of weight off your shoulders.

Bob yawned a little, his eyes shutting as he tried to stifle it, lest Alexei hear and pause the movie to explain everything he’d missed. “Tired?” you joked, him nodding in response.

“Long day.” he mumbled, leaning back into the cushions. “Did all the laundry from the mission. Yours is in your room. I left your favorite sweater on your dresser.”

You turned to face him. “The blue one? How’d you know?”

He just shrugged. “You always wear it.”

You felt your face go a little hot at that, turning back to the TV screen to hopefully disguise your blush. This was the kind of thing that Bob just did, small acts of kindness that showed that he knew you, more than you’d even realized you let on.

Bob yawned again, this time stretching his arms out. You focused your eyes straight ahead, fearing another brain buffer like the last incident. Unfortunately, you couldn’t escape it; Bob’s lowered arm landed behind you on the sofa, encircling you, with his hand resting on your shoulder.

Did Bob Reynolds really just do the yawn-arm-around-you trick? The man with the power of a thousand suns just used a middle school dating tactic on you. You felt like a teenager on a first date. Your mind raced as you tried to find a plausible explanation for this. It’s not like physical touch is too out there for Bob. You’ve slept by each other’s sides plenty of times. Still, this feels different. Where that was comfort in the face of pain, this is out of nowhere. Bob touches you because he wants to. Your brain felt like putty, melting down in the heat of his touch around your shoulders. 

You chalked up what you did next to your lack of brain function in the moment. You leaned against him, resting your head against his chest. He felt solid beneath you. You forgot sometimes how strong he was, the way the Sentry Project had changed him. It was strange to say, considering you’d never known him before. Bob felt familiar to you, like you’d known him all your life.

You dared to look up at Bob, seeing how his eyes stayed fixed on the TV. The film on the screen lights them up, revealing the blue hues that appear when the light hits them just right. They’re beautiful.

Neither of you says anything for a while. You just sit together, in comfortable silence, watching Alexei excitedly explain the symbolism of the film to Ava, who sits curled up on the floor half-asleep. Yelena and Walker snack on the popcorn bowl between them, while Bucky appears to zone out as he pets Alpine, lying asleep in his lap. At one point, he glances over at you, furrowing his brow as he sees you and Bob. You and Bob are close, everyone knows that. You’ve just never given the impression of being this touchy together. He tilts his head at you, asking What’s going on here? You purse your lips, giving him a confused expression that says I honestly couldn’t tell you.

And the movie’s over, but neither you nor Bob move a muscle. “Good movie, eh?” Alexei asks as the credits roll, looking over at you and Bob across the couch. “You two look, eh…comfortable.”

You don’t know who moves first, you or Bob, but you both spring up, scooting away from each other. You hear Walker grumble something next to you, probably a teasing joke. Thankfully, Yelena takes the heat off you by beginning her critiques of the movie. It’s like every movie night, she turns into a film critic afterwards. 

You glance up at Bob, seeing that he’s just as red as you are. It calms you a little, seeing him in the same boat of embarrassment as you. But it also skyrockets your anxiety, wondering if he regrets it, if he didn’t actually mean anything by it, if you misread the situation. 

After a few minutes, Bob clears his throat. “I’m, uh, gonna head to bed. Long day.” he chuckles, glancing over at you in the process. John agrees with him, the rest of the team saying their goodnights as the two men walk off to the elevator. 

You try to focus on the lively discussion Yelena, Ava and Alxei are currently having about the logistics of planting pipe bombs, but your thoughts are still full of Bob. The way his arm felt around you, the feel of his breath just brushing past the top of your head. You forgot how big he was, sometimes. He could completely envelop you in his arms when he hugged you. Once you’d compared your hands, his being comically larger than yours. It made your mind drift towards dirtier things, imaging Bob in your bed, the way he could use his hands.

You shook yourself out of it as Bucky plopped down next to you, still holding Alpine. He just sits quietly for a moment, before Alpine meows quietly, causing him to clear his throat.

“I-uh, Alpine, would like to know what was going on there with you and Bob.” his voice is just above a whisper, trying to avoid the others jumping in with their opinions.

You shake your head, facing him. “I have no clue. He just did that.”

“He just…laid your head on his chest?”

“Well, I mean…it’s not…I don’t even know.” you flop back, covering your eyes with your hands. “I don’t know what’s happening anymore.”

You feel a sharp prick against your leg, then another. You move your hand to see Alpine crawl into your lap, setting herself up comfortably. You gently pet her soft fur, the monotony calming you.

“She likes you.” Bucky comments, moving his metal arm to stroke her as well. “It’s no wonder Bob does too.”

You pause for a moment, just staring at Bucky.  “I’m old, not stupid. I know what a guy with a crush looks like.”

