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supernaturalscribe67 · 8 months ago

Text

Breathe

Words: 5,466

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Team Free Will x Male!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, Character Death, Extreme Gore, Description of Death, Angst with absolutely no comfort, Description of a corpse

Summary: A hunt gone wrong leaves the reader in a situation that often plagued hunters' nightmares. In his final moments, his mind goes to the people in his life he cared about the most, and he realized that he had one final call to make...

Request:

Hello! I hope you're having a good day :)

I was wondering if you could do TFW where Reader(gn, fem, masc, you choose) is on a hunt alone. (Idk what supernatural creature you can choose) Reader is caught off guard because there were more monsters than expected ana got hurt really bad. They manage to get away, but their wound is too severe to get to their car.

Luckily, they have their phone, and they call Dean's phone and say their goodbyes to them and stuff (yknow, Dean puts it on speaker so Sam and Castiel can hear and speak) I can imagine TFW tracks their phone and finds them, but it's too late.

Sorry if this is a bit specific! l'm just a sucker for angst, and love your writing. ♡♡

@abducted-cowz

A/N: Happy Sunday! I wrote this (with love) to make you guys suffer. I hope the level of angst is to your liking <3 - As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Let me know what you guys think!

~Much Love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

It was supposed to be a simple hunt. A get-in get-out kind of scenario, something (Y/N) had been through more times than he could count. The vampires had set up shop at the edge of a small Kansas town, about twenty miles from Witchita, in a farmhouse that had depleted with age. After his initial scope of the location, he had determined there were close to five vampires on the premises. He had enough confidence to know he could take them on easily. So, when night fell on the next night, he parked his truck a quarter mile up the dirt road and used the natural foliage to make his way to the farmhouse undetected. The situation was perfect, every hunter’s dream of an easily obtainable celebration at the nearby bar, almost as if it was too good to be true.

He needed to learn to trust his gut more often.

Double the number of vampires were present, well over what was initially inspected. (Y/N) didn’t take into account the presence of a cellar. He should have known better. The house was most likely built in the sixties or seventies when it was more than common to include a shelter to fend off natural disasters. Why it never crossed his mind that a house in the middle of a large, abandoned farmland would have that sort of accommodation, he wasn’t too sure. It had been a lapse of judgment. Perhaps he was too overzealous. Zeal had claimed the lives of young hunters more than any monster.

The fight was long and agonizing - as tedious would be too lighthearted of a word to describe it. Some were skilled, others were followers. It was easy to take out some, but a good amount knew how to fight, which made it even more challenging than it had already become. A part of him wanted to retreat and return to his motel room to call for backup, but the continuous wave of enemies made it nearly impossible. He didn’t have a moment to catch his breath, let alone leave safely. He had to fight on. It was the only way.

In the end, the corpses of the vampires lay scattered around the wooden and stone flooring in the house and cellar. Heads were strewn about, blood splattered on the once-magnificent wallpaper. (Y/N) stood at the top of the stairs that led to the cellar, his lips slightly parted as pants fell past them. His chest heaved, sweat trickling down his forehead and neck, coating the collar of his t-shirt. The way his heart hammered in his chest, he swore it would break out past his rips. His arms and legs felt like jelly.

The adrenaline rush that once plagued his mind began to falter, and the aches and pains surfaced. A groan rumbled in his chest as he took a moment to look down at himself. Much like the walls and floors, he was covered in vampire blood. If he had any injuries, it was hard to tell which blood spots were his. He looked back at the carnage at the bottom of the steps. The bodies needed to be disposed of, but (Y/N) could feel the strength drain from his body. He would not be able to carry a dozen bodies to the middle of the field. Not that night. He made a mental note to come back the next day.

After some time had passed, he was able to catch his breath enough to turn and make his way out of the house, careful as he stepped over his fallen enemies. The front screen door was slightly ajar from when he came in. The closer and the hinges were rusted, so it was no surprise that they couldn’t work with the force of his previous entry. He was surprised it hadn’t broken off at that point. They didn’t make things like they used to.

The summer air was crisp and warm, with high humidity that made (Y/N) feel disgusting. Despite that, it was the best air he could ask for. His nose was cleansed from the stench of death, and, for that, he was grateful. Any smell was better than the smell of death.

(Y/N) began the quarter-mile trek back to his truck. His lips were parted, his breathing slightly labored with each step he took. It felt as if his chest rattled like a pair of dice were being tossed around inside. Something was wrong, he knew that much, but he couldn’t assess himself until he had his medical supplies on his person. The risk of infection was high when out in the open like that, especially with the ticks that were undoubtedly lying somewhere in the grass that brushed against his ass, and the last thing he wanted was the contract Lyme disease.

Every ten paces or so, (Y/N) had to stop to catch his breath. It got increasingly difficult to dull the ache as if smoke harassed the soft, pink tissue. He knew he had to continue. Had to get to his car. Had to leave.

In the distance, the roof of his ‘91 Dodge Truck glimmered in the pale moonlight. A sense of relief washed over him, and his steps quickened. The weak smile he had was prominent on his lips, despite the pain that resonated through the muscles in his legs. A way out. His escape. A light at the end of the deep, dark tunnel.

The cold metal of the door handle caused a shiver to run down his spine. As he tried to open the door, the handle caught. Locked. A curse fell from his lips as he reached into his blood-soaked pant pocket and pulled out his car key. He fumbled with them, his grip weak and fingers shaky. Just as he was about to place the key into the door, they slipped out of his grip, hit the dirt ground, and settled under the truck, barely out of sight. He closed his eyes tightly and leaned his forehead against the glass of his window. More obscenities.

He had to be strategic. Every part of his body hurt. Which was the best way to get on the ground that would result in the least amount of pain? He was sure there was a way, but his brain wasn’t working as it should. Any critical thinking had gone out the window. The only option, at the moment, was the simplest.

Using whatever strength he had left, he held onto the door handle for support and lowered his right knee to the ground. His movements were slow like his entire body was covered in molasses. For a moment, all that appeared were slight aches in his thighs, and he had high hopes that he would be able to make it. However, as he reached the halfway point, a sharp, needle-like pain washed over his stomach, striking his entire nervous system.

(Y/N) let out a cry of pain as his body collapsed onto the ground, which sent even more agony through his limbs. He turned and landed on his ass, his back pressed against the truck’s chipped frame. In an instant, he could feel any energy he had vanish, immediately replaced by exhaustion. His eyelids were heavy, and the urge to sleep overpowered any other desire. He knew he couldn’t, though. The possibility of him having a concussion from the hunt was great, and he wouldn’t risk the damage it would do to him if he did slumber.

Then again, the injury he was sure to have under the blood-stained clothes was even more of a risk.

With great struggle, (Y/N) removed his flannel. As he moved, he took note that the pain came from his right side. He grunted as he lifted the side of his shirt, the blood acting as a glue to hold it in place against his chest as his hands came to rest at his side. That was when he saw it.

