#sorta? its not meant to be a drabble but i think its close enough in a way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherryrogers · 5 years ago

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➸ call me baby {2/3}

SUMMER NIGHTS

pairing: bucky barnes x reader | biker au

warnings: swearing, violence, implied smut, mainly fluff.

word count: 7.8k

synopsis: Returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker. And when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either. That was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby.

series masterlist

a/n: ok so this has turned into a three part series!! the next part will likely be a bit shorter, but i wanted to wrap up the story properly and i felt that needed it’s own separate part. i’m gonna post a masterlist for this series tomorrow, and i might write some drabbles for this fic to add to it once it’s finished if anyone has any hc/drabble ideas they’d like to send in?? i need to stop rambling so much lmao,,, please enjoy!!

Sunsets; consisting of an array of warm tones, reds and oranges bleeding into each other, casting a dim, natural light over cities before the artificial yellow beaming of street lamps lit up the world instead. A comforting reminder that every bad day eventually ends, but a sad reminder that every perfect day ends too.

In your case, they’d been unsettling ends to a continuous string of perfect days. And following those, a bright sunrise poured light through your windows every morning, indicating that you were one day closer to the end of the summer.

Currently, the deep, warm sky was the background of a blissful ride through the city. Perched on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, your arms enveloping his waist, fingertips grazing lightly over his stomach through his shirt. No destination in particular; just an excuse to be close to one another.

Since the night at Wanda’s bar, the night where you simply let yourself begin to feel for Bucky, things had been different. Better.

Rides around the city were a frequent occurrence, usually happening when Bucky offered to take you home on his bike, but taking the long way back to enjoy the view and the feeling of you next to him for a short while longer.

It was therapeutic, tranquil. Well, until your road rage got the best of you.

“Dude, it’s a green light,” You shouted at the car in front you. “Green means go, didn’t you learn that in kindergarten?”

“Christ, you realise you’re yellin’ straight in my ear, right?”

“Sorry, Buck,” You patted his chest apologetically, before proceeding to yell once again. “Not my fault some people don’t know how traffic lights work!”

It was entertaining to Bucky, anyway. Even if it did earn you some middle fingers, which you gladly returned.

As the sky began to lose its vibrant hue, the two of you headed back in the direction of your place, definitely your least favourite part of the ride, but you savoured it nevertheless.

You were friends. Teasing each other incessantly because you just bounced off one another like that, but you often found yourself gravitating towards him. During meals at the clubhouse, you sat in the same spot as you did when you entered the place for the first time; right next to Bucky. While that likely meant for Steve and Peggy that they were in for a painful time, consisting of them slowly losing their patience with you both, they didn’t mind. Well, they did a little.

It’d been almost two hours since you started your game of Monoply. You weren’t sure if you were anywhere near the end of the game, but everyone was still pretty into it. Clint and Sam were paired up as a team, Steve and Peggy shared the little top-hat token, you and Bucky had the wheelbarrow, and Natasha had the car. She claimed she worked better when was on her own team, which was proved to be true by the fact she was winning.

It was Steve and Peggy’s turn to roll, and their top hat was moved to land on the ‘Boardwalk’ space.

“Oh, that’s our space!” You chirped. “Pay up, my dudes.”

“_____, you don’t have a house on that space.”

“Well, could you pass me one? I want this space.”

“You have to buy one.”

“Then I’ll buy one.”

Peggy sighed. “It’s not your turn, you can’t buy a house. Your token isn’t even on that space.”

You furrowed your brows, turning to Bucky. Maybe you should’ve read the rules before playing; you’d never actually played Monoply before. “Oh. That kinda sucks then.”

After a moment, Bucky reached over to the little bag of houses, picking one out and placing it on the Boardwalk space.

“Buck, that’s cheating.” Steve glared at his friend, who only shrugged innocently.

“She’s never played before, let her just have the damn house.”

“You’re only sayin’ that ‘cause she’s on your team, jerk.”

Bucky just shrugged again, turning to shoot you a wink as you smirked in satisfaction and placing your little house on the space, missing Steve and Peggy sharing a look of annoyance as they passed a pile of yellow bills over to you.

It was safe to say the two of you weren’t allowed to play as a team during board games anymore. Natasha always won the games anyway, so it’s not like you and him cheating made much of a difference.

You thought things were moving smoothly with Bucky. You knew that you liked him, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he already knew that — it was pretty fucking obvious at this point. But it would be a rather dumb move to escalate things even if you wanted to. The summer would be over in two months, one third of it was already gone, and you would be too by the beginning of September. Naively, you’d told yourself that you simply wouldn’t take things further. Easy enough, right?

Wrong; so very wrong. You’d proved to yourself that you seriously needed to stop acting impulsively on one fateful after a day spent at the clubhouse.

You’d been about to leave, but had decided to head off to the office where Bucky had been pretty much all evening while everyone else was out in the backyard, which was odd considering you would’ve assumed he’d be the last to not spend the night drinking beer and hanging out with friends over, well, anything else.

You knocked loudly on the door, hearing shuffling and the clicking of a computer keyboard before a quiet ‘come in’ followed. Furrowing your brows, you stepped into the room, eyes landing on the biker slumped in the chair at the desk, forcing a small smile. Did he really think your were that oblivious?

“You’ve been hiding in here all night,” You approaches the desk, crossing your arms over your chest. “Is there something you wanna share with the class?”

Bucky’s eyes flickered between the computer screen and your face, before he shook his head. “Just dealin’ with club stuff.”

“Hm, and what counts as club stuff?”

“It’s stuff you don’t need to worry about.”

You scoffed. “Huh, what happened to not doing stuff you shouldn’t be? Not getting into trouble?”

“Do you ever mind your own business?” Bucky questioned bluntly, though there was a smirk tugging at his lips.

Mirroring his expression, you leaned against the desk next to him. “Not when someone is clearly trying to hide something.

The biker bit the inside of his cheek, contemplating for a few moments. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you. Sure, he’d only known you around a month now, but you were... his friend. A good friend. He just didn’t want you mixed up in anything dangerous. Steve wasn’t lying when he said that the club tried to stay out of trouble, because they definitely didn’t go out of their way to get into shitty situations. But if they needed to get their hands a little dirty to deal with clubs that thrived off trouble, then so be it.

Eventually, Bucky sighed, moving a hand back over his computer mouse and letting the screen light up again. Crinkling your brows, your eyes scanned the screen. He’d been looking at a map of Brooklyn, and the little red location pointer was pinned onto a warehouse downtown.

“Peter Parker, he’s just a kid. Parents died when he was barely five, lost his uncle a few years back. He lives at home with his aunt in Queens since he’s still in school, but we sorta took him in a while ago. The night after his uncle died, Tony found him on the sitting on the curb a few blocks away from here, completely distraught. He managed to talk him down though, and found out he was pretty good with engineering. We said if he wanted, he could help out with fixing bikes and cars at the clubhouse, and he comes by every so often since then.”

You didn’t know Tony that well; he was a little older than the rest of the club, and he lived outside of the clubhouse with his wife, Pepper. You hadn’t met Peter at all, but you trusted Bucky when he said that he was a good kid.

“Last week, he showed up to the here with a busted lip and broken nose. Said that Rumlow and his guys had jumped him, and that they wanted him to do a job for them — collect a weapon shipment from this warehouse.” Bucky nodded towards the screen.

At the mention of Brock Rumlow, you felt your jaw tighten. Thankfully, he’d kept his distance from Wanda’s bar since your last encounter with him, but you were still pissed off about the show he put on there, and there was nothing you regretted more than not jumping over the bar top and kicking him in the balls. Now he’d resorted to threatening a kid and making him do his dirty work?

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Peter’s meant to meet the guy delivering the weapons next week, so I’m gonna take Nat, Sam and Tony down to the warehouse and deal with any of Rumlow’s guys that are nearby.”

Upon seeing your face light up, Bucky chuckled, standing from his seat. “And no, you can’t come.”

“Bucky, I’m not a woman of many talents, but if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s handing people’s asses to them.” You lifted your chin confidently.

“Baby—”

You held a finger up to shush him. “Okay, I know I said that I liked when you call me that, but not now. Brock is the guy that grabbed me, Buck. And the guy that punched you in the face!”

“I know, and we’ll deal with him,” A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, I thought you weren’t part of any club. Can’t do club stuff if you’re not a member.”

“Well, not that I want to... but how would one go about becoming part of your little gang?” You weren’t lying; you definitely did not want to be a damn biker, but you did want the chance to boot Brock Rumlow and his group of dipshits in the face.

“You could become an old lady.” The biker cocked a brow, and you chuckled heartily.

Not that you were up to date with the biker lingo, but you could take a good guess at what being an old lady meant. “Hm, if only there was someone that wanted me to be their old lady.”

Narrowing his eyes, Bucky glanced over your features, waiting for you to laugh and brush the comment off as a joke since the majority of your vocabulary was sarcasm, but you didn’t. The corners of your lips curled up slightly, not teasingly, but softly...

...Until you became painfully aware of the silence that’d fell upon the two of you, and let out a sigh to break it. It was already late when you were supposed to leave, anyway. Now, the dim moonlight was casting shadows outside of the office window, the only source of bright light being the yellow streams from lampposts dotted up and down the quiet street.

