hiii love ur work,, just wanted to share an idea hehe, inspired by a fic i read years ago
thought about reader whos friends w stucky and has to give them first aid after a mission ,, they don’t know that she’s squeamish w blood and there’s a lot of blood, and she holds off as much as she can and finishes patching them up but passes out at the last second .. cue concerned stucky .. fluff ensues 🫣 or smut idk
omg i cannot do blood, or body fluids in general for that matter!
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You’re not sure how you ended up being the one to patch up two literal super soldiers, but somehow, there you are—kneeling on your living room rug with a med kit open, your couch cushions stained red, and two smug men sitting in front of you like it’s a normal Tuesday night.
“Alright, doc,” Steve says with a grin that’s far too charming for someone missing half his shirt. “How bad is it?”
“I’m not a doctor,” you say, your voice an octave higher than normal. “And it’s bad. You’re leaking like—like a faucet.”
Bucky snorts beside him, wincing when it tugs on his shoulder. “You hear that, Stevie? We’re faucets now.”
You shoot him a glare, which only makes his smirk deepen, his blue eyes glinting in that infuriating mix of pain and mischief. “You both need stitches,” you say, rummaging through the kit with shaking hands. “And pressure. And—oh my god, that’s so much blood.”
Bucky peers down at his arm, where a deep gash runs from bicep to elbow. “It’s not that bad.”
“It’s bad.” You press gauze against it, trying to look anywhere but the wound itself. You can do this. You can handle this. Just breathe. “Why didn’t you go to medical? Why come here?”
Steve, ever the gentleman, gives you an apologetic smile. “Didn’t wanna deal with the press. They were waiting outside the compound.”
“Yeah,” Bucky adds, “and you’re closer.”
You blink. “You came to me because I live closer?”
He shrugs. “You’re the only one we trust not to yell.”
“I am yelling internally,” you hiss, holding the gauze tighter. You can feel the warmth of his blood soaking through it, and your stomach flips like a bad rollercoaster.
Breathe. You’ve got this. You’ve watched so many YouTube tutorials. You’re fine.
You’re not fine.
“Hey,” Steve says softly when your hands start trembling. “You okay?”
“I’m great,” you lie through your teeth. “Fantastic. Just love a little casual bloodletting in my living room.”
Bucky chuckles, but it’s quiet this time. “You’re doin’ good, doll. Just patch me up quick before Stevie starts bleeding all over your couch.”
“Don’t you dare bleed on my couch,” you warn, voice a little too sharp. You move to grab a roll of medical tape, but your hand slips on the gauze, and you catch a glimpse—just a glimpse—of the deep, wet red seeping through.
And that’s when your vision tunnels.
You grip the edge of the table, jaw tight. “Okay. No problem. Totally fine. Definitely not about to—”
“Sweetheart?” Bucky’s voice is closer now, worried.
“—pass out,” you mumble, right before the world tilts sideways.
When you come to, everything is blurry—warm, soft, and annoyingly masculine-scented. There’s a low rumble of laughter, and you realize you’re lying on something solid and muscular.
“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty.”
You groan, recognizing that voice immediately. Bucky. Of course.
“Did I—” you start, then pause when the memory hits. “Oh god. Did I faint?”
“Like a champ,” Steve says from somewhere near your head, amusement dripping from every word. “One second you were patching him up, next second you were on the floor.”
Your cheeks burn. “That’s… mortifying.”
“Cute, actually,” Bucky says. You can hear the smirk. “Didn’t know a little blood would knock you out like that.”
“I told you I wasn’t a doctor,” you mumble, trying to sit up—but Bucky’s arm tightens around your waist.
“Whoa, easy there,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “Take it slow. You hit the floor hard.”
You freeze, suddenly aware that you’re half sprawled in Bucky’s lap. His arm—the metal one, because of course—is curled around you protectively, cool against your ribs. His other hand is warm on your thigh. You can feel his heartbeat against your back.
You glance up, and Steve’s kneeling in front of you, one eyebrow raised, lips twitching like he’s fighting a grin.
“You two look cozy,” he says, and Bucky throws him a glare.
“She fainted,” Bucky says, deadpan. “Not everything’s an opportunity for you to tease, Rogers.”
“Uh-huh.” Steve leans back on his heels, clearly enjoying himself. “And yet you didn’t put her on the couch.”
“I didn’t wanna drop her,” Bucky mutters.
You hide your face in your hands. “Please stop talking about me like I’m not here.”
“Can’t help it,” Bucky says, the teasing tone fading to something gentler. “You scared the hell outta us, doll.”
Steve nods, his smile softening. “You did good, though. Got the bleeding stopped before you went down.”
You peek out from between your fingers. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Steve says. “We’d have been in worse shape if you hadn’t helped.”
There’s genuine warmth in his tone, and for a moment, you forget how embarrassing this all is. “Well,” you say, “next time, maybe warn me before you turn my place into a crime scene.”
Bucky chuckles, low and rough. “Next time, we’ll make sure we’re not bleeding all over your rug.”
“Please do,” you mutter.
You shift to sit up again, and this time he lets you, though his hand stays steady on your back just in case. You glance down at his arm—it’s bandaged, neat and secure.
“Who finished patching you up?” you ask.
“Steve,” Bucky says, jerking his chin toward his friend. “Didn’t even wince.”
