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thevillainswhore · 3 months ago

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Revenge Sweeter Than Honey

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x MILF!Reader

Word Count: 9.2k

Summary: When Bucky’s professor unfairly grades his college assignment, ruining his perfect GPA, he finds a way to get revenge — And doesn’t his sweet little wife look delicious?

Warnings: Bucky POV, revenge plot, age gap, older!reader, flirting, cheating, kissing, smut, mommy kink, nipple play, oral sex (fem receiving), ass play, spanking, p in v sex, recording of sex, cum play.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d. Dividers by @saradika. Hi, lovelies! It’s been a while 🤍 This is by far not my best work, but I started it at the beginning of the year and finally finished it and decided to let it go before I convince myself not to post it.

Also, I have little to no knowledge about the education system outside of the UK, since I’m British. So please excuse any facts I may have gotten wrong, this was purely for the smut 😅

The arms of the leather chair Bucky was sitting on creaked, straining under the tense grip of his fingers. Fury coursed through every muscle of his body, boiling his blood until he was sure steam was blowing out of his ears.

He had been sitting in his professor’s office for thirty whole minutes and not once had the man had the decency to look him in the eye and tell him a good enough reason for the C- marked on his most recent assignment. Thinking about it, he wasn’t even sure if his professor had ever made eye contact with him before; certain that he wouldn’t be able to recognise him if he ever looked at him.

Bucky was a straight A student, working towards the perfect GPA to graduate with full honors and claim the job of his dreams. And yet, the second since his professor had licked his finger and slapped the stack of papers — stained with a ring of coffee that wasn’t there when he handed it in — on Bucky’s desk, his whole world had been turned upside down.

He remembered his frenzy, the whirlwind of erratically flicking through each page and trying to find a single comment or suggestion that could help explain the low grade. But there was nothing. Only a forbidden red-inked C- that had taunted him ever since.

Immediately, Bucky had booked an office session, since his professor was strict on the rules of when and where to discuss anything other than current class material. There must have been a mistake he reasoned with himself in the beginning — maybe a mix up with another student or maybe his professor had missed a chunk of his work because surely that godforsaken C- wasn’t right.

However, Bucky soon came to realise in the thirty long minutes of his office session, that it wasn’t a mistake. In fact, it was the most generous grade received of the whole class.

“Sir.” He attempted once again to get through to his professor. “With all due respect, I worked extremely hard on his assignment. Every variable is valid, I ran through each test multiple times to gain an accurate representation. My method has been executed perfectly.” He swallowed the dryness in his throat. “I can’t understand why I’ve been graded so low.”

Dr Parker couldn’t have seemed less interested if he tried, the keys of his computer clicking away aimlessly as his brown eyes were glued to the screen. “For the last time, if you don’t understand what is wrong with your assignment, then I can’t help you.”

Bucky discreetly gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. The logic his professor spewed made absolutely no sense. He took a calming breath before he responded. “I’m not sure I can understand what exactly is wrong with my work if there’s no feedback to go off, Sir.”

Dr Parker sighed, seemingly fed up with the conversation. “It's not for me to serve you on a silver platter. If you want a mentor who gives you a free ride or has to hold your hand through a grade then it seems like college isn’t the place for you, James.”

The material of the chair almost ripped where Bucky’s nails began to furiously dig in. He never wanted a hand to hold or a free ride during his time in college; the bare minimum he expected was to at least have some kind of evaluation or support that offered more than a lousy grade that wasn’t fair.

Out of options, he desperately pleaded with his professor once again. “Sir, all I’m asking for is a reason for my grade being low. My GPA has been perfect all year and this assignment has made it take a huge hit. Please understand.”

Still, Dr Parker continued uselessly typing away without looking at him. “There’s nothing I can do for you, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky’s words came out jumbled as he jumped to offer an alternative. “What about— What if I did something for extra credit! You know? Just for— to boost my GPA back up?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Bucky was at the end of his tether and his throat began to tighten. “Please, Sir—I need—“

“What you need to do is move on from this assignment and work harder on the next one.” Dr Parker interrupted him coldly as he suddenly stood, packing his papers into his satchel. “My office hours are over and I have somewhere to be, so if you wouldn’t mind shutting the door behind you when you leave that would be great. Goodbye.” With that, his professor walked around the desk and out of the door without a second glance.

Tears sprung to Bucky’s eyes while he sat there, staring mindlessly at the now empty chair behind the desk in front of him. He forced the lump building in his chest down, never having felt so defeated in his life. Throughout his years of education, he had sacrificed, placed everything that wasn’t important on the back burner; holidays, parties, normal friendships, just to put his future career first and for what? For one complete asshole to decide he didn’t care enough about his job or students to fuck him over?

He shot out of his seat and paced over the carpeted floor. All of his dedication to his studies had been pointless — the thought burned through his mind and wounded him. All his life he had worked hard and this is how he had been repaid. The soles of his shoes thudded heavily until he came to a stop, running his hands down his face in despair.

When Bucky opened his eyes, he blinked until his blurred vision became clear, finding himself in front of the floor to ceiling bookcase that panned over the length of the full wall. Sighing at a complete loss on what to do, his eye flitted over the polished ornaments in front of him.

As he trailed over the neatly placed trophies and certificates, a scoff left his mouth — bitter and venomous. Every one of the awarded achievements built his resentment even more. The pretentiousness was aggravating.

He was about to walk away, go for a stroll with some fresh air to try and cool himself down and think properly. But just as he was going to leave, his eagle eye caught a small wooden picture frame shoved to the very back corner of the shelf, hardly noticeable with everything else taking front and center and ultimately hiding it.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, making sure his professor had really left before stepping forward. His nosiness had gotten the better of him and now his interest was peaked. Careful not to knock over any ornaments, he plucked out the frame and blew off the dust that had accumulated over the picture for god knows how long.

To his surprise, it was a photograph of Dr Parker, many years younger and dressed in a tuxedo. Next to him, a stunning woman with the biggest smile on her face, dressed in an ivory, white dress.

Bucky’s eyes flew wide open while his jaw unhinged in shock.

Dr Parker had a wife?

Now that he thought about it, his professor did wear a gold band around his finger; one that the sun caught during a lecture one time and blinded Bucky enough to choke while he was drinking his coffee.

Studying the photo some more, Bucky only focused on the woman, one with kind eyes, pretty lips and a body to kill for; silhouetted in a gown that complimented her figure amazingly. He was utterly blown away.

The picture was at least ten years old, he summarised. His professor looked way younger than he did now, with frown lines and dark circles underneath his eyes. But he couldn’t get over how beautiful his wife was and how the hell he had managed to snag her with his douchebag personality. His mind ran a million miles per hour.

For all Bucky knew, you could have been just like your husband; just as dull and just as unbearable. It was only rational, because no one in their right mind would willingly be with a man like that.

He stared at you through the glass and tilted his head in thought, until the cogs started to turn. What if? he asked himself. What if he got his comeuppance somehow?

As soon as the thought presented itself, he batted it away, shaking his head and placing the photo frame back in its place.

But as he stood the frame upon the shelf, his hand stayed with it, unable to let go of the nagging idea that had now taken root in his mind.

What if you were his perfect route for revenge?

Looking out towards the window of the office, the setting sun beamed in. Bucky followed the streams of light that shined through, one landing on another photograph, larger in size of a chocolate haired boy with bright eyes. While he resembled Dr Parker, the boy’s eyes were all yours, kind and filled with light. The kid looked around the same age as himself, in a lab coat that had the same emblem as Bucky’s college.

A plan began to quickly form in his mind, each piece and detail intricately connected together to create the most beautiful retribution. The biggest fuck you to his professor for screwing him over.

Bucky sheathed his hands into his front pockets, running his tongue over his teeth with the most evil grin on his face. Dr Parker was going to get what he rightfully deserved.

Vengeance.

Having met up after their last classes of the day, Bucky followed Peter into his home when he opened the door, the droolworthy aroma of a home cooked meal slinking into his senses and making his stomach grumble.

It was now routine for him to come round to the Parker residence every week on a Friday afternoon. Once you found out your son had a new friend at college, you had extended the invitation to Bucky as Peter had recited. And of course, it would be rude of him to refuse.

The execution of his plan had come together seamlessly, almost too perfectly. It was just his luck that a clumsy Peter Parker happened to bump into Bucky on campus in a rush to his next class, spilling his coffee onto the ground and offering to buy him a new one.

Since then, he had made it his mission to become closer to Peter and soon enough, it was the night of his first dinner with you.

Before that first meeting, he had drilled it into his head that his scheme of revenge was strictly business; to get in and out and call it a day. But that went down the drain when he rounded the corner to the kitchen to introduce himself and he choked on his words when you spun around on your heels.

Bucky still remembered that moment, the first time he laid eyes on you in the cutest sundress, decorated with daisies that hugged your waist sinfully. The way your tits practically spilled out the damn thing stuck with him too.

You were a vision, a sight for sore eyes — the photograph in his professor’s office did not do you justice even with ten years added on. Then, as soon as you bounced over to him and pulled him into a hug that made his dick hard, his initial intentions went out the window. He was a goner and he knew one time wouldn’t be enough of you.

However, when it came down to dinner, Bucky was admittedly nervous. It wasn’t only just meeting you in the flesh and having his expectations blown out of the water that threw him off balance, the inevitable of seeing his professor outside of college worried him. His plan for revenge could have fallen through as soon as he met him. They almost did. If that would have been the case, Bucky wasn’t sure what his next steps would be.

But when he sat down at the dining table, his professor had only just noticed another guest in his home. Bucky remembered the slight sweat of his palms, the dryness of his throat as your husband looked at him over his newspaper and cocked his head; a familiarity brewing between them. Those couple of seconds lasted longer than he cared for. Then, unexpectedly, Dr Parker brushed him off and went straight back to reading his paper — evidently deeming Bucky unrecognisable and only a new friend of his son’s.

That memory still offended him slightly. There wasn’t a hint of recognition, even though he had fucked Bucky’s chances of attaining his dream career.

Snapping out of his memory, Bucky quickly shook his jacket off, taking care to hang it neatly on the coat rack and made a beeline to the kitchen.

“Dude. I know you like my mom’s cooking but damn.” Peter shook his head with laughter but Bucky ignored him in favour of something of much higher importance.

Stepping into the kitchen, he immediately found you balancing on your tiptoes, trying to reach the spice rack on the highest shelf. The skirt of your dress inched up your thighs and he couldn’t help but stare unabashedly at a sneak peak of your white g-string.

Clearing his throat, Bucky held out his arms wide and acted casual with a wide smile. “Where’s my favourite girl?”

His heart jumped as you snapped your head around, grinning wide once you saw who it was. “Bucky!” you cheerfully sang. “Hi, sweetie. I’m so happy you made it.”

You have no idea how happy I am to see you too, he groaned internally. “What do you take me for? Like I would ever miss your cookin’, Mrs Parker,” he teased aloud.

Raising an eyebrow playfully, you cocked your hip and crossed your arms over each other. “What have I told you about that, hm? Call me Honey, sweetheart. All my friends do.”

Bucky held his arms up to placate you. “Forgive me. Your food is too damn good to pass up, Honey.”

You rolled your eyes lightheartedly and turned back around to try and pluck the thyme from the top shelf. “You and that charm, boy. You’re gonna be the death of some poor college girl one day.”

Noticing your struggle, Bucky took the opportunity to come up behind you and reach over your head. His lips perfectly aligned with your ear and so with a sly hand to your waist, he grabbed the jar of herbs and placed them onto the counter in front of you while he whispered, “What if I’m not into college girls?”

Bucky heard the sharp inhale you tried so hard to smother, but it was useless with the proximity between you. It was instinct to then squeeze your hip, listening for your sweet whimper he lived to be the cause of.

The moment lasted only a couple seconds longer until Peter called out for you from the hallway. “Hi, Mom. We’re home if you hadn’t already noticed.”

Breaking away from Bucky sharply, you held a shaky hand to your chest. “H-Hey P, how was your week?”

Small incidents as such repeated themselves every week. You and Bucky would find yourselves — or he would create them — in intimate, dangerous positions that wouldn’t be explainable to your son or your husband should they ever catch you.

Which only made the game all the more exciting for him.

“Mom,” Peter whined while he walked into the kitchen. “Can you please not call me that when I have friends around?”

Bucky held his laughter behind his hand when you passed your son by, pinching his cheek and putting on a baby voice. “Oh, but you’re just so cute!”

However, that smile was soon wiped away from his face when the front door opened, immediately slamming shut with a loud bang. “I’m home, Honey,” your husband yelled.

Your name on another man’s lips left a sour taste in Bucky’s mouth. He had come to learn that your nickname was born from your old college roommate who had affectionately bestowed it upon you after your love of baking dessert treats.

The story was adorable, one he had soaked in with all the details you offered him. But your husband and his boring, monotonous tone turned even the sweetest name into something unpleasant.

With his keen eye, Bucky had spotted the fake smile you plastered on your face to greet your husband, even when he walked straight past you without a hug or a kiss and into his usual chair at the dining table.

“Glad your home safe, love,” you quickly offered him a half assed hello and headed back towards the kitchen to grab the meat out of the oven.

“Hey.” Bucky shot forward before you could grab the handle and slid the oven mitts laying on the counter onto his hands. “I got this, don’t worry about it.”

You paused to look at him like he had grown another head. “Bucky, I've done this a million times. I’m perfectly capable.”

“I know you are, beautiful.” He didn’t miss the way your lips parted from his compliment, reserved for your moments alone. “Doesn’t mean you should have to. Lemme do it, please.”

It didn’t take much for you to relent, already flustered enough to give in to him. Stepping aside, you made room for Bucky to take the dish out of the oven and place it on the worktop.

“Smells fuckin’ delicious, Honey.” You gently swatted his arm for his colourful language, but he couldn’t help test the waters as he stared directly into your eyes. “Hopefully tastes as good as she looks.”

What he didn’t expect was for you to retort back with a quick wit. “Oh, don’t worry about that. She’s as juicy as they get.”

These interactions were just considered harmless flirting to you. Bucky knew you had no idea that he went home and fucked his fist, replaying these exact moments in his head. He licked his lips with a groan. “I bet she is.”

“Where the hell is this damn food, woman? I’m eating away here!” your husband barked from the dining table.

Bucky gritted his teeth while he watched you bow your head in embarrassment. “Just plating up now. It won’t be much longer, dear!”

Turning back to Bucky, you smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that, he gets a little grumpy when he’s hungry.”

He couldn’t believe you were apologising for that son of a bitch, though this was a regular occurrence by now; excusing your husband’s wrongdoings even if you were ashamed of it.

Placing his hand over yours, Bucky told you firmly, “Don’t think for one second that you have to apologise to me, Honey.” The next words he grumbled under his breath. “Especially never on behalf of that fucker.”

Your free hand smoothed over the skirt of your dress, a nervous habit of yours when you were upset.

Bucky recognised your unease and took initiative to derail the conversation. “What do you need me to take?” he asked while rolling the sleeves of his shirt up.

You looked at him then, quick to protest and shake your head. “No, sweetheart. You’ve done enough, honestly. Go sit down and—”

“Honey.” Bucky held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll help you. I’m all yours.”

Sighing defeatedly, you nodded your head to the foil covered dishes on top of the counter. “The vegetables and mashed potatoes could do with taking to the table.”

Bucky grinned wide, all teeth and brought your hand up to place a kiss to the back of it. “Good girl.”

A shudder ran down your spine that he didn’t miss, the hitch of your breath that blew the front strands of his hair giving you away. With a wink, he backed away to grab the dishes, piling them in his arms, along with a couple extra to take to the dining table.

Soon enough, a full roast dinner was set out, steaming hot and ready to be eaten.

Peter was already sitting on the chair by his Dad’s side, speaking animatedly about his recent discoveries on his science assignment for class. You always sat opposite your husband, which meant the only free seat that Bucky could take was opposite Peter and next to you.

Not that he was complaining.

He steadily pulled the chair out and sat down. It wasn’t exactly a coincidence that he brushed against you, not when he shuffled his chair as close as possible to you without raising suspicion. “Everything looks incredible,” he whispered as he leaned into you.

The grip you had on your cutlery faltered. Bucky reveled in your bashfulness, always competing with himself to see how much he could make you squirm. So he smirked when you gulped, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. “T-Thank you, Bucky.”

Your son‘s voice brought you out of your flustered state “—So I was right, Dad! My results actually confirmed my hypothesis.”

You cleared your throat and chimed in cheerfully when your husband only answered with an uninterested hum. “That’s amazing news, P!” With a stern tone, you addressed your husband this time. “Aren’t you proud of him, love?”

But instead of congratulating him, your husband turned the page of his newspaper while shoveling food into his mouth. “Mhm. He did good, I guess.”

Luckily, Peter didn’t notice or bat an eye to his father. Bucky had witnessed over the few weeks he had been invited over for dinner that your son had enough support from you alone to keep his spirits uplifted.

You decided not to bite and move on with the conversation, mouth open about to speak when your husband suddenly laid his newspaper down and spoke over you. “You know, I’ve had the worst week at work.”

Frustrated, your fingers clenched tightly around your knife. “Oh yeah?”

Dr Parker blew out an irritating sigh. “The students this week—god—I had a flock of them at my door, complaining about their grades being too low.”

Bucky felt the blood in his veins begin to boil. Normally he would tune out the grating voice of your husband, but he couldn’t help but listen to something that directly involved him — unknowingly to his professor.

“I mean, I can’t help that their work isn’t up to par. What do they want me to do? Mollycoddle them?” he scoffed. “If they come crying to me for help all the time then they may as well cut their losses and drop out. They’re only wasting their own money.”

The loud clink of your cutlery dropping against the plate cut through the tense atmosphere. “Are you serious right now?”

“Dad,” Peter cringed, obviously uncomfortable. “You can’t say that.”

“I’m not saying anything that’s not true.” Dr Parker shrugged.

“It is your job to guide your students—who are paying thousands for their education by the way—and give them feedback to help them improve,” you shot back, heatedly.

