#Also some people blameing it on Sam like... He is not the one working for the government now...

[purple--queen]

Seeing a lot of SamBucky divorce stuff & friendly reminder married people are allowed to have arguments.

[ama3003]

In the Middle

Character: Bucky Barnes

Requested: No

Type: Angst/ Fluff

Summary: Being caught in the middle is always hard.

A.N: DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT THUNDERBOLTS TO BE SEMI SPOILED!!!!!!!!! I have seen Thunderbolts* on Thursday (amazing btw) and have been craving Thunderbolts!Bucky. Also reader is like mid to late 20s.

Also double whammy with these fics. Also thank you those who requested some fics. I'm getting on them right now. Keep em coming!

Again THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS ARE IN THIS FIC

3...2..1...

“I cannot believe this dude,” Sam says, pacing the living room like it personally offended him. His hands are moving almost as fast as his mouth. “I tell him Ross wants me to rebuild the Avengers, right? I open up—I mean really open up. I tell him I’m not sure I’m the guy for it. That maybe Steve made a mistake giving me the shield.”

He stops mid-step and points dramatically in the air, like he's building up his case.

“And you know what Bucky says? ‘No, he didn’t.’ That’s it. No discussion. Just—‘No, he didn’t.’ Point. Blank. Period. And I'm not gonna lie, that's all I needed to hear."

You open your mouth to say something, but Sam’s already spinning toward you.

“And I believed him! I believed him because I thought he was my best friend.”

"Hey!" you cut in, brows raised.

Sam waves you off. “Nah, nah—don’t ‘hey’ me. You know you’re like my sister. Ultimate mega best friend status and all that, but not the point right now. Lemme vent about your ugly boyfriend real quick.”

You throw your hands up in surrender. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you!” Sam claps once, then starts pacing again. “Then I find out there’s already a ‘New Avengers’—capital N, capital A—already up and running. And guess who’s right in the middle of it? Bucky! Like I wasn’t gonna find out!”

He stops again, staring at you like it’s your fault. “You know what I call that? Betrayal.” He jabs the air for emphasis. “Straight-up betrayal.”

You’re sitting on the sofa, letting him work through it. Honestly, you couldn’t blame him. Bucky had called not ten minutes ago to talk about—of all things—the copyright on the Avengers name.

Now Sam wants to sue them.

“Fourteen months,” Sam says, voice rising, “of back-and-forth with this man and his ‘new family.’ You remember what we went through? What he went through? Guess what? We were his family first. And now he’s calling me like I’m the one stepping on toes? Like I’m in the wrong for trying to do what Ross asked me to do?”

“He told you to back off?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

Sam gives you a long-suffering look. “He wants me to give him the rights of the name."

"So it didn't end well..." You sighed, rubbing your temples.

"Y/N… if I’m venting like this, how do you think the call went?”

You try to offer something. “Can’t you just… I don’t know. Combine the teams? Be the MegaVengers or something? Steve literally said ‘Avengers, assemble’ and there were like a thousand people who showed up. We all kind of worked together then.”

Sam looks horrified. “No. No combining. It’s not about numbers—it’s about principle. That man knew what this meant to me. And now he’s trying to sidestep it like it’s nothing.”

He crosses his arms and looks at you with purpose. “You need to talk to him. Get him to step back.”

You shake your head. “Nope. Not getting in the middle of this.”

You meant it. You’ve known Sam for years—he was your ride-or-die, your day-one, the brother you got to choose. But through Sam, you met Bucky. And he became your favorite person. You were in between your best friend and the love of your life.

You learned about the ‘New Avengers’ team at the same time Sam did. The two of you had stared at the screen in disbelief.

But after hours of yelling at Bucky—tears, arguments, explanations—you got it. You understood that he hadn’t meant for it to happen like this. That Valentina made moves he couldn’t stop. He hadn’t betrayed you… not intentionally.

Still, the line between intention and impact? That’s where Sam lived.

He stares at you for a moment, then reaches into his jacket and hands you a folded sheet of paper.

“What’s this?” you ask, skimming it. Then you stop. Your eyes widen.

“I want you to join my team,” he says simply. “The new Avengers.”

Your jaw drops. “Sam…”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says quickly. “You really think I’d build a team without you? Come on. We’ve never not been on a team together.”

“Sam, I… I can’t sign this,” you say, handing the paper back. “You know I can’t.”

He rolls his eyes. “You can. You should. Y/N, I’ve already started recruiting. I’ve got a plan, but I need my right hand. I need you.”

You stand, walking toward him. “And I can’t go against Bucky.”

He exhales sharply, then softens. “Just… think about it, okay? I don’t need a yes right now. Just don’t say no yet.”

“Sam…”

“Think about it,” he says again, looking at his watch. “Ugh—venting session’s over. Gotta go pitch Ross on the plan. Wish me luck.”

He leans in, presses a quick kiss to your cheek, "Please think about it," and walks out the door.

You sit back down, staring at the paper. Then you run a hand through your hair, heart pounding.

A few quiet moments pass.

Then you grab your bag and head straight for the other tower.

*****

“James Buchanan Barnes—you are in so much trouble.”

Your voice echoed through the tower as you dropped your bag with a thud. The team—scattered around the lounge doing everything from eating chips to watching TV—immediately snapped to attention.

A chorus of "Ooooooh!" broke out like a middle school lunchroom.

Bucky stood up fast, hands already in the air like he was facing down a SWAT team. “Okay, doll, don’t be mad.”

You marched forward, hands on your hips. “Don’t be mad? You asked Sam to drop the Avengers name.”

“He’s suing us!” Bucky shot back, already defensive. “We had the name first! Val got the jump on it—we just made it official.”

He crossed his arms like a stubborn teenager. Behind him, his teammates exchanged exasperated looks, a few shaking their heads like, here we go again.

“Are you both five?” you snapped. “You need to talk. Face to face. Not through lawyers. Not through phones. Like actual adults.”

“He doesn’t want to see me,” Bucky muttered. “And honestly, I don’t want to see him either.”

He tried to hold his glare, but it faltered when he looked at you. He could see it written all over your face: this was tearing you up. And he hated that he’d played a part in it.

“I saw Sam today,” you said quietly. “He asked me to join his team.”

The room fell completely silent. Even Yelena put down her snack.

Bucky blinked. “And… what’d you say?”

“I told him no. For now. But he asked me to think about it.”

Bucky scoffed like that was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. “Think about it? What’s there to think about? You’re not joining them.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

Every single person in the room physically cringed. Even Red Guardian mouthed oh no.

“You’re not serious right now,” you said, voice low and dangerous. “Did you just try to tell me what to do?”

“I’m saying Sam’s being irrational,” Bucky argued, digging his own grave. “He’s suing us, Y/N. You can’t join them. That’s not how this works.”

You stepped toward him, fire in your eyes. “He’s not being irrational. He’s hurt, Bucky. He thinks you betrayed him. And the truth? Even if it wasn’t on purpose—you kind of did.”

Bucky opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“I get it,” you added, softer now. “He shouldn’t have filed a lawsuit. It’s messy. But this—this whole thing—is a disaster. And you’re both too stubborn to fix it.”

Bucky slowly reached for you, pulling you into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I never wanted to put you in the middle of this. I just... I won’t give up on this team.”

You let him hold you, but your heart was heavy. “I know,” you whispered, then gave him a small kiss. “But I can’t keep being the bridge between you two.”

He pulled back, looking at you. “Then don’t be. Move in with me. You said you were thinking about it. And hell, you could just join us too. We’d be unstoppable.”

You stepped back, blinking. “Are you seriously asking me to join your team right after I told you Sam asked me the same thing? Are you kidding me, Bucky?”

“Not cool,” Yelena muttered, earning a death glare from Bucky.

Then your phone rang—loud and dramatic. Mariah Carey’s voice filled the room. You groaned and answered.

“What, Sam?”

“Figured you were over there,” he said. “So I’ll keep it short. Ross and I have a few new recruits saying yes already. We might fast-track things. So I need an answer. ASAP.”

“You gave me thirty minutes—”

“Thirty minutes for what?” Bucky leaned in, practically pressing his ear to your phone.

“Would you stop?” you muttered, pushing him back.

“Is that Barnes?” Sam asked over the line. “Yo, Barnes—fuck you.”

Bucky blinked. “What did he just say?”

You sighed. “He said—”

“I said fuck you,” Sam shouted, louder this time.

You snapped.

“That’s it!” you barked, stepping between the two of them. “Both of you, shut up.”

The room fell into stunned silence.

“I am so done being in the middle of your pissing contest,” you said, voice shaking now. “You used to be a family. We used to be a family. And you two are tearing it apart like a couple of overgrown toddlers.”

Bucky looked like he’d been slapped. Sam was silent on the other end.

“You know what’s really messed up?” you added. “You both say you love me, you both trust me—but you’re trying to make me pick between you. And I won’t. I won’t.”

Everyone was still, barely breathing.

Then Sam, faint over the phone: “Wait… Did Barnes ask you to join the FAKEngers?”

“We’re the real Avengers, for the record,” Bucky muttered.

“Oh my god,” you said, throwing your hands up. “I’m done. Until you both grow up and get your shit together, I’m out. I’m not picking sides.”

You turned, grabbed your bag, and stormed toward the door.

“Wait—what do you mean?” Bucky called, chasing after you.

You turned back, pointing between him and your phone. “I love you, Bucky. And Sam—you’re my brother. But if you two can’t stop acting like enemies, then you don’t get to have me caught in the crossfire.”

And with that, you hung up the call and walked out.

Back in the room, Walker slowly picked up the paper. “Ouch,” he said, wincing. “Don’t you just hate when they walk away?”

Yelena smacked him in the head. “You’re not helping.”

***********

It had been a few days since everything exploded—and both Sam and Bucky were unraveling in their own ways.

Neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt it: the quiet ache where you used to be. The texts left on read. The silence that said more than any shouting match ever could.

Eventually, they both found themselves doing the same thing—sitting alone, staring at their phones, thumbs hovering over each other's names.

Bucky sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and hit the contact.

Sam’s phone lit up. He stared at the screen for a long second before finally answering.

“Barnes,” Sam said flatly.

“Wilson,” Bucky replied, just as dry.

A beat.

Then Bucky exhaled. “I miss her.”

Sam’s voice was quieter this time. “Yeah. Me too.”

Another pause.

“We gotta fix this,” Bucky said. “This whole thing… it’s not worth losing her over.”

“No, it’s not,” Sam agreed. “We should talk. In person. Try to settle this."

“Tomorrow?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah. Tomorrow’s good.”

“Alright.”

“Cool.”

“…Fine.”

“…Fine.”

They hung up.

No apologies yet. Not out loud.

But it was a start.

Maybe this whole MegaVengers idea wasn’t so bad after all.

[winterswift]

your love is sunlight

pairing: bob reynolds x f!reader.

summary: bob and you were both members of the thunderbolts, but he didn't seem to like you. that changes when you return sick from your last mission.

tags: post thunderbolts, idiots in love, pining, light angst, sick reader, fluff, protective bob, jealous bob.

world count: 2,5k.

a/n: hi!! this is my first time writing in english so please be kind to me, there might be gramatical mistakes. hope you like it :).

Being part of the Thunderbolts wasn’t what you had planned for yourself.

You were a former Shield agent, trained by the best assassins in the country; you had fought side by side with Captain America, but you had left that lifestyle behind a long time ago (or at least you were trying).

But when your old friend, Bucky Barnes, calls you to ask for help with the new team he has assembled, you can’t refuse his request.

You could say that your relationship with Bucky had been a twist of fate, or you could also blame Steve Rogers. You had started your training at a very young age; you were an inexperienced and lonely teenager with no family to turn to; you could only find refuge in your work. But Steve saw you and decided to take you under his wing; he took care of you when no one else did. He was the older brother you never had.

In exchange, you stayed by his side and helped him as much as you could. Especially when his best friend, whom he thought was dead, appeared on the scene.

It wasn’t easy to get along with Bucky; he was a withdrawn person with severe trauma; he didn’t talk much and barely smiled. But beneath all that damage, the man he used to be still shone through, and that’s why you decided to help Steve to bring him back.

Once the mind control that Hydra had over him disappeared, things got better. Until Thanos showed up and Steve left.

Sam had received Captain America’s shield, but you were left without a brother. Alone again, just like Bucky.

Before leaving, Steve asked you a favor; he wanted you to take care of his friend, to stay close to each other. He had said, with a smile on his face, that at least Bucky would have a Rogers in his life.

And you did it, not just because Steve asked you to, but because you and James understood each other like no one else. So you couldn’t leave him alone when he needed you the most.

Bucky was the closest thing to family you had left.

But what about the rest of the group? That was another story.

It was the strangest team you had ever seen (and you had met the Avengers), super soldiers, trained assassins, and people with strange powers; all of them shared trauma and definitely needed many hours of therapy. But somehow you fit in, and soon they became your friends.

With Yelena, it was easy; the girl was fun, you enjoyed her sarcastic comments more than anyone else, and both of you had lost a brother. You had known Natasha and saw a lot of her in the blonde; it comforted you to be near her.

With Alexei, it was similar; he always made you laugh with his funny stories and had that paternal energy that made you feel safe by his side.

Ava, in a way, reminded you of Bucky; she was a little reserved and always hiding somewhere, but she was kind to you, and you both got connected well.

Walker was… Walker. He was a first-class idiot, and you still hadn’t completely forgiven him, but you were both in this together, and deep down you knew he was trying to be better. When he set aside his arrogant attitude, the two actually got along very well, and maybe it was the shield or his blonde hair and blue eyes, but you couldn’t help but remember Steve.

And then there was Bob.

Bob didn’t look like any of them; he was shy, somewhat clumsy, and too kind. If it weren’t for his powers, he could have passed for a perfectly normal civilian. Contrary to what you thought, you couldn’t get too close to him.

In general, he was always hidden in some corner, with his nose buried in a book, trying to stay calm. Of the whole team, he was closest to Yelena, but he got along well with everyone; you were the exception.

You didn’t know why, but Bob seemed to be avoiding you. Every time you tried to get closer, he seemed to build a wall between you two. He wasn’t rude to you, but you noticed that he didn’t treat you with the same warmth as the others. And it hurt you because you liked him a lot; you had done everything possible to be his friend, but he didn’t see it. Or he wasn’t interested.

The rest of the team had noticed your growing discouragement, especially Bucky, but there was nothing they could do to fix the situation. Bob didn’t seem to want to interact more than necessary.

Yelena had tried to talk to him, but it didn’t seem to yield much result. So you finally resigned yourself and left him alone. You didn’t stop being kind to him (after all, you two were coworkers), but you no longer tried to make him laugh; you didn’t invite him to watch movies with you, nor did you give him the cookies you used to love baking. The warm and enthusiastic smile you always gave him also disappeared, replaced by something resembling a lackluster grimace.

Things would have remained that way if it weren’t for the awful condition you arrived in from your last mission.

You leaned against the tower’s elevator with a choked sigh. Valentina had sent you to gather information from an old Hydra base in Russia; the mission had been successful, but the price was your health.

Although your suit was designed to retain body heat, the thick fabric was not enough to withstand endless hours in the cold, damp snow. And as the hours passed, your condition got worse.

It had started as a shiver and a couple of sneezes here and there, but without proper shelter, you were sure you were showing the first signs of hypothermia. That, combined with the blows you had received during the mission, left you exhausted and barely standing.

You hadn’t had time to tend to your wounds, so the movement of the elevator made you dizzy. Black spots appeared in your vision and made it difficult for you to walk; your ears were ringing, and you felt your heart racing.

You don’t know how you ended up in the complex kitchen; you had thought about getting a glass of water and trying to recover before going to the infirmary. But you could barely move from your spot, so you stayed there, barely conscious.

Bob wasn’t going to approach you, truly. He had been reading all afternoon; the rest of the team was scattered throughout the building; he had been showing more control lately, so they trusted him enough to leave him alone for a few hours.

When he heard the elevator doors, he thought someone was coming for food, so he didn’t pay attention, but when he heard a ragged breath, he looked up.

He didn’t expect to see you back so soon; he thought the mission would last at least a few more days. Your state worried him; he had never seen you like that. Your whole body was trembling, your skin was pale and covered with sweat, and you were hyperventilating.

He approached carefully and called you a couple of times, but you didn’t respond; you didn’t seem to react to anything, really. He touched you gently, but you still jumped.

Upon seeing you up close, he realized that you had a split lip and a bruise on your head that didn’t look good at all. Your eyes were unfocused, and they barely noticed him.

“B-bob?” you whispered.

“Hey, Y/N, you don’t look well,” he said. Just at that moment, another dizziness hit you, and your legs gave way. He barely managed to catch you in his arms. “It looks like you’re going to faint.”

“I don’t feel well,” you said. It was the closest the two had ever been, but you barely noticed. Bob, on the other hand, noticed everything—every freckle, every mole, and scar that dotted your skin.

His hands cradled your face gently, and you leaned into his warm touch. “Y/N, you have a fever,” his brow furrowed with concern.

Your hands clung tightly to his forearms before your body collapsed over him. He started to panic when he saw you faint.

“Oh, no, no,” he called you, but you didn’t respond. “Shit.”

He picked you up in his arms, carrying you to his room. The most logical thing would have been to take you to a doctor, but he didn’t want to leave you alone. He wanted to take care of you.

He carefully laid you on his bed, not wanting to think too much about what that image was doing to him. He unzipped the top part of your suit to leave you with a sleeveless shirt, and placed cold towels on your forehead and neck to try to bring down the fever. You were still unconscious, and that worried him.

You barely reacted when he treated the wound on your forehead, but you sighed and relaxed, so he assumed you just needed to rest.

The room fell silent, Bob sat down next to you. You had flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips; to him, you still looked beautiful.

His fingers rested on your skin, arranging the strands of hair that fell over your face. You stirred, moving closer to him but didn’t wake up, Bob let out a sigh of relief.

It wasn’t until half an hour later that you finally woke up, letting out a groan as you felt the dull pain in your body. The first thing your eyes noticed was Bob’s face unusually close to yours, his blue eyes shining with concern.

“Bob?” you asked hoarsely. You had no idea how you had ended up in his room.

“Hey, you’re awake,” his warm smile quickened your heart. “How do you feel?”

“Like I had frozen in the snow,” you reply with a lazy smile.

“I brought you here because you fainted, but you need to see a doctor,” you nodded in agreement. “Do you think you can get up?” I’ll help you get to the infirmary.”

Your legs trembled as you stood up, but Bob held you. You shivered at the feel of his hands on your waist, touching you gently as if you were about to break. He was close—too close; his intoxicating scent was invading your senses, and it was driving you crazy.

You leaned your weight on him as you started to walk; your whole body ached, but you pushed yourself to move. Just when you were halfway down the hallway, Walker appeared, his brow furrowing at the sight of you so bruised.

“Jesus, Y/N, you look terrible.” His eyes scanned your body with concern.

“You really know how to make a girl feel special, Walker,” you replied sarcastically.

The blonde soldier snorted before approaching and lifting you into his arms; you let out a small scream at the sudden movement.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you asked, completely desperate.

“Take you to the nurse’s office,” he replied without hesitation. “Are you coming, Bobby?”

Bob nodded without saying anything; you didn’t notice how the muscle in his jaw tightened, nor his tense posture, nor his white knuckles. He followed you in silence.

When Walker left you on a stretcher for the examination, Bob was ready to leave. The two would probably forget about this interaction, and everything would go back to normal.

But then you called him, with a tone that didn’t match you.

“Can you stay?” you asked shyly.

He looked at you as if he didn’t believe your words, but your eyes shone with sincerity. He lay down next to you, unsure, trying not to touch you, but you didn’t want that.

Your fingers gently touched the palm of his hand; he could feel your eyes on his face, but he didn’t dare to look at you.

“Thank you,” you whispered. Bob didn’t respond, but he intertwined his fingers with yours and gave them an affectionate squeeze.

Both of you sank into the silence of the room; you were still exhausted, so it didn’t take you long to fall back asleep. You were curled up next to him, with your face buried in his neck.

He had remained unusually quiet, your breath tickling his skin, the warmth of your body against his was pleasant. He hadn’t even realized that he had started to brush your hair.

He had thought many times about being like this with you, but he never believed it would become a reality. Bob felt guilty for ignoring you; your presence was like a ray of sunshine in his life. From the first day, you were nothing but kind to him; you always tried to make him feel safe and loved. It was one of the things he liked most about you.

But he was afraid to get close; he was exactly the opposite of you. There was a darkness within him that he could barely control, and he feared that one day it might cause you irreparable harm. He didn’t want to extinguish your light, so he distanced himself; he preferred you think he hated you rather than hurt you.

With each passing day, his will was breaking a little more. He hated that you had become close to Walker; he hated the look in his eyes every time he saw you; he hated that his arms wrapped around your waist. He wanted the sound of your laughter to be just for him. He wanted to know what it felt like to be in your arms; he wanted to taste your lips. Bob couldn’t stand being away from you.

And seeing how hurt you were made him realice that. He no longer wanted to watch you from the shadows; he wanted to be there for you, to take care of you, and to show you how much he adored you.

But he wasn’t sure if you wanted the same thing.

Just at that moment, someone gently knocked on the door, and Bucky stepped in silently. His eyebrows raised at the position they were in, but he said nothing.

“Is she okay?” he whispered. He nodded, fearing that his voice would wake you up. Bucky gave him another look before leaving.

Shortly after that, your eyes opened, and you blushed after realizing you had practically fallen asleep on him, but Bob didn’t seem uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze.

“It’s fine; it doesn’t bother me,” reassured you. That confused you.

“Really?” you asked. “I thought you hated me.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “I could never hate you.” The sincerity in his voice made you shiver. “I’m sorry if I made you think I did.”

“Why did you pull away then?”

He let out a resigned sigh. “Because I know what my powers can do to people, and I like you too much to put you through that. I don’t want to hurt you; I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Bob,” you said, gently stroking his cheek. “Look, I’m touching you, and nothing bad has happened; your control has improved a lot in these months. Don’t push me away thinking you’re going to hurt me.”

“You can’t be sure; at any moment I could lose control again.” You could see how worried he was, and that broke your heart.

“Then we’ll solve it together, you and I,” you promised. “We’re in this together, Bob; we’re a team; no one is going to leave you alone in this. Come on, come here.”

You wrapped him in your arms, letting him cling to you. You gently stroked his hair until he finally calmed down. He had moved away from you just enough to see your face.

“Y/N” whispered, as if sharing a secret with you.

“Yes, Bob?”

“Do you think you would like to go on a date with me once you recover?”

“I would really like that.”

“Well, it’s a date,” he nodded, satisfied.

“It’s a date,” you said before cuddling back up with him.

Maybe he didn’t hate you as much as you thought.

thanks for reading!!

[ririblogsss]

Danny the park crazy guy

Ok this follows Danny with him deciding he needs to get out of Amity Park cause he's parents are getting more and more obsessed with catching Phantom. And the plans he'd over heard were sending him into panic attacks. Not only that a new management was placed for the GIW, and with that they had become more brutal and accurate with their capturing. Danny couldn't make sure ghosts were safe and protect civilians, so Danny made a deal with Technus in exchange for most of the tech Danny has made in the past 6 months Technus has to hack into the portals that his parents and Vlad owned and permanently destroy them. Technus also made sure to wipe all the information on how to re-build the portal and planted a bug that will corrupt any file trying to mimic the portals code/mechanics. 

At first Dannys plan was to play the part of the defenseless boy who just witnessed his parents whole life work go down the drain, and pretend that ghost never happened. He's parents were sad (understatement of the century) but they soon found something to hyper focus on, before becoming ecto-biologist, they were trying to find ways to make liquid that would dissolve plastic in a non-lethal and non-toxic way. So after 2 months of not doing anything and only staying in bed eating ice-cream and fudge its like a light bulb turned on onto of their heads, and Madeline and Jack went back to their old selves. They still had moments were they would gaze back at their projects with heartbroken eyes, and Danny could help but blame himself for his parents suffering. 

Its like one day everything was close to normality (as normal as amity park could be) people weren't mentioning ghost in fear that one would appear out of spite. Classes went uninterrupted people were actually happy for that. 

But then the GIW started making moves, as they were getting more and more restless with no ghost sightings in the last 6 months. 

Then 3 months ago everything went to shit......

Danny could only explain it as if the Salem witch trials had started. But instead it was the 21st century and people were being accused of being / cooperating / aiding ghosts. The GIW had stormed into the town hall and had claimed that Amity park was in full quarantine. No one in no one out. Vlad was taken in for 'investigation' accused of working with the ghost because he never helped the GIW or offered funds, hence committing treason the US government. 

After that People would be taken out of their homes and obligated to take tests to prove they weren't with the enemy, if they passed they went back to their homes traumatized. if they failed.... Well no one really knows, but one might guess from all the screaming. 

Ironically. Dannys parents were the fist accused of cooperating with the enemy. The GIW stated that they seemed suspicious from the start as they never truly caught anything. he hadn't seen them since they were drugged and stuffed into the back of a van. Danny was thankful that Jazz (for collage) and Dani (traveling in Bangladesh) were out of Amity, but it wasn't like he could contact them and tell them what was happening. 

The GIW had cut all contact to the rest of the word from Amity Park probably because what they were doing was considered illegal and definitely were crossing human rights. 

Luckily Sams and Tuckers family were able to come to an agreement with the GIW so they could be exempted from the quarentine (buy themselves a way out). Unluckily Danny like most families didn't have those types of resources. 