“Because I’m not afraid of blood,” Steve says, smug.
You glare. “I’m not afraid of it. I just don’t… enjoy it.”
Bucky’s lips twitch. “You’d make a terrible assassin.”
“Good thing I’m not one,” you shoot back.
“Good thing,” he says, eyes lingering a little too long on your face. “’Cause I don’t think I could patch you up without passing out myself.”
You blink, caught off guard by the sudden tenderness in his tone. “What?”
He shrugs one shoulder, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Just sayin’. You take care of us. Someone’s gotta take care of you, too.”
Steve groans, standing. “I’ll grab her some water before Barnes starts making heart eyes.”
“I am not—” Bucky starts, but Steve’s already halfway to the kitchen, laughing.
You turn back to Bucky, biting back a smile. “Heart eyes?”
He huffs, running his metal hand through his hair. “Ignore him. He’s been unbearable since ’43.”
“Oh, I’m not ignoring that,” you tease, leaning back against the couch. “It’s kinda nice, actually.”
He looks at you then—really looks at you—and something softens behind his eyes. “You got a dangerous definition of nice, sweetheart.”
“Maybe,” you say, voice quiet. “But it’s mutual.”
He grins, small but real. “Guess I can’t argue with that.”
Steve comes back with a glass of water and a blanket he probably stole from your closet. He tosses it over your shoulders like he’s tucking in a kid. “You stay put, alright? No more heroic first aid attempts tonight.”
You roll your eyes, but take the water anyway. “Fine. But next time, I’m calling medical.”
“Deal,” Steve says, glancing at Bucky with a smirk. “Though I think Buck here might invent new ways to get hurt if it means you’ll play nurse again.”
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The stress was beginning to seep in. Your eyebags becoming more visible by the day. No one could tell you were more tired than the past week.
You were more quiet and less aggressive in your talking. You seem to have lost your spirit in a way, but of course, the man in the mask figured it out.
Ghost eyed you on the other side of the room. You were bobbing your head, nearly falling asleep before being shaken awake by the slight fall of your body.
You were being distracted by the lights and paid no mind to Ghost's wandering eyes.
It wasn't until around 2100 (9:00pm) when he knocked at your door. You weren't asleep yet. Your light was still on.
Opening the door you asked, "Is something wrong?"
You hadn't changed out of uniform and still seemed out of it.
"Why aren't you asleep?"
"Why are you awake?"
You snapped back at him. You weren't in the mood. You've been tolerable all day, no arguments or fights, but it's clear he came to ruin that.
He stared at you in silence. The mask made him more intimidating which caused you to fess up.
You ran your hands through you hair, frowning in disgust at the knots in your hair.
"Just some family problems is all."
"Losing sleep over your family?"
You sighed, "What do you need?"
"Need you to sleep so we could complete this mission."
"I'm not broken, I can still do the mission."
Silence permeated the hall, other than the occasional fizzle from that one light the base swears isn't broken or haunted.
"Can I come in?"
The door widened a foot further, allowing the masked man inside. You didn't understand why you would let him in. You don't let anyone in your room, at least, not for silly matters like this.
He followed you further into your room after shutting the door, and settled on the side of your bed. You didn't have time to question it before you fell.
Collapsing on the spot, Ghost caught you before the ground could do actual damage to your body.
I guess the sleep had caught up to you, just as Ghost had caught you.
Sleep truly is not for the weak. Stay healthy, guys.
Hi there! I was thinking..a Sunny x Reader where the reader is a security guard and is already like a really really good friend with sunny like almost best friend status but has a fainting disorder ( speaking from experience ) and randomly faints constantly, and one day faints infront of sunny or Moon ( whichever you prefer :-) ) and they freak out and are just so confused on what to do! Just fluffy and I think it would be super cute!
This is super cute! Apologies that this is late. Enjoy!
Also, I’m sorry you have that going on! I don’t know anyone who has that, personally, but It sounds scary. So please be careful!
(Y/N) and Sunnydrop have known each other for a long time. She’d visit the Pizzaplex almost every day, or whenever she could, and straight to the Daycare she went to. They were best friends. Always talking, playing around, and telling jokes to each other.
But there was one thing Sunnydrop didn’t know about (Y/N). She has a fainting disorder. And he found this out the hard way.
One day, they were joking around. When, suddenly, she falls flat onto her face. Sunnydrop just stood there, unsure of what to do.
“(Y/N)?” He would call her name, gently shaking her. Did she fall asleep? Did she not get enough sleep last night that she was so tired she fell on her face? He wasn’t sure. He rolled her onto her back, checking if anything was broken. No bones were broken, so he leaned her up against the wall and put a blanket over her.
Within seconds, she wakes up with a jolt. She looked down at herself, watching as Sunnydrop was tucking her in with the blanket. She giggled, releasing her arms from the cocoon. “Sunny, what are you doing?”
He screams in shock. “Did I wake you?! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”
“Wake me? Oh, no.” (Y/N) then realizes what happened. She gently took the blanket off and stood up. “I’m sorry, Sunny. I forgot to tell you that…I have a fainting disorder.” He looked confused, so she explained. “It’s where I faint from time to time, and I can’t control it.”
He lets out a recognized hum. “I see! I wish you would’ve told me sooner! I thought you fell asleep!”