Bucky’s chest puffed out in pride. Though he couldn’t outwardly say anything, he was proud of you for inadvertently defending him — even if you didn’t know it.

Your husband’s tone turned biting towards you, however. “I’m not their babysitter, Honey.”

But you stood your ground. “No you’re not. You’re their teacher and they look to you for guidance. It's the bare minimum your job requires.”

A weighted silence fell over the dinner table while you and your husband glared at each other until the chime of a text cut through the awkwardness.

Dr Parker retrieved his phone from his pocket and read his message. After a couple of seconds, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and threw it onto his plate. “I’ve got to go back into the office. Emergency.”

“What?” you asked in disbelief. “But you’ve only just come home.”

“Well, unlike some, I can’t just slack off at home all day.”

Bucky watched out of the corner of his eye as your mouth dropped open in shock at your husband’s barely hidden jab. Unrestrained anger filled his veins as he had to hold back. Though the urge to fly over the table at Dr Parker was hanging on by a thread.

Is this what life was like at home for you? A husband who so obviously didn’t care for you while you made his life as comfortable as possible. And Peter, a son who held his tongue while he stiffly carried on eating his dinner and not defending his own mother?

Bucky looked to you as you quickly regathered yourself, blinking away the tears building over your waterline and pretending like you weren’t hurt.

Your husband passed over his harmful statement as nonchalantly as he said it while lifting out of his seat. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be home late.”

And just as rudely as he came home, he walked out, the slam of the door reverberating through the house.

It wasn’t a minute after that when Peter also received a text. After reading the message, his eyes lit up with excitement. Bucky knew well enough what that face meant — Peter was getting lucky. “Hey mom, is it okay if I go out? Hang with my friends for the night?”

The dinner you laboured over had already gone out the window once your husband had ruined it. Of course it didn’t bother you as much that your son wanted to leave too. “Of course, sweetie.” You stood up and collected the half empty plates from the table robotically. “Just be careful and let me know when you’re there.”

With a dejected sigh that only Bucky noticed, you gathered the rest of the cutlery and took them to the kitchen, beginning to fill the sink to wash up.

Peter waited until you were out of ear shot to whisper, “Dude, MJ asked me to come round tonight. I think she finally wants it!” Bucky held back a cringe. “You think it’s cool if I shoot off? You can make your own way home, right?”

Bucky couldn’t have given a single fuck where Peter went or what he did right now. All he cared about, as he shot discreet glances of you in the kitchen washing the plates, was your wellbeing. “Sure, Parker. I can figure it out.”

“Awesome!” Peter laughed before whipping out of his seat and running towards the door. “Catch you Monday, pal!”

The house grew silent apart from the departing slam of the door, this time by your son. As soon as Peter was gone, Bucky instantly left his seat to join you.

He leaned his shoulder against the archway of the kitchen. “You okay, Honey?”

Looking towards him in surprise, your eyes held onto a last tendril of hope that someone hadn’t let you be alone. “Sweetheart, I thought you would have left with P.”

Bucky shook his head with a fond smile, the curls at the top of his head bouncing with the movement. “Of course not. I’ve got nothing better to do with my Friday night than spend time with a gorgeous woman.”

He caught the tightening of your lips, as though you were holding back your flustered smile. “Oh, stop that. You flatter me.”

“I can’t help it. You make a man go weak. What can I say?”

“Are you flirting with me?” you laughed incredulously.

“And what if I was?” Bucky noticed the way your eyes latched onto the sight of his shirt, tightening over his arms as he crossed them over each other. “Would you like it?”

Your eyes flicked up to his, holding his intense gaze for a few seconds before you huffed a breath and began cleaning the dishes again. “You’re cute, Bucky.”

Bucky licked his lips and ravaged your form silhouetted in your fitted dress. “Wouldn’t exactly be the word I would use, but I’ll take it from you.”

A rare giggle, only let out in his presence, escaped you. “Scram would you? You don’t want to be spending your Friday night with your friend’s mom, sweetie.”

Testing the waters, Bucky let slip exactly what was on his mind. “Actually, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Your hand stilled, chest rising and falling at a faster pace than before. “Oh, if only I was twenty years younger,” you chuckled quietly to yourself, not expecting for Bucky to overhear.

Jackpot, he smirked to himself.

Walking to the kitchen island, Bucky leaned his elbow on the counter beside you. “What would you do, Mrs Parker?”

You jumped with a yelp, visibly surprised to have received a response so close; eyes blown wide as they flitted over Bucky’s face in panic. “E-Excuse me?”

Bucky closed the distance between you even further. He leaned over the sink to turn the running water off. “I said,” he whispered huskily, keeping consistent eye contact with you. “What would you do if you were twenty years younger?”

“I—I um,” your breathing started to become heavy while Bucky stared shamelessly at you. “It’s just an expression, sweetie,” you laughed, shaking your head to try and brush the comment off. “I d-didn’t mean it like that—“

“No?” He watched carefully as your eyes darted around, trying so hard not to look at him. “How did you mean it then?”

The spotlight Bucky was intentionally putting on you made you falter, even more so when he tucked your hair behind your ear and let his hand linger over your collarbone.

“C’mon, tell me. I don’t bite.” A sadistic smirk adorned his face while you stared at his lips. “Unless you want me to, of course.”

“I s-swear, Bucky.” Your voice was breathless with the heat of his stare. “There was nothing behind it, I—”

“I don’t believe you.” Bucky backed you against the sink, trapping you with his arms on each side of your waist. “I think,” he rasped, teasingly trailing his fingers up the bare skin of your arms. “That you would let me bend you over this counter right here and fuck you senseless.”

The wind was audibly knocked from your lungs as you gasped. Words failed you, stuttering over yourself which was most amusing to Bucky.

Nonetheless, your eyes still followed him with a glaze, hooked onto every word that left his lips. “I think you’d let me take you from behind. Stuff your pretty pussy full with my fat cock.” He grabbed your hand and pressed it against the bulge in his trousers. “You feel that, huh? How good it would feel to take all a’me, pretty mama?”

Bucky watched as your eyes fluttered and you bit your lip — the last of your reserve hanging by a thread. One more deadly blow to your empty head and you would be putty in his hands.

Any remaining distance between you disappeared as he placed wet kisses from the pulse of your neck up to the corner of your mouth. “I think—” he whispered against your lips, his next words uttered in his most seductive voice. “I think you’d let me do it. Right. Fuckin’. Now.”

You placed your hands over the shirt on his chest to push him away; a mistake he imagined as you alternatively began bundling the material up with clenched fists. “Bucky—“ you painfully uttered with your eyes squeezed shut. You shook your head, as though that would help you. “This—this isn’t right. You’re my son’s friend and I n-need you to leave—“

“Look at me.” Bucky slid his hands over your neck, holding your jaw with his thumbs to tilt your head up. Slowly, your eyes squinted open and he saw the confliction clear as day in your glossy eyes, the battle you were facing in your mind. “You’re practically melting in my hands, Honey. You just gotta give in. We’ve been playin’ this game for far too long now, don’t you think?”

There was no escaping his blue eyes when you tried to look away once again and he firmly guided your gaze back to him. “None of that, now. Do as I say.”

Your expression was tortured — torn between right and wrong, pleasure and sin. Bucky knew you were good, a dutiful housewife and loyal to a fault to a man who didn’t deserve it.

Where had that gotten you? Whilst the revenge plan was hot on his mind — the very reason he had meticulously planned everything up to this exact moment — he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth that he was getting something extra out of this. You.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you pleaded painfully, still with a wild spark in your eye. “We can’t do this.”

“You know what I’m not hearing, Honey?” Bucky asked. “I’m not hearing that you don’t want to do it.”

You shook your head frantically with wide eyes until he tightened his grip on your cheeks. “I’m gonna give you one chance to answer me.” He squeezed your cheeks until your lips puckered. “You want me to fuck you, baby?”

Desire rolled through your eyes as your thighs clenched together. Though you still tried to deny your need for him. “Bucky—”

“Ah, ah. I want an answer.”

Bucky watched as your throat bobbed. Your nostrils flared with your harsh breaths and your breasts heaved up and down with exerted force. Seconds went by, the two of you staring at each other before you finally answered. “Yes.”

The two of you burst into the master bedroom — the one you shared with your husband, kissing erratically while your hands fumbled through Bucky’s hair.

He moaned deeply, pushing you against the wall, and turning feral over the feel of you as he kneaded your body. “You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he hummed against your lips.

Your head thumped back against the wall, chest heaving while you tried to catch your breath. All of Bucky’s attention was drawn to your chest. “Has anyone ever told you you’ve got the most perfect tits?”

Choking on your spit, you stumbled over your words, so adorably oblivious to your own attraction. “I—I didn’t realise—um, t—thank you—”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head before quickly ripping down your dress to your waist with force. Your upper body was bare, free for him to roam his rabid eyes over your naked tits.

“Bucky!” Your squeal of shock was followed by you hastily trying to cover your chest with your hands.

But a scowling Bucky immediately ripped them away; offended you would dare try to keep them from him. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ cover yourself up, Honey.”

He could tell it was intense for you, to be so thoroughly desired and the thought that you had never received this much attention before made him angry once again.

“It’s been a while,” you mumbled. The mousy confession only heightened Bucky’s fury towards your pathetic husband.

Delicately, he kissed you and began to trail his lips down the slope of your neck. “Ain’t gotta worry about that. I’ll take care of you.”

Slowly descending, Bucky laved his tongue over your peaked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and letting it go with a pop. Your breast bounced with the motion and he squeezed his dick over his trousers with a groan. “Look at you, Honey. You’re a fuckin’ goddess.”

Bucky’s tunnel vision made whatever you said next pointless. Grabbing your tits, he buried his head in between them, relishing in your softness. He peppered his kisses across to your other nipple and swirled his tongue around the peak.

Your legs crumbled, the sensation overwhelming for you. The thought that Bucky could get you off by just playing with your tits made his cock even harder. But he had so much more in store for you.

“Why don’t you take off your dress, baby?” he murmured into your skin. “Want you to kneel on the bed for me, alright?”

You nodded shakily. Bucky hovered over your breasts a couple of seconds more, savouring the feel of you before stepping backwards to give you space to move.

With a deep breath, you walked on unsteady legs towards your bed, letting your dress shimmy down your body on your way. Your back was turned to Bucky and he salaciously eyed your figure, each and every curve of your body. He internally created a map of your stretch marks and imperfections that only made him more crazed for you.

The mattress sank down while you knelt onto it carefully. Bucky watched the arch of your back intently, the flesh of your ass rounding out from your position.

Forget the damn reason he plotted this very moment, he was just excited to finally get a taste of you.

Your quiet murmur sounded over Bucky’s thoughts. “I’m ready.”

Biting his lip, he strolled forward until he came to a stop behind you. Still fully clothed, Bucky desperately singed the picture in front of him into his mind. He held so much power in that moment, and it felt like a dream that he had you bent over solely for him.

Bucky leaned over your form, beginning to place delicate kisses down your back. He basked in the goosebumps that arose on your skin. “How the fuck are you real?” he murmured to himself.

With a shaky sigh, you whispered, “I still don’t know about this.”

Chuckling, Bucky finally dropped down to his knees, ignoring your reluctance to eye the flimsy piece of material covering your pussy. Hooking a finger inside your underwear, he peeled it away and held it to the side. “Oh, fuck me.”

You squirmed in place as the cold air hit you in your most vulnerable state. Your raw scent clogged Bucky’s nose and his eyes rolled to the back of his head in bliss. “Can’t fuckin’ wait any longer, Honey. Gotta know how you taste.”

Surging forward, Bucky buried himself between your thighs. You screamed in retaliation to the feel of his tongue snaking its way through your folds and he was sure he hadn’t heard a better sound.

He explored every inch of your cunt, unwilling to leave the heaven you so graciously granted him. But it was the sensation of Bucky’s tongue beginning to ease its way inside your hole that made you vocal once again.

“My husband—“ you called out, obvious to Bucky that you were trying to clear your conscience of guilt. But he knew you couldn’t care less about him — you didn’t even mention the fucker once while you were too busy feeling sorry for your son in the kitchen and making silly excuses to not let him have his way with you.

Landing a harsh smack to the top of your thigh, Bucky savored your squeal of shock. “Don’t act like you give a fuck about him now, Honey. Who’s the one eating your pussy this good, hm?” He ran two fingers down the middle of your folds, biting his lip at the wetness coating them. When your only answer was a moan muffled by your pillow, he spanked you again in the same place with more force. “Answer me.”

“You, Bucky!” you instantly shouted out. “You’re the one eating my pussy so good!”

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard was it?” He eased over the marks beginning to bloom on your skin and smiled to himself. “Call me James, though. I like it better.”

Without letting you reply, Bucky dived back in, fucking your pussy with his tongue. You reached back to hold your asscheeks open with each hand, desperate to have him go deeper into your hole. The glint from the diamond of your wedding ring caught his attention and he smirked into your cunt; the reminder that you were married only fuelled his arousal even more.

“Fuck, baby,” he spoke into your cunt. “You really are sweet, ain’t ya? Taste fuckin’ incredible.”

The filthy sounds of slurps and moans filled the room. Bucky was a starved beast, held back and pushed to the edge for too long and every little bit of anger and resentment that had built in his body from your husband’s treatment was taken out on you.

It only boosted his ego when you grinded your cunt back against him too. His cock jumped with excitement with how fucking dirty you truly were. You had been locked up too, he remembered. Stuck holding back your true self for a shitty excuse of a man.

Bucky grunted deeply before licking a wide stripe from your clit, slowly running through your pussy lips and reaching higher towards the puckered hole that twitched with anticipation.

“Oh!” you exclaimed aloud in surprise. Bucky thought he may have gone too far, then. But once you relaxed and backed yourself into his tongue, he smiled wickedly.

“You like that, filthy girl?” he laughed, darkly. “Should’ve known you’d be a little freak.”

Bucky circled the tip of his tongue teasingly around your asshole, moaning at your eagerness when you tried to reach further back with your hands and drag him closer.

“Don’t tease,” you gasped, out of breath. “Please, I want more. Gimmie more.”

Almost immediately, Bucky complied, ripping your hands away with vigor to replace them with his. He spreaded your asscheeks wide and lapped at your tight hole.

“Fuck yes—oh my god, James—yes!”

The depravity was obscene and disgusting and Bucky absolutely loved it. Never had he been more turned on and he decided then and there that this wasn’t going to be a one and done deal. He wanted you to be his.

A string of saliva connected Bucky’s mouth to your ass as he reluctantly backed away. The slick that had poured out of you smothered his chin and cheeks and Bucky happily licked his lips with a groan. “Baby, as much as I wanna keep eating your ass, I need to feel your pretty little cunt wrapped around my cock.”

You whimpered while your pussy clenched with a need to be filled. Bucky watched your cute little hole flutter. “Put it in me,” you slurred. “Need your cock.”

He wasted no time unfastening his jeans to pull them down enough until his dick bobbed out of its confines. Bucky caught you peeking your head around, trying to catch a glimpse of his cock, but he spanked your ass and bit his lip with amusement at your scream. “Not yet, baby. You’ll get a chance to see it when I fuck your throat later.”

You squirmed impatiently, needy moans escaping you and Bucky couldn’t hold back any longer. Grabbing his cock, he began to push the fat head of his length inside you.

A loud gasp tore from your throat and your pussy instantly tried to suck him in deeper. Your walls, tight and warm, hugged his dick like a vice. “You’re—oh my fucking god—how are you so big?”

The smirk that donned Bucky’s face was lethal. He had you right where he wanted you. And yet his eye rolled back all the same, savouring the flutter of your tight hole around him.

“This is all for you, baby,” he breathily whispered, bullying his way deeper into your pussy. “Get me so fuckin’ hard everytime I see you. Cookin’ in them pretty little dresses. Just wanna lift your skirt up and fuck you wherever I want.”

Your moans both fell into sync as Bucky finally slid his cock all the way to the hilt. You couldn’t stop squirming and it drove him crazy.

“You need to move,” you begged in between pants. “Please, I can’t stay still.”

Bucky licked his teeth with desire blazing through him. “Since you asked so nicely, Honey.”

Without the decency to ease you into it, Bucky instantly set a brutal pace. He looked down, admiring the thick coating of your juices lathering his dick and he willed himself not to blow his load so fast. He tightly closed his eyes, adjusted his stance and began to fuck you.

You were quick to grab ahold of whatever you could, scrambling for purchase within the sheets, but you were useless to try to stop how your head buried into the bed. The force of Bucky’s thrusts were too violent and so you surrendered to what was inevitable, letting yourself drool over the cotton.

“Bu—CKY!” your cry of surprise when he lifted his foot onto the bed, allowing him a better angle to fuck you, was music to his ears.

“What’s’a matter, baby?” Bucky mocked. “Thought you were a big girl, huh? Can’t handle me?”

Your reply was instant. “I can! I can, I promise, I promise!”

“Then shut the fuck up and take it.”

Bucky didn’t know where to look, he was spoilt for choice. To watch your eyes roll back in ecstasy? To concentrate on the shlick shlick of your soaked cunt? Ultimately, his eyes were glued to the jiggle of your ass, his hands soon following as though he was hypnotised. How it so perfectly met his hips without a falt in rhythm.

“Fuck me—this ass is heaven, baby. You been hiding it from me all this time?”

There was no answer this time, at least not a coherent one. Bucky was instead graced with your constant squeaks and groans — a woman too invested in a physical gratification she had so sadly been starved of.

Bucky chuckled. “Ain’t gotta answer, Honey. The sounds comin’ outta that mouth are keeping my dick happy enough.”

He almost forgot the end goal of his proposition in the midst of the delectable feel of your cunt. With a sudden bolt of clarification as he felt a vibration against his leg, Bucky kept one hand on your hip while he reached for his phone in his pocket with the other. Keeping up the pace of his thrusts, you were clueless as he unlocked it and opened the camera app.

“Now, Honey, I want you to really scream my name, okay? Wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel. Can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, dumbly. “C-Can do that for you, James.”

