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bucky-bucket-barnes · 3 years

Note

Mmmkay, i would love to see your vision about a domestic bucky. If he moves close to the Wilson's, and starts to meet someone? He is insecure but want to try feeling something new. Maybe he could walk at night because he just woke up after a nightmare and then meet that person, i don't know.

Hope you feeling better today ❤️

smile again

Summary: Having recently moved down to Louisiana, Bucky struggled a bit in the relationship department. It’s not until he met a firecracker of a girl one night that he sees change and trusting yourself can be quit rewarding.

Pairings: domestic!bucky barnes x female!reader

Warnings: some angst, a lot of fluff, and minor swearing

Word Count: 4.2k

Bucky shot up from the floor, cold sweat clinging to his forehead, heart pounding inside his ribcage. The nightmares didn’t haunt him like they used to, but when they inevitably returned, they always came with an ugly vengeance. His palms groped around the cool wooden floor, regaining his sense of reality. He had to just assure himself that he was really awake, that this was real.

To his relief, the ringing in his ears subsided and the graphic images faltered. He peered around at the unfamiliar walls, taking in the dark scene of his new living room. A measly coffee table here, a couple of unpacked boxes pushed to the corner there. To Sam’s delight, Bucky packed what little he owned into dusty cardboard boxes and moved down to Louisiana. The thick rain was more than he was accustomed to and he occasionally missed the low humdrum of the city, but it was much more peaceful here. Most nights, anyways.

I deserve this.

The three word phrase echoed through his mind, a monotone mantra to recite in especially trying moments. Sometimes he thought it was useless trying to convince himself. Other nights Bucky was more forgiving. Healing was a tricky thing, it wasn’t a neat linear line or a simple five stages to move through. For Bucky, it was finally acknowledging wounds that had long run dry and patching up what he could. It was letting people in. But damnit was that hard.

Slowly rising, he padded over to his dusty window to study the misty night sky. Even through the foggy glass he could see the moon peeking out from behind the clouds and silhouettes of the trees. Just by looking outside he could see how thick the air was with humidity.

There’s no point in going back to bed now, anyways.

Bucky decided the best course of action would be to go out on a walk, not particularly caring where to. He really did enjoy his new home despite its modest size and rundown disposition, but he needed to get out. If it were up to him, he’d take a break from existing as himself, but escaping the house was the next best thing.

It was late and he decided he would throw on a thin long sleeve shirt. His heated temperature would argue with such an action, but he was still new to town and wasn’t crazy about showing off his arm. He walked aimlessly, following the streetlights to whatever part of town they would take him. His wandering session had brought him to where all the local bars resided, lightly buzzing with music and chatter that could be heard from outside. He spotted a quiet little bench under a street lamp and decided to take residence there for the time being.

Sighing, he sat down and leaned his head back, taking in the muffled sounds of the bars and people inside them nearby.

“That seat taken?”

Bucky’s body slightly jostled awake. He wasn’t asleep, but he was comfortable enough to start drifting off. He turned his attention to the voice. In the yellow light he could make out a figure of a woman standing in front of him, expectantly waiting for an answer.

“No, you’re fine.” He shifted his body to make more room on the small bench. He didn’t plan on staying for much longer anyways. You sat next to him and his nose was immediately hit with a smell of vanilla perfume.

“You don’t look familiar. You new?” You popped a piece of bubblegum into your mouth. As you spoke, he got a soft scent of alcohol and sugar radiating off of you into his nose. It fluttered around him, enveloping him in the smell of sweets and drinks. To his surprise, it was oddly comforting.

“I just moved down here.”

“You’re sober.”

“Yeah,” he responded, confused by the statement.

“You okay?” you gawked, giving him a concerned look.

“I wasn’t in the mood for a drink.”

“No one comes down to a street of bars at 1 in the morning, doesn’t drink, and is doing alright,” you explained to him. “What’s on your mind?”

Bucky was a bit surprised at how bold you were, just asking a random man his problems. It didn’t change your night, why should you care? It was unexpected, but charming to say the least. It was clear that you were tipsy, but your tone still commanded intent and was laced with sympathy.

“Just a bad dream.”

“Must be some intense dreams you got to come all the way out here,” you replied, blowing a quick bubble with your gum before popping it.

“Something like that.”

You looked at him, waiting for something more. Try as he might, it was hard to ignore your gaze. It begged for more answers and he hated the thought of leaving you unsatisfied.

“I’ve let a lot of people down. That’s all.”

He felt silly confessing to you. You were drunk, and probably didn’t actually care to know. The worst part was that he actually liked telling you, even if in vague terms. It was nice to just talk, even if it was just to a drunk girl he just met.

“You haven’t let me down.”

“You don’t know me,” he stated dryly.

You crossed your legs and propped your head into your hands. Staring out into the nightlife of Louisiana you pondered something for a while. Now what’s going on in that head of yours Bucky wondered, studying how your face contorted and shifted as you thought.

“I know you walk to bars to not get drunk when you’re sad. How many other people know that?” you asked after two minutes of quiet thinking.

Bucky continued to admire you for a second longer, trying to figure out a response. It was correct technically, no one else knew that he was here, but still, you didn’t know him. Not in a way that mattered, not really.

“I don’t know you.”

“Y/N. Call me Y/N.” You stuck out your hand proudly and offered him a toothy grin. Laughing slightly at the overly formal gesture, he shook your hand and responded with his own name.

“See, we’re not strangers now.”

“I guess we’re not, Y/N.”

It was embarrassing to admit, but this was probably the most fun Bucky had had since he moved down there. There were the Wilsons of course, but they had family, they had other life problems. It was great to see them, but it was never for too long.

Bucky saw a light flicker in your eyes as he thought quietly. You went to dig through your bag and pull out a pen, missing its cap. Without question, you took his arm and started to scribble down your number.

“Next time you’re sad, call me instead of coming here. I’m much better company,” you winked.

Before Bucky can go to say anything else, a taxi pulled up to where you two sat.

“That’s my ride. Bye, Bucky,” you waved, giving him one last smile for the night before getting situated in the car.

He didn’t know if it was the alcohol messing with your speech, but the way you sang his name made his heart dance inside his chest. You closed the door as he let out a feeble goodbye, head reeling from the pretty girl he just met.

Bucky woke up the next morning and stared at his ceiling for a bit. His mind was still buzzing with the thought of the stranger from the previous night. The soft linger of her perfume, the firm grasp she held around his hand. He couldn’t wave that inviting smile out of his thoughts, but he was sure you didn’t even remember his face. Getting up, he grabbed a piece of pen and paper to scribble down your number before he took a shower.

As the cool water ran against his body, he watched the traces of black ink wash down the drain. He debated calling you the entire time he washed his body, going back and forth between absolutely yes and definitely not. Technically, he got your number on the condition that he’d only call when he was sad, but he didn’t want you to view him as only that; helpless and alone.

“Hello?”

Bucky didn’t think that you’d actually pick up. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if you gave him your actual phone number. He didn’t understand why he called, why he had to do it so soon. Alas, he worked up the nerve to punch in the digits and there you were.

“Uh- hi, it’s Bucky, the guy-”

“Well I’ll be damned, how’ve you been? You get any sleep last night?” You talked to him like you had been friends for years, casually catching up with each other. Your voice rang with excitement and true curiosity as you asked. It didn’t bother him that you interrupted, it just meant you were eager to talk.

“Yeah, yeah, I did. I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Oh, no problem. I wasn’t going to let the cute guy on the bench suffer alone,” you teased. He could hear the smirk in your voice. He felt his face grow a little warm. He cleared his throat in a fruitless attempt to regain his composure before continuing.

“Oh- uh- thank you,” he blubbered out, shy at the sudden flirtatious advance. In the background, he could hear bustling and movement from your end of the line.

“Is now a bad time?”

“I’m on lunch break. I work at Stella’s, but my shift ends at 5. You can pick me up for dinner then.”

“Oh, that’s- wait what?”

“See you then!” Bucky thought he was going to lose it, he could still hear you grinning ear to ear as you clicked the phone to end the call.

Under normal circumstances, his hands would have gone clammy and he would have gone into panic mode. But, not today. A modest smile sat upon his face as he thought about the prospect of a date. By no means was this what he expected, but he was more than happy to get to talk to someone, someone who really wanted to listen.

I deserve this.

Bucky’s mind buzzed as he waited in his car at Stella’s parking lot. You had fifteen more minutes until your shift ended, but he wanted to make sure he was on time. He bounced his leg in anticipation, nervously glancing at the bouquet of flowers he bought for the occasion.

Is this too much? Too old fashioned? Maybe it’s a bit corny. What if she’s allergic to flowers? What if she-

He was jostled out of his aimless thinking by a tapping sound coming from his window. He looked over to see your face, eyes bright with wonder and the same toothy smile that lingered in his memory from the other night. He rolled down his window in response to your knocking.

“Hey, cutie.”

“Hi, Y/N. You’re done early.”

“Slow day,” you explained before making your way to the other side of the car and casually hopping into the passenger side. “Where are we going, Buck?”

He almost went to correct you, to tell you that Buck was reserved for very special persons, but as he looked over, he couldn’t muster the strength. The syllable clicked off your tongue so soothingly, like honey dripping down the side of a tree. It was almost like you were eager to say his name, to feel the way it vibrated in your mouth. He decided he’d let you call him Buck.

Your hair was a bit messy from work, but you managed to find the time to swap your diner uniform for a much more comfortable sundress. It clung to your body in all the right areas and flowed in the most elegant manner.

“Are you always this upfront?” he inquired, still adjusting to your boldness.

Bucky swallowed shyly as you crossed your legs, exposing more of your thigh. They looked smooth, glowing from the heat. You rolled down the window on your side to allow some air into the stuffy car, fanning yourself. Bucky forcefully kept his eyes from your cleavage, only slightly exposed, but still a view to admire. He felt a little guilty thinking about you like that. He didn’t mean to be perverse, he just wanted to know what you were like in your most honest form. What it would be like to trace the lines on your body, to slip that pretty little dress off you and-

“Are you always this nervous around women?” you bluntly asked, noticing his admiring gaze that travelled your body.

“Sorry,” he apologized, looking away, “I haven’t been on a date in a while.” Clearing his throat, he handed you the bundle of flowers situated in his lap. You took it in your hands and gave it a quick sniff. It was a simple bouquet, but sweet nonetheless.

“Who said this was a date?”

He felt his mouth go dry. “Oh, sorry, I just-”

“I’m teasing you,” you giggled. “Start driving, loverboy.” You thought it was cute how easily flustered you made him. Sure, he wasn’t a very expressive man, usually wearing a stoic expression, offering only a slight shift in his facial expressions, but you knew how to rile him up. You were having fun, to say the least.

He let out a small relieved laugh before starting the car back up. He liked the way you joked with him like you were childhood bestfriends. You weren’t two strangers, you were two normal people on a date.

“Can I be honest.”

“I’m all ears.”

“I have no idea where to go, I’m still pretty new here,” he confessed.

“Hmm, I have an idea. You’re going to take a left up here.”

The rest of the ride he followed your instructions without much question. He didn’t know where you were taking him, he just knew he was more than happy to follow. You decided to direct him to the scenic route to your mystery destination. Along the way you pointed out where you scraped your knee while learning to ride a bike. The park where you had your first kiss. The now abandoned coffee place where you had your first break up.

You were an open book to Bucky, indulging him into the crevices of your life. He’d never met someone so telling, so honest in his life. He knew so much about you while still understanding so little. He wondered, maybe did you fall from the sky, or spring from the Earth? Or maybe you were just a person who happened to be special and he was a man lucky to accidentally cross paths with you.

“I’ve been talking this whole ride, tell me about yourself. What’s your deal?”

“I don’t have a deal,” he answered coolly.

“No family? No friends? Do you sit and stare at the wall all day?”

“Pretty much.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Buck, because you sure are boring as hell,” you coyly mock. He smiled in spite of himself.

“Well,” he trailed off. He wanted you to know him, he wanted to talk to a person who seemed interested in him. Not the Winter Soldier, not Captain America’s best friend, but James Buchanan Barnes. He hadn’t said anything untrue to you, but he felt like hiding himself was like lying to you and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“I have a little sister.” You waited for him to further continue, sticking your hand out the window to feel the breeze between the fingers as he drove. “Rebecca. She’s a sweet kid.”

You realized that was as much as he would indulge you for the moment. “That’s a pretty name.” He could hear you smiling once again. He admired that quirk of yours.

“I moved down here about two weeks ago. I’m friends with the Wilson’s. They’re good people.”

“Ain’t it a small world, I used to babysit for Sarah. I’ve been friends with them ever since. You do anything for work?” you asked, now playing with the petals of the bouquet in your hand.

“I’m a mechanic.” That wasn’t false, so he didn’t mind telling you. He decided to take up work at a local car shop. It didn’t pay much, but it was honest work and his boss mostly let him do his own thing.

“Is that where you got the fancy metal arm from?” Your eyes trace over the gold detailing of his appendage as he used it to grip the steering wheel.

Bucky’s eyes widened. With the heat of Louisiana combined with recent stress, he’d forgotten to wear something that would cover up his metal arm when leaving the house. He quickly shot his eyes to see it gleaming in the sunlight before refocusing on the road.

“Oh, this old thing. You like it?” There was no use in denying it, so he thought he should try to play it off. His face remained nonchalant but panic began to settle in his stomach. She thinks I’m a freak. She thinks it’s weird. Fuck.

“I think it looks handsome on you.”

Bucky could feel his weariness begin to melt away and warmth take its place. It was silly, but he felt like a schoolboy all over again. You were wonder, everything that he wasn’t, everything that he used to be; open, outgoing, and trusting.

“You’re more interesting than you lead on, Bucky. Turn into the next driveway.”

Following your instructions he pulled into a driveway of gravel road. A cute little house appeared, the next one not for another mile. The garden situated in the front was decorated with flowers and fauna of all sorts.

“Is this your house?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“She needs a new coat of paint, but she’s all mine.”

“You don’t know me. Why are you letting me in your house?”

“You’re a friend of the Wilson’s, that’s enough to trust you.”

“You’re insane.”

“And yet you’re still here, Buck. C’mon,” you beckoned him out of the car. For a moment, he stood to admire the view of your house before you took a hold of his hand to pull him along inside. Your skin was soft and warm against his, just like he remembered it from the other night. You arrived at your porch and began to take out your keys.

What am I doing here?

It was a wondrous feeling to be carried along by you, but he couldn’t keep playing pretend. You were too loving to have to deal with his mess. He’d eventually tell you who he was and he’d understood you’d want to run, to never see him again. It was fun while it lasted, but reality settled in at one point or another.

“I think I should go,” he said flatly.

“But we just got here,” you frowned, turning around from the door to face him. “We were going to make some of my homemade bread.”

“You’re very sweet and you’re really pretty, but I come with a lot of baggage.”

“Who said I don’t?”

“It’s-,” he sighed. He wanted to explain everything, to make it make sense. But words were his weakness and he would hate to sadden those curious pair of eyes in front of him. He could tell you the whole truth and you’d be mortified or he could lie and live with the guilt of deceiving you. “It’s complicated.”

You looked down dejectedly at your bouquet, brushing your thumb mindlessly against the stem of the flowers. “Bucky, I know,” you mumbled.

“I don’t think you do.”

“At first I thought it was a coincidence. When I first saw you, I thought your face looked a bit old-fashioned kind of handsome, but some people are like that. I questioned it more when I noticed the metal arm, but some people have prosthetics.”

It was coming. He could feel the rejection about to roll off your tongue. You knew about his past and all the nasty things that came with it. Monster. Liar. Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you lead me on? Don’t talk to me. Please leave, I’m scared. His heart sunk to the pit of his stomach as he awaited for you to finish the final blow.

“Then you said you were friends with the Wilson’s and I knew. You’re Sergeant James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. I know I’m not much like the woman of the 40s and I’m just a small town girl and you’re a hero-”

“You think I’m a hero?” Out of all the endings to this conversation that was not the one he was prepared for. Him? A hero? He never thought of himself that way and he couldn’t even fathom someone thinking that about him.

“I’m friends with the Wilson’s, Sam’s told me a lot about you. You’ve saved so many lives, you’ve lived such a fascinating life. Hell, I wouldn’t have summoned the courage to walk up to you if I knew you were some big shot,” you laughed lightly. It was strange to be talking to a piece of history, a man you’ve heard so much about but never seen in the flesh. “But, in the short time I’ve known you, you seem like a real sweet guy. Who the hell even brings flowers to dates anymore? That’s adorable.”

This was a lot of new information to process at once for the both of you. Bucky now knew you knew. You had only realized who he was ten minutes ago. It was a lot to say the least. By this time, he would have expected to have been driving home after a well earned scolding. What the hell was happening? And more importantly, was that all you knew.

“Then you know about the Winter Soldier?” He held his breath awaiting your response.

You replied with a silent nod, looking up from your collection of flowers and into his troubled blue eyes. You’d never felt so small than in that moment. You wouldn’t have dragged him around town if you would’ve known who he was. Who were you? Just some small town girl pestering the life out of this poor man who was too nice to say no. You were way in over your head, you knew it once you realized, but he was just too endearing to let slip away.

Bucky clung onto every word you’d spoken, he seemed to listen to every sound you made intently. He genuinely cared about what you had to say. Sure, he had his walls up, but he was gentle underneath. The way his face softened when he spoke of his sister and the Wilson’s was enough to make a frozen heart thaw.

“And that doesn’t bother you?” His voice was even, but his thoughts were scrambling all over the place.

“I just invited you into my house as a single woman who lives in bumble-fuck nowhere, so I’d say no, it doesn’t bother me. You’re Bucky, not him.”

He let out a small laugh, relief entering his body.

“If you’re still up for it, I have lemonade inside too,” you offered quietly, a hopeful smile on your face.

It’d be a lot easier to say no, to go back home. It’d be a lot less risky to just turn around and forget the past few hours. But it’d be so much more lonely. He could return to the cold floor of his house and spend many more restless nights in his lonesome.

Or, he could try something new. Something that was tender and wore vanilla perfume. Something that spoke fervently and had every type of flower springing out of her front yard. Someone with warm hands and the prettiest smile he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing.

I deserve this.

“That sounds nice,” he smiled shyly.

“Good,” you grinned back. You pushed open your door and took him by the hand to lead him into the house.

Bucky was an awful baker, but he had the spirit. Flour would always end up more on his clothing than into the pan. He seemed to knead the dough as if he were attacking it and he didn’t really understand what yeast was. But he was the perfect baking partner. He’d see you work and would nod intently with deep focus as you mixed together the ingredients. He was eager to make the lemonade (by making that meant him cutting the lemons and measuring the amount of sugar needed with his heart) and was the perfect taste tester.

“This is the best bread I’ve ever tasted. You’ve really outdone yourself with this one, Buck.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Maybe.” You couldn’t hold back your smile. Through the many trials and tribulations, you managed to make some alright food. The bread was mediocre at best, but you had never had so much fun making it.

Liking you came so easy to Bucky. He liked the way you lilted his name and how gentle your eyes were. He’d only known you for less than 24 hours, but already felt like he was safe with you. For the rest of the date, he couldn’t shake that warm feeling that gathered inside his chest every time you smiled at him.

Maybe this wasn’t how he imagined his relationship would start, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

AN: Thank you so much to anon for the submission omg I love when I get requests. I hope this lives up to your expectations <3. I got a LOT of domestic!bucky requests so be ready for more of those. Thank you for reading and have a lovely day

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Taglist: @itscheybaby @akaaaaashiiii @Dumbhead1

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #domestic!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucket responds

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syiano · 3 years

Note

Avengers men with actor s/o (who is like the foreign sexual switch and domestic dom ask I sent you one time) who just loves talking about how perfect they are for him and how beautiful they are and how much love he will show them when he gets home through his foreign cooking

(And would it be bad if you added an 18+ peter Parker?)

