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nickfowlerrr · 8 months

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Bucky Barnes and you get stuck in elevator for one hour. What are you two doing? 🖤 honest answers only even if they are filthy 🔥

stuck with you

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

words: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ only. smut. angst. all the feelings. unprotected sex. hint of a breeding kink. some spanking. oh some very incorrect description of an anxiety attack and how to help someone through it. i know, i know, but it's for the story lmao. uhm if i'm missing something that should be tagged pls lmk!

notes: i couldn't not write something for this and it was gonna be so smutty and then i started and then i... i dont know what happened lol. but thank you for sending this in, i know it's not a direct answer but i hope you like it <3 thank you in advance for reading and as always, comments and reblogs are always welcome and so appreciated!

"What exactly do you think slamming all the buttons will do?" he asked as he leaned against the wall of the elevator, nothing short of casual amusement lacing his voice as he watched you.

You ignored him, trying the emergency call button for the fifth time in the minute that had passed since the elevator stopped moving.

You didn't realize the change in your breathing until Bucky's hand came to rest on your arm. You flinched at his touch, having been too lost in your growing panic to notice he'd gotten closer.

"What?" you asked through a heavy, annoyed breath.

"You need to breathe, sweetheart," he instructed gently, tugging you to face him fully, pulling you away from the buttons as he did.

"I'm breathing," you snapped at him, forcing yourself to take a breath as you worked to steel your nerves. It was all in vain, though. You couldn't fight off the paranoid thoughts as they were coming through your mind too fast to even try and rationalize. "I just," you said shakily, "I ca- I can't,"

You suddenly found yourself nearly bowing over as you tried to catch a breath. Bucky helped you to sit while he kept his hold on you, his intent eyes set on you as your own squeezed shut, your hands mindlessly gripping his forearms as you tried to ground yourself.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he ordered firmly, though he waited patiently for you to follow his instructions.

You felt like you couldn't catch your breath, each one you took was too shallow and you couldn't manage to breathe in any deeper.

"Just hold your breath for a second, doll,"

You were still struggling, and the last thought on your mind was to stop breathing altogether, you were sure you'd pass out if you did. Your gasping was only growing worse as Bucky contemplated his options.

He didn't think long before he gently took your face in his hands and forced you to look at him, your eyes glassy and lips parted, desperate for air. had his heart clenching. He didn't want to see you like that, not with that fear in your eyes. He leaned into you and pressed his lips to yours, more fervently than he even meant to.

You were still against him for a moment, not moving as he pulled you closer to him. It took you a second to register what was happening. All at once, though, your mind caught up, your heart pounding in your chest only growing wilder as you let your eyes close, crawling into Bucky's lap as he held you gently, his lips still against yours. You were all together intoxicated by him, his soft but secure touch, the taste of mint and coffee on his lips, the scent of his cologne mixed with his shampoo from your shared shower earlier, it wrapped around you as your previous thoughts of peril faded into the background.

All that you could think of was him, here and now. And you in his solid lap, his thick arms wrapped around you, his hands holding your face so delicately. Your lips began to work with his as you breathed him in and let him taste you in kind.

You soon lost yourself to him completely; and then, after another long minute, you realized you once again couldn't breathe.

You broke the kiss, hungry for air just slightly more than you were for him. You let your face fall as your noses brushed and you finally were able to catch your breath.

"Huh," you huffed, suddenly remembering yourself. You peeked up at him through your lashes meekly before you murmured a soft thank you.

He smirked halfheartedly, but a little bit of sadness he couldn't hide was apparent on his face as you then moved to get off of him, not that you noticed. Your thoughts were once again getting caught in a spiral.

As you tried to move off his lap, you were stopped. Bucky held you down, his large hands gently squeezing into your soft waist, keeping you exactly where you were.

"I get you're still mad at me, sweetheart, but I'm not just gonna sit here and watch you spiral again," he said as he pulled you into him.

You slumped into his chest, letting your heaviness rest on him as you nuzzled your face into his neck.

"I'm not mad at you," you mumbled into his skin.

"Could've fooled me," he breathed a humorless laugh.

You sighed, pulling away from him slightly.

"I'm not mad. I'm just-" you cut yourself off before forcing your tongue to continue, "I'm scared."

Your eyes were glued to his chest as you spoke but the moment the admission slipped past your lips, Bucky was tilting your chin up to look you in the eyes.

"Sweetheart," he began.

"Not of you. Of me. I just... I'm not, I'm not used to this. To being loved, the way you love me. And I don't wanna lose that," you whispered as tears pricked your eyes. "I don't want you to end up feeling stuck with me. Because I'm a lot, Bucky. And I'm not easy to live with. I'm particular and I need alone time a lot of the time... and ... You just have no idea what you're inviting into your life."

"You," he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, his touch grazing your cheek as he wiped a tear from your skin. "I'm inviting you. I love you. I want you. All of it with you. Every last bit, doll."

You could see the sincerity in his eyes as he spoke and it only made you all the more worried.

"I'm not trying to pressure you, sweetheart. If you don't want to move in with me, you don't have to. If you need time, I'll wait. However long I have to," he said as his hands began to run up and down your back soothingly.

"I want to, Bucky. I do. I just don't want you to regret this."

"When are you gonna see it," he breathed as he squeezed you closer, looking up at you as he leaned back against the wall behind him.

"See what?"

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I could never regret you."

"You say that-"

"Ever."

Your eyes softened at his insistence, and deep down, you knew he meant it.

Your avoidance of an answer to his question this morning had been you trying to protect not only yourself, but him from disappointment, though it was becoming clearer and clearer that it was only hurting you both.

You were scared, but you also wanted this just as badly as he did. God, how long you'd dreamed about the day you'd wake up in Bucky's bed and not have to rush to your own apartment to get ready for work. How nice it'd be to get home from a miserable day and have him there to make things better without having to endure the twenty minute commute from his place to yours. To share a place together, your and his...

You were near burrowing yourself in his embrace, his hands still soothing up and down your back as he held you close, when you reached to grab one of his hands in yours.

You pulled away from him enough to look him in the eye.

"If you're sure,"

"I'm sure,"

"And if you ever wanna go back on it, or change your mind, I -"

"I wouldn't,"

"But if you do-"

"I won't."

There was a moment, a silent conversation between you two as you look into each other's eyes. You pressed your forehead to his, kissing him delicately before you pulled back again.

You nodded, "I'd love to move in with you, Bucky," you said with a small smile playing on your lips. Your heart soared as you watched the dopey smile that stretched onto Bucky's face before he crushed you against him. "That's all I needed to hear," he said in between kissing you everywhere he could in the position you were in. You laughed as you wiggled to sit up higher on his lap, looking down at him.

You reached a hand to brush through his hair, and as you did the elevator jolted. You caught yourself with a hand against the wall as Bucky tightened his arms around you instinctively.

You felt his warm breath against the swell of your breasts before you looked down with a raised brow. His face was right against your chest, and his eyes were now locked on your breasts as they hung in front of him, his hands grabbing at your ass while his eyes grew darker, filled with even more excitement.

"Wouldn't mind if that happened again," he said huskily.

"Odds are in your favor, you know this complex is the fucking worst," you huffed.

"All the more reason for you to move in with me," he smirked. "But ya know one good thing about these old buildings?"

"Hm?"

"They don't have cameras in the elevators," he said, smacking your ass and causing you to gasp and jolt from the strike.

He was mesmerized by the sight as he repeated his actions over and over again until you were whining and pressing your chest into his face.

"Buck," you mewled pathetically, the tingling between your thighs growing more unbearably with every slap against your ass. Each hit only getting you more wet for him.

You were seconds away from ripping your tank top off yourself but Bucky quickly pulled it off and over your head for you before his lips descended upon your breasts.

You let your head drop back in time with your hips pressing to sit fully in his lap, a moan escaping you when you felt his hard length against you. Your hands were in his hair as his hands squeezed your ample flesh, his lips fervent against your skin still.

You couldn't help yourself as you began tilting your hips over his, back and forth, your movements more urgent the more you felt him twitch beneath you.

Your bra had been tossed to the side minutes ago but you were still in your leggings while Bucky was still fully clothed.

When you tilted your hips just right, you felt his cock rub against your clothed clit and you nearly lost it completely; shoving yourself off of him to finally rid yourself of the clothing that kept you from what you really wanted. Bucky followed your lead without having to be told and got undressed in the blink of an eye. You saw his throbbing length standing erect for you and nearly salivated at the sight, your mouth parted in awe at his beauty. You swear, you'd never get over it. Every little thing about him, from his scars to his own stretch marks, every bit of his was beautiful. And you smiled as you saw him admiring you the very same way, that wonderstruck look in his eyes you'd never get used to. Your patience was wearing down the longer you took, though, and quickly, you climbed back down into his lap before lining his cock up to your slick entrance.

You slowly sank down on him, moans from both of you filling the elevator at the sensation.

"Oh, fuck, doll," he moaned while groping your hips. You started moving up and down his length, slowly as you enjoyed the stretch of him inside of you, wanting to feel each and every inch of his thick cock as it filled you up.

"Mmm," you hummed a mindless moan, throwing your head back in pleasure as Bucky took a pert nipple into his mouth, squeezing and kneading your breast in his big hand. "Feels good, Buck," you breathed, slamming your hips down on his cock, earning a deep throated growl from him.

Suddenly his hands were back on your wide set hips, his fingers digging into the plushy flesh there as he began fucking up into you himself. You were helpless as you keened at the feeling, gripping his shoulders to keep yourself upright. "Oh god, Bucky, please," you whined, pushing your hips back down to meet his thrusts, "please, please, please,"

"You close, sweetheart?" he panted. "I can feel you gripping my cock, baby, fuck," his eyes squeezed tight as he nearly snarled the curse of pleasure.

"Gonna fuckin' fill you up and then you're really gonna be stuck with me,"

"Bucky," you gasped, though it came out with a moan.

"That's it, sweetheart, take my fucking cock, just like that, doll. Just like that," he punctuated each word with another snap of his hips into yours, rolling into you and rubbing your clit deliciously with his every move.

You were both panting, a sheen of sweat on both of you as he fucked you perfectly, the only other sounds to be heard were of your twin moans and the slapping sounds of skin on skin, the salacious squelching of his dick drilling into you over and over.

