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soleilceirinen · 5 months

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Little Girl Blue (Arthur Shelby x barmaid!reader).

Summary: you work as a barmaid at the Garrison. One day you find Arthur drawing something and get curious.

Warning: none.

A/N: English is not my first language, sorry if there are mistakes.

MASTERLIST (Cillian Murphy) - PEAKY BLINDERS MASTERLIST

You had started working as a barmaid at the Garrison a few months before the Shelby brothers returned from France.

At first, the idea of quitting crossed your mind but you had no other option and needed the job. You had to take care of your little brother, it was just you and him. You had practically raised him since your mother passed away in childbirth and after your father went to France at the beginning of the war to never come back. The boy was all you had left.

Once the Shelby brothers returned, your situation changed. You stopped having problems with some clients, mostly drunk men, just because you were a young woman. Deep down, you had the suspicion that the Peaky Blinders had something to do with the whole situation. Not that it bothered you, now you could walk alone at night and no one would dare look in your direction in the wrong way if they wanted to keep their eyes.

Out of the three of them, Arthur was your favourite. Sometimes you wanted to hold him in your arms like a child and whisper to him that everything was alright. Others, when he was high or drunk, or who knows, you avoided him as much as possible. But he always treated you well, and more than once you had caught him gawking at you from across the pub.

Your next favourite was John, who always flirted with you. You weren’t sure if he was serious or if he flirted with everyone but you were sure of one thing, you didn’t want to become the mother of all his children. And then there was Tommy. He was quite scary, every time he directed his cold blue eyes at you, it made you want to run away and hide. Something about him screamed stay away. He usually ignored you and only spoke to you to order another bottle of whiskey or rum.

That afternoon the pub was quiet. You looked up when the door opened, to see Arthur. He smiled at you like he always did, running a hand through his hair as he headed to the small reserved room he always occupied with his brothers. After drying some glasses, you walked towards the room while drying your hands on your apron.

Arthur didn’t notice your presence, he was focused on what seemed to be drawing something on a piece of paper. From your position you couldn’t see what it was. You knocked on the door frame a couple of times, making the man look up. A look of panic crossed his face but it lasted a few seconds, as long as he folded the paper and put it in his jacket pocket.

"Excuse me Mr. Shelby, I didn't mean to bother you. Would you like me to get you something to drink?" You asked quietly, surprised by his reaction.

“Just call me Arthur, love. How many times have I told you?”

“Many times,” you whispered and smiled. He nodded and looked at his watch, frowning slightly.

“It won't be long until they arrive, I think I'll wait for them.” You were about to leave to go back behind the bar when his voice made you turn around. “How is you brother?”

You paused for a second, considering your answer. “Sammy is fine, a few scratches.” Your brother and Finn were friends and they liked to get into trouble together. A couple of days ago they had returned home covered in mud and blood. Neither of them wanted to confess what they had been doing to end up in that state. “If they are such trouble makers now I don’t want to think how they are going to be in a few years.”

Arthur laughed and lit a cigarette. He agreed with you.

From behind the bar you could observe Arthur through the window that overlooked the small room. You approached slowly, without attracting attention. Once again, he was focused on drawing something, but what could he be drawing? He didn’t seem like that kind of person, as far as you knew, he was interested in boxing not art.

“I didn’t know that you liked drawing, Arthur.” You commented, causing him to fold the paper again and hide it from your view.

“I don’t. As a kid I liked it, but I’m not really good at it now.” He excused himself. His cheeks were starting to turn pink.

You leaned over the window and stretched an arm towards him, wiggling your fingers. “Can I see it?”

Arthur shook his head, a few strands of hair fell over his temples. You felt the impulse to reach and put it back in place with your hand, but didn’t.

“It’s not great…”, he muttered sheepishly.

You sighed. He reminded you of a little child. “Fine, you don’t have to show me. But even if it’s not great, if it makes you happy and you enjoy it, it is worth it.”

Arthur nodded and opened his mouth to talk when a familiar face appeared in the room and sat next to him. “What are you talking about with Y/N?”

“That’s not your business, John!” said Arthur, pushing his brother in the shoulder. They were playing, you thought.

Someone clearing his throat brought you back to reality. On the other side of the bar was Thomas, staring at you with his usual icy eyes.

“Sorry, Mr. Shelby. What can I do for you?”

He pointed to the bottles behind you and turned around to join his brothers. You quickly grabbed three glasses and one whiskey bottle and followed him. While you poured them the liquid you could feel John’s eyes roaming over your body and the familiar smell of their cigarettes.

You left them alone to discuss whatever they had to do. It was almost time to close when they came out, Thomas nodded at you and left the Garrison. You continued cleaning the bar surface, tired after the whole day.

“Hey, Y/N, do you want me to walk home with you?”, asked John, looking at you with shining eyes.