AYE WHATS UP AGAIN BROOO AND OMG THIS IS TOO CUTEE 🥺🥺

And Peter Parker is 18+ in all my works of him.

{Requested}

Avengers x Male!Reader

Marvel Preferences: They React To You Being An Actor

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

Steve loves watching movies, so there's no doubt he will love your acting career. He loves your acting and the characters you play as (but if you're playing as a villian he's gonna be like, *raises eyebrow*).

He says he has flaws he needs to work on when you tell him he's perfect, but also says he's glad that he has someone who will accept him regardless of his flaws rather than what everyone sees him to be. He does get caught off when you call him beautiful, and he can only manage a smile because he doesn't know what to say.

He does end up also being speechless when you would mention your cooking because he does love them, adding on to his wish of having a simple and domestic life.

Bucky isn't really someone who wants to be the certain of attention and wants your relationship with him to be more private. Other than that, he loves getting more comfortable with the more domestic life with you as soon as you get home; he loves cuddling with you and watching movies and feels at ease for once.

When you tell him just how perfect he is for you and how you can't wait to shower him with affection, he practically tears up and is almost in disbelief that he was lucky to have someone like you. Bucky melts into you when you hug him, and he's clinging to you, desperately not wanting to let you go.

He definitely looks forward to your cooking, and shyly comments on how he might enjoy every last of your foreign dishes and is touched at how you take the time to do this for him.

Tony? PFFT. He's all about showing you off as both of you are famous. He comes up with a bunch of nicknames for each character you play (and might roast them). He definitely promotes merch from the movies or shows you star in. When you keep talking about how perfect he is for you, he does get a little speechless for a moment and then stutters trying to make a joke about how you should make a romance movie about it.

When you would bring up your cooking, he jokes ('cause he's Tony) and he's like, "what, you gonna add a love potion in it or something?"

Sam jokes about your talent having a good use for the team, but he overall does love your career. Natasha comments that he uses it weapon because yes, he will threaten Bucky with spoiler alert if he makes him mad. Sam is also like, "is there any characters that can fly, or...?

When you would say how perfect he is for you, he jokes about what brought this on and how you can't stop talking about him. But he does seriously appreciate it and smiles, and tells you how lucky he is to have someone like you.

He does comment on how much he loves your cooking and looks foward to it, and does offer to cook with you.

Peter likes watching your shows or movies at night time while cuddles with you. He especially loves anything with action (God help him if he watches horror).

He blushes and stutters what you tell him how perfect he is for you and how beautiful he is, and the only thing he can come up with is, "uh...t-thank you..um..you too...?"

Peter is flattered when you tell him how much you're going to cook for him and he shyly requests, "um...can you cook that...one dish again? I really liked that one...It's one of my favorites, actually..."

Scott literally spends hours binge watching every movie or show you star in and if you mind it, it can be annoying because he's always making commentary during movies and he's like, "oh my god, did you see that?!"

He also claims he's your biggest fan (and will fight anyone who disagrees) and buys all your merch only to forget your character's famous quotes...

When you tell him how perfect he is for you, he ends up zoning out while you're talking and he's just tearing up and he cuts you off by tackling you with hugs (and then hurts himself).

His mouth is just watering when you would talk about how much you're going to cook for him and he also just zones out thinking about your cooking until you snap him out it.

Bruce does shyly admit he watches your shows and movies in private and is amazed at your acting. He does get teased by the team on how he's finally focused on something that's not anything science or lab related. BUT, he's definitely going to debunk lots of things and gets a little exicted if you're starring in anything sci-fi...

He doesn't know rather to be confused or happy when you tell him how perfect he is for you, because he's more used to people being scared of him, and someone calling him beautiful catches him off guard. But he does give you a soft smile and has nothing else to say but thank you for everything.

He says he can't wait when you would bring up how much you're going to cook for him, and he does remind you not to push yourself to hard ('cause he's a worried Bruce).

Loki is pretty protective when it comes to you being famous anyway, but doesn't really interfere with your acting career. He's not really a big fan of movies or shows in general, but the only reason why he's watching them all of a sudden is because you're in them. Loki actually more focused on looking at your character ('cause it's you), but he still pays attention to the plot, though.

When you tell him how perfect he is for you and how beautiful he is, he's speechless and looks at you with emotional eyes. For once, he looks at you with the most soft and affectionate eyes, which a sight no one else will see but you.

He's not used to people doing things for him, so when you would bring up how much you're going to cook for him, he doesn't really know what to say, but he still stares at you with adoring eyes, and does try to hide the fact he's tearing up.

Thor totally thinks your career is just amazing. But you may have to explain to him that everything that's happening isn't real because he would take it too seriously (especially if your character gets hurt).

When you tell him how perfect he is for you and how beautiful he is, he feels flattered and comments on how he doesn't deserve such praise, but thinks you do instead. But you do notice that he's really touched about it and stares at you with just, *heart eyes*.

He also loves how you would cook and spoil him, and wants to cook with you so he can learn your foreign dishes to impress you.

Pietro can't sit in one place for too long, but he does have time to watch some of the shows or movies you star in. He always talks about how your character is the coolest out of the whole cast, though. Pietro does get jealous when you have all the attention, so he's definitely going to be craving all the affection you give him.

He wants to be praised and loved, especially because of his past, and when he's told that he's just perfect for you, that's all he wanted to hear before kissing you and realizing how he has what he wants.

He totally looks foward to your cooking and wants to cook with you along with showing you some Sokovian dishes.

#Requested #Marvel Preferences #Avengers Preferences #Steve x male reader #Bucky x male reader #Sam Wilson x male reader #Sam x male reader #Scott lang x male reader #Scott x male reader #Peter x male reader #Peter Parker x male reader #Bruce Banner x male reader #Bruce x male reader #Thor x male reader #Loki x male reader #Pietro Maximoff x male reader #Pietro x male reader #foreign reader

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mellowswriting · 3 years

Text

bring me to paradise

pairing || Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

word count || 7,136

summary || It takes a lot of work to heal from one’s past. Bucky learns just how worth it it all is.

content || smut [oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v sex, use of good girl, unsafe safe, creampie, Bucky goes a little feral but can we blame him?], domestic bliss, mentions of Sam Wilson, Bucky deserves a healthy and happy relationship okay

a/n || this took so. fucking. long. but it was so worth it! plus there’s more coming in this little fic universe and i’m hype as fuck

read part two here!

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The first time Bucky felt you touch him, he almost flinched. All he had done was make some dry joke, but you had tossed your head back with a full-bodied laugh and your hand fell to his shoulder as you tried to steady yourself. That simple touch was enough to have him in his head for the rest of the day. It made him realize how much he missed little things like the touch of another. And fuck, that was terrifying.

But it was addictive, and the fact that you didn’t let up with your touches only made him crave it that much more.

You seemed to communicate best through physical touch. Once he got you going, you could talk about something you loved for hours and the entire time you would be placing your hand on his for emphasis or playfully nudging him with your knee when he teased you for rambling. Movie nights would always see you curled up on his couch with your knees barely brushing his thigh, your head nearly resting on his shoulder as you watched the tv and he watched you. The moment the movie got intense, your hand would curl around his bicep as if he was the anchor that kept you in place and it made him feel important. Needed.

It shouldn’t have surprised him that you made the first move. Bucky had been mulling it over the entire day but managed to talk himself out of kissing you every time the opportunity arose but apparently, you were over the wait. The town square was bustling with people who were also there to see the nearly thirty foot high Christmas tree light up for the first time of the holiday season but you managed to weasel you both to the front of the crowd. You hooked your arm with his to keep yourself steady as you stared up at the tree in excitement, and Bucky couldn’t be bothered with the festivities when you looked so beautiful next to him.

Bursts of color filled the town square, backed by a chorus of excited cheers from the crowd around him, but Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes off of your face. Red and blue and green reflected in your eyes and the smile you wore was brighter than any damn Christmas tree could ever be. Those beautiful eyes turned to him and he was lost in the happiness they held. He barely realized you were leaning closer until the second before your lips met his.

That first kiss had the rest of the world falling away into oblivion. The crowd disappeared, the excited chatter faded into background noise, and all he could feel was the chilly tip of your nose grazing his skin and the soft fabric of your gloved fingers against his cheek. That first kiss was a chaste little thing and when it broke for a moment, you gave him that same damn smile. He pulled you closer by your waist with needy hands, his chest heaving slightly with every breath, and a brilliant smile broke across his face before he kissed you again.

From then on, Bucky was hooked.

It took him a moment before he could really let himself reach out and revel in your affection, as if he were afraid that once he finally admitted that he craved your attention it would slip away like sand through his fingers. He started slow, trying to grow acclimated to the comfort of another human being, something he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Slowly but surely, Bucky was finding that side of himself once more - the confident, smooth-talking side he never thought he would see again. The first time he made you smile bashfully at him was a memory he would hold onto forever. It was a sweet, simple gesture that did it; a brush of his thumb along your cheekbone and a murmured compliment of how beautiful you looked. It came to him like second nature and for a fleeting moment, he wasn’t the flustered one. You were. But then you whispered that he looked beautiful, too, and he was flustered all over again.

His favorites were the mornings, though - especially those mornings where he woke up to the sun peeking through the window instead of the lingering images of horror that clawed at him in his nightmares. The warmth of your body pressed right to his, the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept soundly next to him… the sight had him melting even further into you.

“G’morning,” You mumbled with a sigh, reaching back to tussle his hair slightly.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Bucky let himself lean into your touch. You felt so good like this, all pliant and sleepy and pressing even closer to him, sighing all sweetly when he kissed your neck. A sharp inhale ripped through his chest at the firm press of your ass against his groin and he yanked himself back on instinct. “Fuck, sorry.”

“It’s okay, Buck,” You settled on your back and stretched, a long yawn falling from your lips, and he was struck by how understanding you were. It wasn’t the first time he had woken up hard and aching for you. Surely it wouldn't be the last. You reached for his hand to interlock your fingers with his in a gentle clasp. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” He sighed before he pulled your joined hands up to kiss the back of your hand. The question was unspoken, his answer thinly veiled: no nightmares. The confirmation made a lazy smile curl at your lips and he couldn’t help but peck a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ll go start some coffee, yeah?”

It would give him the time to calm himself down at the very least, to stare at the steady drip, drip, drip and try not to think of how soft and supple your body felt against his. Fuck, it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to. Bucky was eager to get back to those mindlessly pleasant parts of life, the ones where he could lose himself between your thighs for hours and not have to think about the world around him, but more than anything he knew he had to be present first. If he let himself get lost in the whirlwind of learning your body, learning all of the places he could bite or suck to make you cry out his name, he worried he would never find himself again.

And if he was going to build his life with you like he wanted, Bucky had to work on himself first. He deserved that. You deserved the best version of himself that he could be. So instead of dragging you down his mattress and fucking you until you forgot your name, Bucky got up and made coffee. You joined him once he called out to you that your much needed caffeine was ready. It didn’t really do much for him in terms of waking him up, but he enjoyed the camaraderie of sipping it with you as you slowly perked up from your sleepiness where you were perched on the kitchen counter.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do anything for the holiday?” Bucky prompted after a moment’s content silence and while he wasn’t surprised that you shook your head, it still made something sad settle in his chest. “C’mon, Sam invited me to a thing with his family. We could go together.”

The warm smile you gave him made him think you would accept his invitation in a heartbeat, but you shook your head. “No, no, go have fun with your friend, Buck.”

“I’d have even more fun if you were there.” He quipped as he moved to stand between your thighs, giving you that little pout that he knew you loved.

“We both know that if I went with you, you’d spend the entire time all over me instead of spending time with Sam.” You teased. Damn. Maybe the pout wasn’t as effective as he thought it was.

“But… I’ll miss you.” Bucky stole a quick kiss as you snickered at his antics.

“I’ll download Snapchat on your phone before you go. That way you’ll get to see my face everyday while you’re gone.” You assured him, pinching his scruffy chin gently with your free hand. “I’ll go with you next year, I promise.”

Bucky paused for a moment at the surety in your voice, the casual admittance that you planned to have him around for the long term, and a smile bloomed across his face, one he hid behind a sudden kiss.

“Sounds good to me.” Bucky slipped his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and handed it to you before stepping away to refill your coffee mug. “Doll?”

“Yeah?” You mumbled as you tapped away at his phone screen.

“What the hell is Snapchat?”

It turned out that Snapchat was his new best friend. The moment Bucky left for Sam’s, he was missing you, so getting to see the cute little pictures you sent him throughout the day eased that need to be with you. It took him a hot second and a few slightly embarrassing tips from Sam’s nephews, but he got the hang of it. You seemed to adore the pictures he sent in return. Every time he got that notification that you took a screenshot, it made a ridiculous flurry of butterflies erupt in his belly.

Of course, it didn’t help that either Cass or AJ blabbed to their uncle that “Uncle Bucky has a girlfriend!” and ever since, Sam had been trying to pry his phone from his hands. He managed to catch a glimpse of a picture featuring you posed with one of the stray cats you regularly fed over Bucky’s shoulders and simply… would not shut up.

“Damn, man, you got yourself a cutie, huh?” Sam cajoled, shoving at his friend’s shoulder roughly.

“Shut up, Sam.” Bucky grumbled, but the words had no heat behind it. In fact, he was biting back a smile.

“Hey, I’m just glad you aren’t out there being a hermit anymore. You never would’ve come out here before her.” Sam’s voice lost that teasing quality, something sincere taking its place. “Why didn’t you bring her out here? Afraid I’d embarrass you?”

“No, she just wanted me to have a good time. Thought I’d be too focused on her to enjoy the holiday with you guys.” Bucky shrugged.

“...oh, so she’s cute and she’s thoughtful? You’re a lucky guy.” Sam said with a chuckle.

“Damn right I am.”

The first time you video chatted with him, he had to lock himself in his car just to get Sam to leave him alone long enough to talk to you without the interruption of his friend desperately trying to introduce himself. For whatever reason, Sam was completely convinced that he and you would become best friends the moment he got to talk to you and Bucky really did not have the energy for the amount of chaos the two of you would create together. Sure, Sam smacked his palms on the window for a good five minutes before giving up, but Bucky still got to talk to you somewhat uninterrupted.

“I miss you, Mr. Barnes.” You chirped through the phone and Bucky’s heart twisted in his chest.

“I will literally start driving home right now.” Bucky jingled his keys in his hand for the full effect, chuckling along with you when you cracked up. “I’m not kidding. I’ll leave all my stuff and be there in a couple hours.”

“We can both wait two more days.” You chided gently. “I just wanted to remind you that I’m thinking of you.”

“I miss you too, doll.” He couldn’t help the feeling that expanded in his chest, one that spoke to that core need to be seen and to see another as their whole being. He cleared his throat before continuing. “You know, Sam is really excited to meet you. He keeps trying to steal my phone.”

The sight of you throwing your head back to laugh was something he missed greatly, even though it had only been a few days. He watched with a small smile as you settled on the bed, the phone apparently propped up on the nightstand from the angle. “You know, I might just hit him up myself then, since you’re so hell bent on not letting me make a new friend.”

Bucky groaned. “I never should’ve told you that. Why did I tell you that?”

“Because you love me and love telling me everything that pops into that pretty little head of yours.” You teased and fuck if you weren’t right. Ever since coming back, he wasn’t much of a talker but you brought something out in him. He wanted to tell you everything, to hear anything you thought about.

“You’re right, you know. I do love you.” Bucky said sincerely. Your hands paused where they were methodically working lotion into your legs and your expression softened.

“I love you, too.”

The sweet moment hung in the air for a moment, dripping with honeyed affection - and was broken by the all too familiar sound of hands smacking at the car window. Bucky sighed heavily and cracked his window slightly. “What, Sam?”

“Dinner’s about done and I ain’t saving you any if the boys get to it first.” Sam griped.

Your gasp could apparently be heard through the tiny crack in the window and Sam zeroed in on his phone screen. “Hi, Sam!”

“Hello pretty girl that Bucky won’t introduce me to!” Sam called back.

“Alright, alright, you two. I’ll be inside in a minute.” Bucky grumbled. He really didn’t want to say goodbye to you, but his stomach was grumbling and he was sure he was ready to pass up the Wilson’s cooking while he still had it. “Two more days.”

“Two more days. You’ve got this.” You gave him that warm smile that positively melted his insides. “I love you, James.”

“I love you, too.”

Two days became one and a half rather easily. Bucky was supposed to get some rest before he took off, but after nearly five hours of staring at the ceiling unable to fall asleep, there was no way he could sit still anymore. Once the Wilson’s were awake and clambering around the house, he did a round of goodbyes, promising AJ and Cass that he would be back soon and accepting Sarah's hug and the plate of brownies she shoved in his hands.

Sam gave him a firm handshake that easily turned into a hug after he helped load up Bucky’s bags. “Are you sure you don't wanna get some sleep before you go?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” He reassured him. “I just wanna get back to my girl sooner rather than later.”

“I hear ya, man. Just pull over if you get too tired, okay?”

“Will do, mom.” Bucky grumbled, earning a well-natured shove to his shoulder.

The drive seemed to take far longer on the way home and even though the radio wasn’t playing anything good and exhaustion was beginning to weigh at his eyes, Bucky felt content. It was a new feeling, one he wasn’t entirely used to just yet, but he loved it. For the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky felt like he belonged. He had the Wilson’s, who essentially adopted him into their family. He had his new therapist, who gave him more insight into the workings of his own mind than he thought possible.

And of course, he had you. You stood by his side as he tried to find himself, all while you offered your support and love. You brought him peace in those moments when he felt frazzled and lost, helped bring him back to reality when the nightmares got the better of him. Slowly but surely, he found the things that made him James Buchanan Barnes, not the Winter Soldier. Little things like how he loves lemon scented soap and that he really isn’t fond of horror movies, but that he loves comedies. And that maybe, just maybe, romantic comedies are his guilty pleasure. You opened up to him, let him see the little parts of you that brought him so much domestic bliss. Like how you refused to wear socks to sleep but always pressed your freezing toes against his calves in the middle of the night no matter how much he squirmed and complained. Or how you had clothes so much nicer than his but still stole his because you love the way he smells. Or how you constantly listened to music while you tidied up, sometimes singing and dancing along like a complete dork as you went.

Bucky really couldn’t get enough of you. That’s why he didn’t even bother grabbing his bags when he pulled into the driveway. Too eager to strip down to his comfortable briefs and wrap you in the longest cuddle in history, he went right inside and began climbing the stairs. He could hear your quiet sigh from the bedroom, probably tired after your day at work, and he couldn’t help but smile. He was ready to give you a nice, deep massage and -

“Bucky...”

That made him stop short. It wasn’t the first time he heard you say that, not by a long shot, but more often than not it was said with an exasperated sigh because he snuck up on you. This time, the sigh was… breathy. Needy.

Bucky couldn’t deny that his jeans immediately grew tighter the moment he realized that not only were you getting off… you were getting off to the idea of him. Fuck, the urge to storm down that hallway and drag your sweet little ass down that bed, to be the reason those desperate moans fell from your lips, was so strong that he could barely restrain himself. He took a deep breath, teeth clenching. Even though he had never had the pleasure of hearing you so lost in your own touch, he could tell you were close. Those little sounds you made became stuttered, broken up by sharp inhales, and fuck, maybe it was wrong, maybe it was invasive, but he wanted to see how pretty you looked when you came, especially if it was his name on your lips as you fell over the edge.

With a steadying breath, Bucky leaned against the bedroom door frame and let his eyes devour the gorgeous sight you made. The light sound of a vibrator he didn’t know you owned buzzed lightly under the sheet strewn haphazardly across your lower body and he watched with bated breath as your free hand toyed with your breasts, your fingers teasing and rolling your nipple with practiced ease. God, he just knew you would feel so fucking good impaled on his cock. You writhed against the sheets, eyes screwed shut and head tipped back into the pillows as your orgasm grew closer. That tension snapped low in your belly and you cried out a soft moan that made his cock twitch, desperate to find out just how loud he could make you scream when he finally made you come on him instead of some toy.

