#Fighting for my life to stop writing Sam.

[vohunara]

it's nothing new that the scribe may, sometimes, drop unannounced at the door of his housemate. in fact, most of the times when it happens, it's to deposit a neat bag of freshly cut fruit after a knock, or simply to crack the door open in a chance that the blond may be bothered with Al-Haitham's nonsense.

it usually doesn't happen at around an ungodly hour in the morning, where people should be sleeping. Al-Haitham doesn't even announce himself with a knock, barely prying the door open before it slips out of his grasp.

' kaveh? '

a quiet call of his friend's name as he steps into the light barely dimming the room. from the little crack of the door, what can be seen is matted, sweaty hair, and a sliver of pale skin where healthy color should be on the young man's face. fire-ringed eyes blearily blink away sleep and a wetness that isn't present.

he reveals his problem almost bashfully, but matter-of-factly regardless:

' ...i puked. '

     Deep into the night is where Kaveh musters enough of himself to do anything he deems worth. Ideas ebb and flow when the pressure of living through the day eases off his shoulders, when it's simple and there's no expectations. In the end, it's just him, his tools and his books.

     He toes out of his room every now and then, careful not to exceed in volume, exist too loudly and disturb another. He rummages around the bookshelves in the main room and even those by the door to Haitham's space, intent on finding notes relevant to his current work. When he's back to his chair, one hand immediately keeps the right pages from closing in on themselves, and the other puts ink to paper.

     Kaveh, the calling is almost too meek to hear amidst the architect's intense focus, but it also reverberates with a timbre he wouldn't, at all, pin to such descriptor. ‘ Haitham? ʼ It's only after returning the call that Kaveh realizes he's reflected it.

     The upper half of his body turns in his seat, an arm supported against the backrest as Kaveh observes and waits. It doesn't require much to notice something is wrong and, thusly, does his stance not last as it is. The desk is abandoned in favor of the other, everything left behind as if no deadline had been looming over the blond — when al Haitham, of all people, seeks out help for his sickness, everything else diminishes in importance until they're but a detail too small to care.

     ‘ Oh, my... how are you feeling now? Was it something you ate? ʼ Fingers, still smudged with graphite, feel all over the Scribe's forehead and side of neck. They study his condition, and, as Kaveh wipes beads of sweat threatening to roll down the other's temple, he concludes. ‘ God, you have a fever! ʼ

     Any and all rights to protest are revoked. The tools once scattered on the mattress are pushed to the floor haphazardly and al Haitham is, soon, carefully ushered onto the bed, among Kaveh's covers and pillows. ‘ Stay here, ginger tea may help with your nausea. ʼ

[wafflefries13]

Blood in the Water (Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You get your period and Floyd is confused.

AN: Gonna be honest, this is mostly for me. I'm having the absolute worst cramps and writing this is mostly cathartic. I need a good comfort fic every once and a while. Thanks for reading!

Cross posted on my AO3 TheGhostIsTheKitchen

Warnings: AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, menstruation, cramps, nausea, brief mention of assault but no actual assault, can be read as romantic or platonic

There was a familiar twist in (Y/N)’s gut and she groaned. Putting a hand to her stomach, she leaned against the wall in the library, sinking down between the bookstacks as her head went dizzy and a knot of pain grew in her belly. 

When her period had started this morning, two days late, she’d felt mostly fine. Sure maybe a little bloated and sluggish but that was par for the course. For a minute she’d been able to fool herself into thinking this would be one of those easy periods. It would last a few days without the plummeting change in emotions, the barbed wire cramps in her lower stomach, and every inch of skin feeling way too sensitive. Now that seemed like wishful thinking. 

The first time she got her period here she desperately looked through the stacks of pain medication at Sam’s, wrestling with the unfamiliar brands to try and decipher which were good for period pains and which might make it worse. Thankfully, a trans Scarabia student had seen her struggling, pointing out which products they used. Sam had thrown in a free heating pad shaped like a huge dumpling. She’d almost cried. 

She wished she had that heating pad now. She closed her eyes, thunking her forehead on her knees as she curled up. This was supposed to be a free study period, but she now suspected she’d spend the whole hour hiding in the library, afraid to move for fear of agitating the growing bundle of pain in her abdomen. She took a deep breath through her nose, exhaling through her mouth. 

(Y/N) sensed the presence before she saw him. Months of being startled by Lilia or Chenya breaking onto campus had sharpened her skills in being ready for surprise attacks. She cracked open an eye, catching the fleeting glimpse of teal colored hair ducking behind a stack. She pressed her lips together. She normally loved having Floyd around. She appreciated his vibrant, if not volatile, personality, how surprisingly talented he was in domestic tasks like cooking. Jade had once mentioned that (Y/N) was able to sense Floyd’s mood swings with almost as much accuracy as his own brother, anticipating the shift and adjusting accordingly. And, to be honest, she loved how he would squeeze the life out of her at any given chance. But right now, when she was fighting a wave of nausea? Now was not the time. 

She watched from the corner of her eye as Floyd stalked through the stacks, more like a shark than an eel. When she saw him ready to pounce, muscles tensing, ready to strike, she quickly held out her hand in a ‘stop’ motion, cutting him off mere inches from his arms enveloping her. 

“Floyd,” She said, exhaustion seeping into her voice. “If you squeeze me right now I’ll throw up on you. That’s not a threat, it’s just what will happen.” 

Floyd pouted, his posture deflating. “Boo,” He said. He blinked, just now taking in (Y/N)’s curled in form. “You okay, Shrimpy?” 

(Y/N) chuckled mirthlessly. “All my insides want to be my outsides, but other than that I’m good.” 

Floyd blinked, wide eyed, mouth dropping open in alarm. His features almost immediately switched to steely anger. “Who hurt you?” 

If (Y/N) wasn’t so preoccupied by the lethargy pulling her body down, she might have found his protectiveness cute. “Just Mother Nature, Floyd. And I don’t think even you have much of a chance against her.” At his puzzled expression, she added, “I’m on my period.” 

“Oh.” He stood there for a moment, long limbs awkward now that he couldn’t use them for violence. He shifted on his feet before collapsing down to sit next to (Y/N). He tapped his feet, trying to dispel ounces of his endless energy. “So, your period?” 

(Y/N) hummed in response. “Yeah. It’s a few days late, but it’s here. At least I’m not pregnant, right?” 

Floyd jumped, eyes wide. “Pregnant?” He asked, voice cracking. “You have a boyfriend?” 

(Y/N) scoffed, waving him off. “God, no. It’s enough juggling everything else that’s happening here without worrying about a relationship.” 

“Then,” Floyd thought for a second, eyebrows furrowing in anger. “Is somebody hurting you?” 

(Y/N) looked up at him, just now noticing his angry confused face. “Hurting me? No, I’m not - Oh, wait, no! Not like that, no! I’d tell someone if anything like that happened, I promise.” 

“So you’re just seeing someone?” He almost looked hurt with his pout. 

“No, I’m not, casually or anything serious.” 

“But you thought you might be pregnant?” 

“Every girl thinks they might be pregnant when their period is late, even if they’ve never had sex before.”

“When your period is late,” Floyd repeated. 

“Yeah, it’s universal. Ask any girl. Or a person with a uterus. You know what I mean.” 

It was quiet again, Floyd tapping his feet more aggressively this time. Just when (Y/N) was about to ask him to stop, that the tapping sound was adding to her hammering headache, Floyd asked, “What’s a period?” 

(Y/N) turned her head from her knees to look up at him, and, realizing he was serious for once, jerked straight up. “Wait, really? You never heard your mom talking about it? Or any girls you know?” 

Floyd shrugged, looking away and rubbing the back of his head. “I’ve never heard mer-girls say anything about it. And you’re really the only human girl I know.” 

(Y/N) had momentarily forgotten that her and Floyd’s biology was far more different beyond physical sex. Now that she thought about it, it would make sense if mermaids didn’t have periods, right? She found it hard to believe that Floyd could be willfully ignorant of something that affected half the human population, (come to think of it, did beast women have periods? Or fairies?) but if he didn’t have extended contact with humans who suffered monthly, his confusion and concern would make sense. 

“Oh,” (Y/N) said, feeling herself blush. “I didn’t think - yeah, no, I’m fine. This is normal. It sucks and hurts, but it’s normal, I promise.” 

“It’s normal to hurt without getting hit or something?”

“Yup. Totally normal. Did you… want me to explain it to you?” 

Floyd cocked his head, peering at her. “Well, if it’s important to Shrimpy then it’s important to me, right?” 

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and said. “Yeah, sure. Okay, human biology 101.” (Y/N) held out her fist, pinkie and thumb extended. “Okay, so biological females have an organ called a uterus, down in the lower abdomen right above the pelvis. Branching out from the uterus are fallopian tubes connected to ovaries on either side.” She wiggled her pinkie and thumb to demonstrate. “The ovaries have eggs, not like chicken eggs or fish eggs. It’s a cell, like a skin cell or blood cell or something. During the month, the uterus builds up this cushioning of blood and tissue and an egg gets sent down from the ovary. If the egg isn’t fertilized by a sperm cell to make a baby, then the body needs to get rid of that tissue. So the uterus contracts,” (Y/N) opened and closed her fist to demonstrate. “And pushes all that out through, uh, the vagina. You basically bleed for three to seven days down there, depending on the person.” 

“You’re bleeding?” Floyd said in shocked horror. His eyes darted down to (Y/N)’s lap before quickly cutting back up. 

“Yup. Mine usually last four to five days.” 

“And you’re bleeding the whole time?” (Y/N) nodded. “Wow, you’d be calling every shark from miles around in the ocean.” 

(Y/N) smirked. “Then I guess it’s a good thing mermaids don’t have periods.” 

“So how do you, like, stop it? Are you bleeding right now?” 

“Pad or tampons, mostly. I know some people who use a cup but I’ve never tried one.” At his blank look, she continued. “Pads are like a flat piece of cotton. One side is sticky so it stays on your underwear. Tampons are cotton cylinders you wear internally. So if I did want to go swim in the ocean I’d wear one of those. Not sure if a shark would be able to smell me though. You mostly just have to watch out for toxic shock syndrome.”  

“Sounds like something from a jellyfish.” 

“It’s a little more intense, although I guess that depends on the jellyfish. It’s blood poisoning or a bacterial infection, I think? If you keep in a tampon for too long you can get toxic shock syndrome, and that can lead to hospitalization, amputation, or death. I think you’re only supposed to have a tampon in for up to eight hours. Everyone who uses tampons that I know was terrified of it. It’s really rare though. After a while you kind of get used to wearing stuff, but it’s always at the back of your mind.” (Y/N) looked over at Floyd and laughed at his pale shocked face. “Not what you were expecting, huh?” 

He shook his head slowly. “So that’s what’s making you hurt?” 

“No, not that. Like I said, the uterus contracts getting all the stuff out so it causes cramping. It can also make you feel really nauseous, which is what’s going on with me right now. It could be worse. I knew a girl back in my world that had endometriosis. That’s when all that tissue I was talking about grows outside the uterus instead of inside. It can be super painful. But even if you have a normal period it’s a pain. Your hormones get all thrown out of whack. Some people get angry real easy, but I just end up getting really teary. If I ever just burst into tears for no reason it might be because I’m on my period. But never ask a girl if they’re on their period if they're angry or sad or something. There’s this whole thing where people dismiss any extreme emotion a girl has as being because of her period and not a valid reaction to something. It’s super annoying. To be fair, this world seems more up to speed with gender equality, so maybe it’s not that big a stereotype here.” 

Floyd didn’t say anything, stuck in a rare contemplation. “Can I help?” He asked. 

(Y/N) smiled softly at him. “This kind of help, just talking about it. Heating pads help too. Having that pressure helps ease the cramps.” 

Floyd hummed in thought. He reached over and tugged her blazer. “Scoot forward.” (Y/N) quirked an eyebrow at him but did as he asked. Floyd slipped in behind (Y/N), long legs stretching out around her. He pulled her back into his chest, his hands coming down to gently press against her stomach. His thumbs rubbed in small circles. “Does this help?” 

(Y/N) leaned her head back against his chest, closing her eyes. “Yeah, thanks.” 

~

A few days later, (Y/N) was hanging out with Ace and Deuce on the quad. They were talking when they heard a loud, “Shrimpy!” Ace and Deuce flinched back as Floyd bounded over. He stopped abruptly a breath away from (Y/N), arms outstretched. 

(Y/N) laughed and held out her arms. “Go ahead, I finished the other day.” 

Floyd gave a cry of delight and immediately scooped (Y/N) up in a huge squeezing hug, tight enough to make up for the last lost few days.

[delicatebarness]

You Need Me Now? | Prologue

Summary: Three years after her father's death, the eldest Stark daughter was finally starting to get her life back. But now, everything is about to change when the last man her father would have approved of asks for a favour.

Warning: This series will be 18+, Minors DNI | MCU Spoilers | Mentions of Greif & Parent Death | Alcohol Use | Smut | Political Tension | Subtle PTSD Themes | Friends-With-Benefits Relationship | Secret Relationship

Word Count: 1297

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

A/N: I've been thinking about this since Brave New World, and I'm glad I finally feel like writing here again! - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue; this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

You Need Me Now: @carrotlove | @seenthroughmia | @stell404 | @imaginecrushes | @lilulo-12 | @sebbymybaby21 | @rattyfishrock | @danzer8705 | Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series. However, I can't guarantee how often it'll be updated.

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

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Spring 2027–Manhattan, N.Y.C.

New York hummed beneath you—somewhat quiet, for once.  From your apartment, the city looked almost peaceful. Rare. But peace was never built for you. Or him.

Bucky’s chest was warm against your back, bare skin pressed together and covered by silk sheets. Your chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. You could hear the soft click of his vibranium arm settling as he raised it, resting it behind his head. 

“You’re thinking too loud,” Bucky murmured, voice gravelly from your shared lack of sleep. Neither of you got any of that when together. 

You turned over, pulling the sheet higher over your chest. Not that there was any modesty left between you. “It’s my apartment. I’m allowed to think as loud as I want.” 

He chuckled. A smile spread over his lips. One of the rare, real smiles. It reached his eyes. “Typical Stark,” he said, his fondness and exasperation blending together in a perfect balance. 

Propping yourself up on an elbow, your eyes scanned his face. Your fingers traced gently along the faint bruising on his collarbone. The tension in his shoulders from a recent fight still lay dormant in his muscles. 

Yet, somehow, he was here. With you. Again.

“I thought you were in D.C.,” you whispered.

“Campaign’s in full swing,” he replied, curling his right arm around you, letting his fingers trail along your neck and shoulder. “But I needed a night away. Somewhere quiet.”

You arched an eyebrow at him. “So naturally, you came to a Stark?”

The ghost of a grin tugged at his lips, leaning up on one elbow to match you. “Well, I wouldn’t say I was here for the quiet, exactly.” 

A low, tired laugh fell from your lips. “Of course not.”

This thing between you started a couple of years ago—the night of your father’s funeral. Too much grief. Too much whiskey. Too much Asgardian mead for Bucky. Years of unresolved tensions, avoidance, and a very complicated history were forgotten about that night. A night neither of you spoke about, but never stopped repeating. 

And no one knew. 

Not Pepper, not Sam, not even F.R.I.D.A.Y.

That was the agreement. No strings. No press. No fallout. But you were never very good at following orders. Even ones you set yourself.

Bucky was quiet at that moment. Then, his fingers moved down, tracing the curve of your arm. Slow and deliberate. “I need something.” 

Your hand stilled on his chest. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you locked your gaze with his. “Let me guess—is this where you say ‘from you’ and ruin the night?”

His expression gave you nothing. “I need your endorsement.” 

Silence.

You sat up, the silk sheet falling from your body. Your back was now turned to him as you reached for the glass of water on your nightstand.

“You’re serious.” 

“I wouldn’t bring it up if I weren’t, Stark.”

“You know what that would mean,” you said with a sigh. “The eldest daughter of Tony Stark publicly backing the Winter Soldier for Congress? The country would lose its mind.” 

“I’m not running as the Winter Soldier,” he retorted. “I’m running as James Barnes. And I’m trying—I’m trying to do something good.” 

“You already are doing something good,” you replied as you finally turned to face him again. “This isn’t a mission. It’s politics, Bucky. If you want my name on your campaign, you’d better be ready for your safe place to no longer be safe.” 

He held your gaze, steady. “I don’t want your name. I want your support.” 

This shouldn’t matter. The two of you weren’t real, not like that. This was supposed to be uncomplicated.

But at some point in time, Bucky had stopped calling before showing up. And you stopped caring.

You sighed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“I know.” 

For a moment longer, you studied him. Then, leaned forward, swinging your leg over his body to straddle his waist. Your lips brushed against his. “I’ll think about it.” 

Bucky’s hand reached for your cheek, pulling you even closer, pressing his lips hard against yours.

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Three Weeks Later—Washington, D.C.

You shouldn’t have worn black. The dress clung to your body—cinched at the waist, sleeveless, and elegant. Pepper had referred to it as ‘Power Dressing’. Bucky, however, muttered, “A distraction,” into your neck the night before.

Now, you were standing at the Stark Industries podium. It was sleek and modern. Unmistakable Stark. Glass and steel glowed with the subtle golden accents. The company’s logo is etched on the front. 

You stood centre-stage. Half the country was watching you. Flanked by banners, journalists, and cameras already trained on you. Your curled fingers gripped tighter around the edge of the podium. 

Your heart hammered against your chest.

Your eyes flickered briefly toward the crowd.

Bucky was standing just to the left of the pavilion. Dressed in a pressed navy suit, hair pulled back neatly. And his jaw set tight. He looked every inch the part of a reformed soldier and future congressman hopeful. He was composed. Polished.

“Thank you all for being here. I’ll try and keep this brief,” you said, your voice steady, smooth. Cameras clicked. Murmurs rippled through the press. “I’ve spent the past few years trying to honor my father and his name.” 

The words rolled off your tongue like you spent hours rehearsing them. You didn’t. Not really. You practiced with Bucky’s head between your thighs, his hands on your hips. Your hands in his hair, and his half-wrecked voice mumbling: “You don’t have to do this. But if you do—I’ll owe you.” against you.

“My father believed in progress. In pushing forward, even when the world pushed back. Since his passing,” your gaze flickered to Pepper, watching with Morgan by her side. She gave you a supportive nod.

You took a breath, continuing. “Stark Industries has grown, shifted, and adapted. Just like the world we call home. But, we’re not done yet.” 

You paused, your eyes now locking with Bucky’s, and your mouth curved. Not into a smile, but something close enough. 

“I believe in redemption, second chances. I believe in making the world better, not just with innovation, but also with integrity. Which is why today, I’m not here to announce a product. I’m here to endorse a person.” 

You let the words hang in the air, taking a moment for yourself. The crowd was quiet, like the hum of an arc reactor. Powerful. 

“A man who has rebuilt himself, little by little. He knows the weight of his history, and carries it anyway.” Your throat tightened, and you let it. “I trust him. Not just with a vote. But with his second chance. With a future. With the city of New York and Brooklyn.” 

Another pause. Only this time, it wasn’t for you. Or the press. Pepper, or Morgan. It was for Bucky. 

Because he needed to hear you. 

“I am proud to be officially endorsing James Buchanan Barnes for Congress.” 

The crowd erupted in front of you. Cameras flashing, journalists shouting questions, Americans surprised. Somewhere, you could already hear someone announcing: “The Iron Princess sides with Reformed Assassin.” 

You didn’t flinch.

No matter how much you loathed being called ‘The Iron Princess’.

Behind the crowd, Bucky’s gaze never left yours. Giving nothing to the cameras. No smile. No smirk. He stayed quiet. 