You smiled politely at him and shook your head. “It’s alright, John. I can walk on my own, like every night.”

Then, Arthur appeared next to his little brother and patted his back. “Let’s go, John. She’ll be fine,” he said, turning to look at you directly in the eyes, “no one will dare touch her. By order of the Peaky Blinders. Good night, Y/N.”

“Bye, Arthur… and John.”

After that, the only remaining space to clean was the small room. So you started with it, picking up the glasses and the empty bottle as well as emptying the ashtrays. When you tidied up the seats something caught your eye, slowly you got closer and reached for it.

It was a folded piece of paper. You recognised Arthur’s handwriting. Y/N.

With the tip of your finger you traced the letters before unfolding the paper. You couldn’t help but smile at the little drawing. It was rough and simple, definitely not great at all, similar to the way children draw. But it was recognizable, the tiny figure had your clothes, your apron and the same hairstyle you always wore to work.

Arthur had drawn you, and even if it wasn’t a masterpiece, it warmed your heart. Carefully, you folded it again and put it in your cardigan pocket.

Despite his fame, you could tell that Arthur was a good man, a man who had come back from France changed. But, of all the men who returned from the war, was there any who remained the same as the one who left?

#arthur shelby #peaky blinders #arthur shelby x reader #reader insert #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby #arthur shelby x y/n #arthur shelby imagine

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waywardxwords · 7 months

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Witches

Summary: While hunting a witch, you accidentally stumble upon her collection of sex pollen.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: ~4.2k

Warnings: DO NOT ENGAGE IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18; THIS CONTENT IS RATED M FOR MATURE Swearing, Supernatural-y things (witches), sex pollen trope, smut (p in v, f masturbation), fluff

A/N: This is my first time writing Dean smut and also my first time using the whole sex pollen trope. But this was fun, and I enjoyed writing it. If you’re feeling up to it, please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

There wasn’t anything you hated more in this supernatural world than witches. They were ruthless, conniving and downright batshit crazy. But alas, if you and your hunting buddies didn’t hunt them, then no one would. They would continue wreaking havoc on anyone they wanted, and you couldn’t have that.

So now you found yourself in the living room of a woman you had suspected spent her free time doing witchy things. You had no idea what you were looking for–bones, spell books, weird herbs or plants; the options were literally endless.

All you knew: people in this town all connected to this woman were ending up in rather interesting predicaments and you were determined to find out why.

“Don’t touch anything that looks suspicious,” Dean’s voice came through the other line as you used one hand to press your phone to your ear. “I really wish you would’ve waited for me. We should’ve gone in together.”

“Yeah, well, there’s no time for that,” you muttered as you searched. There were a bunch of old books, but none of them screamed hocus pocus to you. You fumbled with a tiny wooden trinket box that had intricate lines and details on the outside. As you lifted the lid, you saw it contained some kind of yellowish-green powder. “This is interesting…” your voice trailed off as you brought the box closer to investigate. With your phone pressed between your shoulder and ear, you lifted the box.

“I’m serious, do not touch anything. You listenin’ to me?” You rolled your eyes at his voice.

“I’m not touching anything, Dean. Cool it,” you mumbled as you examined the substance. Within a moment, your nose suddenly felt tingly and itchy. It started before you could stop it—sneeze. A cloud of the yellowish-green powder encircled your face and created a haze. Your eyes immediately felt watery. The phone fell from your ear as you hurried to place the box back down on the table and brushed your face with your hands. As you pulled your hands away, you saw dusty yellowish-green hues. You missed Dean calling your name through the phone, but he didn’t miss the words that fell from your lips in the background. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” You breathed as you plucked the phone from the hardwood floor and brought it back to your ear.

“What’s happening?” Dean’s voice was elevated and you heard the rev of the Impala’s engine in the background.

“Uh, Dean?” You watched the powder on the floor around you. “I accidentally touched it.”

“God dammit,” he groaned. “I’ll be right there.”

Dean had gotten to the witch’s house in minutes, which made you realize you probably should have waited for him and gone in together. But that didn’t matter anymore. You were waiting for symptoms to start–every little thing you felt made you wonder if it was caused by the mysterious substance.

“Talk to me, Sammy,” Dean answered the phone roughly as he sped to get back to the motel. He said it was the safest place to be in case something happened. Sam was on his own hunt, about four hours away. “It’s like a yellow color,” he described, as Sam probably asked what it looked like.

“Like pollen,” you murmured from the passenger seat. Suddenly, you felt warmth in the pit of your stomach. It was an odd feeling, almost like you had just consumed a warm cup of tea or hot soup.

“Yeah, like pollen,” Dean repeated into the phone. The warmth wasn’t going away, it was only getting hotter. So hot, you felt the need to pull off your leather jacket even though the cool autumn air nipped at your skin. Dean did a double take from the road to you, and back again. “What are you doing?” He pulled the phone slightly away from his mouth.

