if you're going through hell, keep going

Get sorted, meet the Slytherin boys, and carve your own story at Hogwarts -- what will you choose in this Choose Your Own Adventure?

Slytherin Boys x Reader Choose Your Own Adventure

Could you write something super angsty and set during season 8 where the reader and sam are in an established relationship but the reader gets thrown into Purgatory with Dean? She and dean get separated in Purgatory and she uses the portal to hell to get out way before dean. So she goes to look for sam but finds him already heavily involved with amelia. The reader feels heartbroken and betrayed because it had only been a few months since she disappeared. And sam sees her outside his house and they have a massive argument with tears and tension and terrible words that neither of them actually mean.  Your choice on how to end it (whether that be angst, fluff, reunion, whatever)

Thank you so much, youre writing is just too good 🫶

╰┈➤ But At What Cost?

Sam Winchester x reader Summary: You and Sam were happy together as a couple but you ended up in Purgatory with Dean and Castiel. After getting out alone, you saw Sam with Amelia. He saw you too. Warnings: angst/yelling and arguments/feeling of being left behind/talks about deaths/ideas of suicide/relationship breakdown

The portal spat you out in a forest somewhere in Montana, and you hit the ground so hard your teeth rattled. For a moment, you just lay there, breathing real air—not the thick, blood-tasting atmosphere of Purgatory—and felt grass beneath your fingers instead of ash and bone.

Dean.

You'd lost him three weeks ago. Three weeks of fighting your way through that nightmare alone, following rumors of portals, of ways out. You'd found one through Hell itself, and you'd taken it, because you had to believe Dean would find his way out too. He always did.

And you had to get back to Sam.

Sam, who you'd been kissing goodbye when the Leviathan exploded and the world went sideways. Sam, whose face you'd been holding onto through every blood-soaked day in Purgatory. Sam, who'd promised you that morning that when this was over, maybe you two could finally take that trip to the Grand Canyon, do something normal for once.

It took you two days to track him down. Two days of calling his disconnected cell, of finding the Impala gone from Bobby's, of finally sweet-talking information out of Garth.

Kermit, Texas. Small town. New name.

You found the address as the sun was setting, your heart hammering against your ribs. The house was modest, painted blue, with wind chimes on the porch. So unlike anything Sam Winchester would choose that you almost thought you had the wrong place.

Then you saw him through the window.

Sam was in the kitchen, laughing. Actually laughing, his head thrown back in a way you hadn't seen in years. He was wearing a normal shirt—plaid, but store-bought, not a thrift-shop hunting flannel. He looked lighter somehow. Peaceful.

And then she walked into frame. Pretty, dark-haired, soft-looking. She wrapped her arms around him from behind, and Sam turned, pulling her close, kissing her like he had every right to, like he'd been doing it for years.

Like you were dead.

The world tilted. Your hand found the porch railing, gripping so hard you felt splinters bite into your palm.

It had been four months. Four goddamn months since the Leviathan, since you'd vanished. You'd counted every single day in Purgatory, carved them into your memory like tally marks because that's what kept you sane—knowing you had to get back to him.

Four months, and he'd already replaced you.

You must have made a sound—a gasp, a sob, something—because Sam's head jerked toward the window. His eyes went wide, all the color draining from his face.

"No," you heard him say through the glass. "No, that's not—"

You were already walking away when the door slammed open behind you.

"Wait! Wait, please—"

You spun around, and Sam froze on the porch steps. Up close, you could see he looked good. Healthy. Well-rested. Not like a man who'd spent four months torn apart by grief.

"You're alive," he breathed, and there was wonder in his voice, but also something else. Something that looked almost like guilt, or worse—regret.

"Surprise," you said, and your voice came out sharp and brittle as broken glass.

"I thought—we all thought you were dead. You and Dean both, you were just gone—"

"Four months, Sam." Your eyes were burning. "It's been four months."

"I looked for you! I looked everywhere, I—" He ran his hand through his hair, that familiar gesture that used to make you melt. Now it just made you want to scream. "There was nothing. No signs, no leads, no bodies. People said you were gone, that Purgatory doesn't—that humans don't come back."

"Well, I did." You gestured at yourself, still wearing the shredded remains of the clothes you'd disappeared in, still covered in dirt and blood and things you didn't want to think about. "I'm standing right here."

"I can see that." His voice broke. "God, I can see that, and I don't—I don't know what to say."

"How about explaining who the hell that is?" You jerked your chin toward the house, where the woman now stood in the doorway, watching with wide, confused eyes.

Sam's jaw tightened. "Her name is Amelia."

"I didn't ask her name. I asked who she is."

"She's—" He swallowed hard. "We're together."

The words hit like a fist to the sternum. You'd known, of course you'd known from the moment you saw them, but hearing him say it out loud made it real in a way that shattered something inside you.

"Four months," you repeated, and this time your voice shook. "I was in Hell's waiting room for four months, fighting for my life every single second, thinking about you, holding onto you like a lifeline—and you were here playing house?"

"That's not fair—"

"Fair?" Your laugh was ragged. "You want to talk about fair? I watched Dean get chased by a pack of vampires. I couldn't help him! I spent three weeks alone, Sam, alone in Purgatory, eating raw meat and sleeping in trees and praying I'd find a way back to you. What part of that is fair?"

"You think I wasn't suffering?" Sam's voice rose, and there it was—anger, finally, breaking through the shock. "You think losing you didn't destroy me? I drank myself sick for weeks. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't do anything but see your face and know you were gone and I couldn't save you—"

"So you moved on! Four months, and you just—what, decided I wasn't worth the wait?"

"I thought you were DEAD!" He was shouting now, his face flushed, hands clenched into fists. "What was I supposed to do, spend the rest of my life in a bottle? Keep hunting until something finally killed me too? I tried that! I tried that for years, and it almost did kill me, and I can't—I can't do it anymore!"

"So this is what, retirement?" You gestured at the house, at Amelia hovering uncertainly in the doorway. "You just gave up? On hunting, on Dean, on me?"

"Don't you dare." Sam's voice went low and dangerous. "Don't you dare act like I didn't care. I have spent my entire life losing people, watching everyone I love die, and I couldn't—I can't keep doing that. I can't keep being that person."

"Then what are you?" The tears were falling now, hot and fast down your cheeks. "Because the Sam I knew, the Sam I loved, would never have given up. Would never have moved on so fast. Would never have—" Your voice cracked. "Would never have forgotten me."