An eight-inch gash was present, starting from his side and ending right above his naval. It wasn’t a simple surface scratch, either. Layers of muscle and skin tissue were visible. If it had gone any deeper, (Y/N) was certain his organs would lay in his lap. Blood spilled like a waterfall out of the wound, slowly, but aggressively. Most of the blood he had lost was no doubt already soaked into his shirt. It was the biggest injury that he had gotten in his whole hunting career. It was one that he knew he couldn’t fix with the simple sewing kit in his first-aid bag, but one that needed to be medically attended. He didn’t have the willpower to stand up and drive himself, though, let alone get the keys that rested under the car, merely a foot from his hand. Regardless, the nearest hospital was over forty minutes away. An ambulance, even when a hospital was around the corner, could take over an hour to get to the location of an accident. He couldn’t imagine how long it would take to get to him, let alone the legal trouble he would be in when law enforcement discovered the house.

It was then that the realization struck him;

He was going to die.

He tried to convince himself that he was fine. That he could get up. He was just in a negative mindset. He would be fine.

In reality, any movement he tried to make only made his muscles tense and seize. He had to face the truth. He was going to die. But, damn, if he didn’t go down fighting.

It wasn’t obvious to him how long he had left, but he knew, just the same as anyone else, that he had to make his final moments last. So, with his last bit of might, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The screen was stained red but, thankfully, the device was intact. He opened it, went to his contacts, and clicked on the one at the very top.

Dean Winchester

He had met the Winchesters over ten years ago through Bobby Singer. Fate had decided that they would all meet at the Singer residence after their respective hunts. They were introduced, and it was as if they clicked instantly. He got along well with both brothers and connected with many of their friends throughout the years. He considered them family. Sam and Dean offered him a bed in the Men of Letters bunker, which he had turned down, as he had become too accustomed to motel hopping to accept.

God, he wished he would have.

At first, he opted to place the phone next to his ear, but a couple of seconds in that position proved too long as his side cried out. Instead, he placed the call on speaker and sat it in his lap. The ring was dull and echoed slightly through the trees. A part of him was nervous that no one would pick up, that it was too early. He was conflicted, though. Did he even want them to answer? If he knew anything about the Winchesters, they were naturals at taking the blame for any deaths around them, even if they did nothing to warrant fault. He didn’t want to add to that burden.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Dean’s voice greeted him.

(Y/N)’s lips curled upward into a weak smile as he let out a rattled sigh.

“Hey, Dean,” he replied. It was the first time in a couple of hours that he truly heard his voice. He sounded faint, hoarse, weak. He wondered if he looked nearly half as bad as he sounded.

“Man, I haven’t heard from you in a couple of weeks. What’s been going on?”

“Oh, you know,” he trailed and leaned his head back against the truck. “Same old, same old. What about you guys?”

“Well, we just got back from - hold on, Sam wants me to put the phone on speaker.”

Pause.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Sam’s voice came through the speaker.

“Hey, Sammy,” (Y/N) felt his smile become weaker.

“So, anyway, as I was saying,” Dean continued. “We just got back from a week-long hunt in Baltimore. Nasty ghost business. The news articles about this guy seemed like it came right out of Law and Order. I was so happy to pump some rock salt into that son of a bitch.”

“Since when do you watch Law and Order?” He asked.

“Law and Order: SVU to be exact,” Sam said.

“All I’m going to say is Detective Olivia Benson can arrest me any day.” There was an obvious smirk on Dean’s face.

(Y/N) let out a chuckle, which instantly progressed into a coughing fit. His fist was balled up in front of his lips as he tried to will his lungs to have mercy in his final moments. What seemed like an eternity later, his lungs listened, and he pulled his hand back. His thumb, index finger, and part of his palm were covered in blood. He brought his hand back up to his face and wiped his lips. More blood.

“Shit,” (Y/N) mumbled.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,”

“You feeling sick?” Sam added.

(Y/N) hesitated. “Sort of.”

“That sucks, man. Have you gone on that vampire hunt yet?”

“Wait, what vampire hunt?” Dean inquired.

“The one near Wichita? I told you about it a couple of days ago.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did! You were watching The A-Team.”

“Oh yeah…I remember that. Hey, why do you get told about his hunts but not me?”

“Because, unlike you, I actually talk to him on an almost daily basis.”

Tears appeared in the corners of (Y/N)’s eyes, but he had little stamina to cry. He was going to miss this, the bickering. The brotherly back and forth between Sam and Dean. The late-night talks they would have over the phone. The week-long trips he would take to the bunker after recovering from a hunt. The prank wars. The diners. The bars. The terrible karaoke. The movie nights. The long hugs as they bid farewell. Oh, how he wished he could hug them one last time.

“(Y/N)?” Sam’s voice sounded more distant than before.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, I’m here.” He weakly cleared his throat and brought the phone closer to his ear, ignoring the throbbing in his stomach.

“Everything go okay with the hunt?”

“Well…going into it, I figured it would be about half a dozen vamps or so? Not much activity when I scouted. Turns out, there’s about a dozen or more.” He explained.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled.

“Do you want us to come down and help you? It won’t take us that long to get there. Maybe two hours or so.” Sam added.

(Y/N) shook his head. “No, no. I took care of them…but it seems like they took care of me, too.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, his voice low and on edge.

A lump appeared in his throat and threatened to cut off the next couple of words. He tried to push through it as he spoke.

“I’m not gonna make it.”

As soon as the words fell from his lips, shuffling could be heard on the other end of the line. No one said anything for a couple of seconds. The next person to speak was Dean.

“Listen, (Y/N), tell us where you are.” Dean’s voice was louder and more frantic, indicating that he had been taken off speaker. “We can come get you, patch you up, and you’ll be good as new, alright?”

“No, no, Dean-”

“Sam! Where are my keys!?”

“Dean-”

“You’re going to make it, okay, (Y/N)? Then, we can come back to the bunker and watch that stupid horror movie you’ve been begging us to watch.”

“Dean, I-”

That time, (Y/N) was interrupted by another coughing fit. Blood and spittle dribbled down his lips and chin. He could feel just how weak his lungs were, so it took some time for him to recover. Once the coughs died down, he was able to hear the familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine over the phone. What a beautiful sound. He was going to miss it.

“Did you get ahold of Cas?” Dean mumbled.

“I’m here, Dean,” Castiel’s voice came through.

“Great! (Y/N), tell us where you are, come on, buddy.”

“Cas,” (Y/N) croaked. “It’s so good to hear your voice. How are you?” His words were slow.

“(Y/N) you need to tell me where you are. I can come heal you.” Castiel’s voice was laced with seriousness and worry.

“No,” he said simply. “It’s too late.”

“It’s not too late!” Dean shouted.

“It is,”

“No, it’s not! You’re still talking to us, you’re still awake. Cas can come over and heal you.”

“Got it!” Sam exclaimed. “Make a left.”

“Guys, it feels like half of my blood is outside of my body. If I move, I think my stomach will fall out. I don’t want you to see me like this. You don’t deserve that.”

“(Y/N), please,” Castiel said. “I can help.”

(Y/N) huffed and would have smirked if he could. “You Winchesters with your stubborn attitude…” he took a few shaky breaths. “No matter what I say, you just never listen.”

“We never listen!?” Dean yelled.

“Dean-” Castiel began.

“No, Cas, this is bullshit. (Y/N), we are family, and family is supposed to be there for each other. They’re supposed to help each other when things get back. Why the Hell won’t you let us help you?”

“Because I’m already dead, Dean. I put this on myself. I-” he stopped to catch his breath. “I blindly went into the house without backup. This is on me. I’m meant to have-” breathe. “-a hunter’s death. To die fighting, and I can proudly say that I killed every last one of those slimy bastards.”

