Everyday I Fight The Urge Of Writing A Destiel Fic Where Everything Is The Same But Dean Has A Baby Girl

(affirming myself in the mirror) if that fictional man was real he would fuck you. He would fuck you. You're his exact type. If he saw you he'd get a boner instantly. He would fuck you he would fu

bitch, the man bun asjklñasjkl i am dying still

Bold of shows to try to decide who's the main character. I think that's up to me.

Cas, drunkenly sobbing: and I keep trying to make Dean understand that I’m in love with him but he’s so oblivious and never understands it

Dean: when did you meet someone else named Dean?

Okay besties, today I’m giving you the run down of Buckys finances and networth. Because as I’ve said multiple times, he’s obscenely wealthy despite the fact you’d never know by looking at him.

Now first off, MatPat (my fav YouTuber who I’m so sad is retiring, literally adore him) did a mini theory a few years ago, calculating Bucky’s compound interest in previously earned money from WWII in his frozen bank account while he was presumed dead. It totaled out to $51,143. This is just the money that he earned in the 30s/40s and has grown interest on. This is assuming the money wasn’t given to his family and for the purpose of this post, we’ll go with that it wasn’t. However, MatPat didn’t account back pay, for disability pay, and other military pay/benefits.

So as a starter point, we’ll use $51,143. Next, I’m going to calculate his back pay from being MIA/POW because he would have been considered active duty. A MIA/POW is given back pay of 50% of the average per diem rate, for each day held in captivity. The 2023 rate is $157 per day, and I assume that would be similar for him because TFATWS takes place in early 2024. So that means Bucky would get $78.50 per day. There is no time limit on how far back pay can date to, so the entire span of Bucky’s capture is accounted for. As per the Smithsonian memorial in CA:TWS, Bucky was captured in 1944, making it exactly 70 years of capture. So, the back pay for those 70 years, is $2,005,675.

Next, we’ll look at the different forms of disability pay he would receive. I’m only going to look at canonical, confirmed disabilities for this. Bucky would be classified under SMC-N 1/2, where one arm was amputated above the elbow and/or was amputated so close to the shoulder that a prosthetic cannot be worn. Now obviously, Bucky does have a prosthetic but it is implanted into his body, as a majority of his left shoulder seems to have been amputated. Since he is single and has no dependents, aka has no children and is not taking care of any family, and he is still able to work, he would be receiving $6,182 a month.

He also has PTSD, which he would most likely get a 70% percent disability rating for, as 100% is very rare to receive for mental and is considered to be extreme impairment in daily functioning. (He could recieve 80 or 90% but I’m being generous here and trying to give the most realistic assessment). All this means, his mental illness pay for PTSD would be $1716 a month.

It’s also canonical that he has brain damage via The Wakanda Files book. We know in that book, he’s described to have pretty severe TBI. However, we don’t know anything of his symptoms and the book only describes of the brain scan looks bad and that the serum is keeping him from being more impaired. The VA uses 10 areas of impairment as criteria to rate the severity of TBI disability. The only canonically confirmed area that we know Bucky deals with is memory. Since we know no other symptoms and we know he’s not extremely impaired, I’m going to estimate he’d be rated at 50%. Which would give him a compensation of $1075 a month.

Now, we can assume Bucky is retired from the military. From being a retired sergeant, we can assume his monthly pension is around $5,482.

Reminder, all VA pay is untaxed. All of these together, his monthly salary is $14,455. However, this is not including disability back pay. The VA sometimes will pay a lump sum from back from when the diagnosis was made. Assuming the Wakandans were involved in Bucky’s trial and pardon, I’d assume some of his medical records were brought in as well. Back dating to when he was being treated in Wakanda, that’s 7 years, however we don’t know if the blip would count so for that reason, I’ll say 2 years. So, his lump sum would be around $215,352.

Now, endgame was in October, six months before TFATWS, meaning it took place around March/April. Within, the span of October to March, Bucky woulda have accumulated $86,730. Because even if his pardon wasn’t official yet in October, he would still receive payment for that month.

Finally, in grand total, all of this is $2,358,900. His networth would be in a similar, slightly lower range. Meaning: yes, Bucky Barnes is a millionaire and nobody would ever guess.