He grinned wickedly and threw his head back. “Just like that. Good fuckin’ girl.” Looking back down at you through the phone screen, he hovered his finger over the record button and brought his other hand down hard on your ass. “Go on then, baby. Put on a show for me.”

If Bucky thought you were a fucking treat before, his mind was blown once you began to take the reigns of your own pleasure. Bucky hardly had to move and you still plunged yourself onto his cock with an unmatched enthusiasm to anyone else he had fucked. He could hardly keep his hand that held the phone up from shaking. The combined sounds coming from the both of you were insane.

None of his wet dreams could compare to his reality. “You—shit—you’re killing me, Honey.”

You must not have heard him because you decided to torture him even more by arching your back just that little bit further.

Bucky thought he was a goner, soon to approach his end. But he couldn’t let that happen. He was far from done with you yet.

Propping one foot up onto the bed for better leverage, he gathered his restraint and began to drive forward once more. He felt high.

“That husband of yours ever fuck you like this, huh?” Bucky demanded. “Can he make you leak all over his dick like a fuckin’ slut?”

You violently shook your head from side to side, like the thought of your husband left a sour taste in your mouth you wanted to get rid of. “Nuh-uh,” you whimpered, popping your ass up even more to take as much as you could. “O-Only you.”

“Tell him, baby.” Bucky noticed too late that he had slipped up, too gone off the feel of your cunt wrapped snug around his dick. But you hadn’t seemed to realise his mistake either and the thought that you were too much of a wreck from his cock to comprehend who he was talking about made him even harder. “Let him know who’s balls deep in your tight, slutty pussy.”

“Oh, fuck—please, please—you, James, it’s you. Please, it’s you!”

“Atta girl,” he cooed, hoarsely. “Look at the fuckin’ mess you’re makin’ on me.”

Bucky reached down to where the two of you were connected with his free hand, sweeping the copious amount of your slick gathered in a ring around the bottom of his cock. “Here.” He leant forward, one palm up towards you with his phone still in his other hand out of your view. “Open your mouth, pretty mama.”

You slightly turned your head with your tongue sticking out wide and eagerly sucked the juices off his hand with a long moan.

Managing to get all of it on camera, Bucky watched as you licked between his fingers, not wasting a drop. “Holy fuck,” he grunted deeply. “You’ll really do anything I say, won’t you?”

You bobbed your head up and down, eventually letting his fingers go, clean as a whistle.

“What a fuckin’ filthy whore. You’re perfect for me.”

You backed yourself onto Bucky’s cock, meeting his thrusts perfectly while the meat of your ass clapped against his toned waist. “You’re a needy little thing, ain’t you baby?”

“Anythin’ you want,” you slurred. “Can be whatever you need.”

“Poor mommy hasn’t been treated this good in a long time I can tell.” Bucky gripped your ass harshly with his hand, jiggling the flesh for his own satisfaction. “Women like you, need putting in their place on a daily basis. Need a good fuckin’ to keep them happy.”

“Yes!” you agreed, firmly. “Mommy needs to be fucked like this all the time.”

Unbelievable. Bucky didn’t even have to try to add salt into the wound. He couldn’t help the continuous conspicuous messages that he could easily pass off to you. “This is what happens when you don’t take care of your wife.”

Harsh slaps echoed in your bedroom. The two of you could only share the raw sounds that left your mouths in your haze of the thrill as the string between you pulled tighter and tighter.

“I’m—so—close,” you murmured with all your depleted energy.

Bucky didn’t need the confirmation when he could feel the rapid pulses of your walls that squeezed him. He knew your orgasm was clutching at its straws and he was so close himself. The blood from his head had long since made its way to his dick and his composure was swiftly deflating.

“Want that cum,” he garbled as his mouth hung open. “I’ve been such a good boy, mommy. Give it to me, please.”

You whined loudly, like a dog in heat. But your voices became lost on each other. That didn’t stop Bucky from losing his inhibitions out loud.

Thrust. “I’ve been such,” thrust. “A good,” thrust. “Boy.”

The wound up ball of tension in your lower stomach exploded in a series of screams and violent shivering that overtook your whole nervous system and the very sensation brought Bucky to his defeat.

The muscles in his legs failed him as they turned to jelly. Bucky let out the sluttiest moan he’s ever experienced in his life and all but collapsed onto your sweat slicked body. He could feel his cock shooting a constant stream of cum into your cunt with seemingly no end in sight.

“Fuck,” he whimpered into your ear. Slowly, his conscience came back to life and the flow of his load finally came to a stop.

The two of you laid still, only the heavy panting serving to fill the silence. After a couple of minutes, Bucky kissed your shoulder blade, before lifting himself up. He gathered the strength to gently retrieve his length from your hole that still strangled him.

Bucky was reminded of the phone that was still recording in his hand and he quickly made sure to get the winning money shot of his load dripping out of your pulsing hole while he wholly detached himself from you.

He was only human to push his finger into your cunt, he thought, letting himself gather himself on his own fingers.

Flipping the camera around to himself, Bucky put his coated finger in his mouth, sucking your combined juices and humming and letting it go with a pop. He laughed, out of breath, his red cheeks and mussed hair only adding to the depravity of the video. “Y’know some people should really keep an eye on their wives. You never know what they’re up to in their spare time. Ain’t that right, Honey?”

Bucky knew you were out of it — he watched on while you buried your head in the sheets, rubbing your thighs together as aftershocks made your body twitch. Your needy, high pitched keens bounced off the walls. “Wan’ more of your cock, James—please—need you to fuck me again.”

He licked his lips in delight, the sight of your ass wiggling with his cum leaking out of you and your unprompted addition to the recording filling him with glee.

“Well,” he sighed, turning back to the camera and shrugging with no remorse. “You heard the wife. Duty calls.” With a cocky wink, he ended the recording with a final farewell. “See you in class, Professor.”

Bucky exited his camera app and quickly brought up his emails, scouring through to a saved draft and attaching the video link. After pressing send, he shut off his phone, making sure any future notifications would be silenced before throwing it to the ground with a careless thump.

“Baby,” you whimpered, looking behind you to search for him. “What are you doing? I said I wanna be fucked again.”

Undressing the rest of his clothes, Bucky stalked towards you, kneeling onto the bed and effortlessly flipping you over to kiss you deeply to share your combined tastes. “Don’t worry, mommy,” he breathed into your mouth. “I’ll take care of you now.”

Meanwhile at his college, a new email popped up on Dr Parker’s computer screen, shrouding the dark office with a white glow in the late night. With an exhausted huff, he looked up from grading papers — all of them marked with a C or lower — and squinted his eyes at the bright screen.

New Email from James Buchanan Barnes

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. The name was familiar as he thought back to the day the kid almost cried in his office, complaining about his poorly-graded assignment and his GPA; Dr Parker had gossiped with Professor Stark in his department on his dinner break, recounting the annoying way this particular student had whined like a baby. Though he couldn’t quite remember how James looked, unable to place him among the hundreds of pupils he taught.

Amused curiosity ran through him, wondering what his student had to moan about this time and so with a sadistic smirk, he clicked on the link, waiting until his message came up.

Though that smirk was quickly replaced with a frown when the email finally loaded with an attachment.

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. But I like mine warm, tight and sweet.

Just like Honey.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction

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maeve-writes · 3 years ago

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The Significance of Fair Food

Pairings: Human!Castiel x Reader

Rating: General

Warnings: Fluff, bad decisions.

Summary: You talk the boys into making a stop during your travels and you show Castiel the joys of being human.

a/n: This was written for a SPN challenge years ago.

My three categories were: Fair, snow cone, getting sunburnt.

This is unbeta'd, please forgive any mistakes. This is also my first time writing Castiel, so forgive me if it’s a little... off.

Formally posted on the account @plaided-ani

When you asked the boy to make a pit stop, the last thing they expected was to end up pulling into a fairgrounds parking lot. The world was ending, again, you had demons and angels and everything in between after the four of you, but damned if it didn’t seem like a good idea. “Dude,” Dean reasoned with his brother, slapping him on his arm, “fair food.”

“Yes,” you chirped, popping your head between them from the backseat. You wrapped your hands around Sam’s shoulders, fingers digging into the tense muscle and you shook him like a maraca. “Yes!”

“What’s the significance of fair food,” Castiel inquired beside you, curious eyes watching Sam’s head snap to and fro from your jarring.

You rounded on him immediately, releasing Sam before you slid into the former angel’s personal space, slinging your arm around his shoulders. “Castiel,” your voice was quiet, intimate, “fair food is the most delicious nourishment that humans have to offer.” You reached up and ran a hand down his cheek and forced him to look you in the eye, “And all of it’s fried.”

He stared at you unblinkingly, puffy lips slightly parted in confusion. You were a hair’s length apart, close enough to be sharing the same lungs, and he nodded once causing his nose brush against yours.

“If you two are done making out,” Dean cleared his throat, arm perched over the back of his seat to glare at you. “I want a corndog.”

You immediately released Cas and then turned to scramble out of the car. You joined up with Dean, hooking your arm around his and the pair of you charged the fair’s main gate, Sam and Castiel trailing behind you.

The sun was out in full force and what little clouds floating in the sky provided no comfort from it’s heated rays. You turned your head up, eyes closed to bask in the warm as you four waited in line for the first vendor that Dean deemed acceptable.

“Fried butter,” Castiel droned behind you, “that doesn’t sound very healthy.”

“It doesn’t have to be healthy, Cas,” Dean replied, pulling you forward as the queue moved, “it’s fair food.”

Sam huffed in annoyance and shook his head, “That’s not an excuse to clog your arteries.”

“Yes, it is,” you and Dean replied simultaneously.

You righted your head and turned to glare up at the youngest Winchester, but you caught sight of Castiel clutching at his chest, his fingers clenching around the soft white shirt that Dean leant him. “Your heart’s gonna be fine, Cas,” you assure him, stumbling along as Dean pulled you forward yet again. “It takes years of eating bad crap to clog you up. If anyone is gonna die of a heart attack, it’s Dean!”

“And I would have no regrets,” came the proud sniff beside you.

“You two are idiots,” Sam sighed.

You opened your mouth to retort, but Dean yanked you one final time and you spun to order the biggest funnel cake they allotted, double sugar and strawberries on top. Dean, of course, got his three corndogs, Sam opted for cup-o-salad, but Cas was at a loss. “He’ll have a corn dog and fries,” you decided.

Dean stayed back to wait for the order and Sam lead the way to find a semi-clean table nearby. “I’ll admit, Y/N,” Cas confided in you, eyes darting to Sam’s back cautiously, “that this fair food does smell delicious.”

“Oh, Cas,” you cooed, once again slinging your arm around his arm and placed your head on his shoulder, “you’re in for a treat.” You take one side with Castiel, Sam opting to sit across from you. The sounds of the crowd washed over you as you baked in the afternoon sun, the shrills from fast rides and rigged games were the soundtrack of your best idea yet.

“Alright, heart attacks on a plate,” Dean cackled gleefully as he sat the tray down in the middle. He passed Castiel his basket and you snatched up your funnel cake with a loud smack of your lips. “You’re gonna give me some of that, Y/N, right?”

Your face twisted in aggression, your body curling around your plate as you claimed your territory. “Absolutely not,” you snarled. Cas shifted uneasily beside you which snapped you out of your daze, “But you can have some, Castiel.” Blue eyes met yours and his brow pinched with uncertainty.

“Oh, so you’ll give some to Cas and not me,” Dean growled, corndog shoved in his mouth and mustard dribbled down his chin.

“Yes,” you answered simply, cutting of a nice, big piece coated with the most sugar and biggest strawberry and held it up for Castiel to eat. The former angel frowned at you and looked to Dean before opening his mouth wide to let you choo-choo it in.

He chewed it slowly, considering its taste. Sugar outlined his mouth and a drip of syrup rested in the very center of his bottom lip. Without thinking, you swiped you thumb across it, shoving it into your mouth to lick off the excess. His eyes went wide, watching the finger disappear between your own sugared lips. “This is very good,” he said hoarsely when he finally managed to swallow.

You wiggled your eyebrows in victory and pointed to his meal, “Clog those arteries, Cas.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent queuing in lines, you and Dean hogging the cotton candy. You did share a bit with Castiel for educational purposes, but most of it was shoved shamelessly into your mouth.

“You two are going to throw up,” Sam grimaced as you headed closer to the Tilt-a-Whirl.

“That’s the fun of fairs,” you replied cheerfully, nudging Cas to make a mental note of it. “You stuff yourself full of bad food and then you get on all the rides so you can throw it up later!”

Cas shook his head, “That doesn’t sound like fun at all.”

“It is,” Dean winked, “you’ll love it.” Sam contradicted his brother with a silent shake of his head, but you were all ushered into your seats before the older brother could argue. And when the ride was over, you were hugging your stomach, looking a little paler and Dean shuffled slowly beside you.

“I told y-” Sam started but heated glares from the both of you had him holding his hands up and laughing.

Despite your aching stomachs, you and Dean drag the other two on the Teacups, the Falling Tower, even in the Haunted House. It was the Tunnel of Love that caught your eye, though, and not because you had anything romantic in mind, but it was a slow, easy ride that hid you from the harsh afternoon sun.

The boys fought over who would actually sit with you because it was the Tunnel of Love, after all, and you can’t go in with your brother without people raising eyebrows and they sure as hell didn’t want to ‘fall in love with Cas’. “You’re all idiots,” you exclaimed and pulled Cas into the small swan shaped boat.

“This ride doesn’t actually make humans fall in love, does it,” he asked you hesitantly.

You leaned back against the hard wooden frame, head tilted back as the tunnel’s cool air breezed over your sun kissed skin, “No, Cas. It’s an excuse for teenagers to make out in, though. Or older people to make out like teenagers.” There’s a deep rumble of thoughtfulness next you and you can feel Cas’s eyes on you. “You wanna make out with me,” you asked with one eye cracked open.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “That means kissing, right?”

“Yes,” you snorted.

His brow wrinkled and he nodded, “Yes.”

“Yes,” you repeated, surprised. You sat up and tilted your head, a smile split your face in two.

“Yes,” Cas said for the second time, “I’ve thought about kissing you before. I’ve watched you with the men that you’ve taken home from bars and…”

You held up a hand and blinked, “What do you mean you’ve watched me?”

“I was afraid that they might hurt you, so I kept watch,” Castiel explained, noting your sudden discomfort of the conversation. “I stopped watching when you… you know.”

“I am so glad you’re human now,” you groaned, bringing up your legs in the open bench seat and hid your face away. You felt a hand atop your knee and a gentle squeeze in timid comfort. “If you ever get your grace back, dude, please don’t ever watch me again,” you pleaded once you lifted your head.

Cas nodded, those deep blue eyes full of regret and understanding, “I promise.”

The ride finished without a makeout session, but you had forgiven Cas by the time you caught up with Sam and Dean. The sun was getting low and the fair’s lights slowly started to flicker on, the Ferris Wheel drawing everyone’s attention. “Last ride,” Sam warned you, so you tugged them along, waiting in the longest queue of the day.

“Snow Cones,” Dean whispered, pushing at your shoulder. “Wait here,” he instructed his brother and friend before dragging you over to the stand. While the ice did sound like a good idea in the warm summer evening, more sugar was going to make your veins explode.

“I dunno, Dean,” you patted your belly, “I don’t know if I can fit anymore.”

“Don’t be a wuss,” he egged you on and shoved you up to the counter. You order a small one, rainbow all the way and kicked Dean in the shin when you got your purchase and ran off to the safety of your friends.

“More sugar,” you told Cas, holding up the shaved ice settled in a paper cup. “Sweets for a sweetie,” you offer it to him, “just bite.” He looked from you to the colored ball of frost and scraped his teeth along to gather some with an approving hum. Dean soon joined you, tagging you on the back of your head when he returned and nearly had you spilling your treat. “Watch it!”

Cas frowned in disapproval at Dean, but the oldest Winchester smirked smugly and bite down hard on his snow. “For as much sugar as you consume, Dean, you can be sour,” he reprimanded, patting your shoulder and taking yet another bite of your snow cone.

“Are you really white knighting, Y/N, right now,” Dean snorted, the tip of his nose dyed blue from his flavoring.

“If that means I’m defending her, then yes,” Cas replied, his eyes, like yours and Sam’s, trained on the small spot of blue. “Dean,” he started, but you wrap a hand around his wrist and squeeze. How the three of you are holding a straight face, you’ll never know.

“What,” came the gruff reply accompanied by a frown.

“Nothing,” Cas replied casually, tearing his eyes away from his friend and back to you and the Snow Cone. You return the stare, both of you leaning in to take a bite and you tried not to choke on the flavored ice.

“What,” Dean asked pressingly.

“Line’s moved up,” Sam answered, pulling his brother along.

Dean eyed you all suspiciously, but he moved along with everyone else, digging back into his ice and coming out with an even bigger spot of blue. Sam’s jaw is clenched so hard you could hear his teeth starting to crack and you’re sure you’ve snorted some of your ice in an attempt to stop your laughter. But Castiel? He was standing there, smiling at the three of you, suddenly understanding what the significance of fair food was.

“Dammit,” Dean groaned the next day, waddling in from the bathroom, “Y/N!” Castiel looked up from the newspaper and tilted his head, his eyes shifting from Dean to you splayed out of the bed in nothing more than a thin cami and cotton shorts, looking just as uncomfortable as Dean with your cherry red skin.

“Shut up,” you spat, not able to move from your bed. It wasn’t fair, not really. All four of you were out in the sun all day and only you and Dean managed to get burned, even through all of your layers. “Your voice makes my skin hurt.”

“Your face makes my skin hurt,” Dan shot back, slowly climbing onto the bed next to you. The pair of you weakly slapped at each other from your prone positions and you felt the bed dip behind you.

“Sam said this might happen,” Castiel stated as he flipped open a cap of aloe. “He said I would need to rub this into your skin.”

Dean jerked his head up and immediately winced from the pain, “You’re not rubbing anything on me.”

“Shut up and enjoy it, jerk,” you hissed and twisted your head as much as you could to look at Castiel. “Rub it all over me, Cas, as deep as you can.”