“(Y/N)-”

“Dean, let me finish. Please. I don’t want our last call to be remembered like this.”

Dean stayed silent. (Y/N) waited a moment. The corners of his vision had gone blurry, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. He didn’t have much time left.

“I love you guys, all of you. My life wouldn’t have been nearly as exciting as it was without you. Sam, I’m going to miss our little nerd talks. Miss seeing Dean’s face when we talk about Lord of the Rings. Dean-” his voice trailed as he felt his head lull to the side.

“(Y/N)! Hey, (Y/N), stay with us,” Sam said.

(Y/N) lifted his head. “Dean, I’m going to miss trying to out-drink you at the bar.”

Dean gave a sad, dry chuckle. “You never even got close.”

“And, Cas, God, I’m going to miss our late-night talks. I can’t even count on one hand the amount of times our calls lasted longer than four hours.”

“I do enjoy talking with you,” Castiel confirmed.

“(Y/N), please,” Sam begged.

“I love you all. I love you, Dean. I love you, Sam. I love you, Castiel.” (Y/N)’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“I love you, (Y/N),” Dean answered.

“Love you, (Y/N),” Sam followed.

“I love you, too, (Y/N).” Castiel finished.

Their voices were quiet, filled with sadness and defeat. He hated that that was the last he would hear from them.

“Goodbye,” he breathed.

“No, (Y/N), please,” Sam tried to plead.

The call ended.

(Y/N) took one last look at the phone before he gave into gravity and let his arm drop to his side.

By then, his breathing had slowed substantially. His chest barely rose and fell with the efforts his lungs put in. And that rattle, the death rattle. He knew it all too well. Years of witnessing death firsthand made a man knowledgeable on the topic.

On the horizon, past the field and toward the distant treeline, the sun began to rise. Speckled layers of early morning sunlight coated his skin, but he felt no warmth. On the contrary, he felt cold. Slow. He didn’t know that a human’s body could get so cold. With it, though, there was numbness. No more pain, no more aches. Just peace.

He never knew what it would be like to die - it didn’t occur to him to ask Sam and Dean about their countless encounters with death - but if he knew it would be so calm and, dare he say, tranquil, he might not have spent so long fighting for his life as he had in the past. It was an experience unlike any other. Perhaps that wasn’t his true feelings on the subject. Perhaps it was because he knew that was his fate, that he had no chance. Acceptance. He was ready.

The last thing he saw before his vision faded to black was the sun, uncovered by the foliage, in its bright glory. It felt like an old friend who wanted to greet him one last time, and he appreciated the sentiment. The welcoming of a new dawn was short-lived. Once his vision faded, his eyelids closed, his muscles relaxed, his head lulled to the side;

And he died.

*~*

Dean didn’t drive nearly as fast as he had wanted to. The foolish part of him still had hope. Hope that they would find their friend unconscious, but alive. That (Y/N) had been exaggerating his wound. That he would be fine.

He has to be fine.

But the logical side of him, his brother, told him that he knew better. He had seen more than his fair share of friends die in his life, and it seemed to develop into a pattern. He met someone, promised himself he wouldn’t get close, got close, and then they died. An endless cycle. Wash, rinse, repeat.

And now, he was back on repeat.

It was nine in the morning by the time they spotted (Y/N)’s truck. Dean had to turn the car around, as they had passed it before. The treeline that sat on the edge of the road was thick, leaving visibility to be quite reduced. When they pulled onto the dirt path, they stopped a good twenty feet from the white pickup and sat there. None of them spoke. Instead, they sat in a heavy, dead, grief-filled silence, as if a fog had descended upon them. Time moved leisurely, at least from their perspective. In all actuality, it passed by them at the speed of light. By the time any of them moved into their seats, it was closer to ten.

They got out of the car and slowly made their way over to the truck. They walked steadily, as if on autopilot like their limbs were being held back by chains. They had to continue, for (Y/N)’s sake.

When they turned the corner of the front of the truck, they saw him. (Y/N)’s lifeless body lay against the side of the car, shoulders drooped, and mouth hung open. The gravel surrounding him was caked in uneven layers of dried blood, along with his shirt and jeans. Any color had drained from his skin. Bugs buzzed around the open gash still visible on his stomach, which had stopped bleeding at some point.

Sam choked back on a sob that tried to escape his throat, but he would not allow it. He covered his mouth with his hand and turned his back. He could feel the cry of pain threaten to claw its way out, threaten to break him down. He had to stay strong, though. He couldn’t possibly let Dean and Castiel deal with it all. (Y/N) was his friend, his brother, and he had to take responsibility for his body, as well. He couldn’t just let his brother and best friend handle it. That wouldn’t be fair to them. Wouldn’t be fair to (Y/N).

Dean stopped as soon as he saw his body. The visual of it made realization hit him like a truck. (Y/N) was dead. He was gone. All those times together watching movies, drinking at bars, or bickering with each other were a thing of the past, never to be repeated. The moments they shared would never get spread through a jovial reunion after retirement, nor would they get to grow old together. They would never get the opportunity to call each other ‘old bastard’ before they sat in their lawn chairs and talked for hours. Dean never even got the chance to teach him how to fish. The potential ‘what ifs’ turned into ‘what could have beens’, and the fact that he tricked himself into thinking it was possible made him feel like an idiot.

Castiel lagged when it came to turning the corner, for he knew what awaited on the other side. He had seen his fair share of death in regards to people he cared about, but he and (Y/N) had gotten rather close in the years they had known one another. He was the one who introduced Castiel to a larger variety of music, television shows, and films that Dean would have otherwise not done. He had opened his eyes to a world far beyond anything he could ever imagine. For that, Castiel would be forever grateful. When he saw (Y/N)’s body, he felt his chest ache. It wasn’t heartbreak, as Castiel knew he was unable to feel such emotion. Rather, he felt empty, as if a part of him had been ripped away and burned. One of his dearest friends had been taken. His family had been taken. True, he would get a chance to visit (Y/N) in Heaven, but it was not the same.

Castiel was the first one to move over to his body. The cut on his stomach made him realize that, perhaps, (Y/N) wasn’t lying. It was deep, ghastly. Most likely, the time between the call ending and his time of death was minimal. Minutes if not seconds. There was truly nothing Castiel could have done. Even if he had the grace of an archangel, there was not enough power to heal him. His body was too far gone.

With one look over at Sam and Dean, Castiel could see that any strength had vanished from their bodies. Their shoulders were slumped, and any light had left their eyes. He knew they would not be able to carry him, not while he was like that. He took the initiative and wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s back and legs. It took little effort to lift him, despite the dead weight. Castiel was cautious when moving his body, knowing that the wound was still fresh. (Y/N)’s head shifted to the side, cheek pressed against his chest. Castiel walked over to Sam and Dean. Their eyes never left his body.

“I believe someone should take his car,” Castiel’s voice broke the silence that had hovered over them for hours. His voice was uncharacteristically soft and quiet. “I saw the keys under the driver’s side.”

Tears were flowing freely down Sam’s cheeks, his eyes red and burning. “I’ll-” he cleared his throat to steady his voice. “I’ll drive it.”

“No,” Dean’s broken speech interrupted. “Um…I’ll take him. Do you mind driving the truck, Cas?”