“I’m getting really hot, Dean,” you mumbled, worry crept through your words. You didn’t get worried often—or show it, at least—but these damn witches…all bets were off.

“She says she’s getting hot,” Dean relayed over the phone before pulling it away and hitting the ‘Speaker’ button.

“Uh, okay…so she sneezed into a box of pollen and now she feels hot?” Sam was typing as he spoke.

“Somethin’ like that,” Dean confirmed as he turned into the parking lot of the motel. By now, your skin was on fire. The heat had spread from just the pit of your stomach to your chest, your arms, your face, and…other places you preferred not to mention.

“I’m on fire,” you mumbled as tears stung your eyes. As soon as the car was in park, you had the front passenger door open and moved to be outside of the Impala. The cold air felt glorious on your skin, but the fear kept your feet moving.

“She’s burning up, Sammy. You got anything? Anything at all?” The worry was present in Dean’s voice, as well, though you barely noticed over the waves of heat coursing through you.

Once the two of you got into your shared motel room, you beelined for the bathroom. Your fingers wrapped around the edges of the porcelain sink and you closed your eyes. The coolness from the surface of the sink calmed your shakes, even if just for a moment.

“A what pollen?” Dean asked into the phone, as if he couldn’t have heard Sam correctly. After a pause, he continued. “You gotta be kidding me.” He breathed, but didn’t hesitate to get his mind back in the game. “Okay, walk me through it.”

Dean’s tone should have made you nervous, but all you could focus on was the way your heart nearly vibrated in your chest. There was a heat blazing so hot in your center, that you realized at that moment it had created a slickness in your underwear. Your nipples were so hard, they ached against the soft cotton fabric of your bra.

You glanced up to look in the mirror for the first time. That’s when you noticed the heat had risen and created patches of redness up your chest and into your cheeks. Your breathing was labored, almost, and you realized it was as if you had just had…

“Okay, hear me out,” Dean grumbled as he tossed his cell phone onto his bed and ran his hand over his mouth as he tried to find the right words. “You’re not gonna like this…but it’s called sex pollen.” He cleared his voice before he said it.

“I’m sorry, what?” Your chest rose and fell with each breath, you eyed him carefully but that made you feel even hotter. The warmth was overwhelming, so you fanned yourself with one of your hands.

“I know, I know,” he held his hands up as if he were just the messenger. “It’s a spell. It makes you wanna get it on, Marvin Gaye style.” He couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of his lips. You rolled your eyes and threw the hand towel at his face, missing slightly. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Get it together,” you huffed. “So how do I break it?”

Dean gnawed at the inside of his lip, which was something you hadn’t seen him do before—or noticed, anyway. God, you couldn’t look away from his mouth. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you thought you might crumble. Your fingers reached out quickly to grip the doorway of the bathroom.

“From what Sam has read,” he paused as he nervously rubbed at the back of his neck. “You gotta…do it.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Do it?” You repeated. “Can you be a grown-up for five seconds, please?”

“Sex, darlin’,” he closed his eyes and said it hurriedly. “You gotta have sex.”

All of the color drained from your face. Even though you knew that was what he meant, it was still a lot to take in (no pun intended). You closed your eyes for a moment as you tried to force your brain to work, but all of the blood seemed to be rerouted to other parts of your body.

The feelings that ran over you made you realize you were feeling extreme sensations of being turned on. This went far above any other time you had felt this way—thinking about it almost made it worse.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” Dean’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. When you peeled back your eyelids, you were met with his green gaze. You had never seen his eyes so green before—and in the hue of the motel bedside lamps, you spotted speckles of gold and brown. You had never noticed how beautiful his eyes were before.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered over the word. “So what now? Just try to let it pass?”

Dean cleared his throat and broke away from your stare, his tongue darted out over his bottom lip again. God dammit, if he doesn’t put that tongue away… You tried not to squirm standing there in your jeans and a tank top. “Uh, actually, Sammy said if you don’t…take care of it,” he waved his hand in front of himself in a circular motion. “It uh, it can be fatal.”

“I’m sorry, come again?” You blinked once, then twice.

“Yeah, uh, you gotta take care of it,” he brought his hand up to rub at the back of his neck again. You noticed the way his bicep flexed and tugged at the flannel that covered his arm. The heat in your parties made you think they may actually catch on fire.

“Fuck, Dean,” you groaned and turned to move. The only thing that seemed to bring you any kind of relief was pacing. The friction your jeans caused between your legs was incredible. “What if…” you hesitated as you processed. “What if I try to ‘take care of it’ myself?” You used air quotes and looked back at him.

He seemed to process for a second. “I mean, maybe? I don’t have any idea…” the tension in the room was so awkward. But the more time that passed, the harder it was for you to look at Dean and try to not jump his bones.

“Okay, go to the bathroom…do not come out, you hear me?” You instructed firmly. Dean grabbed his phone and nodded.