“Well, I should get going.” You reluctantly stepped back from him.

“You don’t have to go, you know. Peggy stays overnight when it’s late.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, cause Peggy has a boyfriend that she can share a bed with.”

“Hey, I’ve got a double bed.” Bucky teased, and you’d be lying if you said sleeping next to him in his bed didn’t make you feel a certain type of way.

Though, you definitely wouldn’t let him know that. “You’re stupid, Bucky.”

He shrugged, following you as you continued for the door of the office. “I mean, even if I had a single—”

“I would still not be getting in your bed,” You deadpanned, finishing his sentence for him and promoting the stupidly hot little smirk of his to appear again. “Okay, now I’m leaving. Goodbye, Bucky.”

“I’ll give you a ride.”

“No you will not,” You breathed out a laugh. “There are two bottles of beer on that desk and death isn’t on the cards for me tonight — can’t get rid of me that easily.”

A look of realisation washed over his face, a pink colour tinting his cheeks. Was Bucky Barnes blushing? That was certainly a sight, and what a sight it was.

“S’alright — I don’t wanna get rid of you,” The biker stepped in front of you, dangerously close as your back hit the door. “Not yet, anyway.”

You couldn’t lie; Bucky was hot, he was beautiful. Even when he was being a sarcastic ass, but he was just as much one of them as you were. God dammit, as much as you wanted to slap yourself for letting your insides melt for a guy you didn’t know all that well, you knew that if you didn’t fucking kiss him right this second that you’d regret the hell out of it later.

And so, you did.

You grabbed the collar of the leather jacket he never failed to make an appearance without— or perhaps he just had a lot of leather jackets, though leather jackets didn’t necessarily need washed so it was probably the same jacket— not the time, _____. Carrying on, you swiftly captured his lips with yours, relief washing through you as you felt him react almost immediately. Almost, he definitely wasn’t expecting you to do that.

The kiss was gentle; gentle enough so that you could simply savour the feeling of his lips on yours, the taste a mixture of smoke and minty chewing gum. It was slow, but quick. Bucky didn’t even have the chance to move his hands to your waist before you pulled back, raising your hand to trace his bottom lip with your thumb.

“You still planning on getting rid of me?” You grinned, amused by the biker’s dumbfounded expression.

He laughed breathily after a couple of seconds, nose nudging yours playfully. “Not if you keep kissin’ me like that, baby.”

“Hm, maybe you’ll just get lucky again.” You pushed at his chest softly, letting you step forward and open the door to leave the office.

Bucky let out a scoff. “You’re really just gonna leave? After that?”

You shrugged, cocking a brow. “I mean, I could stay if you let me come with you next week...”

“No chance,” He smiled smugly. “Shut the door on your way out, will you?”

“You know what? I’m never kissing you again.”

“Whatever you say, _____.”

You rolled your eyes at his cocky tone, turning to make your way out of the room. “And I’m leaving the door open!”

“Hm, get home safe.” He called back.

Trying to bite back a smile as you looked over your shoulder back at him, you mouthed a final goodbye and left the office, a rush of feelings suddenly emerging as you stepped out of the clubhouse and onto the street.

You’d just kissed Bucky. You had kissed Bucky. And he had kissed you back. Well, shit.

Did you need to talk about it with him? What it meant for the two of you? Did he just kiss you for the fun of it or did he actually have feelings for you? Ugh. You’d always hated serious conversations, because apparently using sarcasm to cover up actually talking about your feelings was inappropriate and unhealthy. That’s what Peggy always told you, anyway. Perhaps there was no conversation to be had. Bucky could be your summer fling; a couple of months of fun before you were off on your travels again. The only reason he kissed you back might’ve been because he knew you were leaving eventually, which meant he didn’t have to commit to you.

Whatever — you were simply going to go with the flow. If you and Bucky ended up becoming... something more, that would be great. If not, you’d be slightly disappointed, but you’d be out of Brooklyn soon enough to forget about it.

And now, as you tightened your arms around the biker’s waist, you just enjoyed the moment. As someone that rarely stayed in a city for longer than a couple of weeks, enjoying the moment was all that you could do.

* * *

“Pegs, I am working. You can’t just call and ask me this kinda stuff during a shift.”

“I certainly can, especially when I had to hear it first from Steve.”

A strained sign fell from your lips as you leaned against bar, checking that no customers were approaching the counter before you turned your back. “I was gonna tell you, I promise. I didn’t think Bucky was gonna kiss and tell as soon as it happened.”

“I don’t think it was exactly a kiss and tell situation,” Peggy chuckled over the phone. “Steve said it was written all over his face after you’d left the clubhouse.”

Feeling heat rushing to your own face, you lowered your head, hoping no one was observing the bartender getting all embarrassed. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell Peggy about your kiss with Bucky. She was your best friend, of course you wanted to tell her. But considering that you weren’t really sure what direction you and him were going in, you thought perhaps that it’d be better to just keep it between you and him, like a Danny and Sandy situation — if everyone had known about their summer affair, it wouldn’t have been the same.

“Can you... tell him to not question Bucky about it?” You asked. “You told me he’d never been in a proper relationship before and neither have I. I think we need to work out... whatever we are ourselves, you know?”

Since the kiss, you hadn’t had the chance to even see Bucky that much. Wanda had been asking you to work more shifts at the bar because one of your co-workers was going on vacation for two weeks, which you didn’t mind doing. Other than hanging out with Peggy and seeing everyone at the clubhouse, it’s not like you had much better to do. Plus, it meant more money to put towards your travels at the end of the summer. At the rate you were earning and including what you already had saved up, you’d be getting your dream London trip a lot sooner than you’d thought.

“Of course, I understand,” She replied. “_____, I— I don’t want to play devil’s advocate, but have you thought about what’ll happen when summer ends? When you leave Brooklyn?”

The thought had crossed your mind, yes, though it was also pushed to the back of your mind whenever it popped up. In all honesty, you had zero clue what’d happen when you left Brooklyn again.

“Nope,” You said defeatedly. “Do I need to think about that now? What if we don’t even last until the end of summer?”

From the pause in conversation, you could just tell that Peggy knew you were bullshitting. “Okay, I’m going to pretend you did not just say that. You don’t just kiss guys, _____. And Bucky doesn’t get all flushed from kissing any old woman. It’s obvious you two click easily, and I honestly don’t think it’s something that can just end once you leave.”

The girl was right, she was completely right, but you weren’t sure what the hell you were supposed to do. It’s not like you could stay in Brooklyn forever and abandon your travels. That wasn’t who you were; staying wouldn’t be you being true to yourself. You couldn’t throw that away for a man you barely knew, a guy that possibly may not want you anymore after the summer ends, though there was a large part of you that didn’t believe that.

“I can’t talk about this right now, Peggy, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the kiss earlier, everything is just... it’s just confusing,” You rambled, wanting to steer the conversation away from your love life for the night. It was nearing nine o’clock, and with an hour still left of your shift, you didn’t want to waste your energy on a conversation that could be had another time. “Anyway, how is everyone? Has Steve heard from Bucky?”

This night was also the night that poor Peter Parker was meant to be carrying out Rumlow’s dirty work, and Bucky was going to get his club to back off. Well, hopefully. He’d already been punched in the face by that bastard once, you hoped that he’d be able to avoid having that happen again. You’d texted him earlier, telling him to let you know when he was home and safe because you would, in fact, worry about him. He teased you for your concern, but you frankly didn’t care. The fact they were having Peter pick up a weapon shipment implied that they wanted to use them to hurt people, and opposing biker clubs seemed like the type of people they’d target.

“They’ve been out an hour, so they should hopefully be back soon,” Peggy assured you. “We haven’t heard from them yet, though.”

“Right,” You exhaled, a little upset that there was no update from them. The sound of the door opening a few metered behind you reminded you that you were still at work, and that you should probably say goodbye to Peggy for the time being. “I’ve gotta go, Pegs — duty calls. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Alright, darling. Be careful going home.”

With a quiet ‘will do’, you quickly ended the phone call and shoved the device into your jean pocket, turning around to identify the source of the footsteps getting closer to the bar. Well, fuck.

An ugly smirk, scruffy jaw, messy hair — Brock fucking Rumlow was standing right in front of you.

You could’ve laughed, in fact, you did laugh. He was back, even after the embarrassing show he put on last time he was at the bar, and this time, he was alone.

Putting back the glass you’d pulled out from under the bar on instinct, because there was no way you were serving him, you cocked a brow, waiting for him to make the first move.

He slid onto the stool in front of you, the same place he’d sat during his last visit. There was a short silence as his dark eyes roamed your face, before he exhaled heavily. “You not gonna ask for my order?”

“No.” You answered instantly. It looked like he was expecting the cold shoulder from the way he chuckled at your answer.

You wanted to ask what he was doing here, why he wasn’t down at that random warehouse making sure the teenager he manipulated was doing the job correctly, but you didn’t imagine it was a good idea to let on that Bucky was telling you about that sort of stuff. He’d probably try to hurt him as opposed to you, and you didn’t want to put Bucky in any unnecessary shit.

“You know, it’s against the law to refuse service to an innocent customer.”

Clearly, he didn’t know the law at all, but you found it awfully ironic that he was claiming that you were in the wrong side of the law. You cocked your brow higher. “And you’re always abiding by the law, Brock?”

