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tinydefector · 14 days ago

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Learning How -XIX

Bob reynolds x trans male reader.

Warnings: classic thunderbolts warnings. Mention of past drug use.

Word count: 4.2k

Masterlist

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The kitchen was filled with the warm, savory aroma of the roast John had in the oven, Bob stood at the counter, meticulously chopping vegetables so that they could go in when they were ready. The two moved around each other with a practiced ease. It was one of those rare, quiet evenings in the Tower where everyone seemed to be off doing their own thing, and it had become Bob and John's thing to cook. Bob enjoyed that he could work with John without getting yelled at for not doing something correctly.

“You nearly have those carrots, potatoes and pumpkin ready, Bobby,” John asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Yea, nearly done, just want to put them in a herb mix first” Bob calls back while scooping the veggies up and dumping them into a large mental bowl.

“You're doing great Bob,” Walker hums while giving him a quick pat on the shoulder.

“ Y/n’s been trying to turn me into a domestic god lately. I think he’s secretly training me to take over his chores for guys night at his” he snickers, remembering how his sleep over at Y/n's had resulted in clearing and a dish towel fight.

John chuckled, shaking his head. “Smart guy. He’s got you trained already.”

Bob rolled his eyes but didn’t respond, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he focused on his task of tossing vegetables in oil and mixed herbs and spices.

“So,” John said, glancing at Bob out of the corner of his eye, “how was your night at Y/n’s? Ava mentioned something about you two going to the aquarium.”

Bob paused, before moving to place the veggies onto a tray to throw in the oven. He wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or impressed that Ava had been gossiping again. “It was… good,” he said after a moment, his voice carefully neutral.

“Just good?” John pressed, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

It earns John a pointed look for the other man. “It was great, okay? Y/n knows I love sharks, and let me ramble about them for most of the visit. It was nice. Relaxing.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Relaxing, huh? So, what did you two do after? Dinner? Movies? Or…” He trailed off suggestively, his grin widening.

Bob groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t start, man.” only to realise he had oil on his hand and make a noise of disgust as he cringed

Before Walker could push further, a familiar figure phased through the wall, draping herself over Bob’s shoulders like a human scarf.

“How’d the date go?” Ava asked eagerly, her grin practically splitting her face.

It makes the dirty blonde man nearly jump out of his own skin. “Ava!” he exclaimed, his heart racing. “Do you have to do that!?”

Ava ignored him, leaning closer with wide, excited eyes. “Come on, Bobby, spill! Did you finally ask him out?”

Bob froze, his ears turning bright red as he avoided her gaze.

It makes John pause mid-motion with the oven door, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Wait, what?” he asked, turning to fully face Bob. “You asked Y/n out?”

Bob shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah,” he muttered, barely audible.

Ava punches the air, practically bouncing in place as she phased through the counter to the other side to lean against it. “ Finally! I was starting to think we’d have to lock you two in a room to make it happen.”

John blinked, still processing the news. “Hold on. You actually did it? Like, officially? You asked him out?”

Scratching the back of his neck, Bob gives a sheepish smile. “Yeah. After a while at the aquarium. Y/n introduced me to a friend who kinda put me on the spot interrogating if we were on a date and Y/n said yes, and afterwards apologized for it. So i asked him out then”

John shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. “Damn, Bobby. I didn’t think you had it in you. Congrats, man.”

“Thanks,” Bob said, his voice still a little quiet, due to not expecting so much attention on his love life.

Just then, Yelena walked into the kitchen, her sharp eyes immediately picking up on the energy in the room. She crossed her arms, looking between Bob, John, and Ava with a raised eyebrow. “What is going on here?”

Ava and John look at each other and then at Bob as if expecting him to say something and when Bob doesn't Ava blurts it out. “Bob finally asked Y/n out”

Yelena’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, though her expression quickly shifted into one of mock seriousness as she turned to Bob. “You? You actually did it?”

“Yes!? Why is everyone so shocked by this?” Bob muttered, throwing his hands up.

“Because you’ve been pining for months,” Yelena states as if it was the most obvious thing in existence. “You started going all-.” She makes a hand movement. “-After the first three weeks of him being back and forth”

“Gee thanks, I'm so glad everyone already knew,” he huffs out flatly, rolling his eyes. “So glad to know it's not a big deal here, forgive me for being slightly nervous and in the closet” Bob grumbles.

“Oh, don’t worry, after your comment about your dealer I'm pretty sure we all got the picture Bob,” Yelena said, grabbing an apple from the counter. “But seriously, congrats. You two are… good together.”

“Hey! Dinner is cooking, why are you snacking?” John calls out like a disapproving mother.

---

Bob stood in the middle of his room the next morning, hands on his hips, surveying the mess. It wasn’t terrible, he’d seen worse while squatting in old houses, but it definitely needed some work. Clothes were draped over the back of a chair and in a mix of piles of dirty and clean clothes, a few mismatched socks peeking out from under the bed, and his desk was cluttered with random papers, old cups, bowls and a few tools he hadn’t bothered to put away.

Still, he was feeling good. “Alright,” he muttered to himself, grabbing a pen and a notepad. “Let’s make a game plan.” He started scribbling down a list, his handwriting a little messy but still legible:

1. Pick up clothes.

2. Sort desk.

3. Vacuum.

4. Trash and recycling.

5. Make the bed.

Satisfied with his list, Bob nodded to himself and set the notepad down on his desk. “Okay. First things first—clothes.” As he moved to start picking up the pile of shirts from the ground to throw onto his bed to sort out, Void’s voice came out, sharp and impatient.

“You’re forgetting the dishes on the desk.”