“I’ll text Sammy and see if he’s found anything else,” he mumbled and hurried to the bathroom before he closed the door. You weren’t sure, but you could’ve sworn you saw him blush—and Dean Winchester never blushed.

By the time you heard the door click closed, your fingers worked the button on your jeans. As soon as the clasp was freed, you shimmied them down your thighs and kicked them off to the side. You decided to leave your underwear and tank top on, fully aware of the man just on the other side of the bathroom door.

As you dropped down on the bed and sat up against the headboard, your knees parted automatically. The heat that escaped between your legs was so intense that the cool air made you gasp. You closed your eyes as your hand snuck under the band of your black panties. The only thing you could see was Dean…his chiseled jaw, the way it tightened when he was mad, or frustrated or deep in thought; the rough stubble scattered across his lower face and chin; the way his eyes bore into you every time he looked your way. These weren’t new feelings, just feelings you had been able to avoid for so long. Now that the sex pollen had taken over, all bets were off.

Your index finger circled your clit. You tried to be quiet, truly. This situation was awkward enough and you knew the doors in this motel were practically cardboard and didn’t contain the sound. But the moans still fell from your lips hastily. You couldn’t stop them once you started. You dipped your fingers down and couldn’t believe the wetness there; the feeling was overwhelming. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut once more, envisioning the god of a man on the other side of the door. And then it happened. “Ugh, Dean,” his name rolled off of your lips dripped in absolute bliss.

“Uh, you okay in there, sweetheart?” Fuck. He had heard it. The blush rising even stronger in your cheeks literally burned your face. Tears you hadn’t realized had pooled in your eyes blurred your vision.

“God dammit,” you groaned. No matter how hard you tried, you knew this wasn’t working. “I’m uh, I’m fine, Dean.” You hoped it would be enough to appease him.

“Listen, uh, Sammy just wrote me back. He said it’s not gonna work…you, uh, taking care of it yourself,” he cleared his throat twice. Oh awesome, you thought to yourself. Both of the Winchesters know I’m trying to masturbate this spell away… You knew what that meant. Before your brain could process, you heard him again. “You decent? I’m comin’ in.”

You practically squealed and clawed at the comforter to cover yourself. The door to the bathroom creaked open and Dean hesitantly peered around it. By the time he made it into the room, you were mostly covered but your right leg had slipped out under the comforter and Dean caught a glimpse of skin from your foot all the way up to where your underwear sat above your hip.

Your eyes connected and you noticed his jaw tightened. But this time, it wasn’t because he was mad or frustrated…maybe in deep thought, but something felt different; something felt darker than that.

“It’s not working,” you murmured, your chest still heaved with each heavy breath you took. Your fingers gripped the comforter so tightly at your chest, your knuckles were white.

“I know, sweetheart,” his voice somehow sounded deeper than it had moments before. You weren’t sure if you were imagining it, or maybe it was the sex pollen. But either way, it made your body tremble.

You followed Dean’s gaze to your leg—he absolutely saw the tremble.

“Listen, I don’t want to make this weird,” he rubbed a hand down his face again. The way his mouth dropped open made the heat rise even more. “But you can’t fix this by yourself.” You knew he was hesitating; hesitating to take it further. You wondered if it was because he didn’t want it, maybe he didn’t want you.

“Help me fix this,” the tears blurred at your eyes again. “Dean, I’m begging you. Everything is on fire. My body literally feels like I’m going to combust.” You hated that your voice cracked, but you were truly starting to freak out. “I don’t want you to do something you don’t wanna do…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dean nervously chuckled as he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I don’t want you to do something just because you have to…” his voice trailed off as his eyes studied you. Realization set in that Dean wasn’t able to hide his attraction or interest in that moment. His jeans had tightened quite a bit in his groin, revealing a bulge that made you practically pant.

“I need you, Dean. But I also want you,” you practically drooled at this point. “I want you so, so bad.”

Dean’s hands moved to unbutton the buttons to his flannel quickly—you scrambled out from underneath the comforter to where he stood at the end of the bed on your knees to help him with the rest. You gave up after the second button and pulled the two sides harshly apart, sending buttons flying to bounce onto the multicolored carpet below.

“Christ,” he breathed as he moved to undo the metal button on his jeans. Instantly, his hands cupped your cheeks. He paused for only a moment. After one more look into your eyes to make sure this was okay, you met in the middle as your lips crashed against one another.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” the words rolled off of your lips like it was nothing—but it was so much more than nothing. It was something you hadn’t meant to say, but the sex pollen haze made your filter dissipate. Your lips pulled apart with a pop and your eyes found his.

“God, me too,” he almost growled as he toppled you back onto the bed once more. Dean was on top of you, your legs parted automatically. He held himself up with one arm and kissed you in a way you had never been kissed before.