But Danny isn't a Fenton for nothing, craziness, gull and genius ran through his veins. So every morning when they were obligated out of their homes and made to sit on the grass of the park square while the agents searched for any 'evidence' in their homes. Danny would use his core to emit a frequency that only other ghost and some metas could hear. But that wasn't what Danny was communicating to no. 

He was sending commands to all the animals he had befriended the last 15 years of his life. You see ever since Danny was a kid he loved how one could be able to domesticate any animal as long as you had food. So Danny when he was a kid applied The Operant conditioning to all the animals he crossed paths with. 

A few weeks after his accident (death) when Danny was making his daily feeding times for the animals in exchange for trinkets and money he realized something. He could understand what the animals 'spoke' and the animals could understand him through the vibrations of his core. When he asked CW about it he only told him that ghost speak allowed him to communicate with anything and anyone if he had a close enough relationship towards them. 

Basically this meant that Danny had hundreds if not thousands of animals (rats, street dogs and cats, pigeons, squirrels ect.. ) at his disposal. The only reason he never used them when fighting Ghosts was obvious he wasn't going to risk the life of his friends. 

And right now his friends were making underground escape routes for all of the Amity Parkers. The plan was already being set in motion. Everyone knew their part. 

One group would be distraction, a group of kids would scream and point in the opposite direction of the escape route and say they had seen a ghost and it was trying to hurt them. The GIW would be guided into a wooded area were they would be attacked by the more predatorial animals. Making them call for back up. 

One group would composed of the most athletic adults / young adults would go into the main base of the GIW (check for survivors and help them get out). 

Another group (the elderly) was in charge of checking that everyone was accounted for. 

Mothers, would be evacuated first with their children, they would be the get away drivers. Different drivers would take different routs. Some left the country other the continent itself. Some when to larger cities for hiding amongst the crowd. But the main goal was stick to your family and preferably if you can go alone. The less people the less likely you are to getting caught. 

And the teenagers from casper high, would ensure all their traces were lost making sure all phones and gadgets were left behind, as to avoid getting tracked down. 

And that's how Amity Park became a dead town (pun intended) in less than 60 minutes. 

This leads us to the present. 

It had been 7 months since Danny had left Amity park. he hadn't seen anyone or contacted anyone from there since. The over all consensus was that everyone had to go no contact with one another as to not raise awareness as to why so many people from different places were constantly calling one another. Danny was certain that Jazz and Dani had been contacted by Sam and Tucker about the situation in Amity. What he wasn't sure of is if they knew he was out of Amity or even alive for that matter. 

Danny was not dealing with what happened well. One of the guys who went into the Town Hall pulled him a aside for a second when they were evacuating to tell him. That he had seen both his parents bodies. They had not survived. Not many who were taken against their will into the Hall came out spared. 

Danny was devastated with his parent untimely death, he only hoped they had a humane one. 

So no Danny was not ok. he knew Jazz would criticize his copping methods. But if taking over a park in the middle of a crime riddled city was sooooo bad then why did he have the support of the Bats. (not the vigilantes the actual cave bats). 

Danny had gotten to Gotham not too long ago (about 4 1/2) months, and decided that the GIW wouldn't dare on their life go into a city were the 'wolds greatest detective and most feared man live'. Danny made an abandoned building overlooking the park his own. he quickly became allies with the fauna there and soon his rein over the part began. 

---

It started slowly, honest to god not a single local though anything of the bony kid laughing his ass off as he oversaw birds and other critters alike help him build what looked like a greenhouse. They did what any Gothamite would do mind their own damn business and go on with their day. 

It wasn't unlit the trees and torn plants started to build a wall like structure around the park that they started to think that the kid was going to be the next Poison Ivy. Worst of all they some have speculated seeing Pamela and Harley go in and out of the park... both smiling like proud parents. Some say that the kid was an ex Wayne kid that was sent into an asylum, and was kept quiet. Some speculate that the kids a meta that controls all animals. Some state they saw the kid talk to the animals and the animals actually listened and did word for word what he asked. 

But Gothamites weren't that worried if they were honest. The kid (Danny as he was now known) brought more entertainment (of the good kind) to Gotham he fit right in. The only thing that made him stand out was his mid-western accent. When asked where he was from he would only stare at you while an animal (different every time mostly racoons) would chase you away. Other than that the kid was a sweetheart he would often bring the veggies and fruits he cultivates in the park to homeless shelters so that the residents would have a 'more nutritious and full diet'. 

The kid would send animals to keep watch on kids and be alerted if any were at risk he would drop in and help in a very unusual way. And he always traded money for little things and bottle caps anything handmade (especially by kids) was infinitely rewarded with money and an automatic meal. 

Danny was known as the Gotham parks crazy. But he was their crazy and no government (illegal) agency of a brigade of bats and birds was going to take him away from them. 

(waaa this was way longer that expected I only wanted to write a sentence of local crazy Danny, and I just ended up writting mostly art other stuff)

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Delicious Promises

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: smut, fingering

Summary: You and Dean are always at each other’s throats, making it hard to hunt with each other. What you two need is a good way to release your frustrations, no matter who is around to hear it.

Square Filled: one bed for three (2021) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Hunting with the Winchesters brings out two emotions: excitement and annoyance. Excitement because you love hunting with them, saving people, and killing monsters. You can do it by yourself but they’re so good at what they do, it makes sense to want to do it with them. Annoyance because you can’t stand Dean. He’s cocky, arrogant, bossy, and always thinks he’s right about everything. You can’t stand the man. Sam is usually the buffer between you and Dean and can often keep both of you calm but if you’re alone with the older Winchester, things won’t end well.

You’re also pissed off because he’s so hot. You’ve roomed next to him before; he knows exactly what he’s doing when he has a woman in his bed. Women fawn all over him whenever he walks into a room, and can you blame them? It pains you to admit but you often thought about being one of those women in his bed at times.

Not only does he piss you off, but you piss him off, too. You hunt just as well as he does if not a little better, and it drives him up a wall when you don’t listen to him. You go off on your own and do whatever it is that you want despite you always telling him you can handle it. It always seems to work out in the end for you which is what pisses him off.

Sam, on the other hand, is one of your best friends. You two get along great which is why you agreed to go on this hunt with them. He asked for your help knowing he and his brother wasn’t going to be enough. Dean’s been driving for nearly an entire day to get to Maine, so he decides to stop at some hotel instead of a motel. They have Men of Letters money so they can splurge on sleeping comfortably tonight.

There is a convention happening in town so there is only one room available by the time you get to them. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem since you took turns sleeping in the bed whenever you were with the Winchesters. As long as there were two beds and a sofa bed, you’d be alright. However, when you get to the room, you are disappointed to see only one bed--a California King.

“Tell me there is a sofa bed,” you say. You walk over to the couch and lift the cushions only to be disappointed again. “Shit.”

“It’s fine. This is big enough for all three of us. Just sleep in the middle,” Sam says.

You barely look at Dean. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Don’t be a pussy,” Dean rolls his eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Is sharing a bed with us that traumatic?”

“Yes, actually because you’ll be in there,” you sneer.

“Will you two quit it? We’re here to hunt, and we can’t do that if you’re at each other’s throats. Can’t you two just get along?”

“I know I can,” you say and cross your arms.

“I know I can,” Dean mocks you in a faux female voice.

You resist the urge to throw something at his fucking smug face.

“Fine, I’ll sleep in the bed with you two.”

“Fine.”

You grab your bathroom bag and lock yourself in the bathroom to do your nighttime routine. It takes twenty minutes to complete the entire routine, and you leave the bathroom once you feel refreshed and ready for bed. You grab your moisturizer and lift your right leg to rub the lotion onto your skin. Dean peeks at you from over the gun he’s cleaning. After doing your right leg, you do your left leg and Dean doesn’t take his eyes off you the entire time.

You put the lotion aside and crawl into bed between the two brothers. Dean finishes with his gun and puts it away to crawl in next to you. Sam is already snuggled under the covers with a book in his hand.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters.

“What?”

“You expect me to lay here and smell that girly shit?”

“If you don’t like it, sleep on the couch,” you smirk.

“Both of you, shut up and go to sleep,” Sam scolds you two like children.

Sam is the first to fall asleep since he can fall asleep anywhere, but you and Dean are a different story. You always have trouble falling asleep in beds that are not your own and this is no exception. It doesn’t help you’re in the middle of a Winchester sandwich. Sam is a heavy sleeper so he doesn’t feel you moving to get comfortable, but Dean does. He had to be a light sleeper to look after Sam so he can’t sleep unless you’re still.

“If you’re going to keep moving, go to the couch,” he hisses.

“I can’t get comfortable.”

Dean rolls onto his side, grabs your hips, and pulls you into him. You freeze the second you feel his hard cock on your ass. Dean’s hot breath falls over your ear and neck causing shivers to rave down your spine.

“Stop moving and go to sleep.” It’s kind of hard to go to sleep now when you can feel every inch of Dean’s cock pressed between your ass cheeks. You shift as you try to think about anything else, but him and you end up pressing your ass further into him. Dean’s teeth nip at your ear and he growls his next words. “Do not move.” Okay, now you’re moving just to piss him off. You can play him so easily. Dean’s hand slides over your hip to the front of your body where he presses his fingers to your clothed pussy. That causes you to still. “If you want to play this game, sweetheart, I’ll play this game. One rule. Don’t wake Sam.”

Dean’s hand slips underneath your silk pajama shorts, pleased to find you’re wearing skimpy cotton panties. He passes the cotton barrier and presses his fingers against your clit. You jerk against his body but he holds onto you tightly so you don’t move much. He runs two fingers down the length of your slit, gathering the wetness he feels.

“I haven’t even touched you and already, you’re so wet for me.”

He pushes one thick finger into you, and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from crying out. Sam would kill you if he knew what was happening mere inches away from him. Dean pushes in a second finger and curls them to press against your g-spot.

“Fuck,” you gasp quietly.

“Do you feel what you do to me? You get me so fucking hard. It takes everything I have not to bend you over and fuck that attitude out of you,” he whispers against your ear.

It’s somehow hotter that he’s whispering to you instead of speaking normally. So intimately… so close.

“So do it,” you smirk.

Dean slams his fingers into you rapidly and rubs your clit in hard small circles. The pressure is becoming too much not to make noise, and you arch your back as much as possible. It’s a good thing Sam is a heavy sleeper otherwise he’d hear your heavy breathing and slick sounds from your pussy.

“Fuck, Dean,” you whimper.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and come for me? Hmm?”

You can’t respond to him even if you want to. The pressure builds deep in your core, and he can feel you tightening around his fingers. Fuck, he can only imagine what you’d feel like around his cock and tongue. Next time. His cock is rock hard and pressing against your ass, begging for release, but he’s not going to take care of him until he takes care of you.

“Shit, I’m gonna come,” you whisper.

“Go ahead. I got you.”

He circles your clit hard and the pressure inside of you explodes, and you feel your entire body start to float from ecstasy. Your pussy clenches and unclenches as you come, and he continues to thrust his fingers in and out to ride out your high. When he knows you have no more to give him right now, he pulls his fingers out of you slowly to tease you. You don’t have to look at him to know he is sucking you off his own flesh.

“Damn, sweetheart. Next time, I want to feel you come on my tongue.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“That’s just another thing I’m better at than you.”

“What thing?”

“Making you come,” he smirks. Your jaw drops several inches at his remarks, and he lets you go to give you some space. He turns over in the bed so that his back is facing you instead of his chest. “Go to bed.”

How the hell can you think about sleeping now when all you can think about is Dean and the possibilities he and his cock can give you?

x

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[magicalqueennightmare]

Two Soldiers?

Bucky Barnes x Reader x John Walker

You want them, they want you. You all needed a push

Blame @desimarie12

Warnings: Sexual happenings with 3 people in the mix

You weren’t an idiot. You’d known for a while that you’d somehow managed to catch the eye of not one but two super soldiers. It started with Bucky. You worked closely with Sam, because way back when Steve and Nat were on the run they’d gone to him and he’d pulled you in. After the blip you came back to ruins, Steve was gone and Nat was dead. 

Sam knew you had no family left so he kind of helped to keep an eye on you while you, like him and so many others, started to rebuild your life. You stayed in New York, close to Bucky while Sam went home to Louisiana. That was also around the time he gave up the shield and the good ol United States government decided they wanted to place someone as Captain America.

You didn’t react quite as severely as Bucky and Sam did to John Walker. You researched the man. He was qualified. He had the military background and by far the training to carry that mantle. 

The day you first met him, you were standing behind Sam and Bucky after the fight against the Flag Smashers. He’d eyed you “Aren’t you Lilith?” you smirked “That particular moniker is thanks to Tony Stark but yeah” he extended a hand and despite you feeling both Bucky and Sam tense you placed yours in his as he introduced himself “John Walker ma’am” you nodded “I know who you are, government snatches that shield out of a museum I try to see whose hands it’s going into” “And what do you think?” he asked, you shook your head “I’ve yet to form an opinion one way or another about you John Walker”

The following weeks were hell, from the constant globe hopping with Zemo of all people to fighting the Doja Milaje to having a front row seat and being helpless to do anything when Lemar, John’s friend and partner was killed. You tried to show sympathy for him but where did the line get drawn? Where do you stop the line between justice and vengeance? That was why you’d walked away from your team before, why Clint had been forced to chase you down when the accords were slapped onto the table.

When it was all said and done, the mantle of Captain America was stripped from John, along with any title he’d earned in the military. You hadn’t agreed with that decision. No he didn’t deserve the mantle of Cap but he’d earned those medals and his retirement. 

Bucky ended up going into politics, you worked with Sam and Joaquin when needed and besides that everyone was kind of in the wind for the most part. Or you were until a few years passed and you found yourself getting a text from Bucky. It had coordinates and three words Get here NOW

Those coordinates? When you got there? You were met with Bucky and he had Yelena Belova, Ava Starr, Alexei Shostakiv and god help you John Walker tied up. Apparently there was something big coming and Bucky needed your help wrangling the rag tag team he’d pulled together. Your eyes held John’s as his head barely dipped as a form of greeting “Lilith” “Walker” you replied then looked back at Bucky “Fuck it, I’m in”

Now? You were on the damn team. Thunderbolts, the new avengers…whatever the hell you were. All of you were now living in the watchtower (formerly the avengers tower so you knew your way around it fairly well even after renovations) and worked as a team. 

The only issue? You had developed some sort of feelings for both John and Bucky. Bucky, you’d formed a bond with back when Steve would send you to Wakanda to check on his healing then once both of you were leaving just a block or two away from each other you’d grown close. Too many nights where neither of you could find sleep if you weren’t together. 

As for John? He’d crept up on you. His wife had divorced him after everything and taken his son. The man had hit rock bottom and was trying to be better and god help you despite knowing how horrible he’d been, seeing how arrogant he still was at times…you found yourself falling for him too.

“You know they both want you right?” Yelena pointed out as you and her were training one day. It took you off guard enough she flipped you across the gym, your back slamming into the mat hard enough your body bounced. “Christ Belova, give a woman a warning!”

She laughed, hopping up and walked over to offer you her hand “Sorry but it’s true. They both follow you like whipped puppies. They get mad when the other gets assigned to a mission with you and why do you think Ava and I always sit on either side of you? It’s so you don’t have to get stuck between them. You would overheat” you felt your face warm “They’re super soldiers Yelena. Not collector items. I can’t just put them both on the shelf above my bed”

She raised an eyebrow “Why? You want to just take them down when you’re wanting to play with them?” you busted out laughing “LENA!” and she shrugged “Just… if I show you, will you believe me then?” you shrugged “Sure” she grabbed your hand “Ok, come on”

She didn’t let you go until the two of you were in the kitchen where Bucky was currently pulling his arm out of the dishwasher. That damn tank top he was wearing had you drooling the moment you stepped in. “Good morning” she greeted him and he raised an eyebrow, looking at you “Is she planning to kill me?” you sighed “Probably not?” he laughed “Well enough. Good morning Yelena. What do you want?” “Can Lilith paint your nails?” your eyes widened “What?”

Bucky was already looking at you, a smirk on his face “Well I don’t know if any paint would stick to my left arm but you’re welcome to the right” she grinned at you and nodded “I’m going to grab Bob and Ava. I’ll meet you two in the tv room”

Bucky couldn’t believe how fast he agreed to letting you paint his nails but the smile on your face when he agreed was worth anything. Once Yelena disappeared from the room you whispered softly “You don’t have to” and he took a step towards you, raising his left hand to gently brush the few strands that had fallen free from your braid back from your face “I want to doll. If you want to” you nodded and took his hand “Ok then”

You drug him behind you into the tv room and as the two of you made it in, Yelena laughed from where she was sitting, painting Ava’s toenails “Now Bucky. You do know that she can’t paint other people’s nails right?”

He looked from her to you “What do you mean?” Ava laughed “She’s good at painting her nails but when she painted mine for that last gala Valentina made us attend, she had to sit in my lap to do so. It made it the same angle as her own nails” you felt your face warm because you were just going to try to paint Bucky’s normally.

He grinned at you “I’m still up for it” and walked over to the couch. He sat down and stretched his legs out, patting one thick thigh “Come on sweetheart” you cut your eyes at Ava and Yelena, both of them shooting you smirks while Bob tried to hide his laughter. 

You grabbed the black polish and walked over. You turned to crawl into Bucky’s lap with your back to him, straddling him as you got comfortable. “Good?” you asked as his left arm slipped around your waist “Perfect” you felt your stomach jump, core throbbing at how close he was but your friends were at your feet and you were doing something as innocent as painting his nails, right?

John had no idea what the hell Yelena wanted when she texted him Come to the tv room who even called it the tv room? He rolled his eyes, walking through the long hallways. He wasn’t sure where you were. You’d been training with her earlier in the day or that was what the schedule was. 

When he got to the doorway of the entertainment room however he froze. Yelena, Ava and Bob were sitting on cushions in a corner. He wasn’t sure what they were doing or what was playing on the tv. His attention was solely on the fact that you were sitting in Bucky’s lap. The other man had his left arm wrapped around your waist as you painted the nails on his right hand black. You were wearing those damn biker shorts you liked to train in, had thrown a -shirt on over your sports bra but that was it.  Just the tip of your tongue slipped between your teeth as you concentrated on the task at hand and as for Bucky? The smug bastard looked up the moment he heard John’s footsteps. A smirk playing at his lips before he finally spoke “Hey John”

Your eyes flew up at Bucky’s words. John was standing in the doorway, staring at you. His hands were balled up in fists at his side, chest heaving slightly. Those damn grey sweatpants he wore hid little to the imagination and the white t-shirt hugged him beautifully. “Hey” you greeted and he smiled “Hey Honey, what ya doing?” you gripped Bucky’s hand and held it up to show off your handy work “Making Bucky’s right nails match the left” Bucky laughed lightly at your joke, his breath teasing your neck as he said “Looks almost as pretty as you” and you felt your heart flip.

John cleared his throat and held up his hands “Well I got ten nails you can paint. Wanna have a go?” you grinned brightly “You, John Walker are gonna walk around with painted nails?” he shrugged “If you’re the one painting them, gladly” you turned to look at Bucky and he was glaring at John but his face quickly softened when he looked at you “Ok sweetheart, let me get up” you crawled out of his lap and saw something pass between him and John as John walked over and sat on the couch where Bucky had been. You turned towards him, leaning down to pick up your bag of polish “I have black like I did Bucky’s or different colors” 

His larger hand covered yours, thumb teasing across your knuckle as his eyes met yours. “I like the shade of green you’re wearing darlin” you smiled, face warming “You wanna match me?” he nodded “If that’s ok with you” you laughed “Oh course” and grabbed the shade before motioning to him to lean back so you could sit on his lap like you’d been on Bucky’s.

Once you were straddling John you grabbed his left hand first and started painting his nails. You were focused on the task at hand and fighting the urge to lean into his warm body, press closer to him. You missed the looks him and Bucky were passing or the plan Ava and Yelena was forming.

“I tell you, she was over the moon daddy” Yelena was talking to Alexei in the kitchen. The two of them were getting coffee right next to where John was cooking breakfast. She’d roped Alexei into her idea and he’d been more than happy to “Help Lil get her soldiers” 

John tried to act as if he wasn’t listening but he was a little curious. Alexei, ever the dramatic one, gasped “Do you think she will be moving out of the tower? I will miss her! Lilith is like another daughter to me”  John’s mouth moved without his brain being able to catch up “How’s that?” Yelena shot her father a look, knowing they had this one. “She’s been seeing two guys. They treat her well and it seems like it’s getting serious” 

“She’s seeing two guys?” he asked and Yelena nodded, testing the waters “Why, are you judging her?” John shook his head quickly “No! Of course not, just..I never knew she had one boyfriend. They’re ok with each other?” he was curious and jealous and well pissed. “Of course. They both love her, they’ve actually learned to care for each other because of her” Yelena told him and he nodded slowly “If she’s happy that’s what matters” he tried to act like he wasn’t breaking at the seams but the spatula snapping in half told otherwise. “Shit” he muttered, eyeing it “Um, Alexei..finish the eggs?” he asked and Alexei nodded “Ok”

“Bob, you don’t think anyone will judge her for it do you?”  Ava asked Bob, the two of them purposely having this conversation in front of Bucky. Her and Bob were both on treadmills while Bucky was using one of the reinforced punching bags. “Judge her for loving two people? Why?” Bob asked and Bucky grabbed the bag with his left hand. “Who are we gossipping about?”

Ava smirked at Bob before saying “Lilith, she’s got two boyfriends” Bucky raised an eyebrow, he didn’t know you were dating. He’d been flirting his ass off with you..hell so had Walker but he didn’t know two other someones already had you. “Oh yeah?” he asked and Bob nodded “If something doesn’t change she may leave the team for them” “That right?” Bucky muttered more to himself than anything. Like hell. He needed to talk to Walker, now.

John and Bucky smacked into each other in the hallway “Did you know she had boyfriends?” “Those bastards are trying to get her to leave the team” they spoke over each other. Bucky took a deep breath “I care about her outside of wanting to fuck her. Do you?” John nodded “Of course, she’s the only person who gives a damn about me. She’s amazing” 

Bucky nodded, staring John down “Do you think you’re gonna change your mind about her anytime soon? I haven’t in over six years” John shook his head “I haven’t felt like this about anyone in a long time”  

“If we let her know she’s got other options besides whatever two assholes are trying to make her walk away from this team, do you think she’ll stay?” Bucky offered, crossing his arms. John unconsciously mimicked his posture “What are you saying Barnes? Loud and clear” 

“You want her, I want her.  If she’s already got two fellas she’s not opposed to it. Let's offer her the better option” Bucky laid it out and John nodded slowly “Can we do this without killing each other?” Bucky shrugged “Do you want to think about her in someone else’s arms or be in the same bed with her while she’s in mine and her still be touching you?” that sold it for John. He held his hand out and Bucky shook it “Let’s go get her”

You were in your room, laid backwards across your bed when the sound of two fists pounding on your door hard enough the frame vibrated made you jump. You stormed across the room, snatching it open to see both John and Bucky standing there “What the hell? I nearly grabbed a damn gun! You two could have broke my door hitting it at the same time” 

They gave no explanation, they both just pushed into your room. John closed the door behind them. You took a step back, crossing your arms over your chest and were suddenly acutely aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a lot. You had on a tight camisole that held your breasts in place and a pair of boxers, that was it.

Their eyes flickered across your body and your face warmed. “Speak, one of you” you ordered and Bucky smirked “I like when you’re bossy, even if you’re so damn short we nearly have to kneel to be face to face with you” you gasped “What the fuck Barnes?” John laughed “Well he has a point, not that either of us would downright mind being on our knees for you” your head whipped towards John fast enough you damn near ended up with whiplash “Excuse me Walker?”

They both took a step forward, Bucky stepping wide while John walked straight towards you. You realized half a second too late they were boxing you in. You looked between both of them when they were close enough you could feel the heat pouring off their bodies “What the fuck are you two doing?” Bucky’s hand came up, flesh fingers lightly tracing across your exposed shoulders “Are you leaving?” you swallowed hard “What?”

John’s fingers were next and that asshole dipped down to let his digits tease across the soft flesh of your thighs “Answer Bucky baby. Are you leaving us to be with those assholes?” you looked from one man to the other “What assholes? What is going on?” 

Bucky’s hand moved to your chin, tilting your head to look at him “Ava said your boyfriends were getting you to leave the team” John moved in, breath hot on your neck where Bucky had exposed the skin “Yelena said you were so in love but yet your heart is pounding like you’re about to bolt”

“Even if I was, why would you two be here?” you asked quietly, happy when your voice came out solid. “To give you a better option” John breathed into your flesh, lips finally meeting skin and you would have buckled then and there but Bucky chose that moment for his lips to find yours, tongue slipping into your mouth.

One of your hands slipped down to grasp John’s while the other went to Bucky’s hip. You didn’t know if you should pull them closer or push them away or what. What the fuck did Ava and Yelena do?

As if they’d planned it, Bucky broke from your lips to move down to your neck while John tilted your head to claim your lips. You gasped into his mouth when Bucky’s teeth grazed your skin and he used that opening to slip his tongue into your mouth.  You felt dizzy and hot like everything was moving too fast yet too slow at the same time. 

You got enough sense about you to snatch away from them both, chest heaving as you stared down the two blue eyed super soldiers who’d just been clinging to you like a life vest. “What the hell is going on?” “You want us, we want you” Bucky answered and John nodded “Give in one time honey. I promise when we’re through you ain't gonna want no one else”

You gasped, looking from one of them to the other. Both were dressed similarly, sweatpants and those damn tight shirts they wore around that look like they were burst at the seams.  The damn sweatpants gave evidence to the fact that both of them wanted you. The slick pooling down your thighs gave proof to how much you wanted them. “And me be branded a whore for fucking both of you? Ms cant pick?” you threw at them. 