His thumb found your clit and drew tight circles over the sensitive bud as he felt your walls tightening around him, wanting to keep him inside of you. It was almost blinding, the way you were hit with your orgasm. Your muscles tightened as Bucky continued to fuck you through the high, unintelligible moans and whimpers of his name and cries intermingled as the waves of pleasure crashed over you over and over again.

You found yourself on your back in the blink of an eye as Bucky continued to pummel into your tight heat, deep strokes along your velvety walls as he chased his own high, holding himself above you as he did.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna come, baby, I-" his words turned into a deep groan as his pace faltered, soon morphing into heady moans when you felt his warm spurts filling you up as he came inside of you.

His thrusts slowed as did your breathing until he slowly pulled out of you, laying himself down next to you and pulling you into him. He kissed your forehead as you melted into his embrace.

"I mean it, ya know. You're the one who's gonna be stuck with me, sweetheart. I'm not goin' anywhere," he promised with a simper. "Not without you."

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes drabble #asks #anon #thank you for the inspo!! <3 #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky x plus size reader #bucky x reader

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lesbiansforboromir · 9 days

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Inspired by the Hunt for Gollum 2 day fiasco (I suppose it wasn't really a fiasco, genuinely happy they came to such a quick resolution, I will give it to them), I noticed a bunch of people said they'd never heard of the Hunt for Gollum fanfilm and was surprised! So here are some more tolkien fan films on youtube that you can watch right now! A friend of mine coalated all of these for our server and we binged them all, which was a really great time and I would heartily recommend.

Obviously, first; The Hunt for Gollum, a 40min shortfilm pretty much entirely about Aragorn, you guessed it, hunting gollum. But there's also a few neat interactions with other characters too and the production is of an extremely good quality for what it is.

Then you have Born of Hope, from the same company as hunt for gollum, this one focuses more on Arathorn and Gilraen's relationship and Aragorn's tumultuous birth. It's very depressing but I also really liked the casting of Arathorn and is worth a watch.

Horn of Gondor is a short 20min fanfilm with a pretty inventive premise, focusing on Borondir's in-universe fabled ride to deliver Steward Cirion's request for an alliance with the ancestral rohirrim to Eorl their king, thereby saving Gondor from defeat. I find it a little lacklustre and it doesnt really measure up to it's concept but the attempt is still admirable and there is some real and clear passion behind it so still worth a watch.

Wings Over Arda is, gonna be honest, my favourite one of the lot. It is an hour long and extremely ambitiously attempts to feature events from Tuor's meeting with Ulmo, to the attack of the Sons of Feanor upon Doriath. It essentially fails to live up to the auspicousness of any of these things, but it is EXTREMELY earnest and the casting for Dior in particular is now just burned into my brain. It feels kind of like it was made in the 1980s too which I just love for a film that came out 2 years ago. It's really fun, give it a go.

One of the Seven is more of a hobbit movie fanfilm, referencing PJ's Thranduil backstory of losing his wife and the hunt for her jewels, but also involving dwarves and elves bickering over unspecified rings. It has the brightest colour pallette of all the films which is a visual relief and all the costumes are really detailed, mainly because I suspect this was made my cosplayers who just had some time on their hands. It's fun and campy and only 25mins so fully digestable, even if it's a little dwarf-ist.

Lastly there's The Peril to the Shire, even though cards on the table I have not watched this one. It is three hours long and was made by a bunch of homeschooled children somewhere, featuring entirely child actors and about Rosie Cotten defending the Shire pre-scouring. From what I've seen, the kids are having a great time doing it, but the audio is also really hard to hear clearly so this is more of a challenge than a suggestion.

#text post #tolkien #the hunt for gollum #born of hope #wings of arda #one of the seven #the peril to the shire #horn of gondor #lotr #lord of the rings #fan film

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ghouljams · 27 days

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Ranger Danger; It's only stalking if they can't see you.

NCR Ranger!Gaz follows his favorite Courier.

Most people out in the Mojave know better than to fuck with couriers. Everyone wants the mail, and no one wants to get blacklisted. You were hired because you were a good shot, and unafraid of the various perils that traversing the wasteland brings. Which is to say: You don't need an escort.

You've tried explaining it to Gaz, tried to make him understand it, but he insists on following you through your route. He's not bad company, but it makes folks nervous having a ranger watching them hand you packages. Honestly if he weren't so easy on the eyes you might have tried harder to lose him. As it stands you just manage to convince him to wait outside of eyesight while you do business. Recently he's started trying a different approach.

"All the way to New California," You clarify with a raised brow.

"All the way doll," Gaz grins, "Easiest package you'll have to deliver, I even defend myself."

You eye him with suspicion. It's a long way to go, an even longer way back. You suppose you could pick up some packages along the way... You shake your head. "Can't afford it," you tell him.

"I can pay," He reminds you, "got plenty of money."

"NCR bills," You click your tongue, "not worth the paper they're printed on."

"Good with my hands," He tries, "better with my mouth."

"Yeah, you're a real smooth talker," you roll your eyes, "Don't need a mechanic, and as previously mentioned I'm takin' care of myself just fine." You pat the pistol at your hip fondly, well oiled and ready for action. Gaz hums, there's something in his eyes that says he wants to correct you, wants to rebuke your assertion, or perhaps clarify his own. He holds his tongue.

He's good company, but not company you're willing to risk your hide over. You've never had anyone watching your back, and to be honest it can be a little unnerving at times. Knowing Gaz is stationed somewhere far off with a rifle trained on you while you pass off bullets to a raider camp doesn't stop your skin from crawling. Like you said, most folks know better than to try and stop the mail from running. Even the raiders that eye you a little too appreciatively, and open doors wider for others to give you the same once over. It's the warning shot that startles you more than the swift smack to your ass when you turn to leave. You're quick to scurry off before the raiders decide that was your idea.

Gaz finds you miles down the road and hours later. His boots are bloody. You don't ask.

His hands are clean, at least, when you hand him a gecko kabob from the fire. You sleep better that night with him on watch, and the distant knowledge that any ill will those raiders may have had is dead. It's good you're such a deeper sleeper with Gaz around. You don't know the pride it inspires, the deep seated warmth in his chest to see the gentle rise and fall of your breathing, to hold his hand by your lips and feel the soft puff.

Maybe it's a little strange, but when you're asleep is the only time he can truly speak freely. The only time he can lean back and palm his cock to the pretty picture you make. He likes looking at your face when he does it, likes to imagine what you'd do if you woke up and saw him. You have to be the densest person in the Mojave not to notice he's got you on a short leash.

He would have you on your back screaming his name. He'd have you drooling in the dirt. He'd have your sweet pussy dripping with his come every time you made a delivery. Maybe having his spend rolling down your thighs would stop you from getting ogled every time you knocked on a raider's door.

"Fuck you 'til you forgot your name," Gaz grunts, "don't need to love me to come on my cock." But it would be better if you did.

#cod x reader #x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz smut #gaz modern warfare #gaz cod #gaz mw2 #gaz call of duty #gaz garrick #gaz x reader #fallout au #I think my favorite gaz is when he's a little fucked up #he won't touch you but that doesn't mean he won't do stuff near you #very important line in the sand #courier!reader #f!reader

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carmsgarms · 2 months

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HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BE EVIL WHEN HALSIN IS SO NICE ???

I'm trying to play an evil durge run where I ascend astarion, recruit minthara, make sharty a dark justicier, ascend gale...everyone is going to be their WORST selves.

I made the mistake of talking to Halsin at the goblin camp and he's just so genuine and so nice 😭

I told Halsin I wouldn't help him, and he tells me about what I'm up against just for his own good conscience, just to be helpful.

And then when I accuse him of exaggerating to manipulate me into helping him??? He's COMPLETELY HONEST with me.

Like???? Unprompted, no choice, Halsin tells you what you're up against, what to expect, and where to go, EVEN IF YOU REFUSE TO HELP HIM SAVE THE GROVE. He is genuinely such a good man. If you ask him more questions, he even tells you honestly that he's partly responsible for the curse, and that's why he wants to accompany you. He even tells you multiple ways to get there and which one he thinks would be the less perilous option and then wishes you well on your journey without so much as a passing guilt trip about it.

How am I supposed to side with Minthara and leave him to die after this?? 😭

#halsin #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 halsin #halsin thoughts #carm plays bg3 #carm plays bg3: evil durge #minthara #durge #dark urge #the dark urge #bg3 dark urge #halsin silverbough #my heart #send HELP

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maquet591 · 27 days

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We need to talk about the Watcher "fans".

These are the top comments on Shane’s IG post. Just look at the number of likes.

“Steven Lim is a greedy, manipulative evil CEO that twists his white co-founder's hands and forces the said co-founder into his will!!!” – this narrative is being prevalent in this fandom since April 19. People harassed him all across social media on every platform. People wrote nasty comments not only to his social media accounts but also to his wife and friends.

People made a Change.org hilariously dumb petitions to have him leave the CEO post.

People gleefully demonize and tear down his reputation. Twist his words out of context in to something vile. Weaponize the years old inside jokes his friends made on camera.

“This is not racism!!!” they say. “These are just the facts!!!”

No they aren’t. And here’s why:

because this

is the same as this:

Covert racism in language, or coded racism, is the deployment of common stereotypes or tropes to elucidate a racially charged idea. Rather than expressly perpetuating racist tropes, covert linguistic racism is seen as rational or "common sense", and many are not aware of its impact.

Racial stereotypes. Racial or cultural stereotyping refers to generalizing a group based on a simplified set of norms, behaviors, or characteristics.

The Yellow Peril (also the Yellow Terror, the Yellow Menace and the Yellow Specter) is a racist color metaphor that depicts the peoples of East and Southeast Asia[a] as an existential danger to the Western world.

Fu Manchu is a fictional character created by Arthur Ward, a music hall writer and journalist in London in the early 1900s. Writing under the pseudonym Sax Rohmer, Ward had absolutely no knowledge of Chinese culture or Chinese people – but his invention of a Chinese supervillain struck a chord in Victorian Britain and became a smash hit.

Fu Manchu was the original fictional Asian villain, a trope which became embedded in popular culture and Western psyche spawning spin-offs, spoofs, pop songs, video games and even consumer goods. But how damaging is Fu Manchu and how much can he tell us about modern Asian racism?