“What makes you think I’m not?” The man narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t know,” You shrugged nonchalantly. “Last time you were here, you were the one assaulting an innocent customer, and me.”

Brock scoffed. “You’re calling Barnes innocent?”

You only stared at him, waiting for an elaboration.

“Do you know where he is right now?”

Yes — dealing with your bullshit and the rest of your gang.

“Enlighten me.”

“A dirty warehouse across town, meeting a dude that’s sellin’ him weapons. Rifles, pistols, you name it.” He leaned forward on his elbows, pursing his lips.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you met his eyes, dark and full of hope that he’d somehow miraculously turned you against Bucky -- he was going to have to try a little harder than that if he wanted to sell his lies.

“Where are the rest of you pals, Brock?”

He furrowed his brows. “Down at the warehouse, shutting down the deal.”

“And why aren’t you with them, hm? I don’t think it’s ‘cause you decided you wanted a drink over the chance to screw Bucky and his club over.”

The guy clearly thought you were oblivious, that you’d be naive enough to believe that Bucky was the one having Peter collect the weapons instead of him. Maybe he thought it’d turn you against him, and then you’d carelessly join Rumlow’s club without a second thought. Even if Bucky hadn’t told you anything, there wasn’t a thing that could come out of Rumlow’s mouth that could convince you Bucky’s club was doing anything of the sort.

Unfortunately, the comment seemed to tip the conversation in the exact way you hadn’t wanted it to.

Brock’s jaw clenched, eyes hardening as he sat up properly on the stool. “What’s he been tellin’ you, huh?”

“I think it’s time for you to go, Brock.” You glared at the man. There was no way you were letting him sit and annoy the shit out of you when you weren’t going to serve him.

“You see,” He laughed emptily. “If Barnes has been spillin’ things that he shouldn’t be, I need to know. Can’t have any false information spreading.”

“False information, right,” You muttered. In your defense, all you knew about his club was about them manipulating Peter. Though you could assume that wasn’t the only stupid shit they were doing, you didn’t know anything else for sure. “Well, you’re wasting your time. I don’t know anything, so get out of here.”

Brock tutted, rising from his seat and cracking his knuckles. “You’re a good liar, but I ain’t buyin’ it.”

“That’s not my problem,” You glowered, loving quickly around the bar to pace towards the door, opening it in an attempt to lure him out. “You need to go, or I’ll call Wanda over.”

Stalking towards you, the man shook his head. “If Barnes thinks he can tell his little girlfriend all of our business, he’s a fucking idiot,” He took a grasp on your wrist, his other hand curling into a fist. “Someone’s gotta show him what the consequences of that are.”

Anger flashed in your eyes as you struggled against his grip. “Get off me, dude. I don’t know anything.”

“Liar.” He murmured, before taking his fist and colliding it with your cheek abruptly.

A groan of pain left your lips as you stumbled back, the clutch on your wrist gone as Brock eyed you cautiously. Carefully, you brought your hand to where you’d been hit, blood quickly staining your fingertips as they grazed over the cuts on your skin from Brock’s rings. He’d hit you. That stupid, fucking son of a bitch had punched you. If there was any justifiable reason for you to kick him in the balls, this was it, and you were going to take advantage of the opportunity.

He definitely thought you were done with him for the night; you could tell by the way his chapped lips curled into a sick smile. He thought he’d won — how cute.

When your parents made you take self-defense classes ‘just as a precaution’ when you were a teenager, you thought it was unreasonable. Now, you’d never been more thankful.

Brushing your hair out of your face, your eyes flickered up to Brock, who was still staring down at you. Slowly, you moved so that your back was pressed against the closed bar door, clasping your hands around the long metal handle. The man assumed you were just catching your breath, and wasn’t ready for when you forcefully pushed your body forward, raising a booted foot and slamming it into his crotch.

A string of swear words fell from his lips as his upper body fell forward, Fuck it, you thought, striding over to his hunched over form and smashing your own fist against his cheek. He staggered back, just catching himself on the bar. Eyes wide, he raised his head to scowl at you, spitting blood from his freshly split lip onto the floor beside him.

From the other side of the bar, Wanda jogged over to the scene, an unimpressed scowl on her face. “What the hell is going on?”

The woman knew it wasn’t you causing the trouble, and there was even a smug smirk threatening to peak through her annoyed demeanor at the sight of Brock Rumlow with a split lip. She strode over to him, pulling him up harshly by the collar of his jacket.

“You’re banned from this bar. If I see you in here again, you’re getting a bullet straight through your gut, yes?” Wanda practically spat at the man, who nodded reluctantly and pulled away from her grasp. She turned to you, a small smile on her lips. “_____, you’re free to go early. Do you need...?”

Wanda eyed your cut cheek and bruised jaw, but you only shook your head. “Thanks, Wan, but I’ll just head home.”

The strawberry-blond nodded, sending a final glare towards Brock before heading back behind the bar.

Of course, your stubborn self wouldn’t let yourself leave without having the last word, causing you to approach him as he haphazardly stood from where he’d fallen. “If I ever have the displeasure of seeing you again, and you try to hurt me or anyone else, I’ll cut off your fingers and force them down your throat, you got that?”

Before you could wait for an answer, you were spinning around and heading out the double doors of the bar, ignoring the throb on the left side of your face as a satisfied smirk crept onto your lips. You’d never considered yourself to be a violent person, but when it came to assholes like Brock Rumlow, you didn’t mind getting your hands a little dirty. When you told Peggy about what happened, she’d likely scold you for even just mouthing back at him. You had zero regrets, however. You’d always wanted to experience a bar fight, and now you’d experienced one first hand.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Stretching out your aching knuckles, you swiped it from your jeans.

Back at the clubhouse safe and sound. You want me to pick you up from work in an hour?

You chuckled under your breath, typing out a response.

Can you come up now? Wanda let me off early.

Sure, I’ll be there soon. Did you do something special to get off at this time?

Pausing, you debated whether to let him know straight away about the incident. You decided against it; when he saw your face, he’d figure it out soon enough.

Something like that...

After twenty minutes of aimlessly standing outside of the bar, the familiar roar of a motorcycle engine caught your attention. As the bike came to a stop, the beaming headlights had you squinting to even make out the outline of Bucky in the dark. However, judging by the speed at which he was dismounting the bike, you were sure that the light had allowed him to see the state of you.

“Holy shit, _____,” Bucky paced over to you, hands coming to your shoulders. “What the hell happened?”

You let out a hesitant laugh. “Uh, rough shift?”

Scoffing, the biker narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, looks like it. What— are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You assured him, removing his hands from your shoulders and squeezing them comfortingly. “Trust me, you should see the other guy.”

“You were fighting?”

“Bucky,” You intervened, for now deciding against telling him that it was in fact Brock Rumlow you’d gotten on the wrong side of. It’d only result in him marching into the bar himself and starting another disturbance, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Wanda pulled out her pistol again. “C’mon, can we go? My house, the clubhouse, wherever — I’ll explain when half of my face isn’t aching like hell.”

The man paused, eyeing you cautiously before a soft chuckle left his lips. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” You patted his chest, plastering on a smile. “Now come on; I didn’t wait this long to clean you up when you got decked across the face.”

With an amused eye roll, Bucky tugged on your hand and led you to the bike. He’d never seen someone so calm after getting a punch to the face, but then again — as cliché as it was — he’d never met anyone like you before.

Half an hour later, the biker had you sat on the counter-top in one of the bathrooms at the clubhouse, standing between your legs and gently dabbing at your cut with a wet cloth. The bleeding had stopped by the time you got to the clubhouse, but it still needed cleaned up. You were holding a cool ice pack to your jaw, watching him intently as he took care of you. Might as well take the opportunity to stare at the guy, right?

“I’m gonna put some antiseptic cream on the cut, just to make sure it doesn’t get infected.” He muttered, reaching for the tub of it in the wooden cabinet above you.

“Are you getting a sense of déjà vu too?” You quirked a brow, eliciting a smirk from him.

“Hm, a little bit; I guess we both just can’t avoid trouble,” Bucky cupped your jaw as he applied the cream, chuckling when you mumbled a ‘motherfucker’ under your breath at the sting. “You gonna tell me what happened?”

“Well,” You sighed. “Long story short... Brock Rumlow happened.”

Pulling back, Bucky furrowed his brows and waited for you to elongate the story, but you only shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. You knew that Brock being involved would only fuel a rage that he couldn’t relieve.

He bit the inside of his cheek, a frustrated laugh falling from his lips. “Rumlow did this to you? Why didn’t you tell me at the bar? Was he still there? I would’ve went in there and—”

“I know exactly what you would’ve done; why do you think I waited until now to tell you?” Though you were smiling, Bucky was still understandably apprehensive. Pursing your lips, you grabbed one of his loosely clenched fists and held it in your lap. “I meant it when I said ‘you should’ve seen the other guy’ — Brock’s face looks the same as mine and he got a boot to the balls. Plus, I think his ego was bruised enough without someone else going in there and knockin’ his lights out.”

Sighing, Bucky shook his head, unable to suppress a small grin. He never underestimated your power; anyone would be a fool to do so. When you were angry, you showed it. When someone hit you, you hit them back harder, metaphorically and literally. It wasn’t even that you had a short temper, you just didn’t put up with people’s shit, and Bucky highly admired that. “Well, I’m jealous of anyone that was there to see it — I bet it was damn hot.”