“I do not mind.” Castiel shook his head.

Dean nodded. Wordlessly, he dug into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the Impala. He held them out to Sam, who looked at his brother to silently confirm his actions. When nothing was said, Sam took the keys. Dean dropped his hand to his side as if the keys had been the only thing capable of keeping them up before he turned back to Castiel, arms held out.

Castiel began to carefully transfer (Y/N)’s body from his arms to Dean’s. It was almost ceremonial, and when Dean felt the heavy weight of the body in his arms, he held him close, as if he were made of glass, that he would shatter into a million pieces if Dean moved the wrong way.

But he was already broken.

They spoke nothing more before they dispersed. Castiel turned back to the truck to fetch the keys, Dean made his way to the Impala, and Sam followed. Sam opened the back passenger door and took a step back. Dean got in, his movements deliberate and guarded, the lifeless body still held tight to his chest. It took a moment for him to finally get settled in the backseat. Once he was, Sam shut the door and made his way over to the driver’s side.

Dean’s eyes never left (Y/N)’s face, determined to take in every last detail. He looked so peaceful, as if only in a deep sleep. There had been a handful of times Dean had carried (Y/N) to one of the many spare bedrooms after he fell asleep watching a movie, but he had never felt so heavy. Maybe it wasn’t him, but, rather, the weight Dean could feel on his heart. Dean held countless regrets. He wished he would have talked to him more. Wished he would have remembered being told about the hunt. He would have suggested that they stop to help on the way back from their previous hunt. If only he had listened better, maybe (Y/N) would still be alive.

If only…

Dean didn’t even notice when Sam started the car, backed out onto the dirt road, and began to make the silent journey back to the bunker. As Sam drove, he would periodically sneak a peak in the rearview mirror at his brother and best friend. Each time, he had to swallow the lump that had threatened to make an appearance, but he let the tears flow. When he wasn’t looking at them, his mind wandered to the day ahead. The preparation for a hunter’s funeral didn’t take that long, as they were used to the process by then, but it didn’t make it any less painful. Everything had to be perfect. It was what (Y/N) deserved, and they would make sure to give him the best send-off they could.

*~*

They gave themselves time to grieve - a day and some odd hours - while they collected the necessary materials for the funeral. While (Y/N)’s body lay in the spare bedroom he always claimed as his, they took turns alone with him. They shared memories, regrets, jokes, and emotions that would have otherwise been kept under lock and key. Then, when the pyre, just northwest of the bunker, was ready, they had Sam carry him out to his final resting place, giving them each an opportunity to hold him one last time.

With his body wrapped up tightly, he was placed on top of the pile of wood underneath the stars. Dean, Sam, and Castiel stood back and silently stared for a couple of minutes. As the late-night song of crickets came, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out three lighters. He handed Castiel and Sam each one before he returned to the spot next to his brother. In unison, they clicked their lighters to life and tossed them to the pyre, one after another.

It took a moment for the wood to catch, but, in an instant, the faint crackling from the burning wood roared to life, engulfing (Y/N)’s body in its warmth. It was poetic, to die a hunter. To die protecting others, even when they didn’t know. They would never get their names in history books or their own documentary. No recognition is to be found. Only stories spread through fellow hunters and close friends kept their memory alive. They were true heroes of their time. Martyrs for a cause unknown.

That night, Sam, Dean, and Castiel vowed to never let his story die. In every way they could, they would spread (Y/N)’s story to everyone who would listen. They would light fires with their words and watch the world burn if it meant everyone knew of the person he was. For as long as they lived, (Y/N) would never truly die.

“Please, don’t worry so much, because in the end none of us have very long on this Earth - life is fleeting. And if you’re ever distressed, cast your eyes to the summer sky when the stars are strung across the velvety night, and when a shooting star streaks through the blackness turning night into day, make a wish and think of me. Make your life spectacular. I know I did.”

~ Robin Williams

#Supernatural #SPN #supernatural #spn #Supernatural x Reader #supernatural x reader #SPN x Reader #spn x reader #Male!Reader #Dean Winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester #Sam Winchester #Castiel #castiel #angst #request #supernatural scribe #supernatural imagine

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paaelle · 5 months ago

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SET ME FREE!

Hii I'm Paaelle 👋

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Uhh random stuff about me/my art

I'm actually really slow on requests, most of the time I'm just gathering motivation and ideas

I love vivid and bright colors, so that's pretty much what you will be seeing here

I just do sfw art, idk if people count suggestive or gore as nsfw but I rarely do it sooo idk. Better safe than sorry I think (I'm gonna put warnings if I ever post those)

I think that's all for now.

Gif of my son bc I love it and find it silly

My son, in my hands bc is important

#paaelle random yapping #introduction post #Paaelle arrrt

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coolguycy · 4 years ago

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Titans, Atlas

Titans- If you could go anywhere in time, when would you want to go? last year. i just want to go outside

Atlas- Favourite myth? probably Tantalus. the guy is so dumb. “oh the gods didnt let me keep the food that could potentially kill me, so i think ill chop up my son and feed it to them in stew. thats a great idea, im sure it wont backfire in any way!”

#gore tw #food tw #idk if it counts as gore but better safe than sorry #you know what #vore tw #thats better

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silveredcircuitry · 2 years ago

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this guy

#art #my art #oc #science fiction #robot #original character #mild gore #scifi #Break.exe #digital art #sapient computer virus. Tentatively exists in the same universe as A Certain Other Dramatic AI.#the two of em actually have a lot in common. Too bad they fucking hate each other #eyestrain #idk if this counts but better safe than sorry

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veludo-rae · 2 years ago

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ahahaha. hey shawty. hey lil mama. want me to look at the liver of your sheep? *lipbite*

#tw mild gore #i think? does this count. idk better safe than sorry

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bridrizzle · 4 years ago

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Oops, with all the excitement over the weekend I completely forgot to post yesterday for Miniature Monday!

Well, it was only a matter of time. These lovely puppos (barghest technically) were a lot of fun with all the tiny details in them!

#miniaturemonday #minimonday #dnd #d&d #tabletop #ttrpg #barghest #tw bones #tw blood #tw gore #idk if they technically count #but better safe than sorry i figure #painting #my art

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lizstiel · 5 years ago

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the angels just cut out her tongue call her black mariah, would I lie to you? that girl’s not right in the brain

#mine #my art #digital art #illustration #mcr #mcrflash #idk man i'm just cleaning out old sketchbooks and putting them in procreate so #yeah ????#gore #gore tw #blood tw #((idk if this counts as gore? probably though better safe than sorry))#body horror tw #body horror

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enmy-writes · 4 years ago

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Just Let Me Help You

Summary: Zuko, trying to keep is girlfriend safe, unintentionally gains the trust of the Gaang after a showdown with Combustion Man.

Word Count: 2728

Fandom: ATLA (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: Mostly fluff, is fluff-angst a thing? Idk guys I’m soft, you tell me.

Rated: 18+

Content Warnings: Profanity, some gore graphics (brief mentions of blood, killing, murder), uhhhh that’s it I think I’m sorry if I forget anything else.