Ward wrote Fu Manchu as the personification of the so-called Yellow Peril threat: exotic, alien and inhuman, a mastermind boasting degrees from top universities. Using sinister powers to control minds, he aimed to undermine Western civilisation.

"This led to the idea that the Chinese were deceiving – they weren't being honest, they weren't revealing who they really are as people. This spawned into stories of Chinese as cheats and liars and deceitful – never giving you the truth, always fabricating."

Seven Lim being labeled as “greedy” “evil” and “manipulative” (of his white co-founder) is rooted in Anti-Asian racism. Whether people admit it or not.

Racism is not always derogatory slurs or white hoods. Racism is also casual micro-aggressions and putting people of color in the metaphorical boxes of harmful stereotypes. Racism is twisting the narrative and shaping it into a vile stereotype straight from the 19th century.

Also, let's not forget that people are happy to jump on Ryan in the similar way for the same reasons.

#watcher #watcher entertainment #steven lim #watchertv #watcher tv #shane madej #ryan #ryan bergara #tw racism

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fanfictionalraven · 2 months

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Right Where You Left Me

Title: Right Where You Left Me

Summary: The reader, a waitress at the local diner, has become good friends with Dean. What happens when he disappears without a trace?

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester, Castiel

Word Count: 7,309

Warnings: Canon typical violence and peril

Author's Note: This story takes place through the events of the second half of season 12, starting with episode 9 "First Blood". It's also the first story I've actually written and published in nearly 6 years, so grant me a little grace please. Enjoy!!

“Ma’am? Ma’am?” A voice says. You snap from your thoughts and look at the people sitting at the table in front of you. You’d gotten distracted by the bell at the door, a new customer coming in. Not the one you were looking for though. Putting on your best smile, you shake your head slightly.

“I’m so sorry. Where were we?” You ask, glancing at the notepad in your hand.

“We were trying to ask you about the pie of the day,” the woman says. You nod and try not to sigh.

“Cherry,” you tell her. Dean’s favorite. They order two slices which you deliver to them quickly before going into the kitchen. ��Stew, I’m taking a 10,” you announce to the cook. He waves a hand at you and glances at the clock.

“Make it 5,” he shouts as you slip out the back door. Leaning against the wall with a sigh, you slip the brace off of your wrist and roll the sore joint slowly, wincing.

“This job,” you mumble before pulling your phone from your apron. Going into your recent calls, you hit the name at the top. Dean. He wasn’t going to answer. He hadn’t in weeks after all, calls or texts. It rings…and rings…and rings. Just as you’re about to give up, the final ring is cut off.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice asks, curiously. Confusion and a million unpleasant thoughts sweep over you in an instant.

“I’m sorry. I was trying to reach Dean,” you say.

“This is his phone. At least, I think it is…who is this?” She asks. You sigh and run a hand over your face.

“My name’s Y/N. I…I work at a diner and Dean’s one of my regulars. I haven’t seen him in a while and…I was worried,” you tell her. You can hear the confusion in her voice when she responds.

“A waitress who has her customer’s numbers and calls to check up on them?” She asks.

“No. Well…yes, but…Dean’s more than just a customer,” you say.

“What exactly is Dean then?” She asks, a slight edge to her voice. What is Dean? That was the very question you’d spent countless nights asking yourself.

When Dean had first wandered into the diner and sat in your section, he was just another tip. Sure, the two of you had flirted but, to be honest, you flirted with most of your customers. You had bills to pay after all. He came back the very next night, claiming the pie had just been too good. On his fifth visit to the diner, he wandered in just as you clocked out and invited you to join him. You sat in that booth across from him for hours, laughing and talking. At the end of his seventh trip, you slipped your phone number to him on the back of his bill. He’d called you before his car was even out of the parking lot.

That was nearly a year ago and the two of you talked and texted regularly ever since. Sure, he’d go silent for a little while but then he’d saunter into the diner, give you a crooked smile, and ask for the pie of the day. Throughout that year, the two of you flirted, laughed, and teased each other. There had been a few occasions when he’d catch you as you were leaving, place a to-go order, and then you’d ride in his car out to some deserted spot to talk and eat. You’d gotten to know each other intimately. In an emotional sense that is. Dean always kept you at arm’s length. He’d never asked you on a real date. Your coworkers insisted he was probably married and just stringing you along. And now some strange woman was answering his phone and…

“Y/N?” The woman on the line says.

“Sorry. A friend. Dean’s…a really good friend,” you tell her. “Can I ask who you are?”

“I’m Mary,” she starts and you immediately let out a heavy sigh.

“His mother. Of course,” you breathe with relief.

“Yes,” she says, slightly surprised.

“He’s talked about you a lot. Where is Dean?” You ask. Now, it was Mary’s turn to sigh.

“We don’t know,” she tells you.

“What?” You ask. “It’s his job, isn’t it?” You didn’t know exactly what Dean did but he’d come into the diner beaten and bruised on a few occasions.

“Well…yes,” she says.

“Have you called the police?”

“Y/N, break’s over,” Stew calls from the back door.

“Give me a minute!!” You yell to him. He grumbles and slams the door shut. “You have called the police, right, Mary?”

“That’s not exactly an option,” she says, slowly.

“Well…what about Sam? Or…or Cas?” You ask. There’s the briefest of pauses.

“I’m…I’m here with Mary,” a second voice says.

“And Sam was with Dean,” Mary adds. Cas was there as well, listening to your conversation. You frown and pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to think.

“I want to help,” you tell them.

“I’m sorry, Y/N but…we don’t even know you,” she says.

“Well, then, come meet me. I get off at 8:00,” you say before giving her the address for the diner. “If you don’t show up, I’ll call the police and report them missing myself.”

“We’ll be there,” Mary says before disconnecting the line. You slip the phone back into your apron pocket and run your hands over your face. Sliding the brace back onto your wrist, you head back into the diner.

The rest of your shift drags on slowly. You don’t make nearly as much as you could have on tips, your normal perky personality absent. At 8:15, you finally manage to clock out, throwing your apron into the dirty linens bag. You rush out the front door and look around, phone in hand. The front doors of an unfamiliar car open at the same time. Mary, you recognize her from the old pictures Dean had shown you, gets out of the driver’s side, and the man you assume to be Cas gets out as well.

“Y/N?” Mary asks, watching you. You nod and rush over to the two of them.

“While I wish it was under different circumstances, it’s nice to finally meet you both,” you tell them, holding a hand out. Mary gives you a quick once over before placing her hand in yours.

“I wish I could say the same but…”

“Dean never mentioned me,” you say. It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact. You’d often wondered and now you knew for sure. You were a secret.

“So, what exactly do you know about their work?” Mary asks. You frown and shrug.

“Not much. I figure…best case, CIA…worst case, I dunno…the mafia,” you say, more than a little embarrassed. Mary smiles a little and looks down at the ground.

“Not exactly. It’s a bit more freelance than that,” she says.

“Like a bounty hunter?” You ask. Mary shakes her head, looking around.

“I’d rather not discuss it here. Would you be willing to go back to the bun…where the boys live and talk there?” She asks.

“Of course,” you agree, immediately.

***

Never get in the car with strangers. The age old advice rang through your ears as you rode in the back seat to wherever Mary and Cas were taking you. Of course, these two weren’t exactly strangers. They were at least Dean’s mother and best friend. You truly felt like you actually knew them with how much he’d talked about them.

Mary continues to drive as you watch the cityscape disappear. It isn’t too long before she’s pulling onto a desolate looking road. The road leads into a dark tunnel, only lit by the headlights of Mary’s car. Your eyes have to readjust when she pulls into a much more brightly lit area. Looking around, you find a room that appears to be a garage holding several very old cars. This much at least screamed Dean, relaxing you a little.

“You said they live here?” You ask, trying to wrap your mind around that statement.

“Yes. It’s an old bunker. Used to be home to a secret society, the Men of Letters,” she tells you. You nod and try to keep your face in check. You can feel her watching you in the rearview mirror.

“Are they in this secret society then? You ask as she parks the car.

“No,” she answers. “It died out in America decades ago. There is still an active branch in London though.”

“Douchebags,” Cas mutters. You both look at him and he glances between the two of you. “That’s what Dean calls them.” You let out a small laugh as the three of you get out of the car. Mary leads the way through the bunker quietly. You follow, looking around and trying to take in as much as you can. She leads the two of you into what you assume is a library given the shelves of books all along the walls.

“You drink?” She asks, holding up a bottle of brown liquid. You nod as you take a seat at the table. Admittedly, you were more of a wine drinker but you felt the impending conversation would require something stronger. Mary pours two glasses and sets one in front of you before walking around to the other side of the table. She takes the seat opposite you and looks at the glass, swirling it slightly. “You sure about this, Y/N? Once you know the truth, leaving it behind can be pretty difficult.”

“Please,” is all you manage to say. She nods and throws her drink back quickly.

“Alright,” she starts. “I come from a long line of hunters. Not the kind you’re thinking of. My family hunted monsters. Ghosts, demons, witches, vampires.” You strive to keep your face in check as you take a slow drink. This was not what you were expecting at all. “When I was 19, dating John, the boys’ father, a demon killed him and my parents. He offered me a deal. He would bring John back and we could live a normal life, as long as I gave him permission to enter my home in 10 years. I was suddenly alone and holding the dead body of the love of my life. I agreed. Ten years later, he entered my home and killed me. John took the boys on the road and they became hunters as well.”

Mary stops as you stand slowly and make your way over to the bottle she had used earlier. With shaking hands, you refill your glass before downing it quickly. This was insane. Mary was insane. There was no way this was real.

“Mary…I…you really expect me to believe all this?” You ask, looking back at her now. She shrugs slightly and looks at Cas. You’d forgotten he was even there. He’d been leaning against a bookshelf behind her, watching you. You look at him as he starts to make his way around the table towards you.

Panic quickly rises in your throat and you have to remind yourself that these are Dean’s people. At least…you’re fairly certain they are. You’d never seen pictures of Cas and the only ones you had seen of Mary were from when Dean was just a child. Now, this strange woman was trying to convince you that monsters were real and your friend hunted them for a living. Cas stops next to you and looks down at your hand.

“Why are you wearing that brace?” He asks. You blink, surprised. You’d half expected him to knock you unconscious.

“I, ummm…” You hold it up and shake your head. “Carpal Tunnel from work.” Cas nods and briefly touches two fingers to your forehead before you can even register the movement.