You hadn’t just given him your name.

You gave him a chance. 

“You know they’re going to twist it all, right? You back me, and they’ll come for you.” More of his words from the previous night echoed in your mind as you watched the public reaction.

You didn’t care then, and you don’t care now.

You chose him.

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[fireinmoonshot]

heart of gold | joaquín torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: When you get injured during a fight, Joaquín will do anything to save you. Warnings: Mentions of injuries/bleeding. Word Count: 1.6k A/N: I love writing Joaquín when he's Falcon 🥰 I got a request to write Joaquín having to save reader when they're hurt and this was created from that. I brainstormed most of it at work today and then wrote it when I got home. Very happy with how it turned out. Enjoy! 💗

He hears the sound of gunfire before he sees what it hits. At first, Joaquin tries not to look away. He doesn’t want to be distracted from his own fight when he knows both you and Sam can hold your own. It’s only when he hears a strange sound through his comms that he risks a glance across the sky to where he last saw you fighting.

It was meant to be a quick in and out, but things had gone wrong. The people they’d been trying to avoid had been waiting for them when they’d arrived, leading to a fight in the sky and on the ground. You’d all been ready for a fight, but none of you had wanted one.

Joaquin’s heart stops in his chest as he sees you. You’re in the air, not far from where you’d been before… but instead of flying, you’re falling. He can see the smoke coming out of your jet pack, a nasty grey colour, and the orange glow of fire. The bullets had hit your jetpack, causing it to malfunction and send you out of the sky.

“Oh my god,” Joaquin mutters, abandoning his own fight without a second of hesitation and heading off in the direction you’re falling. “Angel, can you hear me?” He tries, attempting to reach you through your comms. He tries again but you don’t answer – either you’re unconscious or there’s been damage to your comms too.

Either way, he knows he needs to get to you as soon as possible.

He’s moving faster than he’s ever flown in his life – something that the man would usually brag about through the comms to Sam – but such a thought never even enters his mind as he hurries towards you, watching as you spin through the air. Your body is limp, leading Joaquin to believe you’ve passed out. You’d be trying to fight the fall if you were awake. He knows you well enough to know that.

 He’s relieved when he can see that the fire in your jet pack has gone out, no longer seeing flashes of orange. He supposes with the air pressure and how fast you’re falling, it had put itself out. There’s still smoke pouring out of it, though. Nothing about this is good.

“Can you hear me, angel?” He tries again, though to no avail. There’s no sound coming from you and he’s terrified. He pushes himself faster, making his own jet pack work double time to reach you. The ground is getting closer now but he still can’t reach you. If you fall and hit the ground before he can catch you, he’ll never forgive himself.

You’re so close to the ground now, getting closer and closer every second you’re falling. But he’s almost got you… he reaches out his arms, fingertips brushing along the side of your suit and pushes himself to stretch a little more. His forearm wraps around your waist and he pulls, tugging you until you’re in his arms and against his chest. The relief he feels is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.

He’s breathing heavily as he sets himself down on the ground, holding you tightly in both arms. He’s right about you having passed out, judging by the way you’re not reacting and simply laying in his arms. He sets you down on the ground gently and disconnects your jetpack, throwing it off to the side where it continues smoking.

Joaquin falls to his knees and moves to cradle your body in his lap. He gently removes your helmet, glad to see that there’s no visible blood anywhere and that you’re breathing. He doesn’t even notice Sam landing beside him, he’s too busy turning your head from side to side and making sure there are no injuries. He checks your ears and lets out a breath of relief when he sees that they’re free of blood as well, meaning it’s less likely you’d been hit in the head by something during or prior to the fall.

“My love, you’ve gotta wake up now,” he says, gently stroking a thumb over your cheek. “You’re safe now, please wake up. I’ve got you. Please wake up. Angel, please. Just open your eyes for me, please? Baby, please open your eyes.”

Sam stares down Joaquin, his eyebrows knotted in worry. You’re breathing, so that’s a good thing, but he’s never seen Joaquin act like this before. Joaquin, who is usually so upbeat. Joaquin, who makes him laugh countless times a day. Joaquin, who never lets things get to him and is so happy-go-lucky all the time. Joaquin, who has a heart of gold.

Joaquin, who has tears streaming down his cheeks as he holds your unconscious body in his arms. Joaquin, who is gently stroking your hair with so much care. Joaquin, who cannot fathom existing in a world where you don’t.

Your eyes slowly flutter open as you regain consciouness, as if summoned by Joaquin himself. It takes a moment for Joaquin to register it – he thinks he might be imagining it at first. But then your head moves a little and you blink and he knows it’s real. 

“Angel, oh my god. You’re okay, everything’s okay. I’ve got you,” Joaquin breathes. His heart is racing as he takes in the fact that you’re awake. “Don’t try and move, okay? Do you remember what happened? Actually, that doesn’t matter. Are you okay? Of course you’re not okay, you just fell out of the sky. But it’s okay, I caught you. You just must’ve passed out from the fall but–”

A hand falls on his shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze – Sam. He looks up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “Joaquin, it’s all right,” he says simply. “Take a breath, okay?” 

Joaquin looks back down at you and tries to take a deep breath. It comes out all shaky, but it’s better than nothing. His hand continues stroking your hair, trying to ground himself and remind himself that you’re okay. He’d caught you in time. You’re alive. He’d gotten a little carried away, as he tended to do sometimes when he was worried or distracted. He’s grateful that Sam is here to help keep him grounded.

“Baby,” you manage, trying to ignore the way your head is still spinning a little. You’d passed out almost immediately once you’d started falling. For a few seconds you’d tried to reactivate your jetpack and tried to reach Sam and Joaquin on your comms, but it’d become clear quickly that something had gone wrong and they’d stopped working. “You caught me?” 

He nods, looking down at you. “I did. Flew faster than I thought it was possible to get to you in time, but I made it.” He glances back up at Sam. “I think I actually moved faster than the speed of light. That’s  pretty impressive, hey? Bet you haven’t done that before.” 

Sam chuckles. Just like that, the kid is back to his usual self. 

Joaquin doesn’t wait for Sam’s reply before he looks back at you. “I’d always catch you.”

You reach up a hand to touch his own face, cupping his jaw. He leans into it, relaxing at the feeling of your palm on his cheek. “You’re crying, baby.” You swipe your thumb across his cheek, wiping some of his tears. 

He sniffs and moves one of his hands to touch his cheek and wipe away the rest of the tears. “Damn,” he mumbles. “I would have looked so much cooler if I wasn’t crying.”

Sam, behind him, scoffs. “Joaquin, she almost died.”

“Yeah, I know! That’s why I’m crying.”

You laugh, then, but it quickly turns into a bit of a cough, making you realise that maybe you haven’t come out of this unscathed – perhaps the impact of being caught or something to do with the explosion that had hit your jetpack. Joaquin’s amused face quickly changes to one of worry, like it had been moments before. Whatever the injury is, though, you somehow know it isn’t serious. You can’t feel pain anywhere and you’re not bleeding.

“Thank you for saving me, baby,” you swipe your thumb over his cheek again, catching another one of his tears that’s just fallen. “I’d catch you too.”

Sam kneels down on the ground next to you. “Let’s go get you checked out, okay?” He says, looking between you and Sam. Once you nod in agreement, he’s quick to help Joaquin in getting you off the ground and standing up. 

Joaquin wraps an arm around your waist to help you stay standing. “You all right?” He asks as you wobble a little. You’re clearly a little dizzy which is understandable considering the height you’d been falling from. 

For a moment, the two men wait for you to get your bearings and steady yourself. When you manage a thumbs up, Sam starts walking ahead of you. He’d taken down the last of the people you’d been fighting just before he’d seen what happened to you, but the item they’d been trying to get was clearly not here after all. 

“I think I can walk on my own, Joaquin,” you say as you start walking.

He shakes his head, tightening his grip on your waist a little. He doesn’t care if he has to walk slower than a turtle with you right now, he’s not going anywhere. “I’m not letting go,” he hums. “I said I’d always catch you, and that applies to falling on land as well.”

You chuckle and relent, accepting his help. “You reckon our next mission might actually go to plan?”

Joaquin flashes you a grin. “Statistically speaking, at least one of our missions should go to plan… whether it’s gonna be the next one or not… I feel like that’s unlikely…”

––––

Joaquín Torres Tag List (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@sidkneeeee @dead-inside-but-happy @lay-lay-5 @marchingicenotes7 @phucboy @davinashifts333 @lomlbuckybarnes @laurenjbb @chansburgah @blackwidownat2814 @mischiefmanaged71 @madzlovez @marvelwitchergilmore @brittnicki @rheas-ripley @bcystar @victorsbathroomstall @giona45-5 @voodoo-tofu @happypopcornprincess @antixsocialx2 @innazra @lllucere @moonxnite @peacefangirl @ahoodgirl

[zhelin-thames]

Death’s Gentle Touch

@demonic0angel thank you for letting me write this.

Ps. This is not a dead silent ship but a dead on main ship. I am way too much of a dead tired, dead on main and dead serious fan🫣, so..... Srry😇

Danny hadn’t planned on staying in Gotham for long. The city was overwhelming, a swirling mess of emotions, crime, and shadows that never seemed to sleep. But something about it called to him—a faint pull in the back of his mind, like the restless murmur of ghosts who hadn’t yet crossed his path.

And then he started noticing them.

The kids.

Each one had a presence that whispered of death’s touch. Not full-on ghostly, but close. Too close. It tugged at Danny’s core, a strange mix of familiarity and concern. The first was a quiet boy, barely seven, with hollow eyes and a haunted expression. Danny found him huddled in the shadows of Crime Alley, shivering and alone.

It wasn’t even a conscious decision. He couldn’t leave the kid there.

And so, the warehouse became home.

The old building wasn’t much to look at from the outside, but Danny had poured what little ecto-energy he could spare into reinforcing it, patching up leaks, and making it livable. Inside, it was surprisingly cozy. Rugs covered the cold floor, mismatched furniture filled the space, and shelves lined with books and trinkets added a sense of warmth.

Within weeks, Danny’s little family had grown.

Five kids now called the warehouse home, each one with a story that left Danny seething with quiet rage. Abusive parents, neglectful guardians, and the harsh streets of Gotham had taken their toll on each of them. Danny couldn’t fix the past, but he could offer them something better: safety, warmth, and the promise that they’d never be alone again.

One of the kids, Sam, was from one of Gotham’s elite families. He’d run away after his parents’ cruelty pushed him too far. When Danny had found him, Sam had been too weak to argue.

It was Cassandra Cain who stumbled upon them.

She’d been tracking a lead on a missing child—the wealthy parents had finally reported Sam missing after weeks, though their concern had seemed more for appearances than genuine worry. Her trail led her to the refurbished warehouse.

Cass slipped inside silently, her every movement a shadow. What she saw stopped her in her tracks.

Danny was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a tattered storybook in his hands. The five kids were gathered around him, leaning against him or huddled close, their faces rapt with attention. Danny’s voice was soft, animated, bringing the story to life.

“...and the brave knight faced the dragon, not with a sword, but with kindness.” Danny smiled, looking down at the youngest child, a girl clutching his arm. “Because sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is try to understand someone else.”

Cass didn’t move for a moment.

The scene was so achingly peaceful, so pure, that it seemed impossible in a city like Gotham. She could feel the protective energy radiating from Danny, the way the kids seemed to trust him implicitly. It wasn’t just a man taking care of children. He was their anchor, their safe harbor.

Still, she stepped forward.

Danny looked up, his glowing green eyes meeting hers. For a second, Cass tensed, ready for a fight. But Danny’s expression softened, and he raised a hand in a calming gesture.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “You must be one of the Bats.”

Cass tilted her head, curious but cautious. “Who... are you?”

“I’m Danny,” he replied simply, closing the book. “And these are my kids.”

Her gaze flickered to the children. Sam had tensed at her presence, but Danny placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“They’re safe here,” Danny continued, his voice calm but firm. “I promise. I know you’re probably here for him.” He nodded toward Sam. “But he ran for a reason. And I’m not about to let anyone hurt him again.”

Cass reported back to Bruce and the others. The revelation sparked an intense debate in the Batcave.

“He’s just a kid himself!” Damian snapped, glaring at the screen showing Danny’s image. “What gives him the right to take in strays like this?”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Tim muttered, earning a scowl from Damian.

Bruce, arms crossed, studied the footage Cass had captured. Danny’s protective aura was undeniable, as was the bond he’d formed with the children. “We need to know more about him,” Bruce said. “His intentions, his background, his... abilities.”

Jason leaned against the wall, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re just mad someone’s beating you at the whole ‘adopting strays’ thing, B.”

Alfred cleared his throat. “Master Jason, perhaps we should focus on how best to ensure the children’s well-being.”

When the Bats finally confronted Danny in the warehouse, they were met with calm defiance. Danny stood his ground, the kids huddled behind him.

“I get it,” he said, arms crossed. “You’re the big, bad vigilantes of Gotham. But these kids? They’re not just cases or numbers. They’re people. And they deserve better than what the system gave them.”

Bruce stepped forward. “We’re not here to take them from you. But this isn’t sustainable. You’re their age. How do you plan to provide for them long-term?”

Danny hesitated, then sighed. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

Jason, watching the exchange, stepped closer. “What’s your deal, Danny? You’re not just some random guy.”

Danny met his gaze, his glowing eyes narrowing slightly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Jason smirked. “Try me.”

The Bats weren’t ones to leave mysteries unsolved, and Danny wasn’t about to spill his life story to a group of masked vigilantes without some trust first. It took weeks of cautious interactions and reluctant cooperation for things to come to light.

It was Jason who finally got Danny to open up.

One night, after dropping off a bag of supplies Bruce had insisted the kids needed, Jason stayed behind. He found Danny on the roof of the warehouse, leaning against the railing as he stared at the Gotham skyline. The night air was crisp, carrying the distant hum of the city.

“So,” Jason began, hopping onto the ledge beside him. “You’re not just some ordinary kid with a big heart. What’s your story?”

Danny let out a long sigh. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

For a moment, Danny said nothing. Then he raised his hand, letting a soft green glow surround it. “You ever hear of Amity Park?”

Jason frowned. “The town with all those ghost rumors? Thought it was a bunch of tabloid nonsense.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not,” Danny said, his voice quieter now. “I grew up there. My parents were... ghost hunters. They built a portal to another dimension—the Infinite Realms. Something went wrong, and I ended up... connected to it. Half-ghost, half-human.”

Jason blinked, his eyes narrowing as he processed the information. “Half-ghost? Like, you died?”

“Sort of.” Danny’s tone was light, but his eyes reflected the weight of the experience. “It’s complicated. I didn’t plan to stick around Gotham, but then I started noticing these kids—how close they were to death, how much they’d suffered. I couldn’t just leave them.”

Jason studied him for a moment, then nodded. “You’re a weird guy, Danny. But I get it.”

Danny smirked. “Thanks, I think.”

Each child Danny had taken in had their own struggles, their own pain that had led them to him.

Sam: The son of a wealthy Gotham family, Sam had been raised in luxury but at a terrible cost. His parents cared more about appearances than his well-being, and the pressure to be perfect had been crushing. When Danny found him, Sam had been wandering the streets, bruised and desperate for escape.

Mia: A street-smart girl with a sharp tongue, Mia had grown up in foster care, bouncing between homes that never cared for her. She’d survived on her own for months before Danny found her, stealing food to survive.

Leo: Barely six, Leo had been abandoned in Crime Alley. He didn’t speak much, but he clung to Danny like a lifeline.

Ella: A bright-eyed girl with an affinity for art, Ella had been living in a condemned building with her older brother, who’d died protecting her. Danny found her crying over his body, her face pale and haunted.

Max: A quiet, thoughtful boy who had a near-death experience after falling into Gotham River. His brush with death had left him sensitive to the supernatural, and he’d been drawn to Danny almost instinctively.

Danny had given them all a second chance, teaching them to trust again. The warehouse became their safe haven, a place where they could heal.

Despite their initial skepticism, the Bats couldn’t deny that Danny was doing good. Bruce offered resources to help with the kids, on the condition that Danny let them monitor the situation.

“I’m not looking to turn this into a charity case,” Danny had said. “I just want what’s best for them.”

“And that’s what we’re offering,” Bruce replied evenly. “Whether you like it or not, we’re invested now.”

Danny found himself working with the Bats more often, whether it was coordinating efforts to help other at-risk kids or teaming up with them during ghost-related incidents.

Cass became a frequent visitor, quietly helping with the children and bonding with Danny over their shared love of storytelling. Tim couldn’t resist asking questions about ghost tech and the Infinite Realms, while Damian begrudgingly admitted that Danny wasn’t as useless as he’d assumed.

Jason, however, became Danny’s closest ally. The two shared a mutual understanding, both having faced death and come back changed.

Years passed, and the warehouse evolved. The children grew, some eventually striking out on their own while others stayed close. Danny became a pillar of the community, the once-abandoned warehouse now a thriving community center.

Jason remained a constant presence in Danny’s life. Their friendship deepened, and somewhere along the way, it turned into something more.

The wedding was a quiet affair, held in the Infinite Realms. The guests were a mix of humans and ghosts, an unusual but fitting reflection of Danny and Jason’s lives.

Sam, Mia, Leo, Ella, and Max—now young adults—stood by Danny’s side, their smiles bright and proud. The Bats, dressed in uncharacteristically formal attire, watched with a mix of fondness and exasperation as Jason said his vows.

“I didn’t think I’d get a second chance at a family,” Jason said, his voice steady but soft. “But with you, Danny, I found something I didn’t even know I was looking for.”

Danny smiled, his eyes glowing faintly. “And I found a home—in Gotham, in these kids, and in you. You’re stuck with me now, Jason.”

As they exchanged rings, the Infinite Realms shimmered around them, a quiet acknowledgment of the bond they’d forged.

And as they stepped into their future together, hand in hand, they knew they’d face whatever came next—together, as a family.

Over the years, Danny and Jason’s “kids” grew into remarkable young adults, each finding their own path while staying connected to the family they had built together.

Sam: The Voice for Justice

Sam’s upbringing in Gotham’s elite circles gave him unique insight into the city’s upper class. As an adult, he used that knowledge to challenge the corruption ingrained in Gotham’s wealthy families.

By day, Sam became a successful lawyer, taking on cases for those who couldn’t afford proper representation. By night, he used his connections to help Danny and Jason uncover and dismantle illegal operations hidden behind Gotham’s polished facade.

Despite his serious demeanor, Sam never forgot the kindness Danny showed him. He often visited the community center to mentor at-risk kids, giving them the guidance he wished he’d had.

Mia: The Protector

Mia’s sharp tongue and street smarts made her a natural fighter. She trained with Cass and Damian, honing her skills until she became a formidable vigilante known as Specterblade.

Unlike most of Gotham’s protectors, Mia embraced her ghostly side. Danny taught her how to channel ectoplasmic energy, giving her an edge in combat. She patrolled the streets with a ferocity that even Damian respected, targeting human traffickers and abusers with relentless determination.

Though she worked in the shadows, Mia also took an active role at the community center, running self-defense classes for women and teens.

Leo: The Guardian of the Realms

Leo’s quiet nature hid a deep connection to the Infinite Realms. Over time, his near-death experience evolved into a unique ability to sense disturbances between dimensions.

Danny noticed this early on and trained Leo to become a Realmwalker, a protector of the delicate balance between the mortal world and the Infinite Realms. Leo embraced the role, splitting his time between Gotham and the ghostly dimension.

He became a key figure in handling supernatural threats that even the Justice League struggled with. Though he was often away, Leo remained fiercely loyal to his family, returning whenever they needed him.