"I never forgot you." Sam's eyes were red-rimmed, bright with unshed tears. "Not for a single day. But you were gone, and I had to accept that, and I had to find a way to live with it or I was going to eat a bullet. Is that what you wanted? You want me to apologize for not killing myself?"

"I want you to have TRIED!" You were screaming now, all the fear and pain and loneliness of Purgatory pouring out. "I want you to have looked harder, I want you to have believed I could make it back, I want you to have—to have waited for me!"

"I did wait!" Sam shouted back. "I waited until there was nothing left to wait for! You were gone, Dean was gone, and Castiel was gone, and I was alone, and I'm sorry if that's not enough for you, but I did the best I could!"

"Your best?" You laughed bitterly. "Your best was shacking up with the first woman who smiled at you?"

Sam flinched like you'd slapped him. "Don't. Don't make this ugly."

"It's already ugly, Sam. It's been ugly since the moment I saw you kissing her."

"Sam?" Amelia's voice, soft and worried, cut through the anger. "Is everything okay?"

You saw the way Sam's face changed when he looked at her. Soft. Protective. The way he used to look at you.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, just—give me a minute?"

She nodded and retreated inside, and that hurt worse somehow. That he was asking you for minutes when he'd given her months.

When Sam turned back to you, something had shifted. His shoulders were set, his jaw tight. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to care that I'm alive."

"I do care—"

"Then act like it!" Your voice broke on a sob. "Act like it matters that I crawled out of literal Hell to get back to you! Act like four months isn't enough time to completely forget everything we had!"

"I never forgot." Sam's voice was rough, raw. "But I can't—I can't go back to that life. I can't go back to losing everyone, to the pain and the death and the apocalypse-level shit every other week. I'm done."

"Dean's still there." The words came out flat. "Dean's still in Purgatory."

Sam went very still. "What?"

"We got separated. I found a way out, but Dean's still there, still fighting. And I'm going to go back for him because that's what you DO when you love someone. You don't give up. You don't move on. You fight."

"You can't go back there." Sam's voice was strangled. "You barely made it out alive—"

"And I'll barely make it back in, but I'm going anyway. Because Dean would do it for me. You would have done it for me once." You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, smearing dirt and tears across your face. "I don't know who you are anymore, Sam Winchester. But you're not the man I fell in love with."

"Maybe that's a good thing." Sam's words were quiet, but they landed like bullets. "Maybe that man got you into too much pain."

You stared at him, at this stranger wearing Sam's face, and felt something inside you finally break clean through.

"You're right," you whispered. "Maybe he did. But at least that man knew what love meant. What loyalty meant."

"That's not fair—"

"Stop saying that!" You were backing away now, toward the street, toward anywhere that wasn't here. "You don't get to tell me what's fair. You don't get to make yourself the victim in this. You gave up, Sam. You gave up on me, on Dean, on everything we were. So you stay here with your nice normal girlfriend and your nice normal life, and I'll go get your brother out of Hell. Alone. Like I've been doing everything else."

"Wait—" Sam started down the steps, but you held up a hand.

"Don't. Just... don't."

"How will I know if you make it back?"

The question almost made you laugh. "You won't. And based on tonight, I don't think you'll care either way."

"That's not true." Sam's voice cracked. "You know that's not true."

"I don't know anything anymore." You turned away, unable to look at him for another second. "Goodbye, Sam."

"Please." He was crying now, you could hear it in his voice. "Please don't go like this."

But you were already walking, your vision blurred with tears, your heart a mangled mess in your chest. Behind you, you heard Amelia's soft voice asking if he was okay, heard Sam's choked response that you couldn't make out.

You didn't look back.

You had a hunter to find and a portal to Purgatory to locate. Dean was still there, still fighting, still believing someone would come for him.

And if Sam had taught you anything tonight, it was that some people were worth going to Hell for.

And some people weren't worth coming back to.

Hi! Sorry this took so long ❤︎ I've been sitting on this longer than I'd like to admit. Oops. ❤︎ But it's here and Molly hasn't been convinced that Reader is right for Fred (not that it's her choice).

Anyways...

Hope y'all enjoy ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Molly's house

part i

Fred Weasley x reader

1.9k words

cw: fluff, y/n, molly still doesn't like reader, mention of abusive father

You apparated just outside of the Weasley property. You could already see the tent being put up for Bill and Fleur’s wedding. You straightened your dress. Then you walked onto the property that you hadn’t been to since your first visit. It was almost strange being back here. 

Molly didn’t get much better for the rest of your first visit. She kept mumbling insults to herself. You heard more of them than you wanted to, but you knew that Fred loved you and it was enough to keep you there for the rest of your visit. However, knowing how his mum felt about you, you swore you wouldn’t go back. You occasionally crossed paths after that summer, like at Fred and George’s joke shop, and it was clear that Molly had yet to come around to you, despite the fact that you remained at Fred’s side. 

Ginny was the first one to see you as you approached the Burrow. She ran out to greet you, which was an impressive feat given her heels. 

“Y/N!” she squealed as she hugged you. “It’s been too long!”

Fred Weasley x FemGryffindorReader

Ginny is upset about Harry’s reaction to her valentine poem, and y/n assures her a poem is a very romantic gesture, When Fred hears this, he gets an idea.

———————————————————————

The Gryffindor common room was still bustling at this time of night, excited girls giggled with their friends as they flashed roses and secret love letters they’d received. The boys were congratulating each other on jobs well done. A few people were moping at their efforts having been rejected.

You were curled up in one of the armchairs closest to the fire, legs tucked underneath you, your Potions homework long forgotten on your lap. Ginny Weasley sat beside you on a pouf, small shoulders hunched, eyes suspiciously shiny as she poked at the fraying edge of her sleeve. Fred and George Weasley were sprawled on the floor in front of you, an Exploding Snap deck crackling between them as they launched teasing insults and dodged bursts of smoke.

Ginny sniffled. “I just thought…maybe he’d like it. I worked hard on it,” she mumbled, blinking quickly and avoiding your gaze.

You reached out, brushing a strand of her fiery hair behind her ear with a gentleness that made her eyes glisten even more. “Ginny, it was sweet and brave. You poured your heart into it. If he didn’t get it…well, that’s his loss.”

Fred, from where he knelt by the fireplace, let out a theatrical groan. “You mean that poem? The one with the ‘hair as dark as a blackboard’ bit?”