“You won’t need it anymore,” he says. You stare at him in disbelief before taking the brace off. For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel any pain as you roll your wrist in every direction. You look back up at Cas and then at Mary. She smiles and shrugs.

“Angel,” she says. You know the shock is clear all over your face as Cas helps you back to your seat. The three of you sit in silence for a little while as you process all of this information. You’re grateful for the time they give you.

“You, ummm…” You stop and look at Mary. “You said you died.” She runs a hand across her forehead and looks at you, debating on if you’re prepared for more information. You give her the best reassuring smile you can manage at the moment.

“God’s sister brought me back as a thank you gift to Dean and Sam for helping her reunite with her brother,” she says. You’re absolutely certain your jaw hits the table.

“Well…that was…nice,” you manage. “And they were on a…a hunt when they disappeared?”

“Lucifer had possessed the president of the United States,” Cas starts. “We were going to exorcise him and return him to his cage in hell.”

“Oh my god,” you mumble, immediately beginning to massage your temples. “This is…this is a lot.”

“Now you know why Dean never told you,” Mary says. You nod, still attempting to rub away the migraine threatening to explode behind your eyes.

“I, ummm…can I take a walk?” You ask. Mary nods, smiling a little. You hoped you were handling this better than she expected. You’re still shaking as you rise from your seat again and make your way down one of the hallways. Your mind thinks back over things Dean had mentioned about his work and, frankly, it lined up. He’d never given you a lot of details but now it was starting to make sense.

You stop in the middle of the hallway and glance around. Your curiosity gets the better of you causing you to push open the door in front of you. It was a bedroom, modestly decorated. You make your way into the room and find a familiar picture sitting on the bedside table. It was the photo Dean had shown you of him and his mother. Glancing around the room, you surmise that it must be his room.

You pull open the drawer of the bedside table and gasp. Inside you find several things, another gun, a handful of credit cards, and fake ID’s. But the most surprising thing was sitting right on top. You gingerly pick up the picture and can’t help but smile. It’s of you, sitting in the front seat of Dean’s car, laughing. You remembered when he’d taken it, one of the many nights you’d spent talking. You didn’t realize he’d had it printed and kept it so close. Maybe you were more than just a secret.

“Y/N?” Mary asks from the doorway. You look up at her and she smiles. “I was getting ready to head out when you called, a vampire thing in Missouri. Cas said he’d take you back.”

“Thank you for being honest with me,” you tell her. She nods once and leaves you alone.

The next few days pass relatively uneventfully. You call Stew and make up a story about a death in the family out of state, telling him you’ll need a week or two off. He reluctantly agrees. You stay at the bunker with Cas after that. Your days are spent diving into the lore books in the old bunker, learning anything and everything you can. Cas teaches you how to do “research”, showing you how to tell the difference between normal weird and supernatural weird. He shows you one of the spare bedrooms but you end up sleeping in Dean’s room instead.

The two of you are making your way to the library when you hear Cas’s phone ringing. He rushes ahead to answer it and you go over to a new shelf to find something else to study.

“What?” He answers the phone. “Dean?” The book you’d picked out slips from your hand and you rush to his side. “What, what happened? Wh-where are you?” You stare at him, tears stinging your eyes. He grabs a pen and pad off the table and quickly jots down a note. Rocky Mountain National Park. State Route 34. “Yes. – Wait, where? – Wait, what does that…” Cas sighs and sets the phone down, frowning.

“What did he say?? Are they okay??” You ask. He glances at you and shrugs.

“He sounded rushed. Like they were being chased,” he says. You nod and pick up the notepad, trying to hide the rush of emotions you were feeling.

“We’ve got to call Mary. Meet up with her and get to Colorado,” you tell him. He looks at you quickly and frowns.

“No, Y/N. It’s too dangerous for you to come along,” he says, taking the notepad. You shake your head, tears falling freely as you look up at the angel.

“Cas, please,” you beg. His resolve breaks instantly and he sighs, picking his phone back up.

“Dean would not approve,” he mumbles before calling Mary.

The two of you pull into a parking lot several hours later. Mary’s car is already sitting, waiting. She gets out and clenches her jaw when she sees you rise from the passenger side of Cas’s car.

“You got here quickly,” Cas remarks. Mary nods, eyes fixed on you.

“Yep. What the hell is she doing here??” She asks. Cas sighs and looks over at you.

“Mary, please. I won’t get in the way, I swear,” you tell her. Frowning, she shakes her head, her hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

“Y/N, it’s not about you being in the way. We have no idea what we’re walking into. I’m more worried about you getting hurt and what that would do to Dean,” she says. Swallowing hard, you set your jaw. Mary wasn’t going to see you cry too.

“Please. I have to be there. I need to see him with my own eyes,” you plead. She watches you for a moment, debating internally.

“Dean’s gonna kill us,” she says before turning to Cas. “We may want backup.”

“Crowley and Rowena?” He asks. She scoffs and you glance between them.

“The King of Hell and his mother, the witch?” She asks. You frown and shake your head.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you comment. Mary smiles a little and looks at Cas.

“I hope we can do better than them.”

“I may have an idea,” he says. Mary nods and makes for the driver’s side of her own car.

“Good. Seat belts on. I drive fast,” she tells the two of you as you load into the car as well.

The British Men of Letters. That was Cas’s idea. Mary almost immediately pulls out, supposing “the demon and his mommy” don’t sound so bad anymore. You hang back, watching the situation unfold. The two Brits, Mick and Ketch from what you gather, offer their services seemingly free of charge. They make a few phone calls, getting access to a satellite of the area Dean had mentioned. Mary and Cas are able to deduce the direction they’re headed and a good spot to meet them.

The two cars move to the new location and you all unload once again. You look up at the night sky and think about the last night you’d spend with Dean. He’d picked you up from the diner at closing time and drove you out of town to a remote location. You’d both laid on the hood of the car, splitting the last of the pie of the day.

“Y/N,” Mary says, pulling you from your thoughts. You turn to face her and immediately launch into pleading again.

“Mary, please. I don’t want to wait here while you two go on…”

“Stop,” she says, holding her hand up. “That’s not what I was going to say. Dean’s already gonna be pissed we brought you. He’d kill us both if we left you with those two. Just stay close to us and if something goes wrong, run back here.” You manage a relieved smile and follow her and Cas further up into the woods.

The three of you come into a small clearing and it isn’t long before there’s a rustling in the brush. Cas and Mary both move into a defensive stance in front of you. You wring your hands as you wait. Cas takes a few steps closer to the noise just as Dean and Sam fall through the bushes. Your heart jumps into your throat at the sight of Dean and you almost break down crying right then.

“Sam, Dean,” Cas says, relieved. You can see the tension immediately leave Mary’s shoulders as she takes in the sight of her boys. Sam rises first and pulls Cas into a tight hug. His eyes land on Mary and he smiles.

“Mom,” he says, letting Cas go. He starts to make his way across the clearing towards her when you register the confusion on his face. Dean finally stands and hugs Cas as well. Sam pulls Mary into a tight embrace that she immediately returns. “Who’s this?” He asks.

“Y/N??” Dean’s voice rings across the clearing. You smile, swallowing back tears, and wave slightly. “The hell is she doing here??” His voice is thick with anger as he makes his way over to Mary. The venom in his words takes you by surprise. Mary raises her hands slightly.

“She was worried about you. Called your phone. I answered and she wanted to help,” she explains. You and Dean stand there, staring at each other. Dean’s eyes are full of a rage you can’t even begin to comprehend.

“How much do you know?” He asks.

“A lot more than I did a week ago,” you tell him. He shakes his head and looks to the sky before looking at his mother.

“Hey, Mom,” he mumbles, pulling her into a hug. She lets out a gasp of surprise and returns the embrace. Dean’s eyes never leave your face. “Let’s get out of here,” he says before walking straight past you.

You take a shaky breath and run your hands over your face. You had anticipated he’d be angry, of course. But you had hoped the joy of being together again would cancel that anger out at some point. Mary pats your shoulder before she starts to follow Dean. You debate on staying right there in the woods for a moment before falling in step behind them. Sam clears his throat slightly as you all walk.

“Mom, how did yall even find us?” He asks, attempting to break the tension.

“They helped,” she says, pointing to Mick and Ketch as they come into view.

“Dammit!! They know about her now too??” He groans, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N, get in the car.” You stare at him in disbelief for a moment. “Car. Now,” he demands. You wipe at your eyes furiously as you storm back to Mary’s car. Sliding into the middle of the back seat, you realize for the first time that the Dean you knew and this Dean, the real Dean, may not be the same person.

The five of them talk for only a moment before coming to the car. Cas takes the passenger seat quickly and Dean doesn’t hide the dirty look he gives him. You shake your head, unable to believe that having to sit by you in the car was that unsettling. Had you misinterpreted your entire relationship? Sam gets in on your other side and smiles at you, awkwardly.

“Y/N, wasn’t it?” He asks. You look at him and smile bitterly.

“Yes. It’s nice to finally meet you Sam. I’ve heard so much about you. And don’t worry. I know the feeling can’t be mutual. You’ve never heard of me before, have you?” You ask, letting your anger burst out for a moment. Dean’s hand tightens into a fist on his leg as he stares out the window. Sam’s awkward smile becomes apologetic before Mary changes the subject, filling them in on everything they’d missed.

Mary continues to drive on into the night. You catch Sam and Dean both nervously glancing at the clock at the front of the car. They seem to only be getting more anxious as the minutes tick by.

“So wait, you're hunting?” Dean asks his mother. She glances back at him in the mirror and shrugs.

“A little bit,” she says. Sam smiles and shakes his head.

“Yea, I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he teases.

The exact second the clock switches over to 12:00, midnight, the car dies. Mary eases it onto a bridge as she tries the key again.

“It’s time,” Sam says, getting out of the car. You look at him then over at Dean.

“Stay in the car,” Dean tells you. Rolling your eyes, you slide out right behind him, tired of being ordered around tonight. The others all get out as well and look around, taking in their surroundings.

“What’s happening?” Mary asks.

“Yea, Dean. Sup?” A new voice says. You all look over to find a woman standing in the middle of the bridge. You look around, trying to figure out where she could have possibly come from. Dean takes an immediate step in front of you, shielding your entire body. Instinctively, you step closer to him, your hand coming to rest on his back, assuring him you were there and okay.