You scoffed, though seconds later you were shrugging in agreement. “It definitely was, you would’ve loved it.”

While he returned the first-aid stuff to their rightful places in the bathroom, you explained to Bucky what had gotten Brock so riled up. He wasn’t surprised that Brock tried to convince you that he was the bag guy in all of this; he’d tried to do it with Peggy too when she first started dating Steve. In his misogynistic mind, he thought that women were naive enough to be persuaded of anything that he wanted them to believe, and that by getting you on his side would mean he’d ‘won’ over Bucky. Perhaps he’d learned his lesson that night to not underestimate a woman’s power — dumbass.

Down at the warehouse, they’d managed to get Peter out of there before the person delivering the weapon shipment could arrive. There were one or two of Rumlow’s guys there keeping watch, but without him, they ran away like scared children. You teased Bucky about being a ‘big bad biker’ as he explained the night to you, but he insisted it was Natasha that had them crapping their pants; she never usually made an effort to hide the set of knives on her hip, and she apparently had a death-stare that could have anyone shaking in their boots. With him being banned from Wanda’s bar and unsuccessful with his plan of using Peter, they doubted Brock Rumlow would show his face around the area for a while. He’d only be embarrassing himself if he did.

Not long after your cut had been tended to and the pain in your jaw had subsided, you found yourself once again fighting the temptation to stay the night at the clubhouse — the temptation being a whiny biker named Bucky Barnes.

“But you’ve had a rough day,” He bargained, following after you as you made your way to the front door of the clubhouse. “It’ll save you the ride back if you stay.”

Chortling lightly, you turned around to face him. “A rough day? Buck, I gave an asshole a well-deserved kick in the balls, I’ve had a great day.”

“But what about your cheek? It might start bleeding again and—”

“Bucky,” You cut him off, biting back a smile. “Why do you really want me to stay?”

There was a short pause, heat pooling in the biker’s cheeks at the question as he raised a brow, silently asking you if he was supposed to actually answer the question. When you only quirked your own brow, he sighed, his lips curling into a fond smile. “...because I don’t like it when you leave? ‘Cause I like you a whole lot and I really wanna kiss you again?”

Slowly, you trailed a slightly bruised hand up his chest, stopping at the nape of his neck to tangle your fingers in the hair there. “You should’ve just lead with the kiss, biker.”

Before you could notice the doting grin on his lips, Bucky had looped an arm around your waist and pulled you flush to his chest, soft lips locking with yours tenderly. Your other arm was quick to wrap around his neck as you found yourself wanting to be impossibly closer to him. You tugged at his hair, eliciting a deep moan from his lips, and you pulled away with a satisfied smirk.

“So you’ll stay?” Bucky spoke against your lips, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“If you keep kissing me like that.” You imitated his words from your last kiss, to which he shook his head and clasped his hand around yours, leading you out of the hallway and up to his room.

You hoped the rest of the club were asleep, because from the thump of your body being pushed against Bucky’s bedroom door after he’d dragged you inside and shut it, you were sure that they could assume who was causing the racket at almost midnight.

Bucky’s mouth was on yours in a matter of seconds, hands cupping your jaw, carefully avoiding pressing against the side that was bruised. Meanwhile, your fingers gently traced across the hem of his t-shirt, riding it up so that the pads of your fingers came into contact with his lower stomach, ghosting over the waistband of his jeans. He stepped back momentarily, shoving his leather jacket down his arms and letting it fall to the floor.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your jacket,” You breathed. “It’s like you’re naked already.”

“Who said anything about getting naked?” He teased, hands coming to trace over your own exposed stomach. “Someone’s eager.”

“You’re stupid,” You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a grin. “Coming from the guy who just said he liked me, sap.”

“Real mature,” He snickered, riding your shirt up to your chest and tugging it off when you raised your arms to aid him. His lips moved to the crook of your neck, trailing light kissed along the soft skin there. “I meant it, though. I really like you, baby.”

A whimper escaped your lips as his attached to a certain spot on your neck, your hand fisting his shirt in response. You didn’t even have to say it back; it was obvious that you felt the same way about him in pretty much every way. The way your body was reacting to his, the breathy way that his name was falling from your swollen lips, and the fact you’d kissed him the week prior was a good indicator too.

“And you said you’d never get in my bed.” Bucky smirked after helping you pull off his own shirt.

“Technically, I’m not in your bed yet.”

“Yet,” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before trailing his hand down your jaw, along the curve of your shoulder and down to the hem of your bra. “Can’t wait to have you there, moaning all pretty for me.”

Your face grew hot at his words, but his lips were on yours again too quickly for him to notice. When he eventually pulled back for air, you bit your lip in anticipation.

“Hm, let’s not wait any longer then.”

And he didn’t let you wait any longer, leaning down to kiss you with a passionate hunger as he dragged you by both of your hands to his bed. Maybe it was the way he didn’t rush, that he took time memorizing every inch of your skin with gentle lips and wandering hands. Maybe it was the sighs and moans of pleasure that he’d managed to draw from you so easily, or the way he whispered praises and sweet nothings into your ear as he positioned himself comfortably between your legs. But after the two of you had reached your highs and were left grinning like idiots and panting for breath, you realised how fucking hard you’d fallen for the damn biker who’d somehow gotten you in his bed.

* * *

Soft snores gradually drew you from your slumber, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks before you eventually squinted your eyes open. It couldn’t have been any later than 5am; daylight was peaking through the curtains of the bedroom, but the world outside was still quiet. Quiet for New York, anyway.

Bucky had his arms tucked under his pillow, face buried into the cotton, lips parted, brown strands of hair falling in front of his face. Back muscles relaxed, shoulders raising slightly as he breathed quietly. He looked pretty like that, innocent even. Innocent in comparison to what occurred in his bed the night before.

As you idly observed him in his peaceful state, you couldn’t help but think about what Peggy had said to you earlier the prior night. She was right, as always. Especially after the night you’d just had with him, there was no way that your feelings for Bucky would just leave along with you leaving after summer. Perhaps sleeping with him was the stupidest decision you’d ever made. Perhaps it would’ve just been easier to not stay the night and pretend like you’d never kissed him in the first place. But you didn’t want that. You wanted him, even if you could only have him for the summer.

A muffled moan jerked your attention away from your thoughts and back to the man laying next to you, who was shifting as he began to wake, the muscles in his back flexing as he did so. It was a sight you could get used to for sure.

Soon enough, his baby blues met yours, a lazy smile overcoming his lips. “Watching me sleep?”

“No.” You denied, though he could see straight through the lie.

He hummed, reaching a hand out to trace over your bruised cheek. You leaned into the touch. “Still hurt?”

“Not really. Had a good doctor fix it up last night.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh. I mean, he slept with me afterwards which I thought was a little inappropriate...”

The biker scoffed, enclosing an arm around your bare waist to pull you closer. Sloppy kisses were planted down your jaw to your shoulder, ghosting over the dark bruises he’d marked you with only hours ago.

“I’ll miss you, you know. When you have to leave.” Bucky murmured, pulling away and laying back down against the pillow, his nose grazing yours.

You smiled sadly, pushing some of the hair away from his face. “Do you think this was stupid of us? To start something that’s just gonna have to end in a month?”

“Maybe, yeah,” He mirrored your expression, voice still a little raspy. “But I don’t regret it.”

“Me neither,” You twirled a lock of his hair sigh your pointer finger. “What’re you gonna do without me, huh? You might have to find another girl to take rides with you at sunset.”

Bucky shook his head, squeezing your waist. “Nah, I think I’d rather ride solo. Won’t be the same without you just over my shoulder.”

“Even when I get road rage?”

“Especially when you get road rage.”

“Well, we should probably make the most of the time we have left,” You propped yourself up on one elbow, a smirk playing on your lips. “How about a ride while the sun rises?”

“Sounds perfect.” He loosened his hold on you, letting you roll away from him and swing your legs over the side of the bed.

“Mind if I take a shower first?”

“Mind if I take a shower with you?”

You thought for a moment. It’d be saving water, wouldn’t it? “Screw it, why not. C’mon, Buck.”

You scurried off to the bathroom, still naked as Bucky followed after you, suddenly not so tired anymore.

Perhaps the summer hadn’t went in the direction you’d been expecting, but you had no complaints about the turn that it’d taken. You’d never believed in fate or destiny, much like you’d never believed in love. However, you’d like to believe that you were meant to meet Bucky when you came back to Brooklyn at some point. You’d never met someone— someone so perfect for you, if you were being honest. He didn’t scold you for your sarcasm, or shame you for standing up for yourself. He responded to your teasing with his own, he knew how to make you laugh, how to make your cheeks hot and your knees weak. You were always on the exact same wavelength, always knowing how the other was feeling, being able to bring out the best in one another.

It seemed like a waste to spend the little time left at home thinking about summer ending, so you simply pushed it out of your mind. Enjoying the moment was something you’d learned to do over and over again, because that was all you could do in the life that you led.

The moments spent with Bucky Barnes were just going to be a little harder to let go of.