Bob froze, blinking. “What? No, I’m starting with the clothes. That’s what’s on the list.”

“But the dishes are disgusting. They’re just sitting there.”

Bob sighed, already feeling the tug of distraction. “They’re on the list. I’ll get to them when I get to them.”

“Or, you could just do them now and get them out of the way. They’re closer than the clothes, anyway. Just take them to the kitchen”

Bob rolled his eyes, scooping up the pile of dirt clothes and heading toward the laundry basket. “If I start jumping around, I’ll get sidetracked. That’s why I made a list.”

“You could do the dishes and sort the desk at the same time. Multitasking, Bobby.”

Bob snorted, tossing a sock into the basket. “Yeah, because multitasking always works out so well for me.”

Void huffed, muttering something unintelligible, but Bob ignored him and focused on the task at hand.

He hesitated for a moment, staring at the mess of papers, tools, and empty cups. Void, of course, piped up again.

“See? The dishes are right there. You could just take them to the kitchen now.”

Bob sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. Fine. I’ll do the dishes first.” He grabbed the cups and plates from his desk. He carried them to the kitchen, dropping them into the sink before heading back to his room.

“Okay,” he said, grabbing the notepad and crossing off dishes

Pick up clothes

Trash and recycling.

“Vacuum,”

Void said immediately.

“Desk,” Bob corrected, sitting down and starting to sort through the papers.

“picking up clothes and vacuuming is faster.”

“Yeah, but if I vacuum first, I’ll just have to do it again after I clean the desk,” Bob pointed out.

Bob sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the chaos around him. His desk was half-sorted, the vacuum was still plugged in, but abandoned in the corner, and his laundry basket sat next to the door, clothes spilling out of it because he hadn’t brought it to the machine yet.

He groaned, running his hands through his hair as frustration bubbled to the surface. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He’d made a list. He’d tried to stay focused. But somehow, two hours later, he’d started everything and finished nothing.

“You’re making it worse,”

Void stated, his voice echoing in Bob’s mind, not unkind but undeniably blunt.

“You didn’t even finish vacuuming. And you missed the papers under the bed.”

Bob clenched his jaw, glaring down at the notepad where only two things were crossed off. The rest of the list stared back at him, taunting him with everything he hadn’t managed to do.

“I know,” Bob snapped, his voice sharp as he dropped the pen onto the bed. “I’m trying, okay? But you keep throwing new stuff at me, and I can’t—I just—” He cut himself off, exhaling shakily.

Void was quiet for a moment, then spoke again, softer this time.

“You’re spiraling. Over cleaning, do you hear yourself?”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Bob snaps towards his reflection, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His head dropped into his hands as he tried to ground himself, his breathing uneven.

The mess wasn’t just a mess anymore. It was physically draining him. He knew he was doing better than he used to. He knew that. But today it was frustrating he wanted to clean, and now it was like a huge mental block stopping him. Everything he touched Void argued about. The simplest tasks turned into an uphill battle, making it hard to see that progress.

After a few minutes of sitting there, Bob leaned back against the headboard and picked up his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before he opened YouTube to a folder.

Inside was a collection of videos. guided meditations, breathing exercises, grounding techniques he’d picked up in CBT therapy. He scrolled through them absentmindedly, his other hand resting on his knee as he tried to decide which one to use.

Eventually, Bob landed on a meditation video he hadn’t used in a while. It had a section specifically for dealing with frustration and feeling overwhelmed, and he figured it was as good a place to start as any.

He tapped on the video, plugging in his headphones as the calming voice of the guide filled his ears. “Take a deep breath,” the guide said, their tone soothing and steady. “In through your nose… and out through your mouth.”

Bob followed along, his chest rising and falling as he tried to let the tension ease out of his body. “You’re allowed to feel frustrated,” the guide continued. “But remember, frustration is just a signal. It’s your mind and body telling you that something isn’t working the way you want it to. And that’s okay. You’re human. Stop and take a break ”

Bob’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he focused on the words. He wasn’t sure he fully believed them, but hearing them said out loud made it a little easier to breathe. To begin with he had thought it was stupid, that it wasn't going to really do anything but it did make him stop and think.

The meditation guided him through a few more exercises. visualizing his frustration as a wave that he could ride out like he was the beach, grounding himself by noticing the sensations in his body, and reminding himself that he didn’t have to tackle everything at once.

He sat on the bed, his head resting in his hands, his phone still lying beside him where he’d abandoned it. The meditation had helped a little, but only just. The frustration still simmered beneath the surface, restless, gnawing, and persistent.

It wasn’t just the mess. It wasn’t even Void’s constant interruptions, though that hadn’t helped. It was the sinking feeling that his medication, the thing he’d spent so long working to accept—wasn’t working the way it was supposed to. Or at least that's how he felt. He didn't feel better but he didn't feel worse, just stuck.

He hated this. Hated the doubt creeping into his mind, whispering that maybe the meds weren’t enough. Maybe they never would be. He hated the nagging thought that he’d come all this way only to end up right back where he started. The only difference was it was Void whispering.

“Why doesn’t it feel better?” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “I’m doing everything I’m supposed to. I’m on the meds, I’m in therapy, I’m trying to stay clean. But it still feels like…”

“Like you’re stuck?”

Void’s voice interrupted, softer than usual.

Bob nodded, his hands still tangled in his hair. “Yeah. Stuck. Like I’m spinning my wheels and getting nowhere.”

“You’ve been clean for eight weeks,”

Void said, his tone steady, almost matter-of-fact.

Bob froze, lifting his head slightly. “What?”

“eight weeks,”

Void repeated.