“Yes, personally I don’t know how being told his eyes were ‘as green as freshly pickled toads’ didn’t immediately win him over.” George howled with laughter.

The Proxies x Fem!Reader

Summary:

You find yourself in the middle of a murder. You are the cause of the murder. Fortunately, he was a target for someone else. Unfortunately for you, it puts you in a position you cannot get out of easily. You have no control over anything about to happen, which is unknown to you. You will have to learn to relinquish control, while also navigating your new life and very new acquaintances.

Your heart thrummed in your chest as you fidgeted with the cup in your hand. A dull, aching throb that made the pit in your stomach worsen. The mood that radiated off of you, contradicting the environment that surrounded you. Bright lights flashing, smoke swirling through the air veiling you from the others, liquor and cigarettes filling your nose, and the thump of the music echoing through your ears. And yet, the only thing you could focus on was that mess of red hair.

Summary: Y/N, an American half-blood witch newly arrived in Muggle London, stumbles into the warmth of the Weasley brothers after a serendipitous meeting in Diagon Alley. Drawn into their world, she finds herself at the Burrow more often than not. Meanwhile, Bill Weasley is learning to navigate life as a single father, relying on his mother’s help to care for Victoire. Though their worlds orbit each other, Y/N and Bill’s paths never seem to align—until one evening when fate finally draws them together. Will it be the start of a love story, or will they be left with nothing but heartache?

Total Word Count: 42.2k

Part two- Isaac Lahey

There was a knock at the door.

Not a polite one.

Three rapid-fire taps, a pause, then two more — the exact knock pattern Stiles had been using since you were both ten and thought you needed a secret code for everything.

You sighed and shuffled across the living room, one hand tugging your too-large hoodie tighter around your bandaged ribs.

When you pulled the door open, there he was.

Stiles Stilinski, standing on your porch with two overstuffed grocery bags, a sheepish grin, and his hair sticking up in a way that said he’d definitely lost a battle with his Jeep’s air vents.

“You” he said dramatically, pointing straight at you accusingly.

“Me?”you asked confused as to what you had done.

Stiles tutted pushing past you before you could speak, “You are officially on house arrest.”

You raised a brow. “House arrest?”

“Yep,” he said, dropping the bags onto your kitchen counter with a heavy thud. “By order of me. Sheriff’s son. That’s gotta mean something.”

“It means nothing to me, plus I can’t be on house arrest what about Lydia she needs help and hold on isn’t Derek hale running around turning teenagers into werewolves!?” you asked, crossing your arms carefully so you didn’t pull on your side too much.

“You exist. You’re reckless. You almost got turned into werewolf sushi two weeks ago. Lydia does need help yes, but you have already helped enough so leave that to us and also the Derek Hale thing-totally a conversation for later”he tried to change the subject quickly knowing you had many questions.

You smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “You are so odd sometimes Stilinski”

“Says the girl who ran straight at a supernatural serial killer with no weapon and a very questionable plan.”

“It was a solid plan!” you protested.

“You screamed”he interjected.

“Solid ish plan?”you offered.

Stiles threw his hands up. “Exactly my point! Hence—house arrest. Which includes,” he said, excitedly pulling items from the bags, “movies, junk food, and no emotionally and physically damaging supernatural activity for at least—” he checked an invisible watch, “—twelve hours.”

You laughed, a real one this time. A little cracked around the edges, but it made his shoulders drop a little, the tension easing out of him like he hadn’t realized how tight it was.

He set a tub of ice cream down with a flourish. “I also brought ice cream. Because I’m a great nurse. And a better best friend.”

“You’re a disaster,” you said fondly, grabbing a spoon from the drawer.

“No, we are both disasters”he said easily, nudging your hip with his.

The casual words hung in the air for a second too long.

You caught his eye.

He looked away first, suddenly way too interested in reorganizing your fridge.

Maybe healing wasn’t just about the stitches and the bruises.

Maybe it was this too—standing in a messy kitchen, with someone who made you feel like everything wasn’t completely broken yet.

-

The hallway smelled like cheap bleach and high school nerves.

You were finally off crutches — mostly. Your limp was still obvious, but you ditched them at your locker and refused to look back. If you could survive getting slashed open by a psychotic alpha, you could survive this.

“You sure you should be walking that much?” came a voice behind you — breathless, rushed, worried.

You turned and grinned.

Stiles Stilinski was there, backpack half-zipped, shirt sleeves shoved up, hair sticking up like he’d sprinted across the parking lot to catch you.

You leaned back casually against your locker. “Gonna start carrying my books for me too, Stilinski?”

He flushed immediately, glancing down at your bag like he was about two seconds from actually offering. “If you want. I mean, I can. I could—I could carry you, if you need. Like a—like a… backpack but for people?”

You snorted. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Right, right,” he mumbled, shouldering his bag again and somehow managing to smack himself in the face with one of the straps. “Totally cool. Normal. Fine.”

You hid your smile as you started walking toward class.

He fell into step beside you, trying very hard not to hover but failing miserably.

Ever since the night of the Winter Formal — ever since Peter’s claws had torn into you — Stiles had been… different. Still sarcastic. Still quick with a joke. But around you?

He was all nervous hands, red ears, and tangled words.

And he couldn’t stop looking at you.

Every time you winced slightly.

Every time you adjusted your sweatshirt to hide the healing scars.

Every time you laughed like you meant it.

He noticed. He noticed everything. More than usual.

You slid into your usual seat near the back, sighing quietly as you stretched your leg out to ease the pressure off your side.

Stiles started toward the seat next to you—

—but someone beat him to it.

Isaac Lahey.

He dropped into the chair beside you, setting his worn backpack down with a soft thud. His movements were careful, almost too careful — like he was trying not to draw attention.

You blinked.

Isaac Lahey had never so much as looked at you before this year.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, almost cautious.

You blinked in surprise.

Isaac Lahey didn’t talk to you. Or anyone, really.

Not until now.

“You doing okay?” he asked, flicking a quick glance to your side, then your face.

“Yeah,” you said slowly, a little wary but polite. “Healing.”

Isaac smiled — small and almost apologetic. “Good. You… looked rough for a while.”

You huffed a short laugh. “Oh, thanks Lahey.”

At that exact moment, a chair scraped loudly against the floor.

You turned your head and found Stiles.

He was dropping into the seat directly on your left, clutching his notebook a little too tightly, the front of his sneakers practically bouncing against the floor.