Ella: The Healer

Ella’s love for art evolved into a passion for design and restoration. She studied architecture and urban planning, eventually becoming a key figure in revitalizing Gotham’s neglected neighborhoods.

Her ghostly sensitivity gave her a unique perspective on spaces and their emotional resonance, which she used to create safe, welcoming environments. The community center was her first major project, and she expanded its reach with satellite locations across the city.

Ella’s gentle spirit made her a comforting presence in the family, and she often acted as the mediator when tensions ran high.

Max: The Tech Genius

Max’s brush with death left him fascinated by technology and its potential to change lives. He became a brilliant engineer, blending ghost tech and human innovation to create devices that pushed the boundaries of possibility.

Working alongside Tim, Max developed tools to help Gotham’s vigilantes fight crime more efficiently. He also created gadgets to help people with disabilities, inspired by the struggles he witnessed during his time on the streets.

Max was the quiet brain behind many of the family’s operations, preferring to let his work speak for itself.

Despite their busy lives, the kids never forgot their roots. They visited the warehouse-turned-community center regularly, helping Danny and Jason with new initiatives and staying connected to the city that had once failed them.

Family dinners were a chaotic but cherished tradition, with everyone gathering around the table to share stories, tease each other, and reaffirm their bond.

In their own ways, each of Danny and Jason’s kids carried on their legacy of hope, proving that even in a city as dark as Gotham, second chances could bloom into something extraordinary.

I might make this a series and show each kids journey. Hope you guys liked it.

[melwnst]

Hiiiiiiii! We haven't interacted much but you show up quite a bit on my feed. I have a scenario that I just don't feel like I can do justice for myself, so I'm entrusting it to someone else to help with your writer's block. (And yes I'm reading this directly from the pin/tweet that made me want to see it written)

You know those scenes in romance books where she hits and punches his chest repeatedly in complete agony until it all gets too much for her to bear so she just slumps into him and sobs and he embraces her like she would disappear if he let go?

Dean x reader pretty please <3

────── ⋆⋅☆ GUILT TRIPPER, D.W

⭑.ᐟ Thanks for the request hun- not sure if this is what you had in mind but I was fighting for my life I needed to write angst. He’s such a fucking cunt in this I actually hate him. Pls interact and send requests if u have any<3

word count. 1k

supernatural masterlist/full masterlist

──────────୨ৎ──────────

You find yourself cursing someone, anyone. Hoping and praying this is just a sick joke. That this isn’t what’s left of it- that this isn’t the final blow. That maybe, it’s just the universe getting back at you, but it’ll come back to normal eventually after it’s taught you a lesson.

It doesn’t.

It probably never will, at least that’s what you tell yourself.

It starts slowly.

It starts with you noticing the looks from across the room at the bar. You see the way she looks at him, but you refuse to acknowledge the way he looks back at her.

Then he stops holding your hand from across the table at that same bar- because she’s there. You know it- deep down, that something’s happening. But you tell yourself that it’s stupid- maybe you’re imagining things. The case is about to be over anyway- and you’ll be on your way, far away from her.

Then- his hand doesn’t lay at the small of your back when you walk into the bar. He doesn’t kiss- look- laugh anymore.

No-he stares. He stares at the same blond, tall, beautiful woman that makes you feel so small, you might shrink to death.

Sam notices it. You know he must’ve told Dean to stop- to pay attention- must’ve cursed at him, because he has you- but you also know it’s no use. When Dean sets his mind to something- someone, he gets it. Because he’s Dean Winchester. Anyone would be crazy to say no to him.

When the case is over- you’re packing your bags, the silence fills the room. It’s so loud- it’s almost scary because all you can hear is the sound of your heartbeat, and Dean’s footsteps.

‘What are you doing?’ He asks, his arms crossed, leaning on the bathroom door.

‘Packing. Why aren’t you?’ You ask, sniffling, because you know exactly why he isn’t.

‘I figured we could use a vacation, maybe stay here a couple more days?’

Then you straighten your back. Your hands go on your waist. And you laugh.

You laugh and turn around to see dean’s confused face looking back at you.

‘We could use a vacation? Seriously? You couldn’t come up with anything else?’ You stare him down, hoping to make him feel the way he’s been making you feel since that first night at the bar although you’re this close to breaking down.

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Dean walks closer to you, but you stop him.

‘Don’t.’

‘What are you doing right now?’ His arms wave in the air, like he’s so innocent he has no idea.

‘What’s her name?’

Dean blinks. He blinks- but he doesn’t answer.

‘I know, Dean. I’m not fucking stupid.’ You confess. His eyes still move-erratically. His breath quickens as if he’s scared he got caught.

The silence fills the room again. But this time it’s a quiet silence. The one that doesn’t sound too harsh in your ears. The one that cuts deep. The one that makes you want to die.

It’s your turn to blink, but you blink tears- not guilt. The tears fall- faster, your heart feels like it’s being ripped out of your chest, and soon enough, he talks again.

‘It was one night. I didn’t mean for it to happen.’ It’s faint. Barely audible like he’s ashamed.

The sigh you let out is enough to break his heart.

His heart that didn’t mind breaking yours. Or that didn’t think it would anyway- because for him- it’d stay a secret, hidden deep inside of him, you’d never find out.

‘Right. So you stuck your tongue in her mouth but you had no control right? You were in her but you weren’t thinking? You expect me to believe that bullshit?’

‘Liste-‘

‘No you listen. You’re a fucking coward. I left my whole life behind so I could do this with you. For you! You begged me, Dean. You told me you wouldn’t do this without me. You guilt tripped me into becoming a hunter. Who does that to a person they’re supposed to love? This whole thing was a damn lie!’ You’re closer to him without realizing it. You choke through the tears he’s letting you shed.

‘It was never a lie!’

Then you hit him.

You hit him, again.

And again.

Until your writs, your fists hurt because he deserves it.

‘Yes it was!’

You hit him because you’re breaking. And because he deserves to be hurt.

He deserves to never be loved by anyone ever again because of what he did to you.

Because of all the promises he swore he’d never break but eventually did.

‘I hate you!’ Your fists pump against his chest, the bruises form, he tries to make you stop but figures there’s no point. He deserves it. Maybe he is a coward. No-he definitely is. So he lets you.

He lets you lash out. He lets you hit him so hard your hands are this close to bleeding.

Then the strength fades out. You can’t hit him anymore. You’re trying, but the hate and pain you feel is enough to make you collapse.

You don’t see it, but Dean cries. He cries for you- for what he did to you. He cries because he hates that he’s put you in this position- this state. So the moment you give out under your feet, dean’s right here to hold you. He finds himself on the floor with you. His chest burns, his heart aches, his arms hold your frame like you’re so fragile you might just die because of him.

He’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go. He’s scared you’ll hate him for the rest of his miserable life. But he gets what he deserves right? This is all on him.

The worst part is, he’s not sure he regrets it. The only thing he regrets is that he let you find out. That he wasn’t subtle. That he let you get hurt- not because he cheated, but because he could’ve been more careful. Hidden it better.

You’re not sure you can think anymore.

Your brain is fuzzy, your entire body hurts, you feel like your heart’s not working anymore. Or it might give out soon. It’s unfair.

He promised he’d stick with you.

He promised he could love you more than anyone with a normal life could.

He promised he wouldn’t go anywhere.

His first promise was that he wouldn’t let go. He’d be here- it’d be just you, him and Sam.

He lied.

Dean Winchester is a damn liar.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist: @tinas111 @bluemerakis @blossomingorchids @l0v33-rey @mostlymarvelgirl @that-stanford-girlie @sunnyteume @bohoooitsme @beelzebzb (comment to be added!)

[cheekybarnes]

hello + welcome! i’m ash (she/they), fic writer in my mid 20s based in the pacific northwest. i mostly write marvel x reader fics—heavy on bucky barnes for now, but more to come!

requests are currently closed but my inbox is always open :)

see what i'm currently working on here & take a look at my request guidelines

↓ masterlist below the cut ↓

bucky barnes x reader

drabbles/headcannons:

five times he almost did: five times bucky didn’t say ‘I love you’—and one time he did.

short reads (<6k):

margin of error: you skip the med bay after a mission that left you bruised and bleeding to keep bucky from finding out you’re hurt—not realizing he’s home early.

promise without ceremony: bucky gave up on marriage a long time ago. then, somewhere deep in a safe house, he pulls a bullet from your leg and accidentally proposes in the process.

comms interference: the team knew something was off about you, the one who kept hijacking their comms and saving their asses with pop music. what they don’t know is that you’re bucky’s secret wife.

interim measures: (thunderbolts/bucky x reader) after officially moving into avengers tower, the team is still figuring out how to coexist. game night doesn’t help, but it does bring its own kind of messy, necessary magic.

something worth holding: you bring bucky flowers for his birthday, something no one has ever given him, and what starts as a simple gesture turns into something far more significant.

under the snowfall: snowed in at a safe house, you start a snowball fight with bucky, sam, and joaquin, and chaos quickly follows.

long reads (6k+):

a place to land: after a night out goes violently wrong, you call bucky—without knowing what you’re even asking for. he shows up anyway, staying long after the worst of it, until you finally start to believe you’re safe.

hold fast: a mission goes sideways, forcing you to cross a frozen lake. the ice doesn’t hold, and when you go under, Bucky is the only thing between you and the dark.

high water: you’ve stopped keeping track of the bruises. bucky hasn’t—and he doesn’t say anything, not until the patterns start looking too much like his own.

into the void: inside the void, nothing is real, but the trauma is. as memory turns to ruin, bucky is found by the only person who ever made him believe he could survive what was done to him.

fault lines: after getting laid off from your job, you're doing everything you can to keep it together. bucky refuses to let you go through the unraveling alone.

the shape of a life: you didn’t plan to become a guardian overnight—and you never planned to ask bucky for help. he wants a future you’re not sure you believe in, and now you’re both standing at the edge of it.

no way but through: a snowstorm swallows the world whole, leaving you and bucky stranded in the middle of nowhere during a mission with no way out.

a love letter to stone: you were bucky’s fiancée in the 40s, spending decades at his grave, never moving on. when he finally comes home, you’re already gone.

salt in the blood: you live in a quiet fishing town far from the mess of politics, superheroes, and global conflicts. at least, you did, until a stranger with sharp eyes, a metal arm, and a haunted look shows up at your dock asking for a boat.

series:

a seat at the table | congressman!bucky x journalist!reader

journalism was supposed to be about the truth. politics was supposed to be about power. when bucky barnes—former assassin, reluctant congressman—leaves you with more questions than answers, you find yourself caught in a different kind of story. leads into thunderbolts* part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

point of impact | civil war!avengers/bucky x transported!reader

in your world, the avengers are fiction—comics, movies, nothing more. then a lab experiment goes wrong, and you wake up mid-civil war with no way out and no script to follow. part 1

it’s not what you think | avengers tower au

OLD FIC! you come to the avengers tower late at night with a black eye and bucky finds out it was caused by your abusive boyfriend. (old fic, beware of subpar writing!) part 1 | part 2 | rewrite coming soon???

bob reynolds x reader

oneshots:

the quiet that follows: (thunderbolts/bob x reader) you can dampen emotions, and you do it to keep the team steady. when it starts to wear you down, they try to show up in their own clumsy ways, bob just does it the quietest.

steve rogers x reader

oneshots:

a place to burn: you and steve were lovers until the accords split the team and you chose tony. now three years after the snap, a failed mission forces you back into his orbit, where five years of silence finally demands an answer.

peter parker x reader

oneshots:

saudade: OLD FIC! you wait for your best friend peter to come back after heading towards a spaceship in the sky while on a field trip so you can tell him how you really feel.

[blueschevy]

Scared of loving you…

pairing: dean winchester x reader

prompt: "I don't want to love her. I don't like what that means for me."

"What do you think it means?"

"It means I have something to lose again, and I'm not strong enough for that anymore."

warnings: none, just pure tooth rotting fluff, lots of fluff, a little bit of angst if you squint

notes: Set in season 10, so during the moc!dean era, but we don’t get to see a lot of moc!dean just some of the effects, I don’t know what else to say hahah

I saw a picture of the tumblr post about this prompt on Pinterest and loved it. So I immediately had to write about. Long story short: credits for the prompt go to @promptsforthestrugglingauthor

This is my first ever fanfic posted, so bear with me please. Also English isn’t my first language, sorry for any mistakes. Feedback is GREATLY appreciated!! Now enjoy!

The bunker was quiet. Too quiet.

Dean sat at the war room table, a whiskey glass in hand, half-empty but untouched for the last twenty minutes. The Mark of Cain burned under his skin, a constant reminder of what he was becoming. What he already was.

And then there was you.

The hunter they’d met on a case in South Dakota months ago. The one who was too smart, too stubborn, too damn good for a world like this. The one who had somehow, against all odds, wormed her way into his life, into his thoughts. Into his heart.

He hated it. Hated what it meant.

Sam sat across from him, watching, waiting. Dean could feel his brother’s eyes on him, the way he always did when he knew something was wrong.

“She’s not a problem, you know,” Sam finally said, breaking the silence.

Dean let out a rough exhale, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

Sam frowned. “Dean—”

“I don’t want to love her.” His voice was quiet but firm, like he was trying to convince himself more than Sam. His fingers curled tightly around the glass, jaw clenching. “I don’t like what that means for me.”

Sam leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “What do you mean?”

Dean swallowed hard, staring at the dark amber liquid in his glass. His voice was quieter when he answered. “It means I have something to lose again, and I’m not strong enough for that anymore.”

Sam sighed, his expression softening. “Dean…”

Dean shook his head. “You don’t get it, man. You didn’t see what I did. What the Mark was and still is doing to me” His throat tightened, but he forced the words out anyway. “I liked it, Sammy. I liked the kill, the power. What happens if I go back to that? If she—” He broke off, running a hand over his face.

Sam sat back, considering. “You think pushing her away is gonna stop you from losing her?”

Dean let out a bitter laugh. “If she’s not in my life, she can’t be a casualty of it.”

“That’s crap and you know it.” Sam shook his head. “She already cares about you. You already care about her. That’s not gonna change just because you pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Dean exhaled sharply, pressing his fingers against his temple like he could push the feelings out of his head. It wasn’t that easy. It never was.

And deep down, he knew Sam was right.

You were already a part of his life. A part of him. And no matter how much he tried to fight it, you weren’t going anywhere.

And maybe… maybe he didn’t want you to.

-

Dean didn’t sleep that night.

Instead, he sat in his room, staring at the ceiling, the Mark of Cain pulsing beneath his skin like it had a heartbeat of its own.

You.

He didn’t want to think about you, but you were there anyway. In the way you called him out on his bullshit, in the way you hands were steady on a shotgun but gentle when you patched up his wounds. In the way you saw right through him, past the walls and the deflections and the darkness curling inside him.

And that was the problem.

He couldn’t afford to have someone like you. Someone good. Someone who would look at him with wide, worried eyes if you ever saw just how deep the rot went.

He squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling through his nose.

This was the right thing. Keeping you at arm’s length. Because the alternative?

The alternative was worse.

A knock at his door made his muscles tense. For a second, he thought about ignoring it. But then your voice came through, quiet, steady.

“Dean?”

His stomach clenched.

Shit.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, forcing himself to his feet. He hesitated—just don’t answer it, just let her go—but his hand was already wrapping around the doorknob, like muscle memory.

He cracked the door open just enough to see you.

You stood there, arms crossed, eyebrows pulled together in that way that meant you knew something was wrong. You were in an old sweatshirt and flannel pajama pants, but you still looked—hell, he didn’t even want to think the word.

“What’s up?” he asked, voice rough from lack of sleep.

Your lips pressed together. “You tell me.”

Dean let out a slow breath, leaning against the doorframe. “Nothin’ to tell.”

You tilted your head, searching his face. He hated how well you could read him. “Sam said you were in your head tonight.”

Dean scoffed. “Sam needs to quit running his mouth.”

Your expression didn’t change. “Dean.”

Damn it.

He should shut the door. Should make some excuse, send you away. But instead, he found himself stepping back, opening the door a little wider.

You hesitated, but then you moved past him, into his room.

You didn’t sit. Just stood there, arms still crossed, watching him.

Dean closed the door, leaning back against it, arms mirroring yours.

After a beat, you sighed. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on,” you said, voice softer now. “But I can see it, Dean. Whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

His chest ached.

You didn’t get it. You couldn’t get it.

“That’s the thing, sweetheart,” he said, forcing a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I do.”

Your eyes didn’t leave his. You weren’t buying the act. “Why?”

He hesitated. Then—because maybe part of him wanted you to understand, because maybe part of him was just tired—he exhaled.

“Because if I let myself have this—” He gestured vaguely between you. “—if I let myself have you, then it’s just another way for me to loose. To loose you. And I’ve lost too much already.”

Your expression didn’t waver. “You think pushing me away is gonna keep me safe?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

You took a step forward. He should move. He didn’t.

“Dean, you don’t get to decide that.” Your voice was firm now, unwavering. “I know what this life is. I know what it takes from us. But I also know what it gives.”

His jaw clenched. “And what’s that?”

You reached out—hesitated for half a second—then placed a hand over his, warm and steady.

“Each other.”

Dean’s breath hitched.

Something in him cracked, deep and quiet, like ice breaking under pressure.

You were right here. Right in front of him. Wanting to be here. And maybe—just maybe—he wanted that, too.

Dean’s throat felt tight, like he couldn’t swallow past the lump forming there. Your hand was warm against his, grounding in a way he didn’t know he needed.

He should pull away. Should make some smartass comment, throw up the walls that had kept him breathing this long.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he let out a slow, shuddering breath and turned his hand just enough to curl his fingers around yours. It was barely a movement, barely a decision, but you noticed. He saw it in the flicker of something soft in your eyes, the way you squeezed his fingers in silent understanding.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, voice rough, raw.

You didn’t flinch. “Do what?”

Dean swallowed. “Want someone like this. Let someone in like this.” He glanced down at your joined hands, like the sight alone could burn him. “Not anymore.”

You were quiet for a moment. Then you said, “Then let’s figure it out together.”

His chest ached.

He wanted to believe that was possible. Wanted to believe there was a version of this where he could have you without losing you, without you becoming another name carved into his bones.

But the mark was still there. The darkness was still inside him, whispering in the back of his mind, reminding him that he wasn’t safe. That he was a loaded gun with no safety.

“I’m not a good bet,” he murmured.

Your expression didn’t waver. “Good thing I’m not a gambler.”

Dean huffed out something like a laugh, shaking his head. “You should be running in the other direction.”

“Maybe.” You tilted your head. “But I’m not.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you—the steady determination in your eyes, the way you were standing firm even as you gave him space to run if he wanted to.

And for the first time in a long time, Dean wasn’t sure he did want to run.

The weight of everything pressed down on him—the mark, the past, the fear clawing at the edges of his ribs—but you were still there. Still standing. Still holding his hand.

Dean let out a slow breath.

Maybe he could figure this out. Maybe he didn’t have to be alone in the dark.

Maybe—just maybe—he could let himself have this.

Even if it scared the hell out of him.

And maybe that was what undid him.

His fingers tightened around yours, hesitant but certain, like he was anchoring himself to the moment. To you.

Your breath hitched just slightly, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you shifted closer—not enough to be overwhelming, just enough that he could feel your warmth, your presence. It should have been suffocating, but it wasn’t. It was steady. It was real.

Dean swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet your gaze. “You really think this is a good idea?” His voice was rough, edged with something unspoken.

Your lips twitched, a small, knowing smile. “Nope.”

Dean blinked. “Wow. Great pep talk, sweetheart.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “It’s terrifying,” you admitted. “But I think the best things usually are.”