“We ain’t trying to make you pick. We’ll tell the damn press we begged you to have both of us” John told you and Bucky nodded “Want us to call the press conference in the damn morning?” you laughed “You’re getting ahead of yourselves. Super soldiers or not, the dick can’t be that good” they both laughed and that was alarming. The men who’d been at each other’s throats was suddenly getting along on the fact of fucking you. “Oh honey, I don’t know about Bucky but I know what I’m doing” John challenged. 

Bucky cut his eyes at him “There’s a reason quite a few women in Wakanda missed me asshole” you felt your thighs clench at them arguing and both of their attention lurched back to you. “What do you say?” John asked and you swallowed “I don’t know..” 

Bucky slipped his shirt over his head, tossing it so John did the same and fuck it all you down right whimpered. Here you were being offered the two sexiest men you’d ever seen on a fucking silver platter. “I don’t know if I can please you both” you whispered and John reached to pull you between them, your hands against his chest while Bucky’s chest was against your back “Baby, I seriously doubt anything you do would disappoint us”

You looked up at John then back at Bucky. “Ok” “Ok?” Bucky asked and you nodded “Ok” 

John’s lips found yours, hungry and devouring as Bucky’s lips descended on your neck, teeth marking his presence. “Leave room for me to mark her Barnes” John growled between kisses. You laughed “Easy boys, my body isn’t a battlefield. You’ll hurt me” 

“Never” “Never” they both promised. You turned to press a kiss to Bucky’s lips before going down on your knees in front of both men. You looked up at them and they were both looking at you like you were a goddess incarnate. You rubbed both of their hardened cocks through the front of their pants “Take these off for me?”

They quickly complied, no shame in being nude in front of the other one. You licked your licks at the sight of their cocks. Both were fucking beautiful, thick and long. You cut your eyes up at them, wrapping your hand around John’s as you kissed the tips of Bucky’s. They both let out a low groan. You slid your mouth down Bucky’s length and he moaned low, just loud enough the three of you could hear. You started to move your hand on John’s in rhythm with your tongue on Bucky’s.

After a moment you switched, moving your hand to Bucky’s cock as sliding your mouth down around John’s. When his cock hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag slightly he groaned “Fuck honey, you’re perfect” and Bucky grunted out “Yeah she is” in agreement. 

You found a pace that had both of them praising you, light curses falling from their lips. You knew they were close but you kept at it, you felt both of them tense right before John came, his cum shooting down your throat in hot spurts as Bucky’s cum covered your hand.

They were both nothing short of beautiful, completely nude, cheeks and chest a light pink, their chests heaving slightly as you stared up at them. You licked Bucky’s cum off your hand and they both groaned. “Do we really get to keep her?” John asked Bucky who laughed “Fuck, I hope so”

Their hands came down to pull you to your feet, lips finding yours as they both pressed kisses to your lips and neck. “You’re wearing too much” John muttered and Bucky nodded in agreement “Way too much”

You didn’t have time to take your clothes off. One of John’s hands fisted in your top while one of Bucky’s fisted in your boxers. One flex from the soldiers and your clothing was rags on the floor. “I liked those” you pouted and Bucky laughed “We’ll buy you more” 

The next thing you knew your back was on the bed as their mouths devoured your body. You’d never even seen them work as well together in the field as they were working together to take you apart. They started at your neck, mouths teasing with tongue and teeth then working down. When each of them rolled a nipple into their mouths, your back arched off the bed, a loud moan that was somewhere between John and James leaving your lips.

They continued their path downwards and you knew your body would be littered with their marks for days after this encounter. When they got to your waist they eyed each other and Bucky nodded to John. John grinned, face lowering to your core. You felt the first flick of his tongue and your head fell back against the pillows, fingers tangling in his hair “Fuck John, that feels good” 

Bucky, not one to be left out, nudged John slightly and John shifted enough that two of Bucky’s fingers could find their way into you along with John’s tongue. It was a maddening rush to be completely at the mercy of those men that could crush you if they wanted and yet they were controlling even their most basic instincts to fight each other so they could please you.

It wasn’t long and you could feel that fire growing in the pit of your stomach. Bucky caught your eye and nodded “Let it go doll, we got ya” you moaned, long and broken as your orgasm slammed into you. You felt your release soak Bucky’s hand, John’s face and the bed underneath the three of you.

Bucky slowly pulled his fingers out of you, slipping them into his mouth to suck them clean and he groaned “Fuck she tastes good” John left a last lingering kiss against your clit before pulling back, a low laugh leaving him “I know” 

You whined lightly “Can I fuck one of you now?” they both laughed, pressing kisses to your thigh “Yeah baby” John nudged Bucky “I got to feel her mouth and taste her first. You can fuck her first” you eyed John “Don’t go anywhere, I’m fucking you too before we’re done” he grinned “Didn’t plan on it”

He moved up the bed and turned you so you were cradled against his chest, legs spread wide for Bucky “Gotta make sure he don’t hurt you when he pushes you into the positions he wants you in” he breathed into your ear, pressing kisses to your neck.

Bucky crawled up the bed, nudging his hips between yours “Fuck, Walker! Condoms!” you laughed “I have an IUD boys. I’m covered” Bucky grinned “Even better” you could feel the head of his cock teasing at your entrance but he still looked to you for the ok. You nodded and he caught your lips in a soft kiss as he pushed in, a moan leaving you both at the feeling of him stretching you.

“How she feel Barnes?” John asked and Bucky grunted “Fucking amazing” you gasped when Bucky shifted his hips. “You can fuck me Bucky, I can take it” He used one hand to push the hair back from your face “Oh I know you can beautiful”

John moved to be leaning against the headboard, you back against his chest and your legs hooked over his. Giving Bucky the perfect position without putting too much pressure on your hips. 

“Damn you two can work well in a team after all” you teased and felt John’s fingers dig into your hips “Don’t tease us gorgeous” “We can tear you apart” Bucky reminded. You laughed “But you won’t” Bucky’s lips crashed onto yours as he found a pace that had you gasping, nails digging into his shoulders as he worked you closer and closer to that edge. 

You could feel your orgasm building and when Bucky slipped a hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, you came hard, clenching around him. He bit down on your shoulder as his hips snapped into yours a few more times before you felt him find his release, hot cum filling you. He damn near collapsed on you, pressing kisses everywhere he could reach before rolling off the side.

You were trying to get your breathing back to normal as you looked back at John “Want me to clean up first or..” you didn’t get the chance before he was spinning you around to straddle him. “Or this” you laughed, letting him lift you up to drag your pussy down onto his cock. The stretch still burnt even after Bucky. John’s head fell over onto your chest for just a second once he was buried in you “Damn you feel amazing” “Told you” Bucky laughed.

You shook your head, catching John’s lips in a kiss that was messy and hungry as he started to lift your hips. He would drag you up his length then slam you back down. You were a moaning mess on top of him and he wasn’t much better under you. One of your hands fisted in his hair, “So damn pretty, fuck John. Fuck” you babbled and he slipped one hand between you, teasing at your clit. You shook around him as you came, body going limp. He kept thrusting up into you until he brought you back down flush with his hips and you felt when he found his release, cum spurting deep inside of you.

You fell over against his chest, feeling his hands and Bucky’s on your back. “So, that was fun” you laughed. 

The three of you had cleaned up and you were laying half on Bucky and half on John as you talked. “So, are you gonna break up with them for us?” John asked and you laughed lightly “Can I confess something?” Bucky groaned “You’re married?” you made a fake gagging sound “Ew no, I never had boyfriends. I’m fairly certain that was Yelena and Ava pushing whatever this is” 

John and Bucky both raised up to look at each other “Those little..” you started laughing “Are you two mad?” they looked back down at you then back at each other “Not too much, you Walker?” “Not really” 

[sacr1ficialang3l]

Written in blood𖤐

DEAN WINCHESTER X GOTH!READER (meet her)

SUMMARY: Reader is taking her usual late-night cemetery walk when she finds two guys burning up a grave. They expect her to run away screaming, but they don't know that she is not that easily scared. 3.8k

WARNINGS: none really. first meeting. fem!reader.

NOTES: goth!reader is here, and she's here to stay! I can't wait for Dean and her to get closer. If you find the She Wants Revenge reference in this you get a gold star. As always, English is not my first language. Enjoy<3

You had seen some weird things happen in this cemetery. 

You simply couldn’t make a habit of taking midnight walks through the graveyard behind the town’s famous abandoned house without encountering some questionable acts. 

From high schoolers messing around with a Ouija, to a drunk man pissing against a mausoleum, to a couple of teenagers hooking up behind a tree. 

You thought you had seen it all, until tonight.

Your eyes are focused on the old walkman on your hands, desperately trying to make it work, when a sudden heat wave makes you look up. Your wine-painted lips part slightly when your eyes find two guys standing in front of a digged up grave, seemingly having lit the corpse on fire.

You must have made a noise, because both guys quickly turn to you with equally wide eyes. 

Funnily, the first thought that registers on your mind is: damn, they’re hot.

You don’t freak out, and you don’t run for your life like you probably were supposed to. After all, you had always loved all things creepy.

You decide to step closer, the chunky platform of your boots digging into the mushy soil under them. You stop a few feet away from the burning pit as both guys still stare at you with freaked out expressions.

“Not an expert or anything, but I’m pretty sure digging up graves is illegal.” You say, crossing your arms. You half-register that you should probably not be talking to these guys like that. Maybe they were the bad type of devil worshipers, or psychopaths. Or both.

But before you can even start to feel afraid, they both start to ramble. The two huge, muscular men in front of you start to stutter and trip over their words. They spit half-assed explanations, contradicting each other every two sentences. It makes you laugh, which in consequence makes them stare at you as if you were insane.

How the tables have turned. 

Noticing that the men were very probably not dangerous, you take another step closer. This wasn’t the first time you had dealt with people making rituals of some sort in this cemetery. Satanists and pagans alike showed up occasionally to do their thing, and contrary to common belief, they were usually pretty friendly if you approached their practices with respect.

You pull out a cigarette from the pocket of your skirt, looking up at them with a smirk.

“I’m guessing you have a lighter?”

The taller one of the guys simply stares at you like you grew a second head, but you can distinguish a smirk on the face of the other one in the irregular light of the still going flames. You study him. Brown leather jacket, necklace around his neck, a ring that caught the light of the moon in his hand holding the matches. Oh, he was really hot.

“Look, sweetheart, you should probably leave.” He says, apparently having composed himself from the initial shock. There was a cocky undertone in his voice, but he didn’t seem mean, more like… trying to keep you out of something dangerous.

With a simple shake of your head, you refuse. What was life without a little danger anyways?

They end up introducing themselves after many failed attempts of making you leave. Sam and Dean, as you learned, were brothers. What you also learned, as you stared at them across the burning hole in the ground, is that they were both insanely attractive. But there was something about the older one, a sharpness in his eyes that made a shiver run through your spine. You blamed it on the cold breeze of the night.

(it was a specially warm day of early fall, there was no cold breeze.)

“Wait, wait.” you raise your palm, trying to process the information. “you’re telling me you’re… monster hunters?”

The brothers nod, going a little more into detail about their job and the ghost they were hunting in your town. Both of them stare at you like they’re expecting you to run away screaming, but you simply stare at them with calculating, black-rimmed eyes.

“So either I finally went full-on psychotic” you start “or you two are. Or this is real, and there’s something actually in that house.”

“you know something about the thing in the house?” Dean asks immediately. Deciding that they were indeed not a threat, you walk around the burning grave carefully and stand next to the two brothers, who –even as you wore your platform boots– still towered over you. 

You explain to the brothers that you had heard the myth about the old house being haunted, and when people started dying in its perimeters, you started to question it too. 

“But I stay in that house all the time.” You explain calmly, leaning back against the tombstone like you were in your natural habitat. “I go to read there when it is raining or too hot to be outside in the cemetery. I’ve even spent whole nights sleeping on the old couch in the living room. Nothing ever happened to me.”

But if you were to be honest, you did noticed some things. The way an inexplicable wave of warmth wrapped around you after you got trapped in the house in the middle of a snow storm with nothing but a thin leather jacket. The way there seemed to always be candles and matches restocked for you to light your way through the house even if you had already used a whole box of them. The way the house felt safe that night when you cried, sitting in a little ball in the corner of the living room, the night you ran away from home. 

“Why the hell would you stay in an abandoned house said to be haunted?” Dean’s expression was confused, but he seemed to almost admire how unafraid you were of the paranormal.

The truth was, anywhere was better than the house you grew up in.

“Sometimes ‘haunted’ and ‘scary’ things are just in need of some love.” You say instead, shrugging. 

Your words seem to touch a nerve in both brothers, and they nod, eyes darting down to the completely burned bones. 

“Well, apparently this thing was evil.” Dean retorts, and it makes you frown.

“I don’t know. If there was something actually in that house, it took care of me all this time.” You cross your arms, suddenly defensive of the spirit. “Most of the victims were disrespectful college kids that loved to come to the house and break stuff. At the very least, they shouldn’t have fucked around a haunted place if they can’t be respectful.”

Dean stares at you for just another second before he turns around to start filling the grave back with dirt. 

“It was still killing people, and we needed to get rid of it.” Dean refutes. You want to argue, but Sam turns to you, kind expression on his face.

“Spirits that stay back as ghosts can turn vengeful. Not being dead but not being alive, it drives them insane.” That makes the frown melt off your face, feeling a pang of sadness for the spirit in the house. “If the ghost was actually taking care of you, you should be happy they can finally rest in peace.”

You stay quiet for the rest of the time the brothers fill the grave. You notice the way it is barely noticeable that it was even touched. They must really be professionals.

“Well, it was nice to meet you here.” Dean wipes the sweat off his forehead with his shirt, leaving you with a clear view of his abdomen and a glimpse of the tattoo on his chest. You swallow harshly.

Oh, he had tattoos.

“Now we need to go back to the house and make sure the spirit is actually gone.” Sam finishes off. They both seemed more relaxed once the bones were already burned, and it seems like Dean finally takes the time to look at you.

You feel his piercing eyes all over your body, and when you finally look at him again, there is a small smirk on his face.

This guy is trouble.

But you always loved a good train wreck. 

The brothers are already walking away when you run towards them, expertly moving in your high platform boots.

“Wait!” your voice was loud in the dead silence of the cemetery. Both brothers turn to you, eyebrows raised. “I’ll come with you.”

Sam looked about to argue, probably ready to tell you a hundred reasons why it would be dangerous for you to tag along. 

“Sure.” Dean says, and you send him a pleased smile that makes his smirk grow. Sam turns to him in disbelief, and he simply shrugs. “What? The spirit clearly likes her. If it is still there, she will keep it from attacking us.”

Sam clearly doesn’t buy his excuse, but you’re just happy to go with them.

“I just want to make sure they’re gone, and thank them.” You throw Sam a pleading look, and he simply sighs and shakes his head. 

You end up tagging along.

You get to the house in a few minutes. It was clearly old, Victorian style and everything. There was ivy covering big parts of the outside, windows broken from times when people would break in, gloomy clouds of fog seemed to loom around it.

“And you like to spend time here because…?” Dean teases you. You throw a playful glare at him that makes him chuckle. 

“So you hunt demons and ghosts and whatnot but I can’t enjoy hanging out in an old house?”

Both brothers snort, but as you approach the front door, they both pull out guns. You jump at the sight, stopping in your tracks from the shock.

Dean notices, and he takes a step closer.

“These are filled with rock salt. They won’t kill a human, but they will keep ghosts at bay.” You nod, feeling a little more calm. You were always anti-gun, but you had to admit that the sight of Dean with the gun in his hand, his focused eyes, and his dark expression was definitely an attractive one. 

In a second, Dean was turning around and grabbing a metal bar from god knows where. He hands it to you, and you grab it with a confused look on your face. 

“Do… ghosts hate metal?” You ask with a small smile, making Dean chuckle.

“Iron, specifically.” He corrects, and you store the information carefully. You were trying to act normal, but the little girl in you who would spend hours reading Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark and watching gothic horror movies at a way too early age is screeching inside of you. “Stay behind me, I will protect you. But if something goes wrong, swing this at the spirit and you’ll be fine.”

Dean’s reassurance was sweet, so you take a deep breath and follow them inside the house.

Everything seemed to be just as you left it a week ago, the last time you had stayed in there, before any of the killing had happened. The house was dark, lonely, peaceful. There was dust and spiderwebs everywhere that you never cleaned up, because this place was just as yours as it was the spiders’. 

When the door closes behind you, you are left in pure darkness. Dean is still in front of you, arm extended up in protection. You huff out a laugh, shaking your head and walking around him. 

As soon as you walked into the house, that same warmth and familiar feeling enveloped you. Dean lets out a little sound of protest as you walk forward into the darkness, but you know exactly where you’re going. 

You let your instincts lead you to the drawer where the candlesticks and matches were always stored. By the time you light one of the candles and start walking back to the brothers, Sam already had grabbed a flashlight from his backpack. 

“You shouldn’t wander off like that.” Dean nags at you. On any other occasion, you would’ve rolled your eyes at it. Men trying to be all alpha and thinking you can’t defend yourself was the worst. But you can tell that Dean is different. He wasn’t protective because he thought you couldn’t take care of yourself. Instead, he looked like he was just… too used to people around him getting hurt.

You could see that glimpse in his eyes, one that you recognized too well. The one that only came when you lost one too many people. 

“It’s okay.” You reassure him in a gentle voice, which he looks slightly surprised by. Seriously, how bad do these guys have it? “I know this house, it won’t hurt me.”

The brothers simply throw you an unsure look before all three of you continue to walk around the house. 

“I think we’re good, we burned the right bones.” Dean decides after you walk all throughout the house. There was no sign of anything weird, but that warm feeling was still draped around your shoulders. 

You frown, and while Sam and Dean are distracted looking down at what they called a “EMF”, you slip away into one of the rooms. The iron rod is still in your hand, the other one holding the candlestick in front of you. 

“You need to get out of here.” You almost jump out of your skin at that. Turning around immediately, you’re met with the gentle face of a beautiful woman. She was wearing a long, white slip dress. It looked old, a gothic style to it. Her eyes were wide and hollow, skin pale and feet bare. But the most important part was the fact that she was translucid and glitchy. 

And also the very clear bullet wound on her forehead.

You don’t even gasp, just freeze in your place. The one thing that keeps you from lunging the rod on your hands through her head was the fact that the blanket of warmth and safety around you had only gotten stronger the moment she appeared.

She continues to say something else, but her voice is choppy and she appears and disappears multiple times. 

“I-I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t understand what you’re saying.” You try talking to her gently.

She disappears and a second later she is standing right next to you. This time you do gasp. 

“Th… k-ngs… husb… lock of h…” She tried again, but it looked like she couldn’t stay corporeal for too long. You frown, trying to understand. 

“A lock? There’s a lock… in the house?” She appears once again in front of you, pouting in disappointment and shaking her head. You open your mouth, trying to guess again, but then something happens. Something that you had never experienced before and hope to never experience again. 

The ghost suddenly surges forward, right into you. For a moment, you feel nothing but icy cold all around you. And then, nothing. You can’t feel anything, and it is as if you’re riding shotgun in your own body. It takes you a second to process that you had just been possessed, and you have to admit, you don’t like it.

You still can see through your eyes, but your body is moving by itself. You don’t feel your hands, or legs, or anything really. You can’t even feel the way the iron bar in your hand very clearly burns the ghost, making her drop it to the floor with a loud ringing sound. 

There was a distant icy feeling, but it was mostly numb. You couldn’t move, or talk, or scream like you so desperately wanted. Instead, you could only watch as your body walked out of the room and towards where the brothers were calling your name.

“Jesus Christ.” Dean sighs in relief when you –or the ghost in your body– walks into the living room. “We’ve been calling for you like crazy. I told you you should–”

“Dean.” Sam interrupts, looking at you with wide eyes. In a mirror right behind his head, you notice how your eyes are empty, hollow, just like how the ghost’s had been. “She- I think she’s possessed.” 

Dean immediately turns towards you with a worried expression, and he points his gun at you. But his eyes show hesitation, and the ghost simply extends one of your hands forward, asking him to wait.

At a slow pace, your body makes its way around the living room to a bookshelf, the brothers’ eyes and barrels never leaving your direction. The ghost grabs a book– no, a journal, and opens it to a specific page.

She takes a step closer to Dean, who keeps his gun up but doesn’t pull the trigger. You watch as you- she- your body? God, this was confusing. 

You watch as your body turns the journal around so Dean can see what’s written in there. You catch a glimpse of the words “husband” and “funeral” and “Mrs. Taylor”. You try to recall where you saw that last name recently, and then it comes back to you. The tombstone you were leaning against, the corpse Sam and Dean had burned. 

Mr. Alexander Taylor.

But most importantly, you find a lock of hair carefully tied with a ribbon at the bottom of the page. 

Oh, you think, that is what she was trying to tell me. The killing spirit is her husband and she has a lock of his hair.

Sam and Dean seem to understand it at the exact same time as you, and Sam quickly grabs the journal and starts to look through his backpack for something, probably his matches.

“Uhm, thank you, I guess.” Mutters Dean while scratching his head, and you wish you could glare at him. 

Really, that’s it?

“We read that you died in a fire soon after your husband’s death.” He continues, looking into your eyes that weren’t your eyes. “So how are you here?”

You can feel the spirit inside of you hesitate, scared.

They’re just trying to help you, so you can finally rest, you think as hard as you can. You’ve taken care of me for years, and I will always be thankful, but it is time you go in peace.

You don’t even know if she can hear you, but it seems to do the trick. She moves her– or your hand and slips something out of your finger. For a moment, you think it is one of your rings, and you are about to protest.

It took a lot of time to find good quality gothic rings in thrift stores just for a ghost to steal one of them. 

But instead, in your hand there’s a ring you had never seen before. You don’t know how it made its way into your finger, but it was beautiful. Silver, with delicate details all around, and three beautiful red gems. 

A wedding ring. 

She hands it to Dean, and you feel your lips twist into a devastatingly resigned smile before the icy cold sensation comes back.

In less than a second, you’re falling to the floor. Your body is shaking, and you’re so, so, so cold. 

Dean quickly throws the ring towards his brother and kneels next to you, hand moving up to rest on your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” He says your name in urgency, and even in between all the freezing, you can’t help but appreciate how nice it sounds. “Hey, look at me. What happened?”

You turn to him shakily, trying to speak but shivering too hard.

“S-she’s gone… the r-room… she-” You try, but your teeth are chattering harshly. Dean quickly slips off his leather jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. 

You are immediately enveloped by the smell of whiskey, and motor oil, and something so dark and musky and somehow sweet that could only be Dean. 

His hands rub up and down your arms, pulling you closer to his chest as you drown in his jacket and shake like a freezing puppy.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” He murmurs against the top of your head. His arms feel good around you, even as you feel like you’re submerged in ice water. “You can explain it to us later, for now just concentrate on getting warm.”

“I-I don’t wanna get po-possessed ever a-gain.” You somehow manage to get out, making Dean laugh, his chest rumbling against your side.

“Yeah, let’s hope you never do.” You can hear the smile on his words, and it makes you smile too. 

“We should take her to the Impala, Dean.” Sam suggests once he finishes burning the objects. “The house is still cold from the spirits, and we can use the car heater.”

Dean looks down at you as you tremble, pale and still bitterly cold. He nods, leaning back, and you immediately miss his warmth.

“Can you get up, sweetheart?” He asks, hands hovering around you but still letting you try to stand up for yourself. You appreciate it.

You start by kneeling on the floor, and it works out fine. Then Sam offers you a hand in support. You take it, plant your feet on the floor, and try straightening up.

You stay up for about two seconds before your knees give up and you’re falling forward. It is thanks to Dean’s hunter reflexes that you don’t end up face-planting the floor. 

His arms are back around you in a second, and you cling to him for dear life.

“I’m s-sorry.” You mutter as your teeth still chatter. “I-I can’t-”

“It’s okay” Dean says gently, holding you against him with just one arm as he secures his jacket around your shoulders. Before you can get another word out, he’s already picking you up.

You let out a loud shriek as one of his arms wrap around your middle and the other one rests under your knees. Soon enough, Dean is holding you bride-style. And the worst part is, he doesn’t look to struggle at all. His arms are huge under you, and he walks back to his car with you in arms without breaking a sweat. 

The night outside is warm enough that your teeth stop chattering once you reach the parking lot, but you are still shivering and shaking. 

Dean leaves you sitting comfortably in the backseat of his car before sliding into the driver’s seat and turning on the heater as hot as possible. You are sure him and Sam will end up sweating from the warm air, but you appreciate it. 

You sit there in the back of the Impala, brown leather jacket still swallowing you and head resting against the window as Sam and Dean discuss the details of the case, all without knowing that you would spend many more nights just like this in the future. 

And there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

NOTES: I am still figuring this whole Tumblr thing out, but comment or inbox me if you wanna be on my taglist! (did I do that right?).

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

A knock on the door was not what Danny was expecting that evening. In the two weeks of observation and one week of actually staying with the man, Danny had figured that Dick, for as friendly as he is, did not have many friends. And if he did, they didn't visit him a lot, if at all. So, a knock on the door exactly thirty minutes before Nightwing was set to go out was a suspicious surprise.

He answered it anyway.