A Million Reasons - Masterlist

Pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, with all of his trust fund money and family connections, gets assigned community service. You, as someone that’s technically part of the community, now have to put up with him. Every day. And he won’t stop killing your plants.

Warnings: Enemies (annoyance) to lovers, Bucky’s old money at an ivy league, angst, minor injury, drinking, eventual smut (minors dni, marked **)

a/n: Hello! I’ve decided there won’t be a set posting day for this series. This is something I’ve been super excited to share (even with my writing steam dying out) and I want to get it out here without extra pressure. I’ll be adding the dates for upcoming chapters as they are ready :) And thank you @traitorjoelite​ for that second, beautiful moodboard 🤍

♡ Series playlist 🪴

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flustered- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: very flustered reader, not sure if i exaggerated it too much but i think i did im so sorry about: requested by the lovely stefi!! flustered reader basically lol

it’s one of those nice kind of days—where the sky is leadened with gloomy cotton balls and the heat of the sun is muted. the grass beneath you is fresh and smells of petrichor in anticipation of the rain, already cold between your fingers and needling through your jeans.

a breeze flutters your lashes, urging your eyes open and your hands to splay like a starfish into the ground. something else pricks at your skin, pulling your eyebrows together.

“hey,” someone says behind you. bucky, you realize.

“hi,” you respond automatically, lolling your head back to catch sight of him. he’s tall and solid and upside down when you blink up at him, eyes just as piercing as they observe you.

“it’s gonna rain,” he informs, stepping over to stand next to you. “y’gonna come back inside?”

“no,” you answer definitively, staring back up at the sky. “maybe when the lightning starts.”

“lightning?” he repeats, grunting when he lowers himself gracefully onto the ground. his knee pokes into your thigh, but he doesn’t move it away.

you go still, concentrating on not shifting weirdly. “it’s pretty, but it makes me nervous.”

“what if i stay out here with you?” he offers.

“what are you going to do against lightning?” you ask, laughing. “maybe if it were thor—”

his own laughter is rough, genuine. lightly, he nudges your shoulder. “punk.”

you grin, a little pleased and a little flustered. “what?”

“i’m offering my protection. super-soldier protection.”

“oh, i’m sorry,” you apologize. “i didn’t realize you guys could control weather.”

“you are…” bucky begins, searching for a word. “incorrigible,” he finishes, teasing.

you bark out a laugh, meeting his eyes. “incorrigible!”

he nods. “‘s okay, though. it’s part of your charm.”

bucky turns to observe your profile, silently scanning your features. your thumbnail goes to trace the nailbed of your index.

you clear your throat, watching the clouds as they roll in the sky. “thank you,” you reply. it comes out a little strangled.

bucky clearly hears it, but his eyes crinkle. he hums. “s’my pleasure. i get to talk to you and see you, y’know, be impossible.”

you nod, not sure when to stop. you’re still stuck on his previous compliment, like a thread caught on a hook and you can’t help but pull, let your sweater unravel green and greedy and coarse.

“i didn’t know that was a charm,” you start unsurely. “or that i had charms, more like.” it’s not smoothly said, a little halted in that you want to explain further, only encouraged to by the chaste curve of his lips, amused and patiently heartening. you urge him to silence you. “or charm? is it just charm, singular? i think of charms more like the bracelet things, but charm could encapsulate the entirety of the—” you crane your fingers and move your hands as if they’re cupping something large. “the idea. which i guess is what you mean and it implies a lot more than one, right?”

you’re rambling, you know.

bucky is grinning, though, purely amused and bastardly pleased. he nods along to your words as if he’s listening closely to each rise in your voice, paying attention to each word.

you clear your throat and attempt to relax your tense shoulders. you’re not uncomfortable, you remind yourself. your anxiety carries none of the unpleasantness associated with it, instead something so largely gracious and massively salubrious that it makes you slightly ditzy, spilling out like honey and sneaking into the cogs of your brain.

it makes the wheels stagger and slow, your mind lagging to dig up something more to say. so, you say: “i bet you were really charming back then. you know, because you were so popular? like steve and everyone says.”

bucky chuckles. “were, huh?”

you know he’s teasing. he’s only ever teasing, but you stammer to take it back. “are! are real charming! really charming. i mean—i meant that it was just, like, a lot back then. not that it isn’t anymore, just… just different?” you have to explain, having piqued his actual interest. “back then, it was smoother? from the way people talk about you, i can’t imagine it wasn’t something automatic. now it’s, it’s more deliberate, i think.”

you’ve been talking for so long.