He gave you a wide, almost manic grin that screamed everything’s fine, totally normal, I definitely didn’t just sprint across the room to sit next to you, please don’t notice how bad I am at breathing right now.

You smirked, biting your lip to hold back a laugh.

Stiles shifted in his seat like he couldn’t quite get comfortable, shooting a tight, sideways glare past you at Isaac.

Isaac, oblivious (or pretending to be), just smiled a little more and leaned a bit closer to you to whisper, “If you need someone to help carry your stuff… I’m around.”

From your left, Stiles made a wheeze-sputter noise that he tried (badly) to cover with a cough.

You barely kept it together, giving Isaac a polite nod, then tapping your pen against your notebook to hide your grin.

The entire class passed in a weird, hilarious tension bubble:

• Isaac subtly trying to make conversation when the teacher wasn’t looking.

• Stiles dropping his pencil twice, his notebook once, and almost elbowing you in the ribs when he tried to lean back coolly and missed the chair support entirely.

By the time the bell rand you were practically burning feeling Stiles eyes in the side of your face.

You gathered your things, letting Isaac head out first with a casual, “See you around.”

As you stepped into the hallway, Stiles right beside you, you didn’t even have to say anything.

You just turned your head slightly, caught his eye—

—and he was already looking at you.

Both of you raised your eyebrows almost at the same time.

“Bitten?”Stiles uttered out.

“Totally bitten”you agreed.

Stiles nodded once, almost imperceptibly, the corners of his mouth twitching in that way he always got when he was hiding panic under sarcasm.

You smirked, bumping your shoulder gently into his as you walked.

He bumped you back, just a little too carefully, like he was still terrified of hurting you.

You didn’t say it out loud. You didn’t need to.

You both knew exactly what Isaac Lahey was now.

And Stiles, judging by the way he kept glancing sideways at you like he wanted to chain you to his side for protection, was absolutely not okay with it.

The hallway buzzed with the usual noise — lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking, the heavy drone of bored teenagers.

You and Stiles walked side by side, your bag slung lightly over one shoulder, his bouncing awkwardly against his hip.

He slowed his steps naturally, unconsciously matching your slower, limping pace, never commenting on it, just being there like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“What makes you so sure he’s been bitten?” you asked, glancing sideways at him.

Stiles raised his eyebrows dramatically. “What makes you so sure, Stilinski?” you teased, bumping your hip lightly into his.

He huffed, pretending to be offended.

“Okay, theory time,” he said, launching into it with all the energy of someone who definitely spent way too long thinking about this.

“Isaac Lahey stares at you. Like, all the time. Literally for years. He’s just been, I don’t know, creepily lurking over in the corner—”

He paused, waving his hands vaguely around his own neck.

“—in his stupid scarf.”

You let out a soft, amused snort.

“Anyways!” Stiles said louder, pointing a finger at you like you were on trial, “he didn’t have the confidence before to just walk up to you and talk to you.”

You slowed slightly as you reached your locker, eyebrows pulling together.

“What do you mean… staring?” you asked, genuinely confused, your hand tightening on your strap.

Stiles stopped too, spinning around to face you fully, walking backward a few steps like it physically hurt him that you didn’t already know this.

“C’mon, Y/N, you’ve never noticed?!”

You shook your head, blinking at him, utterly bewildered.

He stared at you like you’d just told him you didn’t know the sky was blue.

“Seriously?!”

He threw his arms up.

“The kid looked like he was trying to memorize your soul with his eyeballs every time you walked into a room!”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he steamrolled ahead, pointing at you again like he was listing official government evidence.

“Stop interrupting me! Anyways—that, and paired with the fact that he walked in today wearing a brand new Derek Hale™ approved leather jacket—”

he mimed air quotes furiously,

“—means he’s officially one of Derek’s glorious, broody little wolf cubs.”

“He was totally listening to our conversation in the corridor too what was that comment about holding your bag, he wasn’t even nearby when we were at your locker”Stiles explained.

“How do you know that?”you questioned raising an eyebrow.

“Well for one I’d notice that fucking scarf from a mile away- I mean what is that all about?”Stiles grew red in the face a fraction.

You laughed under your breath, unable to help it.

“I also have many theories-“ You began to explain as You and Stiles reached your next class. Stiles leaned against the locker next to yours like he hadn’t been doing that exact move since you were twelve — arms folded, expression cocky but still buzzing with that barely-contained worry just beneath the surface.

You started to spin your combination when the hallway noise shifted — just slightly.

Conversations paused. A few heads turned.

You glanced up instinctively — and there she was.

Erica Reyes. But not the Erica you remembered.

Gone was the girl who barely spoke, who kept her hair pinned back and her shoulders hunched, always half-hiding behind hoodies and lockers.

Now she walked like she owned the hallway.

Hair curled. Leather jacket zipped just enough to be intimidating. Boots that clicked like punctuation.

And confidence — radiating off her like static.

Stiles actually choked a little. “What the—”

You blinked. “Is that… Erica?”

He stared, eyebrows climbing so high they were practically in his hairline.

“She looks… different,” you muttered.

Stiles coughed into his hand. “Different? She looks like she walked off the set of The Craft and onto a Vogue cover.”

“Bitten, definitely fucking bitten”you whispered, shell shocked.

“She used to faint during PE,” he whispered like it was confidential government info. “She once panicked doing a chin-up. One.”

You leaned slightly out into the hallway Stiles following your actions seconds later, watching her glide past like she wasn’t even aware people were staring. Like she didn’t care.

But then — she glanced sideways. Just for a second.

Right at you.

And she smirked.

It wasn’t cruel.

Just… knowing.

Like she was in on something you weren’t yet.

“Why’d she look at you like that”Stiles murmured his mouth settling into a firm line.

“Me? I thought she was looking at you like that”you murmured back, your face matching his expression.

“Me? Why would she be looking at me like that?”Stiles eyes turned from curiousness to confusion.

“I don’t know, maybe because she has a raging crush on you”you answered quickly.

“What?! No way”he shook his head.

“C’mon Stiles, you’ve never noticed?”your mouth fell open slightly.

He shook his head, blinking at you, utterly bewildered.

Before you could fill Stiles in there was another shift in the atmosphere.

Isaac.

Rounding the corner minutes behind Erica, wearing that brand-new leather jacket, looking more like a threat than a background character.

He scanned the hallway — and his eyes landed right on you.