“Since the last time you used. Cocaine, meth, all the hard stuff. Eight weeks, Bobby. That’s not nothing.”

Bob blinked, staring at the wall as the words sank in. Eight weeks. It didn’t feel like much, not when he was sitting here, spiraling over whether his meds were even helping, but hearing Void say it out loud made it feel a little more… real.

“I guess,” Bob murmured, his voice hesitant.

“No guessing,”

Void said firmly.

“You’ve done it. Eight weeks clean..”

Bob stayed quiet, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“You’re still here,”

“You’re still trying. That’s what matters.”

Bob swallowed hard, his throat tightening. “It just… it doesn’t feel like enough. I’m still getting overwhelmed, still spiraling, still…” He gestured vaguely at the mess around him. “I thought the meds were supposed to help with that.”

“They are,”

Void said.

“But they’re not a magic fix. You know that. They’re not going to make everything go away—they’re just giving you the tools to deal with it.”

Bob sighed, leaning back against the headboard. “It doesn’t feel like they’re working.”

“Maybe not today,”

Void admitted.

“But think about it. A few months ago, would you have even tried to make a list? Would you have stopped yourself from spiraling before it got worse?”

Bob frowned, his brow furrowing as he thought back to where he’d been before Y/n, before therapy, before the meds. He remembered the haze of drugs, the constant numbness he’d chased to avoid feeling anything at all. He remembered the self-destructive spirals that would leave him curled up on the floor of his room, fists through walls and Void taking over. Becoming the Void that consumed.

Void was right.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was doing better, even if it didn’t always feel that way.

“I just… I don’t want to go back to that,” Bob said quietly, his voice almost a whisper.

“You won’t,”

“You’ve made it too far to go back now. We have the help we needed”

His tone shifted slightly.

“If you ever do, I’ll kick your ass again, you want to physically fight yourself again?.”

Bob let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

For a moment, the two of them sat in silence, the weight of the conversation lingering but no longer suffocating. Bob’s gaze drifted back to the notepad on the bed, the half-finished list staring back at him.

He didn’t feel better—not really. But he felt… steadier. And maybe that was enough for now.

“eight weeks,” he said softly, almost to himself.

“eight weeks,”

Void echoed.

“And counting.”

Bob nodded, a small, tentative smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t where he wanted to be yet. But he wasn’t where he used to be, either.

Bob's gaze drifted toward the mirror on the opposite side of the room, his thoughts still lingering on Void’s words. The reflection staring back at him was Void.

The dark, sharp edges of Void’s presence were unmistakable,

the eerie glow in of pinpoint light in his eyes, and the faint, shadowy aura that clung to him like smoke but made him seem like a stark contrast against colour. But what caught Bob’s attention most were the stars.

The little golden stars, they shimmered faintly, like constellations against the darkness. Bob had grown used to seeing them there. But this time, there was something new.

A fresh star glimmered just beneath one of Void’s eyes, brighter and sharper than the others. It stood out, almost like it had been placed there deliberately.

Bob froze, tilting his head as he stared at the reflection. “When did…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing.

“What?”

Void asked, his voice calm but laced with curiosity.

“When did I get another one?” Bob said, gesturing vaguely toward the mirror.

Void looked back at him through the reflection, his expression unreadable.

“Another what?”

“Another star,” Bob clarified, leaning forward slightly. “I don’t remember getting another one. Y/n didn’t give me-us another sticker.”

Void raised a hand to press against it.

“Huh.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say? ‘Huh’?” Bob asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“What do you want me to say?”

Void replied, his tone dry.

“I didn’t put it there, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Bob frowned, studying the new star more closely. It was positioned just beneath Void’s left eye, almost like a tear. But it wasn’t just any star,it seemed… brighter, somehow. More solid but it wasn’t a five sided little star like the others, it looked like one of those 8 point stars.

He reached up instinctively, brushing his fingers over his own cheek, but of course, there was nothing there. The star existed only on Void’s face, in the reflection, like some strange phantom.

“Where did it come from?” Bob muttered, more to himself than to Void.

Void shrugged, his expression calm but thoughtful.

“Who knows? Maybe it’s not just Y/n who can give them.”

Bob glanced at him, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Void, leaning forward in the reflection.

“Think about it, Bobby. Those stars aren’t just stickers, are they? They’re… reminders. Little victories. Symbols of all the things you’ve done right. So maybe…”

He tapped the star.

“Maybe this one showed up because of an achievement you made.”

Bob stared at him, the words sinking in. He didn’t remember doing anything that would’ve earned him another star—not recently, anyway. But then again…

He thought about the past few weeks. About the way he’d stayed clean, even when the cravings had hit hard. About the way he’d pushed through therapy sessions that left him raw and exhausted. About the way he’d taken a chance and asked Y/n out, even though the fear of rejection had nearly paralyzed him.

Maybe… maybe Void was right. Maybe the star wasn’t something Y/n had given him. Maybe it was something he’d given himself, without even realizing it.

Bob’s gaze softened as he looked back at the reflection. “Do you feel different?” he asked quietly, his voice almost hesitant.

Void tilted his head, his smirk fading into something more neutral.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… the meds, the therapy, all of it. I don’t feel like it’s working. But you…” Bob’s eyes flicked to the star beneath Void’s eye. “You seem… calmer. A little.”

Void considered this, his expression thoughtful.

“Bob you and I are one the same, but yes”

he said after a moment.

“Doesn’t mean it’s perfect. But…”

He gestured vaguely to himself.

“I’m not exactly fighting you on everything these days, am I?, Being medicated is helping, its slow and painful some days”

“No,” Bob admitted, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “You’re not making it hard.”