****Huge shout-out to my friends Kenz and Jenna for editing this and hyping me up. Hopefully, since this semester from Hell will be over soon, I’ll be able to write more. Please request things! Thank-you all for supporting this and let me know more of what you want to see in the future :) Also, feedback is always welcome. Enjoy!****

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They had landed the war balloon days ago, stalking the tired and defeated Team Avatar and trying to figure out how the complicated Fire Prince would convince the people he chased for months that he wants to help them now.

(Y/N) was stoking the hot flame provided by the fire bender, making sure the coals were burning a cherry red before she added leaves and herbs into a pot to make a stew for the two to enjoy. Her eyes followed Zuko as he paced back and forth, practicing what he was going to say when he finally decided to confront the rebel group, lips turned upward in an amused smirk.

“Hey, Zuko here…” she heard him say before he started rambling a bunch of nonsense about his past; from his discovery, to Azula, to his father-- all the tragic topics. It took him about three minutes, but he finished with a hopeful look in his direction.

“Well?!” He clenched his fists at his side in a nervous gesture, only wanting to get this right.

The girl on the log cleared her throat before speaking, obviously hiding her laughter from the sensitive boy. “Well… it’s perfect. I especially liked the ‘Hey, Zuko here’ part. I’m sure that Aang and his friends with be very pleased to finally learn your name instead of thinking you’re called ‘Angry Ponytail Hotman’.’’

He groaned loudly, rubbing his eyes with clenched fists. The melodic laughter from his companion tempted him to give up his quest and just run away with her and live a happy life free of his father and his destiny… whatever that may be.

Still laughing, (Y/N) stood from her log by the fire and made her way to Zuko, coming up behind him. Her arms slid right around his slim body, holding on tight as she tried to pull his mind from the depths of his insecurities.

“Zuko, love.” Her voice is soft, but intense. “Just go down there. I won’t lie, they might not take you right away. You have done a lot of damage to them and their goals.”

His warm hands slide down the tops of her forearms and slide between her chilled fingers, entwining them together as Zuko grips her like she’s holding him down on the land they’re on.

“I… I just…” He struggles to get his feelings out, finding it hard to convey how he feels even to the girl wrapped around him.

She shushes him. “I know.” Is all she says, as they stand there in a momentary comfortable silence before she detaches from him to continue dinner.

____________________________

Zuko had told her to stay behind, that he’d be back to either get her or because he failed to convince the group that he came to support them, instead of harm them.

“Zuko! I could easily be an alibi for you. A reason for them to trust you!”

“No. End of story. They could attack me and you’re in Fire Nation clothes. You’re staying here.”

A staring match between the two only lasted a few seconds, but (Y/N) let it go; remembering Iroh’s advice that sometimes the boy has to do what eases his mind to grow.

The empty pot gleamed an orange glow from the flames, a light in the dark woods that surrounded the two as they lounged by the fire.

(Y/N) was carding her fingers through the upset prince’s hair while he stared at the sky; confused. His emotions spilling onto (Y/N). He didn’t talk much about the encounter, only enough to tell her that they wouldn’t be helping the Avatar defeat his father anytime soon. Rather than pressure him, she offered her solace with calming actions rather than words.

The two had met in their early childhood, (Y/N)’s father being the leader of the Yuyan Archers and of course the Fire Lord wanted the talented girl to meet his… troubled son. In hope that she could help bend his son into the ruthless leader the nations needed to proceed him. Though they didn’t see each other as much as they should have due to (Y/N)’s schooling, the two quickly became close friends and were often found with Lady Ursa quietly running around the palace grounds.

His banishment led to (Y/N) perfecting her skills, and becoming the master she was destined to be, given there was no more distraction. No one could understand her in the way that Zuko did— they fit together like they were made for one another. Where he was hotheaded, she was cool; Where he was nimble and direct, she was resourceful and hidden. The two were the perfect set of opposites who ultimately balanced each other. And one without the other was a heartbreak everyone could see.

When she heard the news of his return, she rushed to the palace; radiant as ever. In an instant, the two fell back into where they left off; barely any words needed between the two. Her fingers and lips had trailed over his scar often in those few days, brushing away the tears and insecurities that came with it.

Leaving the Fire Nation with Zuko wasn’t even a debate in her mind. She was tired of the life of lies and torment that her nation inflicted upon the world. She had spent the last two years relocating and rebranding people who were targets to the Fire Nation. In total, about one hundred innocent lives were saved from her dangerous missions. Her skill level was better than even her father’s, and she prided herself in her abilities. (Y/N) was truly a professional in her art with the eye of an eagle.

When she caught Zuko writing a letter to her with packed bags on his bed, she instantly went into the shadows and caught up with the boy easily, hiding in the balloon behind the engine for a while until it was too late for him to turn back. It was hot and the most uncomfortable thing she has ever done, but she regrets none of it. She joked with the boy; how did he not question a pile of fabric behind the piece of equipment that holds fire? She let it go after he hugged her close and cried for a while.

“Don’t do that shit again, Zuko.” Her voice was stern, though her voice stern, she held him close. She ghosted her fingers over his tense shoulders; the shoulder that carried such burdens. She pressed her fingers into his shoulders; trying her best to rub the tension from his body.

“I won’t. Never again. Don’t leave me, I need you.”

A rustle of leaves and broken trees in the forest near the edge of their little camp put the two into defense, instantly gripping her perfectly crafted bow and quiver. Her ears pricked at a slight movement and she aimed her bows in the direction of the noise without even looking. Suddenly, green clothes fill the area as a younger girl makes her way into the clearing. Startled, Zuko sends a wave of fire towards the intruder, burning the girl.

Everything happened fast.

(Y/N)’s left foot—her plant foot—sunk into the ground and twisted inward, releasing a loud crack into the air. The Earth girl was long gone now; Zuko had been screaming at himself when he heard the cry of pain and the sickening noise that left the lips of his girlfriend.

The earth has released its hold on her, but the damage was done. She kneeled, trying to hold back tears but failing as they kept streaming down her face in a pain response. Zuko’s own eyes filled with tears as he ran over to her, helping her sit down and take the tension off of it.

The joint was already beginning to swell, black and blue and purple and yellow starting to show up in swirls around the area. Zuko carefully tried to feel the injury, barely touching the girl in fear of hurting her more. (Y/N) sighed, pushing his fingers away and ignoring his protest. She rotated her foot outward, cringing at the pain, but crying out when she turned it the other way. Zuko cupped his hands around her ankle, hands heated slightly to hopefully alleviate the pain.

“Baby… it’s okay—”

“No, you’re hurt! I knew this would happen!” He cuts her off with a panicked yell. (Y/N) places her hands on the sides of his face, forcing his eyes upon hers with a slight wince of discomfort.

“It’s most definitely, at worst, a fracture. I can still move it outwards without a lot of pain. It’s, like, a week off my foot at most and then another week with a splint and a crutch. I am okay, Zuko.” They stared at each other for a solid minute, saying nothing.

"Promise?" Zuko whispered.

"You think I would lie to you, Zuko?" She says as she wraps her pinky his for good measure

They turn in not too long after, (Y/N)’s ankle wrapped up in some extra clothes for stability. Zuko’s arms hold her to his chest as they slip off into the world of dreams.

_________________________

Oh shit. She thought from her perch on top of the cliff edge. The assassin that they have also been trying to find has been blowing up the place, really testing the stability of the edge of the cliff in shakes after shakes like an earthquake. Zuko had told her to stay at camp, but unfortunately for Zuko; (Y/N) was never that good at listening to commands.