His chest ached, something heavy settling behind his ribs.

You were right.

Again.

And damn it, part of him hated that.

The other part? The part that was exhausted from running, from pushing everyone away, from pretending he didn’t want something more?

That part wanted to believe you.

Dean exhaled sharply, his free hand scrubbing over his face before dropping to his side. “This is gonna be a disaster,” he muttered.

You grinned. “Probably.”

He huffed. “You’re not supposed to agree with me.”

You just shrugged. “Then stop being right all the time.”

Dean’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile there and gone in an instant. And maybe it was reckless, maybe it was stupid, but he let his hand drift up, fingers ghosting along your wrist before curling around it.

You stilled, eyes flicking to his, waiting.

Dean swallowed. He didn’t know what he was doing, what he was supposed to do. But when you didn’t move away, when you stayed right there, close enough to touch, he let himself breathe you in.

“Just… tell me when to stop,” he murmured.

Your gaze softened. “Dean.”

His throat tightened.

Then, so quiet he almost didn’t hear it, you whispered, “I don’t want you to stop.”

Something in him cracked wide open.

Dean didn’t think. Didn’t second-guess. He just moved.

His fingers slid up your arm, along the curve of your shoulder, until they found your jaw. His thumb brushed over your cheek, a slow, tentative touch.

You leaned into him, just barely, like you were giving him permission.

Dean’s breath stuttered.

And then—hesitant, unsure, but real—he kissed you.

It wasn’t desperate or demanding. It was careful, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he wasn’t gentle enough.

You made a soft, surprised noise against his lips, and that sound alone nearly undid him.

You tasted like warmth, like something he didn’t deserve but wanted anyway.

And when you kissed him back—slow, lingering, certain—Dean realized something terrifying.

Maybe, for the first time in a long time…

He had something worth fighting for again.

You sighed into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his Henley like you were afraid he might pull away. But Dean had no intention of doing that. Not now. Not when he’d finally let himself have this, when you were kissing him back like you’d been waiting just as long.

He deepened the kiss just slightly, tilting his head to slot against you more easily. It was still gentle, still careful, but there was something more now—something that felt like giving in.

Your hands slid up his chest, slow and deliberate, before settling at the base of his neck. Your fingers brushed against the short hairs there, sending a shiver down his spine.

Dean exhaled against your lips, his own hands skimming along your waist before settling on the small of your back. You fit against him so perfectly, like you’d always been meant to be there.

When you pulled back just a fraction, Dean nearly followed, but you didn’t go far. Your noses brushed, breaths mingling in the space between you.

You smiled, soft and a little dazed. “You okay?”

Dean huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, you just kissed me. Pretty sure I’m supposed to be asking you that.”

Your fingers toyed with the hairs at the back of his neck, your touch warm and steady. “I think I’m good.”

Dean’s heart thudded, his grip on you tightening just slightly. “Yeah?”

You hummed in agreement, your forehead resting against his.

Dean closed his eyes for a second, just breathing you in, letting himself be in this moment. No running, no pushing away. Just this.

Then, because he couldn’t not, he nudged your nose with his, his lips brushing over yours in the barest ghost of a kiss. It wasn’t desperate, wasn’t rushed. Just soft.

Your breath hitched, and you leaned into him again, pressing another lingering kiss to his lips—slower this time, sweeter. Like you had all the time in the world.

Dean groaned quietly, his hands slipping under the hem of your sweatshirt to rest against the warm skin of your back. He felt you shiver, felt the way your fingers curled a little tighter against him.

You kissed again, and again, each one more lingering than the last.

Dean wasn’t sure how long you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, lips brushing, noses nudging, fingers tracing. Time didn’t seem to matter.

Eventually, you pulled back just enough to rest your head against his shoulder. Dean exhaled, his arms looping around you fully, holding you against him.

You sighed, fingers trailing absently along his spine. “So… what now?”

Dean huffed. “Hell if I know.”

You laughed, the sound soft and good, and Dean felt something loosen in his chest.

He pressed a kiss to your hair, lingering there for a moment before murmuring, “But I think I wanna figure it out.”

You squeezed him gently. “Me too.”

Dean closed his eyes, letting himself have this—have you.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t just surviving.

He was living.

-

Dean wasn’t used to this.

The warmth of someone pressed against him. The quiet weight of another person just being there without expectation, without pressure.

But you were here, curled up against his side, and for once, he wasn’t thinking about how to push you away.

You had stayed.

After you kissed and talked in low murmurs, after he admitted—really admitted—that he wanted to figure this out, you had just stayed.

Now, you were draped half over him, one of your legs hooked over his, your head resting on his chest. Dean had one arm wrapped around you, fingers tracing slow circles against the small of your back. The other lay limp at his side, relaxed for the first time in what felt like years.

You let out a sleepy hum, fingers trailing lightly over his chest. “Y’know… I never thought this would happen.”

Dean smirked, shifting slightly beneath you. “What, you in my bed? Sweetheart, I had a feeling you’d cave eventually.”

You scoffed, lifting your head just enough to shoot him a look. “Cocky bastard.”

Dean chuckled, letting his fingers drift up your spine, teasing. “You love it.”

You huffed but didn’t pull away. “I tolerate it.”

Dean grinned. “Sure, sweetheart.”

You didn’t argue. Just sighed and nestled closer, your fingers moving absently over his arm, tracing shapes against his skin.

He closed his eyes for a second, soaking it in—the warmth of you, the way you fit so perfectly against him, the quiet ease between you.

For the first time in a long time, the mark wasn’t screaming at him.

Your fingers drifted lower, skimming over the fabric of his sleeve, right where the mark of cain lay beneath his skin.

Dean tensed instinctively, expecting the usual flare of heat, the uncomfortable itch that never seemed to fade.

But then—

You traced the edge of the mark through his sleeve, slow and deliberate.

And the burn eased.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath.

You froze, tilting your head to look at him. “You okay?”

He swallowed, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I just—” He hesitated, then exhaled. “Do that again.”

You blinked but obeyed, your fingers moving over the mark again, following its shape through the fabric.

The relief was instant. Like you were cooling an old wound, soothing something raw and restless inside him.

Dean let out a shaky breath, his grip on you tightening just slightly.

You frowned. “Dean…”

He forced himself to look at you.

You searched his face, your own unreadable. “Does it hurt?”

Dean shook his head. “No. It—it actually helps.”

Your expression softened. “Yeah?”

Dean nodded, licking his lips. “Yeah.”

You were quiet for a second, then—gently, carefully—you tugged at his sleeve. “Can I…?”

Dean hesitated. He never let anyone touch it. Not really. Not like this.

But you weren’t just anyone. He trusted you.

So, he swallowed and gave a small nod.

You pushed his sleeve up just enough to expose the dark lines of the mark. Dean braced himself for the usual pulse of power, the itch, the heat.

But when your fingers traced over it, bare skin against bare skin—

The itch vanished.

Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, eyes slipping shut.

Your touch was light, barely there, tracing each line and curve like you were learning it, memorizing it. But it wasn’t clinical, wasn’t hesitant. It was soothing.

Dean exhaled, the tension bleeding out of him.

You smiled, voice barely above a whisper. “Feels good?”

Dean huffed a quiet laugh, cracking one eye open. “Never thought I’d hear that about this damn thing.”

Your lips twitched. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”

Dean smirked, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “Yeah. You really are.”

You kept tracing the mark in slow, lazy patterns, your fingers gentle, methodical. Dean just let you, basking in the strange, unfamiliar relief of it.

At some point, your fingers slowed, your breathing evening out.

Dean glanced down and realized you were half-asleep, your head still resting against his chest, your hand curled loosely over his arm.

His throat tightened.

Carefully, he reached down and tangled his fingers with yours, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You hummed sleepily, squeezing his hand in return.

Dean smiled.

For the first time in a long, long time, he didn’t feel like a ticking time bomb.

For the first time in a long time, he felt at peace.

And it was all because of you.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

I have no clue how this guy hasn't divorced his wife. If my partner looked at me with disgust about anything that wasn't literally disgusting, I'd be googling "divorce lawyer."

by Sam Williams

A week ago, my wife and I went to John Lewis to look at air fryers. As we entered the store, I put on an FFP3 mask because of Covid. My wife looked at me in disgust and said, “Oh, you’re wearing a mask?” I replied, “Yes. There’s a lot of Covid around, and I don’t want it. Do you?”

She responded, “Well, the trouble is, I’m not wearing a mask”.

I said, “Yes, I can see that. I wish you would. The trouble is, every time I’ve caught Covid, it’s been from you. I’m disabled with long COVID, and every time I get reinfected, it makes me really, really ill”.

So here’s my question: does my wife not care?

I want to use this piece to spark a debate about who we are as people. Are we kind and virtuous, or are we selfish and indifferent? Writing an article about what stops people from wearing masks, while I live with the pain caused by my wife not masking, feels like an oddly meta activity.

That’s right, folks: it was probably my wife who gave me Covid in the first place. Although, to be fair, neither of us knew about masking or long Covid back then.

The case for masks amid rising Covid I need people to wear masks or ensure clean air so it’s safe for me to go out—especially in healthcare settings. Yet, most people refuse. I asked my wife why she doesn’t wear a mask, and she said, “There’s no point, because nobody else does.”

I understand the futility in her statement. Many people don’t wear masks simply because they don’t care or because they think Covid is over.

If my wife were a cruel or unkind person, it would be easier to accept her refusal to wear a mask. But in my experience, even many kind people—even those on the political Left—can be cruel when it comes to disabled individuals.

Although my wife has struggled with my disability, she is generally a kind person. In my autistic brain, it seems perfectly logical that she should wear a mask to protect me from airborne viruses. Yet, logic loses when it comes to personal choices and disability.

Misconceptions about Covid and masks People think Covid is “just a cold.” Some even believe masks themselves make you ill. I think people don’t mask because of ableism and because they’ve been conditioned to associate masks with the pandemic itself.

It’s the same conditioning that leads them to blame lockdowns and vaccines for Covid, rather than recognising these measures were designed to mitigate its spread.

When people see me in a mask, they’re reminded of the acute phase of the pandemic. My presence confronts them with an uncomfortable truth: their refusal to mask contributes to the deaths and disabling of others. It reveals they may not be as caring as they like to think.

I wish more people would remember the Covid dead and choose to wear a mask to prevent further loss of life.

Why people don’t mask The biggest reason, I believe, is a failure of public health communication over wearing a mask. The government declared Covid “over,” and most people still trust what they’re told. Many would resume masking if asked, but the government is too afraid of the right-wing media and too indifferent to disability to make that request.

Then there’s the pervasive idea of “health supremacy”:

The belief that only people with pre-existing conditions get long Covid.

The notion that a “healthy” immune system can fight off the virus.

The argument that we don’t need vaccines or other preventative measures.

Some even suggest that “living your best life” and going out for brunch are more important than protecting loved ones. The low mortality rate of Covid is used as justification, with a dismissive attitude towards the elderly and those with long Covid.

Many fail to consider the quality of life endured by those with long Covid or the rising number of children affected. Parents, it seems, don’t care enough about their kids, or they’re unaware that long COVID in children has doubled in the past year.

There’s also peer pressure and groupthink. No one wants to stand out by wearing a mask. “If it were really unsafe, wouldn’t everyone else wear one? Wouldn’t the authorities tell us to mask up?”

When I do convince others to wear masks, it’s usually a flimsy surgical one—barely adequate protection.

The personal cost of not wearing a Covid mask If we continue as we are, everyone will eventually develop long Covid. Those who still mask are only delaying the inevitable because we’re so outnumbered.

I know people who’ve lost friendships and family connections over masking. Others restrict their contact with loved ones to stay safe. Some have even been lied to by family members about masking.

And all because people must have brunch.

It feels grossly unfair to be forced to choose between family and health. For me, it’s not just about Covid. With a weakened immune system, other airborne viruses are just as harmful. Every cold or similar illness sets me back by months.

The fatalist in me whispers: stop masking. If no one else is wearing a mask, why fight it – just let long Covid take me. Every reinfection only worsens my condition.

A systemic failure The government—New Labour or otherwise—has shown little interest in preventing the spread of Covid or developing treatments for long Covid. The societal denial of this reality is overwhelming.

Until we build a society and government centred on community and care instead of selfish individualism, we’re doomed. Is thinking of others really too much to ask?

If only long Covid weren’t an invisible disability. If it caused something visible—like the loss of a limb—perhaps people would be forced to act.

The point of wearing a mask: not just for Covid Here’s why masking matters:

It reduces your viral load if you get infected.

It sets a good example for others.

It shows courage and strength.

It protects vulnerable people, including the disabled, chronically ill, and immunosuppressed.

It proves you have empathy and intelligence.

[orellazalonia]

Glitter, Gunfire, and Grape Juice

Summary: You throw yourself between a rookie and an energy blast. Bucky panics. (Bucky Barnes x Avengers!reader)

Word Count: 1.3k+

Main Masterlist | Earth’s Mightiest Headache Masterlist

The mission was going well. Suspiciously well, which should’ve been your first red flag. Another ordinary Hydra facility with minimal guards that was unusually quiet. You were even humming as you strolled through the hallway, twirling a baton and pointing it at doors like a remote.

Behind you, Bucky muttered, “Don’t touch anything.”

You responded, “That’s exactly what someone hiding treasure would say.”

Sam sighed. “Can you at least pretend to take this seriously?”

“I am taking it seriously. That’s why I packed four granola bars and a Capri-Sun.”

Bucky grinned, despite himself. He always did when you were like this, loose-limbed and smiling. Like the world couldn’t possibly touch you, which made what happened next all the more terrifying.

It happened in the blink of an eye.

An explosion of sound coming from the energy shot from a hidden drone. It was too fast to stop, too sudden to predict. One of the rookies on the mission—a wide-eyed kid with barely two field ops under his belt froze, dead in the line of fire.

So you didn’t.

You shoved him out of the way with a grunt and took the hit square in the side. It knocked you off your feet with a sickening crack.

The kid shouted. Bucky screamed your name.

When you hit the floor, you blinked up at the ceiling like it had just betrayed you. “Oh,” You said, dazed. “That’s not ideal.”

You were bleeding, quite a lot. Bright red blooming fast across your suit, staining your hand as you pressed it to your side with a hiss. “Y’know,” You mumbled, “I don’t remember having this many organs.”

“Stay with me- hey, hey, stay with me.” Bucky was suddenly at your side, voice hoarse, pressing his hands over yours to help stem the bleeding. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

You gave him a lazy grin, adrenaline running high. “If I die, delete my browser history and bury me with snacks. No one needs to know how often I google if raccoons can feel love.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Don’t joke.”

“You love me because I joke.”

“I love you because you’re you,” He rasped. “But right now, I need you to fight and stay with me, okay?”

“Already fought,” You slurred. “I did the thing, saved the baby agent. Hero moment. I want a sticker.”

“Doll, if you die on me, I will bring you back just to yell at you.”

You laughed and winced immediately. “Hurts to laugh, write that down and it to the science books.”

The med team arrived then, Sam yelling over his comms, the rookie sobbing apologies, the chaos dimming into a kind of tunnel vision where all you could see was Bucky’s face above you. His eyes were wet and scared.

You lifted a bloody finger and tapped his nose weakly. “Boop.”

“God, you’re infuriating,” He whispered. Then he kissed your forehead with trembling lips. “Don’t leave me, okay? I don’t care how many granola bars you packed. You don’t get to check out early.”

-

A day later in the medbay, you woke up groggy and attached to enough wires to hack a satellite. You blinked blearily at the ceiling.

Bucky was there, instantly. “You’re awake.”

You looked at him then looked around. “Where’s my Capri-Sun?”

He closed his eyes like he was praying for patience. “You almost died, and that’s what you’re asking?”

“I saved a life, I bled dramatically, I deserve juice.”

He let out a shaky breath. Then, quietly, “Don’t ever do that again.”

You turned to get a good look at him. He looked wrecked honestly. Unshaven, sleepless, and red around the eyes. It’s clear he had barely left your side. “Hey,” You said softly, reaching for his hand. “I’m here.”

He held your hand like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.

And for the first time, you didn’t joke. Didn’t quip. You just said, quietly, “I’d take the hit again, Buck. Every time.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. “Don’t make me live in a world without you, alright?”

You smiled. “Deal. But next time, you bring the juice.”

-

As you had to spend more time in the medbay for recovery, you gradually grew bored. You’d never been a fan of hospital beds. They were too stiff, too white, too… beep-y.

So naturally, the first thing you did the moment you could sit up without passing out was try to climb out of one.

“Sit. Down.”

Bucky’s voice cracked like a whip across the room. He was standing by the medbay door with a takeout container in one hand and the fury of a thousand protective boyfriends in the other.

You blinked up at him. “I’m just stretching-“

“You have stitches, dumbass.”

You squinted. “You still love me though.”

He sighed and walked over, setting the food on your tray. “Unfortunately.”

You poked at the soup. “This doesn’t look like juice.”

“It’s miso. Doctor Cho said no juice until you’re off pain meds.”

You gasped like he’d personally betrayed your bloodline. “What about a popsicle?”

“You were clinically dead for twelve seconds and you want a popsicle?”

“���grape, preferably.”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do I love you.”

You leaned back against the pillows, smug. “Because I am an intellectual enigma with the survival instincts of a cat in traffic.”

Before Bucky could respond, there was a knock on the door.

Enter: The Rookie.

He crept in like a kid walking into the principal’s office, holding something behind his back and looking two seconds from crying again. “H-Hey.”

You grinned. “If it isn’t the human shield I saved.”

He flinched. “I’m so sorry-“

“Hey, no. Don’t do that.” You waved your spoon like a wand. “No guilt in my presence. It was my call and I would do again.”

Bucky muttered, “Don’t say that,” but you ignored him.

The rookie stepped forward, visibly shaking, and handed you what looked like… a paper plate necklace. With glitter. It said: “#1 Chaos Hero.”

You stared at it, then at him, then back at it.

“I didn’t know what to get you and I felt awful and I don’t have clearance for flowers and this was the only glitter glue left in the break room,” He rambled. “Also it’s taped because we ran out of string.”

You put it on immediately. Bucky just stared like he was reevaluating every life decision that led him to this moment.

“This is the greatest honor I’ve ever received,” You declared.

“You’re literally wearing a paper plate.”

“From a child soldier,” You corrected.

“I’m nineteen!” The rookie said.

“Exactly,” You said.

Later on, Bucky helped you back to your quarters. The both of you were walking slow with his metal hand on your back like he was afraid you might fall apart again. You let him tuck you in, mostly because you were still high on painkillers and partially because you liked the way he fussed when he was scared.

“I mean it,” He said quietly, sitting beside you. “You can’t keep risking yourself like that. Not for people who won’t do the same.”

“They will someday. Because people pay kindness forward, especially when it costs someone else blood.” You nudged him. “Plus, you did the same for Steve a hundred times.”

“That was different.”

“It wasn’t.”

He was quiet for a long time. Then:

“I almost lost you.”

You took his hand and held it gently.

“But you didn’t.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple. “You’re infuriating.”

“You love me.”

He sighed before whispering into your hair, “I really do.”

-

GROUP CHAT:

Tony: Who tf gave glitter glue to the interns?

Sam: The rookie made her a PAPER PLATE NECKLACE

Steve: She hasn’t taken it off in six hours.

Natasha: She told me it’s a ‘badge of honor’…

Wanda: They also threatened the vending machine for not having grape juice

Bucky: She got shot and she’s more upset about the juice

You: i saved a life AND survived a flesh wound, i earned grape juice

You: also i’m naming the scar after the rookie

Bucky: Please don’t

You: too late, buckaroo. i christen it kevin 2.0

[Bucky has left the group chat.]