* * *

Taglist:

@domolovee @oplunket16 @barnestruck @igotkatiepowers

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #biker!bucky #biker!bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barnes reader insert

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star-killer-md · 4 years ago

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Hello!! May I please request “I’ll keep calling for the rest of the night if i have to, until you answer me.” with our boi Kylo? Could it be sweet with smut? Thank you so much!!! DALDOM is such a joy to read, like thank you for quenching my thirst in this drought of a time

Thank you so much for all your support babe!! Soooo, remember when I said this would be just drabbles. Well I went and wrote like what could potentially be considered a one shot and it’s probably not at all what you were looking for but it left my brain and its here now.

This is loosely based on the Mobster!Kylo x Lawyer!reader AU I’ve been fantasizing about writing for awhile, so you can just read it as modern Kylo to simplify things.

Prompt: “I’ll keep calling for the rest of the night if I have to, until you answer me.”

Warnings: nsfw, angst which y’all just need to expect by now, breaking and entering, feelings, sorta soft Kylo I think, possessive vibes

Word Count: 2k

Message number 27:

Kylo’s voice crackled out of the answering machine sounding warped as the signal cut in and out.

“You’re not getting away that easily,” he rasped. “I’ll keep calling for the rest of the night if I have to, until you answer me.”

Your inbox was well and full by now. He’d made good on his promise though. Your phone had vibrated itself off the counter at one point with the amount of incoming calls. An hour or so ago, you’d just turned it off, hiding away under a blanket in the living room and trying to control your breathing.

You knew it had been a mistake to get involved with him professionally. His business was not exactly of the ethical sort and you couldn’t have any stains on your reputation. But he’d paid handsomely, and you did enjoy the extra funding to spruce up your rundown apartment.

But it had been a grave error to ever be romantically involved with Kylo Ren. If you could call it that. There was nothing truly romantic per to say about it, possessive was a more appropriate word for him. Ren kept a collection of spoils and you simply couldn’t bare to be just another trophy anymore.

Although it seemed your greatest blunder was in trying to break things off amicably. You should have just skipped town. Should have broken your lease, took the hit to your credit and changed your name. Should have, would have, etc...

But you didn’t.

And now you were facing the consequences.

The consequences which were currently trying to break down your front door.

Footsteps, loud and heavy, pounded up the narrow hall and what was almost certainly a foot connected and splintered the wood of your lock on the first impact.

You jumped clear off the couch, landing in a heap on the floor and crawling away from the door as it swung on its hinges. The knob left a hole in the drywall as it burst open and standing in the remains was the last and first person you wanted to see.

There was a reason you’d only left a message with his assistant and slipped quietly home. There was a reason you’d taken the week off so you wouldn’t accidentally run into him looking for you at your office.

Because, no matter how much you detested what he did, you couldn’t deny how easily he’d drawn you in. Not just with money but with his air. The cloud of mystery and intrigue, risk and reward that clung to him was intoxicating. And you knew if you had to look him in the eye, he’d pull you right back to him. Have you laid out on his expensive mahogany desk, pussy dripping and cock pounding into you.

You could hear it now:

“Your fucking cunt better not take the finish off,” he’d growl into your ear, fingers down your throat to muffle any noise. “Gonna lick it clean when I’m done aren’t you?”

He was staring at you now with that same dangerous look which had enticed you in the first place. You shuddered from your place cowering in the corner.

Kylo’s massive hand wrapped around the door and slammed it back into the ruined frame before crossing the room and backing you further into the corner where you sat.

“What the hell are you—?!”

You were cut off when he yanked your upper arm harshly dragging you to your feet and caging you to the wall with his chest.

“Why the fuck didn’t you pick up?” he hissed, lips working over themselves when his jaw twitched.

“I left a message,” you stated calmly, eyes focused intently on the ground.

“No that’s bullshit and you know it,” he pounded his fist into the wall by your head.

“I meant it,” you tried to keep your voice level but your hands were shaking at your sides and he was too close and too loud. “I can’t do this anymore.”

His hand found your jaw, forcing it up towards his face, “Look at me and say that again.”

It was a challenge. A dare. Calling your bluff.

You took a breath.

His eyes were so pretty though when you finally met them, all the nerve drained out of you. Kylo looked so...enraged, enraptured, betrayed. And you just couldn’t. But you had to.

The words were soft when they slipped past your lips, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what?” he demanded.

His eyes were flicking all over your face, from your mouth to your eyes and back again.

You didn’t know how to explain that he scared you. Not him entirely, but what you felt for him, what he did to you was terrifying. It was an addiction you couldn’t shake and you needed to go cold turkey or you’d be stuck in this back and forth forever.

“What?!” his voice cracked as the shout left him. “What am I not paying you enough? What more do you want?”

“I don’t want anything—“

“No, no, no,” he cut you off again, hands wrestling against you until he gripped the outside of your thighs and hoisted them around his waist. Your skirt rode up your back and left you nearly exposed to the chill of the apartment.

“Kylo, please,” you struggled in his grasp.

Your hands were so small on his chest, barely contained by the blue dress shirt he wore. He was hard in his pants, you could feel the length of him pressing into your core. Your name left his lips right before they crashed into yours.

You tried to push back, to seal your mouth shut and turn your head but his kisses were your weakness. Few and far between and gut wrenching every time and he knew it. Knew what he did to you. And you couldn’t help but yield to his onslaught, letting him lick into your mouth and trace your teeth.

He was like a fine wine, or what you imagined people meant when they said that. It all tasted the same to you, but Kylo was more delicious than any of it. And you drank him down despite the little voice in your head telling you to bite his tongue and get as far away from him as possible. Somewhere he couldn’t track you down.

But really, you knew that was futile, because Kylo Ren could find you anywhere. Once he sunk his teeth in, there would be no getting away without blood on your hands. So you kissed him back and didn’t protest when his lips wandered down your neck, leaving a trail of marks in his wake.

“You can’t,” he mumbled into your skin.

Kylo’s hands shifted, fumbling in between your bodies until his fingers found the soaked fabric of your underwear. He ran his thumb along your slit, groaning at how your pussy dripped for him.

“Can’t what?” you gasped, as he circled your clit through the cotton.

He tore his hand away and fumbled with his belt buckle, freeing his cock from the confines of his pants. You felt him push your panties to the side and rub the hot head of his length against your lips. He was so warm, so big, so right, so exactly what you always wanted.

His face was pressed firmly into the crook of your neck, and there was a distinct wetness there and his chest shook when he breathed in the scent of your laundry detergent and perfume.

“You can’t leave me too.”

The words were nearly lost in the fabric of your shirt, muffled and strange in his mouth and whatever inkling of resolve you’d had earlier that day shattered like glass in the path of a bullet. You’d never heard him sound like that before. He didn’t say things like that, didn’t tell you things like that. Things that mattered. Things that hurt.

Kylo rutted his hips against you, coating his cock in your essence and making you squirm as he pressed against your clit with every stroke.

“Say it,” he sounded so far away, “say you don’t want me.”

You knew you should. You should tell him to go or call the cops—he had broken in after all—saddle him with legal fees, make some other lawyer get him out of his messes. But there were a lot of things you should be doing, like drinking more water or getting eight hours of sleep or covering your face in pureed cucumber or any number of other things on all those stupid self care lists that normal people absolutely couldn’t have the time for.

So you said nothing, just shook your head and rolled your hips to meet him, tugging on his hair until he pulled back to face you. His eyes were rimmed red, dark circles puffy underneath and you thought it might be nice to slather yourself in cucumber smoothie if he was there with you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I’m sorry, I’ll stay.”

And you choked on the next words out of your mouth as Kylo dives into you, thrusting straight in to the hilt. You feel the sweet sting of him stretching you open, filling you to the brim and you know you’ll never feel this with anyone else. No matter how shady and unethical and terrifying he is, Kylo is not the kind of man you find twice.

He isn’t taking his time, the way he’s fucking you into the wall—bucking his hips into you at a frantic pace and making you whine—it isn’t for pleasure. No, you can tell by the way he’s keeping you close, not trying to change his angle to get deeper, he wants to be as near to you as possible.

You realize distantly, as he’s rubbing quick circles around your clit with the pad of his thumb, that this is the first time he’s ever been to your place. You're not entirely surprised he knew where you lived despite that. Maybe you’d invite him to stay the night, maybe he'd actually be there when you woke up.

But that was probably just a pipe dream.

It didn’t really matter, not when he was bringing you so close, not when he was still kissing you and biting at your lips like a man starved. His pace began to stutter, rhythm faltering as he neared his climax.

“Kylo—oh fuck,” you moaned low and long as he bounced you on his dick.

“Cum for me,” he rasped out.

And you would.

And you did.

Because you always did what he asked, no matter how dirty it made you feel.

So you came screaming his name so loud the neighbors had to have heard it, and he tumbled right over the precipice at the clenching of your cunt around him. You felt him deeply, painting thick ropes of hot release along your walls until it dripped out around his cock. He didn’t move for a while, just dropped his head back down to your shoulder and waited for your breathing to even out.

After a few moments, he unhooked your legs from his waist, letting his softening length slip from you as your feet landed back on solid ground. You looked up at him, hands resting on his forearms and took him in—dark waves frizzy around his head with sweat and shirt wrinkled from where your nails had gripped the fabric. He tucked himself away, fastening his belt and you watched how his fingers moved nimbly on the buckle.