“See? Progress,”

Void said, leaning back with a satisfied expression.

“Even if you don’t feel it, it’s there. And for the record…”

He tapped the new star on his cheek, his grin returning.

Void shrugged, looking almost sheepish.

“They’re better than some of the other marks that have been left on us, I don't feel like a monster”

his gaze meeting Bob’s in the mirror.

“They're our reminder you are still here. That we’re still here. And that’s not nothing. You are not nothing”

Bob’s throat tightened, but he managed a small, genuine smile. “Thanks, Void.”

“Don’t mention it, you're the dickhead talking to yourself ”

Void said, his tone light but sincere despite the joke.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Bob didn’t feel like he was fighting against himself. Bob let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. The mess in his room still lingered in the back of his mind, but right now, it didn’t feel like such a big deal.

Yes, he was struggling. Yes, he’d spent two hours starting tasks without finishing them, and yes, he hated how his brain seemed to trip over itself at every turn. But… it wasn’t as bad as it had been.

Six months ago, he wouldn’t have made a list. He wouldn’t have even tried to clean. Six months ago, he wouldn’t have been able to sit on his bed and reflect on all of this without reaching for something to numb the noise in his head.

Six months ago, there wouldn’t have been any stars at all.

Bob ran a hand through his hair, his fingers brushing against the back of his neck as he let himself sit with that thought. He wasn’t happy with his progress, it never felt like enough, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

And that new little star… it made everything feel a little more real.

He glanced back at the mirror, at Void’s face. Void tilted his head slightly, watching him with that same calm, steady expression.

“Six months ago,” Bob said softly, “I wouldn’t have made it this far.”

Void didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Bob took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he let the air fill his lungs. Today was better than last week. And last week? That was in the past.

He couldn’t change the past. It hurt, it was messy, but it was behind him.

“Can’t change it,” Bob murmured, more to himself than to Void. “Can’t fix it. All I can do is… keep going.”

The room was still a mess. His list was still unfinished. But for the first time in a long time, Bob didn’t feel like the mess defined him.

He reached out, grabbing the notepad from the bed. With a pen in hand,

-Make the bed.

It wasn’t much. But it was something.

Bob pulled the last corner of the blanket into place, smoothing it down with his hands before taking a step back to look at the bed. It wasn’t perfect, there were still wrinkles here and there, and he hadn’t bothered tucking in the sides, but it was made.

He stood there for a moment, staring at it, letting the small sense of accomplishment settle in his chest.

It wasn’t the full list. The dirty sheets were still on the floor by the door, tangled in a heap with a mixed pile of clean and dirty clothes he hadn’t sorted yet. His desk was still cluttered, and the vacuum sat abandoned in the corner. But the bed? The bed was made. And the dishes were in the kitchen.

And that was better than nothing at all.

Bob sat down on the freshly-made bed, his weight sinking into the mattress as he let out a long breath. He glanced toward the mirror again, and there was Void, sitting in the exact same position as him, mirroring his movements perfectly.

Void’s expression was calm, his eyes watching Bob with a faint hint of curiosity. The stars on his face shimmered, and Bob’s gaze drifted back to the newest one beneath Void’s eye.

For a moment, they just sat there, staring at each other in silence.

Then Bob smiled, just a small, tentative smile and lifted his hand to give Void a thumbs up.

Void blinked, tilting his head slightly as if surprised by the gesture. But after a moment, he returned the thumbs up, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smirk.

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t the full list or a perfectly clean room. But it was progress. Slow progress, messy progress, but progress all the same.

Bob leaned back on the bed, resting his hands behind him as he let his gaze drift to the ceiling. His mind still felt a little cluttered, and the weight of his frustrations lingered, but it didn’t feel quite as heavy now.

“Better than nothing,” he murmured to himself, the words soft but steady.

“Better than nothing,”

Void echoed, his voice low but warm.

__________

Bob reynolds taglist

@sleeping-l0s3rs

@louvmars

@underwaterfag

@winter-world

@charlie-theidiot

#thunderbolts mcu #thunderbolts #bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #bob reynolds x y/n #bob reynolds x male reader #void x reader #the void marvel #the void #void #robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader

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tinydefector · 20 days ago

Note

Tinyyy mah boiiii- could u possibly write some mcu!Bucky fluff with some slight spice near the end 🌚👉👈

Spiders Gun Runner

Bucky Barnes x Gen Neutral reader

Word count 4.7k

Warning: classic marvel, Thunderbolts warnings. Mentioned violence from the past.

Author notes: Woooo, back from camping and my birthday, so got this done as soon as I was back in decent enough service to post it. Hope you enjoy it ace despite it not being really spicy. @aceofheartsssss

Marvel masterlist

Bucky masterlist

_________________

Yelena grunted as she shoved another box marked with Cyrillic lettering through the wide doorway of the Avengers Tower or what was left of it. The place had seen better days, and though it had been modernized and fortified for the Thunderbolts' chaotic operations, it still carried the faint scent of a bygone era. Yelena paused, her jaw tightening before she stepped out the elevator with a sharp exhale.

Behind her, Y/n shuffled in, carrying a duffel bag slung over their shoulder and a smaller box in their hands. "You know, you could've warned me about your new... co-worker and house-mates," Y/n quipped, glancing behind them at the group of Thunderbolts lurking in the common area.

The team was watching Y/n like they were a bomb about to go off. Barnes standing in the middle of the large open area, his arms crossed over his chest and his glare never leaving Y/n. John sat stiffly in one of the lounges, giving Ava a raised eyebrow as if waiting for her to explain who she had dragged to the tower. Ava hovered nearby, waiting to see what would happen. Bob sat drinking the last of the banana and strawberry milkshake he had loudly as if to break the tension.