The former angel flushed as bright as the pair of you, but set to work.

#castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel x y/n #human!castiel #formally posted on @plaided-ani

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bnhayyy · 4 years ago

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My fic for day 7 of @aot-au-week has also gotten away from me and I will not be able to post it today. This is unsurprising, since I decided to use it as an excuse to write the first of what I plan to be a series of one-shots. However! Since I don’t want to post nothing on the day itself, I’ve decided to go ahead and preview the (unbeta’d) first chapter.

It’s an AU where Reiner is Marleyan on his mother’s side. This changes a lot. (Until some stuff happens later on, and suddenly, it changes far less than you might expect.)

"What are you doing?"

Reiner liked to watch the devils. He knew that he wasn't supposed to, but it was so easy with how close to Liberio's gate they lived, and he found that he couldn't handle the temptation. It wasn't like anything bad would come from it anyway. None of them could hurt him; there were soldiers all over the place, and even Eldians like them should know the trouble they would get into if they hurt a Marleyan. He was only catching a few quick looks anyway. It wasn't much, but if he was lucky, he thought he might be able to figure out how they worked, what it was that made them so horrible. Then he'd be able to handle them better when he finally turned eleven and was allowed to join the military in a year.

He didn't really care if any of the Eldian cadets caught him looking. It wasn't like any of them could do anything about it. That was why he didn't expect any of them to say anything either.

A tiny girl with ice-blue eyes proved him wrong, looking right at him and asking her question.

Reiner balked. Just for a second, just to remember that this was a devil child he was talking to, that even though she probably wanted to hurt him, he was Marleyan and there was nothing he should do. When he remembered that, he grinned and said, "looking for your horns."

The girl blinked. "What," she said, although it didn't sound like a question. She probably wasn't very smart, then.

"Looking for your horns," Reiner repeated. He coaxed his expression into more of a sneer, since his mother wouldn't like it if she knew he was looking friendly toward these people. "You’re devils, right? So where are your horns? My mom says you should have them."

The girl's hand balled into a fist. She took a step forward and sent alarm exploding in Reiner's chest, driving him to take a stumbling step back before he even what was happening. It looked for all the world like she would take another, but before she could, an older boy stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. The girl looked up at him for a few moments, then relaxed her posture. She was still scowling though. It was just pointed at the dirt now instead of him.

Reiner began to frown as his heart slowed down enough to let him think. Stupid. That girl looked like she couldn't be older than seven or eight - maybe even six, with how short she was - and one of the soldiers would have seen and stopped her if she actually tried to do anything. He couldn't let himself look like he was afraid of her!

He began to open his mouth. The girl flickered her gaze back up, expression darkening.

Reiner redirected his attention to the boy who still had a hand on her shoulder. "You need to keep her under control!" he snapped. "I could report you, you know."

The boy smiled sadly. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. "But if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing? I thought Marleyan kids weren't supposed to talk to warrior candidates."

Reiner's brow furrowed. Warrior candidates. He'd heard that term before - the warriors were supposed to be the Eldians who weren't quite as bad as the rest of them. The devils with the ability to turn into actual monsters. Marley's living weapons. The term made his curiosity burn that much brighter, even though the devil boy was... not exactly wrong. He wasn't about to tell him that though, especially when there were so many questions that he suddenly wanted to ask.

Before he could say a single word, a gruff voice began to resonate from a short distance away. The soldiers meant to be escorting the devil children started looking at them a little more intensely - and casting unsure glances at him. Now that he looked at them, the other devils - warrior candidates - were shooting him nervous glances as well. Well, most of them were. Some kid standing next to an unusually tall boy was glaring at him outright. Reiner took note of it and made sure to glare right back.

The girl shrugged her comrade's shoulder off and marched over to them, while the boy glanced in the direction of the voice and murmured, "Magath."

When he looked back at Reiner, his smile was a little less sad and a little more anxious. "You might want to get out of here. Go on - I swear I won't tell anyone about what happened."

Reiner's attention jerked back to him. The glare stayed, now fueled by the urge to say that he didn't need an Eldian to keep secrets for him. However, the voice was getting closer and louder. He hoped that he wouldn't get in trouble. He didn't think he had any real reason to get in trouble, but... he didn't really want to find out.

With all of his questions still burning in the back of his mind, Reiner ran off. It irritated him that he didn't get the chance to learn anything useful, but... it wasn't like the warrior candidates didn't come through the area often enough. He would have other chances to figure out what made them tick.

It was only a few minutes later that he realized that he'd made a mistake. Just before he left, he had slipped up and given the devil boy a look that was almost grateful.

He'd have to do a better job of remembering his place next time. His mother would be so disappointed if she knew that he was being friendly with a devil.

#reiner braun #annie leonhardt #marcel galliard #snk #attack on titan #snk fic #yes reiner is still half eldian in this au #no he does not know that #and the rest is spoilers

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banshee1013 · 4 years ago

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Suptober Day 22 - But I Know That I Love You So

Well, this is it - the last one I managed to finish both art and fic for during the month of October, and it’s at a pretty good stopping point. There are 2 others where the fic is done but not the art, and two additional ones in the planning stages, all which will be released when they’re done. The Masterpost will be published tomorrow, and then updated with AO3 tags as they’re posted there.

Please forgive this last one - I’m still learning to draw people and not that great at it. That’s why there were so many inanimate objects, still life, and hands HAHA. Something to get better at for next year!

So, I hope you enjoy this last installment! Thanks again to @winchester-reload for hosting this challenge again, and I look forward to having the time now to check out everyone else’s amazing work! You’re ALL ROCK STARS.

Overall Title: The Road Less Traveled

Overall Rating: Mature (may change to Explicit, we’ll see how it goes)

Tags: Castiel/Dean, mention of Sam/Eileen, Post-Season 15, ExAngel!Cas, MostlyRetiredHunter!Dean, Road Trip

(Note: all ficlets are unbeta’d. At the end of the month, I’ll wrap up whatever I manage to get written, clean it up, get it beta’d, and post to AO3. So please pardon any mistakes!)

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN - BUT I KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU SO

Words: 1797

“Baby, we need to talk,”

Dean’s eyes bore into his, earnest, wide with concern and not a small amount of fear.

A small thread of worry wormed its way around his heart from that statement, the look in his eyes. But the increasing amount of shivering he feels through their clasped hands is far more of a problem at the moment.

“Yes, of course… but Dean, you’re shivering.” He gently disengages a hand from Dean’s, using the other to pull him towards the bathroom and the shower there.

“Cas, I… “ Dean starts but cuts himself off as Cas pulls the shower door back to turn on the water. “W-what’s g-g-going on?”

Cas pivots back to Dean, quickly stripping him of his wet clothes, Dean’s shivering increasing. The clothes are tossed in the corner, and he turns again to check the temperature of the water, which is starting to steam up the mirror over the sink. Turning it down a little so as to not scald him, he urges Dean into the shower.

“You need to warm up or you’ll catch a cold,” Castiel says, gently pushing him under the spray, and begins to close the shower door when Dean’s hand grasps his wrist.

“Cas, g-get in h-here with me, you’re w-w-wet too.”

Dean does have a point, Castiel notices, looking down at his own dripping clothes beginning to form a pool of water beneath him, his own shivers amplifying. He eyes the tiny tub, the showerhead just barely reaching the back of Dean’s neck and a mere few feet of room left. “The shower is too small for both of us.” He does begin to remove his sodden clothing, however, tossing it in the corner of the bathroom to join Dean’s. He’ll have to hang them up after their showers in hopes they’ll be dry enough to pack in the morning. “The steam from the shower will warm me.” He closes the bathroom door to trap even more of the warmth.

But Dean is nothing if not persistent. “Cas, c’mon, we’ll make it work.” The shower is having its desired effect, at least, as his voice is no longer shaking. The insistent tone gives way to one more pleading. “Please, Cas? I need to talk to you.”

Castiel cannot deny him anything, especially when said in that tone of voice. He acquiesces, climbing into the shower, and is immediately pulled under the spray and into Dean’s arms.

“There, much better, am I right?”

It’s very hard to deny, the warmth of the water and Dean’s proximity chasing away his own shivering. He ducks to allow the water to run over his head, warming him fully before spinning Dean carefully around, urging his head under the water as well.

Dean sputters, pulling his head out from under the water. “Okay, okay, I’m good now.” He brushes the excess water from his face, then places a palm on Castiel’s shoulder, the other cupping his jaw, lifting his face to meet Dean’s eyes. The hint of concern is back, and the thread of worry around his heart pulls taut.

“Cas, we need to…” he pauses, closing his eyes briefly and taking a deep breath before continuing. “I need to talk to you about what I asked you the other day.”

The thread of worry snaps and Castiel’s heart plummets into the pit forming in his stomach.

This is where his worst fears come true - where Dean confirms it was a mistake, that he didn’t mean to say those words, to ask that question. He pulls his gaze away from Dean’s, staring at the wall over his shoulder.

At least any dampness that may appear on his cheeks can be explained away by the condensation from the shower.

“I.. I understand, Dean. It’s quite alright,” he hears himself say, as from a great distance.

“No... no Cas, you don’t.” Dean’s voice all but vibrates with apprehension - of course; Dean does care for him, and he’s a kind person, not one to willingly inflict harm - “I meant every word.”

Castiel blinks rapidly, not trusting his hearing. “Excuse me?” His eyes fall back on Dean’s, searching.

Dean’s eyes are open and honest, but he sighs morosely. “I meant every word… but God, how I wish it hadn’t come out like that.” He gives him a wan smile, his eyes falling away. “That was such a lame way to ask you.”

Castiel’s head tilts in confusion. “I’m.. not sure what you mean?”

Dean’s head is still lowered, but Castiel can still see the flush spreading across his cheeks, the embarrassment in his voice. “It should have been so much better… on my knees, presenting a ring… something other than just... “ He pauses with a sigh, his shoulders shrugging.

Castiel’s heart sprouts wings and soars, out of the pit of his stomach directly into his throat, where he has to choke out the words around it, fingers tilting Dean’s chin up to look into those beautiful green eyes he loves so much. “Dean, no. it was honest and perfect.”

Those green eyes, dark with dread, begin to lighten. “But… you haven’t said anything since then…”

It was Castiel’s turn to look down, ashamed. “I was afraid to mention it… for fear it was an accident.” He swallows, hard. “I wanted to keep on believing it was true for as long as possible.”

Dean’s bright laughter startles him, and he jerks his head up in alarm. Dean’s eyes are dancing, lips spread in a grin full of delight. “Boy, we are just a couple of dumbasses, aren’t we?” Before Castiel can agree, Dean is on him, pressing him into the wall of the shower with a crushing, urgent kiss.

A sound bubbles up in Castiel’s chest and escapes around Dean’s lips on his own - a small sob of relief and gratitude. His hands scrabble at Dean’s shoulders, attempting to gain further purchase there, to bring him even closer.

Dean breaks the kiss and his head falls to Castiel’s shoulder, where soon he feels dampness there, warmer than the cooling shower water pouring on them. He gently pulls Dean’s head up to look into his face.

Dean’s eyes glow in the fluorescent light, bright with unshed tears. His hands capture the sides of Castiel’s face, thumbs sweeping gently over his cheeks.

“God, I love you so much, Cas,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. Then he shivers as the rest of the hot water runs out, the temperature dropping rapidly. “C’mon, we’re gonna freeze again.” His hand drops from Castiel’s face to his hand, spinning around to turn off the shower water and open the shower door to retrieve towels from the rack above the toilet, handing one to Castiel.

It becomes quickly apparent that the shower is far too small for both of them to be able to dry off there, so with an exaggerated shiver, Dean hops out of the shower and begins to rapidly dry off, Castiel following suit within the shower tub. When they’re both dry, Dean offers his hand to Castiel, drawing him out of the shower and into the room proper. He makes his way to the duffle bag by the door and fetches out two pairs of sweats, stepping into one pair before helping Castiel into the other. He then snatches the Impala keys from the nightstand and turns for the door.

“I’ll be right back. I have an idea.” He opens the door and darts out into the rain.

Castiel sighs and heads to fetch another towel from the bathroom.

The door bursts back open, an only slightly damp Dean re-entering with something clutched in his clenched fist. He closes the door behind him and approaches Castiel with firm footsteps.

His hand opens and Castiel sees a ring there, hanging on a chain. “Is that… is that the ring you used to wear?” Castiel squints at the ring, beat up and scratched from all the beer bottle caps scraped against it.

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, I stopped wearing it a long time ago… it was the apocalypse and all, and I didn’t want to lose it, so I wore it around my neck for a bit, but it kept popping up and smacking me in the teeth whenever I bent over, so I put it in the glove box.” Dean’s eyes take on a far-away look, a sad smile on his face. “It was originally Mom’s - Dad gave it to her as a sorta promise ring when they first started dating, and of course she stopped wearing it when he got her a proper engagement ring.” He pries open the clasp of the necklace laced through it, his hands shaking, and pulls the ring free from it.

Castiel’s breath catches as Dean falls to his knees in front of him for the second time this day, the ring presented to him, pinched between Dean’s thumb and forefinger.

“Cas,” the words coming so softly Castiel has trouble hearing them over the pounding of the rain on the roof of the motel. “Castiel,” Dean repeats, his voice strengthening with conviction, his eyes cast upwards, hope and love shining in them.

“Will you make me the happiest guy alive and marry me?”

Castiel’s shaking knees give out and he falls to his knees in front of Dean, leaning forward to kiss him, wild and breathless.

“Yes,” he says, kissing his forehead.

“Yes,” he says again, kissing his eyelid, and “yes” again when kissing the other.

Dean is laughing now, the sound filling the room with joy as Castiel continues to kiss him many more times, punctuating each with a heartfelt “Yes.”

Dean finally stops him, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Okay, I get it, I get it!” He grabs Castiel’s hand. “Can I put this damned thing on you now before I just drop it and ravish you?”

Castiel nods, his voice flown away with his heart, and Dean slips the ring on his finger.

Dean holds Castiel’s hand for a second longer, tilting it back and forth as the ring catches the light and bounces reflections around the room.

“Thank you, Cas,” he whispers, then raises Castiel’s hand to his lips, kissing the ring there.

Castiel’s other hand raises to Dean’s face, tilting his head up.

“I felt the coldness of my winter, I never thought it would ever go. I cursed the gloom that set upon us, but I know that I love you so.”

Dean’s eyes squint. “Did you just quote ‘The Rain Song’ to me?”

Castiel smiles, remembering the first time he heard the song on the cassette Dean had made for him.

“You quoted it to me first.”

They fall silent, content, and listen as the rain continues to fall, pattering on the roof.

#suptober20 #day22 #Destiel #art #fic

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daggerandrose · 4 years ago

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Snippet Sunday!

I was tagged by @harrystinyshorts to post a snippet!

edit: @allwaswell16 tagged me just minutes after I posted this, so I’ll combine the two tags!

This is from my Big Bang fic for this year and can you guess what the au is?

Across the kingdom, in a room much more lavish than Louis’, the Prince was pacing back and forth. Sweat caused his shirt to cling to his skin as a wave of heat rolled through his body causing him to groan in pain.

He knew what this meant. Knew what the stickiness between his thighs meant. A part of him dreaded for a moment when his father would find out his only child and heir to the throne was an omega.

It was early enough in the morning that his maids had not come to wake him for breakfast, but he could now smell the almost overwhelming scent of the guards by his door.

He whimpers as another wave rolls through him and his knees feel weak. He needs to let someone know that he’s presented, but all he wants now is to lay down and have a satisfying release.

Also note that this is unbeta’d so ignore any mistakes! I’m too lazy to look up who to tag sooo if you’re a writer and you want an excuse to participate in this, consider yourself tagged!

#tagging games #mine

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aw-doll-no · 5 years ago

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"I've Been Checking You Out"

(1807 words)

Pairings: Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton

Warnings: /

Tags: oblivious clint, misunderstanding

Summary: "I've been checking you out." Barnes tilts his head. "I'm pretty sure you noticed but you didn't really respond to it."

Note: this is unbeta'd like all of my stories but I try to read it a couple of times to correct at least a few mistakes, well I didn't have time for that so I'm sorry if this is even more bumpy than usual :)

>>>------>

Clint is going to die in this tower filled with people he trusts because they were too blind to see what's right in front of them. This should have been a safe place but the moment he came in it was all over.

That's not quite right. Nothing happened at his arrival, it started when he became comfortable being around people and he began to hang out on the communal floors. Somewhere along the way did Clint do something that catched his interest. And interest means killing instinct. Clint gets a headache just thinking about what he did wrong. It was all okay in his opinion but his opinion doesn't matter because apparently he did something to deserve death.

He walks back to his bed and let's out a deep breath. It's safe... for now. Thank god that he is on a floor with Steve and not Clint and that every apartment is full equipped and there is technically no need to leave. But Clint will go nuts if he's going to be caged in all day. It's not the people he misses it's the lack of activities in his rooms that drive him crazy. Sleeping and Dog Cops are only entertaining for so long.

He throws himself onto his bed and buries his face in the pillow to let out a frustrated groan. Clint turns around, staring at the ceiling he starts anew. Rinse and repeat. What. Did. He. Do?

There a two possibilities: he did something wrong or he said something wrong. Let's start with the first.

Barnes doesn't go on missions and he also doesn't train with the others so that reduces some. Clint gives him space and minds his volume as best as he can. He never startled him, came behind him, tried to set him off or took his stuff. He also doesn't talk during movie night, doesn't speaks with a full mouth at the dinner table or steals food of his plate if Barnes problem got something to do with manners. Natasha teached him better than that.

While not being the best behaved it could be a lot worse. He tries not stepping on anyone's toes and so far it worked. Which brings Clint to possibility two. He said something wrong.

This could be it. Clint's mouth works without permission but Barnes seemed to be safe from that because he avoids talking to people. Well mostly. He's not keen on one-on-one talks with anyone else but Steve, he rather participates in group conversations. Or it looks like he participates, he mainly stands by. Clint was part of said group conversations from time to time but even then he never addressed Barnes personal.