“So,” you mused.

There was still some hint of more in his gaze, something that hadn’t quite been blocked out. And he cleared his throat, humming in response.

“Does that offer for a higher salary still stand or?”

All the tension melted from his face as it fell back to the familiar deadpan, blank stare you’d become so accustomed to over the last few months. Kylo shook his head at you, eye twitching almost imperceptibly. You couldn’t help but smile, even as his frown deepened.

Who were kidding? This was the best gig you were ever going to get, and Kylo was a ride you weren’t willing to give up quite so soon. You were sure now you couldn’t escape him even if you tried.

‘Never get involved with the Mob,’ that was a thing people said right?

People also told you to ‘go to law school,’ and look where that had gotten you: involved with the Mob.

Oh well, at least you’d never be bored.

#kylo ren x reader #obsessionprofessional #dr. b answers #dr. b talks #mobster!kylo #lawyer!reader #kylo ren x female reader #kylo ren smut #drabble night #requests #I wrote this at work and it was wayyy longer than I meant it to be #I hope you like it dear

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gregoftom · 6 years ago

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I need like,,,,a drabble that's post-Os getting shot, and he's unconscious on the hospital bed and Ed is there, holding Ossie's hand in his own, and sorta muttering to himself about the things he regrets not telling Oswald, and that he's terrified of losing him, and it ends with Os waking up. (Sorry that's so specific but HHHHHH 5x10 will destroy me)

ed was a pest.

people who had met him or were acquaintances with him knew this already, but today was different. today he was downright hassle. jim had only just managed to frog march him out of the room where oswald was being tended to, yet ed kept peeking up through the door window and trying to open it, having to be manhandled by whoever was nearby.

it was only when jim took him aside and said “i know you don’t like me, in fact you probably don’t like most of us, but i know you like him, and if you want penguin to recover you’ll stay out here and sit. down” and punctuated the last couple of words by taking ed by the shoulders and sitting him down that ed finally agreed to stay still. sort of. his knee was jiggling and he kept fiddling with his tie.

there was still blood on his shirt and suit. another wave of sickly worry crashed over him, and he had to fight the urge to vomit. if he had been faster, if he had seen the danger coming, if he had protected oswald better.... guilt piled up along with the stress and he stood up again, but this time he paced, knowing that lee needed space if oswald had a chance to recover. jim was right, he was indifferent to or disliked everyone aside from oswald who was here, but if oswald’s recovery meant putting up with them and doing what they asked, he would do so without question.

after what felt like days on end, lee finally emerged. ed immediately strode up to her but before he could open his mouth, she spoke first.

“i got the bullet out. it didn’t make its way to his brain so i think it’s safe to say no damage to that,” ed breathed a sigh of relief. “but there is a lot of trauma and a lot of blood loss,”

“does he need a transfusion?”

“not yet, but if it comes to that--”

“use mine,”

“we don’t know if you match,”

“then test me,”

lee looked at him wearily.

“not now. in a little while i’ll come back and test you. right now i need a coffee,”

ed wanted to protest, but he knew that lee was the only reliable doctor they had left, and he needed her at full strength if he wanted oswald to make it. she left, and he watched her as she did, observing the not so platonic way jim held her at the small of her back and the way that she let him.

he felt... nothing. it was odd considering some time ago he might have caught up to them and choked the life out of jim if he saw then what he was seeing now. but right now there was absolutely nothing there for her, or for jim. the only thing clouding his every thought was oswald.

“can i see him?” he called after her, knowing that it was probably the hundredth time he’d asked.

lee turned.

“yes, but be careful. don’t touch any of the equipment. it’s so beat up i’m worried it’ll break down if the wind blows too hard,”

ed nodded before making his way to the door shut against him for so long. he opened it and saw oswald lying on a bed, unconscious, hooked up to machines and the steady beat of his heart echoing around the room in short beeps. ed had to steady himself against the door frame as more emotions wracked his body. he could be emotional, yes, but this was far beyond anything he’d had to deal with before. he couldn’t even hide behind riddler because riddler was feeling the pain too. there was no escape from this.

he made his way over to oswald’s bedside and sat on the chair placed next to it. his insides screamed at him to say something, but for some reason he couldn’t find the words. he reached out and took one of oswald’s hands in two of his own and held it tightly. it was cold. blankets lay crumpled at the end of the bed and ed snatched them up, pulling them over oswald before settling down and taking his hand again.

he swallowed.

“oswald,” he began, not sure exactly what he was even going to say. “i... hm. this is... difficult. i don’t know if you can even hear me, but studies show that even while unconscious brain function is at a high enough level to interpret sound so maybe you can hear me saying that i...” he paused. “i’m sorry. for everything. you were right when you said we’re meant for each other. i can’t imagine myself being friends with-- ...loving, anyone else. you’re the only one who’s understood me and never shied away from who i am. the only time i’ve ever felt... worth something, i’ve ever felt... real, was when i was with you. it’s probably too late to be saying this now but i have to because...”

he took a breath then leaned in, pressing his forehead to their enclosed hands.

“because i have to believe you can hear me, and i have to believe that you’ll be alright. that you’ll come back to me. you can’t die, understand?! i won’t let you! the only thing i’ll allow to be the cause of your death is me!” angry tears began to well up in his eyes and he looked at oswald in frustration at all his feelings for him. he hated having any kind of weakness, especially if it was a person, and oswald was most definitely his soft spot. when it came to critical moments he realised that oswald meant the world to him and that scared the hell out of him. he softened as he looked at oswald, seeing the bandages around his head and the few spots of blood which had managed to seep through.

“you have to be alright because... because...” he took another breath. “i need you. don’t leave me, alright? you can’t.”

with that he leaned in again, closing his eyes, the ability to speak now completely drained from him.

he didn’t even notice the heart rate monitor beeps picking up, didn’t notice oswald’s opposite free hand slowly rising, didn’t notice it slowly move to him until it touched his head and he jumped from the sudden feeling, gaze snapped back to oswald’s face. oswald’s eyes were still closed, but his breathing had gotten a little faster as he came back to consciousness. ed stared as oswald slowly began to turn his head and look at him with his good eye, wincing slightly from the pain of the effort.

a few moments of silence, then a smile. and then;

“edward.”

#riddle box #nygmobblepot #OOF....#i tried to make a drabble but it uh... isn't LOL #i can't make anything short smh #i need a tag for these sorts of asks ahhh #wr?t?ngs #there #Anonymous

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palechasm · 6 years ago

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aloe.

one word drabble prompts

A L O E - B I T T E R N E S S five times hisato was bitter, and one time he wasn’t.

(alternatively titled ‘one more time, with feeling’)

i also want to apologize for how fucking long this is?? like wow you go to write six tiny little blurbs and it still ends up being five pages long. i’m so sorry

warnings for death, gore, animal death, animal cruelty, dissociation, and Bad Morals For Children.

i. bitter

Rain drips down his nose, clouds smothering the dusk sky like wads of soiled cotton, choking the dying rays sunlight. Dark skies and gentle rolls of thunder have marked each day of his life, more surely than the steady cycle of the pale, cowardly moon they hid.

He was born beneath a roiling, weeping sky, and now it seemed he would die beneath another.

The forest sings around him, a chorus of frogs loud enough to rival the storm’s lazy rumbling. So often did the rain fall that it seemed the sky itself was too bored with precipitation to make any real effort at a weatherfront.

But the frogs and the clouds’ cranky grumbling were the only signs of life around him, and his throat was too raw to yell over the noise. Not even a lone doe picked her way through the underbrush, searching for tender greens. Instead the deer dozed in their thickets, safe and dry with fawns tucked safely into their sides.

Would they object, he wondered, if he tried to join one of the peaceful families? The longer he waited, the less it felt that his parents were fervently searching for him the same way he had for them.

His throat ached and burned from calling for his mother, and as a trickle of cold water rain down his neck and between his shoulder, another sob hitched in his throat. It hurt, more than anything, to cry. But what else could he do?

The rain carried him through into the night, and as he knotted his limbs into a tight ball under the feeble arms of a bush, the verity of his situation set into his chest like a sharp, heavy stone.

Although young, he was both smart and old enough to know that sometimes, children went missing– and sometimes, they weren’t found.

He imagined little skeletons littering the fields and the brush, the rice paddies and the bottoms of wells. The lonely remains of little boys who wandered away and died alone, bones poking through the moss and mud like pale branches.

He thought about the trees that wrapped around him in an endless sea. Thought that this might be where he would die, where the creeping fingers of green weeds would wrap around his bones and hold on forever. The forest would steal him away, and shy, friendly deer would step on his ribs where he lay forgotten.

Night bled into thin, reedy wisps of dawn. The rain didn’t stop, and no one called his name.

Something angry and resigned and unfamiliar squeezed his heart.

They weren’t looking for him.

ii. bitter

Black feathers ruffle in a thick mane around the bird’s neck as he shakes water from his body, plumage rolling down his back like an inky wave. He’s smaller than Susutori, and the way he postures toward her in greeting, head dipped and wings splayed, makes it evident that he’s younger as well.

But Susutori is pleased to see him and warbles a pleasant call, her eyes soft and her chest puffed like she’s proud. The newcomer straightens and fluffs his own feathers, their greeting finished. The motherly crow ushers him closer and buries her beak into his neck, preening a spot of mussed feathers.