“but, obviously it still works, right?”

he smiles something small, crinkling the edges of his eyes lightly and mischievously as if he’s caught you in something. “why do you say that?”

you shake your head as you look for a response. “uh…”

bucky decides to take pity on you, moving away from the topic to stretch his torso. a sliver of skin peeks from behind his shirt, gleaming and distracting as you try to look anywhere but there. you fail, obviously, your focus betraying you.

“you look real nice today, you know,” he says, a smidge more serious and totally sweeter.

you heat up immediately, ears burning as you squeeze the lobe between your thumb and index. “you too,” you force out, overwhelmed with the compliment, skin prickling with its genuity.

bucky observes you for a few seconds, eyes slow and deliberate as they take you in from a foot or so away, and then he settles a few inches closer.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, but he doesn’t really want to know, isn’t truly asking in the words’ definitions. there’s a pleased mask in his expression, hiding something flustered from your attention from your scrutiny.

you only blink and shrug, the weight of his gaze increasing with every second he stares. the blue of his irises has always been gentle in a sharp way, deep and crushing and grand like the ocean. warm and comforting like the sun that it reflects.

you swallow when he leans in, close enough for you to be sure he’s being entertained by how flustered he’s making you. you can’t think, you realize after a blank moment, mind crowded with the way his fresh scent interrupts the petrichor.

he’s smiling when he finally pauses in front of your face, nose nearly brushing against yours close, close enough that you can see the stars in his eyes and count each charcoal lash.

"you know you don't have to be so nervous around me?" he whispers.

you shiver, unable to help yourself as you dig teeth into your lips and your attention flickers to his.

they twist up when they notice, only crawling further when you choke out an affirmation. “yeah, yeah. i’m not—”

your reply dies on your tongue when he swoops in, noses nudging when he kisses you. your eyes stay wide open for a moment before they flutter shut, your body frozen before it melts inevitably, slackening into him. one of his hands moves to hold your waist, lips smiling beneath yours as he pulls away.

you swallow, attempting to blot away the haze his kiss has glossed over your mind. his grin isn’t helping, blinding you and chasing away the breath that kisses your lungs.

“i’m not nervous,” you finally force out. “you’re just—just really—”

“i’m really?” he urges.

you frown. “mean,” you finish.

he laughs, and you’re dizzy again.

Instill Inside Me—Fear

Demon!Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Language, bit o’ blood and gore, mentions of self harm, abuse. Demon Dean is a huge dick at this time.

Description: Dean breaks out of his restraints and torments you while Sam is away on a hunt. The two of you play a haunting game of hide and seek. Will he find you?

Reader discretion is advised. Enjoy.

Instills Inside Me-Hurt

Instills Inside Me- Lonliness

Instills Inside Me-Comfort

You had seen him, Dean, tied to a chair in the safe room below the bunker. You never dared going down there alone. Chalking it up to you being afraid to see what the older Winchester had become of himself.

You’d been studying in the commons area, with your several stacks of books surrounded you like a makeshift fort. Writing endlessly in the journals, making notes on the latest hunt you and Sam were working on.

There had been a den of vampires sighted in a nearby town couple miles outside Pasadena, California. Sam was on it with Castiel while you, sat here in the safety of the bunker, sending them research and conducting your own about a certain ball of demon joy a floor beneath you. Sam wanted as much information as possible on how to save Dean from the demon flowing through his veins. Yet, you didn’t know how much or if there was any.

There wasn’t.

The only thing about how to get Dean un-demoned was to pump him full of sanctified blood and hope for the best. You had written countless notes on the matter and were so in sync with your research that you were startled when you had seen that it was almost 10PM.

You yawned and stretched, pushing your books aside. You heaved a sigh-pushing in your chair as you headed for the kitchen to make you a cup of tea to help you sleep. You barely made it to the kitchen when the lights cut out. Everything then was enveloped in an antagonizing red glow.

Then the alarm began to blare throughout the bunker. It lasted a few seconds before that too was shut off by a loud crash, and your breath hitched. Either someone stupid was breaking in.