“Billie?” Mary asks, recognition and confusion mixed on her face.

“The reaper?” Cas asks. You close your eyes, trying to think back over your studies. It wasn’t one of things you’d become familiar with but gauging everyone’s reactions, this wasn’t a good thing.

“I don’t understand,” Mary says, shaking her head. Dean sighs and hangs his head.

“Mom, that place…there was only one way we were getting out of there, and that wasn’t breathing,” he starts to explain. You glance around at everyone and notice the horrified look on Cas’s face. “So I made a call.”

“Dean talked to her and then Billie came to talk to me,” Sam continues the story. “And we made a deal. We’d get to die and come back one more time, but in exchange…”

“Come midnight, a Winchester goes bye-bye. Like, permanently,” Billie says, smiling. “And that is something I’ve been looking forward to for a long time.”

“No,” you whisper from behind Dean.

“Why would you –,” Mary starts.

“We were already dead,” Dean tells her. “Being locked in that cell with nothing…I’ve been to Hell. This was worse.”

“At least this way, one of us gets to keep fighting,” Sam finishes. You shake your head, taking a step away from Dean.

“No,” you say again. He looks over his shoulder at you and his anger has completely dissolved. “Dean, no.”

“Hi, Y/N,” Billie says, waving. You look at her in utter shock but Dean steps between the two of you again.

“Leave her out of this,” he growls.

“You don’t have to do this,” Cas says, shaking his head.

“Yea, they do,” Billie says. “We made a pact bound in blood, You break that, there’s consequences on a cosmic scale. So, who’s it gonna be?” She asks, looking between the brothers. Sam looks at Dean, then at you, and back to Dean who shakes his head.

“Me,” Mary says before either of them can answer. She turns to face Billie, pulling her handgun from her waistband. Sam and Dean both immediately object, stepping forward to stop her. Billie flings both of them away with a wave of her hand. You rush to Dean’s side and fall next to him, immediately checking him for injuries. He shakes his head and fights to rise to his feet again.

“You said come midnight, a Winchester dies?” Mary asks. “I’m a Winchester.”

“Works for me,” Billie says with a smile. Mary cocks the gun and raises it toward her head. Sam and Dean both object loudly again, fighting to get to her.

“I love you,” Mary sniffs. Just as she’s about to pull the trigger, a sharp pointed blade pierces through Billie’s chest from behind and she immediately falls dead. You stare in shock at the dead body lying before you. Cas stands over her, the blade in his hand dripping blood. Mary lowers her gun as Dean and Sam are finally able to get to their feet. Dean takes your hand, pulling you up as well. You begin to pale as you stare at the body.

“Cas, what have you done?” Dean asks, looking at his best friend in shock.

“What had to be done,” he says. “You know this world – this sad, doomed little world – it needs you…” Your ears begin to ring and you take a shaky step closer to Dean. His arm comes around your waist, eyes never leaving Cas as he continues to talk. Something about keeping all the Winchesters alive.

“Dean,” Mary says, pointing to you. “First dead body.” Dean looks down at you just as you go completely limp in his arms.

Dean runs his hands over his face before taking a long swig off his beer. A lot had happened in the last day; dying, coming back again, running, fighting for their lives, getting back to their family, you, Billie, you, Cas killing a reaper…you. That was really the only thing on his mind…you. He had so carefully built a relationship with you. A relationship based on half truths and secrets but a relationship nevertheless. Now, you knew the whole nasty truth. It was going to be Lisa all over again…

“Dean?” Mary asks, sticking her head into the kitchen. He glances over his shoulder and smiles a little. “Can I join you?” Nodding, he points to the empty seat across from him. She walks over, taking the seat quietly. He stares at the bottle in his hands. “Dean…”

“You shouldn’t have told her,” he tells her firmly. “It wasn’t your place. I didn’t want her to know. She was safer not knowing. Now…I’ll never see her again.”

“What? Why?” Mary asks, confused. Dean stands and throws his empty bottle into the trash.

“To keep her safe!!” He snaps, spinning on her angrily. “People around me don’t hang around too long. They either run or they die. It’s as simple as that. Especially the ones who mean the most to me. And she means…” He stops abruptly, emotion closing up his throat. Mary frowns as she stands and walks over to him.

“It only seems that way, Dean. Y/N, she’s…she’s strong. She took everything I told her in stride and she stayed. She stayed here with Cas and she’s been learning how to do the job,” she tells him.

“That’s even worse!! I don’t want her anywhere near this,” he says, fighting back tears. “If it was just normal hunter stuff then maybe but the stuff we deal with…Lucifer and Amara and God…I want her as far away from all of this as possible.”

“Don’t you think she should get a say in this?” Mary asks. He shakes his head, stubbornly.

“No. Soon as she wakes up, I’m taking her back home. I’ll never go back to that diner.. She’ll never see or hear from me again,” he says.

“What?” You whisper to yourself, standing just outside the kitchen door. You turn on your heels and rush down the hall towards the garage. Your car was there and you’d spent enough time at the bunker to know how to get out. You hadn’t heard much but you heard enough. Dean didn’t want to see you anymore, plain and simple.

***

Three months, five days.

That’s how long it had been since you last saw Dean. You’d left the bunker, rejected and heartbroken, and Dean had kept his word. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t come in for any pie. Life was back to normal. Boring, regular, normal. You found yourself reading into everything you saw on the news, wondering if it was a case Dean could be working at that very moment.

You’d volunteered to close down the diner for yet another night. Floors were mopped. Counters and tables wiped down. All you had left to do was lock up. Flipping off the lights, you step outside into the cool night air. You turn to lock the door when you hear footsteps coming up behind you. Damn it. You’d been so lost in thoughts about what you had believed was a werewolf in Michigan you hadn’t checked the parking lot first.

“Hello, love,” a heavy British accent says. There’s nothing familiar and certainly nothing friendly about the greeting. You stand frozen for a moment, weighing your options. You didn’t have many.

“We’re closed,” you say, not turning to face him yet.

“Not here for the pie,” he jokes. He’s closer than he had been.

“Look. My manager has already taken the deposit to the bank. I’ve got a few bucks in my purse and that’s it. I haven’t seen your face yet. You can turn around and leave, no consequences,” you tell him.

“Afraid not. Got a job to do. A message for your little hunter boyfriend,” he says. You let out a short laugh.

“You’re definitely barking up the wrong tree,” you say. His reflection is in the glass of the door now, standing right behind you. You take a deep breath and turn to face him finally. “Dean Winchester doesn’t care about me. Hurting me, won’t hurt him in any way.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says, brandishing a knife. You bring your knee up, hitting him in the groin. He grunts and doubles over, giving you enough time to run towards your car. Unfortunately, the blow doesn’t slow him down enough. Before you can make it to the car, he’s grabbed you by your waist, knife at your throat. “Any last words I can pass on to the Winchesters?” He breathes in your ear.

“Go to hell,” you spit at him. You feel the knife press harder against your skin as angry tears slide down your cheeks. What a way to go. Dying for a man who couldn’t care less.

Before the Brit can finish you off, a car whips into the dark parking lot, lights shining bright on the two of you. It takes your attacker by surprise and you feel his grip relax just enough. A sharp elbow to his abdomen has him letting you go. You fall to your knees as you attempt to run away. The car skids to a stop and you hear the voice you’d only dreamt of hearing again.

“Y/N!!” Dean yells as he runs at your attacker. He tackles him, knocking the knife from his hand as the two men hit the ground. Mary runs to your side as Sam runs to help Dean. You weren’t sure why. Dean had the upper hand, sitting atop the man, punching him in the face. Repeatedly. That’s when you realize, Sam wasn’t helping Dean. He was pulling him off.

“Dean, it’s over,” he tells his brother. “He’s dead.” Mary helps you to your feet, examining you as Dean makes his way over, wiping his bloodied hand off on his shirt.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Dean asks, taking your face in his hands. He looks you over and frowns at the knick on your neck. Running his thumb over it gently, he wipes the blood away.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, taken aback by his gentleness and concern. Before you can say anything else, he pulls you into a crushing hug. You gasp and freeze before slowly returning the embrace. Mary touches Sam’s shoulder and nods back towards the dead body. They slip away to deal with that and give you two some privacy. “Dean…”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I put you in so much danger,” he says, letting you go. “I didn’t know we were being watched. I didn’t know.”

“Dean, what’s going on?” You ask.

“The British Men of Letters. Turns out it was a join or die type of situation. They’ve been watching all of us for a while now. They knew about you before you ever knew anything,” he explains. “They had brainwashed Mom but we just got her back. Sam and Jody led a raid of the Brits’ headquarters. Saw the pictures of you, of us here. We got here as quick as we could.” He winces now and you finally register how badly beaten he looks.

“What happened to you?” You ask, knowing your attacker hadn’t even gotten one good swing in. He limps over to his car and leans back against the hood.

“Grenade launcher,” he says, pointing to his leg. “Bad fight with Ketch.” He points to the rest of himself.

“Gre...huh??”

“They locked us in the bunker. Shut off the air supply. It was our only way out. And it was freaking awesome,” he says, smirking now. You roll your eyes at him and try not to smile, fighting back that familiar feeling he always gave you.

“Well, thank you. I’ll be more careful. Try not to close up by myself anymore,” you tell him, crossing your arms. He nods slightly, watching you.

“Or you could come with me,” he says. You scoff a laugh and shake your head.

“You don’t have to babysit me, Dean. I’ll be fine,” you say.

“What?” He asks. You shrug, trying to give him a confident smile.

“I’m officially relieving you of the burden of my safety. Whatever happens to me, happens. Don’t let it get to your conscious,” you tell him, looking around for your purse.

“Y/N,” Dean says. He watches you walk over and pick up the discarded item. You throw it over your shoulder and look back at him. “Come here,” he says gently, holding a hand out.

“You don’t want me. I know that. Please stop this,” you say, looking down at the gravel under your feet. You hear him sigh and look up as he starts to limp towards you. “No. Stop. You’re hurt.” He rolls his eyes now before taking your face in his hands for the second time tonight. This time his eyes aren’t searching for injuries. They’re searching for answers.

“Why would you think I don’t want you?” He asks, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it before. You get lost in the green of his eyes for a moment before the memory of that night comes back.