“You take too long to visit,” She scolds, once finished. “And Sokkou says you’ve been lazy with summons.”

“Sokkou is a worm-eater and a suck-up.” The other bird grouses.

“Watch your words in front of my nestling, or I’ll stick you with your own team of them.” Susu shakes her wings, preening irritably. “We’ll go elsewhere to talk.”

The black, curious gaze of her companion rests on him, and Hisato stares back with matched interest.

“I forgot you had a little human.” The large bird cocks his head, neck stretched to peer at him. “It even looks sorta like a chick. In an unfortunate way.”

Something tugs at Hisato’s heart. For a moment, he’d felt nothing but an easy fascination. It was rare to see any of his adoptive mother’s clan, and there was a sliver of pride in hearing her claim over him- pride, and the warm embrace of belonging. As if he really were one of them, a chick taken under Susutori’s wing.

And then it’s gone, and he was just an oddity. An it. Something strange and sad to gawk at, a boy with no family taken pity on by a crow. A misfit amongst humans and birds alike.

A large wing shoots open and clips the crow’s body, sending him flapping and stumbling with a squawk.

“He’s a human, and he looks perfectly fine.” Susutori bobs down to Hisato’s height, fixing him with a stern, parental look that broke no argument. “Hisato, I have business to attend to. Stay put. I’ll be back to bring you a meal.”

She turns, meeting her younger counterpart as he rights himself from her push.

“You have a bald spot on your tail,” Hisato mumbles, giving him a sour glare. “It looks unfortunate.”

Susutori has the sense to disappear the both of them into a puff of smoke, just as her subordinate’s beak drops open with indignation.

Then he is alone, separated from the safe and familiar like he’d been just a few years ago.

This time, crows and humans both far away, and together with their kind.

And Hisato, alone, the taste of dirt filling his mouth.

iii. bitter

“Normally we’d use our feathers, but a leaf will have to do.” The oversized crow settles into the dry, brittle summer grass. Hisato feels her gaze, making certain he was beginning the exercise correctly.

“Susu, is this what ninja do? The ones your friends help, sometimes?”

“Using chakra is a shinobi skill among humans. Useless, as always.” She mutters, picking at the feathers of a wing. “They leave so many of their own kind defenseless.

“Among crows, we teach all of our young how to protect themselves. And you must learn, too. There are many humans who won’t understand your position, and may try to harm you.”

The crow speaks carefully, skirting around words like ‘death’ and ‘murder’, but the message is delivered without question. Hisato would always be in danger from other people.

“What is my position?” He wonders aloud, cross-legged and raptly focused on the soft green patch quivering on his knuckles. What did it mean to be kept apart from the world?

“You have no village, so you are unprotected. But with the skill to defend yourself, other humans will be suspicious because you are not a civilian. With no headband or sworn allegiance, they will fear you as a bandit, or worse, a defector.

“You will be surrounded by threats, Hisato. The day your parents failed you was the day this fate was sealed.”

Her words are succinct and sharp. His focus is broken and he stares at his mentor, leaf forgotten.

“Am I… an outcast?”

The thought is foreign, strange. It isn’t something he’d before considered himself to be, but the more he looks at himself the more the word fit. It wraps around his skin like an ugly tattoo… or a manacle, perhaps, callously locked over his wrist.

“You are what you are, Hisato. Such is the only certainty in life.”

He looks down, and begins the exercise again.

iv. bitter

There is no blood on his hands, he idly thinks. Slivers of dirt ring his nails, but the pale lengths of his fingers are clear of rusty smudges. His palms are unmarred, his knuckles clean, although dry and lightly scarred.

And yet, a dead man lies a scant few yards away, head lolling and chest peeled open like an overripe fruit.

A jutsu he would rather not use again, given the others at his disposal. He wouldn’t have used it, if he’d known. Known the reality.

But he hadn’t realized, hadn’t understood….

Hadn’t thought.

Before the man’s blade had sank into his throat in a ruthless swipe, he’d pushed him back, air colliding into his enemy like a wall and when he landed, tearing up dirt and grass and moving to rush back at Hisato with rage in his eyes–

– when he landed, springing to attack again, Hisato kept pushing.

Air funneled into the man’s lungs faster than he could think to stop. And when his opponent had finally realized, he couldn’t scream.

Susutori had given him this jutsu. It was one of the first combat techniques he’d learned, being a simple but brutal attack with little possibility of a counter. He understood, now, how ruthless the crow was. How the battlefield had painted her with blood and resolve, and what it meant that she could kill so efficiently and without remorse.

Hisato touches a hand to his side, robe torn open with ragged, stained edges. It isn’t deep, or life-threatening, but it could have been. His neck would have been. The wound bleeds like a warning.

But for how closely he’d let danger touch him, or something else entirely?

Red coats his fingers and seeps under his nails as he puts pressure on the wound.

Ruddy dirt cools beneath the gaping corpse, and skyward a trio of scavenger begin to circle. The only blood he wore on his hands was his own, hot and slick from a living, pumping heart. And wasn’t that just as bad? Did it matter what spatters of blood belonged to who, when someone lay dead?

He approaches the gore, reaches with sticky, warm fingers to close the thing’s eyes. Twin smears are left behind on the pair of eyelids, and he withdraws to clasp at his side once more.

No matter whose blood it is against his skin, a man that had breathed and walked only minutes ago lays still, the broad wings of a carrion bird spreading to full as it breaks its swoop to perch on his leg.

Hisato watches as they descend, one by one, a funeral procession claiming his body for the wilds. Nature will cycle his life back into itself, an ever-flowing balance.

It shouldn’t be disturbing, watching them clean up the terrible mess he left behind. He’d seen death, animals picked apart and others thriving from the end. He’d seen what was left of humans that had met their fate, only the remnants of bleached, stained bones as their final mark of passing. The encounters had never left him feeling sick. Crows, after all, were scavengers at times, and so he’d never thought them gruesome.

He sits with his head in his hands, folded into himself and wondering if it shouldn’t be him, carried away by the birds in pieces.

v. bitter

Pillowed in his lap was a shivering dog, coaxed with gentle murmurs and a skewer of trout. Hisato ran a gentle hand across its shoulders, though the fur clinging there was thin and coarse. Strays were not uncommon in villages, no matter how large or small they happened to be. Hisato often sought out the wandering canines enjoyed their simple and easy company.

They were seemed so uncomplicated, living next to humans who might react a dozen different ways to his presence. Dogs either welcomed you or didn’t.

But the dog cradled between his knees was different from the other strays he’d befriended, kicked by the world within an inch of his life and chased away from the sunspot he’d been curling himself into. Not hurting a thing, but made to put his tail between his legs regardless.

His health was poor, fur damp and coming away in clumps on his haunches. He’d chewed his paws until they were bloody, then licked at the wounds until they were hot and sickly. His pads were cracked, his nose dry, his tail limp. There wasn’t an inch of dog that wasn’t sad and broken.

He would fix this, Hisato decided. He would fix the terrible things this place had done, because what more important thing did he have to do with his time? He would make it right. And when once healthy again, he would take the dog to a kinder, warmer place with dirty streets and plenty of strays to clean them.

Next to a warm fire, an element he usually forwent, Hisato slept with a lapful of dog that, for the first time in its life, had not been chased or beaten.

The world was not kind to strays. Many of them never knew a better life or a different place than the one they were born into, but Hisato had been lucky.

When he left his friend to the bustling streets and overflowing trash bins of a Wind village just west of River country border, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had been so lucky after all. Dogs, after all, were passed over without a thought no matter what village they wandered into. For humans, homes were a tricky thing- stay in one place too long, and someone might notice you don’t have the right papers or the right permission from the right people. Just a group of men in fancy robes, foolish enough that land could be owned like a lifeless commodity.

He would visit, Hisato told himself.

And that would have to be enough.

i. warm

“You’re a weird kid,” Said a well-muscled and ill-shaven man, cigarette dangling from his lips. “But I guess that don��t hurt nothin’.”

Hisato stared silently, head cocked curiously even as he craned his neck up to watch the gruff, scarred face. A dull, warped shuriken was cradled in his little fingers, the feeble shine of tarnished metal drawing him to the empty field. He’d pulled it front one of the few, lonely wooden posts jutting from one end of the field, scattered with forgotten weapons.

“What are you even gonna do with that? Can’t throw it anymore, th’ hells been bent outta it.”

He looked down at the weapon, feeling bashful, and thumbed a blunted edge. “It’s for my mom. She’s a crow.”

“Don’t you call your own mother a crone, boy.”

“No, she’s a crow.” He corrected, squinting up. “What’s a crone?”

The man guffawed, and Hisato wasn’t sure if he was laughing or choking. “Well my ma-in-law is a buzzard, so I’ll give you that one, twerp. I don’t know what th’ hell she’s gonna do with scrap metal like that, though.”

A grin had split through the rough face towering above him, and he smiled back, enjoying the warmth of the man’s attention. Large, thick fingers reached into a pouch at his hip, pulling out a sharp, crisp shuriken.

“You want me to teach y’how to throw one of those things or what?”

At Hisato’s awed grin, he pressed the cold metal into pale, childish fingers.