She was sitting down, watching the Avatar, his friends, and her boyfriend try to figure out how to win this fight against the combustion bender, feet dangling over the edge. She didn’t want any pressure on her foot from standing on it; settling for the dull throbs of pain coming from the force of gravity alone.

Some third eye. (Y/N) thought to herself as she watched her boyfriend get too close to being blown off the edge of the cliff, wincing. She quickly strung her bow, aiming it at the man. She smirked, a devious smirk, and aimed it in a precise location.

Zuko was still trying to talk the man out of it when suddenly, his eyes went blank and the grossest sound he has ever heard reached his ears. Everyone watched the man, confused as to why he just stopped. It’s not until red trails down his forehead and around his nose in a slow trickle that they look at his eye.

In the middle of the red eye, that at one point seemed indestructible; an arrow sat; a perfect shot — his perfect shot. "Bullseye!" (Y/N) howled, her voice resonating in his ears.

In the midst of Zuko's panic, he failed to recognize the cliff he was standing on becoming increasingly unsturdy; turning he locked eyes with the archer. A ghost of a smile graced her lips, pride radiating off of her. Though he was angry, he couldn't help but share her pride. He locked eyes with his girlfriend who was sitting nonchalantly on the cliff edge above them all, waving nonetheless, when he told her to stay back. It’s then that the earth beneath him rumbles and falls, taking him with it.

“Zuko!” She screams, jumping to her feet; a loud crack coming from her ankle, buckling under the pressure and bringing her to her knees.

With a hobble in her step, (Y/N) climbed down the cliffside. The tears ran down her face at a ferocious pace, making her way over to the cliffside, a loud sob relented from her mouth as she saw Aang helping Zuko up over the edge of the cliff.

"Spirits, Zuko!" She breathed, limping her way over to him and hugging him tight. "I should kill you, you fucking idiot!" She sobbed, pulling him into her chest.

Zuko huffed out a laugh, wrapping his arms around her. He took deep breaths, calming his nerves from his near death experience; he focused on the feeling of her hand carding through his hair to grip it tight, and the hold on his shoulders. As he calms down, he remembers that he told her to stay put; and he sharply pulls away.

"I told you to stay at camp!" He huffed, "I told you I was coming back for you!”

She scoffs pushing on his forehead with two fingers. “In case you have forgotten, Zuko, I have authority issues. If I weren’t here, who would be saving your stupid royal ass? No one! You’re welcome, by the way. He wasn’t going to negotiate, Prince Pouty, and you and everyone else here is no good to the world dead.”

“You—You---You could’ve been hurt! (Y/N)! Or worse!” His protest was a whisper, trying to make the scene more private as he’s aware of the crowd around them.

“Zuko, love, I can handle myself. I’m a master at my craft--.”

"—your craft of carelessness, you could've been killed—"

"—but I wasn't Zuko!"

"That's not the point." His voice stern, making it clear that the conversation was done for now. (Y/N) simply nodded, pulling away from him and fixing her clothes.

Aang, Toph, Katara and Sokka watched the two as they argued; watching as they continuously tried to out-care the other. They watched as the two eventually stopped arguing, instead remained staring, as if daring each other to speak

“That was a ... nice shot? I guess?" Aang spoke, clearing his throat and drawing the couples attention to him. "He's definitely you know, dead."

(Y/N) smiles at the boy. “Thank you, Avatar, for helping save this dumb ass from falling off a cliff.” She gets up and bows to him. Zuko suddenly picks her up, the world turning sideways as he put her bridal style in his arms.

“Stop putting weight on your ankle!”

“I’m literally showing respect to the person who just helped you, is that a crime?”

“What if you break your ankle so much that you have to cut it off.”

“Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Okay well you were first when deciding to sit on the edge of a cliff with a broken ankle.”

“You’re right! Sitting is dangerous. Next time, I’ll make sure to stand so at least I’ll have a better chance of reacting if the cliff side starts falling from under me. Oh wait, you were standing, and you still fell.”

Zuko sets her down on a broken rock that’s suitable enough for her to sit on. “Will you just shut up already and let me help you.” He reaches for her ankle, but she moves it from his grasp. Their eyes meet again and narrow in competition.

A mess of limbs as the (Y/N) evades the grip of Zuko, occasionally slapping his hands away if they get too close.

Sokka tilts his head in confusion and opens his mouth. “Is he—is he actually caring for someone?”

Aang nods. “I think? I don’t know, they’re kind of fighting a lot.”

Toph cringes, “Guys, I think it was me who hurt her in the first place. Last night at their camp. Zuko instantly stopped trying to help me when I heard her scream.”

“Guys… I think I’m supposed to let him be my master. I mean, he did just risk everything to save us.” Aang says, eyes locked on the one member who he cares more about than anyone.

Katara, still holding off on agreeing, looks to the two Fire Nation kids again.

“Ow! You bit me! Are you crazy?!” Zuko yells, shaking his left hand out.

The stranger girl laughs cheerfully. “Only crazy for you, stupid.”

And a phenomenon occurs. Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation blushes and looks down at the ground, a huge smile on his face.

“I hate you.” Is all he says.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Katara, seeing the humane side of the prince, finally lets her guard down and walks over to them. Zuko’s eyes widen at her proximity, but the water tribe girl holds his gaze.

“I’ll heal the girl if it gets you two to shut up. And you have to find dinner for tonight.”

Katara’s eyes widen again at the sight of the crying prince who suddenly bows to her feet, thanking her with his whole heart. He then turns to his smiling girl beside him and pulls her into a hug.

“Thank you, (Y/N). For everything.”

“I’ll always help you… stupid.”

#zuko #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #avatar zuko #atla x reader #atla #fanfic #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla fanfic #atla x you #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #x reader #enmy-writes atla

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alltooreid · 4 years ago

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congrats on 100<33

✏️ - idk if this is a good enough concept but something along the lines of reader being scared of something (can be a thunder storm or haunted house or anything u want lol) and spencer comforts reader

(reader can be fem. (she/her) or gn (they/them), it doesn’t matter to me)

i hope this made sense, i didn’t wna go to into detail that way u could work freely with it lolll 💓

omg this makes perfect sense and it’s such a cute idea!! I went a little overboard and this got really long because I added a little meet-cute situation but I hope you love it anyway!! Also I changed Y/N’s fear because I had a really good idea and you were so open!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN! Reader

Type: comfort so like angst/fluff idk??

Word Count: 1.4K (oops)

Content Warnings: discussion of blood

When Y/N was five years old they told their mom they wanted to be a doctor. However, when one is five years old they assume being a doctor only entails helping people, being nice to children and giving them lollipops and that seemed like the best career choice ever.

However, when Y/N was six years old they went on a bike ride with their next door neighbor, a girl their age named Rebecca. This particular neighborhood friend loved to play dangerously and had conceived a game like tag, however you had to stay on the bike the entire time. Although innocent on paper, about 12 minutes into the game Rebecca had stood up on the seat of her bicycle in an attempt to get a better reach at Y/N and tumbled over the front handlebars.

She shook it off quickly and by the time Y/N had rushed over to help she was already on her feet.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked in a panic.

Rebecca brushed some rocks off her shorts, looked up at Y/N and smiled, “Yep! That was so much fun!” she said, going in for a high five.