You go back to petting Alpine, focusing on the rhythm of your hands on her pale fur. “I don’t know about that…”

“Hey.” Bucky looks you right in the eye, hsi metal hand on your shoulder. “You’re a good kid. So’s he. You’d be good together.” he lays back, yawning slightly. “Besides, I’m tired of watching you too dance around each other. You know, if this was the 40’s you’d be engaged at this point.”

You chuckle, even as your thoughts still swirl with worries.

“Bucky!” Alexei interrupts them, “If Winter Soldier was to send pipe bomb through mail, how would he go about it?”

Bucky looks a mix of shocked and disappointed. “I…don’t know how to answer that.”

“I do!” Ava launches into her own argument. You and Bucky just laugh as you watch them fight, your mind moving away from the brown haired boy to the logistics of bribing the USPS to send a bomb for you.

Meanwhile, Bob is starfished out on his bed, staring into his ceiling.

“I don’t think she likes me.”

“Of course she does!” John insists, continuing his pacing at the foot of the bed. “I thought that trick was sure to work.”

“We’re not in middle school, John!” Bob sits up. “It was stupid. And now she probably thinks I'm a weirdo.”

John shrugs. “I don’t know, it seems like she was into it.”

Bob scoffs. “Yeah right. I’m screwed.”

“Hey.” John joins him on the bed, gripping his shoulders, eye contact unwavering. “You can do this. You are going to get the girl, Bob. It may be hard, but love is worth it.”

Bob just stares back at him for a moment, wondering what his life has come to now that the divorced ex Captain America is his wingman.

“Nice pep talk, Walker.” he pulls away, flopping back down, covering his eyes. “I’m doomed.”

“You are not doomed.” he leans over Bob, moving his hands out of his face. “Look, do you believe in love, Bob?”

Bob is quiet. “I believe she’s gonna think we’re in love if you keep doing shit like this. Get off me.” he shoves John aside. “But yeah, sure. Love, and whatever.”

Bob does believe in love, although he’s never really known it properly. An alcoholic dad and a mentally ill mom will do that to you. For years, he thought love was just some lie that people tell to excuse or justify their terrible relationships. He knew now he was wrong. You showed him he was wrong. 

Sure he’s been in relationships before, but nothing serious. Usually just some casual fun that made the highs that the drugs gabe him just that much better. You were the first person who he really felt a connection to, the first person who he wanted something real with. Part of him still worried he wasn’t good enough for you. After all, you were an Avenger, a hero. Hell, you’d saved him twice over on the first day of knowing him. What could he have to offer you? He was a former meth addict slacker from Florida with no future before the Sentry Project. He was trying to be more, to really find himself, build a life with the team. He wanted you in that life. Still, he wondered if he could ever deserve you, if anyone could, for that matter.

“Listen man.” John grabs his shoulder yet again, a sign of what is sure to be a riveting motivational speech. “You and her, you’ve got something special. I can see it. She’s into you, Bob. You just gotta believe in yourself. Make a move!”

Bob just nods, gripping Walker’s shoulder with his opposite arm. “What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?!” he asks frustratedly.

“Okay, doing her chores for her is clearly not enough. I’m gonna be straight with you Bob my boy, she’s a little oblivious.”

Normally he wouldn’t stand for anyone insulting or speaking remotely ill of you, but Walker did have a point. He’d spent the last few months making a conscious effort to pull your attention, going out of his way just to make you smile. Even Walker managed to pick up that he liked you from that. Yet still, you seemed oblivious.

“Maybe it’s not that” he mutters.

“What?” “Maybe she does know, and she just doesn’t like me.”

Walker sighs incredulously. “Bob, c’mon man. It’s not that, I guarantee you-”

“That’s what you said about the last plan! What do you even know about love, Walker? What makes you such an expert?” Walker goes quiet, clenching his jaw. “Fine. you think you’re the expert. Do it yourself.” With that, he stomps off and out of the room, slamming the door as loudly as possible behind him.

Bob just groans, laying back on his bed. He has no chance. What was he even thinking? You’d never like him. What was there to like?

He drifted off into sleep, his head floating with pity and self-loathing.

The two of you don’t talk about movie might. He chalks it up to disinterest. He tries not to hound you for the next few days. Doesn’t bother you when you’re alone in the kitchen, despite how much he wants to help, just to see you smile, hear your laugh.

You and Bucky are sent out soon on a weeks-long mission. Romania, apparently. You’re off the grid, strictly no contact with anyone. It’s torture. At least he could see you before, put a face to the yearning. Now, it just feels like a black hole inside him, swallowing everything up. He can’t sleep. Barely eats. He just thinks about you. Misses you. 

It’s not like you haven’t been on long missions before. That he could deal with. It’s like withdrawal, mixed with regret at how he avoided you prior to your leaving. The memories of you feel so far away now, leaving him with nothing to hold onto.