“Tell ya what, if you can hit that post I’ll let y’have this one, too.”

#harefrost #𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 / 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 // 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚎 #𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 // 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 #𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚢 // 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

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ravengirl94 · 8 years ago

Text

Angel in Blue Jeans

Summary: Dean falls in love with a cowgirl

Pairing: Dean x Cowgirl!Reader

Word Count: 1,700

Warnings: language

A/N: a little horse-y drabble I wrote recently. It’s sorta based on me (cringing as I wrote that) (I sort of hate myself for this) (gonna go hide) and my favorite horse. That’s why there are specifics like hair and eye color. Sorry. More parts, maybe? I have some ideas for it.

Dean hauled himself out of the impala with a grunt, muscles still protesting from the werewolf hunt a few days ago. The long car ride likely hadn't helped much, but it sounded like a pretty nasty shifter case so he and Sam had high-tailed it across the country to Wyoming. The most recent lead had them pulling onto a large farm to speak with a victim's brother. It was mid-afternoon, the sky a brilliant blue and dotted with fluffy white clouds. The sun was strong, but it was only May, so it wasn't too hot yet. Their work boots kicked up dust as they made their way down a wide path flanked by fencing, heading towards the large barn.

A rapid beating sound was the first thing Dean noticed. It was like thunder, approaching quickly from behind, making him flinch away. A horse flew by on the other side of the fence, a blur of black and white, kicking up a cloud of dust and obscuring his view. When it finally settled enough for him to see, the horse was on the far side of the ring already, still running. But his eyes didn’t linger on that horse, its powerful muscles straining to go, to run, to practically fly over the ground.

The girl on its back caught his entire soul in one fleeting glance.

She had a wild grin on her face, her hair flying out behind her in the breeze. Where anyone else would be terrified by the speed and the possible danger, she was laughing. She maneuvered the horse around the ring easily, proving that despite their speed, she was the one in control. The horse obeyed her every thought, and she hardly had to move where she sat on its back even as it turned this way and that, clearly following unspoken directions.

It was like time slowed down as Dean watched her, stared as the horse worked around the ring. He stood there, entranced by the partnership, the teamwork, the power of that girl up there getting such a large creature to bend to her will. But it was more than that. It wasn't done by sheer force of will. There was trust there between them, an incredible unbreakable trust that could only be developed between man and beast, girl and horse. Her golden hair shone in the afternoon light, the belt buckle at her waist sparkling in the sun. She performed a number of maneuvers that Dean didn't understand, but whatever the horse did pleased her and she grinned, calling out praise and thumping him on the neck. With another pat, she shook out the reins and had the horse slow down to an easy walk.

"Can I help you?" She called, aiming the horse towards where Sam and Dean stood leaning on the fence.

"Howdy, ma'am," Dean blurted out through a wide grin, unable to help himself. He could practically hear Sam rolling his eyes as he turned away, dropping his face into his hand. But to Dean's surprise and delight, the girl giggled, an amused smile crossing her face, though she shook her head a little like she was embarrassed for him.

"Agents Turner and Bachman," Sam interrupted before Dean could say anything else stupid, flipping open his badge, "federal marshals."

"The sheriff know you're here?" She asked, shifting slightly in the saddle and stopping the horse right next to the fence. Her head tilted a little to the side as she asked, blue eyes squinting in the sunlight beneath her hat.

"Yeah, we've been by the station already," Sam replied again, giving Dean a subtle what is wrong with you glance.

"What's going on?" She asked suspiciously. The horse seemed interested as well, turning his head and reaching out his nose to sniff at them. He was a large animal, primarily white with large black splotches across his body. His head was dark, with a white stripe down his nose, ears pricked forward as he looked right at Dean. "Texas," the girl scolded gently when he got too close. The horse immediately pulled away, clearly understanding the gentle reprimand.

"We're looking for Ray Walker," Sam said, since Dean was too busy leering.

"Ray?" She echoed, those lush pink lips turning down into a frown, "I don't think I've seen him today, but I'll take you up to the barn." Without any visible cue, she moved the horse forward, walking along the path on the other side of the fence. Sam practically shoved Dean along, a stern expression on his face that told Dean his brother was not pleased with him. The girl got there before them and dismounted up by the barn, boots sending up a cloud of dust as she landed with a soft thud. She paused briefly, patting her horse on the neck and leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the nose that made Dean's heart flutter in his chest. Then she took the reins and walked off, away from them towards the large open door. Her jeans glittered in the afternoon light, drawing Dean's gaze down to her back pockets. He froze when he saw the angel wings embroidered there in tiny rhinestones, like heaven was pointing her out as his very own angel in blue jeans.

Dean watched her walk into the barn, taking down the safety chain across the opening to allow the horse through. He glanced up when Sam made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. Sam was scowling, mouth turned down in a frown and that line between his eyebrows tipping Dean off to his brother's aggravation.

"Dude get it together," Sam muttered, shaking his head before following the girl inside. Dean was way too excited that they were on a horse ranch, and that meant cowboys - one of his secret obsessions. There had been a lot of old western movies on the television while he was growing up, especially at Bobby's. Late nights with John Wayne and Clint Eastwood had given him a love for all things western, and now he was on an actual horse ranch, talking to a real cowgirl.

He stepped into the barn, taking off his sunglasses quickly as his eyes struggled to adjust to the relative dimness inside. The girl was pulling off the horse's bridle, only to replace it with a navy blue halter, to which she clipped a couple ropes - one on each side. Those ropes were secured to each wall, keeping the horse in place in the middle of the aisle. Sam and Dean followed, giving the horse a safe distance and trying to stay out of the girl's way. With every step she took, there was a soft jingle, and Dean looked down to find a large pair of spurs attached to her dusty cowboy boots.

"Awesome," he whispered with a grin, elbowing Sam. His brother was not amused, and rolled his eyes yet again.

Dean was distracted from his inappropriate cowgirl thoughts when the horse reached his nose out towards him, turning his head slightly to stare at Dean. It was a big horse, solidly built; nothing like those tall spindly things that did racing. His dark eyes seemed kind and curious as he watched Dean, making him take a careful step forward.

"You can touch him, you know," the girl said, an amused smile on her face, "he won't bite. And if he does, feel free to swat him. He knows better." She said the last part sternly, making the horse's ears swivel towards her. It was obvious he understood at least some of what she said.

Dean wasn't quite so sure about putting his hand near something with such big teeth, but he had to impress the pretty girl. Not to mention he fought monsters for a living, a horse was nothing…

So he stepped closer, the horse watching him with interest and sticking his nose out again. Sam looked on skeptically from nearby where he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. The girl raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, pulling the saddle from the horse's back before vanishing through a nearby door. Emboldened by her casual attitude, Dean inched even closer and held out his hand, ready to jerk back at any moment. The horse sniffed at his palm, huffing warm breath and then nudging him, making Dean grin and turn to look at Sam.

"Congratulations Dean, you're petting a horse," Sam dead-panned, "you want a trophy or something?"

"I don’t see you near the big scary animal," Dean muttered, turning back as the horse craned his nose towards Dean's jacket. The horse nudged at him, making Dean flinch. "What… dude buy a guy dinner first…"

"So I just checked with Charlie, the manager, and Ray isn't here today," the girl said, returning and moving to casually pick up one of the horse's feet, "He was supposed to be, but he didn't show up. Is everything okay?" She paused before moving to the next foot, looking at Sam and Dean with concern in her bright blue eyes.

"Ray's brother was found dead yesterday," Dean blurted, making Sam sigh. The girl's mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened.

"Holy shit…" she whispered, leaning to rest her forearm against her horse, "what happened?"

"It's currently an open investigation," Sam informed her, "we just had some routine questions for Ray. Do you happen to have his home address?"

"Um yeah, he lives down on Farmington. Big yellow house, you can't miss it."

"Thanks. We should be going," Sam said pointedly, giving Dean a look before heading back outside into the sunshine. The girl was watching Dean, studying him like she was trying to figure something out. Or maybe she was just waiting for him to say something.

"Listen, uh…" Dean began, reaching into his jacket to pull out a business card. Something made him flip it over and scrawl his cell number on it before holding it out to her. "If you think of something, or you need anything… give me a call."

"What if I don't think of anything?" She asked, eyes looking slightly mischievous.

"Call me," Dean repeated with a grin, "I'm Dean by the way."

"Y/N," she said, returning his smile and patting the horse on the side, "and this is Tex."

"It was nice meeting both of you. See you around," Dean said before hurrying off to catch up with Sam, who was halfway back to the car.

Everything Tags: @avengers4thewin @emoryhemsworth @ashleygee16 @dekahg @eileenlikesyou-maybe @fandommaniacx @deanssweetheart23 @babybrreena @theginamariestaytion @ria132love @docharleythegeekqueen @acreativelydifferentlove @maddieburcham1 @catghigleri @viahalsvy @maui137 @pureawesomeness001 @hbenth @imaginesofdreams @delessapeace-blog @mogaruke

Dean Tags: @summer-binging-spn @amoreagron @angelwingsandsupernaturalthings @supernatural-jackles @be-amaziing @anokhi07 @ruprecht0420 @tornjeansandabrokenheart @karrueda

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural one shot #supernatural #spn fic #spn western fic #dean's in love with a cowgirl #horses #horseback riding #western riding

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