Rebecca however, was not okay and had failed to notice that two of the “rocks” she had brushed off were actually her two front teeth. When she smiled and spoke to Y/N they were overcome with panic when they saw her mouth, missing two teeth and gushing blood.

So naturally, they immediately passed out.

Rebecca quickly ran to get her mother, more concerned for Y/N than herself, and still hadn’t even noticed her teeth’s absence. Both children were driven to the hospital, and although Y/N woke up on the way, they got checked out to make sure they didn’t have a concussion.

Soon after they were clear Y/N’s parents arrived. Hovering over their six year old and asking all sorts of questions, the first and only thing Y/N thought to do is turn to their mother. “Mom?”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“I don’t think I wanna be a doctor anymore.”

Y/N’s mother laughed and wrapped her arms around the crying child, “Maybe that’s not the best idea.”

Even with their fear of blood, Y/N career ambitions remained the same: help people, be nice to children, hand out lollipops. So when they graduated Y/N started their own candy store. It was the perfect job for such a sweet soul, and by the time they were 28 Y/N had perfected their storefront. Glass displays were replaced with plastic to prevent people cutting themselves if they broke, they keep a small collection of different patterned and themed band-aids right next to the cash register and without fail had at least one medical student working in the summer in between school years (in case of emergencies).

But no amount of prepping could help Y/N when Dr. Spencer Reid came into their store with his four year old godson.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as they watched Spencer and Henry zoom around the empty store, Henry throwing all kinds of sugary sweets into his basket and Spencer encouraging the entire thing. Soon enough the two were at the register and dumping at least eighty dollars worth of candy on the counter. Y/N began ringing it up, but was soon interrupted by the small child, barely in sight because of the desk in front of him.

“Excuse me? Do you have a band-aid? I got a paper cut.”

“Yes I do! What kind of band-aid do you want?”

“Ummmm do you have Spiderman?”

“Of course I have Spiderman! Here you go,” they said, setting it on the counter.

“Can you put it on for me?” He reached up his little finger to show Y/N his cut.

Quickly jolting their head, Y/N panicked “Um maybe you could have your dad help you with that. . .”

“Of course, I’m sorry, and I’m actually his godfather. . . “ He looked up and noticed Y/N’s aversion to the cut, “It’s safe to look now.”

Y/N sighed, “I’m sorry, I just can’t stand blood. What did he cut it on?”

Henry was entertaining himself flipping through the pages of his godfather’s abnormally large book, not reading it of course, because although Henry was smart for a four year old, he was not yet fluent in Russian.

“Oh nothing that’s your fault,” the man said. He was then nudged by his godson, and apparently, personal wingman, “Um, I’m Spencer!”

“Hi Spencer! I’m Y/N,” they smiled, finishing their calculations, “Um, your total is $81.92”

He was thrown off, “That’s not right, it should be 96.37. . . Did you forget something?”

“Actually your forgetting my 15% injury discount, and the extra lollipop I give to nice kids,” they reached down to hand Henry a raspberry lemonade lollipop.

“You really don’t have to do that! It was my fault really-”

“No seriously, trust me I’m kind of ripping you off here. I combined the injury discount and the cute guy discount.”

Spencer blushed, “Um well maybe we could go get coffee sometime to make it up to me.”

“I would love that”

On this coffee date Y/N learned about Spencer’s job and was shocked he would go on a date with someone who was scared of papercuts. However Spencer explained he found it admirable that someone could be so affected by other people’s pain, and later into their relationship discussed how he wished he was as affected by the gore of his job as he was during the beginning.

Their romance worked perfectly, Spencer loved having someone waiting at home for him, a person who could be completely separate from work and the cases that affected him so much that he needed to talk about them typically ended up involving more manipulation than gore.

But just over a year in Y/N got a phone call from Aaron Hotchner.

Spencer had been shot in the neck.

They got to the hospital as soon as possible, and rushed to Spencer’s room, completely forgetting about the things they were almost certainly going to see.

So when Y/N walked in at the worst possible moment, as Spencer was getting his gauze changed and his open wound was in full view, they freaked out, letting out a quick scream and crouching to the ground, covering their eyes with their hands.

“Y/N! You’re here!”

Y/N did their best and eventually had made their way to Spencer’s bedside chairs, only having to peek twice. Once there, Y/N’s hands remained firmly locked over their eyes, both to protect themselves from the blood and to cover their panicked tears from Spencer.

“Y/N, close your eyes tight and remove your hands for me darling.”

They shook their head aggressively. Spencer sighed, “Trust me, I’ve got you.” So they did, and as they kept their eyes glued shut, Y/N felt Spencer use his thumb to wipe tears from their cheeks, before tying something around their eyes.

“See, now you can’t see the blood, and I can hold you,” he said, grabbing one of Y/N’s hands and kissing the back of it now that gauze had been tied around their eyes.

Quickly Y/N wrapped their arms around Spencer’s middle as best as they could with him laying down, and cried into him. Spencer soothed them by petting their hair, “It’s okay darling, they just changed the gauze so it’s gone now, there’s no more blood if you feel ready to take it off.”

Y/N sobbed more and ripped their makeshift blind fold off, “I’m so stupid. . . You got shot and you have to comfort me because of a little blood . . .”

“No, no, no. Don’t talk about yourself like that, you are not stupid. You’re scared and overwhelmed. I already knew I was okay but you didn’t when you came in there, not only that but as soon as you came into this extremely stressful situation you were greeted with your worst fear. You’re all I’m worried about right now.”

Y/N smiled “I’m so happy you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well luckily you don’t have to worry about it.”

-Thank you for reading!! please reblog and let me know what you think :)))

Holly’s tiny taglist!!: @hercleverboy @reidingmelodies @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @takeyouleap-of-faith

(let me know if you want to be added or removed!!)

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buckybarnesbingo · 5 years ago

Photo

BBB Week 13 Roundup!

Sorry it’s a day late, Tumblr Mod is just losing her mind a little bit!

Title: Enemy Collaborator: grimeysociety Link: AO3 Square Filled: U1 - Bucky/Darcy Ship: Bucky/Darcy Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Explicit Sexual Content Summary: Friendship with Bucky began like pulling a thorn out of a wolf’s paw. Word Count: 3522

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Title: Because I could not stop for Death - (He kindly stopped for me): Chapter 4 Collaborator: Faustess Link: AO3 Square Filled: C3 - Free Square Ship: WinterPepperony Rating: Teen Major Tags: Inspired by Corpse Bride (2005), Angst with a Happy Ending, Not Cheating, Pre-Poly, Supernatural Elements Summary: Tony apologizes and realizes his feelings for Bucky go deeper than he'd realized. Later, Dr. Strange points out that they aren't truly married because Tony is unfortunately alive. Count along - there will be three weddings and a (very hasty) funeral in this chapter! Word Count: 16,249

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Title: “That treasure of yours better be worth it Stark!” - Moodboards Collaborator: sianmcawesome Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K2 - Bucky/Clint/Tony Ship: WinterIronHawk Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboards, snakes, skulls, medical equipents (for pics under the cut), mention of Obediah Stane Summary: 4 moodboards for the WinterIronHawk meets Indiana Jones/National Treasure/Blood and Treasure/every other Treasure Hunter movie and show out there story I´ll probably never get around to writing.

