Can we have some headcanons for Jake having to eject and hs gets a little hurt? Nothing too bad, but just enough to need some tender loving care and a few days off. Or you know, any way you imagine it!
Soooo sorry this took so long, anon! I really waffled back and forth over what I thought this would look like, and it’s 100% OOC, but I couldn’t figure out how to fix it and didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer!
Also, this somehow ended up a littleee… suggestive? Idk how. It is NOT smut, but there are hints to some very adult behaviours, sooo… warning.
This is my FINAL headcanon request for the 155 follower event! Whoop whoop!! 🙌🏻
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• Jake DEFINITELY has “the man bug.”
• You know… the one that makes men absolute babies when it comes to illness or injury.
• You’d seen it before when Jake had the flu. Whimpering, moaning, and looking downright pathetic as you brought a bowl of soup and a damp cloth to dab on his forehead.
• When that same sickness overtook you three days later, you were surprised at how utterly mild it was.
• So, when you receive the call from Mav that Jake ejected during a training exercise and was now in the hospital with minor injuries, you already knew what you were getting into.
• “Hey, baby.” You lean against the doorway to hospital room 203, your keys jangling in your hand, a playful smile on your lips. “You ready to come home?”
• Despite his injuries being mild, the doctor advised bed rest and close observation over the next few days. “For safety’s sake.”
• It didn’t take much convincing for Jake to flop onto the queen-sized mattress when you got home.
• “You okay, Jake?” you asked from the doorway.
• A groan was your only answer.
• Chuckling to yourself, you left him to his misery long enough to go into the kitchen and prepare dinner. Meatloaf. One of Jake’s favourites.
• While it was in the oven, you returned to the bedroom.
• “How’re you feeling, baby?”
• Jake lay on top of the duvet, head propped up awkwardly on a pillow, with a pout so big you had to hold back a laugh.
• “Oh, come on,” you tease, crawling over him on the bed and planting a kiss on his lips. “It can’t be that bad. The doctor didn’t even send you home with painkillers. Just Tylenol.”
• Jake pouted more, but you thought you caught the briefest twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
• “But, I know how men are…” You side-eyed him and have an exaggerated sigh.
• Jake’s brows furrowed in confusion (and maybe the barest hint of a smile).
• “How men are?”
• “Mhm,” you hummed. “You know…”
• You planted a kiss on his jaw, then slowly moved to his ear.
• “All men, when they get sick or injured…”
• You nipped the lobe, just lightly, before whispering in his ear.
• “…turn into ultimate, undeniable babies!”
• “Hey!” Jake protested, but it was too late. Your self-satisfied smirk was already in place, and you had no intentions of removing it.
• “What, baby?” you feigned innocence. “Am I wrong?”
• A mischievous grin slowly replaced the look of misery and self-pity that had plastered itself on his face since the hospital.
• He reached for you, slowly, careful not to aggravate his injuries, but you pulled away.
• “Gotta check the meatloaf,” you chirped before disappearing from the room.
• And once you were in the kitchen, you let the Cheshire Cat grin onto your face.
• Because Jake may have the man bug, but you were pretty sure you’d just discovered the cure.
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i would loooove to see more frank castle fluff pics! very very cute ones because those are rare these days!!!
feel free to do all or some ideas i have !!!!
1. just a cute jealous frank castle cute fluff about anything!! he can be jealous and possessive in a cute way
2. his girl coming home always tired from work but always trying to cook him meals or be in good spirits even if frank says it’s okay not to be okay
3. frank with a gf who LOVES and owns cats
4. frank being cute and petty about his gf having a celeb crush (could be one of those hollywood dilfs heheh #competition!!)
5. frank being the best bf when his girl is having her time of the month and being so whiny and cute
6. a little angst to fluff where maybe they fight and she thinks he’s gonna lay a hand on her and she automatically flinches and he comforts and reassures her after he’d never do that
7. his girl being a terrible cook and he teaches her!
8. his girl also not knowing how to drive a car well so he teaches her!
9. frank missing his girl when he’s away on a mission and comes back being all clingy and affectionate
10. his girl trying to make him smile or laugh after a rough mission!
Okay, I will fully admit, I postponed this one so long because I freaking want to do ALLLL OF THEMMM!!!! 😍 So, I’ll do just one scenario here, and then I’m actually going to save this as writing inspo for some future fics, sooo, you can have that to look forward to as well!!
(I’m still fairly new to writing Frank Castle though, so if it’s super OOC, I’m so sorry—I’m trying my best.)
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Jealous Frank Castle:
• Frank Castle is not the jealous type.