“Dean, I need you to touch me. Please,” the need in your voice was mixed with begging at this point. “Everything is on fire.”

“I’m gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” his words drawled together, intoxicated with lust. The hand that wasn’t supporting his body weight trailed down your side. He pulled back and sat on his knees, pulling you with him so you were sitting up. His fingers grasped the hem of your tank top and pulled it up and over your head in one swift motion. He reached behind you and masterfully unclasped your black bra. As soon as it fell away, the cool air from the room bit at your already hardened nipples, causing you to hiss out loud.

Just as quickly as he pulled you up, he pushed you gently back to the bed on your back as he settled between your legs once more.

“You’re so god damn beautiful,” he murmured as his lips connected with your neck. He planted hasty wet kisses from just below your ear lobe, down your collarbone to the top of your breasts.

“Dean,” your hips writhed against him. You needed more.

“I know, baby,” he breathed as his hand finally began to trace down your side, his fingertips left goosebumps on their way until they reached your hip bone. He pulled the material of your underwear until they slid off of your hips. He pulled until they were down near your feet where you could kick them off.

His fingertips trailed to your center and circled your clit just as you had done moments before. His index finger slipped easily inside of you before he decided to add his middle finger to the mix.

“Oh,” you breathed out, your head tilted backward so your neck was exposed. Dean took the opportunity happily, his lips sucked and kissed every inch of skin there as he pumped his fingers into you. “Dean, please.” You were doing a lot of begging, but you literally couldn’t help it. You felt like you would implode if he didn’t take you right then and there.

“Patience is a virtue, sweetheart,” he murmured against the flesh of your neck.

“I don’t really have time for patience,” you groaned. Dean pulled back for a moment, almost as if he had forgotten this was initiated from the sex pollen to begin with. He swallowed hard as his eyes trailed your naked body, his jaw tightened. He quickly pulled off his flannel, within seconds his fingers pulled at the hem of his t-shirt. Next up was his jeans, and then his boxers.

Your body squirmed at the sight–he was stunning. Your eyes trailed down his biceps to his forearms–down his chest, to the delicious V and then…

Your breath got caught in the back of your throat, but before you could gasp for air, his lips were back on you again and you felt his hardness against your thigh. “I don’t have a condom…” he grumbled as his head dropped into the crook of your neck.

“Birth control, Dean,” you mumbled against his hair. His lips found yours again, moving against them as if his life depended on it–and, well, yours sort of did. He pulled back for a moment and found your eyes, as if he was asking if you were sure about this. You knew there was no going back at this point, so you raised your head to capture his lips in yours again. You pulled his bottom lip between your teeth gently, which elicited a moan from him.

And then in a second, you felt him enter you. It could have been the sex pollen, but you didn’t think so. The feeling was the most incredible sensation you had ever felt. The way your body fit against his was something you could have never imagined—even in the nights you had drifted off to sleep thinking about what this might feel like.

He moved slowly at first; too slowly to appease the effects of the damn sex pollen. Your hips rose to meet his and you wrapped your legs around his waist, linking your feet behind him at your ankles. He obliged, and angled his body in a way that you could feel absolutely every inch of him inside of you.

“God damn, you feel so good,” he groaned as he pressed his forehead to yours. You had never felt so close to someone in your entire life, and you prayed it wasn’t just another symptom of the pollen.

“You’re tellin’ me,” you moaned as he reached down with the arm that wasn’t supporting his weight and pulled your leg behind your knee so it rested in the crook of his elbow. “Jesus, Dean.” You bit down on your lower lip so hard you thought you tasted blood for a second. It didn’t matter; nothing mattered in that moment.

He rocked against you so hard, the headboard bounced off of the thin wall of the motel room—the picture that hung above you rattled. Nothing mattered.

Dean brought his lips hastily to your ear and kissed just below it before he whispered, “I want you to touch yourself, sweetheart. Let yourself go.” You shuddered at the feeling of his warm breath on your earlobe and the words he whispered huskily. You could hardly take it.

Your release had already started to build—which wasn’t too surprising, considering how turned on you were to begin with. You snaked your fingers down between your bodies, the feeling of his pelvis crashing against yours sent another wave of goosebumps over your skin.

You began to circle your clit with your fingertip as he secured your leg in the crook of his arm, his bicep flexed tightly. The sensation was overwhelming and you found yourself practically babbling moans and words strung together. “Fuck, Dean. Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” that elicited another chuckle from his lips but didn’t disrupt his movements as he plummeted into you. It felt like he was breaking through your cervix at this point.

“Let yourself go,” he could feel your muscles beginning to twitch around him. His words tossed you over the edge. “Take what you need, sweetheart.”

That was it. You felt like your release was practically boiling as it shook you to your core. You saw flashes of color, and your ears were ringing. Dean moved through it for you as you rode the wave. You vaguely heard yourself yell out his name as everything crashed around you.