“I heard you with Mary. You said I wouldn’t see or hear from you again. And I haven’t since I left the bunker that day,” you tell him, hating to relive those harsh words. He nods, his hands leaving your face. They don’t go far though, immediately coming to rest on your hips.

“Is that all you heard?” He asks. You nod, wishing he’d just let you go home instead of dragging this out. “I didn’t leave you alone because I didn’t want you. I left you alone because I needed to keep you safe, because I want you too much, because I care about you too much.” Your eyes fill with tears as you stare up at him. You had to have died and gone to heaven for him to be saying these things, the things you wanted him to say so desperately.

“You were so mad when you saw me…”

“Because I didn’t want you anywhere near this life. Hunting, especially the things we end up hunting, it’s dangerous,” he pauses and closes his eyes. “I had just made a deal with a reaper to die. Again. I’d already resolved myself to the fact I wasn’t going to get to say a proper goodbye to you, tell you how I felt, how happy you’ve made me over the past year…and then you were there, right smack in the middle of everything. I was furious, yea, but not at you. I was mad at myself. I never shoulda came back here to begin with.”

“I don’t understand,” you say, shaking your head. Nothing was making sense. Nothing but the feel of his hands on your waist. That was good. That was right.

“I fell for you so hard that first night I came in for dinner. I was just supposed to come in, pick up something for me and Sam, and head back to the bunker. But when I walked in and saw you…I had to know you,” he recalls. “I thought a couple of visits couldn’t hurt. I could just be a customer, see you, talk to you. Maybe you’d eventually learn my name. That third time I came in and saw you getting ready to leave I was devastated. So I asked you to join me, thinking there wasn’t a chance in hell. You’d just gotten off work. Surely you wanted to get out of there and get home. But you stayed and you sat with me and…I knew I was in trouble.” You’re crying now. You don’t know exactly when the tears started but they were falling quickly. Dean brings one hand up and wipes at each of your cheeks gently. “And then you gave me your number…man, I almost called you from the booth,” he laughs. You do as well, reaching up and taking his hand. You press a kiss into his palm.

“I never knew what we were. I was so confused,” you tell him.

“I’m sorry. I kept going back and forth. I told myself it was too dangerous, you were safer as my friend. But then I’d get you alone, in my car and…” His hand tightens slightly on your hip and he pulls you impossibly closer. “I wanted you so desperately.” His voice dropped lower and his eyes bore into your own.

“I wanted you too,” you just manage to whisper. His forehead is touching yours now. Your eyes flutter close as his breath washes over your face.

“No more secrets,” he says before finally bringing his lips in to meet yours. This isn’t a gentle, chaste first kiss. Your lips move desperately against his as your arms wrap around his neck. It was everything you’d imagined and nothing like you could have dreamed all at the same time. His lips were chapped but gentle. He tasted of mint and whiskey. The way his hands moved over your back, one sliding just beneath your shirt to caress the skin at the small of your back, was intoxicating. You force yourself to pull away, remembering that his family was in the near vicinity.

“I have one secret,” you admit. He looks down at you expectantly. “I freaking hate this job.” He laughs and shakes his head, kissing you once more quickly.

“Sweetheart, I got bad news. That ain’t a secret,” he teases. You laugh too as Dean looks over your shoulder at the diner. “This place is gonna go under without your pie. It’s the only reason anyone comes back.”

“Including you?” You ask. His smile turns into a smirk as he looks back down at you.

“Why do you think I’m keeping you at the bunker?” He asks. Laughing again, you try to step out of his arms but they only tighten around you. His face is suddenly serious again as he watches you. “But only if you’re absolutely sure. I can’t stress enough how dangerous this life is.” You smile as you take his face in your hands.

“Dean,” you start. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

With that, Dean kisses you once again.

You leave your diner key in the door and a note taped to the glass.

I quit. -Y/N

****

Tags: @roseblue373

#fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #reader insert #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #sam winchester #mary winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #cas #castiel #right where you left me #dean x waitress

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hughgent-blog · 20 days

Text

Session 3 – Dog fight

Just pure combat baby!

Boss battle time.

Web, the spell, is one of the BEST openers for D&D combat. Just having some opponents be stuck in place really cuts down on problems.

the no charge combat action rule strikes again! Specifically, breaking out of the web was a standard action save of some kind. Probably Strength.

Swish and Flick is sorta from Harry Potter, but all I can think of is the "Potter Puppet Pals" youtube video.

I will admit for this combat, I wasn't tracking damage done and delt to the kobold as closely as I probably should have. Mostly because they're technically a Gnoll, statblock wise.

OH yeah, skeletons and kobolds. But there were skeletons outside, and only kobolds inside. So my initial thought was to have a mixture of the two things throughout, but writing it I only included kobolds in the sorta montage section. So I'm gonna hand wave that plot hole by saying dungeons can easily summon skeletons quickly and cheaply. While the flesh and blood things are harder, but more 'worth it'. So it summons skeletons outside because they're cheap things that keep wildlife away. And skeletons as an emergency because they're quick.

Paul is the genre savvy one. Who sorta knows what everyone else can do. So Tim didn't do turn undead immediately, until Paul reminded them that they could do this. Honestly a real problem at the D&D table where players don't read their entire character sheet.

5e D&D rogues can sneak attack skeletons and undead, but 3.5e D&D rogues could not, because skeletons don't have weak points as it were. And to be specific, Francis can't see skeleton weak points is because he isn't flanking or has any advantage in this particular moment of combat.

Normally, talking during a D&D combat turn is 'free' but only if the sentences are short. Paul's speech is a bit longer, I would argue it takes an action. Maybe a move action if not the standard action.

#an evenings honest peril

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mmoonpies · 1 year

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Okay okay I saw that you're taking requests and then SPENCER R3ID ARE YOU KIDDING, love that guy honestly sooo could you maybe do something where the reader is also in the bau and spencer and them have been dating for years (like from s1 to like s4 idk ) and only Aaron knows (because he obviously has to know for work reasons) and the team somehow finds out and are like wtf since when and then spencer says 4 years and blah blah days and so on you get the drill

i literally love him sm. him + fluff is my fav thing!!

also sorry this is lowkey sloppy + unedited

spencer reid was nothing short of being described as introspective; gentle and withdrawn eve. his mind was constantly running, comfortable focusing on his inner thoughts and ideas, drawn to the corners of the wall as he willingly let other people's shadows tower over him.

despite the uncontrollable bursts of facts that fall from his tongue before dissolving into a stuttering ramble, he was pretty withdrawn. often refusing to go 'socialising' with the other bau members, preferring to stay within the comfort of his apartment to read and write.

that was until he met you.

your smile was toothy, lips sharply curved into a grin as your eyes shimmered with a playfulness he yearned for. you had no problem being in the "spotlight" voice loud and almost boastful as you bashfully took control of the room. you were loyal, unafraid to protect those you loved; even if it would end in your peril.

your greetings were filled with enthusiasm, followed by your signature grin, despite being 4am in the morning, only fuelled the other's disdain as they winced and clutched their coffee tighter. spencer's eyes would rest on your face from across the room, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he felt the urge to smile at your bubbliness.

spencer once thought you'd be attracted to someone as confident as you, willing to show you off and flaunt your skills whenever possible. when, in reality, it was the opposite; you were searching for someone you could show off.

you were the one to listen with undivided attention to his over-the-top explanations, eyes wide and attentive as you smiled at him when his voice died off, encouraging him to keep speaking. it made his chest swell, cheeks growing warm as hesitantly gripped at his fingers, playing with them as he nervously continued his explanation.

you were the one who dropped a coffee off at his desk with a small smiley face messily drawn on the side, shooting him a bright grin before bouncing off to your desk. spencer would keep his palms wrapped around the cup, silently treasuring the drawing meant for him.

it became a routine - you sent a coffee his way each morning, and in return, spencer would offer half of his sandwich to you after you walked him through a 'tour' of your lunch. you would give him a generous serving of your lunch, and he would gratefully eat it, no matter the taste.

and to be honest, he wasn't sure when a full sandwich became 'too much' for him, always craving whatever concoction you had created after each half of his sandwich. he wasn't sure when he became so fond of you, patiently and hopefully waiting for you to bound over towards him, fists clenched in front of your shoulders as you beamed up at him.

"spencer, you will not believe how excited i am for lunch today!"

"i think i can," spencer would smile back, eyebrows raising as you bit your lip, grin still toothy and bright. "what've you got today?"

"can't tell you," you squinted up at him, giggling like a devious child. "you have to wait until lunch, but trust me, it'll blow your silly mismatched socks off!"

"hey! what'd they ever do to you?!"

it had stayed that way for 4 years; every single day, without missing a beat. no matter the time or day, you never failed to bring him c coffee with a smiley face, just like he had never failed to give you half of his sandwich.

being with you came as easy as breathing, although he struggled to convey his emotions, both physically and verbally, you both confided in the action of sharing lunch together. he hardly touched you at work, not wanting to seem unprofessional and upset hotchner or anyone on the team.

the only words hotchner had said in relation to the two of you were practically unthreatening. yet, as spencer shyly stood behind you as hotchner processed the information, the sickly feeling of dread spread throughout the inner lining of spencer's stomach.

"don't let it interfere with your work," he demanded, eyebrows furrowed as usual. you both gushed out 'thank you' before turning to leave, the stress of hiding it washing off the two of your shoulder's.

spencer, for 4 years, had assumed hotch had announced it to everyone else on the team. he still dealt with derek's teasing about him being a 'virgin' and his constant jabs about his 'experience with women.'

he was honestly just glad nothing had changed; your routine stayed the same, your glances lingering a little longer than usual, and your smiley faces turning into hearts. but that was all.

spencer was currently cursing his wonky alarm, almost tripping over his own feet as he struggled to pull his own pants up. a slice of bread was caught between his teeth as he slung his satchel over his shoulder before rushing out the door of his apartment.

he was cursing his dumb decision to skip crashing over at your apartment, fingers smashing against the buttons of his cell phone as he called you back, wincing at the number of missed calls he had.

"hey, hey! i'm so sorry y/n, please just tell them i'll be there soon. my alarm didn't go off!"

"i told you it needs new batteries-"

"is now the time to say 'i told you so'?" spencer practically whined in your ear, a small smile curving at your lips as you giggled.