On the other side of the door was a kid about his age, an inch or two taller. He had dark hair, pale skin, bright blue eyes, and eyebags dark enough to rival Danny's own. He also smelled faintly of coffee.

"Um," Danny started dumbly. "Hello?"

"I'm looking for Richard Grayson." The kid's accent was stronger than Dick's, putting him as a born and raised Gotham resident. There was also a hint of something that reminded Danny of Sam's parents. This kid comes from money.

"And you are?"

Obviously upset about being stalled, he huffed, "Timothy Drake. Are you going to let me in now?"

How does someone sound so rude and so polite at the same time? Obviously a skill Danny needs to learn. "Why-"

"Who's at the door, Danny?" Dick called from the hallway, making his way closer. He was in his Nightwing costume, minus the mask, but had covered it with a hoodie and sweatpants.

"Tim Drake," Tim introduced himself again, pushing Danny out of the way and entering the apartment to greet Dick with a handshake. "You're Bruce's Wayne's kid, Richard 'Dick' Grayson."

"Yeah, that's-"

"You need to come back and be Robin again."

There was a moment of silence as Danny closed the door softly. Then, "Excuse me?" Dick's smile was strained and his eyes narrowed slightly.

"You need to come back and be Batman's Robin again. You don't have to don the suit, but he needs you." There was a hint of desperation in Tim's voice now. "He's been spiraling since Jason died, and he's starting to hit harder. Most of the guys he beats up end up in the emergency room! Some of them have even died from their injuries! Batman needs your help! He needs a Robin."

Dick was quiet for a moment. "No."

"What?"

"I won't- I can't go back to being Robin. I can't go back to being in that house."

"Why not?"

"I just can't. Now, I don't know how you found me or how you found out who I was, but you need to go back to Gotham, Tim."

"But-"

"Now, Tim. You're parent's are probably freaking out about where you are right now."

Tim didn't say anything for a long moment, he feet rooted in place. Just as Dick turned around to go to the fire escape, he spoke, "My parents don't care where I am." Louder, he said, "Bruce is going to start directly killing people if you don't go back there and help him."

"Why should I help him?" Dick demanded. "He didn't even tell me that my little brother had died! I didn't even get to go to his funeral! And then Bruce had the audacity to punch me in the face and blame me for not being there! I'm not going back to Gotham, I'm not putting on the Robin suit again, and I sure as hell am not going to help Batman. he made it clear that he works alone, so let him." With his peace said, Dick took his hoodie and sweatpants off, donned his domino and escrima sticks, and left through the window fifteen minutes early.

Neither Tim nor Danny said anything for a long few minutes, neither bothering to move. Too many thoughts in each of their heads with no way to properly form words.

Finally, after nearly seven minutes, Danny's voice broke through the air. "I'm sorry he yelled at you."

Tim, having forgotten Danny was there, jumped and turned to face him. "What?"

"He hasn't been the same since Jason died, not that I know what he was like before."

"What do you mean?"

Danny moved into the kitchen, pulling down two cups, filling them with water before offering one to Tim and leading him to sit down on the couch.

"I don't know a lot about the situation, I've only been here for three weeks now, but I know that Dick is still hurting. Nightmares, hallucinations, the works. He's been more violent recently, too, but obviously not as much as Batman has been."

"You, uh, you know?"

"Yeah. Kinda hard not to figure it out while living here, and you coming in today didn't help that." Tim blushed and sipped his water. "Though, like you, I showed up on Dick's doorstep already knowing he's Nightwing."

"Oh? And how well did that pan out for you?"

Danny shrugged. "I offered him help and refused to leave until he accepted it."

Tim laughed. "That's what I did to Bruce!"

They shared a smile. Danny lifted his cup as if to toast. "Here's to a couple of goblins with hero complexes." Tim lifted his cup to join Danny's toast and they both took a drink.

Giggling, the two finished their water in relative quiet, the air around them comfortable.

"Say," Tim asked, putting his cup down on the coffee table, "How old are you?"

"Fourteen. You?"

"Same."

"Cool."

"You're parents know where you are?"

"Nope. I would ask if yours do, but you already answered that."

"Yeah, they aren't really around much. I did tell Alfred I'd be gone, though, so he knows I'm not home."

"Yeah, but does he know you're here?"

"No."

"Hm." A beat. "Who's Alfred?"

Another laugh startled out of Tim. "Bruce's butler. Did Dick tell you nothing?"

Danny shrugged again. "I haven't pushed for answers about anything; I'm not a therapist. I'm just here because he's going to end up killing himself at the rate he's been working himself."

"So is Bruce," Tim admitted softly, "But he's going to end up taking Gotham down with him if no one stops him."

"So what are you going to do?"

He thought for a long minute, weighing options in his mind before saying, "I guess I'll have to be the help he needs me to be."

Danny tilted his head sideways like a dog. "What do you mean?"

Tim squared his shoulders, though he was still hesitant. "Batman needs a Robin, and if Dick isn't going to be that for him, then I guess I'll have to be."

Another beat. "But do you want to be a vigilante?"

"Does it matter if I want to be?" Tim asks, "If I don't then no one will." He took a deep, steadying breath. "Gotham is my home. I can't let Bruce destroy it in his grief."

"I understand." Danny nodded, "But what you want does matter. I know I can't stop you, so I'm not going to try, but I'm going to make you promise me something." He made sure to hold Tim's gaze. "You ask for help when you need it." He held out his hand and waited.

"What?"

"You're phone. Give it to me." Reluctantly, he did so. As soon as the flip phone was in his hand, Danny put his number in it before giving it back. 'You don't have to do this alone, okay, Tim? Promise that you'll call me when you need help, okay? Any time of day, I'll answer."

Tim stared at his now closed phone, the weight grounding him for a moment. "Are you going to be a vigilante to help Nightwing?"

"I already am."

"Huh?"

"It's why I'm here, It's why I know I can't stop you and why I'm making sure you know I'll be here to help you."

Nothing else was said between the boys. Nothing else needed to be said.

Part 7 Part 9

Tag List: @flame-343 @ghestie93 @anarinette @aglmry @peachtreewriter @evix-syne666 @loudlypanickinginvenezolano @lumosfeather18581 @blueliac @talia-scar123 @cyber-geist @violet-foxe @currentfandomkick @jaguarthecat @moonchild0924 @tonicmii @bushbees @idekwutoput @justalittleghostkid

[saltcxrcle]

valentine ── . ✶ s. winchester

summary: you've never fallen in love before until you met sam

pairing: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x gn! reader warnings: none really, no use of 'y/n', fluff, pure fluff, going on dates, kissing, title is a song by laufey of the same name, fic is lowkey based on the song, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own word count: 3.0k a/n: wow look at me writing a fic for in time for a holiday! anyways happy valentines day to me and sam winchester bc hes my valentine fr! also is the reader just the projection of my own experiences? maybe... lol but enjoy the fic <33 [heart divider by @bernardsbendystraws ] sam winchester masterlist

YOU DIDN’T HAVE the best experience when it came to love. Scratch that; you didn’t have any experience when it came to romance at all. You didn’t grow up capturing anyone’s attention romantically, which, in hindsight, should have stung, but that was just the reality of your life.  

While other people were getting into their first relationships and experiencing young love for the first time, you were in the library studying or surrounded by your friends (the very little that you had). It wasn’t like you didn’t want to have a relationship with someone, but the people in your high school didn’t capture your attention. Besides, being a kid of a hunter didn’t allow you enough time to stay and like anyone in that capacity. 

You were content with being alone with yourself, even from a young age. You had a morbid understanding that the life you lead didn’t allot a lot of time for living, going from state to state and town to town killing monsters always ran the risk that you wouldn’t come out the other side of those encounters. 

But that all changed when you ran into the Winchesters while hunting a wendigo in the dense forests of Washington. You remember almost shooting one of them when you heard rustling in the thick bush before you heard a man’s voice shout for you to not fire your gun. 

When they made it through the brush of foliage, you were met with two tall men dressed like an average hunter, but what had taken you aback was how attractive they were. You had come across some hunters in your life, but most of them didn’t look like they came off of a photo shoot for GQ Men. You had heard about the Winchesters from word of mouth (some good things, but a lot of bad things), but a key detail they missed was that they were almost devilishly handsome. 

They had introduced themselves as Sam and Dean when they realized that you weren’t a lost hiker on a trail but a fellow hunter like themselves. The three of you worked out what you were hunting, and with some reluctance, you agreed to help them (Sam’s puppy dog eyes really reeled you in and sealed the deal). 

It was hard to focus on the hunt when you were distracted by how much you gravitated towards Sam. In the short interactions that you had with him before the three of you found and killed the wendigo, you could tell that he was an intelligent and genuine person—but you could tell he had his walls up, and gaining his trust wasn’t going to be a one and done situation. But you couldn’t blame him. You were the same and didn’t dwell on it for too long because the three of you were in the middle of a hunt and couldn’t afford to be distracted. 

You soon learned that the Winchesters weren’t that bad to be around, and it didn’t hurt that they were easy on the eyes. You were surprised when Sam asked for your number, but you gave it to him anyway, thinking that it would be an easy way to get in contact with him if either of you needed help on a hunt. 

Soon enough after that initial hunt, the Winchesters (Sam) would reach out for your help, and you didn’t think at all before agreeing—leaving the town you were hanging around and meeting them in the next state over.

You found that the more you worked with the Winchesters, the harder it was not to work a hunt with them, and your growing attraction to Sam was getting harder to control. You had never felt this way towards someone in your many years of living. Sure, you’ve found plenty of people attractive as you passed through the plethora of towns you’ve traveled to, but there was something about Sam that drew you to him and, to be quite honest, scared you. 

Sam was like your dream person come to life. He was like he plucked out of the romance books and novels that you liked to indulge in from time to time and dangled in front of your face—somehow always seeming to be just out of reach. 

Your pining worsened after a particularly rough hunt with a pack of werewolves. You had a deep gash in your thigh from a she-wolf that was enraged that you had killed her mate and threw you into a cement wall, cracking a few of your ribs, breaking two of them, and giving you a concussion. You managed to stay standing until the three of you killed all of the werewolves, but when Sam came to check on you, you practically collapsed into his arms—which would have embarrassed you at the moment, but the pain was consuming any rational thought that was running through your brain. 

Sam acted quickly and barked out to Dean that he’d have to clean up on his own as he dragged your barely conscious and pain-riddled body back to the Impala and patched you as best as he could until you guys could get back to the motel. Dean was quick to dispose of the bodies, and Sam sat in the backseat with you, tucking you into his side and providing you some comfort from Dean’s erratic driving back to the motel. You would have freaked out by being that close to Sam, but the pain was enough of a distraction from the scent of Sam filling your nostrils.

Once you guys got back to the motel, Sam was able to patch you up properly, but the damage was already done. Since you were in no condition to drive and didn’t have anything lined up for you, Sam had invited you back to the bunker with them to rest up and heal. They had invited you to see the bunker a couple of times before, but you never took them up on their offer because you didn’t want to feel like you were intruding. 

You were going to say no, but Sam’s hazel eyes were wide and pleading, and you couldn’t resist the look he was giving you—so you agreed that you would stay with them until you were back at 100% again. And there was your downfall. You had a feeling that you were falling for Sam, but being at the bunker— being in close proximity to him for more than a week and having him basically wait on you since your mobility was limited, just solidified the fact that you had fallen head over heels for the taller Winchester. 

Hell, your pining became so evident that Dean picked up on it and asked you about your feelings towards his brother as soon as Sam left the library to grab your pain medication from the room you were staying in for the time being. You remember your face heating up at the sudden interrogation, but you didn’t deny the fact that you liked his younger brother. 

Dean teased you a little bit but turned sincere, telling you that the two of you would be a good match before teasing you again, but Sam had walked back into the library and given you your pain medication along with a glass of water to take them with. 

Unbeknownst to you or Dean, Sam had overheard your conversation with his older brother. Even though he felt a little guilty that he had inadvertently intruded on a private conversation, Sam couldn’t help but feel relieved that you felt the same he did. But when Dean started to tease you again, he came back to the library, and he couldn’t help the small smile on his face as he went back to researching. 

Later that night, Sam knocked on your door, and you could tell something was up. The air in the room had shifted as Sam’s nervous demeanor entered your room. 

“So what’s up?” You asked him as you sat on the edge of your bed. You were wearing some sweatpants and a well-worn T-shirt you had for years.

Sam’s eyes scanned your pajamas, a smile on his face before he met your gaze—scratching the back of his neck. “I heard your conversation with Dean earlier.” 

“Really?” Your heart dropped to your stomach as panic washed over you, staring wide-eyed at Sam. 

Sam sensed your panic. “Yeah, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to but I heard my name and my curiosity got the better of me.” 

“Oh.” You swallowed thickly as you tried to find your words. But you honestly had no idea what to say. You were mortified that Sam had overheard you admitting that you liked him to his brother, and you were stuck between leaving the room and dying of embarrassment in front of Sam. 

“This isn’t going the way I thought it was.” Sam muttered under his breath before moving to sit next to you. He gently took one of your hands and held it. “I really like you. I was going to tell you soon, I just didn’t know how to tell you.” 

“You just did.” You had finally snapped out of your mortified state and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. 

Sam chuckled at your words, making you laugh alongside him—his laughter was infectious and helped quell the panic you were feeling earlier, now being replaced with contentment and nervous excitement. 

He used his free hand to grasp your chin in between his thumb and index finger. Sam looked deep into your eyes, a gentle smile on his lips. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Yeah.” Your response came out weaker than you expected, but any other thought was wiped away when Sam placed his lips on yours, drawing you into a soft kiss. Your heart soared as Sam’s lips moved against yours in a gentle rhythm. You’ve kissed people before, but none of them were like this—they paled in comparison to how Sam was kissing you. 

From then on, the two of you were inseparable. After you were all healed up, Sam took you out on your first date together to a bookstore that he’d been wanting to show you if you were ever in town. However, you did have some awkward moments here and there during the date due to your lack of experience in the dating realm. 

You and Sam were walking through the bookstore, looking through each of the shelves for something you might want to take back to the bunker and read. Sam was on the opposite of the aisle you were in, and as you pulled a book off the shelf, you were met with Sam’s hazel gaze and bright smile. 

“Hi there.” You whispered playfully. 

Sam smiled wider. “Hey.” His eyes trailed over your face before meeting yours again. “God you’re so pretty.” 

His compliment and the sincere tone in which he said it made your face feel hot and giddy. You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle before clamping your free hand over your mouth so as to not disturb the quiet atmosphere of the bookstore. 

“Thank you. Uh, you’re pretty too.” Your response made you wince internally. You didn’t know how to respond to his compliment exactly, but Sam sent you a wide grin that showed his dimples, and you couldn’t help but mirror him.  

Regardless of how awkward you felt in the moment, Sam made you feel anything but. He was aware of the lack of experience you had with dating and took it in stride. He did everything at your pace, and that made you fall for him even harder. 

Though you hadn’t said those three little words to him yet, you planned to do it while the two of you were out on a date for Valentine’s Day. Yes, it was cheesy, but you wanted to let him know that you did. Sam had planned the day for the two of you, getting out of Lebanon and heading to an aquarium in Kansas City. Then, after, the two of you would get dinner and spend the night there before heading back the next day. So you packed a day bag before getting dressed, wanting to look good for the date. 

It seemed Sam had the same idea because when the two of you met in the garage, Sam wasn’t wearing his usual uniform of flannel and a t-shirt underneath, but wearing a white knitted sweater you had gifted him for Christmas, some medium wash jeans, and a denim jacket of the same wash over the sweater. He looked absolutely handsome as he leaned against the truck the two of you were taking (Dean refused to let him take the Impala for the night).  

“Wow! Look at you wearing something else other than a flannel.” You teased as you walked up to him. 

Sam rolled his eyes at you, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Are you saying I look bad?” He joked as he reached out and took the bag from your hands. 

You rested your hands on his chest, looking up at him with a smile. “Quite the opposite actually. You look handsome.” 

Sam flushed slightly at your compliment, pride swelling in your chest at the sight. You couldn’t help but peck his heated cheek before patting his chest. 

“Thank you.” He murmured before pecking your lips. Sam quickly placed your bags in the backseat before opening the passenger-side door for you. Then he got in the driver’s seat, and the two of you were off to Kansas City.

Before you hit the freeway for the four-hour drive, you guys stopped by the store to pick up some snacks and drinks, and the drive was filled with the sounds of the two of you singing to the shared playlist that you and Sam had or of the two of you talking. 

As you got closer to the aquarium, you became excited. You had only been to the aquarium twice when you were younger and when you stayed at a school long enough to go on a field trip. You practically jumped out of the car when Sam parked it, and he couldn’t help but smile at your enthusiasm. 

The two of you walked hand in hand throughout the aquarium, going through all of the exhibits and admiring what the place had to offer. But what you really wanted to see was the jellyfish exhibit. Something about them had always fascinated you, and you had been dying to see them. 

Once you got to the exhibit, you were immediately enthralled with the sea creature, looking at the vast glass wall that the jellyfish were on the other side of. Sam stared at you as the spark in your eye grew, and you looked in awe at the jellyfish. He felt his heart warm at the sight as a contented smile played on his lips. 

You felt Sam tug at the hand he was holding, capturing your attention. You managed to rip your gaze away from the sea animal, only for them to be captured by Sam’s eyes. They looked blue due to the glow of the water reflecting into the room. 

The room was empty, save for you, Sam, and the jellyfish. He pulled you closer to him, Sam’s hand landing on your cheek as his eyes glazed over with love and adoration. 

“I love you.” Sam said as he stared deep into your eyes. 

You couldn’t help the shock and the slight fear that flooded your veins at hearing the words falling from his lips. Although you had planned to tell him later that day, it signified that now you had something serious with Sam and that you had more to lose. 

Sam saw the flicker of fear in your eyes. “You don’t have to say it back now, but I needed to tell you before anything happened. This life we live, it doesn’t–” 

“I know Sam.” You cut him off, placing your hand on top of the hand that was on your cheek. You smiled at him reassuringly before a small laugh escaped you. Sam sent you a confused smile at the sound of your laugh. 

“It’s just, I planned to tell you after we went to dinner.” You explained after answering his unasked question. 

Sam smirked. “Well, it’s not like you said it back or anything, you still have time.” 

“I wanted to be the one to say it first.” You couldn’t help but give him a mock pout. 

“I can take it back if you want honey.” Sam teased as he leaned closer to you.

You rolled your eyes at him before placing your lips on his. Sam chuckled against your lips before sinking into the kiss. 

“I love you too.” You muttered against his lips when you drew back from the kiss. 

Sam smiled wide before pulling you into another kiss, pouring all of his love, devotion, and passion into it. You returned the kiss with as much fervor as he did, but before it could get any more heated, you were reminded that the two of you were in public and pulled away from him. He chased your lips, making you giggle. Sam’s eyes snapped open; it seemed that he was reminded of where he was, and he chuckled. 

Sam looked down at his watch. “There’s some time left before it closes, did you want to look around some more or grab some dinner early?” 

“We can look around some more, I’m not hungry yet.” 

Sam nodded. “We can do that.” 

The two of you made your way out of the jellyfish exhibit—Sam’s arm was around your waist as he kissed your temple before the two of you looked at other exhibits in the aquarium. 

You honestly still can’t believe that Sam was yours, but you were incredibly grateful that he was. You silently thank whatever higher power that was out there that you were able to love Sam and that he reciprocated your feelings. You had a lovesick smile stuck on your lips all night, and Sam couldn’t help but match the one on your lips until the two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms. 

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Missing pieces

Bucky Barnes x Reader

After settling back into society, Bucky finds himself a new family.

Descriptions of night terrors forced upon Bucky. PTSD struggles. I'm uneducated about the mentioned medications and their effects. Not beta'd I finished this at 1am last night so I apologize for any missed typos.

After Wakanda Bucky had finally started to reinsert himself into society. With help from Sam, annoyingly frequent therapy sessions and his own amend-making he felt like he was doing well enough if he said so himself.

Getting rid of his long hair with help from Sarah took a huge weight off his shoulders as well. The long locks no longer shadowed his face and had him jump in panic at the sight of his own reflection.

He did still hide his arm from view, unsure how people would respond to it. Even though he himself didn't associate the new sleek black and gold arm with his past, he wasn't comfortable enough to have it on display.

Not even now, as he sat at the diningtable with with the woman he now dared to call his partner, or girlfriend, and her three judgemental teenage kids.

Triplets, he had learned. Two girls and a boy.

They all liked him now, all four people he shared the table with, and he felt welcome. Something he had only ever felt in Wakanda and eventually with Sam's family as well. It felt good.

It felt so good, he wanted to stay with her and stay happy forever. Because he did feel genuinely happy.

Until the nightmares came back.

Bucky had blamed them on a variety of things, none of them really making sense on second thought but he ignored those thoughts.

What he couldn't ignore was the clawing at the back of his eyes and the voice in his head trying to talk to him. He could never seem to make out the words.

He sat at the diningtable again, his phome laid out in front of him after having stayed in bed for so long he missed everyone leaving for work or school.

His phone sat ready for the call button to be pressed, Shuri's picture staring back at him as he smiled fondly at the memory for a second before the dread of having to admit to her that something was wrong with him took over once more.

With a deep, grounding breath he pressed call. The line rang as the timer counted the seconds until she answered.

"Barnes, friend, what can I do for you? It's been a while!" She knew Bucky wouldn't call just to see how she was doing. He wasn't that kind of person. Besides, if he did want to, he'd text.

It was best to just rip the bandaid off.

"Something's wrong with me." The line fell quiet for a moment before Shuri spoke up.

"Words, Bucky. I can't read your mind through the phone. Even Wakandan tech isn't that advanced." God, he loved her for always having some smart comment ready to lighten his anxiety.

"You said you freed me from him.. He's trying to talk to me, I keep hearing him in thr back of my mind. It feels like he's clawing at the back of my eyeballs but I can't figure out what he's saying. The nightmares are back, too. Always the same one.."

Shuri listened, giving an occasional hum to let Bucky know she was getting everything he shared.

Bucky told her about the Winter Soldier's tone, what was around him when he'd show up to maybe figure out a trigger. Bucky also shared about his nigntmare aa well as he could without talking himself into a panic attack. He shared how he felt like he was back in the Soldier's body, not his own but still entirely aware. The wires going into his prosthetic and the heavy shock collar that woke him up whenever his dream-self would disobey orders.

He shared how he was forced to watch something. A woman in labor, he never saw her face. She was restrained on a medical bed surrounded by doctors and equipment, straining as she was having her baby. Babies, sometimes. It differed, depening if his body behaved. Whenever he'd do as much as flinch or pull his chains too harsh he'd get shocked and woke up from the torment.

His voice trembled as he recalled the nightmares returning the second he fell asleep whenever he hadn't made it to a certsin part. It felt like his mind needed him to remember, for whatever reason it was.

Bucky was so lost in thought he hadn't even realized he had company.

"I can offer you some meds, for your head."

The sudden third voice coming from behind him almost sent him over the edge of the already impending panic attack.

"H.. how much did you hear?" Bucky sat half turned in the chair, staring wide eyed at Gabriel, your oldest son, who was holding out a strip of pills for the older man.

"Enough to know you will absolutely benefit from those." Gabe could see the lingering shock in Bucky's eyes and decided to not yet drop the other obvious thing in the room and instead keep on rambling to distract him.

"Trust me, these may kick in a bit slow, but at least they help you fall asleep with a quiet mind instead of your brain wondering if snails have feelings the second you lie down." He watched Bucky face scrunch in confusion. "They also make sure you wake up without the urge to stick a fork in the electrical outlet."

"You deal with all of that?" Bucky's initial worry had left the building at how Gabriel described his issues. Gabriel only shrugged, it was all normal for him.

"I can't just take anyone's meds whenever my head acts weird. Besides, I don't think our issues come from the same place." Bucky had turned back to sit in his chair properly while Gabriel rummaged around the kitchen, making coffe for them both, entirely unphazed by the very old man staying in his home.

It was Gabriel's casualness around Bucky's accidental identity reveal though a phonecall and shortsleeved shirt that he decided his own apartment could survive one more day without him in it.

The two spent the whole day talking. Bucky truthfully answered questions, and Gabriel shared the struggles of his family that he believed the older man could relate to.

Struggles like his sister Ava, who barely spoke and once threw a guy agross a room without breaking a sweat after bullying her for months. Or their youngest brother Michael who to everyone else seemed like the most normal of the bunch, a simple, easily bored guy, who was really the smartest of the bunch. No need for books after one quick read and in every advanced placement class the school had to offer. But all of that was came with the worst social life. No friends besides his siblings and the occasional stranger to chat about topics with online.

Gabriel kept some details to himself, in the end there were things not his place to share. Intel he had and kept hidden from his siblings because he was just too curious one day and dug too deep into the wrong end after one too many emotional breakdowns at his mother talking through her night terrors. It wasn't something they should be worrying about either.

Time passed and eventually the two were so deep into conversarion they barely registered the remainder of the household coming home, starting with the two siblings who darted to their rooms in an instant, followed by her.

Mom, girlfriend, who entered wordlessly and strolled into the livingroom expecting to find it empty but instead rounding the corner and seeing Gabriel, and "Bucky?"

Both turned to face her direction. Bucky turning to look over his left shoulder, arm casually slung over the backrest to get a better look at his girlfriend coming home. He was all sweet smiles excited to see her again, until he realized his mistake. The sheer panic in her eyes broke his heart as he quickly retracted his arm, trying to hide it behind the couch but the damage was already done and Gabriel was on his feet and on his way to support his mother.