“You okay? You want me to stop?” He almost winced as his hips urged him to move but he wanted to respect the fact that the spell you were under had most likely dissipated now.

“Don’t stop,” you hurriedly told him as you rocked your hips against him once more. “Your turn.” You leaned up to connect your lips to a sweet spot on his neck, your tongue ran over his stubble and nipped gently which elicited a groan from the back of his throat.

“God damn,” he growled as his pace quickened again. Your muscles still twitched from your orgasm, you thought it might roll into a second wave—which would have been a first for you.

After a few more thrusts from Dean, he practically collapsed on your chest. Your fingertips found his back, coated in a thin layer of sweat. You dug your nails gently as you drew small smoothing circles upon his skin. After a moment, he rolled so he was on his back just beside you.

“That was magical,” your words practically slurred together as the room was filled with heavy breathing from both you and Dean—your chests rose and fell with each breath.

Dean’s eyes were sealed shut, but you saw the grin that pulled at his lips and he chuckled.

“You sure that’s not the sex pollen talkin’?” He drawled, his words etched together as well—a combination of exhaustion and post-sex effects.

You gently bit at your bottom lip and glanced at him from your side of the bed. His eyes were still shut lazily, a slick layer of sweat glistened in the dim light of the motel. Maybe it was still sex pollen remnants, maybe not—but something gave you a sense of courage you had never had before. You leaned over his body and inched towards his face. “Guess we’ll just have to let round two decide…”

His eyes shot open but his grin stretched wider so you could see his bright white smile. His gaze trailed from your eyes to your lips. Just before he leaned up to press his lips to yours, he said, “Guess we will, won’t we?”

And for the first time in your entire life—you were thankful for witches.

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A/N: Eek! I always get nervous posting ~smut~, but here we are! I love hearing what you think, so please don't be afraid to comment! Even if it's something I could work on for next time. Hope you enjoyed it!

Tag List: @jackles010378 @ladysparkles78 @lyarr24 @roseblue373 @nelachu2423 @deans-spinster-witch @stillhere197

#supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural ff #spn fanfic #spn ff #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fic #dean x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester ff

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hubbvrd · 3 months

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Don you still take request? If you, can you #5."But you hate [food]" — "Yes but you love them. So I get them." with Sam Hubbard, please

Cinnamon rolls | Sam Hubbard

summary — Sam and you are spending a day in the mall. Your boyfriend literally reads your every wish from your lips and so he then buys you cinnamon rolls, which he doesn't really like, but after a brief persuasion on your part he tries them and maybe he doesn't think they're so bad?

pairing — sam hubbard x reader

words — 1096

notes — thanks for your request. I hope you like it!🧡

Hand in hand, you and Sam stroll through the mall. In your left hand and Sam's right is a bag or two, which suggests that your shopping trip has been pretty successful so far.

You've spent the last two hours exploring countless stores and the odd item has made your pockets fuller and your money a little less.

"I'm really hungry, Sammy," you look up at your boyfriend, almost pouting, who looks down at you with a broad grin on his lips.

Actually, Sam didn't really like shopping, as he was always in a bad mood or would find a cozy corner to sit in most of the time while you were lost in your shopping frenzy.

But today Sam seemed to be quite excited about the shopping trip, because Sam seems to have changed this time.

The Bengals player hadn't sat down once or looked bored. On the contrary. He was pretty much in his shopping element too, so you ended up being the one who had to wait for your boyfriend.

"Then we should eat something. I don't want my girlfriend to starve to death"

Sam gently pulls you over to the corner of the mall where there is a large selection of different meals.

"That's really very nice of you, Hubbard" you reply with a grin as you look around and try to decide from the huge selection of different foods.

"There's so much to choose from. How am I ever supposed to decide?" you tilt your head and look at your boyfriend, who rolls his eyes with a grin.

"What are you most hungry for?" Sam asks you as he follows your gaze, hoping to find out what you want to eat by looking at you.

"Hm, burgers and fries doesn't sound too bad, but I guess I'm not too hungry for that..." you begin to think aloud as your eyes wander over to a small stall selling your favorite pastries.

Cinnamon rolls. The sweet pastry that always makes you weak in the knees.

Ever since you tried this pastry for the first time at your grandma's about twenty-two years ago, you were hooked and could eat it in quantities almost every day.

In fact, you had already tried baking them yourself a few times, but either something went wrong or your cinnamon rolls didn't taste anywhere near as good as your grandma's, so you finally gave up and the cinnamon rolls from the bakery had to suffice until the next time you visited your grandma.

"Cinnamon rolls, then" Sam noted with amusement after finally finding out which stand you were literally staring at.

But actually, Sam should have known exactly, because he knew how crazy you were about these pastries. "Then I should go over and buy some cinnamon rolls."

"But you hate cinnamon rolls..."