• At least, that’s what he tells himself.
• But the clench of his fists and ache in his jaw might disagree when he sees the barista flirting with you.
• Really flirting—not “I want a good tip” flirting.
• And when you laugh at whatever wise-ass joke the man just cracked, Frank takes it upon himself to step in.
• “Hey, sweetheart.” Frank places a kiss on the side of your head, eyes drifting over to the man, who (to his credit) squirms uncomfortably under Frank’s gaze. “Sorry I’m late, baby. Got caught up.”
• Caught up watching this piece of scum flirt with his girl, but he wouldn’t say that.
• “It’s fine, baby! I just finished ordering,” you chirped, planting a quick peck to his lips.
• Frank smiles, allowing his gaze to drift lazily from the barista back to you.
• “That’s good. That’s good.”
• The barista cleared his throat and backed away, a nervous smile taking over the oozing charm Frank had witnessed previously.
• “I’ll start making your coffees,” he said, drumming his knuckles on the countertop before turning around to the espresso machine.
• “Thank you!” you called as Frank led you to a table at the back beside your favourite window.
• When the barista arrived at the table with the coffees in hand, Frank nearly grinned at how the man refused to make eye contact with you. And how you barely noticed.
• Reaching across the table, Frank squeezed your hand in a firm grip.
• You looked up from your coffee, surprised.
• “What’s up, Frank?”
• “Nothin’,” he mumbles, but gives your hand another squeeze. “Just happy to be here with you, is all.”
A/N: Like I said before, I’m gonna try and write some of the other ones as little fics, because I absolutely LOVE the ideas!! Sooo, I hope you like them when they come! 🥰
Can you write some headcanons about how you think Jake would comfort you after a bad day at work? Or how you would comfort him? Whichever you feel like writing for more. Thank you! 😘
Oh gosh, I am DEFINITELY needing this today. 🥺🫶🏻 Thanks for sending it in! And, again, I am SO SO sorry for how long these requests have taken. I swear I’m trying to get them all finished up before the two-month mark rolls around. 💀
P.s. It lowkey turned into more of a vent than a comfort. My bad. 😅 But there is some cutesy stuff towards the end!
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• It was a shitty day.
• No, more like a shitty week. You freaking hated inventory weeks.
• It would’ve been one thing if your coworkers understood the definition of the word “calm.” Or if your boss didn’t scream at you as if the world was ending and you were personally responsible for its downfall. It would’ve been one thing if the warehouse was clean and stocked and actually properly organized.
• But it wasn’t. It never was. And somehow, it was always your fault.
• Usually, on inventory weeks, you were happy to be booted out of the warehouse—placed as cashier where a friendly smile and a joke worked wonders to deescalate any potential customer complaints. You were happy to be out of the way of your war-mongering boss.
• But today… today just wasn’t a good day.
• “Jake, honey. I’m home.”
• You tossed the keys onto the table by the entryway and lazily kicked off your shoes, leaving them strewn across the hall before flopping face-first onto the couch.
• You could hear Jake shuffling from the bedroom.
• “Hey, pretty girl.”
• His drawl instantly soothed some of the tension in your shoulders, stretching up into your skull until your brain beat like a drum.
• He leaned across the couch and planted a kiss on the back of your head. “Bad day?”
• You groaned, voice muffled in the couch cushions. “Bad week.”
• You expected him to chuckle. To brush off the severity and try to lighten the mood.
• But instead, the weight of his silence was reverent in the small apartment.
• Confused, you propped yourself up on your elbow and turned to face him. He was studying you, something disturbed in the subtle green of his eyes.
• Your brow creased. “What is it, Jake?”
• He hesitated, rubbing a palm over his thigh before settling on the edge of the coffee table across from you.
• “I don’t know yet.”
• Your brow furrowed more, and you were about to question him when he interrupted.
• “Tell me about your day.”
• You sighed, blowing a strand of hair away from your forehead. “Where do I even start? My boss was yelling at me within ten minutes of me being on shift—somehow, everything was my fault, despite the fact that I had just gotten there.”
• You pulled a throw pillow up underneath your chin, resting your head against it as you continued.
• “She put me on till—which you know I usually enjoy—but today was just… I don’t know. I think the customers picked up on the environment. One lady even threw a coffee at me for not bagging her order ‘appropriately.’ As if physically assaulting a store worker is ‘appropriate.’”
• You groaned, burying your face into the cushion, your voice coming out muffled and disjointed.
• “It was just a long day, Jake. I’ll be fine.”
• Silence filled the apartment again.