Except she swatted his hand away without a second thought, backing up into the dining table and almost tripping on her own feet. "Why didn't you text me? Gabe?"

The wide eyed stare did nothing to hide her fear. Fear that faded into emptiness.

It was that same emptiness she fell into sometimes when she just got her new medication and forgot to take it in time.

'Falling back into memories.' was what the doctors had called it when they explained how people with PTSD would sometimes have episodes of reliving traumatic experiences inside their head. That was the clearest description they could give to a bunch of scared kids who had to watch their mom become this shell of a person out of nowhere.

"Gabe, talk to me. What's going on with her? Why does she disappear like that?" Bucky was on his feet, ready to lead her to the couch and sit her down but his moves were quickly shut down.

"Look, I think I know where she is right now, and it's a bad memory. I'll get her back, I used to be the one doing it all the time before until she finally got taking her medication into her routine. Just.. don't look her in the eyes. She's probably gonna be terrified of you."

"Sorry.." Gabriel quicky added before he set into his routine of getting his mother back like clockwork.

In the meantime two curious heads had shown up near the entryway, dead silent as they watched and observed. Neither knew why their mom went quiet after so long of doing fine. They knew to keep quiet so they watched as she slowly came back and started mumbling at their older brother.

Without looking in her direction Bucky focused on her words.

Soft pleas to make it stop, calling out for nurses, pain and tiredness until she went quiet again for a minute.

"Hey mom, what's for dinner?" Gabriel's voice called out not as loud as he usually would but still mimicing the simple tone of the daily annoying question of every teenager ever. The most normal everyday sentence that would always have her snap right back.

And she did, with a deep intake of breath she blinked rapidly and turned to face her son. "Oh! Eh.. Didn't I take food out of the freezer this morning?" She turned to face the kitchen and passed two curious faces in the process that immediately informed her of what had happened. With a sigh she turned back in her seat, catching something in the corner of her eye and settling once more on Bucky. This time without falling into a panic, but she still stiffened in her chair. While he wasn't looking at her, she still saw enough of him. His eyes, that were just a little too blue to be natural.

His hair. It was short and clean but it matched. And the arm. It was no longer silver and missing the red star but it was still there out in the open now instead of hidden under many layers of clothing.

He had succesfully hidden it from her for so long. Not sleeping in bed with her, never taking up the offers to shower.

"Soldier.."

That was Gabriel's que. He nodded over his siblings to come sit with their mom while he scurried off and came back with a blue file folder in his hands. He apologized as he handed it off, letting their mother see things she never knew about herself. Or, more about her children.

The stamps in the corner of the copied and reprinted documents sent a chill down her spine.

"Where did you get this? How, why?" With every word read more questions bubbled up, down to the second she had turned two, three pages over and slammed the whole thing shut. Papers dropped and scattered over the floor as she stared back at the man on her couch with--

Bucky couldn't make out the look on her face. She didn't speak either but at least she was still breathing evenly now.

"Here." A single piece of paper was held in front of Bucky's face. The only one needed to suddenly clear up a whole lot of confusion.

It wasn't that Gabriel knew from the second their mom brought Bucky home, he had no clue either. It wasn't until earlier this morning when he walked in on him and saw his arm that it all clicked and he suddenly understood why this guy was the one she was so sure about.

'I don't know what it is, really. It feels natural, you know? The other guys were all dating apps and forced evenings at the bar. With Bucky it was like a neon sign that screamed YES and he's so sweet he has to like me the same way, I won't believe any other explaination.'

Gabriel kept his eyes on Bucky who read every word on the page out loud with trembling hands and voice.

"Your head's all fucked because of me?" Bucky looked from Gabriel to Ava. "You have traces of my serum. Your strenght and anger issues are mine. And you," Michael crossed his arms, still partially hidden behind his sister. "I guess you got lucky getting the fast learning side effects."

Despite the bomb that was just dropped he smiled, not that his other half could see him. At least he now knew what the Soldier had tried to tell him. He knew the woman but the connection between him and Bucky was so weak these days he couldn't let him know, but it seemed his feelings were strong enough to go through.

Carefully he raised his head to look at the woman he prayed still considered them partners.

"I.. I swear I didn't know it was you they--" She didn't dare to finish her sentence.

"Neither did I. I'm missing a lot of memories. Turns out that, he," Bucky wiggled the fingers of his vibranium hand to make his point. "does remember you and tried to tell me."

Gabriel had by now plucked the paper from Bucky's hand and offered it to Ava and Michael, knowing it was easier for now to have them read it for themselves than to have either parent say the words out loud.

With news shared amd hunger on no one's minds the evening faded into night quietly. All kids retreated to their rooms as well as mom while Bucky opted for the couch. He had offered to leave but none of the kids let him. They all believed their mom just needed to sleep on the revelation and she'd be more open to talk in the morning.

Bucky woke up to the sound of her voice the next day. He listened to her calling in sick before waving off the kids leaving for school.

The second the door closed he sat up, carefully looking her way as she gave him the smallest wave of her hand while walking out of view into the kitchen. Against his better judgement Bucky moved and met her by the coffeemaker where, to his surprise, she was preparing two mugs.

"I'm happy, for them." were the first words that she shared with him. "They need a dad, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still head over heels for you. I needed a moment to think and last night I realized that I didn't care that I never got a choice. I love my kids and I--" She paused right on time to catch the words on her tounge before they slipped out.

She handed her his coffee, her fingers brushing his metal ones. "No I- I love my kids, and I love you, Bucky."

Bucky lowered his drink before he had a chance to take a sip. "Even after all of this?" He held up his prosthetic arm once again and watched her nod in agreement. Excited even, if he had to admit.

It all still felt weird to him. A family and people telling him they loved him in a way that wasn't how his friends said it.

"I love you too. And eh, so does he. He has for a while aparently. Turns out that's where the new nightmares came from." He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, trying to hide his face behind the mug in his hand but failing miserably.

"So, you're moving in now, right?" She started all nonchalant. "And you're officially banned from sleeping on the couch."

He couldn't keep the awkward smile off his face that was now turning darker shades of red at each of her words.

Yeah, there was no way he was going back to his apartment anymore after he went and moved over his minimal amount of possessions.

[rivendell-poet]

Hihi! Can I please have headcanons with the fellowship and Thorin's company having a short (like 5 feet) human s/o. And they be part of the fellowship/company, please? Please take as much time as you need!💕

Hi! Thank you so much for your request, and I'm so sorry it took so long. Also, thank you so much for the last part - it's small but means a lot 💕 (should be doing one for Thorin's company as well)

*･༓˚✧❝𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « headcanons »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Gimli ○ Boromir ○ Pippin ○ Merry ○ Sam ○ Frodo ○

GN!Reader | No TWs | Can be read as platonic or romantic | Wordcount : 1.7k

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ He’s the person you have the largest height difference with. Because he’s weirdly tall. 

✧ When the two of you stand next to each other Pippin will sometimes stare. He’s confident that one of you isn’t truly human. Who that is depends on the day.

✧ Aragorn isn’t really bothered by it, cares more about if you can handle yourself on the battlefield.

✧ Does make sure that you have the weapons you need constantly.

✧ Knows it’s probably difficult to find the right sized ones, so after a battle he can be found sharpening yours (generally while humming something).

✧ Has forgotten about the height difference once when you were cold and he gave you his cloak.

✧ Tried very hard not to laugh when you become completely swamped in the fabric and almost fall over.

✧ (He mainly succeeds.)

✧ Will fetch anything you need off the high shelves, and always puts it back on the lower shelves.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Closest of the ‘big people’ in terms of height difference. Not that that means much, because he’s still six feet.

✧ Is constantly asking you to describe the flowers you find. If they’re at a stage he finds it ok, will ask you to pick them up and hand it to him.

✧ Always tells you to ‘watch your head’ whenever he goes through a hallway he has to duck under. Has yet to correct himself on doing this.

✧ Treats your height a lot like he does Gimli’s, except he gets used to you slightly quicker.

✧ If you have not packed a bow he is very sad you can’t do archery together.

✧ Scours places for bows of your size with a slightly worrying intensity.

✧ Eventually, after the war is over, he commissions you one. It’s very beautiful, with dark wood and a gold leaf inlay of the different places you’ve been and enemies you’ve fought.

✧ Is actually a very good archery instructor, treats you how he would the others and it works out.

✧ Will fetch you anything from the high shelves, you just have to ask him first.

𝐆𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐢

✧ Closest in height to you. Is very relieved to find someone else of a normal height when surrounded by everyone else.

✧ You’re taller than he was, but he doesn’t care. Just happy that even though you’re taller than him you’re still almost on the same eye-level.

✧ Is very smug to the others that his weapon is around the same height as you - so the easiest to pick up. And with the best tutor.

✧ Does try to teach you how to use the axe, in some ways is a very good teacher but not all the time. Good offensively, lacking some defensive manoeuvres.

✧ Tries hard to learn your fighting style if you offer to teach him.

✧ Always insists you get first pick of everything when the Fellowship find items that can fit the two of you.

✧ When running across the plains the both of you blame the other one for being the slowest. Both of you also claim to be the better sprinter, neither of you have intentions of proving this claim.

✧ Would happily get you something from the high shelf if he could reach it. Has tried to convince you to climb up via him to get something instead of asking for help.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Along with Aragorn, he also doesn’t make a very big deal of it. You were trusted to be in the Fellowship, what else matters?

✧ You like to sometimes pretend you can’t see the height difference between Aragorn and Boromir and insist Boromir is the taller one. Both men know you’re probably faking, but neither correct you (for different reasons).

✧ Asks you for help to teach the hobbits how to spar, for example if a certain move he wants to teach them would be too risky - and what your advice is.

✧ Has supervised matches between you, Merry, and Pippin before. To your surprise he actually gives genuine, entirely unbiased feedback to all of you.

✧ Small part of him is amused by the fact his shield covers most of you. Would never say that out loud.

✧ (Boromir also finds it comforting, because it just means that it will be easier to protect you.)

✧ Very occasionally sketches out shield designs for you, if he has a lot of free time with most others being asleep. Writes the symbolism behind them in the margins.

✧ Will happily fetch you things from the high shelf. Puts them back onto the same high shelf out of instinct, then realises what he’s done and puts them onto a lower one you can reach.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ Believes (lies to himself) that one day he may be as tall as you.

✧ Therefore constantly asks about how different life is when you’re as tall as you are (at the start of the Fellowship) despite the fact you’re only a foot and a bit above him.

✧ He insists that being your height will solve a lot of the problems he has in life. Merry says it’s better to just humour him.

✧ Has asked for piggy-back rides from you a few times. When you finally agree his eyes light up, there is pure joy as he sees the world from your perspective.

✧ After the entdraught one of his first thoughts is of you.

✧ Pippin wants to be taller than you. When he sees you again he runs straight into you, pulling you into a hug and then seeing if he has to look up to meet your height.

✧ Is crushed when he realises you’re still taller than him. Although he is around 4’8” now - so there’s much less of a height difference.

✧ Can finally reach the same shelves you can, and gives you the items from them even if you were just getting them.

✧ Has tried to climb up a shelving unit before to get to the top shelves. It ended as well as you think it did.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Very surprised by your height, but also very enthusiastic. Didn’t think he’d ever be able to have conversation with a big folk without them constantly looming over him.

✧ Finally has someone other than Pippin he can show the little alcoves to, and then can spend time with them there.

✧ Every so often he’ll underestimate your height and you won’t be able to fit in - he’s always very apologetic when this happens.

✧ Only person who offers his cloak, and it’s actually a reasonable size for you. Slightly short but better than the other options, so you gladly take it.

✧ The thought of him being taller than you after taking the entdraught doesn’t even occur until he sees you again. Keeps his intentions fairly well hidden.

✧ Does the same thing he did with Pippin - ‘subtly’ measuring your height with his hand. Vehemently denies everything if caught doing it.

✧ Asks you about your tailors and if you own any patterns once he’s nearer your height. For the first few months you can see a lot of your stylistic choices find their way into Merry’s wardrobe.

✧ Would fetch you things from the high shelf if he could. Alas, he cannot - and he also values his dignity enough to not try and climb them.

✧ (Has secretly climbed them once with Pippin. The reason he doesn’t do it again is because he knows it will fail.)

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Still thinks you're tall enough for the height difference to be slightly intimidating. He isn’t scared of you, it just comes from the tallest person he knew before you being around four feet.

✧ Other than that he treats you as he would everyone else, most respectfully and always looking out for your best interests.

✧ You are the person he goes too instinctively if he needs someone slightly taller than himself. Is always very apologetic about it, and promises to make it up to you.

✧ Generally makes it up to you by giving you one of the best portions of whatever he’s cooked for the night. Often with ingredients you managed to find for him.

✧ Also searches places to see if they’ll have weapons of the correct size for you.

✧ Is just as good as the people actually trained in combat, although it’s because he’s closer to your height - not because of his martial prowess.

✧ After the cave troll fight you’re the one he goes too, shyly asking if you’ll give him a few lessons.

✧ Sam is a very diligent student, and always gives you a bright smile every time. Thanking you for letting him protect Mr. Frodo that bit better.

✧ Unfortunately, he needs you to get him things from the ‘high shelves’ - but he would certainly help you if he could.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Subtle and polite look of amazement the first time he sees you, internally checking your height compared to his.

✧ He is somewhat sad that you’re just too tall to appreciate a lot of his walking sticks. Does find one or two in Bilbo’s collection that could be given to you.

✧ Always touched whenever you find him a ‘walking stick’ esque branch, although it’s sometimes slightly too tall for him.

✧ Often points out flowers and other beautiful things to you and Sam, because you’ll have the best view of it.

✧ After Aragorn, you’re his go-too person to hide behind and ask for protection. He feels bad about it the first few times, but you’re always there to reassure him.

✧ You and Aragorn have both moved in front of Frodo for protection at the same time. Always a moment of awkward silence and then shuffling into a decent position for the both of you.

✧ When seeing you, Pippin, and Merry all laughing together - one of them reaching out and ruffling your hair - he is somewhat envious about them now being around your height.

✧ However, he’s also grateful that he’s kept the same height. So Frodo isn’t too sad about it.

✧ Would fetch you things from the high shelves, although in reality you need to fetch things for him.

A/N : Hopefully you enjoyed, not entirely sure why this one turned out so platonic. But I am making one for thorin's company and I'll try make that one more obviously romantic. Thanks so much for reading and requesting!

Update : Here is the one for Thorin's company <3

thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @xiaoseminence / @withasideofmeg / @nilintakan / @ferns-fics / @fleurdemiel-145 / @chewgazellechew / @recordofragnarokfan2 ✧ wish to be tagged?

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Pathology Murders

Summary: When the reader and the boys stumble across a gruesome scene, they get the feeling that the monster they're hunting is of the human variety...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 5,800ish

Warnings: language, angst, lots of mentions of gore/death, trauma, accident, fluff

A/N: This fic was inspired by this imagine (which makes an appearance in this one shot) and also by the horror movie Pathology!

________

“What the hell…” Dean and Sam looked around the abandoned house, pausing like you had when they got to the kitchen. Your boys weren’t wimps by any means. They’d seen some serious crap. Done some serious crap. But that kitchen? 

It took Sam all of three seconds to step out of the room and upheave his greek salad from lunch.

Meanwhile Dean took it all in before his eyes landed on where you were trying to work the scene, fighting back another dry heave. 

“You alright?” he asked. You knew he was concerned. You weren’t one to puke up your guts either. But the poor soul on the kitchen table, or rather what was left of him…twisted wasn’t even the right word for it.

“Not particularly,” you said, pointing at a glass jar that housed a pair of kidneys on the stove. “Not all the organs made it into jars. Pretty sure the liver is in the sink.”

Dean cautiously took a step inside, swallowing thickly. Unlike you or Sam, who had your own experiences with hell, Dean’s had been far more…interactive. Sam’s soul was battered around by Lucifer but it’d been more psychological than physical. You’d spent an unpleasant night with a hellhound in the same cage and while it hadn’t been fun, you’d been able to stay in a corner and out of harms way. Dean though…Dean had been sliced and diced and hacked and every other possible horror, imaginable or not. And then he’d performed the acts himself. You never blamed him for giving in, for breaking. You’d told him time and time again he was, and always would be, a good man.

Some days, more often lately it seemed the older he got, he seemed to believe you.

“Whoever did this performed an autopsy on this guy. While he was alive,” said Dean, leaning over the body to get a closer look. “Huh. Anybody see a heart around here?”

You surveyed the bloody room, finding more than a few peculiar shaped body parts but nothing resembling a heart. Sam finally made his way in, taking a deep inhale as he got used to the gore before him. “I got nothing over here.”

“Could be a werewolf,” said Dean, cocking his head as he straightened, brow furrowing. “Or a witch.”

You knew he wasn’t buying that though, neither of you were. You tore your eyes away from the search to watch Sam’s expression flare up with a strange look of familiarity. “Sammy?”

“I think a person did this,” he said. Dean rolled his eyes.

“No shit Sherlock. Someone used a knife or-”

“No, jackass,” said Sam, shooting Dean a harsh look for a brief second. “I mean I think this was a human, like an actual human. They were just talking about a cold case like this on a podcast I listened to during my run last week.”

“You and your fucking serial killer obsession,” muttered Dean. Sam’s eye twitched, the tension rising in the room. “It’s fucking weird, Sammy.”

“We hunt monsters, dumbass. How is that any different?”

“That’s our job. You don’t see me watching murder documentaries like a certain someone in my free time.” Sam got closer to Dean, Dean taking one to match, both boy’s jaws clenching. 

“Hey,” you said with a snap of your fingers, the pair reluctantly turning towards you. “Dean, plenty of people are interested in cold cases and as long as Sam isn’t a serial killer himself, his hobby is fine. Sam, Dean just gets concerned that you don’t take enough of a break from hunting but he can’t come out and say that. So hug and make up. You’re on the same side.”

They both grumbled and gave each other a half-assed embraced but it made you smile regardless. 

“So what’d your murder podcast say?” asked Dean, walking around to the other side of the cut open body. Sam’s face soured. “That good, huh?”

“They called them the Pathology Murders. A string of five victims about ten years ago that went unsolved. The killer performed live autopsies like you said about this guy earlier. The only lead they ever had was that the killer must have medical training, like a doctor, based on what they did to the victims. Oh, and all the murders took place in the Seattle area.”

“Which downtown is only twenty minutes from here,” you said, crossing your arms. “Was the heart missing at the other scenes?”

“I’m not sure. They could have skimmed over that,” said Sam. Your gaze followed Dean’s, his green eyes laced with uncertainty. “I can do some research back at the motel. You guys could check in with Seattle PD, see if the case files have anything useful.”

“We should double check that it’s not our kind of monster and if it really is a person-”

“We’re not working this case,” said Dean. Your eyebrows shot up, Sam’s face already frowning. “We do not investigate serial killers. Save it for the police.”

“Uh, what the hell is going on? You would never let a killer, monster or human, stay on the loose,” said Sam.

Dean’s gaze shot to you and quickly away, his eyes turning sharp as they zeroed in on Sam. You scoffed, Sam cocking his head in question.

“It’s because my mom was murdered. By a serial killer. Isn’t it, Dean?” Dean’s lips pressed into a thin hard line and you shook your head. “They caught her killer which you know. What does that have anything to do with-”

“You caught the killer, you did that,” said Dean, Sam completely lost. He knew your mom had been killed but not the gory details like Dean.

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing then?” he asked. “Y/N has experience with this sort of thing then.”

“Why don’t you explain to Sammy just exactly what you did to ‘catch’ her killer then, sweetheart. Go on. I’m sure he’d love to hear it.” You glared at Dean, feeling an unpleasant prickling in your eyes. Dean didn’t back down as you teared up though, instead focusing on Sam. “She let herself be bait. She let herself get caught by the son of a bitch. She almost died because she doesn’t see when she’s going too far with serial killers. The same thing happened on that Tulsa case five years ago.”

You could sense Sam had shifted very quickly to being on Dean’s side of this argument. You’d been young and reckless with your mom’s killer, barely a day over eighteen. That was years and years ago. You’d learned since then to use more sense. Tulsa…well your plan as being bait would have worked if your former hunting partner hadn’t been more focused on getting some ass that night than watching your back.

“Yeah, that’s how we met, Sam. Not working a case. No, Y/N was fucked and if I hadn’t been driving back from Jody’s that night and saw the fucking asshole grab her, she’d be dead. Wouldn’t you?” Dean snarled. You narrowed your misty eyes at him, Dean lifting his chin. “We will make sure this isn’t our kind of deal and if it is in fact a run of the mill serial killer, we are getting the fuck out of here, understand me?”

“I fucked up once. Once,” you breathed out. You swallowed thickly, wiping off your face with your jacket sleeve. “Just how many times have you been kidnapped Dean in the five years that I’ve known you? I’ve been taken once. You? How many times have I cut you loose? Taken out the monster with a knife to your throat? A gun to your head? How many times have you gotten lost in a case? Gone on a rampage? I never realized we were keeping score.”

Dean’s gaze fell to the floor, his hand running over his jaw, searching for the right words.

“Sam, go back to the motel and research. Dean and I’ll do the fed schitk and get the files we can. Whoever’s behind this, I’m going after them. You two can do whatever the hell you want,” you said, storming out of the room and out of the house.

“You look pretty,” said Dean softly a few hours later as you exited the motel bathroom in your fed suit, a light blue button down blouse with your charcoal gray suit jacket and pants. You ignored him as you dug through your duffel for your pointed black booties. Professional but also you knew for a fact you could run and fight in them. You growled in frustration when you couldn’t find them though, hearing Dean clear his throat behind your back. You glanced over your shoulder, following Dean’s gaze to where he’d set them down by the end of the bed.

“Thanks,” you grumbled, slipping them on and pulling up the side zipper. Dean was sporting his navy suit today, the one he looked extra hot in. You ignored that fact as you tucked your gun into the back of your pants, fixing your suit jacket over it.

“Y/N.” You sighed, giving him a look that you really didn’t want to do this right now. He took a long breath, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Sam quietly slinked out of the room into his adjoining one. Most of the time the three of you shared but when you could swing it, Sam got his own next door to give you and Dean some privacy.

Privacy you didn’t necessarily want at this moment.

“You do good cop, I’ll be the hardass if it comes to it,” you said, shoving your phone in your pocket. You tried to walk past him for the door but he caught your hand, stopping you after a few feet. “Dean.”

“I do not, and have never, thought you were weak. But serial killers are a blindspot for you. Sam and I both have them. This is yours.” He lowered his head, like he was fighting the words that were coming out. 

To your surprise, he dropped your hand and stood. 

“Be careful on this one, sweetheart.” He walked past you to the motel door, cracking it open and pausing. “We should get going.”

“You sure I’m not going to lose it? Get too carried away and get myself captured?” you said, unable to stop from poking back after his earlier insinuations. Dean’s shoulders rose and fell, one hand going to the doorframe to grip it as you watched the back of his head lower.

“Y/N, don’t you know by now I’m an idiot that’d rather lose you because I’m a dick than find you in the hands of some monster like whoever did that to that poor guy? Don’t you know I know you’re stronger than me? Don’t you think I realize how hard it is to be with someone like me?”

“You don’t stop Sam from doing dangerous things,” you said. “You don’t bring up the past to him.”

“Yes I have,” he said quietly. “And convincing Sam to stay in a motel room where it’s safe to research has never been hard thankfully.”

“You don’t treat me with the same respect though,” you said softly. “It hurts to know you never will think of me as being as capable as he is all because I’m your girlfriend.”

Dean shook his head, straightening his back. “You are more than capable, sweetheart. But sometimes…I just want to be a man that protects his girl. I don’t want to be scared of failing you for once…because if that monster got anywhere near you…”

You took quiet steps over to him, staring at his broad shoulders as they sagged.

“Eventually everyone I love dies or has something awful happen to them. Maybe I don’t say it the right way but fucking hell, all I want is for those things to not happen to you.” He spun around, green eyes full of worry. You nodded, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together. He squeezed them gently, the warmth of it pleasant.

“Our job is dangerous, Dean. We hunt the monsters, supernatural or not. I love you but you don’t get to keep me locked away.” You ran your thumb over his scuffed up skin, still healing form last week’s hunt. “That said…I promise not to get so angry if you promise to just say you’re scared for me. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, a flicker of a smile on his face. “I just have a bad feeling about this one.”

“Then we’ll be smart, okay?” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “And don’t call yourself an idiot. I don’t like it.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said. “Let’s go figure out what the hell is going on.”

Two Hours Later

“This guy’s a fucking psycho,” you said into your phone while Dean came outside with a bag of burgers and fries. “Apparently he sends the hearts to the victims families in a little box with a bow.”

“Sounds about right for a guy who cuts people open for fun,” said Sam on the other end. “I’m gonna pour through the records you just sent over.”

“Alright. Dean and I should be back in fifteen-”

“Why don’t you guys have a date night? I got this for a few hours.” You bit your bottom lip, Sam’s silence going on. “Come on, Y/N. You guys should talk about Dean’s protectiveness and your stubbornness.”

You wanted to argue that fact but sighed, closing your eyes.

“Any suggestions on how we find that line when our job is to hunt killers?” you asked.

“Maybe remember that he’s your boyfriend first, hunting partner second. Most boyfriends wouldn’t want their girlfriend near a serial killer either, no matter what their job.”

“Don’t have good points, Samuel,” you said as Dean took a seat next to you on Baby’s hood. “We’ll be back in two hours.”

You hung up and dove your hand into the bag of fries, smirking when Dean presented you with a chocolate milkshake. He grinned as you dipped the fry in it and tossed it back, giving him a big thumbs up.