[umbrelladripdrop]

DPxDC Idea 2

This one I've actually attempted to write at one point but only got a lil over a chapter done before I moved on and while I do want to write it, I'm also being realistic when I say I probably won't so for a compromise I'll post it here:

Basicly after DP canon has run its course (sans phantom planet obviously) Danny is just chilling with Sam and Tucker when suddenly there's a snag in the conversation that Danny just can't handle. They've all been working together and been there for each other through all the crazy that's happened after the 'portal incident', but at the same time, Sam and Tucker, and even Jazz, can't quite be there for Danny for everything. More specifically, when it comes to the fact that Danny actually died and the effects that has on him.

In my attempt at a fic it came up with Danny complaining to Sam and Tucker about Jazz being overprotective, even if she has been getting better at not being so bad about it all the time, and Sam ends up actually agreeing with Jazz. The friction comes from Sam and Tucker saying how they wish Danny didn't have to be a hero which hurts Danny because he needs to help, he needs to protect the town, and yet his friends are saying that they wish he didn't. It's a bit of a miscommunication sure, but it's also that Sam and Tucker just can't get it and Danny does eventually realize this but not before he storms off and flies all across town.

And on that flight, is where he says those dreaded words:

"I wish that I could just- just talk to someone who understands for once!"

And *boop*! In a sparkle of green dust pops out a real confused Red Hood stranded on a rooftop that has now been thouraly left in Danny's dust as the teen said the words while flying at least 100 miles an hour and therefore did not see the sudden appearance of a person who was not there five seconds ago.

Yep, Desiree is here but literally only for plot stuff as she's the jumping-off point for this fic. She's like the 'big bad' if you want to call her that, but only because they need to fight and defeat her to undo the spell but other than that this would be a pretty chill fic with some nice Jason and Danny (and even Tim and Danny) bonding and shenanigans.

The premise is that, after this wish and first instance of Danny accidentally summoning someone, it keeps happening. After Jason finally meets up with Danny (Red Hood finds himself in a new area so after like a day or two of research and no contact with the bats [ghostly/GIW caused radio black out or something] he does the smart thing and seeks out the towns resident hero) he gets flashes of why he's here and now he knows he's here cause both he and the kid share the experience of death so yeah he's helping this kid now. After that he and Danny (and Tucker and Sam cause they all made up now) find out that anytime Danny states a fact about his life that's weird or slightly traumatizing, he ends up summoning someone who shares that experience with him. Some examples/possibilities I came up with are:

"Who else fights eldrich horrors and what are essentially God's on the regular?" Cue John Constantine popping up, taking one look at Danny, and giving an emphatic fuck this and teleporting out.

"Well- uh- I bet no one else has had their DNA stolen by a freaky billionaire who's weirdly obsessed with them and then cloned them!" Cue Clark showing up frazzled until he sees Jason and just sighs in acceptance of the Weird Bat Shit.

"No! I refuse! There's no way in hell that someone's had to go and fight their future evil self because they came back in time to stop me from making it so their timeline never comes to pass!" Oh and now Tim is here, now him and Jason can start planin on how to fix this mess (and Tim and Danny can start to be friends too. All the bat bonding).

Those are just the first few back to back ones that Danny spews out in his denial that this is even happening after that initial meet up and explination with Jason. Clark ends up dipping with a promise to tell Bruce that Jason and Tim are alright an are just on a mission now I guess, they're not stuck since both Clark and Constantine could leave but it's not like they were just gonna let this shit slide, so yeah they're staying to help out.

Cue plot/shenanigans/accidentally trauma dumping since the spell makes Danny more suseptible to spewing his guts that way the spell can work more by summoning more people. The summons are based off proximity in a sense because they pull in the person closest that can relate to whatever Danny said.

This leads to Jason and Tim end up getting re-summoned again with a few other points like:

"Getting kidnaped by some old creep on the regular is not a fun time." Tim gets teleported back to Danny and they just... stare at each other because didn't this already happen? Aka this is when they figure out the summoning can apparently stack.

"Yeah like I was supposed to know that getting kidnapped by a ‘father figure’ for ‘my own good’ and wanting to strangle said father figure on multiple occasions was a universal experience." Jason who was sitting in a chair ten feet away is now only two feet away and no longer sitting in a chair and falls to the ground with a waterfall of swears.

"None of you get what it's like to have an older sibling as overbearing as jazz!"Jason teleports again and absolutely flips his shit and goes to fucking gag the twirp because this is the third god damned time Danny!

After Jason's 3rd teleportation, they pause the search for what's happening in favor of trying to figure out why he seems incapable of keeping his mouth shut. Literally. Even Danny says that he doesn't know why he's saying all this. They head down to the lab, which leads to this:

"Oh yeah we can go down here all the time, comes with the territory of borderline neglectful parents." Tim who wasn't on the stairs is suddenly now on the stairs (Jazz was leading the way and therefore farther away) and tips head over tea kettle which makes Jason laugh his ass off all while going how does it feel now?!

There's a potential for so many more summonings and accidentally trauma dumping shenanigans/emotional comfort opportunities but these were just all the ones I could come up with.

The day is eventually saved when they trick Desiree back but Jason and Tim end up staying in touch with Danny and end off with everyone being friends cause I'm a sucker for good endings and fluff. Again I might get to making this an actual fic but I'm already working on a big one (and slacking on it a bit my bad) so who knows? But I at least wanted to get the idea out there somewhere in case someone else wanted to play with the idea.

[zepskies]

Here are some of my favorites! (A revamp of my old rec list.) They will span Tumblr, Ao3, and FF.net, as I did a lot of my early reading/writing on other platforms.

Keep in mind, I probably like several fics from each of these authors, but I'm featuring one or two that I very much enjoyed.

SUPERNATURAL FIC RECS

[OS] = One-Shot || [S] = Series || [HC] = Headcanon

Dean Winchester x Reader or OFC:

Stories are Dean x Reader unless noted OFC.

✦ Alisha Ashton

Clear the Area - [S | Excellent 4-part series!] This is the story of you and Dean, and how he manages to slip past your defenses. Written so that you can put yourself in the OC's shoes. Sorta set end S8. Slightly AU in the fact that Dean, Sam, Castiel, Kevin, and YOU all live in the MOL Bunker. Everyone is healthy. Cas is still an adorably clueless angel with zero tact.

✦ @luci-in-trenchcoats

Feral [S] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) Feral is an Alpha’s most dangerous state. Pure raw instinct. A killing machine with no thought. Only an Alpha under extreme duress can submit to their feral side and they rarely can come back out of it. It takes highly specialized rehabilitation to even have a chance at working. When a feral Alpha comes into the reader’s low level rehab facility one night, she knows he’s a dead man walking. But he doesn’t deserve to die and a split second decision to help him escape before that can happen will put them both on the run. He’s no ordinary Alpha though. He’s Dean Winchester. The boy who went missing all those years ago. The boy that made everyone realize no one was safe from the Alpha black market. The man that could destroy them both with one wrong move…

Headcanon: How They Meet Their Plus Size Girlfriend [HC] (Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy, and Russell Shaw included)

✦ @deanbrainrotwritings

Wild Flower [OS] Dean gets hit by a spell when fighting a witch and assumes it was harmless or ineffective. He was wrong, but at least he wasn’t dead. He’s a woman now. 

✦ @waynes-multiverse

Creature of the Night [OS] When her car breaks down on a dark lonely road, she is lucky a handsome stranger takes her in. Grateful, she is willing to do anything to repay his kindness.

Headcanon: Valentine's Day [HC] (Dean Winchester // Soldier Boy // Beau Arlen // Russell Shaw – Edition) How would your favorite men surprise you for Valentine's Day?

Headcanon: Gettin’ Down and Dirty with Dean [HC] Smutty headcanons with Dean...

✦ @rizlowwritessortof

Take a Shot [OS] Let’s face it, his henley looks good on both of you…

Late Night Show [OS] You’re spending a little down time at Bobby’s when HE shows up with his brother. You try to ignore those old feelings for him, but when you accidentally walk in on him pleasuring himself, all bets are off. 

Lost in You [OS] A casual flirtation leads to a violent encounter, and Dean’s reaction is a little more than you expected.

That’s How It Should Be [OS] (Sheriff!Dean x Reader) Sheriff Dean Winchester/Reader have to escape, quick - but Dean won’t let being on horseback stand in the way of showing a lady a good time…

✦ @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

The First Time Series [S] Even though he's a lot older than she is, and more experienced in every possible sense, Y/N finds herself incredibly attracted to Dean Winchester. Amazingly, one day she starts to think that maybe the attraction isn't all one-sided.

The Dangers of Hope [S | Endverse!Dean] When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

It's All For You [OS] After a hunt gone wrong, all Y/N wants is to make Dean feel better. Will he let her?

Things Learned and Unlearned [S] Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

✦ Lindsey D. Perez

Say I'm Beautiful [OS] You're feeling a little self conscious about your weight so Dean decides to show you how sexy you are. Dean x Reader Warning: negative body image, swearing Rated M for smut so go forth with caution.

✦ @ejlovespie

It Ain't About Pity [OS] (Dean x Plus-Size!Reader) Dean Winchester has eyes for the reader. She has no idea. When he finally figures out why she’s been dieting, he isn’t pleased. 

✦ kittenofdoomage

More to Love [OS] (Alpha!Dean x Plus-Size Omega!Reader) Reader is a hunter, and an Omega, an unusual combination. She’s always been mocked for her size, so she keeps to herself but a case Garth persuades her to take ends up with a confrontation she never saw coming.

Never Spoken, Always Said [OS] He doesn’t say the words much but he shows her every day.

Taste [S] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) The reader is pregnant with Dean's baby. Spanning the first year or so, we join them as they discover new things about each other.

✦ @impala-dreamer

A Simple Kinda Man [OS] Dean’s a pretty simple man. He likes the things he likes and you can rarely get him to change his mind about it. 

Like Heaven [OS] (Dean x Curvy!Reader) Y/N’s request might throw him off for a second, but he’s never going to deny her, not when it feels so good in her arms…

Take a Break [OS] Laundry can be annoying and overwhelming, so it's important to take breaks now and then...

✦ @justagirlinafandomworld

Remind Me [OS] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) There was no escaping what happened to you. There wasn’t a magical number of days in which you would simply get over it either. It happened and you had to live with it. But your alpha would never leave you to work through it alone.

Delicate [OS] Dean made you feel things no one else ever had. But is it a good idea to see this through?

The Fallout (Alpha!Dean x Beta!Reader) [S] When Sam meets his true Omega, you fear your time with the Winchesters is fated to end. Before they can hurt you, you decide to distance yourself. But Dean isn’t willing to let you get away so easy.

✦ @spnbabe67

Girls, Girls, Girls [OS - Part of a Series] (Dean x OFC) While on a witch hunt Dean gets hit with a spell. Later at the hotel, Dean feels the effects of the spell and Tori has to help him through it.

✦ @chevroletdean

NSFT Alphabet [Dean Winchester] [HC]

Masturbation [Dean Winchester] [HC]

✦ @thatonewriter15

Unspoken [OS] How many reasons are there to love Dean Winchester...?

✦ @iprobablyshipit91

Twenty Minutes or Less [OS] Dean raises an eyebrow at you, cocky smile firmly in place. "I bet I could get you there in twenty minutes or less.”

Magical Blooms [OS] After all, there was a flurry of customers walk through the doors to Magical Blooms each and every day, and quite a number of these were regulars. Just because one of those regulars was an undeniably gorgeous man that flirted shamelessly...

✦ @jawritter

Feral (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) [S] True mates don't exist, at least that's what everyone tells you. It's nothing but a childish, fairytale notion to believe that such a person exists. Someone that is made just for you, your person. Who knew they were so wrong…

✦ @marvelfanfn2187a113

Here For You (Dean x Little Sister!Reader) [OS] You help Dean through a couple different kinds of pain.

✦ @deanwinchesterswitch

The Girlfriend Who Remade Christmas [S] Dean’s holiday spirit is nowhere to be found. Fed up with his Grinch-like behavior, Nicole is determined to open his heart again to the wonders of the world around them and help him find joy in the Christmas season.

✦ @spnexploration

Collared [S] Sam and Dean save a woman from where she has been held as a slave by a witch. But things turn dark whenever they try to take her magic collar off, leaving them with a slave to look after and a curse to break.

✦ @kaleldobrev

Old Man [OS - Part of a Series] Dean never had a problem with the age gap between you two; not until now any way.

✦ @deanwritings

Friends with Benefits [S] After walking in on Y/N following a fun encounter, Dean and Y/N decide it would be beneficial and much easier to use each other for their needs. But can they keep it just about sex?

✦ @waywardxwords

Safe [OS] You had hoped to get in and out when you heard what town the next hunt was in. Unfortunately, you can’t outrun your past. You, also, can’t outrun those old feelings--panic, anxiety and fear. You had hoped you’d never have to share this part of your life with Dean, but things don’t always work out the way we had hoped.

Witches [OS] While hunting a witch, you accidentally stumble upon her collection of sex pollen. 

✦ @acreativelydifferentlove

Carry On [S] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) You’re an Omega in a small rural town. When your father’s gambling and drinking leaves him with a debt he can’t afford to pay, he offers you to a group of Alphas. Dean Winchester is an Alpha desperately trying to escape his past and pain. Can you save each other?

You're Home [S] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) After years away at college, you have finally returned to your home town. In order to settle back into the community, you have to seek permission from the Head Alpha. What happens when you see his son for the first time since presenting as an Omega?

✦ @deanwanddamons

Helping Hand [OS] Dean is tired after a hunt, so asks Sammy to drive Baby. You and Dean cuddle up in the back seat.

✦ @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

Love Language [OS] You’ve never said it, neither has he…is that weird?

✦ @pink-sparkly-witch

The Widow [S] Sam and Y/N are happily married, but everything changes after a fatal car accident leaves her a widow. The Winchester motto: “Family Don’t End with Blood,” takes on a whole new meaning for Y/N as she navigates her new normal with the help of her brother-in-law, Dean. But what no one can tell her is what happens when she falls in love again.  

✦ shirleypositive72

While They Dance On A Pin (Jane Series 5) [OS - Part of a Series] (Dean x OFC) Sam, Dean, and Jane have been on the road almost constantly since Dean's return from Hell. They're finding Seals, finding danger, finding out each other's secrets. But it's what they find when they open the door to one more motel room that sends Dean back into his darkest moments. An OC's experience of episode 4x16, On the Head of a Pin.

✦ BeccabooO1O

She's My Cherry Pie [OS] Dean was drunk. So terribly drunk. And it was hilarious. Just some karaoke!Dean (aka the best Dean of them all).

✦ @pamwritessometimes

Roots in My Dreamland [OS] Dean encounters a mysterious forest spirit who’s an enigma.

✦ @supernotnatural2005

Sexual Encounters with Dean Winchester - Edging [OS] Exploring new kinks with Dean. How far can you push him before he breaks?

Happy Accidents [OS] (Dean x Plus-Size!Reader) You haven't seen the Winchester's in over a year, but the case you're working has you scratching your head, and who better to call than some old friends. However, insecurities arise as well as the reprise of a long time crush. Little do you know, it's reciprocated.

Lebanon [OS] A wish gone wrong right brings back a familiar face. However, you all soon discover it's not as simple as it seems when what you’ve all accomplished, and your family, hangs in the balance.

Burning for You [OS] You're pregnant and it's awoken something feral, something instinctual in Dean.

✦ @ambiguous-avery

When He Slides In [OS] And says “Fuck, I missed you.” After a hookup with the (in)famous Dean Winchester, you figured that would be the end of it. Too bad you could never seem to get him out of your mind. People always told you that you got attached too easily. And they were right. You were just another notch in his belt. He couldn’t possibly remember you...

✦ @bettystonewell

To You I Belong [S] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) Dean isn’t looking for a mate. Not only does he think he doesn’t deserve one, but the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain’t real. He still has free will, and saving you from monsters is just another part of the job.

Another Notch on His Belt [OS] Every little part of him is holding onto every little piece of her, and any other woman he’s been lucky enough to escape his life with. Even if it’s only for the night - or - Dean replaces intimacy with sex.

✦ @lamentationsofalonelypotato

It's Not a Big Deal [S] (Dean x Reader x Soldier Boy/Ben love triangle) Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

✦ @thoughtslikeaminefield

Deep [OS] Dean shows her more about pleasure than ‘deep’.

✦ @cheynovak

Four Men, One Birthday [OS] A birthday gift to me from lovely Cheyenne. 💜 Four birthday themed stories with Dean, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw.

Dean Winchester x Lisa Braeden:

✦ adventuresinposting

Damages [S] Ben is in a car accident causing a fractured skull. Consequentially he remembers Dean. Ben tries to find Dean, who is now a retired hunter after losing Sam in a final battle. This is the story of Dean finding something and someone to replace the hole in his life left by Sam.

✦ FaithDaria

One Step at a Time [OS] The Winchester way of life changes, and Dean adjusts accordingly.

✦ bloodmagik

A Dad By Any Other Name [OS] Ben is sick and Dean stays home with him while Lisa is at work. Lisa learns something about Dean's relationship with Ben.

Sam Winchester x Reader or OFC:

Stories are Sam x Reader unless noted OFC.

✦ Avrilando

While You Were Sleeping - [S] (Sam x OFC) A seriously injured unconscious man is in the hospital Rachel volunteers. With no idea who he is and if anyone is looking for him, Rachel decides to keep him company while he's sleeping. With The Eyes of a Loving Man [S] (Sequel to While You Were Sleeping) Continuing through Sam and Rachel's relationship with all the highs and lows of dating a hunter. Mostly a collection of oneshots and some connecting stories.

✦ Lindsey D. Perez

It's Your Birthday [OS] The Winchester's find out it's your birthday and insist on celebrating with lots of alcohol. Sam introduces you to body shots and things get heated. 

If You Give a Moose a Muffin [OS] ...he'll want kisses to go with it.

✦ ALoversDream

All of Me [OS] (Sam x Plus-Sized!Reader) Request where the reader (even thought she's usually pretty confident) is slightly insecure about her looks, and because she's plus-size. It ends in fluffy weight smut.

✦ BeccabooO1O

Could Have Told You That One, Winchester [OS] Imagine sitting one Sam's lap while you two are researching. She was reading one of the books about mythology for the Winchester's current case when she heard a frustrated groan from across the table. Sam Winchester had his laptop in front of him and various books of lore scattered around it.

✦ @princessmisery666

Samnesia [S] (Sam x OFC) Brooke is a calming distraction from the chaotic mess of Sam’s life. When a hunt keeps them separated for over a month, Sam returns to find she no longer remembers him. The need to find out what happened while he was gone sends Sam on a case that will change the course of his life. What he discovers along the way will change the way he looks at love.

✦ @ohsc

Delicate [OS] Sam being intimate with an inexperienced reader.

**I will keep adding to this list as I read and explore! Please reblog the fics you read and let these amazing authors know what you thought of their work. 💜

I have several more stories favorited on my FF.net account. (Beware if you try to read any of the stories I wrote there though. Some of those are old as hell and not to my current standard. 🤣)

Dean Winchester AU Fic Rec List

Original SPN Fic Rec List

Supernatural Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[prettypinkporkchop]

Can you do a Plus!Size!Reader x Paul Lahote?

I’m thinking, reader who is Bella’s sister, has been friends with Jacob for years (stayed with Charlie) and she’s always had this massive crush on Paul. Since she is insecure about her weight/ looks, she always avoided Paul at all costs, embarrassing herself too.