“What a pretty sight to come home to.” Bucky said with a small chuckle and you sat up almost comically quick, your eyes wide, embarrassment beginning to flood your face. “No, no, don’t be embarrassed, doll. You look so pretty like this.”

“I-I thought you weren’t supposed to be back for another few hours?” Your voice was pitched higher than usual.

“Couldn’t wait to get back to you. Can you blame me?” He walked closer and leaned over your prone body, giving you a kiss with a sharp nip on your lip. “What’s got you all worked up?”

“You, obviously.” You said with a laugh. The embarrassment was fading, your natural teasing shining through. “Just the thought of you gets me worked up.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky’s tongue flicked against his bottom lip by habit, his eyes falling to your lips for a moment. The ready admittance of your desire for him only made him that much more firm in his resolve that he was ready. “How about I get you worked up for real?”

You blinked up at him in surprise. “Wait, really? Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you, Buck, I swear I can -”

“You aren’t rushing me, I promise.” Bucky reassured as he sat on the edge of the bed, taking your hand in his. God, your skin felt so soft. “I want this. I want you. I’m ready.”

You stared at him for a moment, your expression near indiscernible, and for a moment Bucky worried he overstepped - until you smiled at him and kissed the back of his hand. “I love you, Buck. It means a lot to me, for you to give me that trust.”

The need to kiss you was too much to bear. You were so sweet, so understanding, it damn near killed him. If there was one thing he had learned in the last few years, it was that he deserved to make his life as happy and comfortable as he possibly could and that right there, holding you close and kissing you in bed was the epitome of that goal. You were so receptive of his touches, never shying away like you were afraid of him despite knowing who he was and what he was capable of, and it filled him with a sense of belonging that he couldn’t get enough of.

“It’s a good thing I’m so damn tired,” Bucky murmured against your lips before giving you one last kiss so he could start getting undressed. “Otherwise, I would be fucking your brains out right now.”

The flustered way you shuffled in the sheets made that confidence spark in his chest fiercely. He loved your reaction to his words - he couldn’t imagine how visceral it would be once he actually got his hands on you.

“C’mon, you need sleep.” You said, shaking your head slightly as if to clear away the clouded, lusty thoughts his words brought about, and you slid over to make room for him. “I can’t believe you drove on no sleep, Bucky.”

“I’m a super soldier, doll. I think I can handle it.” He snorted as he slid into the empty space and brought you into his arms, sighing at the warmth of your skin against his.

You tilted your head where you rested against his chest to give him a stern look, one he wasn’t stranger to, and guided him to look you in your eyes with your hand at his jaw. “Be safer next time. For me?”

“I’d do anything for you.” Bucky’s voice rang with sincerity. He kissed you all slow and sweet before settling in for the night, beyond comfortable with you back in his arms.

The feeling of the bed shifting woke him sometime later. The sun was barely up, just beginning to wash the bedroom in a pale orange glow that made the room feel soft and homey. You were getting back into bed with a small sigh and Bucky tucked his arm around your waist to pull your back against his chest so he could sleepily nuzzle the side of your neck. He loved the way you smelled - the coconut of your conditioner, something bright and floral from the perfume lingering on your skin, and something earthy that was simply… you. Nothing made him feel more safe.

More warmth sunk into him as you got settled in his arms and in the little cocoon of blankets, Bucky let himself ease into the waking world. He let his hands wander a lazy path from your belly down your thighs and back up again, his fingertips grazing the curve of your breast. Weeks of habit told him to jerk back, to avoid gaining the intimate knowledge of just how soft and supple your skin would feel in his hands…

… but now he was allowed.

The thought struck him fully awake, splintered through his body like lightning. For once, he wasn’t frustrated by the morning wood he woke up with, he didn’t feel guilty for dragging you back to press your ass against him. Bucky groaned against your shoulder as you took over the roll of your hips to grind yourself against his aching cock.

“Good morning,” You said with a cheeky laugh as you rolled onto your back, settling him with a smile that took his breath away. He could look at the smile for the rest of his life and be content, but he couldn't deny that the way you pulled him in for a kiss was even better.

Bucky was quick to kneel over you, to pull you underneath him as he settled between your thighs, one hand braced in the pillows and the other curled at your chin to angle you until he could get as close as possible. It wasn’t until the gentle rocking of your hips resumed that he really beared down to meet your movements with a deep groan.

It felt almost primal, the desperate rutting against each other and messy kisses that were all teeth and tongue, and it was exactly what Bucky needed. The need to fuck you like his life depended on it had always been there, was always thrumming in the background of his mind, but now that he was finally getting to scratch that itch, it was the only thing he could think about. Nothing else registered in his brain - just the idea of finally splitting you open on his cock.

Bucky sat upright, something dark flashing through him at the sight of the excitement in your eyes, and grabbed you by your forearm, guiding your hand to the bulge in his briefs.

“You see what you do to me?” Bucky gritted out, biting back a groan when you began stroking him through his underwear. His cock twitched, an obscene dark spot forming on the grey fabric. “That’s all for you, doll.”

You whined quietly, your eyes fixed on the way he thrusted against your hand. God, you were gonna be the death of him. A few kisses and light touches and you were a desperate mess, so needy for him to fuck you like you deserved.

“You look so damn pretty under me, don’tcha sweetheart?” Bucky released your arm and let his hand slide up your shirt, his thumb brushing over your nipple before he pinched the sensitive bud gently. You arched into his touch, your hand pausing where you teased his cock as you inhaled sharply. “I can’t wait to fuckn’ ruin you.”

Bucky stripped you down with eager hands, the offending pajamas disappearing somewhere on his bedroom floor, and the sight of you staring up at him with so much excitement and love in your eyes had him nearly ravenous, desperate to dig into you like a man starved. There was no preamble - Bucky flattened himself against the mattress, his hands guiding your legs to drape over his shoulders, and he finally - finally - buried his face between those thighs he fucking loved.

You buried your hand in his hair with a tight grip that made him practically growl against you, his cock twitching as he rutted against the bed with sharp jerks of his hips. You weren’t expecting him to delve right in, to swirl his tongue around your clit like a goddamn expert, as if he had been tongue-fucking you for years and knew exactly how you wanted it.

“Oh my g-od!” You stuttered out, your hips rocking in an attempt to grind against him for more.

“Name’s Bucky, sweetheart.” Bucky teased, smirking when you lamented the loss of his tongue with a desperate cant of your hips and a whine. “My needy little girl, huh? You wanna cum on my face?”

“Yes!” You gasped out.

Bucky teased your entrance with two fingers, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he took in the sight of you in all your glory. “How ‘bout my fingers? Want me to fuck you with my fingers, doll?”

“Fuck, please! Please let me cum, Bucky.” Those sweet, begging eyes were the most intoxicating thing he had ever seen, seemingly so innocent even as you begged him to make you cum, and Bucky wanted nothing more than to see that sweetness break, to see you break.

Bucky was quick to give you exactly what you were begging for, sliding his fingers knuckle deep as he swirled his tongue over your clit, the dual assault making you cry out so prettily for him. His fingers curled, searching for that one spot he knew would make you see stars, and he knew he found it when your pussy clenched around him, your back arched and head tossed back into the pillows as you let out a gasping moan.

Pride lashed through him at just how quickly he managed to make you come undone for him, at how many more times he planned to make you cum today alone. You were so slick for him, his fingers pulling out of your dripping pussy with ease, and it only stroked his ego that much more. The pulse of his cock, still trapped in his briefs, was hard to ignore. As he pressed featherlight kisses to your thighs and belly, Bucky reached down to shove a hand in his underwear and tease himself, nearly hissing at the relief his hand brought. Fuck, he hadn’t been so hard and achy in forever, so desperate to lose himself in mindless fucking until he finally got to bury his cum deep inside of you.

Bucky shifted back as you moved to sit up and captured his lips in an unexpected kiss. He held you close by his hand at your cheek, happy to get this little bit of sweetness as you came down from your orgasm - until your hand slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs and wrapped around his cock, pumping him as he started meeting every roll of your wrist, practically fucking into your hand with a groan. It was almost too much for him to handle, finally getting to crowd against you and seek pleasure in your touch as you helped him out of his last scrap of clothes.

He stopped you when you leaned down. It wasn’t that he didn’t want that - fuck, he just knew you would look so pretty on your knees for him, looking up at him with those wide, innocent eyes with his cock stuffed down your throat. But he knew if he got to fuck your mouth like he wanted to, he would blow his load right there and he wanted to fuck you like he had been dreaming of for so fucking long.

You smiled at him, pecking his lips sweetly before saying, “Next time, then. I wanna taste you before today’s over, it’s only fair.”

Bucky’s brain short circuited at that but before he could gather himself enough to tease you for being so cock hungry, you slid onto your hands and knees right in front of him, your back arched to give him the perfect view of just how badly you needed him to fuck you. Your inner thighs were slick, hips swaying slightly as if to entice him forward - as if he needed any more temptation. Bucky grabbed two handfuls of your ass with a low groan, spreading you open to look his fill before he gave you a light swat. You wiggled against him, earning another, slightly harsher swat to your ass before you felt him run the tip of his cock along your slit.

“Impatient,” Bucky grunted. “Don’t worry, doll, I’ll give you what you need.”

Your sharp inhale as he finally split you open on the head of his cock was drowned out by the loud, broken moan from the super soldier desperately trying to hold back from slamming into you. Bucky knew he was big, knew you would need time to adjust to how thick he was, but it didn’t help that you felt like fucking heaven around him.

“Fuck - so fuckin’ tight doll…” Bucky’s hand tightened around your hip, sure to leave all kinds of pretty bruises that he would get to appreciate for days after. A beat later and his hips were flush against you, buried balls deep - right where he belonged. Even as he tried to let you adjust, Bucky couldn’t help his little hitched thrusts even though there was no further he could go, nudging against your cervix just the right side of painful. You just felt so fucking good, so wet and tight, he couldn’t help himself. Bucky waited until you were writhing beneath him to set a slow, deep pace, one that had your arms collapsing under your weight until you were face down, his mattress muffling your sweet, devastated sounds - and he couldn’t have that.

“Nuh uh,” He tutted, plastering his chest against your back as he gripped your hair to press your cheek into the bed. “Need’ta hear those pretty moans, doll.”

He pressed his forehead to the sweat-slick skin between your shoulder blades as he rocked into you, the force behind his hips slowly gaining speed with every little whimper and moan. Metal fingers teased your clit, still sensitive from your first orgasm, and Bucky spits out a groan when the stimulation makes your pussy quiver around him, but he doesn’t let up, teasing and edging you as he kisses and licks and bites his marks into your skin. The imprint of his teeth in your shoulder makes something hot and possessive slither up his spine.

“Fuck!” You cried out as his fingers left your clit just as you got close to a devastating orgasm, your thighs trembling under the combined weight and the need that coursed through your body.

Bucky took pity on you. You whimpered in dismay when his cock slipped out of you, immediately feeling the empty ache, but it didn’t take long for him to guide you on your back and slide right back inside. Fuck, you looked so good like that, all fucked out and cock drunk. He took a moment and brushed the stray hairs from your face as he rocked his hips, smirking when you tried to lean up and kiss his lips, your eyes dazed with pleasure.

“How’s my doll, hm?” He cooed before kissing your forehead between thrusts that were rapidly growing harsher.

“I need to cum,” You gasped out, your voice hitching with each roll of his hips. Your hands slipped from where they dug into his shoulders to cradle either side of his face, your voice drowning in need. “Please, please let me cum?”

“Oh, sweet baby,” Bucky’s hand slipped between your bodies and the moment he found your clit, you trembled. He watched, enraptured as your eyes fluttered and rolled back, your hips grinding up to meet his every touch. “Cum for me,”

If the sight of your second orgasm wrecking its way through you wasn’t enough to have Bucky nearly spilling inside of you, the feeling of your pusssy fluttering around him certainly would’ve had him on the verge. He bit his bottom lip harshly, not entirely sure why he was putting himself through the delicious torture of fighting off his orgasm when he could’ve cum with you right then and there.

“Good girl,” Bucky whispered, peppering your neck and cheeks with kisses as you fought through the fog of pleasure. His praise made you squirm slightly underneath him, a cock drunk smile curving your lips, and Bucky chuckled. “You like hearing that, huh? That you came all over my cock like a good girl?”

“Yours,” You whispered, drawing him close enough that your lips grazed his when you continued. “Your good girl,”

Bucky kissed you, hard and messy, ripping a gasp from your lips as he lost himself in rutting into you with abandon. His face fell to your neck as you hitched your thighs higher to meet his reckless thrusts, one hand buried in his hair and the other clinging to his back. A broken moan ripped through him as he finally let himself go, finally filled you with his release. Euphoria sang through his entire body and he sunk into you, letting his full weight rest on you.

“I love you, James.” You whispered in his ear as you brushed your hand through his hair.

A lazy kiss was pressed to your neck. “Love you so much.”

Bucky let himself bask in it all - the aftermath of his orgasm, the slightly-too-much feeling of your exhausted pussy still fluttering around him as he softened, the trail of your fingertips through his hair. It took him a moment to be able to really feel his legs again, but when he could, he eased off of you to settle on his side and take in how beautiful you looked. You still looked flush with afterglow, your body littered with evidence of how hard he fucked you. Fingertip bruises were just beginning to bloom on your hips and your shoulder and neck bore reddened bite marks.

“I didn’t hurt you, right?” Bucky whispered.

“Hm? God, no.” You reassured him, reaching out to caress his face. His eyes closed as he leaned into the touch and kissed your palm. When he opened his eyes, you were smiling at him so softly, your eyes full of affection, and it took his breath away. “I loved everything you did. Besides, I think your bruises suit me.”

Bucky groaned, his spent cock twitching with interest at your sultry words. “Careful talkin’ like that, doll.”

“Mhmm, I’m so intimidated.” You hummed teasingly before kissing him all soft and sweet in the way that made his chest ache with how much he loved you. “Whatcha wanna do today? I’ve got the next few days off work, figured we could spend it together.”

“Absolutely,” Bucky accepted without a second thought. “How ‘bout I make us some breakfast?”

“Take a shower with me first?” You asked, and he could never say no to you when you gave him those puppy dog eyes.

Bucky never really understood the prospect of showering with someone else. It always seemed like it would be a hassle, trying to fit two people in a space meant for one, but once he was watching you giggle at him through the steam fogging the air as he struggled to open your shampoo, he got it. There was a duality to it; the sweet teasing each other and simple intimacy of getting to help you clean up. The gentle way you massaged shampoo into his hair had him feeling like jelly, all loose and wiggly as he leaned down to let you work your fingers against his scalp.

“Does that feel good?” You chuckled at his happy humming.

“So good,” He grumbled as you tilted his head back to rinse his hair, steadying himself with his hands on your hips. Once you let go of his hair, Bucky wiped the water from his eyes and reached for his body wash to lather it up, tutting at you when you went to take the loofa from his hands. The moment he started washing your chest you melted under him, a content smile on your face. “I love doin’ this.”

“...you mean washing me?” You teased, your hand trailing down his chest and belly, feeling your fill of his water slick skin.

“Mhmm,” He murmured as he turned you around to give your back the same gentle treatment. “I love takin’ care of my girl.”

Bucky didn’t even get the chance to finish his task. You turned in his grasp and kissed him, your arms curling around his shoulders as you pressed him against the cool tile of the shower. He didn’t mind though. Not when he got to cradle you against him, so close and soaking wet.

It took far longer than it should’ve, but neither of you complained when the cold water ran you out of the shower. Besides, Bucky adored the casual way you walked around his bedroom completely naked, drying your hair with one of his towels and stealing clothes from his dresser. Dressed in only a pair of your underwear and one of his shirts, you pranced out to the living room to get comfortable on the couch.

He had never appreciated the open floor plan of his place until then. Every few minutes Bucky would glance over the island to where you were in his living room, tapping away diligently at your laptop. Your teeth would dig into your bottom lip every now and then when you were deep in thought, wrestling with whatever it was that you were writing until you got it exactly how you wanted. It was adorable and suddenly Bucky was imagining spending every single day like that. Waking up with you to the orange hues of the morning sunrise, cooking you breakfast as you worked on whatever it was your heart desired, eating with you on the couch while some stupid show played in the background.

And more.

He wanted to introduce you to Sam, even though he was certain you would bring on a world of chaos the moment the two of you combined your powers of mischief. He wanted to take a vacation somewhere beautiful and sunny, to watch you lounge by a beach somewhere with a smile on your face and your fingers curled with his. He wanted the playful arguments of whether you should order pizza or thai. He wanted it all. With you.

Bucky popped a slice of strawberry between your lips, his heart fluttering when you licked the juices from his fingers with a giggle. “Move in with me.”

You looked at him with comically surprised eyes, frozen mid-chew of your fruity breakfast. “...what?”

“Move in with me.” Bucky repeated. He knew it was the right thing, the next step in his life with you, but his heart pounded in his chest anyway. He nervously licked his lips before he continued. “You’re always here anyway. There’s no use in renting an apartment you never stay in. You love my place and it feels empty when you aren’t here so… move in with me.”

You blinked at him once, twice, and then a brilliant smile broke across your face. “Of course.”

Bucky abandoned the plates of breakfast on his coffee table and hauled you into his lap, barely able to kiss you through the smiles on both of your faces, and he couldn’t wait to spend the entire day like this. And tomorrow. And the day after that.

{Taglist}

@janebby @bloodsuckingbastards @mtjoi @triggerhappyflygirl @asta-lily @peterpstuff @amneris12 @mummifymecaptain @livstilinski @itssmashedavo

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader

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princessmisery666 · 2 years

Text

The T-1000 Handmaiden

Summary: Sam has an idea, which of course involves belittling Bucky, Steve sees the potential but it’s unethical and Thor does not get the concept of subtlety or, apparently, Sam’s pop references.

Warnings: none. Shenanigans, Sam and Bucky bullying each other sort of (but we know they love each other really), Thor being clueless.

W/C: 750

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Thor Odinson.

Pairing: none.

Challenge: @there-must-be-a-lock Fics Against Humanity 4k Challenge Prompt: white card - Not understanding that reference. Black card - HYDRA was disappointed to realize that they’d used the wrong code words and activated the _____ soldier instead of the Winter Soldier.

A/N: this is probably crack-ish but that was the point and I had fun writing it, I hope it makes you smile too 😁

Betas: @cockslut-padalecki // mistakes are still mine.

Graphics: title card made by me, dividers @firefly-graphics

Master Lists: Main // Marvel

The T-1000 Handmaiden

Why Steve ever believed a quiet dinner would be just that, quiet, when Bucky and Sam were involved, was beyond him. He’d come to expect it, Sam and Bucky ragging on each other, bickering like school children and playing practical jokes that always went too far. But he had to admit Sam’s latest suggestion - that he was thankful Sam hadn’t yet proceeded to put into action ‘as a joke’ - wasn’t a bad idea. Unethical? Absolutely. But not technically a bad one.

Steve shook his head and suppressed a chuckle by taking a swig of his beer, trying not to react to Sam’s proposal in a way that showed he hadn’t immediately disagreed. However, Sam wasn’t going to let it go that easy.

“Come on,” Sam goaded, “you know it makes total sense, and we’d all benefit.”

“I, too, agree with the Eagle,” Thor said.

“It wouldn’t take much,” continued Sam, ignoring the blond God’s mistake. “We could dress it up as a simple medical, he’d never know. Then when we need it BOOM, a few words and then T-1000 of domestic bliss.”

Thor frowned. “I do not understand that reference.”