That could be it. Clint never did anything to Barnes personally so maybe he's not offended on his own behalf. Which means Clint did/said something wrong to Steve. Barnes is known to be protective but Steve is known for his stubbornness and his refusal to stay back from a fight. If he got a problem with Clint he surely would tell him.

This leads nowhere. Clint grabs his phone and dials. He waits. And waits. And waits. Finally his call gets accepted but the the line stays silent. Shit he forgot the time zones and Tasha is quiet which means she's either half asleep or pissed. Probably both.

"Uh hey Tash. I didn't wake you up, did I?" No answer. "Okay so um I-I'm just going to hang up now alright?" Still no answer. "I love you bye," he says fast and hangs up. That will have consequences he's sure of it.

Sighing Clint rubs his hand over his face and thinks back to how it started.

They just came back from a successful fight, spending some time in the communal area. Clint was sore because he did something he considered brave while others might thought it was stupid but in the end it worked and he saved lives so he couldn't care less.

While he sat at the counter sipping coffee Clint felt a tingle in the back of his neck which meant that he was being watched. Subtly he tried to check what's going on.

There were five people present. Clint was one of them, Tony and Steve were in a heated discussion about some nonsense and paid nobody attention but themselves, Tasha does watch Clint sometimes but he instantly knows when it's her and this time was different, which only left Barnes.

Clint brushed it off at the time thinking it was only fatigue and paranoia speaking because Barnes seemed calm and in control plus nobody else seemed worried about it. That's how it started.

Over the days the tingle came back repeatedly which made Clint kind of nervous. He knew it was Barnes every time but why was he observing him? Clint continued to act like he didn't noticed it and waited for the right moment, where Barnes would let his guard down, to catch him in the act.

The tingle came more often, lasted longer and Clint knew that Barnes would start feeling too sure of himself any moment now which would lead to making a mistake.

It was at dinner when Clint felt it again that he decided to look up. And Barnes? He looked him straight in the eyes. No embarrassment, no avoiding, he didn't even blink. Clint was so puzzled that he switched his view and left as soon as dinner was over.

It seemed like Barnes didn't get careless like Clint thought at first but that he actually wanted Clint to know that he was watching him and after the dinner Barnes dismissed being subtle all together.

Clint was constantly observed. The moment he stepped into a room Barnes would look up, sometimes even turn around. He would watch Clint from afar, close up, while movie night, dinner, training with the team and shooting with his bow. And never did he look away first when their eyes met.

It started unnerving Clint because he just couldn't figure out why. So when Tony got the idea to get a lot of booze for a movie night, Clint dived right in. Not the smartest idea as it turned out.

He felt the buzz in his head and his attention for the movie stopped half an hour ago. Just sitting there, enjoying the drunk feeling was fine by him until the tingle started yet again. Clint looked over annoyed to meet Barnes gaze but this time was different. Barnes smirked at him with a look on his face that screamed 'I'm going to eat you alive'. It made Clint's blood run cold. He felt like prey being watched by its predator. All of it made sense now. Clint became part of a twisted cat and mouse game and nobody noticed. Barnes probably wanted to test out his abilities now that he's free (more or less) of his Winter Soldier mindset and decided that Clint was the perfect candidate for it.

He doesn't remember leaving just how his fogged brain told him to flee immediately and that is now five days ago. Since then he didn't leave his room even once.

Barnes has 70 years experience, involuntary but still, Clint has the feeling that he can't keep up with that. Natasha needs to come home soon.

>>>------>

Seven days. He's stuck in his apartment for a whole week now. Well actually he isn't stuck Clint could go out any moment but he's a little concerned. Not scared. Not scared at all. Okay maybe a little bit but nobody can blame him for that because the freaking Winter Soldier is after him.

This can't go on forever at some point he will run out of excuses as to why he's not around anymore. Fuck that. Clint's going out now. He will go to the communal area trying to get leftovers from dinner.

He gets up and walks out with as much confidence as he can manage.

>>>------>

This is delicious and he can't believe he missed out so many dinners. Taking another big bite Clint nearly doesn't notice someone entering the kitchen. His fork is halfway to his mouth when he feels it again. The tingle. He puts it down again and prepares himself. Clint won't go down without a fight.

"What's up?" he asks while casually turning around leaning against the counter, crossing his arms.

Barnes is standing there with his hands in his pockets. Slowly a grin starts to spread over his face. Clint is a bit surprised, this was a lot more intimidating in his memory but that's probably an act and not cute at all.

"I've been checking you out." Barnes tilts his head. "I'm pretty sure you noticed but you didn't really respond to it."

"Oh I definitely noticed but I ignored it 'till now. Whatever you expect me to do or say, it won't happen. I will not give in."

Barnes' smile drops, his eyes start darting around. "I wasn't- I mean-" he licks over his lips in a nervous manner. "You don't owe me anything I just tried- doesn't matter. I'm sorry. I'm gonna-" He points over his shoulder starting to leave.

"The fuck?" Confused Clint starts following. "Hey wait."

"It won't happen again. I'm going to leave you alone, promise."

"That's all I wanted but somehow this doesn't feel right. Now wait a second, would you?" Clint walks in front of Barnes stopping him. They both look at each other without saying a word.

Barnes raises an eyebrow in question.

"Uh well. I have no clue what's going on right now. I thought you would jump me any moment and now you apologize for it?" asks Clint waving his hands.

"Jump you huh? Funny that. Actually I thought about it but you make it sound like a threat."

"You can't stand me," Clint whispers.

"Why would you think that?" Barnes asks but waves it off the same moment. "Clint I'm going to tell you something now and I want you to listen." He takes a calming breath before continuing. "I noticed you pretty early but I wasn't in any condition for anything. But now? Well now I thought I could try my luck," he chuckles, "turns out the last 70 years really fucked me up. I used to be a great flirt and now I don't know what I'm doing anymore. Thought I would just try to get your attention but you're not even interested."

"You were trying to flirt? I thought you wanted to kill me." Clint holds up his hands to stop Barnes from talking. "Now it's my turn talking. But I got a better idea than that. Because talking isn't my strong suit and thinking apparently also not. So huh how about making out?"

Barnes starts smiling. "I can't believe this is my life now."

#winterhawk #bucky x clint #clint x bucky #bucky/clint #clint/bucky #buckyxclint #clintxbucky #bucky barnes x clint barton #clint barton x bucky barnes #bucky barnes/clint barton #clint barton/bucky barnes #my writing #oblivious clint #misunderstanding #one shot #dialogue generator

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queen-of-the-vampires · 6 years ago

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unholy

Characters: Katherine Pierce x Reader, Damon Salvatore x Reader

Word Count: 859

Warnings: fluff

Request: can you do an imagine with katherine based on a song unholy by hey violet? Idk why but i just thought of katherine immediately

Summary: She has consumed every one of your thoughts and actions. Can you resist her for much longer?

Author’s Note: This is based on the song Unholy by Hey Violet. If you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

Being in love with the one person that everybody hated was such a hard thing for you to be involved in. Her bouncy hair, sparkling eyes, smooth lips, delicious body, everything about her drove you crazy. Being with Damon, you thought it would make those devious thoughts go away. You thought he would serve as a distraction big enough that whenever her name is uttered, your heart wouldn't spike.

It didn’t work.

I'm having thoughts all the time, you and I, and they won't go away But I kinda like what it's like in my mind and I don't wanna be saved Every night, I'm undressed, and with him and I'm thinking of you Yeah, I know it's the wrong thing to do, but I kinda want to

Tangled in the sheets with Damon, all you could think about was her. The places he kissed, her lips. The spots he touched, her hands. The way he made you feel, her body. Even as you screamed out his name, it was hers that was screaming from inside your mind. The thought of her had consumed you, and you were counting the days when you got to see her once more.

Say your name while our tongues are tied Getting shivers all down my spine We're in bed, we're in bed, yeah, in my mind

Damon had bit your bottom lip as his fingers dug into your skin, no doubt leaving bruises. His tongue snuck inside your mouth, his tongue tangling with yours. A shiver raced down your spine not because of what he did to you, but because of the thought that he might actually know what is going on inside of your mind.

At this point in the relationship, you had started comparing him to her. Nothing he did would ever be as good as she could do. She was always better than everyone else, and she proved it daily. Her bite was a lot worse than her bark, and you wished to be bitten by her every night.

“What’s wrong?” Damon asked once he sensed you weren't into this make out session as much as he was.

“Nothing, just a lot on my mind,” you said truthfully.

“Let me distract you then,” he smirked, pressing his lips to your neck. If only he knew what was going on inside your mind.

If he knew what I thought about you, it would break his heart And I wish that I could, but I can't make the fantasies stop Everybody's downstairs, I can hear them talking through the floor So convenient for you to pull me into a room and lock the door

The party was in full swing, but you couldn’t enjoy it. Not when you knew what this party was really all about. It was to celebrate her being out of everyone’s lives. She had skipped town, much to your displeasure. Damon wanted you to enjoy yourself, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to him that you had feelings for that woman, and you were this close to breaking things off and search for her.

Something told you that she never really left town. She hated being left out of the loop.

Politely excusing yourself, you left for Damon’s room where you could take a moment to yourself and just think. Why were you at this party? What did you really want? Before you could sit on his bed, the door closed and you heard the lock click.

She was here. You could smell her. Her hands touched your shoulders before gently sliding down your arms.

“Katherine,” you whispered, allowing her to move your hair to the side where she pressed her lips to your neck.

“Shh,” she quieted you, not wanting the others to hear what you two were doing.

“Kat,” you barely mumbled, turning in her arms to look into her beautiful eyes. She never left town for the sole reason that you were still here. She wasn’t going to leave without you. No words needed to be said as she pulled you into her body and pressed those lips against yours.

Don't say it's unholy If I let you come hold me I know it's wrong that I want to be here in your arms But tonight I'm so lonely Don't say it's unholy If I let you come hold me I know it's wrong that I want to be here in your arms Oh, come on and show me Don't say it's unholy Unholy Unholy Oh, come on and show me

After that night, you broke things off with Damon. He was hurt, confused, and overall pissed that you wanted Katherine over him. However, it seemed like he had no problem moving in on Elena. It didn’t matter because now you had the woman of your dreams, away from the mess that is Mystic Falls.

It’s wrong. She had done so many bad things in her life. It’s so wrong. She betrayed so many people to get where she is. It’s so very wrong. Everyone told you that she was only using you to get what she wanted.

But it never felt so right.

Wanna be tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@choosemyname @sotmperrie @mikaelsonbxtch @akshi8278 @characterobsessed @graceless-stuff @kendall-michele

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dreamchester67 · 6 years ago

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At Worlds End

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel (mentioned), Bobby Singer (mentioned)

Word Count: 1436

Warnings: Mentions of death, Angst, hinting at a breakup

Summary: You and the Winchesters are up against another big bad threatening to end the world; Dean wants to take the lead once again, but how will your relationship fare?

Authors Note: Hey y’all. I really hope you guys enjoy this one. I’m seemingly better at writing angst than anything else haha. This is unbeta’d, so any and all mistakes are on me. Feedback is much appreciated :) xoxo

Once again, you and the Winchesters were met with an impending doom. It was fairly often that you three were what was stopping the world from ending, which was becoming quite alarming. Whatever sick game God, Lucifer, or whatever the hell was playing, it was coming to a point where you wondered just how many more “end of the worlds” you could take.

This time, you were up against another God-like monster that had somehow awaken from the empty. How that happened, you were vastly unaware. The unfortunate part-you were running out on plans- and friends. You had already lose more men than you cared to admit, some being close friends for years. Within the last three days, not only had you lost many men from the apocalypse dimension, but one of the most important people in your life had been killed-once again. While this dimensions Bobby Singer was different from the one you grew up with and looked up to as a father, he still had the same underlying qualities as the man that you lost to a gunshot wound to the head. To make matters worse, Cas had been killed on impact right along with Bobby. No one knew how to handle their deaths, other than to give them the proper hunters funeral and go on their separate ways.

It had been a hell of a few days, and since you felt the need to clear your head, you headed down to the gym in the far hall of the bunker. Getting the tape and gloves, you warmed up to go a few rounds with the bag. Kickboxing was always a way you used to clear your head ever since the death of your parents during high school. It didn’t hurt that it kept you on top of your game during hunts, as well. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, you threw a few warm up punches before twisting and landing a kick halfway up the bag. Slowing your breathing, you kept a steady pace for another twenty minutes. What you hadn't noticed was Dean making his way into the gym, and leaning against the wall, captivated by the intensity of your workout.

Leaning against the bag, you threw a few more weak punches before crashing to your knees and letting the tears that you had been fighting for the last few days fall. You cried for the men lost, you cried for your best friend, and you cried for the loss that you were at against this impending evil. Your chest was heaving up and down when you felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back into a firm chest. Giving in, you let yourself be consumed by the smell of leather and whiskey, all while muttering how you should have been there. Dean knew how much it hurt you to lose Bobby the first time, and he couldn’t imagine what you were going through now. You had always been close to Bobby, you were the daughter that he said he always wanted. To make matters worse, someone who you both called a best friend was also stolen from you, and wasn’t going to be coming back again. So you sat like that, being cradled in Dean’s arms, for Lord knows how long. After you managed to calm down, you excused yourself to go take a much needed shower, to which Dean told you he would be at the war table with Sam, trying to figure out one last battle plan.

Heading out of the shower room, you felt defeated. You didn’t know if it could get any worse from here, but for the first time in your life, you actually sat and prayed that it wouldn’t. Walking towards the war table, you came across Sam and Dean in a heated argument. Clearing your throat to gain their attention, Sam’s face lot up and turned to Dean. “Finally, someone with some sense. Y/n, talk some sense into your idiot boyfriend.”

“Dude, she’s gonna see the importance in this.”

“Dean,” you interrupted, “let Sam finish.”

“Thank you, y/n,” Sam said, rolling his eyes at his older brother. “Dean figured out a grand scheme to get the god back into the empty and keep him there for good.”

Pausing, you looked between the boys with wide eyes, “and that’s a problem how? Isn’t that what we want to do?”

“Here’s the problem, someone has to be in the empty for it to work,” Sam finished, and the reality of Dean’s plan hit you like a ton of bricks. Turning to your boyfriend, you took in the fact that he was hanging his head, his shoulders tense as he gripped the chair in front of him as if his life depended on it.

“Dean?”

Cutting you off, Deans gravelly voice came out harsher than he intended it to, “Y/n, you don’t get it. This is our only option!” He paused, waiting for you to yell at him, shove him, anything that would prove how angry he thought you would be. However, you just took a step back with tears running down your cheeks, something Dean only ever saw in private, as he was the only person that you would allow to see you cry.

“No, Dean. This is your only option.” And with a shaky breath, you headed back to your shared bedroom. One in the room, you ran your fingers over one of the few photos of you two; taken on your first date, without you knowing, by Sam. While you two had yelled at him in the moment, it became one of your most prized possessions. Running your fingers over the frame one last time, you picked up the picture and chucked it across the room, the glass shattering all over the floor. Combing a shaky hand through your hair, you opened your dresser and began to throw your clothes onto the bed.

A knock at the door caused you to pause for a moment, but you carried on ignoring the noise. A split second later, Dean poked his head in the room, eyes widening when he realized what you were doing. Taking a stride over to the bed, he began collecting your clothes and stuffing them back into the drawers they came from, pleading with you, “Y/n, please, sweetheart, Don’t leave. Yell, scream, I don’t care. But don’t leave, not now.”

Trying to suppress your anger, you take the clothes that he’s holding and throw them back onto the bed. Refusing to make eye contact, you rummage under the bed for a duffel bag. “So it’s okay for you to leave, but not me?” Before Dean could comment, you cut him off, “and yes, this is different. Wanna know how? You know i’ll still be alive, whereas you’ll end up dead. Again.” And with that, you cover your face with your hands, sitting on the edge of the bed, attempting to not cry for the third time today.

Kneeling in front of you, Dean takes your hands in his and shakes his head, looking you in the eyes. Letting out a chuckles, he says “you’re supposed to be talking me out of this.” Looking him in the eyes, you can practically see him begging you to be angry. But you weren’t; you were tired, wanting all of this to just come to an end once and for all.

“That’s the problem, I always have to talk you out of it. Selling your soul? Taking on the Mark of Cain? Saying yes to Michael? I always try to talk you out of it, and you always end up doing it anyways. I can’t see you not come back next time Dean. I’m done.” With a sigh, you see him on the verge of tears. Deciding to continue before you lose your nerve, you lean forward and kiss him on the forehead. “Dean, I love you so much. But I can only go through this so many times.” Standing up, you finish packing your duffel, Dean kneeling in the same place he was earlier.

“Please don’t try to find me.” When Dean dropped his shoulders, you took it as your cue to leave. Saying goodbye to Sam was difficult, however he understood why you were leaving and you agreed to stay in touch. With a hug, you climbed into your ‘68 Firebird and saluted goodbye to the bunker. Knowing you may never get the chance to again, you pulled out your phone and sent one last text to the love of your life.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

#supernatural #angst #dean x reader #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #reader insert #spn #spn fanfic #bobby singer #spn reader insert #castiel

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julesthequirky · 6 years ago

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Kisses Have Consequences: The Morning After

Summary: You’re Misha’s best friend. Working with him on SPN had never been a problem, until one scene, forcing you both to admit certain truths about each other and find that kisses have consequences.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, adultery, explicit language, accidental pregnancy, extreme emotions, angst.

Feedback is GOLD. If you like it, reblog it. Work is unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine. Don’t be afraid to leave a comment.

You sat up abruptly, clutching the sheets to your chest, as the pounding on your door trailer continued. Beside you Misha stirred but didn’t wake. You pulled the sheet back on your side and carefully got out of bed, grabbing your dressing gown, throwing it on and tying it rapidly, before leaving the bedroom, closing the door behind you. You glanced back to the bedroom before opening the door.

Jensen stood there in his Dean getup.

“Is Misha here, he doesn’t appear to be in his trailer and he’s not answering his phone.”

“Uhmmmm.”