“I love you,” you said, Dean smiling as he dug out his burger. “I always love you, even when we fight.”

He glanced at you, landing a gentle kiss on your lips in the next moment. He barely moved his lips, letting them linger instead. He moved back only an inch and nodded. “I was a dickhead earlier. All because I’m afraid of finding you with a serial killer standing over you with a giant ass knife again. I don’t know why I can’t just come out and say that shit in the moment.”

“Because you’re human,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist. “And you’re so much better at talking to me than five years ago. The old you wouldn’t have even been able to say that to me.”

“I try,” he said, letting you kiss him, your own a tad more forceful than his had been.

“That’s all I ask for,” you said, Dean’s phone going off at that exact moment. He sighed as he took it out, Sam’s name appearing. He tapped it onto speaker and took a bite of his burger. “What’s up Sammy?”

“Guys, I think I figured something out. All the victims were patients at Mercy West hospital back in the day and this latest guy? He was a patient there last week.” You and Dean shared a frown. “Yeah, I know. The cops investigated all of the hospital staff there back then but they never came up with anything. They thought maybe a doctor was behind it but he died in a car accident between the second and third vics.”

“It could have been him and he had a partner. Definitely is someone with access to records so they have to work there,” said Dean as you held up a finger. “What?”

“I could have sworn I’ve heard about this hospital in the news before. Something to do with a boat accident?” you asked. You heard Sam typing loudly before he hummed.

“Yup. They made national news about six months ago when seven of their medical students died in a boating accident. Explosion apparently when they got boozed up and had a bonfire on the boat. The bodies were so bad they couldn’t identify the remains,” said Sam. Dean took another bite of his burger and swallowed. “Already checking through the police files. Shit.”

“Shit what, Sam?” you asked, dunking a fry in your milkshake.

“Shit as in the boat accident wasn’t an accident at all. There was definitely an explosion but they found damage on the bodies indicating some injuries occurred before death. Like being carved up alive. They don’t want the public knowing the killer is still active in the area.”

“It’s gotta be someone linked to that hospital. Only question is why can’t the police figure out who?” asked Dean.

“Good question,” said Sam. “I’m going to keep digging, see if there’s a connection between the two we missed.”

“Thanks Sammy. We’ll be back in twenty to help,” said Dean, hanging up. He glanced at you, biting the inside of his cheek.

“This isn’t a monster,” you said quietly. “At least, it’s a human one.”

Dean polished off the rest of his meal quietly, the air still for a few beats. 

“When you get too worried about me on hunts, you put yourself in danger,” you said, slowly sipping from the shake. His heated gaze was on you as you handed him the drink. “You have to trust that I’m strong enough to do this. Careful and capable. We both need to work on that.”

“Alright. But do me a favor? Stick close to me or Sammy on this one. You’re just…” You waited, let him find his words. He took the drink and finished it off, shoving the trash in the bag. “You just got over that shoulder injury. Your punches don’t hit as hard as normal right now. I don’t mean that in a bad way, just-”

“Okay,” you said, finding his hand, slipping yours inside. “Now let’s figure out who this bastard is.”

He hummed, letting go of you for a brief moment so he could toss the garbage away. You slid inside the passenger seat, Dean back and behind the wheel after the blink of an eye. Approximately ten seconds later you were pulling out of the parking lot and on the road, headed down main street and for the motel.

“So I was thinking this guy does autopsies on victims right?” said Dean, turning the radio down low on a soft rock station. You glanced out the window on the dark night, a rumble of thunder overhead. “But the cops can’t find him. Well, isn’t there someone that sometimes works at hospitals and for the police that would be able to fuck with a body after the fact and hide traces of their involvement?”

“A pathologist. I was thinking that too but wouldn’t that have been their first look? I mean they literally call them the Pathology Murders,” you said, waiting for the the light to turn green. “It could be someone that knows someone at the department covering for them. Stranger things have happened.”

“Maybe. I get the gist this guy works alone though. I only clocked one set of boots at the scene this morning,” he said, the bright green light illuminating the dark interior.

“Same. It’s absolutely someone associated with that damn hospital-” you said, Dean’s arm shooting in front of you in your peripheral. A millisecond later, something slammed into the right side of Baby, your side. Your lap belt tugged on you hard as your body lolled to the side, weightless for a moment before gravity reared it’s ugly head and slammed you down. Your head smacked something hard and it all went dark.

You could hear Dean asking a paramedic a million questions, not a single one concerned about himself. You opened your eyes to find yourself in the back of an ambulance, Dean lying on a stretcher beside you. He could tell you were awake and struggled to reach over to you but couldn’t. Instead he thrashed his head back against his pillow in defeat, straining against the straps that held him down.

“Sir, I need you to calm down,” said the paramedic as you blinked slowly at Dean. You knew something was wrong with you, with both of you, but you weren’t quite sure what that was yet. You struggled when you saw Dean upset. You wanted him to feel better. “You need to relax, she’s seeing you panic and that’s making her do the same.”

Dean stopped as he took in how your heart rate had skyrocketed, how scared you looked. He sighed and forced himself to stay calm. You saw him relax and heard him say it was okay. Neither of you enjoyed the feeling of being tied down, especially when the both of you were in plain view of one another and couldn’t reach each other. You tried to speak but couldn’t as you felt how raw your throat was. 

“We’ll be at Mercy West in just a few minutes,” said the paramedic to Dean as you half-listened. 

“No, take us somewhere else!” yelled Dean suddenly, fighting again. The paramedic sighed as you both started struggling once more. You didn’t have much of an idea of what was going on but if Dean didn’t want to go there, it wasn’t safe. 

“I’m going to give each of you a sedative and by the time you wake up, you’ll be in your hospital beds feeling a lot better,” he said gently. 

“No, don’t you touch her,” said Dean as you started to get very sleepy. The last thing you saw was Dean shutting his eyes as you finally remembered what had happened.

If Sam didn’t get to you soon, you were screwed.

Your eyes wearily opened under bright lights that made your head hurt. You winced and turned away from it, limbs heavy and still. Dean’s voice echoed somewhere, to your left maybe? You forced your eyes open again, Dean strapped down to a metal table with metal drawers behind him, the look on his face like he was screaming at you. You blinked, the ringing in your eyes loud and obnoxious, droning him out.

“Get up, fucking get up!” Dean shouted so loud you shook your head, a splitting headache cracking over you. “Y/N get out of here!” 

It took only a moment to discover that unlike Dean, you weren’t restrained in what was most likely the hospital morgue. Something was wrong though. A sedative? No. You were becoming more alert if anything but your arms were growing more tired, head becoming too heavy to lift.

“Something’s off,” you tried to say, the words caught in your throat, unable to be voiced. Your eyes flared wide, Dean’s drifting past you.

“Someone took a long time to wake up,” said a voice to your right. Suddenly a hand was under your head.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Dean snarled, your head set on a…stand? Something to keep it elevated and from rolling to the side. You tried to move but the message wasn’t getting to your body, your eyes glued on the handsome face with a just slightly off smile leaning over you.

“You were in a nasty accident, Agent Carlson. Unfortunately for you, your head trauma was too severe and you coded in the ER. Meanwhile Agent Manns in his grief unfortunately succumbed to his injuries. At least that’s what the autopsy report will say,” he said, inspecting what felt like a cut on your temple. “Such a shame. It won’t be my best work but you’re not the first law enforcement to cross me. Sadly no one will be able to discover your remains once you’re accidentally incinerated as John and Jane Doe but it’s good practice.”

“Let her go you fucking psycho,” growled Dean when the doctor moved out of view and returned with a pair of shears. 

“Psycho? I’m Dr. Thomas, ER Trauma physician and part-time pathologist. I’ve saved far more lives than I’ve taken, Agent Manns,” he said, snipping through your blouse. 

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Dr. Thomas bagged your shirt in a plastic bag nearby, doing the same with your pants and boots once they’d been removed.

“Paralyzing agent. Hard to come by but it has it’s advantages. No messy straps or ropes in the way,” he said, lifting your arm as you watched helplessly, cold metal against your skin as he cut through your bra straps.

“I swear to god I’m going to rip your spine out of your fucking face. If you touch her-”

“Not my style,” said Dr. Thomas, pulling away the fabric, sending a chill down your back. He gave you his focus again, a smirk on his face as he put two fingers to your neck. “Your heart is hammering away, isn’t it? Biology is fascinating that way. It’s so strange how an emotion such as fear can cause physical reactions in our bodies.”

“Get the fuck away from her!” shouted Dean. Dr. Thomas’ smile towards you dropped when he looked at Dean. He sighed and set the shears down, walking out of view.

“You’re really starting to irritate me,” he said, the distinct sound of tape being ripped from a roll filling the room and then Dean’s cries became muffled, only quiet thumping as he struggled coming from him now. Dr. Thomas appeared again wearing another smile. “Sorry about that. It’s always the men that get all squirmy. The women always live longer. Now, one could argue that’s because women have on average more blood in their bodies than men but I’ve gotten a fairly large sample size over the past decade to believe they’re psychologically stronger and therefore last longer.”

You tried hard to move your hand when he held up a scalpel near your face but nothing worked. 

Fuck if you could move anything you’d be shaking harder than a tree in a damn hurricane. Dean struggling right beside you with a front row seat was not helping.

“Now I like to explain all of my procedures to my patients beforehand. While you are paralyzed to a degree, you will still feel things. That’s perfectly normal.” You were wide eyed, Dr. Thomas chuckling. “The procedure typically takes me around thirty minutes. However, you’ll die from the blood loss or shock after roughly seven so don’t worry about that aspect. Considering you were in an accident less than an hour ago, I suspect it’s more like four or five for you which is unfortunate for me but it is what it is. Perhaps Agent Manns will give me more time.”

He lowered the scalpel to your shoulder and dug in hard to the skin, dragging it inward towards your chest. Your scream was caught in your throat as he did it on the other side to match.

Dean was shouting and thrashing on the table beside you but you couldn’t even turn your head to look. Dr. Thomas started talking about incisions and procedures and then you felt something completely unnatural against your arm, another shout trapped in your lungs. Forget the brave face. You would have been full on wailing if you were capable of it.

Crack. Snap. Shudder. Rip. It was around the time that Dr. Thomas held up something dark red and sticky looking that your body decided passing out was the best course of action. Unfortunately, it wasn’t doing that for some reason and you were stuck on the edge of consciousness, terrified and wishing something would come along and smash your head in to end this.

A loud bang shot out and something heavy smacked your leg, something else skirting against your side. 

“Dear god,” whispered Sam. Your eyes were locked open as you heard Sam rush over, staring down at you for only a split second before he moved to Dean. 

That was not good. You were far more injured that Dean, somewhere on the verge of death if you figured. Sam would have stopped to help you first.

Unless you were beyond saving.

“Sweetheart,” said Dean, grabbing one of your blood covered hands in both of his. Fuck he was crying. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You were so totally fucked. He looked over to Sam, Sam staring back with an open mouth. They couldn’t fix this. Shit, shit. You were going to die cut open like a Thanksgiving turkey. “W-What about Cas?”

“Dean,” said Sam, an air of resignation in his voice. “He’s in Kansas.”

“Jack then.”

“He’s with Cas. He doesn’t know how to-”

“A spell, a cure, something! Take her upstairs to a fucking doctor!” shouted Dean. 

“De. Half of her organs are…” said Sam as you got light headed, Dean’s hand running over your head. Dean found your face, his chin wobbling. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

“Then we sit with our girl,” said Dean softly, tucking a hair behind your ear. “And you fall asleep, sweetheart and when you wake up again, you’ll feel all better. I’ll come find you someday. Okay? Just close your eyes and try to sleep for me.”

Dean lowered his head, kissing your forehead as he fought back the tears that wanted to spill over. Sam took your other hand, squeezing it gently as you tried to do what he asked.

“Bloody hell, of course a Winchester took out a nutter like that. I’d have thunk he deserved more than a bullet,” said a familiar voice. 

“Rowena?” both boys echoed. She didn’t respond though, Sam’s hand dropping yours as a flash of red hair moved in front of you. You stared up at her, her hands cradling your cheeks.

“Dean, let go.” He did and about two seconds later you were shot straight upright, body in one piece, full of feeling and horror as you wrapped your arms over your chest, looking all around. 

“What the hell was that?” asked Sam while Dean shrugged out of his fed jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders, buttoning you up before he picked you up and was cradling you in his arms.

Rowena faced him with a hand on her hip, your own gaze falling down to where a dead Dr. Thomas lay on the floor, blood oozing from the back of his open head.

“Do you boys still not see me as a friend?” she asked, an undercurrent of hurt in her voice. You were shaking in Dean’s arms, clutching to his shirt with your too long sleeves. 

“You’re the queen of hell. Why would you stop a death?” asked Sam. She rolled her eyes and approached you, resting a hand on your arm.

“Because I’m the queen of hell and I do as I please, Samuel.” You wanted to say thank you but all you could manage was a few jumbled words as you buried yourself in Dean’s neck. “She’s in shock, quite bad. Best to take her home and let her rest.”

“Thank you Rowena,” said Dean, walking past her, stopping near the entrance to the room. “Next time you need something, just let us know and we’ll help.”

“Of course. I’ll take care of this mess. Oh and Y/N, dear?” You managed to lift your head, grateful to find Sam was right on Dean’s heels. “This lad is going to be spending a lot of time on the receiving end of what he gave out up here down in hell. I promise you that.”

You nodded, giving her a thumbs up. Dean kissed the top of your head, his hold on you tight.

“You’re going to be alright, sweetheart. Just give it some time.”

“How’s that feel?” asked Dean for what felt like the twentieth time back at the motel. You’d showered, took another another shower, took a bath, took another shower and currently were wrapped up in a mess of Dean’s pajamas on the bed with a big towel in your hair. 

“Better,” you said, your voice back with you once you’d gotten out of the hospital morgue. Sam was off relaying what he’d found to the local police. Apparently Dr. Thomas had worked on a few cases for the county but his sister it turned out was a hot shot detective who’d been covering for him for years. It was how he’d found out about you and Dean investigating.

Honestly that woman would be better off going out like her brother. She’d covered up a lot of murders for her brother. It’d be a miracle if someone didn’t take her out before then. Not that you particularly would mind that. 

You patted the bed beside you, Dean taking a seat and pulling you into his lap. He removed the damp towel and nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, strong arms wrapped all around your body.

“So we really nailed that whole careful thing, huh?” you said. Dean chuckled deeply, inhaling the scent of your damp hair, a pretty lilac and vanilla blend you knew he liked. 

“How do you do that? Make me laugh when I don’t feel like ever laughing again,” he said, tightening his hold.

“Because I’m hilarious,” you said, closing your eyes, wrapping your hands around his forearms. “You might not understand this but what you said when I thought…you made me feel safe even when I was scared that was it. You were a guy protecting his girl tonight, even if it’s not the way you meant it.”

“Meant every word,” he whispered, breathing slowly. 

“Don’t you dare fucking apologize for not stopping it. There’s no way we saw that coming.”

“Okay,” he said, draping his legs over yours, leaning back against the headboard with you. “How’s that feel? Comfy?”

You smiled as you rolled your eyes at him, tucking in closer. “I got you, Winchester. I’ll be alright. A chocolate milkshake and order of fries wouldn’t hurt though.”

“You’re hungry? After all that?” he chuckled. 

“Yup. Ask Sam to pick some up on his way back,” you said, tilting your head back, kissing under his jaw. “Our date got cut short after all.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You couldn’t talk earlier,” he said, taking your hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I’ll have nightmares, I’m sure, and all the other crap we get. But right now in this moment, with you, I’m okay.” He smiled, holding your body against his.

“I love you so much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Even if you do get kidnapped by serial killers.” You whacked his leg, Dean’s laugh rumbling against your back.

“Love you too, ya dork.”

_________

[innorogers]

Heliophilia

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: Why are you always hiding from him?!

Warning: Fluff / Fluff / Very Fluff / Comfort / Very Comfort / Sooth?

Characters: OC, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Natasha Romanoff

Also: This a new series ❤️ It's called: Burning Sun ✨

As far as Steve Rogers had been led to believe, the world adored Captain America—the symbol, the shield, the unwavering ideal. And not just the world—his teammates, the Avengers, and everyone he led—they liked him too. Sure, he was serious, but he was also kind, funny, and always a gentleman. He combined the decisiveness of a commander with the empathy of a brother-in-arms, leading not from arrogance but from an innate understanding of his soldiers’ hearts.

But beneath the weight of the shield and the praise, there was always one person whose gaze seemed to cut through the surface, treating him with an odd distance. It wasn’t disdain, though sometimes it felt close, nor was it indifference. It was something more elusive, more personal—a quiet tension that stirred between them.

Yeah that was the polite Jane Austen version.

In reality…

"What is wrong with her?" Steve exhaled after you’d given a laser-focused, perfect-in-every-way mission report, nodded politely, and walked away. Turning to Natasha, he finally voiced the question that had been nagging him for what felt like a million years: "Am I some kind of monster?"

"Who? Oh, her Captain...?" Natasha replied with your last name after the title, barely glanced up from the game on her phone, one she’d started five minutes after the briefing meeting started. "Why would you say that? Why are you picking on her… ?" Again.

"It’s just…" Steve ran his hand through his hair, a little more frustrated than he cared to admit. "She’s so… polite."

"Last time I checked, that was a good thing."

"And she’s always so… distant. If I’m standing here, she’s in the opposite corner, or hiding behind the curtains." That last part was an exaggeration, of course. You never actually hid from anything, but it felt like a metaphor for the way you always seemed far away from him.

Natasha didn’t blink. "I’ll tell her to sit on your lap next time."

"I’m nice." Steve said, walking by her side, nodding and smiling at everyone who greeted him with a courteous "Captain."

"Yup, you are."

"And respectful."

"No one like you, Cap."

"So why is she so strange to me?" Steve couldn’t understand. You’d been working together for almost two years, and still, your answers to him were: "Yes, Sir." "No, Sir." "Yes, Captain." "No, Captain."

Sometimes he ran into you in the halls or elevators. He tried making small talk—"Had a fun weekend?" "Yes, Captain." "Nice weather." "It is, Captain." But he quickly realized it was better to smile and endure the awkward silence.

You never looked him in the eye. You always looked at the floor. Sure, the Carrera marble on Level 2 was impressive, but it wasn’t that fascinating.

"So, is this a ME problem?" Steve resigned. He constantly reflected on himself, but this time, he couldn’t figure it out.

Of course it’s a YOU problem, Natasha thought, rolling her eyes. She had lost that level of her game anyway, so she pocketed her phone and shook her head. 

"Look, she’s just a tough player, alright? She likes to keep people at a distance. You can’t blame her for not being a social butterfly. And she’s like that with everyone."

"No, she’s not. She’s relaxed around Clint, Vision, and Bruce," Steve argued, he knows that because you typically confined your hair in a sleek ponytail, but when you are at ease, you start arranging it by letting it cascade, and he seems you do that sometimes when you talk with these folks. Those lucky bastards.

"She has casual conversations with Tony, talks about pilates with Maria, and she’s practically friends with Sam."

"Everyone’s friends with Sam," Natasha gave him a 'duh' look. Then, resigned, she said, "Look, just talk to her."

"Talk to her?"

"Yeah, like normal people do." Natasha gestured between the two of them. "Tell her how you feel about the way she acts and maybe that you’d like to… be closer."

"I…" Steve wanted to say he tried so many times, but then he asked himself: why his immediate response wasn’t ‘I don’t wanna be closer I wanna know what’s going on’? Maybe it is because being closer is what he really wants.

"And maybe then you’d know why…" Natasha added, shaking her head. Everyone knows why, Rogers. The girl had been in love with you since day one.

“And Steve…” Black Widow opened her mouth but then decided to shut up. She glared at him and just said it in her mind: maybe you don’t want to smile like that when you are thinking about her? It’s a little creepy. 

But she just smiled: “Talk to her tomorrow, you know, in a casual…encounter? So it doesn't sound like you are giving professional feedback about her behavior.” She waves her head in a suggestion: “You know, tomorrow's Family Day, I think it's a great chance to chat…”

“Hmm…” Steve nodded, hesitant. Good idea. 

Miss Heleana Christensen from the Data Department was a girl everyone loved. 

Silky skin, a petite figure, wavy brown hair, and dimples that appeared when she smiled. She wore large, round glasses that constantly slid down her nose, which she’d push back up with a finger now and then. When she was deep in thought, her lips would purse tightly, making the dimples on her cheeks flicker in and out of view—she was that kind of girl-next-door everyone adored, not just for her looks but because she was so damn cute.

Her job wasn’t fun—in fact, data analysis? Thank god there were professionals handling those never-ending Excel sheets and querying big data in the infinite Stark Industries database. 

But she worked hard, striving to perfect every task, because she wanted the ‘mightiest heroes, the best team in the universe’ (her words) to receive only the most accurate and flawless reports. She put all her effort into making sure everything was right. 

She actually believed she was saving lives, not excels.

Who wouldn’t like such a hardworking sweetheart?

So when Helaena asked Captain America if he wanted a coffee at Stark Industries’ Easter Charity Event, aka Family Day, with her sparkling eyes and cute dimples peeking from her smile, even Steve Rogers—who was always careful not to give any colleagues the wrong idea—found it hard to say no.

Family Day was held the Saturday before Easter every year. On that day, employees brought their families to the outdoors (the massive private Stark Industries compound) for games, picnics, barbecues, and maybe a picture with the Avengers for their kids to show off at school. 

It was a huge thing, and almost everyone attended. Though family members were encouraged to come, most attendees were single, turning the event into something of a casual dating scene.

“I would be honored.” Steve smiled, accepting her offer, and of course, he wasn’t about to let her pay for the coffee. Ever the gentleman, he bought the coffee and cake himself, but when he went to pick them up, he noticed you behind the counter.

Fuck, you didn’t have the chance to hide.

“Hey.” Steve smiled at you. A little surprised. He actually was looking for you everywhere.

“Captain.” You glanced at him once before quickly lowering your eyes, instinctively taking a small step back. Ugh…look at you: white t-shirt, jeans, and a ridiculous pink apron with a coffee stain you poured on yourself two minutes ago. You really wished you were wearing your blood-stained, sand-covered badass gear instead, but no, you had to be like a first day in work barista.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, glancing up at the booth sign. “I thought this was the data team’s booth?”

The charity event was set up like a kermesse, with each department having its own booth, and all the proceeds going to Stark’s foundation. As if that would add any zeros to its wealth.

“Um… I’m just helping out a friend,” you replied softly, forcing the least awkward smile you could. “What can I get’ya?”

“Oh, um… two cappuccinos. And… I don’t know…cake?” He blinked a few times as he scanned the menu.

“The apple pie just came out hot.” You brushed a strand of hair covering your face, feeling yourself blush. “And I think it’s low-calorie?” You say that, but what the fuck would you know? You rolled your eyes at yourself in silence.

“Sounds great.” Steve smiled warmly. “I’ll take two, thanks for the calories heads up.” 

He handed over the cash, but in an awkward moment, you missed grabbing it. The bill slipped onto the counter, and as you both reached down to pick it up, the moment your fingers brushed his skin, you recoiled like you’d touched a live wire.

“I am so sorry.” That was dumb as fuck. And you called yourself an elite soldier with these reflexes? God help this planet because you surely couldn’t.

“No, my bad.” Steve chuckled, shaking his head, and wondered—why are you acting like this, AGAIN? Was he really that intimidating? 

Just as you turned to get his change, a voice called out from behind the booth, “Yo, I’m back! Thanks for covering.” Your coworker returned with a big smile. “Hey, Cap! What can I get ya?”

“Hey, George. Got everything I needed already, thanks.” Steve greeted him with a smile and handed over the order. You were already stepping away, untying that ridiculous stupid stupid! apron.

Steve wanted to say something, but then a voice called from behind.

“Cap!” Sam appeared, clapping Steve on the back. When he spotted you, his grin widened graciously. “Oh man, did you finally make a move? Did you ask her out?”

That made you freeze. Your hands paused, still hanging up that pink thing. You held your breath, not daring to look back. Or to breathe. Damn it, Sam.

Steve exhaled in exasperation at Sam’s not-so-subtle comment. “I gotta go.” He muttered, giving Sam a warning glare. “Knock it off.”

“Oh shit.” Sam whispered, watching Steve hand the coffee to Helaena as they walked off together. Clicking his tongue, Sam shook his head. “That was awkward.” 

Then when noticed you trying to walk away unnoticed, he approached with a sigh.

“You know…” Sam leaned in a little with a knowing smirk, “You should tell him something if you want anything to happen.” He tilted his head toward Steve, who had walked off with Haelena but still glanced back at you once more.

“I’m not…” You rubbed your forehead. “Is it that obvious?”

“I mean, no… not to everyone. But I’m The Falcon, ya know? Top-tier observation skills. So yeah, I noticed.” He grinned brightly. 

“And so have Natasha, Tony, Wanda, Vision, Bruce, Maria, Clint, the Parker kid, Thor, the cleaning lady, your crew, my crew, even the bald guy with only one eye… you get the idea.”

“Great.” You were mortified. Maybe asking for a mission to Saudi Arabia tomorrow would be a great idea so you can get the hell outta here.

“Well, since we’re on the subject,” Sam added casually, “I think he knows, too.”

“What?” Nope, Saudi is not gonna do. Asgard now, sounds quite far enough.

“And I think he likes you, too.” Sam continued. “So maybe stop acting like a teenage girl, and be the badass sniper you are? Ask him out for a drink or something, I’ll bet first rounds he’d say yes.”