Alexei gives Y/n a massive smile as he moves towards the smuggler engulfing Y/n in a bear hug the moment they walk in, lifting them off the ground like a rag doll. "Ah, Y/n! My little Runner!" Alexei boomed, grinning ear to ear. "I have missed you! I'm glad Yelena has you around. Have you been able to acquire any old memorabilia for me He slapped Y/n on the back with enough force to make them stumble.

" Good to see you too, Alexei!" Y/n managed, coughing slightly but smiling nonetheless. “I found you some stuff but you are going to owe me big time” they state while giving the older man a slight nudge.

Y/n set the box down, they could feel the weight of the room's collective unease. They weren't a stranger to this kind of reception. People like Bucky and John were always wary of outsiders, especially ones with a complicated history.

"So," Y/n started, breaking the awkward silence, "this is the part where you all decide whether to interrogate me or just glare at me until I leave, right?"

Yelena snorted, a rare smirk tugging at her lips as she unpacked a box. "Relax. Y/n’s not here to steal your shiny toys or sabotage the air-conditioning. They’re here to help me move in. That’s all."

"Forgive me if I don’t take you at your word," Bucky said flatly, his gaze still fixed on Y/n. "I don’t trust smugglers."

"Yeah, well, I don’t trust government experiments with a penchant for violence, but assassins pay well so here I am" Y/n shot back, their tone even but pointed.

"Okay, okay!" Alexei interjected, clapping his massive hands together. "Enough of this! Y/n is family! I have known them for six years, very trustworthy, and looked after my Tasha now Lena" He turned to Bucky and John, his expression suddenly stern. "Alexei, that's not very reassuring considering you were ‘friends' with Dreykov" Y/n shoots back over their shoulder.

“Bah, that was different” Alexei huffs.

Bucky rolled his eyes but didn’t respond, while John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Yelena raised an eyebrow at Y/n, clearly amused. "See? Not so bad. Just give them time. They’ll warm up to you. Well, except Barnes. He hates everyone. And John is a dick"

“Hey I heard that!” John calls back to her but not taking it to heart.

"Noted," Y/n replied dryly. "Oh, by the way, Rick sent me a message. Said he managed to recover some of Natasha’s stuff that Valentina pawned off. It’s at my safehouse otherside of New York. Figured you’d want it. Barton has also stored some of her stuff too"

The room went still.

Yelena froze mid-motion, her hands gripping the edge of a box. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded, her voice quieter than usual. "Thank you. I’ll... I’ll get it later."

Y/n nodded. They didn’t press further, knowing better than to poke at wounds that were still raw. Instead, they turned back to the boxes, unpacking in silence.

The rest of the team lingered for a while longer, their unease palpable, before slowly dispersing. Alexei stayed nearby, helping Y/n and Yelena with the heavier items, chatting away with Y/n asking them how they had been, and just all up wanting to talk with the smuggler.

By the end of the day, the room felt a little less hostile, though Y/n could still feel eyes on them whenever they moved. Yelena, however, seemed more relaxed, her usual guarded demeanor softening slightly in the presence of her friend.

Y/n hauled another box up onto the counter. "Yelena, I swear, this is the last box I’m carrying for you today. You owe me food. Or money. Or both." They set the box down. out of curiosity, popped it open to take a peek at its contents.

What greeted them was… not what they expected.

Inside was the disassembled frame of a PTRS-41: anti-tank rifle, the long barrel wedged between a set of spatulas and a cutting board. The sight of it made them freeze for a moment before slamming the lid shut with wide eyes. Slowly, they turn to stare at Yelena, slowly blinking as if trying to process the absurdity of what they’d just seen.

"Yelena!" they called out, their voice a mix of disbelief and exasperation. "Why is there a pulled-apart anti-tank rifle in your kitchen stuff?!"

Yelena, who was unpacking another box over on the out of place lounge looks up, leaning back to look at them with a shrug. "What? You never know when you’ll need to shoot down a helicopter." She said it so nonchalantly, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Y/n stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. "Helicopters?!" they echoed, throwing their hands in the air. "In the kitchen?!"

Yelena rolled her eyes as if Y/n was the one being unreasonable. "Where else would I put it? The bathroom? That’s just unsanitary. Plus look at those windows, there was an alien attack on this building im making sure the kitchen is equipped"

Deciding they didn’t have the energy to argue, Y/n sighed and moved to another box, hoping to find something less insane. They ripped the tape off, only for their expression to be deadpan as they found: several knives, a pair of pistols, and what looked like the parts of a grenade launcher nestled in the next box.

"You know what," Y/n huffed, "next time you ask me to get you explosives, I’m sending them in Tupperware. Labeled Leftovers."

From the couch, Yelena burst out laughing. "That is genius! I will pay you extra for that."

At this point, the commotion had drawn the attention of the others. Bucky was the first to glance at the boxes and then at Y/n, "What’s going on in here?" he grumbled.

Without a word, Y/n opened one of the boxes, revealing its contents to Bucky. He blinked, leaned closer to inspect it, and then slowly looked over at Yelena. "Is that…" He paused, pointing to the grenade launcher. "…a grenade launcher?"

Yelena waved him off. "Relax, Barnes. It’s not loaded."

"That’s not the point!" Bucky snapped, his tone laced with disbelief. "Why do you have it in your kitchen equipment?!"

"Why not?" Yelena countered, "It’s practical. Easy access."