Or he had broken out.

You swallowed spit and forced yourself to move against the wall in an attempt to sneak off somewhere and hide. You wouldn’t be caught out in the open, surely not by Dean.

Especially not Dean, you corrected yourself. You managed to slip up the steps into the upstairs hallway when you heard Dean most likely kick through one of the downstairs doors.

You stifled a scream, pressing your back against the wall again keeping quiet while you found yourself slipping into a vacant room and under the bed.

“I know you’re here you little bitch, could practically hear your boots fucking shaking above me. Come out now and I promise I'll be gentle with you. Make it quick, y'know." He hollered.

You did not make a peep while you huddled beneath the bed of the many rooms on the second floor. The way you quickly learned how to limit your breathing made it easier for you to hide. Sam had even taught you in his free time how to sneak around without making a sound.

Of course, you knew that if Dean did find you--it would be much worse than what any monster you have hunted in the past. This was not the older Winchester you worked with just a couple months ago. Whatever was inhabiting his body now, the demon inside him, made his aggressive, made him lash out against the people who love him, and made him have this terrifyingly strong urge to kill anything and everything in his path.

Covering your mouth with your hands your eyes widened when his shadow went past the door.

"I'm not playing this game with you Y/N. When I find you and oh boy, I will. I'll carve out your fucking innards and hang your skull on my mantle." He growls, kicking through what sounded like Sam's bedroom a few doors down. You heard him grunt when he didn't find anything. His footsteps retreated to the room across from Sam's.

SLAM. SLAM.SLAM.

He was in. Another grunt and groan, he was off to the room next to the one you were in. You had to act fast as he broke his way through the door. You slipped out from your hiding spot as he was having trouble with the door in front of the one you were in.

This was not where you wanted to be. You could hear him cursing as you open the door ajar, wide enough to wear you could slip through. He slammed through the door and went inside as you took off down the hall.

"Where the fuck are you?" He screamed, throwing over the bed.

---A Few Hours Later---

You were inside a closet, tucked away where you knew he wouldn't find you. Or so you hoped. Hidden behind the water heater, you pulled out your phone, beginning to tap away at the screen to Sam.

S.O.S Dean's got out and he's looking for me.

You hit send and tucked the phone back into your back pocket. You leaned your head back against the wall and prayed. Oh, how you prayed that Sam would get home soon. You prayed to Castiel to hear you and appear out of thin air to save you. Dean, as much as you could hear from where you were had been pacing, throwing objects around and yelling.

"You think you're so fucking smart huh? You little bitch. Do you think that I wanna kill you? I've seen the shit that goes on in my head. I can watch and witness all those fucking memories of finding you a bloody heap on the floor. I have. I've seen them all. All the times I would stumble in a catch you slitting your fucking wrists like the weak little girl you are. I would have to clean you, set you straight, make sure you're all fixed up. What about me? When have you ever done that for me? You selfish little whore." Your hands covered your mouth as you stuffed down the urge to cry. You knew he didn't mean it. It was the demon that he was brought back as.

"My head isn't the only I've been through. You think anyone around you loves you? Sam...Castiel...me? Bobby could give a less of a shit about you. Hell, they all wanted you gone after Charlie died. Yeah they blamed you. It should have been you. " You hitched a breath, holding yourself. Which was a stupid move as he probably knew where you were.

The wall you were leaning against successfully had aa hole punched through as you raced to get up and out the door, you tried to run but you tripped over a stack of books that was strewn across the floor.

Dean stomped towards you, grabbing your foot to slam you into the ground. You writhed around in his hold, managing to kick him the jaw. You got back up onto your feet, only for him to lunge at you.

Overturning the nearby table, you shoved it in his direction. The tears would not stop as you tried reasoning with the man in front of you.

"You don't meant that Dean. Look we can figure out some way to save you. Please don't hurt me." You plead, hands raised as he draws closer to you.

Your heart was going to beat out of your chest, when he comes closer and closer and closer to you. With your hands still raised, the sensation of his rough, gnarled, and calloused hands grasping onto yours, pulling you to him.

The fear you felt as your could not hear his own heart beating, you were face first in his chest, his mouth to your ear, as he whispered something so low, you could barely make it out.

"I'm sorry."