This time, you felt it.

The look.

Stiles stiffened next to you like a drawn bowstring.

“Here we go,” he muttered.

Isaac walked up slowly, all calm eyes and quiet confidence. “Hey,” he said, voice soft. “You dropped something.”

You looked down—

He held out a pen. Yours. Must’ve fallen from your bag.

You took it. “Uh-Thanks. It’s always nice to have an extra pen”You offered him a small smile, gently taking it out of his hands.

Stiles’ pupils flickered between the two of you, as the exchanged lingered, Isaac holding on slightly as you took the pen from his grasp. The werewolf effect had settled in that dazzling, mysterious and broody effect that was working on you slightly.

“What’s with the scarf?”Stiles coughed out cutting the moment short. Earning glances from both you and Isaac. You pushed the pen into your pocket.

Isaac gave the faintest shrug “It’s literally December”, then looked back at you. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You nodded once, and he walked away.

Stiles didn’t speak for a second.

Stiles turned to face you fully, serious now. “I don’t trust that guy, not even for a second”

-

Lunchtime rolled around and the four of you had taken over your usual table — the one slightly off to the side, where it was just quiet enough to talk without someone breathing down your neck.

Scott was mid-rant about Derek, Allison was picking at a salad like it had personally offended her, and you were trying not to laugh as Stiles attempted (and failed) to open a bag of chips with one hand while also gesturing wildly with the other.

“…I’m just saying,” he said through clenched teeth, tugging at the seal like it owed him money, “if Derek’s suddenly giving out bites like Oprah gives out cars, we’re gonna need a better system. Like a list. Or an application process.”

You snorted. “With references?”

“-Exactly,” he shot back, pointing at you with half a chip.

Scott rolled his eyes. “You two realize none of this is helpful, right?”

“It’s therapeutic,” you and Stiles said in sync, exchanging a quick glance that lingered a little too long.

Allison raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Then—

SLAP.

A hand slammed down on the table so hard it made Stiles drop his chips again.

“What is holy hell is that?” Lydia Martin snapped, voice pitched somewhere between disgust and horror.

All four of you jumped.

She was standing at the end of the table, eyes wide, lips parted in shock as she pointed across the cafeteria.

You followed her gaze.

Erica was strutting between tables like she didn’t even know people were staring. Eyeliner sharp, heels hitting the floor like punctuation marks. And yes — the leather jacket was still making its appearance.

You blinked.

Then looked back at Lydia.

“You’ve only just seen?” you said dryly, raising a brow. She shot you a look that screamed obviously not. You and Lydia had gotten significantly closer since the whole ‘you kinda saved her life thing’.

After the Winter Formal, Lydia Martin was hospitalized with serious injuries from Peter Hale’s bite. Everyone expected her to turn into a werewolf — even Derek. But she didn’t. And that’s what made it worse.

She vanished from her hospital bed days later.

When she came back, she was… off.

Not in an obvious way at first. She was still Lydia — sharp-tongued, styled, pretending she wasn’t scared. But people noticed. Her hands shook sometimes. Her eyes drifted toward things no one else could see. She stopped showing up to class. She walked into the woods alone at night. And she had no memory of where she went.

Lydia was unraveling in front of everyone, and no one knew how to stop it.

Meanwhile, your wounds were different.

Peter didn’t bite you— he clawed. Deep. Along your ribs and side during the chaos of the lacrosse field.

But when you came back… you were still yourself.

Not hallucinating. Not breaking down.

Just watching.

You were more careful. More quiet. Less quick to speak in a room full of noise.

And that started to freak people out too — especially Derek.

Because while Lydia spiraled, you stayed steady.

And somehow, that was more unsettling.

“She looks like a backup dancer for Rihanna,” Stiles muttered, eyes still wide. “Like… a violent one.”

You all stared at each other for a second — no one laughing now. Lydia looked around at you all for an explanation because you couldn’t tell her the truth about the supernatural just yet.

Something was changing. Again.

And you could all feel it.

-

Scott, Stiles, and yourself stood off to the side as the police finished loading up the last of the scene. Isaac had just been taken in. Flashing lights paint streaks across the parking lot.

“His father’s dead. They think he was murdered”Scott explained to the two of you.

“Holy shit”you held your hands up to your mouth, feeling sadness for Isaac.

“Are they saying he’s a suspect?”Stiles quipped out.

“I’m not sure. Why?”Scotts eyebrow raised slightly.

“Because they can lock him in a holding cell for twenty-four hours…”your eyes widened as you realised.

“Like, overnight?”Scott’s eyes drifted between you and Stiles as he nodded tensely.

During the full moon.

“How good are those holding cells at holding people?”Scott asked regretfully.

“People? Good. Werewolves? Probably not that good”Stiles answered grimly.

There’s a beat. The weight of the full moon sinks in. Everyone glances toward the police car disappearing down the street.

“Guys remember when I said I don’t have the urge to maim and kill?”Scott hummed out.

“Yeah…”Stilinski trailed off.

“He does, I can feel it”

A cold silence settles between you. Stiles shifts uncomfortably.

“Isaac is probably still figuring out how to stop himself just like Scott did, If no one’s in that cell with him…”

“Then someone’s gonna get torn to pieces. Or he’s gonna tear himself apart trying not to”Stiles finished your sentence.

You stood there, the three of you, knowing that you were going to have to fix this—again—before someone else gets hurt. Your hand brushes your side without thinking, the faint reminder of Peter’s claws still there. The danger feels closer than ever.

Back in class, the teacher drones on at the front of the class, but none of you are paying attention. Scott leans over toward Stiles, whispering urgently. You lean forwards, clearly listening.

“What if he can’t control it?”Scott whispered.

“Then we’re all screwed”Stiles whispered back

“He’s locked up. Even if he loses control, how much damage can he really do inside a cell? I mean Scott survived handcuffed to a radiator”you murmured.

“Y/N… he also escaped that night , look Isaac is not going to politely sit there and breathe through it if he shifts”

“We have to get to him. Tonight.”McCall stated.

“You mean… break into the sheriff’s station during a full moon?”you bit down on your pencil.

“Exactly. Which, for the record, sounds both suicidal and illegal”Stiles confirmed, trying not to wave his hands around.

“Great. Let me grab my bag”you rubbed your hands together excitedly.

“Oh definitely no, You’re not going. Absolutely not. You’re still healing and I am not dragging you out of another bloody situation”Stiles stated shaking his head.