One day, she gets dragged by Bella when Bella is mad Jacob. This is where Bella slaps Paul across the face. The reader stays in the truck but when this happens, she gets out of the truck to stop Bella. Paul phases which scares Bella and Reader but he then imprints on reader.

For a while their relationship is just friends (per readers request) until Paul kinda snaps in frustration because he wants to be more and he knows reader wants it too. Lots of fluff and reassurance that the reader is worthy enough for Paul.

Thank you so much, your writing is just amazing and I think you would write this really well ❤️

You're More Than Your Body

A/n: my thick queens!!! I know for a fact that Paul would be obsessed with them thighs! Oh lawd I can see it already!!! BTW I FREAKING LOVE THIS STORY I AM SO BOOSTING MY EGO BC I DID SO GOOD IN THIS! PLZ, I LOVE IT!

Warning: bad language

Paul. Paul. Paul. Nobody runs through your head like Paul. Even now that you're graduated and so is he, you see him around town. Especially since you and Bella are close with Jacob.

You stare in the body mirror in your bedroom, grabbing your stomach in hopes it'll disappear. It would make this outfit look so much better... your heart pounds as tears want to explode from your eyes. The pain of being the "funny fat friend" and always being the butt end of the joke your whole life has really been weighing on you. Even now, as an adult and being stuck on a guy since school.

"I need you to come with me. This is serious." Bella barges in your room.

"Oh, so the sad girl speaks to me now?" You glare at her.

"Look, I'm sorry for ignoring you and charl-.. dad, it's just been.." She stops knowing that you know what she means.

"Edward. Yeah." You roll your eyes and then smile at her. "Okay, what you got?" You ask.

"Jake has been away. They're saying he's sick. I have to see him." She says.

"He's probably tired of you stringing him along." You reply.

She shakes her head and then walks over to you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you down the stairs.

"Uh! Hey! Stop!" You yell.

"I don't want to go alone." She looks at you, still holding your wrist.

"Fine." You sigh.

You both get in her raggedy truck. She speeds up to Billy's house. The car ride was mostly her panicking, and you telling her to slow the Frick down. But, she pulls in with both of you alive. She gets out of the truck and enters past Billy. He sees you sitting in the truck, and you awkwardly wave.

The sound of whistles is heard toward the trees next to the house. You look over and see Jared, Paul, Sam, and Embry. Your heart races as your eyes fixate on Paul. They don't see you. It seems like they're calling for Jacob.

Bella barges out and goes over to them. Your mind blanks out with what is happening. You notice they're yelling and Paul is getting angry. You decide to be the protective older sister and run out of the truck.

"Bella!" You yell and make your way over there. As you get closer, she slaps him. "BELLA WHAT THE HELL?!" You grab her arm.

Paul is snarling. His body seems to get bigger. Next thing you know, he's a wolf. A silver wolf growling at Bella. She falls on the ground, and you stare at the monster. He looks at you and stops snarling. He whimpers.

"BELLA!" Jacob runs out and turns into a wolf, too.

This caught Paul's attention, and they began to fight, wrestling into the woods. You're breathing heavy in fear, but look down at Bella. She's confused and looking at Sam.

"Hey, bring these girls to Emily's place." Sam orders.

"Guess the wolf's out of the bag." Embry mumbles.

That's when you learn everything. Emily and Bella go on a tangent about it all. Embry is cracking jokes, and Jared is kicking him under the table for spilling too much to a 'leech lover'.

Paul walks inside and sits on the chair beside you. He turns back to Bella. "Sorry." He smirks and eats the muffins that are placed on the table. His eyes roam up and meet yours.

You pause. Is he really looking at you?

He sets the muffin down before rubbing his hands on his shorts. He extends a hand and smiles at you. "Paul." He says.

"Yeah, I know." You smile and shakily let your hand reach his. You feel warmth fill up your body. You know your cheeks are burning red.

His smile fades, and he lets go of your hand. "You know me?" He asks, as if he's guilty for not knowing you.

"Yeah. School. We graduated the same year and... you were quite popular with the girls." You snort.

He gulps and looks down. "Yes. Yes, I was." He seems so guilty. But his face turns back to you with a smile. "What's your name?" He asks.

You go to speak but Embry interrupts. "That's y/n. Leech lover's sister." He laughs.

Paul glares at him. "I'd like for her to answer that herself."

Embry lifts his hands up in defense. "Aight, chief. Or should I say.... imprinter..." He snorts.

Jared hits the back of his head. "Bro! That's Paul's story to tell!" He yells.

Sam enters and glares at Embry. "Stop it." He turns to Paul and smiles. "Welcome to the club." He takes Emily by the waist and kisses her.

"What's an imprinter? I'm confused.." You smile and look around awkwardly.

---

"Friends?" You smile at him.

He stares out at the beach, the waves crashing, and the wind blowing. "Yes. I'm sorry for not noticing you. I'm sorry for everything." He turns to face you. "Friends." He smiles.

You sigh of relief and look out at the water. You want more but you're too big for him in your mind. You accepted the bond, but maybe friends will do. At least you'll be around him, and it won't be so bad.

"C'mon. Let's go get food." He stands up and takes out a hand for you.

Yes. You've barely eaten today, and it's four pm. You take his hand, and he helps you stand up. When you're on your feet, he grabs your waist to steady you. That touch has you SPINNING.

"Where do you want to go?" He asks.

"Hm, I'm totally feeling burgers." You giggle.

"Oh, fuck yeah! My kind of girl!" He yells and takes your hand, kissing your knuckles.

He leads you to his truck and takes you to a small diner. It's actually the one you, dad, and Bella used to go to growing up. Now that she's back, the trips here have been more frequent.

He opens your door and helps you out by holding your waist. He seems to love grabbing you there. Honestly, you don't mind, but at the same time, them love handles are ugly to you. He leads you inside and you both get a seat and order.

Paul looks over your face.

You awkwardly look around and smile while blushing. "What?" You ask.

"Nothing." He chuckles and sips his Dr. Pepper. "What's it like being Bella's sister?" He asks.

"Nothing but drama. But I love her. She's very giving to family." You smile.

He nods. "I don't have anyone but my asshole father. I don't live with him, thank God." He rolls his eyes.

Your heart aches for him. You can't imagine not having anyone. "I'm so sorry." You reach out and touch his hand.

His eyes dart toward your contact, and he smiles. "Nah, it's no big deal. I have my boys."

"I guess that makes things better." You smile and let his hand go.

The waitress places your guys' food down, and you both enjoy the night getting to know each other.

It's dark out now, and you're in his truck watching the roads as he brings you home. You're startled when you feel a hand on your thigh. You look down and see his fingers on your flesh. His thumb is rubbing your skin. You look over at his face. He's just watching the road.

---

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Paul is at your window. You know it's him because he HAS to show up every night after patrol. You get up from the bed and open your window. He climbs up and closes it behind him. He hovers over you with a smile.

"Hey." He whispers, pushing hair behind your ear.

"Hey." You blush and soak in the warmth of his body heat.

He slowly leans in, looking in your eyes and then to your lips. No. No. You're too ugly. He's just into you because of the bond. Shit! You don't want to be used. You back away and awkwardly laugh. He gets the message and looks at you.

"Wanna see what I've been watching?" You plop on your bed and pull out your phone.

He smiles and lays beside you.

You show him the YouTube videos you've been addicted to until you fall asleep.

---

You're eating the brownies that Emily made while sitting at the bonfire. Everyone is talking and you're stuck in a debate with Sam.

"No! You're wrong!" He smiles, pointing at you.

You laugh and put your plate on the ground to get focused. "Sam, listen! I'm telling you, the grass is wet in the morning because of the dew!" You yell.

"It's because of the rain!" He yells back.

"Aren't you out all night? On the nights it doesn't rain, why is the grass wet then?!" You're laughing so hard.

Paul, from beside you, gently touches your knee. "He thinks he's always right. You won't win." He laughs in your ear.

"Love birds." Jared smirks.

You look at him. "No, we're just friends." You smile.

"Still?!" Jared asks, shocked. "Damn, Paul! You're taking your time." He laughs.

"Dude.." Paul shakes his head in annoyance.

After the bonfire, Paul brings you to his house. You're super freaking tired, and you fall on one couch in exhaustion. Paul puts a blanket over you and sits on the other couch that's next to your head. The couches are in an 'L' shape. He sits there while you fall asleep. Your arm falls out, and he looks down at your hand. He slowly takes it, holding onto it while you sleep.

---

You wake up and feel a body underneath you. You look down to see that you're on a snoring Paul's chest. You look around and see that you're in his living room. You panic and sit up, going onto the other couch. Your movements wake him up.

"You alright?" He asks in a tired and low voice.

"I.. don't remember falling asleep." You awkwardly giggle.

"You were shivering, so I joined you." He yawns and sits up. "Was that alright?" He asks worriedly.

"Yeah.. yeah, that's okay. Thank you." You smile.

He smiles back and checks his phone. "What you want for breakfast?"

"How about I make something here? If you have anything." You stand up and walk to his kitchen.

"Yeah, I've got stuff. You sure you want to cook? I can do it." He stands up and leans on his fridge, watching you.

"Yeah, no! I've got it." You smile.

He smirks and walks up to you, grabbing your waist. "You're beautiful." He whispers.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You look up in his eyes. "Friends.." You whisper.

He sighs and lets you go. "You know, I can't with you. You hold back so much and you won't let me in." He says in frustration.

You put the stuff on the counter and look at him with worry.

"I want you and I know.. I KNOW you want me, too. Why can't I have you?!" He smiles but is still aggravated.

You gulp and cross your arms. "I'm not good enough for you. All through school, you wanted the skinny girls. You only want me because you imprinted on me." You say quietly.

He starts laughing with anger. "Are you serious?!"

Tears threaten to escape your eyes. He notices and frowns. He pulls you into him and rubs your back. "Nobody will ever compare to you. You're more than your body. And if I didn't imprint on you, I would still think you're fucking hot." He says. "Let me prove it." He pulls away and looks at you.

You smile, hopeful, and touch his cheek. "You mean that?" You ask.

He grabs your waist and picks you up effortlessly. He tosses you on the couch while you giggle. He hovers over you and touches your stomach. "I love this." He smiles. His hand lowers to your outer thigh, and he squeezes. "I love this." He continues to squeeze your thigh. "Oh, the way these will be my pillows." He chuckles. "I love..."His hand moves lower, "may I?" He wants to touch your ass. You nod, and he happily grabs your ass. "Jesus, I love this." He bites his lip and looks over your face. "Most importantly," his hand touches your chest where your heart is rapidly beating, "I love this." He says. "You're absolutely stunning." His eyes scan your features. "I'd show you off to the universe."

You're smiling, blushing, shedding tears, and lowkey screaming inside. Your heart is swollen with love and affection. You never want this to end. Now, you understand, you are perfect for him. You grab the back of his neck and pull him down to your lips.

His lips meet yours, and the kiss is gentle and loving. Your lips move perfectly, and he finally pulls away. "What an amazing kisser." He smirks. "Mine, now?" He asks.

You laugh and nod your head wiping away your tears. "Yes, Paul. I'm yours, now."

[marie-swriting]

Normal - Bucky Barnes

Marvel Masterlist

Summary : Following his therapist recommendation, Bucky decides to go to the library where books aren't the only things that interest him.

Warnings : this is just me romanticizing my job lmao, TFATWS!Bucky Barnes, a bit of angst, happy ending, mention of Bucky's traumas and nightmares, Raynor being a bad therapist, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first languaga, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 4.6k

French version

Sitting on therapist Christina Raynor’s uncomfortable couch, Bucky’s gloved hands are intertwined and rest on his legs. He keeps shifting position, unease like he always is at every therapy session.

It’s a waste of time, that's what he keeps telling himself. He listens to his therapist repeating the same three damn rules and taking her notebook everytime he finally dares to open his mouth. He’s about to scream in frustration, he can feel it. If it was up to him, he would have stopped coming a long time ago.

“Do you ever leave your apartment?” Raynor asks, haughty.

“I come here every week, don’t I? And I go to the restaurant once a week,” Bucky replies, defensive.

“Alone, I imagine.”

“No with someone.”

“Miracles do happen!” she exclaims, ironic. “What else do you do?”

At her question, Bucky stays silent, staring at her. Raynor rolls her eyes and sighs.

“James, if you stay at home brooding, you’re not going to move on. You have to do normal things.”

“I haven’t known ‘normal’ for ninety years now, Doc.”

“You have to go out, have a hobby, see people, answer to Sam when he calls you, for example. Let people in. Believe it or not but not everyone wants to attack you.”

“Weirdly enough I always feel like this, I mean between the brainwashing, running away from the government and Thanos who made me lose another five years of my life, I don’t know why it’s the case,” he retorts before her therapist takes her notebook and starts writing. “Why do you do the notebook thing again? I said nothing wrong.”

“We’re done for today,” Raynor says, putting her pen down. “Do what I said, find yourself a hobby.”

To answer, Bucky sighs loudly which Raynor writes in her blasted notebook. Without glancing at her, Bucky stands up from the couch, just as grumpy as when he arrived, if not more.

On the way to his apartment devoid of any warmth, Bucky thinks back to what his therapist told him. A hobby? What an idea! He hasn’t had a hobby for so long that he doesn’t even know what he liked to do back in the forties, besides keeping Steve out of trouble. He searches for a pastime the whole night yet, nothing seems appealing. At this rate, he’ll end up improvising when she’ll ask him about what he did, it’ll be easier.

As everytime Bucky closes his eyes, he wakes up with a start, even more exhausted than he was before falling asleep. Only the noise and the light coming for the T.V. remind him he’s at home and not in one of his numerous nightmares. He has everything around him to feel safe and yet, his brain is still in fight or flight mode.

With difficulty, he stands from the ground and walks to the bathroom. In the room, he splashes water on his face and takes a moment to breathe. Once his breathing is calmer, Bucky goes back to the living room and sits on his makeshift bed on the floor. His eyes are set on the T.V. as he tries to distract himself, though his brain takes over and thinks a million thoughts at the same time. Bucky can’t keep track of all of them, though he’s used to it by now. He does the exercises Raynor taught him, it’s one of the few useful things he’s learned from therapy.

Bucky reminisces about Steve and the way he had managed to adapt to the future. Instinctively, Bucky’s eyes go to his jacket near the door where Steve’s notebook is. Although he uses it for a different purpose, Bucky tells himself maybe he should do like Steve and try to catch up with all the culture he’s missed. Before the war, he loved reading, maybe this could be his hobby again? Reading. But how can he do it? He doesn’t know what books have come out in the past decades and besides, reading won’t make him more social. He has to find a spot where he can read and meet people. Suddenly, he remembers the day his mother had made him and his sisters library cards in the neighbourhood library. He can still picture the way the place was arranged which reassures him - every memory he has in mind is a victory. The library seems obvious now, he has to go there, that might help him and Raynor will finally get off his back.

The next day, Bucky walks to the library closer to his place. Reluctantly, he enters the building. He just has the time to walk through the door when he hears your voice greeting him. Bucky nervously smiles before walking closer to you.

“May I help you, Sir?” you ask with a warming smile.

“Yes, I’d like to make a library card, please.”

“Sure, do you know how our library works?”

Considering last time he ever set foot in a library everything was done by hand, it’s as if Bucky knew nothing about it so he shakes his head.

“Not really.”

“First thing first, the card is free for every New York resident and to make the card, I’ll only need an ID and a proof of address. You can borrow fifty items at once and the loan lasts three weeks, except for magazines, it’s only one. If needed, you can renew your loan on the website, the app or you can ask us to do it. If you’re fourteen days late, you’ll be charged. You can also put items on hold in case they’re not available at a given moment and you’ll have seven days to come pick them up. Do you have any questions?” you question and Bucky needs a second to take in everything you said. “I know it’s a lot of information at once so don’t hesitate if you need any clarification.”

“I think I got it.”

“Perfect,” you say while he hands you the documents you need. “Thank you.”

On your computer, you start creating his file. You write down his full name first then you ask him if he has a preferred name he’d like to be included in his file to which he tells you his nickname. After hearing his answer, you can’t help but think these pieces of information sound familiar. You don’t know where you heard them yet his name and face aren’t unknown to you. You keep completing the information and as soon as you have to write down his birth date, everything makes sense. People born in 1917 and who look like your age aren’t something you see on a daily basis. You understand he’s Captain America’s best friend, you vaguely remember your history class about World War Two. However, even if you’re taken aback by the identity of the man in front of you, you don’t show anything so as to not make him uncomfortable.

Once you’re done, you hand him his library card with a big smile. Bucky’s right gloved hand brushes past yours and he quickly puts the card in his back pocket.

“Would you like me to give you a tour?” you propose.

“You probably have better things to do,” Bucky replies, shifting from one foot to the other.

“That’s what I’m here for, I don’t mind at all.”

Bucky is still hesitating, yet the minute he glances on his left and sees the size of the place, he feels overwhelmed. He’s about to refuse when he remembers he has to learn how to have an ordinary life again and being social is a part of it.

“If it’s not too much, then I’d love to, please.”

“Follow me.”

You leave your chair and stand in front of Bucky, enthusiasm written all over your face. You start talking about the first shelves in front of you and then walk through the library as if it was your home. Although Bucky struggles retaining what every corner is about, he has to admit he loves seeing your radiant face while you’re talking. 

As opposed to him, you’re full of life and your passion for your work can be felt a thousand miles away. He listens to your every word, completely captivated by your voice. Once you’ve shown him the most important places, you turn to him.

“That’s it! Are you searching for something in particular? Or do you want to wander on your own?”

“Well, actually, I was told Tolkien published several books after The Hobbit and I would love to read them,” he says, scratching behind his neck.

“I’m going to show you where his books are,” you inform, walking toward the correct shelf. “So, I recommend you read The Lord Of The Rings trilogy which goes hand in hand with The Hobbit. The first book is this one, The Fellowship Of The Ring,” you explain, taking the item out. “The second must be currently unavailable but if you want, we can put it on hold for you or you can do it on the app at home.”

“I haven’t read in a long time, I don’t know how long it’ll take me to read. I think I’m just going to focus on this one first and I’ll see later.”

“As you wish,” you affirm, giving him the book.

This time, Bucky is careful not to brush your fingers, still struggling to feel comfortable with people touching him.

“I’m going to leave you alone now, you’ll probably want to look around for next time. When you’re done, come to me or one of my colleagues for the loan. Once again, if you have any question, don’t hesitate,” you finish.

“Thanks, for everything.”

“Don’t mention it. Enjoy your book.”

You give him one last smile before turning around and you go back to your desk. Bucky watches you leave, enthralled by your every movement. The minute you’re out of his sight, he quickly shakes his head and gazes at the books in front of him, searching for something else interesting to read for later.

Surprisingly, Bucky reads Tolkien’s novel in less than a week. He thought he’d need more time to get back to reading and Bucky can’t deny he’s pleased to see he fall back to one of his habits easily.

During his therapy session, Bucky talks about his trip to the library with a smug smile when Raynor starts to imply he surely didn’t listen to her. She has her eyes wide open before asking him about his outing. Without any surprise, Bucky goes straight to the point. He doesn't even mention you, the beautiful librarian who has slowly found his way into his mind.

At the end of his session, Bucky doesn’t go home right away, wanting to give back the book. He expects to see you, sitting behind the computer with a welcoming smile on your face, however it’s a woman in her fifties who greets him. Your colleague might be nice, Bucky would have preferred to see your face and as surprising as it may seem, he would have loved to tell you about his reading. Unfortunately for him, besides not seeing you, the last two Lord Of The Rings books aren’t available so he simply puts them on hold thanks to your colleague before going home, empty-handed. 