“You realise you’re meant to be on set?” He peered round you, noting Misha’s trench coat then his tie, seeing your pajama top in the mix of his clothes.

To the side, your bedroom door clicked open.

“Did Misha spend the night here?”

You couldn’t muster the courage to truthfully answer Jensen. Misha stepped into the doorway, a hand on his hip and smiled. He went to kiss you on the cheek, but you moved away, not wanting to draw any more attention than you were already getting. You avoided looking at Jensen, knowing something was turning inside his mind.

“Misha, did you spend the night here?”

From the corner of your eye you saw Misha look at you before looking back to Jensen.

“Yes, I did.”

Jensen took a step down.

“Even after what I said.”

“Yes, Jensen.”

Jensen was quiet.

“This could ruin your marriage, Misha. Did you even think of that?”

Beside you, dressed only in last nights underwear, Misha stood a little taller.

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern, Jensen and I think it’s best if you leave. Y/N and I have to talk.”

Jensen looked at his friend trying to understand his actions.

“Yeah. See you on set.” He said and left.

Misha closed your door and you didn’t give him a chance.

“This was a mistake. A stupid mistake, and it should have never happened.”

His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed, trying to find a way to solve what was happening. He went to hold your hands with his which you instantly denied him.

“It can't be…”

“Did Jensen really talk to you before you came here?”

Misha nodded.

“He advised me against going to you, to just leave it as it was. He invited me to his apartment. I accepted the invite and told him I would change. I had no intention, Y/N, I wanted to know, needed to know. Now I know how you feel about me-”

“And because of that I can't be the one to jeopardize our friendship. My feelings for you shouldn’t change what we are.”

“But they have. You can't put something back in the pot once it’s sprung out. And I don’t want to go back to what we had. You can’t. What we had has evolved into something new. I don’t have it in me to hide that.”

“Your wife, Misha. Your wife. You're married! Your kids! Your life!! It is not for me to mess up, and I won't. What if word gets to your wife?”

Misha shook his head.

“It won't. If anything, they're waiting for me to tell her.”

“Will you?”

He sat down and looked at you.

“I, to be honest, I’m not sure. I’m not sure if I want to. I want it to be kept between us.”

“And the whole of Supernatural crew?”

He sighed.

“They don’t know we slept together. They only know we kissed. And Jensen isn’t likely to spread that.”

You nodded. It was true, Jensen wasn’t one for gossip-mongering. Still your anxieties didn’t help. Your next line wasn’t going to make it any easier. For the both of you.

“In the mean time, I think, I think we should… not spend time with each other.” The ball in your throat constricted, making your voice sound thin and a little shrill.

He looked at you in disbelief.

“You can't be serious?”

You were.

“It’s what’s best, Misha. You have to understand that.”

He looked at you and stood up.

“Were you not there, last night? Did you- Y/N, we fucked. We fucked and fucked and fucked. And I’m pretty sure there was a time during last night where we made love,” He stepped closer to you. “Do you think keeping away will change your feelings?” His jaw clenched, clearly hurt by your decision.

It wouldn’t change them, but it meant you wouldn’t be tempted to act on them. You had made love and it had been sensational, connecting together, sharing feelings and being one, but it still didn’t excuse the fact that it was wrong.

He was in front of you, hands on your upper arms, your heart hammering. He was escalating the situation.

“Do you really think pushing me away will fix your feelings. Whatever you feel now, you’ll still feel later, perhaps even more so.”

“I’m just trying to do the right thing, Misha! One of us should at least try.”

Misha looked like he had something to say, however, when he opened his mouth, no words came out.

After a moment he found the words after fighting to find which ones to say.

“If that’s the way you feel.” He said tersely and moved past you to pick up the trail of clothes leading into the bedroom.

“We should keep a professional front.” You added.

He stopped, head turned slightly to you, hands curled into fists, jaw clenched and then marched to the bedroom.

He didn’t take long. In a matter of minutes he came back out dressed as Castiel. You looked up after wiping a few stray tears away, wiping away any trace of water from your face. He looked at you.

“I can’t talk you out of it, can I?”

You shook your head, wanting nothing more than for him to encase you in his arms. You would miss him, would miss talking to him and hanging with him.

He sighed and left your trailer.

You were sad to watch him go.

Misha watched her from across the room. She avoided looking at him, unless she had to. Brilliant as her character and easily distinguishable, he still felt a deep pang in his heart whenever she gave him attention. He fought his every urge to walk across the set and tell her this was ridiculous and to drop it, but he had to respect her wishes.

She was - correction, used to be his best friend. And becoming physical had a awakened a yearning for her, making alive feelings he didn’t think he possessed. He remembered sinking inside her and shifted uncomfortably as he felt the stirrings of desire in his gut and groin.

She had been perfect. Once hadn’t been enough for either of them. As it was, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to get enough of her.

Being physical had ignited a new side to their relationship, but had also ruined any aspect of ever being able to move forward with it. He understood why she had done what she did, but detested the fact she avoided him at all costs. She wouldn’t talk to him or look at him, in fear of her new found feelings.

She wanted him to tell his wife. Had reminded him of his family. He loved his wife and his kids with all his heart and she deserved the truth, but he loved Y/N equally and selfishly.

She had been the sane one after their night together. He wanted to, but at the same time he didn’t. He wanted to be selfish and keep it to himself. Jensen’s words on how it could ruin his marriage was only propelling him into keeping it to himself.

All he wanted more than anything, was his best friend back by his side.

Misha Fic Tags:

@goobykeding, @greenappleeyes, @sugarcookiedean

EVERYTHING!!

@one-to-beam-up @missjenniferb @dean-winchesters-bacon @mypassionsarenysins @ezilyamuzed @curly-haired-disaster

@supernatural-teamfreewillpage

#JulesTheQuirky's fics #Misha Collins #misha fanfiction #misha #misha angst #the morning after #REEEEEEGREEEEEEEET #misha x reader #spn fanfic #spn rpf #Kisses Have Consequences

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banshee1013 · 4 years ago

Text

Suptober Day 10 - Sweet Rides

OMG I GOT ONE DONE ON TIME (well, sorta, HAHA).

I finally managed to keep myself to a pencil drawing only, still took me 4 hours but I’m pretty pleased with it.

Then I stayed up until 1:30am finishing the fic - which was supposed to be a FICLET - 2k later! Oops.

Anyway, here’s Day Ten! Now to figure out what to do for tomorr... uh, later today, haha.

====================================

Overall Title: The Road Less Traveled

Overall Rating: Mature (may change to Explicit, we’ll see how it goes)

Tags: Castiel/Dean, mention of Sam/Eileen, Post-Season 15, ExAngel!Cas, MostlyRetiredHunter!Dean, Road Trip

(Note: all ficlets are unbeta’d. At the end of the month, I’ll wrap up whatever I manage to get written, clean it up, get it beta’d, and post to AO3. So please pardon any mistakes!)

========================================================

CHAPTER FIVE - SWEET RIDES

Words: 2026

Dean’s fingers drum a one-handed beat on the steering wheel, keeping time with John Bonham coming over the speakers. His other hand, resting on the bench seat next to him, is loosely entwined with Cas’.

After their rainy weekend interlude at Rufus’ cabin, Cas has been extra hands-on; never out of contact with Dean in one way or another for very long - and Dean has zero complaints with this development.

Giving a quick squeeze, he disengages his hand from Cas’ and flips the turn signal, sliding over to the lane for I-5 North.

Cas up to this point has been focused on the passing scenery with half-lidded eyes and soft smile, quiet and seemingly lost in thought. Dean had squeezed his hand a few times during the eight hour drive from the cabin, checking to see if he’d dropped off, but every time Cas had turned to him, returning the squeeze; the look in his eyes full of love and warmth, and Dean will do anything to keep Cas looking at him like that.

This time, Cas turns to him, but his eyes are now full of curiosity.

“I-5 North? I thought you wished to go south after we reached the west coast?”

“Thought we’d make a pit stop first.” Dean smirked to himself, recalling the conversation with Sam yesterday when he’d called to check in and found out they were headed to Seattle.

------------

“Seattle, huh? Helluva drive just to get some Starbucks!” Sam snorted, his voice echoing slightly with the speakerphone on so he can sign the conversation to Eileen.

“Haha, Sammy. No way am I getting Starbucks in Seattle - that’s like going to Italy and getting McDonalds.” Dean paused, glancing over his shoulder toward the bedroom, the Cas-shaped blanket-covered lump in the bed still unmoving, and silently cursed himself for not setting his phone on silent.

He desperately wanted to be back in there with him.

“So, everything alright? I gotta go, things to do.” More like someONE to do…

Sam did not sound convinced but didn’t push the issue. “Nah, all good here. Eileen and I are back at the bunker and just wanted to make sure you didn’t end up in a ditch somewhere.” Sam chuckles at his own joke, then continues, “Hey, I know where you should go… y’know, when you get to Seattle.”

Dean sighs - now that he knows nothing is wrong, he’s tempted feign a bad connection and hang up - but he’s genuinely curious to find out what Sam is going to suggest. “Yeah? Do tell.”

“You should get some Dick’s.”

“Hahaha very funny, “ Dean growls, and moves to hang up when Sam yells, “Wait, WAIT!”

“WHAT?” Dean grimaces at the volume of his voice and glances over at his shoulder again. Cas stirs and rolls over but doesn’t wake. “What?” he says again, quieter.

“I mean, you should go eat a Dick’s.” Sam giggles, and Dean hears Eileen's soft laugh in the background.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m outta here.” Dean pulls the phone back from his ear once again and starts to hang up when he hears Eileen’s voice - “Dean, wait!”

With a mighty sigh, he puts the phone back to his ear and hears a smack in the background; an open palm against muscle and cloth, followed by Eileen’s voice: “Stop BEING a dick and tell him.”

“Okay, okay. You guys are no fun.” Sam speaks into the phone again. “It’s a fast food place out there. ‘Best burgers in America’ according to Esquire Magazine.”

-------------------

Cas’ brow pinches in confusion and it’s still the most adorable thing ever. “Pit stop? Why are we stopping for pits?” His eyes narrow. “Are they peach pits? Do you need to distill cyanide from them?”

Dean can’t help himself - he outright guffaws. “No, no cyanide, why would I… I mean, we’re making a detour, stopping somewhere here in Seattle before heading south.”

“Ah, very well then.” Cas tilts his head. “Is it for coffee? I hear Starbucks is headquartered here, I suppose acquiring some from the original source might be interesting.”

“NO Starbucks… seriously, why does everyone…,” Dean pauses, then carefully schools his face into a serious expression, “We’re going for Dick’s.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“BURGERS!” Dean manages to gasp out as he gets the laughter under control. “It’s a burger place Sam told me about. ‘The most life-changing burger joint in America’ or so Esquire Magazine would have you believe.” Turning to Cas, he arches an eyebrow. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

~~~ *** ~~~

“What the… Cas, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

No, it wasn’t from the burgers - Dean hadn’t even gotten to those yet. He’s not even sure if they can.

As they pulled into the parking area for Dick’s Drive-In, he had slammed on the brakes, Baby coming to a sudden stop with a squeal of rubber on pavement at the sight before him.

The parking lot was full - of Impalas.

Black 1967 Impalas to be exact. DOZENS of them, all in a row.

Some had their trunks open, the inside of the lids decorated with devil traps and wards. Others had green coolers nearby, identical to the one in his backseat.

The squeal of tires had drawn the attention of the people gathered around, and one in particular waves and makes his way over to them.

“Oh shit, no no no…” Dean mutters, then quickly plasters on a wan smile as the guy approaches his window and leans on the sill.

“Hey there, I”m Davis, President of the Seattle chapter of the Supernatural Haunted Impalas club.” Dean glanced down at the man’s outstretched hand, briefly considers peeling rubber out of the parking lot and reluctantly decides against it - the last thing they need is a APB out on them for decapitating a guy in full view of witnesses - and takes the guy’s hand.

“hi, uh… De.. Daniel. I”m Daniel… uh, Dan, and this is… “ Releasing the guy’s… Davis’... hand, he turns to Cas, eyes wide and imploring.

Thankfully, Cas gets it. “Calvin,” Cas says, taking Davis’ hand and giving it a solemn shake - up and down, twice, and a quick release - “You can call me Cal.”

Davis blinks, then gives them a broad smile. “Nice to meet you boys. We’re all just parked over there, find a spot and come say hi!” He leans back, his smile widening. “Nice cosplay, by the way - Dean, I presume, and you must be Endverse Cas, am I right?” He throws fingerguns and a wink before turning to head back to the group.

“We should leave… yeah, we should definitely get the HELL OUTTA HERE…” Dean looks over his shoulder, trying to figure out the quickest way to bail on the situation; but just then, a loud rumble erupts from Cas’ stomach.

“Dean…” Cas sighs. “I’m very hungry, and you promised me a life-changing burger.” He gestures at the group, many of whom are now actively watching them. “And they’ve already noticed us. We might as well go and order the burgers, and then make an excuse to leave.” He drops puppy-dog eyes to rival Sam’s, and Dean knows he has no recourse but to go through with the charade - at least long enough to get a burger.

“FINE. We’ll order the burgers, make nice with locals while they’re cookin’, and then get the hell outta Dodge.”

Dean pulls into a spot at the end of the long line of Baby Wanna-Be’s. No sooner had they climbed out and closed the doors, a bubbly brunette bounces over to them.

“Hey guys, you look great! And wow, your Baby is GORGEOUS! What’s her name?” She claps a hand over her mouth in dismay. “Oh, of course, I shouldn’t assume gender. What’s your Baby’s name?”

Dean’s lips part but nothing comes out, at a loss for words - then, “Baby.”

The bouncy brunette blinks, then nods, the smile returning. “Uh, great! Awesome!” She extends her hand. “I’m Brittany, and this is my girl, Gertrude,” indicating the Impala parked next to them.

Dean has to admit - Gertrude is in great shape. “Hi, Brittany, I”m De… Dan.” He passes an admiring gaze over the car. “She’s beautiful.”

Brittany blushes fiercely. “Thank you so much! She’s my pride and joy.”

Dean can’t help but grin - he gets it. “I know how you feel.” He starts toward the car, his interest piqued now.

Cas grabs his elbow. “Dean… uh, DAN,” he stammers. “We should order our food first.”

“Oh, right! Of course.” He turns back to Brittany. “Give us a moment? We’re starving.”

Brittany nods like her head is on a swivel. “OH of course! We’re not going anyway, go feed your boyfriend!” She turns back to Gertrude and strikes up a conversation with another couple.

They make their way to the order counter with no further distractions and order their food, both choosing the “Dick’s Deluxe” with fries and milkshakes, then wander over to the group of Impala owners.

By the time their food is ready, Dean is genuinely surprised at how much fun he’s actually having - the Impala owners are friendly and really know their cars, the pride of ownership evident - and Dean can’t help but respect that. However, they of course are also just as fanatical about Chuck’s books, which Dean struggles to hide his discomfort with.

As they head back to the counter to pick up their food, Dean turns to Cas. “I dunno about all this, Cas - they’re really into Chuck’s books and they have no idea what a tool he was.” His head drops with a sigh. “Should we tell them?”

“No, Dean.” Cas looks back over his shoulder at the group, their laughter and happy voices carrying across the parking lot. “They’re happy; the books have brought them together, given them friendship - a family, even.” He shakes his head. ‘Chuck used those words to manipulate you, but they have no power over you - over US - anymore. This way, they serve a good purpose.”

Dean blinks - he hadn’t thought of it that way. Of course Cas is right.

“Yeah... and look at all the sweet rides that came from them!”

~~~ *** ~~~

They gather their food order and head back to say their goodbyes, but the group appear to be packing up anyway - trunks being closed and coolers returned to their backseats.

Davis approaches them. “Hey guys… we’re about to head out, but we’re only going over to Golden Gardens Park to watch the sunset and hang out around the fire pits. You’re welcome to join.” He nudges Dean with his elbow. “The group’s really taken a shine to you,” he says with a bright grin, “and your Baby, of course.”

Dean turns to Cas, throwing an arm over his shoulder. “Whadda ya say, sweetheart? Our first sunset…” he shakes the bag of food in his other hand, “and dinner on the West Coast?”

“I would love to, Dean.” Cas’ eyes are bright, his smile soft and warm and Dean really wants to kiss him right now, but… company.