"got it, just get here as quick as you can." you murmured in response before flipping your phone shut, lifting your head up to meet the inquisitive gaze of four profilers staring right at you. "he slept in, he'll be here in about 5 minutes."

"the spencer reid being late? that's a first," emily teased, flipping through the case file in front of her. hotch's facial expression was the same as always; eyes slightly narrowed and eyebrows creasing inwards with his lips stretched into a thin line.

"everyone's allowed to be late," hotch shrugged as he stepped in front of the projector, grabbing one of the files scattered over the round table. "once."

you almost snorted at the delivery, shoulders hunching over as you caught yourself, swallowing your laugh. you caught derek's eye just as the door behind you swung open, a flustered spencer basically clambering through the doorway.

"sorry, sorry! i'm so sorry i'm late!" his voice was pitched, bowing his head at hotch before walking over to you. his brain was still recovering from his interrupted and rushed morning, a cloud of haziness hovering over his brain as he leant down and pressed a kiss to your temple. "sorry i missed your calls."

the room is silent apart from the squeak of spencer's chair as he sits down, rolling forward to reach a case file before noticing the defeating silence in the room. he lifts his head up, only to be met by the shocked and wide-eyed faces of his team members.

"what?"

"what was that?' derek exclaimed, gesturing between the two of you. spencer shook his head with a shrug before tilting his head, eyebrows furrowing with confusion.

"what do you mean?"

"you just...kissed y/n on the forehead," jj spoke slowly as if she was still processing the situation in her head. spencer had a confused smile stretch across his lips. looking between the three of them as if they were crazy.

"yeah? you guys are acting like we aren't dating..."

"WHAT?"

spencer jolts back at the yells of the three members, hands raising in a defensive manner before looking over at you. your jaw was basically on the floor, eyes wide as you stared at spencer.

"...they didn't know, spencer," your voice is barely above a whisper, embarrassment running thick as you hunch your shoulders once more. for once, the attention is focused on spencer, and you're thankful the spotlight isn't on you.

"since when?" emily immediately interrogates him, standing up and leaning over the desk as her palm splays against the wooden table.

"c'mon, they're obviously pranking us," derek shrugs with a confident smirk. "we would've known sooner if they actually were dating."

"no I'm-i'm serious," spencer defends, mouth opening and closing before he turns back to face emily and answers her question. "it's been 4 years."

"WHAT?" they all exclaim in unison once more, lips parted as their jaws drop. they're all frozen in shock, eyes flickering between the two of you.

"i'm confused, how did you guys not know? we share lunch together every day!" spencer laughs in disbelief, shrugging as his hands flop between you and him. "y/n brings me a coffee every day."

"yeah but-"

'you never gave us a reason to believe that you were more than friends!" jj interjects, arms crossing over her chest.

"can we please focus on the case, guys?" hotch interrupts with a deep sigh, rubbing at his forehead with an impressed glower.

"hotch, you're not surprised?" derek exclaims, sitll in disbelief.

"no, they told me 4 years ago," hotch states simply before turning towards jj. "now, we've had enough interruptions. the case? please?"

"we're going out for drinks, and you're telling us everything." emily demands, her index finger pointing directly at you. you can feel everyone's gaze turns towards you, snickering at how flustered you look - unable to meet their eyes as you cover your cheeks with your hands.

"i'm sorry?" spencer offers, his own shoulders hunching upwards."i can give you my entire sandwich?!"

"be quiet, spencer!"

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #cm #cm x reader #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff

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rustedhearts · 4 months

Text

my funny valentine (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: the hand-written evidence of an affair between high school sweethearts, displaced and reunited after war.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the library

♡ the record store

tags: “darling” used as reader insert name; infidelity; mention of war/violence; darling + steve are 35 at the time these letters are written. the time skip signifies lost letters (as they might, in actuality, get lost over the years)

"you make me smile with my heart...stay little valentine, please stay. each day is valentine's day."

— my funny valentine, ella fitzgerald

May 22nd, 1961

My Darling,

Please excuse this intrusion….I got your address from a neighbor. It was so lovely to see you today. I just couldn’t stand the thought of going one more moment without speaking more to you.

I couldn’t believe you thought me lost to you. Though, I cannot blame you for this train of thought. I was gone so long. It was silly to believe you would have waited all your life. Two years was long enough….I don’t blame you for moving on. But did you need to move to London? My Darling, it’s so far from home. I can excuse the new husband given my absence and its circumstance, but the distance will not do.

Nevertheless, I’m rambling. What I truly wanted to say, what I have longed to say since I boarded that train, and what I have wanted to say all day since seeing you on that wet little park bench in your fur coat….I still love you with all my heart. Is there any chance you still love me, too?

Yours,

Steve Harrington

May 24th, 1961

Sweet Steve,

Of course I still love you. You can imagine how confusing a feeling this is to me. Given the circumstance of a loving, successful husband found after such a long mourning period in which I now ponder the merit of….how could I still love you? It goes against all good graces which that of Almighty God intends for me.

But it doesn’t change the way my heart soars for you. The way it did when I saw you approach from across the pond in that tattered coat you’re still clinging to. Your hair is longer. I find it handsome.

I feel a sting of wrongdoing course through me as I etch these words down. Though I love you, Steve, we must not continue to write. Please tell me once what you endured, and then never more. I must have the answers I went so long without. I am allowing myself this selfishness.

However, when the tale is done, I cannot allow myself the selfishness of going on. My life has altered greatly since our time together, and my duties and responsibilities now lie elsewhere. I hope you can understand.

Sincerely,

Darling

May 30th, 1961

Darling girl,

I will begin first by disregarding the words that pierced me so. I will find it difficult to post this letter and think of it as the last of mine that you will ever read. Perhaps, by the end of it, you will have changed your mind.

When I left for Germany, it was as though we were thrown to the wolves. Peril and anguish and torment were all we knew. Myself, the men boys I fought with. We were all so young. Eighteen, twenty, the youngest seventeen. I cannot explain to you the horror of watching a young man’s arm blown off.

But you do not want to hear this. You want to hear of matters obtaining to you, of course. Answers you asked for and answers you shall retain. You’ve waited long enough.

When I returned to America two months after D-Day, I was bodily unscathed but no longer the man you knew. I found myself bound to fits of emotional and physical violence. Days of hysteria and madness that alarmed even my hostess. I was in no fit state to see you. I was, as well, thousands of miles away in California. So, when we were told to board for our way home, I did not go.

California was far enough that you could not find me and the man I had become.

My Darling, I wish I had sweeter excuses than these. I wish I could scrawl something of manly note, but…I owe you honesty. This, my sweet dear, is the honest truth. I was a hollow shell of the man you once knew. And I was afraid to return home to you.

Time in California fell like a whirlpool. A year had passed, and then two. By the time I had some handle on my fits, had worked through my madness and set home for you, you were gone. Your mother said ‘off to London,‘ and with a new beau to accompany you. A husband.

Something I was supposed to be.

Where I failed, I suppose he thrived. I hope you are happy, sweet girl.

Please, feel obliged to reply.

Yours still,

Steve

June 12th, 1961

Steve,

You always knew just how to sweeten the bitterness of goodbye. So much sweetness that I grow too sick to move through with it. Alas, that is why I’ve picked up my pen to write again. Curse you, Steve Harrington. You have such hold over me.

Now, I think it only right that I answer the questions you have not asked, but that I know you are curious of. Reggie is my husband, and we met two summers after the end of the war. I went so long pale and sick with grief, thinking I lost you to Heaven. I had come to terms with this, buried any idea that you might come home.

Reggie was a businessman, in town for dealings. He hails from London, which is the swift explanation for my immigration here. Our love was quick and easy, and when he asked me to marry him on our fifth date, I had no reason not to say yes. You were, in the mind of a young girl engaged to a soldier that did not come home, gone. There was no vow or promise being broken.

I would, however, be breaking all promises of honesty under God if I were to say I have not thought of you in these past years.

I feel an indescribable ache for your suffering, and all the suffering of young men in a similar state to yours. I take your words as oath, as I promised to do so many years ago...which is why I can assure that my heart weeps for you so. Not just for your suffering, but for your company. I think it always might.

Might we allow ourselves one more act of selfishness? An act in the park, Sunday afternoon?

Please return soon.

Darling

June 14th, 1961 Darling,

I would be happy to oblige you in the park on Sunday. Will 2:00 do? Though, you were always an admirer of early morning strolls. Perhaps 10? You always did love a bird call.

Every post from you makes my heart soar, Darling. Did you know? The prospect of keeping your company for even a few hours has me yearning for a busy week, if only to keep the impatience at bay. I meant it truly when I wished your happiness. Fondly, Steve

June 15th, 1961

Steve,

Yes, 10:00 will do. I will be there, wearing my fur coat.

Eagerly awaiting,

Darling

June 20th, 1961 My Darling, Oh I cannot scrub my mind free of this torment. Our act of selfishness I knew to be tempting, but now I am delirious. If I thought my need for you was strong before, it is insufferably so now. You were so beautiful in your coat, in your plum dress. The color compliments your skin so well. I have not seen your eyes that closely in years. Only in photographs, that I horde and selfishly admire in the depths of dark nights, have I seen those eyes of late. And now here they were, staring up at me. With such blatant love as they did once before. Yes, my Darling, I saw all of it there. Are we to go on lying to ourselves, saying we're better off? Our time has passed, it has been so long, yes. Yes, I know it. But I know also that I cannot go another day without making up for the time lost between. Darling girl, please be selfish with me. Please live our days selfishly for as long as we might have. Yours, Steve

June 22nd, 1961

Steve,

I pride myself for honesty, so I will satisfy you with my brief agreement. My heart thumped so wildly in the park on Sunday that I thought it might break free from my body. Would you catch it in your hands if it had? Would you crush it? Oh, Steve, it has always belonged to your hands. The love you detected was not an illusion. It never died, not even across the sea.

Yet, what of Reggie? I love him dearly, as well, though maybe never quite like I did you. He is, nevertheless, my husband. We have grown to live such a wonderful life. And yes, we cannot have children, but we are finding ways to fill this void. The void will only grow, I fear, if I continue to be selfish with you. I will find new gaps and black holes in our life together, and I cannot be unhappy in a marriage that is sufficiently content.

Please do not ask this of me. My heart cannot bear to say no.