Steve understood it and as Sam’s eyes drifted to the ceiling of the bar as if imagining the scenario in vivid detail, Steve too had an unwelcome picture seared to his memory. The image of Bucky in a frilly maids outfit with Terminator like focus while he blitzed around the compound with a pink feather duster scorched behind Steve eyes. He knew Sam was joking, partly at least. But he seemed to have put a lot of thought into it, perhaps too much.

“What reference?” Bucky asked, re-joining them at the table with a fresh round of drinks.

“Nothing,” Sam snapped, shooting a glare of Thor.

Which the God of Thunder totally disregarded or didn’t understand. “The Crow was just telling us how easy it would be for Stark to initiate your Hydra protocols, but we could change the words to make you our handmaiden.”

Bucky glared at Sam who simply shrugged, and defended himself. “Look, I’m just saying if you clean as good as you kill we’d never have to hear Stark moan about running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang, again.”

Bucky sneered, “I’ll use your head as a toilet brush!”

“I’m sure Stark could make an all purpose cleaning arm for you,” said Sam, “and you’d make such a pretty T-1000.” He laughed, reaching out to pinch his cheek.

Bucky batted away Sam’s advance with his vibranium hand and Steve winced knowing it would leave a bruise.

Bucky’s brow furrowed, he obviously didn’t get the reference either and Thor understood his comrades' confusion. Leaning closer he told him, “I did not understand that reference either.”

“See, Steve,” Sam said, unwisely turning to face him and subsequently putting his back to Bucky. “We should do it to punish him for not knowing a classic!”

Steve shook his head and rolled his eyes watching Bucky tip an obscene amount of salt into Sam’s drink while his back was turned. It would end badly, it always did, but Sam kind of deserved it.

“I can see the headlines now,” said Sam, eyes gleaming with his teasing tone as he turned back. “HYDRA was disappointed to realize that they’d used the wrong code words and activated the not understanding that reference soldier instead of the Winter Soldier.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Bucky jeered.

Sam immaturely countered with, “your face doesn’t make sense.”

“His face makes a lot of sense,” Thor butted in, utterly confused. “The symmetry and angles are perfectly aligned, his hair is soft and dreamlike; he very much makes sense as does his face.”

“Thanks buddy,” Bucky smiled at Thor. Then he handed Sam his drink, laughing.

Steve knew the laugh was hollow, Hydra may have activated the Winter Soldier but Sam Wilson had a way of activating the Petty Revenge Soldier.

Sam failed to notice the insincerity behind the smile and slapped Bucky on the back. “So you’ll consider it?” he asked, taking his drink from the insincere soldier.

“Sure,” Bucky nodded, “if Stark can make it happen, why not?” he shrugged. “Let’s toast to it.”

Steve watched as Sam lifted the glass to his smug smiling lips and in his head he counted down the seconds before what was supposed to be a quiet night erupted into one filled with juvenile pranks that he’d no doubt have to play referee for. Three, two…

Marvellous Marvel: @denimbex1986 / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @deanwinchesterswitch / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @petitgateau911 / @xoxabs88xox / @cockslut-padalecki

Captain ‘Past Asking Permission’ Rogers: @bccky /

Beautifully Broken Bucky Barnes: @bccky

#Fics Against Humanity Challenge #SteveRogers #BuckyBarnes #SamWilson #Marvel #crackish #fun #shenanigans #marveldrabble #drabble #mcu #marvelcinematicuniverse #Sam Wilson #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Note

i loved your blurb the other day . i have a request off it if you could do one more domesticated about the little things tom does in a relationship?

Ooooh I loved loved loved this request!! In my head he is a complete romantic sap at heart <333 this is a lot more wordy that I normally write and bit concerned it is a shitter - feedback would be well appreciate, if you have any opinion on which crappy writing style I do less badly :///

Summary: the boring and domesticated day to day life with Tom

warnings: look really close an a bit of implied smut, but otherwise sickeningly nice stuff I think ahah

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Given his rather unique position and place in the world - your relationship with Tom was also very much not typical. By no means did that mean worse though - Tom meant the world to you; as you did him. Yes, at times it was tough - the distance, the tightly scheduled face times because of the time difference. But every time you saw his crinkly smile, it was almost set in stone everything was worth it. He was, most definitely, worth it.

Especially as he was such a sap. Perhaps because some of the things he did that brought rushes of heat to your cheeks - Tom wasn’t even aware of. Of course, Tom being Tom, he obviously did the bigger things and spoilt you rotten - which you were never going to complain about - though those weren’t the things that made your heart flutter so inexplicably.

Take yesterday for example. Tom had just got back home from a long filming shoot for SM3 and it was fair to say you’d both been pining over each other enormously. Once he was back though, none of that mattered. The pair of you had spent almost a full 18 hours in bed, before eventually you’d pulled away from the pouty boy, due to your desperate need of a shower. That was too far away from you in Tom’s opinion though- meaning you’d had a shared shower too. Purely for water saving + environmental purposes , or at least, that had been his justification. It was intimate but not sexual, leading to the two of you wrapped in towels in the marble bathroom. Busying yourself with your skincare, you weren’t paying any mind to your boyfriend, who you assumed to be faffing about as usual. That was until you felt a gentle tug on the back of your towel dried hair. Instantly you locked eyes with warm brown ones looking back at you through the slightly fogged up mirror, panning down to see the hair brush in his hand.

“What’re you doing?” You laughed gently, leaning back onto his bare torso, still slightly damp from the humidity lingering in the bathroom air.

“ ‘jus’ brushin your hair, I haven’t got all the lotions and potions to spend hours on.” Cheeky bugger. Sweet but with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes - as he watched you roll yours.

“If I phoned Rach and said you weren’t following her-“ Cut off by his lips craning round to meet yours, you decided not to fight it, instead melting into his embrace while turning round - your body still only wrapped in the towel tucked under your arm. After a few moments Tom paused to whisper a shh against your lips, before painfully slowly moving against yours again. God knows, you would’ve stayed in that moment forever if you could however you did also still have moisturiser only half rubbed in on your face, like warpaint. So, you turned back around finishing off in the mirror and very much enjoying the sensation of Tom still hovering behind, ever so gently working the brush through your hair. It took much longer than it should have for you to finish off, mainly because you spent the time watching him in the mirror concentrate, especially the way he pressed his tongue against the inside of his left cheek in concentration.

After the pair of you had finally got ready for the day (at 3 in the afternoon but no one had to know), you’d gone out for a walk with his parents. Naturally you spent the majority of the time gossiping with Nikki slightly ahead of the Dom and Tom - who were no doubt talking about golf or something equally as dull. Tom loved to say that he found how close you and Nikki got as terrifying - really you both knew he only adored you more for it. Family was everything to Tom and given poor Nikki’s immediate surroundings of pure testosterone, when you became integrated into the family it was like a breath of fresh air. And you didn’t smell of boy - which to her was a win.

It was a beautiful early evening and the sun was slowly creeping its way toward the horizon, changing the light from a brilliant white to a more golden hue - basking the four of you and Tess in the glow. You’d all come to a natural halt whilst Tess had gone a bit mental chasing squirrels. It just worked out that the sun was opposite you and though the evening was beautiful, dealing with it head on , in your eyes, was not the most enjoyable. Before you could even reach your arm out to shield yourself from the sun, the light was blocked out, a shadow casting over your forehead.

Now what’s important to note here is Tom is by no means a tall man. He wasn’t a midget but it would be fair to say that all 5 foot 8 of him was ‘below average height’. Not that it let him stop being a sun block for you and you really did try not to giggle as your furrowed brows caught site of his raised heels. This boy was literally standing on his tiptoes to stop the sun getting in your eyes for god sake. He noticed your grin though and as if it was the most normal thing in the world just shrugged his shoulders before engaging back in his parents conversation. You weren’t as quick to recover, honestly having to take a moment to swallow down your glee.

Afterwards, you’d gone straight back the Holland family home as they all wanted to celebrate Tom and Harry’s return- what better way than having Sam the master chef himself cook you all a three course meal? As if choreographed both of you had taken the seats next to each other… but not in a clingy way at all, Paddy was interrogating you on how the hell you’d beaten him at the classic game of mariokart (which you would never let him live down) whilst Tom and Harry were recounting one of their many tales of filming to Nikki. Once the plates of food were served out to you by the esteemed chef, Tom wasted no time in skilfully and subtly piling the greens of vegetables and salad off your plate and onto his. You’d never dream of offending Sam by insulting his cooking, really you did love it - there was just something about rabbit food that you had to put your foot down at. Perhaps it was because it was literal leaves? Things that you used to feed to your pet hamster perhaps? It was a constant source of bickering between you, Tom and Harry- they claimed you’d end up dying because of the lack of leaves in your diet, which you strongly contested. Fruit and some veg was allowed but salad- stay the hell away.

Anyway it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t have to face that debate tonight because Tom had you covered. He always had you covered.

Finally, the night rolled round which you were so thankful for, considering even though you’d had an extortionate amount of time in bed last night - not a lot of it had actually been spent asleep. Combine that with the wine you’d been happily sipping on in celebration, it pretty much explained the situation you found yourself in now. Eyes bobbing up and down as the TV drifted in and out of focus, the slow and gentle thud of Tom’s heartbeat lulling you into that floaty place. You didn’t fight the drowsiness because really, nestled between the cushions of the sofa and Tom’s chest, you didn’t want to be anywhere else. Letting your eyes slide shut completely, you took a deep breath in and nuzzled into his chest- barely registering how he lightly chuckled at the action. Tom just took the time to look down at you, pressing the most gently kiss to the crown of your head. Moments like this would never not be his favourite. Don’t get him wrong, he loved your wit and sarcastic charm when you were more conscious… but something about how comfortable you were to be completely vulnerable with him, gave him a purpose. He would never be able to wrap his head around why you’d let him - how he deserved this was beyond him but he was so bloody thankful for it.

Your hand that was splayed on his stomach caught his eye, you still had your bracelet on from the meal and he knew you hated sleeping with any jewellery on. Instinctively then, Tom ever so gently manipulated the clasp and skilfully removed the silver chain - reaching over and placing it on the little coffee table. Having spent 3 months without you within 100 miles of him, Tom was more than willing to wake up with back ache if it meant spending the night on the sofa with you like this. The gentle grasp on your wrist had roused you a little though.

It was always the simple things that made your heart burst - like the bracelet . Or like his little raspy whisper, voice tired and thinking you were asleep. Even if everything else disappeared, it would still be the greatest life if you had Tom there saying this.

“Your home Y/n… you and me forever…

…until u die from not eating ur greens.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tomholland #Tom Holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you

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deancaskiss · 3 years

Text

why didn’t we get an episode seeing tfw 2.0 and their family being domestic? a whole episode with cas going to a farmers market and coming home to make sandwiches while dean sets up a movie marathon. sam and eileen doing something artsy with jack while charlie plays video games (which tempts jack to join her). jody and donna bringing the girls over for a big family dinner that starts off so well but soon erupts into chaos and a food fight started by claire and jack. bobby and garth going fishing and dean tagging along and jack also begging to go because he loved fishing with dean. all of them going to the movies or a bowling alley and getting competitive (cas wins the game even though he’s never played before and dean playfully accuses him of cheating). all of them in the kitchen together cooking and doing dishes and just having normal conversations that don’t have anything to do with monsters of hunting. just one episode where we get to see them be a family. one episode to see snippets of what was implied behind the scenes and off-screen. one episode where they all got to be happy and domestic and living the simple life they all deserved.

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #jack kline #eileen leahy #tfw 2.0 #spn headcanon #supernatural headcanon #family #bobby singer #garth fitzgerald iv #jody mills #donna hanscum #charlie bradbury #the good supernatural in my head #destiel #deancas

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castielle-deanna · 3 years

Text

Destiel fanfic masterlist

My Destiel fanfics in decreasing word count order:

Hold me tight or don't (Explicit, words: 37,677)

Tags: Canon Compliant up to 15x13 // First Kiss // Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker // Conversations in the Impala // falling!Castiel // New Relationship // First Time // Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent // Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love //Art Embedded //soundtrack

Summary: With Jack’s soul now back, the four inhabitants of the Bunker are working on establishing a new routine. Between hunts, God’s wrath hanging over their heads and Castiel’s dwindling grace, the angel is not particularly eager to mention his deal to the Winchesters. With everything that’s going on, allowing himself to be happy sounds impossible anyway, right? Wrong…

With art by the fantastic @lizleeships

“Why now?” The angel asked quietly, taking a small step back.

Dean's fingers tightened on the tie he'd been holding onto as if it was a lifeline. “You said we were real. I want to believe it.”

“Even if it ends in pain?”

“Cas, everything I do ends there, eventually. There is always a bigger, heavier, smellier shoe waiting to drop. Holding back in fear of it doesn't make it any smaller, lighter or... or... “

“Less odoriferous?” Cas offered.

“Is that even a real word?”

“It is, indeed.”

“Sometimes you sound like you eat dictionaries and Victorian novels for breakfast,” Dean shook his head, grinning.

My unintended (Explicit, words:10,202)

Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending // Post-Episode: s15e20 Carry On // FUCK CANON! // Saving Dean Winchester - Retconning the finale - The fangirl business // Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss // Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time Having Sex // Slow and Romantic Sex // Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester

Summary: At first, Castiel is ready to honour his part of the deal with the Empty, but then Jack shows up with distressing news...

With art by the fantastic @jeanne-de-valois

Cas heaves Dean into a bridal carry, struggling under his weight, but still he shifts slightly when Sam moves closer to help. He knows he needs to stop keeping Sam away, because it’s not fair, and it’s not what Dean wants anyway, but Sam accepts it and simply hangs back with a nod before he speaks again.

“I also know it’s not my business, but… do you think you could talk to Dean once he’s up for it? I’m not blind, or stupid. You two have to stop only holding each other like that when one of you is hurt or dead.”

Love me right (Explicit, words: 2,436)

Tags: Established Castiel/Dean Winchester // Porn with Feelings // Dean Winchester Wears Panties // Light Bondage // Panty Kink // Wing Kink // Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester // Light Dom/sub // Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester // Light BDSM // Dean and Castiel watch porn then recreate it

Summary: Dean asks to be tied up - who's Cas to say no to that? Written for a prompt by @winchester-reload on Patreon: "Thee Pink Panties"

“I want you to tie me up,” Dean blurts out one morning, closer to being asleep than awake still. He has no idea if Cas is even in the bedroom with him - for once, the angel is not curled around Dean with his whole body, their limbs entwined to the point where they can’t tell where one of them ends and the other begins, cliché as it is.

There’s no reply, so Dean lifts his head and blinks the grogginess away to look around. Cas is in the room, sitting cross-legged on the green couch by the wall with an open book in his lap but he’s staring at Dean with eyes so comically wide Dean would think it humanly impossible if he wasn’t seeing it with his own eyes.

“For fun,” Dean adds in hopes that Cas catches his meaning. The angel looks slightly less taken aback at that, but he still appears confused and tilts his head as if a slightly different angle would help with unraveling the mystery of Dean's words. “During sex, Cas.”

Rewind the exit (Teen And Up Audiences, words: 2,408)

Tags: Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair // Fix-It // Grief/Mourning // Angst with a Happy Ending // Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love // Grieving Dean Winchester // Grieving Sam Winchester

Summary: "Rewinding the exit wound, I'm holding on to you 'Cause I need words like anyone, and I need love like everyone With those words I'm strong enough, and I need love like everyone." (Rewind the exit by Volbeat) Obligatory 15x18 fix-it.

The Bunker is haunted. It's haunted by two faint apparitions of humanity who mostly pass each other by in the corridors like ships in the night, silent and distant.

Dean prays. Every morning, every evening, and most waking hours between the two, he prays. He doesn't know if Cas can hear him, but the faith that he can is all Dean has, so it has to be enough.

It's not enough. Yet Dean clings to it, because if he doesn't have that, he doesn't have anything.

Bite me (Mature, words: 1,407)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence // Vampire Dean Winchester // Mild Blood!Kink (comes with the territory) // Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss

Summary: After Dean gets turned into a vampire during S06E05 - Live Free or Twi-hard, instead of going to Lisa's, he prays to Cas. Written for a prompt by winchester-reload on Patreon: "Vampire!Dean having a Cas snack"

“I can get you through this, and then we’ll burn any other bridges as we get to them,” Cas says earnestly.

“That’s not how the saying… you know what, never mind. I don’t want to get through this! I told you to kill me!” Dean pushes Cas away, but the angel holds onto both of his shoulders to stabilise him until Dean shakes him off in defiance. “Fucking stubborn angel, why can’t you just do as you’re told?”

“Because I’ve decided to disregard stupid orders!” Cas shoots back, and his previous stoicism is gone entirely. His eyes flare faintly with the light of his grace as he shrugs off his trenchcoat and goes to work on loosening his tie.

I wanna get you back again (Mature, words: 1,176)

Tags: Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair // Canon Divergence // Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss

Summary: Dean breaks into the Empty to save Cas. Written for a prompt by winchester-reload on Patreon: "Come on and lay it down/I've always been with you/Here and now/Give all that's within you/Be my Savior"

“Am I wrong in assuming that our friend who has the fashion sense of a flasher wasn’t the only one in love?” Balthazar smirked.

“Huh?”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Bit slow on the uptake, aren’t we? You know what, don’t answer that,” he shrugged, rolling right over Dean’s indignant splutter. “I’m talking about Castiel.”

“I know!”

“So which part of my question was confusing then?”

“Fuck you, Feather Boa, the Empty is trying to push me out and you want to chat?” Dean scoffed, trying to stomp his way past him.

“Your trenchcoated boyfriend is that way,” Balthazar said dryly, pointing to his left.

Forward is just the way ahead (General Audiences, words: 1,091)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor // Baby Jack Kline // Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent // Tattoo Artist Dean Winchester // Single Parent Castiel

Summary: Tattoo artist Dean falls for client. Written for a prompt by winchester-reload on Patreon: "Cas getting tattooed by Dean (or the other way around)"

“So,” Dean began, “It’s a simple black design, correct? Four rows of symbols?”

“Yes. It’s actually a warding-slash-protection spell in Enochian, the language of Biblical angels. There’s… well, there’s a story to it,” Cas chuckled.

“Is part of that story that you were named after an angel?”

Cas’ chuckle changed into full-blown laughter. “Yes. I have to say I wasn’t expecting you to know that. In fact, all my siblings have angel names, except for Luke, but only because they wouldn’t allow my parents to officially name him Lucifer…”

Waffles or kisses (Mature, words:1,026)

Tags: Domestic Fluff // Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester // Established Castiel/Dean Winchester // Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural)

Summary: Cas tries to make breakfast for Dean - it doesn't quite work out... Written for a prompt by winchester-reload on Patreon: "Great British Bake Off contestants with fewer clothes and lots of flour!" I have nefariously tweaked the prompt to allow me to play in the canon!verse.

“You look like one of the Great British Bake Off contestants, but with fewer clothes... and lots of flour, what the hell are you even doing?” Dean guffaws.

“Is that Dean?” A slightly tinny female voice comes from somewhere underneath the bowls, and it takes a moment for Dean to recognise it.

“Hi Jody!”

“Am I on speaker?”

“Yes,” Cas says, rolling his eyes. Dean finds that his behaviour is not unlike Miracle’s after the dog got caught chewing Sam’s 3rd pair of slippers to shreds, and the comparison draws another laugh out of him.

“Hi, Dean,” Jody says warmly. “Nice to hear your voice, though it would be even nicer if you were the one calling, rather than hijacking a conversation between Cas and I…”

Dean ducks his head as Jody’s “mom voice” tries to work its magic on him. “I’m not hijacking anything! Can someone explain why my kitchen and my… Cas are head-to-toe covered in flour?”

“I was trying to make waffles for breakfast,” Cas replies barely audibly, looking down, shoulders drooping.