“That’s adorable. I’m going”you snorted seriously.

“ I hate to say it Stiles but she’s right. We need her. And she’s not just a bystander in this anymore”Scott reasoned.

The three of you exchange a look — not just worried, but committed. You’ve all done this dance before. And you’ll do it again. Because no one else is going to.

“Okay. But the second something goes sideways, you run. No arguments”Stiles warned.

“Only if you do too”you shot back quickly.

Stiles doesn’t answer. He doesn’t promise.

-

Sheriff Stilinski stood across from Jackson in the principals office, Jackson slouched arrogantly in a chair. The door is slightly ajar. Just outside, you, Stiles and Scott wait awkwardly. You swung back and forth on your chair trying to listen out for something important.

“Listen to me — you’re telling me that you knew Isaac’s father was hitting him?”The sheriff tutted out.

“Hitting him? He was kicking the crap out of him”Jackson corrected Noah.

“Did you ever say anything to anyone? A teacher? Parents? Anyone?”Stiles’ dad continued.

“Nope. It’s not my problem”Jackson shrugged.

“Asshole”you muttered as you held the decoy book up to your face.

“No. No, of course not. You know, it’s funny that the kids getting beaten up are always the ones who least deserve it”the sheriff replied dry and bitterly.

“Yeah”Jackson agreed, completely missing the point.

“…Wait, what?” It finally hit him.

Sheriff Stilinski grabbed the file that was sat on the table and started walking to the door.

“I think we’re done here”Noah shook his head opening the door, stepping out into the hallway where Scott, Stiles, and you are standing. Scott stiffened instinctively.

“Hi, Scott, hello miss y/n” he offered you half a smile.

You shyly lifted your hand to greet your best friends father.

A new voice cuts in from behind you.

“Boys, Y/n…Come on in”you turned your head to take a peak at who had called your name so boldly.

You turn to see Gerard Argent waiting behind the principal’s desk, hands folded like a well-practiced politician. His smile is all teeth.

“Scott McCall… Academically not the most accomplished, but I see you’ve become quite the star athlete!”he started off as the three of you piled into the office.

You shift slightly, instinctively stepping closer to Stiles, eyes narrowing.

“Mr. Stilinski… Oh, perfect grades, but little to no extracurriculars. Maybe you should try lacrosse?” The principals lack of awareness made you snort a little.

Stiles side eyed you. “Oh, actually, I’m already—“

“Y/n, amazing grades, a fair few extracurriculars and an interesting choice in friends, Sorry to hear about your…injury”Gerard’s voice trailed away like he knew something, like he knew everything.

“Hold on… McCall. You’re the Scott that was dating my granddaughter”Gerard’s attention turned back to your friend Scott who shuffled around in his seat.

So he does know everything.

“We were dating, but not anymore. Not dating, not seeing any of each other, or doing anything with each other at all—“Scott jumped into defence mode.

“Relax, Scott. You look like you’re about to crack a cyanide pill with your teeth”Gerard attempted to joke but it fell short.

“Just a hard breakup…”Scott rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh, that’s too bad. You seem like a pretty nice kid to me”Gerard’s tone changes.

You crossed your arms, posture defensive. If you weren’t watching Gerard before you definitely were now— reading him, not buying the kind tone for a second.

“Now, listen, guys. Yes, I am the principal, but I really don’t want you to think of me as the enemy”he continued.

“Heh, is that so?”Stiles muttered under his breath.

“I so second that comment”you murmured back.

Gerard glances at you, the smile barely shifting. But the look in his eyes darkens — briefly.

“However, this being my first day, I do need to support my teachers. So unfortunately, someone is going to have to take the fall and stay behind for detention”he started up again gesturing between the three of you.

The three teens exchanged a look. Stiles sighs dramatically. You just glare at Gerard.

“You mean punish someone to make a point”you cut your eye at him.

“I prefer to think of it as setting a tone”Gerard grinned.

-

The hallway was mostly empty. Lights buzz overhead. The door to detention clicks shut behind them. You and Stiles step out, both looking exhausted and annoyed. Being the ones to take the fall and sit through detention.

Stiles pulled the phone out of his pocket and held it to his ear as it started ringing.

“Come on, come on…”his foot tapped impatiently.

“Stiles?”You could hear Allison’s voice buzzing through the speaker on the other end. She was currently rummaging through her families belongings on the sly.

“Hey, sorry— we just got out. What’s going on?”he answered sending you a brief nod.

“Is Y/N with you?”you heard as he pushed the loud speaker button.

“Who else do you think I’m with whenever I say ‘we’”he rolled his eyes as if it was common knowledge. It was.

“We need to do something right now. My family were asking me questions about Lydia and Y/n-about how they were attacked by Peter—and then they sent this guy out…”Allison’s words were rushed and urgent with a hint of panic.

“Wait, first of all what questions were they asking about y/n and second of all what guy?”Stiles eyes flickered over to you briefly.

“We will talk about the questions later, and the guy? He was dressed like a Sheriff’s deputy”Allison responded.

Your eyes land on Stiles, already frowning.

“That’s not normal. There aren’t that many deputies on call tonight”you noted.

“They’re sending him to the station for Isaac”Stiles thought aloud.

“He had this box—like something carved into it”Allison continued.

“What kind of carving?”you ask curiously as Allison flips pages. The line rustles.

“Hold on… I’m taking a picture”she calls out quickly.

Both of your heads snap towards the phone as Stiles’ phone pings with the incoming image.

“Yeah. Wolfsbane”Stiles ran his hands over his mouth.

You let out a fearful gulp, your eyes meeting Stiles once again. Finding them already trained on you.

“They’re not bringing him in to question him…”you shook your head.

“What does that mean?”Allisons voice rang down the phone.

“It means they’re gonna kill him.”Stiles’ stress levels rose.

eddie munson steve harrington

remus lupin sirius black james potter miguel o'hara

spencer reid aaron hotchner

fred weasley

tasm! peter parker

MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS IN GREEN

NO SMUT OR EXPLICIT CONTENT

○ FLUFF | □ SPICE | ● ANGST |• HEADCANONS

◇ FEM! READER | ☆ GN! READER | 《》 MASC! READER

□ LONGING FROM AFAR ◇

↳ Minho has always been cocky and self-assured. That is until a girl arrives in the Glade. A girl he’s had some interesting dreams about.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

• SOME HEADCANONS ◇

↳ Just some headcanons about our favourite Runner.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

□ FIRECRACKER ◇

↳ Minho finally agrees to teach you how to fight after weeks of pestering him. Though, things take an unexpected turn.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

○ SAFE PLACE ◇

↳ After you narrowly escape the vicious actions of another Glader who couldn’t take no for an answer, you find refuge in Minho’s hut - and his arms.