As soon as Bucky gets the notification the books have arrived, he doesn’t waste a second before leaving his apartment. He can’t wait to keep reading, the last two weeks went by slowly.

As he arrives, he finds you at your usual spot behind your screen. You give him a big smile before going on the shelf behind you where all the items on hold are - when you saw the two books were for Bucky, you hoped to be here when he’d get them. Bucky doesn’t even have to show you his library card that you’re already doing the loan.

“I have to admit, I was disappointed to see the first book back, I was hoping to have your opinion on it when you were done,” you inform.

“Well, just like the first time I read Tolkien, he knows how to keep me on tenterhooks. Your recommendation was perfect,” Bucky answers, happy to know you’re curious to know what he thinks.

“The Lord Of The Rings is always a safe choice. So you want to read the last two books in a row?” you question, referencing the novel you still have in hand.

“Yeah, I have a lot of free time, so better to make the most of it.”

“You’re absolutely right. Here you go,” you add, giving them to him.

This time, Bucky doesn’t stop your hands from touching his, he even lingers for a second before taking the novels out of your hands, making this moment last which you don’t seem to mind. No matter if he can’t feel the softness of your skin through his gloves, he appreciates this closeness.

“I’d love to read them for the first time again,” you exclaim with nostalgia.

“Are they your favorite books?”

“They’re my childhood so yeah, they are. Everytime I read them, I just want to live an adventure just like them.”

“I get it,” Bucky genuinely smiles before looking at the clock behind you. “I have to go.”

“Oh, sure. Enjoy your books.”

“Thank you.”

Bucky awkwardly smiles one last time before leaving the place, his two books in his hands. Bucky is happy he saw you.

Even though your conversations don’t last, when he talks to you, he feels normal. With you, he’s just another person going to the library, not the ex-soldier who was turned into a weapon against his will. You bring him a sense of normalcy he never thought he could have and a part of him doesn’t know how to react to this. 

Bucky hadn’t read this much in a long time. First of all, because he absolutely wanted to finish The Lord Of The Rings, but also because he wanted an excuse to go back to the library. 

That day, Bucky has to go to therapy first. As always, he doesn’t feel like Raynor is helping him that much. Other than telling about the rules and making him feel guilty for not moving on, she doesn’t say anything new. Even telling her he’s making an effort by seeing people at the library isn’t enough for her anymore. She affirms he should go somewhere where he could exchange with people like a book club. No matter what he does, it’s never enough.

Consequently, he goes to your workplace, irritated. He keeps brooding at every step he takes, telling himself everything he wishes to say if this therapy had no consequence on his future. His annoyance increases the second he doesn’t see you at your desk. Maybe you took the day off? Or maybe you’re working in the backroom today? No matter the reason, your absence ruins his day.

At that moment, he realises your presence might be more important to him than he previously thought. His mood definitively depends on if he sees you or not. He finds himself pathetic. After all, you’re only friendly because it’s your job to be nice to the people who come talking to you. He’s not your friend or your acquaintance, he’s just another person coming to the library among others. Besides, even if you were friends, who says you’d be as attached to him as he is to you? You have a normal life, you have better things to do rather than hanging out with someone as broken as him. Bucky can’t even open up to his therapist so he doesn’t deserve your attention and he wouldn’t want it anyway. Bucky thinks he doesn’t deserve someone who cares about him and he wouldn’t want to drag them to the fight he always finds himself dragged into. You’re too full of joy to see only one percent of the horrors he has witnessed. 

Bucky loudly sighs before walking toward the novels sections. There, he lazily searches for a title that could intrigue him. Though, nothing catches his eye. He’s too focused on his irritation and his self-deprecation to be interested in something else. Bucky keeps wandering until he hears a voice coming from behind him. 

“Good afternoon, Sergeant Barnes. How are you today?”

“Oh, hi,” Bucky states, turning to you, his bad mood leaving his body in an instant. “No need to call me Sergeant, Bucky is enough. I mean, if you don’t mind. Sorry, it probably was inappropriate what I just said,” he adds, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, Bucky,” you reassure him. “So,” you resume, enthusiastically, “you’re done with Tolkien?”

“Yeah, I finished it last night.”

Bucky nonchalantly gives you this information; however, he didn’t finish the book because he couldn’t put it down, but because his nightmares prevented him from feeling safe enough to sleep. Notwithstanding, you don’t need to know that. After all, you’re only the librarian. 

“You’re searching for something new to read?”

“Yeah, but I have no idea what.”

“Oh, I can help, if you want to. And don’t say you don’t want to bother me, it’s literally my job.”

“I’d love your help, please,” Bucky accepts with joy.

“Do you want to keep reading Fantasy or do you want to try a new genre?”

“I’d like to try a new genre. Maybe Science-Fiction? I have always been fascinated by technologie we would develop in the future. I mean, I’m so fascinated by it it became my life,” he darkly jokes, before becoming serious again. “Anyway, what do you suggest?”

“I think you should start with the basics. I suppose you’ve already read some H. G. Wells?”

“Yes, I read some of his books but there were others I kept telling myself I should read and never did.”

“Like any self-respecting reader would. I recommend you should try The Dream or The First Men In The Moon.”

At the same time you say the titles, you take the books out of the shelves. You hand them to Bucky and he’s disappointed once he realizes your hand didn’t touch his like last time. However, he quickly focuses back on what you’re saying, not wanting to be more unsettled.

“I haven’t read them in quite some time but I remember I loved them! I couldn’t stop talking to my loved ones about these books for months. My poor mom was tired of me by the end. If you want to discover a whole new author, I suggest Stephen King and his novel Firestarter. King is one of the most famous authors nowadays and he has a long list of books. He writes a lot of horror so if you want to try this genre, you can look for him.”

“I’m going to start with Wells, I know him so it’ll be easier, I think,” he says, showing the books he’s holding.

“We have other books of his that aren’t currently available, don’t hesitate to tell me if you want to put them on hold.”

“I will, thanks a lot.”

“Don’t mention it,” you exclaim with enthusiasm. 

“Y/N, can you come?” one of your colleagues asks. “I need your help for tomorrow's activity.”

“I’m coming,” you reply to her before turning to Bucky. “You’ll tell me what you think about it, will you?”

“I will,” he affirms, feeling his heart missing a heartbeat in his chest, realizing you’re genuinely interested in his opinion.

“Enjoy your book.”

On those words, you walk away from Bucky before listening to your colleague. Bucky gazes at the books you suggested and he reads the back covers. Convinced by The Dream, Bucky puts the other one down before borrowing the novel.

In his apartment, Bucky thinks back to your interaction. He could have listened to you talk about books for hours. Though, the more he thinks about you, the less he’s sure it’s a good idea to be this close to you. Despite yourself, you bring him comfort and according to him, he doesn’t deserve it. His demons are too present to let the light come in his life. Bucky keeps overthinking and he ends up closing himself off.

The small effort he did when he created his library card is shattered. He still has a lot of improvement to do before getting closer to you. He began having feelings for you quicker than he thought and he has to stop this. As a consequence, Bucky decides to not see you again and for this, he tells himself that after this book, he will bring it back the day he knows you’re not here and he won’t step foot on your workplace ever again. He’s better off alone.

Nevertheless, Bucky’s isolation was interrupted by the arrival of John Walker as the new Captain America and the Flag Smashers. With Sam and after a few snags in this new collaboration, they found a way to calm down the tensions and Bucky finally made peace with his past. 

Now, he accepts he has the right to comfort, to be okay. He hates to admit it nevertheless his therapist was right, opening up to people he trusts is beneficial and he’s lucky that, despite his grumpiness, Sam didn’t give up on him.

Bucky is in Louisiana at the Wilsons' residence. He manages to meet other people and his smiles are more genuine than ever.

One afternoon, while Sam and Bucky are fixing the Wilsons’ boat, Bucky brings up his outing at the library and your name comes up several times which instantly grabs Sam’s attention. With a malicious look, Sam mentions the topic again.

“Looks like you get along well with the librarian.”

“She’s nice. She has good recommendations and she’s full of energy. Thanks to her, I felt like I was having an ordinary life once more,” Bucky confesses with a loving gaze.

“‘Was’? What do you mean?” Sam asks, frowning.

“I haven’t gone to the library in a long time.”

“Why?”

“In case you forgot, we were a bit busy.”

“Oh, I know, but I feel like there’s something else.”

“Maybe…,” Bucky starts, avoiding his eyes, “Maybe I closed myself off when I realised I started having feelings for her.”

Following his confession, Sam stops what he’s doing and stares at his friend, desperate. Bucky sighs before resuming.

“Look, it’s not that easy, okay? Sure, I’m feeling better now, but the fact is I know a part of the Winter Soldier will never leave me. I still have my nightmares. I can’t have someone else drag into all of this,” he admits, his heart tightening in his chest. “I don’t even know why I’m making such a big deal out of it. She probably wasn’t interested in me like I am.”

“You’ll never know if you keep ignoring her.”

“I’m not ignoring her.”

“It sure looks like it,” Sam retorts with a pointed look. “You should talk to her. With what you told me, I can tell she has a good influence on you and besides, Mr-With-A-Staring-Problem has heart eyes for her.”

“I don’t need you to throw me into another woman’s arms so I won’t flirt with your sister,” Bucky jokes, hoping to aggravate Sam so he’ll change the subject.

“You better not flirt with her, period. Anyway, that’s not my point, you clearly have feelings for her and maybe it’s time you date someone and someone who has a normal life might not be such a bad idea,” Sam states and Bucky ponders his words for a second.

“I don’t know, Sam.”

“Ask her out. What do you gotta lose? She might be a good friend, if it doesn’t work romantically.”

“The last date I went to wasn’t my biggest achievement,” he reminds him.

“You weren’t in the right state of mind. You should try. At least, like this, I’ll be sure you won’t get close to Sarah.”

“I wanted to ask her something by the way,” Bucky adds, pretending to walk away.

“Fix the boat and shut up.”

Bucky laughs at Sam’s desperation and focuses back on his work. While they’re fixing the boat, Bucky thinks back about what Sam told him. He’s not going to lie, he thought about seeing you again, however the shame of coming back after being away for so long holds him back. The last time he saw you, you were so happy, telling he’d have to tell you what he thought of Wells’ novel and yet, he avoided you like the plague. He doesn’t really know how to come back. You won’t chase him away from the library, he hasn’t violated any rules, but surely, you’ll be cold with him. He ruined everything. 

However, Bucky ends up being convinced by Sam’s words and decides to go back to the library the day he comes back from Louisiana. He thinks about what he’s going to tell you nevertheless nothing seems good enough so he decides he’ll improvise. 

As soon as he’s arrived, he sees your colleagues at the front desk; he greets them and then walks around the shelves, hoping to find you which he does. From afar, he sees you putting kitchen books on a shelf. He takes a deep breath and walks to you. Once he’s near you, he clears his throat to catch your attention which startles you and you turn around. With just one glance, you discover Bucky without his jacket and his gloves for the first time, allowing you to see his vibranium arm.

“Oh, hi.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay. It’s been a long time! You didn’t even tell me what you thought about The Dream,” you say with a disappointed face. 

“I loved it. I forgot how much I enjoy H. G. Wells’ books.”

“I’m glad to hear this. Do you want me to recommend something else?” you ask, excited.

“Yes, please.”

“Another genre or still Sci-Fi?”

“I thought about trying romance,” Bucky states, looking you straight in the eyes.

“Oh, well, we have a bit of everything,” you start, nervous, ignoring if you should read in between the lines. “Stories with sad endings, happy ones, relationships full of tensions and a lot of plot twists.”

“I was thinking about a story where the guy desperately tries to find a way to ask the beautiful librarian out,” Bucky adds with a charming smile.

“That’s a very specific story,” you reply with butterflies in your stomach.

“What do you say? Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” you confess, taking a step forward.

“Really?”

“Really. And I have to admit when I didn’t see you again, I thought maybe I had scared you off because I was too clingy. I thought you were ignoring me.”

“I was ignoring you, but not for this reason,” Bucky admits, looking down for an instant. “I had a lot of things to handle and I didn’t know how to act around you. You made me feel normal and it scared me. It’s better now, I’m better now, though some days are still harder than others. I think I’m on the right path.”

“Do you feel ready to let me in your life now?” you ask, wanting to make sure it’s what he wants.

“I am, yes.”

“Then, we can meet Saturday afternoon at the café down the block. They have the best pastries in the neighbourhood.”

“Works for me,” Bucky confirms with a radiant grin. “In the meantime, do you have any book recommendations? I need something to talk to for a date I have at the end of the week.”

“I have just the novel you need.”

Marvel Masterlist

[kabr0ztrousers]

Ok hear me out…fem!reader X male werewolf alpha and leader of the pack. The others in the pack have been getting a little too comfortable with reader as they all live together in one giant pack house (it’s just innocent friendship, but alpha doesn’t like the idea that reader might want to leave him for someone else someday, let alone a member of his pack).

So, when he catches reader casually hanging out with one of his pack members again, jealousy and anger over take him and he essentially reminds her and everyone else who she really belongs to by fucking reader in front of them all (free use, cnc, voyeurism, exhibitionism, public sex, whatever works).

He puts her face right up to each of his pack members while he’s fucking her and asks her who she belongs to each time. Maybe at the end she collapses into one of the other werewolf’s laps and they refuse to touch their alpha’s mate after that big show.

In my head its hot and possessive and even more so when everyone else is forced to watch their alpha take on their now good friend.

Thanks!💕

Kabr0z Writes episode 66: Housemates

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: freeuse; exhibitionism; knotting; Dom/sub; enthusiastic consent;

A/N: I'll admit I've been looking forward to this one, hopefully I can do it justice!

As always if you have anything you want to see, be it a new idea or a something completely different please do drop an ask!

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Your parents weren't keen on you moving out with your boyfriend straight out of sixth form. You doubt very much they'd have let you at all if they knew the reality of your living situation. There were six of you in the tiny flat, cramped together sharing two bedrooms and a pokey living room kitchenette. Tom already lived with his brothers in the hopelessly overcrowded digs. Even so they were his pack, and you weren't going to separate them on your account. Your job was keeping the home of 5 lupines at an acceptable level of organised chaos. Nobody cared about the piles of clothes or the dishes in the sink really, as long as the piles of rubbish didn't get too high and mugs weren't allowed to generate their own ecosystems you were off the hook for rent and bills. Was it the feminist ideal? No. But it meant you had to do maybe two or three hours of gentle tidying a week and got to live for free. Of course, this life of leisure meant you got damn good at your hobbies, mainly video games.

In fact, that's what you were doing when it all kicked off. Tyler, one of Tom's brothers, had made the mistake of challenging you to a best of 3 at your preferred fighting game. That, of course, became a best of 5, then 7, then you stopped counting as you played on through the afternoon. One by one the brothers came home. Tyler was the lanky one, Sam had the white patches on his ears, Ben had the bushy tail, Shaun always smelled of hairgel. The four were lounging on the couch either side of you, hooting and howling as you demolished them each in turn, getting giddy and excited. The room filled with the familiar musk of four young wolves as you stayed on game after game, the stuffy room giving you a sheen of perspiration.

The front door opened to reveal your favourite of the brothers. Tom was home at last, carrying the group's takeaway in both arms. Chinese this week, the smell of sweet and sour battling valiantly against the teenage funk.

You all looked over to him, sweating gently through your clothes, the shirtless wolves panting, your hair pulled back, nipples prominent in your thin shirt.

Tom roared. You saw the look in his eyes as he bounded over to you and swept you off the couch into his arms. You returned his bear hug as he swung you around, and saw his brothers over his shoulder. Lupines don't generally bother with clothes unless they go out, relying on fur for what modesty they cared about, and an innate tendancy to not really care who sees their balls.

The other wolves had definitely been excited, Tyler and Shaun both had the tips of their cocks poking out of their sheaths, while all four of them were grinning and panting.

"You assholes been hitting on my girl?" Tom snarled his challenge to the others "She's my mate! I'll prove it!" He pulled off his jeans before tearing you out of your shorts and clinging top. He was already rock hard, pressing hmself against you.

"I'm all yours, Tom, nobody else's" you buried your face in his fur, holding your lover to you. You know he's just being hormonal, and you'll bet you can get a good fucking out of this "Why don't we go to our room and we can work out some of this worry"

Tom wasn't going anywhere. He hefted you, catching you with one hand on your waist, one supporting your crotch. "We're not going anywhere. I'm laying my claim" One of his fingers slipped between the folds of your pussy. You were already wet from being manhandled in front of his brothers, and there's no way he couldn't feel it.

You whispered into his ear "Claim me then, or someone might decide to take a share"

His cock throbbed when you said that. The finger slipped into you as he ground his palm on your clit. You rubbed back against him, silently egging him on as his brothers watched, conscious of the huffing and howling coming from them as their brother worked them into a frenzy. You already felt close, showering Tom's muzzle in kisses and grabbing fistfuls of the fur covering his strong neck. The faster you rubbed yourself on his hand, the harder he got, twitching into your belly, covering your skin with strong-smelling precum as you got yourself off on his finger. He curled his hand, just a little, but enough. The fingertip drove into the top wall of your vagina. Every little move you made caused a needy whine to leak from your mouth even as strands of your sticky-sweet arousal leaked down from you.

He pulled his hand out of you just before you came. You barely noticed, transitioning from rubbing your cunt on his finger to trying to get the thick, leaking, canine cock inside you.

Tom had other ideas. He leant you on the back of the sofa and rolled you, exposing your tits to his brothers before plunging that delicious rod into your pussy. One hand groping your tits, the other rubbing at your clit, he let you come to a wailing climax. Your hands gripped his as you spasmed on the cock holding you up, keeping them at your most sensitive places, guiding him to grope at you as his jaws settled gently on the meat of your neck. He bit down ever so gently, he wouldn't break the skin, but you'd have a beautiful bruise there tomorrow.

Your vision was still blurry from cumming so recently, but you could see the motion of the other brothers, their cocks in their hands as they jacked off,

"Wank if you want, boys" you groaned, reaching your foot out to the nearest one, brushing the end of his cock with your toes "this cunt's got an owner already"

You shouldn't have said that. Or maybe you should.

Tom's thrusts got more insistent, the hand on your tit sliding down to your hip as he pushed you down onto him. The knot was already inflated, knocking at the door of your pussy, too thick to go in without help. You lifted your legs, holding them as far apart as you could while both hands went to either side of your cunt, trying desperately to open just a little more, a little more, a little-

It slid in. You'd never let him rawdog you like this before. It felt so different without a condom around his knot, the precum thickened immediately, spraying harder and faster as you whined and moaned, twisting your body this way and that around the bulbous intrusion in your pussy formatting your brain.

Your clit throbbed, your belly tightened, your legs spasmed. You couldn't help but to tug on your nipples as Tom rolled your clit between his fingers. You moaned between gasps, the potent cum sure to knock you up - god you hoped so

Shaun howled into the air, his cock spasming in his hands, squirting out cum.

Tom wheeled you to him, pushing your face into his "Whose mate is this?"

"Yours" Shaun didn't meet your eyes, crossed and glazed as they were "She's yours, Tommy"

Tyler was next on the sofa "Whose is she?"

Tyler gulped "She's yours, all yours"

Ben was next, slowly squeezing his cock in one hand, "She's yours, Tom, no sweat"

Sam came last, his hands already slick with his own cum, lying back on the sofa. He just waved his hand and hummed his submission to the alpha wolf filling you with seed.

Tom seemed satisfied with this. "Whose are you?" He whispered to you as you felt like your brain was leaking out of your ears "Who owns your cunt?"