"Easy access for What?!" Bucky asked, his voice rising slightly. "You’re not supposed to be blowing up helicopters from the kitchen window!"

Y/n snorted at that, trying to hold back a laugh. "See? That’s what I said. But apparently, I’m the crazy one."

By now, Ava had wandered in, followed closely by Alexei, who was munching on a sandwich he’d scavenged from the fridge. Ava took one look at the collection of weapons and smiled. "This is… a rather charming collection, I might have to take a page out of your book Belova " she called while pulling out some of the equipment and looking it over.

John looked like he was about to argue, but Alexei clapped him on the back with a grin. "This is how we do things in Russia! Always prepared! Right, Y/n?"

Y/n, still reeling from the sheer insanity of Yelena’s ‘kitchen appliances,’ just shook their head. "I’m starting to think I made a mistake helping you move," they muttered, but there was no real heat in their words.

Meanwhile, Bucky was still staring at the grenade launcher, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and grudging admiration. Finally, he muttered under his breath, "That’s actually a pretty solid model… but it doesn’t belong in the kitchen."

Yelena raised an eyebrow. "Are you jealous, Barnes? Do you want one for your bedroom?"

Bucky scowled, but his ears went slightly red. "No."

By the time the evening rolled around, the kitchen was somewhat organized, though it still looked more like an armory than a place to cook. Y/n slumped into a chair, exhausted, while Yelena handed them a drink as a peace offering.

"Admit it," Yelena said, smirking as she leaned against the counter. "This is the most fun you’ve had in weeks."

Y/n took a long sip of their drink before finally replying. "You’re lucky you’re my favorite pain in the ass, Belova." They sat cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through their phone absentmindedly while sipping their drink, The quiet moment felt rare, almost sacred, but Y/n should have known better than to expect it to last.

Out of the corner of their eye, they noticed Bucky lingering near the balcony, though his sharp gaze was locked on them. Y/n sighed inwardly, already sensing what was about to happen.

"Got a minute?" Bucky’s voice was low, calm.

Y/n lowered their phone and gave him a wary look. "Do I have a choice?"

Bucky didn’t answer, just tilted his head toward the balcony. Y/n huffed but stood up, following him to a quieter area of the Tower. Once they were far enough from the others, Bucky turned to face them, his posture tense and his eyes assessing.

"Alright," Y/n said, crossing their arms. "Let’s get this over with. What’s on your mind, Barnes?"

He didn’t waste time. "Who are you, really? And why are you so close to Yelena?"

Y/n blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the bluntness of the question. "Straight to the point, huh? No small talk?"

"I don’t do small talk," Bucky replied flatly, his expression unchanging. "You’ve got a lot of history with Yelena and Natasha, apparently, but no one seems to know much about you. That’s a red flag. So, start talking."

Y/n studied him for a moment, debating how much to share. They could see the suspicion written all over his face, but there was something else there, too, something softer, buried under layers of distrust and trauma.

"Alright," Y/n said finally, their tone calm but firm. "I met Yelena through Natasha. And Rick Mason, if you know who that is. Nat and I worked together a lot before… well, before everything that went down with the Red Room. I was good at making things disappear, gear, people, whatever she needed. And when the Red Room fell, I helped a lot of Widows get out and start over. New identities, safe places to land, that sort of thing."

Bucky’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt. Y/n took that as a sign to keep going.

"That’s how I met Yelena," they continued. "She was still figuring out what to do after the Red Room fell, and Nat asked me to keep an eye on her. Make sure she had what she needed. Over time, it just… became a thing. We worked together a lot. I’d get her gear, help her stay off the radar, whatever she needed to keep going. She started calling me her ‘runner.’ And I guess, somewhere along the way, we became friends."

"Friends," Bucky repeated, his tone skeptical. "Widows don’t make friends easily."

"No, they don’t," Y/n agreed, their voice softening slightly. "It’s drilled into them from the moment they’re taken. Trust no one. Rely on no one. Be the weapon they trained you to be. But… Widows aren’t machines, Barnes. They’re people. And people need reasons to trust. You give them that, and you don’t break it, 0well, sometimes, that’s enough."

Bucky’s expression shifted, just slightly, as if he were processing their words. Y/n could tell he wasn’t completely convinced, but he wasn’t dismissing them outright, either.

"And Natasha?" he asked after a moment, his voice quieter now. "You worked with her a lot?"

Y/n nodded. "Yeah. She was… She was something else. Smart, focused, always three steps ahead. She trusted me, and I trusted her. That’s how it worked. And when she… when she was gone..." They trailed off, their throat tightening. "Well, Yelena didn’t take it well. I found her not long after, and she was a mess. I tried to talk her out of going after Clint, but you know Yelena. Stubborn as hell."

Bucky’s jaw tightened at the mention of Clint, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he studied Y/n for a long moment, his piercing blue eyes searching theirs for any sign of deception.

"You helped a lot of Widows," he said finally. "Nat would’ve appreciated that."

Y/n smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach their eyes. "She was the reason I started. She believed in them. It felt like the least I could do."

"So," Y/n started, their tone casual but curious, "how did you meet Nat and Lena?"

Bucky’s gaze flicked to them briefly before returning to the skyline. He didn’t answer right away, his expression distant, as if he were trying to decide how much to share.

Y/n waited patiently, taking another sip of their drink. They weren’t in a rush.

Finally, Bucky sighed, shifting his weight as he turned to face them. "Nat… she was one of the first people who didn’t look at me like I was a monster," he said, his voice low and measured. "This was after… everything. Hydra, the Winter Soldier program, all of it. Steve was trying to help me, but Nat… she understood in a way no one else did. She knew what it was like to have your choices taken away. To be turned into something you didn’t want to be. Despite me trying to kill her multiple times she was non lethal"

Y/n nodded, their expression softening. "She was good at that. Seeing people for who they are, not what they’ve done."