One night he woke with a start to the sound of knocking on his door. Rubbing his eyes, he read his alarm clock; 3:18 AM. Who the hell was here at this hour? Maybe Walker coming to force him to train early with him in Bucky’s absence, or Alexei with some middle of the night marketing pitch. He was proved wrong, opening the door to find you standing there, out of breath, still in your tactical gear. You’d just gotten home.

“Hey.” you mumble, quiet and breathy. 

“Hey.” he says back, instinctively reaching for you. “You’re home.”

“Yeah.” you affirm, nodding sharply. “Uh, mission was good, went well, I just…” you cover your mouth, stifling a sob.

“Hey.” he immediately puts his arms around you, one hand moving to stroke your hair. “You’re okay. I’m here. I’m here.”

He hears you sniffle a little, before wrapping your arms around his midriff, clinging onto him like a lifeline. He just holds you tight, mumbles reassurances into the crown of your head. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

He forgets all his doubts, all the ways you are infinitely better than him. He sees you hurting, and he can’t have that. It physically pains him, seeing you in tears. Maybe he doesn’t deserve you. Maybe he has nothing to offer you. But he can do this. He can be there for you in the middle of the night, ready to fight off whatever pain plagues you, anything that could harm you. He can hold you, carefully, as if you’re something precious to protect, because you are.

“I-I’m better now.” you mutter, pulling away slightly. Bob releases his grasp, though his hands remain on your waist and head, blue eyes still looking down into yours. “It’s nothing, I’m just, I’m being crazy.”

“You wanna talk about it?” he questions, hand sliding down to cup your cheek. He can feel the skin is slightly wet from tears. He feels a little part of his heart snap in half.

You shake his head, leaning back into him. Just as before , you rest your head on his chest, just breathing in and out, catching your breath. It’s something you do when you return from missions, he’s noticed. Deep, rhythmic breaths as he hugs you, as if you’re reassuring yourself that this is real.

“You wanna lay down?” he asks, feeling you nod your head against him. “Okay.” he mutters, “I got you.” he steps away, taking your hand in his as he walks to the bed, pulling back the blanket for you to climb in.

You rest your head on his shoulder, letting him put his arms around you once more. He could stay like this forever, he thinks. 

“You’re my best friend, y’know”

He perks up at your words, raising his head to look at you. You just stare blankly off into the expanse of his room. “I am?”

You nod. “You are”

He’s not sure how to respond to this. “Thanks?” he settles on after a brief silence.

“And all that time, I kept having these nightmares that-that I’d come back and you’d be gone, or hurt, or you’d hate me, and I just, it drove me crazy, to the point where I’d barely sleep-”

“Hey.” he cuts you off, one hand pulling your chin up to look at him. “I’m not going anywhere. Ever. And I could never, ever hate you.” he rubs one thumb against your cheek softly, repeating himself quietly. “I could never hate you.”

You finally look up at him. It’s not sadness in your eyes, but something else. Longing. He recognizes it, from all the nights he’s spent alone, thinking of you. The days spent watching you idle about the tower, just grateful to be in your presence. It’s something he’s never been on the receiving end of. It’s a little strange. But addictive.

 You both sit in silence for a moment, unsure what to do next. He leans down, a little closer to you. Fuck it, he thinks.

He kisses you.

And it’s everything he’s dreamed; your lips are soft, your hands run through his hair, pulling him in closer. It’s gentle, not rushed. It’s a culmination, but not yet a climax. A confession, finally, out in the open.

When he pulls back, it’s just barely, his face still mere inches from yours. He can feel your breath against his lips as you laugh, just a little.

“I thought I was crazy.” he hears you mumble. He opens his eyes, and you’re smiling. God, how he’s missed that sight. “I thought you were just being really nice to me because we’re friends.”

“Sorta.” he brushes a loose strand of hair from your face. “I did it because I love seeing you happy.” he smiles, small but real. “Like this.”

You just grin, leaning back in to press another quick kiss to his lips. Almost immediately he pulls you back in, this one deeper, passionate. He puts everything into it. All the yearning, the doubt, the love he feels. He pours it into this. Even if he can’t, won’t say it just yet, he gives you this, he gives you himself in this one kiss.

When you finally pull back, this time you’re left breathless, smiling even wider than before. It warms his heart, knowing he did this, because you want him.

“I like you a lot, you know.” you say. He chuckles at the hilarity of the statement at this point.

“I like you too.” he presses a kiss to your forehead. This one is an affirmation, a promise of more to come. “I like you so, so much.”

a/n: I love Bob. I love the idea of Avengers movie night. Been working on various conepts of this one for a while and it's finally come together and I really like it. Part two w/ smut coming soon >:) It ain't much, but it's honest work.