With those words I'm strong enough (Mature, words: 703)

Tags: Dean Winchester Deserves to be Happy // Dean Winchester's Birthday // Established Castiel/Dean Winchester // Non-Explicit Sex // Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love // Dean Winchester Says "I Love You" // Pillow Talk // Dean Winchester Lives // fuck 15x20

Summary: It's Dean's birthday and Castiel doesn't waste a single second to wish him a happy one (Utter finale denial and slight sap below.)

“Where did you go, my love?” Cas asks, ruffling Dean’s hair, curling a longer-than-usual strand of it around his index finger.

“Thinking.”

“Uh-oh, that’s never a good thing,” Cas deadpans and Dean whacks his upper arm with very little force. “Ow.”

“Sarcastic asshole in one moment, drama queen the next,” Dean grumbles, and he fully intends to kiss it better, but before he could get around to it, he’s pushed onto his back and there’s a former angel of the Lord straddling him with a grin on his face.

Domestic (General Audiences, words: 462)

Tags: Domestic Fluff // Established Castiel/Dean Winchester // Fallen Angel Castiel // Suptober 2020

Summary: Middle-of-the-night Destiel chat. Just a lightning-quick ficlet as my first and possibly only entry to Suptober 2020. The prompt was 'domestic'

“Of all the human things, the constant need to urinate is the worst,” Castiel complained as he slid under the covers with a yawn.

“The worst?” Dean huffed in sleepy amusement. “Being shot is worse. Broken bones. A toothache…”

“They are worse, but they are temporary. Urinating is permanent. I will have to put up with it for the rest of my life.”

#Destiel #Destiel fanfic #DeanCas fanfic #creativecaviar #fanfic masterlist #destiel masterlist #Destiel fic #DeanCas fic

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bourbonbees · 3 years

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Suptober Day 4- Secrets

Saccharine and Secret

Dean is keeping a secret, a big one, and he hopes that this is the one and only time he’s keeping a secret from Castiel. Because the guy is making it nearly impossible, he was far to attune to Dean’s routine. He noticed when Dean started to slip away every evening for a few moments to the room at the far corner of the bunker, the furthest away from their bedroom. Dean had made sure to choose that room to keep his secret in, knowing Cas was unlikely to go into the room full of old files.

“Where have you been?” Cas asks softly, setting the book he’d been reading on the bed side table and patting the spot on the bed next to him.

“You’ll find out soon enough, don’t you worry.” Dean smiles, sitting next to his angel and giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. He sighs when Cas furrows his brows in reply and studies him carefully as if he will be able to extract the secret from Dean’s mind. Matter of fact, he might be able to. Dean hopes he can’t.

“All I do is worry about you.” Cas sighs heavily, gently cupping Dean’s cheek with his hand and leaning in to kiss his forehead.

“You don’t have to this time. I promise it’s a not anything dangerous or at least not most of the time.” Dean chuckles, thinking about the secret tucked away in the room. He needs to show Cas soon, maybe in the morning.

“Alright, well, you be careful, I love you, you’re precious cargo.” Cas resigns, tucking Dean in securely under the covers.

“Aww you think I’m precious?” Dean grins, batting his lashes at Cas exaggeratedly.

“Don’t push it.” Cas warns, turning off the light before settling in with Dean laying his head on his chest.

“You don’t have to stay here all night, you know? I know angels don’t sleep.” Dean yawns.

“I want to. Now go to sleep you pest.” Cas says lovingly, pressing his fingers to Dean’s temple and using his grace to lull him into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Dean awakes to an empty bed, he follows clanging sounds down the hall to the kitchen. Cas is busy attempting to make pancakes while Sam watches, his eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Good morning! I’m making breakfast!” Cas says proudly. Dean really needs to show him his secret after breakfast, because if a wave of celestial intent making food he does eat isn’t love, he doesn’t know what is. He deserves to see his secret.

Dean eats the pancakes without restrain, shoveling them into his mouth and ignoring Sam’s disgusted expression which deepens when Cas kisses Dean in full view, syrup on his chin and all. Dean just grins proudly pulls Cas into his lap.

“Get a room!” Sam groans, sipping the last bit of his green smoothie, and he thinks he has the right to look at Dean like he’s the disgusting one. What a bitch.

“Actually, matter of fact. I have a room I’d like to show you.” Dean says to Cas who gives him an adorably confused head tilt.

“Gross.” Sam says with a roll of his eyes.

“Shuddup Sammy. You’re just jealous because you miss Eileen!” Dean preens, patting Cas’ hip so he would stand up and then joining him, hand in hand.

“Run.” Dean smirks, all mirth and mischief as he pulls Cas out of the kitchen, Sam half-heartedly chasing them half way down the hall before giving up.

“You’re the worst!” Sam calls after them, Dean all but giggling as he leads Cas to the room that holds his secret.

“Okay, so I have something to show you. I was trying to wait, to make this an anniversary gift but I can’t wait!” Dean says excitedly, hand on the door knob, his secret moments away from being revealed.

“Oh, it’s a gift.” Cas sighs in relief, visibly relaxing.

“Yeah what did you think, I was brining you to my secret opium den or something?” Dean teases, rubbing Cas’ back.

“I wasn’t sure what to think. Can never tell with you. You keep life, interesting.” Cas shrugs, pecking Dean’s lips as he opens the door, revealing a small black kitten waiting on the other side.

“Surprise!” Dean beams, feeling a swell of pride when Cas immediately bursts into happy tears, picking up the kitten and cooing over it as he cuddles it to his chest.

“Dean! This is wonderful, I love them. You got me a cat! But you said you were sort of allergic, didn’t you?” Cas rambles, sitting on the floor and letting the kitten curl up in his lap.

“Well after Jack and Claire taught you about Tik Tok,” Dean pauses rolling his eyes at the memory of the two teens helping Castiel, eldritch terror turned certified dorky dad, download the app. “I noticed you were watching lots of cat videos and that they make you light up. I love seeing you that happy. So, I figured, if your grace can cure cancer and things like that, why not my allergies.” Dean shrugs, sitting on the floor next to Cas.

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Cas wells up again, holding the kitten to his chest and giving Dean a long slow kiss.

“You deserve it and more.” Dean says honestly, petting the kitten’s soft ears and then kissing Castiel back lovingly. He chuckles as the kitten paws at his jaw, trying to push him back from Cas.

“Looks like I have competition. Good thing he’s cute.” Dean hums, sitting back and watching fondly as Cas kisses the kitten on the head.

“He, it’s a boy?” Cas asks curiously, nuzzling his nose against the kitten’s soft black fur.

“Yup, what are you going to name him?” Dean ventures to ask, resting a hand on Cas’ thigh, ignoring the fact that his eyes were itching like crazy, his allergies could wait.

“I think maybe Shiloh. It means peace. Because being with you and with him brings me peace.” Cas says decisively, making Dean’s heart swell with joy.

“Being with you brings me peace too, babe. Happy anniversary.” Dean says softly, resting their foreheads together.

They spend the rest of the day with Shiloh, setting up all the kitten supplies Dean had been hiding in the file room. It’s all painfully domestic which is what Dean wants, which is why he still has an even bigger secret right under Cas’ nose.

Cas has yet to find it, the gold ring Dean had tucked into the pocket of his trench coat with a little note attached in simple script reading “marry me?”

#suptober21 #suptober #secrets #destiel #deancas #ficlet

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starlitheaven · 2 years

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🎉 NEW GAME: Introduce your mutuals to everyone and what do you think of them? 🎉

this ended up being long, sorry if I forgot anyone!! I love all my mutuals, we have a good energy in the studio here. but really, I haven't had this much fun being in fandom in a long time and I never feel judged on here unlike other sites. everyone is great and supports each other as writers/artists. muah.

@saturnsonnet lucia!! imy so much and my favorite on here <3

@saintchrollo ophelia, who always has 10/10 ideas and is very funny and always right <3 chrollo needs you to get him high and drunk on wine. easy to talk to but doesn’t put up with nonsense!

@conflatemochi suiren!! very talented writer and artist and isn't letting my knife kink go hdsfafs also very mature and good taste in 2d men <3

@reitani rei my love, you have to have a libra placement or something anyway amazing taste and aesthetic!!! one of the only people who has similar taste as me here (which is fun to talk about), I love seeing you on my dash and talking to you <3 also all your themes are perfect. suguru would be head over heels for you

@tojisfangs SAM!!! So talented and kind, and has Toji's characterization completely on point! everything he writes is amazing and can either be wholesome and domestic or spicy. we love it, thanks for the food <3

@shinakki shin....shin has a big brain and everything she says (especially about gojo) is correct and not to be debated. so funny and sweet, love talking to you <3

@haraiko ana, absolutely talented, brilliant, never been done before, one of a kind, whatever else lady gaga said in that interview. great taste and an amazing writer, it's so immersive and draws you in! also very nice, muah <3

@laudthingcat winter!! versatile and very fun writer, I love everything she puts out <3 a sweetheart

@licantropa hel....this sounds so random but your myspace would've been peak aesthetic. everything you do is so sexy and dark, you have an eye for the vibe you're going for and your writing absolutely matches it. seeing you on my dash makes me happy <3

@princesatoru BUNNNNNN omg okay first an absolute gem and lovely person. she has so many cute headcanons and ideas, I really love their characterization for gojo!! so fun and on point. satoru would absolutely adore you no doubt <3

@rafzaha honey!!! love seeing you starting to write and I always look forward to your comments <3 they’re very motivating, you’re the best

@venussins loni! we haven't talked but you're such a versatile writer and your theme is so pretty and dark <3 also your smut is (I'm on my laptop but pretend I put the fire emoji)

@izanaphoric we haven't talked much but I love seeing them on my dash <3 also your theme is gorgeous I love that shade

@honouredsatoru Lilith! the sweetest soul, you deserve only the best <3

@cyancherub cassie!! I just started following you but first of all: your writing is so unique and alluring...I read some of your Sukuna fic because I'm a monsterfucker and ok I need to read it all first but PLEASE—I'm not a horror person but I love how you write it, the plot is so simple but also so different, it feels like a movie. you also seem really sweet <3 btw you write Sukuna extremely well it's so good.

@pretty-toru tina! we haven't really spoken but I love your theme and your headcanons <3 also I read your toji smut and hehehehehehe hot

@sukisaturday suki!!! I loved all of your chrollo art, really fed us!

#ask #anon #this was fun <3 #had to pull out my laptop tho sorry anon if this is late

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katehuntington · 3 years

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Title: Ride With Me (part 24) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±9400 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part 24: John’s presence at the horse show flips Dean’s world upside down, sending him a tailspin that could have serious consequences. Will Y/N and his friends be able to get through to him? Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak, slowburn. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: How Do You Get ‘Em Back - David Ramirez. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @atc74, and @winchest09 for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand. Guys, this is going to be a heavy one. 9.3K of angst. If you are invested in this story, I suggest you’ll have the tissues ready before you start reading. Godspeed.

Ride With Me Masterlist

“Hello, son.”

Only two words, but it’s more than Dean has heard his father say in a long while. The simple greeting lingers between them, like smog polluting the air, stealing his breath. A force of habit the cowboy assumed was long forgotten has him square his shoulders. After all, if there’s anything John taught him it's that men can’t be weak.

What does he call him? Dad? Sir? The cowboy isn’t even sure and so he decides to keep his mouth closed. Instead, he measures the man before him. He is but a ghost of the parent Dean remembers - or at least idolized for so long. His boots are dusty and worn, the leather tearing at the creases. His clothes are dirty, stains on the white t-shirt he’s wearing under a camel jacket. He grew a beard, the tough hairs grey now. A black cowboy hat hides most of his slick hair, but they don’t conceal the dark circles under his father’s eyes, nor the tale of pain and sorrow that are still apparent. Nothing has changed, really. He just got older.

Dean can feel his knees weaken as his breaths come out shaky, but he is able to stand his ground. He sets his jaw, gritting away the frustration that continues to build, his fists clenched, nails digging into his palm. But it’s more than just aggravation that courses through him; it’s joined with an overwhelming sense of panic and fear. He wants to run, far away from confrontations and the dull blade that is tearing open old wounds. What he would give to go back in time, just an hour or so, to prevent this moment. What he would give to be able to live the life he naively pictured, with his family, with Y/N.

Meanwhile, John watches him, eyes glossed over and wearing a small smile. “It’s good to see you.” Still, Dean can’t speak. He just stares at his father. Even the gentle words falling from John’s chapped lips don’t lift the tension. Where Dean was thankful that the stables were empty just a few minutes ago, he now wishes it was swarming with people, because being cut out from the public eye is not a position the cowboy wants his girlfriend to be in. When John steps closer hesitatingly, Dean moves in front of her, one hand back to make sure she stays behind him. It’s instinct, a reaction that is fed by years of doing the same for Sammy. He did everything possible to protect his brother then, and now he has to do the same for her. Dean has to get her out of here. Now.

The cowboy turns his head slightly, addressing Y/N without letting his old man out of his sight. “You should get Joplin warmed up. I’ll be right there.” “Dean? Are you s--” “Go,” he insists, wincing at the strict tone of his own voice.

John has halted and watches the exchange, his gaze following the cowgirl who moves to the box on her right and takes off the halter of a black horse inside the stable. Without a word but with concern and confusion evident in her eyes - which flick to his before she averts them quickly - she takes the Quarter by the reins and guides the mare out of the stable. When she’s out of earshot, Dean’s father returns his focus to his son. “That your girlfriend?” he wonders. “No,” the wrangler claims, wanting to keep her out of this at all costs. John doesn’t have to know about his relationships with her or with his friends. It will make them vulnerable to his influence. “She’s just an intern,” he adds.

Believing the statement to be true, he dips his chin, nodding slightly, and Dean is able to exhale. At least he got Y/N out of harm’s way, now he just needs to somehow prepare himself to take the fire. It’s been a long time coming, but it’s time to face the faults of the past. He allowed the family to fall apart on that dreadful night when the bond between the Winchesters was shattered to pieces. Dean destroyed it all.

Carefully, his old man moves closer once more, and involuntarily the young cowboy steps back. He doesn’t want to. He intends to stand tall and hold position, but trepidation has him back up before he can stop himself. Apparently aware of the effect he has on Dean, John ceases his attempt to close the unbreachable gap between father and son.

Leaving a safe distance between them, he speaks again. “You’ve grown up to be quite the man, Dean. Your aunt and uncle must have taken good care of you.” More than you’ve ever done, Dean thinks to himself, but he doesn’t say it out loud, too apprehensive for the reaction it might trigger. “They have.” “Well, I’m glad,” John smiles at the ground. “I’m glad you landed on your feet. Do you know if Sammy did too?”

Dean’s eyes fill to the brim before he can blink. He doesn’t know. The big brother who was supposed to look out for him, who was supposed to give everything to provide his younger sibling the safety and care that he deserved, doesn’t know. The question is a punch in the gut, a verification of the fact that he has failed Sam like he has failed so many others. “I don’t,” he admits, doing everything in his power to keep his voice steady. “I haven’t seen him since.”

John sighs, sniffles slightly and glances up, as if he’s mad for a prayer that has been left unanswered. The news does a number on the old guy, and suddenly Dean feels sorry for the man standing before him. His father was already lost when their mother died, and it only got worse when Sam disappeared. The agony it triggered has never left him, just like it never left his son. That loss will always remain, a piece of their heart cut away violently, leaving a hole that bleeds to this day. They both had to settle for a life without Mary and the youngest Winchester in it. As much as Dean wants to hate his father, he simply can’t. He wouldn’t want to wish that kind of torture upon anyone, let alone his dad. It doesn’t matter how many mistakes he has made.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hoped that maybe…” John pauses, shaking his head slightly. “I hoped you boys at least found your way back to each other.”

Dean swallows with difficulty, his bottom lashes barely clinging to the tears that threaten to roll down his face, but he manages to keep it together. He wishes the same, because life without his sibling feels incomplete. God, he misses Sam. And all that guilt, the sorrow, and the uncertainty of his well-being come rushing back to him in a magnitude that he can’t cope with.

John watches his son again, a grown man now, yet still his boy. “I was wondering if maybe we could sit down someday. Have a drink or something, y’know? Try and put this all behind us?”

Astonished, Dean stares at him. A part of him wants to mend this broken relationship, but John must be aware that rekindling the father-son bond will never undo all the trauma their family endured. There’s no going back to how things were, there is no returning to the time the Winchesters were happy. Mom died, and her death set them on a course of total ruination. And yet, Dean can’t answer. He can’t tell his father ‘no’.

“John Winchester!” Hasty footsteps echo between the stable walls, and when the conflicted cowboy glances past his father, he notices Bobby, moving closer with determined strides. A shuddering sigh of relief escapes Dean, and he’s glad the man opposite of him turns around to face his former brother-in-law so that he doesn’t witness the sign of weakness. With his uncle here, he instantly feels safer, knowing that even if this conversation develops into an argument, he has back-up now.

The elder man holds a fury in his eyes that is visible even in the shadows of the worn ball cap he always wears. “You better walk away,” he warns. “We were just talkin’,” John assures, calmly. “I don’t care if you are holding a family reunion,” Bobby sneers. “If you don’t leave right now, I will get my gun and blast your sorry ass so full of buckshot that you will never sit in a saddle again without scratching the leather.”

Dean’s gaze bounces between his father and his uncle, weary of the clash that is about to kick off, as the two older men keep their eyes locked on each other, tension rising by the second. But then, against his expectations, John gives in to Bobby’s request and steps aside. He glances back at his son one last time, giving him a sad smile, before he breaks away and strolls off, shoulders slumped and defeat obvious.

Collecting himself by taking a breath and blowing it out as slowly as he can, the younger cowboy makes eye contact with his uncle, who approaches him until he’s in arm’s reach. He puts his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, gently encouraging the troubled young man to look at him, hoping the touch will ground his nephew. “You alright?” Bobby asks, the lines in his forehead deepening as he frowns. Dean swallows down the lump in his throat and nods, his lips pressed together in a firm line. He can’t speak and has to break away from his uncle’s observant gaze. Bobby’s grip loosens; he’s aware that Dean isn’t ready to expose his true feelings about this unfortunate run-in. “I’m gonna make sure he leaves the premises,” he assures. With those words, the man - who once again has provided him safety - turns away to follow John, committed to matching action with his words if the guy doesn’t take his threat seriously.

Finally alone, the unsettled cowboy tries to inhale again, but his diaphragm seems to have risen to chest height. He can feel anxiety like he has never experienced before in his adult life get a grip on him, and whatever he tries, he can’t stop it. Afraid that his legs might give way, he takes a step to the side and holds on to one of the stable bars, but he still can’t breathe. Unable to hold the frontline in the battle he’s fighting with the overwhelming sense of distress, the tears break through his defense, spilling down his cheeks. Suddenly, he feels sick. He needs to get out, he needs fresh air.

Feeling the bile creeping up from deep inside him as he stumbles outside, he quickly turns the corner behind the tent before he heaves this morning’s partly digested breakfast into the grass. He throws up everything he has been holding, hoping the anguish will leave his body as well, but it doesn’t. When his stomach is empty, he is still left with the same misery. “Fuck,” he chokes out, steadying himself against the steel corner pillar of the stable. He wipes at his runny nose and his tears, sniffling. Get a hold of yourself, Dean, he lectures, you need to keep it together now. He straightens his back, looking down at the mess he made, closing his eyes for a second as he pulls in a careful breath.

“Dean?” Recognizing his friend’s voice, the cowboy turns around. Benny stands behind him, worry in his clear blue eyes. Manning up and finding his footing again, Dean walks up to meet him. The Southerner hands him a bottle of water, and even though the receiver is thankful for having something to rinse his mouth with, he wishes it to be something a whole lot stronger.