Bucky’s lips twitched into a faint, fleeting smile. "Yeah. She was." He paused, his gaze distant again. "The first time we met, though… wasn’t exactly friendly."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I’ve heard bits and pieces of that story. Something about a bullet to the side?"

Bucky let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Yeah. That sounds about right."

He crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall as he spoke. " Hydra had sent me to eliminate a target. Nuclear engineers in Iran. Nat was assigned to protect him. I didn’t know who she was at the time, just another obstacle in the way. Took the shot, went through her, hit the target. Mission accomplished."

Y/n winced. "Sounds brutal."

"It was," Bucky admitted, his tone heavy. "But she survived. And the next time I saw her, she made sure I didn’t forget it. She was like a ghost. Always one step ahead, always looking for an opening. She could’ve killed me more than once, but she didn’t."

Y/n tilted their head, studying him. "And how’d you two end up working together?"

"Steve," Bucky said simply. "When the Avengers split during the whole Sokovia Accords mess, Nat helped him find me. She didn’t have to, but she did. And after that… I guess we just trusted each other."

There was a long pause, the weight of Natasha’s absence hanging heavily in the air.

"And Yelena?" Y/n asked, breaking the silence again.

Bucky’s expression shifted, his brow furrowing slightly as he thought back. "That’s… a bit of a mess," he admitted. "Congress wanted dirt on Valentina. They sent me to bring in some of her people. Yelena was one of them. She was on the run, trying to stay ahead of Val’s men. I was supposed to capture her, bring her in as leverage. But…"

"But?" Y/n prompted, leaning forward slightly.

Bucky sighed, shaking his head. "Things didn’t exactly go as planned. I tracked her, John, Ava to a scrappy Limo being shot at by military vehicles. I thought it’d be a simple job, but no. Next thing I know, they are all yelling about a man called Bob and I was getting a phone call from Valentina’s assistant about Bob”

Y/n leaned back, nodding thoughtfully. "Funny how life works, huh? You go from trying to capture Yelena to being on a team with her."

Bucky snorted. "Yeah. Funny."

There was another pause, a comfortable silence this time. Then Y/n smiled faintly, their tone light. "You know, for someone who doesn’t do small talk, you’re not half bad at telling stories."

Bucky rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Don’t get used to it."

"Noted," Y/n said with a grin.

"You know," Y/n began, their tone thoughtful, "we nearly met back during the whole Avengers splitting and fighting amongst each other situation. When you were on the run with Steve and Nat."

Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly, his head tilting as he tried to place the memory. "Really? I don’t remember you being there."

"That’s because I wasn��t," Y/n replied, a small smirk tugging at their lips. "Clint and I swapped jobs at the last minute. He thought it’d make more sense for me to help Nat and Fury while he brought Scott to Steve. Said I’d be more useful on that side of things."

At the mention of Clint, Bucky’s expression softened slightly, though his suspicion lingered. "So, you were working with Natasha back then?"

"Yeah," Y/n said, nodding. "Nat called me in when things started going south. She needed someone she could trust to keep Fury hidden and move gear under the radar. I was good at that kind of thing, still am, honestly."

Bucky crossed his arms, his sharp blue eyes narrowing in thought. "You weren’t officially with S.H.I.E.L.D., though, were you?"

"Nope," Y/n said simply. "Never was. I worked with them anonymously, mostly through Nat. She trusted me with the stuff she couldn’t trust anyone else with. And when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, I stuck around to help her however I could. Transporting equipment, keeping people off the books, whatever she needed."

They paused for a moment, their gaze growing distant as memories flickered through their mind. "I remember that time well. Everything was chaos—Steve on the run, Tony trying to figure out what was going on, the Avengers tearing themselves apart. I barely stopped moving. It was one job after another. And Clint… well, Clint and I only had time for a quick ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ before we both went our separate ways. He headed to meet Steve, and I went back to help Fury."

Bucky listened intently, his expression unreadable but his posture slightly less tense. He seemed to be processing everything Y/n was saying, piecing together the puzzle of who they were and how they’d fit into Natasha’s life.

"You and Clint were close?" Bucky asked after a moment.

"Yeah," Y/n said with a faint smile. "Known him for a long time. He’s a good guy. Stubborn as hell, but good. Nat trusted him, and so did I." They hesitated for a moment, their voice softening. "Nat made me promise, though, if anything ever happened to her, I’d keep an eye on Clint and his family and then after Yelena. Make sure they were okay."

Bucky’s jaw tightened at that. "I kept that promise," Y/n said quietly. "After… After she was gone, I checked in on them. Didn’t make a big deal out of it, just kept an eye on things. Clint’s family didn’t need another stranger showing up out of nowhere, but I made sure they had what they needed. It’s what she would’ve wanted."

Bucky’s gaze softened, though he still seemed guarded. "Natasha didn’t trust people easily," he said after a moment. "If she trusted you enough to make that promise… then I guess that says something."

Y/n smiled faintly, their tone bittersweet. "She was one of the best people I’ve ever known. I’d have done anything for her."

For a moment, there was silence between them, the weight of shared grief and memories filling the space. Then Y/n straightened slightly, their smirk returning.

"Anyway, you lucked out," they said, their tone lighter now. "If Clint hadn’t swapped jobs with me, you’d have met me back then, and I’d probably have annoyed the hell out of you."

Bucky snorted, a small, reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, sounds about right."