• You peeked out from behind your cushion, trying to gauge his expression. But you couldn’t quite make out the message the lines of his face were saying.
• Finally, you tossed the pillow aside, arms shooting out to your sides.
• “Hug me? Please?”
• You didn’t need to convince him. Within seconds, you were wrapped around your military man, settled into the couch and wrapped up in a blanket.
• You don’t remember Jake grabbing the tv remote, but he must have, because soon your favourite show was playing in the background.
• Warmth from Jake’s body emanated on your back, loosening the last few muscles that refused to calm at his voice.
• When he spoke, his lips were in your hair, grazing your ear. “I think you should quit. This job is making you miserable. You come home upset more days than not—“
• You attempted to protest, but he wasn’t finished.
• “I know a guy. I can make some calls. We could have you in a new job by Monday. I’m—I’m tired of seeing you so down, sweetheart.”
• This time, you were the one to let the silence drag, that final statement enough to quiet any argument you might’ve broached. Was it really making you that miserable?
• Thinking back on it now, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d genuinely enjoyed your job. You used to. You used to love it. …What happened?
• Jake breathed in your ear, waiting for a response.
Bucky with reader who has anxiety and is constantly stressed about work and missions and anxious about their lives and how Bucky would take care of her and soothe her this also has absolutely nothing to do with my chronic stress and ocd tendencies nope
Girl, I don’t know how we are always the same person, but we are… I hope this is acceptable to you! I’m really drawing from the fact that I’ve been a little extra anxious the last couple of weeks.
I’m also debating turning these headcanons into a short fic, because what doesn’t kill me makes good writing fodder. 💪🏻
But for now, please enjoy!
Warning: Contains depictions of anxiety/anxious thoughts and a panic attack.
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• You try to hide it from Bucky.
• The sleepless nights, tossing and turning. The tension headaches and shoulder pains. The fact that every time he walks out that door, your brain convinces you he’ll never walk back in.
• You try to hide it… but Bucky’s more observant than you give him credit for.
• “What’s wrong?” he asks after a date one day.
• The night had been perfect. Soft music, a fancy restaurant, a leisurely stroll through the park. You couldn’t have asked for more.
• …And yet, you’d been distant. Distracted.
• “Hmm?” His question snaps you out of your spiralling thoughts, and you quickly slap a smile on your face, hoping he won’t be suspicious.
• It doesn’t work.
• “Doll, I know something’s wrong. You’ve been stuck in your head all night. Talk to me.”
• The arm around your shoulders pulls you in closer, and you rest your head on Bucky’s shoulder, your footsteps easily matching the pace of his. (Perhaps he was slowing down for you.)
• “It’s nothing,” you whisper into his shirt. But the tremble in your voice betrays you.
• Bucky stops, pulls you to the side, something swirling and desperate in his eyes. Something scared.
• “Doll, please… Please talk to me.”
• “It’s nothing, Buck.” You attempt to resume your pace, turning to lead him down the quiet park path, but he halts you with a touch to your sleeve.
• He swallows in the light of the lamppost. “Did—“ he chokes, clears his throat. “Did I do something wrong? Is it something I did?”
• “What?” Shock roots you to the spot almost as effectively as Bucky’s grasp on your sleeve, and you struggle to keep your jaw from dropping. “Bucky, no. No, it’s not anything you did.”
• “Then why won’t you tell me?” Those eyes. Those freaking blue eyes.
• Your hands start trembling, the thoughts in your head swirling and swirling like that stupid house in The Wizard of Oz. Swirling like a stupid tornado with no yellow brick road to follow.
• “Buck…” Your voice trails off, but your breathing increases. Short, shallow. Oh God.
• This was it. He was breaking up with you. You were lying to him. You could never be trusted again. He would find out and break your heart and then you’d be left with nowhere and nothing and nobody and—
• “Just breathe. C’mon, doll, breathe!”
• Bucky’s sharp eyes narrowed into focus again, hovering inches from your face, and you realised then that your hand was locked over your chest, his hand trembling overtop it.
• “Breathe for me, doll. C’mon. In…” He inhaled slowly. “And out…” A steady exhale.
• Mimicking his actions, you eventually calm enough to bury your head into his chest, tears spilling onto his clean shirt.
• “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Bucky.”
• “Shhh. Shhh, hey, what’re you apologizing for?”
• For ruining the relationship. For not keeping your shit together. For letting him realise that you were nothing more than a broken toy for him to throw out now that you didn’t work.
• Silence and crying. Those were the only sounds as you slowly calmed down, Bucky rubbing your back in a steady, soothing pattern.