Contains references to sexual assault but there’s nothing explicit.

○ UNDER THE INFLUENCE ◇

↳ After the Greenie Day celebrations leave you a little bit intoxicated, Minho takes care of you and keeps you safe.

○ HIDE AND SEEK ◇

↳ You’re training to be a Runner and, as the Keeper, Minho is made to look after you. Though, things take a dramatic turn as Minho is forced to save your life.

□ LET ME MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER ◇

↳ Somehow, you end up giving your best friend a massage. Things go about as well as expected.

Basically the start of a bad porn scenario.

□ INAPPROPRIATE WORKPLACE BEHAVIOUR ◇

↳ You miss out on the Bonfire to stay to help Minho with the Maps. Unfortunately, he’s a little distracted.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

□ AFTER THE CALM ◇

↳ Joining the group from the scorch, the Gladers take a blow after losing Newt to the Crank Palace. So, you help cheer Minho up.

Book-based fic. Contains suggestive content and spice.

□ BEYOND THE OTHER SIDE ◇

↳ Despite your feelings for one another, you and Minho have decided it’s best to stay friends. But, after you nearly lose him to the clutches of the Maze, and he says some choice words to Gally - you decide enough is enough.

Book based fic. Some suggestive themes.

● ALL YOU HAVE ◇

↳ Minho has always had you by his side. He doesn’t know how he’d cope without you. Well, now he might have to learn how.

Bro, you die. Rip.

WARMTH IN COLD PLACES ◇ ➤

○ PART 1 | □ PART 2

↳ You are an undercover agent for The Right Arm working behind enemy lines in WCKD’s headquarters. Your simple intel gig ends up being the least of your problems as you’re suddenly put on the front lines of a rescue mission. It doesn’t help that the boy you’re pretending to keep prisoner is pretty cute.

□ BEHAVE ◇

↳ You’re obsessed with your boyfriend. It’s just so hard to keep your hands off of him - even when he’s working.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

□ MIRAGE OF THE PAST ◇

↳ Despite never seeing Minho before, you swear you recognise him. That’s why you’re always staring. Well, and the man is fine. Now in your place of refuge, the Safe Haven provides you with a home, and a new sense of freedom. A bit of flirting can’t hurt, right?

Contains suggestive content and spice.

○ IT TAKES TIME  ◇

↳ You were immediately attracted to Minho when you met him in the Scorch. Now, after six months and many losses, you’re reunited.

○ STAY CLOSE 《》

↳ Your dream of becoming a Runner is crushed time and time again. But that doesn’t stop you from running out into the Maze to help Minho and Alby. Though, that doesn’t mean you’re the only one willing to risk your life to protect those you care about.

□ FRIENDLY COMPETITION ◇

↳ A friendly game of capture the flag turns heated thanks to yours and Minho’s competitive spirit.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

○ SOFT AT HEART ◇

↳ Soft, sweet and caring; you’re the mother of the Glade.

○ BLIND EYE ◇

↳ Minho has a crush on you. You’re oblivious. He’s losing his mind.

○ DECEPTION IN LIBERATION ◇

↳ You’re from Group B. Meeting someone in the middle of a prison break is one hell of an introduction.

□ HIGH SCHOOL NOT-SO-SWEET-HEARTS ◇

↳ High school AU. Minho is popular and sporty. You’re quiet and smart. It’s a stereotypical high-school romance, except Minho is the one tripping over himself for you. And, well, you don’t believe him.

Contains suggestive content and spice. Minho won’t accept your rejection.

○ HOW TO WINGMAN (POORLY) ☆

↳ Everyone in the Glade is sick of watching you and Minho dance around your feelings for each other. So, they decide to do something about it. Well, they attempt to, at least.

○ DIE FOR YOU ☆

↳ Song fic based off of “Die for You” by The Weekend.

ON YOUR OWN ◇ ➤

○ PART 1 | ○ PART 2 | ○ PART 3

↳ You were put in a Maze all on your own, with nothing but your dog. The isolation is one thing, but what’ll happen when you finally escape?

○ SOLIDARITY ◇

↳ Minho is used to being the tough guy; but he doesn’t know how to react when he meets someone tougher than him.

○ LIFE BEFORE DROWNING ◇

↳ You’re from one of the many alternative Mazes - and yours happened to be full of water. Though, you only realise how weird your Maze was when you reach the Safe Haven, and meet a certain Runner, who feels weirdly familiar.

○ SAVIOR COMPLEX ◇

↳ You’re a new Runner, and a disobedient one. So, when you get stung, Minho is left to play saviour. And doctor. Though, as he looks after you, he starts to think you might not be so bad.

○ IN ADVANCE OF GREIF ◇

↳ Getting bitten by a crank is never fun. But, you’re from a Maze, so, you’ll be fine… right?

□ EXPOSURE ◇

↳ In an attempt to comfort Chuck, you confess an embarrassing secret about something you did back when you were crushing on Minho and before you started dating. Unfortunately, your boyfriend isn’t as heavy of a sleeper as you originally thought.

Contains mild suggestive content and spice.

□ SPARKS ◇

↳ Now in the Safe Haven, the sexual tension between you and Minho has turned into a twisted game of restraint. Though, it’s hard not to break when you finally catch a glimpse of Minho’s lightning scars.

Contains suggestive themes and spice.

□ BEST FEATURE ☆

↳ You can’t stop staring at Minho’s arms.

Contains suggestive content and spice.

• INDOCTRINATION ☆

{[PROXIES X FEM! READER]}

: ̗̀➛Back to Source. (2-???)

(heavily inspired by The Diner - Billie Eilish)

ABOUT: You’re just a waitress at Pop’s Diner, living a quiet life no one notices. Then four masked killers take you in the night, claiming their eldritch master has plans for you. They call themselves Proxies. You were meant to serve the Operator’s will. But something changes. They were never supposed to feel anything. Especially not for you.

A/N: this fanfic has disturbing and graphic content, there is signs of depressing, murder, stalking, perverted behaviour and other graphic elements that may disturb readers.