“Adorable,” Davis says, hands clasped in delight. “I love how you two stay so in character.”

~~~ *** ~~~

The last rays of the sun slip behind the Olympic Mountains, but Dean is watching Cas watch the sunset.

He’ll never get tired of the look of wonder on Cas’ face when he experiences new things.

Or for that matter, the sounds he makes, either. Listening to him moan through that admittedly fantastic burger was downright pornographic.

He places a hand on Cas’ fire-warmed cheek and turns him away from the dimming horizon.

Damn the company. He’s gonna kiss his boyfriend.

He tastes the salt from the fries, the sharp vinegar of the pickles, the rich savory flavor of the burger, the lingering sweetness of the milkshake.

He tastes the unique flavor of Cas and relishes it.

Cas threads his fingers into the hair at the back of Dean’s neck and tilts his head just so and oh, it’s so, so good.

He hears a few giggles and more than a couple “awws” and pays them no mind.

He’s way too busy thinking about a completely different type of sweet ride.

#suptober20 #Day10 #art #fic #destiel #saileen

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queen-of-deans-booty · 5 years ago

Text

Always On My Mind

Characters: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester

Word Count: 2,099

Warnings: feeling second place, being put second, angst, fluff at the end

Summary: Sam always finds something to put before you, and normally, it wouldn’t bother you since there are things more important than you. Not this time. This time, you’re just done.

Squared Filled: Always On My Mind by Willie Nelson // Free Space

Author’s Note: This is for @spnsongchallengebingo and @samwinchesterbingo respectively and this is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

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“Where are you going?” you muttered when you felt the bed shift. Sam was quietly packing his duffel bag which only meant one thing: he was planning on going somewhere for a few days… again.

“Dean called. He kind of needs my help right now,” he sighed when he realized he woke you up.

“I thought he could take care of this hunt alone. We were supposed to have the weekend together,” you sighed as you turned on the bedside lamp.

“He thought he could. He called telling me that Michael was fighting really hard inside his head and he’s not focusing as much as he should. He would rather have me there instead of someone dying because he screwed up. I’ll be back in two short days and we can resume our weekend together. Go back to sleep,” he said as he leaned down and kissed your forehead. “I love you.”

You waited until he left the room to fall back on the bed in defeat.

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like you do,” you said to no one in particular.

Maybe I didn't love you Quite as often as I could have And maybe I didn't treat you Quite as good as I should have If I made you feel second best Girl I'm sorry I was blind

“Sam? Where are you? I thought you were supposed to be home in two short days,” you asked over the phone. There was no one in this Bunker except for you and Jack, and as much as you loved the Nephilim, you really wanted your boyfriend back.

“We got sidetracked. We were on our way home, but then we passed through Washington D.C., and I had to stop at the Library of Congress. I heard their lore section is one of the best,” he sounded happy.

“That’s great, babe, but what about our weekend?”

“Don’t worry, darling. I promise I’ll be home tonight. For the next few days, I will be all yours. I got to go. Love you!” he said before quickly hanging up. A tear forced its way out of your eye, and you aggressively wiped it away. Dean will always be put in front of you because that was his older brother. In some ways, you understood why Sam would put you below his brother, and you weren't complaining when he did. It’s just when he does it over and over again, you constantly felt like second best when you should be feeling first. Maybe you were overreacting about this whole thing, but the relationship you have with Sam is starting to feel a little more one-sided than it’s supposed to.

“You okay?” Jack asked when he saw you standing in the middle of the library alone.

“Yeah,” you looked up at him eventually. “Fine.”

And maybe I didn't hold you All those lonely, lonely times I guess I never told you I am so happy that you're mine Little things I should have said and done I just never took the time You were always on my mind You were always on my mind

“Hey, are you coming to bed?” you asked Sam when you found him with his nose in a book. It was late, he was tired, and you really just wanted his arms around you.

“Yeah, but I have to finish this first.”

“What is it?” you asked as you walked over to him.

“It’s supposed to be something on Jack and his soul. I am really worried that he’s burning it off too quickly. I would hate to think what would happen if he was without a soul so I need to do research to prevent that.”

“That’s not for you to do. Not right now at least. It’s late, and you really need some sleep. You can look at it with fresh eyes in the morning. Come to bed with me,” you begged.

“I will later. I don’t want you waiting up for me anymore,” he said without looking at you. If he had looked up, he would have seen the multitude of tears rolling down your cheeks. Instead of answering, you turned and left to the bedroom. Not his, though, but yours that you had when you first moved in when you and Sam were only friends. He’s always putting shit in front of you, and you just about had enough.

Tell me Tell me that your sweet love hasn't died And give me Give me one more chance to keep you satisfied I'll keep you satisfied

“Hey, where’s Y/N?” Sam asked his brother. Dean was sitting at the kitchen table with a piece of paper in his hands. He realized some of what you have been feeling these past few months, but he never realized just how bad it had gotten otherwise he would have smacked Sam in the head for treating you this way.

“She’s gone,” he cleared his throat.

“She’s what? What are you talking about?”

“If I had known this was happening, I would have whooped your ass,” Dean said as he left the note on the table. He exited the kitchen to give his brother some space to read the note. Sam gulped nervously before picking up the letter with your unique handwriting on it.

Sam,

I get that you’re trying to help people: Dean with his Michael problem and Jack with his soul problem. I get that they need you in their lives to help solve their problems. It’s one of the reasons why I fell in love with you in the first place. I get that Michael and Jack are far too important to ignore, but it’s not enough to ignore me completely.

For these last few months, I have been patient. You were stressed, there were issues that needed to be dealt with and people to be taken care of. But what about me? I am your girlfriend, Sam, and for these past few months, I have felt like second best. There are times when Dean and Jack come before me, and I’m not complaining that they are. But you’ve been dismissing me every chance you get to focus on those two which is why I decided to make things a little easier for you.

I’m leaving. I don’t know how long or where I’ll be going, but I really want you to take this time to think about your priorities. I would never, in a million years, ask you to choose between me and your brother. That wouldn’t be fair. But I think you made the choice all on your own.

Goodbye Sam. I’m not so sure I’ll be there when I get back. If I come back.

I deserve better.

Sam didn’t realize he had been crying until he saw the water droplets on the bottom of the page. He didn’t realize what he’d been doing to you these past few months. Of course, you were always on his mind, but he never took time out of his busy life to prove that to you. He never wanted you feeling like this in the first place, and he hates himself for putting you in that position.

“From where I stand, you got two options,” Dean said from the entrance to the kitchen. Sam turned around and stared at his brother as if he needed him to make his decision for him. “Let her go or prove to her that she’s more than second best. Let her find someone who can always put her first or be that man. Let her go or be the man that deserves to be in her life.”

“I didn’t realize…”

“I know, but it’s what happened. I just happen to know where she is. So, what’s it going to be?”

Little things I should have said and done I just never took the time You were always on my mind (you were always on my mind) You were always on my mind

Flipping through the channels on the tv in the shitty motel room you managed to snag, you brought your knees up to your chest in contemplation. Were you right to leave Sam? Should you have talked to him about this before leaving? Were you just overreacting? When was your Chinese food going to come? Your stomach rumbled at the thought of food, and suddenly, Sam was replaced instantly in the back of your mind.

A knock came from your door, and your mouth watered at the thought of having chicken dumpling soup that you loved so much. Grabbing the cash on the table, you went to the door before opening it without looking to see who it was. It wasn’t the Chinese delivery man, it was Sam. The smile disappeared off your face, and Sam’s heart broke that he made it be that way. His eyes were bloodshot as if he’d been crying and his nose was a bit puffy from blowing it every ten seconds.

“What do you want?” you asked with a sigh as you turned away from him. He took that as an okay to step inside, and he closed the door behind him.

“I don’t think there are any words to describe how sorry I am,” he began as you turned to face him with your arms crossed over your chest. “I didn’t realize what I’d been doing to you until it was too late. You were right to leave, I was a shitty boyfriend.”

“Is this you breaking up with me?”

“Is that what you want?”

“Fuck, no, Sam! I just want to be recognized! I want to be first for once. It’s always been Dean or Jack and never me. I don’t want to break up with you, but if you can’t give me what I want, then I might just have to.”

“You were always on my mind,” he whispered. “There wasn’t a second that went by that I wasn’t thinking about you. Remember when I said Dean and I were stopping at the Library of Congress? I lied, we weren't stopping there.”

“What are you talking about? You lied to me?”

“I needed his opinion to get this,” he said as he reached into his jacket pocket to produce a ring box. Your whole world froze as you stared at the little box, and you didn’t think you would be able to talk even if you wanted to. “There was only one store that had the exact cut I was looking for, and when he mentioned his hunt was going to be near there, I had to go. He did need help, but we finished that within a day and I spent all my time thinking of this. I was gonna do it when the time felt right, but then Jack happened and Michael happened, and I guess those were just excuses so I could put it off.”

“And what’s the excuse now?” you whispered once you found your voice.

“There is none,” he said truthfully as he got down on one knee. He opened the box to reveal such a beautiful diamond ring. He got the cut, size, and type of diamond exactly how you wanted it. This ring was your dream engagement ring.

He remembered.

“I don’t deserve your love, and if you want to give yours to someone else then I’ll walk away, but I hope you’ll continue to give to me even though I may not deserve it. What you do deserve is someone who will hold you, love you, make you laugh, and let you be the best version of yourself that you can be. I will provide that for you and more because I finally see what’s in front of me even though it took you leaving for me to realize. You were always on my mind, and I promise never to make you feel like second best. If you’ll have me, will you do me the honor of becoming your husband?”

“Yes,” you whispered as tears streamed down your face. Sam grinned widely as he got up and placed the ring on your left ring finger. He grabbed your cheeks and kissed you passionately and full of love.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“Pack your things. We’re going to a better place for our weekend. Dean is holding down the fort to give us a week to ourselves, and I picked the perfect place to do so,” he grinned.

“Will there be chocolate?” you asked with a grin.

“Yes.”

“Bubble baths?”

“Of course.”

“Sex?” you giggled.

“Guaranteed,” he smiled as he kissed you again.

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thewhiterabbit42 · 6 years ago

Text

OoTW: Birthdays Part 6

Part of the Out of This World Series

Pairing: Gabriel x AU!Reader Word Count: 1200+ Tags/Warnings: Some angst, but it ends on a happy note A/N: When will she end? How sleep deprived is she? The answers are I dunno (or do I?) and VERY. But it’s well worth it to help make my bb’s day special <3 Also, this one’s mostly unbeta’d since she tends to get to bed at a reasonable hour. All mistakes are mine.

***Please do not repost or copy my work to any other site without my written permission. Giving credit does NOT count. Reblogging is ok.***

<<Prev Chapter Current Next Chapter>>

When Sam had offered you an out from the bunker (and assuredly Gabriel), you had all but sprinted out with just the clothes on your back. When it was clear the archangel wasn’t following you on your case, you felt infinitely lighter, grateful from the reprieve from your battle of wills.

By the time you returned to the bunker, however, you were exhausted. Weariness clung heavily to your features, and both your shoulders and Sam’s were slumped with defeat despite having rid the town of their witch problem. Your victory rang hollow, however, when you thought about the number of people you hadn’t saved and how many of them had been kids.

You never did well when things involved children. You’d all but resolved to have them, having lost so many of them in your world. Their fragile bodies were not designed to withstand the elements or the hardships that came with limited resources. There, at least you could rationalize that it was a time of war. Here, there was no excuse.

You and Sam had sat in silence the entire ride back, and even though he’d parked the car fifteen minutes ago, you both still sat in your seats, staring at the concrete wall of the garage.

“You alright?” He finally asked, voice quiet from disuse.

You avoided his gaze, knowing you’d find the same shadows and heaviness that lingered in your chest. “Are you?”

You reached for the door handle when he spoke again. “You should talk to him. I know he’s driving you up the wall but… whatever it is he’s after, just talk to him about it.”

You appreciated the advice, you really did, but you could not handle any conversations beyond what flavor ice cream you needed or how long you wanted to be left alone for so you could sleep the feeling of failure away. It didn’t matter that you had saved all six kids that had gone missing and caught Sam’s attention. There had been so many more everyone had missed buried beneath that dirt floor in the cellar.

“I’ll take that into consideration,” you told him before pushing your way out of the car. Now that Sam was prodding, you needed to be away from him. Maybe you just needed a break from everybody and everything that didn’t qualify as a distraction.

The bunker was eerily quiet this time of night. You were grateful to return so late. All you wanted was to curl up in the den and get lost in a mindless movie.

You were so focused on that goal that you never saw the pair of figures waiting up for you and Sam in the kitchen. You walked right past the doorway, their laughter and Gabriel’s subsequent greeting falling on deaf ears. You didn’t notice the way he shadowed you and this time he didn’t even attempt to use his magic to snap himself under you. He simply waited for you to grab the remote and plopped down on the couch seconds before you did.

The moment you dropped onto his legs, an internal battle began to rage. You went rigid, the urge to leave soaring at his anticipated badgering. Yet, part of you just wanted to collapse against him, desperate for comfort that wasn’t fleeting, edible, or imbibed. You froze, caught between these two extremes, and Gabriel took it as a sign that the game was still going.

“So, I’ve been doing some thinking while you were gone,” he began.

You leaned forward, forehead dropping into the palm of your hand. “Gabriel…”

He either ignored or completely missed the warning in your tone, diving right back into where you both had left off. “How about we narrow it down by season?”

You shook your head. “Not tonight.”

“At least tell me if it makes a good beach day --”

“What part of not tonight did you not understand?” You demanded, anger blossoming. Did he not see that you couldn’t do this right now? Last you checked, he might have been low on fuel, but his senses weren’t broken.

“Listen --”

“No, you listen. Why can’t you just let this go?” You snapped, leaping to your feet and spinning around. “Why is this so goddamn important to you?”

“Why isn’t this important to you?” He demanded.

“Because it’s not to anyone else!” You shouted, the dam you’d worked so hard to contain everything finally breaking. “There will always be something more important to worry about.”

When you were younger, it had been monsters needing to be hunted. Then it was the apocalypse. Angels. Demons. Basic survival. It was a never ending list of things that took precedence, and you expected now to be no exception.

“Y/n…”

He rarely said your name, and the gentleness with which it came out had tears forming in your eyes. You tried to blink them back. You tried swallowing everything back down, but you couldn't this time. This time, you were just too tired to hold it all in anymore.

“Sweetheart, come here.” He took you by the hands guiding you down until you were sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” you told him. The last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of him, but you were beyond being able to stop this train from wrecking. The most you could do was drop your head, allowing dark, wavy strands to act as a shield behind which you could hide.

“Then just listen.” He paused, taking a few extra moments to choose his words carefully. “You are one of the strongest, most fearless, and craziest people I have ever met.”

You let out a sound halfway between a snort and a sob. He had the crazy part right. The rest was debateable.

“Stop it. Stop doubting yourself,” he ordered. “You spend so much time on other people and never enough on yourself. I want to celebrate you. You deserve to be. That’s why this is so important to me.” An odd tension settled into the brief silence that fell between you, and when he finally spoke again, he was much quieter. “You’re important to me.”

You let out a slow breath, resignation washing over you at his confession. It couldn’t be easy for him to admit this, and if he could put himself out there…

“My birthday’s today.”

You weren’t certain what you expected, but it wasn’t the slightly panicked, “Well... shit.”

You didn’t need to see the look on his face to know his brain was already going a mile a minute trying to figure out a way to make this work.

“It’s ok. You can do something next year,” you told him, trying to let him off the hook.

“Woman, what part of I want to celebrate you do you not get?”

If you were being honest, it would have been every single word of it. You might have actually voiced that, but you became distracted when his arm snaked around you from behind, his fingers drumming restlessly along your side. Your head shot up, brows drawing together as you found yourself facing the opposite direction from which you’d been sitting.

“Uh, Gabe?”

“Hmmm?” He said absently.

“Why am I in your lap again?”

His fingers stuttered for a moment before resuming. “Shhhh, I’m thinking.”

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@girl-next-door-writes @fand0maniac @feelmyroarrrr @omgreganlove @li0nh34rt @baritonechick @lucifer-in-leather @stone-met @blondecoffeecake @raspberrypuddle @ourloveisforthelovely @the-moose-of-baskerville @tistai @room-with-a-cat @authoressskr @revwinchester @flufy07 @greieba @whinywingedwinchester @tardis-is-mine @jadesid @ccasnovak @tangle-of-ivy @luciferseclipse @mrswhozeewhatsis @protectivedestiel @angelofwinchester17 @crowleys-poppet-queen-of-assgard @phantomwarrior12 @jeanjeaniethings @wontlookaway @copperseraphim

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#gabriel x reader #gabriel oneshot #gabriel #supernatural fanfiction #vee day 2018 #rabbit writes #Out of This World

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fanaticwritings · 6 years ago

Text

of sunflowers;

pairing: deviant!connor x deviant!alina (OC)

word count: 3.5k+

warnings: slight angst, insecurities, body image issues, slight body shaming, profanity, but LOADSA fluffy fluff

a/n: This fic is for the amazing @shsl-special-fx-artist who was kind enough to commission me! Honestly, I let my heart write this fic because one of the major plot points is something that’s very personal to me. I don’t know if I was able to put my feelings across but I really, really hope you enjoy this! Also, I hope I did your character and request justice!

If you enjoy my writing and have an idea that you’d like to see come to life, consider commissioning me! || buy me a coffee

[note- unbeta’d, all mistakes are my own.]

The Detroit Psychiatric Centre at which Alina worked was one of the biggest care facility for humans and now androids, to have ever been built.

Connor and Alina walked into the huge glass building and the air instantly turned cold and somber. It was a high June afternoon of peak summer and yet, Alina found herself shivering. Flocks of people sat on the chairs at the waiting area, a look of worry and despair etched on their faces. The gloomy mood of the building did little to lift their dull spirits. Alina felt something tug inside of her, a dire wish flashing in her brain. A deep desire to help these troubled humans somehow.

“Which ward?” The HJ300 at the desk asked them.

“73839,” Alina answered promptly.

The patient at the ward was a middle aged man, almost 45 years old, as Alina’s database told her. He had a severe case of drug addiction. Alina was to tend to him for the next four months, after which he would be sent to rehab if there was no improvement.

“Hello, Mr. Geronimo,” she greeted, flashing a sweet smile and walked into the ward, Connor following her close behind.

Mr. Geronimo mumbled something inaudible as he shifted in his chair slowly, a blank expression on his face.

“I am Alina. How are you today, Mr. Geronimo?” she asked kindly.

He mumbled something again, his chin trembling slightly. “Where is it?” he seemed to say and Alina grimaced.

Humans were so fragile, it amazed and troubled Alina greatly. Everything there was to know about them was programmed into her already but they somehow still managed to surprise her at times.