They both chuckled softly, the tension between them easing just a bit. And though the weight of Natasha’s memory still hung over them, it felt a little lighter now.

"Feels strange, you know?" they began, gesturing vaguely toward the rest of the Thunderbolts in the back inside the tower. "Seeing your lot. A bunch of people brought together who all have ties to Nat, Steve, and even Scott. If someone had told me years ago I’d see the Winter Soldier working alongside Captain America, a Black Widow, Ghost and… whatever Bob is… I’d have called them delusional."

They chuckled softly, shaking their head.

Bucky smirked faintly at their comment, but something in their words seemed to stick with him. "You ever meet Steve?"

Y/n’s expression shifted slightly as they thought back. "Yeah, I met him. A couple of times, actually."

Bucky tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "When?"

Y/n let out a breath, their arms uncrossing as they began to pace slightly. "The first time was during D.C. You know, when Hydra had you running around as their pet assassin. Steve was… well, Steve. Determined to save you, no matter the cost. I didn’t get to talk to him much then, but I saw how much he cared about you. It was written all over his face."

Bucky’s jaw tightened at the mention of his time as the Winter Soldier, but he didn’t interrupt. Y/n continued, their tone growing more serious.

"The second time," they said, pausing to lean back against the counter again, "was when you were hiding out in Romania."

Bucky’s eyes narrowed slightly. "How do you know about Romania? Steve didn’t tell me anyone else helped him get there."

"Yeah, well," Y/n said with a dry laugh, "probably because he didn’t want you knowing the lengths he went to. Nat had told him to stay out of it. Said to let you lay low, handle things her way. But Steve being Steve, he couldn’t do that. So instead of listening to her, he tracked me down."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Tracked you down? Why?"

"Because he needed help getting to you," Y/n said simply. They sighed, rubbing the back of their neck as they recalled the memory. "I was laying low myself at the time, minding my own business. Then, out of nowhere, there’s Steve Rogers, Captain America, standing in my living room, looking like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. And you want to know the best part?"

Bucky’s brow furrowed further. "What?"

Y/n’s lips twisted into a wry smile. "He pulled a gun on me."

Bucky blinked, his expression shifting to one of pure disbelief. "Steve? Steve Rogers pulled a gun on you?"

"Yep," Y/n said with a chuckle. "Said he needed to get to Romania, to Bathurst, under the radar. And apparently, if I wasn’t going to help, he was willing to shoot me to make sure he got there."

Bucky stared at them, his mouth slightly open, as if he couldn’t fully process what he was hearing. "You’re joking."

"I wish I was," Y/n replied, shaking their head. "I mean, I get it. He was desperate, and he cared about you a lot. But yeah, he was dead serious. So, being the smart and self-preserving individual I am, I agreed to help him."

"I got him to Romania as quickly as I could, under the radar, just like he wanted. And after that, I was pretty much dragged back into everything. Once you’re on Steve Rogers’ radar, there’s no going back."

Bucky was quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable as he processed what Y/n had said. Finally, he let out a breath, a faint, almost incredulous smile tugging at his lips. "I can’t believe he did that. Steve would’ve hated himself for even thinking about pulling a gun on someone, let alone actually doing it."

"Yeah, well im pretty sure that man used to shoot nazi’s so i wasnt risking taking a bullet" Y/n said with a shrug, "desperate times, I guess. Like I said, he cared about you a lot."

Bucky’s smile faded slightly, a shadow passing over his face as he looked down at the floor. "Yeah… he did."

After a moment, Y/n smiled faintly, trying to lighten the mood. "So, yeah. That’s how I got dragged back into the mess. Thanks to your boy scout best friend and his very un-boy-scout-like tactics."

Bucky snorted, shaking his head. "You’ve got some stories, I’ll give you that."

"Let me stick around long enough, Barnes, and you’ll hear plenty more," Y/n replied with a grin.

"I guess I owe you a drink or two as an apology," he said, his tone light but carrying the weight of genuine gratitude. " and For all the strings you pulled in the background. Keeping things moving, keeping people safe. You didn’t have to do any of that, but you did."

Y/n chuckled, raising an eyebrow at him. "Oh, pulling strings was the easy part," they teased. "Dealing with Steve and Nat’s stubbornness? That’s where things got tricky. But hey, I’m always happy to help the people who matter."

Bucky tilted his head slightly, his smirk growing a little as he studied them. "Still, I owe you. And I’m a man who pays his debts. Drinks are just the start."

Y/n laughed at that, the sound warm and genuine. They leaned forward slightly, their eyes glinting with amusement. "Drinks are just the start, huh? You’re gonna have to do better than that, Barnes, if you’re trying to score a first date with me."

Bucky blinked, caught off guard by the playful comment. Looking like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment, a faint flush creeping up his neck. "A first date?" he repeated, his voice softer but carrying a note of intrigue.

"Yeah," Y/n said with a grin, clearly enjoying his reaction. "I don’t sleep with clients. Strict rule of mine. Keeps things simple."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting into something between amusement and challenge. "Client? Since when am I a client?"

Y/n shrugged, their grin widening. "Oh, come on. You’re part of the Thunderbolts now. Yelena’s technically your teammate, and I’m her runner. That makes you a client by association."

Bucky scoffed, though the faint flush on his cheeks betrayed him. "That’s a stretch."

"Maybe," Y/n said with a wink, "but rules are rules."

For a moment, the two of them just stood there, the playful banter hanging in the air between them. Then Y/n straightened up, their tone turning teasingly serious. "Don’t take it too hard, though. You’re not the first guy or girl to try and charm me with drinks. You’re just… the first one with a vibranium arm."

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