Taking a swig, he lets it wash away the sour taste before he spits it onto the ground. After another attempt he realizes that it’s no use and takes a careful sip this time, swallowing it down to put out the fire inside his chest. He glances at Benny, giving him a nod. “I - I’m good,” he says, not just trying to convince his companion. “I’m good.”

Knowing him well, his best friend doesn’t contradict him, even though it’s clear as day the statement is far from the truth. Dean’s eyes are bloodshot, his hand trembling when he moves the bottle to his mouth. “You might wanna get to the warm-up,” Benny reminds him, handing him the headset. The wrangler grimaces. “Shit, yeah. What time is it?” “Two-thirty. Her starting time is in twenty-five minutes,” the Southerner says. “I gotta get goin’,” Dean realizes after cursing again, moving past him to make his way to the arena. He holds up the water bottle as he jogs away. “Thanks.”

Hoping his friend will understand that he’s thanking him for a lot more than just the drink, he hastens away. Right now, he has someone else who needs his support. Y/N has left the stables well over fifteen minutes ago, so he hopes she’s not nervous because of his late arrival. When he finally reaches the fence, he spots her amongst the other riders, warming up Joplin. He can tell she’s focused, or is she upset with him for not being on time? Finding it hard to read her from a distance, he sums it up to a mixture of both. Without disturbing the other competitors, he bends down to duck under the barrier, approaching her and her horse. But when she ignores him completely and continues to work the Quarter on a small circle, he hesitates.

“Y/N?” he calls out, not sure if she saw him from inside her bubble. “What?” she snaps. Taken aback by her reaction, he watches how she keeps circling, slowing down to a walk, but still not stopping to take the headset or even grant him a look. “C’mon, let me help you,” he ushers, holding up the device for her. But when she looks him in the eye, the coldness they behold frightens him. “Why do you even care?” she wonders. “I’m ‘just an intern’ anyway.”

Like she just slapped him across the face, Dean stares at the cowgirl, the daggers she’s shooting at him with her powerful gaze stabbing him right in the heart. No no no, he thinks to himself as he closes his eyes. She wasn’t supposed to hear him say that to his father. He labeled her as an intern only to make sure John wouldn’t be able to get to Dean through his girlfriend. Of course he didn’t mean a word of it! He has to make her understand. “Yankee, I’m sorry. I--” “Forget it, Dean. I can handle myself,” she snarls. “Leave me alone.”

With that, she moves away from her boyfriend, riding Joplin to the other side of the warm-up ring, as far from him as possible. Regretful, her trainer saunters back towards the fence, making his way out of the ring. When he straightens himself, he is met by Jo, who has her arms crossed in front of her chest as she narrows her eyes at her cousin. It’s clear as day that she’s about to rip him a new one as well. “What did you do?” she demands to know, sternly.

Dean looks at her, opening his mouth to answer, but unable to even utter a word. I fucked up, that’s what I did, he realizes. Like he has fucked up everything else that was ever good in his life. He doesn’t reply, though, and instead shakes his head, admitting his loss. “Here.” Dean hands her the small device with a microphone attached to it, his fingers still trembling. “Help her if she needs assistance, alright?” Perplexed, she watches him walk off. She at least expected a counter with a claim that he didn’t do anything wrong. “You’re not gonna even watch her ride?” she asks before he’s too far gone. “I’ll watch from the bleachers. I don’t wanna distract her,” he returns, sadly looking into her eyes before he carries on.

Observing her cousin, an uneasy feeling settles in her stomach. The guilt is oozing from him in great amounts as he disappears in the crowd, his head hanging, the usual upbeat attitude nowhere to be found. What has gotten into him? Something must have happened, something bad. She can’t recall the last time she has seen him this troubled, not since… Jo’s eyes grow a little larger, her brows that were knitted together a moment ago now rising. Suddenly it dawns on her; she hasn’t seen him so thrown into disarray since he arrived at the ranch at fourteen years of age. She might have been only eight at the time, but those memories lingered. The sight of a kid so scared, so depressed, and so broken left an impression. Even as a little girl she knew he had been through hell, and by the looks of her cousin now, it seems like those dark days are catching up with him.

Jo wants to go after the poor guy, but she knows she can’t abandon her best friend. When the steward calls out Y/N’s name, announcing she’s up next, she focuses on the rider again. Right now she is her main priority, because whatever happened between the intern and the wrangler, Jo knows she’s Dean’s priority too.

“Ready?” she checks while quickly drying Joplin with a towel before they head towards the gate. “Yeah, I am,” Y/N assures, pushing Dean from her thoughts. “Remember that it’s fine to pick your first cow from the side of the herd, okay? Don’t set the bar too high. It’s your first time,” the blonde cowgirl offers. “I know,” she assures, even though she’s not planning on playing it safe.

The frustration has morphed into determination, a strong will to prove that she can manage just fine and that Bobby has every reason to dote on her. She much rather feels aggravated than insecure, so she allows the anger to flood the worry, shutting out her usual insecurity. She’s not going to let anyone down, especially not herself.

Concentrated, she goes to the gate, eye for the prize. Joplin already has her ears perked towards the cattle, knowing it’s game time. The clock starts to tick, and with confidence, she guides Joplin through the group of heifers, picking one dead in the middle to single out.

She doesn’t know Dean is watching from the sidelines, and intense sadness filling his soul. She doesn’t know how proud he is when she makes two amazing cuts and she scores 73 points, outclassing him. She doesn’t know that he’s very much aware that his girl doesn’t need him anymore.

Swift strokes brush the dirt out of Joplin’s dark coat. Dust particles dance in the air, illuminated by the orange rays of the setting sun that fall through the window of the stable. The mare allows the pampering, on hindleg resting on its toe, her head hanging low. Big, brown eyes are half closed, falling shut every once in a while. Sleep almost taking the normally feisty horse, the grooming having a relaxing effect on her. It’s almost as if she realizes she’s about to go on a new adventure, and she’s taking this moment to recharge after her run.

Jody has matched Joplin with a great family. A sixteen-year-old girl will be riding her. The teenager and her parents came to meet her new horse right after the great performance, absolutely beaming, knowing this wonderful animal was now theirs. In about fifteen minutes, Joplin’s new owners will be here to take her to their farm in Alamo, New Mexico. The family promised to give the Quarter a forever home, and they showed Y/N pictures of the beautiful barn where the little dark horse is going to live. She’s going to a good place, but the farewell remains bittersweet.

Once the Joplin is thoroughly cleaned, her rider takes her by the halter, raking her fingers through her mane. Y/N has never been good at saying goodbye, but it’s time now. “Be good, okay?” she whispers, letting her hands gently run down the horse’s neck. “And don’t pin your ears back too much. People are gonna think you’re mean, but I know you’re a softy.”

Joplin breathes out a sigh through her nose as if answering the person who has been her companion for the past month. It’s peculiar how fast a bond between human and animal can form. There has been a connection between them since the first time Y/N saddled her up for a trail. The thought of buying the beautiful Quarter herself has crossed the cowgirl’s mind ever since she learned Bobby planned to sell her, but no matter how difficult, this is also an aspect of the business that she needs to get used to. When she will finally have her own stables in a year's time, horses will come and go. She can’t keep every one of them, and so she needs to set Joplin free.

Judging by the hollow sounds under the tent’s roof, the new owners are on their way. She can distinguish Jody’s voice, and Bobby’s too. A girl with long, brown hair and bright eyes peers over the stable door, already glancing at the beautiful horse lovingly. “I bought her new transport boots,” she announces enthusiastically. “Wouldn’t want her to get hurt on the trailer. I also got a rug for when it gets a little colder during the night. Do you think she will like that?” The teenager holds up a red, woolen rug, which matches the leg protection perfectly. Y/N chuckles at the sight. Joplin is going to get so spoiled. “Those look amazing.” She reaches for one of the boots. “Here, let me help.”

They strap on the protective wear together while Bobby, Jody, and the parents close the deal on the other side of the alleyway. After the money is counted, the ranch owner hands over the horse’s passport together with a certificate of ownership, shaking their hands once more. Y/N waits for her boss to look her way, wondering if he - as owner - should give Joplin away, but the old man gives her a friendly nod, telling her without words that she will have the honor.

“Well, I guess this is it,” she says, fumbling with the leadrope. “She’s yours now.” “Thank you,” the young cowgirl returns. “We will take good care of her. Promise.” Not trusting her voice, the Y/N smiles warmly, but there isn’t a doubt in her mind that the family will. She doesn’t want to get emotional, it wouldn’t be professional after all. And so she does her very best to blink the mist from her eyes when she offers the leadrope, handing over Joplin to her new owner.

The family who just gained an additional member exits the stables, heading to the trailers to start their journey home. The rider, the trader, and the rancher watch them leave, all with smiles on their faces. Everyone involved in this sale wins. Y/N can’t help it, though, and has to wipe a lonely tear from her cheek. Jody, who notices, wraps an arm around her shoulder, sheltering and comforting. “Sorry,” the cowgirl excuses, a little embarrassed. “Don’t be sorry, honey,” she dismisses sweetly. “Caring matters, especially when money comes into play. Someone who cares has far better judgment than someone who’s greedy. Remember that.” Y/N smiles at the wise words, storing that piece of advice with all the others she has picked up along the way.

“Pretty good ride,” Bobby compliments his intern, in his own way trying to cheer her up. “Especially at your first cutting class.” Jody glances aside at the ranch owner, not impressed with his choice of words, before pulling the cowgirl closer into a side hug. “Pretty good? Are you kidding me? You absolutely slayed it! If you’re not giving that girl a rider’s fee, I will.” “Oh, that’s really not necessary,” Y/N objects. “No, you deserve it,” he insists while leafing through the hundred dollar bills in a large envelope. “Bobby, it’s okay. I am already super grateful for everything I’m learning and the experiences that I’m gaining. You have already given me a room and a stable, not to mention Ellen’s cooking. You really don’t have to pay me.”

Y/N shortly places her hand on her boss’s to seize his actions, wanting him to stop counting. The Gold Canyon Ranch might have made good money over the past three days, yet that doesn’t mean a financial disaster is avoided. She doesn’t want a share. The old man holds her gaze and she can tell he’s wondering if either Dean or Jo have spilled a little too much information. Maybe it is because of that assumption that he settles and lets it go. “At least lemme buy you a drink, huh?” he offers before he turns to his business partner. “I just have to round a few things up with Jody here.” “Alright, see you in a bit,” Y/N returns.

As the two business partners walk off to look for a private place where Bobby can give the woman who has made the sale possible her commissioner’s fee, the cowgirl slips into the tack room. She decides to start packing, since the crew presumingly will leave in a couple of hours. She has to keep busy, but Dean breaks into thoughts straight away. Sighing deeply, the cowgirl tries to wrap her head around her boyfriend’s reasoning. His words, which had her freeze to the ground for a second as she left him with his father, still ring in her ears. She’s just an intern. Why would he say such a thing? Why hadn’t he expressed that she is his girlfriend? Why did he never mention his father to her? And if he isn’t even able to talk to her about his family, what else is he hiding?

Her train of thought is interrupted by Jo, who hastily rushes around the corner, her restless eyes searching the tack room before she checks the stables. “Have you seen Dean?” she asks, concerned. “No,” Y/N bitterly answers. “Okay, enough.” Jo places her hands on her hips, shifting her weight to one leg. “What the hell is going on with you two?” “You tell me,” her friend responds coldly. “I was under the impression we were doing just fine until Dean wasn’t even able to introduce me. Clearly, I value our relationship more than he does.”

“What are you talking about? He’s crazy about you,” the blonde cowgirl reminds her. “Is he?” Y/N spins on her heels, finally looking her in the eye. “Because for someone who claims to care about me, he sure keeps an awful lot of secrets.” Jo sighs. “Look, I know Dean isn’t the guy who’s very chatty about those kinds of things, but what makes you say that he doesn’t care?” “Because he couldn’t even tell his family - who he failed to tell me about, by the way - that I’m his girlfriend! He told his father that I am just an int--” “Whoa whoa, wait. His father?” Her best friend stares at her bug-eyed, needing a moment to process the information. “His father is here?!” “Yeah, he showed up in the stables earlier to visit him, before I got on Joplin,” she confirms, somewhat confused by her shocked expression. Jo steps towards the intern, grabbing both her shoulders and looking at her intensely. “Are you absolutely sure?” Y/N shrugs a little, not understanding the earnesty. “He looked a lot like Dean, and he called him his son, so I’m assuming.”

Her best friend just gapes at her, her cousin’s demeanor by the warm-up ring suddenly making much more sense. If he had an encounter with his father, his entire world just got turned upside down. Judging by how messed up he was when his only living parent left him to rot when he was still a child, she can only imagine what his return after all that time has set in motion.

“We need to find Dean, now,” she says, grabbing her friend by the wrist and pulling her out of the tack room. “I’ll explain along the way.” Unsettled, Y/N fastens her pace to jog next to the ranch owner’s daughter. “Jo, what’s going on?” “Dean didn’t lie to you when he said that he hadn’t seen his family in a while. In fact, the two haven’t been in contact for fifteen years,” she explains as they exit the stables.

Stunned by the revelation, the cowgirl next to her tries to make sense of it all. Fifteen years? Why would he have cut all ties with his dad for fifteen years? She can’t possibly imagine doing such a thing. Something horrible must have happened, something beyond comprehension. “That still doesn’t explain why he described me as anything else but his girlfriend,” Y/N brings up. “Listen, you don’t know John. He is a manipulative son of a bitch who has played dirty mind games before. If Dean let on that you were just someone working at the ranch, he was trying to protect you.” Y/N stops dead in her tracks, her hand which is still entwined with Jo’s causing her friend to spin around. “He w - what?”

“You need to talk to him,” her friend insists, dragging her into motion again. “My guess is that he found a place to be alone or he’s liquoring up. Either way, your man is spiraling out of control and he's gonna need his girl in order to get out of that vicious circle.” “He - he won’t talk to me,” she stammers. “Not after how I was with him before my run. God, I can’t believe I was so self-absorbed. I thought he didn’t want me there because he was embarrassed of me, and you’re telling me he was making sure I was safe?”

Jo wishes her companion wouldn’t put herself down like that, because the blonde cowgirl honestly gets why she reacted the way she did, being unaware of the family drama. She never thought the day would come, but here she is, defending her cousin’s honor.

“Like I said; he’s crazy about you, Sis. He has never been like this with somebody else, so if there’s anyone who can through to him it’s you. He might try to--” “- push me away, I know. That’s kind of his thing. I won’t let him,” Y/N promises. Jo nods at that, glad she was able to convince her. “Good, now we just have to find him.”

They arrive at the square where all the shops are situated, most of the stand holders packing their unsold products into cars and onto trailers. The sun has disappeared behind the horizon, the skies painted with red. There are a few people around, music coming from the tent further up where the after-party is in full swing. They meet Benny at the crossing, though, who is looking for his friend as well. “Have you seen him?” Y/N asks the farrier, who has the same worried frown on his face as the girls. “I tried the trailers, but no luck,” Benny says. “Stables?” But she shakes her head. “We were just there.”

The three glance aside when a group of young guys stumbles out of the tent, alternated colored beams in their wake, coming from the disco lights inside. The concern that has Jo’s intestines in knots worsens, because if Dean has hit the bar, reasoning with him is going to be problematic.

Y/N enters the tent, backed up by the other two members of the Gold Canyon Ranch. The band plays a happy, upbeat country song that contradicts the alarming anxiety and dread that is riding her nerves like a racetrack. Frantically, she looks around, trying to identify her boyfriend amongst the crowd. She doesn’t see him in the booths on her right, nor around the dancefloor which she and Dean owned two nights prior. Once she convinces him that she understands why he said those things and that he did nothing wrong, she can wrap her arms around him again, comfort him with a kiss and ask him for another dance. He can continue to be the wonderful, supportive boyfriend, making her laugh and making her smile, lifting her up and making her feel appreciated. They can go back to how things were.

Trying to convince herself that everything is going to be fine, she moves through the mass of people towards the beer taps, when she stops suddenly, the wind being knocked from her lungs by the sight in front of her. At the end of the bar, she finds Dean. Not nursing a beer, sad and alone like she expected to find him, but in company of the same girl who was all over him on Friday night as well; Jamie. The cowboy, already intoxicated, leaning into her when the blonde whispers something in his ear, touching his arm as she does. A blind man would be able to see the chemistry, their conversation easy and carefree. The beautiful girl seated on the stool next to her boyfriend doesn’t show a sign of insecurity, her cheerful and confident personality matching Dean’s perfectly. She is everything Y/N isn’t.

Unable to move, she watches the film play out before her, a story of fun and romance that will push her story with Dean to a tragic end. Tears begin to fill her eyes, her breath hitching in her throat. A part of her hopes that he will turn around and see the devastation that his actions are causing, but he doesn’t, occupied by the gorgeous old flame which seems to have ignited something new. He doesn’t even see me, she realizes. He doesn’t see her, because once again it has been made perfectly clear she’s not worth holding on to. That has always been the case whenever it came to love, hasn’t it? So why on earth did she think that with Dean it was going to be any different? And just like that, she’s back to being invisible again.

Abruptly, Y/N turns around, desperately needing to get out of the buzzing atmosphere, but she collides with Jo the second she does. “Woah! Where are you--” Jo steadies her friend when she almost falls over, holding her by her arms. Stunned, she stares into her eyes, noticing how they are glazed over with absolute heartbreak. “What’s going on?”

But Y/N just shakes her head, moving past her hastily; she can’t stay here a second longer. The upset girl struggles towards the exit and ignores Benny, who watches her departure, perplexed. When he straightens himself again, he glances at Jo, as much confusion on his features as on hers. But when his focus locks on his buddy at the bar, his face falls. “That son of a bitch,” he mutters, his remark triggering the blonde cowgirl before him to turn around as well.

Jo’s jaw falls slack, observing as the two order another round of shots. She can’t believe what she’s seeing. She can’t believe she’s witnessing the man who she thought had made a change for the better, now making a turn for the worse. Frustration boils inside of the petite yet feisty woman, who is biting down hard on her bottom lip when she faces Benny again. “You talk some sense into him before he really crosses the line,” she directs. “I’m gonna go after Y/N and see if I can repair the damage.”

The broad-shouldered wrangler nods and watches Jo take off before he goes in the other direction. He pushes through the mass of people who are enjoying the last party of the event, all oblivious to the dramatic scene they are all a part of. He senses that the drama might become a whole lot worse if he doesn’t manage to pull Dean’s head off his ass.

“What do you think you’re doin’, brother?” Benny claps his hand on his friend’s shoulder, interrupting him before he downs the shot waiting for him on the bar. He scoffs. “What does it look like?” “Seems to me you’re about to get a lil’ too friendly with a gal that ain’t yours,” the farrier says with a lowered voice, hoping it will enlighten him. “We’re just having a drink,” Dean counters, annoyed, reaching for the glass in front of him, but Benny pushes it out of reach. “Do you think that’s what Y/N saw too when she was here just now?” Now he does get the cowboy’s attention, common sense finally pushing to the forefront. “She was here?” he questions, dumbfounded. “Yep, and you’ve got somethin’ to fix. Let’s go,” Benny suggests, his large hand flat on his companion’s back calmly pushing him off the chair and onto his feet, both men giving Jamie a short nod before they leave the party.

The fresh air slaps Dean in the face when he exits the tent, sobering him up enough to realize how bad he screwed up. He knew it was a horrible idea to do the one thing his dad always did when the pain got too much to bear; hit the alcohol and drown his sorrow. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? No matter how hard he fights, no matter how different he aspires to be, he will always be just like his father. The same ego-centric, selfish and spineless dick that breaks everything he touches.