"You do, I'm yours" you could only just groan out the words as he filled you with bliss

He sat down on the middle of the sofa, grabbing the forgotten meal as he moved, still stuck in you "Right, who wanted the spare ribs?"

You later learned that what happened that afternoon was something akin to a marriage proposal. Of course, now you're formally owned, there's no competition for you, so if he wanted to share you with the pack...

You're pretty sure you'd be down for that

######################################

If I run out of requests, I'm definitely going to make a part 2 to this where the reader gets passed around the pack and fucked senseless again. Freeuse, werewolves, submission and industrial quantities of cum? Yes please.

[samsno1]

you should write jealous sam!!

Gut Feeling

Sam Winchester x F!Reader

the gif is not exactly accurate since the fic passes after the first lucifer shenenigans but i wanted to use it. also, sorry that it took so long to write this request, ive been struggling for a while with writing but here it is, better late than never i guess

Summary: Falling in love with his brother's best friend is good, Sam could keep it secret and stay close to her at the same time but jealousy eats at him slowly because her and Dean seem way too close for his liking

Warnings: just fluff, kind of hurt/comfort, jealousy (duh), sam wants to kill dean, dean is flirty and reader jokingly flirts back, sam's got it bad, hinted bisexual sam because idc what anyone says this man ain't straight, NOT PROOF READ, english is not my first language

wc: 4.3k

enjoy!

Sam wouldn’t call himself a jealous man, especially of those who weren’t romantically related to him. He had his insecurities but, if any woman or man was willing to be with him, even knowing everything that he did, — and does — he didn’t think they would feel the need to betray him. Besides, Sam wasn’t cocky, but he knew he was above average in the ranking of looks, he had been more than assured of that by both men and women throughout his life. Even so, Sam still was Sam, the one who constantly put himself down, the one who constantly didn’t feel enough and the one that constantly stared at you like a predator eyeing a prey everytime you were too giggly with his brother.

You had come into the Winchester’s lives while Sam was away at college, meeting Dean and his father, John, first. It took a few weeks for you to find out through a fight between Dean and John that Sam existed and that he was Dean’s younger brother. You had questioned Dean at the time while comforting him after the heated argument why he hadn’t told you about Sam and he said it was a sensitive subject. You had assumed Sam died — thank God you were wrong — but he was studying Law at Stanford. You were shocked at that, usually hunters that grew in the life didn’t even care about education, much less were capable of getting into a renewed University such as Stanford. Dean told you about how Sam always hated hunting, complained about constantly moving, had straight A’s in whatever schools he went to and, as soon as he got the invitation letter, he left.

You could see Dean missed his brother, just talking about Sam made him show this nostalgic look, like he was talking about a distant memory. A few months later you finally met Sam while you looked for John — who had disappeared in a hunt. He wasn’t what you expected — usually you picture the younger brother shorter and you didn’t stop making fun of Dean for days after that. Sam was smart with quick thinking and incredible deducing skills, finding out about the Woman in White was easier than you thought it would be.

At the end of the hunt, you said your goodbyes to Sam. You could see the bitterness surrounding Dean when he couldn’t convince Sam to keep hunting with him and your hand rubbed his back discreetly for comfort.

Imagine your surprise when you hear Sam scream in horror as fire spreads through his home. Dean didn’t think twice before going in, soon coming back out with Sam, who was crying his heart out as he put up a battle against his brother while Dean pulled him away from the fire. He screamed a girl’s name — Jess, his girlfriend — and you soon understood what happened.

Ever since then it was you, Sam and Dean against the world, literally. You were there when their father died selling his soul to save Dean, you were there when Sam died and tried to convince Dean not to sell his soul for him and do the same his father did — when you thought you finally persuaded him he sneaked out when you were sleeping and made a deal —, you were there when Dean went to hell and back and met the Angel Castiel, when Sam was addicted to demon blood, when the brothers wouldn’t stop fighting, when Lucifer was freed and everything the boys had gone through up until now.

Throughout these years, Sam grew enchanted by you. At first, he didn’t think much of you, he thought you were dating Dean and when he questioned you about it you made a fake gag sound, dramatizing your motions by putting a hand to your stomach and curving your spine forward. You got a chuckle out of Sam and rolling eyes out of Dean. On a more serious note, you clarified to him that you and Dean were nothing more than close friends and that you had been there for Dean when he needed you, and Dean, for you.

You had developed somewhat of a close relationship with the brothers as the years passed and they were your rock. When your parents died on a hunt of their own you were inconsolable and Sam and Dean were there to help you grieve. When you wouldn’t get out of bed for days it was Sam who brought you breakfast, lunch and dinner. Dean would distract you by telling you stories about 80s drummers and rock bands. They comforted you through the whole thing and you couldn’t be more grateful. When you thanked them they said it was the bare minimum they could’ve done for you since, according to them, you had been there for them through the toughest shit.

Sam never thought he would secretly fall for you, so secretly that not even he noticed. He doesn’t know when it began but he remembers when your smiles got brighter and your eyes shinier as he swam through the color in them. Your laugh got sweeter and your gestures had more meaning — at least in Sam’s eyes they did.

He would catch himself stealing glances from afar, learning the littlest of things about you just so he could impress you, yearning to be closer to you, not just physically but emotionally. He would read your favorite books and watch your favorite movies just to have something to talk to you about and he loved when you shot that confused yet shocked look at him when he mentioned your favorite media. Your eyebrows first furrowed as you looked at him then your eyes widened and a smile opened up in your face — oh, your smile — as you started talking about all the things that you liked in said book or film. It was the most beautiful thing Sam had ever laid his eyes on. 

After Jess, he didn’t think he would feel this way ever again. Of course his deceased girlfriend still crossed his mind until this day, it was hard to forget someone like that, especially with such a horrific death. Especially someone Sam loved. But you were there, in his mind, from when he woke up until he fell asleep, maybe even in his dreams. You were easy to love, your personality was incredible, your looks were capable of taking people’s breath away easily and, being a hunter, your strength was more than impressive, mentally and physically.

But Sam didn’t want to love you, he felt guilty for loving you. He had his fair share of terrible experiences with romantic partners and he would never forgive himself if something ever happened to you — much how he doesn’t forgive himself from what happened to Jess. So he swallowed those feelings down and kept them hidden as well as he could. Even now that you are sitting close to Dean in the booth, his arm over your shoulder as you look through the diner menu. Dean’s thumb caressed your shoulder and Sam felt sick to his stomach.

“I think I’m going to get a chicken burger with fries, it’s cheap and looks good” You said as your finger ran through the page, looking between the prices and the food itself. Being a hunter on the road didn’t allow you to waste much so you always went for the cheapest looking thing on the menu but that still looked decent enough to eat. “Sam”

That brought him back to reality, your gentle voice making him look at you. He hummed as an answer to his name being called.

“There’s some good options of salads here, do you want to take a look?” You said with a small smile, offering him the menu. Dean piped up and brought the menu back to himself.

“Wait, Sweetheart, I didn’t even choose what I want” He complained and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t already sure of what you want. Bacon cheeseburger with fries, extra bacon”

Dean shot you a wide grin. “You know me too well…Okay Sam, dive in” He said to his brother as he closed the menu and handed it to him.

Sam’s blood was boiling. Sweetheart? You know me too well? He was going to kill Dean as soon as he got the chance. He grabbed the menu from him with a fake smile and a weak thanks then looked at you. His face softened. “I’ll look through it, thank you”

“The Cobb Salad seems good, if I was in the mood for salad, I’d go for that one” You said, pointing the dish out on the page. This type of salad had bacon in it. “If you don’t want the bacon, ask them to take it off…or give it to me” You said with a mischievous smile and a playful wink in his direction. Sam chuckled as he gently shook his head.

“I think I’ll try but just because you were convincing” He said. You put a hand to your heart and straightened your spine, filling your lungs with air as would someone who was — sarcastically — proud of themselves.

“I have awesome taste, you won’t regret it Sammy” You teased with the nickname on purpose but Sam didn’t care. It was odd that the only person he somewhat enjoyed calling him that was you. Sam didn’t have many nicknames — Moose didn’t count — so you feeling comfortable enough to call him by any kind of affectionate or teasing name showed him that you were comfortable around him and that felt greater than ever. He knew that if he asked you to seriously stop calling him ‘Sammy’ you would stop, you never made him feel uncomfortable or ignored in any way, you would listen to him.

—

You and Sam were still eating when Dean said he needed to go to the bathroom, after he inhaled his hamburger as if it was nothing. Sam was looking through some stuff on his computer, probably looking for suspicious news that gave away the interference of a supernatural being. You noticed he seemed off, biting the inside of his cheeks constantly, his eyebrows furrowed for minutes on end and you could hear his foot bouncing anxiously under the table. You put your burger down and cleaned your hands and mouth with a paper towel, analyzing Sam’s behavior a little further. Honestly, you were staring. Clearly staring.

“Do I have something in my face?” Sam said without taking his eyes away from the computer screen.

“I don’t know, but you definitely have something up your ass” You replied, raising your eyebrows provocatively. That made Sam look at you with a shocked look and that’s when you noticed he had something on his mind. On a normal day Sam would’ve laughed at you instead of giving you the stink eye. “What’s wrong?”

Sam sighed “Nothing’s wrong”

“Bullshit”

“What do you know?” Sam seemingly snapped and you shut your mouth for a couple seconds.

“You” You said, playing with one of the fries on your plate, not looking at him anymore. You took Sam’s silence as a hint for you to continue “I know you, and I sense that something’s wrong. C’mon Sam we’ve been friends for years, do you really think I don’t see it when you’re not fine? If you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine but don’t belittle me like that” The conversation seemed to end there as you went back to eating your burger. Sam was still looking at you, his finger tapping the table. He let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. Friends. That was exactly what was wrong.

“Okay, I’m sorry, it’s just– I’ve been stressing over the last case…” (lie) “...And it’s bothering me how long it took us to solve it…” (complete lie, Sam was in love with you and absolutely jealous of his brother) “...But otherwise I’m fine, I didn’t want to snap like that” (well, there’s the first truth of that sentence). Sam was wondering if you would believe him, you could read him well and if you really looked into it you would be able to see he wasn’t being truthful.

You swallowed the single bite you took of the burger and untensed your shoulders, letting down your defensiveness. “Sam…” You gently called, putting down your food. You cleaned your hands and fingers on a paper towel, wiping away the grease off of them and placed one of your hands over Sam’s fidgeting one on the table. Sam froze. “...You’re too hard on yourself. C’mon, we were able to find and burn that ghost with only the death that you saw on the paper that led us to finding the case, nobody else died, we are all okay and that spirit is now free.” You gave his unmoving hand a gentle squeeze then patted it twice, letting it go. “Don’t stress over it”

People tend to say that, for those who are in love, anything that their loved one does makes them feel euphoric, or feel it a hundred times stronger, deeper. Sam’s heart ringing in his ears showed that this was, in fact, very true. It was stupid, love was really a sickness that ate you from the inside out.

He felt bad for lying to you because he knew you’d always try your best to help him through anything, he could count on you with his life but there was no way he was admitting to you that he was upset because you decided to sit beside Dean at the diner table instead of him. Or because you directed more of your smiles to his brother, that you brushed your hand against his shoulder while you laughed at his jokes, or maybe because Dean always spoke to you in a flirty manner — like he would to a bartender or waitress he wanted to take back to his motel room — and you egged him on, flirting back. Sam would always ignore it because one, you weren’t even his, two, you knew Dean for longer and three, neither you nor his brother knew about his crush on you. To sum it up, if Dean really wanted to try anything with you, Sam had no right to stop him — but he could still be silently angry about it.

And that’s what he was doing. Dean was back from the bathroom and sat beside you again, reaching his hand to steal one of your fries from your plate. Much like Dean, you were overprotective of your food so you almost instantly dragged your plate away from him and pushed him through his chest to stay far from you.

“Hey! You already ate a whole entire burger and fries!” You argued.

“Oh c’mon Sweetheart-” Stop calling her that “-just one fry, please” Dean begged like a child and you shook your head.

“No, stop that, I’m hungry” You firmly replied and, even though he had a frown on his face, Dean backed off with a laugh.

“Alright but I’ll make you pay for this later” He said wiggling his eyebrows, a mischievous smirk on his lips, his words dripping innuendo. You looked at him, already used to his constant dirtiness.

“Mhm, come right on sweetie” You replied, the double meaning in your words as clear as day. Sam could puke. Actually, he would if he stayed there for another minute.

“You guys are disgusting, I’m going to the car” Sam said, closing his laptop and getting up from the booth as quickly as he could, not even looking back as he pushed the glass door of the diner to get out, the bells above it ringing loudly.

You looked at him through the window as he walked to the Impala in long, angry strides. You turned to face Dean with furrowed eyebrows and clear confusion on your face as you could faintly hear the passenger door of Baby being aggressively slammed. Dean looked just as confused and slightly bitter since he saw the way his car shook with the strength his brother just applied on the old door.

“Was it something I said?” You asked Dean, your eyes still looking in the overall direction of where the Impala was parked. You went through your past conversation, it was nothing out of the ordinary, this was usually the setting of when you three were together, Sam focused on something else while you and Dean talked or joked with each other, it was never an issue and, if it was, it was never voiced as one before.

Dean sighed “He’s probably just having one of his temper tantrums, he’ll be back to normal in a few hours”

You hummed unconvinced but didn’t press the issue further. After you finished eating and paid the bill, you left the diner with Dean by your side and Sam was staring out the passenger window at the both of you with that sinking feeling in his gut again. He was biting his nails — a habit he tried for years to overcome but never succeeded — and his knee bounced up and down as if he was trying to drain all his anger through the bottom of his feet (it wasn’t working).

Though muffled through the closed window of the Impala, he could hear your sweet laugh as you approached the backdoor, probably directed at a stupid commentary or joke his brother made. He sighed just as you opened the door and sat down right behind him.

“Okay, I surrender, Ramble On is definitely much superior to The Rain Song, happy now Winchester?”

“Not when you don’t sound sincere about it! It is much better” Dean replied and Sam’s eyes accompanied his movements as he sat on the driver’s seat and started the car.

This is what Sam disliked the most, you had so much in common with Dean it made him sick. From music taste to food you were almost the same and he hated it. Of course that compared to his brother you had your particularities, and it’s not like you hadn’t gotten some mannerisms from Sam himself but when you put them on a scale of comparison, guess who won.

“Yeah, yeah, I agree” You sarcastically said but a smile was on your face, one that Sam saw shining through the rearview mirror. The same way he saw your eyes darting to his through said reflection.

You placed a hand over the one from which he was biting his nails to make him stop. Sam turned to you — a weird sideways position that kind of hurt his back — and you leaned towards the front seat, closer to him.

“Stop” You demanded, looking straight into his eyes. Sam had this expression of a kid that got caught doing something wrong and you saw his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. You nodded at him, as if to ask if he understood and Sam nodded back, making you smile sweetly at him, retreating back to your seat.

–

Okay, what the fuck.

Right now, you were back at the bunker and Dean had gone to isolate himself in his cave since you guys didn’t have anything to do, nothing to hunt, nothing to kill, not even chores to do because you ate out, so no dishes were dirty — a rare occurrence — and you were sitting across from Sam, staring at him, trying to read his mind about what was going on.

He told you he was fine but the way he was treating you told you otherwise. Ever since he stormed off from the diner he was short and dry with you, something that never happened, not even when you did something stupid during a hunt and he got mad at you for it. Usually in those times he scolded you, yelled at you and spoke his mind.

Of course Sam shutting out wasn’t something you were foreign to, he did it quite often and it was one of his behaviors you always tried to work your way around because you knew how hard it could be to talk about your own problems without feeling extremely vulnerable. And Sam Winchester hated being vulnerable. He hated having to rely on others or speaking up about how he was feeling and you understood that, he had to be strong and independent or whatever his sick father put in his mind that he had to be. But, even though you understood, you wouldn’t take shit from Sam Winchester.

You looked at him one more time, he was biting his nails again. You sighed and got up from your chair, circling around the table until you stood right beside him, who still didn’t look at you, so you decided to take drastic measures. You grabbed his cheeks, turned his face to you and pretended to analyse the patient, putting the back of your hand on his forehead, looking into his eyes to see if the pupils were blown out or not…Sam was in shock, his eyes were wide and he was paralysed. When you started to try and pry open his mouth he gripped both your wrists to make you stop.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Trying to figure out what’s wrong with you” You replied and Sam closed his eyes, sighing.

“I already told you that–”

“And I don’t believe you, Sam” You interrupted, a scowl on your face “What is it, huh? Are you under some spell? Did you eat something that made your stomach upset? Did you get cockblocked last–”

“No, no! Stop it! It’s nothing like that–  God why are you like this?” Sam said, looking down slightly, his hair partially covering his face. Your wrists were still grasped in his hands, his rough hands contrasting with the gentleness in which he held them. His thumb caressed your skin unconsciously.

“Oh so I am the problem? What did I do Sam?” You rose your defenses, his words making you feel partially upset, partially angry. You hated making Sam sad or mad and you especially hated when he didn’t say anything about it to you.

“Why do you keep flirting with Dean like that, huh? Why do you laugh so much at his jokes?” He asks, getting up from his chair and staring down at you. “And in front of me too? Don’t you know how that makes me feel? Seeing you all over Dean and him all over you while I just stare from the sidelines?!” He snaps, letting go of your wrists, yet, you’re too stunned to even move. His breathing is quicker after his rant and yours just stopped in pure shock, was Sam–

“Jealous? You’re…jealous?” You asked, almost whispering. Sam opened his mouth as if to say something but nothing came out besides a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, realizing just how stupid this sounded when he said it out loud and he wanted to dig a hole on the ground — his grave.

“I’m not– I mean– I just–” He tried to make something up when he heard a low giggle, his eyes closing in on your hand over your mouth as you stifled a laugh behind it. Sam’s face felt warm suddenly and he avoided booking at you entirely for a moment.

“Oh, Sam…” You said, residue of laughter still on your words as you shook your head.

“Look, I’m sorry, I know this is weird and we are just friends so let’s just forget about it and–”

“Hey, hey, slow down pretty boy, who said I wanted to forget it?” You stopped him, one of your eyebrows raising as he turned to look at you, a confused expression adorning his features.

“What?”

You reached your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him down slightly, his back curving. Your faces were inches from each other, which made him hold his breath. 

“Who says I don’t like you either Sammy?” You whisper, your minty breath invading his lungs, intoxicating his whole being with the smell of you, so close, so kissable, so beautiful. He didn’t know what to do besides hesitantly put his hands over your waist and squeeze lightly, to make sure you’re there, to make sure he’s not dreaming…he doesn’t know but he wanted to make sure of something.

“Do you?” He whispers back, his eyes looking down at your lips then at your eyes again. You smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth, just a tiny peck, and pulled back again.

“Do I?” You asked, faking confusion and Sam mumbled something intelligible as he pulled you in again for a proper kiss, one of his hands crawling up your back and holding the back of your neck gently. He pulls back for a second and looks at you to guarantee you’re fine with this but you pull him back to your mouth again before he can ask anything.

His tongue teases your bottom lip and you happily let him in, a groan escaping his throat. He tastes the hint of toothpaste in your mouth and he feels in heaven — when he dies, he wants this exact moment to be his heaven, he'll make Castiel convince someone of this. All the worries, all the anxiety, all the jealousy went away because you were his. The thought made goosebumps spread over his skin.

Sam put his hands behind your thighs and propped you up on the table.

“You don’t know how long…” He breathed out, his hands roaming over your body like you were some fragile sculpture. “How much…I dreamed of this, of you.”

You gave him a peck. “Make your dreams come true Sam, I’m right here, I’m yours”