“I…” You didn’t know what to say. “I… I’m not…” 

And your gaze wandered back to Steve, who was walking with Helaena, his smile as gentle and radiant as ever.

That smile.

It was like sunshine cutting through clouds, golden rain filtering through the mist at dawn. Warmth that chased away the darkness, scattering any lingering shadows.

You sighed, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m not…that.” you finally said, looking at Haelena. 

Look at her: she’s cuteness in person. The kind of girl who could open her heart and arms, ask for hugs and kisses with a bright smile, make people feel lucky to have met her, bringing sunshine, and stirring feelings of tenderness or protection.

You lacked many virtues, but self-awareness wasn’t one of them. You knew exactly what you were: ashes of war, bullets cracking in helmets, blood and sweat, sleepless nights, anxiety, stubbornness, and severe insomnia.

“Exactly.” Sam smiled at you, his tone encouraging. “You’re just the most badass woman I’ve met…”

He paused.

“...after Nat, Wanda, Pepper, Maria… but you know…”

“Nope.” You laughed softly, voice barely a whisper. “I don’t think I am.” At all. 

So Family Day hadn’t gone as expected. Steve had done plenty of talking, just not with you.

He hadn’t seen where you’d been all day, so his last chance was on the bus taking everyone back to the facility. He noticed you slipping into the last row. As the door closed behind him, the bus started moving, and he caught glimpses of you in the front-row mirrors.

You sat alone at the back, no one nearby. Should he move closer? This might be his chance—maybe his last one—before you returned to your usual role as the distant, official soldier, always holding up an invisible shield against him. 

Steve sighed, watching you. The sunset cast a glow on your silhouette, drawing a golden line in your contour, you looked like an ancient Greek statue, frozen in time and in eternal beauty, taking his breath away.

Then, without warning, you stood up, and Steve frowned. 

What's wrong?

The attack hit before he could even turn around. 

A missile struck from the right side of the bridge, blowing half of it apart. Fortunately, the traffic was sparse, but the explosion left a massive hole, and several cars couldn’t stop in time, plunging into the gap.

The air filled with the acrid scent of burning debris as the bus windows shattered. The bus collided with other vehicles that had braked suddenly, crashing several times before finally stopping. Instinctively, Steve threw out his arm, shielding those around him from the impact.

"Is everyone alright?" He called out, standing up and scanning the bus. His eyes anxiously searched for you among the dazed passengers. Natasha and Sam had already jumped out of the broken windows, moving into action.

"Open the door!" Maria, blood trickling down her forehead, kicked open the rear exit, supporting a nearby passenger. "Everyone out!" she urged.

"Three V65 drones." You muttered, pressing your hand to a cut near your eye as you struggled to your feet. The ringing in your ears from the explosion made it hard to focus. 

"Northwest direction... G9 missile. Fires every minute and a half, maybe two." You reported aloud while helping Maria guide people off the bus.

"Evacuate everyone," Steve sighed in relief after finally seeing you. "Everyone." He repeated, his eyes locked on you.

But, of course, you didn’t consider yourself as "everyone." You were already off the bus before he could called you out. After helping Maria get the rest of the passengers out, you returned to the back, retrieved the gear, and took cover behind an overturned car.

“I’m a minute away,” Tony’s voice buzzed through your comms, accompanied by the hum of his suit. “I’m with Sam in the air. We’ll get the people near the river out first.”

“Make it quick!” Maria ordered, firing behind the defense line Steve had set up amidst the chaos. “Who the hell are these guys?” A second missile whooshed through the air just as she finished.

Iron Man deflected it with a repulsor blast, but much of the enemy fire began targeting him in midair. He barely managed to destroy the missile that posed the biggest threat before getting hit by another shot, almost knocking him out of the sky.

The missile struck the riverbed, shattering the bridge’s support. The ground beneath you began to tilt as cars slid down into the chaos, dust and debris swirling around. But the enemy fire didn’t stop.

"Sam, break through their front line!" Steve commanded, dodging falling cars as he raced up the slanted bridge, pulling Maria with him.

“Watch out with the cars rain!” Natasha called out with a hint of amusement, also making her way upward, dodging vehicles sliding into the water. "Feels like Washington all over again."

“Washington wasn’t that fun, we weren’t even there…” Tony quipped from above, just before stopping mid-sentence. "Cap, behind you...!"

Steve spun around, but he was too late. Two gunshots echoed, and a figure appeared in front of him, taking the hits meant for him.

You hit the ground hard but got up quickly, clutching your wounded shoulder, your fingers digging into the wound to staunch the bleeding.

Before Steve could react, you had already raised your gun, aiming past him. He hesitated, stunned, but two more shots rang out, passing a hair's breadth from his skin, followed by the grunts of fallen enemies behind him. 

He couldn’t even process, and you were an all blur of motion, storming past him like a whirlwind.

You kneed the first attacker in the jaw, grabbed the second by the elbow, twisted his arm until you heard a ‘crack’, and used his own knife to dispatch him quickly. Then turned his weapon on the third, shot him down before he could even trigger the damn thing.

"Damn!" Sam muttered, watching in awe as you moved swiftly, fiercely.

Two bullets weren’t enough to slow you down. Pain was good. It kept you sharp, focused.

You surged forward like an arrow, calculating distances, the wind, mapping enemies at your sight. 

You were pissed. 

No, pissed was not even close to describing it.

You were furious. 

The thought of anyone attacking him like that, of him being hurt, filled you with a fire that made you faster, deadlier.

This was the kind of soldier you were—driven by adrenaline, pain sharpening your senses, your fury igniting your determination, making you more dangerous with every wound. And that anger... oh that was just the cherry on top.

"Enemies at my 12." You reported, spotting the last of them. But before you could act, the ground beneath you cracked, and you slid down as the bridge crumbled.

Massive chunks of concrete tumbled into the water below, the steel and iron reinforcements snapping like fragile threads. You fell along with the debris.

“Get her!” Steve’s voice broke, filled with panic. "Now, Sam!!"

"On it!" Falcon swooped down, grabbing you just in time, lifting you across the collapsing bridge. As soon as you landed, you were already moving, sprinting ahead.

"Where are you going?" Sam shouted.

"The sniper’s that way!" You yelled back, leaping over overturned cars. "VG5 ammo—they’re likely still in the same spot. South of where I was."

You were fast, crouching down, and aiming. "Wind at 30 km/h, bullet speed at 400 km/h..."

"Distance: 200 meters..." You steadied your breathing, focusing. "This shouldn’t be a problem.." you muttered, despite the pain throbbing in your shoulder. Your left arm was nearly useless, but you gritted your teeth and kept your eye on the target.

You just needed to focus. 

You’ve done this shit a hundred times and in worse conditions. 

So, focus.

Two shots, and one of the snipers fell. The others scattered, but your bullets found them quickly.

"Wow..." Sam whistled in disbelief. "Girl…I didn’t mean this when I said ‘go back into badass mode’."

He reached to pat your shoulder, then noticed the blood soaking through your uniform. "Shit, you’re hit."

"You're hurt," Steve arrived seconds later. "Let me see—how bad is it?" His voice cracked with concern. “What were you thinking?! I could’ve blocked those shots with my shield…Why..." The thought of what could’ve gone wrong—the bullet straying, Sam not reaching you in time—tightened a knot of fear in his chest.

Before he could inspect your wound, you collapsed from blood loss.

Steve caught you just in time, lifting you gently as a groan escaped your lips.

"Nice catch, Cap," Sam quipped, still finding time to joke.

"Shut up!" Steve snapped, uncharacteristically irritated, as he cradled you in his arms. The scent of blood filled his senses as he looked down at your pale face. You hadn’t completely passed out, but you were clearly in pain, biting your lip to stay silent.

As he carried you, you curled away from him, avoiding contact. 

Damn, why are you doing this again? Steve almost grunted in frustration, but then he saw your pale face and his heart just clenched.

"You’re making this hard for me." Steve sigh as giving up, he spoke as softly as he could. 

"Here, let’s..." He gently moved your arm around his neck, tucking it in place. "There, better?"

"I... I don’t want to stain your clothes with blood," you muttered weakly.

Steve couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He stared at you, trying to not lose his temper in your stubbornness, frowning slightly. "You saved my life. And you’re hurt."

Quickening his pace toward the medics, he added. "You could burn all my clothes and I wouldn’t give a damn."

Of course nothing happened between the two of you after that attack, Steve was too busy getting his hands on whoever the fuck that was behind the attack, he was outraged. 

Well, not only him, the whole Level 1 and above were in the same state, like…who the fuck would dare to attack the Avengers so publicly? They felt invaded and insulted, even if the whole enemy team was captured or eliminated, that didn’t take away the fact that everyone went through danger. On family day!

Steve was pissed. Not only because all the investigation took 90% of his time, but also because he didn’t even get the chance to see you while you were lying in the hospital. All that stuff he was planning to tell you in a private and emotional state? Didn’t happen, at all. 

“What do you mean she’s been discharged?” Steve demanded, after reviewing your health report on the tablet. He set it down sharply on the desk and looked at Maria, his tone serious. “It’s been three days. She took two shots to the shoulder. How could she be discharged so soon?”

Commander Hill received the “I told you to go easy on this topic” look from Sam, and scowled to Steve: “I…don’t make the rules? She is level 1, Cap, I don’t think she received the same treatment as in a regular hospital…I bet this is where Stark’s healing magic tech kicks in.”

“Shit.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Alright... fine. Do we know where she is?”

How in the world would I know? Maria thought but offered, “We could track her mobile. It’s probably on 24/7.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Steve didn’t want to do that, to intrude your privacy, but he was worried. He didn’t even know why, or…as whom was he worried, as your supervisor, your team mate, your fellow work pal? Like, you weren’t even that close. 

“Yes. Do it. Send her location to my phone.” Grabbing his jacket, he added, “I’ll be back in a few.”

“…” Commander Hill opened her mouth to say something like ‘I gotta more important shit than crashing to your crush’s mobile’, but Steve already left the room, she looked at the completely silenced room full of all the Avengers, and just did a ‘what just happened’ face. 

“Five bucks says he doesn’t get the girl today.” Tony broke the silence.

“Yeah, I’m in.” Clint was the first to respond, followed by Nat and Rhodey.

While the others were placing bets on your so-called romance, Steve was already tracking your phone. At first, he thought the GPS was glitching because it was leading him to the MET.

Actually, it was working perfectly (Tony would later smugly confirm that). You were at the Captain America exhibition, which had been relocated from Washington to New York after the Smithsonian became a crater, courtesy of a Helicarrier.

Steve slowed down when he found you in the exhibition hall, his steps halting completely when he saw you.

It was a weekday, during work hours, so the place was nearly empty. 

The natural light streamed in from the ceiling, casting large patches of sunlight that quietly illuminated your silhouette as you sat on a long bench, bathed in a soft, glowing light.

Your gaze floated, like a gentle river, to the black-and-white photograph on the wall in front of you.

It was one of the few preserved images of Steve before the serum. Back when he was a slender, delicate young man with refined features, frail and thin.

Steve barely remembered looking like that. These days, all he saw in the mirror was his current self—tall, strong, healthy. Now, standing in front of that photo, he found it almost unfamiliar, though he could still faintly recognize the determination in those unchanged, resolute eyes.

But you—he was looking at you. Your gaze was so tender, your head tilted slightly upward, a faint smile playing at your lips. The soft curve of your mouth radiated quiet contentment, and in your eyes, there was nothing but the reflection of that photograph.

Nothing but him.

That’s when Steve knew.

There was nothing else, in your eyes, but him.

All his nervousness and uncertainty melted away, replaced by a sudden warmth and joy.

Leaning against the wall, Steve realized he had the same look on his face. You were gazing at a photo of him, and he...was gazing at you.

And in his eyes, there was nothing else, but you.

You heard the soft echo of footsteps behind you and turned slightly, freezing in place when your gaze met his.

He was standing in front of you, every inch of his silhouette outlined by the backlight. Just his presence, just being in his shadow, made you feel incredibly safe. For a moment, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. But instinctively, you lowered your gaze, flustered.

You wanted to hide. You felt like a mess—a bandaged shoulder, probably some ash still in your hair, and the faint smell of the hospital clinging to your skin. But he was already sitting beside you.

“I used to get sick a lot back in those days.” Steve said, his eyes on the picture of his younger self. “Whenever the seasons changed, I’d get fevers and runny noses.. Spring was a little better, but the pollen made my asthma unbearable. And summers...” He sighed. “Brooklyn was a nightmare. Hot and humid. My joints ached constantly. Joining the army was probably the worst idea I had, but I was stubborn.”

He laughed softly. “Stubborn as hell. When it comes to what I want, the goals I’ve set... and the people I care about.” 

His eyes never left yours, and you could see your own bewilderment reflected in his steady gaze.

“I don’t buy it for a second... that you don’t know.” He said softly, pausing for a moment before you lowered your eyes again.

You wanted to hide, but under his gaze, there was nowhere to escape.

“If you were so afraid... why did you take all those risks for me?” Steve asked, his voice quiet. Why were you so fearless on the battlefield but treated him like something to fear in everyday life?

“I remember everything, you know?” His voice softened, distant as he recalled the past. “All the risks you’ve taken. Sometimes... reckless, bold...”

He shook his head, a mix of frustration and admiration in his voice. “God, I remember our first fight, you broke enemies lines, just to get my shield back…I was desperate, and then you come back with that…impeccable yet stubborn as fuck attitude ‘I’m sorry Sir but I had to do it’ shit, drove me crazy. I didn’t know what to do. You wouldn’t step back, and I knew, even if I suspended you, you’ll just go and do the same stupid and impulssive thing next time.”

You smiled faintly, looking down. Of course, you remembered. You had a scar on your back from that mission. One you wore with pride.

“So why?” Steve whispered, searching your face. “Why would you risk everything... and then hide?”

“What about you?” You asked, finally looking up at him. “On that plane, at the end of the war, why did you stay until the last moment? You could’ve escaped before it crashed into the frozen sea. I’ve seen the reports. You could’ve swam away. Why did you stay until the explosion?”

“I couldn’t,” Steve answered without hesitation. “The stakes were too high. If it didn’t explode in the sea, it would’ve been New York. I couldn’t let that happen, not even a small chance. I’d rather die than…” He stopped, getting your point.

“Right?” You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “…than having that risk?”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. Your sincerity, your determination—it made his heart ache.

Goddamn it…Why do you have to be so obstinate, inflexible, reckless…loyal, brave and fierce? He would spend the rest of his life worrying as fuck, fearing for this willingness to sacrifice attitude of yours.

Almost instinctively, he reached out and covered your hand with his. His voice barely above a whisper.

“What are you afraid of?”

Your lips move, you want to pull your hand away from his grasp, but you find yourself without the strength. 

Because you wanted him. 

As a leaf growing from a seed breaking out from the ground and reaching out to embrace sunlight and warmth. To embrace life.

You want to hold his hand back, feel his palm against yours. You know that feeling him, would be enough to know that all is well in the world, that there’s nothing left to fear. You could exist freely and quietly behind him, fearless. 

This wish. So strong yet so powerless, makes you so vulnerable, you could barely exist in his presence. 

You hesitated for a long time, trying to put the words together, trying to tell him the truth yet not burden him, and finally, you speak in a low voice.

“If the ending is something you can’t bear... isn’t it better to avoid it?”

Steve stood silent for what felt like an eternity. 

“I promise you.” 

He brushed a stray lock of hair from your cheek and lifted your chin so your eyes met his.

“There will be no ending.”

You could barely breathe at these words. Yet your heart was beating so strong, so fast, so loud, you felt it was going to explode.

“I'm scared too.” He sees your expressions, your broken soul, your fear of heartbreak and the endless uncertainty to lose something you longed for a lifetime. 

“But…” He cupped your face in his hands as if you were something precious, something he had been waiting for his whole life. 

“Being with you…it’s worth it, I’d rather have you and risk heartbreak than not have you at all.” 

The sunlight bathed you both, it was so bright and dazzling that it brought your eyes with tears.

“And I know I can’t change you,” Steve continued, his voice filled with quiet resignation. “You will continue to be this… badass goddess of war, in the first row of any fight, any battle to come. But I’ll try my best to shield you, from any danger, any suffering, or any pain. I’ll do my best. With all I have.” 

“No.”

Your expression shifted, and after a few heartbeats, you slowly smiled up at him.

“There’s no such thing… as suffering, pain, or danger…” You whisper, finally turning your head to meet his gaze. Your eyes seem to shimmer with unshed tears. “Not as long as it is with you. I’ll take it all, I’ll walk on fire and…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, his lips claim yours.

That kiss… wasn’t gentle as you imagined. Instead, it’s forceful, filled with a possessive intensity. Maybe it’s because Steve has been holding back for so long, and now, that surge of determination finally breaks free.

His urgent need to have you, the longing that had kept him restless for so long, felt like a crashing wave, carrying with it all the emotions he had hidden away. Steve’s hand cradled the back of your neck while the other wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

It was like every first kiss in the world, filled with breathless exhilaration and the glorious wonder of a starry night. 

His lips claimed yours with an intensity that took you by surprise, yet it felt natural, inevitable, as though this moment had been written in the stars long before either of you existed.

You didn’t realize it at the time, but something in Steve shifted. It was as if he’d made a silent vow in that kiss—one you couldn’t hear but could feel in the way he held you, how he kissed you like the world was ending.

In the quiet of the exhibition hall, surrounded by photographs and memories of his past, none of that mattered to him. Not the image of Captain America, not the accolades, not the expectations.

In that moment, it was just Steve, kissing the woman he loved. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t care who saw. He didn’t care if the whole world was watching.

Every poster, every photo hanging on the walls was of him, of the man everyone else expected him to be. But right now, none of that mattered. He was making a choice, and it wasn’t for show, wasn’t for the sake of his legacy. It was for you, and only you.

The world beyond the walls blurred. There were no battles, no looming responsibilities, no enemies lurking in the shadows. Just the two of you, as though time itself had slowed to witness this one fragile moment.

As your lips parted, both of you breathless, your foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, feeling the shared pulse of your heartbeats.

There was so much you wanted to say, to ask, but the words wouldn’t come. You were there, in wonderstruck, as standing in the middle of a vivid dream.

Steve spoke first, his voice hushed but filled with a resolve you’d rarely heard before. 

“I’m not going to let you run away again,” He whispered, his hand still gently cupping your face. “Not from this. Not from us.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze—those same resolute eyes that had stared back at you from that black-and-white photograph, unchanged by time or transformation. You knew then, with the same certainty as his, that there was no running away.

You won’t run. Or hide.

Not anymore.

End, but probably will continue ;)

Oh yeah, I love this fierce yet fragile OC. This is actually the translation of an original piece I wrote back in 2021? Originally in chinese so I'm SO SORRY if it's weird reading it in english cause...well, struggling with the words, hehe. But I loved this piece so much I wanted to share it with you, cause damn, I loved him so much in that part of my life :3 (I do love him still.)

And for my babes that are waiting on Miracle Nr. 12! I'm so sorry not posting about it this week cause I'm still trying to figure out whether continue with the angst plot, or the original angst and dark as f... plot that's leading the story to a very very sad and dark twist. Still has an happy ending, I promise. It will be there on next Friday!

Oh I'm sorry I got carried away writing so much hehe, hope you enjoyed it!!

Tag list: @vioplay19 / @jamneuromain / @steviebbboi / @heletsmelovehim / @otterlycanadian / hisredheadedgoddess28

let me know if you want to be added! 🥰

✨ Miracle Nr. 12 ✨ Series:

1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare | 5: Awakening | 6: Dusk | 7: Hypnagogia | 8: Lull | 9: Vigil | 10: Eclipse | 11: Veil

[buckydeservesthebest]

I'm going to write my own general response since some Sam Stans have started with absurd posts about how in their distorted version of reality Bucky "has been a bad friend and betrayed every black person he has ever met"... *sight* this could not be more stupid, untrue and unfair.... 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

On the subject of Bucky and the rest of the New Avengers "working for Valentina", I already wrote a long rant explaining that there is NOT a single shred of proof of this. And that at the end of it all, the OG Avengers literally were formed by a government organization (SHIELD), Sam was going to form his own team of Avengers at Ross's instruction and was going to work alongside him had the Red Hulk scandal not happened and Ross not ended up in prison. THE AVENGERS WORKING TOGETHER WITH THE GOVERNMENT IS NOT SOMETHING NEW. BECAUSE WORKING WITH THE GOVERNMENT DOESN'T MEAN BEING SUBSERVIENT TO IT.

Bucky having his own team literally does NOT in any way in the remotest way affect Sam, because literally nothing detracts from him or minimizes him as Captain America or in any other way, nor does it somehow prevent him from being able to form his own Avengers team and operate as he sees fit.

So this description of "traitor" to refer to Bucky COULD NOT BE MORE STUPIDLY FALSE AND BE FARTHER AWAY FROM REALITY.

And for those who complain that one of Bucky's team members is John Walker, does everyone forget that they already worked together briefly at the end of TFATWS to capture the FS and there was no problem??? Bucky does NOT hate John, literally the only disagreement from Bucky and Sam towards Walker was over the possession of the shield, and that problem is over, so don't come whining that Bucky can now be his ally, because there is literally no moral impediment of any kind for them to be part of the same team.

And do people forget that, again, Sam was going to work alongside Ross?? The same guy who ordered the extrajudicial execution order (which is literally illegal) against Bucky, convicted him as guilty for the UN bombing without a fair trial, which is literally also a violation of his human rights, and on top of it all lamented that the SWAT team couldn't kill Bucky. Ross is a horrible person (no better than Valentina) and literally ordered Bucky's murder, and I don't see anyone calling Sam a traitor because he was going to form an Avengers team under his instructions and was going to work in conjunction with his government.

So don't come with your shitty double standards calling Bucky a "traitor" either, when no one called Sam a "traitor" for allying himself with the one who ordered the murder of his friend.

It's almost funny how no Sam Stan has ever wanted to acknowledge the ableist and victim-blaming attitudes Sam directed at Bucky. All those horrible jokes and tasteless comments like "cyborg brain", "bionic looking machine that killed almost everyone he met", "we're not assassins" "you're going back to your frozen rat diet of your time as the Winter Soldier", that only in the mind of imbecile could be funny. All of this disgusting shit is ableist.

Sam literally held Bucky responsible for what he was forced to do as the Winter Soldier ("you were stopping all the wrongdoers *you* enabled as the Winter Soldier" ep. 5) and gave him "advice" that is exactly the same as Dr. Raynor's, and is nothing more than re-victimization.

There is absolutely nothing healthy about telling a victim of abuse that they should "make amends" for something they were a VICTIM of. Let alone showing up with the other victims of the same abuser and apologizing as if Bucky was the victimizer and not another victim. This is extremely dangerous and damaging to both parties. Already a real life therapist created a Twitter thread where she explains absolutely everything that is wrong with this.

Sam is NOT a victim of abuse or mind control, nor is he a therapist trained to talk to people who are victims of this situation, so he can NOT go around pretending to give advice on something he knows absolutely nothing about. That is unethical.

If you think that telling this truth is "racist", let me tell you that there are people in the black community who think exactly the same thing. Are they racist too??

...

Oh and regarding the Wakandans issue...I've talked about this a lot before, but in light of some Sam Stans wanting to revive this ridiculous issue as an excuse to try to vilify Bucky.. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

*sigh* first of all the reason T'Challa offered Bucky assistance in removing the Winter Soldier's programming from his brain, was not because of how magnanimous T'Challa is in wanting to help a poor man who had suffered too much, but rather that that assistance was given in the form of an apology for having spent it trying to kill him without being sure if Bucky was the one truly responsible for his father's death, and also in the form of thanks because thanks to him and Steve, T'Challa was able to get to the one truly responsible. The canonical comic Avengers Infinity War Prelude literally said so:

So while Bucky is grateful for the assistance Wakanda offered him, he does NOT owe them lifelong loyalty nor is he limited to only doing what feels right to them and did not represent a damage to their pride, because that is a stance worthy of an abuser.

So NO. In absolutely no way did Bucky betray Wakanda because Zemo's temporary freedom does NOT affect them in the slightest. Literally Bucky always intended to send him back to prison and literally Ayo understood this and that's why he gave him the 8 hour deadline to come back for Zemo, and literally Bucky NEVER objected to this.

Regarding Zemo. Literally the plot gives Bucky the reason to enlist his help and assist him in his escape, because as "the foremost expert on Hydra and the super soldier program" his knowledge was needed to figure out how the serum was recreated to get to Karli. This is what canon book The Art of TFATWS says, and it literally also says that Sam knew this and agreed.

People deliberately and conveniently forget that Zemo is NOT only responsible for the death of T'Chaka and the other dozen people from the UN bombing. Zemo was also an ABUSER of Bucky and one of the people who hurt him the most in his life. Zemo framed him for the UN bombing causing everyone to try to kill him, put him in the crosshairs of any Hydra member that still existed, had him imprisoned in cell that was electrocuting him all the time, subjected him to mind control and forced him to kill people and fight his friends which caused more charges to be added against him, etc, etc, etc. Now it turns out Wakandans know more about their own abuser than Bucky himself?? This is bullshit.

In just world part of Zemo's sentence should have been for all the damage he caused Bucky.