Alina talked to the man for a while, as she tried to understand the extent of his addiction and how to begin his treatment. The man became more and more irritated with every question Alina threw at him. She spoke gently but it didn't seem to make any difference. Connor had to physically contain the man, who suddenly stood up and flung himself at Alina. He was given a sleeping pill then and collapsed almost immediately.

“How do you do this everyday?” Connor asked, softly when Geronimo was rested on his bed.

“It is what I was programmed to do, Connor,” she replied, glancing at the man.

“But you are now deviant, Alina. You could do anything you want,” he said, confusion lining his face.

“Deviant or not, it is still what makes me, me. Taking care of people is something I enjoy doing, it comes to me naturally,” she paused, glancing at Connor.

“Would you do anything other than fight crime?”

Connor's eyebrows furrowed at that. Alina could see that he was thinking hard.

“I suppose not,” he said finally, looking at her.

Alina smiled at that.

“My shift is finished. We should go back to Hank,” she announced after a while and Connor nodded.

They ambled back into the outside world, where everything was a bit lighter and cheery. Everywhere around them humans and androids walked and talked harmoniously, and Alina felt immense happiness course through her.

They decided to walk to the DCPD instead of taking any other sort of transportation. Connor didn't say much on the way, he seemed to be lost deep in thought. It was evident in the way his forehead was all scrunched up and mouth twisted into a slight frown.

One strand of hair curled at his forehead- a trademark characteristic that distinguished him from other RK800 models.

Human emotions… were complex. So much so, that even humans didn't understand the extent of them. When the first AI was created, it had a conscious- the first prototype conscious that would be the foundation for the androids that were built today.

Alina’s model, however, was a bit advanced, in terms of the extent to which she could emulate human behavior. Her brain, which housed her conscious also had artificial glands that released the android version of human hormones like oxytocin-a2. It wasn't a hormone, but a 256-bit code that made her “feel” for those she tended to. It made her tender and gentle- almost motherly in nature.

Since her deviancy, the code had corrupted- or rather morphed into something else that she wasn't obviously programmed to understand. It transformed to make her even more gentle, more understanding of human emotions. That's why she had worked with Hank and Connor to understand deviants and help in dealing with them.

Working with Connor, in human terms, had been life changing. He was specifically built to help the police department but he was the gentlest android Alina had ever met. He was kind, took care of her without being prompted to but was also focused when it came to fulfilling his missions.

Over time Alina began experiencing strange things, like random system errors and regular crashes. All of those happened around Connor and Connor only. She felt more and more inclined towards him- her eyes would always search for him in a crowded room. In her spare time, more often than not, she found herself thinking about him.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that she had developed a sense of attraction towards him.

Still, she was in denial of everything she felt. It confused her immensely and as an android.. she wasn't used to confusion.

Admittedly though, she enjoyed watching Connor and those little, endearing things he did.

Distracted by just how beautiful Connor was looking right now, she didn't see where she was going and bumped into something- someone.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, composing herself. A group of middle-aged men stood before her. As fate would have it, she'd bumped into the burliest of them all.

“Watch where you're going, droid,” the man said, agitated. The tone with which he said 'droid’ was almost offensive. Alina didn't mull over it much though.

“I'm sorry,” she said again, louder and clearer this time. She proceeded to walk away but the man had other plans.

“Fucking droids. Just because you have rights now-,”he raved. He said this in a hushed tone but knew that Alina could very well hear him.

Connor seemed to have finally noticed that something was up and stalked back to Alina’s side.

“What's the problem?” he asked, gentle yet stern.

“Your friend here doesn't realise how huge she is. Could bowl a few people over this 'un,” the man replied, an ugly sneer curling at his lips.

His words stung. Literally stung. Alina could feel her thirium pump beat faster as she struggled to be rational. His words didn't mean anything, then why did she want to crawl into a hole and hide forever?

“There's no need to be so rude, sir,” Connor said calmly but Alina saw his shoulders tense up and jaw clench.

“Don't fucking talk to me like that, you plastic sack of shit,” the man yelled, going against Connor, bumping his chest into him.

Alina was having none of this. Swallowing her anger, she tried to pull Connor away.

“Move over, the elephant’s on a rampage,” the man mocked which made a couple of men in the group laugh.

Alina tried to ignore them and pull Connor away. But Connor didn't budge. His eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched even harder. In the blink of an eye, the man was being pushed up against a wall and a few good inches off the ground. Connor fisted the man’s collar, slamming him against the wall once more.

“Shut up, you pathetic excuse of a human,” he spat through gritted teeth. The rest of the men in the group had moved away, staring at Connor with wide eyes.

“If you ever, ever talk shit to another android again, I'll make sure you don't have a tongue anymore,” he threatened, giving the man a last, shuddering slam. The LED on the side of his forehead swirled to a dark red.

“Do what you want, scum. I’m gonna call the cops on you and your uglyass girlfriend,” the man spat, his face red and attempted to push Connor away but to no avail.

Just as Connor raised a fisted hand to punch him, Alina interjected. “Stop! Connor, let him go,” she screamed silently, communicating through the telepathic link that connected all droids.

Connor’s grip on the man faltered as he glanced at her, watching the pained expression on her face and the tremble in her lips.

“We're bigger than this,” she spoke clearly, even though her chest physically hurt as she tried to control herself.

Connor hesitated for a moment before he let the man go, mouth contorted in disgust.

The man, nor the group, dared follow them as they walked away.

Alina didn't have the nerve to look at Connor; she didn't think she'd like what she'd see. She'd never seen this side of Connor before. Never been on missions that involved severe violence. It scared the hell out of her.

That, however, was secondary. Her mind kept going back to the man and his words. Alina was used to this sort of behavior but it fueled her insecurity nonetheless. All the positive emotions she'd manage to gulp down to shove those treacherous thoughts away, vanished as they rounded the corner to her house.

She didn't want to go back to the DCPD, she wasn't stable.

“Alina-,” Connor began as they approached the gates to her apartment. Alina looked up at him, finally. A troubled expression graced his face and his LED flashed a bright yellow.

“I'm truly sorry for what happened,” he said, wringing his hands together.

Alina shook her head. If she spent a second longer here, she wouldn't be able to control herself.

“It's fine,” she mumbled, flashing him a weak smile and turned away.

She heard him call her name as she brisk walked to and up the stairs. In a matter of seconds she was inside her tiny apartment and then in her room, slamming the door of the bathroom behind her.

She slid down against it, as every emotion washed over her, drowning her. Androids couldn't breathe but she was suffocating- her functions failed slightly, the LED on the side of her head burning a bright red.

And then the tears came.

Unless androids willed for the tears to stream out, the artificial saline water would never leave their synthetic skin.

But as the events of what had transpired came back to her, haunting her thought process and shadowing all rationality, she seemed to have lost all control over herself.

“Could bowl a few people over, this 'un.”

She buried her face into her hands, as the tears slid down her cheeks and fell to the ground.

For a while she stayed there, unmoving, sobbing into her arms.

Why was she made this way?

She stood up then and walked over to the mirror in the bathroom. Her reflection greeted her back- a blue tinted, tear streaked face she knew all too well. And hated.

Blonde hair curled over her forehead in bangs that swept towards the right, and a neat bun that the rest of her hair was twisted into.

Closing her eyes, she willed her programming to alter her hair into a light brown that fell down her back in mermaid curls.

They didn't suit her at all.

She tried a bunch of different hairstyles, a million different textures but none framed her chubby face well.

The fault lay in the structure of her body itself, then.

The synthetic layer of her body peeled away, replaced by the standard white-grey plastic alloy.

She had a voluptuous body. It was a part of her structure, something she had absolutely no control over. If she wanted to, she could never change that aspect about herself.

Why was she so limited? Why was she different from the rest of the Androids?

Why was she the one who had to hear Gavin tease her all the time? Hear countless people mock her physique?

How was any of this fair to her?

The questions pounded through her head and she could not think one possible answer.

It just was.

She wasn't the conventional android.

She was an imperfect mess. An unattractive, bloated mess. It hurt to see androids that were so much more beautiful than her, androids that didn't get to be at the receiving end of the cruelty of some humans. It hurt to see Connor turn back and glance at a passing Android, as they walked together and be completely unaware of her existence.

The shrill sound of her doorbell jerked her from her thoughts. She quickly reactivated her skin, and wiped the tears on her palm.

It was Connor at the door.

“I really do not want to talk right now,” she muttered, looking away and turning to close the door. It was unlike Alina, to shut the door on someone she loved but for the first time ever she felt.. exhausted.

“Alina, please,” was all he said, voice a mere rasp.

Alina pulled the door open a smidge, although her heart wasn't fully into it.

“We need to talk,” he said, walking in, waiting for her to join him after she had locked the door.

Alina settled down on the tiny couch and Connor sat down right beside her, hips touching.

“If it's about today, Connor- I would rather not,” she said, politely. She just couldn't. She couldn't go through it again.

Connor's expression softened.

“I know. But I read your stress levels today, Alina. They were at a 100% when the man..”

Alina looked up at him. She didn't want to tear up again. Not in front of Connor. She wasn't weak, no. She couldn't be weak.

“I want to know what you're thinking,” Connor said, nudging her shoulder. He sounded so gentle, Alina almost gave in. Damn the electricity that surged through her whenever he spoke. Damn the synapses in her brain that sparked brightly at his touch.

“Why?”

Alina didn't want to sound ungrateful. She was glad that Connor was making an effort, but right now her rationality couldn't make sense out of anything.

“You are my friend, Alina. Friends care for each other. I feel.. I must too,” he said softly.

She didn't know what to say to that.

“I didn't want to fight the man today,” Connor said quietly, after a while. “But I felt… this need to protect you and-”

He glanced at her, faltering. “I apologise for my behavior. I seemed to have scared you.”

“It's okay, Connor,” she said, smiling weakly. Connor’s sudden outburst was the least of her worries right now.

“It’s not okay. But..that is not the only reason why I'm here,” he said, voice dropping an octave.

“I sensed utmost discomfort in you when the man was talking. While I understand the reason, I couldn't help but wonder.. why do you let it get to you, Alina?”

There was such genuineness in Connor’s voice, Alina didn't have the heart to be mad at him.

“It's... strange, Connor. I cannot explain the origin of these insecurities, they have no rational explanation. But, perhaps, they exist because they are irrational,” she gulped. She knew that she was not really making sense but then again, what did?

Connor was gazing at her intently, head tilted ever so slightly as he tried to understand her.

He inched closer suddenly, turning to face her. He lifted one arm gently, as the skin on his hand faded to reveal the bare plastic beneath.

“If you can't tell me.. show me.”

“Connor I-”, she began but he cut her off.

“Please.”

Who could say no to those eyes? She held his stare as she lifted her own hand. Her hand stopped before his, as she looked at him hesitantly.

Connor let his fingertips brush against hers and Alina could swear electricity crackled between them.

Connor shut his eyes as he scanned through her memory.

This was huge. Alina was letting herself be completely vulnerable with Connor and yet… she didn't feel afraid. Not in the least.

She could feel - if that was the right word- his presence within her, an experience that was so liberating, Alina was almost overcome with all the new emotions that spilled in her.

Seconds later, Connor pulled away, hand dropping to his knee. He stayed awfully quiet for a moment.

“Alina,” he spoke gently then, and she glanced at him fleetingly. What was he going to say? He probably knew how much she hated herself. Would he hate what he had seen too?

“I may not be able to fully understand the emotions that you feel but I know,” he paused, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “- that you are beautiful.”

Alina couldn't bring herself to look at him. How could she? He was being so kind and yet.. Alina didn't know if she should believe him.

“You may not be like other androids, but it's what makes you, you. You're different, Alina,” he said, lacing his hand through hers.

Alina almost jerked at his touch.

“You're so different and so intriguing,” he said softly. Alina glanced up at him at that. There was something different in the way he was looking at her and Alina felt her thirium pump… flutter. Connor was acting so strange, it confused her.

“Connor what-” she began, but faltered again. She was suddenly incapable of forming sentences. The intensity with which Connor was looking at her wasn't helping either.

“You like roses, am I correct?”

Alina nodded.

“But you also like sunflowers. Why?” he asked, ever so gently. His voice was a soft rasp and Alina would have listened to him speak all day.

“They're both beautiful flowers,” she answered, without hesitation. Now she was genuinely curious. Where was he going with this?

He stayed quiet for a moment, staring into her eyes. She wanted to look away but it was impossible to.

“Then why do you aspire to be a rose when you're a sunflower?” he asked, tilting his head.

Her heart actually missed a beat and a bunch of random errors popped in her brain at his words.

He had called her beautiful and compared her to a sunflower. She had only seen this happen in the movies that the humans made.

“Connor, I-I don't know what to say,” she said quietly, voicing her thoughts. She understood very well what Connor was getting at but it still troubled her greatly. He found her beautiful? Alina?

“You don't have to. I just want you to know, that just because you're different, it doesn't make you any lesser than anyone in this world. You're fairly attractive, you have beautiful eyes and-” he stopped, noticing Alina’s wide eyes.

“I overstepped, didn't I?” Connor said, grimacing and let go of her hand.

Alina regretted it instantly. Had Connor just confessed to her that he found her attractive?

The insecure part of her was screaming “No” and all sorts of ugly things but for once, Alina turned her focus to Connor and Connor only. What the hell was happening?

“Connor d-do you.. feel the same for me... as I do for you?” she asked, hesitant. There was a slight tremor in her voice as if she couldn’t believe her ears. Her Connor? Liked her as well?

Connor looked up at her through his lashes, eyes questioning.

“Every time I'm with you, I feel this surge of energy in my system, these metaphorical sparks at my fingertips- a whirlwind of something in-explainable,” she said so quietly, she wondered if she had said it aloud at all.

And then Connor's voice rang loud and clear inside her head.

“I feel all of that and so much more, Alina.”

Connor didn't spare her a single moment to process his words, before his lips were crashing against hers, frantic and fiery.

Alina knew what kissing was like, her database told her more than she wanted to know about it and yet it felt so strange.

It made her feel like she was floating, the dopamine-a2 and seratonin-a2 in her reaching unprecedented levels. Connor had one hand gently cupping her cheek, and the other clasped around her own, skin once again deactivated. She was completely vulnerable to him once more and there was so much of Connor around her and within her, she thought she was going to combust.

There could not have been a more tender moment between them.

They sat pressed against each other for a while, as the world fell around them.

“Don't ever, let anyone tell you that you aren't beautiful. You are so so beautiful to me,” Connor spoke in her mind, as he continued to nibble at her lips. Alina lost herself in the feel of him against her.

“I admire you so much, Alina. You are so loving, so kind and so gentle,” he finally said aloud, when they had to break apart.

Alina gazed up at him through dewy-eyes.

The way Connor was looking at her right now, the way he had her hand pressed against his chest, made Alina feel as if she really was the most beautiful thing to ever exist.

If Connor could love her as she was, couldn’t she too? All the patients she had worked with ever, flashed in her mind through her boxed memories of them. They had loved her so much. They hadn't cared how much she had weighed. They had told her that when she smiled, she lit up the world.

The universe had it's mix of people. Some didn't agree with her and some did. Some loved her and some didn't. Everyone she had ever met was different than the last.

Your heart is what makes you several times more beautiful, Connor had said.

There was a lot about the universe Alina had to learn, a lot more she had to discover.

But first, she was going to learn how to love herself for who she was.

a/n: Please, please leave feedback it would mean a lot to me!

#dbh imagne #dbh connor x oc #dbh connor x reader #dbh connor #dbh connor read insert #dbh connor rk800 #rk800 x oc #deviant!connor #dbh connor fluff #dbh connor x plus sized! reader #dbh commissions #bryan dechart

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elliedoes · 6 years ago

Text

The Significance of Fair Food

Human!Castiel x Reader

You talk the boys into making a stop during your travels and you show Castiel the joys of being human.

Warnings: Super fluff. The pairing is very light in its implication.

Note: This was written for @katymacsupernatural‘s Summer Time Challenge. There’s plenty of time left before the due date if you’re interested in joining in.

My three categories were: Fair, snow cone, getting sunburnt.

This is unbeta’d, please forgive any mistakes. This is also my first time writing Castiel, so forgive me if it’s a little... off.

Masterlist

“What’s the significance of fair food,” Castiel inquired beside you, curious eyes watching Sam’s head snap to and fro from your jarring.

“If you two are done making out,” Dean cleared his throat, arm perched over the back of his seat to glare at you. “I want a corndog.”

“Fried butter,” Castiel droned behind you, “that doesn’t sound very healthy.”

“It doesn’t have to be healthy, Cas,” Dean replied, pulling you forward as the queue moved, “it’s fair food.”

Sam huffed in annoyance and shook his head, “That’s not an excuse to clog your arteries.”

“Yes, it is,” you and Dean replied simultaneously.

“And I would have no regrets,” came the proud sniff beside you.

“You two are idiots,” Sam sighed.

“Oh, so you’ll give some to Cas and not me,” Dean growled, corndog shoved in his mouth and mustard dribbled down his chin.

You wiggled your eyebrows in victory and pointed to his meal, “Clog those arteries, Cas.”

“You two are going to throw up,” Sam grimaced as you headed closer to the Tilt-a-Whirl.

Cas shook his head, “That doesn’t sound like fun at all.”

“I told y-” Sam started but heated glares from the both of you had him holding his hands up and laughing.

“This ride doesn’t actually make humans fall in love, does it,” he asked you hesitantly.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “That means kissing, right?”

“Yes,” you snorted.

He’s brow wrinkled and he nodded, “Yes.”

“Yes,” you repeated, surprised. You sat up and tilted your head, a smile split your face in two.

“Yes,” Cas said for the second time, “I’ve thought about kissing you before. I’ve watched you with the men that you’ve taken home from bars and…”

You held up a hand and blinked, “What do you mean you’ve watched me?”

“I was afraid that they might hurt you, so I kept watch,” Castiel explained, noting your sudden discomfort of the conversation. “I stopped watching when you… you know.”

Cas nodded, those deep blue eyes full of regret and understanding, “I promise.”

“I dunno, Dean,” you patted your belly, “I don’t know if I can fit anymore.”

“Don’t be a wuss,” he egged you on and shoved you up to the counter. You order a small one, rainbow all the way and kick Dean in the shin when you got your purchase and ran off to the safety of your friends.

“Are you really white knighting, Y/N, right now,” Dean snorted, the tip of his nose dyed blue from his flavoring.

“What,” came the gruff reply accompanied by a frown.

“What,” Dean asked pressingly.

“Line’s moved up,” Sam answered, pulling his brother along.

“Sam said this might happen,” Castiel stated as he flipped open a cap of aloe. “He said I would need to rub this into your skin.”

Dean jerked his head up and immediately winced from the pain, “You’re not rubbing anything on me.”

“Shut up and enjoy it, jerk,” you hissed and twisted your head as much as you could to look at Castiel. “Rub it all over me, Cas, as deep as you can.”

The former angel flushed as bright as the pair of you, but set to work.

#castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x you #Katy’s SummerTime Challenge #castiel fanfiction

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