"Yes but you love them. So I get them."

Sam kisses your cheek before setting his bags down next to you and then walking over to the stall to get you cinnamon rolls.

It was really sweet of him to wait in the long line to get your favorite pastry, which he didn't even like.

You kept trying to convince Sam that the cinnamon rolls were the best pastry.

Each time, however, Sam had grimaced in disgust and visibly struggled not to spit out the pastry.

Each time you had watched this moment with a laugh, even though we had felt rather sorry for your boyfriend that he was once again struggling with the pastry, which he seemed to detest above all else.

It was a few minutes before Sam came back with a packet of fresh cinnamon rolls, which seemed to be still warm - the way you loved them best.

"They're even still warm?" you ask with wide eyes as Sam opens the lid of the box and the smell of cinnamon and yeast dough begins to fill your nose.

"Yes, I asked if I could have some of the fresh and warm ones. I know how much you love them warm," he replies with a smile on his lips as he lifts a perfectly shaped cinnamon rolls out of the box and holds it in front of your lips.

Without hesitating for long, you take a big bite and begin to moan with pleasure as you chew the warm cinnamon roll and close your eyes for a few seconds to fully absorb the taste.

"That good?" Sam asks you with a grin as he watches with amusement as you stand there chewing.

"Incredibly good" you reply, mumbling, before taking another bite of the cinnamon roll.

Over the past few months, you've visited countless bakeries to buy cinnamon rolls, but none of them have come close to the ones your grandma baked, except for this one.

"They taste like my grandma's. Really!" you babble as you shove the rest of the cinnamon roll into your mouth and then lick the cinnamon off your fingers.

"I should probably try it then, shouldn't I?" With a grin on his lips, Sam opens the box again to take out a cinnamon roll for himself.

"But you don't like cinnamon rolls..."

"If this one tastes like your grandma's, then I have to try it, don't I? Because if you always rave about your grandma's cinnamon rolls so much, I have to give them a chance. Because the next time we're together at your grandma's and she makes cinnamon rolls, I don't want to disappoint her."

You watch Sam excitedly as he brings the cinnamon roll to his mouth and then takes a big bite, which he chews on for quite a long time without changing his expression, making you slightly impatient.

"Aaaaaand?" you ask impatiently.

"Wow. I mean awesome. The cinnamon roll is really good. Better than the other disgusting cinnamon roll stuff you've been feeding me for the last few months." A wide grin forms on Sam's lips before he shoves the rest of the pastry into his mouth.

"Ha, you finally believe me! And I can hardly wait for you to try my grandma's cinnamon rolls soon. They're twice as good as these. But I can finally love and accept you completely."

"Oh, so you didn't love and accept me completely before?" Sam asks, almost indignantly, as he carefully puts the packet away in a bag.

"I did, but even more so now" you quickly save your words and press your lips to Sam's before your boyfriend can even begin to say anything back.

And so nothing could stand in the way of your grandma's cinnamon rolls.

#sam hubbard x reader #sam hubbard #sam hubbard imagine #nfl imagines #nfl #nfl fic #cincinnati bengals #nfl imagine

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delulu4dean · 7 months

Text

“Five Gum…”

Warnings: idk, cringe outdated pop culture references. Gender neutral terms(just wanting you so you don’t get like confused <3 )

Pairings: Cas X autistic!reader(platonic), Dean x child!reader

Summary: Castiel is hanging out with Dean’s autistic child, and they have a lot in common.

Word Count: 1,278

Your dad, Dean Winchester, is out on a hunting trip with your Uncle Sammy. He left you alone with Castiel. You don’t know what Castiel is to your dad, they say they’re best friends, but the way they look at each other says more.

You didn’t mind being at the bunker with Cas though. Out of everyone, you got along with him the most. You had some sort of mutual understanding that Sam and Dean don’t get. You assumed it’s because Castiel didn’t know much about human interaction, social cues, pop culture references, and you were well, autistic. Your dad has made the joke that you and Castiel tilt your head the same way when you’re confused, and both don’t understand his sarcasm, and how even though your Dean’s kid, you’re a mini-Cas.

“So what are we doing today?” Castiel asks you.

“I know my dad is protective, but you really don’t need to babysit me, I’m 18. I am an adult,” you explain to Castiel.

“That’s not why he leaves me with you, he just doesn’t want you to get lonely.”

You nod, understanding. Today you’re probably going to do what you and Cas always do, exist next to each other while doing your own things. He’ll be reading something, you’ll be drawing something, and occasionally you two will look at each other, and ask how it’s going. It’s always worked that way.

And that is what you do today. You both go to the library together, Castiel picks out a book, you pull out your sketchbook, and you start doing what you learned is called “parallel play.” At least that’s what it’s called in kids, but you figured the term can be applied here too. You start sketching away as Castiel looks at you, narrowing his eyes.