• Eventually, when your tears fade into hiccups, he pulls back just enough to cup your face and look you right in the eyes.
• “How long?”
• You sniffle, a final tear slipping its boundary and trailing down your cheek.
• “About a month.” Your words are soft, quiet. Broken sounding. “I didn’t want to worry you. You’ve had so much on your plate, and I just… I thought…” Tears started afresh, and your voice cracked as you sobbed. “You didn’t sign up for this, Bucky. You didn’t. I was—I was normal when we started dating. I was normal and then… and then…”
• And then I almost lost you…
• Yes, that had been the catalyst for it all. The day Bucky got home from a mission, bleeding and bruised, barely conscious.
• Steve had immediately rushed him to the med bay, and you’d had to wait for three hours while they patched him back up.
• In that time, you’d done a lot of thinking. Of spiralling. Round and round and round. About everything you could’ve done better. About everything you needed to try. About everything that could go wrong.
• And those thoughts had never truly left you. They haunted your apartment like a ghost, ran errands with you on your shoulders. They never shut up!
• You’d sworn you wouldn’t let Bucky know. That he wouldn’t have to add you falling apart to his already too-long list of responsibilities.
• But you couldn’t keep that promise, even to yourself.
• Serious determination fills Bucky’s eyes, something bordering on rage, if you had to put a name to it, and yet not.
• “You are normal. There is nothing wrong with you. This?” He swipes a thumb over your cheek, brushing the tears away. “This is temporary. You are exactly what I signed up for, in the good times and the bad. And you never—“ he inhaled slowly here, as if his breath alone was what would hold him together. “You never have to hide it from me.”
• Tears rushed to your eyes in a third wave, but this one was good. Clean. Relieved.
• It didn’t cure the thoughts. It didn’t cure the late night spirals or pulse spikes when he walked out the door.
• But it made a home for them, right there on Bucky’s chest. And when you didn’t have to carry the weight alone, suddenly it seemed less heavy. Bearable.
OKAY ON A FLUFFIER NOTE - you and Bucky (and maybe the rest of the gang!) having a movie night! 🥰
I am in need of so much fluff today, so prepare to have your teeth rotted. (This is an “everybody lives/nobody dies” Avengers Tower-esque thing, because… yeah.)
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• It wasn’t supposed to be the entire tower.
• Bucky had just come home yesterday from a three-week long mission.
• He was tired, sore, and wanted nothing more than to just snuggle up with you on the couch under a pile of blankets watching whatever cheesy rom-com or action flick you decided on.
• It was supposed to be you time. Together. Away from everybody else.
• But they obviously had other ideas.
• Natasha slipped in first, quiet and deadly, cat-like grace nearly escaping Bucky’s notice as she settled into the armchair at his side.
• Then it was Bruce. (Although, in his defense, he couldn’t see Bucky over the nest of blankets and assumed you were watching on your own.)
• Then Sam, entering loudly enough to wake the dead, commenting loudly on the events on screen.
• One by one, the others joined as well.
• Wanda sat criss-cross on the other end of the couch, Vision hovering behind her. Tony waltzed in with stark protests against “not being invited to the party.” Thor nearly knocked over the mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table as he awkwardly shifted to fit on the final space on the couch.
• By the time Steve wandered in, red, white, and blue mug of coffee steaming in his hand, Bucky’s obvious “help me” look was too far gone to succeed.
• Eventually, as the end credits rolled around, the others began to slip out of the living room. (Bucky hadn’t even realised Clint was watching from the vent until his groan reverberated through the entire structure.)
• But you didn’t move to join them.
• Looking down, Bucky found you fast asleep in the blankets, head on his chest, the steady rise and fall of your breathing calming compared to the chaos of the night.
• When Steve noticed this as well, he laid a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, smiled, and walked out, leaving Bucky to cradle you well into the night.
• It wasn’t how he’d planned the evening to go. But, suddenly, he wasn’t complaining.
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How do you feel about writing some headcanons about actually sleeping next to Jake? Like sleep sleep next to him. Who hogs the blankets? Is he very specific in his bed time routine/rituals? Does he stick to his side or is he not so fussed he just falls asleep wherever on the bed? Does he fall asleep quick? How is he with nightmares - both his and yours? Later on, would he install a bedside crib? Would the kids run into your bed when they have nightmares or would Jake go to their room to comfort them? These types of things. (Sorry, I realise I dumped so many questions, please, do NOT feel like you have to answer them specifically, just write what feels right for this scenario, if it feels okay to write for at all, and write what you are comfortable with!!!!)