When the two men stop in the middle of the square, Benny looks around, trying to find the girls. He doesn’t spot them sitting at any of the outside tables, nor by the restrooms. “It don’t matter, I already fucked it up anyway,” Dean mutters when his friend glances between the market shops. The farrier pauses his search and gazes at him superciliously through half-lidded eyes. “No disrespect, Chief, but what the hell is wrong with you?” “You really want me to get started on that list? Because if so, we’re gonna be here for a while,” the wrangler returns snarky, avoiding his friend’s blue eyes, taking a few steps away with his hands on his hips. “John showing up here is not y—” “Don’t!” Dean interrupts with venom in his voice, spinning around and pointing a firm finger at Benny. “Don’t you dare bring up my father.”

He’s trembling, the anger that ran in John’s blood for years now raging through his veins. Fire sets alight his insides, flames dancing in his pupils that glare at his comrade warningly. The Southerner takes a tentative step towards him, realizing he needs to get through to Dean, but has to handle the subject as carefully as possible. “You are not him. I know this,” he speaks slow. “I know you love Y/N, too.”

But Dean scoffs and shakes his head, not just denying that he does, but refusing to allow himself that kind of fulfillment. He was stupid to even think that he ever had a chance with her. It was just a matter of time before it all would come crashing down on him, ruining everything that he never deserved in the first place. He can’t love her, because if he does, she will fall victim to him, just like he did to his dad.

“Listen, brother. You’re not seein’ straight right now, but you can still make this right,” Benny continues. “You care too much about her to just throw in the towel. Remember when she first came to the ranch? You were smitten the second she walked through those doors. You called dibs on her for a reason.”

The cowboy’s shoulders rise as he inhales deeply and fall again when he blows out a breath. Of course he remembers. He remembers the first time he laid eyes on her over his poker cards, how she responded to him from across the saloon. He remembers how she gave him a run for his money when he came on too strong. He remembers how he panicked when she didn’t seem interested and the idea of her being with someone else had him strike an agreement with his best mate. He remembers the rides, their first kiss, the moment i-- “You called dibs on me?”

Stunned by the unexpected voice, both men turn to where it came from. Benny gulps thickly when he notices Y/N stepping from under the awning of one of the food trucks, Jo in her shadow. Even in the dim glow from the overhanging strings of lightbulbs, he can see her eyes shimmer with despair. “Y/N, it ain’t as bad as it s--” But the cowgirl cuts him off immediately, shooting Benny a glare. “You can stop with the Southern smooth talk. I need to talk to Dean alone.”

After exchanging looks over the course of several uncomfortable seconds, both Benny and Jo step aside, sauntering away from the couple. Once their friends have disappeared behind one of the trailers, Y/N returns her focus to her boyfriend again, her judgemental stare boring into his soul. “I asked you a question,” she repeats, managing to prevent her voice from trembling. “Did you make some kind of pact with your buddies?”

Dean doesn’t answer, but he sets his jaw, the muscles flexing under his stubble. He lifts his eyes from the ground for a moment, glancing over before he averts them again. The woman standing a few feet away from him chuckles cynically; she knows enough.

“So what, women are like cattle to you? This is a funny bet?” The cowboy frustratingly shakes his head once. “You know it’s not.” “Do I?!” Y/N returns, her tone sharper and higher than anticipated. “Because if this isn’t just a game, then why did you shove me aside for some blonde broad--” “For fuck’s sake, we were just having a drink! We had this argument already!” Dean snaps, throwing his arms to the side.

Taken aback by the hostility, Y/N stares at him. She has seen this anger before, but just a glimpse of it. It was when Ash lost his job and blamed them, in particular Dean, who took the acquisitions hard. That evening it was mostly guilt that triggered the cowboy to lash out to her and the second he realized he had upset her, he apologized. But now an apology doesn’t even seem to cross his mind that is clouded by darkness far greater. At this point, she’s not sure if she would be able to accept it anyway.

“Well, it didn’t make much of a difference, now did it?” she returns after using the dreadful silence to recover. “Apparently not,” Dean scoffs, shifting his unfocused gaze aside. Mulling over the chain of events that have led to this moment, he swallows with difficulty, indignation taking off the heat for a bit, stopping it from boiling over. The calm gives Y/N enough courage to step closer. “Dean, I know today was a whirlwind. I know - I’m aware that what happened in the stables earlier has sent you into a tailspin,” she sympathizes, careful not to mention his father after witnessing his outburst with Benny when he did, “but this isn’t you.”

The disheartened guy before her huffs again, sardonic and hopeless. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Because it’s exactly who he is. This is who he was always destined to be. It’s how he was raised, it’s in his DNA. For two months he allowed himself to hope that maybe he could change, that maybe he could be better than the poor excuse of a man his father was. Y/N gave him that pipe dream, and even though it’s unreasonable to be upset with her for seeing the good in him, it’s amongst one of the many frustrations he’s experiencing.

“It is. This -” Dean points at himself, his upper lip twitching with disgust. “- this is who I am.” She shakes her head, not ready to give up. “It’s not. You are kind, loving, your heart is--” “You don’t know me!” He exclaims, running a hand through his hair and trapping the light-brown locks between his fingers before he gestures wildly. “You think you do, but you don’t have a fucking clue! I haven’t told you anything about my life--” “Then talk to me!” Y/N yells back as he turns away from her. “I CAN’T!!”

Dean is facing her again, vexation flaring in his emerald green eyes. His heart beats so vigorously that it has his entire body pulsating. He takes her in, the beautiful young woman who he fell for, and he can see that her hope is fading. It pains him to hurt her, but he’s left with no choice. Being angry with him will make things easier, though. It will help her move on. If she is going to feel sorry for him, the pity would only prompt the caring girl to hold on and try to piece the shattered shards back together, and he can’t let that happen, simply because it’s useless. He refuses to take her down with him, to burden her with the same demons that he has to live with. He can’t do that to her, not to the one he loves. She’s way too good for him, so pure, so selfless and gentle. She’s everything he shouldn’t have, everything he isn’t worthy of. It’s better this way, it’s better to end it now.

“I can’t. Who you think I am, it’s not me. I’ve been lying to you, pretending. I can’t be the person you need me to be,” he claims, calmer now that he knows what he has to do.

Y/N’s breathing picks up slightly, the air leaving her with a shudder each time. His words seem so definite already, but he can’t possibly believe that they are not right for each other, can he? All those moments they shared, all the affection he offered; that was real. That was him. Why can’t he see he’s exactly the man she needs? “And what person is that?” she questions, hoping that whatever argument he fires back, she can turn around.

Dean is quiet for a few seconds, thinking about a fitting answer. The profound fondness he feels for her begins to resurface and it’s tearing him apart. She needs to understand that the fairytale they have been living is a facade he can’t continue to maintain. Dreams never last forever, this is where they wake up. “You need a guy who is honest, who you can trust. Look at us; I can’t even bring myself to tell you about my family, my past, or anything for that matter,” he reminds her. “I knew what I was in for, Dean. I don’t expect you to spill every dark secret you think you have. You don’t have to spell out everything to be with me. We can work it out!” she argues desperately. But the cowboy shakes his head, feeling the sorrow brim in his eyes. He wants her to be right so bad, but he knows he can’t live a lie. “You don’t get it, okay? I’m a fucking mess. I did things that are unforgivable. I don’t have my shit together, but you do,” he says, a sad smile barely pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You know exactly where you wanna go in life, what you want to achieve.” She steps closer, praying that if he lets her, she can eventually bridge the space between them. “We can do that together,” she pleads with all the hope she has left. “We can’t,” he returns, having gathered every bit of strength to look at her before he pronounces the words who he knows are the truth. “This isn’t gonna work.”

The tears that have gathered become too much even for a dam to withhold roll down her cheeks now. An already unbearable ache gets worse, her heart physically hurting and taking up so much space that Y/N feels like she can’t breathe. He can’t be doing this. He can’t pull the plug, not after all the epic moments they shared. Every warm look, every gentle touch, every loving kiss; every blissful memory. How can he possibly let go of that? Refusal has her reach out to him, one last attempt to repair what is already broken. “Dean, stop… Why are you hurting me like this?” she cries.

The cowboy drops his gaze while fighting the tears and the grief for what he’s losing. He wants to reach out too, take her hand in his, but he can’t cave now, he can’t be selfish. He has to do this for her. “Because if I don’t, if I allow this to go any further, it’s gonna hurt a lot more.” Dean fixates on anything but Y/N, no longer able to endure the sight of her falling apart in front of him. It’s dreadfully quiet as if the world stopped turning, and in a way, for the two individuals in the middle of the square, it just did. “So - so what? This is it?” she stammers, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re breaking up with me?” Biting his lip now, he focuses on what this decision will offer the woman at arm’s reach. An uncomplicated life in which she can pursue her dreams without having to worry about someone dragging her down. She can be free to do whatever she wishes and that’s all he can ask for. But in order to provide her with that opportunity, he has to let her go. “Yeah. We’re over.”

Like a bullet fired from a gun, the defining words rip through her chest and pierce her heart. The silence after the shot is deafening, canceling out the sounds of their surroundings. The streaming pathways of desolation gather at the end of her chin and drip down on the dry soil, enough to darken the dust. Her eyes are glued on him, though, but he doesn’t return her gaze. The conclusion of their relationship sinks in with every passing second, leaving her soul in ruins. It’s over. They are over. And there is nothing she can do to change the course of history.

Unable to be in his presence, she forces her feet to move, turning away from the man she is no longer with. Dean can’t watch her leave, fixed on the dark earth where her tears fell just moments ago. From his peripheral vision, he notices Jo rushing by to go after her friend. Good, he thinks to himself, she’ll have someone to lean on.

After standing there for what feels like an hour, he takes a few hesitant steps towards one of the trailers, placing both hands flat on the metal, searching for something to ground him while he closes his eyes and lets his head hang. He can’t find it, though, not in the cold steel, not in his reasoning behind this brutal decision. The resentment builds again, and Dean pulls his right hand back, balls his fist, and almost puts a dent into the barrier before him. The action only confirms what he deep down knew to be true all along. All that rage, the self-hatred; he can’t bottle it up forever, so it’s for the best that Y/N will no longer be there to witness it.

Dean bends his elbows, his forearms now pressed against the iron and his forehead resting between his clenching fists, as he struggles to pull in a shaky breath. He feels like he’s imploding, the outer frame of his structure caving in on itself. His mouth falls open, his bottom lip trembling, then he allows the tears to cascade down his face.

He can sense Benny by his side, but Dean is too wrapped up in his own destruction to really acknowledge him. The comforting hand on his shoulder is a touch he barely registers, his body is already rebuilding its emotional walls, caging away his ability to feel and casting it in a permanent shadow. That’s where it will remain, encapsulated in darkness, cut out from the light that his girl had to give. Benny stays by his side, though, letting him know that he is there for his friend, as much as Jo is there for hers.

“Sis, wait,” the ranch owner’s daughter tries desperately, following the woman who just had her heart broken into the stables. Her request remains unanswered, Y/N only stopping when she has reached Meadow’s box, her hands shaking while she tries to unlock the door. When she’s unable to, Jo quickly steps in and opens the gate, holding it for her companion. The bay horse has lifted her head, alerted by the commotion in the alley, but clearly recognizes the person stepping inside. She seems confused by her owner’s frail state of mind, though, pricked ears and concerned eyes taking in the situation.

The cowgirl folds an arm around Meadow’s neck while she buries her face in the Quarter’s brown coat, then she breaks. She breaks into a million segments, lost in the mixture of wood shavings and straw underneath their feet. The air is too thin to breathe and sobs wreck her entire form.

Never in her life has she felt so unwanted, purposeless, and vulnerable as she’s feeling now. Dean let her in and she trusted him to handle her with grace, yet the second she was comfortable with this new way of being, he pushed her out. She thought she knew the man she felt such a strong connection with. Yes, she realized very early on that it was going to be difficult to get through to him. The soldier with thick armor had stacked the barricades high, but that never intimidated her. After all, she had climbed mountains before.

She gave Dean her all, but in the end, it turns out it was useless. Y/N isn’t even sure what’s real and what’s not, if the cowboy has been wearing a mask all along, or just now turned into someone that he isn’t. It doesn’t matter, though. He has made himself perfectly clear; she is not the girl he wants to be with.

The only one stopping her from collapsing is Meadow, who holds still like a statue, aware that if she moves, her owner will fall to the ground and might never be able to get up again. The horse senses exactly how to handle Y/N, the usually so spirited mare now timid and calm, picking up on the despairing energy.

Jo, who had silently slipped into the tack box to get a bottle of water and some tissues, comes back into the stable, tearing up at the sight of the two who have such a strong bond. The thousand-pound animal has curved her neck around her human, resting her large head on the cowgirl’s shoulder. As if trying to comfort her, Meadow twitches her lips, gently rubbing them against her owner’s back, her way of showing affection. People can be cruel sometimes, to others, to horses. Jo has witnessed it, and she knows Dean has too, which has ultimately led to his dreadful decision to cut Y/N loose, and by doing so he has hurt her in terrible ways himself. But at least the girl has her horse.

Meadow, who is oblivious to the reason behind her owner’s sorrow, offers solace nonetheless. Quietly, she waits until the cries die down and the tears begin to dry, and even then she stays close to her person, having a better sense of direction than most humans do. Y/N’s four-legged friend is honest, treats her with kindness, and loves her unconditionally. It’s a special connection no man can ever steal away, yet many can learn from. This incredible being is her soul horse, a term Dean has taught her, the one who she thought was going to be her partner in life until he decided otherwise. He is right, though; it is over between them. She has lost Dean’s heart, but at the end of the day, no matter what happens, she will always have Meadow.

That’s that then. They are over...

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-five here

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tiptapricot · 3 years

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I’m very surprised u haven’t done David/Michael hcs yet :0 👀 pls tip gimme ur wisdom 🙏🏼

Ohohoho yes ofc

I think their relationship starts off just as an inherent attraction, no other feelings of any kind besides maybe a mild dislike

Well maybe more than mild...

They’re always bickering and arguing and trying to get at each other

For David it’s fun, flirting and arguing to piss Michael off, but Michael just thinks he’s annoying

There’s some other feeling there too besides annoyance, but Michael just thinks it’s anger at how David is still able to look cool and collected even when he’s being a dick

(It’s actually that he thinks he’s hot, but he doesn’t know that)

Mentions of drinking, smoking, and parental issues under cut, reaaally vaguely implied sexual content

Eventually David actually gains a legitimate interest in Michael beyond just messing with him for Max, and the flirting shifts from soley confrontational to more teasing and curious

It’s still just sexual in nature when it comes to his attraction and end goals, but that’s all David really expects and is aiming for anyway

Michael’s a good looking guy, they all think so. He’s kind of dense, but he’d still be fun to play around with

The dynamic between them stays the same for awhile, though Michael stops being as ticked off at David’s ribbing as he used to be, and life is good

Hanging out with David and the boys helps Michael take his mind off the stresses in his life

It gives him somewhere to have fun and not have to think too hard about anything, where stuff is simple and narrowed down and easy

It’s an escape

He supposes that’s why he starts opening up to them more as time goes on, about those same worries and pressures

He’s never been the best at articulating his feelings, but something about being out with the guys makes it easy, like he loses his emotional filter

Their loud reassurances that it’s all bullshit and that he shouldn’t worry about any of it are nice too, and getting drunk and stoned every night probably helps as well

So life is good, Michael has friends and a distraction, and David is being introduced to the very peculiar problem of actually starting to care about him

It’s something he notices kind of suddenly, one time when Michael is talking about his dad

They’re around a bonfire on the beach, working slowly through a few packs of beer, and when Michael cracks a joke about overhearing his parents arguing when he was younger, David feels a twinge of something more painful over their link

It gives him pause, his brows knitting together, bottle stalled halfway to his lips, and he realizes in that moment that what Michael feels actually matters to him

What he wants matters to him

What he enjoys and hates matters to him

Michael matters to him

It settles in his chest like a strange new weight, and he decides it’s best to keep it there

His feelings still aren’t romantic right away, the flirting continues and so does the teasing and jokes and so on, there’s just that added depth to things now that David’s trying to understand

The other boys tease him about it, but he brushes them off

David and Michael get a few nights with just each other here and there, when the other boys want to do something more violent for the night or do a fly around and Michael can’t be there for it

They mainly talk and walk around town when that happens

David talks about the history of the place and they share a joint or something stronger, and every time, every single time, David finds himself saying stuff he hasn’t really verbalized before

Maybe it’s something about knowing that Michael gets it, in a way, the responsibilities, the expectations, the want to get away from it all but knowing you can’t, that makes it easier

David never lets himself get too deep into things (or too specific with the details), but there’s still something there that’s more vulnerable than he likes to think about, something about Michael that wears him down

This is around when Michael realizes he cares about David

He still thinks he’s a dick, but they have a lot in common, and he’s surprisingly comfortable to be around

Plus when they’re just with each other... well Michael isn’t really sure what it is, but he likes it

Things build in the following weeks, rougher in places and smoother in others

David’s feelings slot firmly into place and he gets more reckless as a result. Michael comes to him with questions one night, and they’re alone in the cave, and he’s not sure how to answer, and so it only makes sense to kiss him

Michael melts under David’s touch when he does, confused and pliable and wanting, and the rest is so fast and so easy

But then Michael finds out he’s a vampire, catches David and the boys coming back from a feeding, and David has to quell the following freak out and give an explanation before things get out of hand. He manages to, but the ensuing argument brings more to light than he wanted

Max’s plan comes tumbling down all at once, things fall apart and plans are made, and when the smoke clears the boys are free, and the Emerson house is covered in soot

The aftermath is complicated and simple at the same time

They talk, and David explains, and Michael listens, and it’s gentler than things have ever been between them, unfamiliar and new

The kissing is nice. The kissing is very nice

After that it feels natural

The bickering is the same, the teasing and insulting compliments and nitpicking like they’ve been together for decades

Michael puts up blackout curtains so that David can stay over, and once he finally gets a job is usually home around the time David’s just starting to peek out from under the covers as the sun sets, hair mussed up and eyes bleary

The boys think they’re disgusting, there’s way too much casual contact and little gestures of intimacy (Michael looking over David’s shoulder with a hand on his waist as he helps Lucy with dinner, leaning against each other on the couch, cheek kisses followed by a trail of cigarette smoke when they’re down by the boardwalk, truly sickening stuff)

Sam also thinks they’re disgusting, but that’s just because he’s caught them making out one too many times

They’re never a super domestic couple in the usual sense, in that they don’t get an apartment together or want to get married and start a family or anything, but they’re domestic in their own way

They go with Sam and the Frogs to concerts and movies, David is comfortable going without his jacket in the Emerson house, and they have a lot of small, whispered exchanges about very ordinary things, like what the instructions mean while assembling furniture, or which person from the pier has been the biggest asshole over the last week

Michael helps David style and rebleach his hair and David keeps a couple hair ties on him in case they’re out and Michael needs one

When they go on dates it’s usually not to the movies or a restaurant, they’ll just pick up food and ride around town or up to the bluffs where they can vibe together

It’s good, and it’s healthy

They like just laying in bed together a lot, Michael is warm and the closeness is easy

Michael’s always having to remind David that he’s worthy of having this, that he deserves love and affection and intimacy, and David is grateful for that, and grateful for everything else about Michael too

Headcanons masterpost

#woof this was longer than I meant but hey!#them!#the fruit is answering again #the fruit is talking again #tlb #the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #michael emerson #david the lost boys #the lost boys david #the fruit is headcanoning again

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blkmxrvel · 3 years

Text

Haven’t Forgotten My Way Home (24) - [CONVERTED]

Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Female!Reader

Summary: In the D/s society of National City, men and women abandoned by their Dom/mes or otherwise deemed unfit for life “outside” end up at the Mount Overland House for Orphaned Submissives. It is here that Kara Zor-El finds Y/N Hastings, broken and fearful from mistreatment at the hands of her former Dom. Can Kara coax Y/N back into the world that once so terrified her, and show her the true meaning of care and submission?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (Flashbacks, Mentions and Descriptions), Misogyny, Domination/Submission.