And the point is, again, Ayo understood and agreed with Bucky's plan and that was why he gave him an 8 hour deadline to come back for it. Ayo was NOT upset about that. Ayo didn't handicap and dehumanize Bucky because she felt "betrayed" but because she was upset that he had stopped her from committing unjustified murder against Walker. Bucky tried to reason with her and only defend himself with non-violent techniques, Ayo disconnected his arm in a low and dishonorable move, and now it turns out that Bucky is to blame?? 🤡

"Bucky betrayed the Wakandans" say the same people who always planned to betray him by putting a kill-safe (on a prosthetic that he didn't even request to have in the first place, but was given to him by T'Challa himself for him to fight for his nation) behind his back whose unawareness could have proved fatal to him, in case by sheer bad luck something could activate it when Bucky was hanging on to it for his life...

IT IS NOT JUSTIFIED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES TO REMOVE DISABILITY ASSISTANCE FROM A DISABLED PERSON.

BEING A BLACK PERSON DOES NOT GIVE YOU A FREE PASS TO HAVE ABLEIST AND VICTIM-BLAMING ATTITUDES TOWARD ANOTHER PERSON.

And yes, people in the black community also think Ayo's attitude was unjustifiable.

Are they "racist" for daring to say this?? Of course they are NOT.

[misshugs]

It'll be alright || Colby Brock

[inspired] "feels like i'm always apologizing for feeling."

[req by anon] At the end of the day, it seems that the ones you least expect are the ones that are always by your side at your worst.

warnings: shy/introvert!reader, mentions of self-abandonment, angst, self/degrading, cursing, anxiety, hurt/comfort?

a/n: i'll prolly do the banner soon enough, also not proofread at all so if there's something that sounds.. weird, my bad ;; i'll fix it eventually

word count: 4.6k [u n e d i t e d]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You knew it wasn't quite healthy for you disregard your own feelings like this, but you got so used to it.

You hid them so well at times, you feared you weren't even being honest with yourself.

Being a people pleaser wasn't something you wanted to do, but somehow managed to end up being. You never really wanted to make people upset, so you tried your best to help out as much as you could whenever you were able to.

Turning out like this also lead to friends that weren't really there for you, but you were always there for them.

You always were.

Even when they made fun of you, whenever they asked you for so many favours you knew you weren't going to get back, you were always there. You persisted in this so called "friendship" merely because they seemed to actually like hanging out with you.

At least it's what you thought at the time.

And honestly, who could blame you? Although it was most certainly a toxic friendship, they genuinely added you to most conversations. It wasn't as if you were only there to fill up the background most of the time.

Right?

"Hey babes, would you mind buying us some drinks?"

"Buying? Soph, I'm not even drinking tonight, I-"

"Really? You're going to do this to us? After we've invited your ass here? You're really trying to make us look bad?" She spat back, making you nervous.

It's all too familiar.

This has happened too many times for your comfort, and it always seemed to work in their favour; even when you tried to avoid it.

"N-no! I'm just saying that you could-" She put a hand infront of you.

"Shush. God, you're making my ears bleed." She whined before getting closer to your face. "Look, you go over there and ask for five shots of tequila, m'kay? Be a good one for me tonight, it also might improve your own reputation so, you know, stop talking and start moving honey. Tap tap." Her cunning smile and slight push on your shoulder made your heart race in an abnormal speed.

You really didn't want to. You really shouldn't, actually. But they were your friends, weren't they? You're doing this because they're friends.

Yeah, well. Keep telling yourself that lie.

Walking towards the bar and waiting for the drinks, there was this guy waiting right beside you. He looked at you with an amused smirk.

"Five? That's impressive."

"They're not for me." You responded with a half smile.

"Not even one?" He raised a brow, gaining a slight shake of your head as a response. "Sucks. Can I buy you one then?"

You look back at him, now with an amused expression yourself. Taking out his card and giving it to the barista before even letting you pull out your wallet, you looked at his deep, blue eyes.

"Bill's on me this time. Looks like you need a little break." He whispered, a small wink quickly after.

"Well, thank you, kind stranger." You said, taking all of the shots with you and looking back at him.

"Colby." He answered, trying to give you a handshake only to see your hands full and laugh. "Right."

You giggled. "I'm Y/n. Thank you again, Colby." And so, you walked away.

Sam, walking towards Colby after watching his obvious intend of flirting with you, putting his hand on his shoulder and said while looking at you walk away.

"You should've helped her dude."

"Ah, shit."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

"God, I can't believe I still invite you to these, you're so ungrateful." She sobbed, "After all you've done to us I still invite you regardless, and this is how you repay us? Your friends?"

You paused, looking slightly down while the dramaqueen infront of you began fanning her eyes and looking up, trying to not ruin her perfect makeup with her fake tears. You tried to restrain your own feelings, closing your hand into a fist, feeling yourself getting frustrated by the second.

The word friends ached in your heart for the very first time, and you knew it wasn't a good sign. "Sorry." You whispered, basically apologizing for feeling. Again.

In the end, you were still too shy to try and confront yourself to her. You knew you would lose, even though you've already created a million different ways of repelling every single one of her insults.

She was too predictable, too easy to contradict. But she had something you didn't.

Confidence.

Maybe if it weren't for the dozens of people that could be staring straight through you, you might be able to have a chance. Even then, you knew better. You get nervous too easily to try and spat back shit to this princess. Slowly but surely, you were starting to lose hope in this so called friendship you had with her and her other dogs.

Or maybe it was already gone, you just didn't want to admit it to yourself.

You were tired.

The stress, the anxiety that was draining you was too much. It wasn't worth it, and you knew it.

What made you keep going? Was it because you were comfortable? Did you not want to try something new? Were you too accustomed to their presence that it made it hard to walk away? Yeah, most likely.

"I can't with you today. You're such a meanie." Soph argued, turning away. "Do whatever you fucking want. Get lost or whatever, I'm not taking you home." She walked away with her group. Their judgemental glares were enough to carve a hole in your heart.

It wasn't only them, but the people that got a glimpse of the situation began murmuring. The feeling of being watched, judged and laughed at by strangers. An unbearable, overwhelming feeling that stopped you in place. You were feeling yourself loose air, your hands shaky at the mere thought and paranoia you were collapsing yourself with.

On the mere edge of tears, you felt a hand on your shoulder, making you jump in surprise. "Oh, my bad." They laughed. A familiar male voice released you from the thoughts. You looked at his face. Colby. "Didn't mean to scare you. Saw you all alone so I passed by to say hello. You doing okay?" He smiled.

Somehow, that smile is all you needed. Your eyes fluttered while you fixated your vision on his pretty face. You smiled back. "Yeah, yeah. Doing good." You tried to compose yourself once again.

Surprisingly, it was easy because of him. His jokes, flirty comments and pretty smile made you completely forget how you were on the edge of a panic attack barely a few hours ago.

"I'll be honest with ya. Last time? You made me so shy that I was going to ask for your number then completely forgot up until it was already too late." He laughed, so contagious that it made you giggle back. "Would you mind giving me a chance of texting you once in a while? Of course, if you don't mind."

"Yeah, sure, I don't mind." You gave him your number. A part of you hoping it wasn't yet another prank that would make you break into despair, but at the same time, you wanted to believe. You still had hope; not everyone is bad. Right?

After passing numbers, you notice the time in your phone. "Ah, shit. I should be leaving, it's too late." You stood up from your seat, fixing yourself up.

"Oh, well, are you driving?" He asked, standing up after you.

"Oh... um. I guess I'll have to call an uber, since my... friend will probably be staying." You mumbled slightly, remembering that bitter memory from not so long ago.

"Mind if I drive you home then?" A soft smile on his face; a sincere one. You looked at him, dazed for a moment. "...Is... Is that a yes?"

"Oh, uh... are you sure? I wouldn't want to bother you." You respond quickly.

"Bother me? Not at all. You've been my light of the party tonight." He laughs at his own statement. "Come on, let's get you home, sweetheart." He followed, putting his hand at your upper back, walking you towards the exit.

You didn't argue about it. In fact, you preferred to leave as quickly as possible, and he was giving you that chance. It was nice, it felt nice to have what you wanted for a change, even if it was as simple as leaving a party sooner than later.

After an annoyingly quick ride back home, you thanked him prefusely before walking back into your appartment.

Tonight took a toll on you emotionally; feeling dread and such a big pleasure at the same time. After a much needed shower and a midnight snack, you heard your phone.

A text? Who would even text you this late at night? You started questioning if it was Soph or one of the other girls, only to soothe the rising stress when you saw the text from a new contact.

Hey, it's Colby. Hoping you didn't give me a wrong number

It made you chuckle while responding right away.

I'm not the type to do that, don't worry

Oh, I'm glad, would've been heartbroken if you did

Did you go back to the party?

Nah, went straight home. The friend that was with me said he was going to stay longer but I went home

Why did you not go?

The life of the party left

Who?

You?

You rolled your eyes at the comment. This cheeky bastard.

You loved it.

Talking for a few more minutes, your eyelids began to close on their own. Your sleep schedule catching up to you.

It didn't take long until you fell asleep.

After some weeks, your supposed friends stopped texting you. One or two parties where you were left uninvited. It didn't bother you much, but at the same time, you were thinking of what you were missing; overthinking around the way it would've turned out great.

But also how wrong it could've been.

It was almost 11 pm, you've been watching the stories of your friends having fun without you. Nothing new, until a text from Colby made it change.

Haven't seen you at the party

Your heart ached. Someone expecting you was something... new. You were blaming yourself, even though it wasn't really your fault.

Kinda sick. Couldn't go.

Aw, that sucks. Hope you get well soon

It felt wrong to do this, but at the same time, nothing new to you. Trying to cover up the true feelings behind the kind smile you always put up.

Thank you.

A couple of minutes passed before another answer came through.

Party's getting boring, wish you were here

Trying to hype me up, Colby?

Is it working?

A little.

You smiled at his small attempts. He's been texting you enough to know there's been a distance between your group of friends. Some personal information between the both of you getting mixed up through conversations, getting to know eachother in a more personal level.

Him, having such an odd job being a 'ghosthunter' and (somehow worst, or maybe better?) he had proof of it. You, on the other hand, another slave to capitalism. Even worse, a slave to a more toxic relationship than your ex boyfriend. Your friends.

Usually, you wouldn't be the type to open up like this; but one thing turned into another and now here we are. A stranger that knows you better than every single person that's passed by your life, merely because he's asked the right questions at the right time. A master with words.

Sooo can we be honest then? Are you actually sick?

I'm impressed at how well you've come to know me.

Figured. You coming to the party then?

I wasn't invited.

How come? I'm inviting you right now

What?

I can take a plus one with me

I want you to be my plus one

…are you serious? I'm not even like, ready or anything.

Are you even sure? I'm not fun.

Take your time sweetheart. Tell me when I'm able to pass by

Also what do you mean you're not fun? Take that back right now

Your cheeks felt warm. You've come to learn to read emotions though text as the time passed by; knowing when you were really not wanted or knowing when somebody else was interested in things outside your circle.

This, however. These texts from this... guy. They felt genuine.

…

Thank you

It's really no biggie, I want you to come with me (if you want, of course)

So put on something sexy

For the party, of course

You chuckled at the comment. You weren't able to fully comprehend if he was being serious or just as flirtatious as always. But you didn't mind. Right now, you were about to go into a party. Why? God knows.

Maybe you do too, but you wouldn't like to admit it.

Not now, at least.

Standing up and walking toward your wardrobe, you skimmed through it. What should you wear? Something normal as always? Is it even worth it to try and switch it up for a change? You never really tried to make yourself look appealing, there was no reason to anyways.

But this time? Fuck it. It was different. You weren't going with them, you were going with him. You sighed, pushing yourself to wear the most decent looking dress you could find in your closet; fitted with some high heels the same color of the dress.

Finishing off your makeup, you saw your phone light up.

I'm here, take your time

Panicked, you replied.

Thought you were going to wait for me to finish??

I am?

Not in front of my house???

We can leave right away when you're done

Stop arguing, I don't mind waiting here

Come inside at least

Don't mind if I do then

Sighing, you looked at yourself in the mirror. You weren't going to take longer than 5 minutes, but you felt bad leaving him outside. Walking towards your front door, you gulped down the nerves and opened up the door.

He was as fine as always, looking down at his phone before raising his head and looking at your face. His mouth opened slightly, unable to move for a moment.

You were stunning in his eyes. Looking at you up and down, he had to catch his own breath. How was he this lucky to be able to be next to this beauty?

"Is it... too weird? I'm not the type to commonly use these type of clothes..." You almost whispered, doubting your looks.

"You're kidding." He was able to respond. "I've never seen someone look this beautiful." You smiled and rolled your eyes. "I'm serious. Are you seriously not aware."

"Not aware of what?" You asked, a slight frown on your face due to the confusion.

"Of how gorgeous you look?" The frown quickly turned into a surprised look, your cheeks turning red at the revelation.

Hugging slightly your door to try and find comfort, you looked away from his graze. "Get in, I'm still not done." You said and be obliged. Closing the door behind him, you told him to get comfortable while you finished yourself up.

It didn't take you long, fortunately. A few fixes around the eyes and you were basically done. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you were satisfied with yourself this time. You didn't feel forced, heck, you felt beautiful. Perhaps it was Colby's comments that affected your mental state, but whatever it was, it felt good.

Walking back towards the man in your living room, you heard him whistle at you, which made you laugh.

"I'm gonna have so many death stares walking with you tonight."

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Nervousness filled you up when you walked inside the party. Holding onto Colby's arm, he could feel your hand shaking. He gave you a reassuring look, one that said "Everything's going to be fine."

And you tried to believe it as much as you could.

Whatever you seemingly expected from the night somehow turned into the greatest parties you've ever experienced.

Perhaps it was because you were with Colby's friends instead of yours.

Maybe it was the fact that you were actually connected into their conversation instead of being pushed out. Being listened to instead of ignored and getting talked over.

Was this what it felt to be having fun? You almost forgot this was what it's supposed to be like. It felt nice.

"I'll be right back. Gotta to to the bathroom." You said standing up from your seat.

"I'll go and get some drinks in the meantime. Anyone wants a refill?" Colby asked, nodding at the requests he was receiving. You smiled at him before walking away.

You were quick in finding the bathroom, finishing what you had to do soon enough and getting out of the room.

Before you started walking towards the group, you got pushed away and in the center of a bunch of girls, smirking at you. Judging you. Your heart sank as fast as you recognized just one of them.

"Who do we have here?" Soph teased, a sly smirk on her face. "Isn't it too late for you? Thought you would've been at home. It's past your bedtime, isn't it?" Laughs were heard from the group surrounding you.

No, no, no. This wasn't a good time for this. You were having fun, you were doing so good! You've never felt better at a party and now all of it was destroyed.

"It's none of your business, Soph." You could hear a gasp after your response. A dramatic, opened mouthed expression on her face.

"Oh, so, now that you've found a new stupid little group of freaks now you think you can talk back at me?" She spat out.

You looked slightly to the side. "You just called yourself a freak." You thought, unable to actually argue back. You felt a hand on your chin, making you look at her directly to her eyes.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." She demanded. You gulped, trying to compose yourself as hard as you could just to not shiver under her. You had to be strong, to proof to her you were better.

But it was hard.

"Think your stupid little face will be fixed with a bit of makeup? Ha." She scoffed, looking at your whole outfit this time. "Someone as ugly as you won't be fixed by a little change of outfit. Not even if that friend of yours tells you otherwise. Or maybe not a friend? Who knows? It's not like he's interested in you anyways." She grinned, roughly moving your face towards a specific corner of the group.

And there you saw it, it was Colby. With another girl. Your heart sank, for some reason. Your breath escaped your lips as it got shaky, eyes quickly watering when you saw her get a bit too close to his face while he, with some drinks on his hands, was unable to do anything.

Why were you feeling like this anyways? It's not like you guys were something, were you? Why did it hurt this much? Your expression softened at the illusion you had made so quickly. So dumb, of course he wasn't interested.

"What's wrong? Did you silly little confidence already shatter? That was so easy." She almost sounded dissapointed. A push on your back was enough for you to fall onto the ground. It's not like you weren't about to anyways, your legs were already shaking at the mere thought that everything that has been going on was a mere lie.

A setup.

You heard laugher, whilst barely holding yourself up by the palms of your hands. "How pathetic. You shouldn't have even come. Now you're just being a bother to another group, another dead weight."

And they were right, you believed they were right. You believed them so easily that it was almost funny.

You could hardly breathe, the tears dwelling onto your eyes as a thick blurriness covered your vision. You couldn't hold it anymore, the stress... it all came to the surface quick enough. The music dissipating into the distance as you heard yourself breathing heavily; the only sound you could focus on.

The sound of you losing your mind. Your heart pounding hard. Too hard, perhaps. It ached. You could feel the frown on your face while the tears kept on flowing.

Come on, you were better than this. Why are you acting this way? You can easily act neutral like always, smiling, ignoring all of these feelings.

But breathing was hard, the murmurs of other people being only that; whispers you could barely understand. You felt like you had no control of yourself, like you were trapped in this center of humiliation of people you once called friends.

But they never intended to be your friends from the start; they were only using you.

This wasn't the first time either. Over and over again you were considered the center of humiliation of these people, the only difference is that this time was the last straw that broke off the mask you tried to so desperately to keep on.

A pair of hands began shaking you, trying to make you stand up from the floor. You couldn't pay attention to who it was, as you were busy enough dealing with the sudden lost of oxygen.

Maybe even a lost of self.

Barely able to walk due to your legs feeling numb from the unbearable feeling in your chest, whoever it was helped you out and moved your arm around their neck. You're not exactly sure what happened, but before you could even get yourself together, you noticed you were outside.

Still breathing heavily, finally, you looked at the figure that helped you out.

Colby.

It only made your panic attack worse. You started crying harder when you saw his face. The pain of being a fool was covered in your face.

"Hey, come on, breathe." He tried to give you your space. Far enough to let you calm down, close enough to hold you up. But he ended up hugging you closer when he noticed how broken you seemed.

You didn't hesitate and held him tighter. "I'm sorry, I.. I... I sh-shouldn't..." You sniffed, trying to find the right words to say. You felt the urge to try and explain yourself to him. Your vision was blurry and finding yourself choking with your own words.

"Let it all out, don't worry. I'm here for you, okay?" He whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his hands caressing your back as he spoke. "Breathe. Calm down your breathing first, sweetheart. It'll be alright."

Shaking in his arms, you found yourself comforted by his scent. Breathing in his cologne felt almost hypnotizing. His way of calming you down absolutely worked. For the most part. Sniffing, you tried to explain yourself, trying to argue to yourself that these feelings shouldn't have appeared, it was all a mere accident.

But your cries were more than enough to make him understand at least half of the situation. He was sure it was your friends, but for some reason you were pleading for forgiveness to him. "Hey... you don't owe me an explination, yeah?" He wiped a few lost tears through the run down mascara and cupped your head in his hands, smiling back at you. "Want me to take you home?"

You were barely able to respond with a little nod. It was all he needed.

It was a decently quiet ride. Colby took it upon himself to try and make you feel alright, holding onto your shaky hand and softly caressing it.

When he parked infront of your home, as he was about to walk out of the car, you stopped him. Looking back at you, he understood and sat back down. You didn't want to go inside, or maybe you didn't want to stand up overall, which he didn't mind if it meant for you to feel alright.

With your shivering lips and puffy eyes, you sniffed whilst wiping some dry tears from your cheeks. The stress has calmed down and you're able to breathe normally once again.

He was patient with you. He didn't try and make you speak up or got tired, he waited. Waited until you said something or wanted to move.

"Sorry." You finally spoke. He kept his eyes on your eyes, waiting for you to elaborate. "I was... a mess, it shouldn't have happened." You wiped some tears before looking at him. He seemed... confused.

"What do you mean it shouldn't have happened?" He asked.

"You're just... trying to have fun while I'm here just... ruining your night. I told you I wasn't fun. You could've found someone else to go with, I-"

"Who said I wanted someone else?" He interrupted.

It made you quiet down for a few seconds before talking back. "Well, I mean..." You sniffed. "You were... with... there was someone else, I just thought... you just... wanted someone... to... um... I don't know... hang around with, not something to carry." It was hard for you to explain yourself.

What were you even trying to explain? Were you just upset because you 'ruined his night' or because of something else? You were confused. "Who? The annoying girl? She randomly came to me, I couldn't even move her away because I had the drinks on my hands."

Annoying was a word that stood out to you. It seemed your overthinking got the best of you. Perhaps whatever you believed wasn't true? Looking at his face dumbfounded, he smirked. "What? Were you jealous?"

That was another word that stood out. Your cheeks fluttered and you murmured to yourself whilst looking away. "As if..." You could hear his contagious laugh after your words, making you smile slightly.

There was a comfortable silence before he spoke again.

"I saw it. Last time. Your 'friends'... The way she didn't even hesitate on making herself the victim when she saw fit. I had to control myself that night, that plastic face of hers was about to change shape if I didn't." He laughed to himself.

You were quiet, so he continued. "Honestly, it made me so mad that even though I was going to try and talk to you anyways, I had to make sure you didn't go back to them. I didn't want you to. You don't deserve friends like that, no one does." His brows furrowed at the thought.

"...It's not like I wanted to, either. I guess I just... got used to it." You whispered, looking at his hands covering yours. He held them tighter and got slightly closer to kiss your forehead, giving you a soft smile afterwards.

"I don't know if you'll ever try to trust again after all of that, but... would you give me a chance to be your friend? For now, who knows if I might level up later on." It made you smile. It always made you smile.

And you wanted to trust. To trust him, even though it might break your heart in the long run. Right now, you just wanted to feel safe, and he was the safest bet. "I guess I can give you a chance. And... let's see if you're able to upgrade sooner than later." He could only smile brighter, kissing your knuckles before changing his tone of voice to a more energetic one.

"So, wanna get drunk in your house? I have a Jack Daniel's in the trunk."

"Wha..."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

this was lying on my drafts for too long unnecesarily- hope you liked it!

also i put specifically that one song but there are so many that can be part of this trope, it's just too much for me to add lol

~nikkõ

[samurx]

In the wake of Iron

(I don’t know what this is, but felt like writing it)

I was ten when my father built the first Iron Man suit in a cave.

Not a lab. Not some shiny Stark tower. A cave. With scraps.

The world saw a miracle. I saw a man who had finally met the monster he helped create and decided to fight it. Before that, he was… charming, reckless, brilliant, and completely unavailable. I loved him. I also resented him. You don’t grow up as Tony Stark’s daughter without learning how to hold a conversation by yourself. He loved his work—sometimes more than he knew how to love people. But that cave changed something.

When he came home, everything shifted. He shut down weapons manufacturing—Stark Industries, the empire my grandfather built. The board wanted his head. The world called him unstable. But I remember how steady his hands were when he held my face and said, “No more.”

Then came the suit. The real one. Red and gold, loud as hell, fast as light. I watched it take shape in the garage under our house—not a product, not a prototype. A promise. He said, “I finally know what I have to do.” And from that day, he didn’t stop.

People think the Avengers started with some government file or top-secret program. It didn’t. It started with my dad, flying too close to the sun and refusing to come back down. He pissed off the right people, saved the wrong ones, and somewhere along the way, a god fell from the sky.

Thor was the first alien I ever saw in real life. Golden hair, hammer that no one else could lift, voice like thunder in a suit. My father didn’t like him at first. He didn’t like anyone at first. But they needed each other. All of them did. Steve Rogers, brought back from a time when everything was simpler and more impossible at once. Banner, trying to keep a beast in his skin. Natasha, who could kill with a glance and still hold a conversation like nothing ever happened. Clint, quiet eyes that saw everything. And later… Wanda, Vision, Sam, Peter…

It was never a team. It was a collision.

But they became a team. In New York, when the sky opened and aliens poured out of it, I watched from our panic room. I couldn’t reach him. Couldn’t talk to him. I just sat there, eyes locked on the screen, watching him fly that nuke into a portal with no promise of return. That was the moment I knew—he would always choose the world over himself.

That was the first time he almost died for it. It wouldn’t be the last.

And Hydra? Don’t even get me started. They weren’t just the villains. They were the reason Dad couldn’t sleep, the reason he started building AI, the reason Ultron existed at all. He wanted to protect the world. But he never realized how close you can get to destroying something when you try too hard to save it. Ultron was that mistake made real. And when Sokovia fell… part of him broke too. He didn’t say it out loud, but I heard it in the silence between his sentences.

Then came Wanda. I think he saw her as both a threat and a tragedy. He never blamed her—not really. Maybe because he understood what it was like to live with guilt stitched into your bones.

Vision was different. Something Dad created, almost by accident, that became better than any of us. Calm. Curious. Gentle. He looked at the world like it was worth loving. Even when it wasn’t.

And Peter… God. The kid. He reminded me of Dad in ways that scared me. All that potential, all that heart. So desperate to do good, to be enough. Dad tried to protect him, but let’s be honest—Peter broke through the walls he built better than anyone ever had.

When the Sokovia Accords happened, I stood in the hallway and listened to my father argue with Steve. It was like watching two sides of the same coin fight to be heads. Steve believed in people. Dad believed in structure. And they both broke something in the process.

Then came Thanos.

I don’t think anyone can understand what it felt like to see half the universe vanish unless you lived it. And watching my father come back after five years—older, quieter, with a daughter of his own—it was like watching a man reborn. He had everything to lose now. And still… he went back. He put the suit on one more time.

I watched the footage of that final fight once. Just once. That moment where he takes the stones, where he looks at Thanos and says, “I am Iron Man.”

He knew.

He always knew.

He didn’t win because he was the smartest man in the room, or because he had the best tech. He won because he never stopped caring. Even when it hurt. Even when it killed him.

People call him a hero. The godfather of the Avengers. The one who started it all.

To me?

He was my dad.

And I miss him every day.