The thought of this entire scenario is so so so cute, and I’m SO GLAD you sent this in as a request!! I’m sorry it took me so long to get to, but I hope you enjoy it! 🫶🏻
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• Jake is a blanket hog.
• Always has been.
• It’s not uncommon for you to wake up in the middle of the night completely uncovered, with Jake wrapped up into a cozy, sleeping burrito on the other side of the bed.
• He also snores.
• Not loudly, and not often. It’s usually just when he’s particularly stressed. But the sound is so soft and dainty—you recorded it one time just to tease him about it.
• Jake is very much an “asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow” type of person.
• You blame the military training. (And secretly curse it on the nights you lay awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep.)
• That said, he’s also a light sleeper.
• He’s always first to hear if the dog needs out. After you become parents, it’s always him that alerts you if a kid is awake or if the baby’s started fussing.
• He’s definitely not opposed to the kids crawling into bed with you in the middle of the night.
• The only time he’s actually difficult to wake is when he’s having a nightmare.
• Trapped in his own mind, it always takes a good deal of shaking and calling his name before he comes back to you.
• And when he does, he’s visibly shaken, usually sweating. His eyes always scurry across the room before meeting yours, and then he buries his head in your hair, your neck, your chest…anything. Any part of you to ground himself.
• But he wakes much quicker when it’s your own nightmares.
• Frankly, you can’t remember the last time a nightmare had the chance to fully play out. Jake’s always there immediately, at the first sign of fear or danger. Pulling you into reality, grasping you tight against his chest, whispering in your ear, a hand rubbing a soothing trail down your back or through your hair.
• And if you’re not calming, he’s on it. Up, making you a warm cup of tea or steamed milk. He knows the extra sensation grounds you almost as much as your presence grounds him after a nightmare.
• BONUS!!
• Jake’s also the kind of person that always sleeps with a window open.
• The fresh air calms him, cools him as he slips into boxers or loose pajama bottoms.
• This is also part of the reason he’s a blanket hog—there has been many a night where you scowl and close the window in the middle of the night after the temperatures drop and your blankets have been robbed.
Awww, yay for the extension!!! Do you have any wedding hcs for our one and only Jake Hangman Seresin?
So, ummm… I’m not sure if this is a headcanon or a scene or an amalgamation of the two or what…
But here it is, and it’s probably not what you were expecting, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! 🫶🏻
(Also, I’m pretty sure this is OOC. My sincerest apologies, but I could not FOR THE LIFE OF ME remember the dynamic between Rooster and Hangman, and it’s late and I’m tired, so I’m just going with it, lol.)
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• Despite the fact that he would vehemently deny it, Jake is a bundle of nerves at the wedding!
• It’s ridiculous! He’s a decorated pilot. He’s been in air combat. He’s looked death in the face and offered it a snarky comeback.
• He’s Jake HANGMAN Seresin!
• So why, oh why was this what was going to bring him to his knees?
• Rooster walks in on him, pacing in a back room of the church, hair tousled and looking about two seconds short of a panic attack.
• “…Everybody’s looking for you, Hangman. You okay?”
• “Yeah.” Jake desperately attempts to pull himself together, get his breathing back to normal. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
• Rooster isn’t convinced and takes a step closer.
• “What’s going on, man?”
• “Nothing. I’m fine. I’m happy.”
• Rooster eyes him carefully.
• “It’s just—“ Jake continues, picking up the pace in a few more laps before he finally stops and looks Rooster dead in the eyes. “What if she’s making a mistake? What if I’m not the best thing for her, and I’m leading her into a life of misery and hardship. I don’t want that, Roo. Not a bit. I’d rather die than do that to her.”
• Rooster’s eyes soften.
• “Have you seen the way she looks at you, Hangman? Like you’ve hung the moon and the stars, just for her! I don’t know what she sees in you, but obviously it’s something good. Something she wants.”
• Rooster pauses, considering his next words.
• “And I think the very fact that you’re freaking out about this is a sign that you won’t be a mistake—not to her.”
• That’s all Jake needs to hear.
• Rooster leads him back out to the altar, stands by his side. He watches as the music starts and bridesmaids filter into the room. As the whole room stands in preparation for the bride.
• And when she drifts into the aisle, lithe and floating, Rooster will never admit to seeing a tear roll down Jake’s face.
• And Jake will be forever grateful to him for his discretion.
(Yeah, this one was a little wonky. My bad. It’s definitely a sign that I need to go to sleep, so I hope it’s not too disappointing to you, and I’m so sorry if it is.)