“You wear that jacket all the time, why?” he asks.

“It brings me comfort. You wear that trench coat all the time, even indoors when you don’t need to. Why is that?” you throw the question right back at him.

“I suppose it also brings me some sense of comfort,” he concludes.

You nod, satisfied with his answer, and go back to sketching, as he goes back to his book. The only sounds filling the room are Castiel’s occasional page flipping, and your constant scribbling. This goes on for half an hour, only to be interrupted by your stomach erupting in hunger. Castiel does not say a word, as he gets up and goes to the bunker’s kitchen, and comes back with a prepackaged peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Oh thanks. When did we get these?” you raise an eyebrow.

“I got them the last time I went grocery shopping with your dad. He said you were having trouble eating because the foods we’ve been getting weren’t the right texture, and I remember when I was human I loved peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, you can never go wrong with them. But I know you sometimes just want ready made food, and when I saw these in the freezer section, I told Dean to get them.”

A smile comes across your face as you open the packaging and take a bite. These prepackaged peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were one of your safe foods, your other one being boxed mac and cheese. You bounce happily as you eat, something you do whenever you’re eating food you really like. And if it’s super good, you’ll kick your feet a little too.

You lick your fingers after you finish your sandwich, and sign “thank you” in ASL, something you do when you don’t feel like talking much. It’s a thing you do with everyone, you’ve taught them basic signs like “yes” or “no” or “please” or “thank you” or “food” or “water” to communicate when you don’t feel like talking.

“No problem,” Cas responds, smiling at you.

You nod and get back to your little activity while Castiel gets back to his. The silence is nice, you get to focus on you sketch, which is a picture of Castiel sitting down in his chair, reading. You occasionally glance up at him, getting the details you need, but you’re not going for realism. You have your own cartoonish art style and you’re drawing Castiel in it. Once you finish, you show him, and a big smile appears on his face as he puts down his book.

“You drew that? That’s me,” he says, and you nod. “I love it.”

You smile and start putting your art supplies away, as he goes back to reading. You clean up your space and put everything back in your room, before returning to Cas. You look over his shoulder at the book he’s reading, trying to not disturb him. He flips through the pages as he reads. But the page flipping and the silence get too much.

“Dicks out for Harambe,” you blurt out, not thinking.

Castiel once again sets his book down, this time not intending to pick it back up, as he looks up at you concerned. You didn’t think before speaking, but being on the internet you hear this phrase a lot. So you said it, and now Castiel is concerned.

“Who is Harambe and why are we exposing ourselves for him,” Castiel asks.

You think for a moment, wanting to answer him, but there’s no way to answer him without sounding stupid and insane. You take a deep breath, giggling a little at the thought of explaining “dicks out for Harambe” to Castiel.

“It’s an internet thing. This gorilla, Harambe, was killed, so we uh, expose ourselves, as you put it, to pay respects to him,” you attempt at an answer but Castiel furrows his eyebrows, getting even more confused.

“How is that paying respect?”

“Well it isn’t… it’s a joke…”

“I thought jokes were supposed to be funny,” he bluntly says.

“It is… to younger people I guess,” you shrug.

“And you said it because…?”

“I said it to fill the silence.”

Cas takes a moment to think, nodding, taking in what you just explained. He then takes his phone out and types away and you look at him, waiting for him to say or do something. He pats the seat next to him and you sit and look at his phone. It’s one of those fruit sensory videos on TikTok that you got Castiel into. Not the baby videos(well they are the baby videos) but the ones to popular music. You and Castiel watched as blueberries and strawberries bounce around the screen to Lincoln Park’s “Numb.”

“Why are we watching this?” you finally ask.

“You seemed like you needed something stimulating to watch or listen to,” Cas answers you.

“That reminds me,” you say, running to your room to grab something quick.

✰✰✰✰✰

Sam and Dean walk into the bunker, and as soon as they see everything, they just look around, confused. The ground is covered in bubble wrap, and the map table is full of Pop-it fidgets. You look up at your uncle and dad, as you and Cas run around barefoot on the bubble wrap, playing with the fidgets.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks.

You look up at him, with an innocent smile on your face.

“Five gum!” you yell at him, throwing a pop-it fidget at him, and he catches it. “Stimulate your senses!”

“I think they are making a joke, because this is a way to stimulate our feeling sense, which is something people on the spectrum often do,” Castiel explains to Dean.

“Yeah, I know what they meant, Cas,” Dean chuckles. “You two have fun while we were gone?”

You and Cas both nod.

✰✰✰✰✰

A/N sorry if this is silly, I’m autistic and Kin cas so I thought it would be fun to do Cas and Dean’s autistic kid. But autism is a spectrum! While this may be how autism is for me, it doesn’t represent everyone with autism :)

#castiel #castiel supernatural #castiel x y/n #castiel x reader #dean x child!reader #dad!dean #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x you

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