Yours,

Darling

June 24th, 1961 Darling, I know you are frightened, but might our love be stronger than this fear? Please do not deny me, I might break entirely apart. Do you not see the predicament we are in? To lose so many years, yet find each other in a completely different part of the world from where we were born. Is it not an act of God stringing us together again? One night, my sweet Darling. If not an eternity as we once intended, one night will suffice. Please do not say no. Yours waiting, Steve

June 27th, 1961

Sweet Steve,

I have been awake for days, ailing over your proposal. Know I do not intend to make any decision without a full realization of every consequence. To deny you would leave me with an ache like no other forever plagued on my heart. To accept, I would part ways with the very peace of mind that my marriage is pure of all faults as it is now, and was before you.

Attach the address of your hotel.

Yours,

Darling

June 29th, 1961 Oh my Darling, I believe I read over your words so frequently and at such a swift pace that my eyes are still sore. Attached is the address of my stay, and know I will be waiting no matter the hour. Come as you please, whenever you wish. I will be at the door. To hold you in my arms again is all I can live for in the hours between. Yours, Steve

July 3rd, 1961

Steve,

The loveliest of nights has passed between us, and yet I feel sick with the wrongness of our sheer audacity. Entangled in your arms, wrapped in those cotton sheets just feeling your breath and your flesh as it always was...I cannot think of a better mercy. For our suffering, for our loss. But will I obtain God's forgiveness when the day is to come? For what I have done to Reggie, I think this always a stain on my conscience.

Yet, some sort of delirium has come over me since that night. I seem incapable of clear thinking. If it is stained, let it be stained.

Please write to the attached P.O box from now on. I cannot risk interception, but I cannot risk a silence from you.

My darling Steve, will you stay?

Yours entirely,

Darling

July 5th, 1961 Darling, You cannot fathom how long I have waited to hear these words. Yes, I will stay. Yes, I will be yours, if you shall be mine. The hours allowed to us are the brightest of my days. I will find permanent residence somewhere in traveling distance so long as it allows me proximity to your love. Please come soon. I miss you terribly. Love, Steve

September 19th, 1961 Darling, You were upset last we parted, and my wish to quell your ailing grows stronger by the hour. I have grown to know your marriage and your Reggie as you have told, and I know now he cannot make you happy. I could make you happy, delightfully happy. The children you have always wanted are in our future, I know this is true. Please, change your mind and say yes, and we can have it. The future you crave, the future you deserve. Adventure, and intrigue, and passion that he cannot fathom. I have stared into the depths of your soul, and have bared all parts of my own. Can you say the same of him? Please, my Darling girl. I only think of you. Yours, Steve

September 22nd, 1961

Steve,

It is with aching eyes and a sore, sinking heart that I have prepared this for you. Know the walk to post it felt like a march to the death. In some way, this is death. Part of me, sealed away by your sweet kisses, and tender touches, and all those long hours whispering secrets in the dark. Part of me will always live in these moments, and that part of me has died.

I cannot leave Reggie, and your request of such leaves nowhere for our selfishness to go. We must not go on like this. Not if we are to live full and fulfilling lives without secret and pain. It is too much for one heart to bear. Were we to go on, it would kill me entirely. I must sacrifice a small part to save the whole. Oh, my love, I hope you understand. I hope you can forgive me.

Yours, now and always,

Darling

#rolly!#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington au #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader

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matchadobo · 3 months

Text

KIDD; festival confession

wc: 1639 summary: kidd and name spend the summer matsuri together and confessions were made. warning/s: fem reader, nooooneee very fluff

"if you take that goddamn long we'll leave you." kidd grumbled by the wooden seat that was too small for him. he was munching on some candy apples killer gave him while waiting for you to get ready. but you know he didn't mean that, like hell he'd leave you when he couldn't keep his hands off you at random parts of the day.

"go ahead, you'll miss me." you replied, trying to figure out where to snag the ornamental hairpin that somehow got tangled with your locks. "one more second, okay? this stupid fucking thing got my hair in a bust!" you tried prying it off your head. it was the last thing you needed to fix before you finally get ready for the festival.

"i'm comin' in." kidd was, of course, too impatient to wait for you. so when he swept the curtains open and ducked down to get in the narrow compartment of a room, his world had fucking stopped for you again.

when he saw you in that bright red yukata adorned with white flowers. he knew you picked the red one because you knew he'd like it. a smile slowly made its way to his lips, you look the same kind of beautiful just as the day he met you.

you look a little silly with the tangled ornament, he snorted and sighed, giving your cheek a little pinch before taking the ornament by his hands. "you shouldn't have tried-"

"shut it." you cut him off, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. kidd was impatient, and eager, and always annoyed. but never with you, he was surprisingly patient and earnest. he even goes an extra mile to craft pretty little trinkets for you. so despite the maddening task that is your hair, he managed to get the knot out of your locks. he was quite literally towering over you so he can clearly see what's going on. you two spend quite a bit of time in there annoyed at that thing.

once it was all gone, you almost discarded the ornament away when kidd yanked it out your hand. "turn around. i'll do it." you took a couple of seconds to look at him, how uncharacteristic of him. "come on," he turned you around himself because his ears were turning red at your gaze.

his fingers combed through your locks, lightly brushing the strands of your hair as he gathered them all in a bun. you shivered lightly each time his knuckles or the tip of his fingers touches the back of your neck. but he wasn't innocent either, the sight of your bare neck and shoulders had him in a chokehold. the honest and strong urge to just grab you by the neck and kiss the spaces that lacked his lip marks. this was a different kind of intimate that you two were too scared of breaking the tension on.

"there." he gave his craft one last look. his human arm reached over from behind and raised your chin so you can look at yourself at the mirror inside the fitting room. "that's how you do it."

you two took your time memorizing and engraving the sight of the both of you in the mirror. kidd and you in a yukata in the absence of bloodshed that is your everyday, devoid of the peril that awaits your lives.

"kidd! name! the fireworks are gonna start soon!" the others called out, both of you snapping back to reality. a bit sad that the moment was cut off short. but this was the reason why you insisted on visiting a festival, you wanted to watch the fireworks with the crew.

"sorry you didn't get to experience the other stuff in the festival before the fireworks started." you nudged him a little, hands behind your back as you two strolled by the cobbled stairs.

"i got to experience something waaay better, don't worry." he replied, catching your eye as you looked back and saw the light tint on his cheeks. he avoided your gaze, pretending he wasn't looking at you.

"kidd i," just before you could finish, the fireworks started and surprised you. as you both descended the stairs, you two stayed at the bottom and admired the dancing lights by the sky. you gazed above as the colors captivated your full attention while you captivated his.

"hm?" he replied, silently observing and committing to memory how you look like tonight. how your eyes glisten with the pirouetting hues of the evening sky, how you perk up and point at the animals and figures the fireworks made, how your cheeks puff up each time you smile at every light that grazed the sky.

"a-ah nothing," you suddenly grew shy, locking glances with him. now dawning at you that he was looking at you the whole time. "just wanted to say thank you, for letting me have this night." you smiled at him, pressing your lips afterward and fiddling with your fingers.

he suddenly took a long, deep breath, avoiding your gaze as you catch his ears reddening. he wanted to say something; something he had been keeping for a long time. but as eustass kidd himself, pride is a much bigger hurdle to overcome. but he might be willing to do it just for you. he said he wouldn't fold first, he said it's you who'll be chasing because apparently 'you're crazy about him', it's you who'll keep dreaming about what life would be like if you two'd tie the knot, and it's you who'd be confessing.

so he himself doesn't know why he reached over for your hand as he pulled you closer. and once he had you in his grasp, his hand ghosted the skin of your neck and held onto your cheek. his fingers spanning the lower side of your neck while his thumb rubbed by your cheek and his palm held your jaw. this was one of the rare moments where he wasn't scowling and he held all the love for you in his eyes.

"then i'd like to say thank you for making the last five years of my life tolerable. i had someone to look forward to everyday. i learned to love and what it feels to be loved. i have my tireless cheerleader by my side at all times, bugging the shit out of me. i have someone to hold close to each sleepless night. i have one delicate treasure in my life i pledge to protect, your smile; i have to keep ya smilin', aye? if the day ever comes where i do the opposite, please fuckin' kill the living shit out of me. 'cuz goddamnit, i finally had one fuckin' weakness. i finally found someone to spend my life with." he couldn't stop the tears streaming down his face. you could tell that he was holding this back a lot for a long, long time. you stayed quiet because it all felt like a dream.

kidd wasn't a very vocal nor a person of words, he always expressed everything through actions or not even at all. but the way you look tonight, he doesn't want to lose that sight of you nor forget the words he wanted to say. eustass kidd was no coward, but when it comes to love and you, he suddenly is nothing but a shell. but he doesn't plan on living like that, nor does he plan to continue to lie to you.

"you broke my goddamn walls, name. from the day you first butted heads with me, from every insult you returned each time i push you away, from each ounce of patience you gave me and hoped for the best in me, from the way you look at me differently, from the times we fought side by side; those always did a number on me, from the warmth you engulf me each cold night the phantom pain haunts me, to the way you smile at me and cheered me on to my dream, our dream. i fucking love you." he choked out a sob, laughing stupidly at himself as if a montage of you appeared on his head.

at his last sentence, the grand finale of the fireworks concluded. your heart will absolutely implode out of your chest. you reached over to hold his hand, removing it from your cheeks and cupping his big fist with both of your hands. "i tamed the beast, huh?" you reached over to wipe the tears on the corner of his eyes, pulling him down by the neck gently. "i always knew you're a little sweetheart inside."

"pft. the pirate king shouldn't be so warm and fuzzy." he pressed foreheads with you, later pressing a kiss on your forehead.

"i do that to you, huh, captain?" you teased him, hug becoming tighter. "say, if you love me that much, why don't you take me out on a date? it's a festival after all." you tilted your head in amusement, poking at his nose. he blinked at you twice, pale at your words. he legit wasn't ready for this.

receiving no response, you leaned in to his ear and whispered. "i'll give you a kiss after."

"why not do it now?" he fixed you in place with a firm grasp on your lower back. "don't make your captain wait." he said in a low tone, leaning back a little so he could raise your chin. he got a good look at how all the blood in your face rose. so he took matters in his own hands and planted a kiss on your lips, under the bright moonlight and the surrounding festival music across town. killer and the others figured kidd finally confessed from the evident red in his ears and cheeks when you two got back.

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