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Title: Pinup Calendar October: Steve/Bucky - Mad Hatter Day Collaborator: carnival_of_rust Link: AO3 Square Filled: C4 - Secret Admirer Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: art, nudity Summary: The Alice In Wonderland AU wherein Bucky fingers some butter and smol Steeb forgets his pants.

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Title: Pinup Calendar December: Steve/Bucky - Midnight Kisses Collaborator: carnival_of_rust Link: AO3 Square Filled: K2 - Love at first sight Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: art, nudity Summary: Ever wondered where the bubbles in champagne come from?

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Title: High on You Collaborator: hddnone Link: AO3 Square Filled: U3 - Teammates Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Sex Pollen, Dubious Consent, Non-consensual drug use (from the sex pollen), allusion to Clint/Nat/Steve Summary: Sex pollen. Just another Tuesday as an Avenger.Strucker is wrong about it distracting the Avengers too much to fight - well, with the exception of those with the serum. It hits them a little differently than the rest of the team. Word Count: 3481

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Title: End Of All Days - Chapter 18: Part XVII Collaborator: Minka Link: AO3 Square Filled: K4 – Terrible Choices Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: extremely unsettling happenings, non-sexual power play and some good old-fashioned ‘torture for information’ tactics Summary: Alright guys, we all knew this was coming! Warning for some extremely unsettling happenings, non-sexual power play and some good old-fashioned ‘torture for information’ tactics. Parental guidance recommended…?? IDK. But like, if you can’t get through a James Bond torture scene, or a violent episode of Game of Thrones or equivalent, then this chapter probably isn’t for you. Word Count: 83,731

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Title: (It All Started With) A Night at the Nat - Chapter 9 Collaborator: Politzania Link: AO3 Square Filled: Pining & Apology Ship: WinterIronHawk Rating: Explicit Major Tags: explicit sexual content Summary: The three of them have breakfast together, and after seeing Tony off, Clint and Bucky hang out and discuss boundaries and expectations. Word Count: 11,746

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Title: Stardust Collaborator: Avidreader6 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Kink: BDSM Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: explicit sexual content Summary: The lights in the bedroom are dimmed to a warm soft glow when Tony enters and he’s not surprised to find that Bucky has gotten there first. He’s waiting on his knees, in the center of the room, and there’s only the slightest twitch of his shoulders to give away that he knows Tony has come in. Word Count: 6834

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Title: N/A Collaborator: zainniko Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K2 - Bucky/Tony Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: art Summary: Bucky gives Tony a massage (No powers AU)

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Title: Subliminal Advertising Collaborator: Kalee60 Link: AO3 Square Filled: K2 - Kink: “Harder.” Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: explicit sexual content Summary: Bucky is a walking disaster when it comes to gorgeous men. He stumbles over words, says inane things and makes a bit of an idiot of himself. So when he sees the most glorious man in all existence helping a little old lady out at his local supermarket, he knows there is no way he can string a sentence together and look smooth (considering he’s a train wreck in disguise). Cue an impromptu photo opportunity with a well placed product, that in turn somehow begins a pun laden photo game as Bucky starts to bump into the breathtaking man on the regular while shopping. Who’d have thought so many mundane advertisements were so suggestive? So with a little help from his meddling best friend, a lot of misunderstandings and a crush the size of the Empire State Building, can Bucky find enough courage to ask out the man who hopefully, will ‘melt in his mouth, not in his hand?’ Word Count: 22,770

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Title: That's What She Said Collaborator: betheflame Link: AO3 Square Filled: C2 - Shopping Together Ship: Stuckony Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Get Together, Drunk Consent, explicit sexual content Summary: Steve had a massive crush on his TA, which he was hiding from his boyfriend, until a chance meeting in the chip aisle at Target changed everything. Word Count: 3378

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Title: No Other Love (3/3) Collaborator: grimeysociety Link: AO3 Square Filled: C2: “It Wasn’t Worth It” Ship: Bucky/Darcy Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, References to Violence/Gore, PTSD, Angst, Hurt/Comfort Summary: While on the run, Bucky meets Dee, a working girl he can’t seem to shake. Word Count: 19,616

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Title: Pinup Calendar December: Bucky Barnes - Christmas with Captain Snowman Collaborator: LiquidLightz Link: AO3 Square Filled: U5 - Realistic Art Style Ship: none Rating: Teen Major Tags: art, nudity Summary: My December pinup of Bucky Barnes with Captain... Snowman 🙃 celebrating Christmas 🎄 🎅🏻 and Winter ❄️ ⛄️This is just one of over 40 artworks created, by 20+ artists, for the Marvel Art Party Pin-Up Calendar 🎉😍Click on the collection to check out all the other months, from July 2020 to Dec 2021, and download your favourites to put together your own printable calendar.

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Title: Missing Pieces Collaborator: LiraelClayr007 Link: AO3 Square Filled: U1 - galaxy Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Teen Major Tags: emotional hurt comfort, childhood memories, angst with a happy ending, established relationship Summary: When Clint becomes down and distracted, Bucky takes it upon himself to discover what’s bothering his boyfriend. Even though Clint won’t talk about it. Even though Bucky has too many missing pieces. Or, In which Bucky goes to great lengths to make Clint smile. Word Count: 2942

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Title: When a Bad Day (Month) Turns Good Collaborator: Purple_ducky00 Link: AO3 Squares Filled: Chapter 1 - Tony’s POV: B1 - This might as well happen Chapter 2 - Bucky’s POV: U2 - Bucky/Tony Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: Broken bones, Sleep deprivation, unhealthy coping mechanisms Summary: Tony and Bucky are both having terrible days, or, in Bucky's case, months. When Bucky falls asleep on Tony, how will they both react when we wakes up? Word Count: 2106

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Title: Because I could not stop for Death - (He kindly stopped for me) Collaborator: Faustess Link: AO3 Squares Filled: Chapter 2 - B2: ‘Oh hell, no.’ Chapter 3 - U3: “Don’t say it!” Chapter 4 - C3: Free Square Ship: WinterPepperony Rating: Teen Major Tags: Inspired by Corpse Bride (2005), Angst with a Happy Ending, Not Cheating, Pre-Poly, Supernatural Elements Summary: Howard Stark and his wife are wealthy industrialists looking for an entrance into polite society. Lord and Lady Potts are aristocrats one sneeze away from the poorhouse. Their heirs will marry and both sets of parents will get what they want... as long as everything goes According To Plan. (Hint: it doesn't). Word Count: 17,099

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Title: Are You Sure About This? Collaborator: Fighting_for_Creativity Link: AO3 Square Filled: U4 - Bucky/Tony/Rhodey Ship: Bucky/Tony/Rhodey Rating: Explicit Major Tags: explicit sexual content Summary: Tony, Bucky, and Rhodey had been dating for a long while now. They were in a happy and healthy relationship, able to talk about almost everything. When Tony had down days, the other two were there to cheer him up, show him how good life could be. And Tony did the same for them. Sometimes, though, they still had hiccups in their daily life. But, ultimately, that was ok, because they were ok. Maybe that was why Tony felt safe enough to just say what he thought with them. Maybe that was a deciding factor in why Tony blurted out that he wanted both of them, inside him simultaneously. Word Count: 3658

#buckybarnesbingo2020 #bbb2020 #weekly roundup #bbb week 13

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