Summary: You and Steve reconnect after years apart, not knowing where you stand after so much love was had and lost.

Steve Harrington x fem!reader, friends to lovers to exes to…?

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

The Shape of Family ‧₊˚❀༉

As a single dad, Steve’s world revolves around school drop-offs, bedtime rituals, and tee-ball practices—and he's struggling to keep up. But you're always there, happily lending a hand when he needs it most.

dad!steve, fem!reader, early 90s, coworkers to lovers, tooth rotting fluff

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six - coming soon

warnings: half angst, half smut, gun shot wound, revenge, hearing dark/obsessive voices, p-in-v, sexual content

note: if it wasn’t clear in the last part, anything red & italicized is his inner thoughts!

summary: joaquin never wanted you to get hurt. after failing to protect you from a terrorist targeting him & sam, his behavior grows desperately possessive and controlling to prevent it from ever happening again. but as your relationship suffers and his nightmares increase, he starts to risk losing you instead.

approx 2.3K words

PART ONE | PART THREE (coming soon)

Harry Potter Fic Recs ִ ࣪𖤐

───〃★ I figured that since I read a lot on AO3, Tumblr, and Wattpad I'd compile all my favorites here for you all to enjoy too! There are series, oneshots, and entire books to read from all three apps ᯓ✦

⊱⋆constantly being updated⋆⊰

✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦

⋆͙͘͡★ Legend:

W = Wattpad ☄

A = AO3 ☄

T = Tumblr ☄

✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦

˗ˏˋ HP Characters x reader ˎˊ˗

T - Masterlist (weasleyimaginewheezes)

W - Sequentia

W - Harry Potter Oneshots and Imagines I / II / III

W - Harry Potter x Reader Oneshots - All Generations

✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦

˗ˏˋ Draco Malfoy ˎˊ˗

A - the distance between us

A - Firsts

A - How Could I Ever Forget

A - our little secret

T - if brains were gold part one / part two / part three

T - Do You Ever Stop Being So Perfect?

T - Circumspect and Wary

T - a place for us

T - Strings and Knots

T - Masquerade Ball

T - Secrets of Prefects

T - best teacher

T - Dreamweaver

T - a game of hearts part one / part two

W - Requirements

W - Learn To Love

✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦

˗ˏˋ The Weasley Twins ˎˊ˗

T - Weasley Twins Oneshots I / II

W - Weasley Twins One shots I / II / III

✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦

˗ˏˋ George Weasley ˎˊ˗

A - Beating a Weasley

A - Well-meaning Deceit

A - see you again

T - It Had To Be You

T - Broken Hearts

T - A Madness Most Discreet

T - Ink-Stained Mischief

T - G.W. x Sirius Black's daughter!reader prologue / part one / part two / part three / part four / part five

T - a little bit of colour

T - Neville's Sister

T - There You Are

T - Frequent Flyer part one / part two / part three / part four / part five

T - Rumour Has It

W - Without You

W - Oneshots 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

W - Friends Forever?

W - Arranged

W - Driving Me Mad

W - The Girl Who Hid

W - Pretending

W - Persistence

W - Wish

W - Paper Hearts

✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦

˗ˏˋ Fred Weasley ˎˊ˗

W - He Calls Me Love

W - one sickle

W - AU PLUS

W - Heartbeats

W - Falling For A Friend

W - The Lone Wolf

✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦✦•┈⋅⋯ ⋯⋅┈•✦

˗ˏˋ Oliver Wood ˎˊ˗

T - the hate game part one / part two

masterlist for my angst mini series!

nate archibald x fem reader

takes place in season 1, after episode 5

synopsis: nate and reader are best friends since childhood. because of recent events in nate's life he says something he didn't mean to the reader which really hurts her feelings. nate doesn't know yet but break up with blair and his dad arrest are not the only things that caused him to feel uneasy (spoiler: the other thing are feelings for a reader that he is not yet aware of). nate and reader go back and forth trying to fix their friendship and discover along the way that they're destined to be something more than friends

warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of drugs, antidepressants, communication issues, out of character nate kinda, nate's parents

disclaimers: blair, nate and reader are friends and there's no tension; nate kissing serena at masked ball did not happen in this au; serena is briefly mentioned, blair and reader are non toxic version of blair and serena

chapters:

1. his darkest hour

2. without my baby

3. house could be a home - soon

masterlist • marvel • 04/04/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

𑣲 video games I @twoghostsfromeden

Sam Wilson attempts to teach Bucky how to play video games, but you have a different idea

𑣲 just like dad I @ladyfallonavenger

The Reader loses Bucky in the snap and life presents a whole new challenge.

𑣲 coming in hot I @nexusnyx (ao3 link)

When your best friend Sarah recommends you a mechanic of her brother’s trust, all you can think about and pray to is that he doesn’t rip you off. Your car is your prized possession and amidst all the worry and concern of your medical studies, drowning in even more debt sounds as suffocating as it would be. Of course, you never thought of the possibility of the mechanic being the problem. A hot, polite, gentle, and silent-type of problem. Drowning in debt would be easier to navigate than the blue of Bucky Barnes’s eyes.

𑣲 wallpaper I @cosmicbucky

bucky finds out how to change the wallpaper on your phone, and takes every opportunity he can to do so. until one day he doesn't have the heart to.

𑣲 consequences I @duuhrayliegh

𑣲 letters to santa pt2 I @ellemj

𑣲 need and wants I @/ellemj

𑣲 against the rules I @/ellemj

Bucky's trying to fuck you senseless so you'll have to sleep over. Isn't that how a friends with benefits situation is supposed to work?

𑣲 i hate you I @/ellemj

y/n has these weird mind powers where she can feel others feelings or make others feel hers...she accidentally during a very heated fun time projects everything she is feeling to Bucky, basically doubling his pleasure

𑣲 trust I @kgficz

Set during the end of ‘Captain America: The Winter Soldier’. You had been forced to work as a nurse for Hydra’s soldiers, you never expected The Winter Soldier to be one of them. What happens when he starts to care about you?

𑣲 glitter and goo I @welldonebeca

When you have to go on a mission to a different planet together, Bucky is hit by a mating ritual flower, and some feelings you two have been hiding come up

𑣲 accidental pic I @mostlymarvelsstuff

Reader recives Buckys nudes accidentally

𑣲 just friends I @cadaverousnight

A night of drinking makes Bucky bold and a harmless text makes him bolder