She had expected the courtroom to look… just like that, a courtroom. A vast expanse of rule and punishment, dark woods and a high bench in the center from which the judge would condemn them all.

She had probably watched way too much television, Kara decided, or it could be because only the major cases were tried in the main courtroom down the hall. Most, such as domestic disputes or “severed claims” (such a distasteful phrase, Kara thought) were heard in 203Left. It was little more than a boardroom, with 3 tables pushed together in an open-ended square, and the gallery was three or four rows of metal chairs sat towards the back of the room. Two members of the council sat in the very back row, a presence Kara noticed with a slight tinge of fear.

“Are you sure I can’t go up there with her?” she whispered to Lena, who was sat beside her in the first row.

She looked so vulnerable, Kara thought, flanked on either side by her lawyer and Sam… and him directly in front of her.

James Olsen didn’t look like a man capable of making a young girl’s life a living hell, and that, Kara knew, was because Alex had done a good job prepping him. Clean-shaven, hair cut short. His suit was dark, but not so dark as to give off the impression of “bad guy,” impeccably tailored and well-fitting. He sat ramrod straight in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the wood table the only indication that he was the accused.

He looked, Kara thought, like a little boy in a man’s clothes. And that, she knew, was what had started it all.

She shook her head and turned her attention back to the girl who mattered most, the girl who was staring at her with eyes wide and somewhat fearful. Kara smiled reassuringly, wishing with everything she had that she could go up there to her, to hold her in her arms and whisper that it was all going to turn out all right.

Except she didn’t know if it would.

Sam had helped Y/N dress for the trial as well, a move that Kara knew was just as calculated as Alex’s. She didn’t like it, because the white short-sleeve peasant shirt and black pants, along with a simple pair of black tennis shoes and Y/N’s hair held back on one side by a bow-shaped clip, made Y/N look even younger, smaller, more lost than what Kara knew she was.

Even if, just two nights ago, she’d been afraid Y/N had become lost to her forever.

Kara had known, from the moment she’d walked down the hall to her bedroom and found Y/N staring at her collection of punishment implements, hand held fast but shaking against the cabinet door, what the young woman had been thinking of. It had tempered Kara’s anger, somewhat, at her things having been gone through without permission, but it had been exacerbated, too, by the fact that Y/N still didn’t trust her.

It had made her irrationally frustrated, in those few short seconds standing there watching Y/N struggle with her own emotions, that after all this time, after all the care and devotion Kara had thought she’d provided, Y/N was still afraid of her. Hadn’t she done well? Kara thought to herself, after Y/N had gone to the living room and she was gathering up the paddle, the belt, the strap, the hairbrush, the crop in her hands and walking back down the hall herself, formulating the plan in her mind. Hadn’t she praised Y/N at every turn, hadn’t she made sure to call her good girl after every punishment, hadn’t she held her and loved her after every punishment, made sure that Y/N knew it was a clean slate, that everything was forgiven?

Hadn’t she been unlike James Olsen at every possible opportunity?

She’d wanted to call Lena, to call and ask what she should do, because why should she have to keep proving herself over and over again? But she knew what Lena would say, yet another lesson Kara had learned while kneeling at the woman’s feet.

A Dominant will prove herself worthy every day if her submissive needs it. Because the submissive deserves nothing less.

Kara hadn’t meant for things to be as intense as they were with Y/N’s punishment. She’d even momentarily forgotten the significance of the fire, until she’d taken the blindfold off Y/N and the poor girl had reacted to it with a heart-rending moan. Kara would have ended it right there, but she had to prove a point; she had to make Y/N see that Kara was determined never to be like him.

And then Y/N had safe worded.

Later that night, after dinner and as they lay together inside the blanket fort, Y/N had become uncharacteristically quiet. They had been talking and laughing together, making plans for the next day, but then Kara had lain down and taken Y/N into her arms. What she had thought was blissful, comfortable silence was apparently Y/N lost in her own thoughts, thoughts that she wasn’t inviting Kara to share. Kara had waited patiently, content to hold the girl close to her, rubbing her back gently and offering the occasional soft kiss, but still Y/N said nothing.

“Out with it,” Kara had finally ordered gently. “What’s bothering you?” Y/N shook her head.

“Y/N.” There was a note of warning, an edged reminder of the consequence of defiance.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Kara said, tipping her chin up to kiss Y/N again. “And I said you were forgiven for going through my things.”

“No. Not about that.”

Kara tilted her head. “Then…?”

It hurt when Y/N rolled over on her side, away from Kara, drawing her knees up and curling in on herself as if she was remembering being asleep on the floor, with nothing but a thin sheet for comfort. And then Kara was alarmed, because the quiet sniffling even as she reached out for Y/N told her the girl was crying.

“For safe wording.”

She didn’t pull Y/N back around to her; instead, Kara wrapped her arms around the girl’s waist and scooted herself closer so they were pressed back to front. “Why,” she asked softly, nuzzling her chin onto the girl’s shoulder and breathing in the scent of the shampoo that still lingered, “Would you apologize for that?”

“Because i-it made you angry.”

Now Kara was even more confused, and she wanted to roll Y/N over so that she could see her face, search her eyes for something, anything that would be the reasoning behind the girl’s emotions. But she knew Y/N, knew her boundaries, and knew the girl was lost inside something that it would be dangerous to pull her out of too soon, so Kara simply held her.

“I couldn’t be more proud of you for safe wording,” she explained. “You finally understand that it’s okay to safe word, that you have that right, that you will always have that right. And that makes me so happy.”

“I wasn’t a good girl.”

“What?”

Y/N drew herself up further, so that her knees were practically at her chest. “You always say I’m a good girl… after. This time, you didn’t. Because I’m n-not a good girl.”

“Y/N, no-“

“I safe worded. I’m weak, I didn’t trust you. I’m a b-bad girl.”

“No.” This time, Kara did turn Y/N over in her arms; Y/N didn’t protest, her limbs slack like a rag doll’s, and Kara sighed inwardly. She moved up against the pillows so that Y/N was laid a little lower than she was, with her head against Kara’s chest; Kara tightened her arms. She took a deep breath, letting go of the thoughts of how could I have been so stupid? and allowing her nature to flow through her, to take control. The need to dominate and care, to protect and train. She ran her fingers through Y/N’s hair, loosely, lovingly.

“For a person who has never had a safe word,” she said firmly, “and who has always been afraid to use a safe word because she thought it might result in worse punishment, to actually use a safe word…” Kara shook her head; this was no time for a lecture with big words.

“You’re the bravest girl I know,” she whispered, lowering her lips to the top of Y/N’s head, holding her close as the girl shook with silent sobs. “You’re the bravest girl I know, and the strongest, and I am so proud of you.” She cupped Y/N’s face in her hands, raising it so the girl was looking at her. “Don’t ever let me hear you say you’re a bad girl again, is that clear? That is unacceptable. You may be naughty, you may make bad choices, but you are never bad. Do you understand me?”

Y/N swallowed, her eyes locked on Kara’s. “Yes, Miss Kara.”

“I am so sorry for forgetting to say it,” Kara said, regret coating her voice. “Even a Dominant can make mistakes, and forget things. I am so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Y/N was looking at her with an expression of wonder; Kara knew it was because a Dominant actually apologizing was a foreign concept to her. Still, she nodded, slowly. “I forgive you, Miss Kara.”

Kara smiled, and kissed her. “What a strong, brave, good girl you are,” she affirmed, and kissed her again. Y/N offered her a watery smile in response, and Kara brushed the tears away from her cheeks with her thumbs. “Good girl,” she cooed, tucking Y/N’s head back against her chest. “My good girl. My good, good girl.”

“She’ll need you more after than during,” Lena said, watching Sam with no small amount of pride on her face. “You know, she’s so hot like this.”

Kara rolled her eyes. “Now is really not the time, horndog,” she said affectionately, then paled when Lena turned to her with a glare in her eyes. “Sorry, Miss Lena,” Kara squeaked.

Really, it was ridiculous that that woman could still make her feel like a 16 year old sometimes.

Lena smirked, and patted Kara’s knee.

Both women tensed when the door to the front of the courtroom opened, and The Honorable Judge Winston Schott entered to take his place at the head table.

Kara knew as soon as she saw him that all was lost.

It wasn’t that he was particularly menacing or intimidating; in fact, with his sweater vest and his unruly, curly hair he looked more like a high school teacher than a judge. But it was in the way he walked, in the way he smiled and greeted James Olsen hello while merely nodding at Y/N, in the way he seated himself and rustled through the papers but not even giving them so much as a glance that told Kara he had most likely made up his mind before he’d even walked in the door.

“Right then,” he said, settling back in his chair and uncapping his pen, tapping it annoyingly against the table. “This is case oh three four dash three two six. I’m Judge Winston Schott; let’s have the introductions, please.”

“Lucy Lane and Sam Luthor-Arias, representation and advocate for Y/N Hastings, plaintiff, Your Honor.”

Kara wasn’t too sure about Y/N’s lawyer; the woman had her hair up in pigtails and was wearing an outlandish jacket topped with a feather boa. But Sam insisted she was the best, and Lena insisted that Sam knew what she was talking about. So Kara pushed aside her nervousness and smiled when Y/N managed a glance and subtle wave at her, then she turned her attention to the men sitting on the opposite side.

“Iris West-Allen and Alex Danvers, representation and advocate for James Olsen, defendant, Your Honor.”

Kara fought back a giggle as she caught sight of Maggie, sat just behind Alex’s table, pointing at her Ma’am and mouthing “She is so hot.” She shook her head at her and she grinned, giving a thumbs up before quickly slipping into what she termed “behave mode.”

Her nerves were quickly getting the best of her though, as the introductions ceased and it was time for the trial of Y/N Hastings-Olsen v. James Olsen to get underway. They were going to lose, she was sure of it, and everything Y/N had to go through would have been for nothing, because James Olsen was going to get a slap on the wrist.

“Right,” Schott was saying, sounding bored. “James Olsen, defendant, Y/N Hastings-Olsen, plain—“

“Hastings, Your Honor,” Ms. Lane interrupted, her tone clipped and determined. “Her name is Y/N Hastings.”

“Mm,” Judge Schott hummed. “Hastings-Olsen, plaintiff. Let’s beg—“

“Objection!”

All eyes turned to her.

“Kara, what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Lena hissed. “You can’t object; you’re not part of the trial!”

Alex looked as if she was about to come out of her seat at her; Kara sank down into hers, watching as Y/N raised a single eyebrow at her.

That eyebrow was really, really hot.

“There will be silence in the gallery,” Judge Schott reprimanded sternly, glaring at Kara. “Unless you are—“

“Oh I’m not a lawyer,” Kara explained hastily. “Though I have played one in a local theater production.”

Lena dropped her face into her palm as Sam snorted.

“There will be silence in the gallery,” Judge Schott said again with a sigh of exasperation. “Are we clear?”

Kara nodded, embarrassed that she’d let her nerves get the best of her so soon. “Yes, Your Honor, sorry.”

He looked at her for a long moment, and then nodded. “We will proceed. As is always the case, the defense shall be presented first.”

Kara managed not to groan; she hated that so far, efforts in court reform had been rejected by the government, and so trials nearly always ended up skewed towards the accused. Proponents of the current system said it actually worked in the plaintiff’s favor, because theirs was the last testimony heard, and would therefore remain fresher in the judge or jury’s mind, but Kara wasn’t so sure she bought that. She only hoped it would be true, for Y/N’s sake.

She noticed that James was leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table in front of him, and his eyes glued to Y/N. She for her part wasn’t looking at him; she was staring down at the table. Kara wondered if she’d ever been permitted to really look at James.

“Hold on, angel,” Kara whispered. “Just hold on.” Lena shot her a look, and Kara quieted so she could hear the questions from James’s lawyer.

“Will you tell us, please, James,” began West-Allen, “How you feel about your submissive?”

“She’s not yours,” Kara muttered. “She’s mi—“

“Kara, shut up,” Lena said softly. “Remember, everything has to go perfectly.”

“I didn’t—“ he paused, as if fumbling for the words. “I never meant to hurt he—“ James Olsen stopped again. “Y/N. Y/N, look at me. Look at me.”

She didn’t, and Kara felt her heart swell as instead, the girl looked at her. She nodded at Y/N, who reluctantly turned back to James.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, and Kara rolled her eyes, only to have her mouth drop open in shock at his next words.

“Y/N, I love you.”

Kara felt sick. She had to lean forward a little, her arms pressed against her stomach; Lena laid a reassuring hand on her back. The words were… everything Kara knew Y/N had wanted to hear from James. Kara knew the power behind those words, knew how much she wanted to hear them herself. But would it make everything okay, she wondered. Would Y/N… leave her and go back to James, forget everything he’d put her through, just because he said he loved her? She sniffed, unaware until then that she was crying; she swiped the back of her hand over her eyes.

“Easy,” Lena murmured. “It’s not going to change anything, Kara. Easy now.”

“Do you deny doing the things that you are accused of?”

James Olsen shook his head. “No,” he said, and Kara heard herself gasp. She’d never expected him to actually admit it.

“But I never meant to hurt her, I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought—“

“What did you think justified your treatment of someone you say you love?”

This was what Kara had been waiting to hear. The explanation, the reasoning behind it all. Not that it would change her opinion of him, or make it all right, but if she didn’t get to hear it she’d be wondering for the rest of her life what had led James to be so brutal to one of the sweetest creatures she had ever known in her life.

She still wanted him to suffer everything Y/N had suffered, but more than that, she wanted to know why.

“I—my dad was a sub,” James said with a shrug. Before Kara had a chance to blurt out what’s that got to do with anything? he continued. “My dad was a sub, and my mom was his Dominant. I mean yeah that’s how it works so of course she was but… and he was a good sub, when he was around. At least what I can remember, I was pretty young when he left.”

“He left?” Mrs. West-Allenpressed, one hand scratching notes onto the pad in front of her, the other playing with the tie at her neck.

“Yeah he… got into some stuff, drugs I guess? I don’t really know, I was just a kid. He’d… go out all the time, come home… different. And my mom, she tried, you know, she’d punish him. Spank him, make him do chores, not let him leave the house. But she was kind of soft, she didn’t like punishing him and he got away with a lot of stuff. So he’d leave anyway.”

“And one day…?”

James shrugged, twisting his hands together as he looked at Y/N. “I love you,” he said, the words sounding gentle. “I love you, and I’m sorry.”

Kara fought back the urge to retch; Lena’s hand was soothing against her back. He didn’t mean any of it. She knew he didn’t. Not after all this time, not after everything he’d done to her. Don’t believe him, she tried to send to Y/N. Please don’t believe him, I love you…

“James.”

“Right, sorry.” Olsen took another deep breath and went on with a glance at Alex, who smiled encouragingly at him.

For a split second, Kara hated her again.

“One day he… went somewhere. Told my mom he was going shopping. ‘I’ll be back with dinner, Mistress,’ he said. ‘Take care of Mom,’ he said.” Olsen struck the table with his fist and everyone jumped; Y/N let out a whimper and in a heartbeat Sam had her arm around the girl, whispering words into her ear. Kara clenched her hands to keep from jumping out of her seat; Lena slipped her arm around her shoulders.

“Be strong, that’s what she needs right now,” she soothed. Kara swallowed around the lump in her throat and nodded.

“We waited for hours,” James said through clenched teeth. “Mom paced back and forth, kept saying that this time he’d learn his lesson, this time he’d see that his place was at home with his family. And me, I just sat on the steps watching the door. Must’ve fallen asleep ‘cause when I woke up it was morning and I was still on the steps. Mom was on the couch crying and he never came back.”

West-Allen nodded, looking thoughtful; Judge Schott was staring as if he wanted to cuddle Olsen on his lap. “Can you explain,” James’s lawyer said, “How that affected your relationship with Y/N?”

“My mom… she was such a pushover, you know? She let him get away with everything. She’s the Domme, she’s supposed to be in control, show him who’s boss, but she kept letting him walk out. And I’m just 16, you know? I’m a 16 year old kid and my mom was so obsessed with finding him that… I didn’t know much. But I knew I wasn’t going to do that with you,” he said to Y/N, and she glanced away.

“I’m not weak. I’m the Dom, I control you and you’re going to do what I say. I love you, and I have to keep you safe. She didn’t keep him safe, and now he’s gone. We don’t even know if he’s still alive. You’re not safe out there, you belong to me and your place is at home, and if I have to beat and burn that into you every day then I’m going to fucking do it.”

She’d had enough. Kara jumped out of her chair and ran into the hall, with Lena right behind. She barely made it to the restroom, dropping to her knees in one of the stalls and emptying her stomach of all the contents from breakfast earlier that morning. Lena knelt behind her, holding Kara’s hair back with one hand, again rubbing her back with the other.

“How,” Kara croaked, shaking slightly, “How can any of that justify what he did to her?”

“It doesn’t,” Lena said matter-of-factly. “I don’t care how much of a scared, fatherless 16 year old boy he was, there comes a point when immaturity stops being an explanation and it becomes a get out of jail free card, an unfair justification for despicable behavior. Hey, I can imitate you pretty well, can’t I?”

Kara smiled weakly and stood up, brushing off her clothes and accepting the mint gum Lena held out to her, then allowing herself to be pulled into the other woman’s arms.

“We’re going to lose,” Kara said softly, leaning in.

Lena sighed and squeezed her. “I know.” She pushed back and looked directly into Kara’s eyes. “Which is why I said she’ll need you more after. Come on, it’s almost her turn to testify.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Kara admitted, tugging at the black skirt she wore and nervously adjusting the white top. It occurred to her that she and Y/N had somehow managed to color coordinate, though neither of them had discussed what they were going to wear.

It was… hopeful, she thought.

“Yes you can.” Lena had already turned away from Kara and was walking out the door, her heels sounding loudly on the floor. Kara shook her head slightly, recognizing that the encouragement was also an order, and she quickly followed her back into the courtroom.

Y/N looked worriedly at her as Kara settled back in her seat; Kara just winked at her and waved slightly before realizing that Schott was speaking to her.

“I trust there will be no more disturbances during these proceedings?” he said, once again sounding bored. “Honestly, if you were going to be this emotional you ought to have stayed home.”

Kara growled low in her throat, but managed to sound pleasant as she said, “No more disturbances, Your Honor, you can continue.”

“Well, thank you for your permission.” Judge Schott turned to Y/N’s lawyer. “Miss Lane, are you ready to cross-examine the defendant?”

“Ready, Your Honor.”

All doubts about Y/N’s lawyer’s qualifications disappeared as soon as Lucy Lane leaned forward in her seat, her eyes boring into James’s as she asked “Mr. Olsen… just who the hell do you think you are?” Kara smirked, and she even caught Y/N smiling slightly. Every question was on-point, every counter of his answers left the young man squirming in his seat, and Kara began to think that maybe, just maybe, they might have a shot at winning. By the time Lane said she had no further questions, James Olsen had been reduced to stuttering his answers.

“Miss Lane, are you and Miss Hastings-Olsen ready to present your own case?”

“Hastings, Your Honor.”

Kara’s head shot up at Y/N’s voice, even as a slow smile began to spread over her face.

Judge Schott regarded her coolly. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s Y/N Hastings,” she said, her voice low, but confident. “My name is Y/N Hastings.”

Lucy Lane was smiling; Kara caught Sam pumping her fist under the table and next to her, Lena chuckled.

“Very well, then,” he said, with a dismissing wave of his head. “Can we get on with this?”

“I believe we can,” Miss Lane said. “Y/N?”

Y/N hesitated, and Kara’s heart filled with pride as she looked at her, then nodded. “I’m ready.”

#supergirl #supergirl x reader #kara danvers x reader #kara zor el x reader #kara danvers #madi converts

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